#anyways many words to say that that frame from the comic gave me the idea for this

[laulo821]

Learning to fly

Joseph belongs to @centi-pedve. also, look a this.

im number one joseph fan he's my child now i adopted him

[keilemlucent]

mother knows best

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.6k

keigo’s dick catches up with him in the form of a fat, red strap

warnings: daddy kink, subby hawks, mean reader, lingerie, pegging, dumbification (a wittle), dacryphilia, revenge sex, degradation, keigo’s a cock slut ❤️

...

oh wow so this is actually a wip from all the way back in august!! i got some good inspo, so enjoy some subby hawks goodness loveys <3

You wanted nothing more than fucking ruin Keigo.

He’d been a shit lately, more annoying than usual. Fuck, you’d even say that he had been a downright brat.

It was obviously somewhat endearing, getting bent over countertops, teased through your clothes and getting left wet and wanting as he would just so happily walk away, whistling triumphantly to himself. 

Or, maybe, it was how at the recent Hero’s Gala, Keigo had dragged you into one of the hotel’s lavish bathrooms, meters away from his colleagues and shoved you up against the large dressing mirror, his bulge shoved against your ass, whispering about how he was going to shred your dress from your frame. 

“You just look too good, babe,” Keigo’s hands raked up and down your chest, nearly pulling your breasts from the delicate fabric of your dress. 

You’d pleaded with him, “I get that you’re horny, but this really isn’t the place.”

You still let him fuck your mouth to orgasm.

Twice.

He’d been at least nice enough to help you wipe the smears of the professionally done makeup from your face.

“Sorry,” Keigo spoke with a smile, thumbing away a run of mascara from under your eyes as you sat on the edge of the sink. “You did great though. You were so beautiful for me, angel. So sexy. ”

You frowned, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from your face, meeting his eye with an uncomfortable amount of intensity. 

“Keigo.”

He blinked.

“Yeah?”

You felt his palms begin to sweat in your grip.

You smiled, something eerily dark.

“How do you feel you’ve been lately?”

You watched his throat bob, his keen mind going just where you wanted it to. As much as you loved indulging in Keigo’s insatiable, unstoppable, carnal need to bend your back until it broke, you were also very tired of the attitude he’d gotten from it lately. 

“I think...” Keigo wet his lips, pressing between your spread legs from your perch, “I think I’ve been good.”

“You do?!” You repeated, laughing a bit as you squeezed your thighs around Keigo’s trim waist. You grabbed his cheeks between your thumb and middle finger, forcing his gaze to be on your messy, smeared face. “I didn’t think my ‘good boy’ was such a fucking dumbass.”

A whimper dripped from the back of his throat as you frowned, knowing how quickly being taken down a peg got him hot and bothered.

“You’ve jumped my ass without any regard for circumstances how many times in the last week?” You sneered, digging your nails into baby fat above his jaw. “Did you think about the consequences of your actions, babe?”

Keigo let out a deep breath, “Angel, I—”

You fully grabbed his cheeks and jaw, squeezing his lips puckered, “What did you just call me?”

His eyes went wide, hands tensing on the tops of your thighs.

“If I let you speak, are you going to do so properly?” You relished the frantic nod he tried to give you.

You dropped your hand to the front of his dress shirt, hooking your fingers into the top of his tie, “Speak then.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Keigo’s eyes went big and doughy, refusing to look at you. 

“That’s better,” You hummed, playing with the silky fabric. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, okay, sweetheart?”

He forced his gaze up to yours.

“We’re gonna go back out there, smile for the cameras, and then head home and get some good sleep.”

“B-but aren’t you going to p-punish—” Keigo words were gluey and slow, giving you all the more reason to interrupt him, even going so far as to shift to tighten his tie around his neck, perhaps a bit too constricting.

“I will, when the time is right. You just try to be a good boy until then, see you actually can.”

A filthy, but very fun plan was brewing in your head. It just would take some time.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The opportune time struck a few weeks later. Though Keigo had at first been on some better behavior, he reverted to his typical, bratty self a week after your threat was made.

You were just biding your time, besides, custom orders took some time.

It wasn’t hard to contact Keigo’s PA, requesting his measures for ‘unknown’ purposes. 

What was harder was wading through the hundreds of beautiful designs you could order for him. You spent a good few hours scrolling and fantasizing about what colors and patterns Keigo’s pretty, lithe body would look best in. After beating one out, you made your decision, entered his measurements, and sent the order off. It might’ve been the fervor of hot pleasure you had, but you threw in an extra item or two to your purchase. You were spoiling yourself, really. 

Three weeks later, it arrived, perfect in every way, along with the extra items.

Then, it was just about watching Keigo and waiting to strike.

...

He came in late one night, feathers all but bare, uniform muddled.

As Keigo fell on the bed following his shower, you took note of his downy stubs, bare of most of his usual feathers. You grinned something wicked. 

Tomorrow was the day.

Keigo crawled up to you, immediately pulling your back to his chest, peppering your shoulders with kisses before drifting off. You turned to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, hoping he’d get enough rest to be ready for all you had planned.

...

The next morning, Keigo lumbered out of bed while you were finishing your coffee on the couch, already donned in your business casual attire (with some additions, but he couldn’t see those yet). 

“Hey, angel,” His voice was scratchy with sleep as he plopped down next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept super good,” You smiled, returning his sweet gesture. “How about you?”

“Good, very good. I’m just glad I have a day off.” Keigo relaxed into the cushions. He flexed the roughly two-foot-long stubs of crimson feathers, “Gotta grow these back out, and that means I’m relaxing all day.”

You grinned, the pieces of your plan having perfectly fallen into place.

“I’m very glad, sweetheart,” You gave him a fleeting kiss before standing up and heading back to the bedroom. 

Keigo called after you, “Where’re you off to, angel? I wanna give you some love before you gotta leave me.”

“One sec! I just gotta get my shit together for work,” You purred back knowingly. Your purse was already packed and ready. You had other traps to lay.

Flitting into the closet, you rummaged through a small set of drawers to retrieve one of the several packages you received. It was a clean, white box, about half the size of a pillow, wrapped in red ribbon. 

You laid it on the freshly made bed, adjusting some of the satins as you did. 

Keigo beamed at you as you exited to the living room, sauntering up and wrapping his hands around your waist to kiss your forehead. 

He stiffened when he felt the straps beneath your work blouse.

“Angel?” He squeezed your waist. 

You smirked, kissing the corner of his mouth before gently cupping his jaw, “Now, sweetheart, can you be a good boy for me today?”

Keigo, the sweet thing he was, turned to putty in your hands.

He nodded, his bottom lip poking out. 

“Good,” You tightened your grip on his jaw. “You have a lot to make up for, considering what a brat you’ve been lately.”

The way Keigo trembled in your hold, cheeks hot, made your head spin with your ideas for the evening. 

“You didn’t forget, did you?” You walked him back, only stopping when his ass hit the kitchen table. He jumped when he slid just the slightest bit back, forced to sit. 

“F-forget what?” Keigo genuinely couldn’t remember, based off the quirk in his brow.

You clicked your tongue, shifting a knee between his legs, “At the Gala. Use your brain, sweetheart.”

His expression fell with the revelation. 

Your punishments were never easy. Very fun, but god, they were excruciating. 

Watching the expression on Keigo’s face drift as he worked out the context of your actions made you shiver. You were sure he’d be a brat later, but catching him off guard always made him particularly weak to your touch.

“Now, baby, I was nice enough to leave a pretty present for you in our room.” You pinch his plump bottom lip between your fingers, “When I get home, I want you on the bed all dolled up for me, understand?”

He swallowed, nodding against your hold as enthusiastically as he could manage.

“Good.” You released him, kissing the indent that your nails left. “I’ve got to get going, but I love you lots, okay?”

Keigo was comically stunned with a very noticeable bulge in his boxers, “I l-love you too.”

You throw your purse over your shoulders, smug at your ability to turn Keigo into obedient mush. 

As you opened the door to leave, you were gracious enough to shout and remind him, “Oh, and sweetheart? Be a good boy and don’t you dare touch yourself today, or I’ll make tonight far worse for you. Have a good day off, love!”

...

The moment you left the apartment, Keigo let out a tight breath.

Holy fuck.

He really thought he’d get to spend the day relaxing and letting his wings regrow, but as it turned out, you had far better plans for the two of you and Keigo didn’t have the mind to fight it.

Not yet, anyway.

He’d give you shit later. It was fun to push you around, in any context.

When he was sure you were far out the door, he quickly padded to the bedroom, eyeing the box that lay on the duvet.

Slipping onto the sheets, he kneeled and pulled it closer. He rubbed at the ribbon, frowning. 

The two of you had used toys and...  devices plenty of times, tending to each other, just in different ways. But, when Keigo picked up the parcel, it seemed far too light to have any sort of toy in it.

Keigo frowned, slipping off the satin and pulling off the lid.

...

Oh fuck.

Inside, neatly packaged with crisp tissue paper, was a carefully folded set of clothes. Special clothes, notably.

This became abundantly clear as Keigo carefully pulled the mesh and lace out of the box, blood rushing to his half-hard cock. 

It was an incredibly pretty set. Stockings, garters, even a ribbed bodice with lacey cups, all pale pink with gold embroidery and accents. 

It was pretty, but not your size at all.

As he pulled out the last item, a pair of satin and lace panties with extra fabric at the front, he realized that these were undoubtedly for him.

A hot blush sped to his cheeks as he stared down at the pretty mess in front of him. 

Sure, he’d talked about this kink to you in passing, but you’d never mentioned it and he’d never asked you to indulge him in it. 

However, it was quite clear that that was indeed what you were doing, giving him such a beautiful set. 

There was even a small card.

“Keigo, 

Despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but an ungrateful brat lately, 

I’ve been gracious enough to give you a sweet gift.

You’ll have to earn it tonight. 

Be good.

(Y/N) <3”

 Keigo stared down at the garments and the note, already far too hard to be comfortable.

It was hardly going to be a leisurely day off.

...

 You took the opportunity to torture Keigo just a little.

Honestly, you deserved it. With the way he’d been randomly dragging you into bathrooms, alleyways, and dressing rooms to wreck you, it was truly only fair that you got to wreck him. 

So, you started early.

You sent picture after picture to him throughout the day, stepping from your office to tease at your own special garments that hid just under your modest clothing. Keigo probably wouldn’t touch himself, knowing what that would cost him. Fucking with him throughout the day would just make your revenge that much sweeter. 

He was easy to get riled up, it was one of his biggest weaknesses when this dynamic came up. Keigo might’ve had the stamina to go for hours, but he didn’t have the heart or mind not to beg for it.

And god, by the end of reaching your own workday, straps feeling almost too tight and pussy dripping, you were more than ready to fuck Keigo up beyond belief.

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 “Kei’? I’m home!” You called as you came in the front door, slipping off your shoes and hanging your purse.

“I’m in here,” Keigo’s voice echoed from the bedroom.

Oh.

Perfect.

Your plan, long thought-out, had turned out perfectly. Now, you reaped the reward.

You were going to fucking ruin Keigo.

Destroy him.

If he wasn’t a shaking pile of cum and sweat when you were done with him, you’d just keep going. 

You strode to the bedroom, anticipating the sight before you with bated breath.

And god, did Keigo take yours away.

Like a ‘good boy’, he was just as you ordered him to be. 

He was kind enough to keep the lighting the room low, though he was more than visible and fucking gorgeous.

The lingerie set fit him beautifully, as you expected. The pink satin and lace stretched over his tanned skin so well, showing off the tone of his muscles and the swell of his light curves, as well as his already weeping bulge. 

He sat on his spread knees atop the bed, garters pulling tight over his upper thighs. The panties were maybe a bit small for Keigo’s fat cock, but seeing a bit of him peeking out was never a bad thing.

The bodice of the piece was truly beautiful. It was ribbed, a blushing pink and had small threads of golden stitching accenting the lace work. The cups of the piece were pressed to Keigo’s hardened, pierced nipples, the fabric undoubtedly teasing the skin raw (not that you didn’t plan on getting them such a way yourself.) 

“Oh, baby,” You sigh, a light, genuine smile coming to your face. “You look beautiful.”

Keigo must’ve already been pretty deep in it, ducking his head and biting his lip, “Thank you, mommy.”

You smiled at his usage of the proper title, though none of your irritation or anger faded. It was only a few drops of water on a much hotter burn. 

You walked up to the bed, leaning over the end of it to tilt up his face to yours, “Kei’, what’s your safeword?” 

“Quill,” He leaned into your touch, stubbly cheeks brushing against your palms. 

Nodding to yourself, you stepped back from him. Watching Keigo was like observing a moving piece of fine art, the shadows and highlights of his body crafted by some finer being than you. You were just there to tend to him, use him and bend him in the ways you knew he craved.

You fetched the last two parcels from the closet, setting them onto the nearby dresser. Close by and in-sight, teasing the two of you.

 You turned, directly regarding Keigo. He must have been watching you move about the room, eyes rounded and knees spread just right.

“So, tell me, Kei’,” You hummed approaching the bed while popping the buttons on your work blouse. “Have you been a good boy lately?”

His fingers stiffened over the lace of the stockings, stubs twitching behind him, “I... don’t think so.”

You hummed, fully peeling off your top, “Wow, so someone’s finally got some sense to himself now? Mommy’s proud, but it’s a little too late for that.”

Keigo audibly swallowed now that you were barer to him.

Your set was a leather of some sort, black straps adorning and squeezing your frame and flesh in the best ways, linked by o-rings and pretty buckles. If Keigo was in a different mood, he would have half a mind to tug you close by the ring dangling between the slope of your breasts. 

But he wasn’t, he was mommy’s good, sweet brat, and that meant sitting and shutting up unless he wanted this to be worse for himself.  

You tapped your hip, over the slim zipper to your skirt.

“Unzip.” 

Keigo nodded, too quick and too eager as his shaking hands slid the zipper over the curve of your hip.

You stepped back before Keigo could get too much satisfaction from the action, shimming the skirt down your legs—

And the set you had on top kept going.

Garters and black stockings settled over your thighs, perfectly fitted and perfect for you and your perfect body, Keigo just wanted a taste—

You slapped his hand down onto the bed, holding it there and leaning forward with a sickly syrupy smile, “I thought you said you knew you were being a brat, baby boy? Wouldn’t that mean you know not to push your fucking luck—?” 

You left his hand on the duvet with an order to not move it, to which he complied.

And you slipped back over to the dresser, unfurling your last parcels. 

Rope and a pretty new toy.

He didn’t deserve them, they were for you.

The new harness was perfect, custom made to your size, so it sat perfectly over the curves of your thighs and ass. It looked even better when you attached the curved, thick strap to it.

“Is that—”

“For you?” You finished Keigo’s sentence with a click of your tongue. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll just suck on that cute little cock of yours until you’re fucked dry. Maybe, I would let you near my dick. Or, you learn to be a good boy like you say you are—”

You grabbed his jaw in one hand and squeezed, “And you’ll get mommy’s pretty strap?”

...

To his merit, Keigo really, really was being good. 

Each expression of his was just so, so delicious, and that wasn’t even taking into account the beautiful ways his body arched and writhed below you. 

What would the public think if they knew ‘Hawks’ was fucking mama’s boy who craved nothing more than getting stuffed with thick cock and edged until he was crying sweet, sweet tears?

Who knows! You didn’t, and you didn’t fucking care. 

You’d stuffed Keigo with a cute plug as prep, one with a glittering, yellow gem that just looked so good between his pert little ass cheeks. The new rope was put to use as well. Though, the knots were kept mainly to his arms and wrists. The new lingerie was too pretty to hide. You had tied the intricate knots and binds torturously slowly, as you’d be so kind as to attach a small, vibrating egg to the tip of his dick. 

Though, the first thing you did was lock a cock ring at his base with the promise that he ‘wouldn’t be cumming until he was screaming’. 

You had him under you, tits squished to his ribs. Your thighs slotted on the sides of his braced and squeezing him just enough so he knew not to dare to try and move with your word. 

You smeared lube up and down his angrily red cock, thumbing the head. The slick and pre slipped down and stickied his balls and the roughed-up panties tucked beneath. 

Keigo was a fucking mess for it. Whining and gasping with each breath for little, reverent pleas— ‘more, more, more—’ 

His wrists were tied together, pale pink rope making flushed marks against his heat softened skin. They were secured high on the bed, pulling his body taut and flat against the sheets.

You nipped at one of his pierced nipples, tugging the tender bar with your teeth with little regard for how Keigo squealed again. 

Each sound had you dripping, just as needy and wanting as your sweet, sweet boy, but you’d be damned to let it be as apparent as his wanting.

Keigo was a goddamn sight. 

Blond waves stuck to his forehead and temples, cheeks red and lips bitten to cherry. His mouth hung open, drool spilling from the corner and soaking the pillow you graciously kept under his head. 

(Only because you’d ridden his face for a good while prior, and you were such a nice mommy, you gave him a nice cushion while you let him tongue fuck you to another orgasm.)

“M-mommy,” Keigo’s voice shook. “Please.”

You tsked. 

“Disappointing, sweet boy,” You chastised, lightly. Keigo had already wept hard enough, you didn’t need to push much more before he cracked just as you wanted. “You know to beg better.”

Keigo choked on a sob, something that made his bound, stubby wings shudder and writhe against the sheets.

“But, I-I already have,” Keigo sputtered, tugging on the bindings and breathing hard as you toyed with the ring at the base of his swollen cock. “Please.”

He deserved it, all the teasing and sweet torture, considering what a bastard he’d been in the past week. 

“Needy and you’re talking back?” You rolled your eyes. “So what, you want me to ride your cock? That’s too good for you.”

“‘T-too good for me,’” Keigo repeated, tearfully, stomach shaking with the way he was still trying to holding back.

He just needs to let go. Be the shameless cock slut he is. 

“Guess I’ll just fuck that cute little ass of yours until I’m satisfied.”

Keigo gulped as you helped him onto his tummy, bound hands freed from the headboard to brace below him. His back arched, a practice ‘c’ curve that you made dip deeper with a press to the small of back.

“Do better,” You reminded him, cruelly. He stifled another sob, nodding.

He shrieked as you eased the lubed plug from his ass. You poured a gracious amount over the red strap-on, admiring it. 

It was thick, it’d be a stretch and would press deep enough to knock Keigo out if you so chose.

Good.

As much as Keigo loved fucking you hard and fast, wherever and whenever he pleased, he needed this sometimes. A bit of handful (or so) of mean words, and a thick cock to fuck him full and dumb.

“Baby boy,” You cooed, tapping the toy over his blushing bottom. “You ready? Or should we wait—”

The impatient bastard. 

“No, no, no,” Keigo sputtered against the sheets. “I c-can’t mommy, I can’t—”

“Can’t what, baby?”

“I can’t wait!”

It was the concept of waiting any longer for your fat cock that sent him sobbing into the bedding, hiccuping and writhing. 

Keigo, the sweet thing he was, sagged and fell apart. Breaking good and proper, coherency gone. 

You guided him through it, good and proper. 

Truthfully, Keigo had been put through it. The sudden expectations, having him wait his entire day off, tempted by your skimpy little photos. And when you finally deemed him worthy of you, it was just to tease him and pretty cock for a few hours just to let off some of your own steam was cruel. 

But Keigo had been bad, and loved getting used when you both needed it.

His tears must’ve felt damn good, considering when you reached under his hips (while rubbing tender little circles over his spine) his cock was harder than ever, leaking and wet with need.

He seized beneath you, sputtering little ‘n-no’s and ‘p-please’s mixed with his weeping. He twitched in your hand as you ran the pad of your finger around the ring at its base.

“I could take this off,” You mused, pressing the tip of the strap against his hole. “Or—” 

With a slow grind of your hips, you stretched him wide and trembling. 

Keigo’s cries got louder, deeper and rougher as he clasped his hands in their binds. Bent over his body, you teased his cock with a light hand, humming as you nonchalantly fucked him to the hilt of the strap.

“Now, sweet boy,” You nudge your hips flush to his, just barely shifting “If I take this off, can you come for me? I need you to cum for me as much until you can’t anymore. Can you be a good boy?”

After a moment of sniffling, he nodded, “Yes, m-mommy.”

You flicked the clasp on the ring, discarding it and rolling your hips.

And Keigo instantly came. 

With all of that build-up, he shuddered, wings writhing as his back bent harder as he drenched the sheets beneath the two of you.

“My good boy,” You hummed, petting between his wings as he rode it out. “Keep it up.”

And without relenting, you grabbed his wings for leverage and fucked him.

Maybe, it was a little cruel. 

Your pace was set hard and fast, tugging the feathery stubs and enjoying the feel of his round, downy feathers where you held the base. Your grip was the only thing keeping Keigo as he resisted collapsing.

You were nice enough to occasionally reach down and give Keigo a few quick pumps, just enough so he’d crest again, sticking your hand so well and thick. The cum was smeared onto the fatty round of his ass with a slap or two. 

As much as it was a damn treat to see Keigo so fucked up and fucked, you let up when his orgasms were still hot and harsh, but his cock was nearly dry. It hardly sputtered anything, drained and sticky and overstimulated beyond belief.

“N-no more, no more!” Keigo sputtered as he trembled and convulsed with a dry, painful orgasm, your hand still fisting the sore flesh on his cock. 

You knew him well enough to stop then.

Your hips stilled, breath labored, though nothing like Keigo’s teary, nearly-dry sobs. He slowly fell into the sheets, aching body falling with nothing left to give. 

Everything was slow for a moment. 

You pulled out, graciously slow and tender, mindful of his raw state.

With a few skillful tugs, his wrists were free and unbound. Weak arms and shaking hands grabbed for you, needy as ever, but still, you could indulge him. 

‘Mommy, m-mommy, please,” Keigo tried to tug you down into the soaked sheets as you unbuckled the harness from around your hips. 

You raised an eyebrow, “Still needy?”

Keigo choked on something between a sob and scream, nodding and needing. 

(Completely wrecked, just as you craved and planned. He really was good.)

Your heart softened, the energy in the air diffusing as you freed his wings, coaxing them to stretch out and release any remaining bottled up tension.

And you fell into the bed with him, tugging your sweet boy to your chest and peppering kisses over his salt-slicked cheeks.

“You were wonderful dear, my good, sweet boy,” You layered on the praise, enjoying how his shudders came from your words as opposed to the discarded cock. 

Keigo opened his cracked lips but quickly closed them, settling before nuzzling under your chin and practically purring as he came down.

You always knew that you did your job well when Keigo was fucked silent. 

|||||||||||||||

thank you for reading 💞 

ko-fi

[cleanlenins]

He Drives Me Crazy

AO3 FFN

Written for the Minibang

Artwork done by @tumbling-darkling

Mother's Day is today and Danny forgot to buy a present! How did this become Jazz's problem? Danny convinces Jazz to help him pick out a last minute Mother's day gift. He also somehow convinced her to teach him how to drive. Sibling hijinks ensue and Jazz is going to need some advil to get through all of her brother's terrible jokes.

The bird had been singing just outside her window for ten minutes now, but Jazz was well practiced in ignoring Mama Bird's pre-dawn routine. She snuggled further under the blankets, not quite waking as dawn began to break. The soft fingers of early morning light began to brush against her eyelids. She had found that arranging her bed in a way that allowed for natural daylight to wake her was beneficial for her mental health and refreshed her enough to face a new day with an upbeat attitude. Danny said it was proof that she was, in fact, a robot running on solar power. Honestly, he could laugh, but he would benefit from taking a little time to plot out his sleep cycle.

Something suddenly blocked the dawn light, casting a faint shadow that covered her face. She frowned, not quite waking, but some part of her brain was aware of the change.

"Jazz," a cold whisper tickled her ear. She furrowed her brow further, hiding her face from the suddenly cold air. She mumbled incomprehensible nonsense.

"Jazz, I need your help," the voice whispered again, this time breaking from desperation. A finger prodded her shoulder. Poke. Poke. Poke. "Jazz, it's an emergency ."

Jazz bolted upright, startling her little brother enough for him to fall on his butt with an oof . Jazz frantically scanned her brother, her hair a halo of ginger tangles framing her face.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is someone attacking? Did Mom or Dad make something new and horrifying? Are you okay?" She nearly shouted. Her words ran together as she raced to get them out as quickly as possible. Danny flinched from the sudden tirade of information. Jazz searched her brother’s body for any obvious wounds, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. But no, he looked perfectly whole. He was still wearing his pajamas.

“Not that kind of emergency,” Danny said with a pitiful pleading look. “I forgot to get Mom a present!”

It took Jazz a second before she could comprehend Danny’s words. She responded by mercilessly hitting him with her pillow.

“You wake me up for a supposed emergency , and that emergency is you didn’t buy Mom a Mother’s Day present? I don't think you know what emergency means,” She said, not letting up on her pillow assault. Danny tried to protect himself from the feathery flail.

“Jazz, please. This is an emergency! Mother’s Day is today!” Danny pleaded. But Jazz did not let up.

“I know that Mother’s Day is today, you dork. I know how to read a calendar,” She huffed. Jazz dropped the pillow back in place on her bed, slightly out of breath. Danny peeked through his fingers to see if it was truly over. Jazz glared down at her little brother before wrapping herself back in her blanket. “Just fly out and buy her something. Stores will be open in an hour or so.”

“I don’t know what to get her,” Danny pouted. He stood and flopped on top of Jazz, who objected to the movement. “I don’t know what she would like. Jazz, you’ve gotta help me.”

“Why didn’t you do this before now?”

“I meant to do it last weekend, but then there was that weird Simon-Says ghost that made it so you could only do something if you said his name. And the weekend before that I had to study for that big test, remember? And the project Lancer had assigned. And then there was that whole thing with Johnny 13 that ended up with the Mall closing early, so unless I broke in I couldn’t have bought a present anyways.. And then the weekend before that-”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You’ve had a lot on your plate,” Jazz said. She shoved her brother into the floor and unwound herself from the blankets. Danny didn’t bother to move from the contorted position he fell in, but just continued to look up at Jazz with his puppy dog eyes. She sighed. How could she not give in when he looked at her like that? “Did you have any ideas about what you wanted to get her?”

“Well, I had thought I could bake something for her? I also thought to go by that weird academic place and see if they had something she would like,” Danny mused.

“It's just a bookstore, Danny.”

“Weird Academic Place.”

“Whatever. Fine. Call it whatever you want. It sounds like you have it planned out. So what do you need me for?” Jazz rubbed her eyes. Ugh, couldn’t he have waited five more minutes?

“You know her better than I do. You’re actually here most of the time. Not, you know, avoiding...her.” Danny shifted guiltily. He murmured something unintelligible. Jazz ignored it. “I just want to make sure she likes it, you know?”

“I’m sure she will like whatever you pick out.”

“Yeah, but I want her to actually like it, not just ‘Mom-like’ it, you know? I want it to be something she will enjoy because she wants it, not because I gave it to her.”

Jazz sighed.

“Fine, just let me get dressed and then you can fly us over to the mall when it opens.”

Danny shifted on the floor, still looking up at Jazz with his puppy dog eyes. Honestly, those should be criminal.

“Do you think that, maybe, just this once, I can drive your car?” Danny said, increasing the puppy pressure.

“What? No! Why would you want to drive my car anyways? You can fly,” Jazz said. Was Danny’s lower lip trembling?

“I know. I just- I got my learner’s permit now! And I just really want to try. I promise I will be really careful. Just please please please PLEASE. Don’t make me learn using the GAV,” Danny begged. “Do you want Dad teaching me to drive?”

Jazz shuddered at the thought. Imagining a teenage Danny driving like Jack Fenton. Except with no fear of death.

“Well…”

~~~

Jazz was trying very hard to not laugh as Danny was practically bouncing in his seat. The driver’s seat. Of her car. That was a sobering thought. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to do this. Danny grinned as he fiddled with the seat settings, the seat jittering back and forth with an electric hum.

“Will you quit that?” Jazz snapped.

“What, I need to make sure my toesies reach, don’t I?” Danny grinned, stretching his legs comically.

“So why the heck is the seat all the way back?”

“Well, maybe my toesies need some toe room,” Danny argued, adjusting the seat's backrest all the way forward so his face almost touched his own lap.

“I’m regretting this already,” Jazz muttered, still gripping the keys.

“What? No, wait! I can behave,” Danny said, rushing to return the seat settings back to a normal setup. Not that there was any way to rush the old mechanical chair. The seat slowly moved back, the squeaking of the leather seats the only sound as Danny stared at Jazz, who was really starting to regret this. Neither teen broke eye contact as the chair moved with agonizing slowness. When the seat was finally upright, he grinned at her. “See?”

“Congratulations, you're sitting in the car like a normal person,” Jazz deadpanned. She took a steadying breath. “Okay, so what is the first thing you do now that you’ve figured out how to get your butt in a chair?”

“Uh, plug in the key?”

“Plug in?”

“I don’t know the word! You stick the key in the hole and twist.”

“I thought you got your learner's permit?” Jazz said suspiciously.

“I did, but it's early and I don’t remember words this early. I stick the key in the hole- the ignition! And turn. Right?”

“Wrong,” Jazz said, looking pointedly at her little brother. “First thing: Put on your seatbelt.”

“Why? It’s not like I can die again,” Danny laughed.

“Do you want me to teach you to drive or not?” Jazz snapped.

“I do! I do. Fine, I’ll put on the seatbelt,” Danny pouted. He clicked it into place, then made grabby hands toward his sister. “Keys, please.”

“No, you still haven’t checked your mirrors,” Jazz said.

“They're still attached to the car, I would notice if they weren’t,” Danny furrowed his brow.

“Not if they are still attached, you dork. That you can see with them,” Jazz groaned. Danny blushed.

“Sorry, cars missing mirrors tends to be a more common problem for me,” He said. He sat up and looked at all the mirrors, not having to make very many adjustments. “I think that's good. Now can I please start the car.”

Jazz hesitated, before finally dropping the keys into Danny’s waiting hands. The raven-haired teen looked gleeful at the little clump of jangling metal. He instantly put the car key in the ignition, the engine humming to life.

“Okay, so now you are going to put your foot on the brake. That’s the one on your left. And then you are going to shift the gearshift-”

“PRNDL,” Danny said, already shifting into Reverse.

“You've never even watched that show, it's on the wrong network,” Jazz complained.

“Doesn’t matter. So, do I put on the gas-?”

“No,” Jazz tried not to shout. She took another deep breath. “No, just. Get a feel for how fast it goes before you hit the gas, okay? Cars will go a little bit even without having to press the gas.”

“Sounds like me in English class,” Danny smirked, easing off the brake. The car inched toward the road.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jazz said. She turned backwards to double check that no one was coming down their street. It probably wasn’t necessary. Most people avoided the street that the crazy Fentons lived on. With her Dad's driving? That was probably a good idea. “You should be good. Just turn the wheel to straighten yourself into the lane.”

Danny nodded and did just that. He seemed relieved, as he switched the car into Drive.

“Okay, cool. So now I floor it, right?” Danny said.

“I can’t tell if you are serious or not, but if you want to continue driving my car you will do no such thing,” Jazz's voice wavered. She squeezed the door handle, starting to feel it slide with sweat. “Just gently tap it. Speed limit is 35, so don’t go over that.”

Danny did a...really good job. Jazz relaxed. His turns were a little hair-raising, but nowhere near Jack Fenton levels. And Jazz only had to ask him to slow down twice. He braked a little hard at the lights. It could be worse.

“You’re doing great, Danny,” Jazz said fondly. Danny’s face, which had slowly contorted into a stern look of concentration as he drove, brightened. He shot his sister a look before she gently slapped him on the shoulder. “Eyes on the road!”

“Am I wheely doing a good job?” Danny snickered, tapping his fingers against the wheel. They were approaching an intersection.

“No puns.”

“Even if I am being carful ?”

“Stop it.”

“But I have miles of them. Can’t stop me now that I am on a roll .”

“Stop.”

“You can’t be tired of them yet-”.

“No, STOP!” Jazz cried. Danny slammed on the brake just as the light turned red, sliding slightly further into the intersection. The squeal of the tires against the pavement attracted the attention of the few pedestrians. Luckily, there were no other cars at the traffic light. It was early Sunday morning. Jazz held her hand to her chest for a second before her head jerked to Danny.

“Danny, are you okay,” Jazz asked. Danny gave her a wry grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The seatbelt doesn’t hit near as hard as Skulker,” Danny massaged his collarbone. “Sorry.”

Jazz took a deep breath. Danny was avoiding her gaze, his cheeks flushed the same color as the traffic light. He gripped both hands on the steering wheel, elbows rigid.

“Danny, you're okay. It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes while learning,” Jazz said softly. Danny shook his head, still keeping his eyes forward. “You’re doing a really good job, I promise. Just don’t let yourself get distracted, okay?”

Danny still didn’t look at Jazz, but Jazz didn’t need eye contact to see where his mind was going. He was fast getting over his embarrassment, but it was turning into something she saw far too often on her little brother’s face.

“Danny, you have nothing to feel guilty about. I promise you are doing a good job. This is your first time driving a car, right?”

“Legally, yeah.”

“Legally-?” Jazz cut that thought short. “Nevermind. This is your first real lesson. You’re doing a good job. I promise. When this light turns green, just continue on a little more cautiously. And maybe don’t make anymore driving puns until you get a bit more comfortable. Or ever. That would certainly make me feel more comfortable.”

Danny’s lip twitched, but Jazz wasn’t satisfied.

“I want you to repeat after me,” Jazz said. Danny groaned. “Just do it. Stop complaining. Now, say ‘I am doing my best.’”

“I am doing my best,” Danny recited. The light turned green and Danny slowly pulled through the intersection.

“And my best is enough,” Jazz continued.

“And my best is enough,” Danny said unenthusiastically.

“Good, now say it all together,” Jazz said.

“Good, now say it all together,” Danny repeated.

“Danny, I’m serious,” Jazz admonished.

“And here I thought you were Jazz,” Danny quipped, his tone light. Jazz didn’t believe it. She knew when Danny was trying to pretend he was okay. She knew when he was trying to deflect. Jazz said nothing and continued to look at her little brother. Minutes passed in silence until they stopped at another intersection. Danny sighed deeply, weary.

“I’m doing my best and my best is enough,” Danny mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you,” Jazz said.

“I’m doing my best and my best is enough,” Danny said in a normal tone of voice.

“Yes, and I am very proud of you, little brother,” Jazz said fondly. “Really, I am. You do so much. And you work so hard. And you do so much good. I don’t know how I could be any prouder.”

“I thought we were talking about my driving? Why are you getting all mushy?” Danny complained half-heartedly, finally smiling. Genuinely smiling.

“Because I love you. Turn left at this next intersection. It’s faster,” Jazz directed. Danny grumbled something about sisters, but Jazz didn’t let it bother her.

It hadn’t taken long after she found out about Phantom for her to realize her brother always seemed beaten down. And not just literally. But while the scars from the ghost fights healed ridiculously quickly, the mental and emotional scars Danny had been accumulating since The Accident were just getting worse. The constant detentions from teachers who could never understand what he was going through. The bullies that tore at her little brother’s self-esteem. And then their parents. Jazz knew they meant well. She knew they scolded Danny because they thought it would help. She knew they grounded him because they were worried. But the constant negativity was not good for him. When was the last time they had said something positive to him? Something that didn’t bring up their bigotry against ghosts? Something that made him feel safe? Something that made him feel truly loved? No wonder he was stressed about Mom’s gift.

It didn’t help that it seemed like they were always complimenting her. Yes, she did work hard on all her tests. She worked hard for her grades. She had worked hard for her CATs. She had worked hard on her college entrance essays. And she liked the praise. But couldn’t her parents see the damage they were doing by constantly praising one child but not giving the other child the attention they needed? If only they could see all the good Danny did. Because Danny was an amazingly good person who-

“Jazz, this is your short cut. I don’t know where I’m going. So could you stop spacing and tell me when to turn,” Danny cut in, breaking Jazz out of her thoughts.

“Whoops, sorry,” She apologized, taking stock of where they were driving. A store caught her eye. “Oh, they finally opened that new ice cream shop!”

“Really?” Danny said. He glanced around nervously, not wanting to let his eye leave the road.

“Yeah, it opened a few days ago,” Jazz squinted to read the sign, a bright fluorescent green. She groaned.

“What?” Danny asked nervously.

“They called it ‘Scream’. That’s awful . I hate that,” Jazz lamented. And sure enough, as they drove by, the little ice cream shop was taking full advantage of Amity Park’s ghostly reputation. Cute cartoonish green ghosts decorated the windows. A few were curled up on top of ice cream cones, smiling out at the potential customers. Danny snickered.

“Well, I love that. We have to go!” Danny said.

“It’s too early for ice cream.”

“So we get it on the way home.”

“I thought you were going to bake something for Mom?”

“I mean, yeah. But that takes time. And it’s ice cream,” Danny said with longing. “I’m a itty bitty cold core ghosty. I crave the sugary icy treat. It's in my DNA.”

“Danny, you don’t need ice cream.”

“But I do . Ask Frostbite. Complete medical necessity. Don’t be ghostphobic, Jazz,” Danny complained as they passed by the shop. “I need it so bad I could scream .”

“Ugh, turn left for the mall” Jazz groaned, causing Danny to cackle in delight.

“That didn’t sound like a no,” Danny nearly sang.

“You’re paying. If I have to go into a store decorated with ghosts, you’re paying,” Jazz demanded.

“Deal!” Danny crowed in victory. Jazz rolled her eyes. She continued to give directions as Danny drove, interspersed with compliments and tips. By the time they arrived at the mall, Danny was back in high spirits. Was that a pun? Ugh, Danny’s sense of humor better not be rubbing off on her.

Jazz took back the keys when they got out of the car. Danny had turned on the puppy look again to try and keep them, but Jazz put her foot down. Jazz was far less likely to lose the keys than he was. He finally agreed as they headed toward the mall.

The siblings walked through the parking lot, with Danny trailing slightly behind Jazz. It hadn’t been open long, but there were already more people than Jazz had anticipated. Probably other last minute Mother’s Day shoppers. She smiled, knowing the probability that at least one of them was delayed because of ghost reasons as well. Just not her brother’s specific issue. She reached the door and opened it for her brother, turning to comment on that thought, when she paused.

Danny walked past her, not noticing her stalled comment. His eyes scanned the inside of the mall as he took on a tense defensive posture. The baby blue of his eyes didn’t match the sky, as Mom had always said. Not right now. They were cold and hard like ice. The calculated stare of a predator. Walking with purpose, he continued inward, not letting his guard down until some unspoken criteria was met. Jazz wasn’t sure what he saw that made him relax. What did he see that let him know that there was no immediate threat? And wasn’t that just awful that walking into the mall would make her baby brother feel threatened? Jazz watched the tension melt from her little brother’s shoulders as he turned backwards to grin at her. Jazz did her best to grin back at him.

Her brother rushed forward and grabbed Jazz by her wrist. Danny dragged Jazz through the store quickly, not noticing his sister’s lapse in concentration. He weaved in between the shoppers, apologizing quickly when he accidentally bumped into one of them. Jazz worried that he might dislocate her arm. But the pain of that possibility didn’t compare to the emotional roller coaster in her head. It wasn’t the first time she had thought about this. It was wrong. He was just barely fifteen! It shouldn’t be his responsibility. They were just kids. They should just be able to go to the mall and just be kids. Instead, Danny was always on edge. Always ready to throw himself in danger. And Jazz understood because she recognized the Mall as being statistically a likely place for ghost attacks.

Jazz almost tripped over Danny when he suddenly stopped outside the bookstore. He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the facade.

“Here we are! The Weird Academic Place. The WAP,” Danny said, a huge grin across his face. Jazz punched him.

“You are not going to call it that in public. Not if you want my help,” Jazz admonished.

“What do you mean?” Danny asked in feigned innocence. “What is so wrong with WAP?”

“Danny, you know exactly what is wrong with that acronym?” Jazz said.

“No, honest big sister. I am just your tiny baby brother. I don’t know what any word means. Tell me. Does it have a dirty meaning? Why would my perfect sister know something that has a dirty meaning?” Danny tried very hard not to laugh. To keep up the charade. Jazz felt her lip twitch before she couldn’t hold back the giggles any longer. Okay, maybe they still were able to be children. They weren’t actually completely deprived of it.

“Danny, you're ridiculous. Now, did you want to get a present or not?” Jazz asked. Danny winked.

“Yes, a Wonderfully Awesome Present,” Danny said.

“No,” Jazz said, marching forward into the store without him. She smiled when she heard his chuckling get closer, her baby brother following her in.

Looking around, Jazz could see why her brother might label this bookstore Weirdly Academic. Even ignoring his stupid joke. The bookstore was geared toward academic and science books. It was, honestly, a little pretentious. What was wrong with a little light fantasy reading? Nothing. Though, she grudgingly admitted that it was the best store to get peer-reviewed science journals in print.

“Okay, so what kind of book were you thinking?” Jazz asked. Danny shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think she would want an ectobiology book. I mean, Mom and Dad wrote the most accurate ones. But she is super into science and I am not sure which sciences would be relevant?” Danny frowned in thought.

“Well, why don’t we go look at the ectobiology section and see if anything stands out. Who knows? Maybe we can find something they haven’t read yet. After that, I know Mom was talking about looking into different ways of measuring and predicting atmospheric changes so they can finally go into the Ghost Zone safely. Like a barometer, but for ectoplasm. We might find something about that in the meteorology section. Or the general earth science section. Or possibly even engineering?”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go!” Danny said, rushing down an aisle. Jazz waited a few moments before Danny’s head popped back around the shelf. “I’m going the wrong way, aren’t I?”

“Why don’t I lead the way this time?” She said, grinning. She grabbed his hand and steered him in the right direction. He moaned about holding his sister’s hand in public, but both of them could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Just a little brother reflex.

It didn’t take long for her to find the section on meteorology. Granted, she wasn’t super well versed in any of the Earth Sciences. But she had picked up a book here after the Vortex incident. The section wasn’t large. A big portion of it was taken up by a life-sized portrait of Lance Thunder, the local “weatherman” as he used to be known. Now he mostly just got called out to Ghost Fights. He didn’t seem very happy about it.

Danny looked over the books briefly, picking up a very fancy book that seemed promising. It’s title did seem to insinuate that at least one of the articles had something to do with atmospheric changes. But…

“What is it?” Danny said, looking up at Jazz.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jazz replied, a little too quickly.

“You didn’t have to. You don’t think this is a good choice,” Danny sighed, putting the book back into place.

“Well, no. I guess not. I think it might be a bit too broad for what they are looking for. But then again, what they are looking for is very specific. Maybe we should look at the engineering section first. Mom and Dad usually make their own stuff. But maybe there is something in there similar to what they want and they can base their designs on that?” Jazz said hopefully. Danny slumped.

“Fine, lead the way,” Danny said, slightly disappointed. Jazz squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, before they walked over to the engineering section. They passed by the small kids section on the way there.

As with everything else in the store, the kid’s section was education oriented, with science being the predominant field. There weren’t any kids here, probably because of the time. Jazz paused as something caught her eye. There on a display was the book version of Bearburt, Bearburt Knows It All. Jazz looked at the book wistfully.

Back when she was a kid, she was enamoured with that book. She had seen it at the old bookstore when she was five or six years old. She had skimmed it with her tiny fingers, seeing how the book encouraged her to be smart and to study. And to never stop questioning. She read it three times just while they stood in the store. Jazz had begged her Mom to buy it at the time, but she hadn’t gotten it. Mom had been distracted and instead of buying her the book, she had thought Jazz had wanted the stuffed animal that went with it. And Jazz didn’t correct her. Her teachers at school said she wasn’t supposed to correct adults, even when she was right. And so she had taken Bearburt home.

And she loved Bearburt. He had always been there for her. Through the kids that teased her in elementary school. To the crippling self-doubt she hid in middle school. She had thought she had grown out of him when she hit high school, when everything seemed to be working out according to plan. Even though Bearburt had helped her out through all of those hard times, it was the book that had given her the courage to be herself, even when others didn’t approve. To finally speak up for herself when she saw something wrong. And maybe she got a lot of grief over the years for being a know-it-all, but she was happy with who she was.

“Um, Jazz? You okay? I’m supposed to be the space case, not you. Remember?” Danny asked, shaking her gently. Jazz blinked rapidly. “That’s like twice. I didn’t think waking you up early would turn you into a Zombie.”

“I’m not a Zombie. I’m fine. I just remembered something.”

Danny hummed in response, a single eyebrow raised.

“So, the engineering section. This way,” Jazz directed. Danny watched her closely a moment longer, before shrugging off the distraction.

The engineering section was much larger than the section geared towards earth science. Jazz couldn’t be sure, but she imagined it was probably because of the constant destruction in Amity Park. Interest in engineering would likely soar when people wanted to find a way to create city infrastructure that could withstand the force of a giant glowing dragon being suplexed into the road. Or at least that seemed logical.

“That’s a lot of books,” Danny eyed the aisle warily.

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed, scanning the titles. She gestured to one section. “I think those are mostly geared towards Architectural Engineering, so we don’t need to look through those.”

“That still leaves a lot to look through,” Danny sighed. “Oh well, better start.”

The siblings began grabbing books and looking through them. Most of them were collections of articles instead of just being books on one subject, so they couldn’t just read the dust jacket to get a sense of what was inside. Many of the concepts were foreign to Jazz, but she was able to parse out the jargon well enough to get a sense of what was not what they were looking for. The problem was that they didn’t know enough to say if any of the few options they considered would actually be helpful.

“ Status and characteristics of diagnostics on Korea Superconducting Tokamak Research seems like a good option. It details what would work and what wouldn’t work with their design, so that might be a good place for Mom and Dad to start,” Jazz mused, looking at the journal entry.

“Yeah, but wasn’t it published in like 1996. Isn’t that kind of old?” Danny asked.

“Yeah, it’s not ideal . But they mostly just need a starting place. You know that they don’t stick to a blueprint from start to finish very well.”

“But what about this one? Pressure and interaction measure of the gluon plasma came out in 2010, wouldn’t that be better?” Dany said.

“Do you know what gluon plasma is?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Danny admitted.

“Me either,” Jazz sighed. “Who knows if it is similar to ectoplasm or not.”

“Maybe I should just get both?” Danny ventured, before wincing at the price. “Or not.”

“Yeah, academic titles are pricey.” Jazz said apologetically. Danny just hummed in agreement.

“I think I will go with the first one. The one about Korea Superconducting. If it’s the wrong thing, I think she would still enjoy that one more? She said something about superconducting at some point, ” Danny sounded unsure. Jazz hugged her little brother.

“Why touchy?” Danny complained. Jazz just squeezed him tighter.

“Big sister,” Jazz explained.

“Ngh,” Danny wriggled out of her hands. “I'm going to go buy this. You can go look up a book on personal space.”

“Rude,” Jazz called after her brother as he sprinted off towards the checkout. Or she thinks that’s where he was heading. He was going the completely wrong direction. Jazz chuckled. The red-head then put back the small pile of books she and Danny had pulled out, before heading over toward the psychology section. Maybe she could find a book on personal space just to irritate Danny. Actually, that was a good idea. Read a chapter of it here or there out loud until Danny stopped pestering her. Turn his own joke against him.

She noticed the ectobiology section as she made her way through the store. The section was probably bigger in Amity than it was in any other city. Most of the covers sported a massive orange ‘F’ on the front. There was probably twenty years worth of research, countless hours spent by her parents locked in the basement. Researching and inventing and writing papers, day after day. Even now, it wasn’t uncommon for Jazz and Danny to not even see their parents for a few days, their schedules causing the family to be like ships in the night. She wondered if they would ever get tired of that. Did they miss Jazz and Danny? Because Jazz found herself more and more missing them.

Maybe she should pick up a new book on childhood development instead. She passed the ectobiology section and found her way into the psychology section. They had actually restocked since she was last here! She soon found herself lost in a psychology journal article about sibling rivalry and didn’t notice the minutes ticking away from her.

“There you are! Dang it, why is this WAP so complicated to navigate?” Danny said, startling Jazz out of her focus.

“How long is it going to take you to get bored with that joke?” Jazz said, slamming the book closed and replacing it on the shelf.

“Depends. I still say the 'Road Work Ahead' line every time I see one of those signs,” Danny shrugged. He was grinning, and he swung the plastic shopping bag around lazily.

“I know. And there is one on every block,” Jazz bemoaned. She grabbed her brother by the shoulders and marched him toward the exit. “Why do you think I gave you directions the way I did this morning? So much construction.”

“You were trying to deprive me of Road Work signs?” Danny gasped, trying to turn around to stare at his sister. She kept pushing and ignored the false hurt in his voice.

“I was trying to keep you from having to maneuver through a construction zone your first time driving,” Jazz retorted. She was lying, so sue her. He literally said it every. Single. Sign. There are twelve on 4th street alone. “Sometimes I think you let yourself get thrown onto the road just so they put up more of those signs.”

Danny went strangely quiet but Jazz had grown adept at reading the silence.

“You don’t try to destroy the road so they put up more of those signs, right?” Jazz asked.

“I mean, I didn’t before. But you have such good ideas, Jazz.”

“No. Uh-uh. If I get any indication that you are letting yourself get curb stomped for a meme , I will lock you in the thermos for a week and just suck ectodogs in there for you to eat. That has to be the stupidest form of self-harm I have ever heard of,” Jazz chided as she pushed Danny out of the Weird Aca- dang it. Now she was doing it. They now stood in the mall proper. It had grown much busier in the time they had been inside the store.

“Was there anything else you needed here?” Jazz asked, Danny shook his head. “Then let's drive over to the grocery store and you can find something to bake for Mom.”

Danny lit up and held out his hand. Jazz fixed him with a stare.

“I will only let you have the keys if you promise me you will not intentionally get yourself thrown into a road,” Jazz said.

“Jazz,” Danny whined. “Sometimes I have to get thrown into the road. It’s better than getting thrown into the nursing home or doggy daycare or something. Sometimes the road is the best option.”

“Okay,” Jazz said, noting to process that later. “No intentionally getting thrown into the road for a dumb joke.”

A passing couple gave her an odd look, which she ignored. Danny put his hand over his heart, left hand in the air.

“I, Daniel James Fenton, swear not to let myself be thrown into the road for a dumb joke,” Danny said seriously. “Now gimme.”

Jazz sighed, and gave her brother the jangling mass of metal. He tossed it up in the air and caught it once more, a smirk at his sister.

“But you said nothing about a great joke!” Danny smirked, before sprinting through the mall. Jazz took a second to react before she chased down her brother.

“Danny Fenton, get back here with my keys!” She yelled.

~~~

Danny Fenton did not, in fact, get back there with her keys. When she made it to her car, her brother was already inside on the driver’s side. He was buckled with both hands on the wheel and beamed at her when she came into sight. Jazz glared at him and his smile dimmed. She marched over to the passenger side and slammed the door as she got in.

“...You know I am not really going to throw myself into the road for a joke, right?” Danny asked hesitantly, sinking down into the seat. Jazz sighed.

“I hope so. But sometimes you say something as a joke and then you actually mean it. I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. The things you do...they are completely out of my depth, little brother. They don’t sell any books on how to handle this. I know what you do is important, but can you please try not to stress me out so much?” Jazz begged.

“Sorry. I guess I took the joke a little too far,” Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I promise, Jazz. I’m not going to let myself get hurt for some dumb reason. Jokes aside, I really don’t want to find out if I can die all the way.”

Jazz leaned over to give her little brother an awkward hug. He leaned into her. The moment passed and Danny grinned at her like the chaos gremlin he was.

“So, grocery store?” Danny asked. Jazz just smiled and turned around to make sure he didn’t back into anyone. Her brother eased out of the parking space, the mall in the rearview mirror.

The grocery store wasn’t all that far away from the mall, so it was a pretty short drive. Honestly, Jazz had been considering just walking from the mall to the supermarket. But Danny seemed to be having so much fun driving that she didn’t bring it up. The closer they got to the store, Danny’s smile grew and grew. Jazz thought it was bordering on maniacal.

“What’s with that face?” Jazz asked, suspicious.

“What face?” Danny tried to straighten his grin into one of innocent confusion.

“You know what face. Why are you making that face?”

“I don’t know what you mean. This is just my face. My normal human face. No need to attack me about it,” Danny cackled.

“Okay, you’re making a pun. I hear that in your voice. But I have no clue what joke you are making,” Jazz said as she stared at her giggling brother.

“I’m just getting in the zone ,” Danny snarked. Jazz was about to grill him about his behavior when she saw it.

“Oh no, they didn’t,” She said, horror struck. Danny expertly parked the car so he didn’t crash from laughing.

“They did,” Danny gasped, tears dripping down his cheeks. His face was as bright as a tomato as he continued to laugh. Jazz gaped, torn between being insulted by the misuse of government resources and amused by the absurdity.

On the side of the road was a very new sign. And as Jazz looked around, she could see that they were scattered everywhere. How had she missed them? The sign was a bright yellow equilateral triangle with the vague silhouette of a blob ghost, eyes glaring menacingly. Underneath it said-

“Ghost Attack Zone? What?” Jazz was flabbergasted. Danny clutched his stomach.

“I know!” He choked out between giggles.

“What does that even mean? Ghosts attack everywhere!” Jazz threw her hands in the air while Danny just continued to laugh. Jazz tried to stay strong and be the serious one, as usual. But she couldn’t do it. She caved, snorting and laughing with Danny. The siblings leaned into each other and guffawed until their sides hurt. Whenever they tried to get ahold of themselves, they would make eye contact and suddenly they were both back to clutching their sides and gasping for breath.

“Oh Ancients, do you think you can use this against Walker?” Jazz mused when she was finally able to control her laughter. Danny looked awestruck and grinned.

“Sorry, Walker, this is not a Ghost Attack Zone. Attacking me is against the rules,” Danny mocked the absent ghost. “Oh, I have no clue if it will work but I am absolutely doing that. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

“I think you can wait. We don’t need him showing up right now. It’s almost noon,” Jazz chided. Danny smiled.

“Would you say it’s High Noon?” Danny drawled.

“That meme is as dead as you,” Jazz rolled her eyes as Danny once more lost himself in a peel of laughter. “Can you please get a hold of yourself and drive to the store? The parking lot is right there!”

Danny held his breath, trying to contain the laughter as he drifted back onto the street. He pulled into the parking lot and began to look for a spot. Jazz pointed one out to him.

“There is one! It doesn’t have anyone next to it so it is a good place for you to practice.”

“I’m not parking there!”

“Why not?”

“The parking lot seagulls are there, minding their own birdy business. Are you trying to get me to commit birdy genocide?" Danny asked aghast.

“They will move when you get close to them.”

“But then they might not like me anymore and take their poop-fueled revenge. I don’t have the gull to make them my enemy. We’re birds of a feather !”

“How does that even remotely make sense?”

“I mean, they're white, they fly, and most of Amity Park thinks they’re a menace when they mostly just want to eat cheese fries,” Danny listed off, slowly passing the seagull mob. “Oh, and they are from the Ghost Zone.”

“What do you mean they’re from the Ghost Zone?” Jazz said, rubbing her temple.

“How do you think a bunch of seagulls end up in a city in the middle of Minnesota? Random transient portals,” Danny nodded sagely.

“Are you making that up?”

“You’ll never know.”

Jazz did not like not knowing things, but Danny was stubborn. Even though Jazz pestered Danny well after the car was parked, Danny refused to budge on elaborating. He just smiled mischievously. Jazz stewed, but it was fine. Danny may be afraid of bird-related vengeance, but she was an older sister. And she knew how to wait. And he should be more worried about Jazz related vengeance.

The siblings entered the store, Danny quickly grabbing a shopping cart. Jazz held onto his shoulder so he wouldn’t zoom off without her. Even so, she was having to speed walk to keep up with him.

“So, what are you planning to bake for Mom?” Jazz asked.

“Um, that’s a good question,” Danny slowed his pace. He looked at her with big pleading eyes. Jazz sighed.

“Well, I know she likes key lime pie but-”

“Great! Key lime pie, it is!” Danny said, successfully zooming away from his sister toward the produce aisle. Jazz wanted to scream, but she walked at a sensible speed after her little brother.

Jazz didn’t like key lime pie all that much. She had plenty of evidence as to why it was the inferior dessert in the Fenton Household. For one, it was green. Or, green-tinted at least. It made it very difficult to tell if it had been contaminated in the refrigerator by her parents' ectoplasm samples. It was made doubly hard by the citrus sour taste, something that limes and ectoplasm shared. Though limes didn’t usually have that battery-acid aftertaste as well. Not unless they had been left in the Fenton Fridge too long. On top of it, Jazz just didn’t like sour things. But if she were to honestly examine her distaste, she may dislike sour things because she had eaten so many ectoplasm contaminated meals.

Danny was still in the produce aisle. Jazz frowned as she watched him grab different fruits and stick them in the cart. He hadn’t even grabbed any of the limes yet. But he was going along, grabbing item after item at seemingly random.

“What are you doing?” She asked once she caught up to him. He looked at her seriously, before slowly reaching into the cart and solemnly handing her a bright red apple. Jazz just stared at it, before looking at her brother suspiciously. He was leaning over the cart.

“I just wanted to apple-ogize for driving you bananas today,” He pulled out the yellow fruit and put it on top of the apple in her hand. Jazz looked at the fruit expressionlessly. “ You kiwi-ckly agreed to go shopping with me, even though apricot to buy Mom’s gift. I cherry-sh our currant relationship, and think your grape for en-durian my jokes. And I will try to not take you for pomegranate again because we make a great pear. ”

As he spoke, he piled each named fruit into Jazz’s hands, who just stood there looking at the growing mass of food she held. When he had finished talking, she had a small fruity hill precariously balanced in her arms. She looked at her brother.

“Are you done?” She asked. He looked at her sheepishly, before sitting a single avocado on top of the pile.

“I couldn’t think of a pun for it in time,” Danny admitted. Jazz just stared at him. And took a deep, steadying breath.

“Why?” She asked. Danny shrugged.

“Fruit was there,” Danny said, as if it explained everything. Which it didn’t. But Jazz was going to at least pretend to be the bigger person.

“Please just put them back,” Jazz begged. Danny grinned as he pulled each fruit out of Jazz’s hand. “Where did you even find a durian?”

“Sam.”

“...were you just carrying that in your pocket?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jazz,” Danny scoffed. “It was in my backpack.”

“Right. And you are carrying a durian around with you because-?” Jazz prompted, handing over the last of the fruit to Danny.

“They are smelly,” He said, brows furrowed.

“Danny. Please. Explain it to me. Use your words,” Jazz begged.

“It makes it easier for Cujo to find me. Strong smell. And also he really likes playing fetch with them,” Danny shrugged. “Hey, can you go grab the stuff for a pie crust while I put all of this fruit back? We are in a hurry, you know.”

Jazz really wanted to explore how he had found out that the Ghost Puppy enjoyed durian, especially since she wasn’t sure if living dogs could even eat the fruit safely. Was he just chucking random fruit for the dog to chase? There was a story here. Not to mention it wasn't something usually found in the local stores but-

“What kind of pie crust?”

“Um, I guess a graham cracker crust? I don’t know how to make other kinds,” Danny said, still holding his fruit pile. “I think the graham crackers are in aisle eight.”

Jazz turned to walk away, keeping one eye on her brother and making sure he put the assorted fruit back in their place. He seemed to be doing just that, after sliding the durian back into his backpack. She walked past the baked goods. Danny was getting good at baking, somehow, but she would still prefer any of these store bought goods to key lime pie. She tried not to eye the cute little tiramisu that was placed right at the front, wrapped in a hard plastic box. She really liked the little cake, but never found the time to make it. Wait, she was getting distracted. Jazz blinked away the thought and walked briskly to aisle eight. Danny was right. This did have the graham crackers.

It took some time for Jazz to find Danny again. She had taken a detour to make sure he had actually put all of the fruit back in their correct place before catching up with him by the eggs.

"Don't we have eggs at home?" Jazz asked. Danny shrugged.

"I think so. But they have probably been in the fridge for a week so-"

"Ah. Yeah, better not chance it," Jazz nodded.

"Yeah. I guess I could still take a crack at it, though," Danny snickered.

"Oh my god, Danny-"

"You gotta learn to take a yolk , Jazz," Danny drawled out her name. "Don't be so hard-boiled ."

"I'm getting rid of you. I am going to Vlad's house and giving him your birth certificate," Jazz deadpanned. Danny gasped dramatically. "Danielle can just come and live with us. Upgrade."

"You wound me! Also, Ellie's puns are worse than mine, so not much of an upgrade there," Danny shrugged, grabbing a dozen eggs and putting them in the cart. "All that's left is the sweetened condensed milk. What even is sweetened condensed milk?"

"It's just milk that has been heated to remove some of the water from it, with sugar added," Jazz grabbed the cart from her brother and started pushing it toward the baking aisle. It forced Danny to walk at a normal pace. "You know you could have asked me to grab it while I was getting the graham crackers, right? They are in the same aisle."

"Of course I knew that," Danny said, his tone saying he very much did not know that. Jazz chose to drop it. They grabbed the can of sweetened condensed milk, Jazz physically holding her hand over Danny's mouth to prevent another infernal pun. Danny licked her hand, so she did the mature thing and rubbed his spit on his face. When an adult turned down the aisle, Jazz straightened up. She angled the cart toward the registers, but Danny stopped her.

"Let's do the self checkout," he complained, tugging on her arm. She shook him off.

"Do you see how many items we have in this cart? That would be so annoying! The cashier-run register is better."

"Noooo,"Danny whined. He leaned all of his weight on Jazz, causing her to stumble. "Self checkout, Jazz!"

"Seriously? You're going to knock me over," Jazz complained, trying to push her brother off of her.

"Sounds like a personal problem," Danny said, continuing to hang off of Jazz. Jazz was severely tempted to just let him fall on the floor, but that was probably not the correct response to have.

"If you want to do the self-checkout so badly, I am not going to help you. You can do it yourself," Jazz huffed

"Okay," Danny chirped, standing upright immediately. "Why don't you wait in the car while I check out?”

Jazz was going to argue against it, when inspiration struck. A little bit of pay back for her baby brother. She smiled sweetly at him and gave him a kiss on the head. He sputtered and gagged at the show of affection as she turned on heel to head for the car.

It didn’t take her long to set up her revenge. She had kept it on the backburner for a while, a small plan to be enacted when the time was right. Preparation was key. So she waited primly in the passenger seat of her car, giving occasional glances to the storefront. She saw her brother heading toward the car, half a dozen bags hanging from his arms (with one tiny one clutched in between his teeth). She unlocked the trunk as soon as he got close, letting him put the groceries in before slamming it shut with a thud. Danny slid into the driver’s side, grinning from ear to ear. Jazz did her best to hide her excitement as he buckled his seat belt.

“Why are you making that face?” He asked, suspicious.

“Face? What face?” She asked, knowing she was failing to hide her excitement.

“You are worse at keeping secrets than I am,” Danny said, staring at her.

“If you say so. But we need to get going if you are going to get ice-cream,” Jazz said, deflecting.

“Uh-huh,” Danny said, still suspicious. He shifted the car into reverse, and both he and Jazz turned to make sure he didn’t hit someone as he pulled out. He drove through the parking lot, slowing to wave at the flock of seagulls that were currently tearing apart a deli sandwich. He pulled up to the road, about to turn when Jazz made her move.

“Why don’t we listen to some relaxing music on our way,” She said, all too innocently. She turned the volume up, the unmistakable sound of flute and harp warbled through the speakers.

“No,” Danny cried, horrified. His mouth fell open as he stared at the car’s radio, not moving even though he was clear to drive.

“ Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling~ ” The car crooned. Danny groaned loudly, trying to drown out the lovely soprano voices of Celtic Women.

“Jazzy, please! Have mercy on your brother!” Danny begged.

“I have know idea what you mean, Baby Brother,” Jazz said, grinning. “You can turn, you know. There isn’t anyone coming.”

“Jazz!” He cried. “Please.”

“Come on, don’t get distracted. Just think of that frosty treat, cold core ghosty. Go on,” Jazz mocked. Danny fake sniffled as he pulled onto the road.

“Jazz, this is torture. I hate this song! You know I hate this song.”

“What? You hate this song? This is brand new information. I guess I was due to learn something new since you refused to tell me about the seagulls,” Jazz said. “Here, I’ll change it for you.”

Jazz pressed the button that would change the song. A soft organ played a delicate melody.

“ Oh Danny boy -” sang Johnny Cash.

“Jazz!” Danny yelled. “Jazz, why?”

“Oh dear, it seems like this entire CD is made of only covers of the world-renowned Irish hit Danny Boy . Who would make such a thing?” Jazz grinned as her brother expertly stopped at the redlight. “Great job, Danny. You’re doing great.”

“Please, just kill me Jazz. This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Danny said, reaching to turn the car radio off. Jazz slapped his hand out of the way.

“Both hands on the steering wheel, Mister,” She admonished.

“Jazz, I’m sorry! Yes, the seagulls came through a portal. But they are just birds. Please just stop this torment,” Danny yelled over Johnny Cash.

“So interesting, little brother. I am really glad you told me,” Jazz said. She clicked the radio. A fiddle introduced the Daniel O’Donnell version of the song. Danny made an inhuman noise of distress, causing goosebumps on Jazz’s arms.

Jazz directed him, sometimes yelling over the Irish tune to make herself heard. Danny moaned and groaned, throwing quite a tantrum over each iteration of the song as they faded into the next. His driving did not reflect his words, though. Jazz only had to correct him slightly, warning him that he was drifting into other lanes here and there. She considered asking him about the “not-legal driving” he had insinuated, as it really was impressive that this was his first time. Instead, Jazz sang along happily as her brother screeched his displeasure. Before they knew it, they were pulling into the ice cream shop. Danny was shrieking nonsense over the blaring music. A few people in the parking lot gave the car an odd look.

Jazz flicked the radio off, but Danny continued to scream until the car was completely parked. She scrunched her face as the blaring noise.

“You good?” She asked, as he stopped for breath. He gave one more inhuman shriek before ceasing. He intangibly reached into the cd player and pulled out the cd, cracking it in half.

“I am now,” He smiled. Jazz rolled her eyes, before opening the car door.

Scream had really pulled out all the stops for their ghostly ice cream theme. She had only caught a glimpse when they had driven by before. Little blob ghost silhouettes were pasted on all of the windows, statues of some of the more well known ghosts were positioned around the building. Fairy lights were strewn around the outside, each one fitted with a little green ghost bulb. The very front had an almost to scale statue of Phantom, though anyone who actually got close to Phantom could see little mistakes in the appearance. They couldn’t stand there examining every decoration, though. They had groceries in the car.

“They just can’t get my nose right,” Danny whispered, causing Jazz to giggle. Jazz opened the door for her brother and followed him in. The walls were papered with articles about the different ghost attacks as well as drawn art of the different ghosts. Streamers hung from the ceiling, wrapped around themselves in such extravagant swirls and twists that the ceiling was completely hidden in the green and purple paper.  The ice cream was set up behind a counter, as any other ice cream shop would have it. But there were also shelves filled with different merchandise. T-shirts, cups, and hats with little ghosts. The logo for Scream clearly in view.

There was not a very long line, only about four people in front of the siblings. This gave them plenty of time to peruse the different flavors and options. It wasn’t a franchise, so they didn’t have as many options as a corporation like Baskin Robbins. Apparently, they even changed their flavors weekly. Jazz thought that was smart for the small time company. But she had to wonder how much money they blew on decorating the place.

Danny was cackling at the flavor names. Jazz just ignored them. More puns. Of course more puns. Did Danny give input for this place or was he just corrupting the entirety of Amity Park? It wouldn’t surprise her if puns became more popular because of a certain Ghost Hero’s penchant for using them in his witty banter. Witty in quotation marks.

“That will be $20.22. Will that be cash or card,” Jazz turned to where a worker was passing a cone to an elderly gentleman and what she assumed was his grandson. The older man whistled.

“That sure is pricey,” He said as he reached for his wallet.

“You get what you pay for. We only use the best ingredients,” The worker said unenthusiastically. The cashier waited for the elderly man to pull out his money, but the grandfather seemed distracted. He started telling the young whippersnapper about how things used to be and how far he could make a dollar go back during the depression. Jazz tuned it out as she continued to look at the options.

“Actually, Jazz. Maybe we shouldn’t do this today,” Jazz turned to Danny. He was looking away from her so she couldn’t read his expression. “This is probably going to take a while, and we do have groceries in the car.”

“It’s fine, Danny. There aren’t that many people waiting. We have time,” Jazz assured him.

“I mean, it is already getting late. And I still have to make that pie without Mom noticing. So maybe we should just leave,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“We’re already here. I thought it was a medical necessity that you get some ice cream?” Jazz was confused. He had been so insistent.

“Yeah, but I think we should just go. We don’t want to be late,” Danny said, turning toward the door.

“Wait, Danny,” Jazz grabbed her brother’s arm. “We came all the way here. And I know you still want some ice cream so why-?”

“It’s nothing, Jazz. I just changed my mind,” Danny refused to make eye contact with her, but glanced over at the man still regaling the tired employee with the value of a dollar. Jazz followed his gaze, before it clicked. Danny was flushed with embarrassment, hand hovering over the pocket that held his wallet. A wallet she would guess was quite a bit lighter after buying gifts. One that was often empty because of ghost related costs.

“You know, I’m feeling really bad about subjecting you to all of those covers of Danny Boy . How about I pay for the ice cream this time instead?” Jazz said.

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” Danny said, finally meeting her eyes.

“I don’t have to, but I am going to. It wasn’t very ethical of a future psychologist to subject my younger brother to musical torment. Even if it was my right as an older sister. Just don’t get it in my car. Besides, that Coffee Carnage ice cream actually sounds really delicious,” Jazz pulled Danny back over next to the display. Danny made another half-hearted attempt to leave but Jazz ignored him. “What are you going to get?”

“...I guess the Harshmallow Chocolate Chunk,” Danny sighed.

“Even you know that that pun is bad, right?” Jazz asked. Danny snorted.

“No such thing,” He chuckled. The line finally moved.

The siblings got their ice cream and Jazz grabbed so many napkins that the employees had to step in to limit her. The Fenton's walked out of the shop, eating their ice cream and heading for the car. Jazz decided to drive the remainder of the way home, and Danny did not object. It was a little difficult to eat ice cream and drive. And neither Jazz nor Danny felt comfortable with Danny attempting that on his first day. Jazz stuffed the napkins all around Danny to make sure that he didn’t drop the sticky chocolate marshmallow creation on her interior.

“Jazz, I’m fifteen not five. I’m not going to drop it in your car,” He rolled his eyes before fumbling his cone. He had to catch the scoop in his fingers as it threatened to tip off into his lap.

“Right, that makes me feel so much better,” Jazz said as she watched her brother lick his fingers clean. “If my car is chocolate-covered after this, you are going to wish that I still had that CD.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Danny saluted with his sticky hand. Jazz suppressed a groan and pulled out onto the road. She forgot to take an alternate route and soon Danny was pointing out every Road Work Ahead sign on the road. She felt the muscle in her eye twitching.

After threatening to shove her ice cream in Danny's face if he didn't stop, Danny focused on eating his treat. Jazz kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye. When Danny smirked like that, it usually didn't bode well. Even so, the younger sibling didn't pull anything even after Jazz parked in the Fenton driveway. Suspicious.

Unfortunately, Jazz didn't have time to grill her little brother on the mischief he was planning. As soon as the car was stopped, he shoved the final bit of his cone in his mouth (paper and all, ew Danny) had unbuckled and flung himself out of the car. Jazz watched as her brother scrambled to grab every bag at one time, nearly dropping most of them.

"You're going to drop the eggs," Jazz warned.

"No I'm not," Danny said.

He dropped the egg carton and they would have splattered on the ground if he had reacted even a moment slower. However, precariously balanced on his knee wasn't a super stable place to be. Jazz grabbed it from him, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled nervously, attempting to rub the back of his neck. But the plastic bag on his wrist slapped him in the face. Jazz bent over with laughter, which Danny joined.

Danny and Jazz walked into the house and straight to the kitchen. She started to put the eggs in the refrigerator, but thought better of it. Danny was going to use them soon anyway. She sat them on the counter and turned to the rest of the supplies. She reached out to unpack the groceries, when suddenly Danny was there blocking her way.

"I got this. You don't need to do that," Danny said quickly.

"I know I don't need to, but I want to. It's just a few things," Jazz said.

"Yeah, but you've already done so much! And I've taken up almost all of your Sunday. Didn't you have to do something for-um. You have a penpal, right? Or, er- the kid you tutor in English online. Weren’t you supposed to message them today?" Danny fidgeted. Jazz's eyes widened before she glanced at her watch.

"Oh, Ancients, you're right! I was supposed to message him twenty minutes ago!" Jazz said, she ran out of the kitchen. She called back "Let me know if you need any help!"

It turns out, her tutee was running late as well. So, no harm done. Jazz spent the next hour helping him, keeping a constant ear out for her little brother. Afterwards, she decided to get a little bit of her homework for next week done. She hoped Danny would come ask for help if he needed it. She hoped that he had learned that she was there for him. When she finally shut off her computer and walked down to check on Danny, he was placing the pie cautiously on the table. The whipped cream was a bit lopsided, but it looked cute.

"That looks nice, Danny," Jazz said. Danny beamed.

"Thanks. I had to cull some of the ectodogs in the fridge. They really wanted to take a bite out of me instead of the pie."

"Why don't I run upstairs and get my present? Then we can get Mom out of the lab to wish her a Happy Mothers day."

"Sounds good to me," Danny nodded. Jazz took a quick trip up to her room. She grabbed her perfectly wrapped gift and brought it downstairs. Danny had found a gift bag for the book, and it was sitting next to the pie. Jazz sat her gift next to the pie, as well. Before she could turn to the Lab, the door burst open and the heavily armed Fenton parents rushed out.

"Sorry, kids. You are going to have to find something for dinner tonight. We just got a call about a potentially haunted house over on Northshore. Don't wait up, okay?" Maddie Fenton said, rushing through the kitchen. Jack hot on her heels.

"Wait, but-"Jazz called after.

"No can do, Jazzy! A Fenton waits for nothing! Especially red lights," Jack Fenton called back. The front door slammed shut, and their parents were gone. Jazz just stood there, mouth ajar. Oh, Danny had worked so hard. And they were just going to leave? She turned to her little brother.

He was eating a slice of the key lime pie (how did he already slice it?). He seemed bored.

"Danny, I am so sorry-"

"Jazz, don't worry about it. We can give her our gifts later. It's not a big deal," Danny shrugged and took another bite of pie. "You want a piece?"

"Um, actually Danny, I don't really-"

"-like key lime pie? I know. I may be clueless, but I'm not blind," Danny grinned and pulled something from under the table. Jazz leaned forward to get a better look.

The little tiramisu she had seen at the store was sitting on a colorful platter. Jazz didn't know what to say.

"I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for letting me drag you all over Amity today. And teaching me how to drive. And for just always having my back, you know, in general," Danny rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as Jazz took the platter, still speechless. "You're a great big sister, and I love you. I guess. But if you tell anyone about this conversation, I will deny everything."

Jazz fingered the platter-no not a platter. The smooth surface was much too light. Gave too much under the weight of the tiny cake. She picked up the plastic box the cake was in and felt a wet prickle in her eye.

Bearburt Knows It All by C.L. Werk. Jazz gently sat the plastic box on the table and ran a finger over the shiny cover. She traced the letters slowly with her finger, just as she did the first time she read it. She looked up at Danny, who was fidgeting in his seat. He stuffed another bite of pie in his mouth. Jazz laughed wetly, and rushed around the table. She folded her brother into a tight hug, ignoring his protests.

“I love you too, Danny,” Jazz sobbed. Danny chuckled before hugging Jazz as well. Both relished the moment of peace their life so desperately needed.

Words are hard. It's hard to express only in words the love between two siblings. Because it wasn’t always tender. It wasn’t always kind. It was chaotic, and loud, and full of energy. Even with all the words Jazz knew, she knew that no word could ever explain the feeling in that moment. So she held her brother tight, and she would always hold him tight. Because he may drive her crazy, but she wouldn’t miss it for the world.

[vminity21]

Speak Now | myg

Pairing: groom!yoongi x bestfriend!reader

Word Count: 3,124

Genre: angst/fluff

Warning(s): curse words used, mention of a toxic relationship, mention of advances toward infidelity Rated: pg 13

Summary: When the love of your life is about to marry the wrong person, you muster up enough courage to profess your heart before it is too late. By late, you mean the day of your best friend’s wedding.

Credits to: @suhdays​ for making the cover, you are my favorite! 

With clammy palms, you relieve a steady breath descending into the pew while bundles of people bustle through the chapel doors in search for a place to sit. You picked the first available section that you saw and with a silent prayer, you hope that whoever chooses the same row will maintain their distance. With your mind racing, you frantically observe the scenery encompassing the audience from the colorful stained windows, the mahogany pulpit to the rich color of the carpet- absolutely anything to distract you from the overwhelming anxiety plaguing your tightening chest. There is, rather, one thing you are searching for. More like, someone. You are aware he is hidden in a room in preparation for the event about to take place, but unbeknownst to him, you did reluctantly, after many nights of pondering, decide to show up with a mission in tow. Your heart shattered in millions of pieces when you discovered, scrolling through social media, that Yoongi’s wedding ceremony was shared on his wall.  

Upon assumption, you were not invited to the event for reasons you are certain of. But this post gave you a date and a time to organize your thoughts and the words that you want to say.

Since elementary school, you and Yoongi have been inseparable. Thick as thieves as your best friend Monnie would say; two peas in a damn pod her boyfriend Jeongguk would say, and even your mother supported the dream of you and Yoongi getting married one day. That day seemed to vanish suddenly even though Yoongi has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and regardless of him being taken, you have also been his shoulder to lean on throughout his incredibly toxic relationship with his soon to be bride to be. The comical part of it all to you is that she has never been fond of you from the beginning which you inwardly knew it boiled down to jealousy. And as you figured, you were not invited because she demanded so.

Anger brims harshly beneath you and in attempt to clear your unwanted thoughts, you shake your head. She’s irrelevant anyway. It is Yoongi I am here for. In the end, you are here for one reason and one reason only. For Yoongi to know how you feel about him once and for all.

“Y/N?” Jung Hoseok approaches you, one out of the six best friends Yoongi has other than you. From afar, shoulder leaned against the brick wall of the school, you stared in evident longing as Yoongi set his backpack in his car irritatingly. A fight unfolded between him and his girlfriend and the pair were oblivious to you being a witness. Uncertain of yet again why she was mad at him, you turned to face Hoseok with a gasp of surprise since he unexpectantly caught you hiding.  “Look,” he wets his lips, “If you don’t tell him how you feel, I will.”

“Please don’t!” You gasp, watching your volume as you switch your gaze to make sure Yoongi and the blundering wench hadn’t seen your presence. Turning to Hoseok, you plead, “It’s not-! What if?” You sigh, “What if I can’t? What if he still doesn’t get it?”

“But she’s not good for him and you know it. If there’s anybody who deserves each other it’s the two of you,” Hoseok’s expression becomes saddened when you look away from him. Emotions gather in the form of tears as you fight to hold them back.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be standing here telling you to confess to him if I felt it was a bad idea.”

The church pews continue to become occupied until the echoes of conversation simmer to cease once the out of tune organ cringingly serenades the atmosphere. Wincing in response, you grit your teeth to stifle a giggle because of course the wench of the west would choose the most untuned instruments there are. Ultimately, how fitting can this be for a wedding that should not even be happening? Turning to look at the first coupled bridesmaid and groomsman, memories start to churn when you see each of Yoongi’s friends. Hoseok was not the only one who warned you ahead of time to profess your feelings for Yoongi.

“So, when are you going to tell Yoongi you’re ‘unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him?’” Taehyung’s fluffy curls fall into his eyes as his cheeky grin enters your vision. He is leaned over the back of the couch as he bounces from his knees hitting the cushion.

“And this concludes the last and final time that I will ever watch Twilight with you,” you announce, crinkling at the wrapper of a rice krispie treat from the kitchen. “I’m not as wanted as Bella Swan.”

“You see that’s where you’re wrong. What makes you think you are the only one who feels the connection?”

Pausing from your eventual snack, you glare at your friend, “I’m not in love with him,” you denyingly mutter.

“Your eyes say you are.”

“Gah! Taehyung, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not going to happen, alright? He has a girlfriend. Obviously if he wanted me, he could have chosen me a long ass time ago. We’ve been in each other’s lives all this time, so why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe he thought he couldn’t?”

“Excuse me?”

“As being a previous ex of yours, let me explain.”

“We dated for two days. In the first grade!”

“It counts.”

You scoff, pressing the krispie treat underneath your palm as you lean onto the counter to steady your rising nervousness. After a moment, you signal for Taehyung to proceed.

“I think you tend to forget that you’re not the only one who is afraid to confess your feelings to someone. Yoongi may be afraid, too.”

You shrug in reply.

“You are his best friend, Y/N. Maybe he didn’t want to be at fault for ruining a friendship if you happened to not feel the same, so he settled for her.”

He’s right, and deep down beneath the fear, you know it. Stepping toward Taehyung, you ruffle his frilly tendrils, “I loathe you.”

Playfully slapping you away, he chuckles, “Hence why I force you to binge watch chick flicks with me. I loathe you, too.”

Taehyung and his bridesmaid LenLen remain poker faced as they gradually step down the aisle. The memory of Taehyung fades when you find Namjoon sitting alone staring straight ahead with the same expression and another flashback ensues.

After ranting about how hurt you are by the upcoming wedding date, Namjoon visits to console you since counseling is something he does daily, and he is the perfect friend who listens to every word you say other than Min Yoongi. “I just don’t get it. She treats him so poorly and all it does is break my heart. And of course, I never got an invite. She despises me!”

With crossed arms, Joon’s glasses sit daintily on his face while the turtleneck he is wearing shapes his frame- he looks incredibly professional even on his day off. “Yoongi asked me to be in the wedding,”

“Oh?” you say, “As he should. You are one of his best friends,”

“I am, but she happens to despise me, too.”

“What?” You gasp incredulously, “How could? Joon, how do you even know that?”

He settles upon the couch while your gaze follows him, a brief sigh brushes his lips, “He asked me to marry them which she openly opposed.”

“That’s.. That’s a really huge deal, Joon. So, are you going to do it anyways?”

“No,” Namjoon responds quickly, “The reason she despises me is because she thinks I will ruin her and Yoongi’s relationship, the same as she sees you- a threat.”

“But how?”

Joon rubs at the crease in his eyebrows, “She made advances toward me when they first started dating, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him which is why I can’t push you to tell him your truth until you are ready. I was scared he would think I was lying. The last time I saw her was at a sports game and when he left to grab her a drink, she started touching my thigh and I left immediately.”

“That’s why,” your voice trails off as you remember something, “That’s why Yoongi was so worried about you! Because you never miss a game with him! It was because of that conceited, selfish bi-”

“Hey, let’s not stoop to her level. I strongly dislike her as well, she put me in a very uncomfortable position which is why I am never around when she is. I refuse to be pictured as whatever she decides to manipulate.”

“Joon,” you murmur, leaning forward to squeeze his shoulder, “We all know who you are. Yoongi adores you. Knowing how she is, we would have believed you over her most definitely. Are you going to attend the wedding at all?”

“I’m not sure,” your eyes flicker between his as sadness clouds them, “I want him to be happy and the only person he would be happy with is you.”

It was silent immediately after Namjoon said those words that are still repeating within your mind. Did all of Yoongi’s friends concoct a plan to nudge you to profess the entirety of your heart to him? And what happened to Namjoon was so cruel and it was the final straw that motivated and fueled you to do exactly what you are about to do today. She doesn’t deserve Yoongi, she doesn’t deserve his family, she doesn’t deserve his friends, and she most definitely doesn’t deserve his love. It is time for Min Yoongi to know the truth and nothing but the truth.

The piano chimes in with the organ clashing hideously as the time drags, and you notice Hoseok who is arm and arm with a bridesmaid you are unfamiliar with, stifling the urge to react to the disconcerted music. He takes his place where the best man stands and links his hands before him- a quick grin is shared with whoever he makes eye contact with and his dimples appear for the slightest of seconds. Seokjin and Jimin as well as Jeongguk are completely lined already and when Guk finally locks eyes with Monnie who is sitting in the audience, they share loving smiles. After today, if all works accordingly, Yoongi will be yours and you no longer would envy the love you always longed for with him.

Looking back especially after all the encouragement from you and Yoongi’s friends, there are moments where you almost worked up the bravery to tell him the truth, but it seemed with every opportunity, his girlfriend would find some way to interfere. It was as if she disturbingly knew your schedule and your thoughts which is something you never truly admitted to your friends. You didn’t want her to sound like an excuse that is holding you back from saving Yoongi’s heart from further turmoil.

Flitting your gaze to the handsome lineup of groomsmen, you realize not even one is smiling. Before you can contemplate further on all the reasons why there aren’t any smiles, you move your gaze just for your heart to halt instantly. There he is. Min Yoongi, the love of your life, dressed in a well fitted tuxedo that clings to his thin frame, makes his way timidly to stand in front of the pulpit. His blonde hair spreads neatly upon his forehead while his lips stay in a firm line once he takes a moment to fix the cuffs of his sleeves before resting his hands together in front of him. Gaping at how beautiful he looks; the nerves swerve tremendously inside you because the time is inching closer for you to tell him everything without holding back.

Your shoulders tense once the reverend directs the audience to rise, you are so focused on Yoongi, you hardly can hear the beginning of the wedding march as you swallow roughly. Standing to your feet, your hands are freezing when you hold them together, yet you muster enough to turn to see her make her entrance- the bride who wanted to hold captive of Yoongi’s heart. It’s hard to watch her smile at him as if she truly cares for him, it takes everything not to feel nauseated by the scene. The way she has treated Yoongi, Namjoon, and everyone else it feels like, will never settle with you. The times she obsessively called Yoongi whenever the pair of you would study together, interrupting the time he wanted to spend with his guy friends, or the curse words she would spew at him when she didn’t have her way; or the times she made him cry by threatening to leave him just to turn around and post a selfie of her and a random guy to make Yoongi jealous. So of course, Namjoon would have been heard. He has a heart of gold as well as the rest of the crew. And Yoongi deserves to surround himself with this serene positivity.

She stands before Yoongi as the two join hands. He hardly gives a smirk; doubt seems to exist within his glance, or so you hope. Your icy palms clasp together once the preacher bellows for the guests to now take their seats. The ceremony proceeds, yet you wait for the preacher to say the exact words you are desperately wanting to hear. Lightheaded, you feel the blood drain from your body despite the hammering your heart is profusely beating against your rib cage.

Never in your life did you dream you were going to do what you are about to do. It is bold. It is courageous. And you could care less about what the aftermath will be. The only person whose reaction matters is Min Yoongi’s. The reverend seems to drag his sentences, but when he clears his throat, you straighten your back in preparation for what is coming next.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Here’s your chance.

Hands shaking, body trembling, you jolt from your seat,

“I. OBJECT!”

Dramatic responses of collected gasps reverberate to the ceiling of the building. Eyes turn to stare at you in congruent with the hushed whispers scattering amongst the pews wondering why you made such a bold choice; and, if looks could kill, you would drop lifeless by the dark daggers burning through your skull by the witch trying to be Yoongi’s forever. Fingertips numb, you try to tune out the raving murmurs, you hadn’t realized you closed your eyes for a few seconds to gather yourself, and when you open them, they instantaneously connect with Yoongi’s that enlarged in shock. His thin lips part and as you gaze at him, tears pool though you relentlessly try to fight them.

“Yoongi,” you speak between stammered breaths, “I know this is…. Sudden, and possibly the most insane thing I am ever going to do,” you put a quivering hand to your lips for a second then dropping it to your side, “But Yoongi, if there is anyone who deserves to spend the rest of their life with you, it’s me.” You cannot believe that sentence slipped from your mouth, but in your heart, you know it’s the truth. Just like that, without your knowledge, smiles begin to bloom from the men standing by Yoongi’s side. Not only do you see it, but so has everyone else who has been in each of your lives. Why else would his “bride to be” have been jealous of you since their whole relationship began a few years ago? She could even sense the chemistry you and Yoongi have shared and still share.

“Yoon, she will never see you the way I see you; the way your family sees you; or the way your best friends see you.” From your peripheral vision, you see a gleamingly proud Hoseok along with Namjoon whose hopes are flying as high as yours, but your gaze never once falters from Yoon’s. Wetting your lips, you continue, “I know you. I have always known you. And you deserve the world and so much more.” Yoongi steps forward then pauses to hear more of what you have to say, “And Yoon,” a tear escapes, trailing warmly down your burning cheek, “I am deeply, undoubtedly, and wholeheartedly in love with you.”

In that moment, Yoongi begins to walk down the stairs, Taehyung’s boxy smile lights up his face as he fist pumps excitingly in the air. You may not have used the exact words from his favorite script, but you know you are beyond words with how much you are in love with Min Yoongi. The horrified bride agonizingly tries to stop Yoongi, but he refuses to take his eyes off you, brushing past her, she lights up in prominent rage. You, with glistening hope sparking across your soul, you shuffle past the gawking people in the pew, ready to crash into Yoongi’s arms.

When he reaches you, his tepid palms cup your face, swiping away the tears that just keep falling as you stare into his umber eyes that mirror the emotions you have brought to him that he is finally seeing. Before you can take a breath, he leans in, capturing your kiss exactly how he has desired, but never found the courage to reveal, that he in fact would dream of you too on countless nights. Or when he felt uneasy or sad, he would relive the best memories that happened to be with you to give him peace. Everything you have ever dreamed of is coming true as the fireworks explode in every direction within your chests. He kisses you so passionately that you both forget about the world, your hands dig into the sides of his tuxedo jacket as he deepens the kiss, tugging him as close as he can be.

Namjoon starts clapping as he stands to his feet until the entire place erupts in a fit of cheers. Even though hundreds of people are encompassing the two of you, it still feels like it is only you and Yoongi within the vast universe. How long have you waited for this moment with the one person you have loved for so long? How many stars had you wished on to finally end up where the two of you are now?

Breathless, Yoongi rests his forehead to yours while the sensation of his kiss still lingers, dazed and filled with immense happiness, you gaze at him fully, he speaks, “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

[klonoadreams]

Metamorphosis

Chapter 1: Circumstance

A/N Okay, this is my first time ever really posting any of my works on tumblr. This is also for convenience sake, before I eventually move these chapters onto AO3 and FFN.

IN THE MEANTIME, understand that there is a shit ton of worldbuilding and headcanons at work here, most of which involves a huge difference between shinobi life and civilian life. So if something seems off, then understand that it is a likely result of that.

We also got a bunch of OCs incoming, so if you hate OCs, I wouldn’t recommend this story (this is a warning I give nowadays, after someone gave me shit for it). With that said, read on!!

(do tell me if there’s anything in particular that you’d like me to put warnings in. I’ve never had anyone talk to me about it, in the past six years this fic has existed, but I don’t mind starting now - just let me know what)

(let me know what you think in my inbox)

…

…

Aburame Shinjiro is someone who has never held interest in romance nor sex. It’s something that his clan has never questioned him for—why would they? How he lives his life is entirely up to him. The most they can do is support him, as they have done since his birth.

His friends, however, felt differently—not out of malice, but rather, out of ignorance. It’s why Shinjiro still considers them his friends. After all, friends can sometimes be idiots—especially when they’ve been around civilians for most of their life. Sooner or later, his words will finally reach them, and they can all laugh it off.

In the meantime, Shinjiro decides to humor his friends in whatever form of celebration that they want to throw him, as soon as it comes to their attention that he’s been promoted to Jounin. He is by no means the first of their graduating class to reach Jounin. He is, however, the first in his team to do so, at the age of seventeen.

Anything can happen at this rate, and it just so happens that Uzuki Tsukiya and Gekkō Shō have decided that an appropriate celebration for their dear teammate is to drag him to the most popular brothel in the Red Light District.

“Ah.” Shinjiro can’t say that he isn’t impressed, especially with what he sees. There is a first time for everything, and more likely than not, this will be the last time he will ever set foot in a place such as this, so he indulges in his curiosities. Not helping are his friends, who only enable him throughout the trivial conversations they have between drinks.

One thing leads to another, and before Shinjiro knows it, he is waking up the next morning with a massive hangover. There is a sense of apathy that he feels towards the loss of his virginity. It never really meant much to him before, and even now, it still means nothing as he processes last night’s events.

It was…fun?

Well, it was certainly something. It’s not completely terrible, though it’s not anything that Shinjiro would ever actively seek out again. He looks towards his companion from last night—a young woman with long, green hair and fair skin. She is looking at herself in a mirror, preparing herself for yet another day of work.

She is completely uninterested in Shinjiro, as he is her. Yellow eyes shift towards him, framed by thick eyelashes. She is undeniably pretty, with a voice that is just as lovely. Even though she tells him to leave, the way she says it sounds almost like a song.

“I do not think we will be seeing each other again.” All things considered, this is a one-time fling.

“It is regretful—though, it would be for the best, as I doubt you can afford me for another night.” She laughs to herself, hiding her mouth behind her kimono’s sleeve. “I hope you enjoyed your time with Monaka.”

Monaka—he’s heard that name before, coming from the mouths of people he’d sometimes pass. It’s the name of a high-ranking oiran—a tayuu—that had caught the eyes of many. She is of impressive fame, and he’s somehow spent the night with her.

Undoubtedly, his friends will be congratulating him for the feat, alongside the fact that he is no longer a virgin. And yet, as he leaves the brothel and makes his way back to his clan’s compound, he finds that he still does not care at all about anything.

Yes, he was always certain that he never had an interest in sex, though this most certainly confirms it. Nothing is wrong with him—this is just who he is. And Shinjiro has never felt so comfortable, knowing that this part of himself will never change.

He accepts the apologies that he receives from his friends, who have since realized the error of their ways.

“We should have never pushed you…” Shō averts his gaze.

“We should have been better friends.” Tsukiya is full of remorse for the way he has treated his friend.

“Then start now.” Shinjiro does not hide the smile that forms on his lips. “Show me how you can be better.”

His friends can be idiots, yes—but they are not terrible people. He knows they can do better, which is why he gives them this second chance.

“Shinjiro!!” they wail, in a manner that almost seems comical, were it not for the way they grab his hands. He can feel their resolve—can see how much he means to them, through the tears they shed out of relief.

Yes, things could have gone better…but Shinjiro is okay with this. He appreciates the better understanding he now has with his friends. It’s why he nearly forgets about his evening with that high-ranking courtesan.

And then one late evening in the winter, during New Year’s Eve, Shinjiro finds his past fling has left him with an infant in his arms.

…

…

Motherhood was always something that Monaka had kept in the back of her head. It’s why she kept calm, even when her birth control had failed, and her stomach started to grow. She could no longer see any clients—not while she considered her options.

But she didn’t mind—it gave her enough time to think, as she continued to watch over the kamuro, and aid the hikikomi with their training. Often, it brought her back to the time she was once like them.

She’s come so far, since the day her parents had sold her off to this brothel. Through hard work and perseverance, she became an oiran that was admired and love by many people. It’s a good life—certainly better than the one she had before she was sold.

Her parents had sold her to give her a better chance at life, but Monaka never forgets the way she was left behind. Never forgets the spite that fuels the way she keeps moving forward…

Yes, she’ll certainly become a better parent than them.

“Monaka will keep you.” That is the decision that Monaka made that day.

She does not regret it—not even when she has complications giving birth. She still doesn’t know who the father is, but that doesn’t stop her from holding the crying newborn close to her chest.

She breastfeeds her child, and then lulls it to sleep with a gentle song. The medic-nin makes a comment, but Monaka is too busy ignoring them. Shinobi are the least deserving of her attention, when there are people far more important than them.

Ahhh…Monaka’s baby is so very pretty, with yellow eyes that are exactly like hers. No doubt, this child will grow up to be quite the beauty.

“Maybe you’ll even surpass me.” Monaka has her doubts, but it’s still a thought she considers anyways. It’s fun thinking about the future, when there is so much that can be done with all the money that she’s earned over the years. She will miss this brothel very much.

No doubt, everyone else will miss her as well. So many fans of hers will cry when they hear that she’s left…

“How tragic.” All things must eventually come to an end, and Monaka feels like she’s had a good run. Maybe now, she’ll finally have a husband… “Yes…a husband…”

Obviously, he’ll have to be just as pretty and rich as she is. It’s only fair, if he wishes to spend the rest of his life with her. Only the best for her child (and Monaka, of course).

And then the medic-nin mentions her baby’s developed chakra coils.

“Ah.” The revelation drags Monaka back to reality in the harshest of ways. After all, most babies aren’t supposed to have developed chakra coils—not unless one of their parents is a shinobi. And Monaka is not a shinobi… “So it’s the father’s fault.”

The father is at fault for this mess.

“Tch.” Monaka absolutely loathes shinobi. Certainly, they make for great clients, with the money they earn from missions. But outside of work, Monaka can barely even tolerate medic-nin. And knowing that this child she had given birth is one of them—or will be, with the appropriate training…

Well, she can’t have that, now can she?

The future is uncertain, though that doesn’t change the fact that this child has already been tainted. Knowing this, is it really worth it for Monaka to give up everything she had worked for, just to care for a child like this?

Monaka thinks long, and hard about it as she grows more and more repulsed by the tiny body that she holds in her arms.

“Is it possible to find the father?” Monaka wishes to know, so that she can make her next decision.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult, if that’s what you’re asking,” so says the medic-nin. “Is something wrong?”

There is something off about the look in Monaka’s eyes. It stays there as she hands over the infant to the medic-nin. When asked again, if something is wrong, all that comes out of Monaka’s mouth is, “I don’t want it.”

She averts her gaze afterwards, refusing to say any more than that. She doesn’t want to think about it. To think about the mistake that she had almost made—the regrets she almost forced upon herself.

“Maybe next time,” Monaka thinks to herself as the medic-nin walks out of the room.

…

…

It takes a while for the shock to wear off. All things considered, Shinjiro thinks he is handling this discovery a lot better than expected. It’s unpredictable, yes—but accidents happen.

It’s just that this accident made him a father.

“A father…” He isn’t against the idea of being one, though he feels that his circumstances could be a lot better than this. Of course, the same could certainly be said about his (his?) child. “Mine…?”

Does he want this child?

His own mother had wanted him and his younger brother, unlike the person who had given birth to this child.

“I am not her…” But he doesn’t have to take care of this child either—he has options, too. There are plenty of relatives that he has who are willing to care for another child, in place of him. He doesn’t have to say goodbye, but he also doesn’t have to accept this responsibility either. “Is that what I want?”

Shinjiro does not know, so he continues to stare at the sleeping infant that he holds in his arms. He doesn’t hate this—doesn’t hate the way this feels. Just what is this feeling that won’t leave him?

It’s been stirring deep inside of him, from the very moment he had accepted his (hishishis) child. This child…

“I made this…” the thought finds its way into Shinjiro’s mind, as he traces his finger around a tiny hand. A small gasp leaves his mouth when that tiny hand suddenly wraps itself around his index finger. Slowly, a pair of yellow eyes open up, blinking a few times as Shinjiro continues to stare. “I made this…”

He says it out loud that time, finally recognizing what he had been feeling this entire time.

It’s pride.

Unlike the mother of his child, Shinjiro wants this child—this little girl with yellow eyes and black hair. He wants the responsibilities that come with raising a child, even if it’s at the cost of his own career. It won’t be easy, but Shinjiro has never been one to give up so easily.

And when his daughter starts wailing at the top of her lungs (likely out of hunger), Shinjiro holds her close to his chest. He murmurs comforting words to her, as that familiar sensation prickles his skin.

“There, there, Shiki—Otou-san is here.” Shinjiro smiles tenderly at his daughter, who is no longer nameless. It’s saddening to know about her circumstances—the way it had brought her to him… But he won’t let that get in the way of his parenting.

Shinjiro doesn’t do romance…but he can still love. And he has so much love to give to this child.

…

…

Shiki…

That’s what he called her.

“Is that my name?” It seems like it, from the way this man keeps repeating it. It’s hard not to cry right now, when this body still doesn’t feel like hers.

The confusion has yet to leave her, feeling so disoriented, amongst other things.

Terrified.

Lost.

Helpless.

The last few hours have been one mind-boggling mess after another. She wouldn’t be surprised if the entire experience left her traumatized—coming out of that woman was not fun.

Speaking of that woman…where is she?

Mama??

Was that her mother? That woman had been so loving to her, comforting her through the fear that overwhelmed her. It’s terrifying, being thrust into a world of cold brightness, after being enveloped in comforting darkness for so long.

The way her body reacted to pure instinct, not even allowing her full control of it…

Even now, it still acts on instinct—the way her mouth latches onto the bottle that’s brought to her lips. It’s a different experience altogether, though her body doesn’t care as much as her mind does. Food is food, and her body will take whatever it can get.

Her vision isn’t the best, but it’s enough that she can make out the features of the man that bottle-feeds her.

Man?

Well, it’s definitely not that woman. That woman was beautiful—or at least she thought she looked beautiful. The vision of a newborn isn’t the best, but what she was able to see…well, it was certainly something.

Not to say that this man isn’t handsome. It’s more that his face is obscured by dark lenses. The best she can make out is a smile on his face. He doesn’t sing, like that woman had. Doesn’t…have the same beauty that left her so awestricken.

Regardless, he still makes her feel so warm and safe, as she hears other voices around him speak. She doesn’t understand a thing that they are saying, but she can feel her skin starting to tingle.

It feels weird…

“…Shiki…”

Ah—there’s that name again.

My name?

Yes…this is her name.

I’m Shiki.

And Shiki is her.

This is her new life.

Her second chance…

Hey…

Did that woman ever call her anything?

The question lingers in the back of Shiki’s head, filling her head with more and more thoughts as she questions her surroundings. She knows next to nothing about her situation.

It still feels unreal…

And it’s so difficult to stay awake, when she feels so warm and safe…

So she falls asleep, to the soft humming that comes from the man she can only assume is her father.

…

The next time Shiki wakes up, her head is so much clearer. She fully understands just how baffling her situation has become. One day, she was just a typical college girl, struggling to make it through the school year with some money and good grades. And then…

And then…

Darkness.

There was nothing but darkness.

It was scary, but…in time, it became comforting. It helped that there was a voice around to talk to her. She never understood what it was telling her, but…that didn’t matter.

It made her feel safe. And sometimes…sometimes—she heard music and singing.

Now…

Now…

Now, all Shiki can hear is the soft breathing that comes from the person sleeping right next to her. She can barely move, with how bundled up she is in blankets. She opens her mouth, letting out a small yawn.

Sleep is imminent.

Despite her confusion, she still feels so safe, due to the way that man has treated her. He’s been nothing but kind to her, like that woman had been… Except unlike her, he gave her a name.

She still has so many questions…so, so many of them. But slowly, she finds herself easing into the fact that she has been given a second chance at life. She knows nothing about the way her first life had come to an end, but she does not care.

How it happened does not matter.

What matters is that it did happened. And knowing that, makes her feel sad about the life that she left behind.

“Shiki…” But then he calls out to her, in that soft voice of his. She feels fingers gently brushing her hair, her body carefully being pressed closer to his. She can hear his heartbeat—it’s a lot different from that woman’s.

But it still makes her feel so safe. It lulls her to sleep, taking her attention off the prickling sensation in her limbs.

…

…

The sensation continues, well into the next morning. It causes Shiki to become quite fussy, flailing her tiny limbs around as her father dresses her in white clothes. He is patient with her, despite how much trouble she gives him.

His patience never wavers, even when she suddenly spits up her food. He just wipes her mouth and continues to talk to her in such a comforting tone.

Soon, Shiki finds herself being passed from person to person, in a room filled with a multitude of people. She hears her name being spoken, in the string of words that leave their mouths. She doesn’t know exactly what it is that they are saying to her, but the meaning still reaches her anyways.

These people are happy to see her.

Happy that she exists.

Happy to welcome her into this family…

Her father holds himself quite differently now, when she is returned to his arms. His smile is far more visible on his face. She can actually make out the blush on his pale skin…

He calls out to her again. “Shiki…”

She lets out a yawn, feeling far too tired from the experience. So far, so good—the only thing she doesn’t like about her new life are the diapers…

But that’s a problem best left for another hour. Despite the setback, she still considers this better than college. No responsibilities for her just yet—all she has to do is continue living.

That’s all.

Though, as she grows more and more comfortable in her father’s arms, her thoughts begin to wander. Just where is that woman?

Mama?

Why isn’t she here?

Shiki doesn’t know…and she certainly doesn’t know why her body feels so prickly. It’s not uncomfortable—just there. It keeps her mind from drifting, keeping her tethered to reality. It’s annoying, but…not too terrible.

As things are right now, it’s fine.

This is fine.

…

…

The days that go by are such a blur, and yet…

Despite this…

Shinjiro can still remember every day, in such vivid detail. The way he spends every little moment with this tiny bundle of joy.

“I made this,” he tells his teammates, on the day he introduces Shiki to them.

“You most certainly did,” says Sho, who never thought Shinjiro was the type to say something like that.

Hell, he looks damn proud of it, too. Just what happened to his stalwart companion, who had intimidated so many with his presence?

“Well, she certainly has her mother’s eyes.” Tsukiya feels a shiver go down his spine when those yellow eyes suddenly focus on him. “Everything else is all you.”

From the way such a tiny infant can still inflict such worrying fear with just a mere gaze.

“Speaking of her mother—where is she?” Shō notices the oiran’s glaring absence. He has a few guesses of where she could be, but he wants to hear it from Shinjiro first.

There is a slight pause.

Slowly, Shinjiro brings Shiki closer to his chest. He considers his words carefully, before bluntly responding, “She did not want her.”

There is no better way to say it.

Not while he still feels the sting of rejection. She doesn’t know any better, but one day…

One day…

She will, and those feelings he experiences in place of her…

Well, it’ll likely feel even worse for her.

“I guess it’s a good thing that she takes mostly after you, then…” There isn’t much that Tsukiya can see, while Shiki is nestled comfortably in her carrier. But what he can make out are features that are very much Shinjiro’s.

Pale skin, with such dark hair…

Even with the features that she does manage to share with that oiran—none of it matters, while she is in Shinjiro’s care.

“I am so sorry…” Shō bows apologetically to Shinjiro, the guilt practically eating away at his heart. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a—I’ll shut up.”

Shinjiro shakes his head. “It is fine. Shiki has me.”

They have each other.

“I thought you didn’t do love?” Tsukiya scratches the back of his head, still inexperienced to the various paths of life that a person can walk.

“I said I did not do romance—I never said anything about love.” Shinjiro sure has a lot of it toward his daughter, who is currently sucking on her thumb. “Love comes in many forms. You two should know better than to limit it to just romance.”

“I suppose that there is still a lot we don’t understand,” Shō admits, knowing fully well of the faults that he still has. It’s hard to shake off some of the things that he and Tsukiya have learned, during their time at the orphanage. “It’s hard enough learning how to love someone.”

Taking so many risks, despite the short lives they have as shinobi.

“Isn’t it frightening?” Shō asks. “Having a child?”

How many more risks are there?

“Hmm…” Shinjiro does not know how to answer that question just yet.

“Well…at least he’s not like Yūhi-san.” Tsukiya heaves out a sigh at the mere thought of that child. “I hear his daughter, Kurenai, is turning one this year.”

“Oh man—you’re only a few years older than him…!” It’s finally starting to sink in for Shō. And yet, he still can’t believe it—even though the evidence is right there, in front of his face. “You are seriously the last person I ever expected to be a father.”

“Who decided that it was appropriate to celebrate my Jounin promotion by going to a brothel?” Shinjiro eyes his teammates suspiciously. Had it not for that night, then Shiki wouldn’t be here, in this carrier that he had chosen so carefully out of a catalogue.

“Yeah, you got us there…” Tsukiya pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about that, by the way—we should have just listened to you.”

“You…really deserve better friends…” Shō shifts awkwardly under Shinjiro’s gaze.

“I have you.” Shinjiro has not changed his stance. “You two who are so willing to learn from your mistakes…”

It took them time, but here they are—doing much, much better, in the nine months that have since passed.

“I am glad to have you around—more than that…” More than that—Shinjiro stops for a moment to smile at Shiki. She’s staring at him again… “More than anything else…I have you two to thank, for giving me Shiki. These circumstances could have been better, but I would not trade it for anything else…”

If Shinjiro was ever given a second chance to relive his life, he’d still allow for these events to happen. All so that he could continue holding Shiki so close to his chest…

“Thank you,” he says, with smile that almost leaves Tsukiya and Shō breathless.

It takes a few minutes for the two to recover, with how fast their hearts were beating within their chests. Every so often, they forget just how handsome Shinjiro is…

“Say…” Shō swallows hard. “What are you going to tell her, when she’s old enough to ask?”

It’s a simple enough question—one that he asks out of concern. It’s better to think about it now, instead of waiting until the very last minute.

“I might have to lie…” Shinjiro has certainly considered that option… “I doubt I will be able to, though…”

But he also knows better than to keep such important information from his own child. She deserves to know the truth…

He just hopes she doesn’t ask so soon.

“Shiki-chan is the bastard child of an oiran…” Tsukiya knows just how difficult such a life could be, having been one himself. At least now, he can hide behind his rank as a Chuunin. “Gossip spreads like wildfire here…”

It’s even worse, amongst civilians. The way that title hangs over one’s head, no matter how much distance was put against it…

“What will you do?” Shō bites his lip.

“I will do everything to ensure that Shiki grows up without any problems…” Happiness is essential for his daughter, Shinjiro thinks to himself. “The Aburame clan does not discriminate. Whether it is heritage or background—family is family. That is all that matters.”

Their clan has gone through too much to ever regress to such beliefs, held by civilians and some clans.

“Shiki is really lucky to have you for a father.” Shō pats Shinjiro on the back. “So…how is she doing with the, you know…”

Shinjiro stares at Shō for a minute before nodding his head. “We are still observing her for any negative reactions. Usually, members of the Aburame clan are introduced to kikaichū at birth. Shiki is…an exception.”

“I still can’t get over the fact you’re covered in bugs—how does it even feel?” Tsukiya looks questioningly at Shinjiro. It is a question that he had asked countless times, despite already knowing the answer. Shinjiro suspects that he was just checking to see if he is keeping any more information to himself—which isn’t too far off from the truth.

Shinjiro likes his privacy, as did most of members of his clan. If he wishes to be open, then he’ll do so, when he feels most comfortable. It’s just that this topic in particular, isn’t one that he likes to discuss.

“It is a sensation that one grows accustomed to over the years,” Shinjiro explains for the umpteenth time. “Though, I would be lying if I said it did not bother me for the first two to three years of my life…”

Shinjiro hopes that won’t be the case for his daughter. She deserves to have a better experience than him—one that she can actually talk about and not be so ambiguous about.

“Is that why Shiki looks about ready to cry?” Shō suddenly says, nearly seconds away from losing his composure.

As if on cue, Shiki starts wailing at the top of her lungs. She squirms in the carrier, as if trying to escape its confines.

“There, there…” Shinjiro does his best to calm her.

Tsukiya and Shō have known him long enough to understand that there is more to his impressive stature, and intimidating appearance. And yet, despite this, they still have a hard time processing the sight of him acting like a completely different person towards his daughter. It’s so surreal, yet…oddly endearing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for parenthood…” Tsukiya murmurs.

Shō only nods his head in agreement.

…

…

Shiki knows next to nothing about Japanese, beyond words she would often hear, watching undubbed anime and Japanese dramas. Despite this, she is still able to pick out words, here and there—even at her current age of not even a week old. The conversation between her father and his friends isn’t any different.

Initially, she thought it was just a coincidence to hear the names Yūhi and Kurenai thrown around. Maybe her father and his friends were fans of Naruto. It sure explained their hitai-ate…

But then the word, “Jounin,” was thrown around and Shiki started to grow a little concerned. And again, maybe they’re just hardcore Naruto fans… It certainly happens.

And then she immediately fixated on the term, “oiran.”

When the fuck was she born?!

The only oiran around should be reenactors, preserving a cultural heritage. And these guys certainly weren’t talking about that. Not with the way her name was mentioned in that very same sentence!

“Why did they even—oh…” Is that…is that who her mother is? Well…that explains her absence. Of course, there could be other reasons, and Shiki is trying her best to remain optimistic…

But it’s difficult, when there is too much going on for her to remain calm. Not helping is when she suddenly hears her father say something about the Aburame.

Why is he talking about Naruto again?

Hey…

“Where am I?” The question alone makes her blood turn cold. The prickling sensation in her body returns with a vengeance, and when Shiki heard her father mention the term, “kikaichū”—the pieces fall into place so easily, that it’s actually horrifying.

There is absolutely no fucking way that it was all just a coincidence. Shiki had been many things in her past life. Slow, she most definitely was and still is, but when she connected the dots, she connected the fucking dots.

The dark eyewear her father and relatives all wore. The hitai-ate her father and his friends wore—hell, if her crappy memory served her well, she recalled some of her relatives were wearing hitai-ate as well. And then there’s the prickling sensation that she felt on a daily basis. Something is completely off about her.

She suspected it a few days, but this only confirms that something is definitely wrong with her. And knowing—just knowing where the source of that sensation was coming from…

“Oh fuck…” Right now, with each breath that she takes, Shiki has thousands of tiny insects crawling inside and outside of her body.

Kikaichū, a species of small, beetle-like insects that are bred and utilized exclusively by the Aburame clan—a clan that is known to offer their newborn children to kikaichū, allowing the insects to nest and breed within them, thus creating a life of symbiosis between symbiont and host. It’s a clan that is supposed to be fictional, and yet…

And yet.

Here Shiki is, possessing enough evidence to confirm that fiction has since become fact.

This is her new reality.

She is a living, breathing example of an Aburame who has recently gone through the process of becoming a host for a species of insects that fed on her chakra… That was also supposed to be fictional—but isn’t, because Shiki is no longer has any right to say what is fact, and what is fiction. Not since the exact moment that she realized she was reborn into the world of Naruto.

Shiki’s immediate reaction is to cry. And honestly, it’s all she can really do, because her vocal cords aren’t exactly developed enough to allow her to curse up a storm. And her brain didn’t have the capacity to handle the wave of emotions that she is currently experiencing.

Oh boy, does her brain enjoy that.

Shiki doesn’t cry too long, as a result of her father’s soothing presence. He knows exactly how to calm her down, and with how tired out she is from all that thinking and emotional duress… Well, it’s not that much of a surprise that she soon fell asleep.

Obviously, she’ll have to deal with full reality of her existence.

But that is something best left for another day.

[randomhl-vraifam]

So if you haven't seen @gryphsdeadbones and his incredible Gordon Cubed AU... go check it out, please. It's literally so fucking good, and you can read the comic @gordoncubed.

I asked if I could write something for this AU, and got the go ahead, so here we are! It was inspired by this ask and this ask, just in case anyone needs context for what's happening.

Anyway, uh... yeah. Here's a thing.

If you had told Gordon Freeman that, somewhere in the universe, there existed multiple versions of himself, each from very different dimensions, he might have actually believed you. He was a theoretical physicist, after all. The unknown and hypothetical was kind of his area of expertise.

However, if you had told him that his alternates were… like this? That he might have had a hard time believing. He was absolutely blown away by how much those two could talk. They did it constantly! Freeman wasn’t sure if they knew how to not talk. He considered, more than once, finding tape in one of the abandoned offices and sealing both their mouths shut.

He thought he’d be relieved if either of them decided to shut up.

Until one of them did.

Feetman (he still didn’t know what was up with that name) had been dangerously close to dying. Not that any of them were exactly safe from dying, but Feetman had ended up being a little closer to death than Freeman wanted to think about. He found himself wishing Feetman would talk more. If only to ensure that he was still conscious.

And he found himself wishing Freemind would talk less. A lot less.

It was almost as though the man felt the need to talk through the silence Feetman wasn’t filling. And he did so. Very obnoxiously. Normally, Freeman would tell him to knock off his shit, but he had a feeling that Freemind was just as nervous as he was, and the only outlet he had was talking. Freeman let it slide.

If you asked Freemind, he’d tell you that he gave absolutely no fucks about Feetman. He didn’t give a fuck about either of these idiots, aside from the fact that they were somewhat useful in getting through this hellhole. Except one of them was now considerably less useful.

Not only was Feetman less useful, he was a hindrance. Freemind didn’t like slow progress. He liked efficiency. He liked getting shit done. Dragging Feetman’s dumb ass around was not effecient and it wasn’t getting shit done. The guy seemed like he was almost always on the verge of collapsing.

So if he suggested that Feetman sit the fuck down, it was for the sake of making sure the idiot didn’t pass out and further impede their progress. Not because it bothered him to see the guy struggling to stand up straight. Because he didn’t give a fuck.

It’d gotten better after a couple of days, but only by a narrow margin. They weren’t having to stop as often, but Freeman was still adamant that Feetman not take any shifts on night watch, which Freemind found annoying as hell. He kept that opinion to himself, though. The silent member of the trio didn’t seem willing to compromise on the matter, and Freemind wasn’t willing to try and make him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off about it. Freeman could see Freemind getting more and more agitated. He snapped more often, and in more hurtful ways. There were only so many times Freeman could tell him to shut up, eventually Freemind got around to talking again.

Freeman didn’t mind stopping for Feetman when he needed it. More often than not, Freeman would have to put a hand on his left shoulder to stop him, to make him take a break. Every time, Feetman would say that he could keep going, even if he was on the verge of falling over. He hadn’t needed to stop during his first run, he’d insist, he didn’t need to stop now.

So when Feetman hesitantly grabbed his arm, Freeman stopped, immediately worried that his counterpart needed him for balance.

“Hey, uh…” Feetman looked at him blearily behind bent frames. Freeman was sure all of their glasses were damaged at this point. His own lenses were cracked. “Can we- I hate to ask, but…” He trailed off, seeming to lose his train of thought.

Freeman steadied Gordon with one hand, then quickly signed, “Do you need to stop?”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah, I think- should probably… yeah. Gordon, uh, hurt.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you serious?” Freemind groaned, clearly in one of his more irritable moods. “We’re never gonna get anywhere like this!”

Deciding to ignore Freemind, Freeman ushered their limbless counterpart to a nearby room. This wasn’t a part of Black Mesa he’d frequented, so he wasn’t exactly sure what the room was for. Peeking inside, it looked like a lab of sorts. The broken bunsen burners were a pretty good indication that this particular lab had worked with chemicals.

The room looked safe enough to hunker down for a few minutes, and he needed to check on Feetman’s arm. Probably wouldn’t hurt to check under Freemind’s eyepatch, too. He was fairly certain no one had been in there aside from a couple of aliens, considering none of the lights were on, and the cabinets that might have contained anything useful were closed.

Downside, there was probably gonna be a lot of chemical spills. Upside, there was probably a medical kit.

Feetman stopped before going in. “Why are the lights out in there?”

Freeman heard Freemind scoff behind him, but he flicked the light switch, and Feetman relaxed considerably. Freemind grew increasingly agitated as Freeman searched the room for a medical kit. “Why the fuck are you babying him? We need to move!”

Freeman pulled the lab’s medkit off the wall, tempted to throw it at Freemind, but restrained himself. “Let me see your eye.”

“Nah,” Freemind said. “I’m all good. Not gonna bitch about a stupid injury like some people.”

“Fuck you, man,” Feetman muttered. He winced as Freeman started pulling off his bandages, and waved off the signed apology.

Freemind snorted. “Yeah, no thanks.” He kicked at a pile of broken glass that had most likely been a beaker at some point. “If he’s gonna be fucking useless or whatever, then the two of us should scope the area. Make sure there’s nothing around.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, exactly, but Feetman immediately froze at the suggestion. “Uh- I don’t…” Freeman raised an eyebrow, but continued to change the bandages on what was left of his arm. He had a feeling that Feetman didn’t want to be by himself for any extended period of time. Couldn’t blame him, really.

“What?” Freemind snapped, “Gonna bitch about being alone, too?” Feetman averted his gaze, which was all the confirmation Freemind needed to know that he was right. “What are you, six? Man up.”

Freeman shot him a glare. “Go by yourself.”

Freemind scowled. “Are you stupid? I’m missing an eye! Can’t see shit coming from my left.”

“Then stay in here and stop complaining,” Freeman signed. Freemind wasn’t sure how he managed such a clipped, irritated tone with his hands, but the mute managed. He might have been something close to impressed if he wasn’t so pissed off.

“Fine,” Freemind spat. “Whatever. Don’t listen to the smartest person on the team.”

Feetman’s face scrunched in thought. “Aren’t we… like, the same person?”

“No. Because I’m better.” Freemind leaned against the wall. “Honestly, you guys are so lucky to have me around. You’d probably both be dead if I wasn’t here.” Freeman had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Something to say?”

Freeman, of course, said nothing. Freemind couldn’t decide if he could take the silence as a win or not. He couldn’t argue with someone that wouldn’t--or couldn’t--talk back, and he couldn’t win an argument they weren’t having. How was he supposed to prove he was better if Freeman wasn’t even giving him the option?

So Freemind, bored and irritated, did the only thing he could think to do: push every button until something happened. “How long are you gonna play nursemaid? I’ve got better things to do than waste away in this hellhole.”

“You’re not the only one who wants to go home, man,” Feetman said. “You’re just the only one complaining about it all the time.”

Freeman suppressed a laugh as he finished wrapping Feetman’s arm. He could see Freemind getting huffy in his peripheral, but paid it no mind. The guy had largely been all bark and no bite during this whole ordeal, although Freeman didn’t doubt the guy had started a few fights in his time. He’d probably start one now if it weren’t for the fact that they needed each other for survival.

Freemind wasn’t all bad (it was pretty damn close to all, though). Freeman had seen the softer side of him, hidden under about a million layers of a complex superiority/inferiority complex. He’d tried toughing it out the first day after he’d lost his left eye, but by the second day he was hovering closer to Freeman and Feetman.

He had called it a strategic advantage. They could see, he could not. If he had one of them on his left, they’d be his lookout, or a sufficient meat-shield. Whichever the situation called for.

Neither of them missed the way he’d occasionally reach out to tap an arm. Or the way he’d intentionally bump a shoulder and then angrily insist that they had been in the way. They didn’t say anything about it, though. Freemind would only be an even bigger pain in the ass if they pointed it out.

Freeman was less pissed that Freemind was protecting his dignity, and more pissed that he wasn’t offering Feetman the same courtesy of not mentioning his weakness. Then again, Freemind was probably too insecure to admit he cared.

“Well, at least I’m not scared of the fucking dark,” Freemind said triumphantly. “I’ve seen you clingin’ to Freeman over there whenever the lights get dim.”

Feetman rolled his eyes, “Oh, yeah. Like you haven’t been clinging to both of us the past couple of days.”

Freemind’s face reddened. In embarrassment or anger, Freeman couldn’t be sure. “Are you calling me a coward?”

“No, but…” Feetman chuckled under his breath, quietly singing, “You are a pirate.”

“Bold words coming from the cripple of the group,” Freemind seethed. “Are we ready to go or not? I’m tired of waiting around for you fucking idiots.”

Freeman snapped the medkit closed and signed, “Then go.” Freemind glared, but didn’t move. A testament to how much he actually relied on their presence.

It was a liability. One that Freemind hated himself for having. Being dependent on people wasn’t exactly his style. Yet here he was, unable to leave this stupid room because he couldn’t leave without these two idiots. Well, he could, but he wasn’t going to.

After a few more minutes of Freeman fussing over Feetman’s missing arm, Feetman claimed that he was ready to go. Freemind thought it was about fucking time, but Freeman didn’t seem so sure.

Freemind couldn’t figure out why Freeman was being such a mother hen about all this. Usually it was Feetman doing that, which made sense, considering they guy had a kid. Freemind thought he’d be glad to have Feetman off his back about his eye and everything else, but Freeman was almost worse. At least Feetman listened somewhat, even if it was just to bicker with him. Freeman would just tell him to shut up.

He ducked out of the room while Freeman and Feetman continued a mostly one-way conversation. Ironically enough, it was Freeman doing most of the talking. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“We can stay a few more minutes, if you need to.”

“I said I’m fine, man,” Feetman said. “Or- well… as ‘fine’ as I’m gonna get.” He glanced out to the hallway. “Think his eye is okay?”

Freeman shrugged. “He’ll start complaining when he wants someone to look at it.”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah… alright. Guess we better get moving before he-”

“Will you two hurry the fuck up!” Freemind shouted from the hallway. “You morons are slower than my dead grandmother!”

A cheerful smile overtook Feetman’s face, taking Freeman by surprise. “Gordon,” he said happily, “I crave violence!”

The moment was gone before Freeman could question it. He’d learned to stop asking about Feetman’s little outbursts. They were his friends, supposedly. Something about his first run? Freeman didn’t know. And there was no telling what might trigger it, so Freeman mostly relied on context.

Like now, for instance. Even if the smile was cheerful, the words suggested Feetman was about two seconds from strangling Freemind with his remaining hand. So Freeman decided it’d probably be best to keep the two separate. At least until they both calmed down a little.

Freemind noticed Freeman’s efforts to keep them separated. He decided against pushing any more buttons, since Feetman seemed capable of talking back, despite his injury. And, honestly, how dare he talk back to a god like Freemind?

Really, he didn’t understand why Feetman was getting so worked up about everything damn thing. Freemind himself hated being a liability, so why was Feetman so insistent on being one all the fucking time? It was infuriating. Feetman should be just as on guard as he was, not overreacting about a dark room. They didn’t have time for him to be scared of every damn thing.

None of them liked the dark. So why was Feetman being such a bitch about it?

Freeman suddenly waved a hand to get his attention. “Storage area.”

Freemind grinned. “Nice! Might find some guns in there.”

“Or supplies,” Feetman added.

“Whatever,” Freemind dismissed, already shoving past him to take a look around the storage room.

Unfortunately, it looked pretty ransacked already, but the three men spread out to search through the splintered crates. Well, Freemind and Freeman did anyway. Feetman just seemed to be smashing them, for some reason. He stopped after a couple of minutes and frowned. “Why am I smashing crates?”

Freemind’s face twisted in confusion. This guy might actually be losing it. “Are you brain dead or something?” Feetman blinked at him. “Know what? Fuck it. Never mind.” Freeman was better at dealing with whatever that issue was. Apparently, Feetman’s… ‘friends’... really liked smashing crates.

The dude was seriously fucked up. Not just his arm, either.

He wasn’t finding anything useful, and was about to see if Freeman had found anything, when the lights suddenly flickered. “What the-” ‘fuck’ didn’t get a chance to leave his mouth before the room went completely dark.

For a moment, he thought he’d lost his other eye. A spike of panic tore through him at the thought of being totally blind during an alien invasion, but then remembered that he’d seen the lights flicker. It was just a power outage. His eye was fine.

“Um… guys?” Feetman called out. “Where- you guys still in here?”

Freemind started to answer back, ‘Yes, dumbass, of course we’re still here,’ but he stopped himself. Feetman needed to stop being a bitch about the dark, and here was the perfect opportunity for some exposure therapy. And if Freemind didn’t say anything, then Feetman would have to get over his thing about being alone, too.

It was two birds with one stone. If Feetman could handle being alone, in the dark, until the backup generator for this area kicked on, then everything else would be a cakewalk by comparison. Without Feetman bitching all the time, they could get out faster.

Genius plan. Foolproof. God, he was so fucking smart. And the best part was, Freeman couldn’t even ruin it. The guy didn’t talk, and his sign language was useless in the dark.

“Freeman?” Feetman tried again. “Did- did you guys leave?” Perfect. Feetman thought he was alone. Now all he had to do was stay calm and- “This isn’t funny, guys!”

Freemind raised an eyebrow, kind of a useless gesture in the dark, but it felt necessary. This wasn’t supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be productive. It was a solution to a problem. Freemind was fixing the problem. All Feetman had to do was stay calm. How difficult could it be?

He bit back a curse as he heard footsteps to his left. Freeman was trying to find Feetman! That would ruin this whole thing! Did Freeman not understand what he was trying to do here? No, of course he didn’t. Why would he? He was an idiot, just like everyone else.

“Who is that?” Feetman asked in a wavering voice. “What are you doing?!” The footsteps stopped. Freemind smiled, glad that his plan was back on track, but frowned again when he heard the unmistakable sound of the HEV suit hitting something. The wall? The floor? Did Feetman trip over something? What a goddamn moron.

Feetman had indeed hit the floor, tripping over a demolished crate in his attempt to back away from whoever was moving towards him.

Freemind wasn’t answering him. He couldn’t see Freeman. Did something happen to them? Were they okay? Was this another ambush? Did the other two set this up? They couldn’t have. Could they? Would they? He’d been betrayed by people he trusted before...

The darkness closed in on him more and more with every terrified thought that ran through his head. His arm throbbed in time with his heartbeat, which was entirely too fast and he couldn’t make it stop. He wanted to call out again, for Freeman or Freemind or anyone, but his throat closed up with panic before he could. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like he was dying. Maybe he was dying.

Freeman heard Feetman’s choked off gasp, and started moving again. He knew the approaching footsteps were going to freak Feetman out, but he needed to make sure his counterpart wasn’t injured. His eyes were starting to adjust a bit, letting him make out the barest outline of the boxes closest to him so he could move around them, but finding Feetman was an entirely different challenge.

Finally, he could see the vague shape of Feetman, on his knees and curled in on himself. He hoped the lights came back on soon. Because once he helped Feetman, he had a universal sign for Freemind that relied heavily on his middle finger. Was this his idea of a joke?

Feetman was hyperventilating, mumbling incoherently as Freeman slowly knelt down next to him. He tapped the floor lightly in hopes that Feetman would understand that this was a friend. Not an alien or a soldier, not a threat. But Feetman didn’t seem to register it, if anything, he only seemed to panic more.

After a few seconds of Freeman trying desperately to come up with a solution, the fluorescent lights whirred back to life. Freemind was standing on the other side of the room, looking almost annoyed at the situation. Then he saw Feetman collapsed on the ground, and his expression softened into something resembling concern.

“Whoa, the fuck?” He made his way over to his two alternates, wondering where the hell his plan went wrong. “What the hell’s wrong with him?”

Freeman sliced a hand across his throat, the unofficial sign for ‘cut that shit out’, then signed, “Help him.”

Freemind suddenly felt very out of his element. How the fuck was he supposed to help? “Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat nervously.

Nervously? Since when did he get nervous?

Maybe since he’d unintentionally plunged someone into a panic attack.

Shut up, he scolded himself. He was Gordon ‘Freemind’ Freeman. He didn’t make mistakes. He just… miscalculated. A little. Not enough to count as a failure.

“Listen, just- just calm down, it’s… the lights are back on, okay? You can stop freaking out.” There. Facts. Feetman hated the dark, and now there was no more dark.

“Shut up,” Feetman said in a strangled voice. “Sh-shut the fuck up.”

Hm. Okay. That was bad, Freemind was pretty sure. “Okay, well, I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do here, so I’m just gonna keep talking.” Feetman shook his head. “Yeah, I am. Because you’re so stuck in your own stupid brain that-” Freeman nudged him. “What?”

“Just talk,” Freeman signed angrily. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Freemind huffed. “Listen, I didn’t… I didn’t know the dark was gonna fuck with you that bad. I thought you’d, like, get over it. Which you didn’t. And that’s bullshit, but whatever. Next time I won’t do that.”

Feetman tensed. “Next time?” He asked frantically, “What- there’s gonna be a next time? I can’t-”

“What? No!” Freemind exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant, you- fuck.” He looked to Freeman for help. “Any other great ideas?”

Freeman didn’t know. On reflex, he reached out to put a hand on Feetman’s arm. Of the three of them, Feetman was probably the most touch-oriented. He knew his mistake as soon as his hand grazed the HEV suit, Feetman immediately recoiling, eyes wide with fear .

“Get away from me!” Freeman started to pull back, realizing too late that this was the wrong arm to touch in the moment. But before he could apologize, pain exploded across the right side of his face. He could see Feetman scrambling backwards through the stars in his eyes. Feetman really packed a punch.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” Freemind yelled. “Why’d you do that, Freeman was trying to help, dumbass!”

He shook his head to get Freemind’s attention. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have scared him.” He should have known better. He should have made sure Feetman was okay first. He refused to blame Feetman for lashing out during such a vulnerable moment.

The panicked haze in Freeman’s eyes cleared a bit. “F- fuck, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t-” Freeman shook his head, assuring Feetman that he was fine. “What happened? You… the lights went out and I couldn’t- you weren’t…”

Freeman glanced at Freemind, having more or less the same question. “Why didn’t you say anything when the lights went out?”

Freemind at least had the decency to look… guilty? The expression was so foreign on Freemind’s face that Freeman almost didn’t recognize it. “I was- I had this plan.” He stopped like he expected to be interrupted, then continued when he realized that Freeman and Feetman were still listening, “I thought you were kinda overreacting about the dark and shit. So I was trying to help you, like, get over yourself. And that didn’t, uh… that didn’t work.”

Feetman wheezed. “You- you’re an idiot.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Why the fuck did you think that would work? That’s the stupidest-”

“Shut up.”

“-thing I have ever heard in my-”

“Feetman, so help me god, I will turn these lights back off.”

“-entire fucking life,” Feetman finished. Freemind grumbled, but otherwise held his tongue. Feetman then turned to Freeman and winced. “Jesus, man, your face. I’m real sorry about that.”

Freeman shrugged. “I’ve had worse. It was my fault, anyway.” Feetman didn’t look convinced, biting his lip and holding his right arm tight to his chest. He figured now was probably a better time to ask, “Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Feetman said. Then, after a moment, “Maybe… yeah.” He glanced at Freemind. “As long as the resident pirate isn’t gonna be a dick about it.”

Freemind narrowed his eye. “Shut up.” But despite the venom in his voice, he leaned against Feetman’s left side. “Don’t say another word.”

Freeman slung an arm around Feetman, giving him a reassuring squeeze that neither of them could feel, but it was the thought that counted. Feetman almost immediately relaxed into the embrace, quietly muttering a word Freeman didn’t recognize, “Pog.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Freemind asked. “No, actually, I don’t care. I hate it. Don’t ever say that again.”

Feetman laughed again, lightly bickering with Freemind until all three of them were ready to go. There wasn’t much they could salvage in the storage area, unfortunately, but hopefully they’d find something later.

Freemind didn’t make another comment about Feetman’s fear of being alone or in the dark. If you asked him, he’d say that Feetman bitching about the dark was marginally more productive than him being collapsed on the floor. Again, it was all just survival.

And if anyone said that they saw him quietly talking to Feetman at night, distracting him from the dark and the pain in his arm until he fell asleep, that person was a goddamn liar.

[stanknotstark]

Astral Pt. 10 (Loki x Reader)

So im out eating right now so ill add the link to the last part in an hour and stuff also I did not beta read this part and apologize if I need to change something later on but I want to try and keep up with posting at 5:30 so im releasing it 🤗

Alright we finally have some actions and many open ended questions that I’ve got to close up BUT we also experience one of our main villains warriors. If you read the comics you’ll immediately know who the main villain is (Or Google it but I suggest not doing that if you want to be surprised :p)

You knew having peace and hanging out with your team and Loki would only last for so long, but you were still saddened when it came time to finally work. 

You’re all on the top most floor of the Avenger’s tower, the War Room as Tony called it (sounds a bit over dramatic but it was Tony so...). Fury is there in hologram mode, sitting in the middle of a large custom made table that had the Avengers logo engraved into the middle of the dark oak. 

“What kind of readings are we talking about?” Stark asks Fury. 

Fury’s hand comes up and swipes at something invisible on his end and it translates to Stark’s theater size screens on the wall. It’s a bunch of graphs, statistics, and other jargon you can’t understand. You raise a brow when Tony and Bruce gasp and start talking in hushed tones to each other. 

“Tony, make this english so everyone can understand what’s going on, please?” Steve asks. 

Tony clears his throat and points to one of the graphs, “According to Fury’s collected data, Thor give Jane a big hug when you next see her, they’ve picked up on some form of energy spikes in the middle of Death Valley, Nevada. Like we’re talking colossal size spikes. ”

You look at Loki who sits up in his chair next to you and squints at the screens.

“I know what these ‘energy’,” Loki says energy like it’s disgusting, “readings are. It’s magic from another realm. Specifically, it’s time travel but...” Loki frowns and you watch as his eyes become almost fearful.

“Spit it out, Reindeer Games.” Tony says, sounding concerned at Loki’s fear.

“It’s time travel across an alternate timeline.” 

Tony blinks. Bruce frowns and pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. The entire room is silent. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know who caused these readings would you?” Tony finally asks. 

Loki, who has a neutral face now and the fear is gone from his eyes, shakes his head. “I can’t know for sure unless I can inspect the magic in person.” 

Finally Fury speaks, you had almost forgot the director was even here. “Prepare a quin jet Stark, get Loki and whoever else you deem reliable to escort. We need to figure out who came for a visit and if they’re ally or enemy as soon as possible.”

Fury disappears from the table and Tony gets into worker mode immediately. He points to you, claiming you’re the close combat person, to Clint, who is your ranged fighter, and to Natasha who would be pilot and your extraction. 

Things become a blur after that. You remember going to your room and jumping into your Shield issued attire (Stark had yet to make you your own suit), and meeting Loki at the roof where a quin jet readied for take off. Before you walked into the quin jet Loki stopped you, his hands holding your shoulders making you face him. 

“I promise that I will let nothing harm you, you’re my first priority and if things get violent I will teleport us away to safety.” 

You nod but give him a small smile, “I can handle myself but it’s good to know I’ve got someone watching my back.” You then push onto your toes and give Loki a peck and make your way to the quin jet. 

The ride there is tense and quiet. Loki says he’s putting a spell on you that acts as a shield but doesn’t specify how it works.

Looking back you wish you would have asked how it worked. 

Landing around 100 meters from the destination Clint, Loki and you leave the ship and begin your trek to the site. 

“Holy fuck! If I could strip out of my skin I would.” You say to Loki and Clint. Death Valley’s temperature was a recorded 130 degrees today. 

At your displeasure Loki slows till he’s next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders. You look at him questionably but gasp as his arm generates a coolness that at least stops your sweating. You make sure not to say anything so Clint, in front of you, doesn’t become jealous. 

The trip to the site is very uneventful. Even reaching the site is uneventful. About 30 meters from the site you see nothing. Literally, it’s just desert, surrounded by high cliffs, for miles. 

So you snoop, you walk around the site as Clint and Loki argue about whether the coordinates are correct. 

“I swear, this is what Stark gave me so, if they’re wrong, blame him!” Clint says, exasperated.

“It can’t be wrong I can feel something pulling at my magic but-”

That’s when you run into an invisible wall and yelp as you fall backwards onto your butt. 

“Found it!” You cheer as a space ship slowly appears, the colors changing and shifting from the point you hit till the whole thing is uncovered. At first glance the ship looks futuristic but once you overlook the whole thing with Clint keeping his distance, and Loki exploring with you, you realize it’s shaped as a sphinx. 

Very fitting for the desert surrounding the ship. 

“Work you magic.” You tell Loki and he does. You both congregate at the head of the ship/sphinx and he waves his hands over it, his green magic trailing out here and there to touch the ship. Loki himself mutters under his breath. 

You keep your eyes on him but also keep vigilant about the area. You finally get an idea and close your eyes for a second, your magic leaving your body and passing through the ship. No life forms. When you open your eyes again Loki lifts a brow at you, still muttering. 

“No life I can detect.” You tell him and he nods and focuses back on the ship. 

You put a hand to your ear piece and tell Clint, “I don’t sense any life forms but I’d keep a close eye anyways.” 

Clint gives you an acknowledgment. 

Loki finally stops his magic and drops his hands to his sides, just as he looks at you and you hear Clint yell into your ear, you’re hit by a concussive blast. When you look up in shock you see one lone humanoid figure walking towards Loki, who although wasn’t in the way of the blast also got blasted back, curious you think. Loki had immediately gotten into a defensive stance after getting up from the blast, one hand on his back holds three daggers, the other hand put up in a manner meant to calm the figure. 

You quickly get on your feet and stand next to Loki, your magic congregating at your balled fists. 

“Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are-” Loki hisses at you, trying to get you to stop antagonizing the being that is close enough to identify. He is tall, around 7 feet tall and is dressed in a skin tight tank and leggings that are a dark purple color, it looks like metal but it’s too flexible to actually be metal. His head is encased in a tight helmet that frames his face and covers his head from his forehead, up, in a way that makes you think he is bald underneath. You shiver as you look into his eyes, they glow white. 

“Identify yourself.” The being says. Standing casually as if he didn’t attack you. 

“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and you are?” 

The being stands there silently. You huff. “I’m y/n, of Earth.” 

The being stands still for a few seconds then gets into a fighting position.

“I am here to take y/n, anyone who stands in my way shall perish.” 

Loki immediately grabs you and teleports you to Clint, you yell out angrily as he teleports back to the being and they start fighting. Loki throwing magic and daggers at the being. You gasp, the first ball of magic Loki throws at it makes a purple light encase the being, in a rippling effect, who then grows a bit. Hawkeye lets loose some arrows that explode on impact. It does nothing but make the man grow even more. 

Loki also realizes what’s going on because he stops attacking the being. The being takes his chance and lunges at Loki. Loki isn’t fast enough and takes a blow to the head. You scream and begin running towards him as he lays in the dirt discombobulated. Clint tries to grab your arm but misses you just so. 

In your ear you hear Clint tell Natasha to ready the jet. Before the being can get to Loki you throw yourself over his body. When he’s a few feet away you look at him with furious eyes.

“Stop!” 

To your surprise the being stops mid step, considers your words, then stands in place. You frown but look at Loki who is watching with fascinated eyes, recovered from the hard hit he took. You watch as blood trails down the side of his face and out of his ear. He probably can’t hear out of his left ear. 

Looking back up at the being you ask it, “Who sent you? What are you?”

The being stares at the two of you but answers, “I am Subject 52103 Growing Man, and my master sent me.” 

You feel Loki tense under you and assume he knows who his master is. 

“Tell your master to leave Earth alone, that if you or him show your faces here again, the Avengers will take you out without hesitation.”

The Growing Man nods and leaves in a flash of purple and black. 

Letting out a tense breath you stand and help Loki up. Making your way back to the quin jet, you pick up Clint. 

“Why does he want you?” Clint asks, looking at you. 

You walk, holding Loki at your side, the hit from the Growing Man doing enough to leave him a bit disoriented and sluggish. 

“I don’t know and I’m not quite sure I want to know.” You say. Loki stays conveniently quiet the entire walk to the quin jet. Clint doesn’t ask anything else either. 

Pt. 9.1/Pt. 10/?

Tag list: @justfangirlthingies​ @emelieh99​ @high-functioning-lokipath​ @loveableasshole​ 

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Escaping Expulsion" From The Owl House

Salutations random people on the internet who most likely won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Do you wanna know what I love the most about The Owl House? The writers waste no time getting to the good stuff.

Things like Willow working things out with Amity, Lumity, Lilith's redemption, and Luz's fight with Belos are stuff that most shows would drag out and wait upon using until several seasons down the line. Most of them for the final season. And yet, it all happens in the first! The writers somehow knew what the fans exactly wanted and gave them just that before they even had to ask.

Take "Escaping Expulsion," for example, as it has some great plot points and ideas I thought would happen later in the season and maybe even near the end. But it's only episode TWO of the new season, and I'm appreciative of it for that reason alone.

But explaining the good stuff this episode delivers requires spoilers, so if you haven't watched the episode yet (even though you definitely have at this point), I recommend that you do so. Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Blight Industries: Huh. I'll be the first to admit: I would have never expected that the main reason why the Blights are rich is because of their technological advancements. Large in part of how the Boiling Isles is a fantasy world, and rarely do you see technology taking place in a setting such as that. Still, points for total expectation subversion added with some pretty cool tech, I might add.

Odalia Blight: It's nice to put a face to the name I've grown to hate with a fiery passion. Now I can update my dartboard!

But to tell you the truth, it feels weird saying I like someone so vile. I mean, the woman is a manipulative, smarmy b-word who nearly killed Luz. Anybody who does that last part deserves to go on my s**t list! I despise her with the same fiery passion I've had since "Understanding Willow" premiered...and it's that reason why I like her.

Because here's the thing: Characters and people are two different things. If Odalia existed in real life, she better hope that I never meet her. But as a character whose purpose is to have the audience hate her, she succeeds with flying colors. It's the same reason why I consider it unfair to hate an episode like "Something Ventured and Someone Framed" because Mattholomule exists. I get it but understand that hating him is his purpose. It's the same with Odalia. I love her, but only because I love to hate her.

Alador Blight: Wow. I guess Alador really is the lesser of two evils.

By the way, keep in mind that I said "lesser of two evils" and not "the nice one." I don't care how adorable it is to see him get distracted by a butterfly. He's still an abusive figure who stood aside as Luz fought for her life against the Abomitron and still goes along with Odalia's plans despite how heinous they are. And whenever I remember how he treated Amity in "Understanding Willow" as well--

Also, don't make him neurodivergent so he can seem redeemable. It is painfully obvious that he is just exhausted after hours of toiling away in his lab working on his inventions to the point that his brain is beyond fried.

Now, seeing that I've dismissed the argument about how Alador is the nice one, let's actually talk about his character. Because I can see what Dana Terrace meant when she said that he's interesting. He's not explicitly as awful as Odalia, as he mostly seems to be in his own little world half the time. Despite that, Alador still shows signs of being just as dismissive of Amity in general. You see this as he focuses on how her strength shows signs of Amity being a potential coven leader instead of noticing how his daughter nearly died to his own invention. Alador doesn't manipulate, but he doesn't love his daughter in a way a father should either. I'm very intrigued by this route for his character, and I can't wait to see what is done next with him.

Amity’s Amulet: My heart sank when I realized the true purpose behind Amity's amulet. The thought that Odalia found a way to literally be in Amity's head at all times...I hate that. I mean, I love it because it's A+ storytelling and symbolism, BUT I F**KING HATE IT!

Amity in General: And seeing how we're already talking about Amity, let's dive into the fact that "Escaping Expulsion" is easily her best outing so far in the series. I say this because it really puts to the test Amity's dedication to being a part of the group. You can tell by her expressions and Mae Whitman's performance that Amity so desperately wants to help her friends, but she can't due to being afraid of her mother's wrath. Which doesn't surprise me, given what we know about Odalia so far. But what does surprise me is that Amity stands up to Odalia in this very same episode. I expected it for sure, but most likely at the end of the season, due to most shows dragging out a similar concept for drama's sake. However, as I said, the writers don't waste time giving the fans what they want. So, yeah, Amity defies her mother in the very same episode we're officially introduced to her. And it's totally believable, as Amity has been fighting her parent's control ever since Luz literally showed her the light after "Covention" (click here if you don't believe me). It's yet another impressive showcase of Amity's character development and how she's leagues ahead of other redeemable characters who would go through five more episodes like this before getting to the point.

Luz in General: But enough about Amity. For now, let's talk about the actual best character of the series!

Just like Amity, Luz is on top form in "Escaping Expulsion." She is quick to call 'applesauce' about Odalia and Alador expelling the Hex-Squad and is smart enough to figure out the deal Odalia is worming her way into making. Several people classify Luz as stupid, and while she definitely leaps before she looks at times, this episode proves that Luz isn't going to fall for the sweet talk that someone like Odalia offers. As reckless as she can be, Luz is still intelligent enough to know what someone like Odalia wants and cuts to the chase despite knowing the woman can't be trusted. Still, Luz going through with the deal anyways is fantastic character work for her as it shows her dedication to the people she cares about. It hurts my heart to see Luz get all beat up from Alador's inventions, but her willingness to put up with it for her friends is an act of service I wouldn't have expected from anyone else. "Escaping Expulsion" may be more centered around Amity, but it still proves why Luz earns her spot for one of my favorite characters.

Learning How Glyphs Work: Another solid aspect of The Owl House is that the writers find brilliant ways for world-building and explaining the rules of the Boiling Isles. Take this episode's b-plot, for instance. Eda and Lilith need to learn how to do Luz's version of magic, so having an entire section of the episode dedicated to them figuring it out is a perfect outlet to explain how glyphs work in the first place. Although, I have some tribulations with this subplot that I'll get into with the dislikes. But I still consider this a brilliant workaround to explain glyphs, even if specific executions could be handled better.

The Fairy Pie: Not only is this well-crafted dark humor, and not only is it adorable as hell, but it also shows how Amity has calmed down with her feelings toward Luz. She still blushes when handing over the fairy pie, but it is certainly more subdued in comparison to "Wing it Like Witches." I like to think the time off from her (and our) favorite weirdo helped cool down those emotions a bit, but that doesn't mean she won't get slightly flustered every now and again. Because as much as I adore seeing cool and collective, I'm still very much a fan of Disaster Amity due to how cute it is.

Principle Bump: "This character is underappreciated!"

"That character doesn't get enough love!"

YOU WANNA KNOW WHO'S UNDERAPPRECIATED AND DOESN'T GET ENOUGH LOVE?! PRINCIPAL GOSH DANG BUMP, THAT'S WHO!

So many kids' shows focus on how educators are the bad guy who treats students poorly because they love seeing children suffer. But that's not Bump! Sure, he made a misstep in "The First Day," but for the most part, he really cares for his students and hopes that they work hard to be their better selves. So when he's forced to send Luz, Gus, and Willow away, he's genuinely saddened by it to the point where he breaks down crying! On top of being wholesome, Bump missing his students is another example that a character shouldn't be written as evil just because they run a school. Sure, there are scumbag teachers and principals out there, but for others, they're a lot like Bump: People who show admiration and respect to their students rather than ridicule because a principle "just doesn't get it." And I appreciate Bump all the more for it.

Gus and Willow: It feels weird that these two basically got sidelined, especially since they have a stake in the plot as well, but it's understandable. "Escaping Expulsion" is clearly more Amity-centered, and with Luz being the main character, it would also be odd if she didn't get more of the focus than her friends. Having them do more would have been great, but what they've already accomplished is pretty decent anyway. They show how much they're on the same page as Luz when trying to figure out a way to sneak back into Hexide, Willow is still the best voice of reason when saying no one will be killed through their plans, and Gus wins the comedic highlights in the episode. While I would have loved that they did more, I'm perfectly fine with what we got. Besides, this is only episode two of Season Two. We got nineteen more episodes to go to focus on these two.

King: Ok, now, this is the version of King I like to see. A character that mocks Eda as if they're equals and acts as a reluctant voice of reason. This episode shows King more at his best and is a major step above what we've seen in "Separate Tides."

Lilith: ...Yeah, f**k it. I like Lilith.

Personally, I would have preferred seeing her dragged through the coals at least a few episodes, but that's judging the show for what I want. Not what it is. And as is...It's fine. Lilith has a great dynamic with the rest of the Owl House, it's honestly adorable seeing her refer to Luz as a teacher, and that scene where she makes presents out of ice for Hooty is all kinds of wholesome. I'd say your enjoyment of Lilith highly depends on how forgiving you are, and if you think her splitting the curse is enough of a gesture, you probably won't mind her as much. The execution of her redemption really could have used more time in the oven, but Lilith is still a decent character regardless, so what's to complain about.

Luz Making the Abomination Have a Cat Face: ...Luz...I f**king missed you.

DON'T EVER LEAVE FOR THAT LONG AGAIN!

(Also, I just love that this is all Amity needed to know Luz was in trouble)

Hop Pop Cameo: He's on the cover of one of the books Willow's dad lifts up. Which is extra cute given how Dana Terrace and Matt Braley (creator of Amphibia) are close friends in real life.

Willow’s Dad Pretending Not to See Anything: One single action defines the type of man this guy is. He's the fun and understanding dad!

Gus, Willow, and Amity Arguing How to Break In: This little quarrel just shows how much these three need Luz. Without someone to keep the peace and bring up compromises, these idiots would have just kept arguing all night.

In addition to that, this clash over ideas acts as a showcase for who these characters are. Willow is careful and smart, so she's going for the option more unlikely to get them caught. Amity is brash and to the point, so she's going for the route that gets them inside as soon as possible. And then there's Gus, who's young and naive, so his plan sounds like something out of a cartoon. The odds of any of these plans working are highly debatable, but seeing these characters with clashing personalities and ideas is a ton of fun to watch regardless.

Edric and Emira Helping: There's not much to add here. It's just another sweet scene that makes me so glad that the writers decided to make Ed and Em more like supporting characters than minor antagonists like "Lost in Language" made fans think they would be.

(Amity throwing the "Hex me" signs back at Edric is just the cherry on top).

“Stay away from my Luz!”: ...What the f**k do you want me to say that? It's f**king perfect!

Luz Catching Feelings for Amity: ...Huh. Neat.

...

...Alright, let's move on.

Luz Wanting to Take a Nap After--Yeah, I can't do it. Not even for the joke.

WAH-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOO! MU! TU! AL! PINING! AH-HAHAHA!

THIS! This is more of that good s**t I'm talking about! Due to being so used to other shows going for the slow burn when writing the endgame romance, I was expecting Luz to catch feelings halfway through the season, even at the end of it. But near the beginning?! That is something I am more than ok with!

And much like Amity standing up to her parents in this episode, Luz catching feelings this early on is totally believable. Many fans have already analyzed how Luz's love language is "Acts of Service," which I'm somewhat sure is romantic gestures. Meaning that I f**king challenge you to find a grander gesture than holding back a literal killing machine while swooping down like a knight in shining armor! Oh, wait, you can't. BECAUSE THERE ISN'T ANY!

But by far, the best--the BEST--thing that can come from this is the dramatic irony! We, the audience, know that Luz and Amity like each other, but they don't. So the constant failings as these two fools try to work out their romantic feelings for one another is something I cannot wait to see in all its glory.

This is one of the best things that could have come out of the episode, and while it doesn't mean Lumity is canon, it is definitely closer than ever before. And I'm excited about all of it!

Luz Wanting to Take a Nap After Getting Home: I adore this because there's no one way that this can be interpreted. Either it's because Luz is exhausted after nearly getting killed for the fifteenth time that month, or it's because Luz is overwhelmed about having a crush on Amity...or both. Most likely both.

Belos Wanting The Abomatrons: Wow, what an ominous ending to the episode! I'm sure it won't come into play at all in the future...The season finale is going to hurt, isn't it?

WHAT I DISLIKED

Gus’ Growth Spurt: I mean...that's just weird. Gus suddenly being almost as tall as the others is a change so jarring that I feel like an explanation other than "witch puberty" is required. I get that they wanted to explain away why Issac Ryan Brown's voice got deep this season, 'cause puberty's a b**ch. But sometimes I feel like it's best to just ignore it, like with how Phineas and Ferb or Steven Universe just goes along with the fact that VAs tend to grow up when the characters themselves remain ageless.

Eda is Kinda Stupid in this One: It's not just me, right? Because I feel like Eda is more careful in the past than she is in this episode. She's been as reckless as Luz is at times, sure, but carelessly screwing around with magic when she has no idea how it works? I can maybe see King doing that, but not Eda. Just seeing her act dumber than usual is something that doesn't sit right with me.

Lilith Explaining Her Glyph Magic: I don't mind this. Glyph magic is pretty confusing, so having Lilith explain how it works to Eda and the audience is something I can understand. My issue, however, lies in how they did this.

Why, in the name of all that is holy, would Lilith explain her theory after the fact. It would be much more natural if she explained while saving King, but doing it after comes across as more forced than it should. Which is a shame because this series is usually on point when explaining how things work in the Boiling Isles.

And...That's about all the complaints I have with this episode. Which are nothing but nitpicks and possibly personal preferences.

IN CONCLUSION

If I'm willing to forgive and forget, I would give "Escaping Expulsion" a well-earned A+. But I'm not, so it's going to be another solid A. And, I mean, if you complain about that...there's something wrong with you.

"Escaping Expulsion" delivers on quite a bit of what fans want to see on top of giving these great character moments that show why we love these casts of oddballs and weirdos. I wouldn't say it reached perfection, but it still carries the winning streak that this new season has so far. Meaning there's no escaping the fact that Season Two is off to a better start than the first.

(Although, the fact that we got two solid As in a row means that we're in for a stinker real soon, doesn't it?)

[ectonurites]

Conner Kent in Suicide Squad/the Infinite Frontier era: wtf is going on

Alright lads hello I just need to type out some theories/thoughts about what’s going on with my boy Kon right now. This is more for myself than anything else (just trying to organize my thoughts) but since some of y’all like to hear me talk about comics (and some of this discussion has already been happenin in my inbox) I figured i’d format it and put it on here too! its like 4k words and written over the last few days mostly at 3am. sorry <3 

this is basically just me going like

Also fair warning that like, I can be wrong and misinterpret things just as much as anyone else can, like I use panels to support why I think what I do but a lot of this stuff is subjective/complicated to understand so like... in general somethings should be taken with a grain of salt, especially because exactly what changes to the universe were made by Death Metal/Infinite Frontier haven’t been super super clearly defined yet. Also sometimes comic writers make the most random nonsensical shit happen, so I as a fan am also allowed to theorize about random nonsensical shit.

But to start: let’s backtrack!

Many months ago when Infinite Frontier was first announced they dropped some promotional art, and I remember being a little confused because. Well:

(Variant Cover spread for Justice League (2018) #59)

(Variant Cover spread for Superman (2018) #29)

Notice how Conner is back to his Teen Titans 2003 look up top, but in his YJ 2019 look at the bottom? This seemed weird to me! But then they announced that Conner would be part of the Suicide Squad ongoing title, in the T-shirt look, so I wrote this discrepancy off in my brain as ‘oh I guess that cover was just the last hurrah for punk Kon’ and moved on with life.

In Suicide Squad right away we learn he’s very much so there against his will:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #1)

Which corroborates more or less what we were also shown in Future State: Suicide Squad, although admittedly it tells... a slightly different version of the events. When I first saw both of these together I just chalked it up to being a bit inaccurate as it’s shown as a memory in Future State:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Issue 2 we saw him in action with the Squad, trying to do his best to still be a hero despite the team, but things get a little more interesting in the following issue. It starts off with an account of his history

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

This page gave me a few immediate red flags, mostly minor things that had to do with coloring, so more irl problems than things to take seriously in-universe (Kon’s pants are the wrong color in the first Superboy shot, and Bart’s Impulse costume is in Kid Flash colors instead of the correct Impulse ones) but then also it just bugged me the phrasing “he joined Young Justice” when he was a founder of the team, he didn’t join it he made it with Tim and Bart.

But again, chalked that stuff up to just.... writers/artists being inconsistent/unaware of things that they should be aware of, or even Nocturna just not being specific with details. But it did still strike me as a little odd considering the very accurate use of villains in those same shots, Scavenger who was a reoccurring bad guy from Kon’s solo days and showed up basically nowhere else (even holding the Spear of Lono and everything!) and Billy/Harm (Greta’s brother) from Young Justice.

But then a few pages later we got this:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

Which is interesting. My first instinct was to think he’s being drugged w kryptonite or something thats leaving him hazy/out of it, but my thoughts on that have kinda changed, we’ll get there in a bit. But in general the context of ‘something’s wrong’ made the slight discrepancies on some details of his own history make more sense.

I also want to then bring up the next part to this story, the crossover issue in Teen Titans Academy.

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

So a few things. Does it feel weird to anyone else that Conner Kent, a known previous Titan who literally has a framed picture of himself in a case there, would set off alarm sensors like that? Wouldn’t he be... recognized as a Titan not an intruder by their sensors? Interesting! Anyways.

He looks really pained looking at that picture, and sad, and almost frustrated, which ya know makes sense and hurts my heart because he misses them! He misses his friends and being happy. 

But, importantly for a criticism I wanna make thats less theory related and more just me bein annoyed at Tim Sheridan, that’s a picture of Conner. Right there. That’s Superboy, on display at Teen Titans Academy, so the people who frequent this building would know who he is and what he looks like and be able to recognize him, he’s even in the same outfit and everything. Alinta recognized him at the end of Suicide Squad #3. 

So why does only one person during this big fight then comment on his presence?? Why doesn’t it get a bigger reaction???

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

And after the fight we don’t see any on panel moment of Wallace going up to the staff Titans (who weren’t present for the fight) and saying like “HEY NIGHTWING UHHH SUPERBOY WAS WITH THE SUICIDE SQUAD?” we just see him talking with his friends upset about Crush leaving. We see Alinta talking to them but we don’t see the exact dialogue. So I do just wanna take the writer by the shoulders and shake him a little bit and ask WHY because that just feels like... something you’d wanna address on panel! This is like the first time since joining the squad that Kon’s at all in contact with people from his life before Waller got involved, I feel like not addressing those people’s reactions to it/not discussing it at least a little bit on panel (especially when Conner CAME UP in the previous TTA issue, Dick brought him up and everything!!!) is a really odd choice. Maybe it’ll happen next issue and i’m just impatient, but who knows. Anyways, gripes with Sheridan aside, lets move on.

I wanna bring up how Conner... doesn’t really respond to Wallace’s question? At all? Except to just fight him off, not even an attempt at a ‘Sorry’ or anything? (the ‘Ha! That all you got?!’ seems to be coming from Culebra not Conner, although the placement of the bubble is vague enough it could be that it was supposed to be Conner? but it seems more like what she’d say, especially as she’s grabbing Emiko like that) That just feels weird. It feels off. In general he speaks so little in Suicide Squad #3 and this issue. Tbh it almost feels like he doesn’t really recognize Wallace which I mean I suppose they never exactly met (they would have theoretically during Death Metal, basically all past/present Titans were together for a while during that), but Kon’s been back in existing long enough he’d have a sense of who current heroes are anyways.

But right, so, lots of little things that feel weird... that gets us caught up to the most recently released comics... but in this household we look at solicits as they drop. Which gives us some info on what’s coming up a few months ahead of time, albeit without full context obviously. Issues #4 and #5 don’t mention Conner in their descriptions or show him on the covers at all, because there’s just other plot things going on, so ya know seems things will be quiet for him for a bit.

But then we got the August solicitations and oh BOY it’s a doozey for him! And some things start to kinda connect perhaps!

I want to just take a moment to look at that specific wording. “The teen calling himself Conner Kent” I’m probably reading too much into it but that feels deliberate, like why wouldn’t you just say ‘Conner Kent’? Usually these kinds of descriptions are trying to keep a low word count, not add in extra words that don’t need to be there. It makes it feel like that’s a name he’s using that... doesn’t actually belong to him.

So the theory I want to propose (that has been floating around already) is that based on these covers and the description, and how the Conner we’ve been seeing in Suicide Squad apparently talks about his own personal history like he’s ‘reading a wikipedia entry’ and had little response to people he should be aware of like Wallace and apparently isn’t recognized as a Titan through a bio-scan and also bearing in mind those initial promo arts with two separate looks at the same time for him... I think we're looking at a situation where the Conner in Suicide Squad so far has actually been a clone of original Conner (like... like he’s Match 2.0 or somethin) the whole time, that’s just not aware he’s not the original. 

Now that’s the base theory I wanna work with and build off of, but there’s MANY different directions that could go in/ways that could work.

For example, one idea is that the Conner we saw in #1 who was chained up is the original Conner, and he’s been being cloned and held captive, so everything else with Conner in Suicide Squad so far has been this Match 2.0 

Another idea could be the original Conner in #1 is also the Conner in #2 who Waller had then commented wasn’t ready during the mission in Arkham and had zapped with a lil Kryptonite, and after that moment she took him off the field because his spirit hadn’t been broken enough to be obedient (as he was a lot quieter in Issue #3 & the TTA crossover compared to #2, and #3 is when the Nocturna thing with the history happened)

Or it could even be original Conner in #1, then in #2 was one clone that wasn’t ‘ready’ that after that point she stopped using him, and switched to a diff clone for #3, because like that first cover did show a LOT of clones. That could be more just ‘artistic interpretation’ or something, covers sometimes do exaggerate/mislead, but it also could indicate we’re looking at a lot of clones.

(Suicide Squad (2021) #2)

With all of those in mind I also wanna bring up this little bit from Future State Suicide Squad:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Again Future State is a ‘possible future’ so stuff from it isn’t set in stone, but the idea of ‘she still has his YJ 2019 outfit somewhere’ makes me think it could be something along the lines of like, Clone!Conner finds original Conner and frees him and he gets back his YJ outfit, which could lead to like the imagery on that variant cover/the idea from my very first part of this post where I was talking about Kon being shown in both outfits in different places.

Alternatively entirely from all that, another option is that she maybe got ahold of what was needed to clone Kon, but doesn’t even have the original Kon in her possession. (again with the Future State thing, she could be lying since elsewhere in Future State we did also see a copy of YJ 2019 Kon’s costume in one of the Jon-focused Future State comics in a display case 🤷‍♂️) Which could also lead to that confrontation on the variant cover & the promo art thing... and could also explain why we have seen nothing about anyone looking for him, because in that sort of scenario he wouldn’t have even been missing in the first place.

There’s a lot of possibilities! It’s still too early to solidly know anything, but I feel pretty confident we’re entering another cloning related plot with our Clone Boy so it’s... ya know. Clone time. On the one hand it’s annoying because god we have done clone/multiple Kons plots before. We’ve done them so much.

BUT on the other hand, I think it could be interesting to use this situation to tie into some older stuff from pre-reboot that I can see some connections to, because due to Infinite Frontier altering the world and people’s memories it’s all technically fair game storytelling-wise again (and like, the use of Scavenger specifically in that flashback way above, who’s not a super well known villain in general, makes me think maaaaybe the writer did do some of their Kon homework)

Something also just dawned on me that i’m not quite sure what it means but still is worth mentioning: The Conner here in Suicide Squad is back in his Teen Titans Vol. 3 outfit, and his history as he tells it stops during Teen Titans Vol. 3. And doesn’t... mention when he died? It feels like it... stopped before that, because like I feel if he was telling his life history (even the wiki version LMAO) the part where he died and came back would be pretty important to bring up?? And Nocturna specifically says that he didn’t explain how that stuff from TT Vol. 3 then led to him in his current situation. That’s a pretty big gap (like uhhh everything from resurrection until he got lost on Gemworld + all the rest of the Young Justice 2019 stuff?) So like.. there could be something funky going on here that has to do with that. 

Similarly when he flashes back in Future State: Suicide Squad to his past it also goes right from Teen Titans Vol. 3 to the current Suicide Squad run? Like I get it’s one page so they can’t show that much, but the fact that there’s now two places that flash back to that same specific time period and nothing past it until the Suicide Squad feels just... noticeable! Not concretely indicative of something, but noteworthy.

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Like...this almost has me thinking maybe it could be something where like, they tampered with his dead body and cloned from that? BECAUSE, for those of you who may not be familiar with how Kon’s resurrection (during Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds) worked, when he came back there was time travel involved! He was brought back to life in the future (like. Legion of Superheroes era) because it was a process that took that thousand or so years to work/heal him (essentially because of his hybrid dna the process that healed Clark when he had died back in Death of Superman/Reign of the Supermen in the 90s just took a lot longer, but its the same Kryptonian healing chamber thing) meaning when he came back to the present alive again, his dead body was still also in the present just in it’s process of healing. Meaning especially if we’re bringing back stuff from before the reboot, Kon likely has his dead body just vibing out there while he’s goin around living life 🤷‍♂️

SO them doing something related to that could explain the choice to put him back in the T-shirt (since thats what he wore in the era his brain would be caught up to if we’re relating this to when he died) and why he’d recognize himself in a group photo with Bart, Cassie and Tim but maybe not someone like Wallace who didn’t exist back then. I don’t know, this branch of thought is still half baked. Will maybe come back and elaborate on this later. But I’m now really thinking there might be a connection to the early Teen Titans Vol. 3 era specifically because of it being referenced twice in stuff with this Suicide Squad.

ANYWAYS moving on, this is probably a shot in the dark and I only thought of it because I just was reading 90′s Superboy, but right away when thinking about ‘Amanda Waller’ and ‘Cloning Kon’ I was reminded of some stuff about the circumstances around the first clone that was made of Conner: Match.

(Superboy (1994) #35)

Match was created by an organization called ‘The Agenda’, that was after a while primarily under the control of The Contessa, Lex Luthor’s ex-wife, aided by Amanda Spence who had a personal grudge against Kon bc her dad was Paul Westfield the guy Kon was originally cloned from (before the Lex/Clark retcon). They were the big bad guys of an arc called The Evil Factory in Superboy (where Cadmus personnel got replaced with clones) which also then tied into the Sins of Youth event over in Young Justice (Remember how Match was posing as Superboy for a while there? yeah). After those plot lines finished the Agenda was pretty defeated (Amanda Spence was still out there and came back later but still) and... who got their hands on the remaining Agenda tech?

(Superboy (1994) #87)

Why none other than Amanda Waller herself!

If they re-canonized pieces of this (which also tied into Young Justice which ya know, YJ 2019 was all about re-establishing stuff from YJ even before Death Metal happened soooo) it would totally make sense for Waller to have complete access to the exact technology used to clone Conner before. 

Now, a thing to consider here though is what happened to Kon after he’d been cloned that first time, where his DNA got all destabilized by the process (and he needed to go through a procedure with Roxy as a genetic template to keep him together, which was how he got stuck at age 16 for a while). This was something where he was fine for a period of time before the side effects began to kick in. Now, I think it’s worth mentioning that was also back in the days where he was not yet Lex & Clark’s clone, but still Paul Westfield’s. So there could easily be a ‘now that certain Kryptonian genes have kicked in as he got his newer powers it doesn’t destabilize him the same way’ reasoning or something along those lines to avoid this problem. Alternatively, it could be an interesting thing to embrace rather than retcon away, especially if we’ve been seeing Clone Conner in action and Original Conner hasn’t been in our focus, things could be wrong with him that we just don’t know about.

Another branch of thinking that I think is even MORE a shot in the dark but could be interesting (or again even related to what I just said, could be a combo of things) is if this somehow ended up related to those clones that were reverse engineered from the remains of Match from the very end of Teen Titans Vol. 3

(Teen Titans (2003) #99)

All of them were then taken down with Kryptonite and killed in battle (by Rose & Damian) 

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

But like... idk man if Waller got her hands on those corpses or even just the data from Dr. Caligan that he extracted from Match to make them... that could also be a potential way to make some new Conner clones, and that could be why the bio-scan thing at Titans Tower wouldn’t work properly because of the thing he says above about it not being a “complete match’

One thing I don’t think is the case, but has been brought up to me, is stuff with New 52 Kon. I’ve talked extensively about New 52 Kon in recent weeks because I read through all his stuff, but the thing that makes me shy away from him being part of this situation is the fact that... he’s not interchangeable with Kon the way I think some people think he is. He wouldn’t visually be recognized as Original Kon because he is literally on a genetic level a separate person. They’d prob look related, sure, like they’d pass for brothers because they both have Clark’s DNA, but New 52 Kon has Lois’ DNA and Original Kon has Lex’s. New 52 Kon would likely look more like Jon, rather than Kon. Lois specifically commented in an Action Comics issue that Kon had some resemblance to Lex, even. So like, things like Wallace recognizing him or him looking at his own matching reflection alongside the group picture at the Tower... those wouldn’t happen the same way if this was New 52 Kon.

Now I think it coooould theoretically be possible for Waller to have gotten her hands on that future N.O.W.H.E.R.E. cloning tech that had been used to make New 52 Kon, like I wouldn’t rule that out. Because she knows where the remains of their bases are as shown in Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #16-17, and like, Harvest is dead so she could easily just send teams out there to gather shit if she wanted. 

Onto some other things I don’t think are actually related but that I was reminded of/wanted to address:

I feel i’d be a bad timkon fan if during all of this discussion of past stories with cloning Kon I didn’t even bring up Tim’s cloning attempt stuff, but I think it would ultimately be unrelated. His tech was stolen from Luthor, and his attempts didn’t succeed because he was trying to build from scratch without Cadmus’ the data about how they altered the DNA from the original process. 

(Teen Titans Vol. 3 #34)

Then that initial cover for the annual really reminded me of part of the Hollow Men story from Superboy Vol. 5 just with like... Kon in a room full of copies of himself. I don’t think this story would be related either because it was more magic Tannarak stuff rather than regular cloning, but ya know. It’s the imagery.

(Superboy Vol. 5 #9)

It also really reminded me of the stuff from Hyper-Tension which was hypertime stuff not cloning but again just... visually.

(Superboy Vol. 4 #62)

In general I don’t think we’re EVER gonna see Black Zero or any of these multiverse Superboys again LMAO.

To try to sum up all of this in a way that might make sense here’s kinda a... flowchart of some of my main ideas for what the cloning situation could be/how the logic could work. Again this is borrowing stuff from across continuities because Infinite Frontier means theoretically anything’s fair game. (Also I don’t think I mentioned this earlier but I do mention it in the chart, but I think it’s also reasonable that Waller could get her hands on Cadmus tech if Cadmus is like properly made canon again. She just has funky government connections!)

Also I just now thought of this now several hours after I already made the chart and I don’t wanna remake it so sorry not incorporating it there but I remembered there was also that bit during House of Kent where Clark took Kon to the Hall of Justice and they were running some tests on him, so I’m thinking it’s also possible Waller got ahold of that data/that might be how she found out about Kon in the first place for this timeline. And they indicated that there was something wrong with him there, where he might eventually lose his powers or something, so maybe she tried to do cloning stuff to be able to have a copy of Superboy in his prime or something??? before that started kicking in. I don’t know, just more things to consider:

(Action Comics (2016) #1028)

ANYWAYS in conclusion: there is clone fuckery of some sort happening, I’m curious where it’s gonna go, and I just want Kon to be okay.

If you actually read this uhm. props to you bc this probably makes no sense to anyone but me its just word vomit <3 

[alittlextrathatway]

Matt and Sylvie & Number 9 for the fluff prompt please! 💕

“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

******

Severide had asked them to take a quick trip to the cabin to get it ready for him.

It was awkward being alone with Sylvie given their current situation. She’d just stopped seeing the Lieutenant from 40 and the assumption around both houses was that it ended because of Matt. She hadn’t said a word to him about it, not that he expected her too, so he had no idea what actually happened.

Regardless, his best friend was planning to propose to Sylvie’s best friend in this cabin in just a few hours.

Matt had a feeling that plan was wrecked — judging by the snow piling up outside.

“The roads in and out of here are closed,” Sylvie announces, dropping her phone on the coffee table. “Poor Severide. This was supposed to be such a big night for him and Stella! Have you talked to him yet?”

Matt nods, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. It was a good thing he’d already started a fire. They were going to need it. “He said not to worry about it. He’ll improvise. So, it’s gonna be a big night no matter what. Just not here.”

“Oh! But what about the strawberries! I mean the champagne will keep but the chocolate covered strawberries won’t,” Sylvie says, frowning at the pretty spread she’d set up on the coffee table.

Matt shrugs and then grins at her. “More for us?”

“God, that’s tempting. We can’t though!”

“Why not?”

“They’re for Stella!”

“You said yourself they won’t last. Kidd won’t get to eat them no matter what. Someone should enjoy them,” Matt reasons, glancing pointedly between her and the platter.

Sylvie bites her bottom lip before reluctantly reaching for the smallest strawberry. “Well, maybe just one.”

She really is too cute. How did he not see her sooner? What had been different about them the last few years? Had she changed or had he? Maybe it was both of them. Maybe, unlike his past relationships, he and Sylvie were growing together not apart.

“Guess we’re bunking here for the night,” Matt says while glancing at the unexpected blizzard through the window. “You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

She nods. “Okay.” Awkward silence descends and Matt hates it. Their silences had never been awkward before. Sylvie looks guiltily at the tray and then grabs it as she stands from the couch. “I should put these in the fridge. If we can keep them cold Stella might still be able to enjoy them.”

As soon as she takes a step toward the kitchen, the lights flicker and then cut out. Only the glow of the fire illuminates the room, surrounding them in hues of orange and yellow.

“Wind probably knocked a tree into some power lines somewhere,” Matt observes. “Looks like we’re gonna have to eat those strawberries after all. No power, no fridge.”

“And also no heat,” Sylvie reminds him as she comes back with the tray.

“Good point. Guess we’re both sleeping on the couch. We’ll need the fire for warmth,” Matt tells her with an apologetic glance.

At that realization, the tension is palpable. He can feel her apprehension as if it were his own. Guilt overwhelms him. It’s his fault that their relationship, whatever it is, has become so uncomfortable. His dumbass answer fanned the flames of fear and doubt in her and unless he straightens it out nothing will ever be the same again.

“Or I’m sure there’s a sleeping bag around here somewhere,” he says lamely. “I can sleep on the floor.”

Sylvie shoves almost an entire strawberry in her mouth and nods silently as she chews. The sight of her chewing ferociously and avidly avoiding his eyes would be comical if it didn’t sting so much.

“We have plenty of time to kill until then,” Matt observes. “What should we do?”

She continues to chew but shrugs and points at him, indicating he should decide. He nearly grins. Her determination to avoid conversation just gave him the perfect opening.

“Up to me, huh?”

She nods.

“Then I think we should talk. About you and me.”

She gulps down the rest of the strawberry in one swallow, nearly choking in the process. “What?” She asks through a startled cough.

“I miss you and I hate how distant we are.”

“Matt—“

“No, hear me out. I know I agreed to give you space but that was a mistake. I should have said what I really wanted to say but as always I can’t think straight around you. You—you fog things up and the words get lost in all my feelings and I end up sounding like a jackass.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, meeting her eyes. “I don’t want Gabby. She could walk through the door right now and beg me to leave with her and I wouldn’t do it. She and I had our chance. We don’t work. Honestly, despite our good moments, we never really did. And I don’t want a relationship that has a few good moments. I want a relationship that has a few bad moments. Maybe one that even allows me to be happy in the middle of the challenges. That’s not what Gabby and I had.”

“It isn’t?”

He shakes his head and takes her hands in his, sliding closer to her on the couch. “No, but it is what you and I have. Even as friends, that’s how our relationship works. I want to be so much more than your friend, Sylvie, but I know we’ll never lose that. It’s our foundation. I want this,” he tells her as he releases one of her hands to point between them. “I want what I have with you for as long as you’ll let me have it.”

His words echo through the tiny cabin as they grow quiet again. Sylvie stares at him with wide nervous eyes, unblinking. She seems frozen with indecision.

Until she isn’t.

Until she stands straight up, nearly knocking him over since they were almost sitting on top each other, and walks toward the hallway.

“Pillows!” She shouts, frantically. “We need pillows. And blankets! I’ll go find them!”

He watches her go with a bewildered expression. He did speak, right? Outloud? He rises from the couch and follows her down the hall. “The extra blankets are in the closet in the bedroom,” he calls out to her back as she speed-walks down the short hallway.

“Right! Got it,” she says, never once looking back at him. “Oh look! And there’s a sleeping bag too! Perfect!”

He enters the bedroom and stops next to her, eyes narrowed on her panicked expression. What is going on here? She shoves the sleeping bag and a couple of pillows into his arms.

“You did hear me, right?” He asks while watching her grab as many blankets and pillows as she can manage.

“This should be plenty, right?” She’s trying to appear absent-minded but that same panic is in her eyes so he knows she heard him.

He sighs and nods. “Yes, this should be plenty.”

He follows her back out to the living room where she sets all the pillows and blankets in an armchair and begins to make up the couch. She throws the two spare throw pillows on the floor and then starts tucking a sheet around the cushions.

He watches, frustration building in his chest, as she follows that with a thick quilt and then begins meticulously fluffing and arranging the pillows. Finally, he gives up waiting for a response and unrolls the sleeping bag across the floor in front of the fire. He turns to grab a pillow from the armchair only to find all of them gone.

“Do you plan on sharing any pillows?” He asks Sylvie with a quirked brow.

She looks dazed as she blinks over at him. “I’m sorry. What?”

“The pillows,” he repeats as he motions to the couch that’s almost too full of pillows to sit on.

“Oh!” She says, hands flying to her blushing cheeks. “I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“What is going on?” Matt asks loudly, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Did I say something wrong?”

“What? No! You—god, you said all the right things.”

“Then why are you still avoiding me?”

“I’m trying not to say or do anything stupid,” she admits in a barely audible voice.

“Nothing you say or do could be stupid,” Matt assures her.

“Oh no? Jumping you last time we kissed felt pretty stupid after it was all said and done and we both know, based on that first time, that I’m in way deeper than you. So, I don’t want to say anything that might scare yo—“

He cuts her off by suddenly dipping his head and capturing her lips with his. She tenses for a moment and then melts against him. They stand in front of the fire sharing searing kisses for what feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. It’s excruciatingly slow and yet it ends much too soon. It doesn’t make sense.

“There,” Matt says as they pull apart. “Now we’re even.”

She blinks at him, looking adorably confused. “What?”

“You’ve jumped me and I’ve jumped you,” he replies, catching his breath. “We’re even.”

“Oh god, I love you.” She gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth. A goofy grin appears on his face as he pulls her hands away. She winces and then continues rambling. “I didn’t mean to tell you that. Not...not yet anyway. Oh shit. Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“No,” he replies in a firm tone. Though the smile on his face contradicts his tone. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Why not?” She asks, her bottom lip poking out in a very slight pout.

“Because I love you too and I want you to know it,” Matt confesses, rubbing his hands up and down her arms soothingly and trying not to look amused by her pouting lip. “I don’t want to pretend I feel less for you than I actually do ever again.”

She gasps at his words before framing his face with her hands and yanking his lips down to hers. She tastes like strawberries and dark chocolate. He guides her down to the couch, crushing the pillows she’d placed on one end. It actually works out well for them. It props her up at a more comfortable angle for him to settle himself on top of her.

With everything finally out in the open, the layers of clothing between them don’t last long and by the time the sun is setting in the sky they’re panting, sweaty, naked, and wrapped in three layers of blankets.

The power still hasn’t come back on and the air has chilled considerably. He kisses a trail down her jaw to her neck and then rests his head on her chest with his arms wound around her waist.

Every single pillow is still propped underneath her.

“You’re better than an electric blanket,” Sylvie tells him with a sleepy satisfied smile. “You’re so warm.”

He laughs and presses a light kiss to the middle of her sternum. “I guess it’s only fair that I’m your blanket. Considering, you took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

“I’m happy to be your pillow, Matt Casey.”

“And I will gladly be your blanket, Sylvie Brett. All you have to do is ask.”

[cheesy-che]

Gift exchange - TMNT fanfic

Yet another slice of life fanfic with @sassatello 's original character and mine, set in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles universe (2k3). You can read the first part here. 

Click here for info about : Adrian (Sassatello’s OC) and Mizuiro (my OC) Words : About 2260 /// Type : Fluff, as always! ~

Gift Exchange Unfolding the small piece of paper in his hand, Donatello smiled awkwardly at the name appearing on it. He noticed how wiggly the initial was, followed by five succinct and well-rounded letters. As he felt a small rush of blood in his cheeks, he was more apprehensive than he should have been. 

This gift exchange was a great idea for everyone in their group to receive something special. However, as soon as he had noticed the “A” on the white stationary, his mind was filled with doubt. For some reason, he had thought of a possible gift for everyone in their group: A comic-book shelf for Mikey; a portable radio for Mizuiro; relaxing bath salts for Raph; a French-press tea infuser for Leo... well, for everyone except Adrian. The common agreement in their group -considering the lack of funds from most- was that the gifts would either have to be handmade or recycled. Donatello could create a lot of things easily. He knew more than anyone that making things was his specialty. Nonetheless, he was now completely in the dark as to what he could offer to their terrapin friend from outer space. How could he find an original gift for someone who has access to an inter dimensional portal? Adrian probably could find whatever he wants, whenever he felt like it, right? 

The ever so resourceful mutant turtle was already running out of ideas. It took him days to admit it, but he was at an impasse. Eventually, he decided to ask Adrian’s closest friend. She was the only one aware of their relationship so far. After all, only three weeks had passed since they had their first kiss. 

~ 

Today, the turtles’ lair was being prepared for their annual Christmas party. While Adrian was helping Raphael hanging decorations around, Mizuiro was untangling fairy lights in the living room. Michelangelo was writing down the ingredients they would need for cooking and Leonardo was decorating the tree with their father. Meanwhile, Donatello was making sure that the electrical panel could handle their future power usage. Noticing how his task involved being physically close to Mizuiro, he thought it might be an occasion to ask for advice. Fortunately for him, loud festive music was playing at their place, thanks to Michelangelo. Nobody else would hear what he was about to ask. 

“So...” Donatello started innocently, grabbing Mizuiro’s attention. Have you already thought about your gift?” 

“I did.” His friend sighed after letting go of a knot she has been working on untangling. “But it’s not done yet.” 

“Right.” He paused. “There isn’t much time left before Christmas.” 

She hummed in agreement, keeping her concentration on the many wires laying around. 

“To be completely honest,” Donatello continued, “I don’t have a clue of what I could give.” 

He shyly scratched the back of his head, hoping for a reaction from her friend. Eventually, Mizuiro looked up, witnessing his doubtful expression. The brow bones behind his purple mask framed his eyes in a downward curve. He was implicitly asking for help.

“Whose name did you end up with?” She asked curiously. 

“Adrian...” he mentioned in a lower voice. 

Mizuiro looked around to check if anyone heard him. Seeing they didn’t, she got up and approached him slowly. Still hearing loud melodies playing around the lair, she relied on them to cover their conversation.

“What’s wrong, Donnie?”

“I really don’t know what I can give him”, he repeated, “and I don’t want it to be something that’s too obvious either. I don’t know if my family is okay with us being more than friends.”

“But,” his human friend interrupted him, “what makes you think they wouldn’t approve?”

“I don’t know.” he sighed, fiddling with his own hands as usual. “It’s not really a subject we talk about in our home. I’m sure you understand, since you must’ve thought about it, too.”

His friend’s shoulders subtly became stiff.

“Adrian told me.” Donatello shrugged, empathizing about these awkward feelings that weren’t easy to put into words. “Your secret is safe with me though, I promise.”

Without saying anything, she stared at him with a worried glance. After another quick look around, she finally let out a few words, in a much lower voice.

“I understand,” Mizuiro sighed, asking herself how long she would be able to keep her feelings secret at this point.  “Why don’t you focus less on your intimate knowledge of him… and more on what other people know?”

He moved his right hand to his chin, not sure what she meant.

“For example,” his friend continued, “he introduced himself as a traveller, right? This alone must surely give you ideas.”

His eyes expanded after hearing this, realizing the answer has been right under his nose all this time. Well, his beak, in his case. Only a few seconds after, they were surprised by Raphael’s voice coming from the other side of the lair. He had his hand on the sound system volume, where he had adjusted the tuning knob to be heard.

“When you two geeks are done discussing electrical power and whatnot, could you give us a hand with this?”

As he pointed the top of the Christmas tree, they both noticed how their traditional star-shaped topper had yet to be functional. Immediately, Donatello smiled and walked in direction of the tree. 

“What is it? You didn’t connect it on the garlands?” he inquired.

“We didn’t want to make anything explode.” Raphael retorted, half-joking.

Mizuiro admired the way Donatello could change subject so easily, not showing any sign of his previously stressed state of mind. She went back to untangling the lights on the floor, a well-known black hand with red spots appearing in front of her. Adrian offered his help while sitting next to her. 

“You told him.” Mizuiro whispered after a minute of silence. 

“What?” her friend breathed back.

“About… our secret.”

“Oh!” Adrian exclaimed, way too loud for his friend’s taste.

She put her finger in front of her mouth.

“I’m sorry!” Adrian justified himself, back to an undertone. “The guy is a genius. It was only a matter of time until he figured I was hiding something from him. It slipped out.”

His friend sighed again, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. 

“I don’t want to ruin Christmas with all of this… drama.” She said softly.

Her terrapin friend placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t ruin anything, but I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“Thank you, Adrian.”

He gently hugged her before untangling the last two wires. He felt the need to stand in a victorious swing, both his hands showing off the now precisely arranged lights on the floor.

“We did it!” He said out loud, trying to cheer his friend.

“We?” Leonardo stepped in. “Mizuiro did most of the work, didn’t she?”

She shrugged while getting up, Adrian winking at her with the most obvious smile. This guy just didn’t know subtlety like she did, apparently. 

~

On December 25th, Adrian appeared in the middle of the lair. Their gift exchange has been planned for 3 PM, but the portal user came by an hour earlier. He could never determine New York’s exact time after the Daylight-Saving date. On other planets he visited, most of them agreed on a global time management solution. At least for once, he was in advance instead of being late.

“Hey, Adrian!” Michelangelo greeted him with a smile. “You’re early!” 

“Apparently?” he smiled back after noticing the time on the kitchen clock. “Hey, where should I put my gift?”

“Right here, my dude!” Michelangelo pointed their Christmas tree.

He noticed that six gifts were placed there, all indicating their names.

“Wait, is Mizuiro here already?”

“Uh yeah, she’s with Donnie, in his lab. I think she’s working on something with him.”

Adrian noticed the television was on, the weather forecast announcing snow in their area.

“Oh, can we go outside after our gift exchange!?” his friend asked with an enthusiastic voice. “Is it okay for us to go out in the day like that?”

“We could, yeah! There aren’t many humans outside during Christmas anyway.”

Michelangelo drew the attention at them.

“Hey guys! We can start early. Adrian is here!”

Raphael and Leonardo stepped out of the dojo while two heads peeked outside of the laboratory. Splinter had risen up from the couch and sat next to their Christmas tree. The seven of them formed a circle, Adrian making sure to sit next to Donatello.

“So, who’s first?” Splinter asked. “Should I just pick one since I am not biased?”

They all agreed to follow his suggestion, and he carefully gave the gifts to everyone. One by one, they opened their gifts and thanked each other. Adrian had found a cool-looking extraterrestrial dagger for Raphael during one of his travel, who then gave a knitted scarf to Leonardo. The latter gave a bracelet to Mizuiro, mentioning he had looked for trinkets all around the city to make it. Michelangelo received a pair of harem pants made by Mizuiro, which he tried on immediately. He proceeded by giving his gift to Donatello, which was a homemade “Do not disturb” sign to put on the door of his lab with cupcakes he had cooked. Last but not least, Adrian received a water bottle from Donatello. A confused look appeared on his face.

“Please, open the bottle” Donatello insisted. “There is a filter inside that should allow you to drink water wherever you find it!”

“Oh, that is so cool!” Adrian beamed. “Thank you, honey!”

Completely oblivious to his words, he kept examining the bottle and the craftmanship of it. Eventually, his attention got back to Donatello, whose face was now as red as a mutant turtle could be.

“Honey?” Michelangelo broke the silence.

“Did that just slip out of your mouth?” Raphael asked, an awkward smile appearing on his face.

“Oh.” Adrian softly winced, realizing the situation he had just created.

He looked around and saw everyone alternating their attention between Donatello and him. The conclusion was evident, seeing how shy and silent both of them suddenly were. Mizuiro put her hand in front of her mouth to hide her subtle smile. Unfortunately, someone did notice it.

“Wait,” Leonardo addressed her. “You knew?”

She was about to justify herself when Adrian disrupted the general uneasiness. He casually went sitting next to Donatello and put an arm over his now official “boyfriend”.

“I guess there’s no way of denying it now, is there?” he joked, avoiding their stares by looking at his partner. 

Even if he didn’t want to admit he was embarrassed, redness had also appeared on his cheeks.

“I am happy for you, my son.” Declared the turtle’s father, whose reaction was unexpectedly calm and collected. “You didn’t have to hide it from us.”

“Since when!?” interrupted Michelangelo.

Donatello, however, couldn’t say anything. It was not how he had planned to announce this to his family. Actually, he didn’t even have the chance to think of a better alternative. At least, Adrian had made it easier to swallow the pill by saying it nonchalantly.

“Erm well… Adrian, didn’t you want to go outside?” Donatello suggested, wanting to escape this uncomfortable situation as much as possible.

“Yes!” he remembered. “Let’s go now, how about that?”

Adrian got up and took Donatello by the hand, walking in direction of the lair’s entrance. Michelangelo wouldn’t accept the change of subject so easily.

“Don’t take it badly, I’m really hyped for them! I simply wonder why he didn’t tell us!”

“Love is complicated, Mikey.” Insisted Raphael. “Let them be. I’m sure Donnie will answer our questions later. Let’s just go outside for now, yeah?”

“Make sure to come back before 5,” mentiond Splinter. “That’s when I asked our guests to visit. Be careful, and don’t taunt him with your questions so much.”

A synchronized “Yes sensei” formally escaped the mouth of the three remaining mutant turtles. They all went in their respective rooms to find winter clothing. Donatello came back with other garments destined for Adrian. Snow has always been a source of joy for the traveller. Even if he had witnessed many different climates and meteorological phenomena, nothing could make him feel as giddy as Earth’s own frozen vapor. The fact that he had associated the sight of snow with Donatello’s presence might have been a good indicator of why he liked it so much. 

~

Outside, while their little group were making a snow sculpture, Donatello had asked Adrian to take a walk far from the others. Holding his special someone’s hand along the road, Adrian felt proud to be with him. Despite the shy nature of his partner, he showed much more confidence. His smile was growing by the second, not having to hide himself from anyone. Well, he still had to avoid humans, -and the cold- hence the snowsuit he was wearing. 

“I had something else to give you, Adrian.” Calmly said Donatello.

“Oh? You didn’t have to!”

“I insist. The water bottle was easy to make. I wanted you to have this.”

He handed him a booklet out of his pocket.

“This is a portable photo album with pictures of our group. I asked Mizuiro to help me print it.”

Adrian briefly looked at the pages in the book, but he decided to hug his partner for the moment being. He placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, hugging him even tighter. 

“You’re absolutely precious, do you know that, Donnie?”

“Ah… come on.” He shyly scoffed back. ~

(( Original art here ))

[crookswithbooks]

More Than Just A Friend

Day Four - Kris is feeling uncertain doing the holidays without Asriel, and Susie discovers hidden feelings within herself. 

Susie shifted on the bed, shooting nervous glances over at Kris every once in a while, who sat reading a book, some comic or another, completely oblivious to Susie’s inner turmoil.

When Kris had asked her to stay for the holidays, as she had no one else to stay with, she had accepted immediately, feeling grateful and a little bashful that Kris thought of her at all. But now that she was here, in Kris’s room filled with things that made him Kris, she began to think about the long night (nights? They hadn’t quiet discussed how long this was lasting) ahead of them. Where would she sleep? Where would she get changed? Where would he get changed? Would they stay in the same bed? The questions swirled around in her head, making her more and more nervous as time went on, and Kris sitting there as if everything was completely normal was not helping.

Susie’s feelings for Kris were a recent development, one that had crept up on her quietly and quite unwillingly. She had noticed it one day when he had accidentally bumped her arm and her heart did backflips in her chest. She had tried to shove it down and keep her from accidentally ruining things with the only friend she had.

Though technically not only friend, if you counted Ralsei and Lancer; but that was still up for debate, whether they were even real or just figments of her imagination, all of which was all kinds of messed up if you though about it.

She had thought she had been dealing with these new feelings pretty well thus far, but being suddenly thrust into the same house as Kris for a week (weeks? Seriously she had no idea how long she was staying) was not doing any favors to her already raging crush.

“Sooo…” Susie started, after a minute of unbearable silence had passed. “What, uh, what have you been up to?”

Kris looked up at the sound of her voice, putting down his comic. “Nothing much. Hanging out with you, I guess.” He picked at a hole in his jeans that she hadn’t noticed before. “I got a letter from Asriel.”

“Yeah?” The subject of Kris’s brother was not one that came up often, and it was a rare moment when Kris himself brought him up. “What’d he have to say?”

Kris shrugged, ripping the whole wider. “Nothing much. Wished me a merry Christmas. He said things in college were going well, that he’d started to make a bunch of new friends.”

“That’s good,” Susie said, offering an encouraging smile, a rare gesture for her. “Right?”

Kris nodded, but his expression was vacant and closed-off, a look Susie was starting to get more and more familiar with. “Yeah, I guess.”

He picked back up his book and she realized with horror that the silence was going to begin again, but he paused, turning to look at her. “Hey, have you ever been kissed before?”

Her heart just about exploded in her chest at his words. “Uh… what?” she stuttered as he stared at her with innocent eyes. Two seconds ago they were talking about his brother and now he suddenly bombarded her with this? Where the hell was this going and how did they get here?

Kris scooched forward, which did not help. “A couple of the kids at school were talking about their first kisses and it got me thinking.” He crossed his legs, peering up at her. “So, have you?”

Susie could feel the burning on her cheeks and she only hoped that Kris didn’t notice. “Uh, yeah, of course I have.”

This was a lie. She had spent so long pushing people out of her life and cutting herself off from any potential friends, that she had never gotten close enough with someone for kissing to even be a possibility.

“I haven’t,” he confessed honestly, sitting back which she was both grateful of and disappointed by. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like, but I’ve never found someone who likes me in that way.”

Susie snorted at the irony of the sentence. “Really? You?”

Kris narrowed his eyes at that, frowning in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Susie was spared having to answer, as at that moment the door swung open and Toriel stuck her head in, smiling when she saw the two of them. The minute she opened the door the smell of fresh-baked gingerbread wafted through the room, and Susie could feel her mouth watering.

“I just wanted to tell you two that dinner’s ready.” The goat was staring between them with a knowing smile that made Susie flush, avoiding her gaze. The idea that even Kris’s mom knew about her feelings made her wonder how obvious she had been. Did Kris know? The thought made her stomach squirm uncomfortably, like there was a giant, nervous worm trapped inside.

“Make sure you wash your hands first, and for goodness sake’s Kris, clean up the mess on your floor.” Toriel gave him a stern look before disappearing back out into the hall, closing the door gently behind her.

Kris reluctantly slid off her bed, picking up the various comics and clothes spread about the room, spilling a pile of colored pencils into an emptied out pickle jar. Susie watched him do this, still jittery from the earlier question, not sure if she should bring it back up or let it go.

She still couldn’t believe that Kris hadn’t been kissed before. When they had travelled to the Darkworld he had been so kind to everyone, sometimes even being a little too nice, though she hadn’t known why it bothered her at the time. Surely he must have dated someone before.

“You coming?”

Kris was standing by the doorway staring expectantly at her, and she realized that he had finished while she was lost in thought.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” She shoved past him, ruffling his hair as she went.

“Susie,” he complained, ducking under her and glaring up at her. Despite his annoyance, she couldn’t help but find it cute when he tried to be angry. That was her thing, not his.

Dinner was spent in quiet silence as Susie shoveled food into her mouth, feeling a part of her soul die and go to heaven with every bite. It was a beautiful roast turkey with thick gravy drizzled generously over it, and combined with the mashed potatoes Susie might as well have been eating like a king. Kris picked quietly at his food, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Susie paused in her inhales, wondering if she should ask him about it.

Toriel beat her to it, however, turning her kind eyes towards Kris. “So honey, how have things been in school?”

Kris shrugged, the same noncommittal answer as earlier when Susie had asked him. “It’s been fine. Mr. Papyrus taught us how to make spaghetti in class today, for the third time in a row. We keep telling him we want to learn other stuff, but he insists that pasta is, quote, the greatest food item in the world and the most important foundation for learning to cook. I’m not so convinced. I’m not sure how many more ways we can learn to make pasta.”

Toriel smiled graciously, shaking her head. “Just the same as when we were kids. And you, Susie?”

Susie snapped her head up, surprised to be addressed. Gravy dripped down her chin and she wiped it off quickly. “What?”

“How are things going in school with you?” she repeated promptingly.

“Oh. Uh… nothing much, I guess. Haven’t been getting as much detention recently, as you probably already know.”

Toriel smiled wryly. “Yes, I’ve noticed, and I’ve been glad for it. I wouldn’t want Kris hanging out with someone who’s a bad influence.”

Susie nodded humbly, going back to her food, but Kris stood up from the table. Toriel and Susie both looked at him in surprise. “I’d like to be excused, please.” He whirled around, rushing out of the room suddenly.

Toriel stared after him in shock. “He barely even touched his food.”

Susie felt worry blossom in her chest. “I’ll go check on him, make sure he’s okay.”

Toriel smiled gratefully. “Would you? Thank you, honey.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Susie said, blushing at the nickname and hurrying off.

She found Kris in the living room, curled up on the couch. He had a book in his hands but his eyes scanned the pages dully, not taking in the words. She sat down next to him, feeling awkward and bulky next to his tiny frame. The sheer amount of awkwardness she felt around Kris nowadays days was wholly unfair.

She coughed to announce her presence and Kris glanced up. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” she agreed. “So, uh, what was all that about?”

“Oh, that.” Kris looked back down at his book, flipping a page. “That was nothing. I just wasn’t hungry.”

“Kris.” Susie raised an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Kris.”

Kris sighed, leaning his head back. “Fine.” He crossed his arms, not looking at her. “I just don’t like the way mom talks about you sometimes. Like you’re some kind of miscreant that’s leading me off the path of good, whatever the hell that means.”

Susie raised an eyebrow at the curse, but inside she was touched that Kris cared about her that much. She nudged his arm, grinning. “Aw, dude.”

Kris blushed, shoving her away. “Shut up. It’s just… I care about you, you know? You’re my only friend, and I hate that mom disapproves.”

Although the sentiment touched her, the word friend echoed around in her head, reminding her that that’s all they were. Friends.

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean it like that,” Susie reassured him. “She just doesn’t want you to do poorly in school on my account. I think she was just teasing, anyway.” She frowned, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not all this is about, is it?”

“No,” Kris sighed, looking away. “It’s also my first Christmas without Asriel here. It’s just weird not having him around the house, singing Christmas songs and helping to decorate the tree. I guess I just got used to things being a certain way and now they’re…”

“Not?” Susie finished.

“Yeah,” Kris agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them unsure what to say next. Finally Kris leaned over, resting his head on her shoulder. Susie froze, her body tingling with sudden electricity. “Thanks for being here,” Kris said, fiddling with his hands. “I really do mean it. Thanks for coming and spending the holidays with us when you didn’t have to.”

Slowly Susie relaxed, her expression settling into a smile. “Of course, man. If anything I should be thanking you for giving me somewhere to be for the holidays.”

Kris nuzzled closer and Susie relaxed against him, glancing up at the twirling paper snowflakes above them. That was when she noticed it. Mistletoe, hanging right above the two of them.

Susie snapped her gaze down to Kris, who noticed the sudden tension in his friend. “What is it?” he asked, sitting up much to her disappointment.

She pointed up, hoping he wouldn’t notice the furious blush on her face. Kris saw the mistletoe and his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. Mistletoe.”

Susie was already making up excuses, blustering and gesturing wildly. “We don’t have to or anything. It’s a stupid tradition anyway and I wouldn’t want to make things weird, so it’s totally cool if you don’t want to—”

Kris cut her off, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes widened as she felt his soft lips, softer than you would think a boy’s lips would be. He pulled away, staring at her, his eyes just as wide as hers as though he hadn’t quite realized what he was doing.

Susie jerked back instinctively and Kris’s face fell immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his hands apologetically. “I didn’t mean to, it just kinda—”

The rest of his sentence broke off as she grabbed him, kissing him again. A part of her didn’t believe what she was doing, but another part of her felt completely clam, as if kissing your best friend wasn’t a weird thing to do. They stayed like that for a minute, their lips locked together, and when they finally pulled apart both of them were panting for breath.

“Um, excuse me?”

They jerked around to look at Toriel, staring with a smirk between the two teens. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted some cookies, but maybe I should leave you two alone…?”

“Mom!” Kris exclaimed, his face going bright red. Susie would have been embarrassed as well but the sight of his blushing face was so uncharacteristically adorable that she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“Right, right, of course,” Toriel said, winking subtly as she left the room. “I’ll just leave you two alone then to... continue your business. 

“Mom,” Kris groaned again as she left, burying his face in Susie’s shoulder. Susie glanced down at him, grinning a little. He glared up at her, but there was no venom in his gaze. “Oh shut up you.”

“Gladly,” she responded, pulling him in for another kiss.

Maybe the holidays weren’t going to be so bad after all…

[shhhhhskars]

Dating Phase Goodness.

Soft Alex. Dating Phase. Snoh Allegra. The City. Words: 2,041. Dating phase goodness.......I have so many feels for it. As always, I hope you enjoy♡ (The ask: Do u listen to snoh aalegra? I keep imagining them in the dating phase but they’ve gone to her gig with their own friends and meet up unexpectedly and end up having a romantic night of just swaying to her music at the low lit club and exchanging soft words 😭 thank you for sending this in and ruining me)

There’s something so wonderfully enigmatic about summer-time in New York City. The tarmac is glistening from the heat, the day-time sun is hot, enough to keep the entire city pulsating and breathing through the night. There’s something in the air- this thrilling, wild energy, this feeling that anything can happen. Friends gather unexpectedly, running into each other in the streets, small taverns revive their outdoor terraces for the season. The parks and beaches stay open later, and they’re usually bustling throughout the evenings. People are happier than usual, neighbors greet each other for the first time in months.

The August days are long, but the sun had finally set, and she stripped down, eager to get out of the damp clothing. A cool shower can change anyone’s mood, revive the most exhausted. She stepped out refreshed, smelling like rose water and sandalwood, a nice change from the stale deodorant and sweat that clung to her before. She slipped into her tiny, short black dress that cinched snuggly at her waist, and hugged graciously on her curves. The familiar chime rang out as she dusted a earthy blush on the apples of her cheeks, signaling a stream of texts from the heinous group chat that she’d been tempted to put on mute for the last hour.

Snoh Allegra found her way to the city and is playing at The Highline Ballroom tonight, the turn out is delicious. The entire place just feels sexier, from her aura alone. Voice so strong, but soothing, like tea sweetened with milk but just enough honey,  to make it yummy to drink. Drinks are flowing, weed smoke floats through the air, and everyone is laughing. Everyone in her friend group is...oddly, getting along, for once, and there’s not much that could make this moment better. Except......maybe Alexander being here?

Oh fuck- who the hell was she turning into? This is why she was hesitant to begin this…thing, in the first place. Alexander was hard to keep out of the brain as of late. Ever since their chance meeting in the East Village, he kept her phone warm, unashamed to make his presence known. She was grateful that he wasn’t the slightest bit clingy, but could instantly sense that he valued consistency, and taking up space. He frequently  checked in on her, sending dumb little shit to her phone throughout the day, memes or whatever the fuck he saw that amused him, or just straight up goofy shit he saw around the city. The whole damn thing was all still exceptionally new, this idea of seeing each other. Most of the time it was just enjoying each other’s company, nothing too crazy, and was lovely this way. Experimental and new.

A familiar arm circled around her waist, pulling on her frame. She could tell by the smell alone who it was. A manicured hand lifted against the rigid chest. “Jim, you’re about one drink away from me cutting you off, again.” It was a joke, mostly. Naturally there would be that one friend who had one too many, too friggin’ early, and tonight it was Jimi’s turn. Completely harmless, but utterly annoying, and touchy-feely when he drank, he ignored her comment, staggering lightly. “Let me buy you another drink, fam. We’re came here to see Snoh, and your ass is sober?” And of course, the other motherfuckers that surrounded had to affirm his slurred words, urging her, ‘get another one; it’s on his dime.’ She huffed at the dramatics of her friends, she was certainly not sober, but she snatched his credit card out of his hand anyway and he winked at her. This earned brief eye-roll and she was off, away from her toxic little group of friends.

The bar on the opposite side of the room glowed like a beacon of hope as she made her way there, shuffling through pockets of people focused on the opening acts. She ignored a few stares to push her way to the counter, determined to get her drink before Snoh came on. She snickered when they asked if she wanted to open a tab, and obliged- Jimi’s karma for earlier. She waited for her drink, elbows propped on the counter, and she stared around the club, which to no surprise was getting packed out as the lady of the hour was about to come on soon.

It was the feeling of a warm hand gripping on her upper shoulder, close to the nape of her neck, that made her jump, and she turned, face already fixed and ready to give whoever the fuck it was touching her a good dose of her mind. Expecting to see one of her boys- she felt her heart lurch down into her pit of her tummy, realizing who the firm grip belonged to.

Alexander grinned at her, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. He looked good, as per usual, sporting a white linen shirt, and crisp dark denim. He leaned himself nimbly on the bar, his body flush next to hers, pressing comfortably. He smelt like whiskey, and tobacco and she inhaled his familiar scent unintentionally, which only gave her more butterflies in the very low part of her stomach. Even leaning, he still loomed over her, nearly casting a shadow, from being so giant. “What are the odds?” he asked with a simple, mischievous smile. She got a hint of the freshness that masked his breath, like he was sucking on a mint just before approaching her.

Muscles stiffened, moisture seeping through her pores, she could gag at her luck right now. She wanted to clutch her pearls and scream, but the liquor running through her calmed her nerves, a bit. The bartender slid the jack and coke her way, right on time, and Alexander’s face was turned away from the counter, focused in on completely her. She nodded a thanks for the beverage, buying herself a few seconds, before turning her head towards the Swede, pressing back comfortably against his side.  They were shoulder to shoulder, or, body to body, in a sense, because she was too short to be perfectly aligned with his shoulders. “Are you following me, now, Skarsgard?” she said trying to mask the happiness she felt creeping all over her face, eyes slightly glazed over as she gazed back at him. He laughed, his cheeks covered in blush from smiling so hard. “Nahh,” he said in a casual tone, then he added a goofy little, “..Maybe,” tilting his head with a little shrug, jokingly. The close proximity of his face next to hers made the club feel so much smaller, and it was already quite intimate on it’s own.

For a brief moment she wondered if this was even real, or if someone had dropped something in her drink earlier, because it was so wildly random. “Are you really here, right now?” she questioned, narrowing her eyes and bringing the tip of her finger to to the bridge of his nose. She lightly glided her small finger down, wiping away the moisture that had accumulated, a smile creeping over her lips that traveled all the way up to her eyes, the same thing mirroring in his his. He chuckled, but went quiet at her touch, the blush in his cheeks burning brighter now. “I didn’t know you were into Snoh.” she said, her chest tight and heaving lightly. There was a hell of a lot more things that she didn’t know about the man, so it was a comical thing to say, but he just nodded, that small smile still playing on his lips. “She’s good,” he admitted earnestly, “And I’m here with people. My best friend Dada, he’s here. And a few others.” He paused briefly, his eyes traveling down her face, falling on her lips before going back up to her eyes. She took a long sip from her straw, her nerves shot under his gaze, heat crawling all over her skin from it. “Are...you here...with people..?” he started, wetting his lips. His voice was gentle, anxious, a little softer. She touched his arm instantly, a slightly alarmed look taking over he face as she nodded, a little too eager to reassure him that she was not here on a date of any kind, His eyes instantly softened, eyebrows that were knitted together, finally relaxing. Truth was...lately, that was reserved for him.

Gaze casted down and fingers intertwined so they wouldn’t lose each other, he led her back to his section at the very top level of the club. He was stealing her away from her friends, but she felt eager to be whisked away. She always had butterflies around him, but this scene was different, the dimly lit, crowded club, the music that was swallowing up the room, the buzz of it all. Alexander introduced her to everyone, and he was unable to hide his delight as he did so. Dada wrapped her into a huge, bear hug, and she fluffed his golden locks. “Heard a few things about you from this one,” he said with a goofy little wink, beckoning towards Alex. Before she could question him any further, Alexander was pulling her away and wrapping her up in his arms, groaning at his friend. “Snoh’s on.” he muttered in her ear, and she shivered from his breath on her neck. The lights turned a delicious hazy, rosy color, dimmed a few notches, and the goddess herself was on the stage, belting out the most gorgeous melodies. She sounded even more magical live, which was so satisfying. Ugh. Those feels again, right, Snoh?

‘It's not that I don't want you here. It's somethin' 'bout the way you stare into my eyes.’

Snoh pulled everyone in, but she felt captivated by her steady, smooth voice, and her statuesque frame, and of course- her beauty. She was in a bit of a trace from her, sort of stuck, and jumped a little when Alexander wrapped his arms around her small waist. His large frame came flush with her body from behind, rigid chest pressed sturdily against her back, and she instantly settled into the cozy embrace. She felt her tension fading, from being against him, but nerves still beamed in the depths of her tummy. She just fit in his arms, and he cradled her waist with precision and care, she could swear she felt a territorial vibe from the way he held onto her, shielding her from the rest of the group. He tucked his head near her ear, coming real close. “You good?” His voice was a low murmur in her ear, and she felt her intimacy twitch, but she just nodded, affirming that his touch was absolutely perfect.

She would genuinely be upset if he let go, and she raised her drink to his lips, and he took a small sip from behind her. They swayed gently to the soft songs, finding their rhythm, adjusting every now and again, and it didn’t take long for her nerves to melt away entirely. It was natural and seamless being with him, and the moment was to be enjoyed without restraint. “She’s perfect,” she murmured to him, convinced the woman on the stage was some form of angel. Alexander chuckled lightly and nodded, but it was brief. “This is perfect.” he challenged into her ear, nuzzling into her hair. “Being here with you. This is going to be hard to beat.” She had to pause, to mull over the fact that she was completely fucked, charmed under whatever...Swedish magic he sprinkled on her. And, he told no lies, the moment would be hard to beat, the soft light, the ambiance, the way Snoh was serenading them with her sweet, melodies. She turned her head towards his face, leaving a soft, lingering open mouthed kiss on his lips, squeezing tightly on his hands wrapped around her waist. He breathed her in, hungry for her, tightening that grip on her waist. She had to stop herself from squeezing her legs shut completely when she felt his soft tongue touch hers, and she felt herself getting flustered, blushing all over. This was bliss- pure, serendipitous, bliss. 

‘Come through, I think I need you here.’

[common-blackbird]

it’s time... for a dragon age 2 playthrough post. scroll on!

The things i loved most:

1) the frame of the game - Cassandra interrogating Varric.

What a great way to get hook the player. Like, the opening of guards dragging this poor dwarf with cuts of the title, and then Cassandra demanding answers... Whoaaa! I have no idea if that’s usually done in games or not, but it’s definitely such an amazing intro with characters introducing themselves as well as the story so perfectly, it captivates instantly. The tutorial has a charm to it bc varric is messing around. Which serves to show more of his character. Cassandra’s personality was pretty much blank here but her presence is so powerful. Something happened, something huge and they know and i was about to find out. I can’t describe how excited that intro made me feel. Each time the scene cut to the interrogation scenes, my eyes were glued more than ever. Just GREAT.

Also it makes for a very convenient scapegoat for every plothole ever with the argument “it’s just his version of the story”.

2) The story.

It’s tragic. It’s amazing! The further you play, the more you can see that no matter what you do, everything leads to a disaster. Hawke doesn’t want to take sides, tries to mediate, does not want to get involved, but just can’t stop it. For every thing gained, Hawke loses two more. Your friends come with packages that get you involved in terrible stuff. Your good intentions result in disasters. The whole game you spent time climbing  the social ladder not only to reach the top hauntingly alone after losing all of your family, but also losing even that empty title and watching as the city you started to find your place in fall apart in blood. UGH! GAH! FEELS!

3) Kirkwall.

“ But, I beg you my dear readers, never forget that, no matter the subject of any story that might ever be explored between the cliffs of Kirkwall, She will find a way to steal the thunder of the protagonist. Or become the antagonist. Kirkwall is never a mere background. We could even understand it so: the challenge for you dear readers is to prevail against the smokescreens and observe to what extent our characters are players or played by the merciless black souled stone giant. Enjoy playing the dare of the ages between the lines of these humble memoirs. “

Memoirs from the Downfall - Act I. Mirage    by Pfefferminze on ao3 (fic rec!)

This paragraph summs up what Kirkwall is better than I ever could. This shrouded mystery that surrounds Kirkwall keeps you on toes. From the first intro when Varric describes it (paraphrasing from memory) “Kirkwall. The city of chains. It is a free city - keeping in mind i use the  the word loosely”. You already start seeing how dark Kirkwall gets. The name, that derives from its black walls (interestingly, the walls in the game aren’t black...), the history of slavery etched into every corner of that city  and its surroundings - the names (The Gallows, the Bone Pit, the Wounded Coast, the pub The Hanged Man), the scenery (sculptures of slaves, the sunken ships by the Wounded Coast, slums and underground of the Lowtown and the Darktown).

I was really digging the History of Kirkwall and it loved it. Kirkwall has a history of violence, from the times of slavery of the Tevinter Imperium, to Qunari conquests and liberation from Orlais. Many revolts and uprising. And though free now, it’s suggested that, seeing that the Templars hold the most influence, Kirkwall is in the hands of the Chantry.

It’s full of cultures mixing together. I love how not one of your companions is a native to Kirkwall, and it feels like a crossroads to every character’s life. a very tragic crossroads in their life, seeing there’s nothing ever good waiting for you in Kirkwall.

Also there’s these codex entries you look for about the Enigma of Kirkwall. It was when i started digging that up that i fell in love with the city and all. Combined with the History of Kirkwall and every codex entry for every place in and out of Kirkwall, I was pulling my hair out reading about the Enigma. I..i’m still not quite sure what happened. Did the magisters use blood of thousands upon thousands slaves to unbound a forgotten one? if so, is that corypheus? And around what time did that happen?? I get that part (or all?) of Kirkwall’s mysterious violent agency is owed to corypheus slumbering relatively close to the city, but is that all? or is there something more? In either case, the Band of Tree are my heroes.

4) The characters.

I’ll talk more about them later, but in general, i just love how they oppose each other, how complex they are, and there is just not pleasing everyone. They feel genuine. They are all deeply flawed. They all have a solid background that makes their beliefs and actions convincing. The friendship/rivalry points are shaky though, and sometimes really don’t fit the character, but i guess there must be someone hating/loving your bad choices for the sake of the game regardless of characterisation. But all in all, i really appreciated each and every character, and loved how their viewpoints challenged me.

First i want a disclaimer: i love each and every character in the game, whatever i say against them doesn’t diminish my liking of them. My issues really aren’t significant. Also, i might and probably will say smth wrong bc i’ve only played it once. I’m a baby.

let’s start with Family:

Mama Hawke:

i really loved mama hawke. after reading her codex entry and an excerpt of some book on this site, i really feel for her. I mean, imagine going back to your home city where you only remember being respected and wealthy only to find out everything you remember is gone, you are forced to live in poverty, your kids are doing dangerous jobs and you can’t stop them bc you do need that money, you write letters trying to get the old connections but keep failing (at least it was implied?), it’s really been hard for her. I get why she was so obsessed with her legacy. She wanted her childhood home back. She can’t feel like Kirkwall is her home until she is home.

Also loved her antagonism towards Hawke. It seems she can no longer treat him like a child, so she criticises him instead. and honestly, hawke is doing some crazy things so he defintiely deserves some criticism. And stopping Hawke from taking carver with him is just logical to me, idk. since she knows she can’t stop Hawke from going, she will at least attempt to prevent the last kid from going into mortal danger. I’d do the same. AND AFTER HAVING CARVER DYING IN DEEP ROADS I AGREE WITH HER

All in all, i don’t think she’s a perfect mom, but there is no perfect mom, and Leandra does care a lot for her kids. The All that remains killed me too :’(

Bethany

RIP :(

Her codex is not long, but i guess she wasn’t happy with her magic :(

CARVER

My favouritest bestest bro in the game. A secondary character with an inferiority complex towards his sibling, with no sense of humour, blaming everyone else for his inability to get a life? I see a lot of myself in him.  He is sooo bitter, but doesn’t even realise (or at least doesn’t admit) that he’s his biggest obstacle. He feels like it’s Hawke’s fault for Carver not getting his place in the sun, but honestly, it’s Carver’s devotion to Hawke that keeps him from getting a life. He’s just tied with that responsibility and can’t break from it unless forced to.

His interactions with other characters are so funny. Either he’s bitter or he’s awkward, i die every time ;;__;;

Anyways, he became a templar in my game and i thought it fits better thematically (throughout the game the grey wardens felt more like a fanservice material since they really aren’t connected to the story), but after reading that meta about carver and seeing the striking difference between warden!carver and templar!carver i wanna reload and redo everything ;;__;;

i mean... carver isn’t exactly a templar material. The codex entry for templars says that the wanted characteristics of templars are strong faith and utmost  obedience, none of which carver really has... . But that moment when he stands up against meredith was *chefs kiss* worth it. I’m just wondering what happens after, is he still a templar? is he with hawke? is he in Kirkwall or if not, where did he go?? so many questions ;A;

Uncle Gamlen

I feel bad for him. Mostly he’s mean but i like to think it’s bc he’s so ashamed that his sister sees what he’s become. And he’s bitter about his own life. I was so happy when i realised he has a personal mission ;__; I feel bad that he didn’t come to live in the hawke estate tho, especially since Hawke is also alone there :(

COMPANIONS!

Varric

There are no words that can properly convey the amount of love for this guy. He is simply flawless. He’s a charming godfather of the dwarven mafia. I wanna have a charming godfather of the dwarven mafia in my life... He already becomes interesting with the intro, and i gotta say, out of all ~storyteller~ types of characters, he is the best. he puts a disclaimer at the beginning with that game tutorial, and during the whole interrogation he’s like “well, how do you know i’m not lying? i could be.” Also, his voice is the second best voice in the game. 

As for his personal missions, oh wow, that thing with his big bro really hurt. I also gave him the red lyrium... was that a mistake? will i regret it? ;__; I know the true friend would prevent him, but i also trust that varric knows how to handle dangerous stuff...

On a side note, since i’ve read the comics (no self control whatsoever), i loved the beginning of the Until We Sleep, where varric mentions it’s easier to imagine all the people he had to kill were evil than to face the fact that those were normal people just doing their job or trying to survive. Man, it hurts TAT

*garret hawke’s voice when he looks a certain way at the family crest in the hawke estate* ISABELA!

Ok ok, so, i love Carver bc i relate,  i love Varric because he’s simply perfect. But I love Isabela because she’s the most intriguing.

She just crashed in Kirkwall and really didn’t sign up for all the trouble she got. She never likes to have deep conversations, she is always downgrading herself and you just wonder, what is it that happened in her life, and you know her past mistakes haunt her, and she’s doing her best to move on. Her arc was i think my favourite. I think the comic Those Who Speak really adds a lot to her arc in DA2 and makes some of her choices more understandable. Her whole story is about her internal conflict of whether to survive or do the right thing. Her story about freeing the slaves got her ship wrecked is great and all for making her be a pirate with a golden heart, but that story about her drowning all the slaves few years previous make this freeing of slaves a big character moment for her. She finally did the right thing. And she got for it was more trouble, because she’s a pirate which means she can’t afford to just do the right thing. And throughout the game, that same story is going back and forth. She runs off with the Relic bc she’s done the right thing before and it got her nowhere, so now she decided to put her own survival as a priority, but comes back bc she’s too kind to just leave Hawke standing like that. And again, with the slaver papers, it’s the same reasoning: it’s her or the higher cause. She needs that ship. She chooses herself. It’s her biggest flaw. But hey, between pros and antis in your party, it was really refreshing to have someone who, along with varric, just gives you a break with moral high-grounds.

I only wish we actually got to see her more as a captain in power in the game or that she showed me that amazing hat she saw in lowtown. It’s cool that it’s implied that her crew doesn’t like her and she also lost most of them during the crash while the others probably left her after.

I love it when she says she goes sometimes to the docks just to watch the ships. That there is no feeling like sailing. I just want a spin-off with captain isabela’s terrible adventures (´A`)

Also, isabela’s VA is my fave, she really did an amazing job. she voices so smoothly, i wouldn’t know if i was playing a game or watching a movie. And has such a pretty way of talking...

Aveline

I’m really neutral towards Aveline. I like her personality and i like that she’s found herself a purpose and advanced in the guards, and she’s always looking out for everybody. I just wish her personal missions went in the vein of the one in act 1... i feel it would have been more interesting to see her having trouble in her position and that you can’t just waltz into Kirkwall and take command. It’s implied she’s being pressured, so i guess she’s just dealing with it herself, but i just... eh. She’s ok.

Merrill

Merrill actually has one of the if not the most tragic story-line that really challenges you both morally and emotionally. 

Her cheerful and cute personality is dampened by her constant dark leitmotif of willingly practicing blood magic. And i think her story really showed well the indirect consequences of it.

Not in one instance was Merrill’s practice of blood magic an active culprit for all tragedy that surrounds her. First, it seems that blood magic is practiced in the clan, seeing there is no freeing Flemeth without it, but i’m guessing it’s seldom practiced and with great caution. So Merrill wasn’t in any danger of being prosecuted for her blood magic. It’s actually her wish to study it further with the help of the demon that makes her an outcast. That and the magic mirror that apparently is forgotten for a reason. Also, it’s made quite clear that Merrill would be welcomed back no questions asked if she at any point decided to ditch the demon and live without the study of magic mirror. She, on the other side, is driven by the higher cause, the idea that figuring out the forgotten purpose of some evil mirror might help her clan, and is willing to be an outcast if it means reaching her goal and helping her clan. Fast foward to act 3, the clan is still there when they should have moved away, and it’s only when you face the demon possessed Keeper, you realise why. She knew Merrill would sooner or later bargain with the demon again. And she sacrificed herself, trapping the demon within her, as to prevent it. And i think that is why the clan stayed so long there. She waited for Merrill because she wanted Merrill to kill her, and hopefully with her the demon. It didn’t go as planned, obviously, but i really think she had good intentions. When Merrill does manage to kill the Keeper she’s forced to face the clan and i chose the wrong option of telling the truth which resulted in a massacre. Merrill gets back and regrets everything. She, however resolves to help the alienage.

The thing is, there is no one to blame Everyone had the best intentions. Everyone is working for the safety of the clan. it’s a story of sacrifice and when sacrifice feels like the wrong choice (whether it truly is or isn’t depends on your worldview) and it’s really done well.

But here are my issues with Merrill. I love her as a character, but i don’t agree with her decisions.  It’s a personal issue. Merrill is giving up everything as to help her clan by learning history of the evil mirror. And while this is a game where old things are important and significant, her mission is always explained as this duty of preserving history. And while i agree that preserving history is very important, there is a limit to it. you should never put history before the present. If your research endangers the present, you give up on that line. The other is that you need to make peace with the fact that many, many things are forgotten and will be forgotten. It’s sad, but you gotta make peace with the fact that some things are just gone.

And Merrill, who is a magic historian, fails to see that. So that kinda irks my historian moral codex. And in the end, as far as i know, Merrill doesn’t succeed in reviving the evil mirror and dedicates herself to help the alienage. It was a terrible way to learn that some things aren’t worth it.

The other, less personal issue, is that none of this had to happen. I mean, the keeper obviously didn’t think Merrill was experienced enough to actually deal with demons and therefore distrusted her and warned the clan about it. So, if Merrill was a little bit more patient she could have just studied normally under the keeper, and when she herself becomes the keeper, she could have fraternize with that demon however she wanted without much complications. So yeah... i guess youth is made of idealism.

But as i said, minor issues. Her story is really, really great.

Fenris

Fenris and Anders are my “i love you but i am soo annoyed by you but i still love you” characters. Half of the time they’re just there to make you feel guilty for being a neutral party. Which sometimes has me rolling my eyes. If Fenris and Anders actually got along with each other, slavery and mage oppression would have ended in 2 days. Which makes it all the more frustrating that they do not.

Fenris.. his voice. What a nice voice colour. So elegant, but kinda rough, sometimes he talks like he’s 80 years old, sometimes like he’s a teenager. I love it.

As for the rest, i mean, i don’t agree with his methods, but very often, the guy’s got a point. I get his experience with mages colours his view on them, so while i symphatise, it’s really hard to have him on my “free mages” missions when he’s my best tank and i want him to be on friendly terms with Hawke so this makes things... difficult. That aside, it’s interesting that fenris doesn’t see mages as evil per se, but rather victims who, in his experience, will always, always going to succumb to a demon. It’s an inevitable reality to him. And this makes me wonder if he ultimately, despite being his friend or lover, is just waiting for the day he will be forced to kill Hawke too :(

As for his missions, they were ok, it led up to culmination and i didn’t let him kill his sister bc Hawke has just lost his mom, don’t do smth you’ll regret ;__;

also, somewhere around the end of act 2 i decided to romance fenris bc i love to suffer, so i worked the whole act 3 trying to get more aproval points and also wondering why are there no romance options when i talk to him... turns out that one night stand with isabela romanced her and canceled fenris. But i never even finished the romance with her so i’m just ??? about it all.

I wish it was more explained about the tattoos fenris has? I just thought the tattoos would play a big role somewhere in the game and it just never happened. There was a banter with Merrill about how his tattoos are similar to valaslin, so i thought, hmm, interesting, maybe the two are connected. But nah they just glow in the dark and make you pass through walls. Whatevs.

also dude just goes and kills without a second thought, i’m just “mate, you gotta calm down”. But that’s his thing. He’s constantly bitter and is very bad at anger management. I can’t blame him, considering he lacks around 10- 20 years of experience due to amnesia.

He’s the only one who left me when Hawke sided with mages, and i was like, “ok i getcha, it’s been nice knowing you”, but then when i asked him to join me 5 minutes later he just went “ok changed my mind” which was so funny, like, where did all that integrity dissappear??? It would have been more impactful if the dialogue went in the line of “i want to stand by my principals but you’re a living breathing proof that not all mages are weak to succumb to demons so i’ll join you in the end” (and then side-eye “i told you so” when orsino turns into a demon)

And i wanna read the fenris comic now bc my question for every character here is what is their fate after kirkwall. I only know that isabela & varric are working for alistair and merrill wants to help the alienage. Aveline is i guess either dismissed from her job or got a pass after cullen took  the command.  But Carver?? Fenris?? Anders?? They never talked about long term plans...

Anders

ooh boy, here we go. there are many questions i have for him and am generally just hmmmm. First, as for his pro-mage rights - it’s like opposite fenris so i just have the same feelings: you mean well, i don’t agree with your methods, your experiences define your worldview so i let some things slide, but other things i will not agree with. Though, question: in how many circles has Anders been? He knows the kirkwall circle, he knows the fereldan circle. Seeing he has excaped 7 times, did they send him to a different circle each time or was the fereldan the last one? or the first one? Or maybe it was his boyfriend they transferred? did i miss something?

I’ll just whisper: awakening!Anders >>> da2!Anders. I just miss the old anders. Which says a lot bc during the awakening i was just “shut up anders”. I miss his bad jokes, his terrible attempts at flirting, his enjoyment of freedom, nagging all the time, and generally being more moderate in pro-mage rights. Like, in awakening, because it was not the only thing he talked about, it felt more personal and intense. Here mage-rights are the only thing he ever talks about + justice. I mean, please correct me if i’m wrong, this was just general impression. But to defend da2!Anders here, it makes sense that merging with mixed both of their personality, and i like that they did that. It’s also very sad.

The thing is, when i’m thinking about anders, i love his story and character. Just as it’s terrible that Fenris, having no memory from before being Fenris, Anders can never go back to being just Anders. And this, people, is why you don’t fraternize with spirits. He’s obviously afraid of how justice is affecting him and there are some bare traces of his old personality and i guess he wouldn’t be as radical if he didn’t have justice personality that can’t stand the injustice. And in combination with anders quite selfish personality (form awakening, and i say that lovingly), it makes him do things that justice wouldn’t condone. Anders is literally a walking bomb.

Again, same problem as with fenris, i really thought that the justice glow would have a incredibly significant culmination, and it didn’t, it was just to show that anders and justice are very bitter. Eh, ok.

Also, i let anders join after he blew up the chantry, bc he started it, so might as well follow it through.

Some minor characters that i remember

Senechal Bran for the next Viscount! He hated hawke so much but still put up with him.

Feynriel is the coolest mage in Kirkwall. I think his missions were my favourite. Dude goes from “oh no i’m a mage” to “i will just dreamwalk to tevinter and learn control the reality” to “i dream-killed bad people from thousands of miles away”. Does he appear in the next game? I want him on my side. He’s so cool.

I think the Maker is sending Cullen signs to quit being a templar. First job: evil mages that tortured you. Instead of “this job will kill you” h took it as  a “never trusting mages again, got it”. Second job: your boss is evil possessed paranoid maniac. Man, talk about bad luck.

What is the story of the Lady Elegant?

Flemeth had that big great talk at the beginning of the game and i thought by the end of the game i’d realise what it meant, but nope, still no clue.

Ok so I defeated Corypheus, but there was this looong shot of Larius walking away. Corypheus possessed larius, didn’t he? He’s out there. In a madman’s body. I know he appears in inquisition.

Many thoughts

I gotta say, in Kirkwall, at least, it didn’t feel like much of a challenge to pick a side. Like, there was no mage who said “hey i actually really like it here in the circle, the templars aren’t so bad”, and having templars actually smuggling mages from the circle says a lot to say the least. Every time a mage talks to you, unless you go with “oh they’re 100% lying”, their stories invoke sympathy and of course you want to help them. And then in 99% cases they turn to blood magic bc there was no other way. Except that dude who always hanged out with the wrong people, he only did blood magic to save Carver. But yeah, that turning to blood magic was like having Fenris side-eye me with an unspoken “i told you so” bc every mage, whether in desperation or hunger for power, will turn sooner or later into a demon. Regardless, blood magic was always in the act of desperation and self-defense. The only times where magic was actually evil was the slavers and the serial killer, who is a madman.

When i was reading the Enigma of Kirkwall, there was a part that talks of a blood-mage conspiracy and i was all, oh shit, there is a reason why templars are mean to mages! maybe the conspirators are framing innocent mages on blood magic crimes that they actually commit, maybe Meredith is actually on trail of the conspirators, maybe there is a reason for animosity on both sides. After all, Kirkwall was known for having a bigger number of apostates, a bigger number of blood magic cases and far more ruthless templars. It added up.Thinking back now, i never even got any specific reason why meredith was so intensely anti-mage, other than going mad.

But yeah, no conspirators. Just sad mages and mean templars, and good templars that get screwed by desperate and mean mages.

While in Kirkwall it’s easy to be a pro-mage, i was thinking a lot about mage-rights in general so let me indulge myself: there are circles, but the mages aren’t oppressed. Rather, the circles would be educational centres and society in every larger city where one learns how to properly handle magic bc magic is dangerous. You can leave when you pass the final exam and also come back anytime to hang out with mages who decide to live there since the institution would support mages.

Also, when one gets possessed, i’d invest more into “walk into their head and free them of demons” specialists. It’d be cool if you could have a dreamer who does that bc no lyrium spent. Honestly, why don’t they ever do that? How did the keeper do that rite for Feynriel? Was it blood magic?

I guess, you’d still have to answer for your crimes, tho no death punishment and degradation allowed. Blood magic wouldn’t be punishable by death, but rather have specialists who study it, but practice with extreme caution and use of another person’s blood is strictly prohibited.

Templars would still exist but completely reformed. No more “mages are all potential disasters”, but i’d rather make it that mages can too be templars, since they both have abilities that prevents the others from casting magic. This way the control system would be much like the dalish: if the keeper(mage) is possessed, the clan (which means the non-mages and the first(mage)) need to kill them. You could argue that you don’t need templars as non-mages, since mages can do it too, but seeing that in general people fear magic and feel inferior to it (since there’s a collective memory of the great tevinter imperium), having non-magic specialists would make them feel like on equal ground. The extra-reformed templars would be under Circle, not under direct command of the chantry, and circle, depending of whether chantry is reformed, might or might not be under chantry.

(a side note, i was thinking about templars recently and i can’t recall an instance where it says who had the clever idea to chew lyrium first? i just wanna know)

I know that DA2 wasn’t about grey wardens and therefore not about darkspawn, but seeing as in legacy we get corypheus being... an evil version of the Architect(??), i was only wondering do we get more answers about the darkspawn? is there hope for them? is the Architect still alive?

And oh, to turn to the Anders question:

Is he a terrorist, or was that just activism? I mean, i don’t see why those two can’t go together. blasting a building with a symbolic significance killing and harming many innocent people to get a message of your radical activism across belongs into a schoolbook of terrorism. Does he have a good cause? He sure believes so, and i, too, agree that mages should not be oppressed for just being mages. But does that mean this is the right way to do it? Personally, i do not condone any act of violence in service of a political or religious cause. I know it’s sometimes inevitable, but i like to believe there are more diplomatic ways, or at least not including an attack on civilians.

That aside, the moment where anders goes in front and just announces that the church was gonna blow up in a minute was the best anders moment for me. Until that point i more or less just viewed his activism as a hobby since he just did it in his free time, but now he put his money where his mouth is and freaking went all out. Cool character moment. And incredibly heartwrenching. He was aware of how many innocents he killed, but just didn’t see other way to get the point across.

I still don’t agree with his idea of blowing up the church tho. Maybe if he told Hawke, they could have done something to empty the church previously and further people away from it and then blow it up?

But still, blowing up religious buildings isn’t the answer. If i was the radical mage activist, i would have gone for the open assassination. Seeing it worked in WW1, i don’t see why it couldn’t start a fantasy war.

Some random things i liked:

uniportant but lovable interractions in the house: it starts innocently with gamlen’s house, to see how you’re doing, and becomes really fun during act 2 when you see your friends have been here and left you things. In act 3, however, it feels melancholic. no more family to come back to, just ghosts of friends that have visited, Bodahn and Sandal being there for you, Orana still not getting some sunlight and your dog at the fireplace. The Hawke Family Suite is playing, and you feel older than you are, lonlier than you should be. just... ouch. I hope Bodahn adopted Orana and took her out of Kirkwall :(

t i named the dog “Maker” which is very funny to me bc every time i summon the dog i just imagine Hawke yelling “Maker help us”. Carver hates the name bc he needs to chase the dog often in the streets. Mama Hawke never ever calls the dog Maker, but she never has to call the dog anything: he’s super obedient towards her.

Fighting wasn’t as hard as in origins, i like that.

The haunted house mission was so cool.

When random people greet aveline in Hightown.

And that’s i think about it. There are probably plenty more things i loved, but i think this is already enough. if somebody told me i’d be playing so much this year, i’d laugh, but I already want to play the next game ;;___;;

[hirazuki]

Ooo I'm curious about your hot takes on the Inuyasha reboot after reading your tags 👀

Ahaha, where to start XD Idk if they are hot takes, but here are my thoughts in bullet point form for coherency, I couldn’t figure out how else to organize them. Under a cut, as usual, because it got lengthy... as usual :D

We are 13 episodes in, and I still have no idea wtf is going on or what the series is actually about. And yes, I’m aware that we didn’t know of Naraku’s existence or of the overarching plot until at least episode 16 of that series either and Inuyasha was still very episodic in nature at that early point too, but here’s the thing: Inuyasha did not build upon a pre-existing series. For better or for worse, Yashahime has certain expectations to live up to that the original anime didn’t, by virtue of its being a sequel. Unfair? Maybe, but tough; that’s what happens when you make a sequel. Additionally, despite us not knowing The Main Plot™ of Inuyasha until later, the basic framework for it was laid out clearly by... episode 2? I think? Find and collect the Shikon Jewel shards. Boom, done. Were there distractions or fillers? Sure, but you never got the sense that the characters simply up and forgot about the shards. Even in fillers, the shards often made some kind of appearance. With Yashahime, there’s like three potential storylines going on: 1. The most obvious: most of our main cast from the OG is missing; where are they? Apparently no one in-story cares! :D Inuyasha, who’s that lol. I’m all for a sequel focusing on the new generation with cameos of the old crew; after all, they already had their own series. But this is like... no one cares about them? No one talks about them? And the more characters go about not mentioning them, the stronger their absence is felt. Like, for instance, Kaede knows Moroha is InuKag’s daughter. Moroha grew up on her own, doesn’t know her parents. Kaede doesn’t mention them to Moroha, doesn’t even spare a passing thought about them for the audience’s benefit, Moroha doesn’t ask. Kagome’s family in the present day meet Moroha, recognize her as Kagome’s daughter and... say nothing??? Souta shows Towa Kagome and Inuyasha’s old photos, but doesn’t say a word to Moroha?! Like. It makes no sense. By people not even acknowledging their existence, it makes the fact that they are nowhere to be found even weirder. Also the new gen girls don’t care about their parents or finding out who they were/are... like, okay, it would maybe be in character for one or two of them, but all three don’t give a fuck??? 2. Kirinmaru/the rainbow pearls: Idk how familiar you are with the story, but similar deal with Naraku and the shards here. Kirinmaru is being set up as the villain, still a mysterious figure; our new gen trio is supposed to collect the rainbow pearls that... some of his henchmen have? Or he is after them? Or is that Riku? Unclear. ANYWAY the new gen girls often forget all about the pearls’ existence :D 3. Setsuna’s memories: Setsuna’s dreams have been stolen by the dream butterfly and they need to get them back, because without her dreams she has no memories and is unable to sleep. Cool! Finally a solid, easy-to-follow plot line! Except wait! Towa, who supposedly made it her goal to get Setsuna’s sleep back, forgets all about it! All the time! Like, none of them make an effort to look into this other than being like “oh yeah, know anything about the dream butterfly?” to random folks every now and then. The Inugang back in the day was putting some grad school level research towards their goals, just saying. It just feels like everything’s all wishy-washy and there’s nothing really solid tying the series together. People just remember shit exists when it’s convenient.

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Character development is MIA. I’m not expecting ground-breaking char dev in 13 episodes (though I do know 12 episode series that were phenomenal in that regard), but like... I do expect the series to focus on building the dynamics between the main three characters. So far, the series is more focused on teasing the audience with glimpses and promises of the OG cast instead. The creators are using nostalgia and bait (esp of a certain pairing) to drive interest in the series, rather than developing the new characters as fully-fledged characters for their own sakes. 

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Moroha is was the only thing I actually liked about the series. She is a little spitfire and you can somehow instantly see both Inuyasha and Kagome in her, while she also remains very uniquely herself; I have never seen such a successfully developed main pairing child in any series. She featured quite prominently in the first few episodes -- and unlike both her parents, she’s got a great memory and knowledge of lore -- where she balanced funny moments with badass fighting moments and being the token supernatural encyclopedia. It was great! And then... they’ve like... forgotten her. She’s been left behind so many times by the twins. She’s the butt of every joke. She’s become the type of comic relief that’s, well, insulting. More like a buffoon than anything else. And it’s basically all for the sake of giving the floor to Towa :/

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Setsuna is okay. Not offensive, but unremarkable. She’s got her dad’s personality but like way toned down due to her different growing up circumstances, which is nice, but like... I feel she isn’t given any room to grow or breathe or anything. She’s also basically there as a device to enhance Towa’s development.

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Towa... oy. I tried to like her, I really did, but she just doesn’t work for me. They set her up having a very Kurosaki Ichigo type deal with beating up bullies and getting into trouble at school and shit -- I’m fine with that. That’s cool. Esp if it’s linked to not feeling like she fits in bc she’s a hanyou? Awesome. Except once she travels back in time to the feudal era it’s all “Oh killing is bad you shouldn’t kill people” and “even though they attacked me I can’t possibly hurt them” and “you need to empathize and talk things out” and “friendship is magic” and shit. It feels like she had a personality transplant, it literally makes no sense. Her design is totally nonsensical too -- out of everyone at her school, she’s the only one dressed in a bright white suit? Do protags not wear the school uniform? Someone should tell Kagome lmao. She’s a pro at hand to hand, and she can absorb demons’ powers and fling them back at them like a personified Tessaiga, and she has a lightsaber sword, and she’s immune to miasma, and -- like... you get it. It’s too much. It’s way too OP for the type of universe that Inuyasha/Yashahime is set in. She’s hanyou for fuck’s sake; remember all the training Inuyasha had to go through? When he couldn’t lift his sword? When his sword attacked him? Sango, Miroku, Kagome, even Sesshomaru all had trouble with their weapons and had to work to become stronger. But Towa? Nope. Towa is straight out of the Yas Queen/Girl Boss manual, so she gets a free pass on everything.

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UGH they are doing the VLD/bad writing thing where things happen (like, BIG THINGS) and none of the characters actually react to them. Or stuff happens and there are no consequences. No one ever talks about anything. It’s wild.

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Everyone has amnesia!! :D People either don’t know or don’t remember anything or anyone. People who absolutely should know things all of a sudden magically don’t know them. Like, Kohaku -- traveled with an undead priestess, spent years in the company of demons, traveled with Sesshomaru... and yet had NO CLUE that Setsuna is Sesshomaru’s daughter or that she is hanyou, despite her living and working with his team of demon slayers all this time. Like... how, man. How. And Kaede! Don’t get me started. Since when does she perpetuate random demon-boogeyman type stories as facts? Demon children will kill each other in the nest so that only the strongest one will survive, therefore Setsuna must have killed Towa when they were infants. O_O What are they, sharks? Has she been hanging out with Kisame? Wtf?? And she’s speaking about Sess’s kids as though she doesn’t know him or anything about him, when she has had Rin under her roof all these years. It just makes. no. sense.

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Things that happened in the original series are happening again now! Because that’s the best we’ve got, recycled plot elements wooo! No, but really, characters that died or things that were resolved in Inuyasha keep coming back. Why? What was the purpose of bringing back Kinka and Ginka? To have a foil for Towa and Setsuna as twins? Someone please tell Sunrise they can just create new characters. Like, it’s one thing to have call backs to the original or cameos, references, whatever. But like... this is entire (dead) characters and interactions.

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No one knows how long it’s been since the original series ended. Fans initially heard 20 years from promo material, then “over 15″ and “10 years since” in-series regarding two different events, and now in a future episode summary we’ve gotten 18 years since Hosenki II gave Inuyasha the black pearl. But like, which black pearl? Because the one in Inuyasha’s eye doesn’t exist anymore, but Hosenki II had told Inuyasha that it would take 100 years for him to produce one. So, are we retconning that or where the fuck did it come from? Also, this doesn’t help one bit, it just confuses things even more. Back to the point, though, we have no coherent timeline or real frame of reference whatsoever, and I’m betting it’s in large part to keep the mystery of who is Sesshomaru’s wife going, as it keeps Rin’s age very vague. Everything is vague and mysterious in Yashahime, to the point where no one knows what’s going on, in fandom or in-story even. It’s kinda like how too much plot twist/shock reveal ruins a story, too much mystery does the same. It’s insane that both shippers and antis of that ship can lay equal claim that the “18 years since” announcement works in their favor.

tl;dr: Idk man, Yashahime is a clusterfuck of a series. Even if the mother of Sess’s twins is either of the characters I ship him with, I will still not like the series. There’s no saving this writing. Every episode feels like this:

[prisoncitystories]

Fiction: Just Another Day at the Office

The smoke from the cigarette wafted freely through the air like the sultry melody of the dingy saxophone on the radio. I, however, was tied to a chair.

“What shall we do with the pig, Ms. Morgana?” The thug in the dragon mask said to his partner. 

“Surely, we can have a little fun before we gut him, Mr. Pendragon,” Ms. Morgana replied. The pair are part of the Round Table Gang, the latest colorful characters to hit the city with their own particular brand of crime. Of course, they chose the boring task of robbing banks but really who’s keeping track, right?

“Fun, huh? What are we playing? Parcheesi?” I say, with a smirk. Pendragon rears up a fist and drives it right into my gut. I feel his knuckles press against the skin through my shirt. Thankfully, this isn’t my first rodeo.

“Quiet, pig!” Pendragon said. “How about a different game? Five finger fillet?” Pendragon pulled out a knife, waving it back and forth in front of my face.

“Maybe we could play chess, instead?” I said, edging him further. He threw his fist into my stomach again, this time a little harder. Thankfully, he didn’t notice my slight adjustment to put most of the pressure on the back of the wooden chair. A few more moves and the knight would take the bishop.

“Yeah, wrong supervillain, mate. Chess makes my head hurt. Now, Ms. Morgana, she’s the only one smart enough to handle that black and white board.” He said, turning to her and grazing her ornate horse mask granting him a devilish purple-lipped smile.

“Oh? I just assumed you were the same annoying, narcissistic, backwards-” I said,  interrupted by a slap across the face from Morgana.

“I’ve trained you so well.” Pendragon said, pulling Morgana into a kiss. Who says crime doesn’t pay?

“If you’d like me to come back, I’d be happy to go. Otherwise, let’s get this threesome underway.” Pendragon stopped and turned to me. Even underneath the red dragon mask, I could tell I was getting on his nerves. It’s all in the eyes. The little flicker that hides a deep, deep rage and right now, my voice and face are like a broken urn full of oil.

“If you speak one more time, I swear to the gods I will cut your tongue out. Do you understand?” I remain silent. “Do you understand or are you just as dumb as we thought you to be?” He repeated much angrier.

“You told me if I spoke that you’d cut my tongue out. Not an outcome I’m betting on if we’re being honest here.” His face turned to stunned surprise and he brandished his knife again. He raised his leg to boot me backwards and I made my move. As he sent his leg toward my chest, I titled the chair back with my feet that could still touch the floor even tied up, sending me back faster than his boot could catch. While his boot was catching nothing but air, the chair was breaking against the cold concrete. I was initially a little jarred as my hands were the meat in a wood-concrete sandwich (which really hurt), but I quickly scrambled to my feet as Ms. Morgana regained her composure from the sight.

“Why you little bastard!” She said, sparking up her electrified gloves. I have to stay away from those. She stepped forward but her form was so uneasy. Unfortunately for her, confidence isn’t everything. She swiped like a cat and I only narrowly avoided a swift jolt by deflecting her strike with my forearm. I did the same maneuver but this time added a leg sweep, surprising her and sending her to the floor. I heard the clatter of a knife behind me as Pendragon swiped his knife, gashing my thin black necktie in the process.

“Eh, I never really liked it anyway. Gift from a few exes ago,” I said as he continued swiping. Similar to Morgana, I had to subdue him by using his strikes against him. I batted his arm aside as he hacked and slashed and when the moment opened up, I used a classic disarm and sent the knife out of his hand and back to the floor. Suddenly, I felt way too many volts pass through my leg, bringing me to my knees. 

“What kind of detective are you? You fight like a drunkard. You can’t even disarm us both.” Pendragon said. He walked over to pick up his knife again as Morgana stood back up and placed one of her gloves on my shoulder. “Any last words, pig? You blew your chances on a last request.”

“Is it just you and Morgana or are Percival, Lancelot, and Galahad screwing around in your pants too?” I said, baiting him again. As he drove the knife forward, I ducked to the side making him lunge a little too far towards Morgana. I grabbed her arm at her forearm and hand and pushed them into Pendragon’s gut and activated the shock gloves. The electricity ran through him and sent him toppling. I shot up and brought a swift elbow to Morgana’s chin, flooring her as well. I finished her off with a blow to her face. I walked over to the table where that cigarette was still burning. I picked it up, began a drag, but quickly pulled the disgusting thing away.

“Menthols? Dear gods, you guys really are stupid,” I said, throwing the cigarette on the ground, stamping it out, and clicking off the jazz music at the radio. I look around the dingy, chip-titled torture room and find my coat hanging on a coat rack. “At least they aren’t savages.”

I made sure they didn’t steal anything. Pockets still have all my belongings. For bank robbers, they certainly aren’t great at petty theft. I throw the brown trench back on and move towards the door. I slowly turn the handle and open the door to the hallway where fortunately the other members of the gang are not waiting for me. I handled Pendragon  and Morgana easily but three more thugs would land me back in the chair. Not to mention if they’ve added more since their last hit. We’ve been chasing them around the city for about three months, and they’ve robbed four banks in that time. We still can’t peg why they would need that much cash or how they could possibly spend it. They certainly aren’t investing in a headquarters.

Suddenly, I hear a voice from around the corner. I slink behind an open door in the hallway, making sure just to stand in the doorway and not shut the door. I spied through the peephole and saw a blue wolf mask. Lancelot. I think our dossier said he was a sharpshooter. Seems like he’d be useless in a fist fight. He was radioing to someone on his walkie.

“Pendragon, you done with the cop yet? Pendragon, I said are you done with the cop yet?” He put his walkie-talkie back in its holster and pulled out his sidearm. Something street trash would use, not really the mark of a deadeye. “By the gods, do I have to do everything myself?” He said, scoffing and stomping down the hall. I moved into the open room and behind the wall as he walked by towards the torture room. He opened the door and before he could reach for his walkie, I sprang into action and put him in a headlock. He quickly pushed back and slammed me into the wall behind us, but I held firm. I knew if he even got one good aim with his pistol, I was toast. He stomped his feet wildly, trying to bash me anyway he could. He bashed me back again, this time against the door frame, loosening my grip. We both fell to the floor, me out of breath and him gasping for air. We both took a second to regain our bearings and then shared a brief cutting moment. He got up quicker than I could and kneed me in the face. I shook off the throbbing pain and used the wall behind me to brace myself. 

“Percival, Galahad, get-” He started to say into his walkie-talkie but I gave him a solid haymaker to the head.

“Now now, none of that.” I said, taunting him. I used his imbalance to disarm him of his gun, sending it to the floor. He grabbed my neck, but I kicked his legs out from under him. I used the momentum of the fall to bring my forearm down on his face, disorienting him again. He relinquished my neck and I dealt him a clean knockout blow to his smug face. I stood up and dusted myself off and down the hall were the last two members of the Round Table Gang, Mr. Percival and Mr. Galahad, staring at me. I was admittedly a little disoriented from the last two altercations but I can’t imagine I was getting out of here without at least one more.

“Well come on then. Let’s go.” I said, putting up my dukes once more. I examined the two of them briefly, really hoping that Percival came at me first. He was small, compact. Intel said he was the demolitions expert of the group. Can’t be that great of a fighter either, although Lancelot surprised me. He adjusted his gold hawk mask. Mr. Galahad was much larger and muscular than his counterpart. Comically, he had a green cat mask. I don’t know what these guys’ fascination with stupid masks is. Galahad came stomping towards me.

I delivered several quick blows to his abdomen which frankly hurt my knuckles quite a bit. He just chuckled.

“That ain’t going to work, little man.” Unfortunately, he was right. I had to use his weight against him. He reared up for a downward strike, but I only narrowly avoided piledriver fist to the top of my skull. He came down on my shoulder which sent pain through my arm. I used the other arm to swing a fist, tilting his head to the side. He cocked his head back at me and I could see the annoyed look in his eyes. He grabbed me by the shoulders and sent me swinging through one of the walls of the hallway and into the room I initially hid from Lancelot in. Same dingy tile as the other room hit the back of my head hard.

“You call that a throw? Better invest in some gym memberships, mate.” I said, as he stepped through the me-shaped hole he just created. “Although your budget might be taken up by renovations.” He didn’t care for the banter. He stomped up to me and raised his leg up to smash me, but I rolled to the right. The tile cracked underneath and I got an idea. While his foot was still depressed, I swung my body around and kicked his stomped leg with all the force I could muster. His leg jutted further into the floor as he fell and the angle caused him to slam down harder than just a simple fall would do. I clumsily stood up and went to the groaning bastard.

“Nighty night, kitty cat.” I said, stomping his face and breaking his mask in the progress. I briefly take a look at his face. Ugly bastard, really. Maybe it was better with the mask intact. “Alright, Percival. We both know you’re a cowardly bastard so let’s get this over with. If you come quietly, I won’t have to break your nose too.” I said, walking out into the hallway and Percival was kneeling on the ground and he had already cuffed himself.

“Please don’t hurt me! Just don’t tell the others I surrendered.” I chuckled at the weakling. Just another day at the office, I suppose.