#i think ancients would give corpses little things to “help” them in another. ..life . i think that's neat

[heliosthegriffin]

Domain Expansion; Nobody’s fool anymore.

In the Emerald Forest various students were fighting for their life, as a sudden surge of Anthro-Grimm have invaded Beacon forcing a unexpected conflict between the Hunters of Light and the Beasts of Darkness.

One student in particular who has been separated from his team struggles the hardest for his life, Jaune Arc.

A shield comes up and blocks a clawed fist, but pushes the boy back wielding it.

Again and again fist after fist slams into his shield, and forces him further and further back till he till his back is slammed against a emerald tree painfully.

Jaune grunts in pain and fatigue as he blocks another blow, the strength behind the blow sending tremors up his arms as he blocked two handedly.

‘Just got to hold on, just got to hold on till someone can save me, no way I can beat this guy on my own.’ Jaune thinks to himself as he can feel his reserves being chipped away further and further.

A roar of annoyance catches his ears, as the twelve foot tall Ursa Master charges again, it Bear like bone mask hardly showing any emotion though, merely raising it’s fists together before dropping them on Jaune.

He barely manages to block it’s hands, as he is sent to his knees in the process. A leg as long as Jaune was tall then struck out into his guts with a powerful clawed foot, Jaune gasping and spitting as he feels the shockwave spread throughout his body before he is flung through the emerald tree flying through five feet of dense wood without his momentum stopping as he flies nearly a mile across the forest destroying any thing in his past till he lands in a heap, in paralyzing pain.

“Aaagh, is this it?” He asks himself, raising his hand in front of himself, shakily, hardly able to keep it from falling down. “Did all my training really mean nothing?”

He is given no chance to answer as a black shadow forms across the .sky that gets bigger and bigger till it falls right on top of him. The Ursa Master dropkicking him into the ground, Jaune gasps in other pain as the worlds starts to go dark as the Ursa Master punchs him again and again with body-shattering hits after body-shattering hits.

His mind drifts away to the day before as his aura drops away to nothing, and the Ursa Master breaks his body into pulp.

*Day Before*

Jaune stares at his mentor nervously, the white-haired headmaster smiling happily. “C’mon Jaune, you need to move first.” Jaune nods and charges forward to tackle Ozpin with his shield, but the white-haired man sidesteps, so Jaune tries to stab at him only for it to be dodged with nonchalant ease, he pulls back and tries to slash at the man’s neck, but it is batted away with Ozpin’s cane.

Jaune jumps back and holds up his shield, and Ozpin unleash a series of devastating jabs with his cane. Jaune holds still enduring the blows and trying to wait out the onslaught. Ozpins smirks and changes the direction of the cane to hit Jaune’s knees.

Jaune twitches as the blow shakes him, his legs starting to give out on him, and then finds himself on the floor as Ozpin knocks him to the ground cane to Jaune’s throat.

Ozpin takes a sip of his coco. “Hmm, still terrible.”

Jaune’s face falls.

“You’re not meant to stay behind a shield, Jaune. This sit and wait will not work out for you.”

Jaune frowns. “I’m not a fighter, I’m a aura-buffer, a team player, Oz. I’m just trying to be as helpful as possible to everyone else.” Ozpin leans down and stares into Jaune’s eyes with his arcane green eyes. “And that is not what I let you into my school for Jaune, despite your severe undertraining.”

“But, my semblance and my aura are meant to lift up other, Oz. I’m meant to be a hero.”

Ozpin lifts the cane up and shakes his head. “Silly boy, who told you that?”

“Everybody.”

“Well, then they’re stupid.” Ozpin says sticking out his tongue. “And, I’m the headmaster so my opinion matters more.”

Jaune grabs his mouth as he starts to laugh, then sits up.

“So what am I then?”

“A huntsman like anyone else here, and remember Jaune, all Huntsmen must hunt alone eventually. There will be a day when you must fight for your, or someone else, life, and you will have to drop your shield and go hog-fucking wild.”

Jaune stares at Ozpin in shock.

“You’re potential is among the highest I’ve ever seen, up there with Ruby or Pyrrha, now lets get you up to par.” Ozpin says raising his cane again.

*Back to Present.*

The Ursa-Master stabs it’s clawed fist through Jaune’s abdomen straight into the ground beneath sending cracks in the earth everywhere, spraying blood through the air, blood flowing freely out of Jaune’s eyes and mouths.

Jaune gags as he comes back to consciousness hacking up a mouth full of blood.

He stares at his hands in the sunlight, he drops his shield. “I-I’mmm not a fucccking fffailure!” He puts his hand on the broken ground and pulls himself forward and headbutts the Ursa-Master so hard the mask shatters and sends it realing back, revealing a human looking face with bear features, shock across it’s face.

Jaune growls and flips off the grounds to face the Ursa, sword in hand, and guts hanging out from his gaping stomach wound. He smiles. “It’s time to go full fucking hog!” He plants his sword point down into the ground and closes his eyes, the Ursa-Master takes a unsteady step back. 

A explosion of aura comes off of the Jaune. “I won’t wait around more, I’m sorry Oz, I should have taken you’re lesson closer to heart, hehe, I won’t be anyone’s fool anymore. No one will need to save me now,” Jaune opens his eyes looking at the Ursa-Master with utter serenity, having turned a crystalline blue as light leaked out behind them. “Cause you taught me that-”

Jaune doesn't get to finish as bone spike goes through is head, the Ursa-Master having fired a spike from it’s hand.

Jaune’s head falls back, but snaps back, the spike pushed out, the gaping hole healing in microseconds. “What my semblance actually is.” He holds his hands in prayed above his sword. “Domain Expansion: New Testament - Heaven’s Light.”

Light, soft white light spread across Jaune, the Ursa Master, and then all of the Emerald Forest, cutting it off of real space to form a pseudo-dimension. 

The white light touched each Huntsman in the forest, refill their aura reserves and amplifying they’re power by an order of magnitude, everyone who was touched felt the message in their head. “This is Jaune speaking, fuck ‘em up for me.”

Cries of battle sounded off beginning a one-sided massacre. 

Four Hunters in particular responded back.

“You got it, Fearless Leader! Break their existences!” Nora said with lightning flying from her eyes, going down her hands and through her hammer, as she was about to fight a Lamia-Master.

Ren gave a proud smile. “I believe in you, Jaune. So, come back safe.” His body fading in and out of light, about to fight a Yeti-Master

Pyrrha stood atop a mountain of dead Grimm, staring down a Dragonis-Master, a myriad of weapons rotating around her. “Hmm,, so that’s what laid dormant in you,” She smiles fondly. “I could get used to it, so make sure to come back Jaune.”

Ruby’s eyes glowed with power, a cloak of petals behind her. “There it is, I knew there was something in you.” She faced a Ancient Beowulf-Master. “We’re going to have so much fun when you get back.”

Jaune’s wounds begin to knit back together with ease, he held his sword up with both hands. “Sorry about the light show, but I don’t know what I just did exactly, so I’m just going to hope it’s enough to beat, and if it’s not, well not like I’m afraid of dying anymore.”

With a step Jaune appeared in front of the Ursa-Master and swung his sword down connecting instantly, the Ursa-Master having only a fleeting moment to show horror before it was erased by a curtain of light that came down for miles behind it, scaring the land deeply by it’s holy power dispersing any Grimm that it touched.

Jaune looked at his work, and then down to his sword. “Woah, I’m a little scary, aren’t I?” The light then evaporated in a shower of rainbows, releasing the pseudo-space. “I’m a little sleepy, now.” He said before falling asleep.

His friends would later find him in crater statured with holy energy and evaporating Grimm corpses, a miles long scar in the earth in front of him.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Finally finished this! Sorry I’m a bit late.

Made this song in pairing with a new Revalink soulmark fic: Paraphrase

Based on a prompt @motherhyrule (Happy Birthday and thanks!)

Read it on AO3 or, here...

Chapter 1: Holes

There were holes in the sky.

While the artificial blue glow of Vah Medoh was a constant reminder of abnormal circumstances of this view—looking out into the east, you could be fooled for a moment to believe in serenity.

The details of the great, inky abyss were blurred by the occasional grey cloud, crawling towards the light of a decaying moon. Its pale, crescent complexion gave a humble glow to the dancing seas of grass and the motionless hills of glistening lake water. Below, wooden huts embraced one another on the edges of an ancient spire. The winds had crafted a fine sculpture, the unique silhouette of Rito Village cast faint shadows on Lake Totori.

There was distant whistling from either the cutting breeze or a bored village guard, perhaps leaning against his spear, dreaming of slumber.

There's a fire, somewhere. A spiral of smoke rises with a delicious aroma fantastic enough to reach the heights of Medoh. Someone making a late-night stew, under the dotted, broken sky.

If you could tear your eyes away from the nature down below, the navy blue canvas would still be there to greet you—a perfect night that cloaked any traces of the sun, as if time was always meant to be this way. Unchanging, and ever an elegant, unrivaled mix of blue, black, and grey.

But of course, unchanging was not everlasting. The perfect canvas was pierced by the frozen heights of Hebra, and flaming stars. Whole armies of them were scattered across the sky, as if the goddess had flicked a handful of embers at the night, burning through the blue and into an unknown.

"I heard that stars are actually holes into the heavens." Link finally said. "Like...They break through the sky, and at night you can look through them and see the great beyond." He leaned back, shifting himself into a more comfortable position on the rocky cliff.

The ghost beside him raised an eyebrow, wings tucked behind his back.

"Oh? And where exactly did you hear that?"

Silence.

The boy looks out to the distant mountains, wreathed in grey clouds with filtered moonlight. When the wind blows his golden hair just the right way, you could catch a glimpse of a familiar expression.

"...I'm not too sure."

Revali nodded, looking back into the night. He stood beside the hero, and let a quiet sigh escape him, the turquoise flames that circled around the Rito seemed to rise and fall with his chest. "Well. I cannot confirm or deny such a thing, but I imagine it's a decent enough fairy tale to entertain the fledglings."

Link scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Really? They don't give you a big ghost book on how all of life works? What's the point of being dead if you don't know the answer to all the fancy questions?"

"I appear to have missed Hylia's educational spirit lecture. Perhaps my schedule was busy at the time. I do apologize."

"Don't apologize to me! You're the one who missed a once-in-a-afterlife-time opportunity."

"..."

"...Too soon?"

"No, it was just a horrible joke."

"Pfft. Well OK, Mr. 'Well I'll be plucked'"

"I don't think I'm going to accept criticism from someone who's sense of humor isn't even a year old."

"Aha...Fair enough."

A chuckle. A nod. A smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Silence.

The moon crawls further west. Winds start to die with conversation.

The ghost sighs again, but of course, no breath escapes him. Something itches in the back of his mind, and he looks up at Medoh.

Her phantom blue eyes pierce both mortal and incorporeal, yet there's a tenderness in the way her head tilts towards Revali—every so slightly so as not to wake the whole kingdom with the groan of gears. The gesture is wordlessly understood by her pilot, something about speaking the unspoken. He clicks his tongue.

I don't remember flipping a relationship advice switch in your control unit...

Medoh's lights glow brighter and dim, playfully.

The Rito shakes his head.

No, he thinks again. It's better this way.

The Champion looks out towards Hyrule Castle, Medoh's red laser aimed directly into the heart of the swirling malice. From this view, it’s almost beautiful. Like layered petals of a rose...

I cannot wait to burn it to the ground.

"Yeah..." Link replied. "Don't worry, Revali. It'll be different this time. I won't let you down, again."

The Rito blinked. "Ah. Did I...say that outloud?"

Link nodded, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "You always seem in such deep thought when looking at Medoh. Your face gets a lot more s—uh...I don't know... " He trailed off, making the wise decision to not finish the sentence. Afterall, he wanted to hang out for a little bit longer before Revali's glares punted him to the Akkalain Sea.

Nonetheless, Revali grimaced. Looking at him? Acknowledging him? Oh, there was nothing worse in the world than that...

Time really can change anything.

"Hmph. Well," Revali turned his head back towards Medoh, "With Windblight gone, it's nice to actually have conversations...As unconventional as they may be." He makes sure that his smile can only be seen by the sky.

"She's good company."

Link picks at loose pebbles, tossing them off the cliff and letting gravity take them to new destinations. His hands are already coated in a dusty beige dust.

"Well, if Medoh ever becomes a bore. My schedule's always open." He chuckles. "I'm certainly a different sort of company in comparison, so I should be able to spice up your d—!"

"No."

The iciness of his tone runs Link's spine cold. He dares to look up at the Champion.

It takes all of Revali's strength to continue staring at the stars.

"You should really stop coming here, Link. You have a job to do, and so do I. You gain nothing by returning here each night."

He pauses, his beak clenched just a bit too tightly.

"You did well, avenging me, but now...Your job here is done, and there is more work to do. The fact that you keep visiting each night while the world fades away is pathetic, honestly. You banter and quip as if you have all the time in the world, as if everything doesn't depend on your success. Quit acting childish."

Silence. It drowns out the whistling wind.

Revali looks at the holes in the sky.

"It'll be morning in a few, so get lost. I don't need you here."

The Rito can feel the hero's eyes tearing into him.

= = = = = = =

"Careful now! Can't have you return with half a head. Can I?" Revali loosed an arrow just above Link's head, striking true in a Bokoblin's right eye.

Link whips around just in time to see the monster drop dead, just a foot away from where the knight stood. He turns back and gives the Rito a thumbs up in gratitude.

"Eye think that solves that problem." Link groans and rolls his eyes, but Revali smirks at the grin he attempts to hide. "Ah...One of the best things about these occasions is that you're in no position to quip back at me with your hands full like that." Revali shoots him a wink. "Perhaps I'll interpret your silence as overwhelming awe for my verbal abilities."

The Rito bows left and right, playfully. "Thank you, thank you. It takes a great deal of practice, but perhaps you'll grace my level of skill one day."

Link signs as best he can with the Master Sword in his left grip.

"You're an asshole."

"Perhaps. But it's your fault for sticking around!"

"On your left..." He suddenly says.

There's no hesitation as Revali moves his head out of the way, letting Link swing his sword over his shoulder. A brilliant beam of blue light escapes the edge of his sword, the disc of energy making contact with a Bokoblin's neck, slicing it asunder mid-roar.

"Hmm. Now that's just breath taki—"

"Shut UP!" Link says, knocking an elbow into his ribs. He starts to sign again. "Let's keep heading east. We need to close this pincer quickly. I'd like to finish before lunch..."

The Rito scans the snow covered path, littered with monster guts and blood. Deep reds and purple stain the pristine, crisp morning. The sky is a deep green, pine trees covering the day, dressed in coats of white. The breeze blows the smell of rotting corpses and hickory his way.

"Alright. Let's get a move on. Don't need the Princesses yelling at us again."

"A bit late for that, don't you think?"

The boys both look up in time to see a large burst of water erupt from a nearby cliff. It cascades into a shimmering slide, that freezes as it flows. A bright red Zora flips through the air and descends on it, landing delicately in front of the two. She gives a warm smile that could melt the winter.

"Shall I assume you ran into some chuchu troubles, again?"

Revali scoffed. "That was one time!"

"Hehehe...chuchu go 'sluuurrrp...'"

"Plus, that incident was entirely a certain knight's fault. I've been nothing but incredibly efficient and productive, since then."

"And your tail feathers are all the better for it!"

Revali thwacked Link with his bow to shut him up. The knight rubbed the back of his head with an "Ow..." and shot a rude glare, but the Rito continued. "So where is the Princess?"

Mipha gestured uphill to where she had come from, her magical waterfall already beginning to melt away. "We finished cleaning up the other end of the Tabantha path. She's met up with Urbosa and Daruk by one of the bridges."

The Zora smiles as she looks between Revali and Link. "I volunteered to check on you two while the others headed back. Neither of you need help cleaning chuchu slime out of your hair, yes? I do have the pliers, this time."

Revali's rageful squawk was drowned out by Link's laughter.

Before the trio's banter could truly serenade with the sounds of the forest, Mipha was off to regroup with the others, and Link was soaring in the sky.

The sky was open and clear, not a speck of grey clouded the air. The sun was perched comfortably on the heights of Tabantha ridge, painting the horizon with strokes of orange, the distance blushing in the morning's presence.

The wind flipped Link's hair back and forth, so he finished tying the braid behind his neck, woven tightly with a single, Prussian blue feather. Its tip looked like someone had dipped it in the moon's pale glow.

Braid or no, the heights above Lake Totori were quite cold, and Link nuzzled himself further into Revali's soft feathers. If he were any softer, it wouldn't be out of the question to drown in him.

"You're distracting me." Revali craned his neck back, raising an eyebrow at his passenger. "Keep it together, back there."

The hero shrugged his shoulders. "It's cold."

"I told you to drink another elixir before I took off."

"I wasn't cold then! Besides," He flopped back into the Rito's soft down. "This is adequate protection." Link's words were slightly muffled as he spoke.

Revali sighed. "You're insufferable..."

Eying the destination down below, the Rito rolled his shoulders to get Link's attention. "Keep steady. We're almost there." He started to dip forward.

"And try not to go flying, I imagine it won't work out well for you."

Before Link could even process his words, his stomach started to drop. Falling fast, Revali arched nearly perpendicular to the ground, his bright blue scarf flapping behind him. The Hylian on his back could do nothing but grip onto his armour for dear life, clothes flapping wildly. His loose sleeves caught the wind, pushing them back to reveal pale gold letters, etched in the underside of his right forearm.

Leaving so soon?

The wind rushed by Link's ears, and the sky quickly faded from the cerulean glow of morning, to the snow laced air of the Hebra. What was once broad strokes of indistinct colors soon morphed into the intricate faults, flaws, and edges of towering grey mountain peaks. With the heavens stolen from them, and the frozen earth quickly coming to greet them, Revali quickly opened his wings to catch the air, swooping just above the ground and shooting forward towards the Flight Range.

Rows of cool safflina and wildberries whizzed by, the scent of smoked boar drawing closer and closer. Revali could practically feel Link's appetite from aura alone. Although, the fact that his grip on his back was starting to tighten didn't exactly keep it subtle, either.

"I left the stew going before we headed out for the mission. It should be perfect by now..." He tucked his wings into himself with a quick twirl as he shot through a narrow pass.

The cold updrafts of the Flight Range now biting into his face; the Rito let his wings expand with a few more great flaps, before landing gracefully on the railing of the wooden platform.

Link practically soared off Revali's back and bounded straight for the simmering pot.

"'Thank you, Revali, for giving me a ride across all of Tabantha without asking for so much as a rupee in return!' Oh, you're so welcome, my dear hero. It's always a pleasure to aid a flightless Hylian in need." He shook his head as he made his way into the hut.

"'Oh, but really Revali! The speed at which you travel, and the strength required to take on my loathsome person as you fly is truly something to admire. It's a miracle you took me with you at all.' Why, you are much too generous with your compliments, Link. I have half a mind to write this all down for—MmMph?!"

In a brilliant move of both telling Revali to shut the fuck up, while also sharing their meal, Link shoved a ladleful of delicious stew in the Rito's beak.

Warm, savoury stew trickled down his throat, banishing the cold from his body in mere moments. His tastebuds were nestled with flavours of nutmeg, tender meat, and the delicate heat of a perhaps a single, spicy pepper.

Link's expression was equal parts, "Will you shut up now?" and "So how's it taste?"

"Not too bad...The prime meat I procured is obviously the main event. But your seasoning skills are certainly something of note..." Revali made his way to one of the cabinets, as Link rolled his eyes.

The Rito set his bow beside the Master Sword, leaning it against the painted wood. His eyes lingered on it for a bit too long, before he scoffed and continued on his routine.

Quiver on the counter; bomb arrows wrapped properly; armour loosened and set aside; scarf—

The feathers on Revali's neck suddenly floofed up at Link's touch. But he didn't dare turn around and risk losing the sensation.

He carefully unfolded the fabric around Revali's neck, and drew it off his shoulder. He wrapped it around himself, and signed at the Rito, "Mine, now."

The Rito chuckled, before turning back around to look at the hero, now adorned with far too much blue. Blue tunic, blue scarf, and sapphire eyes—it wouldn't be out of the question to mistake him for the sky.

Link stretched out his hand, and traced the edges of Revali's face, eventually falling down his neck, and towards his shoulders. His fingers eventually hovered over some familiar words that wrapped down the left side of his neck and down his shoulder.

You should give yourself more credit.

They both did nothing but smile at each for a moment, leaning closer and succumbing to the moment. Revali could already feel Link's breath, and see the bits of snow still sticking to his (horribly) braided hair.

The Hylian saw something curious in the Rito's expression as he planted a kiss on the tip of his beak. Looking back up at his jade eyes, he couldn't help but smile wide. Revali cocked an eyebrow.

"Something to say?"

Quiet. The fire chuckled in the background.

Link finally leaned in and whispered to him.

"You smell like shit."

Revali scoffed loudly before shoving Link to the carpet, where he burst out laughing, the wind carrying it to the spirits above.

"Gods, you're insufferable. Why do I settle for you..."

Link unsuccessfully attempted to toss a pillow in his face in revenge—Revali catching it with ease.

"Beats me! Now come here, you stinky bird." He patted the space in front of the fire. No doubt he wanted to sit between his wings again

"Stew or no, I need you to keep me toasty."

In no time, Revali had sat down and wrapped himself around Link, resting his beak on his head.

A hole in the ceiling let sunlight trickle on them as they warmed up.

= = = = = = = 

Link finally sighed, the sound falling off into the void below.

"You-I can't-It was never..." He trails off, before chucking another pebble off the cliff, shaking his head.

"...I'm sorry. I know that you...That we're not really...friends or whatever...I don't mean to force you into anything uncomfortable. I owe you that much..." He looked up at the spirit, a determined look on his face.

"But, don't worry. Whatever mess I was before, whatever person you hated 100 years ago. They're gone, now. I promise I'm different. I promise I won't repeat whatever mistakes I made with you."

Revali just wants to die all over again.

"Well. That's good to hear. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, hero..." He walks forward, so he can't see his face, pointing a translucent feather far out east.

"I'd say your next objection should be Rudania. It's the closest. You can backtrack through whatever roads you've already trailed through getting here." The Rito then waved towards some glistening summits just a bit south. "Although, you said you've been to Kakariko and Hateno, yes? You could probably trek to Zora's Domain from there. The Zora will no doubt be a great asset to your further adventures—"

"Who was I closest to?"

Revali knew it was impossible to feel cold at this point, but he felt something shiver nonetheless.

"What do you mean?"

"Like...the pilots I mean. Was I...particularly close with any of them?"

"Well how should I know!" Revali snapped. He immediately regretted it seeing the look in Link's eyes. "I mean...sorry..."

Silence.

"...Mipha would be overjoyed to see you, I'm sure." He pointed again towards the cliffs surrounding Zora's Domain. "She had quite the heart...She'll make better company than I, I'm sure."

"Mhm...Alright." Link nodded to himself.

"But whatever you choose, don't try taking on Naboris, yet. Urbosa was one of the strongest warriors that even I've ever met. So I imagine that what awaits there is...deserving of more preparation."

The moon escaped from the clutches of a grey cloud, and the two of them were bathed in moonlight.

The knight's sword on his back glistens.

"I'll start making preparations tomorrow, and I'll finally be out of your hair." Link scratched the back of his head. "Although...I hope you don't mind if I come back every now and then to get pointers on using your Gale. I really only used it that one time when you gave it to me, and I've been a bit scared ever since, aha..."

Revali nodded. "That would be a more productive use of your time, yes."

Link finally stood, adjusting the strap of his sword around his shoulder.

"S-So...with Mipha. I actually heard from Kass that...uh he's—well you see, I figured you could confirm if she actually—"

"Stop." His response was as sudden as thunder. Link started sputtering again.

"S-Sorry. I know you just s—"

"Stop doing that. Stop trying to learn about the past, there's nothing for you there." Revali poked a feather at Link's head, which surprisingly made physical contact as he flinched away. "You've been given a gift, you understand? You have the luxury of being unburdened by the pains and memories of 100 years ago, while the rest of us have been stuck wallowing in what we once knew for over a century. Things that we can never attain now that we are dead." He glared, eyes sharp enough to stab into Link's flesh.

"It'd be an insult to the rest of us to throw away such a gift. So stop being ungrateful, and move on."

Silence.

Revali sighed, turning back towards Medoh. "Now get los—"

"You have no right to speak to me like that!"

The Rito whipped around. "Excuse me?"

"You don't know what it's like!" Link stomped a foot down. "You don't know what it's like, to have no attachments, no nothing to grasp onto!"

The Hylian shook his head, looking at his hands. "You're dead because of my failures, and for that, I'm truly sorry. I really am. But..." He looked the Rito, dead in the eyes. "But now I have nothing of value. Nothing to tell me what I'm worth, besides being a fighter. Besides defeating the Calamity. I don't know what kind of person I need to be," He waves a hand at Revali, "Or even what person I should try not to be. I can't...I don't want to just be nothing. Nothing but a sword and useless snippets of a dead past.

"So don't try and tell me there's nothing for me in the past. I need to know what I was, what I lost, and what I did wrong. N-Not just for me, but for everyone's sake! I want to truly know what this is all for, even if it hurts me..."

Link looked down, caressing his right wrist. "I want to know...what it was like to be complete...at the very least..."

Revali looked him up and down, something clawing up the inside of his chest, threatening to escape as dangerous words.

"...Let me see your arm."

"What—?"

"Hurry up, and just come."

Link cautiously stepped closer to Revali, extending his right arm towards him, like a handshake. But he roughly tugged him closer and folded the sleeve of his Rito garb away, exposing the skin to the crisp night air.

Pale gold letters adorned Link's inner arm, running from his wrist to his inner elbow.

Why did you think it was impossible?

The Rito nodded to himself. He had noted the first word being different when he had first reunited with Link, but it put him at ease—and completely shattered something—to have his suspicions confirmed.

"Do you know what this is, hero?"

"Yeah, it's a soulmark. This is probably what my soulmate 100 years ago said when they—"

"No." Revali let his arm fall, turning away. "It's a soulmark alright, but your soulmate is very much alive."

"Wh-What?!" Link started to walk up to Revali. "T-That's impossible! I-It's been over a hundred—"

"That's not the soulmark you had when I met you." Revali said simply. "You died. You were revived. You are adorned with a new mark, and are destined for someone new. Or someones. Or, maybe your soulmate is just yourself, it really depends..." He turned his head back.

Link was just staring at his arm. He bore no smile, but Revali could see the new fire in his eyes.

"It's like I said. It'd be an insult to go digging up the past. But I suppose I can't stop you..." Revali continued to make his way to Medoh. "You want something to fight for? Fight for that..."

The moon disappeared behind another cloud, and the glow of Medoh was all that bathed them. Link finally looked up, calling after the ghost in the mist.

"I...Thank you, Revali. But just so you know..." The Rito Champion turned, staring directly at the hero's determined expression.

"This doesn't change what I want. I still intend to know who I was."

There was quiet as they each looked at their ghosts.

Revali sighed, giving a sad nod.

"I know."

He disappeared in glowing blue flames, the embers falling towards the stars.

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

come on in, folks, i got some kind of goof ass Beetlejuice/Evil Dead crossover for you to enjoy.

He’s eighteen, and it’s Saturday, which means that he and Lydia are wandering around Manhattan, looking for trouble to get into. Lydia, eleven and ever his little shadow, is standing next to him, as they take a moment, on the busy New York street corner, to sip their boba and think about their next move. They were meant to be watching some horror movie that had looked alright from the previews, but ended up being so stupid, it wasn’t even fun, and the Deetz siblings had found themselves walking out, one hour poorer but a bucket of overly butter saturated movie popcorn richer. “I still can’t believe how bad that was,” Lydia says, again, huffing, because they’d actually paid money to see that stinker, instead of sneaking in, which is their usual habit. “Ya get one big name attached an’ everyone apparently stops givin’ a shit. Musta figured th’ droolin’ masses would eat it up,” he agrees, and he slurps up the last of his tapioca balls, and then proceeds to eat the plastic straw. “Is it too much to ask that characters actually be interesting, and, I don’t know, behave like normal human people?” Lyds bitches, as BJ takes a bite out of his cup, too. She glances up at him, dryly. “I mean, I guess maybe my standards for normality are low, but still.”

He grins at her. “Whatever could you possibly mean, sister dearest?” he puts on a posh, almost transatlantic accent, and she rolls her eyes, and sucks boba up in her straw, then shoots the pearls at him like a pea shooter. He snorts and laughs.

It’s a good day, despite the letdown at the movies. It’s nearly that time of year, just about the start of his seasonal depression, as the sun becomes shy and things go cold and gray. Still, there’s some time left with the sunshine, so he’s drinking it up, savoring it, and it feels good, to stand here with Lyds, and talk about nothing. “Alright, come on, let’s second act it,” he grins, and she perks up. “I think Wicked’s playing!” “Wicked’s always playin’.” “Well, I’m not sitting through Hamilton, it’s a Saturday. I’m not learning if I don’t have to.” “Totally fuckin’ fair. Music Man, maybe?” “Hugh Jackman’s weirdly brick shaped head freaks me out.” “There’s gotta be a show we can sneak into,” BJ frowns, scratching at the scruff of his chin, and then he catches a scent he’s never smelled before, as Lydia puzzles through their remaining options. It’s like death, sort of, but not. Like death warmed over, or death, refried. He takes his sister’s hand, and leads her away from the street corner, following the smell, nose in the air, pupils blown wide, and Lydia laughs. “Great, time to go poke a dead thing. That’s more fun than The Last Four Years, at least.” She’s seen him go like this before, and thinks she knows what to expect.

Neither of them know how to react when they follow the scent down an alleyway and see the violent fight happening in front of them.

Parked at the far end of the alleyway is a car, some 70’s make that he doesn’t know enough about such things to name, and between it, and the Deetz siblings, is an one handed man absolutely going feral on a group of three refried dead smelling zombie… things. “Deadly-vu,” he hears Lydia whisper, as they watch the man perform a scissor kick that sends a zombie head flying. It bounces like a basketball against the brick wall that makes the alleyway, rolls, and lands at the Deetz sibling’s feet. There’s a beat, as they stare at it, and it stares back, before the head on the ground opens its mouth and speaks. “DEMON!” it shrieks, and then it makes the life ending choice to roll at Lydia, teeth bared, and his boot is going through it, crushing through the skull like an overly juicy bug under his heel. He takes a second to wipe the gore from his sole onto the pavement. “Maybe Wicked could be good,” he turns and says to Lydia, who responds by ducking behind him, because the body the head formerly belonged to seems to be stumbling at them, clutching something in it’s boiled and infected and puss covered arms, and it thrusts the thing at BJ, before falling down and collapsing into dust. It’s a book. Some kind of creepy old demon book, from the look of it. He wrinkles his nose in vague disgust, and then takes a sniff. If the zombie things are refried death, this thing is a whole fucking Mexican food buffet of it, and it makes his head spin in a way he’s never felt before. He kind of likes it. He’s about to give the cursed reading material a tentative lick before a boom rings out from in front of them- the one handed man has pulled a sawed off shotgun off his back, and dispatched another corpse thing. There’s one left, and it’s circling the man, who by this point is so blood covered, he looks like he was tricked into being prom queen, or something.

“Is it just me, or do you freaks just keep gettin’ uglier?” the man quips, and the corpse lunges, a stumbling move which earns it the butt of the shotgun to the jaw, which goes flying. The zombie is shot through the gut, and drops, but is a twitching, squirming mess. BJ’s seen enough horror movies to know that thing is getting back up. The stranger has apparently, too. He takes a moment to reload the shotgun, then double taps, blowing clean through the thing’s skull. He blows at the slightly smoking barrels of his sawed off, twirls it, and holsters it, re-slipping it onto his back. It’s a pretty cool move, actually, and the siblings watch in rapt attention. It takes the three remaining people (well, two people, one demon,) in the alley a moment to actually focus on each other, and there’s silence, before the stranger speaks. “Uh,” says the man, covered in blood, and Lydia peaks out from behind BJ, and stares at him, with big eyes. “Kids,” he hears the man mutter. “Great, just what I need, a coupla kids, gettin’ in my way.. Hey, kiddies,” he says, louder, with a smile, which might be really charming when he’s not soaked in rot and blood, but the effect at the moment is not as sincere and friendly as he clearly thinks it is. “Looks like you two little heroes managed to wrangle my book away from those deadites. You wanna do your pal Ash a favor, and hand it over?” He makes a “come here” motion with his stump arm, and then seems to realize that’s not so appealing, because he tucks that appendage behind his back, worried, suddenly, about scaring them. As if a man with a missing hand is the weirdest thing they've seen in the last five minutes.

“What the fuck,” Lydia says, and BJ can’t help but agree with that sentiment. Also, he feels a vague sense of sudden responsibility for this weird old tome. It doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing a human should have. Maybe those zombies… deadites? Maybe they were trying to get back what was stolen from them. Though he’s not charitable enough to assume that they’re the good guys in this feud. The stranger, Ash, takes a careful step forward. “It’s alright,” he says, like he’s talking to a wild animal he’s trying to tame, and not a teen and preteen, respectively. “I’m not gonna hurtcha. Just need to get my book back.”

A sudden screeching wind roars down the alleyway, and both living humans react, ducking, as it bellows and swirls around them, kicking up dust and trash and chunks of leftover deadite. “Demon! Aid us!” BJ feels a presence in front of his face, something he can’t see, but a great, ancient something, reaching out to him, demanding, begging, pleading, for him to assist in whatever macabre goal it wants to meet. He responds by sticking his unglamoured tongue out at it. “Ewww, gross. No.”

The thing shrieks again, and makes a beeline for Lydia, which is just about the stupidest thing it could have done, because he drops his glamour fully and snarls, gives the ancient being a psychic push back, and he sends the thing that cannot be seen flying, out of the shady darkness of this alleyway, past what he assumes to be Ash’s car, and out onto the city street, into the sun. It shrieks and moans and curses him. He flips it off, as it dissipates. The vibe in the air, however, tells him it’s not “dead,” just gone.

Ash straightens up and looks at him. BJ’s already slipped his human disguise back on, so the effect is that Ash has just seen what seems to be a slightly too pale and definitely overweight human teen somehow push back an ancient evil, totally unaffected. Now it’s his turn to let out a confused, “What the fuck?”

“Come on, BJ!” Lydia grabs her big brother’s arm and pulls him away, running from the gore and the confused zombie slayer. “Wait, kids-!” Ash rounds the corner, after them, but the Deetz siblings are already gone, disappeared into thin air, flash stepping the span of blocks in the blink of an eye, and they don’t stop until Lydia, sick from the teleportation, gives his hand a squeeze. They appear on a rooftop, confusing and traumatizing some pigeons that had been roosting.

“Wait, why did we run?’ BJ asks, and Lydia looks at him like he’s a moron. “Because that guy was clearly a monster hunter! And kind of really good at it!” she says. He mulls that over, and smiles. “Worried for your big bro?” he bats his eyelashes at her, and she responds by slugging him in the gut, which he reacts the barest amount to. “Last thing I want is to explain to mom and dad how you ended up with a shotgun blast through your skull,” she says, and crosses her arms, before leaning forward, to study the book he’s still holding. “So. What is that?” He grins. “Wanna open it an’ find out?” Read the rest of the first chapter here!

[snickiebear]

If this inspires anything in you, and if you have the time to write it, I hope we can see how you respond to the following prompt:

Kakashi is the god Sakura has to eat and kill.

Lordt help us!

HAHAHAHA MITTENS!! this is literally one of the best prompts ever. thank you SO MUCH!!

i literally had to sit down and outline this so make sure i gave it justice LMAO also, did a little research on japanese kami! which is so interesting btw :))

side note! this is also on ao3 bc i really, really loved it

xiv.

It begins with a girl (doesn’t it always?). A girl made woman who is nothing but smiles and laughter, unfiltered sunshine and the smell of flowers on the warm breeze.

She is good, she is brave, she is kind.

And she grows, that girl made woman, she grows and her eyes open to the world around her. To the hatred of the mortal, to the disease of the gods.

She holds her mother close as she dies in her arms, her father off to war.

They never find his body.

She is the only survivor of her village, war and wreckage in her wake.

This woman made once of sweet sighs and feather light touches learns to survive, learns to harden herself against the world, to bare her teeth and not her throat, to love the scars and hard muscle of her once too soft body.

She meets a woman with too ancient eyes for a face so young and the woman smiles at her, it is a horrible, wretched look. It is a beautiful, timeless look. “Oh, you.” She murmurs, voice old and young, standing slowly. “You’ll do just fine.”

And the girl made woman bares her teeth in a smile, a warning, tilting her head to the side, “Oh? And what shall I do just fine?”

The woman assesses her, amber eyes shining with something cruel, “You will be my avenger, girl.”

And the girl made woman, well, she rather likes the sound of that.

xxiii.

She sees him for the first time at the market, it’s a cloudy day, the streets full of people and the carts slowly selling out of the limited goods available.

The very land has been dying for years now. The mortals do not know it, but Sakura does. Less and less crops, dying plants, brain soil.

The thought itself brings a slight smile of fondness to her face.

But Sakura sees him for the first time at the market, and she knows who he is, what he is. She was under Tsunade’s tutelage for years. Sakura knows a god, a kami, when she sees one, feels one.

So, she walks, shoulders back, spine straight, loose and fluidly until her boot purposely catches on a crack in the cobblestoned road and she’s airborne with a sharp gasp—

Until two strong hands wrap around her forearms, steadying her gently. Sakura looks up, face flushed and eyes wide as she makes eye contact with the Shinigami, who looks at her in concern.

The god takes the form of a tall, broadly shouldered man with a mess of gray hair. Onyx eyes stare at her and they are so black she can see her reflection. Sakura fights the full body shudder that threatens to overtake her.

She has stared into the eyes of a dying god before. Staring into a living one’s should be no different.

“Are you okay?” He asks and his voice rumbles through her, her heart pounding without her consent.

“Yes,” She breathes and offers a shy but sweet smile, slowly taking a step back. He lets his hands drop, fingers grazing her bare skin. She ignores the goosebumps that erupt in his wake. “Thank you very much…”

“Hatake Kakashi,” The liar says, eyes crinkling from over his mask. “And you are?”

“Haruno Sakura,” She replies easily, tucking her hair behind her ear. The Shinigami holds out her basket of goods and she takes it, brushing her fingers against his deliberately, calculatingly.

The wretched kami gives her another eye crinkle, taking a step back himself, “Aa, a pleasure then, Haruno-san.”

Forcing a blush, Sakura waves off the honorific, “Please, just Sakura.”

“Then I am simply Kakashi,” And with a duck of his head, the fraud turns and ambles away.

Sakura turns also, disappearing into the crowd of much too skinny humans, too poor, too stupid. She allows herself to grin, wide and unfiltered, and with teeth. And that scaled, clawed, fanged thing inside her peeks its eye open and purrs.

xvi.

Tsunade— or at least that is what she wants Sakura to call her — takes a long swig from her jug and cackles to herself. “I was right when I picked you, you know.”

Sakura glances up from her scroll of poisons, “You still have yet to tell me why it took only one look to think I can do whatever avenging you want done.”

Swirling the liquid in the jug once more, Tsunade chuckles, “Call it intuition, yeah?”

She huffs, snapping the scroll shut and stealing the jug from her master, taking a long drink herself. It is horribly bitter and disgustingly tart, and Tsunade laughs herself hoarse at the look on Sakura’s face.

“You’re going to do great, mighty, quiet things.” Tsunade says after a long silence. Sakura looks at her curiously. “You will bring war upon earth, disrupt the very heavens. Sweet child, you only know a taste of the power you could hold.”

And Sakura, well, she’s been alone since she was eight years old and surrounded by disease ridden corpses, she’s stolen and cheated and bartered her way through survival. She knows her way around a knife, a piece of glass, a sharp rock.

She has spilt blood just to eat for the night.

“You’ll teach me,” It is not a question.

That cruel, beautiful smile unfurls on her master’s face, “Of course, Avenger. Tell me what you want to know.”

“Everything.” Sakura breathes, demands, pleads.

A soft, aching laugh. “Very well, come here and listen closely.”

And Sakura is a clever girl made woman, she listens to everything Tsunade says, and everything she does not.

So, when Tsunade leaves her alone for the night, Sakura stares at the ceiling of the cheap Inn they are staying in and allows herself to smirk.

xxiii.

She sees him every time she goes to the market after that. He crinkles his eyes at her with a, “Good morning, Sakura-san.”

And in response Sakura blushes and murmurs a sweet, “Hello Kakashi-san.”

It goes like this for weeks until he changes their routine, leaning against one of the carts, tossing an apple into the air. There is only one farmer who can now produce apples, and even then the fruit is weak, no longer crispy and juicy.

The very land, the very life of this village is being drained away. Just as the other villages Sakura has traveled through. There will always be consequences to her actions, she supposes.

Kakashi tosses her the apple and Sakura makes sure to fumble with it before clutching it close to her chest, a teasing smile on her lips, “Kakashi-san, this is new.”

“Mah,” He hums, shrugging, “Just didn’t want you to miss out on your usual, is all.”

Sakura smiles, tucking the apple into her basket, the usual contents dwindled down to a simple jar of jam, a measly loaf of bread, and now the apple. She would need to make this quick and move towns soon.

“Say, would you like to come to lunch with me?” It’s a shot in the dark but she’s hoping that Tsunade was right when she said Sakura was infuriatingly charming. “I understand if you would not like—"

Kakashi cuts her off with a wave of his hand and a friendly look in his eye. Sakura wonders, idly, what he would taste like freshly baked and seasoned. “I am not one to turn down free food, of course.”

She laughs, a light and tittering thing and bares her throat the slightest bit before looping arms with him, “I shall lead the way then.”

Luckily, she has some dried meat and left over vegetables to make something decent and she smiles as him as she sits.

“You’re a healer.” Is what he says, eyeing the herbs and the bandages she had left out.

Sakura shrugs, “I try to lessen pain,” It is one of the many things Tsunade had left her.

He looks at her as if she is something new and so very interesting and she knows what he sees. A thing of life, a thing of preservation, has invited a creature of death, a creature of destruction into its domain, and allows that dark creature to live there.

It is what she wants him to see. Sakura smiles with teeth and she knows he does not see the wolf that sits in front of him.

xvi.

“Dodge!” Tsunade barks harshly and Sakura just barely avoids a direct hit, her skin still burning from the way the air sizzles from her master’s blow.

Sakura twists and flips backwards to gain some space between them, thighs quaking and sweat pouring as she pants, chest heaving. “I fucking am!” She bites back.

“Do it faster.” And then Tsunade is in her space, uppercutting and a blow to her stomach, sending Sakura flying into the corpse of trees behind them.

But Sakura is used being beaten down and she snarls loudly, landing on all fours, fingers digging deep into the ground before she lunges upwards, narrowing avoiding Tsunade’s next hit before spinning horizontally and lashing out with her foot.

And for the first time, Sakura lands a hit on Tsunade; sending her stumbling back, golden blood bleeding down her face.

She lands, gasping for breath, knees collapsing out from under her as she stares wide eyed as her master wipes blood and sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Her amber eyes sharpen to knife points as she grins, feral and oh so wild, “Very good, Sakura. Now we’re making progress.”

Despite her exhaustion, Sakura smirks, tasting blood and salt and victory. “Think you can handle more, old lady?”

“Don’t push your luck, brat.” Tsunade smirks, stalking towards Sakura to pull her up, “Now let me see that jaw of yours. And the stomach, the hell did I tell you about the sto-“

“I know,” She snaps, rolling her eyes as her body throbs something fierce. She allows herself the weakness of leaning into Tsunade’s as they trudge back to their small cottage. “I’ll do better.”

“Good.” They leave it at that. Then, “That was a good hit, my pupil.”

And Sakura, well, she’s feeling indulgent, so she smiles, a slight twitch of the lips as she murmurs, “Thank you, shishou.”

xxiv.

She finds him at the usual spot, draped over a branch like a limp curtain, book in hand. Sakura is still not quite over the fact that the death god reads awfully written porn, but at this point in her life, nothing can truly shock her.

Sakura is well past expectations.

Hiking up her pants, she climbs up the tree and to the branch he’s lounging on, straddling it so her back is to the trunk. Kakashi makes a curious noise when she pulls out her book from the waistline of her pants, “I never took you as an Icha Icha reader, Sakura-chan.”

Peering over the top of her book, Sakura quirks a brow, “If you can read porn, so can I.” A pause as she turns the page, “Plus you’re reading Paradise, I’m reading Violence. Two very different pieces of literature.”

What she will not tell him is that Tsunade taught her how to read with these books, she’s memorized every page, paragraph, and line written.

“You wound me so,” He sighs, going back to his book.

Comfortable silence descends upon them and the only sounds are of nature and the rustle of paper. Time passes and she cannot help the slight twitch of her lips whenever Kakashi giggles at a certain part. It is nice, this quiet.

But she knows it will not last. She will not allow it.

And like an omen, low rumbling of thunder rolls through their quiet, small droplets landing on her hand before the rain steadily picks up. Sakura snaps the book shut and shimmies down the tree, Kakashi landing soundly next to her.

“My place?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

Kakashi intertwines their hands, gently and slowly, his hand encompassing her own as he looks at her, dark eyes reflecting the sky as lightning strikes. Something hot pools deep in her belly when she makes eye contact with him.

And she knows. She knows that she has him.

They stand in her small cottage, dripping and studying each other before they move as one, ripping at each other’s clothes, all lips, teeth, and tongue.

She claws at his back when he thrusts into her, rough and unyielding. The rain pounds outside as her back arches and he groans deep and rasping.

He falls asleep, his face pressed into the crook of her neck and Sakura allows herself to smirk, the taste of glory on her tongue once more.

xiv.

Sakura glowers and bares her teeth at the woman, “You still haven’t fuckin’ told me what we’re supposed to be doing.”

Truly, the only reason why Sakura is even here is because of the free food and shelter. She is well aware that nothing is free in this world, Sakura has learned that the hard way.

The woman tilts her head, studying keenly and Sakura rears her head in a snarl. But the woman’s lips pick up at the corner, “What’s your name girl?”

“Sakura.” She bites out, fingers curling into fists. Glancing around the tavern, she notes the exits, the windows, the people who could be an issue. Then again, she’s sitting across the biggest threat in the room. “And yours?”

The woman hums, “Call me Tsunade.”

“And what am I supposed to be doing here?” She grounds out. Sakura nearly bites the woman when two strong hands clamp down on her shoulders, the woman’s face inches from her own.

“You are the catalyst, girl. The commination that will teach the world the very meaning of power.” Sakura’s eyes sharpen at the last word and Tsunade nods. “You like that, hm? I will teach you then, Sakura. And you will enact my vengeance on the heavens itself.”

Sakura stares, tension slowly melting from her body as she stares at this woman, at this savior. And she thinks, she remembers how cold her mother’s body was, the look of grief her father wore when he left.

She remembers tripping over the bodies of friends, of neighbors, half coherent and sickly.

Looking at Tsunade, Sakura licks her lips, “And what will you teach me?”

“How to turn that rage into a dagger and slit gods’ throats with it.” The woman purrs and Sakura smiles.

xxiv.

She wakes to a freezing cold chest to her back and puffs of air on her neck, just as she has since that night.

It is exactly as Tsunade said it would be; fishing. Lure, hook, and reel.

Sakura lets herself smile with teeth, a smug and sharp thing before she slowly extracts herself from the tangle of limbs they had become. The Shinigami slumbers in her bed, wrapped in her blankets.

Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, she looks at the god who she has fallen in love with. He loves her with just as much ferocity, she knows. And despite it all, she finds herself not quite hesitating when she goes to dig through her cabinets, finding the small nine pedaled flower. It once had ten and after this morning it will only have eight.

It is as if sinking into a familiar skin as she picks one of the petals, tucking the flower back where it was. Humming under her breath, Sakura grounds the petal in a small bowl before brewing some tea, sprinkling the powder into it.

The Shinigami’s arms snake around her waist, kissing her temple as he rumbles, “Good morning.”

Sakura turns her head to smile at him, offering the tea.

The scaled, clawed, fanged thing within her has its ugly maw open, head throw back as it cackles and howls.

xviii.

“Listen brat,” Tsunade says, snapping open a scroll.

“I’ve already read that,” Sakura interjects, her brows raising. “You know that.”

Tsunade slaps the back of her head, “When I say listen, I mean it.” She shoves the scroll into Sakura’s lap before striding towards a chest that had not been there before. “Come here.”

Slowly, Sakura makes her way towards the opened chest and peeks inside. She drops the scroll, “Is-is that-”

“Weapons to kill the divine,” Tsunade finishes for her, nodding. “Find one you like.”

Sakura swallows harshly as she kneels down and digs through the weapons, careful of every sharp point, as she palms a knife, a curved dagger with a golden blade. “This one.” She whispers, looking up to her master.

Tsunade nods in approval. “There are few ways to kill a kami.” She holds out one finger, “One, with an ichor dipped weapon.” A second finger. “Two, a very particular poison.”

Picking up the scroll, Sakura glances down the list before landing on one flower, “Kami koroshi.”

“That’s right.” Tsunade nods, “And do you know what to do with it?”

Sakura stands, flipping the dagger in her hand. It feels like coming home, having a blade at her side, bathing in the intimately dangerous knowledge of how to bring about the destruction of the heavens.

“Crush it for indigestion.”

xxiii.

Her stomach aches with laughter, clutching at her sides as she cramps and chokes on her tears. “An-and then wha-what happened?” She manages to get out as Kakashi laughs himself, leaning against the wall, a jug of liquor in hand.

He passes it to her and Sakura takes a long drink, reminiscing of a time similar to this.

“Then I told him, fuck off you little shit—" Kakashi wheezes and Sakura shouts with laughter, curling over as she gasps for breath. “And go blow som-someone else!”

They both dissolve into giggles and howls, Kakashi joining her on the floor. Sakura’s panting by the time she catches her breath, wiping tears from her face, and when she looks over Kakashi is not much better.

Brushing hair from his face, she points skyward, the stars winking down at him. “Hey Kakashi,” She asks, drunk off her ass and still giggly. “Where do you think we go when we die?”

Silence meets her question, and she sluggishly looks to the side to find him watching her, eyes soft and so full of— of—

“You’ll go somewhere safe,” He says softly. “Somewhere beautiful.”

“Yeah?” She mumbles, eyes dropping closed.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Is the last thing she hears before the dark overtakes her.

xix.

Tsunade sits across from her, laughing as she takes another long drink from her jug and sets it down heavily.

Sakura simply watches, leaning back in her chair, eyes cold and head tilted as her master coughs once, twice, three times.

Her arms begin to lose its color, being paler and paler and Tsunade watches with detached interest before laughing. She looks to Sakura, “Took you long enough, you fuckin’ brat.”

Snorting, Sakura stands, dagger in hand as Tsunade’s body begins to writhe, her breathes coming quick and uneven.

She yanks her master’s hair back, exposing her throat and slitting it in a single slide, so deep that she knicks bone, golden blood spraying.

The body drops forward, ichor pooling on the table and dripping onto the floor. Sakura sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she kneels down to look into Tsunade’s lifeless eyes, “I will take it from here, Shishou.”

The promise rings out into the silence and Sakura revels in it.

xxiv.

Kakashi takes a sip of the tea as they both sit down, Sakura across from him. She takes a bite from the rest of their bread, watching him keenly.

He jerks suddenly, choking and hacking as he looks to her in horror and alarm. “You—"

“Me.” She confirms easily, getting up, dagger in hand.

The Shinigami roars and pushes the table away from himself and into the wall, Sakura ducks, the wood barely grazing her head before she lunges.

His already pale skin grays some more as he attempts to fight her off. She laughs at him, holding him down with one hand, knees on either side of his hips. And in the morning light, her dagger glints like a heaven sent prayer.

She plunges the blade into his head and drags it down his breast, carving him open as the kami screams and screams and screams.

Sakura feels his life bleed out from him under her hand. It is quiet once more.

And the girl made woman smiles, all bloodied teeth and gold stained hands. "And here we are." she whispers, caressing the corpse's cheek, reveling in her quiet victory. "Divinity dies at my wretched hands once again."

xvii.

“Shishou,” She begins, treading carefully. Her teacher looks at her in question, quirking up a brow. “Why were you outcasted from the other Kami?”

Tsunade— or more commonly known as Inari, Goddess of Everything Important, of the very Life— laughs and it is a hollow sound. “Oh, darling girl,” She says, a bland smile on her face. “Even gods hunger for power."

xiv.

Sakura sits, a feast laid out in front of her, a goblet of wine in her hand as she smiles, eyes flashing with something predatory.

Picking up her fork, Sakura spears into the first bit of meat, taking a bite and moaning at the way it melts in her mouth, the way the spices and flavors all blend.

She sips at her wine, running her tongue over her teeth before she laughs, throwing her head back and cackles at it all, with it all. Oh, she is a god killer, she is god taught and god fucked and she will be the one to rule them all.

Sakura sits, a feast laid in front of her, and eats the Shinigami’s flesh, one bite at a time until she can feel the power in her roar.

xix.

The corpse still sits at the table as Sakura rummages through the shit Tsunade had left behind, finding a thick envelope sealed in wax. Prying it open, Sakura laughs.

If you’ve found this, it means you’ve finally grown a pair and done what you were supposed to do. Well done, my pupil. You know your mission. I have trained you well. Do not disappoint me.

And behind the scrawled letter is a recipe.

She looks to the corpse and back down to the paper before she stands, going to gather the ingredients needed.

Sakura stands, flipping through the rest of the contents of the envelope until she pauses at another paper; a list of names and common dwellings.

The Shinigami’s is underlined three times in red.

xxv.

It ends with a girl (doesn't it always?), a girl made of nothing but destruction and anger, all slit throats and bleeding teeth.

She is horrid, she is wretched, she is powerful.

And she has grown, that girl made woman, she has grown and her eyes are wide open and she is intimately aware of the hated and evil of the world, of the weaknesses of the divine.

She finds them laying under a tree, peacefully existing and smiling at each other. The blonde one laughs, clutching his stomach while the raven simply watches on in adoration.

Sakura takes out the list, and under the Shinigami’s name crosses off two more, Raijin and Fujin.

Smiling, she makes her way towards them making sure to look a little lost and a bit scared.

And that thing inside her, the scaled, clawed, fanged thing, it smiles wide and hungry.

[invaderlynx]

Booker and La Campagne de Russie

I just watched The Old Guard and honestly, it was one of the best movies I’ve seen in a VERY long time. Of course, now I’m having all sorts of thoughts about the whole thing and particularly about Booker because his backstory intersects perfectly with my historical interests. I know that all the immortals in The Old Guard have experienced all sorts of terrible trauma, but because I am a history major with an affinity for the Napoleonic period, especially the Russian Campaign (and because Booker is my favorite character), I’d like to give you guys an idea of just what sort of torture he faced even before the pain of losing his family (also for fair warning, I have not read the comics):

Please place yourself in Booker’s shoes. You are one of over 600,000 men mustered to march into Russia. You’re serving in an army you never wanted to join, taking up arms for the glory of an empire that’s never done anything for you. You’ve been separated from your three beloved sons and your wife whom you love more than life itself, and have been sent off to fight in a foreign land that’s nothing like the home you’ve left behind. That much becomes evident immediately. 

The invasion starts in the summer of 1812 and it is hot, unseasonably hot. You feel it, laboring as you are under the thick heavy materials of your sweat-soaked uniform. Each step is its own torture in the heat as you struggle through mud left behind by hard summer rains. More than a few men kill themselves at this point and although this is just the beginning, you can hardly blame them. Some of your comrades get the bright idea to start discarding some of their extra layers of clothing—underthings and the like. Perhaps you join them, anything to lighten the load. You can’t be expected to carry all this over the long miles ahead. You’ll live to regret that decision.

The fighting itself is worse than the conditions. You never quite get used to the violence. No matter how many times you’re thrust into battle, your mouth still goes dry, your heart still thunders as loud as the military drums’ tattoo, you still choke on that thick gunpowder smoke. You nearly threw up the first time you killed with a bayonet. You remember sticking the man in between the ribs, a swift stab and he is bleeding out. It is only then that you see his face and realize just how young he is. He is a boy, maybe a few precious years older than your eldest. He cries as he falls. You didn’t speak Russian at the time but you didn’t need to to recognize the word “Мама”.

The only thing that makes it possible to keep putting one foot in front of the other (besides your family, of course) is your comrades-in-arms. Against all odds, you’ve found friendship here, men with whom you can share stories and jokes and drinks. You find a few men of around your own age with families, wives and children that they lovingly speak of, but many of these soldiers are young, young enough to be your sons, far too young to be out here slaughtering and being slaughtered. Over your meager meals you tell stories of home and it is enough to hold off the impending horror, at least for a moment. When that doesn’t work, you turn to drink. You drink an awful lot.

The conditions of this foreign land are mercurial at best and your woes are only compounded by your lack of proper supplies. The Russians have been scorching nearly everything in the wake of their retreat, making it difficult for you to forage for food. Your search parties turn up very little by way of provisions and your food supply continues to fall in tandem with the temperature.

Borodino is hell. You see the man to the right of you receive a cannonball to the chest and fall in a spray of red, you see the man to the left crumple as a shot rips through his handsome, hard-lined face. One of your friends, one of those boys that you’d come to regard as a surrogate son who was barely old enough to grow hair on his chin, catches a bullet in the leg. He dies in agony four days later, one of the thousands of casualties of that damned battle. In your lowest moments, you wish you would have joined him.

You were never a particularly happy man, even before the war. Prone to fits of melancholia, they would have said back then. Your darling wife and your three sons certainly helped to alleviate that heavy, aching emptiness that resided in your chest, but it never went away, not fully. It resurfaces with a vengeance now. Sitting with your gun in your hands and far too much liquor in your belly, you think about ending it all. How easy it would be to put a bullet in your brain and finally die. In the end, it’s your family that saves you again. You may not want to live for yourself, but for them- for them you can keep fighting. Besides, Moscow is only 70 miles away and once you take the ancient capital, Russia will have no choice but to surrender. That’s what everyone is saying and you force yourself to believe that it’s true.

Moscow was a lie. You took the capital but there was no peace. There was no food either. The Russians took it all when they abandoned the place, leaving almost nothing for your starving army. Nothing but liquor, which you are very grateful for at least. Your superiors probably aren’t, you think wryly as you raise the bottle to your lips and drink, drink, drink.

Moscow passes in a drunken haze for you. You drown yourself in Russian booze, drinking yourself absolutely insensate. There are entire days you spend propped up against the wall of some ramshackle Russian establishment, surrounded by empty bottles, too drunk to even stand. You remember bits and pieces, shattered memories drifting in and out of the fog. The looting and the things you took (a fine scarf, a silver flask, maybe more), a ladies’ fur shawl wrapped about your shoulders to keep out the chill, the burning heat of a terrible fire and the screams in French and Russian, the acrid taste of bile in your mouth as you splutter sick all over yourself only to raise the bottle to your lips again for another drink. In the end, you’re forced to leave Moscow as the position becomes untenable, the abandoned city burned to a shell of its former self. You never do learn who first started the fire, even years after the fact. 

The retreat is hell on Earth, worse than anything else that came before. La Grande Armée is hardly an army any longer, you’ve lost practically all discipline. By now, you’re just a bunch of exhausted, cold, starving men who want nothing more than to just make it home alive. Most of them won’t. The temperatures have dropped to below freezing at this point and you are wishing more than anything that you still had those infernal layers that caused you so much pain in the summer months. The clothing you and your comrades drunkenly plundered in Moscow—silken scarves stolen from abandoned trunks, heavy furs pilfered from store inventories, ladies’ shoes that hurt your feet but do a better job of keeping out the slush than your tattered boots—help, but not enough. Your fingers stiffen to near icicles in the cold as you try your damnedest to massage even a little warmth back into them, your face is wind-chapped and scabbed. You feel as though your very marrow has frozen, and you are one of the lucky ones. Men freeze to death in their sleep in less than an hour. Fifty men will sit down at a fire and only the twenty or so closest will ever get back up again. You all begin to loot the bodies of the dead and—as you grow more desperate—the dying as well. Corpses are stripped naked and left in the snow as the survivors squabble over their threadbare uniform pieces. Sometimes the corpses still twitch and moan but you try to ignore that.

There’s no food either. In addition to freezing, you’re starving too. The lot of you fight and quarrel over moldy crusts of bread, and in some cases even kill each other for them. The more clever turn to other sources to fill their writhing, empty stomachs. Some eat their boots, but there isn’t much leather left in any case. Some carve their meals off the horses as they walk, tearing bits of bleeding flesh off of the warm, moving flanks in a short-sighted attempt to get even a few morsels of meat in their bellies. Others, in mad desperation as the march (if you can even call it that any longer) wears on, turn to each other.

Perhaps you take part in this, perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you sidle a man out of the way to get closer to the fire, perhaps you take a coat off a corpse that you don’t know for sure is dead yet, perhaps you accept a piece of meat that you do not quite know the origin of. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

In the end it doesn’t matter. You die anyway. You don’t really remember how it happened the first time. Maybe you were finally picked off by the advancing Russians, maybe it was exposure, exhaustion, starvation, sickness, any of the hundred ways that you could die in this frozen wasteland. All you know is that one moment you were on your feet, shambling mutely forward, the next you were lying on the icy ground, gasping air back into lungs that had fallen completely still. Four faces are burned into your memory and from one you can still hear the gurgling, watery screams.

That’s when the dreams start, after that first death. Though, you wouldn’t classify them as dreams, they’re far more alike to nightmares. You see that screaming, drowning woman often. You feel her fear as she slams her body against her metal coffin. Even awake you can’t get the sound of her choking out of your head. Sometimes there are soft moments interspersed with the horror. You see a woman with short hair (it reminds you of a coiffure à la victime) laughing, you see two men resting in each others’ arms, foreheads pressed together gently, blissfully happy. To be quite honest, these ones hurt worst of all because they make you regret ever waking up.

You die a few more times before you finally decide to desert. You can’t take it anymore. That tyrant Bonaparte has abandoned this army, why can’t you? You take flight under the cold cover of night, trying to get to the Russian border. You don’t make it very far. You are dragged back—aching, tired, and hungry—and are hanged by the road as a deserter. Perhaps there still is a little discipline left in these ranks, at least enough to allow these soldiers to kill their comrades in the name of orders. You have to wait three days for the road to clear before you can finally run. In that time your body is almost entirely picked clean by looters. You continue your desperate trek back home in spite of it all and die many more times in the weeks (or was it months?) that follow. It never gets any easier.

 It’s near the border into Prussia that you finally meet one of the figures from your dreams. Perhaps it is the woman with the short hair who offers you a drink and a coat to put around your shoulders, and tells you bluntly but not unkindly that you’re immortal. Perhaps it is the curly-haired man who helps hold you upright when you stumble and is careful and caring with his words as he gently explains the situation. Perhaps it is his lighter-haired lover who catches you when you fold in on yourself from the weight of his words and offers you affirmations and condolences in a voice reminiscent of a priest. Whoever it is, they ask you to come with them and explain that there are others like them- like you out there.

“What about my family?” you stutter out, almost unconscious of the words as the tumble from your mouth “My wife? What about them?”

They favor you with a sad smile and try to explain, but you will hear none of it. They do not stop you when you tell them that you are going home, and you are glad for it.

With the supplies they give to you, you manage to hobble your way back home. You’ve been taken for a dead man, you realize, everyone you pass seems to think you’re a ghost. You don’t care. You only have one person on your mind.

Your wife answers the door dressed in black. She starts to cry when she sees you and throws her arms around your neck. You nearly crumple, weak as you are. “Bastien, Bastien,” she sobs against your shoulder “What happened?”

That question fills you with icy dread. Your stomach drops as you realize you cannot explain to her what you’ve been through, not in a way that she’ll understand. Even if you explain the immortality and she believes you, she won’t understand the horrors you’ve seen. No one will. A soldier’s burden.

You stay silent and instead cradle her closer as your boys appear in the doorway. You have them and, for now, that is enough. You won’t forget, you will never forget, but for now at least you have this.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 13

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 13 - Doubt

In the archaeological internship Lin Yan participated in, the Ming Tomb was undoubtedly a very peculiar place. The excavation work lasted three months. Before the excavation started, Lin Yan didn't even get any relevant background information. He asked his professor several times but never got a response. When he was told that would be staying at the tomb for only a week, he thought he was coming to be the team's water boy. Instead, he was unexpectedly sent to the site as soon as the plane touched down and was given one of the most important jobs of cleaning the body found in the main room of the tomb.

It was a medium-sized underground mysterious tomb. Bluestone blocks were built into arches. The apse in the room was about forty meters long. A large black lacquered coffin left slightly ajar rested peacefully on the stone platform. Lin Yan and the rest of the crew held their breath together. When the golden nanmu wood coffin lid was slowly lifted, and the gold, silver, jade and rosy brocade around the corpse were exposed, a soft cheer erupted from the tomb. Everyone couldn't help but celebrate that they found such an magnificent mausoleum that had been left completely untouched by tomb robbers. After a long while, all nonessential personnel evacuated one by one. Lin Yan remembered that the professor was the last one to leave the scene. When he left, he rested his hand heavily on his shoulders, as if he wanted to say something but never ended up getting anything out. In the empty and dark main room of the tomb, only Lin Yan and a few lights, both bright and dim, were left. Sometimes, the miner's lamp was often extinguished inexplicably. He later recalled that the owner of the tomb might have been watching him ever since then.

The corpse in the coffin had rotted into a skeleton, but the hair that remained was soft and shiny. However, when Lin Yan sat alone by the coffin and skimmed through some history books, doubts arose. The identity of the owner of the tomb was like the bronze of this mysterious palace, unrecognizable under the green rust. There was no record, no genealogy, nothing even mentioned in town and county chronologies. The tomb's eternal light placed in front of the coffin had long been dried up, and a two-foot-long black name card behind it was coated with thick old blood. The place where the name should be written was empty, and it turned out to be a non-character memorial tablet.

When the last artifact in the coffin was successfully taken out, Lin Yan was told he could return. It only took them seven days and no one had ever told him about the origin of the tomb that whole time.

The sun was shining on Friday morning, and the roses in the flower bed were rushing to bloom. There was a soft fragrance of something oily like burning opium in the air. Lin Yan parked his car at the school gate and hurried through the small square in front of the building to get to the professor's office. He was in such a rush that he went through the ground fountain in the square. After he took a few steps, bells and drums started playing and spurts of water shot from the jets, the surrounding area immediately turning into a forest of water columns shooting up.

"Shit. . ." He couldn't dodge them and got completely soaked. Lin Yan internally cursed as he rushed forward, wringing out the hem of his shirt. A few school girls had just come out of the main entrance of the building and giggled at the embarrassing scene.

Lin Yan blushed a little.

Shiny drops of water splashed off his hair and a droplet fell into his eye. When he raised his hand to wipe it away, his wrist was caught by someone. The cold fingertips wiped the drop off one of his eyelashes. Lin Yan blinked and stood there silently.

When he walked up the steps, he saw a new large poster on the left side of the automatic door. A gentle-looking middle-aged man with glasses was holding a pen, and his demeanour resembled an unopened folder in a stationery store. There was a large line next to him: Chen XX, a well-known Chinese history professor, is coming to our school to give a lecture. All students are welcome to participate. This will be a great chance to interact with the professor.

The tune played was one typically used by the Propaganda Department, the following rows of small letters are written with the specific time and content of the event. Lin Yan struggled to twist the hem of the wet T-shirt and walked towards the hall, muttering that this was probably the reason that the fountain suddenly turned on. Turning back, he frowned and stood in front of the poster for a minute. He always felt that the man on the poster was a bit familiar, but he couldn't remember who it was. After thinking about it for a while, Lin Yan shook his head and stepped through the hall.

The professor's office was on the fourth floor.

"Professor, are you kidding me? From the preliminary preparations to the end of the tomb excavation, so many people participated in it. How could it be possible that nothing about the tomb owner's origins could be found until now?"

"That tomb was already considered to be average to wealthy for the time period. Even if the owner of the tomb was not of official origin, there is always a record in historical records for wealthy businessmen."

University institutions were never busy on Fridays. Everyone was waiting for the weekend. Lin Yan’s professor was no exception. He was sitting in the office with his legs crossed when the drenched student burst into his office. Behind the table, he held a heavy purple sand teacup in his hand. Because he often went to the West in his early years, his skin was wrinkled by the wind and frost. His midsection was blessed by some middle-aged fat, and the bags under the eyes were hanging loosely behind the glasses.

The professor grew impatient with Lin Yan's aggressive tone, and patted a stack of books on the table: "Isn't that so? You see, I'm more worried about writing a report on the excavation. I've been busy for more than a month and I haven't made any progress."

Lin Yan leaned forward impatiently with his hands on the glass plate of the tabletop: "The mausoleum was left untouched. The body and burial items were intact. Isn't it possible to determine the identity of the tomb owner?"

This student had always been known for his politeness and patience. It was rare for him to be this anxious.

"That's the problem. Comparing the data compiled based on the unearthed cultural relics with the records at the time, I can only say that he's completely unknown." The professor put down the cup and tapped his finger on the cover of the book a few times: "Ming Dynasty history is not my specialty. Tell me, why don't you do some research yourself? The students in our school must be able to research independently. You should make good use of the school library resources."

Lin Yan shook his head disappointedly. Just like the professor said, there was a lot of historical data to go through. He wouldn't make any progress in the next three months. Even three years might not be enough time to go through all the information. By then, he would have run out of ten lives. What's more, he has searched through the relevant history books of the library for the past week and even asked Yin Zhou to search through the database in less legal ways, but the strange thing is that no matter what keywords they use - the age, name, location - he couldn't find any information. It was common sense that, in ancient times, even a talented person would be written about somewhere in the county annals, but this Xiao Yu was like a person from another world. The records passed over him like he had never existed.

The faint scent of book pages and wood was floating in the air, and the light blue shutters broke up the rays of sun leaking in. Lin Yan subconsciously glanced back, as if there should be a companion waiting to respond to his doubts. But Xiao Yu does exist, he thought.

Trying his best to stay calm, Lin Yan lowered his head and lowered his voice: "Teacher, this is really important to me, can you help. . ." While speaking, his gaze was fixed on the table. Under the glass plate were many old photos of the professor when he was young. There was a row of people wearing work clothes and hard hats in the black-and-white pictures. Compared to the middle-aged man with swollen eyes in front of him, there was a strange sense of contradiction in the gray-headed but happy-looking man in the pictures.

Time really did wonders.

The instructor tapped two fingers on the table. He didn't look at Lin Yan when he spoke. His eyes were a little dodged: "Why do you need to know the owner of the tomb? Do you need to write a paper?"

Lin Yan took a deep breath. He had always had a keen insight into people's emotions. When he had been sorting through clues last night, the situation that occurred in the tomb flashed in his mind. He had already had his doubts at the time, but he was so nervous and excited that he didn't think too much of it. For example, ever since he joined the team, everyone had been keeping secrets, and the professor also looked at him with that dodgy look when the excavators all left the tomb. The whole thing seemed to have been arranged long ago, so Lin Yan hadn't cared about interrupting the teacher's off-time and grabbed the phone to set up a meeting time.

"Professor, you should know why; this is a matter of life and death." After hesitating for a moment, Lin Yan frowned and said this sentence with emphasis. He pressed his hands on the table hard and turned away.

When I walked to the door of the office. He paused, one, two. . . Lin Yan counted silently in his heart.

Three.

"Wait." The professor's voice sounded from behind.

"Lin Yan, this project isn't under my control. I just heard that a lot of strange things happened when the tomb was opened. Someone came to me and asked you to go. I didn't agree with it. . . If you really want to know more, you can go ask the coordinator of the excavation yourself." The finger tapped twice on the desk. "His name is Chen, he'll be at our school next Monday for a lecture. There are posters downstairs." After speaking, he took a few volumes from the neatly arranged books and put them back on the table, gesturing that he could leave. "You can get more out of him than me"

"Last question." Lin Yan held the door frame and poked his face in: "Teacher, do you know Xiao Yu?"

"No, I don't." The answer was quick this time: "Who's that?"

Lin Yan sighed and held the railing as he quickly walked downstairs.

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Fifteen

Here’s the second of the Very Difficult Chapters. a great relief

Look, I don’t know shit about mythical ancient China, but I feel some kind of way about any society with a noble class, and you know what so does Wei Ying

In which we hear The Tale of Wei Ying

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

—- Once there was a family, like many families. Mother, father, son, daughter, and somebody else. Don’t sigh like that, Lan Zhan, I’m telling the story. The children could either do nothing wrong or nothing right, depending on who you asked. One year they spent a summer on top of a mountain to learn from the wisest and most beautiful scholars in the world. I’m talking about you and your brother, not your uncle. Are you blushing, Lan Zhan? 

Fine, fine, I’ll skip what you already know. We heard there was an attack, and we left. Did you notice we’d gone? Of course you’d say that now. Fine, fine. 

Uncle was dead when we got there. Madam Yu nearly dead. Jiang Cheng ran out— We tried to stop him, but he’s always so reckless. He’s all heart, Jiang Cheng. People don’t realize that, but he is. 

It was Wen Zhuliu, and some others—I didn’t recognize them. Everything was burning, and Wen Zhuliu came out of the dark … Have you seen him? Have you ever seen what Core Melting Hand can do? It’s like he drained the life out of him. I never thought Jiang Cheng was some glowing, ethereal beauty, ha! But the light was gone. He was a corpse, a breathing corpse. Skin like paper. And Yanli and I stayed out of sight, and they left him for dead and Lotus Pier in flames. So we ran. 

You know Wen Ruohan was behind it, right? All of these attacks on smaller sects, these rogue agents—I’d bet anything I used to own that the Lan Sect ambush was them as well. Oh, your father was there, wasn’t he? I’m sorry, Lan Zhan.

Right.

It took a month, I think. Jiang Cheng kept trying to die. Yanli was barely holding on. Every time he’d try something, she’d break down. It was just me, trying to keep us hidden, trying to keep them alive. They’re so— They feel everything, you know? They feel it so strongly. They can’t help it.

So I wrote to Wen Qing. In code, of course, but she’s clever. She got Yanli safe somewhere with some old aunt or another. I don’t know where. I suppose if I asked—

Ah, I’m stalling. You can tell, can’t you? 

Lan Zhan, have you ever heard of a core transfer? 

Just legends, right? That poem about Yao Ling and Yao Xiulan that romantics like to recite.

You can hold my hand, but not so tight, okay? Don’t be upset. Everyone is fine.

We told Jiang Cheng to meet the mysterious Baoshan Sanren on a mountain and then knocked him out. Wen Qing loves her needles. That’s something you should know about her. 

And so … Ah, it’s hard to say. Why is it so hard to say? So Wen Qing did surgery and gave my golden core to Jiang Cheng. Hey, not so tight. I’m just a poor common man after all. No, I didn’t mean let go!

I don’t know where she learned it. I think she made some of it up, because she’s a genius. I don’t think anyone else could have done it. No one appreciates Wen Qing the way they should. No one but us, now, Lan Zhan.

So we recovered, and I ran. I couldn’t let him find out. It would destroy him. You know—well, you don’t know him very well, do you? Trust me. Maybe someday, far in the future when he’s been a mighty sect leader for years and nothing like this could threaten his position, who he thinks he is. Maybe then I’ll find a way back to Lotus Pier. See Shijie again.

Because I can’t lie to her. And she can’t lie to Jiang Cheng. I couldn’t— can’t risk her seeing me. She’d look me in the eyes for a moment and she’d know. She’s kind of like you in that way, the way she can look into your soul. 

Lan Zhan, you’re shaking. Are you cold? Look, it’s almost dawn.

You know the rest, anyway. I didn’t know how to be mediocre, and the resentful spirits in the Burial Mounds felt it, knew it, filled me up. 

What? Yes, I’m all healed. I can show you the scar if you don’t think it’s too shameless.

It— Two days, I think. I—

I’m not going to tell you about that, Lan Zhan.

–

The sky is a glowing grey, turning everything monochromatic. Here in the dirt Wei Wuxian can’t see much difference between the white and grey of their clothing. Lan Wangji is leaning a bit towards him, still holding his hand. His eyes are distant, aimed somewhere at the ground but not focused on anything. For his part, Wei Wuxian feels like laundry. Boiled and scrubbed and rung out, now swinging in the early morning breeze. He’s as light as a bed sheet, and just as pale.

“You gave your golden core voluntarily,” Lan Wangji says quietly, frowning. “Because of Jiang Wanyin.”

“For Jiang Cheng. Not because of him. It wasn’t his fault.”

“You gave it to him. All of it.”

“You would too, for Zewu Jun.”

“You couldn’t keep any? You had to give it all to him.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “I— You know what, Lan Zhan? I didn’t actually think of that. Wen Qing probably did. I don’t know how she’d split a core, anyway. Huh. I really never even thought to ask. I wish you’d been there!”

Lan Wangji looks up at him, his face twisting painfully

“You didn’t ask. You just gave it—”

“Yes, yes, don’t keep saying that. Now I feel silly.”

“That’s not—” he glares at their joined hands. “Who knows? Who else knows?”

“You. Wen Qing. Zewu Jun now, I suppose. That’s it. You can never tell him, you can never tell Jiang Cheng. You promised.”

Lan Wangji’s glare grows stronger, and Wei Wuxian imagines he can see it drilling into the dirt.

“The transfer. Transplant. How did Wen Qing know—”

Wei Wuxian waves his free hand. “I don’t know. I already told you; I don’t know how she figured it out. It worked though. Aiyah, that’s the worst part of this whole thing! She’s done something no one in the world has dared to try, and it worked! And no one knows.”

Lan Wangji’s head snaps over to him.

“Lan Zhan, she’s so talented. You have no idea, she’s the most— It’s really the worst part of it, not being able to tell anyone. I’d yell it from the top of the mountain if I could! She deserves far greater praise than mine. She’s incredible, your wife.”

“She’s not my wife.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes and gets stiffly to his feet, brushing off his trousers. “Come on, Lan Zhan. If I’m staying then I need to get breakfast for the children.”

“That is the worst part?” Lan Wangji asks, suddenly. He rises in one smooth movement, not a wrinkle in his robes.

“What?”

“Not being able to praise Wen Qing publicly. That is the worst part for you?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Yeah. It’s not fair.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Are you just going to repeat—” he cuts off with a squeak as Lan Wangji grabs onto his collar and doesn’t let go. “Lan Zhan—”

He’s silenced by Lan Wangji’s mouth, firm and unmoving on his and so incredibly warm. He chokes, with dignity, stumbles closer. Lan Wangji is as still and solid as a statue, until Wei Wuxian shifts and lets a hysterical giggle slip out between their lips. It’s like sunlight melting ice, and his hands come up to hold Wei Wuxian’s neck, his head tilts, and his lips soften into a true and sincere, heart-wrenching kiss. 

Wei Wuxian wonders, for a moment, if he is the statute and life is breathing into him, animating his body and calling his spirit back from the dark, cold place it’s been hiding. He’s kissed people before, but it’s never been like this. It’s always felt like a give and take, but this is giving and giving and falling and rising at the same time.

When Lan Wangji pulls back, Wei Wuxian realizes his eyes are closed and his hands are pressed to the broad chest in front of him, which feels startlingly intimate

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji says seriously, and he freezes at the sudden formality. Oh no. No, no, no— “You have been wronged.”

Ah. He melts back to a watery smile and meets Lan Wangji’s eyes.

“Not by you, Lan Zhan.”

“Yes, by me. By all of us, the whole cultivation world. It was wrong. What can—” he cuts off, frustrated, eyes darting to the side and back. “What do you need?”

“What?”

“It has to be made right. What do you need me to do?”

Bow. Weep. Marry me. Fight Wen Ruohan in single combat. Give me land and a donkey and make everyone leave me alone. Give me your core.

“Just—” he looks down at his hands against the white fabric. They’re rougher than they used to be, callused, scarred, nails dirty and a little ragged. He turns them, runs his thumb over his fingertips. They don’t hurt. They haven’t hurt for weeks. “Let me stay.”

“You were the one leaving. I was going to ask you to stay. To try and make you stay.”

“Good.” 

He back looks up at Lan Wangji, who doesn’t look satisfied. He sighs.

“Look, Lan Zhan, I’ve spent a long time thinking about what could happen if people knew the truth. That’s why it— well, it broke me a little when I thought you did. But nothing I imagined ever felt right. And I think I figured it out today. Nothing can go back to the way it was. Not for any of us. There’s going to be a war, whether Qishan or Lanling starts it, and even if I’m pardoned that doesn’t give me my core back. I still did bad things. Whatever my reasons, I did reckless things that hurt people. When I was cultivating the dark path, I used people, hurt people, ruined graves to wake corpse puppets without even a thought that they had families, that they mattered. I deserve punishment for that. But it’s made me think. How many cultivators would you say there are in each province compared to common people?”

Lan Zhan furrows his brow. “I would need to research.”

“Sure. But who makes the laws for all of these people? Who negotiates trade routes and tariffs? Who starts wars?”

“Hmm.”

“Do any of the people setting a price for grain know how to harvest it? How to tell by touch if the soil is fertile? How to prevent pests, or rot, or any other disaster? What does a bad year mean to the men negotiating the trade of that grain to a province with none? And compared to the common men who pack it, haul it, grind it? When war breaks out, who gives the command to burn the field?”

“I understand.”

“You don’t, but I don’t think I do either. Not exactly. I just— I have questions that I’ve never had before. I think I’ve been telling myself my whole life that there are two options. You can be a cultivator or you can be nothing. That’s how we were raised. But that’s not true. That’s just arrogance. My own pride brought me down, but the problem wasn’t that I was proud, arrogant, entitled. I was just the wrong kind of arrogant.”

Lan Wangji takes both of his hands. “What do you need me to do?”

Wei Wuxian laughs, and the sound startles a tree full of birds into song. “Dear Lan Zhan, we’re not going to solve the world this morning. Come help me get breakfast for the kids.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Well, kiss me again first. Then—”

Lan Wangji huffs. “Wei Ying, you don’t need to work in Cloud Recesses. I don’t believe the sentence was just, and Brother won’t either. You can live here, and we can find someone—”

“No. I’m staying, and I’m taking care of the kids. Not someone else, and not Wen Qing. Me. Deal?”

“If that’s truly what you want.”

“It is. For now. What I really want right now, more than anything else, is to go home with you and get breakfast for the kids.”

Lan Wangji nods solemnly, a final judgement. “Then that is what we will do.”

Part Sixteen

[roseraintears]

Angstpril day 28- The day her love died

also on ao3   

This is my last fic before I have to take a long writing break ( I have exams), So feedback would be very great :)

Hazel loved winning the war games. The Cohorts allies and enemies alike stood around her cheering and congratulating each other.

It made her happy to see them like this, so joyful after the giant war.

Dakota her Centurian colleague patted her back appreciatively.

“Good fighting out there Levesque.“, He complimented with pride in his voice.

Hazel could not suppress her smile.

Dakota was one of the Romans who took wargames a bit too seriously.

“ Thanks, you weren‘t bad either!“, She told him with a very stern tone.

Thomas rosewood, the Centurian of the first cohort walked up to them with a mocking grin.“You know you will never lose the wargames as long as Frank‘s Praetor right?“, He asked looking at Hazel with playful anger.

She felt her cheeks heating up.

She knew about the theories that the first and second cohort had made up to justify the many victories the fifth cohort won since they had started war games again. One of the popular ones was that they just lost because they did not want to hurt the Praetors girlfriend.“ My relationship with Frank has absolutely nothing to do with your fighting skills. Maybe Fortuna just isn‘t at your side for once.“, She explained reasonably.

Thoma‘s opened his mouths speechless at her words. He hadn‘t expected that she would use his godly mother against him.

Hazel felt satisfied and turned to look for her boyfriend.

Frank eyes wandered the crowd in search of Hazel. Reyna and Jason were busy with yet another talk about old times. Jason had come to Camp two days ago to talk about temple designs but he had most of the time just talked to his old friends especially Reyna.

He spotted Hazel walking towards him through the masses and quickened his steps.

He got slowed down a bit by all the people that wanted to talk to him but he did not mind.

Frank enjoyed giving them compliments or just having small talks with them.

That gave him the feeling that he was just another one of them and not one of their rulers. He suddenly felt a grasp on his arm.

When he turned his head he saw Alice a twelve-year-old shy member of the fifth cohort, smiling at him gratefully.“Thanks for training Praetor Zhang. It was a great help.“ She said softly and Frank felt moved.

“No problem and I already told you that you can call me Frank.“, He responded hoping that all of the younger demigods would learn that someday.

Alice wrapped one arm around him and leaned onto his chest but Frank did not complain. He had a soft spot for new Campers especially the ones who came with little confidence, like Alice.

“I‘m sorry it‘s just that you did so many impressing things! You are a great Praetor!“.Alice whispered and Frank felt thankfulness washing over him.“Sadly your Praetorship ends here.“, She told him with the same sweet voice.

Frank had barely time to process her words when he felt a sharp pain stabbing right into his chest.

He gasped in pain, his hand grasping the shaft of the dagger that had been pushed into his heart. Alice still held it with her small hand. He tried to back away, tried to breathe but all his body allowed was pain. He already felt his world fading and so his eyes met Hazels one last time. He did not want to leave her so soon. He had imagined a long happy life with her but as always fate was cruel.

The last thing he registered before darkness overtook him was Alice ripping out the dagger and Hazel screaming.

Hazel saw Frank fall, she saw the bloodred dagger in Alice's hand and yet she still did not want to believe it.

Alice had been her friend, almost like a little sister. She had come to Hazel with her doubts and Hazel had always cheered her up.

This girl could not have killed Frank, she could never hurt a fly.

There were shocked gasps around her as her friends had noticed what had happened.

“Nooo!“, Reyna yelled in fury and stormed towards Alice her weapon raised and Jason close behind her his blue eyes as hard as hers. Dozens of others followed their example and a terrible suspicion hit Hazel. What if this girl hadn‘t been who she claimed she was. What if this all had been a trick and the others had figured it out?

She looked at Frank‘s motionless body on the ground and the pain in her heart quickly turned to anger.

Whoever this girl was she was going to pay.

Hazel yelled out her despair and started running, ready to impale her boyfriends killer with her sword. Alice simply smiled at her attackers and with a wave of her hand they were all thrown back, crashing down on the hard ground.

The demigods who hadn‘t attacked stepped back in horror as they started to realize that the monster maybe was more than they could handle.

Hazel‘s whole body ached from the impact and when she tried to face her enemy again, a blinding white light forced her to close her eyes.

When she opened them again her mouth opened in horror. A woman had replaced Alice, a woman that Hazel knew and that she had hoped to never see again.

She had golden hair that was braided in an ancient Greek style, her black robes mirrored her dark eyes that were full of hate.

No, she could not be here, was trapped in her maze, she could not be here.

“Pasiphae?“, Hazel asked her voice trembling in fear as she, rose to her feet. Jason who got up next to her gave her a shocked glance.

“ Of course my dear you. Did you think I would stay in that hole you threw me in?“, The sorceress mocked amused.

Hazel felt tears forming in her eyes.

Yes, she had thought that had trapped Pasiphae forever, that she had kept her from harming anyone. She had wanted a peaceful life so much that she had not focussed on potential threats.

Now Frank had paid the price for her weakness, for her naivety.“You should have stayed there. I will send you back to the fields of punishment for what you did! Frank was a good, kind person and you murdered him like a coward!“, Reyna spat but Hazel stood close enough to see the girls shimmering eyes.

She had loved Frank too, not like a partner but like a brother.

Her words were meant for Pasiphae but Hazel felt them burning into her heart.

Frank had been a good person, that was why she had fallen in love with him and now he was gone. He would never kiss her again, would never smile at her again.

Her gaze wandered to him. His face was turned away from her and she felt the urge to turn him just to see his soft brown eyes.

Pasiphae gave Reyna a pitiful look.“ Don‘t be foolish. I‘m the most powerful with who walked this earth and you are just a pathetic child of a minor goddess.“, She tuned to Hazel the sadism in her eyes making Hazel‘s gut fill with dread,

“But murdering your sweet boyfriend was not that satisfying to me my dear. I have many cruel spells mind if I try them on your friend?“, She asked and her hand went up in flames.

Some of the Campers screamed, the younger ones clinging onto the older ones.

Hazel felt guilt as she saw them. Pasiphae was only here because of her, if any of them got hurt it was her fault.

“You will not hurt any of them !“, Hazel demanded as loud as she could. Pasiphae did not seem intimidated by her.“Well then have a good night daughter of Pluto. I will enjoy watching you suffer.“, Pasiphae mused and then disappeared in a blast of hot white flames.

The Campers were in too much shock to move but Hazel took her chance. She ran to Franks side and kneeled next to him. Her hands were shaking as she gently touched him. He was still warm, maybe just maybe there was still a chance.

“ Frank?“, She asked softly a part of her told her that it was pointless, that he was dead but the denial was a strong emotion.

She gripped his shoulders and turned him around so she could see his face. She was hoping for closed eyes, for a sign of his shallow breath.

Instead, she was greeted with two cold eyes whose light had died already.

Hazel flinched as if someone had hit her and that was how she felt.

“No…..No please…no.“ She muttered over and over again her throat filling with sobs.

She couldn‘t lose him. She had only known him for six months, they deserved more time.

„Come back to me Frank please come back.“, She pleaded and tears fell onto his face as she leaned over him. He did not react, of course, he only stared at her and the eyes that she had loved so much already haunted her.

“You can‘t die like this! After everything we went through…please you can‘t…….“ Hazel begged her sobs finally breaking out of her. She collapsed over Frank‘s body, corpse and buried her face into his chest like that would close the bloodied stab wound.

She suddenly felt arms wrapping around her and even though they were gentle she felt panic rising in her.

“NO, LET ME GO!“ She yelled as she was gently pulled away.

She pressed her lips on Frank‘s, a last desperate attempt to feel his warmth again but again there was nothing only darkness and she felt the dark rising inside her as well.

“It‘s okay Hazel I‘m here … it‘s okay.“, Jason told her softly while he slowly leaned her onto his chest for comfort. Reyna and Dakota joined him sitting down to tell Hazel soft words that they knew were not working.

Hazel did not resist anymore, she was too weak. She let herself sink against Jason closing her eyes to block out the cruel reality that she now lived in. Her heart was broken and in between all her grief, the sweetness that so many people loved was washed away by a deep hatred.

No one noticed that change until Hazel opened her eyes opened again hours later.

They looked empty, dead just like Frank‘s like he had taken Hazel‘s light to the underworld.

Dakota searched them for the sarcastic girl had joked with only hours ago but the longer he searched the more he realized that she was dead.

Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang both had lost their lives that night and when Hazel finally spoke again her tone was hard and her words were a desire for revenge.

"I will find Pasiphae and I will kill her.“

@chaos-company @qperseusjackson-jasongrace @emilydaughterofapollo @fictionalnormalcy

[itonje]

like all woods, this one has a legend. you won’t hear it outside of whispers at the campfire, told by college students driving on the winding roads, midnight stops at gas stations just like this one. tuck your knees under your head, keep your eyes open. 

the why for it varies. a while back, before the highway was built, there were two run of the mill hikers, hunters, what have you. some say they were friends, others say they were brothers. if you’re the romantic type, they could be lovers. they say the first hated the second so much it would have made cain blush, but i don’t tell it like that. no, they walked into those fateful woods laughing and preening as all the youth do, hand clenched tight in hand. 

the thing about these woods is that though they’re not as deep as some others, not one landmark stands to set your place. no special rocks, no ancient trees, and for each notable river or pond there’s four that look just like it. one can go in circles for days and they would never know it. don’t give me that look, it’s not too bad! just keep your head and you’ll be fine. my father made our way around the same two tree groves for an hour before we made it back to the marked trail and all that made me was thirsty. 

our two hikers had been having the time of their lives out there, splashing through the cleanest and coolest streams you’ll ever see, laughing as loud as they could with nothing but the birds to listen, chasing the deer that grazed in the glades. 

but something went wrong. one misstep maybe, took down a path closed long ago, heard a bird call they didn’t recognize and wanted to see. and they found themselves stranded. when you see them again and again, the streams become icy and damp. the human silence is deafening. the deer are bothersome, bug-eyed and filthy. i told you it wasn’t so bad if you didn’t lose your head. but it’s very easy to lose your head out there, and that’s just what those two did. 

oh, they got along the first couple of hours, and the second too, but when the chill set into their bones and the loneliness struck them, god did they fight! no action was blameless. they made up imaginary arguments at the other-if you tell it like they’re friends, the slights made years ago had been torn open fresh. if siblings, they accused the other of being their parent’s darling eye. lovers? why, they feared the other gallivanting off with a new, younger paramour. 

they say there’s a spot where this all came to a head, high up one of our stone hills, where one could see the all the forest down below them. but for the life of me, no one can say where this mount is exactly. the sparring had reached its peak, both parties angry and starving, lost and scared but would never speak it. and then, a hand was raised, and struck. lord above, that did it! they tussled and fought and bit, butting heads and howling. fighting on a mountain isn’t really smart, is it? one little move and the two slipped down, down, down, still locked about each other...

no one survives that sort of fall, and by the time they reached the very bottom their corpses were already cooling. but they were in the woods, and in the woods, nothing’s dead for very long. 

sometimes, the hunters’ll bring in a special sort of prize, when the stags start rutting and go after each other like nothing you’ve ever seen. well, maybe you’ve seen it. god, isn’t nature strange? the antlers will be locked together so long they’ll start to grow together, twisting into bony knots. if the bucks cooperate, they’ll learn to live with it, drink and walk and eat together up till they’re shot down during open season. sometimes they’ll keep on going at one another, until one dies and the corpse eventually rots off, leaving but nothing but a skull sitting on the antlers. sometimes they both die, starved to death or exhausted beyond belief. 

there’s a legend in these woods, that if you walk off the beaten trail, or hunt out of season, that if you go into the forest with hate in your heart and a lemon on your tongue you’ll see a specter. or is it specters? they move as one. they’re covered in mud and blood and filth, and rot from the inside out, maggots squirming in their ribs. they run at you fast, faster than they should, shambling together on four feet. two cadavers, twisted together at the heads by a set of awful antlers, bloody and dripping half-shed velvet. 

they say that if they manage to catch you, they’ll tear you to bits on those antlers, but i think different. they’ll fall at your feet, and if you listen to their shrieks and beastly bays for too long you’ll begin to hear words form, hear them beseeching and pleading, i’m sorry, please help me. i’m sorry, please. please. make it stop. make it stop. shoot me down, put me to rest. but they never will, cause when they say their sorries and repent they don’t turn to each other once. the antlers still clash. 

it’s getting late, and you should get on. we’re closing up soon. just remember to keep your eyes out when going by the deep dark woods, and if you ever find yourself lost, you’d do better to be kind to your company. 

[thehouseofvs]

Echoes Of Another Life - A Hellish Introduction

Flicker. The sound of many footsteps resonated through a dense forest, filled with towering trees of golden bark that seemed to almost sparkle when the sunlight caught them in a particular manner, their fiery leaves of red, orange, and brown waving and occasionally cascading downward to the mossy floor below. The wind was gentle today, rustling the canopies overhead just enough to ensure that these woods were never silent. Not that they needed to, as the delighted cries of adventurous children bounced back and forth through the forest. About a half-dozen children from the nearby village scurried and ran after one another, all seemingly eager to reach whatever destination it was that they were heading towards. Humans all, they had not a care in the world, for in this distant corner of the realm, they knew only peace. Only the daily life of a peasantry undisturbed. Here, in the Autumn Vale, named so for its eternally-colorful foliage, there was no sign of the greater turmoil that afflicted the rest of the world. And it was during another such blissful day that a raven-haired girl found herself lagging behind the rest of her friends, her sandal-covered feet lightly pattering away at the mossy earth beneath her as she tried to catch up to the others. They were headed towards a small stream that made its way towards their village, brought to them by the mountain springs over yonder. Even if she couldn’t reach them, she knew where they were going - the same place they always did, a wide, flower-strewn clearing within the forest that gave them ample room to run and play. Just as she reaches the stream, the blue-eyed child catches sight of the backs of her fellow village children, who had already crossed over via the stone walkways they had laid out in months past. “Heeeey…! Scipio! Marus! Guys, wait for me!” The girl called out, but her cries went unheeded as her friends continued deeper into the woods. Pouting, she begins to grumble to herself, too preoccupied to take notice of one sizable stone blocking her path. As soon as her toes struck the stone, the girl let out a yelp and tumbled down to the gravelly earth right next to the stream, landing onto her hands and knees. Wincing, and with the occasional whimper escaping her, she could feel that her knees had been cut up a bit from the fall. But before she could stand up to inspect her lightly-wounded limbs, her eyes caught sight of something else - something...unusual. Further upstream, the corpse of a local buck lay near the edge of the water. Seeing dead beasts was not exactly uncommon, even for a young child such as herself, but something about the creature seemed odd to her. For one thing, while it looked as if it had been mauled by another beast - likely a roaming predator - the wounds on it appeared to not be fresh. But, surely, the kill had to be fresh, as a faint amount of dark, sickly blood dribbled from its open wounds and into the stream. Before the raven-haired girl could dwell on the curious sight too much, she once again heard the shrill cries and laughter of her friends further on in the woods. With a grunt, she climbs back up onto her feet, gingerly wiping away the pebbles from her knees and hands before she too crosses the stream via the makeshift stone “bridge” they had made. Following the distant voices, the child raced towards their usual playground, though she would occasionally glance upward to see that some dark-looking clouds had begun to roll in, and rather rapidly at that. Strange, the village’s skywatcher had not predicted any poor weather today - she made sure to ask before leaving the village, as she always did! And the closer she drew towards the forest clearing, the darker the sky became. When she finally arrives, the sky appears as if it were about to pour down a deluge upon the unsuspecting children, the other five all running around and attempting to tag one another in whatever game it was they had chosen to start. Panting from her dash to reach them, the raven-haired girl stops just at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a nearby golden-barked tree and calling out to her friends. “...G-Guys! It’s about to rain! Come over…here?” Her voice trailed off as she looked to the sky overhead of them. The dark clouds that had so rapidly formed had grown denser, and bright, orange-red lights flickered within their depths. That wasn’t lightning, and the girl heard no thunder. What was happening? And as if to answer her confusion, the first of many fiery streams descend from the heavens, illuminating the sky in their radiance before slowly fading away well before they struck the earth. Dozens - no, hundreds of the falling lights fell from the rumbling sky, a cacophony of lights. Feeling a mixture of fear and awe, the girl could not help but stare at the display within the sky for a couple of moments before she looked at her still-playing friends, who all seemed oddly oblivious to what was happening. Concerned for her fellow villagers, she rushes forward and reaches out to grab one passing girl, lightly tugging on her sleeve as she points to the sky overhead. “Look! It’s a starshower! We need to go home!” She tried to inform her friend, her fear evident in her voice. However, the other girl - a plump, brown-haired and mousy child - gives her raven-haired friend a confused stare before also looking at the sky. “...What are you talking about? There’s nothing there!” It was the blue-eyed girl’s turn to be confused, as she once more shot her gaze up towards the sky and...nothing. No more falling stars, no more dark clouds, just an endless expense of blue sky with the occasional, white puff to dot the horizon. “I...wh-what?” The dark-haired girl stammers, slowly releasing her friend’s sleeve as she stares dumbfoundedly at the sky. With a sigh, the plump girl took her younger friend by the hand before calling out to the others. “Hey, I’ll be back! I’m taking her home!” A brief chorus of responses come their way, before the older girl begins to gently tug her dark-haired friend behind her, back towards the way they came. “C’mon, are you not feeling well? Your mother will kill us if you get sick again, you know…” The mousy child chides, as the other girl allows herself to be pulled along, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere. After a few attempts to get the younger girl to talk, the brown-haired girl finally gives up, leaving her friend to her thoughts as she leads the way back to their village. Meanwhile, all the raven-haired child could think about was the falling stars. Was it all just her imagination playing tricks on her? Why did it seem so vivid, so real to her? And did her friends really not see it, either? The sight had instilled in her such a sense of dread, something she had never felt before...what could it possibly mean? “...O-Octavia, I’m so-” _________________________________________________________ Flicker. A week had passed since that fateful day. One long, horrific week. Just the day after the raven-haired girl had witnessed the star shower, the first person in her village had gotten sick. An elderly man known for sharing countless stories and myths, Septimius, had fallen ill with a mysterious ailment. He had grown haggard rapidly, eyes and flesh losing their color, and virulent purple buboes forming on his body. Not long after, he began to secrete blood and viscous ooze from his mouth and ears. Before the sun had set, Septimius was dead, taken as swiftly as the disease had appeared. But that was just the first day. On the second day, like wildfire, the sickness began to spread through the village. The same symptoms began to show on the eldest first, plunging their ancient flesh into horrific agony and draining them of their life. The raven-haired girl’s mother, the local healer, did her best to try and ease the pain of the afflicted...but there was nothing she could truly do to stop their demise. Almost immediately after the second patient perished, the healer sent forth a letter via carrier pigeon - praying that it would reach her contact in time. With the arrival of the third day, the village’s adults came next. Mothers and fathers, working-aged men and women who were responsible for maintaining the village’s day-to-day functions, now rapidly fell ill themselves. Much like their elders, the adults seemed to show the same symptoms...however, they also seemed to become more aggressive, with a tendency to lash out at those near them as they came closer to death. By the time the moon reached its zenith, all that remained were the village’s mourning children, the raven-haired girl, and her mother...but not for long. The raven-haired girl knelt by her mother’s bedside, as the dutiful healer struggled with every breath she made. At this point, the woman knew what had struck her village. The violent behavior of the adults nearing their demise was the final clue...and now, all she could do was fear for the life of her own daughter. Turning her own once-blue, now whitening, gaze on the tear-stained face of her daughter, the healer lifted up a dagger from the bed, and held it handle-out towards her child. At the look of horror on her child’s face, the healer did her best to offer as soothing of a smile as she could...but given her current state, she doubted that it would do much. “...Songbird...I n-need you to do this. Please…” The dying healer rasped out, her exhausted eyes wavering in their vision already. The raven-haired girl violently shook her head, in denial of what was happening. “No…! No, Mama, I can’t...I c-can’t! You can’t...please don’t leave me alone…!” The blue-eyed girl sobs, begging her mother. But even the child knew that such pleas were futile. She had seen with her own eyes that no one, not even her own mother, could escape the disease’s reaping grasp once the symptoms had set in. Knowing that there was little time left, the healer used her other, ghostly-pale hand to take her daughter’s and guide it to the dagger’s handle, gently wrapping the girl’s fingers around the coarse leather grip. By the time the moon had reached its peak, the horrific curse unleashed upon their village would finally awake...and there would be nothing but screams. Red-tinged tears fall down the healer’s face, her lips quivering as it came time for her to beg. “...You...you have to listen. I...don’t w-want to hurt you, Songbird...but I fear I will. W-Which is why...you have to do this.” She whispers, slowly pulling the dagger’s blade towards her chest, right over her heart, even as her daughter’s breathing quickens between sobs. “T-This will...keep me from coming back…” Her eyes moved over to the door that served as the entrance to their home. “...When I’m gone...you need to block the door. P-Put whatever you can in front of it. And whatever you d-do...do not go outside…stay quiet…” While her mother’s words confused the raven-haired girl, she knew that there was some sort of reasoning behind them. After all, mother always knew best...but that did not make this any less hard. Any less painful. “...M-Mama, I...I don’t want to be alone...wh-what will I…?” She tried to speak, but her sobs kept drowning whatever else could come out, her eyes now centered directly on the sinister edge of the dagger her hand now held. With her daughter’s fingers now wrapped around the dagger, the healer moves her hand to gently cup her child’s cheek, tips softly stroking against the alabaster skin. “...You won’t be. Someone v-very important is coming...he’ll help you. H-He’ll take you far away from here...somewhere better, I promise…” The tears now spill freely from the healer’s face, even as she reaffirms her resolve and returns her hand to join her daughter’s upon the dagger. “...Now. Now, my dear…” The dying woman swallows, and attempts to offer one more smile. “...sing, like I taught you. I love you...b-be strong, and live...” With that, the raven-haired girl grits her teeth, hanging her head and unable to meet her mother’s eyes as she obeys...as she always had. To fulfill her mother’s one final request. And thus, with a quiet voice but laden with grief, the young girl begins to sing for her mother… “Shut your eyes and listen close, As I sing under the moon, newly arose, So that your dream will take you far from here, To the home we keep, so far yet so near. A land of flowers, carried upon a gentle breeze, A place where one's heart knows, but never sees. Rest well my heart, forget all your fear, For the Light blesses us, even here, Forever loved are we, the children of the Mother, Cradled are we, long after our last whisper. Listen close, for on the distant gale, Are the prayers of our Mother, who has heard of our tale, When you have lost all hope, and have only despair, Know that you are not alone, our bonds kept safe in the air. Some day, one day, we all find our way home, To the place where fields of flowers endlessly roam. Rest well my beloved, forget all your fear, For the Stars watch over us, even here, Forever loved are we, the children of the Light, Cradled are we, for long into the night. So wipe away your tears, stifle your cries, Brush away the hurt, and all of the lies, When you have buried the pain, not to let it show, Know that home is near, by the Mother's eternal glow, For She guides the Stars, upon which our rest is made, And guides us back home, so that our scars may at last fade. Rest well my dear, forget all your fear, For the Heavens wait for us, even here, Forever loved are we, the flock of our Shepherd, Cradled are we, long after we are severed. One day, some day, I pray you'll be saved and left be, To make your way home, and finally see, That the world is not so cold, nor as cruel as it seems, And embrace the Light's warmth, borne upon gentle beams. Just listen to Her Song, to the promise it brings, To remove your burdens, as the hymn of Freedom rings. Such is my prayer, my own dream for you, Mother, may She listen, and make my wish true, May She keep you, guide you back to the blossoming trees, Where your pain will be gone, carried on a far away breeze… Yes, I sing, for a far away breeze…” By the time the hymn had reached its conclusion, the raven-haired girl could tell that her mother had ceased breathing. Choking back her sobs, she looks up once more, to take in the pale sight of the healer’s visage. A gentle smile remained upon her lips, a sense of peace resting over her. It was too much to bear. Averting her eyes once again, the girl whispers a prayer of her own...feeling the magic invoked by the song flow into the dagger’s blade, as she drives it home into her mother’s still heart. The child knelt there at the bedside, for what seemed like ages, before she finally stood back up onto her feet and turned away from the corpse resting upon the bed. There was still one thing she had to do, to fulfill her mother’s last words. Struggling to move whatever heavy furniture she could reasonably position in front of the cabin’s front door, she worked through a haze of tears as she steadily barricaded herself inside. Now, left by herself, she extinguishes the lights in the cabin, plunging her into absolute darkness. With nothing else to do, she sits herself down on the floor by the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her head into her arms...and waits. The raven-haired girl did not have to wait for long, before the panicked screams of the village’s children began to be sounded outside the cabin - along with the guttural, inhuman screams of the risen dead. Such screams would echo within the girl’s head for years to come, and continued to pound inside her skull...long after they had abruptly ceased. By the fifth day, the raven-haired girl was all that remained of the once-prosperous, peaceful village. The risen dead continued to shamble about outside, unaware as to her presence. On the sixth day, those very same walking corpses began to crumble apart and fall to the earth, plunging the ruined refuge into absolute silence. It was not until the seventh day that the village’s last child finally mustered the courage to step outside, both in search of food and to finally see what was left of her home. The sights would scar her till the end of her days...and perhaps long after. But before the girl could bring herself to leave, she had once last obligation to fulfill towards her fellow villagers. And so she grabbed Forgemaster Brutus’ shovel, and set to work… ________________________________________________________ Flicker. It was near high noon, on the eighth day, that the raven-haired girl would be disturbed in the midst of her grim task. Ever since her emergence from the cabin that had once been her home, she had labored away in an effort to dig graves, drag corpses, and bury what remained of the villagers. Her hands had long-since become cracked and bleeding from the work, and her general demeanor had fallen into something more akin to a zombie than that of a living girl. The shock of recent events had forced her to repress what emotions she had felt since the dreaded fourth night. However, even in her current state, there seemed to be some semblance of cognisance still active, as the distant sound of hoofbeats could be heard from the distant forest word that led towards the village. Pausing in the middle of digging the last of a whole, fresh graveyard - the grave meant for what remained of her mother - the raven-haired girl could not be certain whether the source of the noise would be a threat or not, and thus hastily dropped her shovel and ran to the cabin, shutting the door behind her and hiding herself underneath the dining table. Not long after she curled up beneath the table, she heard the hoofbeats draw even closer, until the sound of men calling out to one another could also be gleaned. Their voices sounded firm, authoritative...harsh, as they barked their orders. “...You know the drill! Scour the village, search for survivors! The Chantry does as it must - and ready the torches!” Within the cabin, the girl could hear as the men dismounted and began to spread themselves outside, kicking in what doors remained closed as they occasionally made shouts to the others to verify their status. “Clear!” “Clean here!” Until, finally, her own cabin door was kicked open and off its hinges, the door cracking and hanging off to the side as the sound of heavy, plated footsteps slowly entered the room. The girl flinched, holding her breath as she curled up even more, remaining perfectly still in the hope of not being seen. The first indication she received as to the identity of the person who had arrived, was their retching due to the heavy scent of death and decay in the cabin room. A woman, from the sounds of it. As the armored woman delved further into the cabin, she would spot the corpse still remaining on the bed, a grunt escaping her from the stench...and a weary sigh. “...Poor woman...I wonder if she died alone...” The mysterious warrior muttered to herself, still unaware as to the young girl’s presence. After another moment, the woman has herself another sigh, grumbling. “...Curses. This one died of the plague after all.” “Tessarius Tutor! What did you find?” The voice of a man - the same one that had been issuing orders outside - called out to the armored woman from the cabin’s doorway, as a similarly-attired man strode inside. The raven-haired girl tried her best to remain still, but the need to breathe was beginning to supersede her fear. At the man’s inquiry, the mysterious warrior-woman turns on her heel to face him, replying as any soldier would to a superior. “A body, Centurion. I believe she died of the plague that was reported.” There is a sound of disapproval from this ‘Centurion’, along with a heavy sigh of his own. “Yes, I see the pustules. A mass grave site was reported, so we believe that there may be a survivor or several here. We will have to-” The man is cut off when the raven-haired child attempts to take a breath, and in doing so, moves just enough to cause the floorboard beneath her to creak. Both of the mysterious intruders fell silent, before advancing towards the table. The man raises his greave-protected right foot and uses it to kick the table back and out of the way, exposing the girl underneath as she flinches and quivers where she is, like a frightened mouse. With the table gone, she could at last see the faces of the two warriors, even partially-obscured by their helmets as they were. The woman bore a pale visage, blue eyes, and traces of golden hair could be seen at the edges of her helm, while the man was of darker complexion, with dark brown eyes and a stern expression - one growing ever more dour as he glares down at the raven-haired child. “A survivor indeed…” After a couple of uneasy moments pass by, the woman bends her knees and slowly lowers herself, her eyes focused on the frightened child in front of them. Adopting a smile in an attempt to ease the girl’s fears, she tries to talk to her. “Do not fear, we are not here to hurt you, child...are you alone? Is there anyone else here?” The girl does not answer, opting to instead remain silent. The Centurion reaches to his waist, his hand seizing hold of the hilt of his gladius, and begins to withdraw it from its scabbard - but he is stopped by the hand of the woman standing next to him, who is looking at him with an expression of horror. “Stop! What are you doing?!” The woman asked, glancing between the frightened girl and her superior. Keeping his eyes locked onto the shaking child, in case she were to try and run, he answers his subordinate with a cold, harsh tone. “You know the protocol, Tessarius. Any and all survivors within these villages are to be executed, lest they spread the disease elsewhere. Now, unhand me.” The Centurion’s voice takes on a threatening edge to it towards the end, as if daring the woman to continue to hold him back. “She is but a child! Ask the Lord-Chanter to-” “Ask me to, what, Tessarius?” Another voice joined the fray, once more coming from the cabin’s doorway. This time, from a man wearing an odd combination of priestly robes and light, leather armor, adorned in the divine symbols of the Mother’s Chant and her holy Chantry. His hair, cut short in military fashion, was as pale as snow, his face featuring the wear that came with middle age. But it was his eyes, the piercing, all-knowing blues, that defined his visage. The Centurion raises his own voice to answer, violently shrugging off the woman’s grip as he did so. “Nothing, my Lord-Chanter. We will handle this situation promptly.” The man reassured the priest, his eyes fixating once more on the shaking child. But he does not get the chance to do as he promises, as the Lord-Chanter’s own response came immediately after. “Stay your blade, Centurion...the girl does not harbor the plague.” The reply came calmly, yet firm, as to dissuade any attempts to disagree or contest his assertion. The Centurion stays silent, staring hard at the raven-haired girl, before he briskly nods and removes his hand from the pommel of his gladius. “As you command, Lord-Chanter.” Waiting for a dismissive nod of the priest’s head, the Centurion then walks past him and back out into the village proper, barking more orders to his men with perhaps a hint of added heat to his words. The Lord-Chanter waits for his Centurion to pass him by, before he fully enters the cabin and looks down at the raven-haired child. His expression doesn’t shift, remaining as calm and stone-faced, but there is a glint of recognition in his blue stare. He then shifts his attention to the corpse laid out upon the nearby bed, and walks over to stand before it. For an uncomfortable period of time, the Lord-Chanter stares at the body, before he finally speaks once again. “Tessarius Tutor, was it?” The armored woman, nervous as she was, had waited to be addressed and directly dismissed, until the Lord-Chanter spoke to her. Swallowing, the woman places a fist against her chest and confirms. “Yes, Lord-Chanter. What do you require of me?” The Lord-Chanter does not turn to look at them, his eyes only for the body before him. But he continues, as authoritative as always. “You physically obstructed your superior from conducting his duty, before receiving orders to do so from someone of higher rank. Such behavior is unacceptable, and you will be chastised for it.” The Lord-Chanter informs, but before the trepidation grows too much, he proceeds. “For the time-being, as part of your punishment, you will be responsible for the child’s safekeeping. I trust you will fulfill this obligation to the fullest of your abilities.” The order came as a small surprise to the Tessarius, but she does not hesitate to respond in confirmation. “Yes, my Lord. I understand.” When the Lord-Chanter offers a single-worded dismissal, the woman turns back around to the child, still curled up on the floor and fearful. Crouching down, she kneels in front of the girl. “It is alright...you are in good hands.” She accentuates her words by extending both of her hands towards the girl for her to take, smiling. “Do you have a name…?” The raven-haired girl stares at the armored woman in front of her, blue eyes wide as they took in all of her features. Despite the intimidating attire the soldier in front of her wore, the face she bore was nothing but gentle. A welcoming, nurturing smile meant to instill some sense of ease in the traumatized child. Which, perhaps to both of their surprise, succeeded to some small degree as the girl shakily reached out to take both of the Tessarius’ hands. “...Valeria…” The child answered in a whisper. If the name came as a shock to the Lord-Chanter, he did not seem to show it, though the woman certainly seemed to find it a rather curious circumstance. “Valeria…? A lovely name. I am Justinia.” She introduces herself, gently squeezing the girl’s hands with her own, before she steadily works at bringing them both up onto their feet. “Now, come along...it is time we left.” The raven-haired girl hesitates, looking over to where the Lord-Chanter stood over the corpse of her mother. “...B-But…” “It is alright...Lord Camena will take care of her.” Justinia promises to the young Valeria, maintaining her hold on the girl’s hands before slowly beginning to lead them both out of the cabin, and onto the streets. Already, the Chantry’s soldiery had begun to set the village ablaze, the homes of dozens alight and billowing smoke upward to the sky. Justinia did not allow Valeria to linger, instead guiding her to the mount she owned, helping the child up onto the saddle, and then joining her soon after to trot away from the village. With the Tessarius’ arms wrapped around her, and the rocking of the beast’s movements, for the first time in days the young girl felt safe enough to finally shut her eyes. And within moments, she was out, lost to the blissful relief that was slumber… ...But that simply set the stage, did it not? Your life started as a unique Hell of its own. And it continued to be such, did it not? Until the very end. And even then, She did not let you find the rest you craved. No, She seems content to let you suffer. But perhaps that is alright. After all...we will be able to see each other again, very soon...

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 19: Good Impressions (Loki x OFC Pairing)

I looked in the mirror and couldn't help but grin widely, baring my teeth even as a sense of giddiness filled me. It was very rarely I ever actually dressed up or even really did much to prepare for an upcoming battle beyond gathering power, planning and making sure I had all my war ducks in a row, this was extra but it was the good kind in my opinion.

"You know...I read that the Spartans, the fiercest ancient warriors our world had at one point, would pretty themselves up before battle and spies from enemy lines that caught them doing that would overestimate them. Apparently real men don't wear makeup into a war," I told Loki who walked up behind me, watching me check myself out. "Funny thing is in this country and probably a lot of other countries today have this thing called war paint which might not make them look fabulous like a Spartan but it might as well be makeup as it's primarily worn on their face."

"I remember the Spartans, Odin was impressed by their tactics and way of life, especially their stand against the Persians, the odds weren't in their favor and yet somehow they gave them hell before defeat," Loki recalled.

"Quality over quantity," I added. "Those people were literally born to be warriors, only the strong babies survived the first of many tests they were forced into." I combed a hand through my hair, considered messing it but decided against it. "I used to be more of a silk or velvet kinda girl but I gotta tell ya, I'm really digging the leather. It's fashionable, it's sexy even, and it's pretty decent armor, I mean it's no breastplate or Kevlar vest but those are a bit too obvious and that's the last thing we want right now." I took a few swaggering steps, glancing at my backside curiously to see how it all fit together.

"You're enjoying this entirely too much," he mused.

"I know it hasn't been that long since we met, but are you really surprised at this point?"

"No, not really. How long are you gonna fawn over yourself in the mirror before we actually put this plan into motion?"

"Relax, I got this. I just gotta get a few things down pat before we jump head first into this oncoming shit storm." I grinned again. "What's the hurry?"

He watched me, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he shook his head at my antics. "You got the smile right and I'm not sure how you were able to copy my walk so quickly but the humor needs to change if you insist on chattering before things get started."

"But...humor is why I'm still kicking," I protested. "And it's a far cry from your own, which mind you I'm glad you have any at all, some other gods can't seem to grasp that concept despite being eons old. Still, it's a lot more...eloquent than I'm used to."

"Then perhaps don't say anything at all."

"And leave you to do all the talking, hell to the no, spank you very much."

"What's wrong with me doing the talking for once?" he crossed his arms in challenge and arched an eyebrow, daring me to answer.

I gave the god an unapologetic and unamused look. "I'm not the only one that's been muzzled here, maybe your brother was onto something when he did it to you."

"How dare you? You take that back right now!"

"Or what? Whatcha gonna do, huh? Take your shot, green boy, you got me deadbang."

The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly interrupted our usual bickering match and we both turned to see a half amused half arachnid smirking at us with his unnaturally muscular arms crossed as well. "You know this is technically playing with yourself, right? I mean if that's the case, could you get a room that isn't the only bathroom in the apartment, please?"

"How long since this plan was in motion did you wanna use that joke?" I teased the kid.

Peter shrugged and pretended to look bashful but now that he too was throwing in dirty jokes, the facade of him being an innocent kid was now out the window. "You sure I can't tag along?"

"Kid, you got your own enemies to fight and this might be a bit above your skillset which means if you tag along theres much less chance of you coming back."

"But you could just bring me back yourself, right?"

I scowled at his optimism. "Doesn't work that way, I only bring back the ones that can't pass on on their own and want another chance at tying up loose ends, and you better not be one of those people, you're a kid, which goes against my personal code of bringing back zombie kids, that's just fucking depressing having an army of rotting midgets."

Peter sighed in despair and slumped his shoulders. "I never get to do anything fun."

I rolled my eyes at his whining. "I'd also be held responsible for letting you come with and I kinda don't want to be hunted down by a team of go getters and fancyass technology, no spank you. I already have Hydra for the latter. So do me a favor, sit your five dollar ass down, before I make change."

Peter scoffed at my implied threat but stopped bugging me, it might have been his plan that could get the odds in our favor but it sure as hell wasn't his fight and I had no intention of dragging another cute super powered person into my personal vendetta. "Aunt May says you can come back anytime, just give one of us a heads up next time...and maybe something that gets black bloodstains off any surface just in case."

I would've blanched if I wasn't pale already. "Oh no, did I ruin something, I can pay for that."

"No no, just, I think she thinks you'd only come here if you're in trouble like you were this time and she's worried you might miss a spot next time if that's the case, normal blood you can just use hydrogen peroxide, but I'm not too sure it works on corpse blood."

"Noted and tell her thanks for everything, same goes for you of course since you were the one to let us in before she agreed to it. And also not informing the A team, that's important...you didn't tell them right?"

"Not like they take me all that seriously or even answer my calls if I did," Peter muttered. "You're all good there, promise."

"Excellent! You stay sharp and cute, the second either of that fails, you're fucked."

"Thanks, I think."

"Right then." I turned to Loki with another smirk. "How's this for a first impression?" I asked in smooth sorta British sorta something else accent.

He scowled at me but couldn't complain it seemed. "I'm getting the sense you've been working on that before this came to pass."

"Anyone can do an Avenger impression, hell anyone can wear their costumes, right Peter? But I'm not about the hero life, so why waste time on them when I've been giving it all to you?"

Loki was silent at this and it was Peter that actually responded to me. "That was actually really sweet."

"You say that like it's a surprise, physically dead here, not emotionally dead, thank you. My heart hadn't reached that stage where it becomes calcified like a fetus that won't leave its womb."

"You always have the oddest choice of metaphors," muttered Loki. "So you have the walk, the voice, the smile even though I'm not sure that's even necessary at this point."

"When are you going to prepare for the plan then?" I challenged. "Go on, see how well you know your part."

"Don't you worry about my side of the plan, I've been doing this sort of thing for the sheer fun of it long before you decided to do it out of sheer boredom."

I snorted and rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, we're all very aware of your old age, you don't have to remind us like we have to remind you, old man."

"Ye of little faith," he mocked, earning a bar of soap flying at his face he was lucky enough to duck. "Your aim needs improvement."

"I'm sorry, did you actually want to be hit in the head by something solid and hard and not a pillow, because I missed on purpose, you cotton headed ninny-muggins."

"Seriously, is all you two do bicker at each other?" asked Peter.

"Well I mean you wouldn't let us have any real adult fun while we crashed here so we gotta get that pent up energy out somehow, right?" I reasoned.

"She's not wrong," Loki agreed.

"Besides, no one's getting hurt from it, I'm convinced this is our own special way of showing we love each other without being a bunch of saps. I'm 99 things but a sap ain't one."

"What's wrong with being affectionate?" asked Peter, almost sounding offended.

"That implies I have more emotions than I'm willing to admit to anyone including myself, I'm generally not ok with having that much feels." I grinned, slicked back my hair again before doing a little dance for funsies.

"I'd refrain from doing that little jig when the plan's in full swing," warned Loki though he was still smiling in amusement.

"Oh but I like this," I purred with the accent again.

The smirk on his own face twisted, like I said something that somehow offended him and all his ancestors and pissed him off or deeply upset him. "Don't make me take it away from you till right before the fight starts."

"Oh come on, maybe you just need to hug it out and join the fun, bring it in, big guy." I opened my arms wide for emphasis. "There's no better love than self love."

He rolled his eyes at my stellar pun and green magic rolled over him as he changed into character. "I bet you were just dying to make that joke."

I stared at him and it was my turn to glare. "Was that your attempt at a dead joke? Oh hun, you gotta do better than that to fit the bill."

"Don't patronize me, woman, I wasn't even trying then."

I walked over and patted his cheek just to mess with him. "Sure you weren't. Do me a favor and work on that but also turn around for me."

"Why?"

"Just...do it."

He did begrudgingly and I frowned upon studying his form thoroughly before he faced me again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, you got it right, it's just...I didn't realize it looked like that and now I'm suddenly an insecure teenager. Peter, is this how you feel all the time because, dude, this really sucks and I feel for ya."

"You say that like you were never one yourself," Peter noted.

"I know I was but like, I don't remember what it was like then, I couldn't tell you what I was like as a teen."

"Why not?"

"No memory of it, at all."

"You mean like it was so long ago that you can't remember that far back or lots of stuff happened during it so fast that it's all a blur."

"I mean it's not even accessible, it's gone from my mind completely."

Peter frowned, probably trying to understand what I was getting at. "Amnesia?"

"Mindwipe."

"Like Bucky Barnes?"

"No, that's brainwashed...wait, those do sound synonymous, damn, hadn't even thought about that. Brainwashed is basically having your mind overridden and reprogrammed, there's memories there but they're not real ones. Mindwiped is just nothing there to reprogram at all."

"Did Hydra do that too?"

"No, Hydra can't touch this, something they need to have programmed in their heads for all the times they tried and failed any of their aims when they had me. I can't tell you the who, but I can tell you it was painless and done willingly and without regret."

"You chose to have memories taken from you?"

I nodded simply, unable to elaborate as per the deal.

Loki, knowing there was some things I couldn't talk about for reasons he wouldn't know until hopefully later, chose to cut in then. "I think that's enough curiosity for now, we should get going and finish the plan you concocted for us."

I smiled thankfully at Loki and nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course.  Parker, if I don't make it back by tomorrow...just wait longer."

"Stop teasing the child, Nell, you could be really testing his patience with your antics and we wouldn't be welcomed back."

"You wouldn't, I would because I'm a delight to be around." I strutted after him anyway and he shook his head and beckoned me out of the bathroom and unfortunately out of the apartment.

"The Hydra agents and people that turned on you would say otherwise."

"The Hydra agents don't even know what joy is, the only time they're smiling is when they think they're about to take over the world and people are dying around them...the traitors are just pussies which means it doesn't take much to make em weep."

"Again with the metaphors."

"Maybe you should start taking some notes, eh? Give you a head start seeing as I'm all caught up on my end, unless you got something to add there?"

"Well you still haven't proven you can get the mannerisms right and mannerisms maketh men."

"But we are not men..."

"No, we're immortals."

[themuzzleofnemesis]

3–Memory of the Four Seasons; Scene 12

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 138-147

--It was still snowing.

I continued to watch it through the gaps in the cherry blossom tree’s branches, laying on my back on the ground.

“You’ll catch a cold sleeping in a place like that,” someone said to me, and I gradually sat up.

I had hoped that was Shakuson’s voice, but naturally it wouldn’t be.

It was a man wearing glasses…Someone I had never seen before.

“Are you looking for someone?” he asked me.

I honestly replied, “…Shakuson. My boyfriend.”

His corpse was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he survived—

But that fragile hope was immediately dashed by the man before me.

“If you mean his dead body, I put it back in his room. I couldn’t have someone finding it, after all. I’d just gotten back to carry you away too. And then you woke up.”

I didn’t cry again. I had cried so much that my tears had already dried up.

More than that, several questions were welling up inside my mind.

First—who was this man?

This man who was so calm despite knowing that I had killed Shakuson.

And another one…How was I alive?

I put a hand on my temple where I had shot myself.

“…Ow.”

There was definitely a wound there.

But it wasn’t bleeding.

…What in the world…

The man reached out a hand in response to my confusion.

“I’m sure you have questions for me…But first let’s get back to your room. There fortunately isn’t anyone else around, but—it’s very likely that someone heard the gunshots. It’s best we get away from here before the police run up.”

After saying that, he grabbed my arm and tugged me up to my feet.

.

It was only once we had returned to my room that I truly felt that I was in neither heaven nor hell, but the living world.

“Well then…Shall I now answer your questions, Nemesis?”

The man sat down and lounged on the sofa as though this were his room.

“If you know my real name, then…You must be from the organization after all.”

“Sadly, that is incorrect. I have nothing to do with Pere Noel, PN, or the Dark Star Bureau. However—I have been watching over you up to now.”

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“What an awful way to put it. Didn’t I just tell you I’m not related to the organization?”

“Then just who are you!?” I pressed the man.

“…Hm. Rather than explaining with words—Perhaps it would be faster to show you.”

Directly after he said that—

His body rapidly began to emit light.

“--!?”

I instinctively closed my eyes against its brilliance.

“…”

When I opened them again a short while later, the man was no longer there.

--Or rather, he had changed into a different creature.

“This is…it can’t be…”

It was a single blue octopus.

“…Are you Mr. Ziz?”

And then I heard a voice speak directly into my mind.

It wasn’t the “other me” I would usually hear. It belonged to the same man as before.

<This form has its share of difficulties. I can’t directly converse with you like I was doing just now. So that’s why I have to speak to you in your mind like this>

“Mr. Ziz…you survived.”

<Indeed. That old sorcerer got me good. A normal octopus would have undoubtedly frozen to death if made to suffer such nonsense as being frozen inside a lake. I managed to pull through, but it took a great deal of time for me to recover to how I had been before>

Mr. Ziz’ body once more began to glow.

And then he returned to his form of the bespectacled man.

“—Right. Yes, this one is better for talking.”

“Is that…your true form?”

So Mr. Ziz’ true identity hadn’t been an octopus, but a human—

But he shook his head. “No. My true form is neither an octopus nor is it a human being.”

And then he changed shape again.

This time—he was a small, golden key.

<This is my true form>

“A key…So you aren’t even a living thing?”

<The name of this key is “Grim the End”. In the ancient era two people called the “Twins of God” unleased into the world seven vessels with demons inside—this is one of them. From time to time Grim the End will change its shape into various forms. A knife, poison…sometimes even an octopus or a person. However, as it’s really an inorganic substance, it has no will of its own>

“…Then that means you talking to me right now are—”

<A demon dwelling inside one of those seven vessels—popularly called a “Vessel of Deadly Sin”. In other words, I am--> He once more changed from key to human. “—The ‘Demon of Wrath’ who resides in Grim the End. Demons have no physical bodies in the living world. And on the other hand, vessels have no will. When you join the two together—I can become a conscious person like this.”

--If I hadn’t had any talent in magic, and if I hadn’t heard the voice of the “will of the forest”, I wouldn’t have been able to believe what he was telling me at all.

But since “magic” and the “will of the forest” truly existed—then there was nothing unusual about there being “demons” in the world.

“Mr. Ziz—My mother was the one who gave you to me. …So then, was this all by her instigation?”

“No, she didn’t know my true identity. She had bought me at the marketplace thinking I was a simple octopus. –Though it is because I knew that she was looking to buy a pet octopus for her daughter that I infiltrated that market.”

“Why would you go to all that trouble to—”

“Let’s just say that I was ordered to by a certain someone—I’ll reiterate to be clear, but I have no connection to that organization. A demon can’t be ordered around by the likes of a normal human being, now can they?”

“…”

There are beings in this world that would try to protect me, that I cannot see—that was what the “will of the forest” had told me.

Mr. Ziz put a hand on my shoulder, and grinned at me.

“Well, I hope we can work well together from here on out. Though you may know my true identity now, there’s no need to go recklessly worshipping me or anything like that. You can treat me as you did before this point.”

“I’ve no intention of sinking so low that I start worshipping a demon.”

“Is that right? I’d still appreciate at least a little gratitude. It’s thanks to me—that you wound up not dying, after all.”

Yes—there was that.

How I was alive, despite having been shot in the head?

“You mean this is by the power of a demon?” I asked him, pointing to the wound on my temple.

“Not a power so much as—it might be better to call it a ‘Rule’ established by the gods. ‘Those who have contracted with a demon can only be killed by another contractor’…So it goes. By all rights you can’t commit suicide. Though well, it’s a different matter if your physical body were to be completely erased from this world.”

“I have no memory of contracting with a demon.”

“—That Christmas night when I first went to your house…Didn’t you have a dream?”

“A dream? …It was so long ago I’ve already forgotten.”

“That night, I spoke to you in your dream. I asked you to ‘become friends with me’. And you agreed.”

“…That’s a ‘contract’!? What nonsense!”

“Whatever you think, that night a contract was established.”

“A contract! But not a valid one!” I yelled.

Mr. Zis sighed regretfully. “If you really insist then I’ll respect your wishes. But—don’t you still need my power yet?”

“…I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Then let me ask you this. What do you intend to do now?”

“—I…wanted to die. Along with Shakuson. I would probably just try to do so again.”

“Are you really fine with that? Living while set adrift by the people around you only to helplessly give up and run away from this world—If you died now, that would be the sum total of your life. Isn’t that wretched? Don’t you have any regrets!”

Mr. Ziz raised his voice.

Were his words the whisperings of a demon?

Or—the advice of a friend?

“I don’t know…What I should…do…”

“Nemesis…The weak you is the one who died just now. From this moment on will be your true life.”

“…”

“You don’t have to come to a conclusion right away. What you do now is up to you.”

Mr. Ziz once more began to glow.

I closed my eyes, and when I had opened them again—

There was a single mask…and a single golden bullet.

“…What’s this?”

<This mask form is the closest to my proper self. Being an octopus or a human’s not too bad, but this is more comfortable. And that bullet—It’s a fragment of Grim the End that has been divided off>

“So you can do that…”

<Since you have skill in handling a gun, I’ll give you this bullet as a present. You are free to choose whether you shoot it at someone or not>

“A demon…bullet.”

<Shoot it at those who you think to be the most “evil” to you. You will always kill them, no matter what kind of person they are. –Even if this person is a “demon contractor”>

“…But if what you’re saying is true, then aren’t I already a ‘demon contractor’? And so I should be able to kill other contractors even without using this bullet, right?”

<Naturally. But in that case, you and your foe would be on equal footing. There’s a chance you would have the tables turned on you. This is a “power” that helps avert that. A power separate from the “Demon of Wrath”, one that exists inside Grim the End itself>

In other words, by obtaining both the power of the “demon” and the “vessel” together, I had an advantage over other contractors.

A bullet that could kill a demon contractor—

“If…I were to shoot this at myself, what would happen?”

<Your body would be destroyed. Earlier I said you couldn’t commit suicide, but in the event that you’re using Grim the End that’s an exception. It’s a vessel that specializes in killing demons, after all>

“…”

<Grim the End has no will. But it is “alive”. That’s why it’s able to take on the shape of living creatures. In that sense you could say that Grim the End is a unique type of “contractor”>

“And another ‘contractor’ would be able to kill me…I see.”

<I pray that you will not use it on yourself. I’m being earnest>

“I got it…Thank you. I’ll—think about it a little.”

I picked up the mask and the bullet, and set them down on the desk.

--Frankly there was so much to process that I couldn’t keep it straight in my mind.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[elisende]

Songs in the Night (3/?)

Characters: Halsin/OMC, Astarion, Wyll, Gale

Rating: M

Words: 1627

Summary:  Halsin and Langoth fight for their lives--and souls--on the fugue plane while in the Underdark Gale struggles to complete the ritual to bring them back to life.

They had only to persevere long enough for revival. To clasp hands at the precise moment the last words were spoken on the material plane.

But in the shadow of the dragon’s enormous form, blasted by the heat that radiated from its black sides as though from a blazing furnace, that seemed nigh impossible.

“Behind me,” Halsin said to the ranger, grimacing against the dragon’s roar. Instead, Langoth stood beside him, drawing his bow. Although his longsword and dagger had not survived the fatal journey between planes, his ironwood bow was imbued with deep magic and a brother’s love and had traveled with the soul of its owner to this purgatory. Seeing it in his hands gave him heart.

Langoth loosed an arrow at the ancient styx dragon’s neck; it merely plinked off its armored scales.

The dragon seemed to chuckle, exhaling plumes of flame with its laughter. Your spirits will make a meager meal but there is rich entertainment in watching you struggle, at least, said the dragon. It raised one clawed foot, blotting out the grey sky and Halsin dove, a line of white hot fire screaming across the back of his leg where the dragon’s spur caught his flesh. He yelled as its poison sank into muscle--his soul, in fact, for in this plane, body and soul were one.

The pain was vivid. Halsin opened himself to it, allowed it to sharpen his focus and turned back to the dragon. There was no weakness he could perceive, no gap in the undulant ranks of its black scales. But every dragon was tender around the muzzle and this one had foolishly lowered his, the better to watch him suffer. Halsin screamed again for effect, clutching his leg and the dragon sank even lower, its face in striking range. Marshaling all of his strength, Halsin drew the club from his back and threw it like a javelin into the dragon’s nose. It struck true, showering him a waterfall of hot, black blood, like tar.

The creature’s tortured shriek was terrible as it echoed across their minds. Halsin staggered over to Langoth, both his wound and his head on fire.

“When the time comes--whatever else should happen,” Halsin said, “You must take my hand.”

Before Langoth could reply, the dragon was upon them again. It was no longer toying with them: now it was out for blood. Only luck saved Halsin from being cut in two as he dove away--this time the dragon’s claws sliced through empty air.

How much longer? Langoth asked. He wove and tumbled around the dragon’s legs, avoiding its swiping claws with limber grace that might be a dance but for the raging dragon above them.

The monster busy with Langoth, Halsin ignored the throbbing pain in his leg and closed his eyes for a moment to test the link he’d left to the plane where their bodies lay, lifeless.

...was a mad idea, what if they don’t come back at all? Across the planes, Astarion’s voice was watery and hollow, as though he were speaking from the other end of a very long sea cave.

Master Halsin’s nearly past the point of no return, looks like, Wyll said. Hells, what’s that on his leg?

Gale’s voice echoed more forcefully in Halsin’s mind. Less commentary, if you please, this does require a bit of focus, you know--Halsin, is that you? Is it time?

Almost, he thought, Be ready. He felt the wizard’s assent and turned back to the fray. Langoth had sunk an ice arrow into the dragon’s nostril and it was trying to scratch it away, howling from its sting.

Halsin dashed over to the ranger, avoiding the sweep of the dragon’s tail as it staggered and bellowed in blind rage. They would just have to hope the distraction lasted long enough to complete the ritual. Langoth looked shaken but unhurt, his keen eyes watchful. Even as the dragon roared above them, Halsin felt a surge of love, of humility in the face of its enormity: greater than any ancient guardian of the Fugue Plane, greater even than death. “It’s time,” he said. Their hands joined and he reached across the void again, to Gale.

What if it’s too late? Langoth said. He sensed the ranger’s despair.

“Just don’t let go. No matter what happens.”

In answer, Langoth interlaced his fingers and squeezed them tight. The druid shut his eyes and perceived, worlds away, Gale whispering the incantations that would bring their souls back.

Halsin, Langoth’s voice rang in his mind, sharp with fear.

He opened his eyes to see the dragon bearing down on them, its mouth open, throat welling with blue fire.

“Don’t let go,” Halsin said, even as every instinct screamed at him to break away, to dive to safety. Langoth gripped his hand so hard he feared his bones would bruise.

The styx dragon bore down on them, a gout of flame shooting from its maw. Halsin closed his eyes again. The ritual was nearly complete--a few words away, if Gale did not stumble.

I need to tell you something, Langoth said. While there’s time. I--

But before he could finish, darkness took them both.

*

“...breathing, that has to be a good sign, surely?”

Dim, green light danced around him. Langoth moaned and shut his eyes again. Cold, he was so cold. Everything from his waist up was agony: pain that throbbed, ached, stung, burned, and stabbed. From the waist down, all was numb.

“Langoth,” Wyll said. He heard the warlock approach but couldn’t bear to open his eyes again. His voice sounded distant. “Hells, he’s properly torn up. Here, give us that potion.”

A hand cradled his head, tipped it back, and another held a phial of healing potion to his bloodied lips. It slid down his throat and he sighed as it took effect, restoring life to his stiff limbs. A sickening crunch as his spine reknit itself and sensation rushed back to his legs. He shivered. It felt as though he’d never be warm again.

“Halsin,” he said, remembering. The fugue plane, the dragon, the blue flames--he struggled to his hands and knees and collapsed with a groan.

“It’s alright, mate. Halsin is just there, look.” Wyll pointed to the other corner of the courtyard, where the druid was staggering to his feet, shaking his thick mane of hair and rubbing his face. Langoth sank back down in relief. They had made it, somehow.

“I’m fine too,” Astarion said. “If you were wondering. I also nearly died, on your behalf. Again.”

“Thank the gods,” Langoth rasped with a smile. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply--real air, again. Even though it was centuries stale and stank of fungus and dead minotaur, there was no sweeter smell.

“Actually, thank Gale,” the wizard said, approaching with Halsin by his side. “It was a very near thing, indeed. Suppose I owed you for all the times you’ve pulled me back from death’s door.”

The druid leaned over him and took Langoth’s icy hands between his own. “Thank you,” Langoth whispered.

Halsin laid a hand on his chest. “Don’t speak. You need food. Your soul has been too long in Kelemvor’s kingdom and needs to be fully restored.”

“And nothing better for that than a nice warming mug of soup,” Gale said. “I would know. I shall see to it.”

An arm around Halsin’s waist, Langoth limped past the minotaur corpses laid out on blood slick flagstones to sit in the fort’s cozy refectory by the fire that Gale had set roaring with a cantrip.

“Rest here,” Halsin said, helping into a dusty leather chair which was surprisingly comfortable, considering its age. “But don’t sleep yet. Your soul’s connection to your body is still too tenuous.”

“Stay with me?” he asked. Their eyes met and warmth spread through him; heat not just from the roaring fire. Gale busied himself nearby with the cooking, humming tunefully as he banged pots and spoons and asking Astarion if he might use his dagger to mince the garlic.

Halsin eased down beside Langoth on a rickety bench, favoring one leg.

“The dragon?” It still hurt to speak.

Halsin nodded, wincing as he settled onto the bench. “It will mend, in time.”

“Did I hear the word dragon?” Wyll said. “I think that might be next on my list, having taken down a minotaur single handedly.”

Astarion shot him an acid look from across the room.

“Well, almost single handedly. Alright, you lot all helped.”

“Your magnanimity, Wyll, is as ever, inspirational,” Gale said, magicking a stream of hot water into the cookpot.

Langoth laughed, and felt a little warmer still. It was good, he reflected, to be alive. The heady scent of garlic and onions sizzling over the fire reached his nose and his stomach growled.

“Well, our foray into the Underdark is off to a wonderful start,” Astarion said from the shadows. “I just can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps decapitation?” He met Langoth’s eye.

“Stop sulking in the corner, Astarion,” Langoth said. “We survived, didn’t we?”

The vampire spawn scoffed but he approached and even sat on the bench with Halsin. At the opposite end, but it was a start.

“Mad idea, coming down here,” Astarion said, looking moodily into the fire. He turned to Langoth and with unexpected emotion said, “We almost lost you.”

“Well, you didn’t,” Langoth said. “And we will make it to Moonrise Towers.”

He did not fail to observe the expression of foreboding on Halsin’s weathered features. He’d never seen the druid look so tired. Again, he perceived there was something he was holding back, some unspoken burden he carried. Langoth took his hand but he only patted it absently, staring into the dark.

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 22

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

but you're a king and i'm a lionheart

When Chris had invited Riza and Mia around to the bar for dinner, Riza didn’t expect her daughter to be whisked away immediately by Vanessa as soon as they set foot inside the bar. Chris approached with determination.

“We need to talk.”

Anxiety settled in Riza’s stomach. What was all this about? There was no room for argument as Chris turned on her heel and walked away, expecting Riza to follow.

Riza wondered if this had something to do with Roy. He’d suddenly called shortly after arriving at work that morning to say that he wouldn’t be home until late that night. He had some work to do, but he was sorry, and he loved them both. She didn’t think much of it, just told him to be safe and got on with her day. Then, Chris called shortly afterwards, encouraging Riza to come for dinner. While she thought it would be lovely to spend the evening with her mother-in-law, there was a tiny niggle in the back of her mind that something was happening behind the scenes.

Chris led the way through to the backroom of the bar, into her home. She led Riza into her kitchen without any kind of indication of what the topic of discussion would be, and that made the wait worse. Was this something she needed to worry about? Riza’s thoughts were interrupted by Mia’s happy squeal from somewhere in the house, followed by Vanessa’s laugh.

Uncertainty clawed at Riza’s heart. She wanted to ask what was going on but knew better. Everything Chris did was for a reason, so if she was leading Riza away from Mia then it was something their daughter shouldn’t overhear. Riza bit her tongue.

Once inside the kitchen, Chris gestured for Riza to sit.

“Roy will be working late tonight, but I’m sure you already know about that.”

“He called this morning,” Riza confirmed.

Chris nodded. “He’s going to do something tonight, and wanted you brought here as a precaution.”

“What’s he doing?” Riza asked. Her stomach tightened at the serious look on Chris’ face.

“He’s going to fake someone’s death using his flame alchemy.” There was no hesitation, she stated it as bluntly as she could.

“Oh…" Riza's heart thudded inside her chest at the revelation. "Wait.” Riza paused, something clicking inside of her mind. “Does this have anything to do with Maria Ross?”

It had been all over the papers for a few days. Apparently the soldier had killed Maes Hughes. Initially, Riza had scrutinised the photo and wondered how that woman could have taken someone else’s life. She’d been an exemplary soldier, according to the news, so why would she murder one of her own? The story didn’t quite add up for Riza, and it didn’t for Roy either.

They hadn’t spoken much about it. They didn’t get a chance really when Mia was around. However, he’d spent more time in his study in the evenings after Mia had gone to bed. Riza would pop her head in and ask if he needed anything, only to be greeted by a tired smile and the reassurance he was all right. She’d spotted Maes’ name on the papers in front of him, alongside Maria Ross', which Roy had quickly scribbled down then scored out. Riza knew he was investigating his friend’s death and was worried for him. Roy explained he couldn’t do it at work, so would spend an hour or two looking over things. Sometimes Riza offered her own input but couldn’t do much. She had a good eye for details but wasn’t in investigations. Still, she could be someone he could talk to about it all.

Chris nodded. “It does. He’s going to fake her death tonight.”

“How though?” Maria Ross was in prison. What was he up to?

“He’s staging a prison break and will “kill” her.” Chris used finger quotations to explain herself.

Riza swallowed.

“It’s all staged though, don’t worry. He has a dummy at the ready that I helped procure the ingredients for. Breda came to me with some things he needed, and I helped the operation along. Havoc will protect Ross and help get her out of the country.”

“So, why bring Mia and I here?”

“Roy asked if I could invite you for dinner, partly as a precaution but also because he probably felt guilty he wouldn’t be home tonight.”

Riza nodded, things falling into place. He had sounded regretful on the phone earlier when he said he wouldn’t be home.

“Why is us being out of the house a precaution?”

Chris shrugged. “Beats me, but I have a pretty good theory.”

“What is it?”

She regarded Riza quietly for a long moment, which only caused frustration to build.

“Chris, please. If my daughter is in some kind of danger then I deserve to know what it is.”

She eyed Riza once more before nodding. “There’s dangerous people roaming around Central right now. They each bear a matching tattoo. An Ouroboros tattoo. They’re tied to the military somehow, but we don’t know why yet.”

Ouroboros… Riza had seen that word mentioned before, years ago in an ancient history book. She was sure it had been in her father’s study. “What does the tattoo look like?” At the mention of a tattoo, her back tingled lightly as a reminder. She hadn’t discussed any form of tattoo with anyone in a long time. They weren’t popular around Amestris, so weren’t a regular topic of conversation.

“A snake eating its own tail.”

That definitely sounded familiar to Riza. She was sure she’d seen it on Roy’s desk at home, half-hidden by other pieces of paper.

“And these people pose a threat?”

Chris nodded. “We don’t know who they’re targeting, but yes, they do. Just be cautious, all right? Know that if you ever need anything, I’m just a call away as well.”

Riza sat back in her chair.

“I have no reason to believe they will contact you personally, however, just keep an eye out," Chris warned.

“I will,” she swallowed. She was still in a daze from all this new information. It was weighing on her heavily. If Roy was targeted by them, who was to say they wouldn’t use her or Mia to get to him? She shuddered at the thought.

“Roy Boy asked if I could at least fill you in on what was going on tonight, and promised he’d answer any questions you had as soon as possible,” Chris added. “He sent me a coded message earlier and then a quick call. I have the letter if you want to see it?”

Curiosity got the better of her, and Riza nodded.

As Chris left the room Riza remained in place, processing the information she’d been given tonight.

This was… big. Riza knew of his plan to get to the top and was well aware of everything that entailed now, but… Now it was real. He was taking steps here that, if found out, could get him court-martialled. Her stomach twisted. But she knew him, and she knew his team. They were smart as hell. And if Chris was on their side too, helping them along, it eased Riza’s worries a little bit.

“I also have this, if you could pass it onto him?” Chris handed her an envelope along with the piece of paper. The front was blank, giving nothing away. “More information for him.”

This was usual practice between them both. Over the years when Riza and Mia had gone to visit Chris and Roy’s sisters, messages in letters had been passed onto Riza to be delivered to Roy. Riza knew he’d been overreacting when he insisted on not getting her involved in anything. And she’d been right. What was so dangerous about picking up a handful of envelopes to hand over to her husband?

“I will.”

“I’ll get us a drink.” Chris excused herself and left Riza with Roy’s coded letter.

It was a story. There were various names on the paper, each one starting with a specific letter at the beginning. Those letters were used to spell out the words of his message. Riza didn’t bother to read the story he’d crafted. The message itself was all that held her attention at that moment.

 Jailbreak MR. Get Riza and Mia for dinner. Love both.

 She smiled at the last part, her finger stroking over the paper.

Sometimes Riza would read the story just to see how he managed to fit it all together. Riza had tried it too in her spare time, leaving little notes for him in his office at home. Then he'd started doing it as well without a word of warning. His were far cuter than hers, with a message of ‘I love you’ left all over the house. Soon, it was common practice and they’d shown Mia how to do it too. Her messages weren’t long or complex, but it was just a bit of fun for the small family.

“He’s a dramatic one,” Chris snorted. “Jailbreak,” she muttered. “I don’t know where he got that flair from.”

Riza laughed. “He used to always tell me it was from you and wondered how I couldn’t see it.”

Chris shook her head and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “He’s a strange one, that’s for sure.”

“He certainly knows how to keep us on our toes,” Riza murmured, turning her focus back to his letter.

“He didn’t want to speak to you about it over the phone, is my guess. Too many people potentially listening in.”

“I know,” Riza reassured her. “I just hope tonight goes well for all involved.”

“That fake corpse was perfectly constructed,” Chris replied, sipping at her water. Her cigarette was absent from her lips. “And Roy, having a flair for dramatics, will make sure it’s well presented.”

Riza’s stomach turned. “Where are they taking Maria?” she asked, trying to turn the conversation away from the “corpse”.

“No idea. That was need to know only.”

Humming in agreement, Riza took a sip of her own water.

“I had another reason for bringing you here tonight, Riza.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve expressed interest in the part of becoming a part-time informant.”

She nodded. “I have.”

“Have you ever been interested in working the floor? You can absolutely say no,” Chris added, lifting her hands in front of her to placate any objections. “All you’d have to do is sit and talk to people.”

Riza cocked her head and considered it. Then grimaced. “No. The whole reason for me to come and collect the messages from you and the girls was to stop people thinking Roy was cheating on me by going out on “dates” with them. What would happen if word got out at his place of work that his wife was cheating on him?”

“A fair point, and a very good answer,” Chris chipped in. “However, I suppose I worded that incorrectly. Let me rephrase that, would you be interested in talking to people to gather information rather than simply collecting messages?”

“In what way?”

“Military wives love to gossip. They come in every Friday night. While their husbands sit in the bar, we have a space for them to catch up and basically moan about their partners for a couple of hours. It’s in the back of the bar, in that room just off to the right as you go out.”

Riza had noticed the door there but hadn’t thought much more of it. She’d never been through there.

“Your upstart Colonel husband would be a good talking point for those ladies,” Chris ventured.

“Are you asking me to gossip about my husband?” Riza frowned.

“Not at all, but you would be welcomed into their social circle openly. Roy Boy is certainly making a name for himself, especially after coming to Central, and he’s a hot topic of conversation.”

Riza wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Of course. Mostly because he’s a breath of fresh air with all the old stuffy military officials that usually frequent their company.”

She still wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “And I assume these conversations are all innocent?”

Chris shook her head. “Riza, all those women are old enough to be Roy’s mother,” she chuckled. “They dote on him because he’s a kind kid who's friendly and polite to everyone. Always the charmer," she snorted. "Vanessa very quickly put an end to any possible… not so innocent thoughts. She went in there one Friday gushing about Roy’s beautiful wife and his adorable daughter.”

She laughed when Riza’s cheeks turned pink at the compliment, and Riza coughed to hide it.

“I’m not jealous,” Riza assured Chris. “I just don’t want pointless gossip to ruin his reputation.”

“If anything, they love your little family even more now. They ate it up. It’s the truth, of course, but they really do say nothing but good things, I promise. The girls covering the party make sure of it.” Chris sat back in her chair. “It was just an idea,” she relented. “Some other way for you to help. Military wives on a Friday night can be very animated, and I thought you stopping by would get them to open up even more. It’s completely up to yourself," she relented. "It can be a onetime thing or a regular occurrence. It was just something to try."

“I’ll consider it,” Riza stated carefully. She’d need to weigh her options and if she could find someone to look after Mia if Roy was working.

“That’s all I ask. Roy told me a while back you were interested in being an informant, and the idea occurred to me after that last Friday night.”

“What happened last Friday night?”

“Lots more oohing and ahing over your perfect family,” she smirked. “Honestly, they eat it up Riza. You should come and see it for yourself someday.”

“Are you suggesting we’re not perfect,” Riza quipped, smiling over the rim of her glass.

“No one is perfect,” Chris replied with her own smirk. “But they are correct. You are a beautiful woman and Mia is extremely adorable.”

Chris guffawed while Riza mumbled her thanks at another compliment from her. She was sure Chris only did it because she got a kick out of it.

“Every word of that is the truth,” Chris stated assuredly. “Come on, let’s go and see what Mia’s up to. See if she’s tired out Vanessa yet,” she chuckled.

*          *          *

Mia was half asleep as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. The offer to remain at Chris’ for the night was there, but Mia had school tomorrow morning so it would be easier for Riza to just take her home. Her mother-in-law had also offered Roxanne’s protection. While Riza appreciated it and welcomed the determined and eager look on Roxanne’s face, she politely declined the offer.

Riza had only been in bed for fifteen minutes or so before she heard the front door opening. Her body tensed in its half-asleep state, but relaxed when she heard Roy sigh from downstairs. Lights were turned off as he climbed the stairs. With heavy footsteps, he reached the top of the stairs but stopped outside Mia’s bedroom door. Riza heard it creak open as he checked in on her. The house turned silent as he did so.

Their bedroom door opened and Riza looked up. Like his footfalls suggested, he looked exhausted, but he still offered her a smile.

“Hi,” he greeted. Roy’s voice sounded a little hoarse as he spoke, discarding his military jacket over the back of the armchair on his side of the bed.

“Hey,” she smiled. “How did it go?”

“Everything went well. The plan went off without a hitch.”

Roy kicked his trousers off and placed it over his jacket on the chair. His shirt however was discarded into a pile on the floor, so he remained in only his boxers. Climbing into bed, Roy wrapped his arms around Riza tightly, giving her a squeeze. A kiss was pressed to her forehead and Riza sighed into it, her body relaxing now she knew that he was home.

“Maria is safe?”

Roy nodded. “On her way to Xerxes.”

“Xerxes? That’s quite a distance,” she commented, racking her brain to try and think how far through the desert that was.

“We’ve determined that whoever is behind it all is working throughout Amestris,” Roy yawned. “I wanted to be safe. I have some associates from Xing, and they’ll escort her there.”

“And are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled tiredly.

“Chris told me what you had to do with the… corpse.” Riza grimaced. Her tired mind couldn’t think of a better or more tactful way to word it.

“It was fine. I saved someone’s life tonight, that’s what matters,” he yawned again, but his expression quickly turned pained. “I did become the villain for doing it though.”

“How come?”

“Edward always seems to be in the wrong place at the right time,” he mumbled. “He saw me ‘killing’ Ross. I had no idea who was tailing him or if he was compromised so I had to go with the murder story.”

“I’m sorry, Roy.”

“It’s all right,” he sighed. “But thank you. The kid hates me for sure now,” Roy chuckled. “But he’ll be on his way to Xerxes soon enough too so he can find out the truth.” His eyelids fluttered closed.

Riza looked up as his eyelashes splayed across his cheeks and his face finally relaxed. The day’s events had been weighing on him, and she was loath to take up any more of his sleeping time.

“Get some rest, Roy,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He grunted softly in response, deepening the kiss for a moment. “Just what I needed to feel better,” he grinned. It was that dopey smile that he only showed when he was tired, and Riza loved it. “Plus, I’ll need it. Tomorrow will be another long day.” Then, she felt him pause. “There’s… something coming up in a few days. I anticipate we’ll need to go after one of the people with the Ouroboros tattoo. Can you go to my mother’s that night?”

“Is this something I should be concerned about?”

Roy shook his head. “No. And I mean it,” he added earnestly. “I really don’t anticipate anything like that coming your way, however, it would give me peace of mind to know you’re all together.”

“You know I can handle myself,” she quipped lightly.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead again. “But until I know exactly what I’m dealing with and how to handle it, it would let me breathe easier if I knew my pregnant wife and my daughter were under my mother’s protection. She has a whole labyrinth of tunnels underneath her bar. If the wrong people come knocking then you can hide under there and I’ll come when it’s safe.”

“The wrong people, huh?”

He nodded. “The Ouroboros gang,” he drawled. “Keep an eye out for anyone with that tattoo by the way. I have a picture of it in my office. I’ll show you it tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, your mother already explained it to me.”

His eyelids drifted closed again and Riza smiled. She lifted a hand to caress his face lightly with her fingers. He flinched in fright but turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.

“Get some sleep,” she prompted.

“You said that before then distracted me,” he grumbled.

“I can take that kiss back,” she joked, moving out of his hold. This caused him to latch onto her torso even tighter.

“Please don’t,” he begged. “I’m sorry,” he gushed dramatically.

“Go to sleep, Roy. I love you.”

He hummed with a smile. “Love you too.”

[phantomphangphucker]

Legless On Maim Chap. 8: Crime And Time Makes Me Fine. NOT.

Danny messes with a cop, Lewis messes with a ghost, Vee messes with a Eddie, ClockWork messes with EVERYBODY. And while Danny loves ClockWork, he also thinks they’re an absolute bastard.

Danny gets awoken almost violently and promptly slips off the branch he had climbed up onto. Deciding to just stay laying on the ground groaning rather than deal with his friends; especially hearing them laughing at him.

“Now that’s some quality blackmail material”.

“Dude! Wow you were not kidding!”.

Danny just groans again as Tucker tosses a pair of pants over his face. Fine, he appreciates actually having pants now -even if they weren’t on him, at least not in the way he’d like them to be- but knowing his friends they were probably patterned embarrassingly. Blinking open his eyes and blowing air strong enough at them to make them float up into the air, effectively confirming a stupid pattern; fucking pink with hearts, motherfuckers. “Jerks”.

Sam smirks and puts a hand on her hip as Danny pushes himself to sit up, “courtesy of my folks' refusal to accept that I’m not their personal dress-up doll”.

Danny snorts, “you’d think they'd give you more heartfelt gifts for a change, instead of using the opportunity to try and make you have a fashionable change of heart”. Earning matching groans and making him smirk. Getting up and flipping them off while hopping to get the (very hideous)pj’s on.

Tucker points at him, “least your legs clearly work”.

“Tuck pal, I think I’d be having a fair few fucking crises if they didn’t”, patting the pants off before straightening up and gesturing exaggeratedly at his legs, “I’m having a crisis as it is. The fuck am I supposed to do with this? How the fuck am I supposed to explain this guys?!?”, gesturing even more wildly, “I. Have. Legs. Again. They were cut off, and now. They. Are. Back. Is there any section of the endless expanse of the Zone where I am not fucked”.

Tucker shrugs, “body paint? Sam is rich enough for an endless supply”. Sam glares at him, crosses her arms, and then uncrosses them just to smack him over the head, “I am not a walking wallet!”.

Danny points aggressively at Tucker, “my folks are not utterly blind, Tuck”, shrugging, “sure it’s a close thing, but still”, glaring, “and that will immediately fall apart as soon as they want to do a systems check or something. Heck! They haven’t even gotten the CyberSteps working yet. Meaning I still got to test prototypes, which is literally impossible to do with having freaking legs again!”.

Sam and Tucker share a look, Sam shaking her head, “you could just be honest? They were chill with a bloody ghost Core, Danny, I think they can handle legs”.

Danny glares, “Cores and ghostly tails are solid ecto-energy, not flesh and blood and bone. It’s not the same. That shit can, apparently, just be explained away by me having a somewhat awakened ghost. Legs, fleshy human legs, are not a ghost thing”.

Tucker shrugs, “could just pitch it as ghostly healing? Though yeah, you almost might as well just tell them everything at this point”.

Danny huffs, he had a point. Considering the sheer amount of ghostly weirdness his folks have just accepted at this point. But still, the whole ‘I’m half ghost! Surprise!’ was more than just being half ghost. It also meant admitting he was Phantom and had been hiding and lying for two whole years. It meant his parents facing the fact that their life's work was effectively responsible for killing their son. That they had spent years telling him to his face how much they really badly and painfully wanted to dissect and destroy him. That they actually had tortured him once and injured him on nearly a weekly bases. Then there was the fact that they saw him get tossed around, impaled, stabbed, lit on fire, gutted, decapitated, cut in half, electrocuted, maimed, shot, and other things he’s probably forgetting, pretty much every day; and they just watched and did nothing to help.

Sure he didn’t resent them for all of that, how could he? they didn’t know. But they would be crushed and hurt, that mattered. And that’s without even mentioning that he would effectively disprove most of their work. And yeah, they had made some headway recently and were finally recognising that created ghosts at least could be a thing. Maybe, just maybe, born ghosts too. Ancients, they were only just now starting to listen to him. Willing to face and accept that ghosts might not be the evil emotionless monsters they always thought they were. Is it so terrible that he'd like them to not hate ghosts before finding out that he was one???

Apparently the universe thought so.

But no, fuck it. He will take this secret fully to the grave before the universes crap -which the Observants probably played a role in because they hate him and want him to suffer- forces this secret to light. Fuck the universe and it’s bullshit. Groaning at the sky anyway, “you know, I always imagined it would be something crazy, utterly impossible, undeniably ghostly; that would bang me up in a life-changing way. Would force secrets to light. Not something so damn simple, so normal, so human; as a car crash”.

Both of them chuckle at him and move to pat at his shoulders. Tucker snorts, “I think it was more car ‘massacre’ than car ‘crash’”. Danny shoves him a little because people fucking died.

Sam shakes her head though, “you’re not going to tell them, are you?”.

Danny snorts and shakes his head a little; happily taking the slight distraction, “naw. Maybe someday, but that someday is not today. Fuck the universes shitty sense of comedic timing”, crossing his arms and glaring down at his legs. He can still feel the whole bandage booty shorts situation, embarrassing but fuck it. He’s going to make Lewis have to witness his shit. Even if it probably won’t make his eyeballs bleed, that guy has seen way too much weird shit to suffer mental ocular trauma from anything. But still.

Tucker and Sam exchange a Look before looking back to Danny and speaking in sync, “spite”.

Danny nods with a slight smirk, “is there ever a better reason?”.

Getting another in synch response, “not dying... further”. Danny waves them off like he couldn’t care less.

Sam shakes her head, “on a slightly serious note, what’s the plan?”.

Danny shrugs, “well should see if I even can still modify my ghostly body on a molecular level to turn solid limbs into a gas”.

Tucker snickers, “and like everything else about you, when you say it technically it sounds like some body horror shit”. Danny just finger-guns at him before going ghost and easily changing to his ghostly tail; promptly doing jazz hands.

Sam and Tucker nod, Tucker pointing at him, “well that solves that, dude”, continuing at Danny’s raised confused eyebrow, “Danny-dude, just do that half transformation thing and leave your lower half in ghost mode”.

Sam smirks and nods, turning to Tucker and talking like this has already been decided as the plan of attack, “then we can just wrap bandaging over his Phantom legs before he switches to a tail, getting the bandaged look”. Tucker hums his agreement.

Danny sticks his arms out to the side and looks almost offended, “do you know how hard half transforming is to maintain? There’s a reason I never do that shit for more than emergencies or quick jokes”.

Sam rolls her eyes at him, “deal with it”. Danny flips her off. Though really, not much of another option. Having a ghost tail in human form was drastically harder to have and maintain than half transforming.

Danny transforms his upper half back human because, eh why not? And he’s been gone for a while. Chuckling down at the black ghostly tail before smirking at his friends, “I’m three halves of a whole now. Half a body, half transformed, and half-ghost in two different ways. I don’t think anyone ever put this much effort into half-assing so many things. All because so much of me just keeps on dying. I’m a real die-hard you could say. Really killed any effort for a fully functioning life. My apparent partial lifelessness isn’t a real tear-jerker apparently, so maybe I should add some flavour and start halving onions”.

Tucker grabs Danny’s head and shoves him into the dirt; even if they’re all laughing a bit.

It takes a while before they all calm down, laying in the grass and staring up at the sky. Tucker being the first to speak up again, “so, hows it feel to be amongst the legged again?”.

Danny changes back fully human and crosses his ankles, “very leggy”, earning a round of snorts. Honestly, it was a bit weird. Especially feeling fabric over leg skin for the first time in days. He also has never been so aware over how much legs weigh. Sure his human form was always heavier than his ghost one, but wow legs weigh a lot. Well technically legs and pelvis. And it was also weird that having legs again felt weird; really it should feel like a return to normalcy, instead the leglessness had become like normalcy, Either it was really easy to get used to or he was one overall adaptable son of a corpse. It was probably the latter.

The three scrunch their faces up and groan in sync as it starts raining, lightly at first before suddenly coming down in a torrential downpour; resulting in them scrambling up. Danny transforming and grabbing them up, intangibly and invisibly flying them back to his house. Returning to the visible spectrum in his room.

Sam takes two steps before stepping in something definitely still wet and grimacing at Danny, “this is why we never take our shoes off”. Danny just shrugs her off while changing back human, feet planting on the ground with a little plop, and flopping face down onto his bed.

His friends following suit on top of him. Tucker muttering, “ow”, after basically smashing his forehead into Danny’s shoulder brace.

Danny snorts, “I’m not paying for your concussion treatment”.

Seconds later Jazz practically slams the door open, “finally, where have you been Danny???”. Managing to actually startle Danny (since his nose was blocked by his bed), who startles everyone else by pushing himself up so fast his braces make concerning cracking sounds and his very human legs suddenly becoming a ghostly tail; which completely off balances him and, combined with his momentum, sends him falling to the floor. Landing on his ass/tail base with a startled ‘oof’, just as Maddie sticks her head in the doorway.

Maddie blinks and looks slightly apologetic, assuming she startled him enough for him to mess up with the floating, “oh sorry sweetie, I came up to let you two, four now I guess, know that supper will be ready in half an hour”, then scrunching up her face and realising something’s not right here. Pointing at his tail, “why is It pink, and covered in hearts?”.

Danny has to physically bite his tongue to avoid gapping as he glances down at his tail. What the fuck. It has never been that easy in human form? And he wasn’t even having to maintain it? The fuck?

Sam comes to his rescue near-instantly though, “uh, we wanted to see what would happen if he tried putting normal clothing over It and It just kinda absorbed it”. Maddie can’t help but smile at that, kids will be kids.

Danny awkwardly adding, “and it’s not like the, uh, bandaging is a forever thing, and, uh, I don’t think It would, like, look very good flesh-coloured?”. He, in fact, knew It wouldn’t. His mom makes a face and nods while his friends snicker at him, the assholes.

Maddie tilts her head, a little curious how his tail even did that. This didn’t happen when he had apparently had a hoodie draped over It when he first came home? Maybe -what she’s just going to assume is a ‘gift’ from Pamela for Sam. She will never see eye to eye with that woman. Sure her and Jack did push the kids to be hunters, but they didn’t try to control their entire lives- the pants were fairly tight around his tail? She’d ask but considering he looks a little startled, she’s not going to press. Shaking her head, “well hopefully you can undo it, in case this happens with any clothing you actually care about”, frowning slightly, “I also hope this doesn’t interfere with Dan’s work”.

Danny blinks, still confused enough by his body to be unphased by the Dan name, “uh, yeah don’t wanna go giving him a heart attack”. Everyone shakes their heads.

Maddie electing to head back to the kitchen, “I’ll call when foods ready”, the door closing behind her.

Sam and Tucker look to Danny’s pink heart-covered tail then to his face, “Danny, what the Hell”.

Danny throws up his hands, “I panicked alright!”.

“Since when does your panic help anything?!?”.

“Since now apparently!”.

Jazz blinks, “I’m going to guess this-”, gesturing at Danny’s tail, “- wasn’t intentional”, putting her hands on her hips, “and Danny, you are lucky mom just waved me off to go check on you and stayed in the lab. You’ve been missing for hours. You know how they get". Her chastising earning some apologetic neck rubbing, before Danny emphatically gestures at his tail which suddenly pops into pj-covered legs. Making her jump a little, “oh! Your legs! They grew back!”, quickly moving to sit down on the floor and grab at one of his bare feet. Then glaring at him for suddenly changing back to his tail; leaving her grasping onto the tip of his tail.

Sam and Tucker both jerk a bit from the sudden change themselves, before falling over laughing loudly, the pink heart-covered look was still not flattering. Danny looking baffled doesn’t help either. Though he does eventually snort and start snickering before flopping to lay on the floor laughing with them; Jazz just shakes her head at the trio's antics.

Danny snickers, “I guess the hearts really felt my hearts deepest desires! Really trying to be lovable! Since I was just being a total bleeding-heart earlier!”.

Jazz audibly scowls and stands up, “on that painful note, I'm going to help mom. I’m assuming this leg issue was why you just up and disappeared”. Shaking her head when Sam adds in, “and he fell asleep. In a tree”.

Danny throws out his hands, still laying on the ground, “it’s comfy!”, while Jazz heads downstairs.

Sam eventually glances at the calmly waving tail before looking back to the ceiling, “guess your body got so used to the tail that it comes easier now?”.

Danny huffs, “no fucking clue”, shrugging, “but probably. I doubt I’d even change back automatically from tiredness or sleeping or injury. So you can have your heart back”, intentionally turning back to legs purely to phase off the pj’s dramatically by flinging them up into the air; easily changing back to a bandage-looking tail. This kinda solved his problem, he still had a tail. Easily and naturally so. And! he had legs too! The best two for one deal ever! Which fine, he was glad to have again. Even though it was straight crazy that he could regrow entire limbs. Half his body pretty much. Sure Lewis has ‘said’ they were regrowing but them actually regrowing was a whole-ass-nother thing.

The three watch the pj’s float down out of the air onto their faces, Danny snickering and speaking mockingly, “ahhhh. Heart attack”. Earning hard hits from his friends.

Tucker rolls his eyes, “you already used that one today, and are you just going to stick with a tail all the time now?”.

Danny shrugs noncommittally. The answer was probably yes, in human form anyway. His friends obviously can tell he’s basically come to that decision since they both hit him again, Sam snapping without much feeling, “you fucking idiot”; everyone falling back into silence after,

Danny contentedly winding his tail around their legs. Which fine, he had become more than a little fond of being able to do that and his tail in general. He has a feeling ClockWork would, and probably is, actively smirking over him just sticking to a ghostly tail; just like them. Which yes, only serves to encourage Danny.

(Off in the far off realm of the Ghost Zone, a couple Observants hand trinkets over to ClockWork; having lost various bets. ClockWork simply smirks, one would think they’d know better by now. But no, most of their egos were a smidge too large. But it was a quite enjoyable way to teach the Observants a lesson about the future not being set in stone... And that Daniel tended to take the uncommon (and thus unviewable to the Observants) route)

Danny eventually grunting and lifts up his thermos with his tail, “so Skulker wants to harass the doc for my scraps”.

Tucker snorts, “poor bastard, only just met you and he’s already got a ghostly pest”.

“Oh I don’t know Tuck, seems more like a fast way to put whether or not the friendly-ish sorta cannibal can eat things past their expiration date to the test”. Danny would kinda like to know if Vee could eat him or not. Sure a human definitely couldn’t, ectoplasm was toxic after all. But again, fucking aliens. And Lewis seemingly thinks Vee can eat fucking everything.

Sam pushes herself up to glare down at him, “I find it seriously hard to believe a cannibal is ‘friendly’”. Tucker snickers, “yeah, probably steal your scraps from doctor dude or Skulker for a snack”.

Danny waves his hand around as much as the braces will let him, “oh he’s clearly a real people person. If they wanted my scraps they coulda just shown up in the amputee ward, they’d have some real meals on wheels then”.

Sam smacks him over the head with a very disgusted scowl, “your mind is a fucking sin and that so-called ‘diet’ is even worse”.

Danny smirks, “well if they feel like repenting via a little taste of religion, I know a few annoying priests that show up every month or so”. Seriously, he could really do without those type thinking ghosts were demons, or that Phantom was the ‘anti-Christ’, or Amity was a displaced section of Hell, or that Phantom was the second coming of Christ. Outside of the mixed messages, it was also supremely annoying.

All three jerk a bit from a very loud yell from Tucker’s pocket, “Jesus fucking Christ no! We are not eating a fucking priest! I’m not that depraved!-hey don’t you-I liked that coffee pot, you fucker and now look at it? It’s on the fucking ground. No I am not going to just ‘go get it’, you’re the one that chucked it out the window-no don’t you fucking-!”, followed by some scratching, clattering sounds, and a loud thump.

The three sit up and Tucker cautiously pulls out his PDA and everyone just stares at it. Danny tilting his head, he’s heard that voice before. Poking the PDA with his tail, “huh, I think Eddie hacked your PDA”.

Tucker gives him a look of deep offence before looking back to the PDA in question at the sound of a very long string of swears, “I’m going to fucking strangle you, I fucking swear. Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck you. I’m going to eat nothing but fucking pickles and salad dressing tonight-bitch don’t tempt me or I’ll set it on fire before I eat it-oh my god you baby”, there’s a bit of stomping and a slamming door, followed by what the three are assuming is the sound of glass jars hitting each other, “see look at these fucking pickles!-oh fucking watch me-oh fuck! Gak. They’re fucking expired. Oh god shit. Why me?-shut up bitch”.

Danny and Tucker both bend over wheezing, PDA falling unceremoniously onto the bed. While Sam raises her eyebrows and asks sounding almost annoyed, “why is eating veggies a threat? What’s so hard about eating vegetables? Seriously, what’s the hardest part of a vegetable to eat?”.

Danny snaps his head to her, grins, and shouts, “the wheelchair!”. Sam shoves him off the bed shouting, “that’s horrible!”. Danny just lets himself land on the floor.

“Oh shit! The phone’s still on. Fuck-WHY WOULD A VEGETABLE HAVE A WHEELCHAIR-different kind of vegetable, Vee. Use fucking Google. Living impaired guy, or whatever, is talking about people-PEOPLE ARE NOT VEGETABLES EDDIE! THEY DO NOT GROW IN DIRT-Jesus, just use fucking google holy shit. And-wait a minute, Dead Guy are you seriously using a fucking PDA? No way you’re not old using a fucking PDA, what is this? the fucking nineties?”.

Tucker straightens up and points aggressively at his PDA, “hey! You take that back! You’re gonna hurt Lisa’s feelings! PDA’s are a gift upon us all!”, snatching his PDA off the bed and rubbing his face on it, “don't listen to him sweetie, a phone could never keep up with all your glorious curves and circuits”.

“What the fuck? Is that what I sound like when I say Vee’s better than humans?-YES. LIKE A DUMBASS-fuck you-MY DUMBASS”. Tucker jerks away from the mic and everyone makes disgusted horrified faces at the strange kinda wet sounds.

Sam grimaces deeper, “should we ask?”.

Danny chuckles slightly, “considering Lewis’s tendril comments. No”. He so doesn’t want to hear about that.

A bunch of coughing sounds through the mic, “why is Dan telling people about my se-”, get cut off by the three teens shrieking or shouting and Danny shoving a pillow over the PDA. “NO!”.

Danny peals back the pillow and growls a little, “dude there are minors here, we don’t wanna hear about that shit. Oh my Zone. And I thought Lewis had a near nonexistent filter”.

“Eh whatever. Wait, how many people am I even talking to?-THREE, EDDIE. THERE’S THREE VOICES-well maybe I would have been paying attention to that if someone hadn’t tossed me out a fucking window-PUSSY-bitch”.

Tucker starts wheezing again, muttering, “how does this guy maintain a conversation with anyone?”. Which yeah, Danny slightly agrees with that sentiment.

“Hey, fuck you. It’s my job to talk to people. I’m pretty fucking good at it-OVER HALF THE PEOPLE YOU TALK TO TRY TO KILL US, EDDIE-bitch I don’t see you complaining about that when you get a snack out of it”.

Tucker wheezes a little more, “how have you not been arrested?”, while Danny and Sam scowl at the PDA in disgust.

Danny points at Tucker, “their city apparently supports their people eating. It’s, like, common knowledge”, Sam turns her disgusted scowl to him.

“Debatable. I think the cops are just scared we’ll eat them-WHICH WE WILL-no! We do not eat cops! How many times have I said that?-STILL GOING TO EAT THEM-no we will not!-EDDIE-no!-WHAT ABOUT CHOCOLATE DIPPED?-Jesus fuck. No”.

Sam mock gags, “could we not talk about eating people with a vegetarian present?”.

Tucker gives her a pouty face, “awww come on, we’ve all got our tastes”.

Danny points at him, “usually not people-flavoured though”.

“Isn’t it just like chicken though?”.

“No. No it’s not-MUCH BETTER!-I don’t think you’re a good judge of that babe-I AM AN EXCELLENT JUDGE. KLYNTAR HAVE MANY MORE TASTE BUDS THAN YOU FLESH BAGS”.

Tucker scoffs and crosses his arms, Danny’s already preparing for him to say something stupid. “I’m the real meat conisure here, I’ll be the judge of that”.

“Kid, did you seriously just ask-WE HAVE A SPARE LIVER IF YOU'RE CURIOUS-where the fuck did that come from!?!? Where even was that?!?! What the fuck Vee!?!!?! How many times have I said we don’t do take-out!-NOT AGAINST THE RULES IF NO ONE NOTICES-oh my god. That is not how rules, or the law for that matter, works”.

Danny shoves Tucker, “Tuck, what did I say about asking for snacks? Zone dude. Now they’re gonna show up with a fucking liver in a suitcase and with my luck someone else is gonna find that and think I murdered someone”.

“Finally got another name, nice. And eh you’d be surprised how easy it is to hide murder and body parts. And how much cops are willing to ignore”.

Sam snorts, “smooth spooky”.

Danny blushes a little, whoops, “you have no idea how bad my luck is”.

“Speaking of spooky, figured that echoey voice crap would sound way more fucked over the phone. You don’t even seem to have an echo. And blame whoever has the PDA, do you just not expect anyone to back-hack you? Sure that was some hard shit and I can’t access shit-”, Tucker beams very smugly at this, “-but you hacked me first. What was even the point of that? Even basic research makes it obvious dead guy is based in Amity Park. And you did that just to tell me I got your age wrong-HE’S MORE PETTY THAN YOU EDDIE-that is not a compliment”.

Danny smirks and transforms purely for his ghostly echoing voice, his friends rolling their eyes knowing exactly what he’s doing. Sam speaks almost dryly, “if anything ever gets spooky over here destroyed, it’ll be his sense of humour”.

Danny chuckles deeply, voice reverberating intentionally creepily, “it’ll be the death of me, seeing as I have killer timing”, waving his hand around, “and us spookies are petty creatures. We wear petty like it’s all that makes us pretty”.

“Huh, so you definitely can change your voice. Congrats Vee, your voice isn’t the only one that sounds ridiculously fucking demonic-APPROVE. FAR MORE THREATENING. LIKE A PREDATOR-I don’t think that counts as a compliment either babe-HE HUNTS HIS OWN! IT IS A COMPLIMENT!-eh, I guess? What’s up with that anyway, dead guy?-HE’S A PREDATOR, PREDATORS FIGHT, EDDIE. OBVIOUSLY-says the big bad predator who’d rather become one with the couch in a sea of chocolate wrappers and watch Alton Brown make people suffer-THEY DESERVE TO WEAR FLIPPERS AND ARM SPREADERS FOR BURNING THE LAMB!”.

Tucker nods his head a little, “yeah, burning lamb should be a crime”, while a little buzzing sound comes through the mic.

Danny rolls his eyes at him, “that’s the guy from Cut Throat Kitchen isn’t it? Doesn’t he buy stuff from BDSM stores for those challenges”. Tucker nods with a smirk, “and that’s kinky”, and gets smacked over the head by Sam.

Danny shakes his head and leans over the PDA, “I’m a protective fellow, I beat up ghosties to protect. Ya know, the typical hero schtick, but with death. It’s a real grim job, but I absolutely reap the rewards”, looking to Sam and Tucker, “one day I’m gonna cash in all these trauma points for a fucking yacht”.

Tucker quirks an eyebrow, “why a yacht?”. Sam adding, “you know I’ve got one. They’re okay”.

“One of you has a fucking yacht?!? Anne warned me I’d be out of my depth but holy fuck-NOT HARD WHEN YOU’RE PUSSY MADE-how the fuck do you know that term?!? And just eat your fucking tater tots”.

Danny snorts, “someone’s a real tater thot”, looking at Tucker, “one, because that’s one thing Frootloop doesn’t own”.

“Fair”.

“Wow you are really petty as shit”.

Danny scowls at the PDA, “dude fucking nearly caused the apocalypse, like, four bloody times”, rolling his hand, “and there’s the whole sorta have a daughter, or cousin, or sister, eh it changes; ‘cause of his cloning stunt-”.

Danny doesn’t get to continue as Vee butts in with, “WE’RE SPAWNING ASWELL-what, fucking what? What the fuck do you mean ‘spawning’? No you so do not get to hide in my body after that shit, get the fuck out here bitch. Oh my fuck, what the fuck. This is what Anne means by fucking communication issues. What the fuck you fuck. Jesus fucking Christ. What the fucking shit. That is not how you tell anyone anything, you fuck. Now I want a yacht to sail away from fucking everything and become a fucking pirate. Your oily ass will love that so much because there will be so many lobsters to shove up everyone's collective assholes but especially yours-SAME ASSHOLE SO GO AHEAD BITCH, THAT WOULD BE DELICIOUS-ha! Tricked you with the old lobster summoning, now the fuck do you mean spawning!-”

Tucker whispers, “Zone these guys have so many issues”. Sam and Danny just nod, not wanting to interrupt this because it is, frankly, hilarious.

“IT IS NATURAL EDDIE-I sure fucking hope so, otherwise we’ve got a fair few fucking problems going on-THEN STOP BEING A PUSSY WET BITCH-where do you learn this shit? Fucking fourchan? And excuse me for being an emotional asshole, asshole. I think I’ve fucking earned it considering-”.

All three teens turn their heads as Valerie flies in through the window and deactivates her board at seeing them sitting around a PDA but giving it a wide berth.

“-I’m apparently fucking pregnant!”.

Valerie blinks as her suit deactivates, “what have I just walked in on”. It sounds more like a cautious statement than a question.

Danny points at her, “technically, you flew”, she glares at him while he continues, “Eddie’s having some... issues, apparently”.

“‘Some’?”.

“Oh fuck the phones still on. You heard all of that didn’t you? Fuck-DUMBASS-fuck you, this is your fault. I need a fucking drink”.

Danny chuckles and smirks a bit meanly, “yes, yes we did”.

Valerie shakes her head and speaks down at the PDA, “are you okay?”.

“No”, Eddie promptly hanging up.

Valerie watching the other teens descend into fits of laughter for a bit before asking, “what did I miss?”.

Tucker wheezes, “probably one of the best random meltdowns ever”, smacking Danny’s arm braces, “you should probably warn doctor dude you gave his friend an accidental crises!”.

Danny just chuckles, he’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone swear that much that quickly. And considering he’s somewhat friends-ish with Johnny, that’s saying something. Pointing at Tucker, “for the love of all the Ancients, tell me you recorded that. Because, by the Realms, that was glorious”. He also totally wants to show Johnny, and Skulker actually, maybe Ember and Kitty; they’d be fucking impressed honestly. Possibly Pandora too, if only for Eddie just straight up going feral rage mode for a bit there.

Tucker nods eagerly with a wide smirk, instantly being granted a high five; even getting one from Sam.

As his mom calls that supper’s ready, Danny pulls out his phone; because he is not calling Lewis while he might be having special time with the bone saw.

DPain: so stormed Area 51 might being having a mild melt down bout being pregnant

DPain: and it might

DPain: possibly

DPain: maybe

DPain: be my fault

Tucker chokes next to him, “dude, you do realise how that sounds right?”. Making Danny facepalm as the four (not three like Maddie was expecting, but she just sets another plate with a smile and head shake) sit at the table; Danny checking his phone when it goes off.

Tiethief: so you’re why I have 11 new voicemails

DPain: 😇

Danny barely gets through his (very mushy, fuck you Jazz) mashed potatoes before there’s a knock on the door. It’s not a scent Danny recognises so he tears off Tucker’s hoodie to cover his tail up. Rolling his eyes at the guy’s scowl, Danny would just blink his tail out of the visible spectrum if his not-in-the-know parents weren’t around. While one of said parents, his mom who hadn’t even sat down yet, gets the door.

“Hello Mrs. Fenton, I’m officer Jared Walker”, the four teens -and Jazz- all choke at that last name and share ‘seriously? Why is this our lives?’ Looks. “I’m here to conduct a welfare check for Daniel Fenton. May I come in?”.

Danny cringes, this probably wasn’t a good thing. FentonWorks wasn’t exactly... safe. Oh who was he kidding? FentonWorks was a mind field of danger and death; and not just ‘cause his dead ass was here. And what if he wants to check out his room? Oh Ancients he absolutely is going to want to check that out. Fuck.

Sam and Tucker obviously have the same worries as they finish their plates and start to move towards the stairs; probably to make a mad dash to his room to make it not look like a probable biohazard.

While his mom obviously lets the guy in, would arguably be worse not to, “sure thing, Danny’s at the table having lunch, his doctor’s doing a final shift at the hospital right now though. You could come back later to talk to him? Or would you like me to call him?”.

Jared steps in and looks at the two teens starting to head up the stairs and then to Valerie, “I’m sure you’d like to hang out with your friend and make sure he’s well, but I’ll have to ask you to leave”, tilting his head not unkindly, “this is a family matter; you understand”.

The three teens obey, because this is a cop for fucks sake; and they like to at least pretend to be proper law-abiding citizens. Sam and Tucker shooting him apologetic looks and Valerie giving him a little forehead kiss as they leave. Danny makes a damn point to make sure his smile doesn’t look painfully nervous.

Jared looks back to Maddie, “that’s quite alright, I’m sure I could get into contact if I need to”. Jazz offers him tea which he declines, “do you think you could go to your room, Jasmine? I’d like to speak with your parents and brother alone if that’s alright?”.

She nods, ruffling Danny’s hair up as she stands, which he of course scowls at and swats her hand away. Even if that, like usual, only accomplishes making her grin at him. Jazz completely ignores Danny’s bedroom door, knowing Jared would likely notice if she tried to go in.

(Sam and Tucker outside both decide that trying to sneak into at least clean Danny’s room wasn’t the best idea. Seeing as they had Valerie as a tag along and there was another cop sitting out in the police cruiser on the curb. Plus, cleaning Danny’s room would take a goddamn while and would be, frankly, disgusting to do. So they just hope Danny’s got something up under his spooky sleeves)

Jared joins the Fenton parents in sitting at the table, sending a smile to Danny, “you doing well today?”.

Danny gives an awkward nod and knocks his hand brace against his chest brace, “I’ll be better once I’m rid of these stupid things”, making the officer chuckle.

“That’ll hopefully be sooner rather than later”, turning to the parents’, “I'm just here to see how things are going, what sort of accommodations have been made or are being made, the state of the house, how school work’s being handled, and to speak with Daniel privately. Standard procedure”.

Jack beams, ever eager to brag about inventions, “we had a hover cushion built for him before he got home! So he’d have a way to get around right off the bat!”.

Danny grumbles at the cop, “I don’t like being carried or pushed around”, which was something of an understatement; his ghostly pride could only take so much of that. And that ‘so much’ was very little, ah the joys of being powerful. Made being ‘weak’ all the more bloody fucking awful. Maddie adds in with a warm smile at Danny, “we did order a wheelchair though”.

Jared looks pleased at this and notes everything down, “hospital approved? And could I see this... hover cushion?”.

Jack jumps up and gives Danny a curious raised eyebrow, “bedroom, next to the door, dad”, Jack nods curtly and bounds up the steps.

Jared raises an eyebrow at Danny, “any particular reason it’s not down here with you?”.

Danny blinks, oh because he wanted to get around on his freaking tail and doesn’t need no damn help to get around. He can’t tell this random cop that though. The tail is abso-fucking-lutely staying a secret if he can help it, “uh, it’s pretty snug and Doc said I should let things breathe here and there”, that’s utter bullshit, but probably accurate for normal amputation wounds. Realising he should probably explain how the Zone he got downstairs without it, “and there’s a pretty big difference between friends and family carrying me and, uh-”, blushing a bit both genuinely and to sell the lie, “-the girlfriend carrying me”.

Jared grins to himself at that, “ah yes, that is pretty different. She handling this well?”.

Danny nods and smiles, she was handling it about as well as most people would; maybe a little better. Him seemingly giving very little of a damn about his ‘leglessness’ probably helped slightly. After all, she did decide to give the whole ‘them’ thing a shot again. Jack comes back with the hover-cushion before he can even attempt to tell the guy any of that.

Jack shows off the device and powers it up, show that it does, in fact, work. Jared blinks and grins, “I’ll admit, I’m impressed”, and makes some more notes in his book, “it alright if I take pictures? Purely for documentation purposes. And the wheelchair?”.

Maddie nods, giving him the go-ahead, while moving to grab up her copy of the documentation for the ridiculous wheelchair Danny ordered and handing that over. “It’s not hospital approved but Dan said it would be fine, he was here when we ordered it”.

Jared nods acceptingly -obviously aware of who Danny’s doctor was- and tilts his head a little, “expensive, you footing the cost if the hospital can’t cover it? This isn’t a standard type either, athletic wheelchair?”.

Danny nods and grins almost meanly, “have you seen Amity?”, should he be sassing a cop? No, probably not. Jared nods a little, while Maddie speaks up, “we can cover the whole bill if needed. So long as Danny’s happy”. Jared nods and smiles at that.

“Alright, I’d ask if there’s been modifications to the stairs but you’ve found a different suitable workaround. Same with if everything has been moved to be in reach”, nodding at his notebook before looking back to them, “so how about schooling?”.

Danny rubs his neck awkwardly, “I’m working on the catchup and homework, uh, keyword being ‘working’”. Jared chuckles at that, typical teen behaviour.

Maddie pats Danny’s head, “Jazz made sure to talk with all his teachers. She’s friends with most of them. Sam and Tucker brought his work home for him”.

Jared raises an eyebrow at that, “and what about you?”. Jack laughs a bit loudly before rubbing his neck, “ah, the school prefers we don’t come unless we have to. We tend to break things”.

Danny’s pretty sure that’s a mark against his parents’ in the cops' book. So he tries to save face a little, “ghost hunting is a pretty destructive job”, he would know. Jared seems to think on that for a beat before nodding.

From what Jared’s heard and seen, ghost hunters were effectively cops here but for ghosts; which were much more dangerous than the average human criminal. He’s not about to fault them for their career. Schools didn’t particularly like cops showing up either, makes people on edge usually. And considering the school turned out to actually be a hot spot for ghosts, ghost hunters showing up out of the blue would absolutely cause at least a little panic.

Jack laughs a bit more, “plus! Frees us up to work more on the CyberSteps!”. Jared quirks an eyebrow at that so Maddie elaborates, “robotic prosthetic legs. Dan’s been helping as well”. Jack grins wide, “yup! Got to make sure they’re perfect!”.

Jared blinks, “you are... making your own prosthetics?”. Danny immediately blurts out, “walked on a prototype already. Not, um, quite good yet”, adding because holy shit he knows this is probably all kinds of illegal, Lewis kinda said so, “doc was there”. He’s going to get Lewis in trouble at this rate. He should probably shut up. Shutting up wasn’t one of his notable skills though.

Jared nods, “so you were... under certified medical care?”. Danny just nods, his folks nodding too. Jared notes that down as well.

Jared is pretty sure there isn’t much to worry about at this point. Bad or abusive parents wouldn’t go to the lengths of creating break through technology. And they were obviously putting the boy first, making him comfortable and happy. But that still didn’t explain certain things and that didn’t mean the house was suitable. From what he’s seen so far the house was... acceptable. Little messy and... odd. There were certainly some strange stains, burns, damages, and technological bits lying around. Certainly unacceptable for a small child, but Daniel was a teen.

Nodding to himself, “I think that covers that. I’d like to look around now”, with that the Fenton parents’ get up. Jared watches the teen easily manoeuvre into the hover cushion contraption, does a little spin in the air, and sends him an awkward smile. Daniel then squints at him and tilts his head, “Jared Walker... as in J. Walker, like jaywalker”, and starts snickering.

Jared rolls his eyes with a smile, “laugh it up kid”, that just makes the teen smirk.

Most of the first floor is marginally normal, acceptable, when Jack very enthusiastically points out the weapons vault though, “is this secure? And this is just for anti-ghost weapons correct?”.

Maddie nods immediately, she could see how a cop might have a few issues with this, “designed to be secure, from both humans and ghosts. Ecto-Fiber glass and sheets block them from getting in intangibly”. Danny mentally grumbles, because he had found that out the hard way and it had been inconvenient on more than one occasion. Jared just nods as they head down to the lab.

Jared glances around before raising a slightly disbelieving eyebrow at the parents’, the amount of hazards here were, honestly, uncountable. Bits of metal (some being very sharp), wiring, chemicals, samples, weapons, glowing... stuff, and the leg creation things.

Jack laughs, “yeah, it can be a bit of a mess! The kiddos are well versed in lab safety though!”. Danny resists pointing out that he usually cleaned the place. That probably wouldn’t win any brownie points.

Jared blinks and gives a rather disbelievingly, “uh-huh”, before responding in genuine, “is this the normal condition of things? And what about supervision while anyone’s down here? It is more than likely Daniel here will be a bit clumsy for a while”, this was unsafe in so many ways.

Maddie ruffles Danny’s hair as he grumbles incoherently and blushes, “Danny’s rather clumsy normally”.

Danny adding, “school still won’t let me handle fragiles”, even though he was much better, fuck you very much. Jared looks just a little unimpressed, he was probably trying to not show the fact that he was not impressed. Which Danny thinks is fair.

Maddie continues, “but yes this is how things usually are. This is the one place where we have a camera system, so it’s pretty secure and we can see if anything’s going on whether we’re home or not. We didn’t allow the kids down here when they were young, and they had to have one of us with them until they could show they knew what they were doing”. Jack butting eagerly, “a family of inventors invent together!”, shrugging, “or at least are all involved in the process”.

Danny looks around awkwardly, well aware that he at least partly died because of crappy lab safety on everyone's part. Jared notes somethings and glances at Danny but says nothing.

What then follows is Jared basically getting the lab tour, asking about nearly everything and taking notes. Eventually coming to the portal, always the last thing his folks showed off since it was their pride and joy, “and this?”.

Danny gives the blunt answer of, “ghost portal”, because screw him, screwing with people was fun. Jared gives him a Look, which Danny can’t help smirking at, before looking to his parents and raising an eyebrow.

Jack laughs and smacks the frame, “yup! This baby opens up right into the spookies backyard!”. Maddie grins and adds, “we use it mostly for research purposes, to return captured ghosts, and as a warning system in case of invasions”, then speaking a bit sternly, “going inside it is strictly forbidden and it has a genetic lock”. Danny tries to make it look like he wasn’t paying attention, seeing as he went through those doors almost more often than his front doors.

Jared still looks rather disbelieving, “you have a portal to another dimension in your basement?”, shaking his head a little, “I mean, I’m glad it has a strong lock. Do ghosts ever come through?”.

Maddie shakes her head a little, “we have used things to pull ghosts through intentionally. Research you know. But as for them coming through on their own? No”. Danny has to bite his tongue to avoid snorting at that, his folks were insanely oblivious. The portal was literally the main entryway into his home. He’s pretty sure the only ones who don’t almost always use it are Skulker and the Box Ghost. Well, and most animal ghosts.

Jared takes that answer for what it is and wonders how the Hell you're supposed to rate ‘has a portal to the dimension of the dead under his bedroom’ on literally any safety scale. He’d say this is something that should be in a government facility but the G.I.W. approval rate was abysmal. And with good reason based on basic research. But side-eyeing the teen, he seemed to give the portal a look of fondness actually... and annoyance; but fond annoyance. So he does make a point to mark down that the kid seemed to like the thing, for whatever forsaken reason.

Jared taps his pen on his notebook, “alright, is there any other rooms other than bedrooms?”.

Danny does the dumb thing and blurts out, “well, there’s the torture dungeon”, making the guy give a very satisfactory choke.

Maddie shakes her head at Danny fondly before looking to the officer, “something’s down there are on the medieval side”. Jack just chuckles, “the stockades are more for storage and old school equipment”.

Danny mumbling, “you mean like the Iron Maiden and other instruments of extreme pain and suffering?”, which Jared thankfully doesn’t hear.

Maddie smiles, “our family have been hunters for generations, so we’ve inherited older tools of the trade”, shrugging, “some that work, some that definitely don't. Family heirlooms really”. Jared nods at that, anything medieval could come off as ‘torture devices’ and he’s starting to get the feeling this teen has a serious sense of humour and likes startling people. Arguably this seemed on par with people keeping their ancestors' old weapons. Meant for ghosts or not.

“Alright, so just the bedroom now. Don’t worry, I only need to see his”, and smiles, totally missing Danny muttering, “and that’s not a good thing”. Jared continuing, “just one more question, regarding the family profession actually. Does Daniel hunt as well? With you? If not, are you training him to? If so, how are you taking into account his disability and healing?”.

Jack scratches his head, “eh, Danny-boy’s not particularly interested in ghost hunting. He is pretty good with tech though! Like every Fenton!”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “so no, they aren’t having me running, or floating, around with guns, shooting sentient beings for sport or science”, and he’s not going to mention his dad sorta trying to get him into weaponised prosthetics. Danny’s pretty sure effectively -literally really- attaching guns and knives and stuff to your kids robo-legs would be a big no-no. Especially to an out-of-town cop.

Maddie smiles and pats his head, “and if he wants combat training, survival training, or anything else of the kind, he can simply ask. I’m trained in a lot of different areas”.

Jared nods at that, “everyone could benefit from that. Good that you’re not forcing it though”, scribbling down a bit more before closing the notebook and tucking it away, “alright, I think I’ve got a good picture of how things are”, sending the parents a slight smile before looking to Danny, “now you feel up to giving this old man the bedroom tour? I’m certain you, like most teens, know it better than your parents do”. Jared absolutely mentally notes that while everyone laughs at that, Danny’s laugh is a little awkward and nervous; he probably had somethings in there he’d rather his parents not know about. He can’t help smirking slightly at that, ah teens. Danny just glares and gestures towards the steps, everyone heading up.

Jared nods at the parents’ as they sit at the table while he heads up to the bedrooms after Danny.

Maddie sitting down with a sigh. Jack speaking up after the two are out of sight, “think he’ll be okay?”. Maddie rubs her eyes, she’s pretty sure them not getting a call about the visit meant there was something else going on, “I don’t know Jack, I’m just a bit worried what Danny’ll say, what he’ll be asked”, looking to her husband, “our house and family isn’t exactly normal or particularly safe, Jack”, biting her lip slightly, “many people might think any child, especially a... disabled one, would be better off somewhere else”. Because at the end of the day, Danny was disabled now, CyberSteps or not. And he had been through what was arguably a traumatic event, he seemed fine but still; she’s sure Jazz was keeping a very close eye on him for that very reason. Most people would want a disabled possibly traumatised injured kid in a safe, sturdy, structured, adaptable, loving home and family. Her family had the last two in spades, but the rest? She be kidding herself if she even tried to think their household was ‘safe’ or ‘structured’. She forgot to get him supper till one a.m. for peat's sake! Not to mention actively and repeatedly testing out prototypes on him. Sure there wasn’t another option but still. Even ignoring that, things in the house often reacted to him; usually seemed harmless but not always.

But at the same time, what family or house could even understand or attempt to support someone like Danny? With his ectoplasm, ghostly tail, and Core? She’s pretty sure Dan was an extreme outlier in being totally unphased by those things, especially being from out of town. And like Dan, her and Jack were doctors. Sure it was in a different way and different fields, but they were effectively Danny’s doctors for his more... ghostly things. If anything Danny needed to be here, with his family, more than most teens needed to be with theirs.

Jack moves to rub her shoulders, “he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid, Mads. And I’m sure the officer will see that -while weird and unconventional- he’s good here”.

Meanwhile upstairs Danny is hovering over his bed looking more than a little awkward and Jared is glancing around the room in shock. Jared blinks and scrunches up his nose, “kid, this smells worse than the morgue when the ac breaks”, lifting up his foot and putting it back down cautiously, making a faint squelching sound, “you know I’m gonna need an explanation for this”. There’s no pussyfooting around this, this is worse than literally every crime scene he’s ever been to. And he’s based from New York, so that should be saying something.

Danny chuckles and it’s extremely awkward, “yeah, uh, this probably ain’t gonna win me any points, but I like to joke that my room could make a crime scene investigator cry and the cleanup crew quit outright”, shrugging, “I have been meaning to clean, but uh, it doesn’t really bother me”.

“Kid, that ain’t normal. And that also doesn’t answer how this happened”. Jared is seriously hoping he isn’t dealing with some killer kid situation. Those were awful.

Danny rubs his neck, not entirely sure there’s any way out of this, he pretty actively screwed himself here, “uh, besides me not being very clean being a factor, you’re probably standing in a cesspool of pop, coffee, energy drinks, some cleaning solution stuff from when I actually mildly attempted to clean and just dumped it on the floor and shoved it around with my foot, probably some decomposed food, ectoplasm, and yeah, uh, blood”, then wincing slightly, because yeah, not impressing mr. Cop.

Jared glances to the floor, blinks, and looks back to the teen. Teens were lazy sure, but this was something else. This was beyond unsanitary, this was a downright biohazard and completely unliveable. And he might know the what, but the why? Heck, even the how. For the carpet alone to be this soaked, “whose blood. And the ectoplasm? Kid, for your floor to be this soaked you’d have to have dumped literal bucket loads of liquids on it. Bucket loads”. And watches the teen actively wince, obviously aware of this fact.

Danny looks around, actively avoiding eye contact, “I mean, you’re not wrong. My room’s kinda the ‘hang out’ spot, I guess, for me and my friends. So it’s not strictly my mess”, shrugging, “Tuck’s probably left a fair amount of meat scraps around and I’m pretty sure Sam’s trying to grow a rare fungus in one corner”. Valerie’s probably left a gun or two around too, but he’s not going to mention that.

“Kid, you have got to be kidding me. I know Amity is strange, but this is a little beyond”.

Danny shrugs again, looking back to the guy, “sorry pal, I’m probably certifiably the strangest kid in the entire town. Me and my friends are literally known as the weirdo trio. Sometimes the defect quartet when Val’s with us”, smirking a little to himself and knowing Sam will love him for this, “we are the weirdos mister”, and grinning cheekily.

Jared blinks very slowly, this teen just quoted a movie at him in response to him pointing out this was insane and that this floor was a biohazard. He blinks again and elects to just... ignore that, “still waiting on that ‘why’ for the... floor”.

Danny chuckles a bit meanly at the freaked cop before shaking his head a bit aggressively and looking around awkwardly, “ah, uh, it’s mostly, ah, mine? Which yeah I know is probably, like, super concerning. But it’s fine”, no point even trying to lie here, because a bloody fucking cop absolutely could just sample his floor and test it for, well, everything. And if he could avoid Tucker having to hack the fucking cops any more than he already did, by being just slightly honest. Then that’s what he’s gonna do.

Jared blinks again, arms slack at his side, before walking over and sitting down next to the teen on the bed. Daniel following suit by letting the hover thing float down to ‘sit’ him on the bed; this kid could read people at least a little, “buckets of blood is not ‘fine’, Daniel. And the ectoplasm?”, readjusting slightly, “honesty for honesty?”, something tells him this particular teen was well versed in dishonesty, “the main reason I was sent here is because of some things the first responders and nurses noticed. Namely, that you have a lot of... scarring. Unusual scarring. Does that have anything to do with the state of your floor?”, he’s making a point to try and be gentle here. This officially looked less ‘killer kid’ more ‘battered kid’.

Danny resists muttering ‘ah fuck, Ancients goddamnit’ out loud; talk about suspicious. He knew one day his scars were going to come and bite him in the ass. What is he supposed to say here? Obviously not the truth. Just ‘oh hey random cop dude, I fight ghosts totally not on the down-low but also technically on the down-low because it’s, like, a super-secret. Y’ know, like most superheroes. And ghosts are, like, totally really into maiming me. Also I’m kinda sorta a little bit kinda dead. So there’s that. My parents and girlfriend also shoot me sometimes, but you totally won’t report that to CPS, right?’. Alright, activate secret protection tactic three; sass and annoy ‘till they leave you the Zone alone. Ancients give him strength, “well first, I really do prefer Danny. I’m totally fine, cool as a cucumber or whatever. And welcome to Amity pal, people get hurt here a bloody lot. Couple abductions here and there, the occasional light stabbing; y’ know the usual. I get that you’re from outta town but that near non-existent crime rate means nothing”, shrugging and leaning back on his elbows, “and yeah the ecto’s mine too, so what I’m a little spooky? Not everyone’s full-blooded legged humans you know”.

Jared practically flinches back from the sudden change in behaviour. So that’s a check on him being defensive of his scarring. But there was no mention of his parents anywhere there, not to defend them or even to try and claim it wasn’t their fault. So, it’s probable his parents aren’t at fault here. Obviously something was going on, had to be for him to have more scarring than war vets. ‘Nearly more scars than flesh’ they had said. Though oddly his doctor had said nothing on the matter, even said the kid was fine; and he definitely did not report the state of the kids bedroom, which definitely deserved reporting. Furrowing his eyebrows at the kid, who doesn’t drop the ‘insufferable teen who just wants to be left alone and thinks you can shove it’ act for the previous nervous cautious behaviour. The doctor probably knew whatever was going on, or was very corrupt and seriously didn’t give a damn, “does your doctor know the reason behind the scarring?”, thinking on what Danny said, “and you have ectoplasm?”, that... that was a new one.

Danny huffs and rolls his eyes, his ecto-contamination was at least somewhat public knowledge in Amity. Dude would hear about it sooner or later, “yeah? So what?”, scowling a little at the cop, “don’t be givin’ doc shit, he’s cool. Knows when shit doesn’t need no reporting, shouldn’t be reported or recorded. I’m fine. My ‘situation’ or whatever, is fine. Perfectly peachy. Just stellar. We done here?”. Danny is probably not earning any good karma points here.

Jared blinks, okay, protecting his doctor was definitely not typical abuse victim behaviour. So definitely not the parents’ fault then. He seemed to be blaming Amity itself or the ghost issue instead. Which yes, this town was insanely dangerous and a lot of people -kids included- had scarring; but not to that degree. Maybe he got targeted more because of being related to hunters? Mentally pausing, or maybe he was a hunter and his parents -for some asinine reason- didn’t know? But then again, he said he wasn’t ‘shooting sentient beings for sport’ so maybe there was a conflict in ideals? Maybe he disagreed with his parents so he didn’t want them involved or putting in their two cents? That was fairly common in the force and other departments. But he was also implying that reporting this in any way -not just to his parents- was bad. So maybe something else was going on, or was he referring to having ectoplasm in his body. There were too many variables here, “that depends. Are you in any danger? You need to give me something here kid, Danny. ‘Cause right now your ‘situation’ seems decidedly not fine. Especially since you clearly get hurt a lot yet have an almost impressively sparse medical file”.

Danny huffs some more and rolls his eyes, okay, this wasn’t exactly... working, “I'm fine. I’m just a little ecto and Amity’s just a little dangerous”, sighing, “so no, I’m not in danger. In the past or now”. ‘But I fucking will be if you chase my shit’ being left unsaid.

“And in the future?”.

Danny levels the guy with a serious steely expression and puts just a tiny hint of power into his voice, tail coiling around invisibly, “I will be if you don’t butt out”, maybe warning the dude will get him to fuck off with this?

Jared blinks and nods, not entirely feeling like he’s actually talking to a minor here; which said a lot, “from?”.

Danny scowls, “not my family. Or friends. Or the doc. Or ghosts, for that matter”, Ancients dude, would you just drop it already?

“That doesn’t leave a lot of possibilities”.

Making Danny glare, “not your business”. Jared sighs and shakes his head a little, “it rather is. It’s my call what happens here, doctor turning the cheek or not”.

Danny scowls at him again, growling slightly because he is honestly getting frustrated here, “a little bit ecto, in the eyes of the government, equals a lot bit not deserving of human rights. And thus a very nice easily findable Christmas wrapped subject for some really nasty things I’d rather not experience”.

Jared blinks a few times, that was... not what he was expecting. But that would explain not wanting things reported, never going to hospitals, not wanting people to look into things, the doctor getting him out of the hospital abnormally quick and coming along, etcetera. Thinking of that, didn’t one of the secretary’s mention government agents showing up? Alright, so this kid was being testy for good reasons. Being defensive to literally defend himself... from his own government. Alright, the best thing he can do for the kid was to do nothing. To fudge his notes and report. Leave in the general weirdness but nothing that would encourage further investigating. This situation was officially way beyond his pay grade. Still though, his priority here was the kid's safety and welfare; not whether or not the government? knew he was ‘a little bit ecto’? “Alright then. Legally I should absolutely report this-”. He doesn’t even get to finish as Danny cuts in with an actual snarl, “and doc shoulda absolutely dragged me back to the hospital, your fucking point?”.

“Jesus kid, I’m trying to extend an olive branch here”, Jared shakes his head when all the teen does is huff, “I’m not saying I’m going to. The governments slightly dangerous opinions and interests in ghost stuff ain’t in my salary”.

Danny tilts his head and watches the guy for a beat, he seemed honest enough, “so you’re not going to mention my ecto-contamination, questionably bio-hazardous room, battered body, or being overly self-sufficient?”. Talk about dodging one Hell of fucking bullet. Holy Shit.

Jared blinks, okay this kid knew exactly what was up with his stuff. “I should, but I think I’m going to opt-out of doing that. Seems like that would do more harm than good”, leaning forwards a bit, “but when you say self-sufficient...”.

Danny rolls his eyes but relaxes some and lays back on his bed, he’s keeping his damn tail invisible and whatnot though, “put it this way man, Lewis thinks I’m a better surgeon than his lackies and I make a mean lasagna that doesn’t randomly gain sentience and try to stab people with knives”.

“Alright, I shouldn’t have asked”, his scars were self-treated, that... that is entirely unacceptable. And he’s just not going to ask about the Fenton parents’ apparently questionable cooking skills. Danny just snorts. So Jared speaks back up, “I take it ecto-contamination is the proper term for being ‘a little ecto’? And that it’s different from the general kind that -according to multiple sources- basically everyone in this town has? Even though your parents failed to mention it. I imagine this probably affects health and care”. ‘Contamination’ pretty firmly implied it being a health thing.

Danny sighs, “‘cause I got it from blatantly and aggressively ignoring nearly all forms of lab safety. Which would probably be a mark against them in your little book. But yeah fine, my ecto is little more unique. Common knowledge, though not really your business”.

“Again, it rather is. But I guess that’s understandable. Does it affect your health and care though? I would prefer to attempt to be thorough”. He’s glad he’s not wearing a wire or body-cam.

Danny looks him over and nods a little, yeah dude could probably get fired for not reporting all this crap. Would kinda make him a dick for no real reason to not answer that, “fair enough. It does, but my folks are pretty aware though. And they’re basically the leading ectologists. If they don’t know how to handle me, then no one does”, no one entirely human anyway.

Jared nods, enough information to be an answer, vague enough to tell him practically nothing. Kid’s smart. Grunting, “good enough”, squinting, “wait, would another family even be able to look after you effectively?”.

Danny snorts and actually laughs, “are you kidding? No, of course not”, as much as his parents being his parents resulted in ghostly injuries and being actively hunted and endless amounts of paranoia; it also saved his half-ghostly ass left right and centre. This legless/leg optional situation would be a bajillion times worse if he didn’t have parents that could build legs and get them to work with his spooky ass.

Jared shakes his head disbelievingly, so it didn’t even matter how he was being treated/looked after; he literally couldn’t get suitable treatment anywhere else but here. No wonder the doctor wanted him home, on top of the government trying to do who knows what. The doctor was actually looking out for his patients' best interests. “Well then I guess it’s best you’re home then. On that note, how are you coming along treatment wise? Healing well? And the prosthetics?”.

Danny snorts, “back to normal people questions huh?”, pushing himself up onto his elbows again, “my healings fine. Doctor approved. CyberSteps are getting there. My ecto’s ‘causing issues but also only reason they’ll feasibly work”, looking the cop over and tilting his head, “you're asking me shit, so I’mma ask you shit. You got any dead relatives who were really into white and a real stickler for rules. Maybe was a prison warden or sherif in the nineteen hundreds? Or maybe a mafia member that went to jail? Has a thing for black fedoras?”, he has to ask, ‘cause it would be just his luck to get stuck with a relative of Walker’s. Not to mention a relative of Walker’s that isn’t a dick and doesn’t utterly despise him. Yet at least.

Jared raises both eyebrows a bit disbelievingly, “Cordell Walker was a mafia member that worked up to being a prison warden after serving time there, nineteen hundreds yeah. How did you know that?”. Jared is insanely confused and a bit freaked out. Shaking his head, “that’s... good that the prosthetics might actually work”.

Danny glares at him and mutters, “Ancients seriously? Why me”, tilting his head and laughing, “wait so he actually was a criminal?”, then starts laughing at Jared’s confused nod, “oh my Zone! HAHAHAHA oh man! I am so bugging him about that. Oh he’s not living that down!”, pausing to snort before adding, “literally not living that down”, and flops to lay down on the bed, laughing more. Waving his hand at the confused cop, “don’t worry about it. It’s just- wow haha. It’s just that your great-grandpa, or whatever, locked me in jail a couple times”, continuing at Jared raising his eyebrows almost comically, “he’s the warden of a ghost prison just inside the portal. So, uh, congrats I know your family. He kinda hates me though so. And he’s kinda a dick, no offence”.

Jared blinks, “I... don’t think I have a response for that and I’m pretty sure this almost qualifies as a conflict of interest”. There isn’t any kind of training for ‘subject knows your dead relative and was apparently arrested by them once’. Swallowing, “what did he... arrest you for?”.

Danny blinks and laughs awkwardly, “uh, first time was driving illegally pretty much. Second, possession of illegal... things. And after that there’s been a lot of other things. Something like ten jail breaks slash destruction of prisons. Probably gives me another assaulting an officer and resisting arrest charge every time he sees me. Honestly man? He’d arrest me just for existing”, tilting his head, “I think he actually has arrested me for that”, chuckling, “like I said, he hates me and he’s a dick. Pretty sure he’s got a cattle prod with my name on it, literally. One of my scars is from him attempting to brand me”.

Jared blinks really harshly at that, he had heard Cordell was a sadist but Christ, “Jesus, that is insane in all honesty. I had heard some... less than pleasant horror stories about him but that seems a bit... much. He was the first cop in the family though, and many of us did brag about having mafia roots as kids”, shaking his head, “I certainly still do”. And this teen apparently destroyed prisons, what is up with this kids life?

Danny snorts, “I would too”, ‘cause come on, having roots to the mafia is just plain cool. Shrugging, “I could give you a really wild story to take back and uh, set up a meeting or something? Y’ know, in return for not possibly getting me tortured and killed? Or having to hack your police system stuff?”.

“Are you... bribing an officer?”, Jared is out of his depth with this kid, and he is absolutely positive he has a very mischievous side and very little regard for the legality of things.

Danny snorts, “not even close to the most illegal thing I’ve done. And might please Walker- uh, ghost Walker, some”, shrugging, “technically I’m bribing two officers”, and smirks devilishly.

Jared is pretty sure he shouldn’t be encouraging this, but this was... an opportunity that really was otherwise impossible. Meeting long-dead family that were something of a legend was quite the offer, “you are a rather sneaky teen, aren’t you? I can’t say I’m going to turn that down. But are you really well enough to do something like that?”.

Danny snorts and mutters, “if I’m well enough to get punched in the face, then I think the fuck so”. Jared pretends he didn’t hear that, he’s decided he really just doesn’t want to know. Danny looks to him, “eh, it’ll be fine. Just maybe don’t call him Cordell, dead-naming a ghost is a good way to get stabbed or shot or maimed or a lot of other painful things. He just goes by Walker now”.

Jared nods dutifully, yup he’s officially ‘compromised’ and no longer unbiased with this case. Best he keeps that to himself though, kid’s probably banking on this being a way to ensure he keeps his mouth shut. This kid was bolder than he seems, definitely not as ‘in the background’ or nervous as he acted at first. That was probably just a tactic to avoid people looking into his shit.

Danny smirks, “cool, I’ll coax him into the mortal realm at some point. Gives me an excuse to annoy the heck out of him”.

“You’re more of a trouble maker than I pegged you for. Please avoid breaking the law to do that”.

Danny blinks, “uh, no?”, activating the hover cushion and hovering around his room to adjust somethings, “so, any more questions that are ultimately pointless?”.

Jared quirks an eyebrow, “honestly? No. Since you’re right, there isn’t any point. But I really should ask what kind of punishments you get?”, he’ll get more than just looked at funny if he doesn’t ask the most basic child abuse question out there.

Danny shrugs, “a stern talking to? Maybe them having a meeting with a teacher and scaring them? Another parent/son bonding thing that turns into getting almost eaten by swamp monsters or getting abducted by the mayor and hunted for sport by his personal ghost science experiments? Getting shown more videos about how not doing my chores will blow the house up and kill everyone?”.

Jared glares at the kid who smirks, “do you just want me to have to scrap everything?”, grumbling to himself and jotting down in his little book, “I’ll just write down the first two”, before looking back to the kid, “what are your chores anyway?”.

Danny smirks, no point lying now might as well go all in, “cleaning the lab. Yup, the ecto-contaminated kid that reacts to hunter tech and ecto is the one who cleans the place filled with those things”, why his parents had him clean the lab was beyond him, not that he minded. Was a good excuse to snoop new inventions or drop off a ghost or two in the portal. Speaking of that, what the heck’s he gonna do with Skulker? If he releases the dude he’ll probably chase down the doc. Eh he’ll warn the guy to keep a bone saw on hand or something. Chuckling at the cop, “also vacuum the walls sometimes”.

Jared blinks, “neither... neither of those are normal. You have got to be kidding me. Why?”.

Danny shrugs, “no idea man. Though now I don’t have any chores, well except the chore of healing”, and floats over to the door, gesturing to it, “so we done? Cool to leave the crime scene?”.

Jared stands and lifts his phone, “I actually need to take some photos of your room, so maybe try to make a section not completely nightmarish?”.

What then proceeds is the two moving around a few things and Danny dumping a pile of cloths over a particularly unpleasant looking square of carpet, so Jared can get his photo. He also takes photos of the star-covered ceiling, hand-built rocket models, and his computer video-game set-up. Noting the space flight simulators, “you a fan of space? I have a cousin who’s an astronaut you know”. Danny zips right over into his face, causing him to fall on his ass, Danny stays in his face and follows him though, “what! Oh my Zone! What missions have they been on?!? Wait, have they been on any?!? Did they get to go to any planets?!? Or a satellite?!? What was the recovery like?!? Oh! Oh! What’s wearing an actual spacesuit like?!?...”.

Alright, Jared thinks, this kid was a little freaky and was officially seriously freaking him out. Interrupting Danny’s word vomit, “uh... I don’t know? I think ‘like’ might have been an understatement, you’re a bit... obsessive”.

Danny huffs and glares at the guy, how, no seriously how could he not know? Not ask? “You disappoint me, and shut it. Side-effect of the ecto”, practically hissing, “and I’m interested, not obsessive”. He knows a little echoey ghostliness came out there ‘cause space is not his Obsession.

Jared nods slowly and blinks at the wide-eyed teen that he’s pretty sure hasn’t blinked in a while, “uh sure thing. Could I... maybe get off the floor?”, which now that he’s not focused on the kid going a bit crazy, he’s noticed said floor is a bit more than foul-smelling.

Danny stares a little more and realises he’s effectively pinning the guy without actually touching him, backing off but grumbling, “deserved it, family goes to space maybe and you don’t know shit about it? Ridiculous. At least Lewis would ask”, Lewis was a curious dude, Vee just didn’t know shit.

Jared gets up slowly and makes a point to get out of the kids bedroom, the kid shooting him glares like he’s committed a crime the entire time.

Jasmine sticks her head out of her bedroom too, “everything alright and good now?”, looking from the slightly freaked cop to her slightly wide-eye brother who’s grumbling incoherently, “Danny stop frightening the guests”. Danny grumbles incoherently a bit more but in ghost just to be creepy because let it be known, he was a dumbass.

Jared studiously ignores the... sounds? the kid is making and lifts up the notebook, “we’re good here. My partner’s waiting so I should get going”. Jared heads down the steps, spotting the sister putting her hands on her hips and looking unimpressed at Danny, “what is wrong with you Danny? Are you trying to make him suspicious?”.

“His cousin is an astronaut and he knows nothing, fucking nothing, about that?...”, and looks to start wide-eyed ranting, which Jasmine looks fond? over. This family was... weird.

Nodding his head at the parents, who smile and look relieved. Telling him they were rather... aware, things weren’t really acceptable here. And here he was not reporting that because of a bribe of all things, and honestly? after that performance, he’d rather not see what that kid’s like mad. That’s not mentioning how awkward working with the Fenton’s would be if he did report this. Again, they were basically cops here; their own ecto-department, alongside the Red Huntress.

Maddie jumps up to get the door while Danny and Jazz come down the stairs to see him off, only for Danny’s ghost sense to go off and a (very manly) scream sounding from outside. Everyone rushing to the door to see Ember literally standing on the cop car hood, her stomping on the windshield with one boot and telling the ‘piggy to lick her boots’ and moving to strum her guitar.

Danny’s folks of course run out guns blazing, while he silently slips into the background to transform; and Jared rushes over to his partner, grumbling about Chester being more of a greenhorn than him. Chester, meanwhile, is wide-eyed, back stiff, and clutching his chair seat for dear life.

Danny Phantom flies out -with his ghostly legs being, in fact, legs- to the sight of the cops trying to peel out of here while shooting their standard issue ecto-pistols at the ghost. His parents chasing said ghost, who’s of course mocking them and sticking out her tongue.

Ember shouting, “babypop!”, as soon as she sees Danny and floating straight at him. So he does the smart thing and leads her on a little goose chase. Which, in typical fashion, results in him getting a guitar powered fist-shaped sound wave punch straight into the side of a building.

She shouts at him, “my babypops been missing a while Phantom, know anything ‘bout that?!”. Danny snickers, “you know, you calling us both babypop raises some serious questions”.

“Oh can it”.

Making Danny laugh and shakes his thermos a little, “already canned the tin can. Care to join? Not sure how much makeout room there is though”. Which promptly gets him slammed into the road, “keep this up and I’ll put a cement lock on the thermos!”.

She rolls her eyes and readies her guitar again, “that won’t work, we can phase through cement, dipstick”.

Danny pauses and holds up a finger, “actually, my folks are making a mass-producible ecto-cement”, shrugging, “which I’m sabotaging because oof, imagine slamming into a ghost proof wall mid-battle?”.

Ember chuckles, “yeah, would really ruin the vibes. Speaking of vibes, try these sound waves out”, and turns the nob to something Danny’s pretty sure is new. Great. Watching, and failing to dodge, a pink line of sound slice through the air... and his shoulder.

Danny watches the arm go flying into someone’s garden, “wow, some really cutting edge beats you’ve got there”, and promptly dodges another pink line.

The fight again pausing when the dude who owns the garden throws Danny’s arm back at him, which he just lets it bounce off the side of his head, “way to get dismembered asshole!”.

Danny holds up a finger to Ember, “one second”, looking to the guy as Ember crosses her arms. Danny snatching his arm out of the air and tucking it under his armpit, “okay first off, dismemberment requires multiple limb removal; I only lost one. Two, I’ll admit my arm wouldn’t make very good fertiliser, but was that really necessary? And three-”, smirking, “-thanks for the hand. I’ll make sure to put my act together. Got to stay handsome after all”. Turning to Ember and speaking quiet enough the scowling guy won’t hear; though Ember shooting him a few miles away into a tree helps, “got a girl to impress, ya know. I like to think she prefers the whole over bits and bites”.

That gets Ember to pause and actually smile, if this were a video game a little ‘!’ would have likely appeared over her head, “oh! You’re dating again? The goth? I’d ask if it was the techy but you said girl”.

Danny throws his hand out to the side, “why do you all always think I’m dating them?!?”.

Ember snorts, rolls her eyes, and puts a hand on her hip, “your two humans are attached at the hip to you. How are you not dating them?”.  

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose, “we’re close so what? I’m a protective asshole who likes to keep what’s mine close. Fuck off. I’m dating Red for your information”.

Ember giggles and shakes her head, “silly boy, and nice to see your death wish is still intact”, readying her guitar to restart their battle, “she know you’re one of us yet?”.

Danny chuckles as he stretches out his torso to avoid another fist blast, “naw, that info’s still ghosting her”, earning both another head shake and a pink slicing blast from the ghost.

Meanwhile, Lewis is just now taking his last shift break. Flipping through the Amity news because again, being prepared is nice and Danny’s a verifiable walking time bomb for physical injuries. And surprise surprise Phantom him is currently practically eating a tree with his face fighting some rocker chic. Eddie would probably ask her for a night of fun or something; though she might might be a minor. Maybe? It’s hard to tell. Well whatever, she’s currently smacking Danny over the head with her guitar. Squinting at the screen before sighing, the kid’s arm is definitely not attached to him. So check his arm brace, check his stitch work, make sure his bones are aligned right. Watching him get hit over the head again, maybe he should ask if Danny even can get concussions; he hopes not.

Quirking an eyebrow at his phone ringing, pausing the video, “hello?”.

“Dr. Dan Lewis? This is Jared Walker from the Amity police department”.

Lewis sighs, why does he feel like Danny’s at fault for this, “yes?”. Just the same as Eddie is literally always at fault whenever the San Francisco police call.

“I just finished up with a welfare check on Daniel Fenton, and just wanted to confirm that he’s indeed medically alright and that someone other than the Fenton parents’ are keeping an eye on the kid”.

Lewis grimaces, oh no way that went well, “he’s better than anyone else would be, so he’s quite fine; no need to worry. After this shift I’ll be taking something of a leave to stay at the Fenton household, I do intend to keep a rather close eye on him. That is my job after all. Do you need anything from me for your report?”. Danny must have done something to keep this guy from just outright reporting that the house was ridiculously unsafe.

“No, that’s alright. I think I’d rather not know whatever it is you do know”, alright so Danny definitely did something, something a ‘normal’ person wouldn’t really approve of, “so long as there’s someone more... responsible, watching him I’m not going to concern myself. Try to get him to clean his room, I doubt this’ll be the last time someone raises the alarm about that kid. I doubt ‘I know your dead grandparent’ is something he can pull again. And most less seasoned cops would not have reacted well to nearly being assaulted”.

Lewis sighs, Danny seriously can not keep his nose out of trouble. Though assaulting a cop is something he’d expect from Eddie not Danny. Though in Eddie’s case, the cop wouldn’t be alive to talk about it. “I’ve told him as much. I do hope my patient wasn’t too much of a hassle, he can definitely be a bit odd. Though that’s hardly unusual for the family”.

“Oh I’m aware. That kid is a bit more.... startling though. I don’t envy you. Thanks for taking my call, I imagine you’re a busy man”.

Lewis chuckles, “he hasn’t tried to kill or eat me yet, so he’s a fairly enjoyable patient. Very interesting. Have a good day”.

“Yeah...”, Lewis is pretty sure he hears the guy mutter, “what is up with people today? Everyone’s a goddamn nutcase”, before hanging up. Lewis barely gets the time to chuckle down at his phone before it pings from that private server Phantom chat.

DPain: so

DPain: that spooky from fore might

DPain: might

DPain: be lowkey coming for you for my scrappy bits

DPain: also

DPain: mighto scared a cop

NightShade: made pig squeal

Tiethief: so he told me

Tiethief: should I just give the spooky what he wants?

DPain: put it in a present, throw it at his face screaming bomb!

PDAxpda: not like you need it

NightShade: n tinman might actually stab you or something if you don’t

Tiethief: that is a rather convincing argument

Lewis tosses his phone into the tray, hopefully this ghost doesn’t show up mid-surgery.

And he showed mid-surgery. Very mid-surgery. As in, hands in someone’s intestines kind of mid-surgery with a number eleven scalpel. All his underlings just hug the walls, or slowly move out of the room, effectively leaving him holding a guy together by himself at the table. Cowards. Lewis swallows and is impressed with himself at sounding calm and slightly bored, “do you mind? I am rather busy. The secretary could give you a number if you need something”.

“Where’re the whelps skinnings?”.

Lewis sighs, lifts up the hand holding the scalpel and points it at the ghost, “rude. As I said, I have my hands full. And I imagine the ‘whelp’ wouldn’t appreciate my patient keeling over from your pestering”. Here’s hoping the ghosts are sorta friendly with Danny at least slightly and really are against using someone's Obsession for a cheap shot.

Skulker blinks and internally winces slightly, well aware of the whelps protective Obsession, “fair play to you. I will wait. Here”, and nods curtly.

Lewis raises a very disbelieving judgmental eyebrow, “no you’re not. I somehow doubt you are even close to sterile. And I would rather not have to explain to his wife how he mysteriously got ecto-contamination during surgery”. Lewis is honestly surprised the ghost tilts his head, shrugs, and just... leaves. Ghosts were very interesting. Though he’s not about to hang up his doctor coat for the ghost hunter spandex.

Brittney walks up next to him, shaking slightly and readjusting her glasses, “Dan?”.

Lewis simply gets back to work, gesturing the others over, “yes?”. Thankfully they listen and also thankfully no one passed out on him this time.

Brittney swallows, “what the fuck”. Which just makes Lewis chuckle.

Two hours later Lewis snaps off his gloves into the trash and turns sideways to nearly crash right into the ghost. Sighing, ghosts were incredibly determined bastards. Looking at the ghosts grinning face, “this better not become routine or I’ll have to start removing your organs or something along those lines. You’re already dead, so it wouldn’t count as malpractice”.

“If you make a habit of taking parts of the whelps pelt, then gladly”.

Lewis tilts his head, that was kind of tempting; but he’s pretty sure he’ll pass. “He doesn’t need it so I don’t see why I would”, now to figure out how to deal with this, he didn’t exactly have Danny’s scraps on hand; though he had been effectively given the go-ahead. Eh he’ll just walk out to his car, slowly, and drive home, slowly. Peoples reactions could be interesting and annoying the ghost might discourage him from doing this again. He could do without ghosts showing up in his ER. Walking off and gesturing for him to follow, “follow”.

Skulker raises a metal eyebrow, “very few would dare turn their backs on the mighty Skulker”. Impressed or insulted? The doctor had turned his back on the best hunter in all the Zone at their previous encounter. And the doctor had already threatened him with a weapon. So Skulker’s leaning towards impressed.

Lewis chuckles, “if you hurt me I have one friend who’ll beat you up and another who would eat you; or at least very aggressively try to”, tilting his head as he walks, “and a fiancée who would sue you out of your lair and everything you own”. Glancing at Skulker, who of all things looks impressed.

Skulker nods curtly, “you and the whelp run in fine circles”, explains this new apparent human pet. The little whelply Prince wasn’t one for acquiring new pets.

Lewis chuckles as they pass a few nurses who looking to be trying to point out the hulking metal ghost following him like he somehow hadn’t noticed, speaking towards them, “I’m aware. Just ignore him”, then addressing said ghost while the nurses undoubtedly add this to the gossip mill, “you seem impressed”.

Skulker laughs, “a good prize should be impressive! The boys accomplishments are many, he is strong, and he is rare”, and grins more than a little viciously.

Lewis pauses as they get halfway across the parking lot, turning to Skulker, “so you respect him then. You care”, shrugging, “in a way”.

Skulker huffs and very obviously pretends to not give a damn, “a hunter respects the hunt and fellow hunters, that is all. And it wouldn’t due for him to fail to someone pathetic and unworthy”.

Lewis can’t help but laugh, “a friend of mine is like him, none of their enemies respect them. They just don’t want them to murder them. Mind you, most of their enemies die the first time they meet”. Lewis pulls out his phone as Skulker grunts, “skilled hunter”, which Lewis nods at as he walks.

Tiethief: metal spooky with lots of guns already here and apparently respects you

Tiethief: but is also trying to pretend he doesn’t

Tiethief: he is not a good actor

DPain: eh

DPain: he’s helped me the odd time

PDAxpda: well that was fast

PDAxpda: guy knows what he wants

DPain: he isn’t trying to hurt you is he

Tiethief: no

Tiethief: no need to be overprotective

Tiethief: I’m just taking him to get scraps slowly

Tiethief: very slowly

DPain: *snort* hahahaha food

DPain: *good

NightShade: make him swear not to tell vampireass monochrome’s leggy situation in return

DPain: oh shit

DPain: smart

DPain: why didn’t I think of that

PDAxpda: ‘cause you’re a dumbass

NightShade: our dumbass

DPain: hsiabdajbfje

DPain: rocker just asked if I was dating you assholes and you go and say shit like that

Lewis shakes his head as he hops into his car, sending off a final, Tiethief: you’re young, live a little, before driving off; being followed by a freaking ghost. He knows the punning he probably just encouraged but that only makes him smirk at the other two teens expense. They messed up his patient files and made Eddie practically blow up his phone while getting insanely dangerously drunk and probably killing someone to blow off steam (neither of which was all that uncommon but still; doesn’t mean he wanted that bad habit encouraged), paybacks a bitch; and apparently punny.

By the time he gets to his place he’s pretty sure the ghost is suitably annoyed. Heading in, he’s glad Anne’s still at work, better to not drag her into this. Not that she would likely mind. Would handle it with the controlled grace and power she always did. Glancing at the ghost as he moves to one of the closets, “now this stays between us, no need for Vlad to know. As far as that old friend of mine knows Danny never lost his legs. We are messing with him some”.

Skulker huffs, “I only tell him anything because he pays me”, taking a bag from the doctor guy and glancing inside. Grinning extremely maliciously, “and this outweighs any money or upgrades”.

Lewis nods and puts his hands on his hips, “another form of payment for this little gift could certainly be leaving Danny alone enough to study. He'd make a nice surgical assistant”, smirking, “he’s very good with a knife and stitch work”.

Skulker tilts his head and chuckles, “pestering the whelp is half the point. The potential of him spending his human time cutting people up and taking others scraps is tempting though”. Making the Prince even more of a little hunter was very tempting. He cared not one bit for that space whatever human job he was chasing before. So the boys studying meant nothing.

“Then bite the Eden’s apple. I already offered the kid a job”, shrugging, “granted he makes it through medical school”, glaring at the ghost purely to make a point. Feeling very smug at Skulker seeming annoyed but smiling slightly; not that it’s easy to tell with the metal face.

Lewis chuckles, “also, I appreciate you making him regrow his legs. Now I don’t have to knock him out”.

That gets Skulker to give him an almost concerned seeming look, “you have a ghost knockout device?”, which Lewis just grins at as the ghost promptly leaves. Well, he just successfully intimidated a ghost. Like symbiotes and MRI machines. Looking out the window to the dark sky, it’s about time he checks in on his patient properly; and probably patches him up yet again. That kid needed to just have a doctor shadowing him at all times.

Danny flops his head into Valerie’s lap, tail swishing lazily in the air at random. Sam and Tucker are lobbing chunks of mystery substances at each other. Valerie pats his head, “I still can’t believe you bribed a cop and got away with it”.

Danny chuckles meanly before going slightly wide-eyed, “oh yeah! And get this, Walker’s first name was apparently Cordell. Cop’s his grandson or something”.

Tucker gets hit in the head by something purple and fuzzy, “seriously? Your luck man”. Making everyone laugh just as Maddie sticks her head in, “the next CyberStep prototype is ready, sweetie”, looking around the room, “oh! You kids are still here? You really should head home and let Danny rest”, almost glaring at Valerie, “you especially missy. Danny being... endowed... or not”;

Danny wheezes in laughter while everyone else chokes. Valerie promptly hits him, so he manoeuvres his tail to poke her in the head; she, of course, swats It away. Sam however, surprises him by grabbing It and yanking him to the floor as she goes to stand, Tucker following as they move to leave.

Sam eyeballing Valerie, “well?”. Who sighs and leans down to give Danny another pat and a kiss before getting up to leave herself.

Danny sticks his arms up at her, “lift me, am baby”. Valerie snorts and leans down lifting him up, “yes, big scary baby”. Danny laughs with a high pitched voice very intentionally, “spooky scary skeleton baby”. Valerie groans and drops him on the bed, “you’re awful, you damn fool”, shoving his head into the blankets.

Danny chuckles, “you’re the worst, you stupid fool-lover”. She just snorts while Danny stays there, with his face smushed into the bed as they actually do leave.

His mom coming over after she’s sure his friends have gone. Her sitting on the bed and patting it, giving his shoulder a little rub, “you are okay with testing the CyberSteps right? And the way the house is? It’s setup? You can get to everything fine?”, continuing as he turns his head to her, “I know we haven’t really been treating this like you actually are... disabled. We’ve been treating this like you’ll pretty much go back to normal”, sighing and looking to the ceiling, “I know with the CyberSteps you’ll be able to walk again, have legs again. But it’s... it’s not the same. And I don’t- I don’t know if you want us to teat you like you’re no different. Not give you extra help or do things for you”, looking back to him and ruffling his hair a little, she can tell he’s thinking, “I know you want the general public to treat you the same and not even know anything’s happened. But us? I guess what I’m asking sweetie, is if you like the way we treat you”, trying to lighten the mood a little, make this seem less serious, “and no, by help you out I don’t mean babying you. I know you don’t like that”.

Danny opens and closes his mouth a few times. His mom was obviously worried and was definitely always going to be bothered by his leglessness, but he wasn’t actually legless. But revealing that was more than a little unpleasant sounding. Regardless what his friends say, regrowing human(ish) flesh and bone was not the same as developing a ghostly tail. It wasn’t even in the same realm of same. Literally. Humans do not heal like he does. Not even close. And him revealing he doesn’t heal like a fucking human is absolutely going to make them question if he even is human anymore. If he’s been too changed by his Core and contamination to qualify as human. And his parents deciding the answer was ‘no. Not human’ was nightmare fuel that he simply did not want to face. That, his hybrid status, was getting pried from his cold dead hands, when it came to his folks. And besides, even if he did tell her, then she’d be worried about his weird-ass healing and humanness. Which she would probably be more bothered by than him technically being ‘disabled’. So that’s solved. Kinda. Not really. Something tells him that having legs -real ones- while human was going to be an uncommon thing; too risky to have them often. He has a distinct feeling that is making ClockWork smirk meanly at him.

(ClockWork was, in fact, watching the near future with a smirk; and drumming their fingers over their staff almost in eager anticipation)

Now the other dilemma Danny’s having is this whole ‘do you want us to treat you the same/help you/modify things for you’ question. He means, the answers were obvious to him: yes/no/no. But his mom was obviously having at least a little bit of a hard time with treating him like nothings changed. Obviously she wanted to help him. And that made sense. She was his mom, any mom would want to help their disabled kid. That meant he needed to give her a reason, make her feel good and better about him not wanting that. She needed to feel like she was helping him by not helping him. Huh, talk about an oxymoron. And funnier, doing that would make him feel helpful and his Obsession at least a little content. But the question was, how to go about doing that? Tilting his head -and knowing damn well his mom is just letting him sort through his head- he could just be honest? in a different way. He disliked being babied, them helping him when he didn’t goddamn need it, because of his ghostly pride. Because of that ghostly part of his mind. His ghostly brain. Which his mom had asked about. Had asked how his mind was different, was more ghostly. He could just... tell her? That’s pretty well what she wanted right? and it would keep her from being all weird about this. Maybe anyway. Hopefully. But also how to explain that? He wasn’t kidding that he really seriously didn’t know just how different his mind was. Where did his human pride end and his ghost pride begin? He had never liked being babied, but he definitely hated it much more since the accident. But he’s pretty sure full human Danny wouldn’t mind his folks doing things for him or putting stuff in easier reach. Heck! full human Danny would probably want nothing to do with robo-legs; especially robo-legs made by his explosion prone parents. Full human Danny would probably be fine being pushed around in a wheelchair. Halfa Danny definitely wasn’t.

Swallowing, alright brain, time to be on the ghostly side. Huh, for once he was actively wanting to be ghostly around his family, “okay uh, I think that -me being bothered with being babied so much- is a ghost brain thing. And um, you guys trying to help me unnecessarily -as in I could honestly do it myself just fine- is babying to me. Wounds my pride I guess”, shrugging. It didn’t help that he was a powerful ghost. He was a proud bastard alright? Ghostly proud for sure. Nowhere near as bad as Vlad though. That guy was, like, sixty percent pride or something.

Maddie nods, making a point to not look too curious, she can tell a bit that Danny’s more certain about this than he’s letting on. So he was clearly not comfortable yet talking about how his... Core and ectoplasm affected his mind. Meaning this was probably him testing the waters a bit, him taking a bit of a leap of faith. She could understand that, it made sense, him hide anything about himself he thought was ghostly was what he was used to. He had ghost hunters for parents after all. So she needed to not be bothered by this, just like the tail and Core. But also just like with those, she was bothered, she just had to work on that and not let it show; because upsetting him, making him feel like he still had to hide parts of himself, would bother her much more. Though to get any confirmation that his mind has changed, who he is, his personality; was harder to swallow than his physical body being a bit different. And here, he probably had a point. She thought he had been more self-sufficient, more caring about his looks, and more capable as a teen. She had chalked that up to growing up, but maybe that was his ghostly influence showing. Tilting her own head, “well ghosts are prideful things. So I guess you being more proud, in a ghostly way, would make sense. Do you... have different kinds of pride? Like, human pride and ghostly pride?”. Not ‘ghost pride’ because he’s not a ghost; no matter how close to one he’s become.

Danny rolls onto his back and stares at his ceiling a little, “I think my ghost pride trumped my human one. I’m not sure I have human pride?”, tilting his head, “or maybe my ghost stuff just abducted my human pride and modified it?”. Did he actually know the answer here? No. And it’s not like he’s gonna ask Spectra how his mind worked. How human it was. That would be asking for punishment. Would really confuse her though. Maybe. She was one ghost he didn’t really understand.

Maddie nods and ruffles his hair, “your ecto-circulatory system and Core? That would make sense”, looking up at the ceiling too, “ghosts are impressions of the living, so your ghostly set up cannibalising your human pride and leaving you with the ecto-impression of it seems plausible. Seems logical pride would be something your ectoplasm would latch on to or overpower”, she bites back adding that ghosts were obviously proud since they seemed to think they were better or above the living when they were only the leftovers of the living. Effectively scraps. But that thought makes her squint a little, there wasn’t anything for Danny’s Core to be a ‘scrap’ of... The tail was obvious, but the Core? They had thought those were likely built of leftover emotional imprints or maybe the heart? That clearly couldn’t be right since Danny still had a heart -Dan had pretty well confirmed his heart being there- and, even with his aloofness, she’s still positive he was definitely all there emotionally. So the Core was an addition, not a leftover. Meaning that maybe... they were at least partly wrong. On their basic understanding/finding, of all things. Maybe the majority of a ghost was leftovers, but some were new?

Danny interrupts her thoughts, “‘ecto-circulatory system’? Is that just, like, what you’re calling my, uh, ectoplasm? And I think it’s more likely that ghost pride, or whatever, is stronger and more focused on, or something, and so the human pride is kinda redundant? Would be wasteful to have two, I think”, chuckling, “I guess ‘cannibalising’ is one way to put it. More like taking the old and upgrading it”, then very stupidly adding, “less ‘impression’, more ‘freed from unneeded baggage”, and instantly cringing because calling living, breathing, eating, organs, etcetera, ‘baggage' was probably simultaneously worrying and offensive. Maybe she wouldn’t take it that way? Even if it was... kinda true. Why have organs and bones when you can just be energy? Why be reliant on oxygen and food when you could just... not? But at the same time, why need to absorb ectoplasm, just one thing, instead of diversifying your needs? No ectoplasm equals some pretty fucked and probably fading ghosts. No cheese or beef just equals ‘eat something else you moron’. Still though...

Maddie gives her son a slightly concerned look, did he have that ‘ghosts are better than the living’ mindset? That could.... could explain his tolerance and even seeming fondness of ghosts. But he also clearly didn’t ascribe to humans being lesser; than ghosts or him. Like how some people just found cats better than dogs, better pets than dogs; but didn’t view dogs as some lesser beings. Was this part of his ghostly influences or just the way he would view things regardless? She should ask instead of assuming, assuming has gotten her in a bad way a lot it seems. And she told herself she’d do less of that. But first, his question. His curiosities were more important than hers, especially if he might be genuinely worried about anything, “your ecto-circulatory system is just what your dad rather dubbed your Core and ectoplasm. How it works and flows together. Like blood and a heart”, shifting a bit and biting her lip, “I guess having two kinds of pride would be unnecessary. But... do you? think ghosts are better than humans? Above?”, looking at his face and making a point to come off as gentle, “swapping ‘impression’ for ‘losing baggage’ sounds less like they are our leftovers and more like we’re garbage holding back our ghosts”. When it came to power she could understand, humans simply couldn’t match ghosts when it came to raw power. But they lost so much. Or that’s what research said, what she had thought for so long. But even if they were wrong about ghosts being emotionless and unable to feel pain. And, according to Danny, about being able to reproduce. Ghosts still lost organs. A truly physical existence. They were still bound to Obsession, even if Dan’s idea of them loving their Obsessions had merit. They still existed almost endlessly. They still were trapped in a form, ‘mind’, habit, personality, that could barely change at all. That was horrible. A loss. Not freedom or shedding off baggage. And certainly not better. Maybe it was good and better for the ones that never knew life.

Danny pushes himself to sit up and chuckles awkwardly, he sure loves making his life harder huh? “uh, I wouldn’t say ‘garbage’”, he pointedly ignores her slightly relieved sigh, “better comparison would be prototype to finished product. Prototypes are smaller, weaker, less effective. But more manipulatable, easier to deal with, informative. Prototypes you can practically upgrade or modify like crazy. Finished things go obsolete”, tilting his head and looking a little far off, “‘when things reach their ultimately conclusion, their final stage, they can go no more. But the universe is a thing of endless mores. There will always be a higher goal. A harder day. A stronger fight. A more expensive cost. To stagnate is to someday die out. To cease to exist when the universe requires beyond the final evolutions limits. But life is a thing of endless evolution. Of constant change. Always taking more and more and more. Never to rest’”, nodding his head with a smile, “‘and that, young one, is why I love life’”, chuckling and looking back to his slightly startled looking mom, “I might have made a stupidly wise friend”, shrugging, “sure they also then went on about why they love death. But you get the point I think”.

Maddie blinks, alright so maybe him being more grown-up had something to do with making -what sounds to be- a very smart friend. Likely an adult. Choosing to make light of this because that was a bit heavy and her boy clearly thought highly of this friend; he remembered them word for word!, “and here I thought I’ve met all your friends”, patting his head and getting lightly scowled at in return, “though I would like to know what they think of ghosts”, sighing and looking back to the ceiling, “as for what you said, most people consider prototypes inferior. So that doesn’t really change my question”.

Danny nods a little, fair enough, “well... uh, I think ghosts are better yeah. Kinda. In ways”, shrugging, “the strength. The durability. The powers. The sorta immortality and Obsessions though, heh”, he may love helping and protecting people, and enjoy satisfying that pesky Obsession of his; but it was still annoying pushy bastard. Shaking his head, “and my friend? They’re kinda a loner”, was a bit weird calling ClockWork simply ‘friend’ but he so doesn’t want to get into that. Chuckling, “‘death -in the way it is known for ghosts- is a finality in a way that finality is not. An end unending. Eternity, or at the very least the possibility of it, on a shiny silver plater. A steady star in space. Enhancing and overwhelming everything around it. Never bending for anything. It’s beauty and strength. Chaos and destruction. Pure and raw; leaving room for nothing else. And the universe is nothing without that’”, Danny nods and adds, “pretty sure they also said ‘think of it like this: without death, life is worthless. Death is the core and essence of life. Without it life is just a bled dry husk. And that’s something I care nothing for’ on the same topic”.

Maddie can’t help blinking again, this whoever seemed like they genuinely didn’t prefer one over the other. Reminded her a little of Dan actually. She’s not sure she agrees with the idea that the living are worthless without ghosts. Or maybe Jack’s wild on-the-spot idea of needed ghosts had some serious merit. As in, world would end without them, kind of merit. Then squinting, thinking on the weird emphasis Danny put on ‘Obsessions’; it couldn’t- could he possibly? “Sweetie-”. Only to get cut off by Jack barging in, holding up the CyberSteps.

“I got tired of waiting! So I figured I’d just bring them up! Plus! It might be more convenient to test here! Since if there’s some kind of reaction then Danny can just hop right into bed!”. Maddie tilts her head and nods slightly; he had a point.

Danny looks around his room and rubs his neck, thinking of all the shit he hid fucking everywhere in here, “uh, I’d rather not have anything that, y’ know, might explode or anything, in my room while doing things that would make it maybe explode or something”. His dad actually blushes at that and deflates a little. So Danny adds on, “still cool with testing though dad. Just not here”; earning a wide smile in return.

Maddie nods and sighs slightly, standing up with a smile; storing away her question and worry for later, “might as well do that now then”, smiling almost meanly at Jack, “since someone’s over eager”. Jack just chuckles and grins.

Danny flicks around his tail, feeling how easy it would be to simply have legs yet how not draining the tail still was. Super odd but fuck it, odd is him or whatever. Floating up off his bed and flying his face right up to the legs, more than a little curious what they've changed to account for his Core in a way that actually works in any way. Looking inside the legs, “so, think you’ve fixed the signals miscommunication issue?”, deciding not to add ‘without messing anything else up’.

Jack beams and nods, father and son chatting a little as they head out and down the stairs. Maddie watching from behind and smiling to herself, glad he didn’t seem to be closing himself off or act uncomfortable after their ghost-related talk; like he often did. Probably had something to do with her effectively reintegrating that they were willing and okay to hear him out on his opinions and ghost tolerance. Or maybe from them knowing about his ghostly influence and accepting that as simply part of him. Refocusing and watching his tail flick and swish around; which only makes her smile grow a little. He truly had gotten pretty good with it; not a wobble or falter in sight. He might even be able to give some ghost a run for their money, once he was healed up of course, which Jack would absolutely cheer and brag over.

Danny turns his head towards his mom just as they get into the kitchen -the currently designated blast zone, since doing it in the lab around sensitive anti-ghost stuff really was stupid- tilting his head at her giggling to herself, “what?”, and blushing when she glances to his tail; him coiling It around a little, making her smile crinkle her eyes a little. Guess his folks were finally -thank the Ancients- genuinely getting use to the tail. Turning back to his dad, who sets down the legs and gestures at them a bit ridiculously. Making Danny laugh and shake his head with a smile, “yeah yeah, alright”.

Grabbing the waist and slipping his tail in, instantly wondering what would happen if he went all leggy while wearing the legs. Legs on top of legs. Legs inside of legs. Fucking legception. That’s for another day though, even if he grins like an idiot over the thought. Moving for the thumbprint scanner and pausing, huh, they moved the timer. Nice, way less awkward. Shrugging and attaching the neuroreceptors, “where'd the timer go? Not that I’m complaining”. Considering that thing controlled the drain, he’d rather be able to see it without pulling some inhuman body horror shit.

Maddie walks up and taps on the neuroreceptors between his shoulder blades, “it’s on your back, we think shortening the distance between your brain and Core, and the timer conductor might just do the trick. With a couple other changes of course”, shrugging a little, “even if that increases the distance between it and your tail -the most accessible of your ectoplasm- as well as the main body of the CyberSteps”.

Jack adds in with a laugh, “and just like before! It’s completely protected from bumps and it can be locked so no one can go fiddling with it on you!”, and slaps Dannys back over the strip, then blushing and realising that was probably dumb to do.

Danny tries (and fails) to look over his shoulder at it while his dad turns it to actually start up, “uh, won’t it be kinda hard for me to adjust it there”.

Both parents blink like this hadn’t occurred to them. “Oh”. While Danny glances to his chest and tries to focus on what he’s feeling. Again, the draining is near nothing, which is good though foreboding.

Maddie shakes her head, “well we could add a small chest bar so it could be on your chest”, nodding and thinking to herself a little, “would fall right over his Core then”.

Danny raises an eyebrow before grumbling, “who am I? Tony Stark?”, snorting to himself, “well I am a literal metal ass. Rockin’ robotics”. Then deciding why not try walking, didn’t seem like anything was going horribly awfully wrong.

Lewis had walked in just during Danny’s little dig toward Ironman and had promptly muttered to himself, “considering the super-suit leading a merry band of heroes. Yes. Yes you are”, which he’s pretty sure Danny missed. As he watches the kid go to lift his ‘leg’ -what happened to him regrowing his legs???- only for said leg to practically high kick the air aggressively, sweep Danny clean off his other foot, and flip him onto his back; hard. Eliciting a little ‘oof’ from Danny and making Lewis sigh. What is it with walking in on the hero/vigilante type getting hurt? Especially Danny. Was like the boy felt a moral and physical obligation to get injured at the sight of a doctor. Which actually... does seem like something Danny would get a kick out of.

Maddie and Jack quickly move to help him sit up. Lewis puts his last bag on the floor and walks over. Danny rubs his head and mumbles in ghost, “o̸҉w̧͘͏,̕͡ ͞I’͝v̕ę ̴͝w͘h̵̨a͝c̴͠k̕ed̴͠ m̷̕y ̢͠͡hea̵d ͏͠͠a͝ ̢͢͝sh̷͘i̛t ̵̕t͘o͟n͡ ̨a͝n͞d̸͝ ͞s̶͏͢om͡e͜͡ho͠w ͠t҉̵h͜a̡͜t̡ was͘ ͜͞͝w͜ay҉ ̛mo̕͠r̴͠e͏̸ ͏̡p̡̨ai̴͘nf͟ưl̡͝͡”, and shakes his head. Making his folks blink in surprise and squint at him slightly, many times they’ve thought they heard him muttering in a strange language; never heard it so clearly before though.

Jack chuckles and gives a lopsided awkward smile, “I guess you knowing ghost speak makes sense, son”. Catching Danny off guard, “e͘͜͞h̴̵҉¿”. Realising his fuck up, he goes to stand up only for the legs to overreact again and basically toss him -back first, because of course it does- into the table.

Lewis stands up and shakes his head, hands on his hips, “well I’m glad you’re up and walking, but maybe you should turn that down a little. Before you put a foot through the ceiling or hurt yourself further”. Danny just stands there rubbing his neck awkwardly before glancing cautiously at the legs. Though really? Lewis is damn impressed these things are actually working at all. And that Danny’s braces don’t look destroyed, but that’s another matter.

Jack chuckles, checks over the timer/conductor, and scratches his head, “they’re still on the lowest setting actually”. Maddie sighs, shakes her head, and repositions the table back where it belongs.

Her sitting down and eyeballing the CyberSteps, “I’m really not sure what else we can try. Any lower and it’s not gonna pick up and convert the signals successfully”.

Jack snatches up the little tray of peanut fudge brittle Maddie made earlier and puts it on the table. One’s missing, so he’s guessing Jazz took one before she turned in for the night. Least Dan joins them at the table. Danny looks to attempt to but winds up on the floor again. At least he lands on his butt though! Or the CyberSteps butt really. Oh whatever, all’s the same.

Danny just sits there, ‘legs’ sticking out straight, and vainly attempts to reach over his shoulder to flick the dial. His own normal flexibility surprising him a little at actually being able to reach the thing and turn it. But in typical fashion he turns it the wrong way, taking more from him and watching the legs start smoking concerningly; promptly turning the dial the other way. Everyone watching the smoke while Danny chuckles slightly, “heh”.

Danny decides ‘fuck it, pretty sure these are already busted’ and changes his tail to legs. Promptly reminding himself of the fact that the hooks for his tail are actual hooks via him being actively stabbed. Alright, he really should have seen that coming. Changing back to his tail to hopefully not leak blood everywhere and ecto-burning away any blood that might (definitely) have gotten on the hooks. Using said hooks to use his tail to stand up and get out of the (still smoking)CyberSteps.

Lewis watches him float to sit and grab up some of the brittle, pretty sure there’s some specks of blood on the ‘bandaging’. Which come on really? How does something made entirely of ectoplasm bleed human blood? How? Danny’s body made so little sense. Eddie's made more sense. And Vee was a liquid.

Maddie pats Danny's shoulder, “you alright sweetie?”. Danny of course giving a solid ‘yep’. Which Lewis is calling bullshit on, “I’ll be the judge of that”, earning an eye roll.

Jack nods and rubs his neck, “guess you’d like to check him over right off the bat huh?”, then perking up a bit, “then me and Mads can take the CyberSteps down! Give them a little check over of their own!”.

Making Danny snort, “really splitting the work there. A bio mechanic and tech mechanic. Real two for one. How suiting. Built for me”. Lewis just shoos the pair towards the lab door, Jack scooping up the ‘legs’ and bounding over; Maddie right behind after ruffling Danny’s hair.

Danny mumbles at the table as the lab door closes, “what is with ruffling my hair today?”. Then scowling at Lewis for attempting to ruffle his hair with a small smirk, Danny going intangible to block him.

Lewis rounds on Danny, pointing at his tail, “now, why is that bloody? How’s your back and arm? Can you get concussions? And I thought you said you had legs again?”.

“Twenty-one questions much? Everything’s fine, doc. I discovered the CyberSteps qualify as an iron maiden for legs. If I can get concussions I never have I think. And I’m not legless, I’m leg optional”, changing to legs and crossing them for emphasis and to effectively show off his (still intact)fashion disaster. Feeling slightly cold chair against his bare legs, and possibly the bottoms of his ass cheeks; which he’s studiously ignoring, because Ancients damnit how do girls wear this shit and not feel awkward as Hell.

Lewis blinks, “I’m pretty sure this qualifies as a crime for me to see”, well, no wonder he asked for pants. No guy should be in anything like this against his will; least Danny was rolling with it.

“Fuck the law. Also, I might have encouraged Vee to eat a cop... and a priest”.

Lewis shakes his head and gets up, “again, you’re a bad influence”. Watching Danny as he gets up and walks around his chair, going to head up the stairs. Whelp, guess he can walk. And has the most insane healing factor imaginable. Eddie technically didn’t have any special healing, Vee can just put Eddie back together. Like a jigsaw puzzle that can regrow any lost pieces to boot.

Lewis shakes his head as he closes Danny’s bedroom door, “I am once again in awe of your body”, Danny gives him a really weird look at that and awkwardly slaps his ass. Lewis scowls at him, “no. Eddie can do that, not you”, gesturing for the boy to sit down so he can make sure everything’s as it should be for a healthy person.

Danny raises an eyebrow, giving his arm over, “Eddie slaps his ass at you?”, muttering to the side, “I think Tuck is winning a bet”.

Lewis studiously ignores that, he had more than a few people question if his friendship with Eddie was really ‘just friends’. Sure, he and Anne had talked about that, opening things up. But they were pretty agreed on that being a bad idea. At least currently anyway. Pulling at bandaging, “back to tail, I somehow think that’ll be easier to wrap and less wasteful”, both of them shaking their heads at the flesh-coloured tail. Lewis quirks an eyebrow at his waist coming to a clean smooth flat end before transitioning to the tail. Eh, least he was healed and wrap-able; positives Lewis, positives.

Checking over the braces quickly, only having to change out a cracked back brace surprisingly. And very closely checking Danny’s job of reattaching his arm, the kid was seriously too good at stitching; and bone alignment apparently. Leaning back and nodding at his own work, pointless as it technically was, “guess I don’t have to gas you now”.

Danny grimaces, he’s not going to underestimate Lewis’s seriousness about healing again, “you were seriously going to do that, huh?”. Lewis just smirks at him as Danny floats up off the bed.

Lewis speaks up before Danny turns his doorknob, “speaking of Eddie, what is up with everyone thinking you’re old?”. Danny’s grin is downright malicious, “what? Did you not believe me when I pointed out time travel is a dear friend of mine”, finger-gunning at the doc, “I do have basically the god of time in my corner after all. And a time slash dimension-hopping map”.

Lewis nods acceptingly, “I’m surprised time jumping is even legal. Though ClockWork seems like the type that might not care”.

Danny chuckles, “law means nothing to them. Time loves crime. We’re like twins”, and grins meanly before opening the door and going to head back to the kitchen; Lewis following. Maybe see what ideas his folks have now, inspire them a little; they seemed kinda stuck. Which at this point was fair. For every thing that worked, something else didn’t.

The two enter to the two parents glaring at the table and off-handledly munching on brittle. Danny blinks, looks to Lewis, shrugs, and turns back to his folks. Floating over to the table, “drawing blanks?”. Jack nods and hums; taking another bite. Danny moving to sit, cooking his tail around the seat.

Maddie looks at Danny and squints, “it’s like the timer conductor simply can’t work in proper alignment with itself and you”.

Lewis tilts his head, “well couldn’t you just separate the timer function and conductor function? Sacrifice a little space-saving in the name of functionality?”. This thing working at all is a miracle alone. It also being stylish, and realistic, and compact, and durable, and practically self-sufficient; seems straight-up impossible. “Like a friend likes to say ‘ain’t nothing wrong with the cheap n’ easy option’”, shrugging, “sure, he’s usually talking about food and booze, but I think the mindset applies”.

Jack shakes his head absently, mumbling into his food, “only the best for Danny-boy”. Maddie pats his arm comfortingly. Lewis points at him, “working at all might be the best though”. Jack just grumbles incoherently at that.

Danny shrugs awkwardly, “I’m fine either way. An extra dial is nothing really”. He is not going to school or walking around town without legs, Ancients Damnit!

Maddie sighs and nods, “we’ll see, we’d rather not of course, but we’ll see.  I’m not entirely convinced that would work anyway. Might make it even worse. Since the two need to communicate so closely and heavily. Control how much is taken, how, and stored. Control how much is released and where to at a time”.

Jack nods, joining the conversation more in genuine, “I think the timer isn’t working really. It’s just not strong enough. The conductor can’t take little enough, even with storing excess, for the timer to handle; without taking too little to even activate the conductor properly”.

Maddie nods and gives Danny a soft look, “your ecto’s just too strong. The conductor needs to be strong enough to keep up and handle you, but the timer doesn’t seem able to keep up with that. We’re pretty sure the timer’s maxed out”. Danny cringes and rubs his neck, looking around awkwardly. A more power-hungry ghost would be tickled green to hear that.

Jack nods, “feasibly, we could increase storage space but that would botch the design clear to the Zone. Definitely wouldn’t be able to match your physique. Noticeably so”, and glancing at him. Knowing full well Danny wouldn’t be happy with that.

Danny instantly grimacing, “yeah no. I’ll pass on that option”. Earning a round of nods.

Lewis leans back and taps his chin, “I’m assuming by ‘too strong’ you mean ecto-level right? And could you just... make a different kind of timer? Or a conductor that could compress his energy on top of storing it?”. Hey, sometimes an outside perspective helped.

Maddie raises an eyebrow at Dan, “oh? Danny explained ecto-levels, I take it?”, shaking her head, “this timer is our newest model. I’m not sure we can currently make something stronger. And everything we’ve got for compression right now are capture devices or would likely hurt anything that could actually feel pain”, and winces slightly from Danny’s sudden sharp glare; promptly getting a matching one from Dan. Right, she was supposed to be rethinking that. And she was, honest. It’s just, they had been so sure. Fiddling with her glove a little, “habit sweetie”. Danny rolls his eyes, like he always did when they would ignore or disregard his opinions; which made her cringe. She probably just took at least a small step back with him. Lewis just continues with the glare.

Jack nods, “we haven’t really had a chance to look into reviewing things, son”, chuckling slightly, “give us some wiggle room, would ya?”. Danny rolls his eyes again but this time he has a slight smile.

Danny shrugs, back brace scraping almost loudly against the back of the chair as he leans back, “well I definitely don’t want anything that hurts ghosts being used on me. And honestly? There was never any reason to think ghosts don’t feel pain”. Lewis just nods, this wasn’t really his fight here; he’ll interject if he thinks he needs to though.

Maddie gestures with her hands, “but they don’t have nervous systems, it doesn’t make any sense. There’s no brain to measure or process that stuff”.

Jack nods a furrows his brows, “same reason we didn’t believe they had emotions. Or the ability to love, or really care about anything other than their Obsession and chaos”. Even Lewis has to admit, he’s got no clue how something without a brain experiences things that require brainwaves and nerves to experience. Ghosts or symbiotes. Though he’s got a few ideas regarding Vee.

Danny blinks, in his opinion it was obvious ghost could feel; both emotions and pain. Literally just look at them and it was obvious. But yeah, he guesses from a purely slightly close-minded human-centric scientific eye it would seem illogical or impossible. And he’s never exactly questioned the ‘how’ of ghosts feeling anything. His ghostly self included. Maybe if he could find an answer to that then his folks might really truly genuinely change their tune on ghosts; instead of just pondering it. So how did he feel things a ghost? Okay stupid question, he felt through his ectoplasm of course. But how? Everything had a slight tingle in ghost form, he had figured he was just feeling his own ecto; but maybe that wasn’t the case. Kinda like how if you pressed your finger down on something and really focused or pressed you could feel your pulse. And Cores were often described -even by him- as like a brain and they effectively were ghost hearts. Maybe that was even more literal. His Core would pulse or vibrate harder if it was doing lots of work, but it would also vibrate pretty noticeably when he was happy; he got teased about ‘purring’ over that. And his Core did get colder and even felt harder when he was pissed off. Kinda wet when he was sad. Huh, he probably should have noticed the emotional connection a long ass time ago; though not really feeling his Core consciously was a good excuse for not, background noise after all. Emotions were effectively felt through the Core. And any pain he experienced did seem to be slightly worse around his chest. So It was probably processing, or whatever, that pain. Sure people didn’t feel head pain every time they stabbed their finger with a knife, but humans were less in-tune with their brains than ghosts were with their Cores. Humans can’t ‘feel’ their brains by just focusing after all. Same went for blood verses ectoplasm though. If anything, ghosts felt more than the living.

Danny blinks, staring down at the table before looking back to his folks; who are giving him curious looks. Well damn, ghosts felt everything with their Cores. He officially gets why they were all so damn protective of them; beyond just instinctively feeling protective. Part of why they were sacred. This also explained his parents' confusion too. They admitted to knowing near nothing about Cores, so they wouldn’t know everything Cores did.

Danny sits up straight and puts a hand over his chest brace, over where his Core was, “it’s the Core. How ghosts feel things. They feel it with their Core”, continuing at his parents eyebrows raising and basically matching Lewis’s curiosity; though he can tell his dad’s restraining himself, which Danny appreciates. “Er, not sure if it’s the same for me -doubt it- but It does react to emotion and general pain. Uh, sometimes before I mentally do”, shrugging awkwardly and trying to make the air feel less crushing, “Sam and Tuck like to poke fun at my, um, purring when I’m happy or really content. Heh”, and glancing around.

Lewis smirks meanly, Danny moving his glancing to him and scowling. It was just like whenever anyone -other than Eddie- called Vee’s little snake head thing ‘cute’; which it was cute. They do that cat bleb thing too, so it was their own fault they were cute. Both Venom and Danny being cat-like wasn’t a similarity he ever expected to find.

Jack kinda wants to ask, ask everything actually, but specifically if Danny could show it or let them feel it? his Core feeling things. But he has a feeling his boy wouldn’t appreciate basically show-ponying. And experiencing an emotion, even faked, at the drop of a hat was kinda hard. Plus! He believes his boy! So does he really need to ask? His wife speaks up before he does, which is so uncommon that Danny is probably weirded out by that. Maddie tilts her head a little, “‘before you mentally do’ so your... Core is actually more emotionally sensitive?”, and squints at the air.

Maddie’s not really sure what to do with that information. She could write it off as a side-effect of forming a Core while still having a brain, nervous system, etcetera. But... realistically it made more sense to think that his Core was very similar to practically the same as a regular Core; an ice Core type specifically. And trying to claim his Core could experience emotions and pain but a regular one couldn’t was a serious fundamental difference. Sure she had hoped his ghost would keep the ability to feel emotions when It fully formed, but for his ghost’s Core to already experience emotions and in a completely different way than humans did... It wouldn’t make any sense if the Core hadn’t come in with Its own emotional setup. Especially if It picked up on emotions first. And there was the whole complication of pain, because her job rather required ‘hurting’ ghosts; but ghosts ‘hurt’ each other so she’s not too bothered by that. But thinking on the ice Core thing, maybe she could jump off from that to try and place how maybe normal his was? Ugh, she seriously wishes they knew more about Cores. “Do you maybe feel things icily?”.

Danny gives her a slightly confused look, he's pretty sure that question wasn’t worded very well. “Like if my Core gets icy with emotions?”, he actually needs the clarification here. At her nod he continues, “uh, It’s always cold. But uh, more cold rock when I’m mad and ice water when sad? I’m not really sure how to put it”, rubbing his neck, “I know I drop room temperatures when I’m mad”, tilting his head, “Sam and Tuck say I literally suck the heat out of them if I’m sad or really bummed or whatever”, shrugging, “has to be, like, strong emotion for others to really notice. I think?”; he’s pretty sure people would say something if he chilled rooms every time he was mildly frustrated. Everyone would have to wear sweaters during tests.

Lewis blinks, maybe it was better his Core was all exhausted at the hospital. But hey, it was a step up from eating someones organs in response to annoyance. Or drinking yourself under the table and then the floor, having questionable gang bangs, and getting a tattoo of a horse eating pickles.

Maddie and Jack exchange a Look. Alright, so his Core absolutely could and did process emotions and in Its own way. They absolutely couldn’t deny that ghosts feeling -and thus caring, experience pain, having morals- was not only plausible but likely. And Danny was right, if ghosts had something they could feel with then there really wasn’t a reason to assume they couldn’t feel. Looking back and nodding at Danny. Jack sticking out his arms, “I guess ice Core ghosts are emotionally cold literally”. And grinning at making Danny snort and laugh.

Danny nods at his dad with an amused smile, putting his chin in a palm/hand brace, elbow on the table. Looking to his mom as she speaks up, “I guess Cores are a lot more than a vital energy source. And if this isn’t just a you thing, a modification of your Core due to being human still, then ghosts wouldn’t be emotionless. Wouldn’t be pure chaos and evil”, sighing and leaning back, “so I guess ghosts really can’t be purely evil. But I think we really need to actually encounter a so-called ‘good’ ghost, to see just what kind of good that is”.

Danny can’t resist a wide grin effectively splitting across his face. That grin becoming pinched and very forced, while his folks jump in their seats a little as a portal just opens up, in the middle of the kitchen.

Lewis’s eyebrows get lost in his hairline successfully and he’s wondering just how often do ghosts just pop up when Danny was involved in literally anything. He’s known Eddie for a year and he’s only dropped a criminal on him once, an alien once sorta twice but he never really had anything to do with Riot, and corpses (or on their way to being a corpse) once; Eddie was much better about giving ‘I’m eating out’ heads up now. Danny he’s known less than a month and there’s been what? Three ghosts dropped on him? The metal one, Skulker, twice. The biker, Johnny right? And that time he almost walked in on the ClockWork ghost, that didn’t quite count as an encounter though.

Lewis physically wheezes at the timing of this ghost as they stick their blue hood-covered head through the portal. While Danny feels the need to forcibly restrain himself from smacking ClockWork over the head, as they float fully through the portal in their child form.

Jack and Maddie blink, if they were a little less tired then they would have immediately whipped out pistols from their suits and held the spook at gunpoint; though holding back on firing until this strange ghost seemed hostile, if for anything to appease their (definitely overly ghost friendly)son and try out his ‘ghosts aren’t evil’ mindset.

Jack and Maddie’s sleep deprivation-induced hesitance gives the ghost the chance to smirk mischievously and speak, “you called?”.

Danny blinks and gapes like a fish, clacking his jaw shut to avoid yelling ‘what the fuck ClockWork?!?!?’ because seriously. What the fuck are they thinking? What are they doing? Has his guardian lost their damn mind? Has all their sense of reason and common sense utterly timed out? What’s their malfunction? Does their clock Core need Its batteries changed? The hands tightened? The clock face or case polished? The pendulum realigned? Danny tears his eyes off them and looks to his parents, opening his mouth back up, “uhhhhhhh”.

Lewis sighs into a hand, “and you are?”. Jack and Maddie glance at him quickly with looks of utter disbelief; was the man just utterly unflappable?

Danny just loses it at that, ‘cause take a fucking context clue mr. smart doctor man, “do you not see the clocks everywhere? Whom the fuck DO YOU THINK?!?”.

Lewis levels him with an unimpressed look, “I’m being nice”. This was probably ClockWork, but he wasn’t one for assumptions.

Jazz walks downstairs rubbing her eyes and yawning, “it’s five in the morning? Why are you-”, yawning, “-yelling? Why are you up?”. Then drops her hand, stops walking, and stares.

ClockWork grins, “hello Jasmine”.

“You... know my name?”.

Danny thumps his head on the table, “they know everything”, confirming who this was to her and Lewis really, while Danny bangs his head on the table repeatedly.

[alarawriting]

Writeober #3: Bone

Gerlach Schwartztern cackled maniacally as he felt the bindings keeping him out of the world faltering. He had expected this, ever since he’d seen that the historical building where the ritual had been performed was scheduled to be knocked down. There had been three days of demolition, and finally, the sacred circle at the center had been breached. He was free!

“Hey! You! This is a hardhat area! You can’t be in here!”

Gerlach shuffled around – being bound out of reality, able only to see what was transpiring, without having muscles to move, had done no good for his physique, and all his muscles were stiff beyond belief – to see a man in a bright yellow helmet and a shining orange vest, yelling at him.

“Dost thou know to whom thou speaketh?” he said, smiling cruelly, raising his own bony fingers as he prepared to teach the fool a lesson.

“Come on, asshole. Don’t give me that Scadian shit,” the man said. “You need to get off the grounds. It’s not safe.”

“Unsafe for whom?” Gerlach laughed, and reached out with his power. He called out to the dead buried below and all around to rise from their graves.

Nothing happened.

“Unsafe for you, asshole. You. Did I stutter? Get the hell out of here before I have to call the cops.”

Where were the dead?

Now that he was looking for them, he couldn’t feel them. In the Old World, there had been skeletons everywhere. But he’d had to flee the witchfinders – not the idiots who accused old women with black cats and herbal knowledge of being witches, but the ones with real power, who hunted those with real magic – so he’d taken passage to the New World, four hundred years ago.

Life was hard, then. Many colonists died, and their skeletons became his servants. He’d terrorized the colonists and the natives alike… until mages of both groups had teamed up against him. The natives had used their magic to confine him within a single town, herding him to the colonist mages, who’d bound him and locked him outside the world so long as the runes and symbols they’d carved in the stone under a church floor remained intact.

Now that the church was demolished, and the stone broken, Gerlach was free. He’d been able to see the world from his prison outside it; he’d seen the population explode. Surely the dead must be everywhere! People still died in this brave new world, did they not?

“Very well, knave. I shall leave, if you direct me to a graveyard.”

The man in the yellow hat sighed. “I don’t have to do this,” he said. “You’ve been an ass. But fine. The new church that replaced this one is about two miles down the road, and it has a graveyard. I think you have to turn right on Whitman – or I dunno, maybe it’s Baker? One of those streets. Go in about three blocks, you’ll find the church, and the graveyard’s across the street.”

“Then there I shall go,” Gerlach said, picking up his robes – they were dragging in the dust of the construction – and walking toward the gate in the fence. An interesting fence, that, made of wires woven together loosely.

“Thank you is a thing, asshole!” the man called after him, but Gerlach did not thank his inferiors.

***

It took far longer to find the church than the knave’s directions suggested. Gerlach was calling down curses on the man’s entire family unto the seventh generation by the time he finally found it, his legs and feet screaming at him for making them perform so much work after just being embodied again.

But there it was. The graveyard. And now he could feel the dead, lurking below, waiting for his call. With them at his command, he would rule over this town – and others. As the dead came to answer him, he would grow in power, and he would be able to call more and more of them as his power expanded. Eventually he would rule over this entire nation. Perhaps even the world.

Gerlach took a deep breath, and then called to the dead.

He felt them respond, felt skeletons restless in coffins push against the lids.

And push.

And push.

“What transpires here?” he roared. “You should be rising from your graves! I have called you, and you must come!”

Skeletons still pushed against coffin lids.

“Why can you not come forth?!”

Some skeletons broke their wrists and fingers trying to push open their coffin lids. None of them succeeded in actually opening anything.

Gerlach tried for hours. And then he walked to another graveyard and tried again. Still the dead could not open their coffins. Gerlach was furious. Back in the Old World, only the most wealthy had even had coffins. And they were decorated wooden boxes that a sufficiently motivated skeleton could punch through. Here in the New World, four hundred years after arriving, apparently skeletons were all contained in unbreakable coffins.

He sank to his knees on the ground and screamed, his dreams of conquest dying just like the skeletons trapped in unbreakable coffins, and just as unlikely to rise under his power.

***

Elias Whittaker was furious.

The city had concealed the plans to demolish the old church until he was out of the country, and then gone through with the destruction. He hadn’t known about it until his daughter drove by the place and saw it destroyed. It had been a month.

None of the records of the Whittaker family, passed down from father to son (or daughter in some cases), had said anything about Gerlach Schwarztern being a patient and crafty man. A brilliant necromancer, yes, but he’d named himself Black Star in German for gods’ sake. He was not the type to lay low. So why hadn’t the city fallen to walking skeletons yet?

Could it be that Schwarztern had died in his prison, or perhaps died the moment he re-entered the world and time began for him again? Maybe all the aging he hadn’t done while he was trapped caught up with him at once.

But Elias didn’t think that was likely. From everything he’d read in the family tomes, carefully preserved for four hundred years, the crafters of the spell hadn’t thought it would do that. They had warned, over and over, of the danger should the binding circle they’d carved into the rock ever break or wear. All of them had passed on the knowledge to their children, but between illness, war, and adult children’s desire to strike out west to make a new life for themselves, far away from their parents… Now the Whittaker family was the only one left.

Elias had been on the Board for Historical Preservation, had argued for years that that tiny run-down little church needed to be preserved exactly as the city’s founders had left it, that it was nearly 400 years old and was a view backward into a past that America had almost lost, the early days of the colonies. And what happened? The moment he was out of the country, the rest of the Board caved in like a wet tissue and let the city government have its way. They were going to put up some mixed-use development there, townhomes and offices and retail all mixed together, somehow. And that was worth letting an ancient necromancer free in a world where almost no one remembered that magic existed, or how to invoke it. Right.

But there was nothing Elias could find to indicate that Schwartztern had escaped. No graveyards were disturbed. No records of dead people getting up and walking. No disturbances at the morgue.

His daughter Rebecca found something—a record of an old man who’d been caught in the Jewish graveyard, obviously digging up graves because several graves had shown signs that the dirt had been interfered with, holes and clods and piles of dirt all over the graves. The elderly caretaker for the graveyard was still spry enough to shoot at an anti-Semite committing a hate crime, though. Rebecca reported that the old caretaker didn’t know if he’d actually hit the man in the tattered black coat or not, but that if he had, he must have only winged him, because the man had run without sign of injury. Since then, members of the Jewish community had been taking turns helping him guard the graveyard, with their own guns, and there had been no further disturbance.

Oddly, the fellow hadn’t left a shovel behind, but Ira Friedburg, the caretaker, had never seen him carrying one, either. Maybe it was under his coat, and the bullet had hit it instead of the man.

Of course, Elias knew why Schwartztern hadn’t needed a shovel. The graves had been disturbed from the inside. But why had the Jewish graveyard been affected, and not the much less well-guarded Catholic and Protestant ones? Schwartztern might well have been an anti-Semite, considering that in that time period almost everyone was, but he had never shown a preference for any specific type of corpse.

For the first time in his life Elias was grateful for the Second Amendment. Gerlach couldn’t know of any firearm technology more advanced than maybe a musket. A small weapon that fired deadly ammunition with terrifying accuracy and speed was nothing Gerlach Schwartztern could have any experience with. And the Jewish graveyard had suffered enough hate crimes that the caretaker patrolled it with a gun, regularly, and was small enough that Schwartztern hadn’t managed to raise a single body before being caught at it.

It was frustrating and maddening. He searched for three months. No sign of Schwartztern anywhere. Had the man left town? Was he right now trying to raise the dead in New York City or Washington DC or something? Had he returned to his homeland? Wait, no, he couldn’t have done that without a passport.

In desperation Elias started going around to funeral homes, asking them if they’d seen a man of Schwartztern’s description – long graying hair, a long beard, pale skin, aquiline features, crooked teeth. None of them had.

Until Elias went to Baron and Sons Funeral Home, and was met at the door by a man who looked exactly like the portraits of Schwartztern that had been passed down, if the man had gotten a modern haircut, a shave, and gotten his teeth straightened.

Elias’ eyes widened. “Gerlach Schwartztern?”

The man looked surprised. “There’s not many who know me by that name,” he said, and called back into the funeral home. “Mr. Baron, there’s a man here who wants to speak to me specifically. I’ll take a break to talk to him and then return to the clock.”

“Sure, that sounds fine,” a man’s voice called back.

“How are you – Why are you – What, did you find religion while you were trapped? You were freed almost four months ago,” Elias hissed. “But you’ve raised nothing.”

“Not entirely true,” Schwartztern said. He had a thick accent, but it wasn’t quite placeable – which made sense, because it was from another country 400 years ago. His English, though, sounded plausibly modern for a foreigner. “Let us walk to the back.”

“Where the graves are, and where you can attack me?” Elias snapped.

Schwartztern shook his head. “There is a contemplation garden for the grieving. No funerals are scheduled now, so it is unoccupied. We can talk without interruption.”

Oh. Right. There wasn’t a cemetery anywhere near the funeral home. That was why funeral processions were a thing. He followed the ancient necromancer, bemused, to the garden. “Did you forget your powers? Or lose them?”

“I assume from your knowledge of my name that you were one of the guardians my captors must have left behind to keep me contained,” Schwartztern said. “You may call me Gerlach Schwartz now, though. Or simply Gerlach. Apparently this new age is one of great informality. And yet they don’t even use ‘thou’ anymore.”

“Uh, yeah, we got rid of that a while back,” Elias said. “And you’re correct. My family has been keeping watch. Everything I’ve read said to expect an insane necromancer who would do anything to rule over the living with the power of the dead. But here you are in a building with… maybe two dead people?”

“There are four corpses here, in fact, but you’re correct. Four corpses is far from enough to conquer a town with.”

“What happened?”

“Modern caskets,” Gerlach said simply. “In my day, only the wealthy were even interred in a coffin; most bodies were lowered into the bare ground. Apparently since that time everyone who dies is buried in an impregnable sepulcher called a ‘casket’, or they are burned to ash… except for the Jews, who bury their dead in wooden boxes that I could at least work with, before the Jew fired his weapon at me.”

He shook his head. “The weapons they have in this time! It would never work, raising the dead, not now. I have been watching some of their movies—” He put a strange emphasis on the word. “So many tales of dead rising and biting the living to make them a risen corpse as well. And in these tales, everyone has one of these terrifying weapons, and they can entirely destroy a corpse with them. Perhaps a skeleton would be more difficult to hit, but with sufficient ordinance, they would prevail over my skeletons as well. The creators of these tales added the part where the dead can bite and their bite kills to make it a believable tragedy, else none would believe that enough firepower could not overwhelm even the dead.”

Elias rather thought no one had done anything to the plots of zombie movies to make them believable, but he could see how a necromancer might have a different opinion. “So you’re telling me you’ve given up. That I don’t need to kill you or capture you because you aren’t interested in raising the dead to conquer, anymore.”

Gerlach laughed. “Interested, perhaps. But it will not work, and this I now know. There are far more dead today, but that is because there are far, far more living, and they greatly outnumber the dead. Most of the dead are locked away in boxes far too strong for a skeleton to break open. I know, for I have made them try, and try again.” He shrugged. “So it is not practical. And it is also hardly necessary.”

“Why unnecessary?”

“Men live like kings in your time, young man.” Elias was not a young man – he might actually be older than Gerlach was when he was trapped – but this didn’t seem like something worth arguing to a man born over 450 years ago. “You need no servants to bring you hot water for your bath – simply turn a knob, and hot water comes forth! Food of any kind can be had at any time, no matter the season! Music can play anywhere, whether musicians are there to play it, or not. Entertainments as rich as the plays put on for kings can play endlessly, never repeating, on a box of light in your home – a home which is heated in the winter and cooled in the summer, and both are done evenly, throughout the home, without risk of fire. And there are treatments for lice.”

That explained the shorter hair. “So you’re, what? Trying to be a good tax-paying citizen now?”

“I am told there will be great, great difficulties in becoming a citizen, as I cannot present papers to prove what nation I was born in, or what date, or when I came to this land. Apparently I am an ‘illegal immigrant’, and if I am found by the authorities, they will deport me… somewhere. Since my own nationality no longer even exists, I have no idea where. But my employers here are sympathetic.” He nodded at the funeral home. “I came here because I thought the presence of the dead plus the title Baron meant another necromancer was here, but that was not the case… as I suspect you know well. They’ve arranged for me to work here and learn their trade, for there are many techniques of preserving the dead that exist now but did not, in my day. Apparently they are paying me ‘under the table’, an expression I understand not, except to say it is a means of paying one with no papers to prove their identity.”

“It means they’re paying you in cash and not taking out your taxes, so I guess you’re not a taxpayer after all.”

“In my day, taxes were paid in grain.”

“Sometimes money is referred to as ‘bread’ in this day and age, but the days when you could actually pay tax in grain are long behind us.”

“I do realize that,” Gerlach said. “Have I satisfied your curiosity? Do you understand now that I present no threat to your world?”

“And you use your necromancy here?”

“As God witness, no, why would I do that? They have techniques for moving bodies and they know nothing of magic. If I were to use the power I have over the dead, now, it would perhaps be as a detective, who can hunt down dead bodies after they are murdered and hidden away by the murderer. I have watched many entertainments about detectives,” he said, in a tone as if he were telling a salacious secret. “In my day the profession didn’t exist, but today it seems a very popular job. I wonder that any murderers can go free, with so many detectives.”

“It’s… not actually that popular in real life. People just like stories about detectives. They like to see a mystery presented to them, so they can try to solve it, or enjoy watching the detective solve it.”

“Ah. Well, I have much to learn about this new world before I dare leave this job,” Gerlach said. “They provide me with a room here to live in, upstairs, but for food and clothing and a box for entertainments I must pay my own way.”

Elias shook his head in complete bemusement. All of the effort he’d put into, his whole life, to keep the necromancer contained, and this was what Gerlach did when he got free. “Well, there’s nothing I can charge you with and nothing you’re doing that warrants my interference… but I will be watching you.”

“That would be delightful!” Gerlach said. “It grows tedious sometimes, to have no acquaintances I can share knowledge of the past with, or my necromancy. You would make an excellent companion!”

I have worked all my life to keep this man in prison and he wants to be my friend. Well, it would help Elias make sure that Gerlach was continuing to not be a threat. “Fine, I’ll come take you out to lunch sometime.”

“I look forward to it greatly!”

As Elias left, he wondered how he was going to explain any of this to Rebecca.

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

From @writing-prompt-s, “ An ancient evil awakens to destroy humanity, only to find out he is no match for modern technology, thus forcing him to become a functioning member of society. “