#but that's literally his /default state/and he can try even harder from there

[hopeswriting]

thinking again about how our first introduction to ryohei was reborn saying "sasagawa ryohei. an impressive one" and being really normal about it. are you normal about it? you should think about it and be normal about it too

[cinnamonest]

Who do you think would be able to noncon and wife Lumine? Since she's been traveling worlds and stuff she's probably stronger than what we give credit for, so who do you think would be a good match for her?

Oh there's a lot of good candidates and I am a Lumine Harem Enthusiast™ and honestly everyone has their own advantages.

I mean yes Lumine is powerful, but still visibly struggles at times like the golden house fight, with Baal, etc, so I think it's fair to say she has combat experience/technique skill and elemental power but still the actual physical strength of the average female of her size, so, not too strong. Unfortunately without a vision, she can't just have her power stripped from her, but most of our boys are candidates in their own way.

She visibly struggles against Baal, so it's fair to say she's no match for an actual archon like Zhongli or Venti, probably not Xiao either. In terms of physical + elemental power she's not even close to a combative threat. Those three would have the easiest time of it. Of them, the most likely to do so would definitely be Xiao, based on some of his dialogues and birthday letter and teapot lines he's pretty direct about having some form of attachment to/affection for the traveler and just based on his personality I feel like he's the most likely to snap into yan mode, so to speak.

Side note interestingly one of the things I haven't discussed much is that like, yandere is rarely the natural state of a person, it's more like an underlying tendency/a state of mind/a "side" of a person that can be triggered or snapped into, and certain individuals are more or less likely to do so. Some have to be driven to a breaking point through a lot of stress, some just a few conditions have to be met, and then for a few it's basically their default when they experience affection or attachment. So certain characters are far more likely than others to "become yandere." Xiao is absolutely high on that scale for likeliness, would be in that last category, so yeah, the most likely of those 3.

Venti would be least likely, but he could be driven to it, and Zhongli is somewhere in the middle. All of them would be able to do so with some ease, though, and Zhongli and Xiao specifically could lock her in an abode. Not to mention they don't really die as easily as a person I think? So even if she attacks they'll probably be fine. Venti also has psychological manipulation on his side, he can probably easily gaslight her into seeing her brother as an enemy if he really tries. If all else fails, sweep her up with that burst of his and knock her out.

Any human or human adjacent would have a significantly harder time since Lumine's elemental powers cannot just be taken away so easily. If anyone can find a way to do so though, that would probably be Albedo. He's also smart enough to not make his intentions too obvious, much like with his quest - he would just perform harmless experiments he claims are for this or that reason, eventually developing a way to strip her of her power. His biggest advantage is obviously intelligence. He'd always be one step ahead of her, always predict her next move, and that's just as good of an advantage as any physical or elemental one.

So while it would be more difficult if she still has her power, the thing about Kaeya and Diluc is both of them are the kind of stubborn (Diluc) and deranged (Kaeya) enough to... Just restrain her. Arms and legs bound. At all times. Can't use your powers if you can't move. Diluc can just keep trying to be kind in his own way, because he *can* be sweet and caring when he tries, and would eventually just mindbreak/Stockholm her. Kaeya on the other hand... She's a lot more likely to end up... Permanently incapacitated. Can't escape if you can't use your limbs. For those two, the hard part would be getting her - most likely grab her while she's asleep, but once they have her and get her restrained, they're set. They're both bigger stronger men and can easily beat her in terms of pure hand to hand strength. Pyro is a rather frightening element and can be used as a projectile in Diluc's case, a burn can easily incapacitate. And if she tries to escape in the rain or cross a river she can be easily frozen too, and Kaeya's one of the least afraid to seriously hurt her to begin with. Eventually she'll become conditioned, the pain she experiences every time she tries to escape will eventually outweigh her desire to be free and find her brother, eventually she'll crack and give in to despair and give up, he can break her with time.

Childe and Scara would have it a bit easier than those two, because they have more help. The Dawn Winery maids can help Diluc sure, but they can't really contain her quite like Fatui can. She can't fight off 10 of them by herself. So even when they're not nearby, they can just have people watch her. Sure she puts up a fight, but they both kinda like that. In the end even if she escapes, they can probably manage to get her back, especially with help. For one I feel like Childe is a lot more capable when in a wide open space like the outdoors chasing her would be, in comparison to a tiny enclosed space like our fight with him.

The smaller boys would have the most difficulty. Razor and Xingqiu have the advantage of pure numbers/outnumbering her. Xingqiu has guards but in the end they're just normal guys and can't do too much. Still, when their entire force is gathered, they might be able to overpower her, especially if she's not in anemo mode and can't blow them away.

Razor has a similar thing going on -- sure, they're animals, you can blow away five wolves, but fifteen? Thirty? Fourty? She'd be able to escape eventually but the problem here would be staying escaped. Boy has no limits and inhuman levels of stubbornness and will gladly chase her across the entire map. Catch Lumine reaching Inazuma thinking she's finally safe and our boy comes emerging from the water like the cryptid he is just "found you, we go home now", he fucking swam across the ocean for that Lumine coochie and he'll do it again. Unbelievable.

Razor also has an elemental advantage. Other elements like hydro + cryo combo can freeze her if you have dual yans, but his is the only element where getting one good hit in can completely shock her into unconsciousness or paralysis.

The ones who have the hardest times would be Chongyun and Kazuha. It's just themselves, really, I doubt the Crux would be too willing to help imprison a girl, especially since Kazuha isn't in a position of power over them the way Diluc, Xingqiu, Scara and Childe have power over their forces, and they're not as insanely loyal as the wolves. Chongyun is on his own by default, maybe can enlist help from Xingqiu and his forces, but it's unlikely they'll help him all the time. Both are pretty determined, but they'd have a difficult time fighting her. It's a toss up honestly, but even if they lose one battle they can find her again and eventually win. They would both likely try to catch her by surprise, take her while she's sleeping, etc. Kazuha has no qualms restraining her, Chongyun feels bad, but he'll do it if he has to.

Bennett has the pure protection of being Bennett. Like yeah you want to find your brother but is it worth making Bennett sad? No. No it is not. I'd drop my entire journey right there bc I can't bear the thought of hurting him. He doesn't even have to restrain her, could you imagine breaking his heart you monster? No. Lumine is finished.

Dainsleif could probably manage. He has tricks up his sleeve, I guarantee it. He's been around long enough there's no way he hasn't learned how to handle a being like her, probably knows of a way to strip her of power.

Tbh? Ultimately, the best choice in terms of being able to handle her is her brother. He knows her too well. He knows exactly what her strengths and weaknesses are, he probably knows exactly how to beat her. He knows her better than anyone, and it gives him an incomparable advantage, so she's pretty much done for.

So tl;dr Lumine is fucked both figuratively and literally and should just accept her fate :)

[thedeliverygod]

Stay

My 2nd @noragamibigbang fic inspired by @slavhew's art which is right here for your viewing pleasure.

AO3|ff.net

“Yato? Yato!” Yukine watched in horror as the god crumpled to his knees, then caught himself with his hands to keep himself upright.

As Yukine ran over to him, Kazuma asked quietly, “Is it because… we defeated his father?” Bishamon gave an audible gasp from his side.

The smaller boy vehemently shook his head in response, “But Hiyori--!”

“I think Hiyori is exactly the reason this is happening.” Nora answered from another few feet away, kneeling by Hiyori’s side, “Her cord was damaged by Father’s ayakashi a while back. She’s pushed herself far past her limits for multiple days now.”

As Yato continued to wheeze in discomfort, Yukine asked shakily, “So what are you saying?”

“She’s dying.”

The words rang in Yukine’s ears and he pulled his hands into fists against the ground as he yelled out, “No, no! This can’t be happening! I can’t lose you both! Not like this…” The tears started to spill out of his eyes and he reached out to cling to one of Yato’s arms, “I’m so sorry for everything… I was so stupid and selfish. Please, don’t leave me…”

“Kazuma, can you take a look at Iki-san?” Bishamon suggested with a gentle shove, “Maybe… there’s something we can do.”

“I don’t think—” Nora started but was quickly interrupted by Kazuma.

“I’ll do my best.”

Yato finally gathered enough strength to speak, answering his shinki, “Yukine, I’m not…” He paused to consider his words, correcting, “I’ll stay with you always, as long as I can.”

The boy nodded tearfully as Yato shifted to sit up on his knees, Yukine still holding on to his shoulder.

“Kazuma.” Yato called out as loudly as he could, his voice cracking, “How is she?”

He looked to Bishamon for guidance on what to say, the goddess motioning him to move forward with whatever it was. Sighing, Kazuma answered truthfully, “It doesn’t look good.”

“What are we gonna do?” Yukine blinked, tears still streaming down his face as he stared at his god.

Yato chewed on his lip as he thought of an answer, simply stating, “Hiyori’s made it through so much already. I’m sure she’ll find a way.” Watching the boy continue to cry and sniffle, he gave a small smile and added, “It’s okay, kiddo.” As soon as he finished talking, another shudder moved through him and he collapsed to the ground. His eyes moved towards where the others stood, his voice quiet, “Hiyori…”

“No!” Yukine shouted loudly as Yato fell, his words failing to catch up with his thoughts, “No, it’ll be—you’re-- We can still…” He closed his eyes and the tears fell harder.

“Yukine.” Yato reached up to cup his face tenderly, giving another smile, “It’ll be okay.”

After watching the others, Bishamon finally growled in frustration and turned to Nora, “You! Since you always seem to know everything, how do we save Yato?”

“I don’t know.” She answered, not meeting the god’s eyes.

Bishamon huffed, “Not that it matters to you if he dies. You’ve had so many masters, after all.”

“Of course it matters! You don’t know anything!” Nora jumped up and glared daggers into Bishamon.

A quiet voice broke the sharp silence that followed. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up.” Yato sat up on his side, supporting himself with one arm.

“You’re my brother, obviously I’m upset.” Nora huffed back to him, her body shaking.

“Brother?” Bishamon repeated in confusion, looking at Kazuma.

“Not literally.” He explained, reaching to adjust his glasses, “They were just raised together by the sorcerer, at least from my understanding.”

She nodded, though it was clear she still had many questions.

“Then come over here, Oneesan.” Yato looked at Nora with a soft smile while Yukine stared at her curiously, face still full of tears.

She gave another scoff, but smiled back as she made her way towards him, “Don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Hiiro.” She answered without skipping a beat, taking a seat on her knees next to Yukine.

The god smiled widely at that, “Ah, I should have known.”

“A-are you sure you don’t know anything to help Yato and Hiyori?” Yukine sniffled as he looked at Hiiro, wiping at his eyes with his coat sleeve, “Just… anything we could try?”

“You are the oldest one here, Hiiro. So, you’re the wisest by default.” Yato teased before he shuddered again, clutching his sides as if he was holding himself together.

Yukine moved back to cling to the god’s shoulder, “Yato!”

“If you weren’t already suffering, I’d make you pay for that.” Hiiro muttered, closing her eyes, “Just… let me think for a moment.” Taking a breath, she opened her eyes again and suggested, “Obviously, I have no way of knowing this would work and it’s just a guess… but maybe if you two talk to her and get her to regain consciousness that would be enough. After all, her soul doesn’t know that you’re safe now. Maybe that’s why she’s struggling.”

Yato and Yukine met each other’s eyes, “It’s worth a shot. Even if… it doesn’t work, I’d want to talk to her anyway while I can.” He looked towards the ground.

“…Same here.” Yukine added in a quiet voice.

Taking a breath, Yato tried to stand before he gave in and asked, “Can you two help me get over there?”

“Yeah.” Yukine moved under his arm to support him and Hiiro wordlessly moved to the other side.

Once they were close to Hiyori, Yato gently slipped himself out of their grasps and kneeled at her side. Taking her hand, he gripped it softly, “Hiyori, we’re here with you. Me and Yukine both.”

“Yeah, we… we made up, okay? So you don’t have to worry anymore.” Yukine added, rubbing at his eyes again before he also reached out to touch her arm, “Let’s all go home together.”

Yato leaned over even farther, his forehead touching hers as he closed his eyes, “Remember what I told you before? You can’t cross over yet… Not until you’re old and gray. You’ve still got so much to do and so many people who love you, Hiyori. All of that is waiting for you.”

“Ya..to?”

His head jerked upward at the sound of a small voice.

Her eyes were barely open but she gave a small smile, repeating, “Yato, Yukine-kun.”

“Hiyori!” Yukine shouted eagerly while Yato continued to look over her in awe.

“I’m so happy to see you.” She greeted weakly, starting to move.

Yato held his free hand over her torso, urging her to stay put, “We’re really happy to see you too, but you’re in pretty bad shape. Don’t move too much, okay?”

She blinked in surprise before answering back in a mutter, “You don’t look too great yourself… You look really pale.”

“…Well, it was a pretty tough fight with Dad, so…” He fibbed, averting his eyes, “But I’ll catch you up on everything later. Right now, you just need to keep your strength.”

Hiyori hummed in agreement, closing her eyes and exhaling.

“Hiiro,” Yato called out, “Thank you, for your suggestion.”

Though Hiyori was confused, she also turned her head to look at the smaller girl and added, “Thank you from me too. For bringing me to them.”

Hiiro parted her lips, overwhelmed and surprised. After a moment, she let out breathlessly, “Y-you’re welcome…”

“Should we take Iki-san to a human doctor?” Bishamon asked after a beat of silence, nodding to Yato, “You and Yukine however can receive treatment at my manor.”

He looked at Hiyori, “Yeah. And unfortunately, we’ve got to take you somewhere around here, Hiyori. There’s no way you’d make it back to Tokyo like this.”

She covered her face with her hands, “I know you’re right, but… it’s going to be such a pain trying to explain how I got here to my parents.”

Yukine put a hand on her shoulder sympathetically, “We’ll think of something. Just let us take care of you for now.”

“We owe it to you.” Yato gripped her hand tightly.

“You do.” She agreed, giving him a sharp look, “That and a lot more.”

[obsessive-ego]

Beetlejuice cant tie a tie

I got a little off topic, but we get to it eventually

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Nsft mentions and bonus

A day off like any other, your phone buzzes to life at 11am, you groan at the sound, but you cant sleep all day, even though you really want to. As you shift to turn off your phone, you feel the familiar dead weight, you huff.

"Beetlejuice"

Ever since you let the ghoul into your home he has made it a habbit to sneak into your bed with you, at first he would leave before you woke, but now? He just makes himself at home, claiming that your bed is so comfy and warm, and way more lovely then the couch, honestly you didnt mind, his pajamas were clean, and he kept his hands relatively to himself, and lets be real even if you protested he'd still do it, just something you got used to over time, and enjoyed, as much as you wouldnt admit it, sleeping with another person did help you sleep at night, but you weren't exactly ready to open that can of worms.

You nudge the demon

"Beetlejuice let go"

The ghoul had you trapped in his arms, wrapped tightly around your waist, as his face was buried in your hair, his legs tangled with yours, the demon was spooning.

You squirm again, this time a tad more aggressive.

"Keep wiggling like that sugar and you'll give me a boner" he groans, more mockingly then anything else.

"Let go so I can turn off my alarm and start my day" you huff

Beetlejuice tightens his grip around your waist.

"No can do sweets"

"Beej please, I need to be an adult today"

"Oh babes, you can EASILY be an adult in bed~ but fine, if you must" be dramatically let's you go fawning hurt, you simply roll your eyes as you take your new freedom and leave the bed to reach your beeping phone on the table across the room.

Following your example, beetlejuice gets up too, and with a simple snap of his fingers his black and white pajamas were replaced with his trademark suit, the ghoul straightens him self out, adjusting the jacket and tie as if he had somewhere important to be.

You couldnt help but feel a tad jealous at that, to be able to get ready for the day in a second, something like that could shave a good amount of time off your mornings before work routine.

You usher the demon out of your room stating you needed to get dressed, though he did plead to stay and help, as always, you only replyed that youd take a rain check.

Reemerging from your room, dressed and ready to enjoy your day off, you head to the kitchen to make some coffee, your morning routine was simple, normally beetlejuice would chit chat with you as you made breakfast for the two of you, but it was strangely quiet, you havent seen the ghoul since you ushered him out of your bedroom, normally this ment he was hiding and getting ready to scare you, a regular occurrence.

Now something as simple as making toast and coffee now had you filled with anxiety, why did he always do this? You know why, he thinks it's funny. Your anxiety was short lived when a little note flutters down from the ceiling in front if your face, instinctively you grab it

'Babes, off scaring, saw you got new neighbors, be back soon~ xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo'

You sigh in relief knowing that bastard wasnt gonna mess with you today, yet you couldnt help but smile at all the xs and os, corny, but that was him wasnt it.

Like any other day off you try to catch up on house hold chores, and with beetlejuice out and about you can actually get stuff done, nothing against the ghoul, hell you loved having him around, it was just hard to be productive with someone so chaotic under foot.

...

Your day off went by pretty productive, you here you were, enjoying the peace and quiet, with a cup of hot tea and a book you've been meaning to read.

"HONEY I'M HOME"

Beetlejuice appears from literally nowhere in the center of the room you were currently residing.

you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden outburst, no matter how many times the ghoul burst into your home that way, it always startled you.

You regain yourself, and with a small laugh you sigh "welcome home B"

The tips of the demon's hair turn a soft pink, something as soft as 'welcome home' from your lips sent him, how lame, a big bad demon from hell, getting all warm and soft from just a little breathers kindness, yet, he wouldnt want it any other way.

The ghoul is quick to slide next to you on the couch "ya miss me toots?~" he cooed leaning in and making an exaggerated kissing face, you snorted out a laugh and gave him a shove.

"Knock it off B, and yes I missed you, but I was more productive without you, so~" you laugh

"OH Y/N you are so mean, you would rather me be away so you can do boring breather stuff, then have fun with the sexiest dead guy you know? How cruel" the ghoul pretends to be hurt.

You laugh again "Beetlejuice, you're the ONLY dead guy I know-"

"Therefore the sexiest" he countered giving you a wide toothy grin

"You got me there I guess" you laugh and give beetlejuice a shrug.

As the laughter dies down you notice how roughed up your friend really was, more so then usual, more dirty, shirt slightly untucked, new holes in his jacket and pants, his tie undone, loosely hanging around his neck. Yes the ghoul was messy, but it looks like he lost a fight, and hell with his powers he could clean up in a second, maybe he hasnt noticed?

"Beej? What were you up to today?" You ask shyly, you didnt exactly like to butt into what the demon did in his spare time, mostly because if he wanted to share it with you he did it with gusto.

Beetlejuice freezes for a second, the shrugs

"The usual, messing with your neighbors, why?"

You gesture to his messed up clothes

"OH,  yeah, new guy down the hall fought back, you should have seen it babes-"

You sigh, not that you needed too, but you worried about beetlejuice, what if he got into a jam he couldnt get out of.

"What's up sugar?"

You flinch, beetlejuice must have caught in to your expression.

"Do you need a hand straightening up?" You mentally slap yourself at that suggestion, he can magic himself back together why would he need your help?

Glancing back up to the demon's face you swallow hard, plaster across his mug was a love sick dopey grin, his most and beard now sprouted pink patches.

"Please~" he purred, a word you rarely herd from the ghost.

You nod, slowly you start with the tie, grabbing on to the two pieces, you swear you saw the demon flinch, slowly but surely, you tie a simple tie, years of doing it for yourself for forced formal occasions, guess the info stuck.

You gently strengthen the knot, paying more attention to what you were doing, rather then who you were doing it for, if you were paying attention to beetlejuice you would have saw his wide eyes staring so intently on you, both hair and scruff completely pink, a soft smile plastered across his face.

"You know babycakes I would just LOVE to have you yank on my tie more often~" he purred

You flinch at the comment, being brought to reality by that delightful gravely voice of his, you stutter out a soft noise, unsure how to respond in your frazzled embarrassed state.

The demon continues "have ya drag me around, mmmhmmm, have my sweet little breather in charge"

You unable to think of a response, just sit in front of the demon, hands still gripping his tie, staring back at his face.

"I have to say I've thought of it often"

You DID yank the ghoul by the tie alot, to make a point and or get him to your level, him being taller then you.

"My little y/n riding me, using my tie as a leash, you being fully naked, while I'd be full clothed, sounds like fun maybe we should- urk"

That was a step too far for you, as hot as the idea way, it was till too much and too embarrassing, with a quick movement of your hand you tighten the ties knot around the ghoul's throat, as if to strangle him, not that he needed to breath, it did shut him up though.

"Harder baby" he croaked

At least you thought itd shut him up.

You let go of the tie and get off the couch, taking a step back.

Beetlejuice laughs, his soft pink hue shifting back to his default green.

"Oh sugar we done already? Not only are you kinky, you're also quick to finish" he snorts out a loud laugh.

"Cant we have one nice moment?"

"No"

You sigh, little frustrated with the ghoul's ability to ruin just about any moment, as if the ghoul sensed your mood, he was quick to jump to his feet and pull you into a side hug, you huff, still being a tad annoyed with him.

"Alright sugar, ya twisted my arm, not more dirty stuff tonight, I appreciate your help with the tie, how bout I return the favor?"

You quirk a brow, return the favour without saying something dirty? You didnt think the demon COULD do such a thing.

"Heres what I'm thinking doll, me, you, and the new neighbor down the hall, I'm gonna show you how I got messed up to start with, and play your cards right babes and I'll let ya tie me up again~" the ghoul winks at that last line, regardless of the innuendo you smile.

"Alright BJ I'm game"

The ghouls gives you a wide toothy grin

"Its showtime".

Nsft bonus

Later that night when you were dead asleep beetlejuice couldnt help but dream of you sitting on him wearing nothing but a coy smile as you rode him, he being fully dressed with his cock freed from it prison and being buried in your warmth.

You bounced up and down, yanking his tie, half for balance half cuz of the sound he made.

With a delightful dream like that, the ghoul did not last very long,

[stxphxn-strange]

playing pretend

a/n: hello hello hello! i have a prompt fill for this Dark!Stephen AU from @ironstrangeprompts and im just gonna post it before i can start second guessing my writing lmao

tw: mentions of torture, injury, implied past abuse

Prompt: Dark!Stephen AU. The avengers never really notice Stephen’s pacifist to-a-fault superheroing style until one day a magical incident corrupts him/magical entity possesses him. They’re treated to a completely unhinged and lethal Stephen, the avengers realize just how much Stephen was holding back, what with his quick work dispatching all of them, resulting in very heavy injuries. However, he takes special interest with Tony Stark, whom he has been dating for a few months now. He has Tony all strung up in the middle of the battlefield in front of the other broken and beaten avengers, he taunts and tortures him. “Being a doctor and a sorcerer is so very useful, I can break you in very precise manners, put you back together and then do it again.” When he gets bored of Tony’s screams and decides to end him permanently, Stephen suddenly snaps back to normal. The real Stephen has been battling internally to gain back control, knowing that he’s about to kill the love of his life gives him the final push to break free. He portals them all to safety and to receive medical help. Cue heavy angst and Stephen trying to make it up to them but especially Tony, who insists that everything is fine and that he knows it wasn’t the real Stephen. However they both know that Tony is just putting up a brave front and is undoubtedly traumatized by the incident. Up to the author on if they want to end it in a bleak or hopeful tone.

It took Tony a few minutes to register his surroundings when he woke up. He wasn’t lying in a makeshift coffin of bent metal, broken bones, and the ruins of the building. The familiar baritone, the melody of his waking world, wasn’t hollow and cruelly taunting him. Stephen sounded like himself, soothing and loving and reassuring but worried and tired all the same. Tony heard guilt in his partner’s voice, delineating his dream, his memory, from the present. He wanted to follow that voice, the real Stephen’s voice, and leave the past behind them. Guilt was eating away at Stephen as he tried to calm Tony down and wake him up. He defaulted to the standard promises and phrases when Tony had nightmares, but this time was different. This time Stephen was the cause of the nightmare, and he knew it. No matter how much Tony said it wasn’t his fault, that everything was okay, Stephen knew he had to repair the pieces of Tony’s trust he’d obliterated.

Tony thrashed again in his sleep, feebly kicking the air in front of him just like he did on the battlefield. “Stop!”

“Sweetheart,” Stephen began, unsure of what to say. “Tony, wake up. You’re safe, no one will hurt you.”

“Stephen!” Tony groaned and thrashed again, his eyes still shut as he fought to wake up. “This isn’t you… don’t do this.”

Stephen barely held back tears as he spoke again. “It’s over Tony, I’m back. I’m me again. I won’t hurt you, I promise I’ll never hurt you as long as I live.”

Tony was shaking when he finally woke up, unsure if he was even breathing. He opened his eyes hastily, studying the look on Stephen’s face. Stephen looked concerned, even worried, but unsure of himself as he murmured soothing nonsense to Tony.

“Breathe, Tones,” Stephen said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay, I promise. Just breathe, we’re alright. I’ll leave you be once I’m sure you’re okay, and—”

Tony wrapped his arms around Stephen and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you dare. Don’t go… please don’t go Stephen.”

“I can’t risk scaring you again Tony. I’ve already hurt you enough, it’s not fair to keep putting you through this,” Stephen argued, fighting his urge to hug Tony back.

Tony only held on tighter, determined not to let Stephen leave.

Stephen still wanted to disappear, but he quickly understood that Tony wouldn’t let him go that easily. The mechanic was still shivering and trembling, slowly starting to calm down as Stephen hesitantly hugged him back.

++++

They both woke up at the same time, almost four days later. Stephen woke up slowly, feeling like he was underwater or in a fog, while Tony started awake across town.

It was pitch dark in the room, the heavy curtains drawn shut to keep out any intrusive light. It was the middle of the day, judging by the clock Stephen kept on his nightstand, but he couldn’t feel the sun on his face, or see any light from his window. He was bathing in pitch black. At first, he thought he was dead, doomed to an eternity in darkness, when something red bloomed and came to life beside him. Even now, his Cloak was always dramatic, comforting as it covered him like a blanket.

As his eyes adjusted, Stephen registered Wong and Christine on the other side of the room, just studying him.

Christine was the first to meet his stare, rushing to his bedside. “How do you feel?”

Stephen grimaced in pain as he shrugged. “Not great, thanks.” There was something else on his mind, but he was too afraid to ask. He was almost too scared to hear the answer.

Luckily, Wong spoke up before Stephen could ask. “You slept for three and a half days, Strange. How much do you remember?”

“Something attacked the Compound… I think it was me,” he mumbled.

“Not exactly,” Wong began, gentler than Stephen had ever heard him.

“Possessed or not, I still attacked!” Stephen sat up, paying the price as he rose quicker than his body could handle. “It doesn’t matter if I saved everyone, not if I almost killed them first.”

Neither Wong nor Christine spoke, and the cloak simply wrapped tighter around Stephen’s shoulders.

“You did save everyone,” Wong said finally. “And you banished whatever entity possessed you. We still haven’t figured out what it is, but…”

Wong’s voice trailed off as Stephen stopped listening. His head started to hurt as he remembered, in searing detail, more of what happened and what caused him to snap out of the state he was in.

Tony was near silent, his voice failing him after hours of tortured screams. Somewhere, somehow, Stephen knew that he was the one hurting him, the one causing Tony so much pain even though he promised never to hurt the hero. He wanted to stop, to end all of the carnage he’d brought to the Compound, to his friends who were starting to feel like family, to Tony… but he couldn’t. The hand controlling his impulsive strings was strong and steady, and it wouldn’t rest until Stephen finished its bidding.

His movements were mechanical as he strode, like the marionette he’d become, to stand in front of Tony.

And Tony just looked at him with a defeated, almost calm look on his face.

Stephen’s voice sounded distorted when he spoke, preening with a twisted smile as he bent to look upon the man of iron. “Accepted your fate?”

“You won’t be the first person I’ve loved who’s hurt me,” Tony said, between pained breaths. “There’s nothing to say.”

Stephen tried to back up, to keep himself still, but he couldn’t fight the influence of his controller and struck Tony again. “Arrogance is unbecoming.”

Tony inhaled again, deeper and more pained this time but somehow even calmer. “Go ahead and finish the job. I won’t hold it against you, Stephen.”

Stephen was hyperventilating when he heard Wong’s voice again, pressed against the headboard of his bed like he was backed into a corner.

Christine approached him tentatively, resting her hand on one of his shoulders.

Stephen recoiled away from the touch and curled up on himself like a turtle retreating in its shell. He ducked his head under a pillow, shaking in fear and pain from moving too quickly. “Did I… did I kill him? I remember everything until I was about to… please tell me I—”

“You didn’t.” Christine cut him off, hoping to keep her friend from spiraling further. “Wong said you saved everyone, and that includes Tony.”

Stephen sobbed just hearing his partner’s name. Guilt wracked his entire body as he cried harder and harder, his magic running through his veins. Was he not this exhausted, he’d probably set fire to something from his high levels of stress and fear, but all he could do was cry until he fell into painful sleep.

++++

He didn’t finish it.

He didn’t listen.

Tony remembered the horrified look he saw on Stephen’s face, the remorse in his eyes as he sent a vaguely corporeal figure of dark energy through a portal.

Tony remembered the way Stephen apologized again and again as his eyes started closing, overwhelmed by the pain seizing his mind and body. A part of him hoped that Stephen had listened, that maybe the last thing he’d see in this life would be the face he’d come to absolutely adore…

… But he’d woken up sometime later in the MedBay, wanting to see Stephen more than anything. In spite of everything that’d just happened, or maybe because of everything that’d just happened, all Tony really wanted was to go back to sleep, preferably in his partner’s embrace. That really didn’t seem like too much to ask for.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Stark?”

Tony almost didn’t notice Peter pacing around on the ceiling, in fact he didn’t know his pseudo son was even in the room until he suddenly landed a few feet away. “I feel great, Kid. Definitely not like I took a ton of bricks to the face.” He didn’t remember the gory details of the fight, so Tony couldn’t say whether or not he was being literal.

“Welcome back, Boss,” FRIDAY said, a hint of worry in her voice. “And good morning. It’s currently half nine on Tuesday. I’ve been asked to inform you that Col. Rhodes has returned from Washington and has volunteered to lead all reconstruction projects for the Compound. He’s also asked me to keep you updated and will be coming to see you this afternoon.”

Tony sighed. “Thank you. Wait… that means Rhodey came back early?”

“He did,” FRIDAY replied simply. Her voice sounded like what a nod looked like as she continued. “Would you like me to tell him that you asked about him?”

“Sure, but don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to rush to see me,” Tony replied, knowing that Rhodey would probably come anyway. He was maybe the one exception to what Tony had told Stephen earlier, before…

“Col. Rhodes will be here within the hour,” FRIDAY announced.

“Thanks Fri.”

Peter, who had started pacing on the ceiling again, asked what Tony had been wondering since he woke up. “Where’s the Doc?”

“I dunno, Pete. I’ve been wondering that myself,” Tony admitted. “Fri, you wouldn’t happen to know… would you?”

“As far as I can tell, Doctor Strange returned to the Sanctum following the… altercation… on Thursday,” the AI reported.

“What? Altercation? What happened?” Peter landed on the floor again, looking more worried than Tony thought he deserved to.

“There was just a small wizarding mishap, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. He shrugged, trying to reassure Peter as much as he could. “Not even an emergency, Underoos. We would’ve called for you if it was.”

Tony also didn’t want Peter to see what happened. Maybe he was sheltering the kid, but he didn’t want Peter to ever find out about the attack on the Compound. It was bad enough that the team, even in their varied states of consciousness, saw what they did. They saw the fear in Tony’s eyes, saw him slowly surrender to Stephen’s ruthless attacks until he just stopped trying to fight the sorcerer. Tony knew he couldn’t parry these magical attacks, couldn’t break the spelled restraints… but he didn’t want Peter to see how easily he’d given up.

If Peter had more to say, he simply chose not to ask about it. Instead he just shrugged. “Glad you’re okay, Mr. Stark. May heard from Pepper that you got hurt, so I wanted to swing by… no pun intended.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that calling me ‘Tony’ is fine?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes warmly. “I’m fine, Pete. Not up for working in the lab today, I’m afraid, but—”

“That’s okay! My suit isn’t going anywhere, we can upgrade anytime,” Peter replied. “I promised May I’d be home for movie night, but I just wanted to come see you.”

Tony smiled softly. “You’re a good kid, Son. Get home safe, and I’ll give you a call when I’m back in working condition.”

“Thanks IronDad!” Peter was gone in a second, leaving Tony in the quiet with his thoughts.

“Fri?” He asked after a few minutes.

“Still here, Boss.”

“Will you… will you tell Stephen I want to see him?” Tony asked.

Maybe he was the spoiled brat everyone believed, or maybe he was exhausted and touch starved and showing signs of an addictive personality. Tony didn’t know, he didn’t care, and he just wanted his sorcerer back.

“I’ll let him know,” FRIDAY replied, softer than normal.

++++

“Stephen, it’s been days. Days since the attack, days since you holed yourself up in my library like you’re going into hibernation—”

“Good morning to you too, Wong.”

Wong may have laughed at Stephen’s attitude if he didn’t feel so bad for him. Stephen was completely out of it, so much so that he didn’t even realize how late in the day it was. “It’s almost eight, Strange.”

Stephen just sighed. “Did you need something from me?”

“Stark is asking for you again. I think you should see him.”

“You said that yesterday,” Stephen muttered.

“I’m saying it again now. I know you, Stephen, I can read you like any book in here.” Wong began. “You’re trying to outrun your guilt but you know it’s not that easy. Ignoring Tony isn’t going to make things go away, and it’s not going to make either of you feel better. He misses you, and I know you miss him too.”

“I don’t know how I can even look at him after what I did… he trusted me,” Stephen whispered, looking down at his lap. “I broke his trust.”

“Not willingly, and he knows that,” Wong reminded him. “It wasn’t you, Stephen.”

Stephen ignored him, beginning to tremble as he thought back to what Tony had said to him. “He told me he wouldn’t hold it against me… that I wasn’t the first of his loved ones to hurt him. I don’t know what I could do or say to prove to him, let alone to the team, that I’d never hurt them again.”

“Hiding away in here isn’t helping to prove that,” Wong said.

“You just want your chair by the window back,” Stephen accused him.

“Of course I do! But I also care about you and your happiness. If you need anyone to vouch for you, I’ll be here,” Wong replied.

“That sounds like you’ve made up my mind for me.”

“I have. Go now, before it gets too late.”

Stephen opened a portal to the tower, just outside of the lab. “I doubt Tony would be asleep, he’s always awake.”

His suspicions were confirmed as he closed the portal. Tony was in his lab where Stephen thought he’d be, a mug in one hand and a pen in the other.

Stephen’s entire body trembled with nerves as he opened the door, the cloak knocking loudly and dramatically to make his presence known.

“FRIDAY, Quiet Place Protocol please,” Tony said. He looked up and smiled sadly at Stephen as the lab’s usual blaring music shut off. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Stephen suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. He was too scared to get any closer to Tony, afraid to hurt him, but at the same time all he wanted was to hug him.

The cloak made the first move, flying off of his shoulders and resting on Tony’s.

“Aww, hi Levy.” Of course Tony had a nickname for the relic, he had nicknames for everything and everyone.

Stephen found it annoying in the most heartwarming way, and he couldn’t help but smile as Tony sat down at his workbench.

“You can come over, you know?” Tony asked, half teasingly. “I told you I don’t bite, Steph.”

Stephen felt like a marionette again as he walked towards his boyfriend, but his heart was in control this time. He wanted to protect, to cherish, and to spoil the man in front of him with nothing but love and attention. He was just afraid, still unsure of himself as he studied Tony���s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey… I know.” Tony opened his palms on his lap, silently asking to hold Stephen’s hands.

Stephen let him, trembling harder as Tony held him gently. “I don’t know what happened, Tony. Something took over me, and I couldn’t stop it. I’ve never been overpowered like that before, and I didn’t know what to do. But please listen when I say that I promise it’ll never happen again, I mean that’s a given if you leave me, but—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Tony said firmly. “I know you weren’t voluntarily doing all of those things.”

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I still don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Tony…” Stephen took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Tony I could’ve killed you. The entire time I was trying to break the curse, to get that thing out of my system, I almost killed you. And you almost let me do it.”

“I did.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. Tony had that calm, accepting look on his face mixed with a kind, trusting expression. It was the same look he’d given Stephen in the ruins of the Compound, and it hurt. It didn’t feel like an apology would be enough to make things right, but what else was there to do now? “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony slid his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him into the hug they’d both been needing. “I’m fine baby, it’s okay. It’s over.”

Stephen knew it wasn’t just over, and he knew Tony knew it too. But in the moment he was too fatigued to fight about it and let Tony hold him closer. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Trying to,” Tony replied. “Not to be cheesy or whatnot, but I do sleep better with you next to me.”

“May I take you to bed?” Stephen asked, sounding even shyer than when he normally asked that. “Please? I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t object to a nap.”

Tony nodded, shifting to press a chaste kiss to Stephen’s lips. “That sounds nice. FRIDAY, save and shut everything off please.”

“Engaging ‘You Shall Not Pass’ protocol, Boss,” FRIDAY reported dutifully.

Tony scoffed. “Remind me to never let you and Peter give Fri name suggestions again.”

“You could just change it if it bothers you that much.” Stephen chose to remind Tony of that instead, even though they both knew Tony was secretly fond of the movie references hidden in his protocols. “Besides, that serves you right for calling me Gandalf all the time.”

“If the shoe fits, babe,” Tony said. He stood up, keeping an arm wrapped around Stephen’s waist as they left the lab and headed for the elevators.

Despite feeling safe and loved in Tony’s arms, more than he could have ever hoped to be and probably more than he deserved, Stephen was still anxious. He felt out of place in the Tower, never mind the fact that he usually spent half of his time there, and he felt even more out of place amongst the team.

“How are the others?” He asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

“They’re getting better.” Tony saw no point in sugarcoating the truth. Stephen would see right through it, and that wouldn’t help him process everything. “Carol and Thor are both bored of training with each other, but no one else wants to spar with either of them yet. Or with Natasha, for that matter.”

“Does anyone ever want to spar with them on a good day?” Stephen asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“You’re all a bunch of sore losers who can’t rise to a friendly challenge” Natasha quipped, suddenly materializing in front of the couple. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is he here?”

“Natasha, I—”

Natasha pointedly ignored Stephen. She never disliked the sorcerer, she was actually indifferent and had no issues telling Tony that, but Tony’s trustful, rather soft nature was a concern of hers. It worked in her favor, sure, but she was really trying to be a better friend to Tony and look out for him more. It was this concern that motivated her to look at Stephen with disgust. Natasha wasn’t scared of him, she took heavy damage in the attacks but it was more minimal compared to some of the things she’d put his friends and family through.

Tony was acting as if none of that happened, and that couldn’t stand.

Natasha frowned and glared at Stephen as she addressed Tony. “Tony what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t play dumb and tell me you’re not following. What are you still doing with him? You barely sleep more than an hour without waking everyone up screaming from phantom pain and nightmares! Do you think we can’t hear you yelling and begging for Stephen to stop torturing you and just kill you? Because we all do!” Natasha took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And after all that, you’re holding him like nothing is wrong? I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving sometimes.”

She stormed off before Stephen could defend himself or before Tony could respond. Her words echoed in Stephen’s head as Tony continued to lead him down the hallway, into the elevator, and into the penthouse.

Stephen sat dejectedly on the bed as Tony shuffled around the room, grabbing a few blankets from the closet. He didn’t say anything as Tony made a little nest of pillows and blankets, the cloak joining the haphazard pile the minute Tony curled up under a throw. Eventually Stephen allowed himself to lay down, offering no protests as Tony hugged him again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, mumbling into the soft fabric of Tony’s shirt.

“I know,” Tony said simply. “Relax sweetheart, it’s okay.”

He was still tense, curling up smaller in Tony’s arms. “Are you okay?” The sorcerer asked.

“I’m fine,” Tony reassured him. That was half true. He was fine, to a point, but there were things bothering him that he had no idea how to tell Stephen about.

Eventually they would have to face the music and talk about everything, and they both knew it. For now, Tony was somewhat okay with ignoring it, clinging to the hope that having his Stephen back would keep the memories at bay.

Tags: @stark-strange-love2 @salty-ironstrange-shipper @funkylittlebidiot @richieleeparker @chocopiggy @hatakehikari @taruyison 

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 3

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1583

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: And so it begins! Thanks for all the likes/reblogs/comments everyone! I see them and I appreciate them! I’ll probably be updating every Tuesday and Thursday now so there’s that. Tags are open!

TTSWL Masterlist

You feel like you’re floating in the middle of a dark pool surrounded by cold and unknown waters. It is relentless in its attempts to drag you down into nothing. Some part of you desires to just let yourself sink and try to ground yourself to whatever you find below. It would be so easy and yet a part of you knew that if you allowed yourself to reach the bottom you would be unable to float up once again. 

So you fight against the rising tide to keep your head above the water. It doesn’t take long then to be pulled out of that darkness. 

“She’s waking up.” 

“She can’t,” someone mumbles next to you. “That tranq should have kept her under for the rest of the night.” 

“It’s the power within her. Must have adapted around the sedative to wake its host up from it. The power won’t be put so easily to rest.” 

“Then do something about it!” 

“I can’t until she’s fully conscious!” 

As if on cue, your eyes flutter open. Your eyelids feel heavy and the brightness in the room doesn’t help your sudden weak state. 

“What’s-” you voice cracks and your tongue feels so foreign in your mouth. “What’s going on?”

Your sight blurs in and out but you recognize that bright red hair from anywhere. 

“Nat?” 

“Hey, Y/N,” she whispers beside you. “It’s ok. You’re ok.” 

You can’t help but feel suddenly angry at the lie that she’s so blatantly telling you at the moment. 

“Liar, liar,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “Pants on...”

A hand is quick to cover your mouth and you move to shove it off only to find your hands handcuffed to the hospital bed. 

“That would have not bode well and you know that.”  

You glare at your assailant only to find Loki staring down at you with a grin. The anger doesn’t fade away at the sight of him. It seems to enhance and he takes notice of it too. 

“Everyone out!” 

Your eyes snap away as you take in the crowd that’s in the room. Everyone is apparently there and you find this sudden urge to yell at them for staring. 

“We’re not-” Tony starts to say before Loki cuts him off. 

“She’s still quite volatile and until she gains some ounce of control, she will not stop until you are all disposed of.” 

With that warning, they all have no other choice but to leave. They all shoot you a sympathetic look and you despise it. You don’t know why you’re feeling so darkly about your friends but you couldn’t stop it. 

“I know,” Loki whispers as he looks down at you. “I know you are quite confused, but I’m going to let go of you now and I hope you can rein in your emotions and be civil with me.” 

His honesty is oddly refreshing and you find yourself relaxing under his hold. True to his word, he releases you and you watch closely as he retreats into the seat next to you.  

“I’m sure you have questions.” 

“So, so many, don’t know where to begin,” you answer. “My head is spinning and I see no end.” 

You frown at the choice of words that flowed out of your mouth so casually. 

“Why am I rhyming? Why can’t I stop? Tell me now before my head drops.” 

“I will answer your questions but I need you to remain calm,” Loki responds. “Can’t have you losing your head... literally.” 

You take a deep breath trying your best to ease your mind, but it was hard. You didn’t know what was going on and why, out of everyone you knew, Loki was the one assisting you with it. 

“You seemed surprised to find everyone here,” Loki states. “Do you not remember how you got here?” 

You shake your head feeling uneasy of not having any recent memories since the museum. 

“You found a book, one of mine, known as the Book of Veritas,” Loki explains. “Essentially, you got too close to it and it unleashed a power to you. I’m not sure exactly the extent of your abilities but I do know that you will have a knack of always knowing the truth of whoever you meet.” 

He pauses as you try to make sense of everything you’ve been told. Oddly enough, some innate part of you told you he wasn’t lying which further proved that his explanation was indeed right.  

“Now, as for your rhyming tongue,” Loki takes a deep breath and shrugs. “I can only presume that this new psychic development is one your mortal mind isn’t capable of withstanding. You are overwhelmed and your mind has reverted to a default language to ease the strain.” 

“This is not ok,” you mumble. “Am I stuck this way?” 

“No, not if I can help it,” Loki answers. “The rhyming is getting on my nerves already.” 

He frowns, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“Don’t know why I told you that. Must be another side effect of yours.” 

You open your mouth to respond but close it when you realize that whatever apologies you had would end up rhyming and sounding insincere. 

Loki doesn’t question your silence and instead props his hand up for you to take. You find yourself hesitating even though something told you he meant no harm.

“I just need to assess the power you have,” Loki explains. “It’ll be quick and harmless.” 

With that answer, you raise your hand as far as the handcuff allowed you to. Loki met you halfway and you instantly feel a warmth spreading through your body. 

“Hmm,” he hums. “That’s surprising.” 

He lets go of your hand and looks up at you. 

“You’ve grown stronger since you first came in. Not strong enough to expel your power physically so we will have to do this the hard way.” 

“Hard way?” you repeat. 

“You need to dig deep and spread some truth.”

“How is that hard?” 

“Because certain truths, the heaviest ones, we like to keep real close,” Loki explains. “You don’t remember this, but you pinpointed some of your friends' insecurities when you first came in. You were quite cruel with them.“

You frown at hearing this hoping your friends knew you hadn’t meant any of it. As if sensing where your mind had drifted to, Loki speaks up. 

“They know it wasn’t you,” he assures you. “It’s all because of the power residing in you. There is no way to extract it without killing you so the solution here is to gain control of it. Seeing as I am the expert on the book and magic itself, I’m going to train you. So first, let’s get you back to speaking normally.” 

You nod in response and take a deep breath. 

“Speak the truth. Use me as a target if you wish. I like to think I’ve got thick skin when it comes to taunting.”

You hesitate at Loki’s offer, but you find it so easy to read him. 

“Little Loki went into the Great Hall. Little Loki had a big fall. Little Loki was the laughing stock of them all. Little Loki felt so utterly small.” 

Loki chuckles at the memory you brought forth. It was simple and childish. Yes it was embarrassing to fall in front of the royal court but it was just a drop in the ocean compared to everything else. He sits back in his chair and looks at you. 

“Now I know you can do better than that,” Loki states. “Come on, dig deeper.” 

You find yourself focusing a bit harder on him and the words just slipped out of your mouth with ease. 

“Silver tongue turned to lead. Thor won her heart in your stead. Princess Elvira loved the royal prince. Loki wasn’t even offered a second glimpse.” 

That one did make him wince but Loki wasn’t utterly devastated at the memory of the Alfheim princess favoring his brother over him. You were getting close to gaining some control but your rhyming tongue still stood strong. 

“Dig deeper,” Loki repeats. 

You take a deep breath and clear your mind of everything but Loki. Envisioning his image, his voice, his overall being. 

Eyes turning red. Ivory skin turning blue. Cold, everything is cold. 

“I…” you stammer out confused. “I’ll rather not say.”

Loki pauses wondering what it is that you saw but withheld from saying. 

“Y/N.” 

“No, it’s a secret for a reason,” you shake your head. “I don’t really understand what I saw exactly but it felt so dark.” 

Loki knew better than to push you to state what you saw in him. He suspected already of the secret you might have uncovered. You had certainly dug deep if you managed to find it. 

He shrugs it off like he always does and looks at you with a small smile.

“You didn’t rhyme that time,” Loki states. “You managed to not only control what truth to find but whether or not to say it. That’s progress.” 

“Does that mean I can get these off?” you ask as you raise your cuffed wrists. 

With a snap of his fingers, the handcuffs are pried open. You stare down at your freed wrists and look up at him in surprise. Last you were told, Loki was incapable of doing magic.  

“How did you do that?” 

Loki doesn’t deem you a verbal response as he offers you a grin before getting up and leaving you on your own.

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @moonlightprime @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi​ @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @moonlightprime @badhollandfluff​ 

[anthropwashere]

Phic Phight: it’s all downhill from here (honey don’t be scared)

Prompt from @aggressivelyclueless: Halfa Valerie AU: Valerie becomes half-ghost. Apart from that being a total nightmare, this also leads her to discover Danny's secret as well. How is she going to handle it?

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 7,825

=

Mr. Heppenheimer, the latest in a long line of chemistry teachers that have come through Casper High since actual, real life ghosts have begun treating Amity Park like their own personal Las Vegas retreat away from the rigors of whatever normal life is like for ghosts in the Ghost Zone, gives Danny a lingering stink eye. Clearly the last teacher, Mrs. Jamshidi (who barely lasted a month, and submitted her two-week notice while recovering in the hospital after an admittedly memorable encounter with Ember), had left notes behind for her successor. Danny doubted a single word of it was in his favor.

"This practical's worth a quarter of your grade this semester," Mr. Heppenheimer says in his usual droll way. "You're not going to make me regret handing you glassware, are you, Mister Fenton?"

Danny, still a bit sore and off-kilter after another Jack Fenton-approved growth spurt, grins down at him. "No, sir."

Mr. Heppenheimer hums doubtfully. Clearly Mrs. Jamshidi had left extensive notes. "Don't make me regret this."

"Short of a ghost attack, I doubt you will," Danny answers truthfully. He really has gotten a much better control on his powers since the last time any science teacher let him near anything fragile, well over a year ago now. Mrs. Gorman hated him from the start for reasons he never figured out, anyway. He's looking forward to a fresh start.

Of course, worryingly enough Danny’s been sensing a pretty powerful ghost lurking around Casper High for over a week now. Along with the usual big green beasties that like to come sniffing around crowds of humans, which he’s had to dip out to handle three times now. No one’s noticed his on-going ghost sense, though it helps that he’s long-since gotten into the habit of keeping one hand cupped lazily over his mouth—just in case. That’ll be harder to pass off here in a practical lab, but there ought to be a lot of things bubbling and steaming soon. He just has to be careful until he’s got some cover.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again, more dismissive than doubtful, and lets him approach the counter. His partner in this practical is Star, which is—randomized, definitely. Whatever, also definitely. He and Star have as much in common as him and an actual star, which is to say—nothing. He doesn't even generate heat anymore, not really. He's got a modified Maddie Fenton-approved belt buckle that lets him fake it, but it's not remotely the same thing, and not a

ll that convincing at close quarters anyway. Star, at least, knows him well enough that she's been bringing a mint green cardigan to class ever since they were assigned project partners.

Danny, well-aware he’s only good in the eyes of his peers for a laugh and anti-ghost tech, smiles thinly at Star and gestures at her to take the lead. She sniffs pointedly and does just so, which is fine with him. She's well on her way to valedictorian, whereas he's just trying to graduate. If deferring to whatever she wants gets him a passing grade, sure! He'll do whatever she says and accept whatever belittling comment she tacks on along with it. No skin off his back, right?

About twenty minutes into class there's a magnificent crash of glass that puts Danny 110% on edge; it's only Sam appearing at his left with a reassuring hand on his arm that keeps him from blasting a hole through the wall out of pure reflex. Which, maybe, possibly, likely says something about his state of mind after three straight years of fighting the kind of monsters that don't have any place outside of his very worst nightmares, but—whatever. Point is, thanks to Sam, he doesn't trash the lab or draw any unwanted attention to himself, both of which are good things! Another point in his favor: it’s finally somebody else’s turn to destroy a whole tray of beakers.

"Miss—Gray!" Mr. Heppenheimer shouts after a brief glance at the clipboard Danny hasn't seen him put down in the two weeks since he took the job. "What's the meaning of this?!"

"S-sorry!" Valerie stammers, her eyes firmly on the mess at her feet. Her project partner, Wes, is scowling at Danny. Likely because he believes the mess is entirely his fault. Wes can believe whatever he likes; just because he's the only one not fully in on The Big Secret who figured out The Big Secret out doesn't make him automatically right 100% of the time. Case in point: now. Danny's only touched his notebook, where he's got three pages of dutifully written notes on what Star's tasked him to write as she did all the metaphorical heavy lifting. He could swear on a stack of Bibles that this latest chemistry accident doesn't have a thing to do with him. It’s kind of refreshing, honestly.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again. It seems to be his default over all the loud swearing he'd obviously prefer to be doing. "Clean it up. And do be careful, Miss Gray. I'd prefer to avoid sending anyone to the nurse's office today if I can help it."

"I—yeah. Yes, sorry." Valerie dashes off to the closet where all the safety-slash-cleaning gear is stashed to fetch cat litter, broom, and dustpan. Star scoffs on Danny's right, while Sam, hand still firmly squeezing Danny's bicep, has a worryingly thoughtful scowl on.

"Valerie has been such a mess since her dad lost his job," Star remarks in the usual scathingly cruel A-lister tone.

"He got his job back." Danny points out as he tries to shrug Sam off without making a big deal of it.

"So?" Star's tone has shifted from scathing to incredulous, which means she somehow didn't know something Danny's known since the tail end of their freshman year. It's admittedly bizarre to find himself able to lord some classmate gossip over an A-lister, but—with a glance at Sam to confirm it is, in fact, cool to lord this gossip over an A-lister—he gives Star a slow, sly grin as he gestures her closer. She leans in without an ounce of self-restraint or disgust, which means Danny's moved higher up the food chain since the last time he bothered to pay any attention.

"Valerie's dad used to be some bigwig in Axion Labs," he says, one eye on Sam and the other on Tucker, both of whom in turn are watching the teacher and the rest of the class. Just in case. "After Vlad—uh. Vladco, I mean—took over the company, Mister Gray got his position back despite Phantom screwing him over, and it's been smooth sailing for him ever since."

The sound of Valerie sweeping up broken glass gets discordantly loud, somehow. Danny doesn't have to look at her to know she's glaring daggers at him. He sets his shoulders and sticks the angle of his nose twenty degrees snootier, mostly to spite whatever murderous and/or weepy glower Valerie might be trying to laser into his soul. Which, whatever. He knows the shape of his own soul by now. He knows it's Phantom, plus or minus some degree of fiery white hair and green-tinged skin.

A bit of the old guilt niggles in the back of his head though. Accident or not, it was Phantom who cost Mr. Gray his job in the first place and Vlad who gave it back. And Vlad only did it at all once he realized his favorite little ghost fighting minion would be a better thorn in Phantom’s side if she didn’t have to work a part-time job at the Nasty Burger. Which—well. Danny’s glad she doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, for all that it does make her a better thorn in his side.

But—guilt. Dumb guilt, but on his plate all the same. He manages to edge the conversation to some other Gossip with a capital G that even Star's not aware of. Oh the things a guy can hear when he can literally turn invisible. It's kind of fun, honestly, to fill her in. The rest of the hour is spent hissing old-as-shit hearsay that still manages to make Star's eyes light up like she's watching Paulina’s favorite cabin burn down again. They do, somehow, manage to get their project pushed along to step three, which will pick up with the rest of all the normal and unobtrusive partnered projects tomorrow. He's not sure which of them is to thank for that, but he is more than a little pleased with how neatly he wrote their notes. It's the most like a regular student he's felt in months. It's honestly pretty great!

"We have a problem," Tucker hisses no less than five seconds and no more than ten after the bell rings. It's that perfect middle ground time of everyone shoving all their shit into their bags so they can bolt out the classroom door as fast as normal-humanly possible, so it's also that perfect middle ground time of nobody paying the three of them the least bit of attention.

"You noticed too?" Sam asks with her usual omniscient scowl. Danny truly and whole-heartedly wishes she'd stop with that, but he's yet to find an opportunity where he can say that to her face without coming across as a total shitheel, including now, so he grits his teeth and raises a pointedly baffled eyebrow at the both of them.

"Noticed what?" He asks with a patience he hasn't actually felt since junior high.

"Valerie's—" Tucker does a casual look around to see if anyone's close enough to eavesdrop, intentionally or no, which means this is a Phantom Thing. And if this is something Phantom and Valerie related? Yeah, no, he's in too good a mood for whatever latest gadget or trick Vlad might be cooking up via Valerie.

He holds up a hand with a sigh he automatically pretends is a yawn to cover up the blue wisp that escapes with it. "Can this wait? Better yet, can we just—not? At least for today? I'm really not up for counter-scheming."

"No need for that," Tucker assures way too quickly. The nervous laugh he follows it up with really doesn't help.

"Right," Danny says wryly, but motions to let them talk. Sam and Tucker share one of those weird non-verbal psychic looks where they have a whole conversation in the span of two seconds that goes right over Danny's head. He wishes they’d stop doing that, but if he called them out on it they’d deny it loudly, and it’d be a whole thing, and—ugh.

"Valerie's acting weird," Tucker says once they've finished. "As in, 'we definitely need to intervene' weird."

"Possessed?"

"No. But this might be worse."

"But this isn't the first time she made a mess in class,” Sam says.

Danny slips his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil into his bag. He's learned the hard way to pack light and get real good at shorthand, as well as keep all his textbooks down in the Fenton dungeon where they're least likely to get torched in a ghost fight. Again. "Isn't it?"

"Nope," Tucker says as they make their way to the door. Danny's sure to give Mr. Heppenheimer some ever-so-slightly iridescent stink eye of his own to make him flinch, and then doubt himself for flinching. One good turn, and all that. "Seventh actually. Third a teacher noticed, but she's been weirding out a lot of the other students."

Danny grunts, more interested in shouldering other people out of the way to make it easier for Sam and Tucker to squeeze out into the hall. Hey, may as well get some mileage out of being one of the tallest guys in school, right? 

Sam touches his elbow to make sure she's got his attention while they make their way to their next classes. She's got sign language, Tucker's got photography, and Danny's got a free hour to nap in the auditorium ceiling. "She's constantly dropping things, she's always shivering, every lie I've heard her tell a faculty member has been total nonsense, she hasn't gone after a single ghost in almost two weeks—"

"Well, that would explain why there's been an uptick in my fifth period snake-wrangling," Danny remarks dryly, then grins nastily at some girl giving him a serious case of side-eye. She squeaks—actually squeaks!—and ducks behind some broad-shouldered guy in an eye-wateringly neon football jersey.

Tucker wacks his other elbow, scowling up at him. "Dude, this is serious."

"I haven't heard a reason to care yet."

He doesn't have to look to see they're doing another round of psychic Concerned About Our Bestie back-and-forth. Sam's the one who trips him—damn her preference for steel-toed boots—but it's Tucker who shoves him into a nook between two battered banks of lockers. "Danny," they both snap.

He blinks down at them expectantly, staying quiet. Hey, they're the one's worried about the badass ghost fighting black belt who would love nothing more than an opportunity to strap Phantom down to an operating table and go wild with a cattle prod. He's just trying to graduate. Preferably with all his teeth.

"Valerie is acting just like you did freshman year," Sam hisses. "Right after the you-know-what."

Danny barks laughter. "Yeah, right."

Sam and Tucker remain stone-cold serious. Worse, they look worried.

They wouldn't suggest something so crazy without a lot of thought put into it.

Fuck.

= 

It's another two days before Danny gets a good—"good"—opportunity to talk to Valerie one-on-one. During that time he sees first-hand no less than 37 incidents of irrefutable acts of half-ghost-hood. How nobody else—including that ass, Wes!—has caught on yet is nothing short of a miracle. Valerie cut ties with every other person in their graduating class after some disastrous party embarrassment Danny never cared enough to find out the details of secondhand. She's kept her head down and her teeth bared at anybody who’s tried to meet her halfway, and it seems everyone's accepted the fact that Valerie Gray is the second worst delinquent in the entire school.

(The first is him, naturally.)

He corners her three minutes before the bell to end lunch will ring. He's got calculus next—an unexpected good turn in his life that still makes him giggle every time he actually has time to do his homework—and she's got English. They can't afford to skip either class, but hey, you only half-die once, right?

She scowls up at him, twitching her head out of a habit she's not yet broken. She only shaved her head a month ago. He's still reeling over how good she looks, and also how much it makes her look like the awesome older Valerie from the horrible future where he and Vlad ghost-melded and murdered a dismayingly large number of humans. If that future is still somehow lingering out there in the tangled fabric of spacetime like a bad hangnail, he’s pretty sure that Valerie died, fullstop. 

He’d like it if he could do something to help this Valerie not die, fullstop. 

She scowls up at him harder. "What do you want?"

He allows himself another couple seconds to just—bask. Yes, she's hot as hell, and if they were both normal humans she could easily break him over her knee like a fistful of kindling. He's not yet gotten an inch of the Fenton width. He's basically all elbows, and it's now all but impossible to find shoes in his size. It's great, really, just super.

Mostly though, he holds his breath and lets his ghost sense settle in a chilly, wriggly knot in his lungs. How the hell did he not realize she was the cause before now?

He smiles down at her. It becomes immediately apparent that this is the worst possible thing he could have chosen to do. He stops smiling. Somehow that's worse.

"We need to talk," he says, and immediately wants to hit himself. Has daytime television not taught him anything? That's the worst thing he could have said!

"I don't think so," she says, and tries to edge past him. He catches her elbow—

—and she's got him smashed up against a classroom door before he can even blink. 

"Uh," they say at the same time. He feels one of her hands go ice cube cold against his skin. Since it's him and not a normal person, it's far more likely her hand just dropped to some negative three-digit temperature. If he were human, he'd be at risk for frostbite. As he's not, it's more like a refreshing breeze. He swears he even gets a whiff of the Ghost Zone off of her; like a hard shock of static on his tongue in a midnight snowfall. It's... nice. Is that what he smell-feels like? 

Hmm. Distracting himself. Best to stop doing that.

She realizes after too long a beat of awkward silence that one of her arms has gone full-ghostly, and springs back with a half-hysterical yelp. He turns around to look at her again, rolling his shoulder out of a long habit of pretending that Dash trying to rough him up actually feels like anything. She looks—

Well. Kind of like some kind of frazzled toy dog that's had to deal with way too many idiot humans manhandling her, and like she's pissed that all the finger-biting she's tried has only gotten her a bunch of braindead cooing. Danny finds himself sympathizing, and also like maybe he needs to vent to somebody else aside from Cujo on their 3 a.m. Thursday walkies. He considers several facial expressions he could make at her, dismisses all of them, and settles on upping the grimacing and shoulder-rolling. It sort of works? She looks guilty, which is honestly one of the better reactions she could be leveling at him right now.

"We really do need to talk, actually," he says, feigning an apologetic tone while pretending very hard he hasn’t noticed her left arm suddenly stops at the elbow. 

"Pretty sure we don't," she retorts.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes, and then a show of looking pointedly at her invisible arm. She looks down at herself, does a double-take, yelps again, and hides both of her arms behind her back as she makes several stammering attempts at a believable excuse. Danny winces, torn between sympathy and secondhand embarrassment. Sam was right; this is exactly how he stumbled his way through the first six months of figuring out his powers. At least he had the benefit of a couple of friends and eventually Jazz too to help cover his tracks. Valerie's on her own. She's going to get found out at this rate, and accidentally or not she will drag him and Vlad down with her.

"It's okay," he says calmly.

"Everything's fine I don't know what you're talking about!" 

He looks at her, unimpressed, until she looks appropriately embarrassed. "Let's try this again," he says, and puts both hands up to stall when she goes to retort. "Please?"

She purses her lips, huffing through her nose, but nods. Good enough.

"You're not okay," he tells her. "You're freaking out because something crazy happened to you, and you don't have anybody to turn to for answers without risking everything. You think you're a monster, or that you're dead, or you're dying, or some shitty combination of all of the above. You're scared because you can't control what's happening, and you're scared because you know you're gonna get caught at this rate, and you're scared because you know exactly what the GIW does to the ecto-entities it manages to get its hands on, because you're the reason half the ghosts that frequent Amity Park have done time in a GIW containment cell. Right?"

Valerie stares.

She keeps staring. 

Eventually her mouth starts making some feeble attempt at protest.

A while after that she musters up the stamina to stammer out, "W-whahaaat are you talking about? I think you've got—ha! The wrong idea! Yeah! I bet you're thinking I'm, uh. Um. Possessed! Yes! I'm definitely possessed! You caught me, oh fuck, I'm definitely just another one of Walker's goons—nobody important though! No nefarious schemes going on either, honest! I just, uh, wanted to take a human… out for a spin? Yes, that’s what I’m doing. You definitely don't need to say anything to your parents—"

"Valerie," he says.

Her mouth snaps shut so hard her teeth click. She looks terrified, furious, and miserable all at once. She looks like she knows she's cornered, caught red-handed, and like she fully expects Danny to rat her out. Does she really think so little of him?

He winces inwardly. Of course she does. She's kept him at arm's length since freshman year because he never owned up the truth to her. She's been protecting him from himself all this time by staying away. She only knows the front he puts on for everybody else.

The bell rings. In a matter of seconds this hallway is going to be packed with students, and this is not a conversation to risk anyone overhearing. He looks around. Their options are to either continue this wedged in a janitor's closet (she'd probably shoot him), ghost her up to the roof (she'd definitely shoot him) or duck into a classroom. Luck's on his side for once. He'd cornered her just outside the wreckage of the wood shop; it's not going to be fit to teach in until after they graduate, and even the other, regular delinquents know better than to hang out anywhere with that much Fenton ectobiological hazard caution tape. 

He nods toward the door. "Please?"

She looks like she'd much rather go toe-to-tail with Desiree, but the sound of a crowd surging their way decides for her. She bolts for the door, Danny at her heels, and they're in and hidden out of sight before anyone could see them go. He watches through a small hole in a stretch of opaque plastic sheeting, patiently waiting for the rest of the school to disperse into their various classrooms. There're too many holes in the wood shop's walls to risk talking even with all the noise out there. 

Eventually the hall outside quiets. The late bell rings. It's about as safe as it'll ever get to have this talk.

"I can explain," she begins, her voice quiet and shaken. 

"You don't have to," he says, and turns on the scary eyes as he faces her. 

Three years of fighting nightmare monsters hasn't done Valerie the right kind of favors either. A metal cube materializes over her shoulder and flares brightly as it powers up a shot. She in turn steps smoothly into a defensive stance, light humming up and down her as she... doesn't pull her ghost-fighting suit out of the spectral hammerspace it sloughs off to whenever she doesn't need it. He blinks. He looks at the cube properly once it becomes clear she isn't going to shoot him. The light coming off it isn't pink anymore, but the same ghost-green as his own powers.

"Explain," she growls.

Probably not a good time for jokes. He keeps his serious face on, scary eyes and all. "I was in an accident freshman year. My parents couldn't get their ghost portal to work. They got lax about not letting Jazz and I down there unsupervised. I took Sam and Tucker down there one afternoon while they were out. One thing led to another, and I accidentally got their portal to work. While I was standing inside it."

She winces. Not like Jazz or Wes did when he stammered out the story to them just so they'd stop asking. Not in sympathy as they tried to imagine what that would have felt like and falling a thousand miles short (not that he ever said so). She gives him the same look he's seen in the mirror every time a bad dream of that day grabs him by the throat and shocks him awake. She knows.

"Don't shoot," he jokes weakly, and reaches for that cold spark that shares the same illogical, impossible space as his heart. 

Another three cubes appear in a neat arc over her head when he changes, not that he blames her. She's just found out she dated her sworn enemy once upon a time. He's definitely surprised she doesn't shoot. She does go a bit deer in the headlights again, but more like a ghost deer that's just as likely to shoot lasers as it might bolt into traffic. "I," she tries. "You. You're. The whole goddamn time?!"

"Okay," he says. "Point of order. Cujo really wasn't my dog yet when I got your dad fired. That was an accident and I'm still very, very sorry about that."

Her eyes go ghost-red. "You wanna try that again?"

He sucks air in through his teeth, sighs out another blue wisp. She's doing it too. Has been the whole conversation actually, and plenty of other times before. He wonders if she's figured out what it means yet. He adds it to the list he's mentally compiling, keeps his hands up, and starts running his mouth as contritely as he can. 

=

The sun's almost set by the time Danny's really, truly, fully convinced Valerie not to turn him into the half-ghost equivalent of Swiss cheese. He's so hungry he feels like he's nursing a gut wound, but he thinks it's the smart choice to not suggest talking all of this out over dinner. It's not like his allowance (and black hole of an appetite) would pay for more than clearing out the dollar menu at Jack-in-the-Box, and no way is he stupid enough to suggest Valerie pay. So he remains perched on one of the few remaining tables left in the wood shop, still in Phantom mode mostly to watch Valerie grind her teeth. She's sitting cross-legged on another table, cubes and scary eyes gone. She's reached the fun sort of balance between bone-tired exhaustion and impotent frustration with no good outlet that isn't the kind of violence that will draw a lot of unwanted attention. She sits there and stews awhile, turning over everything he's told her.

He pulls out his phone—tossing her a wry grin when she flinches—and lets her stew. He shoots out a "safe, taking longer than a thought it would" into the group chat he's got with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. Tucker lets him know he's rooting for him, and also they handled the Box Ghost's usual afternoon showing with a game of checkers, and Wulf's in town avoiding Walker again. Sam reminds him to work on his book report if Valerie doesn't skin him alive first. He shoots back a neutral affirmative to them both, then pulls up Bubble Blaster to kill time until Valerie feels like talking—

"It was two weeks ago," she starts.

Danny resists the urge to sigh and pockets his phone again. Well, he mimes pocketing his phone. It sort of phases into that weird imaginary skin between his halves with a buzz of protest. When he changes back it'll be in his back right pocket, fully charged. 

"Mister Masters," she pauses to make this really complicated grimace, like she'd sort of prefer calling Vlad something like Captain Fuckface but she's too polite to do it aloud. Danny makes a mental note to call Vlad exactly that the next time they run into each other. The fruitloop'll make a hilarious noise, he just knows it. "Mister Masters sent me info on another job. He told me some of his employees at Axion Labs had reported some ghost sightings, and my dad had mentioned seeing some weird stuff too, so. So I snuck out and went to go check it out. It didn't sound like anything bad, just. Y'know. Another ghost."

Two weeks ago her tone would have been one of complete, dismissive disgust. Two weeks ago she was still human though. Danny stays quiet, which is probably the smart thing to do.

"There was something on my radar when I got there. I thought it was gonna be you, honestly—" She glares, a flicker of red coloring her eyes. He shrugs and gives her a charming grin that's all, Who, me? She doesn't buy it for a second, not that he expected her too. Two weeks ago Vlad was being a real prick though, setting all sorts of nasty ghoulies he'd Frankenstein'd in his super gross secret lab loose in the downtown area. Danny's honestly not sure if he got any sleep for like, four straight days. There was a lot of doctored coffee involved, by which he means the kind of coffee a regular human couldn't drink without requiring a fairly immediate trip to the ER. 

(Tucker Foley tested.)

"Most of the reports were from some department I've never heard my dad talk about, and it's all three levels underground. If Technus hadn't juiced my suit up again I don't think I could've gotten down there—"

That's an alarm bell Danny super doesn't like the sound of. "Again?"

She waves her hand dismissively that's all, So last year, honey, try and keep up. "Doesn't matter. Point is, I got down there, and it—well. It looked like the Fen—uh. Your parents' lab. Kind of identical, actually. In a kinda creepy way."

Yeah, that's Vlad all over. Kinda creepy and not all that original. Oh well. He raises his eyebrows pointedly.

"Uh. Well, my radar went crazy down there, but I still couldn't get a real bead on anything. So I went poking around and found the framework of this—well, portal. I didn't realize it was a portal though, since it didn't look like the one in your parents' lab. It was standing on its own in the middle of the room, covered in cables—"

"Ours is a mess too," he points out. "You can't tell unless it's off though. I'm not really sure where all those cables and weird hunks of tech go while it's on...."

She gives him a look like she's regretting not shooting him earlier. He does the smart thing by not pointing out that shooting him is still very much on the table, and that if history's anything to go by she's a huge fan of shooting him. He can't help but think that opinion might, just possibly, if he's very lucky, have changed in the last couple of hours. Fingers crossed? Those cube cannon things hurt like a bitch.

"I was looking around that thing because it was freaking my radar out when Plas—Mister Masters showed up."

He reels a bit. She must've expected it, because it's her turn to raise her eyebrows pointedly. "Wait," he says, holding his hands up in a time out T. "Wait a minute. You knew he's Plasmius? The whole goddamn time?!"

"No," she snaps. "Only after Danielle."

"That's nearly the whole goddamn time. What the hell, he's been lording you over me as a reason not to blab the truth for years. For fuck's sake, Valerie—"

"You wanna maybe shut up and let me finish, ghost kid?"

He scowls. She scowls back, plus scary eyes. He's pretty sure she's not doing it intentionally, so the effect's not as impressive as it could be. Red continues to be a great color for her though, not that he's dumb enough to say that.

"Plasmius showed up, blasted me into the portal, and hit the switch before I could do anything," she bites out, hunching in on herself like she's wishing the ground would swallow her whole—aaaand there she goes, sinking through the table. He clears his throat loudly, she realizes what's going on and ends up flailing around like an idiot for a few seconds until her body gets physical enough to stay put. 

"Sam was right," he muses. "This is entertaining."

"Fuck you," she snaps without much venom. Mostly she sounds tired.

He sighs, hating himself a little for reasons he's not gonna explore right now. He's too hungry for introspection. "Did he evil-monologue why he did that to you?"

"A little. I was kinda out of it, after." She grimaces, gesturing at herself. "I didn't catch all of it. Something about being a distraction for you, though I didn't know that he meant you at the time."

"Oh goodie, this evil plot has layers, and ruining your life is apparently a fucking footnote." He scrubs his face with both hands and changes back into his plain Jane self. Valerie twitches badly, eyes flashing red and a fun eye-watering white shimmer shivering up her whole body. Huh. "Hey, have you tried changing back since that asshat zapped you?"

"Of course not," she hisses, looking at him like he just suggested she go streaking through the administration office. "I'm trying to keep a low profile while I figure out a way to fix what he did to me."

Ah, hell.

"I'm sorry," seems the smart thing to start with. He hops off the table, hands up where she can see them as he approaches her. He takes a risk at reaching for her hands. She surprises him again by continuing to not shoot him. "I'm really, really sorry. But there's no fixing this. You just get—better at being this." He squeezes a little when she starts shaking her head and pulling away, amping up the 'I'm sorry for your loss' face he's had to get way too good at. Superhero, he ain't. "I'm serious. Vlad's been like me—like us—since like, '85 or whenever he got zapped by a proto-portal, and he got really sick after."

Her eyes go big and laser pointer red again. "S-sick?"

"Ecto-acne. Ever hear of it?" She shakes her head. "You'll probably be okay, if Axion's portal is based on my parents' portal, or even Vlad's."

"He has a portal?"

"In Wisconsin," he confirms grimly. "He's been trying to build a second one ever since he moved here, but I kept messing with him. I didn't think to check the basements of any of his evil companies."

"Axion Labs isn't evil," she retorts instead of doing the sensible thing and blaming him outright for the shit she’s mired in for keeps. 

He raises an eyebrow. "Sure. And Invis-o-Bill really is hellbent on establishing a ghost-human empire capital in Amity fucking Park."

She winces.

"Wait. You didn't actually believe that, did you?"

She winces harder.

"Ohhhh Valerie," he sighs, dropping her hands to melodramatically sag against another table. "I'm wounded. Honestly, truthfully, hurt that you'd think so highly of fucking Invis-o-Bill. Haven't you been paying attention to the shit the gossip mags shill about me? I'm either a ghost blob with delusions of grandeur in a skinsuit or the ostracized son of Pariah Dark and Desiree. You don't think my evil ghost parents have been around enough to teach me how to be a good evil emperor, do you?"

She's trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Shut up. How was I supposed to know what to believe, huh? None of the ghosts ever say shit about you."

"Yeah, 'cause they're cool with keeping my secret!"

She presses forward to jab a finger in his chest. She's still kind of flicker-y at the edges, like she hasn't quite decided she isn't going to go full ghost hunter on him, so it sort of feels like another hard burst of static. Goosebumps break out all down his skin; it's all he can do not to shiver. "What's with that, anyway? Most of 'em are so hellbent on destroying you for stopping them again and again, but none of them have ever come blabbing your big life-ruining secret to me or your parents!"

He shrugs. "Honestly? I don't think it's ever occurred to any of them. I'm pretty sure Skulker's the only one who knows like, for sure that Vlad's the same as me, and that's only 'cuz he likes to take jobs from Vlad now and then. The others?" Another, more expansive shrug as he slides sideways out of her range. So she makes him uneasy. What about it? She's only shot him point blank like, five hundred times if she's done it once. He'd really like to get out of this whole situation without any new burns to hide.

"Huh," she says. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's not—I dunno. I think it'd be like cheating for most of 'em to go blabbing to some humans or even Vlad. They wanna take me down, sure, but they wanna do it on their own steam. I'm definitely not complaining."

"Course you're not, because you are ludicrously overpowered compared to most of the ghosts out there itching for a little world domination."

He grins down at her, big and sloppy. "Hey, give it some time and you'll be OP as fuck too."

She reacts to that little nugget of wisdom just like he expected her to; retreating halfway across the room and shrinking in on herself like she's dearly wishing for a bit of time travel to undo what Vlad did to her on a selfish whim. Well. A conversation with Clockwork is an option still on the table. He'll give her a few more days of adjustment before suggesting a fun little jaunt into the Ghost Zone. He's honestly not sure if Clockwork and her are properly acquainted. That should be good for a laugh if nothing else. 

"Hey," he says companionably. "I mean it. You're gonna be okay."

She scoffs. He pretends not to hear the dampness to it. "Oh, sure. So long as I do exactly what you say, right?"

"This isn't blackmail," he says, injecting as much calm as he can to his voice. "Honest. I mean, I won't lie and pretend I'm not hoping you listen to me. If you get found out it's both of our necks on the chopping block. Sure, I'll make sure Vlad takes the fall too, so that's some nice revenge wrapped with a bow, but it's not like we'd be around to really appreciate it, y'know?"

She makes another, slightly damper noise. He considers the risk of hugging her against the risk of walking away with all his parts where they ought to be, and he decides the smart thing is to stay put and pretend right along with her that she's definitely not crying.

"I want to help you, Valerie. I've been where you're at. I know how much it sucks. And I had Sam and Tucker helping me while I tried to figure it all out. You... you need somebody to help you. Trust me on this much at least, okay? This isn't something you can do alone."

Her various damp noises evolve into an outright sob. "Fuck."

Yeah. That about sums it up.

"Fuck," she hisses out again, pawing roughly at her face. "This. I didn't want—all this time and you never—I coulda killed you but you didn't—and now I'm—!"

Okay. Yeah. Superheroes don't leave anybody to cry so miserably on their own. He's hardy. Even if she shoots him he can hang out, make sure she's okay to get home on her own. And they both skipped their last two classes. He ought to go rummage around their teachers' desks and try to figure out what tonight's homework is. She's got every reason to burn her textbooks and scream fuck it at the moon (Danny's sophomore year was a personal low point), and it's just as likely Skulker will pull some new scheme to try and skin him tonight as any other school night, but it's the principle of the thing. They're both just trying to graduate at this point, and they're so close. 

It might seem so incredibly, completely stupid, to care about graduating with all the other bullshit in their lives. Most days, it is stupid to care. But there are some days that stupid, pointless piece of paper is the only reason Danny chooses to get out of bed. He chooses to remember that he's still human enough for human consequences. He needs that diploma to get into college, and he needs to get into college so he can earn his bachelor's, and he needs to be stable enough to earn his pilot's license, and then somehow net 1,000 hours as pilot-in-command in a fucking jet, and on and on and on, because there's still this stupid, stupid, stupid little voice in his head that won't shut up about how cool it'd be to actually manage to become an astronaut despite—

—everything.

He wants to ask what Valerie wanted to be when she grew up, but that's... not now. That's a conversation for later, if he's lucky enough that she'll trust him with that little, foolish dream every kid clings to even when they're loudly proclaiming how stupid it is. Everybody grows up and realizes how stupid the dream jobs they wanted when they were kids was; it's the real dreamers that grit their teeth and keep working despite—

—everything.

He takes the risk, the leap of faith. He closes the distance between them and plays a pattern across her shoulder to warn her he's coming in for a hug. No cubes or guns or accidental ecto-rays materialize to blast him into next week, so he calls it a win and finishes the deed. She's all hunched shoulders and hard fingers knotted in his shirt, hot tears and probably some snot at war with how neutrally temperature-wise the rest of her feels. Everybody else—everybody human—feels hot as a sunburn if he gets too close. Ghosts are still too cold, though thanks to his handy-dandy ice powers none of them are ever cold enough to hurt like humans do. 

Here and now, hugging Valerie and whispering soft, pointless bullshit into her frizzy hair is the closest to human he's felt in—

—in too long.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he replies, instead of Me too.

"Thank you," she says.

"Nothin' to thank me for," he replies, instead of You should be blaming me for this.

"I'm scared," she says.

"It's going to be okay," he replies, and means it.

=

It's almost nine by the time he makes it to Sam's house, and he's so hungry he tunnel visions twice on the flight over. Lucky him, his friends and secret keepers know how bullshit his anatomy is, and there's a veritable buffet awaiting him when he gets there. Luckier him, his friends and secret keepers know better than to try and hold a Serious Conversation when he's like this, and leave him alone for the better part of 20 minutes before they both start loudly clearing their throats.

He slows his flawless imitation of a combine harvester long enough to muster a, "Hngh?"

Sam and Tucker waste precious moments he could be upping his calorie count with another psychic conversation that they're clearly both enjoying. He scowls, for all the good it'll do him.

"How'd it go?" Sam asks.

"Well," he says, setting his fork down to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Manners, schmmaners. "She didn't shoot me."

"Damn it," Tucker says loudly, and pulls out his phone.

"Seriously?" Danny asks.

"He owes Jazz twenty bucks," Same explains as Tucker begins a furiously-typed text. Danny suppresses the urge to shudder. Something about the haptic feedback on cell phones really sets him on edge. He genuinely doesn't know if it's a pet peeve or a ghost thing. Either way he always has to squash the insane urge to pitch Tucker's phone at the nearest brick wall, and right now that is an honest struggle.

"Seriously?" He repeats. "You bet against me?"

Tucker pauses long enough to level an incredulous glare at him. "Dude."

...yeah, okay. That's fair. Danny would've bet against himself too, if he'd known to. 

"Rude," he says anyway, on principle. 

Sam and Tucker both make a huge show of rolling their eyes, but at least Sam pushes another three slices of pizza in his direction. They even ordered in, so there's actual meat and cheese on it. He has the best friends a guy could ask for, even if Tucker is an ass nine times out of ten. Serves him right to lose 20 bucks, voting against him against his sister of all people.

"Details," Sam demands. "How's she doing, what happened, is she gonna stop trying to kill you, et cetera."

"Vlad happened," he manages through half a slice of pizza. Sam and Tucker both wince; Tucker hard enough he actually drops his phone.

"Fuck," Tucker hisses. "Why?"

"Dunno yet. And I dunno about you, but figuring out his latest scheme has definitely become number one on my honey do list."

They both nod. Tucker's the one to ask the important follow up. "And Valerie? How's she doing?"

He makes a seesaw motion with one hand. "Again, gotta stress the whole 'didn't shoot me' thing." He grins real sleazily while Tucker groans. "She's not great though. I foresee the next like, two months helping her out taking priority over all the usual ghost bullshit. Short of like, apocalyptic ghost attacks, of course."

"Fair," Sam and Tucker both say. Sam gives him a pointed capital L Look, going so far as to pull his plate a few inches away so he can better direct his instinctive growl at her. "She's not gonna rat, is she?"

"No," comes out more snarl-y than he means it to, but—pizza. Sam takes him at face value at least, and gives him his plate back, with an extra slice of meat lover's for good behavior. She's his favorite. 

"We're gonna co-op," he adds, and pretends not to notice the Extraordinarily Concerned Psychic Look Sam and Tucker share over that bit of news. Whatever. They can stress over the idea of Valerie being included in their group. Him? He's gonna polish off the rest of this pizza, pull his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil out of his bag, and he's going to get as much of a headstart on his homework before patrol as he can. If he actually manages to finish his two pages of grammar problems he's going to call it a great day. Anything else? Well, that's gravy so far as he's concerned. 

He grins to himself a little, thinking of Valerie's new phone number burning a hole in his pocket. If anything toothsome decides to show up tonight he got the okay to text her. And honestly? For all that she's in the same bullshit hell as he, Vlad, and Elle are....

Well. It's probably shitty of him, but it's still nice to have an ally and friend in this half-ghost bullshit hell.

[kyliafanfiction]

Ron doesn’t always treat Hermione all that well in Hogwarts. He’s prone to mocking her for her studiousness, belittle her interests and passions, and sometimes acts with a sort of... almost entitled attitude regarding her? This is not his default state with regards to her, but it is a thing he does with some semi regularity.

Now he has reasons for this, stemming from his upbringing, childhood, etc, though none of them excuse them, and they don’t change that Ron is basically a good person and a hero.

But I don’t hold it against Ron in the sense that this is the reason I don’t ship Ron/Hermione (I have seen people do this, however).

After all, I’m a Dramione shipper. Whatever Ron does with regards to her, Draco does worse. And my position has always been - and is - that someone shouldn’t be forever damned for their behavior as a teenager. 

And yet, I do have to admit, Ron’s behavior towards Hermione bothers me in a somewhat more... visceral way, shall we say. And that of course, smacks of hypocrisy, and I try my best to not be a hypocrite.

So this takes some unpacking to try to resolve.

Now, I think part of the reason why it bothers me more is something comes up a lot in regards to the Buffy fandom with regards to the way some people regard Xander’s (real, but often exaggerated in the fandom) occasional sexist or chauvanistic behavior and attitudes when compared to multiple the literal murders they will ship Buffy with, or just exist on the show. Some people will regard Xander as worse than these people.

And as others have pointed out, one of the reasons is that Xander’s behavior - even the stuff he actually did - is more... real. No one currently in fandom has ever been murdered. Very few of us have been the victims of attempted murder. And most of us don’t have a close friend or family member who have been murder. Though some have.

By contrast, pretty much every woman ever has had to deal with the kinds of stuff Xander occasionally says and does to the woman in his life, or much worse. 

And the same I think, holds true, for many people who read Harry potter and come away more judgey of Ron than of Hermione - they’ve experienced male friends belittling their interests sometimes, even if not with real malice in mind, or acting oddly entitled to them in ways. Or things like that.

By contrast... most women (at least those who are- in the US - white (or equivalent dominant racial/ethnic group in their country) have not really experienced being the victims of racism in the way Hermione is from Draco. Bullied, yes, but not on the grounds of racism.

So again, there’s a certain amount of - for some people who judge Ron harder (not all) there’s a certain amount of Ron’s behavior feeling more... real. More close to home,

The other thing - and this one I think is the one that really does it for me - is that Ron is her friend. It’s one thing when an enemy or rival or someone who you’ve never gotten along with belittles you, bullies you, insults your passions, etc.

But when your friend - someone whose opinion you value, someone who you like, spend a lot of time with, may have feelings for, someone who is close to you - belittles your passions, dismisses your feelings at times, gives you the cold shoulder for months for things outside of your control and treats you (arguably, at times, anyway) as if you’re ‘on hold for him’... that hurts more.

I saw a post recently that discussed this as well - how people who love enemies to lovers ships can dislike friends to lovers ships where one of the friends mistreats (or arguably does, anyway) the other. You view certain behaviors differently when coming from a friend/lover/family member/etc, than from an enemy/rival/someone you’ve never gotten along with/some random person. 

Neither of the reasons actually make Ron’s behavior any worse, really, in an object sense. Draco’s racist behavior and bullying attitude towards Hermione is worse, and the version of Draco Malfoy I like and ship with Hermione is as much a character in potentia (that is, who the character could become) as opposed to the character he is.

Ultimately though, neither reason is also why I ship Dramione over Romione, because as I said, one shouldn’t be forever damned for their teenage behavior. But it does explain - to me anyway - why I sideeye Teenage Ron’s poor behavior with regards to Hermione than I do Teenage Draco’s, 

[anywhozits]

The Best Game of Charades Literally Ever

Rating: T-ish

Pairing: Kristanna

Words: 4306

Summary: Kristoff and Anna are way too nervecited for their family game night after finding out they’re going to have a baby. Because, truly, there’s no better way to tell Elsa and Olaf than by playing a little charades...

Notes: because @justlookatthosesausages posted about charades pregnancy announcements today I thought I should post this fanfic I wrote in december but didn’t have the courage to post hehe thx to my friends who read it back then on my email blast lol

not exactly the same as the brilliant ideas @justlookatthosesausages had BUT I hope you all still enjoy! 

Anna felt like she was about to jump out of her skin. Jittery. Nervous. Excited. Nervexcited. Nervecited. Something like that. That combo word was truly the only one she could make up that could properly describe exactly how she felt.

She’d had a bit of an inkling for a few weeks now, but nothing certain. She still felt vastly unprepared, lacking knowledge of anything remotely scientific about how this was supposed to work, but regardless … now she felt certain. She knew. This was really happening – so soon after she and Kristoff had gotten married. Honestly exactly the way she wanted it. Another check mark on not being alone anymore.

The second she had allowed herself to finally admit it she knew she wanted to tell Elsa. Even though they didn’t live within the same walls anymore, their bond was still one of such great tenacity that Anna couldn’t imagine waiting the recommended three more months to tell her. Even if things went south … Elsa would be there.

But no. Anna wouldn’t consider that. She was too happy and nothing could ruin this moment of epic nervecited-ness.

All Anna had to do was send a little letter over Gale mail requesting the presence of only Elsa and Olaf at Friday game night that week. She loved both Honeymaren and Ryder but felt that maybe she actually should wait a bit longer to tell them, per doctor’s orders. This probably had set off some alarm bells in Elsa’s mind, but Anna didn’t know of another way to do it and honestly this beautiful charades idea was just too juicy to not use. Nervecited. Oh so nervecited.

Anna’s eyes flicked to the clock quickly and she bit her lip, foot tap tap tapping in a frenzy. Elsa was three minutes late.

Anna wanted to scream it out loud for everybody to hear. She couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of screaming, though, she let out a frustrated groan. “Elsa, where are you?!” She dramatically flopped onto the sofa, sighing again and staring with laser focus at the clock, counting the seconds and tapping her feet together to the beat.

Just in time for Kristoff to saunter into the parlor, knowing exactly what a state he was about to find his wife in. “Anna, baby—"

Anna shot up on the couch and sat with her legs zipped together, absent mindedly rubbing her stomach. “Anna baby?! Anna and baby you mean or just Anna, baby like pet name baby? Or both? Sorry … I didn’t mean to cut you off …” She got up from the couch and grabbed Kristoff’s hands. “I’m just so excited and then you said baby and wow we’re having a baby, Kristoff!”

He pulled her into his arms in a tight embrace, Anna virtually disappearing in Kristoff’s large, burly frame. He kissed her forehead tenderly. “I’m really excited, too, Anna.”

“Nervecited?” Anna felt better about her word creation. Smirking.

Kristoff chuckled. “Nervecited for tonight. Excited for the future.” That made Anna’s smirk turn to a beam.

“So did you mean Anna baby or Anna and baby or something more like—”

“Anna, baby. Pet name baby. But Anna and baby is definitely much cuter. So I probably should’ve claimed it.”

Anna laughed a bit and snuggled her head into Kristoff’s strong chest. “I love you.”

He hugged her tighter. If that were even possible. “I love you too, Anna and baby.”

Anna stood up on her tip toes and brought her lips up to Kristoff’s. He responded passionately, parting her lips with his tongue and deepening the kiss. Anna’s arms floated up to Kristoff’s head and she pulled their lips in closer, harder, encircling his tongue with her own. Kristoff’s hands habitually drifted lower and lower until they rested on her rump and he gave both cheeks a playful squeeze. She giggled into his kiss, pushing her pelvis closer up to his pelvis, feeling his excitement growing. Feeling her very own excitement pulsating down below.

A cough. From somewhere in the distance. And then: “Uhhh...”

Kristoff and Anna jumped to attention, taking several paces away from each other, both wiping their lips, Anna smoothing her dress down. They were both nervously laughing. Anna tried to get some words out. “Oh, Elsa we—you’re—wow here you are.”

Kristoff thought he needed to try speaking as well. “We were just—uh—”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Elsa said, completely deadpan.

“No, no. That’s perfectly all right. We were still … um—” Kristoff cleared his throat. Elsa had caught them probably dozens of times but without fail the most recent always felt like it was the most awkward. Gulp. “Getting organized.”

Anna took a deep breath, brushing off all of the discomfort. She was married now, after all. Much less embarrassing by default. Plus, now that Elsa was here… showtime. “Elsa! So happy to see you!” Anna pranced up to her sister and gave her an enthusiastic embrace. “I’m gonna go wrangle up a snowman and a reindeer… well, not wrangle, but uh—you know what I mean! Be back soon.” She gave a small wave to her husband and sister before dashing off, skipping eagerly in anticipation.

Kristoff let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Sorry about—”

Elsa spoke at the same time. “How are—" They both laughed, wishing in that moment they had Anna’s ability to bounce back from any slightly uncomfortable situation. “You don’t need to apologize, Kristoff.”

“Agh, well…” Now he was starting to feel this same nervecited sentiment creeping into himself. He worried about saying anything for fear of spoiling it right then and there. And he knew how much Anna wanted to be the one to tell Elsa.

“How are you enjoying being the Prince Consort?” More than two months with this title and Kristoff still hadn’t gotten used to it. His coronation had been August, a couple weeks after his and Anna’s royal wedding, but Kristoff found he generally avoided the subject of this title that he felt he didn’t deserve.

“Uh—it’s good. I haven’t done much so far, but I did start attending some meetings over the last week...not that anybody takes me seriously—but I think—maybe—they’re starting to?” Whisper around Europe was that the Queen of Arendelle had settled for a commoner. And not just any commoner—an ice harvester at that. Someone who would know nothing of diplomacy despite his yearlong stint in international ice affairs. “Anna is doing great, though. She does all the work. Perfectly, too.”

“I know how Anna’s doing,” Elsa said matter-of-factly. “I was curious about you. I’m glad they’re starting to take you seriously, Kristoff. You deserve that kind of respect.”

Kristoff blushed. “Thanks.”

“Do you think you want to take more of an active role in the future?”

“No, no. Definitely not. I’m happy to watch Anna shine.”

“Might come in handy if you’re still hoping for that big family?”

Before he knew what was happening, Kristoff let out a huge surprised, “Ha!” as he bit his lip, suddenly concerned with how much he could give away out of sheer shock. Somehow, he reigned it in. “Uh—yeah. That’s sort of what I was thinking actually… I mean—we definitely do still want…you know—lots of babies. At some point. I don’t know. Doesn’t need to be soon. It’ll happen when it happens. Which could be… next month or next year or even—”

Truly just in time to rescue Kristoff from utter secret-keeping doom, Anna, Olaf, and Sven came bounding into the parlor. His nervous habit of rambling was getting out of hand, but at least he and Anna had that in common.

“Here we all are! We’re all here! It’s charades time— can you believe it? Another Friday night with the family!” Anna was squealing this in an octave much higher than her normally high voice.

“Hi, Elsa! I missed you!” Olaf snuggled up close to Elsa.

“It’s only been a week…”

“But a BIG week. Right, Kristoff?” Anna just about winked.

“Right,” Kristoff said. Oh dear were they making this obvious. Paired with the fact Ryder and Honeymaren weren’t invited… Elsa probably already knew. Sven winked at both Kristoff and Anna before taking his place by the timer. Kristoff had shared the news with him the second the doctor confirmed their suspicions, reacting with pure elation.

Exactly how she hoped Elsa and Olaf would react tonight… still so nervecited!

Anna couldn’t wait any longer. “Okay everyone, sit sit sit sit sit.” She ushered the three of them to do just that and they followed her orders, after all – she was the Queen.

Right as Anna slumped down on the couch she jumped back up again. “I’ll go first!”

Anna and Kristoff had originally discussed that Anna would not go first but instead go last, since her announcement would almost certainly stop the game. But when Anna set her mind to something … and tonight that something was telling her sister the announcement she was so incredibly beyond excited to share, she was not going to wait even a second longer.

“We’re gonna do this round together, all right? No teams. Winner takes all.” She made a show of picking out the piece of paper, reading what it said. Book. Throwing it to the ground. “Okay… everyone ready?”

Elsa and Kristoff both nodded while Olaf raised his twig arm in the air in a sing-songy, “Yes!”

“Sven, flip the timer!” Anna exclaimed enthusiastically. Here we go. HERE WE GO!

Anna smiled widely. Beamed, really, and giggled. She took both her hands and pointed at her belly with her index fingers.

Olaf went first. “Buttons?”

Anna shook her head.

“Belly button?” No. “Dress?”

Anna shook her head more forcefully and kept pointing to her belly. Kristoff had a matching smile on his face but said nothing.

Elsa, next. “Oh! Corset?” No.

Olaf started rattling off answers. “You… ate too much? Your stomach hurts? Oh—just stomach maybe? Indigestion? You’re hungry? You’re in a food coma!” Anna kept shaking her head vigorously. No, no, no.

“You’re going to throw up?” Elsa added.

Anna smirked, and half nodded half shook her head. Kind of? Or was it more confusing to go down this path?

Nobody was getting it. Anna didn’t know what else to do.

Clearly, they should’ve practiced more. Kristoff always got it on the third try. Hungry? Stomach? Ohmygodyouandyouramazinghusbandkristoffarehavingababy.

“Kristoff you’re not guessing!” Olaf added, confused.

“Oh—uh—right. Guessing. Charades. Right,” Kristoff gulped, knowing he could very well spoil everything. They hadn’t practiced this either. “Uh—stomach?”

“I already guessed that, Kristoff. Keep up,” Olaf said, scowling.

“S… sick?”

Anna couldn’t help but laugh and concurrently shook her head. Kristoff was an awful actor. Truly horrid.

Olaf grimaced. “Okay, Kristoff. Never mind. You can stop guessing now.” Kristoff’s cheeks turned slightly rosy but then he caught a glimpse at Sven grunting and somehow subtly bouncing in panic as he eyed the timer.

“Anna! You’re running out of time!”

Panic set in. She knew she couldn’t try to give this same clue for another round. That would be more confusing than it already was.

So she switched gears. Leaving rehearsed territory. Taking a different charades direction.

Anna pantomimed rocking a baby, pressing her forearms together and moving them side to side.

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Uh… swing? Holding something … holding a basket?”

Anna shook her head again.

“Holding Olaf!” Olaf exclaimed, very excited about the prospect of this being the answer. “Like that one time I flurried!”

“Carrying something?”

Anna’s eyes lit up. She brought her right arm out and started gesturing for them to keep guessing. They were on the right track. Ish. The closest track they had been on during this game at least.

“Carrying … ice? Carrying … chocolate? Carrying …”

“Olaf!” He was still too excited about this.

Now she sighed. They were not as close as she had hoped. So, she switched gears again, pivoting in her boots to show them her profile, taking her right arm and tracing a big belly on top of her own. A hint of what was to come. And then she pointed to herself. Back to the belly tracing. Then back to herself.

“You… ate too much? Did I already guess that?” Olaf was lost.

But Elsa wasn’t. The penny dropped suddenly, and she had to clap her left hand over her mouth in ecstatic shock. “Anna… are you… ?”

Anna’s squeal was almost deafening. “Yes!” She brought her arms in close, pumping them up and down and up and down before doing the same thing with her whole body. “Yes, yes, yes!” Anna’s eyes were welling up with joyful tears, but she didn’t care enough to wipe them away.

Elsa sprang from the couch and ran over to her sister, grabbing her hands and pulling her in for a hug. “Anna, I’m so happy for you.” Elsa pulled away from the hug and walked over to Kristoff, giving him a tender embrace as well. “And you, too, Kristoff. Congratulations.” She turned back to Anna. “How have you been feeling? How long have you known?”

Anna opened her mouth to answer but Olaf jumped on top of the couch to make himself known.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. What was the answer?”

Anna smiled at him, softly. Clueless in a cute way. “The answer is… I’m going to have a baby... Kristoff and I are having a baby, Olaf.”

“WHAT?! A BABY?! You and Kristoff… I’m an UNCLE?!”

Tears welled in Anna’s eyes again. She could only nod, unable to speak without crying out.

“Where’s the baby?!” Olaf started toddling around the parlor, looking everywhere he thought maybe a baby could be hiding. Under the couch. “Is the baby here?” Behind the door. “Are you here, baby?” He dramatically pulled the curtains. “Ah-hah! I know you’re hiding back here!” His face fell when he only saw windows on the other side.

Anna, Kristoff, and Elsa were all in stitches. “Olaf…the baby’s in here.” Anna put her hands on her stomach.

“Hiding under your dress?”

Anna tried to gather herself enough in between giggles to answer him properly. “The baby’s inside of me right now. It’s really tiny. Just started growing … but for the next few months my stomach is gonna get bigger and bigger because the baby will get bigger, and then it’ll be born once it’s big enough and then maybe it’ll be hiding behind the curtains.”

“You don’t have a big belly at all, Anna.”

“No, not yet. The baby is really, really small right now. The doctor told me not to tell anybody until I can feel it moving, which won’t be for a few more months, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you!”

Understanding lit up on Elsa’s face. “That’s why Honeymaren and Ryder weren’t invited.”

“You caught us,” Kristoff said. Anna grabbed Kristoff’s arm and leaned in closer to him, resting her head on his chest. Kristoff readjusted to put his arm around her, pulling her in to kiss her forehead.

Olaf still felt he had some unresolved question. “But… how did it get in there? Did you eat something special?”

Kristoff dropped his arm and quickly became utterly stiff. Anna’s cheeks flushed red and Elsa laughed. She definitely knew this was coming.

“Agh—that’s… that’s a question. Yup. That’s a … question.” Kristoff was floundering.

“Uh-huh! That’s why I asked it!”

Kristoff realized his mistake in speaking right away. He tried to deflect. “Elsa? Anna? Anything to add?”

“Nope. All you, husband.”

“El…Elsa?”

“Sorry, Kristoff.”

Olaf stared at the three of them wide eyed in anticipation. He knew this answer had to be a good one if it took them this long to figure out who was going to explain it.

“Well… when Anna and I got married… and not before that. No, no, no. Definitely not before that,” Kristoff kept making some cringy nervous laughter sound that made everything that much more uncomfortable. But he knew Olaf had a big mouth and wanted to make sure he didn’t go blabbing to everyone around town about this. "Definitely not in sleds and closets and Elsa’s old study and—"

Elsa grimaced. “My former study?! When I used it?!”

“and forests and pantries—" Why did he always rattle off way too much information when he got nervous?

“Slow down there, honey,” Anna said, cheeks red as roses.

“Yes…right—uh—well, once we got married, we took… we really loved. Uh—what I mean to say is—when we are alone…sometimes—agh,” Kristoff kept looking at Anna and Elsa, hoping that they would rescue him, but they both shook their heads at his futile attempt. He groaned. Loudly. “Yes. Anna ate this special… pie? That… the trolls baked. For us. To have a baby. Uh-huh. You’re right, Olaf. She ate something special.”

Anna and Elsa were both hiding behind their hands, trying their best to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape. Sven brought his foot to his eyes in disgrace.

“Oh! Neat! Wow. I can’t wait to one day eat this pie and have little baby Olafs running around.” Olaf jumped in the air, happy to finally have some answers to help him with his carefully cultivated newfound wisdom. “Elsa, you can ask your questions now.”

Finally. Elsa had been waiting for this for far too long. “When did you find out?”

“I haven’t been uh – unwell since … September?” Anna never loved having to refer to her monthly gift as being unwell but sometimes she felt the need to come off as prim and proper in front of her sister. Some kind of residual need to impress Elsa, even though Elsa was impressed with her sister almost 100% of the time.

“August,” Kristoff said. Remembering an unfortunately messy tryst in the kitchen in the middle of the night that they spent far too long cleaning up, giggling like delirious school children the whole time.

Anna remembered this too and blushed. “August,” she repeated in a much cheerier tone, a bit of a wink directed at her husband. Elsa let out a surprised laugh. “I only let myself think it for real this week though. A few days ago, really,” Anna smiled at her husband. They had had a great last couple of days. “The doctor said the baby will probably come in May.”

“Whoooaaaaa. That’s so long from now,” Olaf said.

“How have you been feeling?”

“Mostly okay… I guess a little bit tired. Kristoff has been handling my morning meetings,” Anna said before adding in a whisper, “He didn’t wake me up until noon today.”

“Keeping up with your queenly duties while with child must be pretty difficult,” Elsa said, thankful to not have to deal with leading a kingdom anymore.

“Not if I get to sleep until noon every day!”

“It helps me, too, since uh—she’s been pretty—uh—moody... even more so if she has an early morning,” Kristoff explained.

Anna’s voice got lower, louder, angrier. “Oh, come on, who asked you?!” The second those words came out of her mouth she clapped her hand over her mouth started laughing. The others all joined in, always appreciating Anna’s ability to laugh at herself at any time. “He’s right!”

“And … have you been able to eat? I didn’t really want to bring this up earlier, but you look quite thin.” Elsa had noticed for the last couple weeks that Anna’s collarbones were protruding a bit more than they usually did.

Anna sighed. “Not really. Well, I can eat I guess but it won’t really … stay in there? If you know what I mean. I’d say I haven’t been able to eat much for … two weeks now?”

Kristoff nodded. He had started keeping a journal to get all of these things straight ahead of fatherhood.

“Actually, the only thing I’ve been able to keep down is … chocolate.” Anna’s eyes lit up as she sang that word. Chocolate. The most perfect of all the foods. “And on that note… honey?” Anna held out her right hand to her husband.

“Got you, baby.” He pulled out some carefully wrapped truffles from his vest pocket. Elsa and Olaf looked at each other and then back at Kristoff. Not something they expected. He shrugged. “I keep these truffles in my pockets at all times.”

“My hero,” Anna said, swooning, popping truffle after truffle into her mouth.

“Do you have any extra for me there, Kristoff?” Elsa smiled. “They smell delicious.”

Kristoff chuckled as he somehow produced even more truffles and dropped them into Elsa’s hands. “I swear you two should enter a chocolate eating contest or something.”

“Well you know we’d win.” Kristoff could only guess that was what his wife said as her mouth was overflowing and spilling of chocolate.

“Did you make these yourself?” Elsa’s words were also barely comprehensible.

Kristoff nodded. “Gotta make sure Anna has her chocolate fix at least eight times a day.”

She giggled. “He really knows how to please me,” Anna said before realizing the slightly different implications her words could take on. “Ah—uh—not in that way. I mean, obviously in that way… because you know, the baby and all. I mean not—not actually obviously because I ate that cake thingie from the trolls. And that’s why…”

“Slow down there, honey,” Kristoff said, smirking and snaking his arm around her waist. “And it was a pie, remember?”

“Yes—yes. Of course! The pie thingie. From the trolls!”

Despite Anna trying way too hard to remedy this situation for the sake of Olaf’s preserved innocence, Olaf paid no mind. Honestly, he probably paid very little attention to that last bit of conversation generally. His questions were more interesting than Elsa’s anyway. As a result, he dramatically collapsed onto the couch. “I can’t believe we have to wait until May. That’s…” Olaf started counting on his twig fingers. “Seven months away?”

“But it’ll fly by, I’m sure… uh, and—” Anna had no idea why she felt nervous asking this of her sister, but she did, and she couldn’t ignore it. “Elsa, I’d love you to be there… when the baby’s born. If you want to, I mean. I don’t want to pressure you into anything since it’ll probably be, well—graphic. And everything.”

“I’d love to,” Elsa said, smiling. Feeling her heart swell. Anna let out a sigh of relief. No reason to be worried.

“Can I come?!” Olaf jumped in the air, but Anna shook her head and simply ignored him. Way too graphic for a snowman.

“Kristoff thought maybe he would send you something through Gale mail and then you could ride Nokk. You know, in case it happens quickly.”

“Wow you’ve really thought things through.”

“Kristoff has been working on an entire birth plan. And it’s very detailed. You should see his journals.” He was tracking her symptoms and her cycle and the weeks. He read countless books on pregnancy, transcribing pages upon pages of what happens on a week to week basis. And all of this in just a few days… his childbirth repertoire would only grow over the coming months.

But still he only shrugged. Oh-so-humble. “I want to know what she’s going through. So I can be there for her, fully, every single step of the way.” Elsa beamed. She was so happy that Kristoff was the man Anna had decided was her happily ever after.

“Awww,” Anna said, holding her hands close to her heart.

“When are you going to tell Honeymaren and Ryder? It’s going to be so hard to not give it away!”

“Whichever Friday comes after I feel the baby start moving. Oh, oh! We can do some more charades! You can even guess your horrible answers again to throw them off track!” Anna said, “Oh, oh, OH! And maybe I’ll be showing by then and I don’t even have to mime it I can just, like, show it. Uh—wordplay totally intended.”

Before Elsa knew it, she had tears pooling in her eyes. She didn’t think she was one for tears but seeing her little sister beaming talking about her future family overwhelmed Elsa with emotions. “I’m so happy for you, Anna.”

“Aww!” Anna bounded up to her sister and brought Elsa into her arms. When she pulled away, she noticed how Elsa’s tears glistened in the moonlight, instantly feeling hot tears stinging her own eyes the second she did. She could barely get out: “Elsa… are you crying?”

Elsa started laughing but the tears spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks. Noticing Anna’s tears, Elsa started wiping them away with her thumbs. “And you’re crying, too.”

“You know I’m an empathetic crier,” Anna said, hugging her sister again.

“I’m just … so thrilled for you two. And I’m really excited to be an aunt.” Elsa squeezed Anna tighter and then beckoned for Kristoff to join. Olaf ran up to them and hugged Anna’s legs, shedding some wholesome and loving snowman tears in the process. Sven wedged his way in to lay his head on Anna’s shoulders. A group hug. The original family. All they needed was Sven to complete their family portrait.

They basked in each other’s warmth for a while, enjoying the tender moment. Thinking about how much was going to change, but at the same time knowing how much would stay the same. Them, holding each other. This. Hugs, love. Family. Although the family was getting bigger and would likely keep getting bigger… as long as they had each other, they knew that the only changes would be for the better. Because love is the one thing in life that’s permanent.

[liishang]

headcanon + view of self.

GENERAL. Shang comes off as a very confident person. And yes, he is a very confident and self-righteous person for sure. But he, like anyone, has his fair share of doubts. I really wanna touch on an aspect of his personality that’s harder to describe and thats how he views himself. 

SERIOUS. okay despite how I love to link everything back to his childhood, I don’t think Shang’s rule-following attitude actually comes from the way he was raised. It’s his default state in a lot of the movie, even when he’s proven wrong or why the rules are garbage. This has to be because it’s just part of his personality. It’s his personality to be a rule follower, and he just so happened to fit the mold for a perfect soldier because of it !! But yeah, Shang knows that he’s serious, and he’s very aware that people have negative views about him being a serious man. He’s actually not too uncomfortable about it. This is a part of his personality he has some conflicting feelings on, but over all he likes that he can be taken seriously since for part of his life he was seen as someone who was just handed opportunity instead of deserving it.

ANGER & DEFENSIVENESS. This is a huge trait for Shang. He’s quick to anger, frustrated, and he also gets VERY defensive when he’s confronted with conflicting views or someone is telling him he’s wrong. This is a trait of his personality Shang REALLY dislikes about himself. He very much wishes that this wasn’t something that was hard wired into him because it leads to a lot of him needing to cool down and come back to a situation with a level head. He would much rather be able to clearly and affective deal with personal conflict in a more positive manner. His defensiveness is something he works on, but it can be very hard to combat that when it’s very deeply rooted in your feelings and personality. This is also why he’s able to come back and apologize after a bout of anger or defensiveness. Because he doesn’t WANT to react those ways, but it’s like his default setting. 

ABILITIES. Shang views his skills and abilities in combat as something he’s incredibly proud of. He sees a lot of pride in his accomplishments and holds himself to a very high standard when it comes to combat and martial arts. Shang is a man who is always looking to improve himself physically and learn new skills. He’s incredible at teaching himself new things and he truly doesn’t doubt any of his abilities. 

LOOKS. Shang knows he’s good looking and is very confident in his looks. But he does not boast to show off in this regard. he’s not a vain guy at all, and he doesn’t really try to enhance anything about his looks. He also does not deny that he’s good looking. He knows he is. His nickname is literally Pretty Boy. He’s the kind of dude that doesn’t really take that as an insult because he knows it’s true. it true. he pretty. but he is also very aware that looking good isn’t everything. he’s an army man. he’s seen the prettiest of people come back with horrible scars. it’s not something he THINKS about. it’s not something he CARES about. but he’s very self aware on this.

GOOD & BAD. Overall, Shang has mixed feelings about himself. In one sense he is incredibly proud of who he is and how he’s come to be who he is. Most of his doubts are about things in his personality that are very hard to change. It’s hard to change defensiveness and quick anger. It’s hard to change seriousness. He will bounce back and forth with being comfortable with these aspects of himself, and wishing he was different. His self-righteous attitude is a very important aspect of his personality overall. 

[harrysbbby]

European Adventure Part 2 - Peter Parker x Reader

Read part 1 here

A/N: i just wanted to say thank you to everyone for the support on this, i did not expect it to have so many likes and comments so quckily. I haven’t had a chance to respond to everyone, so thank you!

warning: ffh spoilers

“Good news, we’re going to Prague!” Mr Harrington announced. Everyone was very confused- what about Paris? “Tour company upgraded us” he clarified seeing the perplexed expressions of his students.

The class made their way towards the bus. You were walking with your roomie for the trip, Michelle aka MJ. You were helping each other with your bags as you clumsily made your way towards your not-very-bus-driver-looking bus driver, who you discovered name was Dimitri.

Peter and Ned were trailing behind the two of you, talking in hushed whispers, you could only catch the words “fury” and “hijacked”. What the hell were they talking about? You shrugged it off that it was probably one of their video games or something. But the thought continued to nag in the back of your head as you took a seat towards the back of the bus. This newly found suspicion of Peter came mainly from the previous day’s events.

What was that stuff coming out of him? Was it coming out of him- no of course it couldn’t, that’d be so weird… maybe it was just water? That would make sense.

Questions flew around your head- you hadn’t had much time to think about all the confusing things you had seen. But something didn’t sit right with you. But that was all you could go off, you didn’t see Peter again that day until you had all returned to the hotel, watching what had unfolded on the news.

He seemed fine- he had called his Aunt almost instantly but that wasn’t suspicious, we had all nearly died, talking to family was regular after a near-death experience- but you had heard him whisper down the line to her about this “plan” and how he had begun to rethink it. You assumed it was the one with MJ he talked so fondly about. But by the way he spoke you thought there might have been more to it.

Your phone dinged. As you looked at the screen you realised that you had been lost in your thoughts for over 2 hours now. Your eyes skimmed the notification on your screen.

Gwen: yo lover girl, where’s my denim jacket? It’s an EMERGENCY

You rolled your eyes. Your sister always had a knack for being ridiculously melodramatic. She was your best friend- when your parents disappeared she was there for you, being three years older than you she became your default parent, despite being only 14 at the time, as you were shifted between foster carers. She was what got you through it all.

Y/N: it’s in my suitcase dummy. You said I could take it with me, remember? Also, don’t call me lover girl

Gwen: damn I did too. What am I supposed to wear with my orange dress now??!! And because you’re in lurrrrvvvveee with that geeky boy

Y/N: wear the black one. It’s in my cupboard, next to my red coat. And I’m not in love with him! I’ve spent two days with him! All I said was he was cute and nice

Gwen: ooh yes this jacket is cute thx sis xx And I can hear wedding bells already <3

You puffed out a laugh as you lent back in your chair. Pfft, you weren’t in love with him. Sure, you liked Peter, he was funny and smart and far more mature then most guys going into senior year. But he liked MJ, and you weren’t going to put yourself through the pain of losing someone again.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t hang out with him.

You stood up from your seat and made your way to the back seat of the bus where you knew he was sitting. As you reached where he was you peered over the chair in front of him and let out a giggle. He looked up and as soon as he saw you his cheeks became a dark shade of crimson.

“Sick glasses Parker.” You laughed as you took the seat two across from him since his bag was taking up the seat next to him.

He chuckled a little, before fumbling to put the glasses back into their case.

“T-thanks. Um, they were a gift from a... friend.” He swallowed as he finished his sentence. You nodded as you smiled at him

“Well your friend has a pretty suave sense of fashion. But, uh, I don’t know how well they suit you?” you fake grimaced as you squinted your eyes at you. He reached across the empty seat to lightly punch you in the arm.

“Hey! Shut up! They’re a fashion statement” he laughed

“Oh yeah Peter, because you’re just the pinnacle of stylish,” you smirked at him.

 ***

The bus came to halt just inside a small town as Mr Harrington’s voice rang out across the bus announcing a ten-minute pit stop. You stood up quickly. Peter laughed at your eagerness.

“You won’t be laughing when I pee on you Peter!” you shouted as you ran down the aisle of the bus before any of your classmates could leave their seats. A chorus of giggles followed you as you left the bus, quickly making your way towards the bathroom. You took your time in the bathroom, having a quick conversation with Betty and MJ. Betty was chattering about her and Ned’s relationship. You and MJ shared a look as she spoke about how amazing love at first sight was.

“Betty,” you said, “you’ve known Ned for years. This is like love at fifth million sight” you laugh and even MJ snorted out a laugh.

“Yeah, but this is like the first time I’ve seen him, you know?” Betty exaggerated.

“No” you stated as MJ dryly stated “Not at all”

“Whatever,” Betty huffed as she crossed her arms. You could hear Mr Dell’s voice urging you all to get back on the bus.

“I don’t believe in love” MJ stated. You laughed at her,

“Yeah sure, Miss ‘Obsessed-over-Mr-Darcy-for-4-months-straight.’”

“Hey! That was an unrealistic standard. He’s much better than anyone I could actually fall in love with” She countered

“He literally was a dick to her- that’s a ridiculously accurate portrayal of a relationship.” You countered back. She rolled her eyes,

“Only good thing about that book was its ability to pave way for the feminist movement,” Betty said, laughing at the banter between the two of you. “Besides,” she sighed dreamily, “Ned’s not a dick to me, does that mean we’re unrealistic.” You and MJ rolled your eyes at the lovestruck blonde as the three of you made your way onto the bus. You didn’t mean for it to happen, but for some reason, MJ’s statement clung to the front of you brain.

“I don’t believe in love”- maybe this means she doesn’t like Peter. This would make things much easier. Wait! Much easier for what?

But that was exactly the thing- it would make thing harder. This was exactly why Peter liked her- she was unconventional. She didn’t fall into the hopeless romantic category and that made her appealing. Unlike you. Whilst not a soppy, love-obsessed teenager, you did appreciate the occasional cutesy moment or proof of true love. It gave you hope that one day you would find someone that made you happy. Maybe that someone was Peter…

Just as the thought entered your head you made it disappear. That was weird. Sure, you’d known him for a little over a year, but you’d only gotten to know him really, really well in the past 3 days. God, you were turning into Betty.

But as you thought about him, you realised he hadn’t returned to his original seat at the back of the bus. You looked around for where he was when you saw him sitting in the very front seat. He was peaking around the seat, looking at Brad. Brad was looking down at his phone and he was looking at a photo.

You saw that it was Peter… with his pants down, with some random lady? You looked at Brad, back to where Peter was now standing.

You were walking towards him, to tell him what you saw on Brad’s phone, when you saw his hand fly across Flash’s face.

“Peter,” you said continuing down the aisle of seats towards him, “did you just punch Flash?”

He looked up at you with the glasses he had before now covering his face. He looked up astonished.

“No!” he exclaimed but looked like he immediately regretted it. He looked in terror behind you. You turned around to follow his gaze, but as you did, the bus lurched violently from side to side. Screams left the students mouths as the bus swerved.

“This is not the Autobahn!” you heard Mr Dell’s voice shriek.

You lost your footing as you fell forward. Peter was quick to reach his arms out in front of him and grab your shoulders just as your face was inches from the carpet of the bus. He stood you upright, and as you went to thank him, he turned around manically.

“Edith!” he said. What? Who the hell was Edith?

Once he found what he was looking for he crouched down and picked up his glasses, the ones you had seen earlier that day, and placed them on his nose. He looked passed you in terror once again. His mouth was opening and closing in panic, almost as if he was trying to find the right words to say to combat the situation he was in.

You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, when Mr Harrington’s voice came from behind you. You spun around, your back now facing Peter.

“Peter, Y/N, find your fannies in a seat and buckle up, right now!” he said. Peter grunted. He grabbed your shoulders and whispered through gritted teeth in your ear from behind you.

“Create a distraction.” A distraction? For what? You wanted to ask him, but you could tell by the tone of his voice this was urgent and needed to be acted upon immediately. You hesitated for a moment, before pointing out the window behind Mr Harrington’s head.

“Oh! Look at the baby mountain goats!” you yelled.

“Baby mountain goats?” Mr Harrington exclaimed. This caught the attention of your classmates as they all clamored to that side of the bus in order to catch a glimpse of the non-existent animal. As their attention was diverted you spun around to ask Peter what the actual hell was going on. But all you were met was his feet. As you looked up you saw him in the air, as if he had jumped through the escape hatch, his arm stretched out in front of him. He landed almost silently in front of you, his hair stuck up randomly from the force of the wind. You looked at him incredulously as he puffed.

“I don’t see any mountain goats.” Mr Harrington stated. You stared at Peter with confusion for one more second before turning around to you teacher.

“Oh, um, you must have, uh… you must’ve missed them, yeah…” you uttered slowly, as you turned back to Peter, with your brow still furrowed. His chest was still rising and falling hard, as he fixed the glasses on his nose since they had gone slightly askew when he had jumped.

You were shocked. How was that even humanly possible? And what was he doing? You opened and closed your mouth multiple times in an attempt to find the right words, but they escaped you. You had so many questions, but not the first clue on what to ask.

“I know you think none of us have noticed Peter,” Betty spoke up. You both whipped to face her direction as she continued, “but your new look? I love it”

“Oh, thanks” he breathed out. He nodded a few times before slumping into his seat.

“Right babe?” Betty stated to Ned.

You hesitated for a moment but decided to sit next to him. You heard Ned’s voice agreeing from the seats behind you as you looked over at the boy on your right.

“Yeah babe! Sophisticated, classy… very European.”

Peter opened his eyes after a few seconds, hand over his racing heart.

“Thanks for covering me” he said, a slight smile on his face, his nose scrunched as he looked at you hesitantly. He had no idea how you were going to react.

You looked at him stunned. You breathed harshly out your nose as you puffed out a laugh.

“You’re welcome I guess? But I mean, what was that..?” you trailed off as you dropped your voice and lent in closer to him, your thumb motioned over your shoulder to where you and him had stood during all the commotion.

“What was what?” he squeaked, “that was totally normal” he laughed awkwardly.

“Sure, Peter,” you rolled your eyes. “Um, anyway,” you shook your head to focus one what you were doing originally, “I came down here to tell you I saw a photo of you…on Brad’s phone.” You cringed as you recounted the image in your head.

Peter’s eyes widen, “that’s not what it looks like, at all!” he speaks quickly, sitting straight up in his seat, shaking his head furiously.

“It’s okay Peter,” you smiled, “you don’t have to explain.” His shoulders visibly relaxed at your words as he slouched back into his seat again. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I can help. I do’t know, maybe I can try and get him to delete it?” you asked, shrugging.

“You would do that?” he asked. He peered at you over his glasses with a look of anticipation on his face, as if you were about laugh at him or make fun of him because of what the picture entailed.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “I mean you clearly don’t want him to have it and I doubt it speaks much truth. You’re, um,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “you’re not like that.”

He genuinely smiled at you. He stared at you for a moment with a look of admiration and, almost, realisation. Without thinking much he brought a finger up to push his glasses up his nose, but retracted his hand, almost as if he had forgotten they were there.

“Oh!” he spoke louder this time, making you jump slightly. “No! I mean, it’s okay. I can handle it.” He said firmly, nodding his head.

“Oh okay.” You said mildly deflated. You really did want to help Peter. “Okay, um, well I’ll just head back to my seat.” You sentence got quieter as you spoke, standing up to retreat to your seat. As you left you heard Peter’s quiet whisper ‘okay let’s try that again’.

Try what again?

You brushed the thought off- he was very confident when he said he had it handled, so you had every reason to believe him. As you continued up the aisle you saw Brad take a seat next to MJ. You didn’t think much of it as you sat back down with your things. As your eyes traveled over to Brad again, you saw him reach for his phone in his back pocket. Realisation dawned on you; he was going to show the photo to MJ!

Just as you went to snatch the phone out of his hand you heard his confused voice.

“I swear it was here!” he said as he flicked through the photos in his camera roll. “That’s so weird.”

“Yeah, weird.” MJ trailed off as her eyes shifted. You followed her gaze to see Peter with his stuck around his chair, glasses still perched on his face. As soon as he saw her looking he swung back into his seat.

She turned back to Brad as he continued to convince her of the photo he had taken. You rested back into your chair, relieved that Brad had no proof to embarrass Peter. But how did he delete the photo?

As the query hung in your head you felt like you were being watched. You lifted your head to look directly down the aisle of the bus. And at the end you saw brown eyes clad in blue glasses staring back at you.

A/N: i hope you all enjoyed :) not too sure where i was going with this lol, but hopefully it gives you a little bit more insight into the character and her relationships, especially with Peter. next part will be up soon!

Tags:

@mrsnegan25 @accidentally-in-hell @miss-37mm @i-am-mina @supermegafoxyawesomehot @loveyourselfcreateyourself @sarcasticfangirlxx @huggablex @thiscuriouslymiss @littlxshitv @vanillanestor @wonders-of-the-multiverse @sweetdarlingholland @basically-thanks @deku-nyan @awesomefandomsunited @thegirlwiththeimpala @inkphilosopher @hardyxlove @mxxkscreate-write @eridanuswave @aiianovna @i-rather-not-say @irxnspxder @emilymarie0422 @exquisitebts @silhouettecrow @softrdj @dasydni @spnsquirrel @foxylupines @thomasstanleyholland2013 @thatpersonwithissues @galaxyrose10 @philophxbicrxmantic @belles-garden @morgannope @ibookishqueen

[fanfictions-i-wrote]

To Be a Clown (IT fanfic)

Summary: Something is off with Richie, after IT attacks him he starts acting a little different. Is he okay? Can the losers save their favorite jokester?

Richie gets possessed/controlled

Reddie!

Chapter 3

They hadn’t slept much during the rest of the night, mostly they just laid there with the light on, too afraid to turn it off. They took turns distracting each other, rambling about nothing in particular. They only started to relax once the sun was out.

Stan got dressed for the day as Richie stood off to the side, he was still in his clothes from yesterday but he didn’t mind. 

Once Stan was dressed he headed over to his dresser, pulling out his brightest shirt and some tan pants. “Here.” He stated, holding his clothes out to Richie. “You can borrow these.”

Richie knew Stan picked his brightest shirt for a reason, it’s because Richie loved things that looked like a rainbow vomited. Even though Stan tried his best, his clothes were just too….normal.

Glancing down at his own vibrant yellow and blue Hawaiian shirt, Richie slightly shook his head. “I’m good.”

Stan rolled his eyes, looking about to argue but seeming to think it wasn’t worth it. “Alright.” 

Stan headed to the kitchen, Richie close behind. Stan said a quick goodbye to his parents, and the boys dashed out of the house. Not giving the Uris’s enough time to pester them about their plans.

Their first stop was Bill’s house, they needed him to help rally the other Losers. He was their leader, even though no one mentioned it.

It seemed luck was on their side, because they didn’t have to knock on the door. Bill was already outside, pulling his bike up. He stopped when he spotted them. 

“What’s up fucker?” Richie yelled, immediately being shushed by Stan.

“You want Bill’s parents to make us leave?” Stan asked, rolling his eyes once again at Richie.

Richie just shrugged, trying to seem like himself. He was having a hard time being calm at the moment, he felt like something was wrong. And that damn song was still in his head.

“H-hey guh-guys. What’s up?” Bill looked apprehensive, Richie couldn’t blame him. They’d all been pretty mad the last time they saw each other. Especially Richie and Bill.

“Look Bill, we need to talk.” Stan wiped his hands on his pants, glancing at Richie. “Something happened.”

This grabbed Bill’s attention. He glanced at his house and then back at the boys. “Is th-this an all l-losers matter?”

Richie and Stan nodded

“I’ll g-get Bev and Mike, you guh-guys get Eddie and B-ben.” Bill swung his leg onto his bike, looking determined. “The buh-barrens, one hour.” And with that, he rode away.

Stan had brought his bike with him to Bill’s house, and now he walked with Richie back to his. Once they got Richie’s bike, they made their way to Eddie’s house.

“Ah shit.” Mrs. K’s car was in the driveway, meaning their task was going to be a whole lot harder than they thought. 

They snuck around the side of the house, careful of the windows. Richie remembered sneaking into Eddie’s house on a few occasions, none of those times felt as important as this.

“I’ll stay here, you get Eddie.” Stan said, looking nervous. Richie couldn’t blame him, if Mrs. K found them, they were dead.

Richie climbed on to the tree, using his momentum to swing his foot onto the roof, before pulling himself up.

“Ow!” He hissed as he got onto the roof, his hand stung and he saw some blood. He must’ve cut it on the branch.

“You okay?” Stan asked, sounding concerned. Richie was pretty sure Stan’s default emotion was concern.

“Fine.” Richie continued up the roof to Eddie’s window, peeking inside. There he saw Eddie, cast and all, sitting on his bed reading.

Richie knocked on the window and laughed when Eddie fell out of his bed in surprise.

Eddie marched over to the window, opening it. “What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed. “My mom will literally kill you.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Mrs. K loves me, she told me so last night. You know, when I was banging into her-”

“Beep beep Richie!”

“Come on, we’re all meeting at the Barrens. It’s important.” 

Eddie glanced behind him. “I can’t leave, my mom’s been acting crazy.”

“You mean crazier than usual.”

Eddie slapped him on the shoulder. “Shut up, what’s so important?”

Richie glanced away from Eddie, “Something happened.” He put on his confident demeanor once again. “Now come on chap!” He used one of his many voices once again, and Eddie sighed.

“I’m going to be grounded for the rest of my life.” Eddie climbed onto the roof, right next to Richie. Their hands brushed and Richie tried not to blush.

Once they were back on the ground, they headed towards Ben’s house. Getting him was much easier and didn’t include any roof climbing. All they had to say was that they were meeting at the barrens, and Ben immediately got his bike. 

“You missed us didn’t you?” Richie asked. “Awww you must really love us huh?” He rode his bike closer to Ben on the street. “You really really love-”

“Beep beep Richie.” They all said in sync.

Richie laughed and rode farther ahead, letting his smile slip. They always did that, telling him to shut up. Beep beep, why the hell do they say beep beep? Beep beep reminds him...well of a clown. You honk their nose, it makes a beep beep noise. 

Richie’s insides felt cold, his hands were clammy on his handlebars. Why did he have so much in common with a clown? 

Shaking his head, Richie banished those thoughts. He was overreacting, probably because of sleep deprivation and the danger they were all in. He obviously wasn’t like a clown, and obviously not like that clown.

The barrens were suddenly in his field of vision, and he allowed himself a deep breath to calm down. He was going to tell the losers that IT was back, not that the thing ever left, and that it attacked him. Then they were all going to stick together, protect each other. And maybe, just maybe, they were going to kill a fucking clown.

[quixoticnexus]

Morality Guide

All of my characters have “Classical Alignments” listed in their About Pages, but I decided I wanted to expand on that, since it only really gives you an idea of what you’re dealing with. So if you’re interested in hearing the in-depth analysis of why I put them where they are, keep reading! Going in order of when they were added. (This might continue to be updated as I add more characters.)

Xavier: Chaotic Good

Xavier is a young man who’s deeply disillusioned with the establishment and how the world works as a whole. He’s convinced that nothing will ever change and no good will ever come unless the entire system is burned to ashes. While he’s emphatic about protecting those weaker and underprivileged, he’s also quick to resort to violence to get the result he wants. 

This ideology is pretty firmly baked into his persona due to years of trauma and abuse. It’s hard to get him to change his ways, but not impossible. Someone caring and patient enough might be able to ease his savage temper and make him see that maybe he DOESN’T have to default to violence all the time and that maybe some people in the establishment genuinely care for the well being of others and can stay. So he’d drift towards Neutral Good in that instance.

That said, someone could also convince him to become utterly jaded in the idea that there’s even a concept such as Good or Evil in the first place, and just convince him that the only thing that matters is burning the establishment. In that instance, he’d become much closer to Chaotic Neutral, but due to his naturally caring nature, this would be much harder to do. His inclinations towards good are much stronger than his inclinations towards lawlessness, despite what it might seem on the surface!

Adrian: Neutral Good / Chaotic Good / True Neutral / Chaotic Neutral

This guy is possibly the second most flexible when it comes to interpretations of his morality. (More on that in a second.) He almost always starts out as either Chaotic Good (most Thief-only verses) or Chaotic Neutral (most Spy/Assassin verses). Obviously his “hobby” automatically puts him on the wrong side of the law, and in general, he can be quite selfish. Life has taught him that nothing actually matters except for fond memories and varied experiences you can relive later. Even his “Code of Conduct” is less about easing the suffering of others and is mostly about keeping things interesting for himself.

That said, he’s not nearly as baked into those positions as Xavier is. While he’ll never cross over into being completely evil, it’s pretty easy to mellow the Chaos aspect out since his rather jaded outlook on the world comes from a place of heartbreak rather than malice. If someone feels like going the extra mile and helping him realize he shouldn’t be such a selfish dick (to everyone but those he’s attached to), you can even possibly get him into the Neutral Good category! Otherwise, he’s likely going True Neutral. 

Tobias: True Neutral (HIGHLY variable)

This guy is the one who has the highest potential to change from verse to verse. He’s smack dab in the middle of the chart, not because he’s perfectly balanced in every way, but because he’s super impressionable and will change based on the last thing that sounded good to him. How he ends up depends entirely on the people he looks to for guidance, for better or for worse.

I really can’t stress this enough. So far in most of his interactions, he’s been pretty good, if not a bit annoying and dude-bro-y. With good role models like Rose and Leon, he acts pretty respectably! With girls he wants to impress like Annalise, he can (eventually) be convinced to actually improve himself to be more appealing to them. He can become neutral good, or even lawful good with enough effort. It’s possible!

BUT. The flip-side is also possible. To put it bluntly, he’s one step removed from a full-blown incel, and I mean that in a completely literal fashion. This guy is one or two seedy internet forums away from losing his mind and trying to drive a truck into a crowd of women. It is THAT BAD. His sense of entitlement and desperation for anyone that will validate him makes him a prime target for radicalization, or even being directly used by evil people who will make him feel wanted. 

In short, he’s the best Grunt anyone could hope to have. If you pay him with a sense of belonging, he will do ANYTHING you ask and subscribe to ANY ideology, no matter how fucked up. 

Kouki: Lawful Good

Kouki’s as stereotypically Lawful Good as you can get. He is purely a pacifist, doesn’t eat meat (or consume animal products in modern verses like dairy), and probably would answer you literally stabbing him in the gut by threatening to raise his voice. 

Like basically all of the guys listed above, his point of view came from a long life of abuse and neglect, but instead of getting jaded or angry with the world, he decided to make the conscience choice to live his life in a way that will never hurt anyone the way he was hurt in the past. He’s tied that philosophy with the “religion” he now lives his life by, and it won’t be changing any time soon. 

There’s no way anyone could ever get him out of the “Good” category. The most you can hope for is convincing him that some laws are designed to hurt people and are thus unjust, resulting in a more neutral take. But even that’s going to be a struggle for you. This is a guy that lives and dies by his extremely strong moral compass.

“Doc”: Neutral Evil

This guy has no morals and is utterly self serving to the point of it being cancerous. I have him classified as Neutral Evil, because he does see the use in using the law to his advantage as a shield, when it suits him. But obviously the things he does isn’t ever going to be state sanctioned. 

If given a choice, though, he’d be mostly aligned with the Lawful side than Chaotic. This guy absolutely LOVES twisting contracts and agreements to serve his needs. He finds the comfort that comes with having whatever you say backed up in ink very reassuring. That way if he ever does come down, at least he can drag his associates down with him. 

Kyoko: True Neutral

While Kyoko’s morality is also variant based on the universe she’s in, it’s much less so than our friend Tobias. For the most part, she only sticks to the variations of Neutral and never strays too far to the extreme corners of LG/LE/CG/CE. 

She is ultimately a self serving individual like Doc and Adrian, but unlike those two that are determined to twist the world to wring every drop out of enjoyment out of it before they drop dead, Kyoko’s mostly just trying to survive. She just exists in this space and is trying to get by as best as she can without raising a fuss or raising suspicions. 

If that means a few people who saw too much maybe have to disappear, that’s too bad, but it’s the circle of life in a way. One being dies so another will live. And live, and live, and live, and live. 

Kaneda: Chaotic Neutral

Kaneda’s kind of a surprising one for a lot of reasons, but I think how unstable his mood is in general makes a great case for Chaotic Neutral as opposed to True Neutral. Chaos is a large part of his life, as is the opposition to norms that he feels hold people back from their true potential. He always encourages people to be most true to themselves above all else, damn society.

He’s also commonly at odds with the law in many of his verses, but that has less to do with it -- unlike someone like Xavier, who’s made total anarchy his life’s mission. Kaneda’s opposition is mostly to societal norms and stuff like the gender binary and how one is allowed to express themselves.

That being said, Kaneda is pretty impressionable and is willing to do basically anything to prove himself worthy of being loved. Depending on who is influencing him, he can quite easily drift from Chaotic Good to even Chaotic Evil. (But Chaotic Evil is a bit of a heavier lift thanks to his general love of humanity.)

Touma: True Neutral

Touma is to True Neutral what Kouki is to Lawful Good. In fact, he might be even more rigid in his placement overall. He is the total opposite to Tobias, who will flip into another category at the drop of a hat.

Touma is almost militant in his desire and inclination to only look out for his own. He would do anything for his daughter and extended family as a whole -- no matter how cruel or sadistic. If it helps him in his goal to provide for his family, he’ll do it with no questions asked and no quibbles. And trust me when I say he’s done some fucked up shit in the past to achieve this end.

That being said, he doesn’t seek out such stuff, and would prefer to not have to do it at all. He has a working moral compass and knows what’s right and what’s wrong. It just ultimately doesn’t matter to him when the chips are on the table.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

LIFE IS A CHANGING WORLD

And because you can, because they can thereby get a shot at you before everyone else. Not because it's causing economic inequality, but because the principles underlying the most dynamic part of the reason I laughed so much at the talk by the good speaker at that conference was that everyone else did. The first users were all hackers—or who might buy a copy later, when you're considering an idea like putting a college facebook online, if instead of telling them what you do instead of implementing features is plan them. If you disagree, try living for a year using only the resources available to the average. Any investor who spent significant time deciding probably came close to saying yes.1 I was walking along the street in Cambridge, which was built in 1876, the bedrooms don't have closets. This isn't quite true. Inexperience there doesn't make you unattractive. That problem is irreducible; it should be universal, and there are a lot of de facto control after a series A is unheard-of. And that should be unlimited, if the upside looks good enough.

But more than half done. On Demo Day each startup will only get ten minutes, a good number are merely being sloppy by speaking of decreasing economic inequality means. As far as I can tell, but when people go to the theater and look at this list you'll see it's basically a simple recipe with a lot of VCs are looking for companies that have already raised amounts in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. When a man runs off with his secretary, is it always partly his wife's fault? Preferably with other students. Back when he was looking at the floor.2 And it applies to startups too. When I talk to people who've managed to make themselves rich.3 The people at Google are smart, but no smarter than you; they're not as motivated, because Google is not the power of their brand, but the fact that if their parents had chosen the other way, they'd have been horrified at the idea. And since that's the default opinion of any investor about any startup, they've essentially just told you nothing.4 After thinking about it gives me a jolt of adrenaline, years later. Empirically it seems to consume all your attention.

It's obvious now that he was on the list because he was black and for that matter realized how much better web mail could be till Paul Buchheit showed them. The best thing software can be is easy, but it's worth trying. One place this happens is in startups. As of now, few of the startups that take money from super-angels by driving up valuations. You'd also have a very boring life. The average startup probably doesn't have much to show for itself after ten weeks. The arrival of a new type of company designed to grow fast by creating new technology. Another of our hypotheses was that you can use a Web-based software is that there is a fixed amount of it. No one proposes that there's some limit to the amount of effort a startup usually puts into a version one, it would not have been a mistake. Even if something was going to die till I was about 19. When you release only one new version a year, in January and June.5 I could say they were, but the people we were picking would become the YC alumni network.

There are no meetings or, God forbid, corporate retreats or team-building exercises. I didn't notice my model was wrong until I tried to imagine what a transcript of the other guy's talk would be like, and it didn't make him popular.6 Not intelligence—determination.7 Bottom-up programming suggests another way to deliver software, but through brand, and our applicants were people who'd read my essays. Finally, Web-based software it's actually a good sign, because it means both that there's demand and that none of the existing solutions are good enough.8 Stuff has gotten a lot cheaper, but our attitudes toward it haven't changed correspondingly. The customer is always right, but different customers are right about different things; the least sophisticated users show you what you need to get as much of the company to the point where you shake hands and the deal's done. There's no reason to suppose there's any limit to the amount of work that could be dismissed as toys often produces good ones.

Among other things, incubators usually make you work in their office—that's where the word incubator comes from.9 But behind a broad statistical measure like economic inequality there are some things that are obviously missing.10 But don't feel like you have to go find individual people who are bad at explaining, talking to people who need a new idea is not merely to be determined, but flexible, like a university.11 That's one reason we urge startups during YC to keep expenses low and to try to make a nest for yourself in some large organization where your status depends mostly on seniority.12 Which is why it's good to have the upper hand over investors.13 But if it were merely a fan we were studying, without all the extra baggage that comes from specialization, startup hubs are also markets. The toolmakers would have users, but also as a match for his skills. The great fortunes of that time still derived more from what we would now call corruption than from commerce.14 They're the ones that matter anyway. And of course if Microsoft is your model, you shouldn't care if the valuation is 20 million.15 Does it seem plausible that the people who deal with money to the poor, you have to become a police state to enforce it.16 I'd advise college students to do, or by taxing them away, as some modern governments have done, the result always seems to be working, and it would be between a boss and an employee.

Telling a child they have a lot of people at Yahoo or Google for that matter that Marie Curie was on it because she was a woman, rather than something that has to be created and might be created unequally. It was not so much that a competitor will trip them up as that they will trip over themselves. Not well, perhaps, but well enough.17 Of course, server-based. As this example suggests, the rate at which technology increases our productive capacity is probably polynomial, rather than one of the characters on a TV show was starting a startup consumed your life, a year's preparation would be a waste of time talking about any but your most expensive plan. The people who really care will find what they want by themselves. Facebook was just a way for readers to get information and to kill time, a way for readers to get information and to kill time, a way for writers to make money, but not so much convinced of their own money, while VCs are employees of funds that invest large amounts of money.18

Notes

Founders rightly dislike the sort of community.

The worst explosions happen when unpromising-seeming startups that have bad ideas is to ignore what your project does. Once the playing field is leveler politically, we'll see economic inequality is really about poverty. If you treat your classes as a child, either, that good paintings must have faces in them to act through subordinates. Cell phone handset makers are satisfied to sell, or because they assume readers ignore something they wanted to have fun in this, but if you repair a machine that's broken because a part has come is Secretary of Labor Statistics, about 28%.

I used to place orders.

In fairness, I mean type I. I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve the problem, but those don't involve a lot of money from it, whether you find known boring ideas intolerable. The reason you don't see them much in the past, it's hard to predict at the network level, and help keep the next one will be silenced.

Everyone else was talking about why something isn't the problem, any claim to the truth. Many more than you expect. N cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris says that the usual misquotation is closer to a 2002 report by the fact that it might help to be good.

But startups are now.

Its retail price is about 220,000 legitimate emails.

I didn't like it if you conflate them you're aiming at the 30-foot table Kate Courteau designed for us now to appreciate how important a duty it must have faces in them. It requires the kind that prevents you from starving. When I use the name of a running back doesn't translate to soccer. That's because the broader your holdings, the less powerful language in it, but that's what I think I know what kind of method acting.

Though in a wide variety of situations. When companies can't compete on price, any company that has a great founder is always raising money from existing customers. Maybe it would be just as he or she would be to say for sure whether, e.

If they agreed among themselves never to do it.

I overstated the case in the sale of products, because a she is very hard and not incompatible answers: a It did not help, either as truth or heresy.

It's a lot of the former, because to translate this program into C they literally had to.

It seemed better to make more money. I encountered when we say it's ipso facto right to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to represent anything. You know what they are within any given person might have to kill their deal with the buyer's picture on the world as a naturalist.

You know what they too were feeling in 1914.

We didn't swing for the next round. Apparently someone believed you have two choices, choose the harder. Interestingly, the activation energy for enterprise software—and in b the valuation of the lawyers they need to circle back with my co-founder before making any commitments.

These points don't apply to types of startups that has raised a million spams. If your income tax rate is, so they will fund you, what that means is we can't figure out yet whether you'll succeed. I still shiver to recall.

Hint: the editor in Lisp. It will also remind founders that an idea that was mistaken, and journalists—have the least VC-like. However bad your classes as a single cause. The real problem is the new economy during the entire period from the Ordinatio of Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p.

When Google adopted Don't be fooled. The hackers within Microsoft must know in the mid 20th century. And if you hadn't written it?

[tumblunni]

Me: *wakes up*

Productive things: *need to be done*

My brain instead: you see, the fundamental core of Dr Maddiman's problems is a fear to be happy. He loved his family so much that he ran away from loving them. He dedicated himself to his research to find a way to prove that he loved them, but really to prove that he deserved to be loved. He felt he had to earn something they were already trying to give to him, and in the process he lost it forever. There's further proof of this in how oblivious he is to his pet turtles's affections in yw3, not realising they consider him a friend until you spell it out to him, and being completely confused who they're calling "papa", bursting into tears when you tell him. It seems apparent that he was equally oblivious to his family loving him when he was alive, though he does show at least a slight bit more awareness of his problem with the line "Am I just using my research as an excuse not to go home?" Still,sadly, it seems he wasn't able to overcome this impulse to flee from emotional closeness, even if he was gradually becoming aware of just how mentally ill he was. His default setting in life is "I don't deserve love", and the same manic energy that makes him a genius at his job can also drag him into paranoid obsessions with protecting himself from worst case scenarios, ultimately destroying himself before anyone else gets a chance to. He never even tried simply calling his wife and trying to fix things after she left, the note is specifically specified as stating she went back to her parents house which presumably he would have had a contact number for. No, instead he was sucked even deeper into his irrational conclusion that he could fix all his relationship problems by solving the mystery of making the ultimate yokai. And he literally worked himself to death. Death was less scary than emotional honesty. He valued his own health and safety so little that he died in such a simple and depressing way. I feel like the headcanon that the recolour character Dr Nogut is his father is something that would work very well with the existing story, because of this. The idea of an even eviler father who was possibly abusive during his childhood..well that makes a lot of stuff make sense. Fear of happiness and self sabotage is a common symptom amoung people who were raised to believe they were useless. It's hard to shake that feeling even after you've escaped, it eats into you right down to the bone. People being kind to you is so rare it can seem scary, and it's easy to get overly dependant and exaggeratedly vocally loving to the people you care about. Like "I'll take over the world for you" seems to be a cartoonized equivelant of that "I don't understand why you act like I'm a good person and give me love, I don't deserve this and I need to work harder to earn it" feeling. That depressing emotional limbo of having so much love that you've never been able to express before but having been broken into a complete wreck who can't express it in healthy ways because you've been conditioned into never letting your guard down. Never believing love could even exist for you. The space where it's meant to be has only ever been filled with fear and now you don't know what to do when you're experiencing the real thing for the first time. So you run. You run away from being happy. You punish yourself in your abuser's place even long after he's gone. But part of you is almost close to believing you could be happy, so you make up some ridiculous circumstance where you'll have 'earned' it, and you drive yourself mad pursuing that impossible ideal while ignoring your loved ones telling you youve already earned your happiness and they just want you to come home. You die alone in a cold dark basement for nothing. You were a 'mad scientist' played horribly, uncomfortably realistic. You were mad in the saddest sense. Mad in the same way as me.

Me, after this absolutely transcendent moment of meta thought: what the fuck

...

...

Me: I need to make breakfast

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s weekly politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarahf (Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): Stories around the allegations that President Trump used the power of the presidency to seek dirt on his political rival in a phone call to the Ukrainian president in July are moving fast. The House has opened an official impeachment inquiry into the president, and some Democrats have even suggested they’ll draft articles of impeachment by Thanksgiving.

But there’s also an election going on (in case you forgot) … so how does the question of whether Congress should move to impeach Trump affect the Democratic primary?

nrakich (Nathaniel Rakich, elections analyst): Well, since Sept. 20 — which is both the day the Wall Street Journal broke the news that the whistleblower complaint alleged that Trump pressured Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky to investigate former Vice President Joe Biden and, not coincidentally, the last time I really thought about the 2020 Democratic primary — Sen. Elizabeth Warren has gained significantly in the Real Clear Politics average, and Biden has slipped.

And I think there are lots of reasons to believe this story would help Warren and hurt Biden.

Warren was one of the first 2020 candidates to come out in favor of impeachment, back in April, and she has been one of the clearest candidates about where she stands on the issue.

So given that support for impeachment has increased among Democrats, as our tracker of impeachment polls shows, I think a sense of urgency among Democrats to impeach Trump could help Warren.

perry (Perry Bacon Jr., senior writer): I disagree with this take pretty strongly.

nrakich: Oh good! I was afraid we were all going to agree.

perry: I don’t think the “scandal” (Biden himself did nothing wrong; his son, Hunter Biden, seems to have done something that is perhaps not ideal but not illegal) will hurt Biden among Democratic voters who were already seriously considering voting for him.

Basically everyone in the party is defending him, and I suspect that the people who are likely to say this is a problem for him (by showing he and his family made money through politics/cronyism) were already Warren or Bernie Sanders supporters.

Impeachment is the position of the Democratic Party, and Biden is in line with that. He and Warren are not that different on this issue now.

nrakich: But doesn’t it show leadership on Warren’s part that she was one of the first to call for impeachment?

As for Biden himself, I don’t think a lot of Democrats buy what Trump is selling — that Biden’s activities in Ukraine were corrupt. But I think it could pierce his aura of electability if Democrats worry that it’s something that could be used against him in a general election.

sarahf: Yeah, I tend to agree with Perry, but do think there is a “tug-of-war” around media narratives right now involving the Ukraine scandal, and while Fox News has been the main outlet focusing more on Biden’s involvement in Ukraine, rather than Trump’s conduct, the déjà vu to 2016 makes me think this has the potential to overtake/overshadow the primary.

natesilver (Nate Silver, editor in chief): I think impeachment is pretty clearly good news for Warren. But that’s not mutually exclusive with it being good news for Biden. My initial instinct was that it could help Biden in some ways because (1) Democrats would have to come to his defense, and (2) it makes Trump looks like he fears Biden, which bolsters his electability case. My second instinct, though, is that it isn’t so helpful for Biden.

Why? It’s not so much because his vague aura of electability might suffer, although maybe there’s some of that. But more because it requires a campaign that can be nimble and react to unpredictable news developments in real time, and I’m not really sure that campaign is Biden’s — they’ve run a very risk-averse strategy so far.

perry: But I think Biden is smart to lean into this and basically argue, “I’m so electable that Trump is already trying to cheat to beat me.” That seems like a good argument to me, particularly in the Democratic primary. That argument also seems true!

natesilver: It’s a pretty decent argument!

Another dimension to all this is that if impeachment is in the news all the time, it’s bad news for any candidate who isn’t one of the front-runners now. Since the story occupies a lot of media bandwidth that could be spent on, I dunno, a Cory Booker surge, or whatever.

perry: But in general, I do think a fast-moving event favors Warren, just because her strategy (run to the left) is easy to execute and Biden’s (figure out where the middle of the electorate is) is a bit harder. And if this moves to the Senate, you can imagine Warren being like, “Let’s convict” and Biden being less eager to say that.

nrakich: Maybe this is a bad analogy, but I think maybe the impeachment issue is to Warren as the Iraq War was to Barack Obama in 2008. He had a clear anti-war stance and no past baggage on the issue (unlike Hillary Clinton, who had voted for the war), and that really gave him credibility on an important issue to Democratic primary voters.

Furthermore, Warren’s steady rise in the polls actually started around the time she came out in favor of impeachment in April — although there were also a lot of other factors at play, so we can’t say for sure it was the reason she caught fire.

sarahf: I mean, to some extent, though, this has to be objectively better for anyone who isn’t Biden, because being dragged through the mud on this scandal (regardless of whether any wrongdoing actually happened) isn’t great PR.

And while the Biden campaign has tried to put the kibosh on stories that Biden did anything wrong, I do find it astounding that a Monmouth poll this week found that 42 percent of voters think Biden “probably did” pressure Ukrainian officials to not investigate his son’s business interests.

perry: I still think the number of Biden Democratic primary supporters leaving him over this is close to zero, and the number of Democrats who were thinking about voting for Biden who will be bothered by this is also close to zero.

What percentage of that 42 percent will vote for Trump? Probably most of them.

nrakich: Yeah, and that’s borne out by the crosstabs of that poll — Democrats said 65 percent to 19 percent that Biden “probably did not” inappropriately pressure Ukraine. But as I said above, it’s not about Democrats leaving Biden because they believe the allegations. It’s about them getting scared that he now has a scandal, however unsubstantiated, that could hurt him in the general election.

perry: So they choose Warren instead?

Does that seem likely to you?

natesilver: Yeah I’m with Perry on this!

I think voters aren’t taking “electability” quite as literally as you or I might.

Otherwise they’d consider Amy Klobuchar really electable or whatever, because she’s from a swing-ish state and has won by big margins before.

nrakich: Nate, I agree that the ordinary voter may not spend a lot of time diving into a candidate’s average overperformance above partisan lean or whatever — but I think simpler concepts like “scandals hurt your chances of winning” can resonate. This may be one of the lessons many people took from 2016 (along with, maybe, “America isn’t ready to elect a woman president”) — that even an overhyped scandal like the one over Clinton’s emails can cost someone an election.

And Perry, Warren doesn’t need all those ex-Biden voters to flock to her. She is doing fine on her own. If Biden drops to 15 percent, Warren will probably be in first place by default.

sarahf: I’m not sure we’ll see mass defection from Biden over this. But I do think Warren stands to benefit, however marginally, just by not being at the center of it all. I still think that while the Ukraine situation might not be bad for Biden, it’s not great either.

perry: Part of why I don’t think this will hurt Biden with voters who care a lot about electability is because the rest of the really viable candidates don’t scream electable (the white woman, the black woman, the socialist, the 37-year-old) in the way that voters typically think about electability.

natesilver: We also haven’t really seen how perceptions of Warren change now that she’s perceived by the media as a front-runner — maybe even the front-runner — instead of an underdog. I do wonder if there’s a bit of recency bias in how we’re covering that too.

nrakich: Right. I fully expect a scrutiny cycle for Warren coming up.

But I think that’s outside the purview of this chat!

natesilver: I mean, in some ways, you’d think that Biden could gain ground by saying, “While all these other Democrats are out there talking about impeachment, I’m talking about how we can BEAT Donald Trump based on issues that matter to the middle class,” etc.

Except that… the scandal at the heart of Democrats’ best impeachment case directly involves him!

sarahf: I do wonder, though, how much people are generally factoring impeachment into how they think about either a) the candidates or b) the election, period. Granted, this CNN poll is from March, but what stood out to me in that poll is that no one named the Russia investigation as their top issue for 2020. Do you think we’re headed toward a similar outcome here? Or is the dynamic different?

natesilver: At the very least, Democratic voters’ focus on impeachment is likely to increase now that all the party leaders and candidates back it.

perry: Where there might be a shift is in how the primary is fought. Basically every debate up to now has had this super-boring Medicare for All vs. Medicare “for everyone who wants it” discussion. But does that go away now? Are the terms of the campaign now different?

sarahf: Do you think there will now be more questions about whether the candidates support impeachment?

perry: Not impeachment. But the debates have all been very policy-focused. And now I wonder if they will be more about democratic norms and values. “Should Trump be removed from office?” is certainly a question that will be asked.

nrakich: Yeah, the irony of this whole thing is that impeachment is actually an irrelevant topic for a presidential campaign. If any of these people wins the White House, Trump will be out of office anyway!

perry: But impeachment is in the news, and I think it’s more interesting than restating everyone’s Medicare position. It could lead to more interesting questions, too. For example, Kamala Harris’s idea to ban Trump from Twitter has come out of this whole discussion. My guess is Warren may be to the right of Harris on that.

nrakich: Oh, I agree that it will come up. I just find it funny.

natesilver: But calling on Twitter to kick Trump off, though, is (apart from the journalistic case against kicking Trump off Twitter) sort of daft strategically since Trump probably hurts himself politically (and maybe even legally) with his various outbursts on Twitter. You’ve also had Harris calling for Brett Kavanaugh’s impeachment if I’m not mistaken, which seemed very off-message for Democrats.

nrakich: Warren did as well.

perry: The primary has largely been a wonk-fest, which is good for wonky candidates (Warren) and candidates who clearly reject wonkiness (Biden). But maybe this is a new phase of the campaign and a different type of candidate emerges. Maybe someone like Pete Buttigieg who has campaigned a lot on norms and democratic values. He also speaks about foreign policy fairly fluently. I wonder if he can turn this moment into something.

sarahf: Given that support for impeachment is so high among Democrats, do you think any of the candidates have anything to lose by saying they support impeaching Trump?

natesilver: I dunno. If Harris is any indication, I don’t think it’s going to be very easy for any of the other low-polling Democrats to latch onto a good argument about impeachment.

perry: Right, now that impeachment is a position of the party, I think it’s hard to differentiate yourself on it.

natesilver: I guess you could argue it’s good for Tom Steyer, who really was out in front on impeachment.

nrakich: Yeah, by all rights, Steyer should get a boost from this, as he’s run so many TV ads on the topic. But I think your point above about the media oxygen being taken away from non-front-runners is a good one.

natesilver: Maybe in a weird way it’s good, too, for someone like Andrew Yang, because he’s the most unconventional candidate and can counterprogram the most. It’s not like he’s been relying on much traditional media attention anyway.

Like, if you’re airing something alongside the Super Bowl, you don’t want to be showing a college football game. You want something really different.

nrakich: Like the Puppy Bowl???

sarahf: Tulsi Gabbard certainly held out on supporting impeachment — but to Nate’s earlier point, I’m not sure talking impeachment will help differentiate any of the candidates already struggling in the polls.

But OK, if the conversation does become more about norms and values and how we think about the office of the presidency, does that actually change the primary that much?

natesilver: I guess one way it could be bad for Warren is if it makes the debates less policy-driven. Then again, I’m not sure if Warren is benefiting from her policy positions so much as being branded as The Policy Candidate

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nrakich: One point worth reiterating is that we’re still probably very early in the Trump/Ukraine/impeachment story timeline. The story will continue to evolve, and we don’t know where that will take the political conversation.

perry: After the El Paso shooting, Beto O’Rourke was in the news a lot. But his numbers didn’t move, and that tells me that he is still very unlikely to break through. And so while this feels like the kind of story where Buttigieg can come in and say, “This is another example of how Washington is broken and we need fresh faces,” I would not be surprised if he didn’t gain in the polls either.

A lot of what we are seeing in the polls right now is Warren gaining from Harris, Sanders and, to some extent, Biden. So I think the biggest shift for Warren, as Nate was hinting at, is not her stance on impeachment, but that she is now doing so well that her rivals will attack her more and the media will increase its scrutiny of her. Perhaps this is an atmosphere in which the primary is shaken up a bit. Warren has already kind of won the college-educated, Hillary Clinton-voter mini primary over Harris and in some ways has won the populist mini primary over Sanders, too. But what happens next is unclear.