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trudemaethien · 4 months ago

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Kyrimorut

I’ve just done another reread/skim of the repcomm books for details of Kyrimorut for @ossidae-passeridae, who encouraged me to do a write up for reference. Some of these facts are explicitly stated, scattered throughout the series, and some are my own surmises. (My main conclusion is that KT considered architecture just about as carefully as the TCW creators did the GAR ranking system. lolsob)

So. In this essay I will

Kyrimorut, Kal Skirata’s refuge for his clone sons, was called a bastion, and frequently described in siege terms. It was also referred to as a homestead and a farmhouse.

“It was yaim—part barracks, part hotel, part married quarters, part farmhouse, the archetypal Mandalorian clan home.”

This stronghold was located in the heavily forested northern hemisphere of the planet Mandalore, a few hours flight north of Keldabe City, within 100 kilometers of a small town called Enceri, and just south of a lake. It boasted a main house and numerous outbuildings, including at least one medical laboratory, animal pens, and a hangar large enough for multiple craft.

Rav Bralor, another of the Cuy’val Dar, rebuilt it at Kal’s request during the war, and it was finished enough by a year in, to house some members of their group temporarily, but was still undergoing renovations up to the last moment before they moved in. She used droids to aid in the construction. The building was composed of brick, wood, stone, and rammed earth, and the (probably local, veshok) planks were joined with interlocking joints. The interior walls were plastered and painted, likely with naturally derived mineral paints; one room was mentioned to be “honey-colored.” The windows were narrow, described as arrow-slits, and the doors were unpowered hinged wooden slabs. The whole thing was large, and the rooms were characterized as airy and roomy at various points.

The layout seems to have been vaguely circular, or a circle of chained hubs, with a central karyai. The lobby was another hub, and there were both surface and underground passages connecting the hubs, radiating out like “the spokes of an eccentric wheel.” For this reason I think there were two floors in the main house with one above, the other underground. There was also a sheltered circular atrium off the main hub, with a roof that slid back, where they roasted meat.

The house had gutters and down-pipes to deal with snowmelt and rain, and given the nearby lake, they would have to have a good vapor barrier for the underground portion. Since the place was rural rather than urban, it was largely quiet, and the homestead's acoustics were such that sound carried well. This indicates to me that likely only the exterior walls were fortified of heavy stone and rammed earth; interior walls were more likely built of wood and plaster and easier to modify if they had some need. Power was unreliable in such a remote setting, so they used wood fires for heating and cooking; everything smelled of wood-smoke. The entire structure was designed to be unnoticeable from the air, and the clearing was not visible until the last moment upon aerial approach.

The karyai was the main living room. In one scene, Kad played on the floor with toy animals (nerf, bantha, shatual, nuna, jackrab, vhe’viin) Atin had carved from veshok wood, Wade Tay’haai played a purple-painted bes’bev (sharp flute), and Rav Bralor brought throat-searing tihaar for everyone. She lived on her own clan’s farm a few kilometers away, and had brought Yayax squad, who mostly stayed there, to visit Kyrimorut. They were learning carpentry from manuals, as one does.

People had their own rooms for sleeping, with couples sharing, along the corridors. Arla and Uthan’s rooms both had exterior windows. Quarters were pleasant, plain but comfortable, with generous mattresses on the beds and a table for personal use.

Then there was a room Etain thought of as the interrogation room, so that’s uhhh lovely.

It’s unclear whether the large table where they gathered for communal meals was in the karyai, the kitchen (which was separated from other areas by a door), or some other room. Wherever it was located, it was possible for someone seated at the table to lean back without getting up and fetch a bottle of tihaar from where it was stored. The table was made of a single large slab of veshok wood, and was big and sturdy enough to use for surgical operation, dismantling engines, or seating a whole clan of armored Mandalorians. They sat in chairs around this table, and Kad sat in a highchair. They used porceplast plates, and mugs for ne’tra gal, a sweet black beer. The head of the household summoned everyone to the table for meals.

The kitchen contained a fireplace and hearth, a chair (where Kal slept), ovens and stovetops, a conservator, enough workspace for at least four people at once, and an adjoining storage area. The kitchen could be a busy, noisy, bustling place, but it was separate from other living areas; people sometimes went there to avoid others.

The 20-30 occupants ate constantly and prodigiously, and never seemed to be lacking. The food was described as filling but not elegant, and was heavy on the protein. They consumed a lot of game; Lord Mirdalan the strill was an animal native to Mandalore and a hunter. Roast shatual, nerf, and roba were mentioned, and they would leave a joint of meat on the table to be eaten all day down to the bone (I shuddered in food hygiene). Fish from the lake were fried in a pan, and they made broth from gihaal, dried smoked fish with a pungent aroma stored in metal containers, one of the staples of Mandalorian ration packs because it kept for years without refrigeration. Also what Kal called Kaminoans, but that’s another story!

We were worried they only ate meat for a while until we came across some vegetables. Kad had pureed kaneta at one point, and for breakfast boiled grain porridge and shirred eggs were on offer. Jilka diced amber root for some dish. Mealbread rolls were also plentiful, and there was a vat of stew at one point. Listed imports via Ny Vollen included flour, grassgrain, pickles, powdered milk, sacks of denta beans, soap, dried fruit, and a bantha bone which was hard to get on Mandalore. The roba they raised themselves.

The roba pen had multiple animals witht at least one boar and one sow with a litter, and despite having veshok posts and walls, the gate was left open. I’m extrapolating that these animals were semi-domesticated and allowed to forage for food but came home to their pen for safety at night. There were rail fences, crop fields, and plans for raising nerf on the property as well. Outbuildings were mentioned frequently, but this was one of the few actually described.

Notable native species mentioned were the large, ancient veshok trees, which were evergreen, hardwood, and straight enough that the table slab was cut out of one large piece. They were ice-glazed and dripping in the spring thaw, so presumably had some defenses against freezing and exploding, or breaking under the weight of the ice, and they populated all the way up to the the polar cap. There was underbrush and bushes, and groundthorn weed, which was very stubborn and difficult to remove entirely. The roba would have helped with uprooting this as they foraged. Vhe’viine were small rodents with white winter coats that lived in burrows in the fields.

The medical laboratory behind the main house (it was necessary to walk around the bastion after exiting to approach it) was a mobile genetics lab/agricultural trailer of the sort usually used for breeding livestock and at racetracks. It was occupied first by Ko Sai and later by Ovolot Qail Uthan. Mereel acquired it, and Mij Gilamar stocked it with stolen/black market medical equipment. When Uthan took over, they built her more lab space. There were rural veterinarians in the community as well; Etain mentioned getting a cryocontainer for a sample from a neighboring farm.

The hangar was situated in a shallow slope to the north of the main house, half-buried in the soil and disguised with netting. It was large enough to house several craft at a time, including Ny Vollen’s ship, Mereel’s speeder, and the Aay’han, among others. Swabbing down the compartments of the Aay’han, replenishing stores, and prepping the ship for the next flight managed to occupy most of an afternoon for four men.

The lake was also to the north, and I believe it was a very large lake, functioning as a heat-sink. It had not fully frozen despite the bitter winter, described as minus eight and thirty degrees colder than tropical (although the temperature scale is not mentioned, it’s likely celsius because of the author’s background). There was ice extending from the shore like a pier, but also mist rising above it in the early morning and frost on the shore, even though layers of snow deep enough for feet to crunch through the surface were mentioned elsewhere at various times. This led my friend to speculate that there could be geothermal activity in/under that lake. Kal and Walon Vau were planning to build a memorial on the near lake shore featuring the armor tallies of fallen clone soldiers.

There was granite in the area, which also gave support to the concept of historical volcanic activity. Their yard sported four chunks, each large enough for at least two people to climb up and perch upon, which had erupted from the surface long ago and been worn down to a weathered polish. Winds came in off a nearby plain. A clear (muddy) area large enough to play mesh’geroya was also near the house.

Enceri had at least one cantina, there was a landmark grain silo at the edge of town, and it was big enough to host a bustling market square, despite being described as more of a trading post than a town. There they could buy, among other things, preserved vegetables, engine parts, and local triple-distilled tihaar, which could double as degreaser for said engine parts.

If they needed more than Enceri had to offer, they could go south to Keldabe. Landmarks of note there included the River Kelita and the Oyu’baat tavern. The Imperial garrison was located near Keldabe.

“But then Mandalore itself was one big contradiction, with heavy industry and shipbuilding sitting cheek-by-jowl with farms that hadn't changed in centuries, sophisticated electronics and ancient metalworking skills side-by-side in the same suit of armor.”

Established clan homes seem to be the usual way of things despite Mandalorians supposedly being nomadic. Their “temporary” structures being wattle and daub also indicates the nomad thing to be a bit of a fallacy. Even so, they had planned a possible relocation for Kyrimorut in the worst case, a bolt-hole on Cheravh. Jaing had taken to calling it offsite hot standby.

So that’s Kyrimorut, which means Final Haven, where Kal Skirata and his chosen family hunkered down in the aftermath of Order 66. My friend says it’s basically Aberdeen, down to the detail of players getting plastered mid footie limmie game. I gathered these details from four books (Hard Contact does not mention Kyrimorut) and compiled them for anyone who’d like to make use of the rundown. Oya!

#kyrimorut #repcomm #reference #kal skirata #worldbuilding #in this essay i will

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da-rulah · 1 year ago

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A Personal Ritual - Cardinal Copia x gn! reader

This fic was inspired by the incomparably talented @delulluart. When she dropped the initial sketch into our discord server, I lost my mind, and wrote this for her. Now she's finished the final painting, we've decided to collaborate...

GO AND LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS PAINTING HERE

(If you don't go and check out this painting you will find me standing above your bed at 3:00am wielding something shiny and sharp.)

Summary: After a wonderfully sinful night in your lover's embrace, you catch him in a moment of domestic bliss that has you falling in love all over again...

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Barely any, tooth rotting fluff, some worship elements, hints at previous smut, teasing and flirtation, nudity

These sheets are softer than your own. Perhaps they’re the reason you continue to spend the night here instead of in your own bed. It couldn’t have anything to do with the warm body that usually occupied it at all, could it?

Except that warm body wasn’t next to you right now. It wasn’t beside you, on top of you, or under you. Even the warmth hadn’t lingered, the emptiness cool and uninviting as you stretched your hand across the mattress in search of your lover. Sleep had only just begun to evade you, and opening your eyes to a golden morning sun was simply not yet in the cards, so instead you patted the mattress over and over, yet to no avail.

With a subtle sigh, you roused your head from the pillow, squinting as the light attacked your retinas. The sheets concealed the evidence of a night well spent; nude skin peppered with marks only a lover could make. Your muscles ached as you stretched yourself out, still reaching and hoping he may appear at your fingertips if you just wished hard enough.

As you came around, you thought maybe that was exactly what had happened, spotting movement from the corner of your eye. The bathroom door was wide open, steam still pouring out of it like an atmospheric addition, special effects that just seemed to follow this dreamy man around. That movement you’d spotted had been him, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself with a towel around his waist. Regrettably, you’d missed the best part, but even now you could see the way the muscles in his back flexed when he moved, the freckles over his shoulders that cascaded down his spine, the dip where the towel dug into the softness of his hips, tied a little too tight...

His hair was getting longer, grey starting to speckle through the roots. He must have just towel dried it, the strands damp and wild in all manner of twists and curls but of course, they almost looked intentionally done. You shifted in the bed, laying your head on the pillow and snuggling back into the sheets at an angle that allowed you to watch him reach into the cabinet above the sink and gather products and tools to get himself ready for the day. As of yet, he hadn’t noticed you were awake let alone watching him, lost in his own little routine.

He shut the cabinet, the mirrored glass of the door now lining up perfectly with his face, projecting an image of him back to you. A shadow was forming across his jawline; the same shadow that had left its mark on you the night before, grazing the sensitive skin across your body. Stubble looked good on him, you always thought, wondering what it would look like should he decide to grow it out like the rest of his moustache. But no, you liked this look; the face you’d fallen in love with to begin with, with its signature lonely moustache and carefully sculpted sideburns.

He fiddled with something in front of him out of view, then lifted a brush to his face that he swiped in circles against his stubbled skin, painting it white with a creamy substance that from here smelled like citrus – but then, that could be any number of products he’d used in the shower too. He traced the circular pattern over his stubble, reaching it down his neck as he stretched and covering every inch of darkened skin. He lidded the product and stacked it on the edge of the sink, now reaching for a shiny little thing he’d already laid out.

With an expert flick of his wrist, it unfolded, a glinting silver blade unsheathing itself from the brilliant red of the marbled handle. When he leaned forward, he stretched his neck with a lean to one side, lining the blade up against his skin and in one quick, clean motion he’d swiped a stripe up to the sharp edge of his jawline. The blade was wiped off on a cloth draped over the sink, then brought to do the same thing again next to the already created strip of clean, smooth skin.

You'd never seen him do this before, but you were enraptured – privileged, even... It was you and you alone that had the honour bestowed upon them to watch the man you loved in his most humble and domestic of moments, to see the parts of him that nobody else in the world got to see just because they were usually saved for him, and him alone. While you’d spent many an intimate night in his bed, sharing your bodies and souls in every way a lover can, these were the moments that felt truly intimate.

There was only ever one person in the world who would see him in moments like these and however simple or mundane these little tasks were, they were humanising and so normal. The man before you was anything but normal with the life he led, the talents he possessed and the future he had ahead of him but those were things he shared with everyone. Much like his rituals, these moments were also planned and served a purpose and yet they were personal to him, and him only – until you. It was the normal moments, these ‘personal rituals’ that made him so special to you, and you alone.

The razor continued to scrape along his neck in clean swipes, glinting in the bathroom light and sounding with a familiar scrape and ring of the metal. With his neck smooth and clean, he moved onto his face, carefully guiding the razor’s swipes to give him the sharp, clean edges of his sideburns on either side if his face. You’d always wondered how he got them to such a sharp point like this, but it was clear now; especially knowing he used a straight razor to do so. He’d clearly had years of practise perfecting his signature looks, avoiding his moustache yet tidying it to two thinner, well-kept halves.

As he worked, your eyes drifted over him as they often did at any given moment. But these quiet moments of intimacy were ones you spent time burning into your memory, the details kept safe and hidden for only you. In his reflection, you watched as the muscles and tendons in his neck stretched and flexed with each lean forward and swipe of his razor. The more you watched, the more your eyes committed the details of his shoulders and chest to memory; the freckles, the dark hair that settled over his chest and barely concealed his tattoo, then tapered off into a trail to disappear beneath the low hanging towel. His stomach looked soft and warm where he kept leaning against the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into the flesh just as his towel did his hips.

There wasn’t a single thing you didn’t adore about him. There wasn’t a single thing you would change. All of it you would sync into your memories in a collection of things you never wanted to forget the sight of.

Now clean of the shaving cream from his face, he took the washcloth he’d been using as a wipe rag and ran it under the faucets, cleaning away the excess he’d missed between swipes of his blade. Once clean, he ran the cloth over his freshly smooth face, a satisfying hum rumbling from his chest at the warm sensation of soft cotton on polished skin.

Part of his routine included a moisturiser, dabbing it onto his forehead, cheeks, chin and one on the nose with a tiny little “heh” sound that encouraged a lazy little smile on your lips. He rubbed it in gently, similar circular motions to before with the shaving cream.

He reached for a little blue glass bottle, pouring a liquid onto his fingertips and lathering them up before patting them against the freshly shaved skin of his neck. A hiss pushed itself from between his teeth, his nose wrinkling as he patted the liquid into the skin quickly, like the speed would help the sting of cologne on recently opened pores.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered to himself, endearingly silly and something else you loved so dearly about him. You didn’t hold back the small giggle that bubbled in your throat but unfortunately now, that meant you had his attention. You were no longer peacefully watching your lover from afar, your show interrupted.

His head moved only slightly, but his eyes somehow found you in the reflection of the mirrored cabinet door. They were wide at first, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t or had forgotten in his routine that you were present at all. But they soon softened, seeing you draped in his sheets, still breathtakingly beautiful in your sleepy state. His lips curled into a fond smile, and he wiped his hands on the towel around his hips while he quickly tidied away the products and tools, every so often checking back in the reflection that you hadn’t disappeared only to find you still watching him with hooded, lazy eyes.

His own little sacred ritual complete, he wondered over to you, towel clinging to his hips for dear life until he stopped by the edge of the bed in front of you. You met him there on your knees, holding the sheets under your armpits with only the smallest and cheekiest amount of skin from your arms and collarbone displayed to him. He lifted a hand to trail his fingertips down your bare arm, lifting your hand in his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your palm.

“You were watching, eh?” he asked, his accent deeper and thicker as the first he’d spoken aloud this morning.

“Admiring,” you corrected him, holding the sheet against your chest with your free hand.

“I see...” he mused, another kiss being planted to your hand. His eyes scanned the parts of your body he could see, marks from your long and impassioned night together still very visible on your skin. His eyes darkened at the sight, a need rising in him to always create more. He tugged you to his chest, using the pads of his fingertips to trace the bursts of colour across your neck and collarbone while he held you there, other hand still in yours.

As if by instinct, you leaned your head to the side to accommodate him, stretching your neck like he had as he was shaving to elongate the space in which his fingers danced. He leaned in, pressing delicate kisses to each bruise and each mark he had left there. In contrast to his stubbly, rushed and feral kisses and bites from last night, you were met with the smoothest skin against yours and featherlight pecks as if trying to heal them. You weren’t sure which you preferred; both were divine.

“You tempt me to stay like un succubo diabolico (a demonic succubus),” he whispers against your skin, goosebumps raising across every inch. How badly you wanted him to stay... You would take every second you could with him.

“Is it working?” you asked with a playful lilt to your tone, yet the breathiness in your voice gave away your bubbling arousal. Lips continued to press against the marks, the tip of his nose dragging across the skin from one point to the next like he was drawing constellations from the bursts of colour he’d made last night.

“Sí, sí,” he mumbled into your neck, “cediamo alla tentazione in questa cappella... (we give in to temptation in this chapel...)”

He felt the chuckle that left your throat and broke away from you long enough to find your lips with his. The hand still holding yours squeezed against his chest and you forgot about the sheets precariously held up under your armpit when you wrapped your arm around his neck to deepen the kiss, fingers finding purchase in the damp curls on his head.

He let go of your hand, instead, whipping the towel from his hips and gripping onto your waist, kneeling on the bed with you as you scooted back to the middle, never letting him go. He felt warm against you, his body pressing so deliciously to yours.

“I don’t want to get you into trouble, Cardinal...” you teased, brushing your nose with his.

“Amore, you have been doing so since the day I let you into my bed,” he grinned devilishly, bringing his lips back to yours as he toppled the two of you over and back into his sheets. The two of you could think of your excuses later; for now, there was no denying the palpable need that the intimacy of his personal rituals had stirred. A man, with so much power to his name and weight to his shoulders, boiled down to a moment of banality reserved for only the one closest to him.

Oh, how deep you had fallen for your Cardinal...

Once again, please go and check out THIS ARTWORK that inspired this. @delulluart put an initial sketch of this into our discord server, and she triggered this brain dump. This is all on her.

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sasster · 1 month ago

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Renovations

Hey guys! Hi! [doc]

—

Were he a notch higher on the go big or go home scale, and if the universe would have allowed for it, Persep might have blown his dreadful apartment building and all of the poor bastards it housed off of the face of Alternia.

They’d probably have thanked him for that too, but something about the smothering desperation that the place was steeped in made it difficult to actually want to do away with. It would have been enjoyable, even, if he weren’t just as miserable as the rest of them.

Instead of putting them all out of their misery once he’d had enough of the place, he instead decided to go out and set some much neglected plans in motion.

Finding a hive in his preferred setting, a heavily forested area as far away from civilization as to not be an inconvenient trek back as he could get, was the easy part. Apart from city-dwellers, trolls tended to want their territories a decent distance from other trolls. As far they could get them, really. And after a handful of perigees as a city-dweller himself, he would have found a way to put his new hive on the green moon if it meant never seeing another unwanted soul in his space again.

That would have made the next phase of his plan way too difficult though and he always prided himself on his ability to remain practical.

Persep had hoped that the hive he found would be an abandoned one, considering that his change in status from ghost to reaper meant that killing anyone was a new and frustrating impossibility, but scaring the former owner away was easy enough. He was young and, by his own admission once Persep’d bared his fangs, didn’t want any problems.

The hardest part was getting the structure up to the standards of his old hive, the beautiful and towering omen that it was before that party of ingrates reduced it to ash. It was a marvelous place of stone and nightmares. Edgy by anyone else's standards. This new one was much smaller by comparison, hidden amongst the cover of the treeline instead of standing dauntingly above it. The mid-blood he menaced out of it had neither the funds nor ambition that he’d had when it was time to construct.

There’d be no room for a gruesome collection of lifesized 1:1 ration puppets or a maze of halls within to stalk and disorient his guests. Not even any space for a vivisection table without disrupting the delicate balance of the hive's two bedrooms and living room.

Much of the hive was decorated to his tastes, at least. His collections of old artifacts weren’t what they used to be, but he made do, and of course the look wouldn’t be complete without the porcelain dolls he loved so much that made direct eye contact with the observer from whatever angle they approached from. Those soulless glass eyes painted the rooms and halls a shade of dread that cured his heart of the homesickness plaguing it since his return.

The renovations were not fully complete until he finished the second bedroom, though: soft pastel walls peppered with floating shelves full of books that staggered along a wall to a window he’d made certain to force and break the lock on. His plan required that his guest be comfortable after all, but in no position to make daring escapes.

Persep admired the circular bed and its canopy that rested near the window, delighted with the fruits of his labor. A bedroom that came to him in a dream, now complete and waiting for its occupant to come and make use of the vanity, dresser, and table he’d painstakingly arranged from memory.

A thank you would be appreciated, he thought, once his guest arrived.

Thumbing the glassy rock in his pocket, he smiled to himself, satisfied that he’d taken all of the necessary steps to see a deal fulfilled at long last.

And so he left his new home, stopping once he was outside to take in the exterior of all his hard work, then headed off toward the House of Restoration with an uncharacteristic pep in his step.

—

One of the better results of having a vagabond soul meant that traveling by the cover of Alternia’s blistering sun was of little consequence to him. As much as he enjoyed creeping in the shadows and flirting around the fringes of the consciousness of the layman, he didn’t fancy the idea of moving about in conditions that provided for that irritating Roatus kid to be up and about, making things much more difficult than they had to be. He liked the idea of Arkiro being fast asleep or otherwise occupied with whatever the daylife had to offer him.

Persep arrived at the church steps as the sun was approaching its apex, painting the landscape in its eye-searing rays. Just as he was going to learn how good the building’s sun-proofing systems were, the ornate handle on the front door turned and it was pushed slightly ajar from the inside. Someone carefully stepped out into the light, making certain not to open the door too wide as to let in too much sun, then closed it gently behind herself to mitigate any slam.

Persep felt himself grin at the familiar sight of her tail, fanned out as she closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth that the sun bathed the world in.

What luck.

He bounded forward eagerly, grin only widening in his fervor, to stand directly between Nymira and her sunbath.

She furrowed her brows first at the sudden shade, then frowned. When she opened her eyes again horror joined the symphony of emotions clouding her features. If he had to guess, he would think she’d wandered out here in some sort of daze.

The corners of her mouth twitched, and she had enough sense to focus her gaze beyond his face despite the obvious discomfort stirring within her.

He said nothing for a moment, basking in the situation for just a short while.

Nymira took the time to try and get her way back into the church, only partially getting the door open before Persep made quick work of leaning forward with a hand pressed firmly against it, letting his own weight force it shut.

“Why the rush, Dreamer? No time for an old friend?” As soon as he broke the silence, her attention snapped back to him, still focused on anything but his eyes.

Smart girl.

“Why are you here?” She questioned, no doubt fighting to keep the fear out of her voice.

“We’ve much to discuss. Business matters to attend.”

Nymira sniffed, a small indignant sound, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not looking to bargain with you again.”

“No?” He practically laughed, his mirth only barely held back. “Good thing you’ve yet to fulfill your end of the last one.”

He watched her resolve waver, his statement lingering in the air between them. She furrowed her brows again, horror quickly replaced by bewilderment, and dropped her hands to silently count her fingers by tapping them against her thighs.

“I went home,” she finally said, “Our dealings are finished.”

“‘Whatever you want,’” he echoed her promise. “I have yet to receive what I want, Godling.”

She hesitated, then made to take a step back, only managing to press herself against the door. “That is not what I meant… You know that wasn’t what I meant..”

“I’ll be collecting now.”

She made herself small against the door, voice ever smaller. “No…”

“That really isn’t how this works.” He warned, leaning in to further loom in the space she left behind.

Like a wild animal, her eyes darted around from his face to the space behind him either searching for an exit or someone to call out to. Then, with no warning at all, she reared back and drove her foot directly into his shin.

The smug look left his face in that instant, he hissed some expletives under his breath without letting up from the door, so she took her chances darting down the church steps, away from him.

Persep recovered faster than she expected, letting out another string of curses before giving chase, and tangling a hand in her hair to pull her back just as she cleared the bottom step. “I see you weren’t raised to play nice.” He gritted, fighting to get the fidgety goddess under control. “Will we be doing this the easy way?”

Nymira, stubborn as she can be, kicked back as hard as she could, striking him in the same leg as her first assault. When his grip loosened up, she made another run for it.

“Shame on me for being polite.” He bemoaned, making quick work of running after her as she put distance between them and her only solace. Disoriented by fear though, she did not get very far before he was able to get his nails into her shoulder and turn her back to face him with such force she had no choice but to stop.

The purple light emanating from his eyes spilled a ross her face and poisoned her features as they finally made eye contact. “The hard way it is.”

#persep #long post #coko writes sometimes #first drabble of 2025 and its persep :(

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madewithlove-sophie · 5 months ago

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Twisted Hearts | Aizawa Shouta Fanfiction

i. Diving Deep (teaser i.)

The cold shower hits the aching wounds behind me. Ribbons of red surround my body and dance onto the floor.

My hands splayed on the wall in front of me. I stare at the hands. Blood appears and disappears between my fingers. The horrors of today’s mission, still haunts me. Am I really a hero? Is this what a hero does? Who decides what is righteous or not? What makes me different from villains? Do I even deserve-

Knock. Knock.

Before I could spiral any longer, I glance at the figure by the bathroom door.

A beautiful handsome man leans on the bathroom door as he watches me. Studying the pieces of myself I don’t even know deserve-

“You’ve been in the shower for more than hour.” The man states as he slowly walks towards me in a catlike ease. Slowly yet sure.

I sigh as I close my eyes, trying to make sense of the thoughts burrowing its way in my mind.

“You’re going to catch a cold showering in this temperature.” I hear the voice say. Nearer this time. Just a foot away.

I open my eyes to see Aizawa Shouta standing beside me, arms reach.

Shouta sighs and enters the confines of the shower and turns off the faucet.

I did not notice the towel he was holding only until I feel it wrapped around my form. Shouta guides me outside the shower and leads me towards our shared bedroom.

I numbly sit down on the desk. Avoiding to look in the mirror. Afraid of what monster looks back at me.

I hear Shouta hum as he starts fiddling through our desk until he found what he was looking for. I glance up and see he was holding my favorite lotion and comb.

He wastes no time as he starts massaging the lotion onto my body. It’s powdery scent filling the room with his warmth spreading over my neck, shoulders, and back.

He continues to hum as he begins to kneel. Massaging my thighs in circular motions. Slowly, up and down.

As he continues down to my calves, I moan in satisfaction over the relief he provides. Shouta looks up at me, a slight smile paints on his face. I look away, blushing. This man.

Once he finishes, he lifts my foot near his chest and examines my body with those beautiful tired eyes. Slowly he closes the distances and kisses my calves in a gentle manner. I watch the man before me as he looks up at me with those eyes. Those eyes.

Slowly, he lowers my foot and rises to stand just enough to meet my eyes. Shouta leans in towards me and I close my eyes in anticipation.

Kiss.

I feel his lips over my forehead. I open my eyes only to see him pull away from me. He stops a foot away only to slightly smile at me, making me feel waves crashing and meeting in my stomach.

He continues to hum as he stands upright and walks behind me. I feel him touch the ends of my hair as he starts brushing the strands.

“Your hair is getting longer.” He says.

I hum in response. Feeling the sleep cave in.

“I like it.” He says as I feel him by my ear. I turn to peek at the man-

Kiss. Gentle. Soft.

Shouta kisses my neck but before I could react he moves away and continues to brush my hair.

The turmoil of my mind long forgotten. I slowly relax into the chair, feeling the weight of the world lift away.

“All done.” Shouta says satisfied. He returns the items he took out the cabinet back in its place before he stands in front of me. A hand offered.

“Let’s get to bed.” He says.

I accept his hand and we walk towards the bed. The long days exhaustion creeping up on me, wanting nothing more but to put me to sleep.

I lie down on my side of the bed facing the wooden ceiling above me.

Shouta lies down beside me and closes the bedside lamps consuming the room in darkness. The moons glow as it’s companion.

I turn to the beautiful man beside me. He has done nothing but care for me. I love him so much.

Shouta shifts his body as he faces me. He wraps an arm around me, bringing me closer to his warmth.

I close my eyes and bring a hand around his waist.

Before sleep could consume me, I utter the words I have always told the man.

“Thank you.” I whisper to his heart.

Shouta hugs me a little tighter before he responds. “I love you, Y/N.” He says. Sure. Safe. Firm.

I squeeze his torso in return before the sleep of today overtakes me.

#aizawa fanfiction #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha x reader #eraserhead #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #mha x reader #my hero academia #slow burn #angst #bnha angst #aizawa angst #mha angst

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abyssal-maiden · 5 months ago

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Serpent's Hearth Pt. 2: Bereft of Favor (18+)

Fem!Reader / Messmer

!!!MDNI!!!: 18+ ((future xbloodplayx xsmutx xpregnancyx xothersinsx))

XTouchStarvationxLightYanderexEnemiestoLoversxSizeDifferencex

Hey all! Bonus chapter tonight for contextual meat. The real fun begins tomorrow ;)! Please enjoy this pregame as I prepare your feast.

~~~<3

The scorned son sits in his darkened chamber as the movement of his serpent kin interupt his dissociative state. He was lost in yet another daydream reliving his childhood. His mother once ordered him to end his incessant whining, oh how the serpents coiled in his nascent ribs! She shoved a golden flask in his hands spiting vile as she did so.

“Avaunt from thine visage, knave mongral! Cease thine vex of thy presence known.”

He turned the flask over in his left hand, something between longing and abhorring twisted along the slithering within him. He holds his forehead in his palm, covers the tears that evaporate just outside of his eye duct. A lord who's curse would not allow the sanctity of expressing such desperation. A monster imprisoned in the flesh of a tool for an unforgiving order.

Even thine own mother detest me!

His lip pulls in the dark, trembling with self loathing. He was holding on to the hope she would whisk through the door any minute to accept him at last, but such thoughts were akin to the delusion of frenzy. He knew she would not come, yet felt the stinging of languish in the still air of his forgotten keep. The quivering ceases for a moment, he was sure you would return despite his solitude. The thought of your darkened eyes and your flowing hair, the disconnected look of violence encapsulating your gaze.

Why doth mine mind's eye plague with such visions?

A forked tongue brushes against his brow, he uncovers his golden gaze to the green stare of his larger constrictor. The soft flickering and bobbing of its head indicate concern. He cups his face, running his hand down and sighing.

“Tis not a worthy concern, Purkoy.”

The serpent sways in disapproval but presses no further, facing away in its own trance of disconnection. Miel, the other, sleeps on the opposing armrest to the one Messmer drapes over.

“Thy verdict is ill favored, cur.” He chuckles.

The man reminiscent of a phantom stands, moving silently from his perch through the darkened staircase adjacent his throne room. In the entrance hallway he waves his hand across the brick, the flame burning away the illusion that conceals his bedchambers entrance. The rhythmic sound of his ascension coupled with soft hissing occasionally. His body stoops and shifts as he works his way to the once extravagant garret in the rear tower of his throne house. The room is unkempt, surely, but opulent, a large circular bed across from a grandiose stone hearth. Above it a painting faded by age, the young Messmer standing shyly in front of his mother, a gaze of disinterest displayed on her face. He glances at her everwatching eyes as he moves to stand in the window, overlooking the path to the ruins of Enir-Ilim, his final charge. He looks tiredly into the ravine before settling in a warn armchair that had cracked severely over the decades. There he spent most sleepless nights, staring off into the void of his existence , reliving old memories.

~~~

Fate would have it your presence was not so unwelcomed the next morning. You enter as you always have, materializing at the unseen grace and pushing the door open. He stands and says nothing, spear poised in his grasp. He leaps to the ground and strides towards you, stopping to stand upon his crest in the center of the desolate hovel.

Why isn’t he attacking?

Your eyes narrow through your helm, usually trained on his hand movements. You peer upwards to find his eye boring into your own pair. His expression unsurprisingly reserved, yet a hint of uncertainty as his eye darts to different details in your armor.

Why is he looking at me like that?

No matter, you huff and lunge toward him, the clang of his spear indicates he accepts the flurry. That recognizable heat which licks at you through the joints in your armor. As you engage you swear a faint smile appears on his face.

Is he…enjoying this?

You try to shake off the thought as a swirling of flames barrel’s toward you. His limbs could reach you across the room, and they do, giving little time for you to roll away. Your blows never seem to slow him down, but today he is clumsy. His head keeps ducking to view your eyes through the slitted metal face. The way the reptilian orb peers at you sends shivers through you.

What the fuck is he doing?

The distraction is enough for him to grasp you in flames tossing you like a rag to fall flat into his spear. You slide down onto the cold blackened metal gurgling and moaning in agony. His breath is hot and brief on your ear. A silken tone laced with the menace of authority.

“Below mine domain lies a ruined place forgotten by all but mine pets. An audience with thee at high moon.”

You're unable to respond before you experience the flames ripping through your core with ferocity, burning you to embers as you hang from his fiery impalement.

“...Fuck…you...” your words rasp gently against his ear canal as you dissipate.

He savors the insult and laughs to himself as he’s left alone, pinching his brow as his head falls back.

“What manner of folly doth I wrought upon mine self?”

Master List

Previous // Next

#messmer the impaler x reader #messmer x reader #elden ring x reader #messmer x tarnished #messmer x you #monster fucker #i love my sad snake boy #blood kink

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quarantineddreamer · 11 months ago

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Jyn Week Day 1: Home

I wasn't sure I was gonna post this, because it's really not my best work. But then again, with the way my brain has been lately not much is! And I wanted to participate and show our girl some love so. Fighting through the perfectionist in me and here's this little thing <3

Though the Rebels had breathed new life into the cave upon their arrival, the network of tight tunnels and sprawling caverns that made up Echo Base had a history that stretched back to a time long before the war. There were stars younger than the stone walls that surrounded them, buried beneath layers of ice so thick, it was unlikely the galaxy would ever uncover the secrets they contained.

It had not taken Jyn long to begin exploring the area, seeking hidden nooks and crannies to which she might escape. Within a week, she had formed a sprawling mental map, memorized the quickest routes to every exit, marked the nearest spaces to duck to when Draven was after her about her latest display of ‘irresponsible/reckless/unacceptable’ behavior–or, when she simply needed quiet. (Which seemed to happen more and more with each passing day spent trapped in this hellhole.)

Tonight, she was bundled in her warmest gear: every thermal layer she possessed, two sweaters, one parka, her hat and scarf, gloves, and four socks pulled one after the other till she could barely squeeze her feet into her boots, much less feel them.

Clumsiness was the price to pay when you wanted to be up and about at this hour on Hoth–that, or frostbite. It was why, for the most part, no one on Echo Base left their beds after sundown unless they absolutely had to. In temperatures this cold, you’d have to be out of your mind to willingly leave the relative comfort and warmth of your room without very good reason.

Apparently, Jyn was out of her mind, because she’d woken from a dream–the one where the fires of Scarif blinded her one minute, and she was trapped in the cold bunker all alone the next–and crawled out from beneath her blankets. She’d dressed in the dark, moving by instinct more than anything, her skin itching and heart racing as the walls seemed to press closer and closer. Before she’d fully realized what she was doing, she had found herself fumbling by the dim yellow cast of a lantern to a place well-beyond the boundaries of Echo Base.

It would have been all too easy to take a wrong turn–and subsequently freeze to death trying to find her way back–but her body had taken care of her when her mind could not. Before too long she had arrived at a vaguely familiar antechamber, small and circular, with smooth, curving walls.

As she sat and leaned her back into their hard surface, it felt as though she were being held in the palm of some ancient, mysterious being. She took in her surroundings like someone waking up from a dream. Why had her instincts guided her here?

Then she felt it: air, fresh air; the barest of hints of it brushing across the tip of her nose and suddenly it all made sense. She closed her eyes and drew it deep into her lungs–holding it for a moment with the gratitude of someone reuniting with a long lost friend–before releasing a slow, careful breath. It lingered in the air before her–the ghost of a scared and lonely girl—a swirling cloud of mist, glowing purple.

Heart in her throat, Jyn lifted her eyes, seeking the source of the strange light. High above her, the chamber’s ceiling of ice and rock gave way, revealing an incredible sweep of night sky, dancing with color. Wind whistled across the opening of the cave…waves whispered upon a black-sanded shore…

“What are they, Mama?”

Her mother’s amused hum tickled at her back. “The Force paints a path home for those that are lost, my love.”

Jyn squirmed beneath the blanket, trying to find her father’s face amidst the orange, flickering shadows of the bonfire. “What are they really, Papa?”

Mama’s head rested beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around them both, a shield from the wind. He gave her a smile; her favorite kind, the kind he gave her when he asked if she could keep a secret. “You don’t believe your mother?”

Jyn didn’t think her question had anything to do with belief, she simply wanted to know. Mama often told her stories about the Force; stories about love and anger, light and dark, and the threads that tied the world together–just like the ones her favorite blanket was made of. But Papa told her stories too; stories like what kind of soil made the plants on the farm grow, or why her skin turned red after too much time in the sun, or how to fix Stormy when his arm fell off. Mama’s stories were stories she saw and felt on the inside, while Papa’s were ones she held in her hands. But they were both a part of her, pieces she carried with her wherever she went.

She studied the sky again, following the splashes of purple and green and blue as they wove their way between clusters of stars. She wondered what it would feel like to stand on one of the rippling bands of light; tried to imagine stepping one foot after the other across the horizon as her mother had described. Maybe it would be warm, like sand in the sun, or maybe it would be more like waves lapping at her feet, cold and tingly.

“A scientist’s daughter through and through,” Mama laughed. “I recognize that look in her eyes…”

Jyn wasn’t sure what exactly she meant by that, but she tore her gaze away from the lights in the sky and turned towards her father instead, ready for his answer.

His skin shimmered green, then blue, and back again, the same colors as the ones that hung in the air above them. “The path your mother spoke of is made of particles, shed by our planet’s suns.”

Jyn frowned at this. “But it’s nighttime.”

“Just because we cannot see something, does not mean it is no longer there,” Papa explained, reaching over to tug the blanket back over her shoulders. “Tonight, the aurora reminds us that the suns have not left us, and they will rise again tomorrow.”

She twisted to face Mama again. “So the suns are the Force?”

“The Force is the suns,” her mother murmured reverently, “and the wind, and the waves, and the sand beneath you. It’s the salt on your tongue when you breathe in and…” she smiled as she poked Jyn’s nose with the tip of her finger, “that means it’s a part of you, and me, and your Papa too.”

Jyn settled into her parent’s arms again and shut her eyes, feeling for the Force her mother spoke of. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like.

But she thought there might be some truth to her parents’ words, because though she could not see them anymore, she could sense them there beside her. The comfort of her mother’s heartbeat under her ear, the warmth of her father’s breath as he bent to press a kiss to the top of her head.

And if she were to find herself lost and standing amidst the aurora, she felt certain this was where they would bring her.

The colors of the sky began to blur and run together. Jyn wiped roughly at her eyes, urging tears away before they could turn to frost upon her cheek. Hoth was more than a far cry from the beaches of Lah’mu, yet she felt closer to it now than she had in a long time.

“Beautiful,” a voice murmured, echoing quietly off the stone around her.

Jyn started, turning towards the rasp of footsteps. “Cassian…” Leave it to the spy to find her in the middle of a labyrinth in the dead of night.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked warily, taking one last self-conscious swipe at her face with the sleeve of her coat.

“Not long,” he answered, lingering at the entrance to the cavern.

But long enough… Jyn figured. She heaved a short sigh and returned her gaze to the aurora, an ache in her chest. “There were lights like this on Lah’mu,” she murmured, an explanation of sorts–though Cassian had not asked for one.

He ducked past the icicle that hung in from the tunnel’s opening and silently came to sit beside her, his shoulder brushing against her own. Though it barely made a difference in a cold this numbing, Jyn found herself drawing comfort from the warmth of his body beside her.

“How’d you find this place?” he asked softly.

She glanced at him, but he was looking at the lights above, granting her a reprieve from the weight of his stare. “How’d you find me?” she countered.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but his eyes were serious when they landed on her again. “I went to your room and you weren’t there. For a moment I thought…” he shook his head and took a sudden interest in his boots.

“You thought I’d left?”

“I didn’t know what to think. I checked the infirmary next.” There was an odd strain to his voice, something she couldn’t quite place. “No one had seen you there either, so I headed towards the perimeter,” a small smile crossed his lips, “I’ve noticed you wander to the edges of Base when you’re trying to avoid Draven.”

“Of course you did,” Jyn remarked. “Then what?”

“I followed the light…”

“And it led you here…” The memory of her mother’s story–still fresh in Jyn’s mind–began to mingle with words Cassian had once spoken to her. The kyber crystal she wore seemed suddenly heavier than it had a moment ago, a hand resting over her heart.

She thought of Bodhi, Chirrut, Baze, even K2. Of all the people who she had gotten to know because of the Rebellion. People who had her back. People who might not understand all of her, but who accepted her nonetheless.

“Hoth is the first time we’ve really slowed down since Scarif,” Cassian said, ignoring her sudden glance at the mention. “I know it can be hard to adjust to life in the Rebellion.”

A tentative smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah,” she replied, catching a ripple of light and shadow as it wandered across his face. “I've been feeling lost…but I think I’m beginning to find my way.”

#jynweek #jynappreciationsquad #rogue one fanfic #b writes #jyn erso #galen erso #lyra erso #cassian andor #(rc if you squint but you def dont have to whatsoever)#this is probably gonna get buried in boops and thats okay too <3

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yandecifi · 4 months ago

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What It Means to Be Made of Stardust

☆ chapter four

⋆ masterlist

⋆ cw: child abuse, sa, mental illness

hawks/reader, psychological, wip longfic

It was in your first year of middle school that you began sleeping outside.

Every morning, your homeroom teacher would have your class write in a graded journal. There would be different prompts, but every Monday and Friday was the same. On Mondays, you had to write about what you did over the weekend, and on Fridays you’d have to reflect on the wonderful week you’d had and ask yourself how to make the next one better.

You’d sit in that classroom, your knees jerking about as you stared at that stupid journal. You’d sit in that classroom, writing about how you’d gone grocery shopping with Mom. She had bought you your favorite ice cream. You had spent the evening doing homework in your room that has a bed, in your house that has furniture. You liked the way your house smelled. You had dinner with your parents every night - homemade, of course, unless it was Thursday. Your parents took you out for sushi on Thursdays. You know, that yummy place by the pharmacy?

You’d sit and write all that after waking up in the corner of a parking garage. Or maybe it was a friend’s house, or that quiet spot in the park you’d found, or a playground slide, or behind your complex’s dumpster. Mom was a memory. Sort of, anyway, you’d forgotten what she sounded like by then; the voice is the first thing to go when you’re forgetting somebody.

Every Monday and Friday morning, you’d put your daydreams down on paper, the most boring lies. Other times, you’d be sleeping on top of that journal. Other times, you weren’t there at all.

It’s humid out. The sun is setting and painting everything orange. The tree you’re leaning against has roots that intertwine and spiral throughout the soil, peeking above ground in most places; it’s uncomfortable to sit on them, but it isn’t mud. Your school bag lays next to you, your homework on your lap. You wave a mosquito away from your leg. You shift the weight off of one of your thighs; a bruise is blooming there, large and circular and nasty. There’s dried blood where you picked the glass out.

It’s hard to focus on the math on the page. You grip your pencil and try to turn your thoughts away from it all, but you can’t. Your eyes burn and you wipe roughly at them. Your teacher extended this assignment just for you; it was due today. She said she was disappointed in you. You told her to go fuck herself.

It’s not fair. Packets of math problems are the last thing on your mind. You’re thinking about whether he’s drunk today or not; you’re thinking about the whispers of your classmates, how your breath is bad and you’re too quiet; you’re thinking about where you should sleep tonight, because he was drunk, and he was angry, and despite falling into a rage far greater than his you can never beat him.

The rhythmic buzz of the cicadas, soothing to most, is getting too loud for you. You kick at the soil. You want to vomit.

The sun is setting fast. The orange tint to everything is turning to a faded purple. It’s hard to see the questions; you hold the paper close to your face and squint.

Something rustles. You turn around to face the noise; it’s a man. He’s dressed in what looks to be a hero costume. You’ve seen him before when you hang around here after school. He patrols through here, you suppose. You turn back to your homework.

He stops by your feet. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. He crouches to your level. You swallow.

“Hey.” You look up from your work. He’s smiling calmly at you. “What are you doing out here?”

“Homework.” You know this game. You’ve played it with counselors, teachers; people who can’t mind their own business. “Being outside helps me focus.”

“It’s getting late.”

“Uh-huh.” You glare at him. You glare at most people. He goes from crouching to sitting across from you.

“I’ve seen you in this park a lot recently.”

“Yeah. I hang here after school.” An edge of your math packet crinkles between your fingers. “My Mom said it was fine.”

“Mhm.” He nods at your homework. “What are you working on?”

“Um. Math.” You show him the packet. He looks it over.

“Ooh, wow. That’s hard stuff. Want help?”

“No.” You take your math back. “I don’t need help.”

“You sure?”

The questions stare back at you.

“…just on this one.”

And he helps you. He doesn’t ask about your thigh or where your parents are. He just sits there and teaches you math.

☆

It’s impossible to be alone with your thoughts.

You sit up. There is nothing. You can hear your breathing. You look towards the window; you lean forward and peek through your blinds. The sky is pink. You turn away and lie back down. You turn around again. You flip onto your stomach. You reach for the pills and water on your nightstand. You stare at the opened pill bottle before you.

You put the pills and water away. You can’t be here. You stand, trudge towards your door. You focus on the way your hand turns the handle; your wrist turns, the muscles in your fingers move. There’s something here that scares you.

That something follows you down the hall. It follows you into the elevator; you stand in the corner so that it can’t be behind you. It follows you into the commons and sits with you at the dining table and on the couch. You end up outside.

The air is cold; your cheeks and ears pinch. You’re sitting on the sidewalk outside your dorm building and leaning against the wall, knees to your chest. It’s better out here, you can breathe. All you can comprehend is the cold, the way the sky is pink and grey, the trees with hundreds and thousands of leaves. The world is mute.

You tried to kill yourself once. You were in middle school. It was the same thing that followed you just now, except you listened. You had gone into your bedroom, laid on your mattress, and then swallowed a bunch of pills. It was kind of romantic. You stared at your popcorn ceiling and counted the bumps. You made peace with everything in your head. It was really, really nice, like time had stopped just for you.

And then time unfroze and you got dizzy. You got up, walked around your room. You felt sick. You looked outside your window. You pinched yourself. Your stomach started to hurt. You wanted to stay standing but the pills brought you to your bed. Stop, you thought, this is going too fast! But you signed yourself up for this. You cried and cried and cried.

You exhale and your breath is a fog. You watch it rise and disappear. Somebody is running along one of the sidewalks, between the trees. It’s Bakugo. He’s coming this way. He’s got some gray sweats on, a black tank top, earbuds in his ears; his shoulders and neck are flushed from the cold and the run. His eyes are on you as he hits the dorm steps, jogs up them; he sits hard on the concrete in front of you, panting. He’s sitting like the delinquent he isn’t.

Bakugo takes an earbud out and combs his hair back. “Why the fuck are you up?” He’s looking at you like he always has. The edges of your lips quirk up in a little smile.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“What, ‘cause of that shit?” He gestures vaguely at your head. “You look like you belong in the fuckin’ psych ward.”

“Thanks. I get to talk to a social worker today, actually, so, who knows.”

“Fuckin’ course you do.”

And the two of you walk inside like it’s just another morning. You sit at the kitchen island while he rummages around in the fridge, about to cook himself a hearty breakfast or blend some kind of protein smoothie, no doubt. You rest your head on the counter, nose snuggled into the crook of your elbow; it’s just the sound of oil popping and the knife hitting the cutting board. It smells like eggs.

You peek out from your elbow. Bakugo is turned away from you, nursing his eggs with a spatula. He takes the pan off the heat occasionally, scrapes at the eggs with delicacy; he always makes them scrambled. His head is nodding a bit to the music playing in his earbuds. The telephone stares at you.

The pulsing in your head is starting up again. You should have taken the pain meds.

“Good morning!”

You turn around to face a sleepy but cheery Midoriya. He smiles at you as he walks to the fridge. There’s an uncomfortable silence as he gets himself a glass of water and a pop tart before settling down in the seat next to you.

“How’s your head?”

You stare at him. He rips open his pop tart and starts munching away.

“It’s fine.”

“That’s good. Did you see the group chat?”

With what phone, dude?

“Um, no.”

“Okay, well, we’re going to have a movie night in Mina’s room tonight.” Midoriya looks at you expectantly.

“That’s great.”

“So, you’re coming, right?”

You go to say something in the negative. Then, there’s a chunky burning in your chest, up your throat. You swallow the tail end of it. Vomit falls in clumps down your chin. Midoriya’s stuck in his seat, a hand clamped over his mouth; yeah, he seems like the type to be sensitive to this sort of thing.

“One sec,” you say, and you leave. You hold your shirt carefully so that none of it spills.

A couple of hours have gone by with you in your room. Your shirt is hanging to dry on the balcony. Everybody else is in class, you heard them walking around. They knocked on your door. Mina kept asking you to open up but you pretended to be asleep. Now you’re alone, sitting on your bed and doing breathing exercises to ease the pressure in your chest.

You decide to lie down on the floor. You crawl and shimmy your way beneath your bed frame. You place your hands over your ears. It’s cramped inside but you’re away.

Somebody is knocking on your door. You blink your eyes open to see the bottom of your bed frame. It looks like you managed to get some sleep. Aizawa is calling your name.

“Is everything alright?” He says, and you wiggle your way towards the end of your bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.”

“Can you open the door?”

You nearly stumble over yourself as you get up. “Yeah, just a sec.”

The door opens and he tells you it’s time to see the social workers. You meet them at a noodle place. They don’t look like they’re working; one is wearing a hoodie and jeans while the other has on a casual tee. Aizawa leaves you with them after a quick introduction. They lead you to a quiet booth in the corner of the restaurant.

“This place has some great ramen, y’know.”

You lift your head from your crotch to look at Hoodie. He smiles at you. Tee nods in agreement. This is an attempt at conversation, a conversation that will end up with them asking you, ‘so, how often does your father beat you?’ while they ogle at the mess on your head.

CPS came a couple of times when you were a kid. You didn’t particularly like it. Dad would shower and brush his teeth. Mom would remind you that you can’t tell them anything; you would never see each other again. Then she’d have you help her clean everything up, scrub the mold from the bathroom ceiling. When they finally dropped by, the questions were blunt in a funny kind of way. Then, they were gone.

“Would you like anything?” It’s Tee’s turn, now. “How about a coke?”

“Sure.”

“Lovely. So, UA, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What are you studying?”

“Heroics.” Unfortunately, you realize, Tee’s a bit better at the conversation thing. “It’s nice.”

“I bet. Being admitted into that program is very impressive.”

Your face warms up and you shift in your seat. “Thanks.”

Hoodie cheers when the food arrives. You sip on your coke and stare at the table. Your friends would take you out for ramen a lot over the weekends, that was nice. You frown. They still go, you just never come —

“Mmm, this is good.” Hoodie slurps up his noodles. “You didn’t get anything, want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“Oof, I’m gonna get full soon, though.” Tee nods in agreement between spoonfuls of her miso soup. “Please? You gotta help me out here.”

You stare at Hoodie’s ramen. It smells good.

“Okay.”

And you’ve got a serving of Hoodie’s ramen in front of you in no time. You end up with some miso soup, too.

“Um, thanks,” you say to them. They just smile at you.

You scoop the soup into your mouth and it’s warm and tangy and just a little bit gritty; it’s got green onions as a garnish. You used to make yourself miso soup at home. Microwave water, mix the miso in, and it was dinner. It was good. You would feel the warmth of it in your chest and feel good.

Hoodie and Tee spend the rest of your time eating with more attempts at conversation. You know what they’re doing and yet it doesn’t make you feel the way Midoriya does.

You slurp up your last noodle. Hoodie and Tee have been done for a while. Hoodie rests his cheek on a fist.

“So, you okay with talking about last week?”

“I guess.”

Tee interrupts. “Before that, we’d like to get your current situation figured out. You’re seventeen, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re staying in the UA dorms?”

“Yeah.”

She nods. “That’s good. However, your father’s in jail at the moment. Do you know any family members who can act as a temporary guardian in the meantime or help you out?”

Dad’s in jail. Great. “Um, no.”

“How about your mother? Do you know where she is?”

“She probably went to her parents' place.” You chew on the straw in your coke. “But I dunno if she would still be there.”

“Do you know her parents' address or phone number?”

“They live in Kyushu somewhere. They changed their numbers when my Mom left, I think. Or they’re dead.”

“I see.” Tee drums her fingers on the table. “Do you have any trusted adults that you can rely on?”

Trusted adults.

“Kind of.” You find it hard to tear your eyes away from your drink.

“That’s great. Do you think they’d be willing to be a temporary guardian for you?”

“No.” There isn’t a good way to talk about this; they wouldn’t understand. “We’re not on good terms right now.”

“What do you mean?”

You cross your arms. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” Hoodie jumps in, pats Tee on the shoulder. You scowl. “Remember, we’re only asking these questions so that we have the right information to help you. The more you tell us, the better off you’ll be.”

You have a lot of things you want to say to that. So many that you can’t find any words to say at all.

“How about your teacher?”

“What?” You look at them for the first time in a while. “Aizawa?”

“Yeah.” Hoodie smiles. “He’s familiar with the system. Plus, he offered to take on the role if you didn’t have anybody else in mind.”

“He did?” You look between Hoodie and Tee like they’re lying. They seem serious. Your face scrunches up. “I mean, if he wants to.”

“Okay, we’ll let him know.” Tee’s putting more effort into the whole friendly-social-worker thing. “Thank you.”

You all sit in silence for a moment.

“Can we ask you some questions about that evening now?”

“Sure.”

“Alright. First, is there a history of abuse within your family? Physical, emotional, sexual?”

“Physical and emotional, I guess.”

“What kind of physical abuse?”

“He didn’t hit me, it was more like -- he was kinda rough. He throws things a lot.”

“Okay. And how did you get injured last week?”

“I was running down the stairs and my Dad threw a bottle at me.” You stare at Hoodie and remain very still. “I fell and cracked my skull open ‘n stuff.”

“Do you have any y--”

“No, I don’t have any younger siblings.”

Hoodie half smiles. “Right. Thank you.”

You stare at the table for what feels like the hundredth time. How many times have you been asked those questions? Those blunt, funny questions? And yet, this is the first time you’ve told the truth.

☆

“Oh my fucking God, finally!’

Mina throws her arms around you and continues screaming in your ear. You’re standing at the doorway to her dorm, the rest of your friends inside. Aizawa told you to stop moping around in your room; he’s right, it’s kind of pathetic. So, here you are, joining your friends at the first movie night you’ve attended since… what, last year?

“You bitch, do you know how worried I’ve been?” Mina manages to pull herself away from you, tears in her eyes. She’s always been a crybaby.

You offer an awkward smile.

“Ugh.” Mina roughly pulls you in again, though this time without the yelling. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Her hair tickles your nose. Your chin is tucked into her shoulder. “Yeah.” She smells nice. You close your eyes. “Thanks.”

She leads you inside and it’s strange. Kaminari is on the floor, leaning against Mina’s bed, Kirishima sitting next to him (though he’s getting up, grinning, now that he sees you). Sero is passed out on the bed, his legs thrown off the side. Bakugo is sitting on the other side of the bed on his phone.

“Oh my gosh, you made it!” Midoriya runs up to you with Todoroki not far behind. You haven’t seen Todoroki in… a while, and you’ve definitely never seen him in his pajamas.

“Hey, yeah, I did.” You smile. Who knows why he still talks to you when you’re such a bitch to him. “I think I’m feeling better.”

That’s a lie. You got out of the hospital yesterday, haven’t showered in, like, a week, your head is always aching, you threw up this morning, rotted in bed for the entire day, and then there were the social workers -

“That’s great!” Midoriya looks happy. You chew on your cheek.

“Yeah. What are we watching?”

“Just, uh, the best movie ever!” Kirishima practically squeals as he greets you by dapping you up; because of course he does. “Dude, for real though, so glad you’re okay.”

You thank him. How are they so nice?

“Okay, okay,” Mina shouts, “before we start the movie, how about we do some truth or dare?”

Everyone cheers except for you, overstimulated by the noise, and Bakugo, because he hates that game.

Cheers erupt again because Mina has alcohol. Soju and some Smirnoff Ice. You sit down next to Mina in the circle and have a feeling this is one of those nights; the kind where Mina is throwing up in the bathroom, you have to drag Kaminari into his room, and then you fall asleep in clothes that smell like cigarettes.

Mina chugs one of the Smirnoffs and places it in the middle. Someone remarks that this is spin the bottle, not truth or dare (which is sort of correct), and Mina tells them to shut up. The big bottle of soju is being passed around as she spins the bottle.

It lands on Sero. Mina groans.

“This guy always picks truth, he’s so boring!”

“This dumb bitch--”

“I don’t care if you think this is spin the bottle or truth or dare or whatever, I swear to God if you try to tell me one more time --”

You rest your head on a hand, sitting criss-cross. Aizawa should have given you guys a noise complaint by now. Bakugo is handed the soju; he immediately passes it to Kirishima. Kirishima takes a gulp and then passes it to you. It’s heavy in your hand. You like soju, the kind that tastes like juice. Hawks isn’t picky. He said if he had to choose, it would be Patrón tequila.

You drink from the soju and give it back to Mina, who, of course, also takes a drink. Sero asked for truth. Mina asked him some dumb rhetorical question and now it’s his turn to spin. It lands on Kaminari; he says dare. Sero tells him to chug a Smirnoff Ice, which is actually not as bad as you were expecting. Kaminari’s spin lands on Mina. She says truth, which causes Sero to start yelling at her. Kaminari asks her what the best sex position is, ew, you wrinkle your nose at him. You and Bakugo share an is-this-dude-for-real glance.

“Okay, um, I have limited experience, but I’m gonna say doggy.”

Your mouth drops. “But that’s so uncomfortable.”

To be fair, the soju just kept getting passed around. You don’t even register your mistake before Mina is squealing and shaking you by the shoulders. “You fucked someone? Who? Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me I thought you were a virgin this whole timeohmygodmygodugmdgdogggg--”

You smack her hands away from you and cover your ears. “Mina, stop, my head hurts.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m sorry, I just got excited.” She holds your face and your anger disappears. “For real, though, why didn’t you tell me?!”

Your face heats up as your hands fall back to your lap. For some unexplainable reason, you sneak a look at Bakugo. He’s staring at you. Well, so is everyone else, but he looks away when you lock eyes.

“Um, I haven’t, actually.” You don’t sound convincing to Mina. “I was just, y’know, talking in hypotheticals. Like, it sounds like it would be uncomfortable. Y’know?”

Kaminari bursts out laughing. Your face is burning. Mina is drilling holes into your face with her eyes. You look at Bakugo and he still isn’t looking at you.

“Um.” They don’t know the half of it.

You stand, step over Todoroki to get to the door, and shut it behind you. Mina is shouting for you inside and they’re arguing, or something. Ugh, it’s not that big of a deal. You sit against the wall and drag a hand down your face. That was unbelievably dumb.

It genuinely is an unpleasant position. Whenever you’ve done it like that, it’s hard to breathe, your face is getting smushed into the mattress or pillow or whatever. This isn’t helping how warm you're feeling. You pinch your cheeks. Shut up, brain.

Mina eventually comes out and apologizes. You walk back in and everyone is back to normal. You find it hard to look at Bakugo. Everyone decides the game is done (neither spin the bottle or truth or dare, it’s been deemed ‘game’). Lights are turned off, Mina’s TV is connected to her computer, and she’s got one of the Fast and Furious movies starting up. Kaminari, Sero, Midoriya, Todoroki, and Kirishima have taken spots on the floor. You climb onto the bed and Bakugo is next to you. You’re weirdly conscious of him, his shoulder, the way your knees are almost touching. Mina jumps into bed next to you and soon you’re finishing the soju bottle and cuddling with her.

Instead of movie nights with your friends, you had movie nights with Hawks. You would take the metro to Fukuoka and walk to his place. Once he got back from his shift and showered, the two of you would pick something to watch and fall asleep to it. The two of you end up doing other things now. Which is fine.

Mina is asleep, sprawled out nearby. The guys are passed out on the floor. You turn to look at Bakugo; he’s awake. You’ve been crying on and off ever since the others fell asleep. You go from feeling everything all at once to nothing at all. That’s how it’s been ever since you woke up in the hospital, actually, the way you seem to teleport through the day, through conversations. You feel absolutely nothing except for the pounding in your head and then you’re hyperventilating beneath your bed.

Hot breath spreads across your neck. There’s a hand holding your hip, the other on your waist. You’re on top of him, sitting on his lap, you can feel the strands of his hair beneath your fingernails. Hawks usually had a hand up your shirt by now. You scratch the scruff at the back of his neck, twirl the strands between your fingers; you love his hair without all the styling they make him do. You pull back. It’s Bakugo looking up at you. You’re on top of Bakugo. You’ve definitely been making out. His entire face is red.

You pull him off the bed by his hand. He follows you out of Mina’s room and into yours. It’s dark, you lead him to your bed and he lays down next to you. You hug him and your eyes are open wide; the enemy is in the room. Bakugo asks you something but you just stare into his shirt. You’re clutching to him like he’s your mother and you beg him not to leave. He’s not a very good kisser but neither are you.

#bnha fanfiction #fanfic #mha fanfiction #angst #hawks fanfic #hawks x reader

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frozensunflowersandlilies · 2 years ago

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Arendelle Castle Rooms: Part 1 | Analysis

I've been meaning to make clear posts based on the rooms in Arendelle Castle featured in Frozen, Frozen Fever, Olaf's Frozen Adventure and Frozen 2 because I love the designs in each room and am super fascinated to know where each one goes and so why not? I have tons of references so I'm going to use them to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Let's begin part 1 with Elsa and Anna's room.

1. Elsa's bedroom

(Ref: Concept art | End of 'Frozen Fever')

Elsa's room used to be both Elsa and Anna's room when they were small but right after the incident that led to their 13 year long distance, Anna was forced to move to a different room. Elsa's room is mainly purple with pink accents. She has a big queen size canopy bed held back around it, on the left side horizontally upon entering her room. She has chairs around the room and a triangular window with a seat in front of it where she can sit and look out of. Next to her bed, in the left hand corner is a big fire place. Below her bed she has a long rectangular rug stretching out to the other side of the room and in front of her fireplace, a circular rug is placed. Anna's room has the exact same layout but in the opposite direction so though we can't see the other side of Elsa's room, we can assume what is there. Along the wall the door is on, there are 2 tables and in the right hand corner is a dressing screen. Opposite the bed is there is a table that has the two pots of flowers.

In Frozen Fever however, when Elsa is seen back in her room when Anna feeds her the cold remedy, it looks like the bed is on the other side, given you can't see the fireplace and the white rectangles on the wall are shown. This could be a continuity error as the headboard too isn't decorated with the designs it would normally have on it. So that would mean Elsa's bed is in the same position as seen in the concept art.

2. Anna's bedroom

(ref: Concept art | Elsa goes to Anna's room in 'Olaf's Frozen Adventure' | Beginning of "Making today a perfect day" in 'Frozen Fever' | 'All around Arendelle' book)

Anna's bedroom is mainly pink and much warmer in terms of colour tone as a contrast to Elsa's cooler purple/ pink tone. Anna's room has the exact same layout as Elsa's as I mentioned above but in opposite directions. So the bed would be on the right hand side, upon entering her room, the dressing screen in the bottom left corner, the fireplace on the top right hand corner, 2 tables alongside the wall the door is on, and the table of flower pots alongside the left wall.

Side fact:

In Frozen Fever one of those flower pots are of sunflowers and the other one of the 6 petal pink flowers that Elsa uses for her dress which are called rain lilies or also known as Zephyranthes or the Cuban Zephyr Lily. When Elsa uses these flowers on her dress, she gives them an icy touch and adds a simple snowflake on top of the flower to freeze them onto her dress. However, Anna's sunflowers that Elsa puts onto her attire and hair don't have that snowflake effect meaning she probably just used her telekinesis (the power of lifting things up) and frosted them onto her attire without changing the colour.

In Olaf's Frozen Adventure we learn that Anna has an attic above her room however it's filled with trunks of Elsa's stuff such as satin gloves and Elsa's crocheted toy penguin. In the room itself, it seems that the room has had a layout change. The bed has moved across the other side of the room and the rectangular rug isn't there. Instead the circular rug has moved down in front of the bed. That would mean the dressing panel and the table of flowers is moved to where the bed was in Frozen Fever. However the long painting or embroidered wall piece has been kept in the same place alongside the dressing tables too. Bearing in mind that Olaf's Frozen Adventure takes place before Frozen Fever, it could be that the bed and rug misplacement is just a continuity error and in fact the bed is just in the same place as in the concept art above.

The book, 'All around Arendelle' shows that the sisters rooms are the side top two panels of the front of the castle, as shown below but that is proven wrong in Frozen 2.

In Frozen 2, as Iduna finished her song, "All is found", she carries young Elsa to the triangular window. As the camera zooms out of the room, we start seeing structure from outside the castle. The structure shows that Anna's room is the top main front triangular window as circled above. There's the same window at the back of the castle suggesting that Elsa's room is directly opposite hers and at the back while Anna's at the front of the castle. The front has two triangular windows on the right while the back has two on the right and Frozen 2 showed the tips of the two windows on the right confirming Anna's room at the front. Remember that Anna and Elsa's shared room is actually Anna's room now and it was Elsa who was forced to move out of their room then.

Part 2 will go into the other rooms of the castle starting with the hallway out of Anna's room.

#frozen 2 #frozen 3 #Elsa #Anna #elsa and anna #frozen fever #olaf's frozen adventure #ofa #frozen #disney frozen

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shxrry-blossom · 1 year ago

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JENNETTE'S ROOM

I haven't seen any compilation of Jennette's room in the manhwa so I'm going to do it with the few panels we have.

So, everyone would think that the color of Jennette's room should be blue or Athy's room should be pink since those are her "main" colors but in the manhwa it is the opposite, Athy's room is blue and Jetty's is pink.

First let's look at this image. To our left is a fireplace with nothing more than two candelabras and a random painting. Through Jennette we see a large white door. And to our right is Jennette's bed, at the foot of the bed is her dresser and a pink chair.

Now let's focus on our right.

In the first image you can't see it but in the next one we can see that next to the door there is a piece of furniture with many dolls and stuffed animals on it.

15 toys in total, 7 dolls and 8 stuffed animals. Do you notice that the dolls are almost always in pairs? Always two girls together?? I wonder if that was a way of projecting her desire to form a relationship with Athanasia, whom she believed to be her sister.

(I honestly don't think Spoon did it on purpose, but whatever, let's imagine)

Now right in front of the furniture with the stuffed animals we have Jennette's bed! which is also pink. Look to the right of Jennette's bed there is another pink chair just like the one on her nightstand.

Here we don't have the rug :( but at least we can see the chairs that are also pink (lmao) and a fairly simple circular table that has the same design as the furniture with the dolls.

Just above the girls is a chandelier.

In front of the bed but a little further to the left are the table and chairs where Jennette has tea with Athy! look at the following image.

And look to the right, behind Athanasia you can see a part of Jennette's shelf.

Let's have a more close look to the bed now!

Well look at the bed, it has curtains on the sides but all wmmap beds have them although these, unlike the others, are not tied. I wondered if that's because Jennette tends to close the curtains for more privacy?? We can also see on the right more of her miraculously not pink shelf with books. Also...isn't that the table where Jennette has tea with Athy? It seems that she changed it's position.

Let's take a closer look at her nightstand.

Well there is nothing different that no nightstand has from the other manhwas. Lots of pretty jars and boxes and in other pictures we saw that it had a candle holder too. But I find this silver tray with the hairbrush and a mirror adorable, it's so cute. Also, it's the only mirror in Jennette's entire room, right?

In here there are many jewels and some ribbon but nothing more special. The second comb is fun for me :D

Let's leave Jennette's nightstand and see what was to the right of her room.

Finally! the shelf full and with many books. I wonder what kind of things Jennette reads? Will they all be princess books? I guess so but I like to imagine that it has a greater variety of books (how to make dolls, flowers, cake shop, etc)

Can you see there is a white cup there? Well, it's on the shelf and it's not floating, it's on the same table where Jennette had tea with Athy and the parts of brown furniture that can be seen on the sides are the chairs that the girls sit on.

Below the window where Athy is entering there is an couch! And on the other side of the couch you can see some legs of a brown piece of furniture.

Here we have a better view of the couch! and also the rug that we had lost in the other images.

and the brown furniture next to the couch has absolutely nothing on it (lol)

Some comments: We never saw much of the wall on the side of the fireplace, the whole wall in front of Jennette's bed because there is still a part of Jennette's room that we don't know. The truth is that Jennette's room doesn't have many things besides her dolls, there can be thousands of theories why, maybe Jennette just doesn't like having a lot of things, maybe she never allowed herself to have a lot of things because she didn't want to be a nuisance or never filled her room with the things she liked because she didn't consider it her home, or maybe spoon just didn't decorate her room much idk.

Also Jennette needs a mirror, otherwise how the hell do the maids dress her? But I kind of like the fact that Jennette doesn't like mirrors tbh.

#who made me a princess #wmmap #manhwa #wmmap jennette #jennette magrita #jennette margarita #wmmap zenith #zenith margarita #jennette's bedroom #Personally I would have done Jennette's room differently.

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dp-marvel94 · 1 year ago

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Face to Face - Epilogue

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last

Word Count: 5,791

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Hi friends! It's been a while. Honestly, I was putting off posting this, the last chapter of Face to Face, because it intimidated me. 😅 But I really wanted to wrap this up by the end of the year. So we're finally here! I'm so excited to share the ending with you guys.

Also in honor of finishing this fic, I wanted to share this loving art made by @lilianade-comics on Tumblr. Check out this lovely scene from chapter 51 here!

Happy Reading!

Six months later.

“I must have been here a dozen times at least. And your lair still surprises me every time.” Sidney said, eyes surveying the room.

Danny leaned back on his couch, giving a chuckle. “Hey, I’m just working with what I have. I think the Hobbit vibes are pretty cool.”

“I figured you would want something more modern and sci fi.” His friend shrugged.

The halfa raised a brow. “Like an underground bunker? Nah.” He shook his head. “As cool as quarters on the Enterprise would be, or the inside of the TARDIS…. It just didn’t feel right. Plus,” He shrugged. “I like to be comfy.”

“It is definitely that.”

True to what Danny had imagined all those months ago, the underground house was cozy, warm, and homey. Wooden floors and paneling. Circular rooms and round doorways. The furniture was simple, warm, reddish maple-wood beds, chairs, and sofas accenting each room. Multiple rugs covered the floors and carefully selected books filled one book shelf. Other decorative objects and nick-nacks covered the walls, end tables, and other surfaces.

Some were brought from the material realm. One of his model rockets. A blob ghost plush that had been made by his dad. A Black orchid, a gift from Sam, sat in one corner, a Femalien Poster from Tucker on the wall above it. A shadow box with tickets and a glossy photo of the siblings, smiling in their bowties and fezzes with a certain actor; for Christmas his sister had bought him tickets to Comic Con and a Meet and Greet with Doctor Who actor Matt Smith.

Some objects were picked up from various trips through the Realms. There was a black and white lamp from Sidney’s lair that gave off gray light. A drum head on the wall sported an animated image of blue fire; he’d gotten that when Johnny and Kitty had taken him to see their friend Ember perform.

And some were manifested by the lair itself. A painting of a The Library with swirling spectral clouds in the background. Snow globes from different places he’d visited: Sid’s lair, The Library, Dora’s kingdom, Ember’s concert hall venue. And…. the halfa smiled softly at this last object… photo of his family and two best friends, Danny grinning in the middle in ghost form.

“Jeepers! What is this?!” Sidney’s voice interrupted the half ghost’s musing.

Danny’s gaze flickered to the object of his friend’s attention. “Oh. That? It was a Christmas present from Mom.” He jabbed a thumb at the kitchen counter where a ceramic cookie jar sported half a dozen eyes and pointy teeth around the lid, threatening approaching hands. He grinned. “It’s a Mimic.”

“A Mimic…” For just a moment, Sidney’s black and white brow wrinkled. Then… “Like from that Dungeon and Dragons game Tucker told me about?!”

“Yep.” Danny nodded.

“Fighting a monster like that… that must be the bee’s knees!” The half ghost could practically see the stars in his friend’s eyes.

“You’re still invited to our games any time you want to join.” Danny raised a brow.

“This section of the Realms needs its own group.” Sidney crossed his arms, pouting slightly.

“Dora might like it… and Ember.” The half ghost grinned toothily. “She’s already literally a bard.” He tapped his chin. “Maybe we can get Ghost Writer to let us use a room in his lair.”

“The Library is not the most convenient location though; it’s far away from everyone but me.”

“Hum.” Danny’s brow furrowed, considering. “That’s fair.” Sidney’s lair was the closest to the Library by far. But the other’s…. Ember’s lair was about the same distance from the portal as Sidney’s, except in the exact opposite direction. And Dora’s lair was vaguely below his, a leisurely forty-five minute flight down. If anything…. Danny blinked. “I’m in the middle.”

“You sure are, buster.” Sidney raised a brow, looking at him as if it was obvious.

The half ghost took a second to process and then laughed. “It’s always like that, huh?”

Getting in between the Lunch Lady and his friends. Helping Dora and other ghosts get back to the portal. Making friends with people in this part of the Zone. He rolled his eyes at the irony. The literal half ghost always stuck in the middle. Or rather… maybe he’d chosen to place himself there.

“So I guess we’d meet here. Or…” An idea had been swimming around in his head. A place for the ghosts on this side of the portal to gather, to bond, to help each other and…. “So I’d been thinking-”

Just then, the black rectangular device clipped to the belt of Danny’s suit chimed. “Oh. That’s probably my parents.” He detached the communicator– made by his parents, with Tucker’s help, to work across dimensions and designed to look like the ones from Star Trek– and flipped it open.

His brow furrowed. “I’m not late for dinner, am I? Didn’t think I’d been gone that long.”

“No sweetie.” His mom’s voice sounded from the other end. “I’m sorry to interrupt your hang-out with Sidney. But Mr. Jenkins called from the Salvage Yard about a ghost problem.”

The boy sighed, head rolling back on the couch to look up at the ceiling. “Is it Technus again?”

“It sounded like it.” The wince was almost audible in her voice. “Your father and I would go but Mr. Jenkins asked for Phantom… very insistently.”

Another sigh. “I’ll be right there.” Danny hung up, putting the communicator back on his belt before burying his head in his hand.

“Technus again?” Sidney rose a brow.

The halfa looked up, fixing an eye on his friend. “ I mean, I’m fine with him hanging out in the material world and tinkering with stuff. But…” The halfa groaned. “He keeps trying to blow things up the salvage yard.”

The ghostly nerd chuckled. “All that new fangled modern technology…. That beatnik must think he died and gone to heaven.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “He will if I have to tell him to stop stealing other people’s stuff one more time.”

Sidney shook his head. “You know it’s hard to keep a ghost from his obsession.” Then tapping his chin, he mused. “But maybe if he had his own place to experiment…”

“Hum…” Danny furrowed his brow, considering. He floated up. “Gotta go.” He pointed at the black and white ghost. “I’m serious, you should come to our D&D games next Saturday. Think about it?”

“I will.” The other ghost nodded, also rising. “See you later.”

The two exited through the lair’s door, Sidney flying into the green atmosphere of the Zone. Danny flew up, towards the portal. The clear dome around the structure parted with his presence and he entered.

The boy drifted over the carefully cultivated plants, a particularly energetic snap-dragon snapping at his heel. “Hey! I don’t have time to play right now.” He bent down, patting the petly approximation of a draconic head.

Danny stood again and continued, passing the beds of black lettuce. A ghostly blue lizard darted between the squash vines. In the flowering tiger shrub, a tiny green bird cooed. Other plants were scattered over the area, glowing insects, some as large as his fist, buzzing over them. The boy couldn’t help but smile. Only six months and there was already so much after-life here on his little island.

The half ghost arrived in the middle, the frame of the portal surprisingly at home among the vegetation. Though… green no longer swirled in the frame; instead, black and yellow painted doors blocked the entrance. His parents had installed a set on either side to keep out unwanted visitors.

But Danny, of course, wasn’t an unwanted visitor. With a quick scan of his palm on the panel beside the door, they parted. He flew through, just as the doors on the human-world side opened too.

At the sound, both parents looked up from their work. “Danny-boy!” His dad smiled with a wave. “You want one of us to come with you?”

“Nah. I’m just gonna try and talk to Technus again.” The halfa waved off the concern. He floated up, towards the ceiling.

His dad looked almost disappointed at the decline; trust Jack Fenton to always be ready and eager to soak an annoyance in ectoplasmic goo, whether they were ghost or human. Still both adults accepted the statement.

“Knock his socks off, son! And be careful!” “We’ll do great, sweetie! Call us if you need anything!”

With his parents’ words of encouragement rising in his ears, Danny phased through the ceiling and zoomed off.

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

Banging, clanging, and shouting rang through Mr. Jenkins’ Salvage Yard.

“It’s finished!” Maniacal laughing sounded “Finally finished! I-”

“Finished?! What in tarnation even is-.” A sudden crash. “Woah!’”

“Ah. A few more finishing touches and…” A sparking, sizzling hiss…

“Where did you get a welding gun? Wait! Is that my coffee maker?!”

The ghost scoffed. “It’s not like you were using it.”

“I used it this mornin’, you-”

Danny arrived just as Technus flipped up his face shield. “Tada! My greatest creation!” The ghost spread his arms, grinning proudly.

“You stole my French Press!” Mr. Jenkins yelled.

“Ghost Child!” The adult ghost ignored him, eyes lighting up at Phantom’s arrival. “You arrived just in time to watch!”

Danny fixed Technus with a skeptical look. “What’s going on here?”

“As I was saying, I Technus! Master of all things electronic and beeping have finished my greatest creation yet!” The ghost motioned again, to a tracker-trailer sized collection of mismatched metal parts.

Well, that wasn’t here the last time. “Technus… where did you get all this stuff?”

Just then, a frantic woman came running out of the square building sitting among all the old cars. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Jenkins. I don’t understand how, but the office phone is gone. So are the fax machine and the microwave. And all the computers and-” Her eyes widened, voice squeaking as she spotted Technus. “Not you again!”

“That’s my computer?!” Jenkin’s eyes bulged, his face turning red. “I already told you, this ain’t a junkyard. You can’t take whatever you want!”

“These machines are just sitting here, wasting away! I had to do something with all this beautiful technology.”

“What’s it even supposed to be!?”

“An ingenious invention! And greatly needed!” The green skinned ghost held a finger up. “What kind of junk yard doesn’t have a car-crusher?”

“You’re nuttier than a fruitcake.” Jenkins pointed accusingly at Technus. “This ain’t no junk yard! We’re a salvage yard. We sell used parts!”

“Salvage yard.” Technus rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. You’re just jealous of my brilliance, old man!”

“At least I made it past half a century!” The older man spat.

“I, Technus! Made it to 52, thank you very much! 52 years and then felled by my own unstable experiment! Oh, to die in the pursuit of science! What a glorious send-off! And don’t you know about that, Halfa child! Still wearing that hip and sweet hazmat suit-”

“We are not talking about my death.” Danny interrupted pointedly. “Now-”

“Of course! Enough of this. You came to see my genius!” The mad scientist darted around the metal monstrosity, lab coat flapping behind him.

“Phantom! Stop him!” Mr. Jenkins cried.

“You heard him, Technus.” The ghost boy crossed his arms. “Don’t make me get out the thermos.”

The older ghost ignored the reprimanded, eagerly grabbing at the machine’s controls. “First! The claw will shoot out and snag the car we want. Now which one…” His brow furrowed, then turning and pointing at a red, old-looking convertible. “Ah! That sad sorry hunk of junk will do.”

“Technus! We talked about this!” Danny drove forward, arms out to pull the other ghost away from the controls.

At the same time… “ No! That’s-” Mr. Jenkins sounded panicked.

Danny surged forward but faster than he could process, the mad scientist blinked out of the way. He missed, tumbling in the air and barely missing the side of the car-crushed machine.

The clawed arm lashed out, clamping around the truck. The metal fingers snapped closed with an agonizing crunch of metal and glass.

“Must be out of practice.” Danny mumbled. Then, he lit his hands with ecto-energy, “Technus, I’m warning you!”

“And now! My hyper-efficient car-crusher will reduce this rust bucket to scrap in seconds!” The other ghost laughed maniacally, jamming one of the lever’s down.

“No! No! No!” Mr. Jenkins sounded near… tears?

The arm pulled the car forward, the headlights meeting the jaws of the crusher with a stomach-turning crunch.

“Look! My funky fresh creation is working perfectly!”

The ghost boy let his shot lose, the ecto-energy knocking the other ghost away.

“No! That’s my car!!” Mr. Jenkins fell to his knees.

Danny darted in front of the control panel. His eyes widened. So many buttons, nobs, and levers…. Lights blinked in front of him. Frantic, the boy jabbed at different controls.

“My Oldsmobile!” Beside him, Mr. Jenkins was definitely crying. “That was Pa’s. Me and Pa fixed it up before he passed. No!”

The halfa’s eyes flashed. “How do you turn this thing off?” He turned to the other ghost, demanding.

Technus floated there for a moment, eyes wide and startled. He stared, the previous mad joy completely evaporated, even as he took in his invention. After a blink, his gaze moved from the machine to the devastated human man. The ghost’s face scrunched up, brow wrinkling. Then…

He flew back to the controls. Wordlessly, the mad scientist pushed a series of buttons, metal crunching uglily all the while. He pulled a final lever and the sound of gears and breaking glass stopped.

Quiet fell and Danny sighed, shoulders untensing. Still, he nervously fingered at the thermo’s lid. “Technus, you know I don’t have any problem with you hanging around Amity Park. Tinkering by itself is fine. But when you start taking other people’s things and destroying property…. I can’t let that stand.”

“But it’s just an old car…” The older ghost fixed his head down, voice oddly subdued.

“It’s Mr. Jenkins’ car.” Danny pointed. “It belongs to him.” His tone sharpened. “I wouldn’t come in your lair and mess with your laboratory. Take your inventions without asking. You can’t do that to Mr. Jenkins.”

A long, tense pause fell over the yard. The sound of gravel shifting at the human man stood, as his assistant nervously shuffled. Danny could feel both adult’s eyes on him but his own gaze was fixed on the ghost and his tight, unreadable expression. Technus had stopped the crusher but… why? Did he understand? The boy’s stomach turned, anxiously hoping. That the ghost had listened, that he could find a peaceful resolution.

Technus’s grip on the control panel’s levers tightened. “It seems, I, Technus, made an error. The first tenant of the scientific method…. I failed to gather all the important background information.”

Mr. Jenkins looked up, angrily whipping his face. “You don’t say.”

“I got so excited, I forgot to ask for permission to use the junk…”

“Hey! It’s not-” The human started objecting.

“Or to think about whether the invention would be useful here. I mean, who ever heard of a junkyard without a car-crusher? But apparently, you don’t need one. Which does not make any sense to me. Still, I should not have taken your things and-”

“That’s all fine and good. But my car’s still trashed.” Jenkins interrupted, scowling at the crushed vehicle.

“An honest mistake.” Technus winced. “And…” He held up a finger. “Give me a second.” He darted over to the wreckage. “Here, let me…”

The mad scientist ghost waved his hands over the debris. His aura sparked, spreading out and enveloping the twisted metal and shards of glass. The pieces trembled slightly, rising with a jerk. Technus’ fingers moved as if he was counting, typing, or playing an instrument. The wreckage floated and flowed, swirling in the air and coming together. It coalesced into…

“Well I’ll be damned.” Mr. Jenkins said breathily.

Danny’s eyes widened, just as amazed. “How? You… you-”

“Fixed it!” Technus swung around, arms spread. “I fixed it!”

Sure enough, the car sat in front of them, whole and intact.

The on-lookers just blinked for a long moment. Then…

“My car!” Mr. Jenkins practically ran forward. “Bessie! You’re alright!” He flopped onto the hood, arms spreading wide as if hugging the vehicle. “Better than alright!” Eyes wide and gleeful, he wiped at a spot over the headlights. “That blasted scratch is gone!”

The human man kept cooing over his car and Danny laughed. “He’s worse than my dad with the GEV.” The boy rolled his eyes. Then… “Seriously though. Putting it back together like that…. that was incredible, Technus. Thank you for fixing this.”

“Pst.” The ghost shrugged off the thanks. “It was child’s play!” He laughed almost maniacally.

“Can you uh… put back the rest of the office?” The assistant asked meekly.

Technus’ eyes flickered to her, briefly looking disappointed, before he scoffed. “Can I put the rest of the office back?” He waved his arms, green light again spreading and enveloping the metal pieces. “Easier than differential calculus. Can I, Technus, master of all things mechanical, put it back? Please.”

The different pieces separated, flying off in seemingly random directions, while the mad scientist mumbled to himself.

Meanwhile, Mr. Jenkins looked up from his car. “I didn’t know you could fix things like this, Technus. Incredible!” He popped open the trunk, gaze flickering over the various parts. “She’s as good as new.” He reached inside, tapping something. “Say. One of the new tow-trucks is acting squirrely. Some kind of malfunction with that fancy new, space-age onboard computers. Can’t make head ‘r tails of it. Take a look and maybe I can find some spare parts for you to tinker with.”

Parts continued to swirl away, the car-crusher growing smaller and smaller. Technus tapped his chin. “Is this a problem worthy of I! Technus’ vast expertise!?”

For a moment, both Mr. Jenkins and his assistant looked worried, concerned eyes searching Danny.

The ghost boy nodded sagely. “Of course! Computer technology is so advanced now. Especially in cars! They definitely need someone as genius as you to fix it. Plus free parts!” The half ghost spread his arms. “You can’t pass up a deal like that!”

“You’re right, Ghost Child!” With a final flourish, the last remnants of the disastrous car crusher vanished, the components returning to their proper places. “Come Jenkins!” The mad scientist quickly floated away. “Show me this tow-truck!”

“Not so fast! We mere humans can’t fly!” The human man jogged after.

Danny gave another chuckle at the pair. He flew after them.

“Here it is.” Mr. Jenkins panted, motioning to the car. He unlocked the door and slid into the seat. “The problem is, anytime I start up the car…” He pressed the ignition. “See?”

The ghost nodded from where he leaned over, observing. “Ah! That is confounding! First, let me try…”

The half ghost watched two for several minutes. His eyes slowly widened, anxious core lossening. The two talked and hypothesized, bouncing ideas off of each other.

“Try it again.” Technus instructed.

Mr. Jenkins pressed the start button again. A pause. “Well, I’ll be.”

The mad scientist laughed. “I told you, old geezer. No electronical problem can overcome my genius!”

The human rolled his eyes, good naturedly. “Old geezer? Ya didn’t know what a computer was until last month.”

They were… getting along? “This is great! See.” Danny gave an encouraging smile and spread his arms. “Technus can help you out with stuff like this and you can give him some spare parts to work with. How does that sound, Mr Jenkins? Technus?”

The human tapped his chin. “You know, my brother’s got an auto shop. He’s always needin’ help. Maybe we can work something out.”

“I’m listening…” The green-skinned ghost nodded, face serious. Even as his aura flickered excitedly.

“I’ll give Perry a call and…”

The two talked for a few more minutes. Hope bloomed in Danny’s heart, a smile slowly parting his lips. They had this. Coming up with a compromise together. Without him. In fact…

The ghost boy turned to leave. “I’m going to go check on your assistant and everything in the office. Shout if you need me.”

The two barely acknowledged him, simply waving as they both chuckled over something.

Danny flew away, shaking his head. Moments later, he knocked at the office door. “It’s Phantom.”

There was a shout to enter and the boy did so. His eyes flickered over the room. Slightly disarrayed but… there was the microwave, the phone, the computer.

The assistant looked up from the desk. “Mr. Jenkins is okay, right? I haven’t heard any screaming recently.”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, he’s fine. Him and Technus are working out tech-help for spare parts.”

The woman blanched. “Is that wise?”

The boy nodded. “Giving the guy something to focus on will be good for him. And I’m sure Mr. Jenkins could use the help.”

The assistant’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I guess you have a point.” Her face smoothed out, smiling gratefully at him. “Thank you, by the way, for coming and helping with all this.”

“It’s just what I do.” Danny shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Seriously. This all wouldn’t still be standing without you.” She motioned around her vaguely. “We’d be in a mess without you, Phantom.”

“Well then…” The boy blushed at the praise. “You’re welcome… uh, I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Nancy.” She smiled.

“Nancy.” Danny gave a nod. “Everything’s good here so I’m going to head out. Give FentonWorks a call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With a wave, the half ghost drifted up and phased through the ceiling. He flew over the salvage yard, catching a glimpse of the two men, one human and one ghost. Mr. Jenkins leaned against the vehicle, arms crossed casually. Technus floated, head lifted to the sky. His unique brand of laughter carried on the wind, the human’s hearty chuckle just as real and vibrant below it.

Danny beamed down at the scene. “Yeah. They’re going to be fine.”

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

Danny returned home to his ghost researcher parents, both proudly congratulating him on peacefully dealing with Technus. After which of course, both had to blather on about their latest inventions. The boy fondly rolled his eyes.

He tried to invisibly sneak up on his big sister, the super-powered little brother’s prerogative. To his chagrin, he was unsuccessful though; before he could even think of turning her chair intangible, she turned the spray bottle on him like he was a misbehaving cat.

He logged onto Doom and played with his best friends. The boss of the current level decimated their party three times before they gave up for now and started on a new side quest. All the while, they talked about new movies, rumors and gossip at school, Ember’s upcoming concert, and convincing Sidney to join them for D&D.

Family and friends. Ghosts and humans and the two somehow, miraculously existing together. All this and more, in a day in the life of a half ghost.

And now, during the darkest part of the night, that eerie time between the late night and early morning, the Haunting Hour. Now, Danny Fenton-Phantom floated on his back, suspended in the air above the Ops Center.

Blobby snuggled against him, tiny paws kneading biscuits into his side. The smaller ghost purred loudly, now firmly settled into something between a very cat-like blob and a blob-like cat. The boy gently stroked his pet, idly scrolling through his phone.

A text notification pinged and Danny laughed, typing back.

Danny: that’s the most cursed meme i’ve ever seen

Another cursed follow up. And another. Danny snorted, sending his own.

Tucker: 😵 ☠️ Deed. Y u stil up thoigh?

Danny: Dude it’s spooky hour. Getting my haunt on.

Tucker: U lucky basterd. Ony need 4 hrs of skeep

Danny: 😜 Y r u still up?

Tucker: Doom. newd new armor.

Tucker: 😵 stupd skelton killed me😭

Danny: Go to sleep!

Tucker: Neverrttt5454er66wreeqwsd

Danny: ?

Tucker: dropped phome on my face

Tucker: maybe i shoud slep

Danny: You think? 🤨

Tucker: One more meme!

Tucker: Phantomceiling.mov

Tucker: wrong file. 😴🥱😫 Sry. Gd night Danny

Danny laughed softly, shaking his head at his sleepy friend. He could imagine it, Tucker half-way across town, drifting off at his computer, gaming with one hand and texting with the other. No wonder the skeletons, the freaking easiest monster in the game, managed to kill him.

And he sent a random video? Danny tilted his head at the file name, pressing play.

“Woah!” Tucker’s excited voice cheered.

The camera shifted wildly, a blurry tan surface covering the screen. The crispness of the image wavered, in and out until…. tiny, glow-in-the-dark stars shifted into focus. On the… ceiling? Why did Tucker have a video of his bedroom ceiling?

“I can’t even believe this, I’m floating!” This friend’s voice cheered.

The half ghost’s eyes widened, suddenly remembering. This video, the one Tucker made while swinging from the ceiling. Meaning….

The image titled, pointed directly above and… Black suit, white hair, sparkling green eyes paned into view. Danny felt his heart squeeze.

“Say hi, Danny.” Tucker laughed.

“Hi Danny.” The ghost stuck out his tongue, giving a wave.

“Hi Phantom.” The boy smiled softly, waving back.

This video… he’d forgotten about it completely. Hadn’t even realized they had any video from when he was split, all those months ago. And now…

On the screen, Tucker grunted in effort, Phantom’s face deceptively even, eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.

And now, Danny could remember it like it was yesterday. His feet planted firmly on the ceiling, one hand in Tucker’s, his familiar weightlessness spread through the contact. That was him, trying to hold back his laughter. And yet…

“Come… on.” His friend shouted in frustration. “Come on!” Two voices burst out in laughter, one higher pitched- obviously Sam. And the other….

The camera panned. Black hair, blue eyes pinched closed, mouth open with his laughter.

“Hi, Fenton.” His eyes crinkled, a fond mirth.

Danny remembered this too. Busting a gut at a constipated-looking Tucker, bent over with his chortles, Sam rolling her eyes at his comment. That was him. And yet…

After re-fusing, it had felt like he’d been asleep for a long time. Like he hadn’t really been present; it was all a dream. And yet, he had been right there. He remembered everything. It was like he told Jazz, all those months ago. He was Phantom and Fenton. Fenton and Phantom had been him. And yet he, the Danny thinking this thought, hadn’t really been there. But now….

The video continued, the camera passed around as Tucker cheered, swinging like a pendulum. As Sam had her turn, laughing hysterically the entire time. As Jazz screamed to be put down, before admitting that it wasn’t so bad. All the while, Danny chuckled at the scene. His smile grew, something soft and precious and fond.

“Wait… how?” Tucker wrinkled his brow. “I don’t get it.”

“He’s tapping into our powers.” Phantom righted himself in the air. “I mean, I’m the ghost so I’m technically the one with the powers right now. But we’re still the same person.”

“So I can kinda use them if we’re touching.” Fenton explained. “I uhh… actually turned myself intangible last night, when Phantom did it and I was touching him.”

The video ended there, Fenton and Phantom side by side. The human’s brow wrinkled in thought. The ghost mid-nod, agreeing.

And Danny’s heart squeezed, something nostalgic. “Guys. We made it.” A finger brushed the screen. As if he could reach back to then and reassure both halves of himself. “We made it.”

Danny remembered that day where it started. Sitting with his friends, his burger falling through his hands. That was the final straw, the moment that changed everything. It led to his fateful decision to go through the ghost catcher. A bad decision but it had left him all the better. It had taught him many hard won lessons, changing the way he saw his friends, his parents, and most importantly himself.

And those lessons…. Danny remembered, his dream the night he re-merged.

“I’m going to be okay.” A soft, swirling gratitude. “I won’t forget what I learned when I was you guys. I’ll remember.”

Danny hadn’t forgotten. He’d come back to himself, like finally coming home. And he’d found that he was more. More than just Phantom plus Fenton. More than just human plus ghost.

Letting out a sigh, the ghost boy lowered himself in the air, down to the roof of the Ops Center. To the camping chair left out here for his nightly star gazing. Blobby curled into his lap, the halfa giving gentle pets. His head drifted up, towards the sky.

And he let himself remember his last night as two halves of himself.

Danny closed his eyes and he was back there. Sitting side by side. Pointing out constellations and telling stories, one arm around his other half. And at the same time, drifting off to sleep to the echoing voice, his body comfortably leaned against the familiar chilly presence.

“Hey, I’m very witty. You just happen to share my brain.” The ghost grinned, roughly ruffling his counterpart’s hair. “Can’t get one over on you, can I?”

“I’m the pun master.” Fenton chuckled, leaning into the touch.

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.” Phantom teased.

A chuckle at the memory. Seeing this from both sides really shouldn’t make sense. Yet it couldn’t be more clear…

“I love you too.” The human muttered, rolling his eyes.

The ghost stilled, his free hand dropping out of the black hair. His core squeezed, jovial teasing giving way to a soft and quiet joy. The tiredness radiated off of his other self, heavy enough that he was starting to get silly. But those words…. Every syllable was real.

Phantom breathed. Teasing and joking was familiar, comfortable even. He was even used to transparency, tender honesty. But this…. The arm still around his human half tightened, his free arm circling around Fenton’s front. He had said earlier, if they had anything else to say to each other while they were still split, they should say it.

Ghost Danny completed the hug. “I do love you.”

Back on the roof, Danny’s hand tenderly rested over his heart-core. Maybe if anyone else had seen that moment, he’d feel embarrassed, ashamed. But that moment was just for him. That same soft and quiet joy rose, quivering in his chest. Splitting himself had let Danny see himself in new ways. He’d learned so much. He’d grown to know, accept, appreciate, and, yes, love both halves of himself. As strange as it was to say, Fenton and Phantom had loved each other.

An overbearing gratitude washed over him at that. Gratitude that they (that he) had been brave enough to voice that, to give him this memory. This proof, this reminder of how far he’d come. Of all he’d learned.

He had suffered and struggled and agonized. He had fought with his own self-hatred and doubt, his shame and fear, with the painful reminders of his death. But with the love and support of his parents, sister, and friends, he had overcome. He had learned and grown and changed. The transformation itself hurt and terrified him. But he had risen above it. And now. Now Danny loved who he had become.

And who had he become? What did loving himself mean now, with his heart and core nestled together, where they belonged? It meant taking care of himself. Letting his friends and family know him and love him. Loving other people. It meant eating enough– both ecto and regular food-, sleeping well, watching the stars during his Haunting Hour. Spending time with his loved ones and letting them share his burdens. Helping others as Danny Phantom.

He saved humans in the town with his powers when ghost animals appeared or over-enthusiastic ghosts wouldn’t listen. He helped lost ghosts find their way back to the portal. He worked to find ways for humans and ghosts to exist together.

The idea from when he’d been talking to Sidney earlier flickered in his mind. A shared place for the ghosts on this side of the portal to gather, to bond, to help each other. A kind of Sanctuary, that was his dream.

That first time he’d almost fused, before telling his parents about Phantom, he’d dreamed of the human in the ghostly, ghostly in the human. He’d imagined truly being both. And now Danny found he was. The life he wanted was here, in the life he was building.

Danny unlocked his phone again, taking the image of Fenton and Phantom side by side. “We’ve come so far.” His eyes softened, full of awe and gratitude. “I said it before, in that dream. I’m happy I was both of you. And thank you for working to grow into who I am now.”

In his lab, Blobby mewed, head jerking up at something in the sky. The half ghost looked, eyes widening. A shooting star, streaming across the vibrantly deep sky.

His core fluttered in time with his heart, swelling with hope. Danny smiled. “Here’s to whatever comes next.”

Note: Thank you all for reading! Whether you joined me at the beginning back in 2019, you started following only recently, or you're binging at some point in the future, I appreciate you! I would never have written this story, let alone finished it, without all the kind comments on here and fanfiction.net, Tumblr reblogs and rambles in the tags, and DMs on Tumblr and Discord. If you ever talked to me about this story, offered your support and encouragement, I am so thankful to you. I am so thankful for the friendships I've found through this fic and for how much I've grown as a writer.

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and the story as a whole. I love and appreciate you all!

#Danny Phantom #Face to Face #Double Danny #Split Danny #My Fic

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