#but twisting immediately puts you in that danger zone its like OH that feels like my foots gonna come off if im not careful

[marblebees]

All I can think about besides ** ****** is popping peoples ankles out teehee

[goldenkirstein]

never knew what i was missin'

or alternatively, reiner being an oblivious simp

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@clean-soap requested: Hi. I saw that your requests are open and i was wondering if I can request a Reiner x reader. I was thinking the story line could be like My Love Story!! Anime, where Reiner comes and protects you from a creep and the both of you fall in love. However, through some misunderstandings he thinks you like Bertholdt and not him. So he tries to set you guys up, even when you try to be with him. I was hoping for some angst through the story and fluff at the end!

pairing: reiner x gn! reader

wc: 2.5k+

tags: fluff, some angst, modern! au, fem bodied reader, language, mentions of violence & assault, threats of assault, mentions of blood & bruises.

a/n: so i got a little carried away writing this, but i hope this fits what you were looking for. i really loved writing for reiner, its my first time and my first request !! also I haven't watched the anime, but i read the synopsis and tried to make some ties to it !! I hope you enjoy.

this is a work of fiction. please reach out to the necessary hotlines and call for help if you're in any danger. Please read the warnings before reading.

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“I’m sorry, I’m flattered, but unfortunately, I’m busy.” You offered the man in front of you an apologetic smile and tried to hand back the tickets he had given you. Occurrences like these weren’t common, but you had your fair share of handing out rejections. It wasn’t something you enjoyed doing; someone was exposing their heart to you, and you had to crush their hopes.

Most understand. Most will leave you alone.

“Is that a no? You expect me to be okay with that?” The man glowered at you; any sight of despondence wiped clean from his face.

“Sorry? I’m not sure-” You stepped back to try to get away from him, back hitting the wall, any sense of composure inside you disappearing. He responded by advancing towards you.

“Are you trying to get away from me? I asked you a question, you ungrateful bitch.” He spat the words at you, grabbing your wrists caging you between his body and the brick behind you. His nails began to dig into the flesh of your wrist, causing you to drop the tickets in your hand. “I bought you those, and this is how you repay me?” His eyes had darkened; you could feel his hot breath on your face, making you sick.

“Get off me, or I’ll scream. I don’t owe you shit.” You sneered at him, trying to twist out of his grip.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. You’ll be scream-” A prominent figure forcefully shoved him off of you before he could finish his sentence. You let out a sob, eyes-widening as you realized what scene was playing out in front of you.

The man was on the ground gripping his nose, which was gushing out blood; the figure was standing over him, chest heaving, fists clenching and unclenching.

The figure whipped his head back to look at you; his expression immediately softened as your eyes met his. You let out a shaky sigh; it was Reiner, the figure was Reiner.

“Lay another hand on them, and I swear you won’t see the light of day again, Grieves.” The man haphazardly stood up and scurried off before Reiner could cause any more damage to his face.

You were frozen to the wall, not even registering that Reiner had walked over to you and was calling out your name.

“Are you okay? Can I look at your wrist, if that’s okay with you?” He gave you a worried look, waiting for your permission before touching you. You gave the blond man a short nod, and he bent down to place his fingers gently around your wrist; you could barely feel them as he carefully examined your forearm.

“What were you doing out at night? If you don’t mind me asking.” His hazel eyes flickered up, a concerned expression still painting his face.

Your breathing had stabilized, Reiner’s hands on your wrist were a comforting presence in contrast to the harsh man who had touched you prior, “I was out with Bert; he was helping me with an assignment.”

Reiner’s jaw clenched at the mention of Bertholdt; you barely picked up on the slight change in expression from him.

“Grieves offered to walk me home, but I had no idea-” You let out a shaky sigh; the jarring experience was still fresh on your mind. The man stood up, giving you a heavy nod.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Reiner was still worried for you, his mind racking through ways to get your mind off of what just happened. He noticed in the corner of his eye the outline of what seemed to be tickets.

You watched as he bent down to grab the passes, wiping them on his pant leg. “Two tickets to the theatre, how fun!” He looked up at you with a crooked smile.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that, it is fun, I mean, not by yourself though-” You giggled at his awkwardness as he quickly stood up, his cheeks rosy with a blush.

“I got what you meant, Reiner, but to be honest, I don’t think I’ll go.” He shook his head and laughed. You looked at the man and bit your lip, words threatening to spill from your mouth.

He gave you a questioning look and tilted his head. “Reiner, walk home with me. Please?”

Having Reiner near you was already doing enough to calm your nerves, but you didn’t want to be alone after what you experienced. He blinked a few times, processing your request before giving a short nod.

You peeled yourself off the wall and promptly placed your shaking hands in your coat pockets, hoping that spending more time with Reiner might quell any remains of anxiousness you felt.

He waited for you to start walking before matching your steps, eyes flicking between your face and the path in front of the two of you.

Both of you walked in silence, the sound of your shoes clicking against the pavement filling your ears. Reiner spoke first, “I know you said you didn’t feel like going, but you should ask Bertholdt; I’m sure he would love to go with you.”

You turned to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Bertholdt? You think he would wanna go with me?”

The tips of Reiner’s ears were coloured a stark red, from only what you could assume could be the cold. He gave you a strained smile, “Yeah, of course, he would; you’re such a kind person, and I hear him talking about you all time!”

“Oh. Yeah, maybe I will ask Bert. Thanks, Reiner.” You hoped that any sign of dejection wouldn’t be evident to the man next to you. Sure, you thought Bertholdt was a nice guy, but it wasn’t him that you longed for; it was Reiner. Moments like these made you doubt the little hope you had that maybe, just maybe, he reciprocated those feelings.

“What play is it anyway?” You asked him, noticing that his shoulders had tensed after you accepted his suggestion.

Reiner realized that he was still holding on to the tickets that he had picked up earlier; he brought them up, reading the fine print, “it’s Much Ado About Nothing, hey, at least it’s not Macbeth.” He whispers at the end, handing you the tickets. You blinked at him before bursting out in laughter.

“You can say that outside of the theatre, you know, you don’t have to whisper it.” Grabbing the tickets from him, you watch as his mouth falls open before he turns his face away from you to mumble curses under his breath.

His face was flushed; it was odd seeing such a burly man get embarrassed at the slightest of things. For you, however, this was commonplace; Reiner was gentle and kind. He never overstepped your boundaries and treated you with compassion. While others would look in fear to him, scared to ever cross paths with him in the dead of night, his presence brought you immense comfort. It wasn’t surprising how quickly you fell for him; you thought he might feel the same, but it was clear that he saw you just as a friend.

“Okay, okay, I’m the idiot ha-ha, sorry for not knowing how theatre works.” He rubbed the back of his head as he smiled at you.

The both of you had gotten carried away in conversation, not realizing that you had already approached your apartment.

“I guess we’re here.” Reiner stopped in front of the pathway leading to the main entrance.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Um, Thank you for walking me back and helping me out back there. You’re a wonderful friend to have, Reiner.” You spun around, already wincing at your word usage.

“You are too. Remember not to put too much pressure on your wrists, okay? I'll see you soon" He waved at you before walking off, mind already replaying the way 'friend' rolled off your tongue so casually.

Reiner felt a sense of ache as he walked away from your apartment. Outwardly he didn't seem like the insecure type, he was well-built, and while people revered him for his strength, most never saw past that.

He didn't mean to scare people off, but Reiner couldn't blame them; he wasn't exactly the most inviting person to be around. He kept a small circle of friends, never venturing outside of his comfort zone unless forced. Practically a walking ‘Danger: Do Not Approach, unless you want to get hurt’ sign.

Then there was you.

For a long time, Reiner didn’t understand why you were so kind to him, never once in fear that he could ever hurt you; not that Reiner ever would, you were precious to him. He wanted to tell you how he felt, that he liked you more than a friend, but Reiner realized early on that it would never work out. While you were seemingly unaware of looks the both of you got in public, Reiner wasn’t. The lingering glances told him everything he needed to know. You deserved better; it would be selfish of him to confess and ruin your friendship just because of a silly crush. Which is why he shouldn’t have felt his heart sink when you mentioned Bertholdt.

You shut the door to your apartment before slipping off your coat and shoes. You were exhausted mentally and physically. Walking over to your kitchen, you poured yourself a cup of water and checked your phone. You were debating as to whether you should text Reiner or not.

Deciding against it, you made your way to your bedroom and began changing your clothes into something more comfortable. While you had calmed down significantly from the earlier events, your heart felt uneasy.

Did Reiner think you liked Bertholdt? You thought you made your attraction to the blond obvious, the soft touches, laughing at his jokes, stolen glances, maybe you were just bad at flirting, or perhaps he honestly didn’t reciprocate the feelings.

It couldn’t hurt to try one more time, right? Gather the courage to confess your feelings, and if it doesn’t work out, then so be it.

You chewed your lip before picking up your phone that you had thrown on your bed while changing, shooting him a text.

Hey! I’m going to be meeting with Bert again at the library tomorrow, do you want to join us, maybe?

You drummed your fingers anxiously against the back of your phone, waiting for his reply.

Sure :) What time?

You let out a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in. This was it. Tomorrow you would tell Reiner how you felt.

--

“Reiner told me that you wanted to go to the play? Well, he didn’t say that he, uh, said you wanted to go with me?” You sat in front of Bertholdt, who paused his typing once he heard what you said.

He lowered his laptop screen to look at you more clearly, “Me? Why would Reiner say-” You watched as the Brunet groaned and his head fell into his hands. “That idiot, I swear to God, he’s so fucking oblivious.”

It was your turn to be confused, but before you could question the man sitting in front of you, Reiner cleared his throat from behind you.

You whipped around and saw him smiling gently down at you; his hands were tucked into his jean pockets, “Hey, can I sit here?” You nodded quickly, pulling out the chair next to you, watching as he promptly slid in.

You passed over your laptop to Reiner, showing him the assignment details, pointing out the parts where you were confused. He nodded at everything you said, mind occupied with the feeling of having you near him. Reiner looked up and caught Bertholdt’s eye, who raised his eyebrows at him.

Bertholdt mouthed a ‘what the fuck’ to Reiner, who furrowed his brows in confusion.

He realized that maybe his friend was jealous that you were giving him your attention and not Bertholdt. He cleared his throat, “Thanks, I got it.”

You smiled at Reiner, pulling your laptop back to where you sat. He looked at you before looking at Bertholdt, “So, did you end up asking Bert?” Reiner smiled back at you, watching as your head tilted in confusion.

Bertholdt spoke before you did, “You know what, guys, I have to get this call; I’ll be right back.” He shot Reiner a look before standing up and exiting the library.

“Um, I did, but uh, Reiner? He was confused why you told me to ask him; I thought you meant he liked me or something?” You turned to face the blond who was writing his notes for you.

He placed his pen down, and you noticed that the tips of his ears were red, “You like him though, right?” His voice came out as a whisper.

You blinked at him, eyes going wide. Had he thought that you liked Bertholdt and not him?

“Wait, what? I don’t like Bertholdt, I mean, I do, he’s a nice guy, but he’s not my type.” You watched as Reiner shifted his body to look at you; he was barely able to keep eye contact.

“Oh. So what is your type then?” His gaze finally met yours, and he watched as the corners of your mouth turned up, forming a smile.

You figured that it was now or never, “If I were to generalize, then I would say, six feet tall, Blond, some facial hair, looks really serious all the time but has the kindest hazel eyes, and the name Reiner.” You saw as the gears finally clicked into place for the man in front of you.

He let out a small chuckle, “You like me? Not Bertholdt? Why?”

“Why not? Reiner, you are the sweetest guy I know; when I’m around you, I feel safe, my heart is on cloud nine, I never have to pretend around you; you’re so genuine and caring. Sure, Bertholdt is a nice guy, but it’s you I like Reiner, always has been”

If Reiner was blushing before, his face had gone completely red now, “How could I have been so dumb. I like you too.” You giggled at his bashfulness; tiny moments like this reminded you that he wasn’t as scary as people described him to be; to you, he was just Reiner, perfectly so.

Bertholdt walked back in, catching the two of you in the middle of your moment, “So I take it that you sorted out whatever was going on?”

You nodded quickly, grinning at Reiner. The Blond turned to face his friend, “I’m guessing you aren’t going to the play with them, are you, Bert?”

Bertholdt gave the Blond a dead-panned look, “No, you idiot, I think it’s pretty clear who they wanna go with,” he tilted his chin in your direction.

You were fiddling your fingers, the sound of your heartbeat loud and clear in your head.

��Would you like to go with me, Reiner?”

For the first time, Reiner felt okay with being a little selfish.

“Yes, I would.”

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! I had a lot of fun writing it, though i understand it was sort of dark in the beginning. this was my first time writing for reiner, so any feedback is encouraged !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu

taglist form in pinned !!

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate lots <33

[drabbles-mc]

Outnumbered

Creeper Vargas x F!Reader

Inspired by Day Nine of the July Prompts: beach

Warnings: language, talk of pregnancy, Creeper being the soft & fun dad that we all know he would be

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This takes place in my pre-established Dad!Creeper universe. I love this whole family dynamic, which I will refer to as the Wolfpack lmao. If you wanna read more about this lil Vargas Squad check out these fics: X, X

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @petlaufeyson​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ @berniesilvas​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

The kids jumped out of the van and immediately started sprinting towards the water. You laughed, calling after them to be careful and not go up past their knees until you and their father made it town to the shore. All three of them yelled some kind of acknowledgment back to you and all you could do was shake your head with a smile. They’d been waiting so long to come to the beach.

“Need me to carry something, Neron?” you asked, already knowing what his answer was going to be as you rested your hands on your stomach.

He shook his head, “Nah, mama, I got all this shit,” he leaned in, kissing your baby bump and then your lips, “You go ahead and find a spot for us.”

You chuckled, “At least let me take a chair or two. Or the towels. Something, please. You’ve only got two arms, baby.”

He pulled one towel out of one of the beach bags and handed it to you. When he saw the look on your face, he shook his head, adamant about his position, “You’re one over-exertion from having our baby on the beach.”

“Neron, c’mon, don’t be—”

“I’m good,” his smile was so sincere, it still made your whole heart feel full, “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

You smiled, not wanting to push the argument any further. You gave him one more kiss on the lips before thanking him and heading towards the shore. You could hear the laughter of your three children, and your smile grew as you watched the twins chase down their older brother, kicking water at him the entire time.

You laid out your towel to stake a claim on a small stretch of the beach. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw Creeper defying the laws of physics as he somehow managed to get all of the gear down to you in one trip. Cooler, chairs, umbrella and all, nothing got left behind. The laugh that slipped past your lips was involuntary as you watched him drop everything next to the towel you’d laid out.

Stepping over to him, you pulled him into a kiss, “You never cease to impress me.”

Lightly running his hand over your stomach, he smiled, “I should be the one saying that to you.”

Much to your surprise, he let you help him get everything set up. You laid out the towels for the kids and got the chairs set up for yourself and for him. You left him to wrestle with the umbrella—that was always his job whether you were pregnant or not. While he was doing that, you called out to your kids, waving for them to come over to you. They hesitated, not wanting to give up even one minute of being in the water, but when they saw the way you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited, they booked it right over to you.

“Sunscreen first, then you can go back to playing,” you told them as you pulled the bottle out of the bag.

They moaned and groaned, but they let you put it on their backs and faces. They took care of the rest, and you smiled at the little white streaks that were left on their arms and stomachs from their rushed jobs, too eager to get back to the water. The three of them were practically vibrating waiting for you to let them know that it was alright to go. Once you gave them a nod of approval, they were off and running again. You laughed as Brandon scooped up the bucket and shovel as he ran off, the small plastic shovel banging around with every bumpy step that he took across the sand.

“This alright?” Creeper redirected your attention to his umbrella setup.

You smiled, nodding as you saw he made sure your chair was perfectly shaded, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Whatever you need.”

He peeled off his tank top and a smirk instantly found its way onto your face as you watched him toss it to the side. He turned back to face you and when he saw your expression, he immediately chuckled and shook his head. Without even realizing it you found yourself biting down lightly on your bottom lip.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that in public, mama,” his smile was contagious.

“Sorry,” you stepped in closer to him, running your hands over the ink that covered his torso, “I can’t help it.”

Before either of you had a chance to say anything else, a shriek came from the edge of the water. Both of you turned to see your son tossing entire buckets of water at his sisters. You both laughed and Creeper gave you a kiss before taking off towards them to try and calm the situation before it got too out of hand.

You slowly and carefully lowered yourself down into your beach chair, keeping your eyes on your family the entire time. As you felt the restless kicking inside your belly, it sank in that the next time all of you came to the beach together, your family was going to be just a little bit larger. You shrugged off your coverup, and even though it was a thin piece of fabric it felt great to go without it, instantly running your hands over the exposed skin of your stomach.

While you were getting out your book and a drink for yourself, Creeper came trudging back up to your designated space. You flicked your eyes up to him, smiling as you saw the water running down the smooth skin of his head.

“I see you got caught in the crossfire,” you said with a laugh.

“Your girls are brutal,” he shook his head with a smile.

“Oh,” you rested your book on your stomach and gave him your full attention, “so now they’re my girls?”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “They’re your beautiful little savages, mama.”

“Mhm,” you chuckled as he opened a bottle of water and took a long drink from it, “I’ll remember that.”

You looked back down to the water and saw the three of them at least getting along now, no doubt plotting something together against their father for when he returned to the danger zone. It was impossible not to smile as the three of them huddled together. Looking over at your husband, you found him with his eyes fixed on you, a soft smile on his face. He twisted the cap back onto his water bottle before tossing it onto his chair.

As he went to take off again, you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could get too far. He whipped back around to you, concern on his face, “Yea, baby?”

You chuckled, motioning for him to come closer, “You gotta put on some sunscreen.”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gave a slight shake of your head, “Remember what happened last time you said that? You got all blistered up. C’mon. If I make the kids do it, I gotta make you do it too.”

He knew better than to argue with you, so he let you put a generous amount in his hands while you got up to rub it into his back and on the top of his head. You chuckled when he flinched at the coldness of the lotion. As you took a couple extra moments to really work it into his shoulders, you felt his body relax under your touch, and it brought a smile to your face. He reached back, placing his hand over yours before turning to face you.

“I love you.”

You smiled, nodding, “I love you too.”

“You gotta promise you won’t get mad at me, alright?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Mad at you for what?”

The edges of his lips curled into a smirk as he took the leftover lotion on his hands and smeared it in a line down your face with a laugh, leaving a bright white streak behind as he took off running, shouting back to you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you.

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you rested your hands on your stomach, “You’re lucky I’m pregnant and can’t run after you, Neron!” you paused, and after a few seconds you thought better of it, “Alex! Ava! Brandon!” you called out to each of your kids, smiling when they all snapped to attention and looked at you, “See if you guys can dunk your father before we go home today!”

They all let out screams of joy and excitement, smiles taking over their faces as they ran towards their dad. Creeper looked at you, the weight of defeat making his shoulders slump slightly as he accepted his fate. You laughed as you slowly lowered yourself back into your beach chair. Within seconds the twins had attached themselves to Creeper’s legs and Brandon was attempting to climb up onto his father’s back. All four of them were laughing and you were honestly impressed by your husband’s ability to stay upright.

Your son was fully attached to Creeper’s back, legs securely wrapped around the man’s torso and arms looped around his neck. You chuckled as Creeper crouched down, trying with all his might to pry his daughters off of his legs, tucking them under his arms as he made the short walk into the water and dunking them instead of the other way around. Their laughter could be heard all down the coast and it was impossible not to laugh from where you were sitting.

“Your turn, B-Dawg,” he laughed as he reached back and lifted his son off of him, lofting him into the water, the young boy cackling the entire time.

Once the three of them had been sufficiently tossed around, they settled into a calmer activity of building a sandcastle just out of reach of the high tide waves. When they seemed fairly calm, Creeper made his way back up to you. You’d managed to get through some of your book as you watched them, and he smiled as he quickly wiped off some of the water and sand, finding his seat next to you.

“Got your workout for the day?” you looked over at him with a smile.

He chuckled, nodding, “Yea. Can’t believe you sicced my own kids on me, mama. That’s cold.”

“Fair is fair when I can’t chase after you,” you laughed, “Just wait until next year when you’re even more outnumbered.”

His laughter quieted as he glanced down at your stomach, and he gave a satisfied nod, “I can’t wait.”

“You’re gonna run out of arms,” you said with a smile as you reached and entwined your fingers with his.

He laughed, “That’s what I’ve got you for. If we stick together we might almost be able to hold our own.”

“That’s a big maybe.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah,” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “We’ve got this down. We’ll be alright.”

[sitp-recs]

(Perfect artwork for Modern Love, by @cambiodipolvere)

Today is the day of one of my favorite people! And I totally resent @tackytigerfic and Starry for almost sharing the same birthday, god the STRESS 😂 Tacky is my first and closest fandom friend. We clicked together so fast and easy that sometimes it feels like I’ve known her all my life, like we’re two dog moms living in the same neighborhood who happen to read fic in their free time. Despite our conflicting time zones and crazy schedules we manage to chat every other day, tagging and sending each other all kinds of stuff, coming together to cry scream about a brilliant fic we’ve just read or shaking our heads in embarrassment at every other unnecessary bullshit post. Tacky’s bright and wise energy uplifts my spirit even on my moody days, and makes me grateful for her friendship and for this fandom life. Okay so this got long and I had to put the rest under the cut:

It’s such a lovely and precious thing, to have someone with whom you can share every single thought that crosses your mind, your scariest, most embarrassing, petty or disturbing idea, without fear of being shamed or judged by it. I trust Tacky with all my heart to hear me out, share a joke or a piece of advice, even on the (rare) occasions when we don’t get the same perspective - that doesn’t happen often when it comes to Drarry, as we are taste twins!

Tacky my darling, you’re such a good person, and such an incredible friend. Thank you for introducing me to this lovely community, for being my safe haven and your unique self, with so many qualities I admire and feel inspired by: kind, witty, earnest, wise, and so very human. I love your humour and empathy, and your chill yet no-nonsense personality; I love your talent and how articulated you are; I love your passion for Drarry, and how you let this emotion inform the way you navigate the fandom and create for it. And god, but you’ve been creating some of the most beautiful content I’ve seen in these recent years! I’m permanently in awe of your ability to write Drarry in any shape, format or length, transforming even the most ordinary moment into an extraordinary and meaningful piece of character or relationship development. You know how you mentioned yesterday that some authors change the way you feel about a ship in a deep, definitive way? Well, you are that author for me. Your works made me fall in love with M-rated contemplative romance, and also allowed me to fall in love with Harry in a way I never thought it was possible before.

Some people - myself included - got to know you through the fun and intriguing A Lick and a Promise, others through the atmospheric and sensitive Modern Love, others through your contemplative and heartbreaking short form. Each story has its merits and purpose, and all of them share a Tacky trademark: the heartkick factor! Your talent has no limits and goes across different genres and tropes, that you explore with a bold twist full of personality and heart. And even more impressive is your consistency at always raising the bar - every new fic of yours becomes an instant fave and makes me think “wow I thought Tacky couldn’t get better yet here we are”. Seeing how your writing evolves as you find your narrative voice is a beautiful and humbling experience, I feel so lucky!

I’m really grateful for being active in the fandom at this moment in time, because that allows me to read and engage with your brilliant work, and to have you as a dear friend. I can’t wait to see what comes out of your beautiful brain next. It was an impossible job choosing a single fic to rec today, so I decided to do a belated Tacky reclist! Naturally these are my personal and biased must-reads, and I urge everyone to go check these beauties right now. Feel free to include your own favorites too, and don’t forget to leave them some appreciation.

Happy happy birthday my darling Tacky! This fandom life wouldn’t be the same without you. I hope you have the amazing day you deserve!

Between the Power Lines (2020, M, 3.2k)

The road trip fic you didn’t know you needed. I got utterly immersed in the heartbreaking quietness of this, feeling like a witness to an ordinary yet poignant love story. Such tender intimacy, such character development, such lovely American aesthetics with barely any dialogue. This is, IMO, the fic that reveals Tacky’s triumph in storytelling.

Even the Night (2020, M, 3.4k)

This fic has a surreal atmosphere, those Midsummer vibes unbelievably sexy and intoxicating linked to the sensorial experience of fumbling together in the night. Masterclass in tension building, a silky and languid dream-like affair.

Aim for my Heart (2021, M, 3.4k) - Harry/Draco/Ron

One of the most sensitive and stunning portraits I’ve ever seen of a poly/triad relationship, this fic packs so much character and longing! It’s a privilege to watch Ron and Draco’s tentative dynamics through the smitten eyes of the one person that loves them like no one else: Harry.

The Long Fall (2021, M, 3.6k)

I can’t even write about this tender domesticity without getting a lump in my throat. Best opening scene I’ve read in years, and a refreshing way to approach both mpreg and parenthood, painfully honest and lovely. This became an immediate comfort read for me, and it’s probably one of the fics I revisit the most.

Mortal Frame (2021, M, 6.6k)

This thrilling, fast-paced spy story left me breathless since the first paragraph, gods what an immersive ride! I’m so here for Drarry on the run, sharp and urgent with danger but mellowed by the silent trust and tender intimacy only Tacky can master. Major bonus points for the brilliant take on the Horcrux hunt plot line!

Last Offices (2020, M, 6.7k)

Oh, this fic 💔 I tend to avoid MCD but there’s something so deeply fascinating about body washing rituals that I caught myself mesmerized by this. I just couldn’t put it down, so emotionally compromised I felt. There’s a sort of strange comfort in the heartbreak of doing one last act of service out of devotion to someone. This fic inspired so many difficult but lovely feelings in me, and one of them was hope. Only Tacky could possibly achieve that!

Our Little Life (2020, M, 7.2k)

Inventive and singular, this story hit me straight on the solar plexus and left me speechless as I saw the (clever, magical and bittersweet) plot unravel. Such a fabulous take on alternate universes and all the angst potential behind it. Come and bask in the yearning melancholia of a short yet intricate and perfectly executed plot.

And One to Play (2019, E, 21k)

What a fun and delightful fic, I can’t have enough of pining Harry losing all sense of propriety when faced with a hot, competent and pragmatic Draco. This has fab dynamics, unhinged protectiveness, even more unhinged attraction between two idiots who can’t keep their hands off each other. A must-read for any Auror partners fan!

A Lick and a Promise (2019, E, 55k)

Hot, BAMF Professors carefully balancing a fuck buddies situation while solving a Hogwarts mystery, do we need anything else? I certainly do not. This fic is so fun and intriguing and immersive, with amazing supportive cast and a delicious get together feat secret shagging and oblivious pining. Love it!

Modern Love (2020, E, 61k)

My favorite read of 2020, this fic is a love letter to Drarry and will always hold a piece of my soul. Sensitive, wistful, tenderly aching and so very romantic, this is a Muggle Draco triumph with a superb Harry, exquisite slow burn and a side of suds comfort. I promise it will be impossible to listen to Bowie again without thinking of this love story.

Bonus: five stunning drabbles!

Something in the Way (2021, T, 119 words)

“Up,” he said, and Draco, sick with love, raised his arms above his head and allowed Potter to slide the jumper on him, big hands stroking it flat over Draco’s stomach until they both shivered.

Stir-Up Sunday (2020, M, 300 words)

“I want you always,” he said, tugging again on the fine curling length of it. “Is it okay to say that?”

Whalebone Arch (2021, M, 722 words)

“Are you still not talking to me?” Draco steered Harry towards the crisps. “Do I have to suck you off in the loo to cheer you up?”

Semiplume (2021, T, 923 words)

“Did you know,” Harry murmured, and he put his arms around Draco, fearless. “I’d be your mate. If you needed a mate, I mean.”

Relic Radiation (2021, M, 927 words)

“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.

[alice-angel12x]

Tokyo ghoul x Twisted wonderland

Rook hunt x ghoul reader

"Y/n senpai, I've noticed something. I never see you eat anything, but drown in coffee. Why is that?" Epel asked his 2nd year senior.

"Well, I'm dieting and I'm trying to hold back on some things, and I really like Coffee," Y/n smiled as they took a sip of their hot coffee.

"How do you even get away with that with Vil?!" Epel gasped.

"What Vil doesn't know can't hurt him. Plus he should worry about those who actually want his help," Y/n said as they took another sip of coffee.

"Evening my Roi de la nuit," Rook greeted as he sat next to Y/n suddenly, as he pulled them close by the waist.

"Ughh, Hello Rook," Y/n sighed.

"Rook senpai, g-good Evening. I didn't know you were very friendly with Y/n senpai," Epel said.

"A little too friendly," Y/n said as they tried to move away from Rook.

"Oh, why must you be so cruel, my Roi de la nuit?" Rook said dramatically.

But Rook had an Iron hold on Y/n's waist, so Y/n sat as they watched Rook and Epel finish up their dinner. As they sat in the Dorms dinning area when Vil entered the room, looking for Epel. As he scanned the room his eyes landed on Y/n, he glared at them as he quickly walked in and dragged Epel away.

"I've over stayed my social welcome, I'm going back to my room," Y/n sighed as they stood up, and headed down the hall to the Sleeping quarters.

As they felt Rook could hear the quiet rumbles of Y/n' s stomach. In Y/n' s room they tossed in pain as their Stomach grumbled and grained for a proper meal, just some Human flesh. Yet that though sickened them as they tried to ignore the pain, putting off the hunt for as long as possible.

Rook hummed to himself as he held a pheasant he hunted by his side. Some off the new Dorm members were slightly disgusted by the animal carcass Rook was bringing into the Dorm. While the Older ones didn't  even bat and eyelash. As Rook continued down the hall with his signature smile, he was stopped as he passed a miffed Vil.

"Still feeding that monster," Vil glared at the dead animal.

"What are you talking about?" Rook asked innocently, not even turning to Vil.

" Don't play Coy with me, I know what that "friend" of yours really is," Vil growled, " Their a ghoul."

"Vil, don't  make such baseless accusations," Rook said.

"I've read about them once, they are dangerous beasts that feed on humans and beastmen alike. They were hunted down all over the kingdoms, and know days only remain in The Afterglow Savanna," Vil said.

"So knowledgeable as ever, beautiful Vil," Rook smiled, still not turning to look at him.

"Is it true that people in the Afterglow hunt those creatures for sport, and as a right of passage for warriors?" Vil asked.

"Umm, yes. Your point?" Rook asked as his grip tightened.

"Why haven't you gotten rid of them, and instead put all our Dormmates and school in danger?" Vil asked.

"They aren't-"

"They need to feed on human flesh, and they haven't eaten in a long while. Its only a matter of time before they snap and eat someone. Or is the lives of a few people don't matter," Vil glared.

"That won't happen, well good night Vil," Rook said through a strained smile.

He continued on his way till he reached Y/n's  room, and quickly letting himself in. Only to see Y/n curled on their bed holding their stomach in pain.

"Roi de la nuit ! Hold on I'm here. With food too," Rook smiled as he tried to comfort Y/n.

Y/n's eyes turned black with red irises as they devoured the pheasant in an instant. But it did little to make them feel better, as their Stomach demanded its main sustenance.

"Rook, you need to leave, Now!" Y/n begged.

"You need proper food, let me help," Rook offered.

"No, I don't  want to hurt anyone," Y/n sobbed.

"I know, but this isn't the first time, and I know it needs to be done," Rook said as he revealed his left shoulder.

It was covered in past bit marks. Y/n slowly turned to see Rook offering his shoulder, but before they could think their body moved on it's own. Y/n quickly bit down on Rook's shoulder, their teeth sinking into the skin and drawing blood. Rook winced at the pain, but kept composure as he stroked Y/n's hair gently and hold them close.

"Wake up Y/n, you are stronger than this," he whispered lovingly.

Y/n's body froze as they slowly took control as tears slowly ran down heir cheeks.

______

"You shouldn't have done that," Y/n sniffled as they wrapped Rook's bitten shoulder.

"Well know your hunger has been settled for a little while. So I don't mind," Rook winced.

"Your insane you know that," Y/n sighed.

Rook slowly leaned toward and his lover and gently kissed their cheek.

"I guess I am Insensé for you, my Roi de la nuit," Rook smiled as he pulled them down to lay next to him.

As the two laid is silence, a question slowly came to the front of Y/n's mind.

"Why are you even protecting me? Like Vil said, I am a monster," Y/n mumbled into Rooks chest.

Rook remained silent for awhile as he gently held Y/n' s hand.

"Remember when we first meet?" Rook asked, " Back in the After Savanna."

"Yeah, we were about 11," Y/n said.

"Around that time my father wanted to prove his skills and be granted the title of master hunter. In order to get that was to hunt down a Ghoul. To hunt down our predator, and like a Garçon insensé I followed him out in the danger zone," Rook sighed.

"Oh yeah, I remember. The lone boy who only had his bow and arrows by his side," Y/n chuckled slightly.

"You spared me that day, you could have killed me. But you protected me from the others," Rook said.

"I still attacked you and bit you. I could have killed you," Y/n argued.

__________

A young Rook Hunt stared up in horror at the young figure on top of him. They looked slightly younger than himself, but he couldn't  be sure with the mask covering his attackers face.

All he could see was the Red crimson irises staring down at him through the Eye holes of the mask. Rook tried to wrestle the young ghoul off him, but red tendrils sprouted from their back to hold him down.

"I'm so sorry," they whispered as they bit down on Rooks shoulder.

Rook cried out in pain, but soon the figure released him and quickly stood up. Rook sat up and backed away for the young ghoul, but as he looked back at his attackers eyes. He didn't  see a blood thirsty monster, but someone just as scared. They slow removed their mask, revealing their tearful face.

"Get out of here, and don't  come back," They figure said as they ran off into the savanna.

__________

"True, but you didn't, I could see it in your eyes, even if your mask hide your beauty at first," Rook said.

"After that you proceed to stalk me for the next 3 years," Y/n groaned as they thought back.

" Je ne aurais jamais, I was simply observing you. Why must you be so cruel with your words," Rook said dramatically.

"Then when you revealed yourself to me, you presented me with roses and "serenaded" me with a very long and flowery poem," Y/n sighed in embarrassment as their face turned red from embarrassment.

"Fufufu, your face was so red. You were so beautiful," Rook sighed with a smile.

"I am not beautiful," Y/n mumbled.

"Ne dis pas ça, your a mysterious and dangerous beauty," Rook said as he kissed Y/n's forehead," And I'll protect you. From those who wish to harm you, and from the monster within you."

Suddenly their was a crash and screams could be heard outside. Rook and Y/n quickly sat up as Rook quickly grabbed his Bow and Arrows. Just as he was about to run out of the room, he turned to Y/n.

"Reste ici (stay here)," Rook said as he quickly ran out.

But as they sat in the room they could smell the blood as the sound of thrashing continued. Y/n turned to their nightstand and hesitantly pulled out their mask; hiding it inside their clothes. They ran down the hall too see it was a ghoul attack. The Ghoul had a plague doctor mask, who had taken a large bit out of an unfortunate Pomeifore dorm member. Epel was frozen in fear as he tried to help the attacked student, Rook and Vil were trying to take down the rampaging Ghoul.

The two managed to chase the ghoul out of the dorm, but the School was already on alert as the staff, a few dorm leaders, and some vice leaders try to trap the creature. Y/n, with their mask set on their face quickly tracked down the invader and stood proud and tall as they stared them down on main street.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?!" Y/n shouted.

"This is my turf," he said simply as he charged Y/n.

The battle between the ghouls were violent and bloody, as blows and bites were received on both parties.

As the battle raged it brought the attention of the staff and students as they came rushing to see two ghouls fighting each other. They watched in horror as the staff and Headmatser quickly arrived. He was horrified to see not only that two ghouls had gotten into the school, but one of them were a student.

Rook could only watch in horror as his lover and friend continue to be bloodied and bitten. Y/N continued to fight till they finally get had landed a killing blow to the chest of the intruder ghoul.

Y/n refused to turn around as they could feel the hatful and disgusted glares staring down on them. They already knew that they were reading their magic pens, raised and aimed at them.

"Who ever you are foul creature, surrender immediately," Crowley demanded.

"It would be wise that you surrender, it was foolish of you to think that you could sneak into our school as a student," Crewel sneered, " if you come quietly, we'll give a quick and painless death."

"Je ne veux pas mourir.(I don't want to die)," Y/n said in shaky amateur French.

"fuyez...loin..dans un endroit sûr. ( Run away... Far Away... somewhere safe)," Rook said slowly.

The other students and staff were to busy worrying about the ghoul the didn't realize That the ghoul and Rook were having a conversation.

"Je te trouverai partout où tu iras. (I'll find you wherever you go)," Rook said quietly.

Y/n nodded as he quickly pulled out their own and summoned a mist, clouding the students view. With the opening Y/n quickly ran into the night.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Colour symbol ask:

Fluff: grey: maturity

Gordon & Alan

Secret Tunnel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Gordon

Well, my muses have come to life again, which is both great for my mental state and annoying timing with regards to the uni work I'm supposed to be doing, but I'll make it work :D

After making a Military Bros masterpost of everything I've written for those two for Military Bros Day, I started thinking about all the different brother duos and how much I've written for each of them. Now, I might be forgetting something, but the one combination I don't recall writing anything for at all is Gordon&Alan, so I poked at my muses and we came up with this!

It's only a loose tie-in to the prompt, I think, but some sensible Tinies content counts as being mature, right?

Colour Symbol Prompts

“So.” Alan glanced up at his brother, raising an eyebrow at the drawl. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Gordon continued, tone light in a way that would have been disarming if it wasn’t Gordon, and they weren’t in the remains of a collapsed building.

“What’s the bad news?” he asked, rolling his shoulder. It was stiff, vocally complaining at the movement, and Alan was well aware that without the pauldrons his overprotective brothers had thrown on his uniform before letting him join IR it would be a lot worse. While none of the debris had hit either of them directly, some smaller chunks of masonry had glanced off his left shoulder.

Gordon’s sharp amber eyes tracked the motion even as his brother spoke. “Well, the bad news is that our comms are down.” Alan had suspected as such, but the fact still dumped a heavy weight on his chest. No comms meant no John, no Scott or Virgil, no help from outside. He didn’t like being cut off from his brothers at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times.

Still, he at least had one brother this time, and despite his penchant for not taking things seriously at home, when out on a mission, Gordon was as reliable as they came. They might not have Thunderbird Five’s data at their disposal, or Scott’s leadership, or Virgil’s muscles, but they did have two working brains between them.

Panicking, as Alan had learnt the hard way on other rescues where things went wrong, did him no favours at all. He swallowed back the instinctual panic and met Gordon’s eyes in the artificial half light of the glowstick from Gordon’s baldric.

“So what’s the good news?” he asked.

“The good news,” Gordon said with a flourish and grin reserved for when things weren’t going their way and Alan’s immediate brother decided the world wasn’t allowed to do that, “is that I think I’ve found us a way out.”

“You think?” Alan couldn’t help but question, even though he was already scrabbling his way to his feet and looking around in the hopes of seeing whatever Gordon had found.

“Over here.” He followed the glowstick as Gordon headed over towards where the rubble looked the thickest, blocking them in. “There’s air flowing in.”

Neither of their uniforms offered much by way of exposed skin, but Alan leaned down where Gordon gestured and took off his helmet just long enough to feel a faint breeze on his cheek.

“Where’s that coming from?” he asked, tugging his helmet back on. Gordon pointed at the floor, or what had once been the floor.

“It’s coming from down there,” he said.

“The floor?” Alan knelt down where Gordon gestured. “Why would it be coming from the- oh.”

The house they’d been in, and were now trapped inside, had been an old one. Alan didn’t remember the exact age, but it was a couple of centuries old at least. Old houses, especially larger ones, had secret passageways.

“So how do we get it open?” he wondered out loud, already rummaging around the area. Gordon crouched down next to him with a shrug as his hands joined Alan’s in trying to find a way to open the passageway that had to be there if they were getting airflow.

“Figured finding ways to open secret passages was more your thing,” his brother admitted. “Don’t those games of yours have secret passageways in all the time?”

The question was an honest one, and Alan blinked. “Well, yeah,” he said, “but those are games. This is real. It won’t be the same.” Despite his words, his fingers were still pulling and pushing at the stones that made up the floor, because at least it was a lead.

They could, of course, wait for their bigger brothers to barge their way in, with Virgil encased in his exosuit and Scott so close behind he’d be standing on his heels while John guided them non-stop over the comms, but there was still a lot of work to be done and they were deep inside the building.

Said building took that moment to groan again, threatening another collapse if they didn’t get out pronto. Alan loved his brothers, but he wasn’t about to get crushed because he’d waited helplessly for rescue. The danger zone covered a large area, and while he and Gordon had found no casualties in their sector, Virgil and Scott would have to prioritise the civilians elsewhere no matter how much they might be panicking about losing contact with the pair of them.

If he and Gordon could find their own way out, so much the better.

“It’s close enough, right?” Gordon shrugged, still sounding inappropriately light-hearted for the situation. Alan didn’t take it personally – Gordon’s coping strategies had time and time proven themselves to be effective.

“I’ll let you know,” he grunted, finding ridges in the stone floor. “Bring that light closer. I think I’ve got something.”

The sickly green glow spread across more of his vision as Gordon held it close to his hands, illuminating the remains of the floor below them. There were multiple ridges carved into the stone, all uniform and completely mundane.

Except for the section that wasn’t.

Alan almost missed it, huffing in defeat as he sat on his haunches and rubbed at his shoulder again. At a glance, it looked no different to the rest of the floor, but it had caught his glove in a way the others hadn’t. It was also in the same place as the mysterious airflow.

Gloved fingers scrabbled at the discrepancy, hunting for a purchase that would hopefully reveal their way out. Gordon had moved to crouch right next to him, holding the glowstick aloft but otherwise keeping his hands to himself and leaving the investigation to Alan. His presence there was comforting, helping Alan to keep it together when part of him wanted to scream into his dead comms in the hope that John would pick it up anyway.

There was a click, barely audible over the noise of creaking masonry in their immediate vicinity. Alan felt it rather than heard it, his fingers suddenly pressing down as the resistance vanished. Age old mechanisms whirred back into life, until with a clunk part of the floor moved down and to the side, revealing a small, dark, passageway leading down into the belly of the house.

“Nice one,” Gordon acknowledged, leaning forwards and peering into the inky depths. A second glowstick was snapped and tossed in, illuminating what was definitely a rough-hewn rock corridor. “I’ll go first.”

He was halfway in by the time the words registered, and Alan peered at the opening with some reluctance. “And you’re sure this will get us out?” he checked, because he didn’t want to wait to be rescued like a civilian, but he also had no intentions of being buried alive.

“That air’s coming from somewhere,” Gordon reminded him, edging forwards a few more paces until he reached the glowstick laying where it had landed on the floor of the corridor. “And the roof of this thing seems pretty sturdy.” He rapped it a couple of times with his knuckles. “If the rest of the house collapses, this’ll be the last thing to go.”

A glance around showed that his brother was probably right. Alan swallowed before following him inside, sticking right on Gordon’s heels as the older blond led the way, glowstick held up high for light.

As far as passages went, it was small. Apt for a secret passage, but annoying when the ceiling lowered and the pair of them had to stoop almost double to get through some sections. It twisted and turned, in some areas narrow enough to force them to go through sideways, and at one point the way forwards seemed to vanish altogether before Alan realised a shaft of rock was concealing the next section.

It definitely lived up to its likely original purpose of a secret escape. Pursuing someone through there would be difficult; luckily, the only aim Alan and Gordon had was getting out of the collapsed building.

The first sign of the outside world was when their comms crackled in unison. It was impossible to make anything out through the static, but the garbled voice of John was definitely missing the calm tones their ginger brother usually deployed on rescues. Scott’s response was short and sharp, clipped in a way that screamed panic, and the low rumble of Virgil felt on edge, too.

Returning comms promised that they had to nearly be out, and Alan stumbled forwards, almost catching himself with his painful shoulder before he arrested his momentum with his healthy arm instead.

Neither he nor Gordon spoke, even though he was certain the same thoughts had to be running through his brother’s head as well. They were close, but they weren’t out yet, and had no reassurance that the exit for the secret tunnel hadn’t been collapsed or buried by more falling debris.

Still, it remained the best chance they had. Alan didn’t fancy trailing back through the passageway and sitting back in the rubble of the building, and he knew Gordon felt the same, so pushing onwards was their only choice. It continued to twist and turn, dog-legging and backtracking with no apparent rhyme nor reason. Alan tried to keep track of it in his head, logging it like any secret passage in Cavern Quest, but it put all the virtual ones to shame.

Then Gordon stopped, and Alan walked straight into him.

“Ow!” he exclaimed instinctively, before stepping back a pace. “Why have we stopped?”

“It doesn’t go any further,” Gordon said, holding the glowstick high. It was running out of juice, leaving the sickly green glow far fainter than it had been earlier. It was barely enough light to make out his brother’s face, let alone whatever the rocks surrounding them were doing. “This must be the end.”

“So get us out,” Alan shrugged, rubbing his shoulder and trying to hide the wince of pain that came with the action. Their comms were still broadcasting garbled static interspersed with panicked voices, but the signal was still too poor to even attempt to get hold of John. “There’ll be a mechanism somewhere. Try looking for something slightly off in the ridges on the stone?”

“Trying,” Gordon grunted. The faint green-lit silhouette of his shoulders strained as he pushed and pulled at the rocks. “Not finding anything, Alan.”

“Let me try.” He pushed forwards, trying to squeeze past Gordon to get a better look at the wall of rock blocking their way. Gordon fell back without complaint, although it took a lot of pushing and pulling, and a concerning scrape against his helmet before they managed it.

Alan was struck by a flash of gratitude that none of their older brothers were with them. Scott and John would both be too tall, and Virgil was too bulky. Getting through the passageway with one of them would have been a nightmare. At least he hadn’t yet stopped growing and Gordon was small – not that he planned on mentioning that to Gordon just yet. There was a time and a place for the teasing, and this was neither.

With Gordon now behind him, looming over his shoulder with the ever-fading glowstick held out helpfully in his periphery, Alan reached out and felt around for something similar to the switch he’d found to get them into the tunnel from the other end. Carefully uniform ridges carved across the rock and he followed them with his fingers until, finally, something gave.

Bright light spilled in as the end of the tunnel opened, blinding him with midday sun.

That, however, paled in comparison to the way both their comm audios suddenly sharpened.

“Any sign of them?” Scott’s voice demanded.

“Keep working on getting the mother out of that room,” John non-answered, still sounding far too on edge. “Virgil, there’s a small life sign the other side of the wall.”

“F.A.B.” The forced calm of Virgil’s voice told Alan he was no less agitated than the other two.

“Hey guys.” Gordon chipped in, echoing in Alan’s helmet from the comm channel in stereo with the sound of his voice in real time. “Where do you need us, Thunderbird Five?”

“Gordon!” All three voices overlapped in frantic cacophony. “Where are you?” Scott demanded. “Where’s Alan? Are you okay?”

“I’m here, too,” Alan promised.

“We’re fine,” Gordon added. “Who’s left to save?”

“Virgil and Scott are on the last life signs now,” John told them. “Your signals have reappeared a fair way out from the danger zone; get yourselves back to Thunderbird Two.”

Alan looked around and realised he was right – the two Thunderbirds gleamed in the sunlight, but it was immediately clear that the passageway they’d taken had led almost directly away from the crafts. Even in a straight line, the walk was going to take a good quarter of an hour.

Next to him, Gordon sighed and started walking. “F.A.B.,” he agreed. Alan stumbled a little as he lurched forwards to keep up. “We’ll see you there.”

Sure enough, by the time they arrived, both on-site brothers were waiting impatiently. It was clear that it was only the presence of their rescuees that had stopped them from striking out to meet them, but even that wasn’t enough to stop their big brothers charging towards them as soon as they were visible.

Scott reached them first, always the fastest runner, and Alan let out an oof as he was crushed into a frantic hug alongside Gordon. Worried blue eyes looked them both over, narrowing as they found something they didn’t like.

He was pushed aside as Virgil reached them, Thunderbird Two’s pilot refraining from giving them a bear hug only because he’d clearly spotted the scrape on Alan’s helmet as he’d approached.

“Are you hurt?” A medscanner was deployed almost before Virgil was finished talking. Scott didn’t wait for permission from anyone before carefully detaching Alan’s helmet and peering at his head. Alan didn’t bother to stop him.

“I’m fine!” he made sure to protest, though, although his hand betrayed him as it subconsciously moved across to rub at his shoulder again. None of his brothers missed the action, and before he knew it he was being whisked inside the green Thunderbird so Virgil could take a closer look.

Scott hovered worriedly by his side, glancing over periodically at Gordon. Alan followed suit, catching Gordon’s eye, and his brother rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. It was fond, though; Alan wasn’t at all surprised by Scott and Virgil’s behaviour, and he highly doubted Gordon was, either.

It was just a hazard of having older brothers.

[ifeellikeameowster]

Raise Hell - Creativitwins and Darkside!Roman Fic

Fic Summary: After a brooding session in his room after the events of SVS2, Roman decides Fuck It! and visits his brother Remus' room. As the two brothers reconnect, Roman ends up making a startling decision.

Warnings: Roman Angst, Self Loathing, Self Deprecating, Darkside!Roman, Gore, Violence, Weapons, Sexual Innuendos (Basically Remus just being Remus)

Pairings: None!

Wordcount: 7k+ (almost 8k)

Author's Note:

I started writing this fic immediately after SVS2 so it's canon complacent until after that, where it branches off into this AU! This was before both Flirting With Social Anxiety and Working Through Intrusive Thoughts came out, so please just consider this an alternate "What If?" scenario! (Also this just goes to show you how much I procrastinate when it comes to writing whoops lol.)

Roman sat curled up on his bed. Sitting in the same position that he had been for the past two days or so. He couldn't exactly recall how long he had been there holed up in his room, actually.

The only thing he could recall was the disappointed looks on their faces, their harsh words whether intentional or not, and the feeling of his whole world seemingly crumbling down around him. It was all too much too soon, and after his outburst he had sunken into a numb state of suspension. Waiting to feel anything other than anger, grief, and disappointment. All three of which were mainly pointed dangerously at his own self like a bunch of daggers repeatedly striking where they knew it would hurt most.

Patton had stopped by shortly after he had first sunk out, yes. But Roman could hardly hear what the fatherly side was saying to him over the ringing in his ears and his own rapid heartbeat constantly reminding him it had been recently struck through. Something about everything being okay, he thinks? Yet how could Patton have said that when absolutely nothing was okay right now? In fact, he doubted anything could be okay ever again. Not after…well, after he had apparently messed up again.

It was starting to become a habit now, all of these stupid mistakes. And how could such a perfect prince as him make such mistakes? He was supposed to be a paragon of perfection! An idol for all aspiring heroes alike! The pinnacle of heroism and all that is good in the world! Instead he was just...just wrong. Always wrong. Always wrong no matter who's side he took or who he believed in or what he said or didn't say. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if he wasn't a perfect prince...if he wasn't a hero...if he wasn't right...then what exactly was he? What was left? Well, nothing, really. He had put all of his eggs in one basket and now the littlest breeze had apparently sent it toppling over.

Wait a minute...If he had nothing left, then that meant he had nothing left to lose, right? Which meant all of his old restrictions on himself, all of his walking the fine line and all of him staying on the right side of the fence- All of it was meaningless. It was doing nothing, just like him.

He slowly unfurled his body from it's curled up position and turned his gaze towards the closet on the far side of his room. The door was dingier compared to the rest of the elegant and ornately designed bedroom. Scratch marks marred its greyed, wooden surface and a sign was tapped loosely and half-hazardly to the middle. "Danger: Nightmare Zone. Keep out!" It read in bright red lettering.

"Keep out, huh...I must have been really mad when I wrote that." Roman glanced down to his hands, which he had clenched. "But now I'm just empty...so what's the use in obeying a stupid sign that I put up there myself?" He unfisted his hands and looked back to the imposing closet door. "What could be more dangerous in there than staying here and stewing in my own thoughts?"

He slowly stood up, his legs tingling from being in one position for far too long. He made his way over to the closet door. Slowly. Cautiously. Glancing over his shoulder as if someone was going to walk in on him at any moment. As his hand grasped the handle, he felt himself gulp. Did he really want to do this?

"…"

Well, what else was there to do?

He pushed the door open and stepped into the closet full of old clothes. All of his new princely adornments were actually being stored in a mahogany wardrobe beside his nightstand. These clothes were...they belonged to...Well, someone who didn't exist. At least not anymore. He pushed his way through dusty and moth-bitten clothes as if he was pushing through the undergrowth of a dense jungle. As he neared his destination, the place grew darker and smelled more and more of mold.

He finally arrived at another door. This one was more well kept than the last, with golden trimmings and an intricate door handle. He took a deep breath to steal his nerves before pushing it open.

He stepped out into another bedroom. This one had moss in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling, and ivy climbing it's walls. Even still, it was much tidier than he had been expecting. It gave off more of a wild feeling rather than a dirty one. Just as he was about to take another step to inspect further, there was a mace in his face.

He hadn't even flinched back, he was so tired and dazed. Roman sucked in a nervous breath and looked to the wielder of the weapon.

Remus was standing frozen in place, his face flickering between emotions. Eyes twitching. It appeared like he had intended to knock him out again...just like last time in the living room...but something must have made him pause.

"You've been crying." He hissed, less of a question and more of an accusation.

Roman blinked, confused, before reaching up to poke the skin underneath his eyes. Sure enough, it was puffy. He bet if he looked in a mirror they'd be red-rimmed as well. But he didn't even want to see his own face right now. He huffed out in irritation. "So what if I have?"

Remus' face flickered once more before settling into a firm stare as he slowly lowered his morning star mace away from Roman's head. He was being oddly still and slow in his motions, and the difference between this and his usual rambunctiousness was making Roman's skin crawl with nerves. "Why?"

"Why?" Roman repeated after him, bristling, "Why do you even care why?"

Remus blinked, seeming to come out of his previous mood. "You tell me Prince Smarmy! You came into my turf." He rested his mace behind his shoulders and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots.

"I…" Roman's gaze fell to the ground. "I don't know. It's just the last place I could go, I guess?" He shrugged before waving a dramatic arm, "But if you don't want me here either, then just say it to my face!"

Remus tilted his head curiously before leaning forward "Oh, I can do way better than that, brohide." And with that, he snapped his fingers and the room flipped upside down.

Roman gasped as they fell through the air. The room seemed to twist and morph around them. Until finally, he had landed roughly on his own fluffy white floor rug. Remus, however, had fallen through the fancy canopy of his bed. Tearing a large hole through it and landing in a heap on the covers.

"Hey, my bed!" He shouted, offended beyond belief.

"Oh tough titty." Remus chastised as he picked up a golden laced, red silk pillow. He started plucking at it's loose threads. "I bet you have a ton of those ugly tent things."

"They're called canopies, you uncultured swine!"

Roman got up in a huff and dusted off and straightened his rumpled clothes. He sent a glare over to Remus as he did so. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?~" He sing-songed annoyingly back.

"Teleport us in such an unruly manner!"

"Hmmm…" He flopped over on to his back and started doing snow angel motions. "Why'd you go in my room?~Huh? Huh?"

"Wha- I- I asked you first!"

"I asked you second!!" He rolled over on the bed to grin up at Roman, still clutching the poor, abused pillow.

"Ugh, fine!" Roman threw his hands up in the air and moved to grab his vanity chair. He pulled it over to sit in front of the bed. "I just didn't want to be in my own room right now, okay??"

Remus frowned with pursed lips and sat up, scooching forward on the bed. "But it's your room, numbnuts."

"Well maybe I don't want to be near me right now…Um, wait. That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Probably not! But-" He cupped a hand over his mouth and loudly whispered conspiratorially, "I can rip your head off your body and throw it to the side for you so you're not close to it anymore?"

"No that's...That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Fucking party pooper!" Remus threw his hands up then abandoned the pillow he had been holding to riffle curiously through the rest. "Do you not keep a dagger under your pillow??"

"What? No, of course not! Who would do that?"

"Me, duh! For security reasons, bitch boy."

"Well I'm obviously more sensible than that. I keep swords under the bed like a sane person."

"Wait, really?!" Remus threw himself over the side of the bed to look underneath it. "Holy shit, nice!" He rustled through them for a moment before grabbing a sleek black flamberge by it's blade and pulling it up. "I'm keeping this!"

"I would protest that but you've already gotten your filthy blood all over it and that sword is a particular bitch to clean."

"Sibling souvenir!" Proclaimed Remus as he stabbed it into his stomach for safe keeping.

"What on earth are you doing? Why would you stab yourself??"

"To make sure it doesn't go anywhere! Oh, and to test it's stabby powers."

"You know in hindsight, I shouldn't have even asked."

"Speaking of askings of questions-ing, why did you visit my room of all places? Needed to get rid of some trash? Because I'm taking if you're offering. I could always use more decorations!"

"Remus, you rat bastard, I saw that your room was cleaner than you let people believe it to be. If you did take any of my trash you'd probably organize it into the proper bins and everything."

Remus gasped and put an offended hand over his chest. "How dare you! My room is perfectly and gloriously trashy and stinky, just like me."

"Mhmm, sure it is."

A shuriken flew past the side of his head and embedded itself right in the face of one of his many Disney posters.

"Just answer my question!!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Roman raised his hands placatingly before dropping them to grip at his knees nervously. "I, well, I didn't want to be alone anymore…"

"And? You couldn't just visit the other lamo light bitches in the living-dead room?"

"They, um." He sighed before looking over at his posters. Prince Charming smiled brightly back at him, even with a weapon digging into his forehead. "They don't want to be around me. They don't want me. Not anymore. If they ever did. They have him, after all. Both of them."

"Him. Them. Stop playing the pronoun game already and get fucking on with it!"

"He has Janus now! Thomas chose Janus! Patton chose Janus! They chose Janus! They both chose Janus...over me…" Roman blurted out. The words were spilling out now, unstoppable. He sniffled as he felt the tears threatening to fall once more as well. He didn't even realize he had any left to cry. "I chose Thomas. Thomas chose Patton. Patton chose Janus. No one ever chooses me! No one ever takes my side!"

"Apparently, I'm always the one in the wrong..." He ran his shaky hands over his cheeks, desperately trying to push any tears that appeared away. To keep them from falling anymore. Hadn't he cried enough? "I was wrong about Virgil. I was wrong with how I talked to Logan. I was wrong about the breakup. I was wrong about the wedding. Now I was wrong about Deceit- no, Janus- ugh...Everything I do is wrong!"

He lowered his hands again to dig his fingers back into his knees. Roman drew in another shaky breath, trying to calm himself after the outburst. He glanced nervously up at Remus to gauge his reaction to his brother's crazed rambles.

Remus had leaned forward to hear him better over his sobs and shaky voice, almost tipping over the edge of the bed. He had his nails digging into Roman's comforter, and Roman was afraid he was about to rip holes into it. He already had a canopy to replace after all, he didn't want to have to replace that as well! They stared at each other in tense silence for a few moments more, one at a loss on what to say next and the other trying to process the onslaught of new information. Finally, Remus let go of the comforter, slid off the bed, and sat on the floor in front of him with his legs splayed out.

"So what you're saying is...wait, Jan Jan the Banana Man actually told you his name?"

"Well, he more so told Thomas and Patton it and...I just happened to be there too?"

"Huh. Never thought he'd tell anyone else. Well, not after Virgil…was Virgil there?"

"No. Unfortunately Virgil wasn't there to back me up. If he would have even taken my side at all...And Logan was...there in textbox spirit?"

"What'd nerd-a-lerd say?"

"He…well, I wasn't really paying much attention to- I was panicking okay! But I heard enough." He looked to the side, feeling shame well up in himself again. "Enough to know that he was taking his side, just like everyone else."

He heard a mumbled "Damn pronoun name again-" before Remus clapped his hands together with a loud boom that echoed through the large room. "Okay! And I can't believe I'm saying this but- tell me the whole story. Top dick to bottom butt."

"Ew." Roman wrinkled his nose up in disgust.

"Just tell me already!!" Annnddd another shuriken whizzed past his head. This time it embedded itself in his dresser. He hoped it hadn't cracked the wood too much...

Thus Roman spun the entire tale, starting at Janus' first appearance and ending with the absolute fiasco between the callback and the wedding that had occurred a couple of days ago...or had it been several? Time had muddied itself in his reclusion. He would take several breaks in his storytelling to go off on self-deprecating tangents that sounded an awful lot like dramatic monologues from some tragic play. More often than not these tangents were cut short by Remus, who would hurry them along with crude nicknames and threats to get back to the main story.

Somehow during this storytelling process both of the brothers had ended up splayed out side by side on top of Roman's fluffy white floor rug. As if they were kids gossiping on the floor at a sleepover. Remus had busied his hands by pulling out locks of the fur from the rug while Roman's own hands gesticulated wildly with the ups and downs of his tale. As he neared the end of the story, Roman curled up to lay on his side so he could face Remus and see his reaction.

"...and then I decided to go to your room. Because I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to stay in my room with my own thoughts any longer...but I didn't want to see any of the other sides, either."

Remus was laying on his stomach, fiddling with the rug and swaying his feet in the air. At hearing the last bit, his feet fell back down to rest on the floor. "...But you wanted to see me?" His voice was the softest Roman had ever heard him speak. It was incredulous and almost...hopeful.

"I-I don't know. I-" Roman diverted his eyes across the room, sweeping over the damage done by them earlier and eventually landing on the dingy and scratched up closet door. He stared at it for a moment in thought before looking back over to Remus. "Do you ever…Ever miss sharing a bedroom?" He murmured.

Remus wrinkled his nose and glared at him, likely upset that he had dodged the question. "Not really. Your taste in stuff is far too Gucci-Gucci-bougie for me."

"No, not that!" Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand, " Not the furniture or anything like that. Just the…the feel of someone else being there too? Knowing that someone else is always there? Someone who's kind of like you but not really? Someone you can talk to when you have no one else?" Roman ran his fingers through his hair in distress. "Does that make any sense???"

Remus was still glaring at him, but now his eyebrows twitched with an unseen emotion. "Being brothers?" He hissed.

"What?"

Remus reached over to grab Roman's shoulders and shake him silly. "What you're describing. Is being brothers. What I wanted to be. What you didn't let us be. What you rejected. Shoved into the darkest corner. Placed under a Do Not Enter sign-"

"I'm sorry, okay! I didn't mean it!"

Remus paused in his shaking, several emotions flashing across his face. "Didn't mean it?"

"I know I-" Roman placed his hands over Remus' on his shoulders but didn't push him away and lowered his head in shame. "I acted rashly and perhaps a tad extreme to our new circumstances at the time. But it was for what I thought was the best. I only ever wanted to serve Thomas. I only ever wanted to please them. I never thought- I-" He looked sincerely back up into his brother's eyes. "I never thought about what that would mean for you. What that would do to you. What that would do to us. And for that, I'm sorry."

Remus loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, staring intensely and attentively at Roman.

"I never actually wanted to push you away. I was just doing so because I thought- Well, okay admittedly I wasn't thinking much at all really but-" His eyes briefly flickered back to the closet door "I didn't want to become a dark side too! I didn't want to not be able to see Thomas. Or to be rejected by the others. I-" He laughed then. A dry, helpless laugh. He shifted to put his head in his hands. "But I guess that happened anyway, didn't it? What sick irony, huh? Maybe it's what I deserve… Maybe it's karmic retribution…"

"..."

"I shoved you away... And now they're shoving me away! I lost a brother so I could keep everyone and everything else in my life but now- now I've lost that, too- Now I have nothing. Now I am no-"

Remus tightened his grip on Roman's shoulders again and pulled him towards himself. He ended up knocking their heads together in the process-

"Ow! What the hell are you-"

-of wrapping his arms around Roman and hugging him to himself.

"You-You're hugging me?"

"You didn't lose a brother…" Remus pouted, as if he was a petulant toddler, "I've always been right fucking here if you'd open your stupid eyes for once."

Roman let out a shuddering breath, feeling an entirely new type of tear prickling at the corners of his eyes. He buried his head in Remus' shoulder and gripped onto the back of hid brother's clothes as if he was his last lifeline. He probably was.

Sure the hug was the most uncomfortable one he'd ever had, what with the hilt of the sword in Remus' stomach poking him in his own and his forehead still ringing with the pain from where Remus banged them together, but somehow it was still nice. It still felt like...home.

"...But I thought you hated me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"You're always calling me names and hitting me with stuff!"

He felt Remus shrug. "You do the same thing."

"You do it first!"

"Eh- that's just what siblings do~~"

"With medieval weapons?!"

"Says the guy with a stash of swords under his bed!~" Remus sing-songed teasingly.

"Oh like you have room to talk- You said you keep daggers under your pillow!"

"Shouldn't everyone? You should keep some under yours too, Mr Whiny Prissy Pants!"

"And there's the name calling again."

"Hey now, you know it's the older siblings job to pick on the younger-"

"But I'm the older sibling! I manifested my form first!"

"Eh, semantics-schmantics! Same diff!"

"You're completely unreasonable!"

"And you're too stuck up!"

Roman let out a growl and smacked a hand over Remus' face, pushing him away and breaking up the hug. Remus let out a huff and reached over to slap the back of Roman's head in retaliation. This caused them to descend into a full on slap fight, looking like a slapstick scene straight out of a comedy movie.

They roughhoused like this, like a pair of bickering elementary schoolers, until they eventually tired themselves out and flipped gracelessly back onto the floor. They both stared at the ceiling for a few silent seconds before bursting out into fits of crazed laughter.

"That was the worst hug ever! Hahaha!"

"Hey! I don't have much practice! Heeheehee!"

"Haha! We must look like a couple of insane people lying here!"

"Haha! I knooowww~~ You're room is sooo trashed!~Heehee!"

"Hey! You're the one that trashed it! Hahaha!"

"Well you're the one who invited me here brozilla! Hahahoo!"

"You're the one that brought us here! Hahaheh! I wanted to be in your room! Heh!"

Their laughter eventually died down. But just as Roman was about to drift off into sleep from his position lying on the floor, he heard Remus ask, "Do you still want to go to my room?"

Roman blinked his eyes open. He sat up and looked forlornly around his own bedroom. The thought of staying here seemed lonely, now that he'd finally reunited and reconciled with his brother. And the pictures and posters adorning the walls just reminded him of past memories that only hurt to think about right now. "......Yeah. Yes, actually." He turned to Remus, who had also sat back up, " I know, I know it sounds crazy but-"

"I like crazy!" Remus grinned and raised his fingers in preparation to snap, causing Roman to have a flashback to the previous time he did it.

"Wait! Don't turn the room upside down again! We can just sink through the floor like we normally-"

"Sink through the floor? Okay, if you say so!" His grin widened maniacally and he snapped his fingers.

The floor started to shift and cave in on itself, causing Roman's furniture to all move closer to the center. A hole slowly opened under where the brothers had been sitting that pulled them down into it. Roman screamed as they were both sucked into the abyss.

His scream ended abruptly as he was flung up into Remus' room, the hole now acting as a geyser of sorts. Roman landed in an unruly manner and was knocked out of breath while Remus landed swiftly on his knee before rolling up into a standing position.

"Home, Smelly Home!" He proudly declared with his hands on his hips, either unaware of or uncaring towards his brother's struggle to get up from the floor.

"Shouldn't have opened my big mouth..." Mumbled Roman as he dusted his clothes off and tried to straighten his appearance, only for his work to be completely undone when Remus yanked him into his side and rustled his hair with his elbow. "Hey! Stop that! Do you have any idea how long it takes to do my hair?"

"Eh, it was already messed up anyways." Remus slapped Roman's shoulder, "Now come on slowpoke, I'm gonna give you the grand tour!" Remus then ran off further into his room, causing Roman to have to chase after him in order to keep up.

Remus showed him his bedroom first, which had a mirrored layout to Roman's, but the furniture was darker and more rustic. The decorations looked more like something out of a haunted mansion than a grand palace, like Roman's did. Remus then stopped by his weapons closet, where he finally removed the flamberge sword from his stomach and tossed it haphazardly inside. From what Roman could make out before Remus had shut the door again was that the room looked bigger on the inside than the title 'closet' would suggest. Remus then pointed out a few more small areas of note before eventually leading Roman to the back door.

Every side's room had a front door- where the other sides could enter their room, and a backdoor- where each side could go out of their room and into their own personal section of the mindscape. Most sides referred to it as their 'backyard', of sorts.

Roman followed Remus out of his backdoor and onto a balcony overlooking a dark, twisted forest. The balcony itself was the same design as Roman's own balcony but was made up of black marble instead of white. There were a few cracks here and there, yet it was overall fairly stable. English Ivy crept along the rails and crawled down the side of the castle. There were no stairs in sight, unlike with his own balcony, leading Roman to wonder whether Remus would take the time to climb down the Ivy or simply jump off of the railing in order to enter his backyard.

Remus spread his arms out in a grand gesture before spinning around to sit backwards on the railing, facing Roman. "So, what do ya' think? Badass digs, right?"

Roman, lost in thought and not expecting the question, blurted out the first thing to cross his mind. "We have similar balconies."

Remus raised an amused brow. "No shit, Sher-cock. We're in the same castle. Same castle, same floor plan. Duh."

"Wait, the same castle…?"

Remus shrugged, leaning far enough back on the railing to have Roman worry about him falling over the side of it, "It split when we did. We still share a room and space... it's just-" He waved around a hand dismissively. "Halved, now."

"Ah...so that's the reason we can visit each other without going through our front doors…" Roman walked up to lean forwards on the railing, right beside Remus. "Wonder why I didn't question that sooner?" He rested his chin in his hand with a sigh. "All this time, we were even in the same castle...the same area of the mindscape...and I never- I never even bothered to visit-"

Remus, who had grown bored of the conversation and had started to pick his nose, interrupted Roman's spiral by flicking boogers at him. "Hey now, none of that. You did enough moping back in your own room, you cry baby.*

"Ugh! Ew!" Roman sputtered indignantly and pulled out a doily to wipe his face. "You're disgusting." He huffed.

Remus stuck his tongue out at him and laughed. "If you start saying sad shit again, I'll give you a wet willy." He then leaned towards Roman and started wiggling his fingers menacingly.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me, bitch!"

"Well, if you do that, then I'll- Then I'll shove you off of the balcony!"

Remus faked a scandalized gasp and placed a hand over his chest while the other draped across his forehead. "You'd murder your own dearest brother?!"

"It wouldn't kill you, you overdramatic oaf, sides can't die!"

"You're calling me overdramatic?" Remus abandoned the pose to lean forward with a knowing grin. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"Oh shut up." Roman pushed Remus away, before turning around to sit beside him atop the railing.

Remus' eyes widened. "My goody two shoes brother is sitting precariously on a railing? Since when? Is it opposite day? "

"What do you mean? I do dangerous stuff all the time!"

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Roman gestured wildly, "I slay the dragons! I defeat the monsters! I save the people! I...fight the bad guys…" Roman deflated as his hands fell beside him to lock the rail in a death grip. "But I guess I failed at all of that, huh? So much for being a goody two shoes…"

Remus hummed in thought, nails tapping against the black marble. His legs swayed back and forth as they both looked up at the night sky above them in companionable silence. Roman eventually let out a forlorn sigh and relaxed his grip on the railing. Suddenly, Remus let out a loud gasp and clapped his hands together, startling Roman who in turn almost tipped over the edge of the balcony.

"I have the best idea!"

"Oh no, you're planning something. That can never be good."

" No, no! Really, really! Listen, listen!" Remus smacked Roman's arm and shoulder excitedly in-between each word.

"Okay, okay! Just stop!" Roman slapped Remus' hands away. "Tell me then brother, what is it?"

Remus beamed and jumped to stand back on the balcony. "Okay so, you're saying that the other sides are shutting you out, right? And that they made you feel like a stinky doodoo head?"

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Totally helps me feel better." Roman grimaced with a sarcastic thumbs up as Remus paced back and forth.

"Right! So, they're starting to treat you like a villain. And J-Anus as a good guy?"

"I- I guess? That's like the bare essentials of what happened...I mean, that's what it seems like--Ugh, just what are you getting at?!"

Remus stopped pacing to spin towards Roman and spread his hands out. "So why not just be a villain?"

"......what?"

"Join the dark sides with me!" Remus then awkwardly faked a modeling pose. "We have great fashion! And weapons! Lots of weapons!"

Roman scoffed. "I know, I saw your weapons closet." He slid off the railing to stand in front of his brother. "But what makes you think I'd want to be a villain?"

"Well, they made you feel fucking awful, right?" Remus leaned forward with a menacing grin, "So why not give them a little hell in return?"

"What, as in revenge?! I'm supposed to be a purveyor of justice!"

Remus shrugged and started circling Roman. "Where's the justice in always shutting you out? Of always telling you that everything you do is wrong? Of splitting us apart?" He stopped to put his hands on Roman's shoulders again. "Aren't you tired of trying to be a good guy all the time? Don't you just want to let loose and raise a little hell?"

Roman bit his lip and wrung his hands together. He looked down at his feet as his brother's words rang through his head. Where was the justice in that? He had always tried to do the right thing before. To be the good guy. To be the hero. But no one ever appreciated his efforts. Instead they always, always focused only on his mistakes.

The other sides' voices chimed off in his head.

"Roman, you can't do that." "Shut up Roman." "That was wrong, Roman." "Stop being so dramatic, Roman."

He pushed those invading voices furiously away and tried to reorganize his thoughts.

Him, joining the dark sides? Could it even be done? A light side had never switched over to the dark side before... Well, unless you counted the original Creativity and their split. Where a part of that Creativity had...had been pushed to the dark sides and…

Roman's eyes widened in realization as he looked back up at his brother. "You too." He breathed out.

Remus squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose at him. "Hah?"

"Always being shut out. Always being told everything you do is wrong. Being forced to split apart." Roman grabbed the hands that were on his shoulders to move them down and squeeze them reassuringly. "You experienced all of that too. Even more than I did…Don't you want to raise hell too?"

Roman grinned in a very in unprincely manner and released Remus' hands. He swept his arms aside in a grand motion. "Let's raise hell together, brother. What do you say?"

Remus stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking out into a shit eating grin of his own. "Hell yeah! Hell mother fucking yeah!" He jumped up and down excitedly and clapped his hands. "Oh! We're gonna have so much fun! Those butt holes have no idea what's coming."

Roman chuckled fondly at his brother's enthusiasm. He felt lighter than he had in years. Free of responsibility. Free of expectations. Free of limitations. Free to do whatever he wanted. Speaking of which…

"You mentioned fashion earlier, didn't you?" Roman pulled at the hem of his shirt in thought before smirking up at Remus. "I believe for me to officially join the dark sides, a makeover may be in order."

Remus nodded and grabbed his brother's hand to drag him back inside, chanting, "Makeover time! Makeover time!" The entire way while pumping his fist victoriously into the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, in Thomas' living room.

"-and a part of taking care of yourself is to not self-deprecate." Janus was explaining, standing next to Logan.

"Yeah, you've gotta compliment yourself sometimes, Thomas!" Patton added happily.

Thomas scratched the back of his head nervously. "I don't know guys... isn't that a little…"

"Conceited?" Virgil cut in, glaring over at Janus' before looking back to Thomas. "What if we end up doing that out loud in front of others? What if people think we're stuck up?"

"Well, it's better than always thinking so negatively of himself." Janus spat out.

"Janus has a point, Virgil. It's been proven that constant self-deprecating behavior can have a wide range of negative effects on one's psyche and mental health." Logan chinned in while adjusting his glasses. "Which could also lead to eventual negative effects on one's physical health, including-"

"Well, I mean yeah!-" Virgil rushed to interrupt, "He shouldn't think too badly of himself...but he shouldn't think too highly of himself, either!" He uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the empty space where Roman usually stood. "I mean, what if Thomas ends up as stuck up as Princy here, huh? What would you do then-"

"Wait-" Thomas interrupted him, "Where is Roman? Has anyone seen him lately?"

The sides fell silent as they all looked curiously towards the empty spot.

"I haven't seen him since Janus joined us... Patton, didn't you check up on him or something?"

"Well, yeah! Of course I did kiddo!" Patton nodded then pouted, "He didn't seem to want to talk to me though…"

"Has anyone actually talked to Roman in a while? Where is he?"

The sides gave Thomas varying degrees of shrugs and noncommittal answers in response.

Thomas sighed, "Really, guys?" He then looked towards the corner again and called out, "Roman! Are you there? Are you listening? If so, come on up! You should join us!"

They waited in awkward silence for a while for Roman to appear, or to at least respond to Thomas' call...until they heard a deep chuckle emanating from behind the tv.

"Join you? Nope! Not possible~"

Hands crept out from behind the tv, grabbing onto the wall, causing everyone in the room to immediately be alert. They remembered the last time they saw hands there...this couldn't be good! Something was wrong! Sure enough, Remus slowly emerged, climbing up the wall as if he was a lizard. He then twisted his head around, causing Patton to almost faint from fear. Thomas, meanwhile, backed away as far as he could without falling over the couch.

"I'm afraid he's already joined someone else!~"

Remus jumped off of the wall to land in Roman's designated spot. His head and body shifted back to their original positions and he grinned at the others with his arms spread out. Now, the others could see that along with his usual attire, he also donned a crooked and cracked silver crown atop his head. His purplish eyeshadow was gone, instead replaced with a messily applied sparkly silver eyeshadow. Some of the glitter from it fell down the sides of his face to freckle his cheeks as well. The wide grin of his lips was painted in a deep green lipstick.

"Me!"

"Remus…?" Janus breathed out, confused.

"I didn't call for you! I called for Roman!" Thomas shouted once he had regained his composure from witnessing such a horrifying sight.

Virgil bristled and stood up from where he had been leaning against the stairs. "Where is he? What did you do with him?" He bared his teeth at Remus as if he was an agitated guard dog.

Remus put his hands on his hips and threw his head back with a laugh. "What did I do to him?" He leaned forward with a smirk. "What did you do to him? Huh?"

"Wha-what do you mean? W-we didn't do anything..." Stammered out Patton.

"Also, did he change his makeup?" Muttered Thomas, "It actually looks kinda good…"

"Focus on the main issue here, dudes!" Virgil snapped his fingers at them both before turning back to Remus. "Okay, whatever. It doesn't matter wherever you put him, just give him back!"

Remus chuckled and stepped to the side, "You hear that, dear brother? Sounds like they're ready for you to come out!~"

At that, the tv seemed to flicker to life. A colorful error screen appeared and started to crackle and fizz. As the glow from the tv lit up the room, the rest of the room started to glitch along with it.

The sides glanced around nervously, fear creeping into their bones once more.

"What's going on? What's happening to the room?!" Thomas panicked.

Logan placed a hand on his chin. "These types of spatial effects seeming to happen in Thomas' physical living room instead of just inside the mindscape...could it be?"

"No…" Gasped Janus, "No, it can't be!"

"Oh but it can!~" Announced another voice from inside the tv.

Hands reached out from inside the error screen to grasp the sides of the tv. A form slowly climbed out of the tv and stepped into the living room.

"......Roman? What on earth are you wearing?!" Virgil waved a hand incredulously at his new get up.

Roman, now fully standing beside Remus in his usual spot, smirked at Virgil and flicked his cape. "It's called fashion, Midnight Query."

Roman's usual outfit was now black in all of the areas it used to be white. On top of that, he wore a red velvet cape with a white and black spotted fur trim. On his shoulder laid a skull where the cape connected and clasped shut. His upper eyelid was decorated in sparkly gold eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner which spread out into a cat-eye look. His smirk donned blood red lipstick and a crown identical to Remus' was atop his head, except his crown was golden and not crooked or cracked at all. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fairytale…but as an evil king instead of a noble prince.

"Perhaps you should try it sometime, Dark and Dreary. It might make you look less…" Roman made a point of looking Virgil up and down before waving his hand at him with a scowl, "Drab."

"Roman! Where have you been? I missed you. Your makeup looks great!" Patton rambled ecstatically.

"Missed me?" He sneered, "Ha! I bet you all didn't even realize that I was gone." Roman then looked down to check his meticulously manicured nails with a bored expression.

"Of course we did! That's why I called you!" Insisted Thomas.

Roman tsked and shook his head. "Oh Thomas, Thomas. Always the peacemaker." He moved the hand he had been checking to flip his cape over his shoulder. "But I'm not here to make peace. We're here to raise hell. Isn't that right, brother?"

In response, Remus summoned a pitch black flamberge sword and stabbed the blade into the ground. "Hell yeah we are!"

The area of the floor that he smashed cracked open to reveal an eerie green and yellow glow. Small shadow hands emerged as little demons started crawling through the cracks.

Roman summoned a longsword with a ruby embedded in its hilt and slashed at the wall. Red and orange flames burst forth from the rip as even more shadow demons started to join them.

The glitching of the room from the tv screen grew at an alarming rate, some of the glitches covering entire pieces of furniture.

"What on earth is happening!?" Thomas screamed, gesturing wildly at, well, everything.

"Roman, you need to stop this now!" Virgil growled, slipping into his Tempest Tongue.

"Yeah kiddo," chuckled Patton nervously as he tried to wrestle his hoodie away from a demon that was currently trying to steal it. "Isn't this a tad bit extreme?"

Roman laughed darkly, raising his sword into a shrug. "And why should I?"

Remus rested his elbow on Roman's shoulder, "We haven't even begun to have our fun yet!"

Janus narrowed his eyes at Remus, "Remus, this is not what I meant when I said-"

"Blah blah blah!" Remus mimed a mouth with his hand. "That's all you are, anacon-don't. All talk, no action!"

"What's going on?! Why isn't anyone answering me?!"

"Well, Thomas, it appears that Roman and Remus have initiated-" Logan started only to get interrupted by Virgil.

"They started Daymare Mode!" Virgil shouted as he angrily threw a demon that had been crawling on him into the wall, knocking it out instantly.

"Daymare Mode? What's Daymare Mode?!"

"It's a combination of Daydream Mode and Nightmare Mode." Janus explained while shaking a demon off of his hat with a sneer, "It's a state Creativity can only achieve when it's whole…"

"So, what? They can affect the real world now that they're working together?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thomas." Chastised Logan, "You're technically just hallucinating-"

"I'm hallucinating?!"

"Yes, that is what I just said."

A demon tugged at Logan's pant leg only to be sent running away in fear by a well-placed harsh glare.

Patton, finally having gotten his hoodie free, tied it back around his shoulders and clapped his hands. "Okay, you two! That's enough. I'm not sure what's gotten into you today, but-"

"Oh no, no, no." Roman waved a finger at him, "I'm afraid we're not going to be listening to you anymore, padre."

"We've got our own plans, Daddy DingDong!"

"Oh yeah?" Hissed Janus, "And what exactly are those?"

"You can't do them, whatever they are!" Virgil yelled out as he stomped on another demon's tail, sending it hopping away in pain. "We won't let you. I won't let you!"

Remus and Roman exchanged amused glances before turning back to the others.

"You don't have to let us do anything," Roman hummed, "We're the kings. We shall do whatever we want." He waved a dismissive hand.

"Hear ye, Hear ye! The Twin Kings of Creativity!" Hollered Remus, as both twins raised their swords triumphantly in the air, "We take no shit and kick some ass!"

"To us!" Roman high fived Remus' hand, then turned to grin menacingly at the others, "And now, time for you to go to hell."

"To hell?!" Thomas gasped, looking desperately back and forth at the other sides.

Logan's eyes widened, having figured out what they were planning to do. "Roman, if I'm correct- and I always am- then I'd advise against-"

"Too late, Deuce Banner!" Remus shouted triumphantly as he and Roman clashed their weapons together. The sound from the clang resonated in all of their heads, making their vision blurry.

Thomas gripped the sides of his head, trying to get the ringing to stop hurting his ears. His head felt like it was splitting open. And then, there was nothing. Just a fade to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas gasped for air as he woke up. Wait, woke up? Had it all been a dream? Thank god-!

"Well, well, well. It's about damn time." Drawled Roman.

"We thought you were never gonna come to!" Laughed Remus.

Thomas jumped up in surprise from where he'd been laying on the floor, only to immediately regret moving so harshly as he felt his head swim. "Ow ow ow." He gripped his forehead and peered around, "What-"

"Welcome, welcome!" Roman proclaimed as he spread his arms out in a grand gesture. "To the Kingdom of Creativity."

Thomas looked up to see Roman and Remus sitting side by side on twin thrones, one gold with red cushions and one silver with green cushions. Roman sat up straight with impeccable posture and one leg crossed over the other. Remus lay sideways across his throne, kicking his feet and tossing what appeared to be a grenade up and down as if it was a baseball.

"...What? Where am I?"

"We just told you." Scoffed Roman, "You're in the Kingdom of Creativity." At Thomas' confused frown, he continued, "You're in our room, Thomas."

"Your room?" Thomas looked around at the ornate throne room. "It doesn't look like my living room, like the others' did."

"That's cause we're not as boring as the other sides." Sighed Roman, "We have much more pizazz." He gestured at the room around them. "We did some redecorating recently, actually. What do you think, hmm?"

The throne room was mainly black, with silver and gold furniture giving the darkness a stark contrast. Banners of their two symbols hung on opposite sides of the room in correspondence with each side's throne. Overall it gave off a majestic yet eerie feel.

"It's- Um." Thomas finally stood up from his position on the floor and glanced around nervously. "It's certainly something. But um, where are the others…?"

He had long since noticed that it was just him and the twins in this room. The others had seemingly vanished into thin air. Their continued disappearance was making him more and more uneasy as each second ticked by.

Remus huffed and casually threw the grenade over his shoulder and out a window, causing an explosion to be heard outside. "What's wrong Thomathy, our room not up to snuff with the others? You prefer Daddyo's and Scene-Kid's rooms? Huh?"

"What? No!" Thomas raised his hands placatingly, not wanting to anger the two currently volatile sides, "You're room is fine! It's great! It's just they were here and now they're not here and I was just wondering-"

"They're off on their own adventure right now, Thomas." Roman butted in. He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "That doesn't matter, though. What matters right now is us. Don't you want to stay here with us, Thomas? We can show you around the castle~!"

"Um- No, that's fine... No thank you." Thomas smiled as his voice shook. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here... I need to find the others."

Roman's pleased smile immediately fell into a scowl, "Fine, then. You want to see the others so badly?" He stood up from his throne and gestured for his brother to do the same. "Then why don't you just join them already!"

The both summoned their new weapons again, causing Thomas to start to panic. "Wait! Don't! Not again!"

"Too late, Thomas. You should have accepted our gracious offer."

"We could've had so much fun together!" Chirped Remus.

"And we will! You're just not ready yet, it seems." Roman sighed with a disappointed frown, "Now, for the time being~"

"Have fun in hell instead!~" The twins chimed in unison as they clashed their swords together for a second time.

The clanging rang in Thomas' already aching head as everything fell into the blackness once more.

[harrypotterhogwartshitpost]

A Thoroughly Modern Mystery, by @harrypotterhogwartsshitpost

Overview: A modern day twist on a hogwarts mystery story.

Episode Twelve: Curse

It’s a hot summer night in a small town in muggle Georgia. A girl, around twelve, sits in her bed, clutching her pillow in tears. Panic! at the Disco plays on a cheap speaker. She screams along and the tears begin to flow harder. She holds her pillow as tight as possible, shaking. She wants to go back but she can’t. She finally got a taste of a better life, and she can’t go back to it.

Not that her life right now is all that bad. She stays in a decent house, she has her own bedroom, plenty of food. Her uncle loves her very much and tries his best to take care of her. But there’s something- someone missing. Someone that all the money in the world (which she pretty much has) can’t replace. A constant empty feeling inside of her.

“Hey Victoria, I got some letters from your magic school.” A man opens the door, sitting the letters on the edge of the bed and leaving. He doesn’t have the means to get involved right now. He knows it’s best to give her her time.

She goes to open the letters. There’s two. The first one reads

“Wotcher Vic! I hope you’re having a good summer in America. I asked my mother what it’s like there, but she didn’t answer… I think mum said I’m supposed to go to the burrow for a few days soon. I spend a lot of time there. I’m sure you can come too if you have the time! The Weasley’s love company! … I think… Hope you write back soon, Tonks.”

She smiles a little at the letter, folding it back up and sliding it into its envelope before opening the second letter.

“Hey Victoria! How’s your summer? I told my father you live with muggles and he has like a thousand questions. He loves muggle things, he even keeps an old muggle car behind the house. Mum isn’t a fan, but I don’t think he’s gonna get rid of it. Tonks is supposed to stay for a few days soon, she does that every once in a while. I’m sure you could come too if you have time... Mum loves having company! Oh! And Bill says “Hi” as well! Write back soon! Charlie!”

She smiles again, Charlie’s letter even has a little heart at the end. She puts the letter back in the envelope. Those are her best friends at Hogwarts. She met them while waiting for the sorting ceremony, and they've been practically inseparable since. She tries to get up to write them back, to tell them she was super excited to receive their letters but cheer tryouts are next week so she can’t visit, but she doesn’t have the energy, instead she finds herself laying on her listening to My Chemical Romance.

“Vic! Vic! Victoria!!”

Victoria jumps a little, and she’s back in her dorm room, alone, under the black lake. She’s clutching her pillow and tears are streaming down her face. Blink-182 plays in the background

Charlie walks in, sitting down on the end of the bed.

Charlie: Are you okay? Bill says you never showed up to investigate the curse with Rakepick. He’s worried sick.

Victoria can’t give him an answer, instead she just keeps crying. Her eyelids start to feel heavy as hot tears fall down her cheeks, blurring the picture of Charlie sitting in front of her.

Charlie: It's okay Victoria.

Charlie tries to comfort her.

Charlie: Deep breaths, okay? Deep breaths. What’s wrong?

Victoria takes a few deep breaths. She feels her lip quiver as she tries to hold back the tears. After a few more breaths she’s able to force out a few barely audible words.

Victoria: I- I- I could- I- I- couldn’t- couldn’t go.

She immediately starts sobbing again as her head fills with thoughts.

Charlie: Why?

Victoria: J-J- Ja- J- Jacob.

Charlie: Wh-

Her voice is shaky. Sniffles and unsuccessfully held back sobs interrupt her sentences.

Victoria: J-J-Jacob fell victim to- to- to- to a- a- a- a curse, th- th- tha- th-that’s how he disa- disappeared, I know- I know he did.

Charlie: No one’s seen or heard from Jacob in year’s, how could he?

She sniffles big, attempting to stop snot from dripping out of her nose.

Victoria: He-he told me. He speaks- he speaks to- to- to me in my head- in my head sometimes.

Victoria: He’s in th-th-the portrait vault. I could- I- I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go- go- g- go look at someone else’s sibling, tr- tra- tr- trapped li- like Jacob.

Charlie: That’s understandable Victoria.

Charlie reaches and wipes Victoria’s tears with this sleeve.

Charlie: It’s completely understandable.

Victoria: I’m the- I’m the curse.

Charlie: What?

Victoria: I’m the curse. I’m the- the reason people got frozen, sleepwalked into the- the forest, got sucked into a- a- a- portrait. my own friends, and- and- and their sib- siblings.

Victoria: Ben was- was stuck in cursed i- ice all year... Bill got frozen to, but I happened to be there to finish off the-the-the vault and- and unfreeze him. Tu- Tu- Tulip sleepwalked into the forest, now Be- Bea- Be- Beatrice, P-P- Penny’s sister is in a portrait. It sucks knowing Jacob is- is like that, but for Penny to-to- to be here- to be here when it happened, to get to wi- witness it, I can’t imagine...

Her tears start to flow harder, her words become practically inaudible.

Victoria: May-may- maybe everyone wa- w- wa-was right my first year... I should- shou- sh- shouldn’t be allowed at- at- at- at Hogwarts...

Charlie: Victoria, that’s not true and you know it...Jacob got into some dangerous business while he was at Hogwarts, and that’s not your fault. All you’re doing is correcting the wrong he did. Now, what’s going on with all this? Are you going to be okay?

Victoria: Remember right after our- our first year ended, you sent me a- a letter.

Charlie: Yeah...

Victoria: Tonks sent a- a letter too, they arrived at the- at the same time. I was reliving that day. This- this playlist was playing, I was clutching my- my pillow crying like that.

Victoria: I’m sorry I never responded to- to your letter Charlie. I wanted to. I really did, I promise, but I never found the- the energy to leave my bed and write one- write one back. I was so upset the school year was- the school year was over, all my friends were- we- were gone. I missed my dorm, my classes, my- my friends, Jacob...

Charlie: It’s okay Victoria, that was years ago, it doesn’t matter anymore, what matters is you’ve grown since then, and things have gotten better. Now come here.

Victoria sits up and hugs Charlie.

Charlie stands up and picks up Victoria.

Victoria: Damn, you can- you can carry me?

Charlie: I don’t know what you think I do in my free time.

Victoria: Wh- where are we going?

Charlie: You’ll see.

Before she knows it she's Charlie’s dorm. Bill is sitting on Charlie’s bed, he looks really worried. Charlie sits Victoria down next to him.

Bill: Victoria! Are you okay!

She’s still crying, but it’s a softer, quieter cry now.

Victoria: I-I- guess.

Charlie: I figured it’d be good for her to be somewhere where she can get some real light, instead of being stuck in the dungeon under the lake. She can sleep in my bed tonight.

Victoria looks up at Charlie

Victoria: I love you.

Charlie: I love you too Victoria.

Bill: Are you okay Victoria? Why didn’t you show up to investigate the curse?

Victoria: Can we talk about this later? I’m exhausted and I just want to sleep.

Bill: Yes, of course.

Victoria holds onto Bill tight, wrapping her arms and legs around him, nuzzling her head into the crick of his neck. The feeling of being so close to him instantly makes everything seem a little better. She feels safe enough to let out the rest of her tears out onto his old t-shirt, while he rubs her back gently.

Victoria: I love you Bill.

Bill: I love you too.

She stays in his arms for a while, not talking, just enjoying his embrace as he plays with her hair. Eventually she begins to yawn.

Bill: You sleepy?

Victoria yawns again

Victoria: No.

Bill smiles.

Bill: I’ve already learned what that really means.

He sits her down in front of him and starts to get up.

Bill: Good night Victoria. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Victoria’s voice is sleepy.

Victoria: Goodnight.

Charlie: It is getting near bedtime.

Victoria moves over, giving Charlie room to join her

Victoria: Can we cuddle-

Charlie: You don’t even need to ask.

Victoria rolls over, wrapping her arms and legs around Charlie, spooning him.

Victoria kisses his ear softly and begins to play with his hair.

Charlie rolls over, facing her. He kisses her slowly, pulling her in closer. Victoria feels unexplainably safe in his arms.

Charlie: Are you feeling better?

Victoria: Yeah.

Charlie: Is everything going to be okay?

Victoria: I think so?

Charlie: You sure? I know how it gets sometimes.

Victoria: Yeah. Yeah it is. It’s already starting to pass. The um- the emptiness, the sadness- the self loathing and self doubt, all of the ‘what ifs’, they’re passing.

Charlie: That’s good. And if there’s ever anything I can do, please just tell me.

Victoria smiles a little. Charlie smiles back at her. After a moment they kiss, softly.

Victoria: Do you think Percy knows?

Charlie: Hmmm?

Victoria: That we smoke weed? I mean maybe he knows more than we think? He knew about me and Bill, and he did call you a ‘drug-addict’ the other day.

Charlie: I’m not sure what that really has to do with anything right now, but absolutely not. He’s the least chill person ever. He would have definitely told mum and probably the authorities. He was just talking about my mood stabilizers, ya know, that keep me sane.

Victoria: I was just thinking about it and some of the other things he said while I was kinda zoned out. But yeah, Percy’s kinda an ass.

Charlie: You’re right, he is an ass, and so is his rat.

Victoria: I just can’t believe he’s so mean to you.

Charlie: It is what it is. I try not to let it bother me too much.

Victoria: Good, you shouldn’t. You’re perfect, no matter what Percy and his rat say.

Charlie rolls his eyes and laughs a little.

Charlie: Yeah yeah yeah...

There’s a beat before they kiss again, and again, and again…

Victoria pulls back.

Victoria: You’re the best best friend.

Charlie smiles.

Charlie: Yeah...

He kisses her again.

(Next ->)

(<- Previous)

[myakkoh]

wonders in a hunt

(Read on Ao3 here!)

Thank you and shout out to @blackkatmagic for letting me have permission to write this silly fic!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You see, there’s a novel.

A novel that was only published two months ago, detailing the events of a Jedi and a clone falling in love while undergoing an adventure that changed their lives in order to save the entire galaxy. It tells of a tale that many have fallen in love with and are eager for more.

Unfortunately, this novel is also Mace Windu’s greatest headache at the current moment.

Why?

Well, let’s just say, there are details in the novel that are extremely similar to the same events he had undergone with his husband a year ago, especially with the part where they faced Palpatine, the Sith Lord who has been right under their nose the entire time. It’s not just the book that’s Mace’s problem, though.

It’s who made the novel. No one knows who made the novel, just that it's an anonymous author.

When Mace first got introduced to the novel, it was about a few days ago, when he decided to take a break with Fives. Said Padawan took out his datapad and began to silently read something on it, dark eyes glued to the screen, scanning it slowly, ever so slowly. Chuckles and giggles have escaped him, before Mace became curious and asked what it was.

That was his first mistake, and how it all began.

                                      ~~~~~

“A novel,” Mace repeats as Fives gives him a bright grin, tilting his head to the side as he reads the title. Heartstill, the title says on the cover, followed behind by a picture of two hands clasping together. He can see silver bands shining around fingers on both hands, the design strangely familiar.

“Yeah,” Fives says, the grin still in place, the Force rippling around his Padawan softly. “It’s surprisingly really good, and the main characters kinda reminds me of you and Cody.”

Mace raises an eyebrow, though he’s more bemused than anything. It’s nice to see that Fives is having something else to do other than their training and meditation. “Is that so?” he asks, hands the datapad back to his Padawan.

“Yes, Master,” Fives answers cheekily, then says, “You can read it if you want.”

“Oh?” Perhaps he should ask Cody if he read this novel yet; his husband did like reading.

Fives only laughs. “Better than having Cody steal all the blankets, Master!”

“I thought you can’t hear through the walls?” Mace asks with slight amusement as Fives immediately looks horrified at the implied meaning. It’s always fun to tease his Padawan, even if all he and Cody do is stay close to each other in bed these days, curling into each other’s warmth.

Small gestures mean more than the large ones, after all.

“Oh my kriffing god, Master, I did not need to know that!”

                                 ~~~~~~

He did not have the chance to read the novel until a couple of days later, when he managed to secure some peace for himself. Cody’s currently on a guard shift at the Jedi Temple’s entrance, and Fives is off exploring Coruscant with some of the other Padawans, clones, and a Jedi Knight.

When Mace settles down on the couch, he reaches for the datapad Fives lent him, flipping to the novel and relaxes as he flips to the first page, beginning to read what many have been calling a masterpiece.

A couple of hours later has him stuck in the middle of said novel, because Mace is staring at the same page for the past few minutes. Multiple reactions are running through his head to what he’s read so far. Throwing the datapad to the wall or ripping it up with the Force may have been a very near thing.

Mace hasn’t mentioned the leviathan to anyone but the council and the ones who’ve been there with him, which was only Cody. Granted, the name in the novel is completely different, but the vivid details, the careful explanations of their abilities- it’s similar to a leviathan. Knows the effects of being too close to one, what it does-

Grimaces at the crystal-clear memory of it, doesn’t shudder, but it’s a close thing, enough to make him put down the datapad and stop reading for a few moments. He closes his eyes and breathes, curls his hand into a fist before he lets go.

Several events he’s read so far in the novel are similar to what he and Cody had experienced in Dromund Kaas, far too similar for his liking. It’s... slightly disturbing, to read the same events that personally happened to him. Someone on the council may have written this novel.

He only reopens his eyes when he hears the doors to his quarters slide open, Cody’s aura flickering tiredly and fondly. 

“You look like you went through Dromund Kaas again,” Cody observes with a tilt of his head, and Mace sends a small wave of wry amusement to his husband’s end of their bond. The clone commander only snorts, setting his bucket down and strips his armour before joining him on the couch.

Their fingers tangle together before they rest their hands on their legs, Cody leaning his head on Mace’s shoulder, and he can’t help but smile softly. 

“The horror,” is all Mace says in response, dry. “But, no. Have you read Heartstill?”

Cody furrows his brows, twists his head to look at him carefully. “You mean that novel everyone seems to be raving about these days? I haven’t read it, if that’s what you’re asking, but I heard it was good. Why?”

Mace wordlessly motions to the datapad on the table in front of them. A few beats of silence, then- “That’s Fives’ datapad.”

“I’m quite aware.”

“Why do you have Fives’ datapad?”

“He lent it to me.”

“He lent it to you.” Cody’s voice sounds flat, though a note of resignation makes its way through their bond. “Is this because of the novel?”

“If you’ll read it, you’ll understand,” Mace informs him. “I feel like someone in the council wrote this.”

“Yeah, yeah. When I get the time to, then I will.”

                               ~~~~~~

It takes a few more days before he manages to finally finish the novel.

Needless to say, Mace is more convinced that someone on the council has written this novel, considering they’re the only ones who have even read the mission report. It’s close, though. Very close. Too close for his comfort, really.

But who?

Thus, this begins the investigation of who has written the novel Heartstill. Needless to say, it produces a lot more headaches than expected.

                                ~~~~~~

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what prompted Mace into thinking he wrote a novel. The sheer indignation rattles inside him as he stares at the Jedi Master in his doorway. “A... novel, you say?” he asks weakly, praying that his question will make the man go away.

One doesn’t appreciate it when someone interrupts their time to sed- take their husband to bed. Said husband is currently sitting at the kitchen table and looking over paperwork after their last mission together. Obi-Wan would like to have some privacy with Rex, thank you very much.

Mace only raises his eyebrow. “Yes, the novel Heartstill,” he says.

He blinks in surprise. “The one that’s currently raging around the galaxy? Rex told me it was a fascinating read. Why?”

When Mace doesn’t answer, Obi-Wan closes his eyes, lets go of his annoyance, and says, “Mace, please don’t tell me that you believe that I wrote that novel.”

“... perhaps.”

“I should be offended, you know I would never write a novel.”

“Indeed,” Mace notes dryly. “However, your mission reports say otherwise. It is fascinating to read about the adventures you and Skywalker have, especially when chasing after Grievous and getting stuck in a cave, and I quote, ‘After a few moments of shock, we were horrified to learn that Anakin have managed to release poisoned gas into the air, with mere moments left to live.’ Yes, Obi-Wan, rather dramatic.”

“I,” Obi-Wan says lightly like the negotiator he is, “have not written that in my life. Perhaps you should ask Anakin if he wrote that part in that particular mission report.”

“Perhaps I will,” Mace says, like he doesn’t believe him. How dare he. “Good day, Master Kenobi.”

“And you as well, Master Windu.”

When the doors close behind him, Rex looks up from the table, amusement lighting up in those perfect brown eyes. “Did you really write that in your mission report?”

“Rex, we are not going to talk about that.”

                                   ~~~~~~

“What.” Agen is more confused than angry that Mace would accuse him of writing a novel. He only tilts his head to the side, Mace giving him a flat look. “A novel?”

“Heartstill,” Mace answers, and- oh. That’s the novel that Dogma and Tup have been reading together during their free time, and honestly Agen doesn’t have enough patience to sit still for one novel, even if it does sound intriguing. “I take it you have never read it before?”

“Yes,” Agen says slowly, trying to make sense of what Mace is trying to say. Dogma’s aura flashes curiosity before fading away, and he focuses on the Councillor in front of him. Usually Mace would never bring something like this up unless it’s important. If it is, then he might not be able to help. He has no idea what Heartstill is even about. “Why?”

Mace slowly blinks at him. Ah. He immediately gets the message.

Agen doesn’t even know a single thing about writing a novel, and writing mission reports and normal reports are completely different. He can only look back at Mace and think that whoever wrote the novel that made Mace Windu chasing after the Jedi Councillors is quite a sentient.

“Master Windu, I heard that Master Ti is in the gardens with Tup and Colt,” Dogma says helpfully, takes Mace’s attention off of him. Mace nods a thanks to his commander and the doors slide shut.

After one long second, Agen turns around to face Dogma, and tilts his head to the side again. “What is Heartstill about?” he finally asks.

“A Jedi and a clone falling in love, sir. Why?”

And this is why he’s more partial to taking missions in the Outer Rim; Agen wouldn’t have to deal with anything like this. “How many weapons do we have left?” he asks instead, walks towards the couch and grabs one of Dogma’s blasters to clean.

“Sir,” Dogma says very slowly, carefully, like he’s about to step into a danger zone filled with landmines and slavers and droids. Agen rather likes that combination; the odds are good, especially between him and Dogma. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning to destroy another slaver base that belongs to Aruk the Hutt again.”

Agen deliberately chooses not to answer that.

                               ~~~~~~

Shaak is smiling very dangerously, and Colt would like it to be known that his wife’s smile is beautiful and kriffing hot and it also means he should stay a few steps back because of what will happen next.

“Mace, old friend,” Shaak says with perfectly practiced innocence, something sharp dancing in her eyes. Colt swallows, and he really wants to grab her and steal her away to somewhere... more private. “Whatever do you mean by that accusation? I would never write a novel in my life.”

Mace stares her down, strong and unflinching. “Oh?”

“Indeed.” Shaak tilts her head to the side, a smile of an innocent predator, while Tup is watching the exchange with wide and fascinated eyes. Colt is also tempted to drag his brother further away so they don’t get caught in the soon-to-be-ensuing battle. “Have you tried, say... Kit? He really is good at writing those mission reports, wouldn’t you agree?”

The other Jedi Master looks rather exasperated and close to breaking something, even if his impassive expression doesn’t show anything. “Perhaps,” Mace says calmly. “You have a tendency to describe battles... interestingly.”

“Is that so?” This time, Shaak rises to her feet, and dips her head towards him. “Well, then you know that I’m not the culprit, my old friend.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure.” With that, the Jedi Master spins around and stalks away, and Colt can’t help but glance towards his wife. A look of triumph passes through her face, before settling into her usual, soft smile.

“Master, what did he mean by that?” Tup asks curiously.

“Oh, Tup. I just write... differently in my mission reports is all.” That smile should be illegal, and shouldn’t be making his heart squeeze tightly.

But by this point, Colt is a desperate man and he really wants to kiss Shaak senseless and make sure she knows that he loves her. From the sweet smile she sends him, Shaak knows it, too.

                                 ~~~~~~

“I did not write a novel.”

“Kit-”

“I did not write a novel,” Kit repeats again for the twelfth time as Mace stares at him. “I swear on the Force, I did not.”

The Force only ripples in response, as if offended Kit would choose it as a sacrifice to try and convince Mace. Disgruntled, Mace lets it go and sighs. After all, Kit has been repeating the same words over and over again ever since he found the Nautolan near the entrance to the Jedi Temple, delicately holding a bag.

His mission reports are similar to the novel’s writing, but also entirely different, and-

Wait.

“Kit, are those thermal detonators?” Mace asks with slight disbelief.

The Nautolan freezes before offering a hesitant smile. The grip on the bag tightens but doesn’t drop. “Yes.”

He suppresses the headache he can feel coming. Usually the Nautolan wouldn’t even touch a thermal detonator unless there’s a reason to. “Master Fisto,” he says, cautiously approaching the subject because obviously they’re going to be an occurrence, especially from the look on Kit’s face. “Who are they for?”

“Allow me to say that-”

“Kit.”

“-I heard that Master Kolar needed some more,” Kit continues breezily, and- oh. Oh no. Mace briefly considers taking Cody on another honeymoon to avoid dealing with this. He didn’t think this could happen, but... it really is happening, and he knows how Agen is.

Agen is oblivious to all courting attempts, and he’s not losing the bet to Depa that it’d take a few months for Agen to realize there is a courting attempt.

“I see,” he says steadily, then gives him a respectful nod. “Good luck for you and Agen. You will need it.”

Kit stares at him like he’s grown an extra head. “What- what do you possibly mean by that, Mace? Mace!”

Mace is already turning away. He needs to continue on with his... errands, not watch two of his fellow Councillors dance around each other.

“Mace! Come back here! What do you mean by that!”

He only walks faster.

                               ~~~~~~

Adi raises her eyebrow. “Are you alright, Mace?” she asks in concern, because her fellow Jedi Master and Councillor looks ready to crush something close to him. She’s the only one in range of that, and she would like to have no broken bones, thank you.

Mace blankly stares at her. “You’re not the one who wrote Heartstill.”

“I did not write Heartstill,” Adi says, confused, and that’s new. Mace wouldn’t bring up a popular novel into the conversation. “But it’s a very good novel, I will have to admit that. Though the events are similar to the reports we received from you and Cody.”

From the unimpressed look he’s giving her, it seems that she’s right in guessing this is what it’s about.

“Well, Yoda wouldn’t be the one who wrote it, considering his grammar,” she says, and Mace closes his eyes as if he’s in pain from remembering said grammar. To be fair, all of Yoda’s reports are all filled with different grammar and sometimes, she has to enlist Eeth or Depa’s help in translating some of them. “Depa would have written something a little more exaggerated than the actual events.”

“That is true.” Pride and amusement flickers across Mace’s face before steeling itself back into his usual expression. “I suppose you might know where Master Mundi is?”

“Ki? He should be in his quarters.”

“Thank you, Adi.”

Adi finds herself more bemused than anything.

                             ~~~~~~

Ki blankly stares at Mace, before he shakes his head in confusion. “What novel?”

Mace only rubs a hand over the side of his face.

(In all honesty, Ki is slightly terrified by the one-second murderous look in Mace’s eyes before it fades away and the Jedi Master stalks off with a quick farewell. Hopefully whoever wrote this novel that clearly annoyed Mace will live. Hopefully.)

                             ~~~~~~

Eeth is very close to slamming the door right in Mace’s face and heading back to sleep. Look, when someone gets back from a mission that somehow led from peaceful negotiation to a full-blown civil war because of a single insult, they would be exhausted, too.

But Eeth is also a very dignified Zabrak (unlike Agen, who has a penchant to go straight into the violence and then offers sentients the solution of surrendering after knocking them around). So he obliges Mace and allows the other Jedi Master to enter his quarters, before taking a deep breath and surrendering his anger to the Force.

“May I help you, Master Windu?” he asks tiredly.

“How was your mission, Master Koth?”

“Fine,” Eeth answers flatly and resolves to setting the system settings to the off switch after this so he can get some sleep. “You already received my report, Mace. What else do you need, if it’s clearly not about my mission?”

Perhaps that’s a little too blunt, but Eeth has been running on three hours of sleep for the past two days and he really wants to sleep. Badly. One month of dealing with negotiations, a civil war, and then back to negotiations. He considers asking for one month of leave after dealing with that nonsense.

“Have you heard of Heartstill?”

Yes, yes, Eeth has heard about it. In fact, several of the clone troopers who have been with him on his mission had told him about the novel, detailing the romance of a Jedi General and a Clone Commander. Privately, he thinks it could deal with more outside forces that stops the romance from prevailing, but it sounds rather promising the way it is.

“I have,” Eeth says neutrally, tilts his head to the side. “Why?”

“I have my suspicions that someone in the council has written it, and I intend to find out who it is.” Mace looks at him with narrowed eyes, and he has to suppress a sigh. Of course Mace would think he would be writing it.

“I see,” is all he manages to say. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course.” Mace pauses, then, because Mace is a bastard, he adds, “Agen is being courted.”

His mind immediately stops at that, because what the kriff. Agen? Being courted? The most oblivious of them in the Jedi High Council is being courted? Eeth closes his eyes, slightly concerned for the one who’s apparently trying to court his friend. Whoever has the sheer boldness to do that deserves luck. “And who is trying?”

“Kit.”

Never mind, Kit doesn’t need the luck. Agen is the one who needs the luck, seeing how Kit can flirt to no end, almost on par with Obi-Wan. “I’ll take the next two missions for someone on the bet if Kit manages to get Agen’s attention within the next two months via flirting.”

Mace is not outwardly laughing at him, but he is laughing and Eeth doesn’t appreciate it. “Alright.”

Eeth may or may not consider kicking Mace out of his room right there and then.

                              ~~~~~~

Mace is very close to finding the culprit of the novel Heartstill.

There’s only one member left of the council that he’s yet to ask; Plo Koon. The said Jedi Master has been seemingly smiling every time Mace passed him, and that’s enough to cause suspicions. Enough to know that his friend is tricky enough to slip past his questions and straight past his defences.

Knows exactly how Plo will act, especially when they’ve known each other in the creche, and it’s slightly amusing to know that Plo might do something drastic. Like taking in two Zabraks from the Nightsisters, and training them when the Kel Dor has the time.

Feral looks up from his datapad to nod politely to Mace when he enters Plo’s quarters with the code his friend gave him a long time ago. Wolffe cleans his blasters while Savage naps close to him. “Master Windu,” Feral greets quietly, inclines his head. “Master Plo should be in the Archives.”

“Tell that jetii of mine to eat, sir,” Wolffe tells Mace. “He told me to babysit these two.”

Feral doesn’t blink an eye, obviously used to Wolffe’s words. “You know that we won’t damage Master Plo’s quarters.”

“Last time you said that, you and Savage managed to nearly destroy the kitchen when I was looking for my jetii,��� Wolffe informs the small Zabrak dryly, Savage already opening an eye to stare at them. “So don’t bother. Sir, just make sure he ate and didn’t break his neck down there.”

“Of course,” Mace says, bemused. “May the Force be with you.”

Feral only gives him a soft smile as he leaves Plo’s quarters.

                                  ~~~~~~

He’s met with the sight of Agen, his hair untied, tiny black dots catching the light when the Zabrak inclines his head.

“Master Fisto,” Agen greets, silky black hair falling over his shoulders. Dark eyes skim the bags, and he can see Agen’s commander quickly scurrying away. Ah well, at least he can finish this up quickly and then take Agen for a run to the gardens after getting caf for both of them.

“Master Kolar,” Kit says cheerfully as he holds up the two bags in his hands. He knows how much Agen appreciates the gestures of resupplying him with weapons that the Zabrak needs. “These are the flash-bang grenades.”

Surprise flickers across Agen’s face, before his eyes soften, even if his expression doesn’t change. “You remembered.”

“So I did,” Kit easily says, politely waits for Agen to allow him to step inside the Zabrak’s quarters. Amusement curls at the edge of Agen’s tiny smirk, and all he wants to do is smile back and wait forever.

(Depa is a dignified Jedi Master; so if anyone says that they saw her take a holo of Master Fisto and Master Kolar standing together, they are a liar. She did no such thing.)

                         ~~~~~~

Unsurprisingly, Plo is in the Archives. Again.

“Ah, hello, Mace,” the Kel Dor greets with a smile in his voice as Mace approaches him. Plo is already taking out a datapad with a soft hum, a talon clicking against it with an echo. “Did you know how interesting Zabrak poetry can be when being expressed out loud?”

“Pardon?” Mace asks in bewilderment, a beat little too late.

Why is Plo asking him about Zabrak poetry? Granted, this could have been discussed with the other Zabraks in the Jedi Order, given that Mace has little knowledge of it. Though... if he can just steer the conversation to the novel, then he’ll know whether or not Plo is the one who wrote it, and then make sure no one else is writing a novel based on actual events too close for his comfort.

“They have such wonderful sounds when conveying it. Such as this one here...”

This, Mace thinks with an oncoming headache as Plo continues to ramble about the poetry, is going to be exhausting.

                            ~~~~~~

“Plo-”

“Oh, Mace, I’m not finished with explaining the messages inside the poems yet!”

“Did you write Heartstill?”

Plo emits amusement into the Force. “That’s not the topic right now, is it, Mace? Now, as I was saying, there are some hidden messages within each line for each sound they make...”

Cody is going to become a widower if Mace doesn’t survive this.

                           ~~~~~~

Cody finally finds his husband in the Archives after a couple of hours, impassively staring at Plo Koon with an exasperated look, though no one can tell unless they know him or look very closely.

“Master Koon,” he says formally, dips his head in greeting when Plo waves a four-fingered hand to him. Mace’s slight relief rises in their bond, before fading away to exasperation and fondness for the Kel Dor. “Mace, there you are.”

“Cody,” Mace says as he rises to his feet from the chair, gives Plo a look, before the Korun offers his hand to him. “Something urgent?”

Cody only rolls his eyes and grabs his husband’s hand to lead him out of the Archives, away from delicate datapads and apparently Mace’s current headache. “Not really,” Cody answers after a fair distance away from the Archives. “But you haven’t answered my calls for the past six hours, and that was before you told me you were going to find Master Koon.”

Mace stops, slightly turns his head towards him. “Six hours,” his husband repeats.

“Yes, Mace. Six hours. I didn’t realize you liked debating with Master Koon for that long.”

“Yes,” Mace agrees, dry. Displeasure flashes in their bond, before Mace carefully tucks it away and lets it go. “I very much enjoy debating with Master Koon about Zabrak poetry.”

Cody pauses, turns to stare at his husband. “... why were you discussing Zabrak poetry?”

“That is a mystery I would like to know myself.”

                              ~~~~~~

Humming, Plo opens the doors to his quarters and steps in, the sight of Feral and Savage curled up on the couch in front of him, the Zabrak brothers sleeping peacefully. On a chair nearby, Wolffe is reading his datapad, his head lifting to meet his gaze. He should get a holo of this.

“Sir,” Wolffe greets, sets the datapad down as Plo walks towards him. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” Plo immediately says, and Wolffle closes his eyes like he’s going to do something rather drastic. The clone points to the kitchen, gives him a glare that makes him want to smile. “Wolffe, my dear...” He stumbles over the next word. “... partner, I did eat before going into the Archives.”

Woffle lifts an unimpressed eyebrow before his shoulders relax and the clone offers him a tight smile and a grimace. “Sorry, sir, watching these two are going to give me grey hair.”

“I have faith you will prevail, Wolffe,” Plo says, and- he knows that Wolffe will be able to handle it, knows that he can trust him with these kinds of tasks. Wolffe seems to know it, too, judging from the tilt of his head and the slow blink of dark brown eyes.

Breathes, and his chest tightens when Wolffe flashes him a sweet, tender smile, before it turns crooked with teeth. “You always do.”

“I always do,” he easily agrees, steps forward to gently tilt his head down to press his forehead against Wolffe’s.

He watches as Wolffe’s eyes flutter shut at the contact, and a comfortable silence surrounds them. Plo smiles behind his rebreather, and it’s calming, to stay like that with Wolffe, Wolffe’s hands catching his and tracing gentle shapes on his skin. It feels like there’s nothing that can stop him from feeling this much.

The Force hums with approval around them.

Wolffe slowly pulls away from him, dark eyes watching his every move. “Why was Master Windu looking for you this time?”

Plo pauses, and lets out a chuckle. “Heartstill.”

“You should have never written that novel, sir,” Wolffe says with an exasperated look, full of fondness and contentment and other emotions Plo doesn’t dare to say out loud. One look is enough for the both of them, enough to last them a lifetime.

It’s enough for them both.

“Ah, but Wolffe, where’s the fun in that?”

                                  ~~~~~~

Anakin stares at the message in front of him, before looking up to see his wife and boyfriend going through the senators’ fashion choice on their holograms. Both are laughing at something he can’t hear from where he is, before he looks back down at the message again.

Anakin, whatever you do, Obi-Wan’s message reads, do not claim that you wrote Heartstill. Or anger Master Windu.

Why would he claim that? Or anger Mace? 

“Ani?” Padme calls, and he looks up to see his wife smiling that beautiful smile, and Fox with his really cute dimple. “What are you reading?”

“Obi-Wan’s messages to me,” he answers, sets the datapad down and joins them on the floor to stare at the new senator on the screen. Anakin reels back from the hologram of unbelievable taste, and wrinkles his nose. “Okay, what in the karking hells is that? Are they trying to copy Sidious’ fashion of puffy sleeves?”

“Yeah,” Fox says, his eyes bright and his smile sharp. “It’s really not that great, isn’t it, Ani?”

Fox’s use of his nickname makes him lean down and gently press a kiss on Fox’s cheek. The clone blushes, looks away, and Padme giggles and leans back against him. It’s nice, to have two of the people he cares about with him, and maybe they can plan out a wedding to include Fox to officially announce him as part of his and Padme’s married life.

It would make Fox happy, make Padme happy, and he wants that for them and more.

“What do you think about a wedding?” Anakin asks curiously. Fox’s head shoots up from staring at the hologram to stare at him, his cheeks flushing red at the mention of one.

“For Fox?” Padme’s smile is full of vicious triumph. “I think he’ll look good in blue.”

“I look best in red,” Fox tells them dryly, but he’s smiling, and Anakin can only count that as a victory, as a vow to the people he loves the most.

“You would look good either way, Fox,” Anakin reassures him.

They have a wedding to plan.

                                  ~~~~~~

Shaak slowly blinks. “I will bet two trips to the ice cream parlour for all the younglings and clones in small groups.”

“I will ask that if I win this, I get to have a month’s leave to travel with my Padawan,” Depa says as she drops a couple of credits into the pot. “He always did want to see the ancient Jedi Temples.”

“Try my cake for once, you all will,” Yoda adds. Everyone present (except for Kit and Agen, who are the subjects of the said bet) shudders at the memory of the bug-infested mud cake (Adi remembers seeing a frog leg sticking out of one of Yoda’s cakes once. It was slightly horrifying if you have to ask her).

Ki watches helplessly as his fellow Councillors place their bets, buries his face into his hands, and lets out a groan. How is he the only sane one left?

                                 ~~~~~~

Six days of investigation of his fellow Councillors later, Mace wordlessly hands the datapad (that has caused him several unnecessary headaches) back to Fives.

“Uh, Master, are you alright?” his Padawan asks, furrows his brows.

Mace only nods and firmly turns around, hears Fives following him. He’s going to lead Fives to the Archives to make him read the Jedi Order’s history. Maybe the entire history later, but he’s not so vicious to inflict that on his budding Padawan.

That novel is a headache and deserves to be treated as such after Fives gave it to him to read.

If anyone says that making Fives read the Jedi Order’s history is revenge, they are a filthy, filthy liar. This is justice at its finest form, and he’s going to make sure it stays that way. Preferably without Plo describing Zabrak poetry to him again. He still doesn’t know how he stayed there for six hours.

Now, for the bets on Kit and Agen... Mace is going to win it. 

(Behind him, Fives shudders at the foreboding feeling of doom and hopes that his Master isn’t planning anything bad.)

((It’s only another couple of days later before Mace realizes that Plo didn’t deny anything and is left wondering if Plo wrote Heartstill or not. He still doesn’t have an answer.))

[punksarahreese]

Trees | Bloodletting

Nosdecember day 10 | @neworleansspecial

Occult!au; April and Sarah go on a walk and meet two individuals Sarah was not expecting

***

"April," Sarah’s voice carried a little whine as she skipped a little to catch up with the Faerie, "Where are we going?"

"An adventure," that’s all April had been telling her since she showed up at the cottage that morning. Sarah had tried to protest, citing the fact that she had a painting to finish, but she couldn’t argue for very long. April looked so excited, for whatever reason, and Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her no. It didn’t help that an invisible hand had quickly found the small of her back, gently nudging her towards the door until Sarah took the hint.

Life was weird with a ghost roommate who always tried to mother her. Not that she would complain too much because Natalie was quite literally her lifesaver. Still, she did tend to get pushy when she thought Sarah was spending a little too much time inside. She didn’t want her to wallow in her depression, which she understood, but the fact that the ghost couldn’t leave the general riverbank area or stay corporeal all the time meant she couldn’t drag Sarah outside too often.

That’s where April came in. The Faerie had immediately taken Sarah under her wing and made it a goal to keep her safe. It was in her blood to heal people, after all, so of course she was going to do her best to make sure Sarah was happy. Even if she couldn’t mend her trauma, her and Natalie could do their best to help the human make some happier memories.

"I really need to-" Sarah stopped when she saw what was in front of them. She had never been this far into the forest, she couldn’t have, because this was a whole new feat she had never come across. Nestled near the hillside was a large old house, exterior looking a little worse for wear but the grounds blooming with a rather impressive garden. Ivy and grapevines snaked up the brickwork, evidence of nature passively trying to take back its land.

"Woah."

"Impressed?" April grinned, "Not mine, but I help keep the garden and its spirits happy."

"It’s gorgeous," Sarah told her sincerely, admiring a monarch butterfly as it fluttered past her to land on a nearby lilac tree. The whole yard was full of lilacs, clearly not from the area originally; whoever lived there must really love the sweet flowers.

"April?"

A soft, accented voice tore their attention from the flora in front of them. April turned, braids bouncing against her shoulder as she searched for the owner of the voice. A tiny, musical giggle was heard at their confusion. That was something Sarah missed; the ability to find humour in tiny things.

"Up!"

April’s gaze drifted in the direction she was told, quickly landing on a small figure perched in a nearby oak tree. The sun obstructed Sarah’s vision but she figured her companion could see just fine. She must have been able to, because her smile was almost audible in her reply.

"Tia," she relaxed when she realized who the person was, "What are you doing up there?"

"Watching. You appear to have a shadow, you know."

"Who? Sarah?"

A sound of disagreement and the rustle of leaves preceded her words, "Nuh-uh. Not the human, she’s fine."

The human. So whoever was up there must be some type of other creature, Sarah noted. She wasn’t even fazed at that point, having completely adjusted to the amount of supernatural activity within the forest. It was quite the shock in the beginning but Sarah wasn’t one to judge; besides, she was a guest in their territory anyway.

"Tia, are you going to tell me?"

"You know who he is," the answer was dismissive, "May I come meet her?"

"What would your mother say?" April’s tone was teasing, making the girl in the tree scoff. She was obviously a child, though very well spoken and somehow sounding authoritative. The way April spoke with her was familiar, but she didn’t think this girl was a Seelie child, since April had introduced her to most of the court who wanted to meet her ages ago.

"Mama doesn’t mind. Besides, you’re here."

April rolled her eyes, "I’m pretty sure that’s the one thing she would mind, given the history. That being said, it’s your funeral."

"Hm," the leaves rustled loudly again and there was a flash of wind in front of them, "Never had one of those, sounds like an experience."

Somehow whoever Sarah had been expecting to be the owner of the voice was not this child. She looked no older than ten, with long blonde ringlets spilling over her shoulders and a smug look on her face. She held herself with a confidence that was rare for someone so young and that alone told Sarah she was probably older than she appeared. It was the eyes that shocked Sarah the most though, blood red hue glinting in the sunlight.

"My name is Estia," the child gave a small half-bow in greeting, "You’re pretty."

Sarah was taken aback but forced a smile in reply, she seemed sweet even if her eyes were unnerving. She glanced at April in silent question but then turned back to the girl, "Sarah. Um... thank you."

"She knows?" The question was directed at the faerie, who had zoned out slightly as she was gazing past them both. Sarah was also a bit distracted, still absorbing this new person’s presence but also fixated on Estia’s previous words.

A shadow? Who was he? How did April know him?

"About you? No. Before you ask, yes she knows about the Fair folk. Ghosts and werewolves too."

"Covering all the bases but me and mama? Rude."

April scoffed, "Please, I just haven’t had time to ask your mother about it. I know how she feels about outsiders and, unlike some people, I can’t get away with being disrespectful."

"This one is pretty, mama will like her," Estia nodded surely at Sarah, "Any guesses on what I am?"

Sarah was a little confused, wondering who this child’s mother was for April to appear vaguely scared of her. Besides, Estia’s last comment stuck in her head. Something told her it was in her best interest for this woman to like her, whoever she was.

"Uh," she studied the girl’s features for a second but her first guess was ringing in her mind, "Vampire?"

"Oh she’s smart," the child grinned and showed off her tiny but razor sharp fangs, "I like you, Sarah."

"Oh, um... good?"

April clearly found the human’s confusion amusing and she gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Before anyone could continue the conversation, the creaking of a heavy door made them all turn to the big house.

"Estia, what are you doing?"

Sarah couldn’t help but stare when she saw the owner of the stern yet beautiful voice. She had a similar accent to the child’s, her low tone somehow soothing despite the vaguely hostile look in her eyes. Which were, just as Sarah expected, as red as fresh blood. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a half twist, some loose curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. That was where Sarah got shamefully distracted, her gaze lingering on the pale, scarred skin of the woman’s collarbones. Really it was at the fault of her dress, a rather dramatic red number that fell off her shoulders deliberately. Whoever this woman was, she was undoubtedly a vampire like Estia; one of status, if Sarah had to guess.

"Mama!" Estia was across the yard and at the front door in seconds. Her own gown was casual in comparison to her mother’s, a flowing royal blue fabric that had a high neckline, which was clearly to hide the bite marks on the child’s jugular.

"April brought a new friend," she explained proudly and Sarah realized she immediately sounded much more like the child she appeared to be. However old the young vampire was, she reverted to a more vulnerable state around her mum. It made Sarah’s heart ache a bit, especially upon watching as the woman smoothed down her daughter’s curls and helped her untangle a leaf from her sleeve. She missed her mother, that familiar comfort was something she didn’t appreciate until it was gone.

"Did she?"

"Ava," April met the vampire’s sharp gaze with her own cat-like stare, "She’s not a threat. She lives with Nat and she means no harm in our forest."

"Oh, your little ghost got a roommate?" The woman, Ava, chuckled as if the thought amused her. She seemed a bit rude but first impressions weren’t everything, so Sarah tried to be optimistic. She did still flinch a little when those bright eyes fell on her again, though.

In a split second she was in front of Sarah, moving with the inhuman speed that her daughter also possessed. Estia had remained on the front step, watching stoically as her mother gave the human a once over. Sarah tried to pretend that she wasn’t holding her breath, which was hard because she knew her companions had excellent hearing.

"Ava Bekker," she was a bit surprised when a hand was held out to her, followed by a laugh at Sarah’s hesitation, “I won’t bite you.”

“Oh, um…” Sarah took her hand and tried not to flinch again at how cold her touch was, “Sarah Reese. Nice to meet you.”

The way Ava observed her, with an unreadable expression and a tiny smirk made Sarah a bit concerned. She wasn’t uncomfortable per se, she knew April wouldn’t put her in any danger, but the whole situation was odd. The vampire’s original hostility had slowly melted away and she no longer stared at Sarah as if she was a threat to her or her daughter.

“She’s cute,” Ava mused to the Faerie beside them, “Where’d you find this one?”

“I told you, she lives with Natalie. Got thrown into our world unexpectedly but we’ve grown quite fond of her.”

“Oh,” the blonde shot Sarah a look of playful pity, ���You poor thing, stuck with two of the most chatty creatures in this forest.”

“Hey,” Sarah was surprised when April had no qualms with playfully shoving the vampire’s shoulder, “She likes us.”

“I do,” Sarah promised softly, a bit distracted as she once again caught herself staring at the mass amount of scarring along Ava’s porcelain skin. Her neck and upper chest had the worst of it, bite marks and what looked like jagged knife wounds healed into white marks. The biggest scar was a big gash right across where her carotid would be, which must have been fatal by the looks of it. Her wrists were covered by the sheer material of her sleeves but Sarah caught a glimpse of quite a few more marks lining both sides of her forearm. Whatever she had experienced must have happened before her death, since as far as Sarah knew vampires couldn’t scar. Nevertheless, whatever Ava had gone through it looked like a lot.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when an ice cold hand found her face, fingers curling under her chin to lift her gaze. Sarah was too scared to shy away but the touch, while gentle, burned like dry ice. The other woman didn’t look angry, only amusement sparkling in her eyes as she hummed.

“Curious one, aren’t you?”

“I- sorry.”

Ava chuckled, her thumb trailing gently along Sarah’s jawline before she let go of her face, “You’re fine.”

“Mama,” Estia’s voice once again brought everyone’s attention away from the current encounter, “Wolves are on their way.”

Ava sighed, “Child has better hearing than even me. The pups are bringing us some food, so we mustn’t stay out any longer. Besides, someone is supposed to be practicing.”

“Ma!” the child whined, “I am literally dead, I have all the time in the world to learn whatever language you want.”

“Yes, but Latin is just as dead and still waits for no one. Off you go.”

Estia huffed and looked at Sarah, “Can you visit another time? I wanna know what human life is like now!”

Sarah looked at the other vampire for an answer, since she didn’t want to intrude or anything. Ava smiled at her with surprising warmth, her fangs showing proudly, “If Sarah wishes to pay us a visit then she is welcome. Might give her some peace and quiet away from all the faerie antics.”

“I heard that.”

“Well, it was also directed at your shadow,” Ava replied to April, “Who needs to work on his sneaking skills.”

Following her gaze, Sarah spotted a black cat watching them angrily from a tree. The same black cat who sat on her windowsill every night, watching and never moving until dawn. She had been unnerved but had assumed it was a stray at first. She even left a bowl of Autumn’s food out for the cat, but had only been met by hostile green eyes and a hiss. Judging by Ava’s words, he was not actually a cat. Which was even more unsettling; April and Natalie would have some explaining to do.

“We really must go,” Ava continued, before glancing at Sarah for a moment. She went over to one of her lilac trees, skirt flowing dramatically in the wind her speed created. A deft hand broke off a bunch of flowers at the stem, returning to Sarah in seconds. The human looked at her questioningly, instinctively holding her breath when Ava got closer.

The vampire leaned towards her, cold fingers brushing over her cheek as she tucked the stem of lilacs behind Sarah’s ear. The light purple flowers blended into her curls, filling her senses with their strong scent.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” was murmured in her ear and Sarah had to pretend she wasn’t blushing like mad when the woman pulled back.

“Mama?” Estia was bouncing on her heels, obviously waiting for Ava to follow before she went into the big house. Ava nodded at her, bidding Sarah goodbye and saying the same to April. In moments both vampires had disappeared back into the house, which somehow looked completely uninhabited. That probably had something to do with the fact that its owners were undead, but Sarah tried not to think about that too hard.

“Enchanting isn’t she?” April teased, having noticed Sarah’s panicked and shy reactions to the other woman, “Home time?”

Sarah recovered enough to nod, hand brushing through her hair to feel if the lilacs were still there. She followed April absentmindedly, thoughts still pinned on the gorgeous but intimidating vampire and how her low voice in Sarah’s ear had shamefully made her stomach flutter.

[darks-ink]

Antonym

Prompt: Danny is a ghost who became half-human after stumbling through a portal to the human world. Prompt by: @voidetrap​ Word count: 9,526

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

Tail trailing behind him like a comet’s, Phantom lazily twisted around a few floating chunks of rock. Around him, the ambient ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone ebbed and flowed as usual.

How could a world so centered around change, around what’s ever changing, be so boring? It felt like he’d been here for forever, that he’d seen every crummy corner of this existence. Oh, if only he could see the human world! He didn’t know what it was like—if he’d ever been human, he certainly didn’t have any memories of that time—but he’d heard stories! And what stories they were!

His favorites were the ones detailing the world away from humans, he was sure. The infinite reaches of space, an empty void much like the Ghost Zone except not. With planets and stars and life— life. With enormous balls of whatever that came into being, and then died, spectacularly! That changed whole eons with their coming and going!

And the best part, he thought, was that you didn’t actually have to go there to witness all that. You could stay on Earth, watch the ever-continuing bustle of Earth’s life, and still see space.

But there was no point in wistful thinking. Yes, portals to Earth were commonplace in the Ghost Zone, but the dimension was enormous. The chance of coming across one was practically nil.

Something in the atmosphere changed, suddenly, in a way that Phantom couldn’t describe, could only feel in his core. Could it really be…?

Unwilling to let this chance slip by, he raced towards the distortion. There was nothing visible, nothing to see or hear or smell, but he could feel it in his core. Where was it? He just had to find it!

A few moments of frantic flying and finally he found it. His core screamed, and suddenly Phantom felt overwhelmingly— overwhelmed. His euphoria at finding the spot was swept away in the sudden panic as his core went from screaming ‘purpose, purpose, here!’ to screaming ‘danger danger DANGER!’.

He paused, just a single second, to figure it out.

And his world flashed white, then black, and Phantom’s core quietened entirely.

---

When Phantom awoke again, it was… bright. Way brighter than he usually saw in the Ghost Zone, and he flinched. Shot up into a sitting position, his core jerking oddly in his chest.

“Oh!” a startled voice said, somewhere in the room. It was masculine, Phantom thought, but flat. The echo didn’t sound quite right. “Mads, he’s awake!”

Phantom wanted to look, wanted to know where he was and who was here with him, but his core still hadn’t settled down. It was thudding in his chest, a fast rhythmic thumping, like it was trying to break its way out of Phantom’s ectoplasm. None of the regular whirring or humming, and not even a hint of— of feeling to guide him.

“Hey,” the same voice as earlier said, softly, and suddenly next to him. “Are you okay, kid?”

His eyes snapped towards the source automatically, his core faltering for a brief moment. Big, was his first thought, followed by bright. Orange, though, not a color often seen in the Zone. Dark blue irises in white sclera, black hair, pink skin…

Pink skin?

Phantom ran his eyes over whoever was in front of him again. There was no mistaking it. No glow, not even the slightest hum of a core, and all soft and warm in coloration. This wasn’t a ghost at all! This was a human.

Holy shit, he really had gone through a portal to Earth!

“Jack, don’t scare him,” a second voice chastised, from his other side. Phantom turned to look at her, and yes, this one was definitely human as well. Smaller than the man, with auburn hair and violet irises, dressed in teal.

She crouched, one black-gloved hand hovering over Phantom’s shoulder, not quite touching. “Hi honey. This must all be very overwhelming. Do you… speak English?”

Why were they being all polite and stuff? He thought humans hated ghosts?

He opened his mouth to answer, but his tongue felt too heavy, and he couldn’t manage the words. Instead he grimaced, then nodded at her.

“Well, that’s convenient, at least.” She turned her head to look past Phantom and at the man. “Jack, can you go get him some water? He must be dehydrated.”

Phantom watched the man—Jack, apparently—get up and walk away. Now that he’d gotten used to the bright lights, he could finally look around.

They appeared to be inside, the room decently-sized but with no doors, only a staircase leading up. The entire thing was shiny and chrome-like. Metal plates, maybe? He didn’t know what humans used to construct their homes.

There were a bunch of tables in the room as well, made out of the same stuff as the walls. And, scattered just about everywhere, were parts. Bits that Phantom could never hope to put a name to, but that were clearly used for inventing. He’d seen Technus scavenge for them often enough to recognize the stuff.

Were these humans inventors, then? He wondered how common the occupation was for their kind.

He tried pulling his legs under him—the floor was getting hard and uncomfortable—but they were heavy. Heavy like his tongue, heavy like his core, heavy like… like every part of his body, really. Gravity was a thing, he knew, but he thought ghosts were more-or-less immune to its effects? And surely it wouldn’t weigh down his core, would it?

Resigning himself to having to adjust to it, he turned to look at what his leg was doing.

Uh.

Since when was his leg white? And his boots black?

His core did something weird again, and hop-skip that made Phantom feel very odd. He held out his hands for inspection.

Black gloves, white arms.

Phantom turned to look at the human woman next to him, who was frowning slightly—presumably at his sudden frantic behavior. “What—” His tongue still didn’t quite work, and it felt like he was talking through a straw, but he wanted, dammit, and he couldn’t be stopped that easily. “What color is my hair?”

Her frown deepened. “Black,” she said, cautiously.

Another skip-jump from his core, which Phantom was starting to fear wasn’t actually his core. He remembered, suddenly, the moment just before he’d blacked out. The moment his core had gone entirely silent.

With shaking hands, he reached for his left hand. Hooked a wavering finger underneath the edge of his glove, sliding it up further than he was supposed to be able to, until he found smooth skin at the wrist.

“Are the gloves bothering you?” the woman asked, and reached forward the grab his left glove as well. “Here, let me help, you’re shaking up a storm.”

And, before he could stop her, she tugged off the black glove entirely.

His hand was… was fleshy pink, a pale shade much like Jack and the woman. He clenched and unclenched it, hesitantly, watching it shift and pull with the movements. He felt sick, imagining the structures that laid underneath his skin that could be causing such things.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” the woman said, her voice soft and gentle. “What’s wrong? Can you tell me, so I can fix it?”

“I—” His throat felt dry, all of a sudden. Could it be dry?

“I’m human,” he said, but it sounded more like a question.

The woman blinked, seeming surprised. She pulled back a little, her hands lifting away from him. She had taken off his other glove, too. “Yes? What did you think you were?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly realized. The reason why these people were so nice, so polite… He swallowed, instead, around something big stuck in his throat.

Thudding footsteps echoed through the room, and Phantom snapped his head in the direction they were coming from.

Jack stepped off of the last step of the staircase, a glass with water in his massive black-gloved hand. “Sorry that it took a while. All our glasses were dirty.”

“All of them?” the woman asked skeptically. “Jack…”

The massive human laughed uncertainly, quickly coming over and handing the glass to Phantom. “Here you go, kiddo. Drink slowly.”

Phantom knew how to drink water, yes, thank you very much. Just because ghosts didn’t have to didn’t mean that they never drank anything.

But, he supposed, there might be a human anatomy thing going on here. Better take the advice, since it came from an expert on that sort of thing.

He took a sip, cautiously. The water was fresh, the taste almost empty, like something was absent from it. It felt cool in his throat, though, and felt great going down.

“Better?” the woman asked, still sitting next to him. He nodded, taking another sip.

“Can you tell us your name?” she asked, then.

“Um.” Another mouthful of cool water. Oh, he’d figured out what he was missing. Ectoplasm, of course! All water in the Zone was full of ectoplasm, just like, well. Everything. “Phantom?”

“Phantom?” Jack repeated, an odd tone to his voice. “Just Phantom?”

He shrugged, pushing down his initial spike of irritation. It was probably just a weird name for a human. Didn’t they have two names, anyway, like some of the more human-like ghosts insisted on doing as well? Like Ember and Spectra? Phantom had never really cared about that. He was fine with just being Phantom.

“I suppose that that works,” the woman said, but she was frowning at him anyway. She offered him one of her hands, his gloves in her lap. “My name is Maddie Fenton, and that’s Jack Fenton.”

Phantom stared at the hand for a moment, then took it. Maddie lifted and dropped their linked hands, and he repeated the motion.

“How long have you been in the Ghost Zone anyway, kid?” Jack had crouched on his other side again. “Do you remember how you got there?”

They seriously could not be asking that. Could they? He shrugged again. “I don’t know how I got there, or how long it’s been. Felt like forever.” He took another sip of the water. “I guess I must’ve died, though.”

“Nonsense,” Jack immediately denied, flapping a hand. “Portals between the human world and the Ghost Zone are plenty common, and can even be made with machinery!” They could? That was news to him.

Actually, wait. How did these guys know about the Ghost Zone, anyway? Wasn’t that some kind of secret? He thought most humans didn’t even believe in ghosts at all.

“So, like I was saying,” Jack continued, and Phantom realized he must’ve zoned out in the middle of man’s speech. “There are lots of explanations as to why a human teenager might’ve been in the Ghost Zone!”

“Yeah, I guess.” Phantom shrugged, loosely. “But I wasn’t a human teenager before I went through that portal just now. Or whatever it was, since I don’t think they normally turn ghosts into humans.”

“Phantom,” Maddie said with a scolding tone. “Young man, you do not get to joke about this.”

He stuck out his tongue at her, then paused to stare down at it. Ah, yes, a nice reddish pink, of course. He’d almost forgotten that humans were pink and red instead of green.

“If you were a ghost, though, why would you go through the portal?” Jack asked, apparently more willing to consider it than Maddie. “Why go to our world?”

“Because the Ghost Zone is boring,” Phantom exclaimed dramatically, throwing out his arms. “It’s just a lot of green and some purple and everything’s always the same. Out here you’ve got humans and they’re always changing and moving on and stuff.”

“Jack,” Maddie said, her voice strangely forced. “You can’t seriously think that he’s telling the truth about this? A ghost turned back into a human?”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “I never said anything about it turning me back into a human. I can’t remember ever being alive, and I know some ghosts just come into existence on their own, in the Zone. Although some of the others have told me that I looked pretty human, so I guess it’s possible that I was, at some point in the past, alive.”

“Jack,” Maddie said again.

“Mads,” Jack said back, and Phantom was wondering if they would notice if he left. “Whether he was a ghost or not, he’s human now, and he doesn’t remember anything. We can’t just leave him to his own devices, can we?”

She made a derisive noise. “Of course we can’t, honey. I’m not saying that. But I don’t know if it’s wise to play along with something like this.”

Ugh. They were talking about him like he wasn’t even there. Time to execute his brilliant plan.

He placed his glass onto the lab floor, then pushed himself up a little, supporting the weight of his upper body on his hands. And then, since neither human had noticed yet, slowly crept away.

“What harm can it do to listen to him?” Jack asked Maddie, apparently not noticing that their guest was leaving. “He’s been in the Ghost Zone for who knows how long. Even if he is just a confused boy, he must know tons about ghosts!”

That sounded reasonable, but also, why did they care? Why were these people so interested in ghosts and the Ghost Zone anyway? Weren’t they inventors? Or did humans just decorate their houses with scattered bits of inventions?

Something hard pressed against his back, and Phantom stopped crawling to look. Ah. The wall. A glance back towards Jack and Maddie revealed that they were too busy talking to notice his disappearance yet. That was…

Honestly, that was unbelievable. What was wrong with mankind?

Hm. Maybe he should stop thinking of them as humans and himself as a ghost, considering the circumstances.

Eh. Problem for future Phantom. What was the worst that could happen? He would die and become a ghost again?

Pressing his back against the metal wall, he pushed himself up onto his feet. Using his hands to brace himself—the metal cool underneath the bare skin and pink fingers—he even managed to stand properly. Ugh. His body was so heavy and, just, fleshy.

Another glance back towards the bickering humans to confirm that, yes, they were still bickering. Wild. They seemed satisfied to stick to words, though, which made sense based on how sluggish human bodies felt. And no powers, so they couldn’t just use ecto-blasts to circumvent that.

The staircase was set in another wall, but close to the corner where said wall met the one he was braced against. As long as those two didn’t look away from each other, Phantom was sure he could make it there.

Going up those stairs might be more challenging, but it looked like there might be a railing. Worst come to worst, he could always try pulling himself up the steps.

He stumbled—and almost fell—a couple of times, and tripped over his own heavy boots just before he had turned the corner. Hands lashing out, though, he managed to catch the railing and just barely stopped himself from face-planting into the floor. Embarrassing. Good thing no one saw that.

The stairs looked a lot more daunting from here, though. Phantom remembered how noisy it had been when Jack had gone down them, but… Jack was a lot bigger than him, and likely a lot heavier as well. That was an important thing with gravity, right?

Well, he’d come this far, so he wasn’t going to back out now. With one last glance backwards—and how were these people still talking about this?—Phantom confirmed that he was free to go. He grabbed hold of the railing with one hand, and planted the other against the opposing wall. Just, one step after another.

He kept his eyes turned downward the whole time, not wanting to see how far he still had to go. And, y’know, to make sure he didn’t trip on a step and fall down the stairs. That would be a stupid way to get caught.

So when the railing ended, suddenly, and his hand hit a metal surface instead… well, he was surprised!

Phantom looked up to see a door, marked with bright yellow and black stripes. A warning, he could guess, but for what?

He decided it didn’t really matter, reaching for the doorknob. It went down smoothly, and Phantom pushed open the door with surprising ease, following it into another room.

Unlike the one downstairs, this room was… almost homely? He wasn’t used to seeing such sights, but he thought that this space suited the word. Some sort of inventions or appliances lined the wall opposite of him, a big table in the space in-between. Four chairs surrounded it, one for each side of the table.

The wall on Phantom’s right contained a door and several windows, looking out into a large open space. A… yard? The outside, for sure, and oh. It must be day, the sky a pale blue, some white clouds decorating it.

He wrenched his eyes off of the sight, though, to continue his investigation. The wall on his left wasn’t actually a full wall, but was open in the middle, allowing him a glance into another room. It was darker there, it seemed, but that might be caused by the pale purple walls.

Phantom took a step out of the stairway, carefully closing the door behind him, but not releasing it. He didn’t trust his legs that much just yet.

What could such a room be used for, he wondered. It looked like a room for eating, with the table and the chairs, but it seemed too small for large gatherings. There were only four chairs! But, ah. Humans had to eat regularly, didn’t they? Having a room just for that purpose made sense with that context, he supposed.

Did that mean that he had to eat now, too? How often did humans eat, anyway? He’d heard people say that humans ate every day, but that seemed pretty extreme. Every week, maybe? He wondered where in the timeline he was starting. How could you tell that you had to eat again?

Too late, he realized that a noise was coming his way. He froze, instinctively trying to turn invisible, but without his core there was no point.

A human walked in from the open hallway on Phantom’s left. She was slight, slighter than Maddie even, but with long fiery hair. She made it almost two steps into the room before she noticed him and paused.

“Um,” she said, blinking at him. “Who— Where did you come from?”

He stuck a thumb over his shoulder, pointing back to the door he was still braced against.

Her expression grew flat and unimpressed. “Great. Brilliant.”

She sighed, and Phantom could almost feel the weariness in it. Then, suddenly, she walked towards him.

“Move,” she instructed him when she stopped in front of him. “I need to yell at my parents.”

Her parents…? Oh. The Fentons must be a married couple, then, and this their daughter.

Phantom nodded, moving his hand over to the wall before stepping aside. Whatever material these yellowish walls were made out of, it was nicer to touch than the other walls. Warmer, almost, a touch softer than metal.

The girl frowned at him for a moment, then shook her head to dismiss whatever thought she was having and reached for the door. Rather than go down the stairs like he’d expected, she just stood in the doorway and leaned forward.

“Mom, Dad!” she yelled down the staircase, “Did you really grow a kid in your lab?!”

“Oh!” a faint voice echoed back. Maddie’s, Phantom thought. “Oh, gosh, he must’ve wandered off while we were talking. Is he up there, Jazz?”

The girl groaned and, yeah, Phantom felt that. He was exhausted just dealing with them for the last few… however long it was. He couldn’t imagine growing up with them. “Mom,” she groaned back.

Footsteps sounded as the two adults moved around. When Maddie spoke again, her voice sounded louder. “Jazz, honey, it’s not what you think. We can explain.”

Wait, did these people really complain about him calling himself Phantom when their own kid was named Jazz? Hypocrites.

He glanced behind him to the door outside, considering his chances. Yes, he’d almost fallen several times while walking in the room downstairs, but! He was already feeling more confident with his human legs.

Just as he was turning around, though, a warm hand grabbed him by the arm. It felt odd; he could feel his suit rub against his skin underneath.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jazz asked, scathingly. “You look like you’re three seconds away from falling down. Either stay there, or sit down on one of the chairs.”

“I’m fine,” he snipped back, pushing himself into a full stand.

She shot him an utterly unimpressed look. “Sit. I’m not having this conversation standing up, anyway.”

“Well, why couldn’t you just say that from the start?” He pushed himself off of the wall, using the boost to stumble towards the table. Jazz’ expression grew, almost impossibly, even less impressed.

He grabbed the back of one of the chairs, dragging it backwards, then dropped all of his weight onto it. Ah. That felt better already, as much he hated to admit it.

“Stubborn,” Jazz muttered with a shake of her head. He didn’t get a chance to reply, though, because the two adults suddenly came through the door from downstairs.

Maddie sent him a furious glare, and it was, admittedly, pretty scary. For a human, at least.

“Phantom,” she said, voice low and threatening. “What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Sitting?” he offered, plastering a grin on his face.

The second round of glaring was swiftly cut off, however, by Jazz. “Mom,” she gritted. “What is going on here? I thought you two spent all this time working on your big special totally-not-fake ghost portal, not making test-tube babies!”

Woah, woah, hold on. They were making a ghost portal down there? That must’ve been the one he’d found in the Ghost Zone. And what had Jack said, earlier? Artificial, man-made ghost portals? It must’ve been weird, somehow, that’s why it made him human.

But, wow, what a screw-up that was. Turning a ghost into a human. Yikes.

“Jazz, that’s not what this is.” Maddie’s eyes softened, her voice calmer now. “We were working on the Portal. Your father turned it on, but something went wrong, and it spit out… well, him.” She gestured over at Phantom like anybody needed that clarification. “We turned it off immediately, but he was already down in the lab.”

“But… Phantom?” Jazz frowned.

“Yeah?” he countered, crossing his arms. “That’s my name, Jazz. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

Her unimpressed look was back. “It’s short for Jasmine, actually. What’s Phantom supposed to mean?”

“Well, I am a ghost,” he pointed out, before freezing. Oh. Right. “Or, well. I was when I picked it.”

“This is getting crazier by the minute.” Jazz sighed, heavily, her entire frame shaking with the force of it. “Mom, Dad, wherever he might’ve come from, you can’t just… keep him. You realize that, right?”

“We were going to look for his actual family, but someone,” Maddie shot Jack a heated glare, which he studiously ignored, “wanted to ask Phantom all about the Ghost Zone, first. We figured that he could stay here for now, at least, so we could be sure that he was okay. He must’ve been wandering around in that dimension for forever, if he thinks himself a ghost, and he claims he can’t remember his ‘human life’ anymore.”

“I can also hear you,” he pointed out, loudly. “And there’s no claiming about it! I really was a ghost!”

And he was so sick and so tired of them suggesting otherwise! Oh, if only he’d had his core still! He could just imagine it, whirring loudly at his anger. His glow brightening and ectoplasm sparking as energy poured out.

The humans gasped, and Phantom jerked back in his seat, startled. He could swear he could feel his core’s hum in his chest, still, like a—excuse the pun—phantom limb.

“What was that?” Jazz snapped, suddenly furious, whirling between him and her parents. “You two saw that, right?”

“Saw what?” he asked despite himself, his anger giving way to curiosity instantly. The imagined after-image of his core seemed to settle down as well, softening into an almost undetectable hum.

Almost undetectable, except that now that he was aware of it, it didn’t fade entirely. And maybe it was just… just that everything was becoming overwhelmingly much, but… but Phantom could swear that he could feel it, the hot-cold energy of his ectoplasmic core, settled right in the center of his chest.

He pressed a hand against where he thought it was. His body was hard, there, almost like rock. Humans had bone, didn’t they, to support their forms? To protect their vital insides? That must be what he was feeling.

Underneath the bone, he could feel the powerful pounding of that thing he kept confusing for his core. It wasn’t quite located right, though, a little off-center. And, layered just underneath it, its whir synced almost perfectly with the thudding, was his core.

“I still have it,” he whispered, then realized a silence had suddenly fallen. He’d been so occupied with the rediscovery of his core that he hadn’t realized that the three humans were talking.

“Have what?” Jazz asked, skeptically.

“My core.” He turned to look at them again, grinning despite himself. “I’m not fully human!”

All three humans set judgmental gazes upon him and, hey, rude! “Here, just look!”

Phantom thrust out his hand in front of him, reaching out to his core for an ecto-blast.

Nothing happened.

“Uh…” He shook his hand. Nothing. “Hm. This usually doesn’t happen.”

“Phantom…” Maddie said, gently. “There are many explanations for—”

Another prod to his core. Come on, man, just give him something. Don’t let him embarrass himself like this!

“—can’t imagine the severity of your ectoplasmic contamination— oh.”

“Ha! See?” He shook his hand again, or, more accurately, his arm. His hand had gone invisible, his wrist showing a gradual shift back to visibility. “So maybe it’s a little weakened, but it clearly works, still!”

“This is insane,” Jazz muttered. She reached out, suddenly, grabbing him by the arm. Her hand trailed along the limb until her fingers found his own, despite their invisibility. “This is… this is crazy. This isn’t happening.”

Story of his unlife, girl.

His fingers shifted back to visibility, and his core spluttered, exhausted. Oh, man, it was like he was newly formed all over again!

“Severe ectoplasmic contamination?” Maddie suggested, but when Phantom looked at her she was frowning like she didn’t quite believe it, either. “We definitely can’t let him leave before we’re sure he’s okay.”

“We need tests,” Jack agreed with a nod. “See the extent of this. Phantom, kiddo, why don’t you come back to the lab with us?”

The lab… That was downstairs, then? A lab? Who the hell were these people, ghost researchers? Was that a normal human occupation, or did he have the craziest luck imaginable?

“Mom, Dad, no.” Jazz’ hand grasped onto Phantom’s, like she could stop him from following that easily. “You can’t just use him as a test subject! Besides,” she glanced meaningfully at the clock nestled between some appliances, “it’s practically dinnertime.”

“Jazz, sweetie, we need to run some tests on him, at least.” Maddie folded her hands together, looking worried. “We’ve never seen such high levels of ecto-contamination before, and the only case close to it caused severe health issues. The poor guy spent years in the hospital.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes. “After dinner, then. Let him eat first.” She turned back to him. “Phantom, how long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?”

“Uhh.” He remembered his last meal in the Zone; Johnny, Kitty, Ember, and him had eaten some ectoplasmic fast food. But when was that? “I don’t really keep track of time in the Zone very well, but… I think it was a couple weeks ago?”

Apparently that was the wrong answer, because Jazz narrowed her eyes even further. Right. Eating was important for humans, and he was pretty human right now.

He shrugged at her. “I had a glass of water earlier?”

“That’s not a meal,” she snipped back before turning to her parents. “You haven’t offered him any food?!”

The two shared a guilty look.

“It’s fine, I’m not hungry.” Phantom paused to consider this. “Or maybe I am. How can I tell?”

“How can you tell?” Jazz repeated incredulously, looking back at him. “How can you— Because you feel hungry!”

He shot her a flat look. “I have literally no idea what my insides are supposed to feel like. How am I supposed to know if something is hunger or just normal?”

Maddie stepped further into the room, shaking her head. “I’ll order us some pizzas. Is that okay with you, Phantom?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Nothing is gonna taste like what I’m used to, anyway. No ectoplasm, y’know?”

“Right,” Maddie said, taking a small device out of its holder. “No preference for any kind, then?”

“Surprise me.”

His hand felt colder, suddenly, and he looked down to realize that Jazz had let go. Huh. He hadn’t even realized they’d been holding hands the whole time.

Jazz walked over to the cupboards, opening doors and pulling down dishes. Jack quickly joined her, helping her place down plates.

“Why are all the glasses dirty?” Jazz asked, stopping in front of the… something, and frowning down at it. She reached down, but stopped before she touched anything, making a face. “Eugh, Dad, did you use these for your experiments again?”

Jack’s silence was audibly guilty.

“Mom, we’re gonna need more glassware,” Jazz told Maddie, who was talking into the wall device. “There’s no way we’re getting the goop out of these.”

“Aw, Jazz, it’s not that bad.” Jack reached past her to grab a glass. Ectoplasm-like goo was slathered on the inside. “We can decontaminate this just fine.”

“Well, I am not drinking out of that.” She reached down. Phantom guessed she was moving stuff around, based on the sound—like glass knocking together. “Here, this one is just ordinarily dirty. Phantom, you had a glass, right?”

He jerked at being addressed. “Uh, yeah, I guess so? I left it on the floor downstairs.”

“Can you go get it?” She placed one hand on the handle of the thing in front of her, then paused, looking over her shoulder at him. “Or, um. You weren’t walking very well earlier…”

“I can get it,” he assured her, ignoring the doubt niggling in his mind. “I have to get used to my legs anyway, right?”

“Right,” she echoed, pulling up the handle. Water started pouring out. Convenient!

Phantom got up from the chair, wobbling for a moment.

“Careful, honey.” Maddie’s hand suddenly closed around his arm, and he started. “Where are you going, Phantom?”

“I was gonna go grab my glass,” he explained, jerking his thumb towards the staircase door. “Y’know, down?”

She made a face, but let go of his arm. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“There’s a railing on the stairs, I’m not gonna fall.” He rolled his eyes, then, very purposefully, stepped towards the door. “I’ll be fine.”

Maddie didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t stop him either, so. “Keep the door open, then, so we can hear if something happens.”

“Sure thing.” He pressed down the handle, swinging it open. “Be right back.”

One hand on the railing, the other pressed against the opposing wall, he made his way down the stairs again. Honestly, going down was easier than going up. Gravity, and all that.

Although he didn’t want to experience gravity too closely and tumble down the stairs, so. He gripped tight, and moved down slowly and with purpose.

The downstairs room—the lab—looked the same as earlier. Big open space, some tables, and, huh.

In the far wall, the one that had been behind Phantom’s back the whole time, was a strange invention. He didn’t really care, it wasn’t something that would normally interest him, but… but it tugged on him, somehow. Drew him in.

It was a big metal arch, though, with the recessed insides painted in yellow and black stripes, like the door upstairs. Maybe something was hidden behind it, like a door?

Oh, but of course. These people were working on an artificial ghost portal, weren’t they? That thing, whatever it was, seemed about the right proportions for that.

And that would explain why he was drawn towards, it, wouldn’t it? It had turned him human. Or part human, at least. He must have a connection to it, now.

He jerked his eyes off of the possible portal machine, searching for his glass. Ah, there it was. In the…

In the middle of the floor, of course, where there was nothing to hold on to. Rude.

Well, nothing for it. Besides, what he said to Jazz earlier was true. If he was going to be human now, or some kind of human/ghost mixture, he would have to learn to function like that.

And, if he learned how to blend in with humans properly, he could spend however long he wanted gazing up at space! Oh, that was a good thought. He would hang onto that for sure.

Braced with that good hope, Phantom pushed himself off of the wall, gently. His legs were slow and heavy, but he’d grown a little more used to them now, and he managed to walk himself over to the glass without falling.

Stumbling, yes. But as long as he didn’t fall, he was fine with that.

Sinking down into a crouch was easy enough, and he grabbed the glass. It was cool underneath his bare hand, and, oh yeah. He’d finally gotten used to seeing that fleshy pink instead of his usual black glove, too.

He stood up again, his jumpsuit creaking, shifting over his skin. See? He was adjusting just fine. Didn’t even shiver at that odd feeling—of his clothes being a layer over him, like a second skin.

And now… back to the stairs.

Another stumble, but hey, that was okay. He made it all the way without falling, twice over! That was pretty good!

Hm. With the glass in his hand he would have to settle for just the railing, though.

“Oh, Phantom!” Maddie said, her tone surprised but pleased, when he pushed the door open to enter the top room again. “The pizza shouldn’t be too long, now.”

“Did I take that long, or is pizza delivery just that quick?” he asked, moving back to the table. “Um. Do you guys have usual seats, or something?”

Jazz flapped a hand, taking the glass from his hand. “You can sit where you were earlier. Any preference for a drink? Water again?”

He made a face. “I’d like something else, if that’s okay. Water tastes… empty.”

“Empty?” Jazz repeated quizzically, but she moved over to one of the tall appliances, opening its door. “Oh, duh. You’re used to ecto-contaminated food?”

“It’s not really contaminated if it’s in the Zone, where everything is ectoplasm.” He sat down in the free chair, idly noticing that Jack wasn’t in the room anymore. “But, yeah, I guess. Everything tastes of ectoplasm, usually.”

She hummed, staring into the brightly-lit space behind the door. “Well, we’ve got contaminated milk that someone should’ve thrown out three days ago, if you want to give that a shot? Not sure how well your body would take that, though.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? I die again?” He huffed. “Big deal.”

“It’s a big deal if we end up with a corpse in our kitchen,” Jazz countered, but she pulled a carton out of the bright space anyway. Away from the light, Phantom could see that it glowed green, like practically everything in the Zone.

Oh, that felt like home.

“You’re weird.” She shook her head, then poured some of the milk into his glass. “But at least you don’t try hiding it.”

“Not much of a point to it, is there?” he countered, taking the glass when she offered it. “I don’t know anything about humans except for crazy fifth-hand stories. How well do you think I could blend in?”

“That’s like the opposite of ghost stories to us!” Jack exclaimed, suddenly appearing in the opening to the other room. He held a stack of pizza boxes in his hands.

“It makes sense, though.” Maddie sat down as Jack placed the stack down in the center of the table. “Humans rarely see ghosts, so most stories are based off of those few sightings. For ghosts, it must be the opposite. With a polar difference being, of course, that most ghosts cross portals on purpose, while most humans do it by accident.”

Jazz shot him a meaningful look. “What about you, then, Phantom? Did you come here on purpose too?”

“Yeah,” he easily acknowledged, waiting for Jack to take the last seat. “The Ghost Zone got boring. It’s all so similar, and it never changes. The human world, though. Wow!”

Her eyes softened a little. “So it’s just… what, admiration for the human ingenuity? How the world changes, constantly?”

“Well, I don’t know about human ingenuity.” He grinned at her while the two adults started sorting through the boxes. “You guys can hardly take credit for the constant changing of the world. Oh, and space.”

“You like space?” Maddie asked beside him, quirking a brow. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the space enthusiast type.”

“It’s great,” he enthusiastically continued. “And it’s so, so large, that you can stay on Earth and see all the short-term changes, and watch all of the long-term changes out there, too.”

Jazz hummed, lifting up her plate so Jack could move a few slices of pizza onto it. “Isn’t it human ingenuity that allows you to watch all that, though? Inventions like telescopes and rockets to go into space?”

Phantom felt his core still for a moment, his not-core skipping a beat. “Humans have stuff to go into space?” he asked, quietly.

“You didn’t know?” Jazz quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s been a few decades since mankind has first walked on the moon.”

“I take back every mean thing I’ve said about humans.”

Jack snorted next to him. “Kiddo, I haven’t heard you say a single mean thing about humans yet.” He paused. “I think.”

He hadn’t? Must’ve all been thoughts, then. “Oh. Huh. Well, it’s pretty cool, anyway, that humans made it that far.”

“Here, these are for you,” Maddie interrupted, handing him a full box of pizza. “Now, Phantom, I want you to eat slowly, alright? If you haven’t eaten greasy food in a while it can make you sick.”

“Like the water?” He took the box from her, placing it down in front of him. Took a deep breath to appreciate it’s smell. Huh. It actually smelled even better without the acidic tang of ectoplasm. “How do I know… What does sick feel like?”

Maddie made a face, then seemed to consider it carefully.

“There’s all kinds of sick,” Jazz explained before Maddie could. “In this case, it’ll be nausea, I think? That’s like… like your stomach flipping over, if that makes sense?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “Like the whole area, or…?”

“No, the organ.” She grimaced at his blank stare. “You know, the guts inside of your body?”

“Oh.” He paused for a moment, considering that. “Are all those things called organs, then?” He prodded the rhythmic one in his chest. “Is this one called the chest, then? Following that logic?”

“No, that’s your heart,” she corrected, a frown on her face. “Or your lungs, but those are on either side of your heart.”

His lungs? He took in a deep breath, thinking that over, and felt… “Oh. I hadn’t even noticed those.”

“You are in severe need of a lesson in anatomy.” Maddie clicked her tongue, then gestured at his pizza. “For now, please just eat. If you start feeling weird, let us know.”

“Okay,” he agreed, reaching for a slice of pizza. Organs, huh? And they all had their own functions? That seemed complicated. How were you supposed to know all that? Did humans just teach all their kids about all that stuff? What if a really young kid got sick?

He took a bite of the pizza, and, wow. It was warm and soft and mushy and, yeah, it tasted way better without the ectoplasm.

The humans watched him for a moment, but apparently seemed satisfied at his ability to eat without killing himself, because they started on their meal too. Silence fell as they all focused on their food.

“What’s your plan, anyway?” Jazz asked, partway through the meal. “You traveled through the portal because you thought the Earth was more interesting that the ghost world, sure, but,” she gestured at him with the slice of pizza, “obviously something happened to you. Whether you were already human and forgot, or you were a ghost and became alive, you’re human now. So what’s your plan?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t thought that far ahead. What does it matter, anyway?”

“You can’t just wander around all day, Phantom,” Jack pointed out, a frown on his face. “You’re a teenager—or you look like one, at least. Anyone under eighteen is supposed to be at school.”

“Not to mention your needs,” Maddie pointed out, her brow furrowing. “You need to eat and drink regularly, and sleep somewhere safe. You could hurt yourself easily out there, or get sick, and then what?”

Man, being human sounded like a lot of work. “Maybe I’ll just fly into space. Being on Earth sounds like a hassle.”

“Food and water,” Maddie reminded him, raising an eyebrow. “And oxygen, to breathe, which is only in Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Ugh.” He took a bite of his third slice. “At least your food is good, although I guess it would have to be if you need to eat it. How often is regularly, anyway?”

“Three big meals a day is normal, although most people snack in-between, too.” Jazz shot Jack a pointed look.

“Three meals a day?!” Phantom repeated, startled. “I thought those ghosts were crazy, when they said that humans had to eat daily. That’s insane. Don’t you waste your entire day doing that stuff?”

“You’ll spent more time sleeping,” Maddie said, her eyes soft but concern clear in them. “Eight hours of sleep a day is considered a healthy amount.”

He made a face. “Being human is starting to sound like a lot of work. Can’t I just go back to being a ghost?”

“Ghosts on Earth get chased down by ghost hunters, though,” Maddie pointed out.

“Like us!” Jack exclaimed. He was grinning at Phantom. “But you, you’re defying everything we thought we knew about ghosts! You got to tell us all about the Ghost Zone, Phantom!”

“I…” He blinked, processing the first part. “You’re ghost hunters? But I’m…”

“Showcasing ghost powers within a human body,” Maddie finished for him. “Your eyes changed color while using them, though, so it’s not a case of overshadowing, which would explain why you claim to be a ghost despite your human body.”

“It could be overshadowing but shared control,” Jack said breezily. “The eye color could signify who is in control, but you didn’t seem any different. And, following that logic, the human should be in control most of the time.”

Jazz, who’s eyes had been bouncing between the two as well, cleared her throat. “Do you guys have any scientific proof of any of that, though? Isn’t everything derived from stories and such?” She gestured at Phantom. “If our ghost stories are anything like his human stories, shouldn’t that tell us exactly why you can’t use those things as a basis for the truth?”

“She has a point,” he agreed. “I mean, I’m not experienced with overshadowing, since you can’t overshadow other ghosts, but I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as shared control. And I can tell you, for sure, that there’s nobody else in here but me, and that I have full access to my own ghost core.”

“You still have your ghost core?” Maddie said, surprised, then shook her head. “No, of course you do, you’d need one for the ghostly abilities you showed earlier. Speculation isn’t working, we need to run some tests.”

“We’re finishing dinner first.” Jazz glared at Maddie until the woman lowered herself back into her seat. “And after that, you’re following Phantom’s wishes. You’ll explain everything you want to do to him, and he’ll get full say in what he does, or does not want, you to do.”

“Of course,” Jack agreed immediately. “He’s a human. We can’t just experiment willy-nilly on humans!”

Phantom made a face at Jazz, and she shot him an equally disturbed look back. “And what if he wasn’t human?” she asked her parents. “If your tests prove that he really is a ghost possessing a human, or whatever? You can’t deny that he’s intelligent, and that he can feel, can you?”

“No, I suppose not.” Maddie sighed, looking sideways at him. “If that were the case, though, the overshadowing is definitely involuntary, since he’s not aware of it. We would need to figure out some way to separate human and ghost without harming either.”

“The Fenton Ghost Catcher might work for that,” Jack pointed out. “We used it to filter ectoplasmic contaminants out of the air while we were preparing the Portal, remember, Mads? The netting should separate human and ghost.”

“If that’s what’s happening.” Phantom finished another slice, trying to judge how his stomach was feeling. Not the same as earlier—he realized now that that must’ve been hunger, that empty yawning void—but he thought he could fit in more still. He reached for his next slice.

“Are you taking another slice, Phantom?” Jazz asked. “Aren’t you full yet?”

“I don’t think so.” He took a bite, swallowed it, and tried to track how it felt in his stomach. “I don’t feel full yet.”

Maddie leaned back in her chair. “He might’ve been starving without realizing, sweetie. I’m sure he’ll know when he’s full.”

Permission thus granted, Phantom quickly worked his way through that slice.

“I think I’m good for now,” he decided. “Not all the way full, but I’m not feeling that empty feeling anymore.”

“I know teenage boys eat a ton, but that seems extreme even knowing that,” Jazz said. She shook her head. “Well, as long as he doesn’t get sick it’s fine, I guess.”

“To the lab, then?” Jack bounced off of his chair almost before he finished saying it. “I’ll go set some stuff up!”

“He’s deriving way too much fun from my suffering,” Phantom declared. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“If it helps, he’s that enthusiastic about anything even vaguely related to ghosts.” Jazz collected their plates, bringing them to the water-dispensing-thing. “Oh, I almost forgot about the dirty glasses.”

“Jack can do the dishes later.” Maddie got up as well, offering her arm to Phantom. “Here, you’re probably feeling sluggish from all the food.”

He rolled his eyes but took the arm anyway, letting her pull him up. He was, admittedly, feeling a little heavier. His core, on the other hand, seemed reinvigorated. It was still syncing up with the thump-thump of his heart, but it was definitely stronger. Not quite up to normal strength, but getting closer.

“Thanks,” he said to Maddie. “Let’s hear the verdict.”

Jazz opened the door for them, watched as he picked his way down the stairs again. Just as he reached the lower steps, though, he heard a third set of footsteps.

“Hold on,” she said, “I’m coming with.”

“I thought you had no interest in ghost stuff?” Maddie asked, stepping off of the last step so Jazz could enter the lab as well. “Did all this change your mind?”

Jazz made a face, stepping into the lab proper. “Kind of, yes. But mostly I just want someone to be here to keep an eye on Phantom. No offense, but you two tend to get caught up in the whole ghost business.”

“Right.” Maddie’s face did something complicated. “Of course. You’re always welcome in the lab, Jazz, you know that.”

The two humans led Phantom towards a nearby table, which had been cleared since the last time he was down here. He leaned against it, the metal cold and hard against his legs.

Jack bounded back over before he could ask what was happening next, his arms loaded with all kinds of gadgets and inventions.

“Why don’t we start with an x-ray?” he said, holding out a flat device. “It’s not a real x-ray, of course, but it scans ectoplasm. That way we can see your core, and how it interacts with the rest of your body.”

“It’s just a scan?” Phantom took the machine from Jack’s hand, looking it over. It looked like a black screen with a thick metal rim around it. “It doesn’t hurt, or draw in ectoplasm, or anything like that?”

“Just a scan,” Maddie assured him. She held out her hand, and he gave the device back to her. “But you’ll have to lie down on the table so we can stabilize it. We’ll just take a picture of your chest, that should tell us plenty.”

Phantom nodded, shoving himself backwards until he was sat on the table. He then grabbed his legs, heaving them onto the metal surface as well. “What, exactly, will it tell you, anyway?”

“It’ll show us all ectoplasm in your body,” Maddie explained as he laid down. “Your core, for example, but the rest of it too. If all the other ectoplasm is clustered around your core, or clearly shaped like a ghost, it’s a case of overshadowing.”

“And if it’s not?” he prodded, watching her draw legs out of the device’s rims and place it over his chest. “What if you can see my core, but the ectoplasm is spread all over the place?”

She bit her lip, looking over at Jack. “I… don’t know.”

Ah. That was encouraging. Glad he was in the hands of these experts.

“Alright. Hit me.”

Light flashed, and then Maddie was picking the device up again. “Wait, was that it?”

“Yes?” She paused to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Why? What were you expecting?”

“I dunno. Something I could feel, I guess.” He shrugged, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The table was cold under his bare hands, but his jumpsuit, at least, seemed to isolate pretty well. “This was literally just a picture.”

Maddie hummed, frowning at the device’s screen.

“Let me guess, it’s not overshadowing?” He figured not. His core was too faded out, clearly weakened, and synced up with the human body. This was some kind of blending.

Besides, overshadowing would’ve required a human body, and it clearly hadn’t come from this side of the portal, either.

“Look at this, Jack,” Maddie said, apparently ignoring Phantom. She raised the device so Jack could look at it. “What do you think?”

“It looks completely integrated,” Jack mumbled. “Like a perfect blend of human and ghost. But that’s not supposed to be possible…”

Phantom threw Jazz a look, and she cleared her throat meaningfully. “Guys? Can we stay focused on Phantom, please?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry, Phantom, it’s just…” Maddie gestured at the device, although it was held so high up that he couldn’t see the screen. “The… the ghostly part, the core and the ectoplasm, it is so well-integrated in the human body. I, quite frankly, can’t imagine a way that a ghost could’ve layered themselves so carefully over a human.”

“So you believe my story? That I was a ghost first, and became part human?” Phantom grinned a little. “That’s the only logical way it could’ve happened, right?”

“Well, I’m not sure.” Maddie hummed in thought. “As far as we knew, it wasn’t possible to combine human and ghost in one body. The ectoplasm would react too badly to the living tissue. But obviously, that’s not the case with you.”

“But it might still happen,” Jack added, looking grim. “You’re fine now, but it might get worse over time. Right now, it looks like you might be half and half. Half human, and half ghost. But that balance might get tipped over, and your body might react badly if that happens.”

“So what does that mean for me?” Phantom asked, grin falling. “Besides the fact that I’m a perfect split now, but might not stay that way, and that my body might collapse on me if that happens? What am I supposed to do now, since you guys so cleverly pointed out that humans can’t just wander around in the wild?”

The two adults shared a look.

“Well…” Maddie started, slowly, cautiously. “You could stay here, with us. We would have to go through the police, tackle a lot of paperwork, but since it’s easily proven that you’re ecto-contaminated, we could argue that we’re the best people to keep an eye on your health. Which would be the truth.”

“We could keep an eye on your health, both human and ghostly, and teach you everything you need to know to blend in with humans properly,” Jack continued. “If nothing worsens, we could even enroll you in school.”

Phantom stared at them. His heart thudded in his chest, his core whirring loudly underneath it. “And in return?”

“You could teach us about ghosts.” Jack gestured at the large metal arch on the far side of the room. “We built the Portal for that reason. Even if this wasn’t the way we had envisioned, well, it still works!”

“Learning directly from the source would be better, from a scientific point of view,” Maddie added. She sighed. “We wouldn’t force you to do anything, Phantom, but please consider it. For better or worse, you’re a human/ghost hybrid now. We don’t know anything about those, but apparently, neither do you. For all we know, dying a human death might permanently destroy your core, too. Maybe hybrids won’t become ghosts. We want you to be safe, Phantom.”

He shuffled, uncertainly. Let his eyes wander over to Jazz. If he did take up on this offer, she would have to deal with him, too.

Jazz pressed her lips together. “As much as I hate to agree with them, my parents probably are your best shot at finding ghost experts around here. You might draw in ghost hunters if you make too much of a scene, but…” She sighed, slumping in on herself a little. “Most ghost hunters are hard, and cold, and uncaring. They won’t see you as human, as someone capable of thought and feelings. You might be able to change their minds like you changed Mom and Dad’s, but do you really want to risk that?”

She clicked her tongue. “I would appreciate it if I’m asked, next time, how I feel about us adopting a half-ghost teenager. Just putting that out there.”

“Well, if you all insist so badly…” Phantom felt his heart—and his core—stutter in his chest. “I… I wouldn’t be opposed to sticking around.”

“Great!” Jack clapped a hand on Phantom’s shoulder with such force that he almost collapsed. “First order of business, kiddo, is a first name!”

“What’s wrong with Phantom?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “It’s been my name for forever, I don’t want to change it.”

“You can keep it as a last name,” Maddie assured him. “But it’s not much of a first name, I’m afraid. Is there anything you like?”

He shook his head. “Not… really? I’ve always been fine as just Phantom.”

“How about Daniel?” She looked at Jack, then Jazz, then him again. “It’s… It was the name we agreed on for our son, but then life got in the way, and we never had one.”

Phantom frowned at the two adults. “How could you be sure that you were going to have a son if didn’t actually get that far?”

“It’s a standard pattern with our family!” Jack exclaimed, grinning at him. “All Fentons first have a daughter, then a son.”

“That’s ridiculous. That can’t actually work that way.” He shook his head, then refocused on the earlier part of the conversation. “What did you suggest again? Daniel?”

He tasted the name on his tongue. Frowned. “Can it be… shortened? Like Jazz did with her name?”

“Danny?” Maddie suggested, and Phantom felt his core hum.

“Yeah.” His core chirped in delight. “Yeah, I like that. Danny. Danny Phantom.”

All three humans grinned at him.

“Welcome to the family, Danny Phantom,” Jack said, his smile so bright it almost glowed.

“Welcome, little brother,” Jazz tagged on.

And in his chest, Danny’s core purred.

[our-wargame]

take three steps to your left; take me with me you [2/2]

Read Part 1

summary:  Takahiro’s not sure why but he hates it when people get Matsukawa wrong. And they always seem to.

tags: rated t, pining, dialogue heavy now because oi-matsu-hana are three drunkards, maybe a part three from Matsukawa’s take?, dw matsukawa shows up yay, hanamaki/oikawa friendship and iwaizumi is yay

notes: the first chapter was supposed to just be that, just a short take on possible matsuhana relations, but then i decided why not make it a fic yknow. although part 1′s a good standalone!! this one’s much less serious but yeah! if you happen to reblog my work, i will most likely read your tags and then die of joy.

as always, ao3 link

Last chapter:

“Oh we forgot something,” Oikawa says, and this time there’s thoughtfulness sharpening the eyes sweeping over Takahiro. “We forgot about the part where you’re in love with him.”

Takahiro freezes.

Before Takahiro knows it, his arm is out. Is it really his fault though? It’s not like this was a first-degree planned nose-grabbing. One second Oikawa is saying some bull; and the another, Oikawa’s nose is just...in Takahiro’s crab-claw. His heart’s pounding a little faster than usual, but it’s Gucci. 

“Makki! That hurts my conker!.” Oikawa squirms into a sitting position and then scoots his ass back, pretty much over Takahiro’s lap to prevent his nose from getting torn off.

“Nice conk bro.”

When Oikawa wrinkles his nose, Takahiro lets go. He keeps wiggling it, exercising it with ugly ogre faces and complaining he can’t smell Takahiro’s teen reek or something like that.

“Hey, I’ve seen you looking at Iwaizumi after practice.” Takahiro shakes his head. “Just because he’s all sweaty-”

“That’s not-!” Oikawa jumps up, yelling. “He’s not-! You can’t just say-”

Takahiro laughs. Three years of friendship have given Oikawa neural damage, a better poker face, and a properly tainted sense of humor, but specially made mentions of Iwaizumi Hajime still sends him into a loud, quacky fluster.

“You know,” he says casually, comfortably stretching, splaying his arms out over the couch. “I’ve caught him staring back at you.” Leaving a soft pause for the atmosphere shift, Takahiro tilts his head to the side with a small, lopsided grin and waits.

Yes, he expects Oikawa to melt. Instead, Oikawa lets out a small sigh and plunks back down beside Takahiro. His gaze shifts from ground to ceiling and back again. A tiny, hard pit plunks into Takahiro’s stomach. Apprehension. He’s about to joke about how he never makes Oikawa wait this long when he’s teasing him, but the noise that comes out is a sad sort of wheeze that he ends up trying to pass off as a cough.

At last, Oikawa pursues his lips. Takahiro’s given him an opening and he’s taking it. “Makki. You’re in love with Mattsukawa-”

Takahiro’s breath hitches.

“And he’s in love with you.” Oikawa skewers him with his gaze, captain to one of his men, like they’re in one last match. “So. How about you save us spectators the time and-”

Never Gonna Give You Up rings shrilly through the air.

Oikawa’s mouth drops open. Takahiro he lunges for his phone. “Matsukawa,” he reads off the screen like they hadn’t both known from the ringtone.

“Huh. Well.” hums Oikawa. “I need to take a piss.” And he flounces off the couch with that.

Takahiro flexes his fingers, nails digging into his palm. They’re too long again, he thinks, drawing a long inhale. He’s not...he’s not nervous about taking a call from his best friend. 

Of course he’s nervous. After what Oikawa tried to imply-

He presses the phone against his ear. “Go for Makki.”

“Yes, hello, I would like some chikky nuggies.”

“Sorry, sir.” Takahiro yawns into the receiver. And into Matsukawa’s ear. “We’re all out. Does that make you hangry?”

“Little bit.” Matsukawa’s low voice sounds rougher than normal, like he’s got something caught in his throat or taken a pinch of Iwaizumi’s gruff soul. The line crackles. “What say you make it up to me?”

“Mmm? What’d you have in mind?” In his peripheral, he notices Oikawa stalking over here with a shit-eating grin Takahiro’s more familiar seeing on Matsukawa’s face.

“The usual. Pick you up in four?”

“Yeah.” Takahiro says, partially distracted with batting at Oikawa. He’s not going to give captain the opportunity to say something ridiculous like...stop flirting Makki! For one, they’re not flirting. And for another, Takahiro makes fun of Oikawa; the teasing in their relationship is strictly one way. To Matsukawa, he says “Wait.”

“Mmm?”

“I’m at Oikawa’s. It’s not rude if I tell him we don’t want him hanging out with us if I say it to his face, right?”

Oikawa leans over and gets his hands on Takahiro’s phone. He might be unable to rip it out of Takahiro’s grip,but he can, and does, bring his head down to yowl, “Fine! Enjoy your date without me!”

Oikawa’s going to die soon and it’s a shame Takahiro will be too busy disposing the evidence to attend the funeral.

“Okay make that five minutes. Also. Forgot to mention,” Matsukawa says, smooth as ever. “Iwaizumi’s sleeping over for the night. If you guys want, I guess we could make it a foursome.”

“Dude, don’t be gross.” Takahiro grumbles. “That’s almost as yucky as thinking about how Oikawa spends the entire time oogling Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oikawa huffs. “Oikawa-sama likes Iwa-chan, Oikawa-sama likes Iwa-chan without a shirt on! Everyone knows and all they do is bully Oikawa-sama about it!” Oikawa finally pauses to breathe. “Also, Makki says we’ll be there. And he says he wants to be sleeping with you guys tonight.”

“Cool. Gross but cool.”

“Yeah, great.” Takahiro says as flatly as he can muster. “Mattsun, hurry up and rescue me from the crazy man?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Static crackles over the line. Matsukawa’s probably has the phone awkwardly caught between his shoulder and ear, to free his hands. “See you soon, yeah?”

Takahiro opens his mouth. And closes it abruptly. 

It’s nothing new, Matsukawa waiting for Takahiro to sign off. Matsukawa knows Takahiro hates feeling burdensome. Matsukawa always lets Takahiro end the call, no matter how silly they start out to be. It’s nothing new, but it’s one of Takahiro’s many preferences that Matsukawa just never forgets. It’s nothing new, but for someone infuriatingly attached to simplicity, Matsukawa sure goes out of his way a lot for Takahiro. 

“Makki?”

“Yeah.” Takahiro bites himself in the tongue. “See you soon.”

He jabs the end call button before he can do anything else. When he catches Oikawa’s mouth twisting he asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Oikawa says, straight faced. And then when he can’t help himself, he wears a dopey grin.“Y’all are just so fucking cute.”

Takahiro rolls his eyes, even as a slow heat creeps up his neck. He gathers his things and gives Oikawa a quick hug before making for the door. Then he delivers a swift kick to the ass when captain makes the mistake of showing his back.

“Makki!”

“See you tonight!” he shouts, dashing out the door and right into his getaway man.

“Ow,” Matsukawa drawls, standing in a casual gray set of t-shirt and pants. He’s flexing his jaw because Takahiro friggen headbutted him. “I know you missed me but tone down the Iwaizumi-affection.”

Takahiro hardly thinks twice before snagging him by the wrist and hightailing them both away from the danger zone. “Stop slowing me down,” he chokes, and Matsukawa laughs. They almost make it.

“Oi!” Takahiro scowls, whirling around. “You asshat, Crocs only!” He snatches up the sneaker from where it’d bounced off his back and flings it at its owner. 

“That hurt, Makki!! My ass and my feelings!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Catch you later, captain.”

Matsukawa snickers and Takahiro elbows him in the ribs as they walk down Oikawa’s driveway. “You were absolutely no help, you big lug. Should’ve known...would’ve ditched you immediately.” 

“After I kindly offered a ride? Youch.” Matsukawa peers at him. He might only be a few inches taller but it does mean Takahiro has to pass over his lips to get to his gaze.

But since Oikawa’s said what he said...Takahiro looks away. Hovers and talks at the passenger side door. “Wanna give me the keys?”

They both know he hates driving.

Matsukawa snorts. Apparently he’s not even going to dignify the shoddy joke with a response.

The truth is, they both know a lot of things, Takahiro starts to think. He leans against the window, the glass cool to his skin. But maybe Oikawa’s right and he’s missed one.

...you’re in love with Matsukawa...and he’s in love with you.

Just to be practical, to seriously think about what it would be like, Takahiro takes a hot second  to hand control over to his imagination. Imagines himself turning his body, tilting his head, looking into dark eyes, a bright grin, pulling Matsukawa in and- Takahiro swallows. So he’s flushing. Okay. This is okay, hahaha...

They reverse out the driveway, Matsukawa shifting gears and into traffic with an ease Takahiro should be jealous of. But Matsukawa moves, does it all like it’s secondhand nature. The quiet confidence he wears is rare, but it’s the same kind Oikawa has, putting the ball in Iwaizumi’s hands without hesitation, without doubt, day after day. Each of them has the other’s confidence; are each part of the other’s confidence in himself.

Takahiro leans back and closes his eyes, lets the hot sun wash over his thighs, soaking through his shirt.

Maybe it’s not smart to compare, but Takahiro thinks he places a similar kind of trust in Matsukawa. Or at least the most trust he can muster. 

After all, he is a cynic. He’s the one who tells Oikawa they could never have won nationals anyways, and that the likelihood of going to nationals was made in the same ridiculous mold. He’s not a shonen protagonist. His faith is not in people; it’s in numbers, in facts. And that’s how it’s always going to be.

But. Takahiro thinks, thinks that if that was ever going to be different, maybe it’d be because of Matsukawa. 

“Hey.”

Takahiro blinks himself alert. Matsukawa’s turning the car around, sliding into the parking lot. They’re lucky there’s a spot right at the front of the diner, even if it’s a bit of a tight fit between two SUVs. “We’re here, meathead.”

“Meathead?” 

“It was that or meatball.”

“How hungry are you.” Takahiro springs his seat belt free and he’s got a hand on the door handle when all of a sudden, Matsukawa drops his phone into Takahiro’s lap.

“I’ll go. Do me a favor and text Iwaizumi back for me?”

Takahiro nearly unhinges his jaw. “Do you realize the amount of power you’re giving me. Do you know how much restraint I am being forced to perform right now.” Oh Holy Mother of Volleyball - he could change all of his contacts to Oikawa’s number.

Matsukawa grins his hey!-i’m-the-boy-next-door grin. The corners of his eye crinkling and all, and shit, he’s cute.

Okay, but he’s always been cute!! This is nothing new either!!!

“I am looking away,” Matsukawa says, hopping out his car. “The usual?”

Takahiro nods. Watches Matsukawa turn, watches his back grow smaller as he walks away.

And he’s in love with you, rings in his ears once more.

Is he? Because. If Matsukawa was. And they both...wanted to give it a try...

His shorts are suddenly shifting. He looks down, wraps his fingers around the phone starting to slide down his thigh and brings it up to examine.

The lockscreen’s an old blurry photo of the seniors previous to practice (but the picture changes often. When Oikawa’s bored or Iwaizumi’s feeling vindictive and finally ready to retaliate, or when Takahiro wants to. Often, like he said.). There isn’t a password because Matsukawa says he has nothing to hide, but mostly because Takahiro refuses to memorize any numbers he’s not going to use on a test and it’s more fun using Matsukawa’s phone than his own for some reason.

He makes a quick pit stop at the Photo Gallery, creating copies of some of the pictures of the guys and annotates extra dicks onto them. Most of them are actually photos he’s taken, he realizes. While he’s wondering if he should go ahead and delete some of the bullshit photos so Matsukawa doesn’t need to when he wants to download a new game and he’s got no space, Takahiro remembers he’s supposed to be replying to Iwaizumi. Contacts...there, Iwaizumi’s the first one.

You: so 8?

Iwaizumi: yeah. Iwaizumi: unless Iwaizumi: you know You: ?

Iwaizumi: you know. Iwaizumi: you and hanamaki take a detour

Iwaizumi: to talk bout your feelings Iwaizumi: you’re going to right

Matsukawa’s left it at that, left Iwaizumi on read.

Takahiro blinks.

Matsukawa wants him to answer Iwaizumi’s text.

Matsukawa’s giving him an easy out.

Takahiro closes his eyes. What. Is. Going. On. What does this even mean!!! He reads the text again and- Iwaizumi had said your. What.

He doesn’t get much time to think about the implications because Matsukawa’s walking up to him, passing him his order. The smell of hot food isn’t anywhere near as attractive as it usually is, so he place it on his lap. It can wait. He’s not sure if it’s appropriate to laugh out his nerves or glare, with Matsukawa slipping into his own seat, calm and collected as ever. From head to toe, in every piece of his posture and each inch of his expression, Matsukawa Issei tells the world just how perfectly at peace he is with it. Takahiro compromises by biting his own tongue, which triggers his swear-reflex.

Matsukawa snickers.

Ohoho, alright. Takahiro dials up his glare to the max. “Got something to say, asshole?”

“Yeah, actually,” Matsukawa’s lips twitch, a sign he’s suppressing a smile. Takahiro tries to do the same until the blocker says, “You’ve been kind of spacey. What’s up?”

“Ah.” Takahiro ducks his head. “Not much.” Just realizing I’d like to kiss you. Whaboutyou? ”Oikawa just. Said a thing.”

“Mm?”

Matsukawa’s not expecting a reply, he’s just offering Takahiro the opportunity to, should he want it. Affection, warm and rich, blooms in the spiker’s chest. His shoulders sink, falling lax. If he smiles, a little, sue him. “Pretty insightful thing too. Unusually helpful for a change.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It turns out, before you talk about your feelings,” Takahiro says, looking right at Matsukawa while his ears burst into flames. “You have to be aware of them.”

“Holy shit.” Matsukawa blinks. And then he slaps a hand over his eyes and starts laughing, his shoulders actually shaking. Takahiro should kick hit him or run for the hills, right, except Matsukawa is talking to himself. “Wow. Iwaizumi was...right. I mean. And I thought-”

“Issei.”

“I’ve.” He finally meets Takahiro’s eyes. “Had the biggest crush on you. Since end of first year. And you never knew?”

His expression must have answer because the silly guy starts laughing again and Takahiro honest to the gods, feels giddy enough to join in. “Were you going to tell me?”

A gentle shrug. “Don’t know. Wanted to though.”

Takahiro hums. Neither of them have said the real words though and maybe they should do the thing the conventional way? “So.” he begins. “What would you say if we called today a date?”

“Ask you when the next one would be?” Matsukawa puts a hand on the back of his head, an act which Takahiro recognizes as nervous. “Or ask, ‘wait, so you do like me, right?’“

He’s so silly, Takahiro marvels. So silly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

(Epilogue)

Five minutes past eight, Takahiro enters Oikawa’s house. With his boyfriend.

Boyfriend boyfriend boyfrienddd boyyyfriend boyfriend Matsukawa-boyfriend-Issei. 

These thoughts do not belong aloud, it turns out, when Oikawa spots them and immediately yells- nonsense at first, and then something along the same lines. Following up, is a demanding, “So?? Did you kiss yet? Yo! Answer the question! Did y’all kiss??” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and tells him to mind his own business.

“Do you really want to know, captain?” Matsukawa smirks. Takahiro’s fingers find his and they link. Watching Oikawa’s eyes expand to the size of dinner plates is just as satisfying as watching the cogs in his brain turning to try and figure out the answer on his own the rest of the night. In the meantime, they’ve taken their spots on the couch while Iwaizumi fiddles with game settings to accommodate the four of them. It’s game night after all.

(Yeah, Takahiro supposes he owes Oikawa; he’ll give the details captain is dying for later. OR. he muses. Maybe he’ll get Oikawa and Iwaizumi together and then call his dues paid? Matsukawa would be down for either.)

Iwaizumi is as characteristically Iwaizumi as ever. At the snack break, Takahiro sees him giving Matsukawa a shoulder pat, and thinks that’s it. After the two of them get knocked out of the Smash Bros round early he plans on sitting back to watch the defending champion and Mr. Kirby war. Instead, he finds his shoulder being tapped and follows, getting led into the kitchen.

Vice captain hands him a water and leans on the counter. “Congrats.”

“Thanks, Iwaizumi-kun.” he deadpans. “I’m sorry we couldn’t work things out but I’ll cherish the memories.”

“Hey, man, I’ll punch you. No boyfriend around to defend you, y’know.” Iwaizumi taunts.

Takahiro smirks right back at him. He’s not sure if he could be happier if he tried. “So what’s this about?” 

Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side. “Oikawa tells me he helped you.”

“Yeah,” Takahiro can allow this. He nods. “Just like you helped Issei.”

“Ha! If only you knew.”

Takahiro raises a brow.

“You know the texts I sent him?” Iwaizumi’s grin is so very wolfish. “He asked me to send them. Fabricated all of them himself. He had me set you guys up.” And then he's calling out “See you later!” due to the fact Takahiro is hightailing out of the room.

Oikawa is absolutely beating the shit out of Metaknight, although Matsukawa’s still winning the trash-talking contest. But as Takahiro enters the room, he trails off, eyes leaving the screen for Takahiro’s. Taking his opportunity, Oikawa finally pushes Metaknight off the platform and whoops to kingdom come. It doesn’t really matter though, Takahiro has walked over, leaning down.

Matsukawa meets him midway. The kiss is soft and sweet but it still messes him up. In the best way ever.

Oikawa’s squeaks go ignored.

“You’re adorable.” Takahiro shakes his head as he sinks into the spot besides the blocker on the couch. He puts his head on Matsukawa’s shoulder and breathes in cotton and cool.

“Iwaizumi sold me out, huh?”

Another kiss stolen. “Dibs on him as my best man.”

Matsukawa snickers while Oikawa protests, “The hell? What about me? Makki, I had your back! I made the play of the year! I’m literally game MVP.”

Iwaizumi appears, nudging Oikawa to scoot over until they both have enough space. “I heard my name?” He gets himself two fistbumps. 

Oikawa scowls.

[etheralisi]

ρυмρкιη ριε αη∂ αℓℓ тнιηgs ηιcε

Uses references to this fic:<br /> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832037

And more or less based on this prompt:<br /> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/160337841310/fluffbird-writing-prompt-s-an-old-and-homely#notes

Alternatively titled ‘Why Gloria Jenkins Should Not Be Allowed Near Candles’, this was the first tau fic I managed to complete back in 2018. It’s undergone a few changes, because ehhh, but I’ll release it into the wild as a short something. It’s doing nothing here, lying around and collecting dust.

𝙰 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  

𝙱𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎   

 ~ 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙺𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

 Gloria smiled to herself as she sunk into her chair, her heart as toasty as an open fire, and insides tingling with the lingering feeling of contentment. Sure, the darn thing was falling apart, ragged at the edges and probably worth no more than a penny or two in a garage sale. Stuffing was oozing out that very moment. But it was home , and everything she had left of a life lived, with children running and screaming within these walls. Growing up. Living. Thriving. Leaving the coup to fly free.

 But her? The mother hen? She stayed home.

 After such a busy day of rooting around her loft for family photo albums, she honestly felt this time to rest her aching bones was well and truly earned, and no, she won’t take any constructive criticism on the matter thank you very much. What was, however, unfortunate to admit aloud and something she’d never in a million years concede to in front of her family was that her bones weren’t as energetic as they had been once upon a time… much alike her dwindling eyesight. Hazy blobs, it all was. Pretty ones, but hazy nonetheless. Her world became an abstract painting the very second her glasses left her face.

 The elderly woman groaned, realisation dawning like a sledgehammer to the head, full on smack. She knew something had been missing. Her glasses! The darn things! How could she have possibly forgotten such an important item as those? 

 Using as much force as she could, Gloria found it in her to haul herself out of the comfort of her chair, even with her body’s initial protest. She stumbled about the house a bit, the grace of a drunkard or woman in need of glasses, searching for the location of wherever she had last left her glasses case. It had been, what? Two moments ago when she saw them? She’d put down the glasses into the case, taken her seat, and fallen into quiet bliss in her chair. Had it been knocked off and fallen under something? 

 Luck was on her side since her vision wasn’t as bad as it could have been in a few years time, deteriorating as the months wander by, so she managed to make out the basic shapes and colours of her surroundings just fine. No walking into walls for this woman!

 Ah. Wait. No. Luck was very much not on her side at all, the case still having failed to show, and Gloria had to result to “making a strategic retreat” as she put it, deeming it inefficient to keep looking for something which would just turn up sooner or later when she wasn’t really looking for it. Thus is the way of life. Shrugging, she made her way back to her sad but lovable excuse for a couch seat, only stopping when she noticed the basket by the front door that she had placed there little under an hour earlier. Her niece, Juliana, had asked if Gloria had any family photos left in her house that she could share with her immediate family, and she had risen to the challenge by diving into her vast loft. And yes, she meant vast . There’s got to be at least two or three sigils on the walls at least to enlarge the interior to twice that of the outside. It was all new technology at the time she bought this house. All the rage.

 So. The whole place was a disaster zone. Where all those missing trinkets turn up. Lost some socks? Probably go there, somehow. Good luck finding it in the coming year.

 Getting to that album sure took some sweet sweet time. Which is why, on her long perilous journey, family photo albums weren't the only things she had found in her search, the numerous other knick knacks of various interest lying within the basket being an obvious example of this. There had been plenty of things she’d forgotten about, stashed away within the depths of the loft, never to be seen until they resurfaced that very day. Her gaze drifted to the fuzzy, orange sticks lying atop the basket that vaguely looked like fat carrots, if a little waxy if you so chose to chew them. But don’t be fooled by her eyesight, for they weren’t as they seemed.

 She was pretty sure those were the candles she’d found hiding in a box labelled “ dangerous ”. Gloria had no idea why they had been labelled as such (maybe a potential fire hazard? Children’s grabby hands and whatnot) and could honestly never remember buying any candles from the Pine River Candle Company in her life. Yet, she knew good quality candles when she saw them, so she had taken them out of their box and added them to her basket to be brought down and used whenever she wanted to make her home smell like fresh pumpkin pie.

 Hmm… fresh pumpkin pie, huh? It got her in the mood for a spot of baking. Reminded her of all those years back, the big grin her grandson had always given her whenever a plate stacked with her baked treats was laid out before him.

 Alas the boy never really seemed to come visit his ol’ granny anymore, always giving excuses (and oh how he had the audacity to deny them being so — she knew an excuse when she heard one, could sniff one out from a mile away, blindfolded), and barely ever sent her up a Christmas card! 

 Well, it was his loss. He didn’t want to eat her baking anymore, then fine! She knew others, like the postman, for one, who’d take kindly to being fed.

 With that thought in mind, Gloria picked up all six of the candles and made a return back into the living room. She began placing them all around the perimeter of the room, lighting them one by one as she went.

 Her chair made protests of its own as she plonked herself back, age being something they both shared in common. Sadly. But she was no feeble woman, and outright refused to fall apart. Nope, not today. Life was good. Great even. 

 Caught in the moment, she sniffed the now heavily sweet scented air, an aroma that spelled everything she loved more than words could describe. It frolicked, dispersing itself throughout the air, tickling her nose as if it were a feather.

  Ah, perfect.

 Her eyelids began to shut as exhaustion took ahold of her, which is why it can be excused how she completely missed the way the candles in the room flickered, one by one being replaced with a much more menacing azure flame. Nor did she bear witness to the figure who popped into her living room in a plume of smoke.

 What she did not miss, however, was the way said figure grumbled under his breath at the use of scented candles. Just, come on! She may have been old and her sight may have been lacking, but she wasn’t deaf! 

 Gloria wearily cracked open her left eyelid, before blinking twice to snap herself out of her stupor. The peculiarity of a strange man being in her house was something to pay attention to. And complaining about her candles no less?

 Wait…

 That brown blob of hair, that voice… could it be? 

 “Arthur, is that you?” Speak of the devil, had her grandson finally decided to get up off his backside and visit his old lady?

 Somehow, though she didn’t know how, the room seemed to become ever more quiet as if trapped within a bubble of silence where not even time dared to flow.

 “Uhm…” ‘Arthur’ choked out at last, “ Excuse me? ”

 “Aha!” Gloria’s mouth twisted up with glee as she let out a small, victorious laugh which somehow morphed into a gleeful cackle when on the verge of petering out, “I knew it! You couldn’t stay away from my baking forever!”

 “Your- nevermind .” He took a deep breath just before he continued, his words strained. “Look, Gloria, I’m not Arthur. I’m Alcor and I-.”

 “Alcor huh?” She hummed in thought, not noticing how ‘Arthur’ harrumphed at her interruption. “Sounds pretty dumb. Why’d you change it?”

 “And...” Gloria squinted, continuing. “What’s with the wardrobe change? Have you gone gothic, Arthur? That’s a lot of black you’re wearing.”

 ‘Arthur’ didn’t take too kindly to her plethora of questions, already shuffling backwards from her chair. “... Look, this seems like it was some mistake. I’m just going to go..”

 With a speed so fast that she might have even broken the sound barrier, Gloria was out of her chair and had her hand firmly grasped around his arm, “You’re not going anywhere young man! Don’t you dare stop by for two minutes and then leave! You’re coming with me to the kitchen and we’re going to do some baking together just like we used to.”

 She noticed him start to speak, though she cut him off before he could even so much as squeak a word out.

 “Now off you trot, to the kitchen!” She released her hand from his arm and began pushing him through to said destination. “This rocky road cake isn’t going to bake itself.”

 ‘Arthur’ seemed to perk up at the mention of ‘rocky road’ and Gloria couldn't help but snicker at his sweet tooth. Some things never seemed to change.

 “Ro͜cky̶ ͟ro͘àd͏?” He asked with an odd layer of reverb, getting Gloria to begin questioning if hearing was going a little off after all. 

 “Yes.” She sighed, already shovelling him into the kitchen and dismissing the reverb. “Now make yourself useful and turn on the oven.”

  Alcor’s gold on black eyes numbly trailed after the woman’s figure as she left, leaving him alone in some random kitchen and wondering what the actual heck just happened?

[obiwns]

Maybe...Ben Solo as a rebel meeting the reader on a mission? He wants to be with her but he doesn't want her in danger.

a/n: small mention of blood. super long and unrevised.

word count: ~3k holy shit i’m so sorry

how could ben be so foolish? he didn’t know what had gotten into him. whatever it was, it was costing both him and the resistance their future. he knew he should’ve called in for reinforcements and taken what information he got, but he wanted to prove to his mother that he could be out and trusted on high profile missions - ‘like poe dameron,’ he thought. he assumed now that it would be out of the question if he returned. if.

labored breaths and electricity shot up his sides as he weaved through the crowds of the lush planet he hadn’t cared to memorize. that was his first mistake. he could already hear the condescending and hushed tone of his mother reprimanding him for his carelessness. never mind, he had to focus on finding somewhere safe to stay.

the angry shouts of city-goers dragged him to the present as he twisted and turned down dingy alleyways. he turned left, a small but inaudible ‘fuck’ slipping past his chapped lips as he stared down the dead end that jeered at his rash decision. ben looked around frantically before his hand reached towards his belt, feeling for the handle of his blaster - ‘a last minute resort,’ he deemed.

“runnin’ from the troopers?” a gentle voice broke the silence. he pivoted quickly, brows furrowed but brown eyes widened with uncertainty. his shoulders dropped in relaxation when he noticed that you posed no immediate threat to his life. you raised your brows when he didn’t reply. he nodded, swallowing thickly as you offered him a slight smile. you moved towards your door, sandy robes dancing behind you as you switched which arm was carrying the weight of the woven basket you held. the man before you rushed in behind and shut the door. just then, the sound of a patrol rounded the corner and loudly voiced that they lost the rebel to their comms.

after a moment when the dust settled and the quietness of your street had returned, ben peeked through the curtains of your windows. he released a sigh of relief when he noticed their absence. he turned around, eyes adjusting to the dimly lit living space. it was nice, more or less, and it seemed to fit someone of your aesthetic. it felt like a home.

by your voice, the silence was broken, “you promise you’re not a murderer?” you ask, turning around to point a knife at him accusingly. the rebel released a breathless chuckle as he threw up his hands in mock surrender. the lightness in your voice told him that you were joking. he hoped.

“keep one eye open tonight,” he quipped in response. ben raised a hand to gesture around your home, “your home is very nice- oh! and thank you for the help. i’m ben.”

you smiled at him and observed his frame carefully. he stood tall with a leather jacket hugging his torso and two weapons holstered to his hip. your eyes squinted as a small cloud of steam rose from his arm. with a faint head tilt of growing confusion, ben’s gaze followed your own and his jaw dropped at the sight of torn fabric and felt a sudden pool of warmth at his bicep. his opposite hand reached up and gingerly touched the laceration. sure enough, blood.

with astonished chuckles coming from both of you, you put down the knife. the groceries within your basket were long forgotten as you trailed away to the lavatory. the jedi followed you tentatively. you pulled out an ointment and a clean cloth, presenting it to ben. he moved out the way, still following you as you moved to the dining area. you gestured for him to sit, which he complied with.

you turned, washing your hands in the sink before drying them off. you grabbed a spare, clean cloth and returned to ben’s side, helped him shrug off his jacket. the hiss of pain made you grimace.

you rolled up his short sleeve and winced at the sight of the cut. you glanced up at him through your lashes as if to get his confirmation that he’s ready. he gave you a small nod. continuing, you gently dabbed at the wound, cleaning away the excess blood. you unscrewed the lid to the ointment, fishing out a small glob of the white paste before dabbing it gently onto the cut. his bicep tensed.

“easy,” you hum gingerly. you took the bandage, wrapping the cloth around the gash before patting his shoulder carefully. “there you go. all better?”

ben smiles at you, “yeah, thank you.” there was a pause as he thought carefully of his next words. “you never told me your name.”

“(y/n).” you got up, discarding the bloodied rag. you washed your hands once more before returning to the basket on your counter.

“it’s nice to meet you. do you mind if i stay here? until the heat dies down, at least?” he asks, his fingers flexing slightly as he spoke. you pondered of his question thoughtfully, your gaze travelling to eye level to stare out the covered window in front of you. ‘it would be nice to have company in such a quiet home,’ you thought.

you turned your head, a smile on your lips, “of course not.”

as the distant sun began to settle beneath the western horizon, you thought about all the things ben had to you. he was talkative and possibly too excited about what he did for his own good. he told you that he was a part of the resistance. some part of you guessed that he was an important character in their ranks by the way he spoke and carried himself. you hadn’t been around many important officials of either side, but you assumed this is how they acted.

now here he was, asleep and relaxed on your couch. you caught yourself smiling at how adorable he looked. due to the heat that seeped into your home, little beads of sweat collected across his face, his black hair curled and stuck to his face.

despite the uncomfortable warmth during the day, the weather changed dramatically at night on your home planet and prompted you to bring a bunched up blanket to bens side. if he needed it, it was there. you stepped away, bidding him a soundless goodnight before padding to your room.

it felt like only moments ago when your head burrowed into your plush pillows and you body relaxed into the cool sheets. too soon had the valiant sun made its trek around the planet, for it’s golden rays began to trickle through the blinds and chase away the darkness the night brought.

yours eyes open tentatively, sleepy eyes taking in the same surroundings and ears straining to hear gentle morning rush of foot traffic. it was routine but you found comfort in the familiarity. you stayed still, contemplating whether or not to sleep in – the thought of a guest forgotten in the haze of your mind.

you stretched, your stiff muscles awakening and rushing with warmth accompanied by the simultaneous popping of your joints. you sighed contently and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself off the kip. you moved out of your doorway and down the hall, where the delicious aroma of fresh produce and quiet swears emitted.

“’morning ben,” you spoke up when the sight of his broad back came into your view. startled, he whipped around and hit his knee on a corner, soliciting a ‘fuck’ under his breath. you stifled a giggle and moved towards him, snatching a ration. 

he rubbed sheepishly at his knee, “good morning. you slept well?” you nod as you open the package. ben watched you carefully as you prepared your morning meal, his nose crinkling slightly. you looked up as you took a bite, your brows raised as you made eye contact. the rebel offered you a smile, “what else is there to do on this planet?”

“didn’t read up on your homework?” you ask after you swallow, clearly amused by his boredom. he gave you a lopsided smile, crossing his arms and shrugging.

“not exactly.”

“there’s not much, in all honesty. i often read, adventure, or do house chores. you can’t do one of the above so.. find what suits you,” you offer, taking another bite of your meal. “when do you return.. home?”

ben shrugs once again, glancing away and leaning against your countertop, “whenever the coast is clear, i guess. until then, you’re stuck with me.”

“fine by me,” you hum, finishing the rest of your mean quickly before discarding the packaging. “come on then ben, we have stuff to do.”

much to your surprise, ben was a rather fun and spontaneous addition to your daily life. you laughed often and did things out of your comfort zone. one night, he convinced you to stay up at night and climb the rooftops to stare at the constellations in the sky. he showed you new things and made you see the world in a bigger picture with all the stories he told. he mentioned his uncle luke and his friend rey, along with two droids. he often told you how he wanted to be a pilot instead of what he was now. you also noted how he didn’t answer your question about what he did - he was a revolutionist, yes, but he never told you what he specifically did for them. you decided it was best not to pry.

as the days passed and the threat of stormtroopers busting down your door in search of the spy became less and less apparent, your stomach began to turn at the reality you were facing. ben was going to leave. selfishly and unrealistically, you thought he’d stay and keep you company forever - his life as a rebel long forgotten. you knew he had to go home at some point and the thought of someone waiting for him made you uneasy.

were you in love or just comfortable with the idea of ben? your guess was as good as anyone elses.

“(y/n?)” bens soothing voice spoke up, his smile slightly faltering when he noticed your hesitancy to respond to his call. “it’s your turn.”

you managed to let out a little ‘oh’ and placed down a playing card, causing ben to groan and throw down his card in defeat.

“how are you so good at this?” he demands, beginning to collect all the cards and shuffle them together. he laughed to himself and looked up, his brows furrowing when you didn’t join in on the laughter. ben set down the cards down, forgetting them instantly at the sight of your glum features. “(y/n)? what is it?”

great maker, your heart strings tugged at the sound of his voice; soft and concerned. you offer him s ghostly smile, revealing the rest of your cards before putting them in the pile he assembled.

“why would you think something’s wrong?”

“because you always laugh or smile whenever i do, but you’re not now.” ben shuffles closer to you, his hand moving close to yours. your breath hitches in your throat as your caught in your small lie and you move your hand away. he practically whines quietly, “(y/n).”

you inhale slowly, already feeling that your stoic expression was failing you. the threat of tears became apparent as your eyes watered. you looked down at your hands, watching them wring each other as you thought about your next words.

“i don’t want you to go.”

ben is both relieved and crushed when he hears your revelation. he doesn’t want to admit it but he thought about it once or twice whilst with you; calling his mother on the little device he kept tucked away, telling her that he was safe and reaching happiness. it didn’t sound like a bad idea then and now, but he loathed the idea of putting you in harms way.

he was the son of general leia organa, a rebel, and on top of that, a jedi. if an officer of first order wouldn’t have come around, there was still the threat of bandits, and - despite his uncle’s beliefs - siths. he could keep you safe, yes, but what if it was a repeat of history? ben shivered at the thought.

“i have to,” he responds, sadly and truthfully. he dares to look up at the your disappointed look. he knows that you wanted him to say something different, but he couldn’t bring himself to. reason over feelings, he could hear his uncle mock the jedi code. ben’s band moves closer to yours and when you made no motion to move, his large hand engulfed yours.

some part of him wishes that he could just wave his hand and make you forget about him, but the other part of him knows he couldn’t live with leaving you in such vulnerability.

ben sighs, his thumb rubbing your hand. he almost jumps when a slow trill comes from his jacket pocket. he frowns and glancing at you, noticing the way your body quivered at the wave of emotions that crashed over you. begrudgingly he got up and moved towards it, fishing it out and receiving a holographic video of his mother.

“ben.. it’s time to come home.”

he doesn’t say anything but nods, shutting off the correspondence and placing it back where he found it. he stands still, his mind racing with thoughts. he turns back to you and his heart tugs to see your saddened state.

“that was her, wasn’t it?” you ask quietly, your hand coming up to wipe away the stray tears that fell from your eyes. he nods and opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. you snivel and wipe your nose with your sleeve, a sigh attempting to smooth your uneven breaths. “we knew this was coming.. might as well get it over with.”

ben didn’t like your tone, but he can’t help but agree.

“maybe you can come with me,” he offers, his eyes almost pleading you.

a small voice in your head tries to convince you, but you shake your head. bens posture seems to drop in defeat at your response.

“i can’t leave everything behind.”

he knows that there’s nothing for you here, but he doesn’t want to anger or upset you any further. he hates that he’s just accepting defeat.

“i understand.” he doesn’t, but he assumes it the best thing to say when you’re letting something go. ben turns and slips his jacket on over his shoulders, his hand smoothing out the ruffles. his chest rises as he sucks in an even breath.

he turns to you and opens his arms wide, which you rise from your position on the floor for. you slide in easily, his arms snaking around you and gently pulling you in tight. he doesn’t want to let go but he doesn’t want to make this any harder than it already seems to be.

ben pulls away slightly and gives you a gentle kiss on your temple, his lips lingering as he thought of ways to savor the moment. after a brief period, you unravel your arms from him and step away. he digs into another part of his jacket and gives you an old but working device. you take it with a puzzled look.

“it’s so you can reach me,” he answers your question shyly, his leg kicking out slightly as he avoided your gaze. “so we’re not entirely apart.”

your heart melts at the gesture and you can’t help but go in for another hug. he chuckles and returns the hug, adding a gentle sway this time. as you both pull away, you give each other sad and loving smiles.

in such a short time, you would’ve never guessed you would be attached to someone - then again, ben was charismatic and handsome, something you didn’t find often around you.

“goodb-”

“it’s not a goodbye,” you interrupted, your hands clasping together at the front of you. he appeared shocked at first, but then smiled as he understood what you were trying to say before you said it. “it’s a ‘see you soon.’”

he mutters something in agreement, then sighs contently.

“see you soon, (y/n). hopefully soon.” ben reluctantly moves out of your door with you following him.

“it better be soon. don’t leave me hanging out here to die of boredom,” you quip, playfully shoving his back as you lean at the doorframe. ben turns around with a lopsided grin on his face, his nose crinkling and his umber irises twinkling with the suns reflection. he licks his lips, his gaze glancing down at your lips before he moved forward with uncertainty.

you managed to smile, closing the small gap between you both and delivering a chaste kiss upon his lips. his grin only broadens and he comes closer to give you another longing kiss.

he wishes he did this before.

ben slowly pulls away, his eyes fluttering open to peer into yours. he wants to beg you to come with him once more, but he doesn’t.

he glances off into the distance and sighs. he turns to you, smiles, and bids you a weak ‘see you soon.’ ben pivots quickly and with long strides, he walks away.

you watch him, a smile growing on your lips. you knew deep down this wasn’t the last time you would be seeing him.

“see you soon, space prince.”

[marvinswriting]

just a liability 

prompt: actually wait I WANT to read scary [its a suprise] go ahead lol- bear (bc it's her idea)

Today was awful.

Most days were.

But today sucked substantially more.

Its the first day back at school since my art show. The praise and congratulations from my teachers should feel nice. 

But its all a bitter reminder of the painting I threw at my newest ex-best friend.

My mom was not too happy when I came home with a first-place ribbon and no canvas but that's not the point.

I sighed, stepping onto the tiny platform. Damian wouldn't be done with theater for another twenty minutes but I can't sit in the stuffy tiny halls anymore. 

The hallways were practically empty, as usual for after school hours.

Notice how I said practically.

"So what are we doing this weekend, Cady?" Gretchen asked as they walked down the hall.

Its a question shes directed to Regina so many times. I almost felt sick looking over, looking at the girl who used to be my friend.

Now cold, hard, plastic. 

You made me like this-

I did. Didn't I. 

I was hurt by middle school actions. I just wanted to see Regina's downfall. And I guess I did. 

But at the cost of my friend.

"I'm not sure yet," Cady said thoughtfully. "It's only Monday."

"But if we want to throw another party we should spread the word now."

"Another party?" Cady stops short in shock. Right in front of the tiny pick up zone. 

I turn to my sketchbook, hoping they won't notice me. 

"But we just threw one last week." The concern in her voice sounded just like the old Cady. The nice Cady. My friend, Cady.

"Last week was so- well, last week!" Gretchen says. "I dunno guys." Cady says slowly.

I concentrate on the delicate lines in my sketchbook. Nice, light, thin. Happy lines if you will. 

Ignore the pain of losing your friend. The only girl you've trusted since eight grade. Ignore the pain of your identity being weaponized. Nice, light, thin, happy lines.

"Janis?"

Fuck.

I look up to see Cady glancing at me. "You've been ignoring my calls."

The cold edge in her voice was exactly why. She's shiny, hard, and plastic. 

"Cady, you can't be seen near the space dyke." Gretchen quickly reminds her.

"Gretchen," Cady snaps. "I can be seen with whoever I want. Regina is gone, I make the rules."

That wasn't what you were saying when you didn't invite Damian and I to your party.

It wasn't even the fact that she didn't invite us to her party. It was the fact that she threw a party. That she could have been honest and say she'd rather throw a banger then go to my art show, but she lied. She said she was in Maddison. She sure as hell wasn't.

"But that's space dy-"

"I know who it is, Gretchen." Cady snapped. I jumped back in surprise at the vicious tone of her voice. She sounded like a clone of Regina.

I almost felt sorry for Gretchen. No matter what happened, no matter who was 'in charge' she always seemed to get the short end of the stick. 

Cady reaches out, lifting me up without asking.

"Hey!" My sketchbook and pencil fall down onto the platform as I'm lifted in the air.

Cady turns me over in her hand like she's never seen me before. 

"Put me down!"

"Why'd you ignore my calls, Janis?"

"Cady-"

Her hand closes around me, holding me in a fist. It's not tight, unlike others who have picked me up without asking in the past. But a fist is a fucking fist.

"Cady please, this isn't like you."

"Plastic?" Cady's voice has an unfamiliar edge. "But- I thought you wanted me to be plastic? To help get rid of Regina. Isn't this what you wanted, Janis?"

No! I didn't want anything like this. At all.

"I actually wanted to thank you. For showing me how to be plastic. Because now I've met people I actually want to hang out with."

I tried to convince myself that she didn't mean it. It was all a show for Karen and Gretchen. Cady was just trying to prove herself to be plastic. There was no way she meant all these things. There was no way she-

Her fist tightened. 

"You didn't think I liked hanging out with you, right?"

Yes. I did.

"You're so needy. I need this, take me there, everything just needs to be about Janis, huh?"

My arms were pinned at my sides. There was nothing I could do. 

“Poor Damian has to deal with you and your bullshit."

I freeze. Yeah, insulting my sexuality was a low blow. But it wasn't the lowest blow. Cady knew that. She knew what the lowest possible insult was. And she fucking used it.

"The poor guy," A sick smile forms on Cady's face when she sees how I've reacted. Gretchen and Karen laugh from behind her, prompting Cady to continue. "Even if you weren't a tiny. You still have all those issues. Right, girls?"

She sounds just like Regina. Just bigger and with more potential to physically harm me.

Fuck.

"So many issues." Gretchen says, repeating what Cady said back to her, like a parrot. Karen just nods.

“I don’t know why I ever hung out with you.” Cady admits, releasing me from a fist and letting me fall into her hands. 

"W- what?" I never stutter, but I guess I'm doing it now.

"Mhmm," Cady said, holding my arm between her two fingers, tugging at it. "You were always so weak and fragile. I didn't want the responsibility of that. You tinies can be such a liability."

"Cady. Stop, that hurts." I try tugging my arm back, only for Cady to just pinch harder.

“I could care less about how you feel, Janis.”

I'm starting to feel like this may not just be a show to prove herself to the other plastics.

I mean, what's there to prove.

Cady already rules the school.

Cady already won.

"Put me down. Please."

"And why should I?" Cady asked. Everything about her, her tone, her posture, her outfit- it reeked of plastic. I swallow, trying to push down the anxiety in my stomach.

My belief that Cady wouldn't hurt me was quickly crumbling.

"Yknow." Cady's thumb pushed me backward, pinning me down. "I'm surprised it didn't come to this sooner, Jains."

Her thumb pushed down hard, right on my chest, hurting my ribs. It probably wasn't much effort on Cady's end but it hurt like a bitch for me. My mind thinks back to all the times Damian did the same thing, more cautiously. 

For him, it was a way to make sure I didn't fall off his hand or do anything reckless.

For Cady, it felt like a murder technique. 

Was it that easy for Damian to just kill me this whole time? Was I so much more fragile then I realized?

I mean, Cady sure seemed to be doing it effortlessly now.

I tried to push her thumb away but it was fruitless. I could barely push off Damian's when he did it- and he pushed down a lot softer.

"I can't bre- Cady. Wait- please."

"What?" Cady grinned, lifting her thumb. "Too much for poor little Janis?"

"Space Dyke cant handle it." Gretchen smirked.

"No, she can't." Cady agreed.

The familiar sparkle in her eye was gone. The naive smile she had her first day at Northshore was gone. Her braids that ran through her hair was gone. Her socks with sandals- as horrific a fashion choice they may be- were gone. 

All that was left was cold, hard, shiny, plastic. 

Cady was gone.

"Hey, where's your friend?" Gretchen asked. "The gay one."

She sure as hell knows Damian's name. That was just a cruel dig.

"Oh yeah?" Cady's eyes lit up. Not in the way they used to. Now they shown in a dark taunting way. "If Damian cares about you so much, where is he now?"

Theater. He's at theater. He cares. He just doesn't know what's happening.

My mind screamed these answers but I couldn't bring myself to verbalize them. Cady's fingers curled dauntingly over me and she grinned a little wider every time I shook. 

“Damian doesn’t want you around," Cady continued. "I can tell. Everyone can tell.”

"Everyone," Gretchen said. 

“Stop wasting his time. Stop wasting everyone’s time.” Cady dropped me back onto the pickup zone. “Damian’s gonna get sick of you eventually. Where's poor space dyke gonna go then?"

I froze. Cady never called me space dyke. Through the years I've grown numb to the insult. After eighth grade, it became unoriginal and repetitive. But when Cady said it?

Cady leaned over the tiny pick up zone, getting uncomfortably close. "Awww, did that hurt your feelings?"

I step backward but can't bring myself to respond.

Cady laughs, bringing her pointer finger up to knock me down. "Get over it."

She smiles to Gretchen and Karen, who beam back at her like this was just another normal occurrence before the trio walks away, already picking up their original topic of weekend plans. 

For a long while, I just stay sitting on the tile floor where I was knocked over. My heart was racing and my breath was heavy, something I didn't notice before. Now that I was in no immediate danger I noticed these things. Like the bruises probably forming on my torso from Cady's thumb. 

All her words caught up to me.

Did Damian really find her annoying? Was it that easy to tell? I guess I did have a habit of blocking certain things out- like Cady slowly becoming cold hard plastic until it was too late. I mean, I'd be annoyed taking care of a tiny me as well.  

Even if you weren't a tiny. You still have all those issues.

I get up and walk into the tiny halls. No. It wasn't true. Right?

Damian had to care, at least a little bit.

Stop wasting his time. Stop wasting everyone’s time.

I pull myself into the bathroom, not even bothering to enter a stall. It's after school. Who cares. 

There are tears on my face when I look in the mirror. When did I start crying?

I hastily wipe them away, ignoring how my mascara smudges. 

Why did I let her words get to me?

I didn't let Regina get to me this much?

She said the same things Regina said.

Maybe its because I trusted Cady. She was a friend.

Was.

But plastic is plastic. I should have known better. 

My phone buzzes as I jump away from the mirror in surprise. It's a text from Damian.

"Hey, Jan. Where are you, I'm at the pick-up zone." I read allowed, despite nobody else being here.

My stomach twists at the thought of seeing Damian. Of making him go out of his way to get me home.

I really did need everyone to do everything for me. 

The realization feels like a punch in the gut.

I quickly texted back, saying I left school early, feeling sick, sorry for not telling him. 

Yeah, I felt bad for lying. I'll just take the tiny bus home. Damian shouldn't have to go out of his was to worry about me. He doesn't deserve that.

I slump down against the wall, drawing my knees close. If I'm taking the tiny bus I'm not leaving for another half hour. There's no rush.

Damian texts me telling me to get better. I know he didn't buy it. I was fine earlier. But maybe he did think I actually went home. 

I felt bad for lying, but I'd feel worse being a liability. 

Because that's all I was. 

Space Dyke. The annoyance. The liability. The girl with issues. The one who wastes everyone's time.

I'm crying again. I can feel the wet tears sliding down my face, no doubt taking more mascara with them. 

I don't bother to wipe them away.

whoops, lol- bear 2020 I WOULD LIKE TO DEFEND MYSELF AND SAY YALL ARE QUICK TO CALL CADY SOFT AND INNOCENT LIKE ACT TWO CADY HERON DOESN'T EXIST? anyway really sorry mainly to soy and alex lmao @realmisspolarbear @smallsoysauce @musicallygt

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, Vigilantes 2, Replies Part 3

1) “Oh no wait, they already said that the drug makes people go YOLO, it kinda makes sense you’re that hellbent for “revenge”.”- Sanity for power is never an effective bargain. When will people learn?

2) “And now that aizawa is there its time to fuck off after the toyman and his case full of not-drugs.”- In other words, they handle the crime-fighting, Aizawa handles the clean-up and paperwork from processing villains afterwards. Knuckleduster must be over the moon to be able to leave taking out the trash to the pros, since that crap’s troublesome once the punching dies down.

3) “Oh so that’s where Dino Dan was at? I thought he was back there, about to get his ass kicked by Aizawa, but no, he went after the third member of the group.”-Since the other two were cornered the ground-based Koichi, he’s putting his new ability to fly to good use by chasing the target his new powers give him the best chance of catching. Like, Koichi zips around on the ground at knee level, so it’ll be hard for a flier to get hold of him with fly-bys.

4) “IS THAT THE THING FROM THE START?

WE’RE DEALING WITH IT NOW? I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE SOMETHING AROUND THE END OF THE ARC, A CLIMATIC SHOWDOWN OF SORTS”- I kinda get reminded a little of the MHA anime from this, in that they split chapter 1 into two episodes, and here it feels very much like chapters 1-2 are meant to be read together as a whole intro to vigilantes.

5) “BUT SINCE AIZAWA IS JUST NEXT BLOCK, THIS IS GOING TO LAST LIKE, TWO PAGES/2 MINUTES AT MOST.”-In fairness, the entire time it takes for the 4-armed giant to rampage around is probably only around about 2-3 minutes in length- long enough for Aizawa to spend restraining the two dweebs Koichi and co left him with before racing close enough to catch sight of him in time. Heroes actually have to make sure that the villains they beat down won’t wake up and sneak off in the aftermath of their fights even if there’s multiple crises going on. Therefore, there’s a certain level of preparation Aizawa has to spend making sure spiky and hothead joe can’t escape before he turns his attention to the doll-dealer…which underlines Knuckleduster’s comment about how vigilantes like him are necessary for ‘immediate action’ whilst heroes have to bother by the book.

6) “Now that’s the most realistic depiction of people reacting to a ongoing disaster than I ever saw in my entire life.”-Again though, it highlights the complacency that people are currently steeped in during the age of All Might. These civilians aren’t worried about getting hurt or killed, they’re thinking about how col this event will be to tell their friends, feeling safe enough to hand around the danger zone to take photos, trusting in heroes to protect them rather than themselves. And sure, there’s one nearby, but had Aizawa not been present, it might have taken longer for a different hero to appear, and that might have led to casualties- very defiantly in Koichi’s case, but also amongst the on-lookers.

7) “what

Is he… is he playing with them? What”-Personality powers. This guy has a doll fascination, so his power lets him grow big enough to turn other people doll-sized and grants him more hands to ‘play’ with them. As Pop said, he’s got some weird hobbies, and his powers let him enact his hobbies with the people and objects around him. Good thing too, otherwise he might have been more violent and destructive with his abilities.

8) “ALSO WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT GRAPPLING HOOK STUCK ON? THERE WEREN’T ANY TALL BUILDINGS THAT CLOSE

IS YOUR POWER ACTUALLY TO BEND THE LAWS OF PHYSIC OR SOMETHING?”-Spider-man rules. When you can’t see the point of contact, it’s attached to a helicopter just off-panel.

9) “Yeah no, don’t worry, he’s totally fine, he just snapped his fucking spine, no biggie.”-Meh, he’s an old man, his spine was acting up that day anyway, he needed a good twist or two to get it back into place.

10) “Well, going by the very first page of the story, we know that she survives, and Koichi is the one to fall, and now I’m curious to see how he’ll manage to reverse this situation.”-Koichi: I’ll save her!.... wait, but who’ll save me!?

11) “Oh what the- Wait, did he just connected to the wall? He can do that?! “-In true Jojo fashion, the official description of Slide and Glide was ‘needs 3 points of contact to activate’. It never said those three points of contact had to be horizontal. Another contrast to Izuku is that whilst Izuku is handicapped by his inability to spend enough time properly training to master his quirk before he’s thrown into the hero lifestyle, often struggling to make use of it in the beginning and making steady progress towards becoming more badass with it as he learns to stop treating it as some special power, but rather a new ability that’s part of his body, something to one down and gradually build up towards in increments, Koichi’s been using his quirk his whole life, but thanks to never becoming a hero, he didn’t go through all the special pointers that Izuku and co got when thinking up their special moves or ways to improve their quirk’s strengths and weaknesses. Koichi’s power is actually way more versatile than he thinks it is, but he’s never been trained, nor encouraged to experiment with it and push the limits of what he can do before he met knuckleduster.

12)“DAMMIT I THOUGHT HE WAS ONLY ABLE TO MOVE ON THE GROUND, THIS OPENS A WHOLE WORLD OF POSSIBILITIES

HE ALREADY LOOKED LIKE SPIDER MAN, YOUNG BOY WISHING TO SERVE AND PROTECT HIS COMMUNITY BY WORKING BEYOND THE LAW, BUT NOW HE’S PRETTY MUCH SPIDER MAN WITHOUT THE WEB SLINGING”-Yep. He even has the bug-themed aspect- though cockroach in his case- and small-steps focus of Spidey protecting his neighbourhood/city in contrast to other heroes like the avengers protecting the world/ Izuku protecting the country from Tomura’s desire to tear it all down. Stick a pair of wrist-mounted grappling hooks to his forearms and he’ll pretty much have the look almost down pat. Koichi is spider-man without the spider-sense- (that we know of) or super strength (at least until knuckleduster gives him his own ‘American Dream Plan’) whereas Izuku is Captain America- humble kid from the streets given great power through his purity of spirit and becomes a team leader despite others having more impressive qualities than he does- with a bit of Iron Man thrown in there- has a sharp mind and regularly comes up with strategies on-the-fly  utilising the powers of his comrades with a slight tech-based focus on his equipment to fight.

13) “Also we had Sliding-guy, the most disturbing hero to ever grace the manga with their presence, with apparently one of the most useless powers to eve be seen in the story of ever. Seriously, someone tell me that his power isn’t just sliding around, because that’s completely dumb and I’ll be mad if they let him be a pro while telling Shinso he had no chance.”-Well, granted, Koichi can do a little bit more with his quirk than we saw Sliding do with his but still…

14) “Life isn’t fair, but in your case it seems to be deliberately trying to get you killed. What god you angered before being born dude?”- And to drive home the comparison to his inspiration, Koichi clearly shares Peter Parker’s luck with life and things going his way, especially if they happen to be onrushing traffic.

15) “He seems to be focused on the small stuff, helping the common folk with the little things. Since he can’t fight crime, he needs to help in some way.”-My Hero Academia: Homecoming

16) “He has a quirk, but its not suitable to make him a hero, and the universe seems to hate him, because he keeps getting punished even though he’s extremely nice.”- The Peter Parker effect- Albeit it turned out peter’s powers are probably the most useful and OP of any mid-tier hero in his general category- above guys like daredevil but below people like Iron Man.

17) “WELL, HE DID WANT TO FLY, BUT HE DIDN’T SPECIFIED FOR HOW LONG”- ‘Flying’s easy, it’s landing that’s the real bitch’

18) “Nice use of her power’s condition to activate. She needs a surface to bounce off from, not necessarily that it needs to be a wall or the floor. “-Alas, befitting her somewhat self-centred nature, she didn’t consider what would happen to Koichi after she’d used him as a springboard until she herself was safe and didn’t realise she’d just killed Koichi’s forward momentum and knocked him down in her place. That said, Koichi didn’t really seem to have a plan for what to do after he caught her, so neither of them were thinking well at that point.

19) “Oh wow, that’s a pretty pessimistic way to face your approaching demise. C’mon man, you need to think like knuckleduster, that- Actually, never mind him, he did fly and fall and die.”-

Knuckleduster: Koichi….Koichi…

Koichi: wha…Master? Knuckleduster…Use…The trash… Koichi: Oh my God! I can hear master’s ghost!!

Knuckleduster: …I’m not dead you cheeky shit, I’m just having a smoke break down here

Koichi: Dammit!!!!

20) “The universe usually does that to us all Koichi, but I think that he’s actually trying to grab you. That’s a bit better, you’ll at least survive this fall, even if you’ll have to face an eternity as a giant’s toy.”-Either he’s trying to replace his Pop-Step doll with Koichi’s limited ‘Gentle-Man’ figure, or e’s trying to swat down another pesky fly buzzing around his head- could go either way.

21) “Oh, that’s good, this way you can avoid being turned into a living action figure, but I do hope you aimed at a building, because I have no idea how far from the ground you’re at.”-Alas, it doesn’t seem yet that he’s got enough control to fully stick to things like Spidey can, otherwise he would have been able to hang onto the Doll-dealer high-palm long enough to jump to an adjacent rooftop rather than continue his fall at a different angle. It seems slide and glide works on the principle of forward momentum, which makes it easy for Koichi to scale a building faster than Spidey can crawl it, but Harder for him to stop and remain still in a fixed positon.

22) “REJOICE ONCE AGAIN KOICHI, FOR THE EMO DAD HAS COME TO PROTECT YOU FROM THE BIG SCARY SALARYMEN

NOW YOU’LL DEFINITELY LIVE TO SEE AND FIGHT ANOTHER DAY”- Koichi got 2 dad rescues in the same 30 second period there.

23) “Yep, Aizawa is on the job, and I do hope that the story finds a solution for his clothes, because once his quirk deactivates I believe he’ll be butt-naked in front of those kids.”-On that note, I’m reminded of izuku’s own gigantic villain from chapter 1 and how that guy had clothing that he was able to wear whilst gigantified- perhaps he was a Customer of Detnerat’s brand of clothing?

24) “knuckleduster pointed out the thing that even Aizawa can’t deny. The heroes can’t be everywhere all the time, there always will be people in need when they are out dealing with something big, but, those three, and vigilantes in general, they’ll be in the shadows waiting to strike the heart of evil.”-Small steps vs bBg steps. Only by meeting in the middle can they have a chance to make headway against crime in the city, even without All Might being present. Shame the laws gets In the way of that.

25) “Actually, now that I think about it, Koichi probably had to be saved from danger more than Pop☆Step since the story begun.

GODDAMMIT KOICHI IT HAS BEEN ONLY TWO CHAPTERS SO FAR HOW THE HELL DID YOU ALMOST DIED SO MANY TIMES?!”- Given that Koichi seems to have the Japanese Peter Parker’s luck, odds are that by the time the story reaches MHA’s present, Koichi will have almost died more times than Izuku, even with the latter getting Wrapped up in the dangerous actions of the league. Doesn’t help that he doesn’t yet have any way to actually defend himself against attackers like Knuckleduster can.

26) “It was scary, but you don’t regret it, and you definitely would do it again.

And you WILL do it again, eventually.”- Last chapter ended with him stepping in to save Pop, this chapter ended with him flying in to save her. Bit by bit, Koichi’s starting to become bolder and more forward in his heroic activities, which isn’t a bad thing for him, but will definitely reach a point of conflict at some point in the future, should he run into an inspector Javert –type who won’t be as tolerant of these Vigilantes playing hero as Aizawa was.

27) “You will fail while trying something else, but that’s a good sign, it means you’re at least aiming at something. And like he said, you’ll learn from failing, and you won’t make the same mistakes again, you’ll improve. You’ll learn how to land.”- ‘The only true failure is when you give up on succeeding. Everything else is just a stepping stone to reach that goal’

28) “Oh this is remarkably similar to Midoriya narrating how this was the story of how he became the world’s greatest hero, but, on Koichi’s case its way more humble, because we know he’ll never be a pro hero, he admitted it to himself, But he still will be a great hero, he still will fly and reach new height.

One of greatest heroes’ that were never know, on the shadows to protect and serve, without demanding anything in return.”-I don’t know how Koichi’s doing in the present day, but I do want him and Midoira to end up occupying similar roles to each other, each covering aspects of society that the other cannot protect. In fact, Koichi’s vigilantism might become incredibly important down the line, given how Tomura intends to destroy society and the concept of heroics in general, somebody like Koichi and knuckleduster, who do it not for the money or fame, but because it’s the right thing to do, might be the only kind of heroes’ people will be able to rely on to save them.

29) “His personal philosophy from what I could get is that a hero is not a tittle, its a person that rises to the occasion to help those in need.

I can argue that its different from the Meta army ideals, as they are only looking for freedom of using the quirks, while this guy thinks that someone with the will to fight for others should be fighting for others. He’s not using his quirk for personal gain, he is here only to serve and protect.”- And now that we know he doesn’t even have a quirk to fight crime with, his statement rings all the more true-he doesn’t even have a quirk to use for his personal gain, but he’s still fighting anyway on behalf of others. Small wonder he felt drawn to Koichi, somebody else who’s also similarly powerless, but only because Society has taught him to be. It’s Knuckleduster’s attitude in defiance to that that will arguably be the most valuable lesson Koichi takes away from him, learning to be more confident in himself and what he’s doing even if the law disparages his actions in helping others.

@thelreads