#it’s just me and Saturn (my phone) against the world huh

[plugnuts]

I must be a masochist or smth with the designs I’ve come up with for these digital boys

[saturnsorbits]

Saturn! I would love to participate in your event!! For character either Bakugou or Shindou, whoever takes your fancy! We’ve been together a long, long time and we usually spend our anniversary on holiday somewhere far away from his hero agency so he can’t work😂 and I am so happy with angst, fluff or smut! Hit me with your best or worst😙💕

Jo! 💕

I love that you deliberately go somewhere that they can't work. Although, they 100% appreciate you forcing them to take that time to focus on what is really important!

Anyway, I hope you like it!

Happy Fucking Anniversary

-> Shindo + Bakugo; On Holiday; 1.5k.

TW: Fluff, Smut, Oral (M - Receiving), Rimming, Fingering, Praise, Degradation (Bakugo's a Little Mean), Suggested Threesome.

'If that's a news app there's no way in Hell I'm getting on my knees later...' You catch Shindo's eye in the mirror halfway through finishing your make-up.

'I was checking the weather.' Shindo shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Cocking an eyebrow, you drop his eye to pluck a brush from your bag. 'You know, I bet even Bakugo wouldn't check his phone on his anniversary.'

'It's gone...' Holding up his hands in faux surrender, he chuckles. 'Don't need to leave for him just yet.'

You snort, glancing up again for just long enough to catch him wink at you. 'Yet.'

Leaning back on his hands, he let's his gaze drift down your body. Your dress is form-fitting, clinging to you in a way he knows, you know drives him crazy. He licks his lips. If he leans just right from where he's sat, he can peer over your shoulder and see the way your tits almost pour from the deep-cut at the front. Clearing his throat, he shifts on the bed and drops a hand to his thigh. The sight of you alone has him aching in his pants. The material of his jeans is constrictive, but does nothing to hide the bulge of his cock fattening underneath.

You glance back up when you hear him clear his throat. 'Really?'

Lifting his hips, he cups his cock and thumbs down it's length, showing you just how hard he is. 'Look what you're doing to me, sweetheart... You know I like it when you get all dressed up.'

Rolling your eyes, you try and hide the way you have to twist and squeeze your thighs together to stop the pulse of your cunt. 'We're not turning up late to another reservation.' Summoning all of your strength, you turn back to the mirror and try to ignore the way you can see him absently grinding against his own palm in the reflection.

He teases you for a moment, reveling in way your eyes can't quite seem to stop flickering to his cock, but his little game is drawn to a sudden stop when his phone sounds in his pocket. Your eyes snap to him in the mirror immediately, but he ignores it in favour of checking the notification.

'Are you taking the piss?'

'Huh?'

'That's a work message, don't act like I'm -.'

Quickly tapping out a response, he slips his phone back into his pocket and stands, crossing the room to you. Laying his hands on your shoulders, he brushes his thumbs across the back of your neck and bends down to kiss your cheek. ''m sorry, baby. I'm done, I promise. No more work...' He smirks into your skin. 'Just you and me, yeah?'

Stretching out your neck, you let him lay soft kisses across your pulse before shaking him off to apply your lipstick. You stand when you're done and pinch at the collar of his shirt when he slinks back to you, his hands immediately taking up post on your hips. 'I don't book holiday's half-way across the world just so you can work remotely, y'know...'

'I know. I'm sorry, no more phone – at all.'

Nodding, he has the decency to look sheepish when you fix him with a soft glare, but there's something else lingering underneath his expression that you can't quite put a finger on. 'Good.'

Biting back a smile, he has to remind himself to breathe when the annoyance finally fades from your features. There's something warm wriggling under his ribs that makes him feel giddy and light – something that, even after all these years, hasn't faded for a second. 'What the fuck did I do to deserve you..' He sighs, shaking his head.

'Cheesy bastard...' Warmth bubbles in your stomach, but he doesn't let you look away. Instead, he wraps a hand soft around your throat, fingers digging into your jaw as he pulls you in close and kisses you breathless.

He hums. 'Only for you.'

'No-one else would have you.' Giggling, you shove at his shoulder and snark, delighting in the way that adoration still floats easily in his eyes.

Shaking his head, he grabs at you and squeezes your ass, making sure you can feel his hardness against your thigh. 'Cheeky bitch.'

'I -.' Whatever else is primed to leap from your tongue is stayed, cut dead by a harsh knock at the door that has you both reluctantly reining yourselves in.

'Best get that.' Shindo steps back immediately.

You pause, eyeing him as suspicion crawls up your spine. 'What is it?'

He shrugs. 'Won't find out if you don't open it, will you?'

Flipping him off, you smooth down the crinkles in your dress before drifting to the door. You throw a confused look over your shoulder and then, you throw it open. 'Bakugo?'

Bakugo blows hot air out of his nose, his pupils almost blowing clean out as he shamelessly checks out the way your dress clings to your chest. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he manages, with some difficulty, to drag his eyes back up to yours.

A hand on your hip almost makes you jump as your brain whirs, trying to catch up with the situation unraveling in front of you. Shindo presses his chest to yours, his large palm coming round to circle your waist as he props his chin in the curve of your neck. 'Happy anniversary, baby.'

Half-turning, you step back with Shindo to guide you as Bakugo rakes a hand through his hair and steps into your hotel room. The door shuts. 'You got me... Bakugo? For our anniversary?' Every word feels strange as it slips from your tongue, but there's no denying the flickering of excitement that licks at the edges of your stomach.

'Only if you want him.' Shindo chuckles, already starting to trail kisses down your neck.

From the other side of the room, Bakugo barks. 'Oi.'

'So, baby... D'you want him?'

'I'm right here, you -.'

'Fuck. Yeah.'

Bakugo's mouth snaps shut immediately. He swallows loud, licking his lips as you finally lock eyes with him. His cock stirs in his pants when your lips part into a soft 'o' as Shindo's kisses cause you to moan and squirm. Rolling his shoulders, he steps forward and into your space, squashing you between the broad chests of both men. 'Shit... That lipstick of yours is gonna look real good wrapped around my cock, ha?'

'Her mouth is like heaven.' Shindo speaks over your head as you're slowly urged towards the bed. 'You're gonna lose your fucking mind.'

Sinking to your knees, you don't have to wait for long before Bakugo is stripping and his cock is being presented to you, hard and weeping. You lick your lips unconsciously, anxious to see just how much your jaw will ache after swallowing him down.

'You want my cock, Princess?' Bakugo bites his lip, gripping his cock at the base to angle it towards your face. 'Want it so bad your little boyfriend had to fly me out all special, ha?'

You nod, eagerly sticking out your tongue when he taps the head against your lips. Salt slips down your throat as you take the first inch into your mouth, you cunt drooling into your underwear as he rocks his hips and gives you more and more.

'Shit. Fuck -.' Bakugo admires the bright, red ring your lipstick leaves around the center of his cock, but before he has chance to roll his hips again, forcing you to take down more of him, the tight heat of your mouth is gone.

Popping off of Bakugo's cock, you sink lower and lower until your nose is buried in his balls. You nuzzle there for a second, licking and sucking at the skin, but before long you're moving off and sinking down again.

A low, throaty groan is bullied from his chest when your tongue slips over his taint. Reaching for you, he slips a hand around the back of your neck and growls. 'Dirty bitch, fuck -.' He bucks, stomach tensing as a blush erupts onto his chest. 'Ah, shit... You like that, huh? Like eating my ass?'

You moan against him and roll your tongue on puckered skin, wriggling, until at last you can open him up.

Behind you, Shindo sinks to his knees. He's stripped from his pants, discarding them carelessly in his hast to touch you. A broad palm skates down your back and hauls up your dress so he can cup your ass and toy with your clit over your underwear. 'That's it, good girl...' He coos, pecking at your shoulder as his fingers yank aside pretty lace and dip into your cunt. 'Look at you... Gonna make us feel so good, aren't you. sweetheart.'

Shifting, you gasp when Shindo's fingers brush against your G-spot, but before you have time to move away, Bakugo's there pulling you back keeping your mouth pressed to his hole.

'Nah-ah-ah, Princess. Wanna cum on that tongue... Then, maybe I'll fuck you.' He smirks, crimson eyes glowing as another growl rumbles in his chest. 'But, I'mma warn ya now. I'm not gonna be as nice as your pretty little boyfriend there.'

Another moan shakes your body as your cunt tightens, dripping down Shindo's fingers as Bakugo's cock drools onto your forehead. Already, you can tell it's gonna be a long night.

Happy fucking anniversary, indeed.

[kirnet]

Of Course

Dorotea x Adam. 2k words

Dorotea was nothing if not honest.

She was almost famed for it around Wayhaven. If you wanted a second opinion or you wanted a dispute settled, you went to Detective Langford. Sure, you might not like the answer, but you could be assured it was the right one.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had a reputation to upkeep. She had been dancing around the truth for too long. She had to be honest with herself.

She had hit a wall. This damn investigation was going nowhere.

Dorotea leaned back in her armchair and rubbed her eyes, sending a few books piled precariously around her tumbling to the floor. The library was overflowing with stacks of tomes that she had ripped from the shelves in a desperate attempt to find any lead after her failed hours in the lab. To Dorotea’s frustration, there was hardly any evidence to work off of, just some contaminated blood samples and vague eyewitness accounts. It was making her pull her hair out, though she supposed she should be thankful that she hadn’t been kidnapped yet. 

“Tea? What happened to my study?”

Nate’s kind face appeared from behind one of the stacks, somehow still angelic despite his grimace. Slowly, he began to maneuver around the piles, quickly throwing his hands up to steady one when he knocked it with his hip. “I see we’re… redecorating.”

Dorotea sprang from her chair, knocking a few more books over. With a wince, she dropped to the floor and started gathering them up. “Shit. I’m sorry, Nate. The sample was coming up empty so I thought I’d find something here.” Nate was beside her, pressing into her shoulder as he fumbled with the remaining books. She leaned into his broad frame for a second before heaving herself off of the ground. “Don’t worry. I’ll clean this up.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anything in here either,” Nate mumbled as he unloaded the books on an empty shelf. “You tore this place up.”

“If you let me digitize the library we won’t have to tear it up.” Dorotea nudged him with her elbow. “Technology can be a good thing, old man.” He grumbled something she didn’t catch before going back for another stack. “I said I got this, Nate. It’s my mess.”

“Tea, no offense, you look like you need a break.” To emphasize his point, he lightly pushed her shoulder and quickly grabbed her arm when she started to fall over. “You’ve spent all day working on this. The least I can do is help clean up.” Mustering up her most menacing glare, Dorotea slowly bent down and picked up another book. Nate just smiled and took it from her hands. “Humans need sleep. I don’t.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Dorotea relented after a few seconds more of unsuccessful glaring. “Just a quick break, then I’ll help you finish up.” She gave Nate a quick hug before grabbing her keys and phone off the table. “And we are not done talking about digitizing.”

Nate lightly pushed her again, a smile on both of their faces. “Go. Rest.”

Now that Nate had mentioned it, she did feel burned out. Trying to brute force through the day certainly wasn’t helping the pressure building behind her eyes. She needed to clear her head.

Twirling her keys, Dorotea made for the front door to the Warehouse. A midnight drive with Dolly Parton blasting at a supersonic volume sounded like just the thing she needed. 

“Leaving already, Detective?” 

She turned to see Adam leaning against the doorframe and lightly massaging his hands. He wiped the barely noticeable sheen of sweat off his forehead, his usual tee shirt straining around his thick arms. “I thought you were doing research.”

“Yeah, I hit a wall. Gonna go for a drive.” She looked him up and down. “Training?”

“Just finished. You’re going to go off by yourself when we have an unknown threat in the area?”

“Of course. What, are you new?” She chuckled at his sour reaction. “Want to tag along?”

With a dramatic sigh, Adam pushed himself off of the doorframe. “I suppose I have to, if you keep insisting on running headfirst into danger.”

Dorotea scoffed. “How many times do I have to tell y’all that I can handle myself.” She pursed her lips. “Though I suppose getting attacked again would speed up the investigation.”

“I was referring to that thing you call a vehicle. I am well aware of your personal capabilities.”

They exchanged a quick look as Adam easily fell into step beside her before settling into silence for the rest of the walk. A wave of pleasantly night cool air hit Dorotea as Adam opened the door for her. 

“I can’t believe you still drive this thing,” Adam stated with disgust as Dorotea unlocked the hatchback’s door. “It’s a safety risk.”

“You offering to give me a raise?” Dorotea deadpanned as she slid into the driver’s seat. “‘Cause that’s the only way I can afford to stop driving this ‘thing.’” She drew out the last word, poking an accusatory finger into Adam’s toned chest. “I take damn good care of her, thank you very much.” 

“I’ll be sure to remember that when ‘she’ breaks down on this-” He was silenced by a swat to the arm. 

“Oh, hush. You’re more than welcome to stay behind if you’re gonna complain so much.”

Adam buckled his seatbelt with a huff. 

“Good,” Dorotea said through her grin. “And we’re listening to Dolly. Nonnegotiable.”

The summer night sky was delightfully clear as Dorotea maneuvered the hatchback through the winding forest roads. The drive had mostly been spent in comfortable quiet, with Dorotea happily humming along to the country music and focusing on the road, and Adam pointedly looking at anything else that wasn’t her. Though he was having some difficulty, as the pitch black night that swallowed up the world around them wasn’t nearly as interesting to look at. 

He shook his head at the thought. “You haven’t actually told me where we’re going,” he said, sparing a glance at Dorotea.

“That’s because it was gonna be a surprise,” she chuckled, not taking her eyes off of the road. “But if you’re so worried: it’s an abandoned coal mine deep in the woods. Spent a lot of time exploring there in high school.” 

Adam blinked. “A coal mine?” 

Dorotea raised her hand before he could continue. “I know it doesn’t exactly cater to your expensive tastes, Adam, but it’s a nice spot. Great for stargazing, too.”

Adam fully turned to her at this. “Stargazing? Are you serious?”

“What?” Dorotea snorted. “It’s the one day of the summer that isn’t hot and sweaty as balls. I intend on taking full advantage of it.” Adam raised his eyebrow at the imagery that tactful statement conjured, but kept his mouth shut and turned back to watch the road. “Stop scowling. We’re almost there.”

Soon enough, they were turning off the main road and heading down a sigogglin dirt path, the passengers bouncing uncomfortably as the car lurched on every bump and wayward branch. A few minutes later, the tree branches stopped scraping against the roof as the path opened up into a large clearing. Dorotea parked and left the headlights on. “The pit’s over yonder.” She gestured vaguely to the side as she pulled herself out of the car. “There’s an underground entrance to the west, too, but we’re gonna stay right here.” She made her way to the back of the car, cursing when the trunk wouldn’t open.

“Ah! There we go,” she exclaimed after a swift kick popped the trunk open. She ignored Adam’s horrified look and pushed a bundle into his arms. “It’s a blanket. Go lay it down somewhere nice.” He rolled his eyes but followed the order without complaint, spreading the blanket down on a grassy part of the clearing as Dorotea turned off the headlights. 

“Would ya look at that.” Dorotea let out an appreciative whistle as she turned her head up to the sky, the entire tapestry of stars bright and visible against the darkness. “Isn’t it grand?” 

Adam could barely whisper a reply as he lost himself in the magnificent sight. How long had it been since he had looked up at the sky like this? How long had it been since he had simply allowed himself to appreciate something?

Someone?

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “It is.”

“Huh? Sorry, could you keep talking? I can’t see shit.”

“Of course,” Adam chuckled. “Over here, Detective.”

Slowly, with Adams' help, Dorotea made her way over to the blanket. Adam reached out and pulled her the last couple of steps until they were standing toe-to-toe, his hand wrapped loosely around her arm. He tried his best to ignore the flutter in Dorotea’s heartbeat.

“Uh, thank you, Adam,” she coughed as he pulled his hand away. She plopped herself down on the ground and lay back, stretching out languorously. When Adam didn’t follow suit, she pulled on his pant leg. “Hurry up, now. We don’t have all night.”

“I was under the impression that we did,” Adam grunted as he lay down beside her. “I didn’t know this was an urgent stargazing mission.”

Dorotea barked out a laugh. “Well, it is now. I promised Nate I’d help him clean up the study.” She winced. “Though I probably should have remembered that before driving all the way out here. Whoops.”

“I’m sure you’ll be forgiven,” Adam laughed quietly. “Though I wouldn’t make it a habit.”

The soft laughter faded away, leaving only the cacophony of the cicadas and the rustling of the trees in the breeze. Dorotea shifted closer to Adam’s warmth before pointing up at the sky. “That’s Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. Polaris. That one’s Cassiopeia. I think.”

“What about that one?” Adam whispered.

Dorotea squinted. “I can’t see what you’re pointing at. We don’t all have vampire eyes, you know.” 

Her breath hitched as a strong, calloused hand closed around her own. Gently, Adam lifted both their hands up to the sky and aligned them with a bright star. “Here. That one.”

“That-” her mind hiccupped as Adam squeezed her hand. “That’s Saturn. And that-” she moved their hands over slightly and extended her pointer finger. Adam did the same, resting his flush against hers so that they both pointed together. “That should be Jupiter.”

“What else?”

“Well, there’s Sirius. I’m pretty sure that’s Sagittarius.” She traced the outline with their fingers. “I think it’s supposed to be a centaur.”

“I believe that you’re correct.” His voice was husky.

Dorotea swallowed thickly and pointed again. “That’s the moon. Obvious, but important.” The cool air did nothing to calm the burn in her cheeks. “I’m running out of things to impress you with.”

She turned her head towards Adam to share in the joke and almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his breath fan her lips. She could practically feel his eyes on her as she leaned forward a little, their noses just touching.

“Adam?”

“Yes, Tea?” She barely heard him. He started stroking her hand with his thumb.

“Could I kis-”

A flash of light cut her off as she startled. Adam immediately released her hand and stood up. Dorotea’s phone continued to vibrate next to her on the blanket. “You have got to be fucking kidding- Hello?” she barked, not bothering to look at the caller I.D.

“Dorotea?” Rebecca’s crisp voice came through the phone. “Nate just made a breakthrough. Where are you?”

“Oh, hi Rebecca.” Dorotea sighed and rubbed her eyes. “He did? That’s great. We went out for a drive but we’ll come right back.”

“We? Is Adam with you?” As if on cue, Adam tapped Dorotea’s shoulder and offered his hand, gently pulling her off the ground when she took it. She patted him on the back as a quick “thanks” before answering.

“Yeah, he is. We’ll be back in thirty.” She hung up before her mother could respond. Turning her phone flashlight on, she watched Adam finish folding up the blanket. “Did you catch all that?”

“Of course,” was his simple answer as he walked towards the car, leaving her standing by herself. With a groan, she stole one last look at the sky. Restful break, her ass.

“Coming, Detective?”

She pulled her keys out of her pocket and half-jogged to catch up to him. “Of course. As always.”

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 48: Judas Priest - Part 2

GANGSTA’S PARADISE’s light shines once again, replacing the mundane auditorium into a reflective nightmare world. Shizuka glares at the preacher man, already healing from the beating she gave him.

“What woman? What are you talking about?” she demands.

Brother Dust grunts, shifting slowly to sit on his knees. “The woman outside this room... If I release GANGSTA’S PARADISE, then her Stand will kill us both! Hers is the cruelest ability of all! HOUSE OF PAIN, the Stand of T’onga Kim… your own mother, Shizuka Joestar.”

Shizuka’s heart flutters with emotion. She shakes her head. “Bullshit! This is just another one of your tricks-!”

“It’s not!!!” Dust shouts, so loud and sudden it surprises her. The old man takes steadying breaths, calming his nerves. “It’s… It’s not. I assure you. The pain you felt earlier, as if your insides were being violently shaken…! There’s nothing in my arsenal that can do that! Surely I would have used it against you already, yes?!”

Shizuka keeps quiet, not denying.

“Her ability…” Dust continues, “HOUSE OF PAIN, has two conditions to activate: one is a closed space, with all windows and doors sealed shut. The second is a living target inside the closed space. Though physically weak, it becomes nigh undefeatable once these conditions are met…!

“Once HOUSE OF PAIN is activated, it becomes impossible to escape from the closed space! A nuclear weapon could be detonated in this room, and those doors would not budge! It’s only thanks to GANGSTA’S PARADISE that either of us are alive at all! Had you knocked me fully unconscious earlier, then you would have been killed by the very woman you came to find…”

Shizuka’s eyes flare. “I’ve had enough of your shit-!” she thunders, but she pauses. Dust, on his knees, raises his hands in surrender.

“Please, wait! There’s no longer any point in us fighting!” 

“No… point…?” she repeats, bewildered.

“Yes!” Dust says. “You understand, don’t you? There’s no doubt you could kill me now with ease, but what of it? When I die, GANGSTA’S PARADISE dies with me, along with any hope of you surviving HOUSE OF PAIN.”

She considers this. “So? What do you want from me?”

“A truce,” he declares. Shizuka grimaces at the word. “For as long as it takes to escape this place, we cooperate. Once we do escape, we will go our separate ways, never to meet again. I swear not to seek retribution against you or your friends.”

“You just said it was impossible to escape! That the Stand was undefeatable!”

“No… I said it was nigh undefeatable. But you see, HOUSE OF PAIN has one critical weakness!” He raises his index finger to his brow, illustratively. “While impossible to escape from inside, the closed space can be opened by anyone from outside! T’onga must remain nearby to prevent passersby from disrupting her ability until her targets are eliminated! That is the key to our salvation!”

“From outside…? So what do you need me for?”

“I can lift GANGSTA’S PARADISE’s ability enough for you to send a message to your friends outside. If you can send this message, then they should be able to defeat T’onga and open the door, allowing us to escape. Right now, this is something only you can do.”

“You must have underlings to do your dirty work, call them.”

“No. I can't-”

 “Bullshit, you run a gang!”

“No, I mean I literally can’t. I, uh… I don’t carry a cellular phone...” 

Shizuka raises her eyebrow skeptically.”

“It’s true! I am an old man...” he laughs self-deprecatingly. “I’ve… always preferred conducting business face-to-face. It’s been sufficient for me in the past. Besides, even if I did carry one…” Dust pauses. “If T’onga is here, then that means… The disciple I set to guard this place has been eliminated. Indeed, I sense that both of my disciples are no longer with us.” 

His shoulder slumps slightly. The preacher’s head bows for an instant, before looking back up, his smile returned. “So you see… it can only be you. Once again, the choice is in your hands. And once again, it is a choice between life and death. I'm sure you don't care what happens to me, but surely there are things you still want to do?”

“How do I…” Shizuka says, “How do I know you won't just try to kill me as soon as we get out of here? What guarantee do I have?”

“I have none to give. I have nothing, except my faith. I am not afraid of dying, but I have a task I must complete. God still has a purpose for me in this life. I swear upon that purpose that I will not harm you or your friends in any way.

“Though, I needn’t say all that, do I? The very fact you’re asking is because... you’ve already realized that this is your best hope of surviving?”

Shizuka, at a loss, gazes at her elderly enemy. Dust clambers back onto his feet and smiles, a stream of blood running up to his nose, as if in reverse. 

“Well, Shizuka Joestar? Once more: do we have a deal?”

                                                       ***

In the corridor outside Convention Hall D, T’onga Kim leans back against the door, staring up at the panelled ceiling. She pants heavily, dried blood crusted on her face. “What the hell… Is taking so long…? They should have been dead by now…!” she wheezes. “Is it Dust…?”

Turning the corner to the corridor, a teenage girl approaches the panel doors with a bewildered look in her eye. “Oh, there…!” she exclaims, catching sight of T’onga. The girl trots towards her. “Hey, excuse me! Are you a staff member? I just wanted to know if the Paulie Paul panel’s still on. After the earthquake, I mean--”

Before the teenager finishes her sentence, T’onga uncoils and drives a fist into the girl’s nose. Despite her many injuries, she still has her strength. “Fuck off, kid.”

The girl wails and scrambles away, blood gushing from her nose. T’onga scowls at her as she leaves, then gasps. She clutches her side. “Come on… Come on already…! Just die! Die so I can go home…!!” she hisses.

Her ears prick up, hearing footsteps approaching, and a familiar voice. “Fucking perfect…!” she groans, staggering away from the door. She moves as quickly as she’s able, hiding herself away to prepare for Kilo and Moya to arrive.

                                                     ***

Moya lags behind Kilo as they rush down the corridor to Hall D. “You still look pale. You gon’ be alright?” Kilo asks once they reach the door.

“Don’t worry about me…!” she replies. “You’re sure this is where Shizuka is?”

He nods. “This is where that afro dopehead sent her. And look…!” He tears off the paper taped to the door, with the impossible triangle scrawled onto it. “This makes it pretty clear.”

“There’s no guards… This is fishy…” Moya says.

“Guess they weren't expecting back-up. Dust figured we’d’ve been killed by now. He’s in for a damn reality check…!” He reaches for the door.

Just as his fingers make contact with the handle, the panels in the ceilings shift. Moya notices and shouts a warning, “Kilo!”

But too late. T’onga drops from the ceiling, knife in hand, landing right behind Kilo. She reaches around him, quick as a viper, and holds the silvery blade against his throat.

“Ugh…?!” Kilo grunts.

“T’onga…!!”

“That’s close enough, Moya,” the assassin murmurs. “And you, handsome… Don’t you move an inch, got it?”

Kilo glances back at her. “Got it,” he says. The knife at his throat suddenly bubbles, then melts into silver goo. T’onga gasps and staggers away. Before she can get far, SATURN BARZ emerges out of Kilo’s back and tackles her, driving her into the opposing wall.

T’onga hits the wall and opens her mouth to shout, but nothing escapes. A pang of agony radiates from her cracked ribs and chokes her voice. She sinks to her knees, eyes bulging as she looks to see SATURN BARZ bearing down on her again, intent of finishing her off.

“KILO, DON’T!!!” Moya shouts. SATURN BARZ’ talon stops short of T’onga, and its user turns.

“Huh?”

“Don’t kill her! That’s her!” his comrade says. “That’s T’onga!”

Kilo’s eyes go wide. “You mean… This is…?”

The police officer storms over and looms above the fallen assassin. “T’onga, you bitch! What are you doing here?!”

“Here… for the convention…!” she chokes out eventually. “The fuck you think? All-Kill sent me to kill Brother Dust… And I have… HOUSE OF PAIN is in effect…!”

“What…?!” Moya says, going pale. Kilo looks at her, confused. “A girl…!” she presses, “Was there a girl with blonde hair and tanned skin inside with him?!”

“Yeah, she’s in there…!” T’onga replies, “Why? She a friend? Why should I care?”

Moya drops to her knees and grabs the assassin by her collar. “That girl is your daughter! Shizuka Joestar!!”

Her voice echoes down the corridor. The ensuing silence is broken by a pained cough from T’onga. “…Whh…  What…?”

[smooshjames]

forget you not (iv)

you knock on my door and tell me you don’t wanna fight (or: inside jokes and invitations)

word count: 4.5k

a/n: part four of forget you not! this is the second to last part as it stands right now, but i am toying with the idea of writing an epilogue. i haven’t made up my mind on that front quite yet, it’ll probably depend on if there’s any demand for an epilogue once the parts i’ve got written are all finished up. anyway, the usual disclaimers: i didn’t write any of the songs mentioned, they all belong to little mix, this chapter’s songs are here and here (no new ones this time, but i figure i’ll link them anyway for the sake of easy access). here is a link to my ko-fi, which, as usual, is never an obligation. thank you for taking the time to read this, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: more angst (surprising, right?), an author who is very bad at sketch comedy trying to write characters who are very good at sketch comedy

previous parts: one, two, three

With the red dot on the cameras blinking, you knew it was even more important now that you kept up that positive facade. You did your best to think about good things, hoping your smile wouldn’t look too forced.

To your right, Shayne launched into an energetic intro where he explained the rules of the game and introduced you guys as guests. Once he had given his little speech, he turned to you, though his eyes were fixed on the partition over your shoulder. Still, his smile didn’t waver for even a second. “So, are you guys ready to play?”

You nodded enthusiastically and laughed in easy agreement as you were elected to be the first person in the stool. You filled your mouth with water and flashed a thumbs-up, and out came Alexis. She used an inside joke, which was probably cheating, but it made you spit your water out anyway.

The game went on like this for a while, until finally, the only person yet to try to make you laugh was Shayne. You braced yourself as he asked if you were ready, humming an affirmative and doing your best to keep your breathing even.

He came out holding a red telephone, which he set on top of the bongos.

“Watch this,” he said, flashing you a shit-eating grin. For a second, you felt yourself tilting forward into that grin, into those eyes. Your heart jackhammered in your chest. It was the first genuine smile he’d given you all day, and God it was beautiful. “Hi, Dominos? You’re my favorite pizza place.”

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion.

“Watch this though,” he said. He mashed his finger against the phone buttons and lifted it again. “Hi, Pizza Hut? You’re my favorite pizza place.”

And then he nodded at you a little, smiling expectantly. When you didn’t laugh, he held up one finger. “Watch this though.”

With his free hand, he made a sort of waving motion in the direction of the partition, and out came Damien holding an identical red phone. He handed it to you and then went back to where all the props were. Shayne dialed his phone and made a little ringing sound effect for emphasis. You picked up your phone.

“Hi, Y/N?” he asked. You hummed something vaguely resembling “hello” into the receiver, figuring you might as well play along with the bit. In the same voice, with that same shit-eating grin, he said, “you’re my favorite singer.”

You weren’t sure why, maybe it was the strange vocal inflection or the mirth in his eyes as he said it, but sure enough, you sprayed water all over the soundstage. Shayne laughed gleefully as you did so, and the sound of it made you forget to breathe for just a second; you hadn’t heard that laugh in years. It made your chest ache to hear it again. In a sort of daze, you handed him your prop and he took it backstage.

Everyone came back out and you had to choose who made you laugh the hardest. You picked Damien, who had pranced out in an insanely tangled red wig with a stuffed flamingo in one hand, partially because he had made you laugh really hard and partially because you were trying to procrastinate Shayne's turn as much as possible.

Damien’s round passed quickly, and you managed to make him laugh after a few seconds. He chose Piper to go next, so she took her place on the stool. You went backstage with everyone else and started sifting through props to think of a bit.

And then Shayne fully took his shirt off.

You froze halfway through picking up a cowboy hat. You were pretty sure that anyone listening closely enough could’ve heard the gears in your brain grinding to a halt.

You wondered, if you started running now, how far into the ocean you could get before anyone noticed you were gone.

Carly nudged you with her elbow and asked you to help her with a bit, forcing you to turn away from Shayne, which was probably for the best. You took the opportunity to remind yourself that not only did he have a new girlfriend, but that the two of you didn’t work. You never had and you never would.

And before you knew it, Piper’s round was over, and Shayne was up next. You felt a bolt of panic. You knew you could make him laugh, but you weren’t sure how to go about doing it and you were rapidly running out of time to figure it out. Finally, you decided against every bit of logic you had. You decided to just go with an inside joke.

He probably wouldn’t remember it, anyway. It didn’t really matter. If you didn’t make him laugh it wasn’t the end of the world. At the end of that day, you were just here to promote the band. 

At least, this is what you told yourself as you stood behind the partition waiting for your turn. But your hands were trembling anyway.

Your turn came up. Alexis gave you a little high five on your way out. You walked up to Shayne’s right side and leaned in close to him, careful not to touch him. You looked at him through your eyelashes and shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Hey,” you said, voice low and sultry. Shayne’s brows knitted in confusion, and you feared for a moment that he had forgotten. You were probably only half-audible to the mics, but you didn’t care. You were focused single-mindedly on making Shayne laugh. “I was just wondering… do you like tacos?” You were careful to drag out the vowels on the word ‘tacos.’ You heard Damien start giggling behind the partition.

At least he remembered.

And then Shayne’s eyes widened and he surged forward as he tried to keep the water in. Your heart skipped a beat, though you couldn’t quite pin down why.

“Do you like tacos, Shayne? Do you?” you asked, leaning a little closer. You felt more confident now that you knew he remembered the joke. “Tell me how much you like tacos, Shayne.”

That did the trick. He sprayed water everywhere, shrieking with laughter as he did so.

Once the water was cleaned up, everyone else came back out from behind the partition and Shayne chose Alexis to go next.

After Alexis, it was Carly’s turn, and then you were all done. You had even finished a little bit ahead of schedule.

Ian came over once the cameras were cut, smiling brightly. “That was really good, you guys! Thanks so much for coming in today.”

“Thanks for having us!” Alexis said. “It was a ton of fun.”

You nodded in agreement but you were only half-listening. Shayne had somehow ended up right next to you during the outro of the video, and he hadn't made an effort to move away after the cameras stopped rolling. He was close to you, maybe a little closer than necessary, and that fact was all you could focus on.

As you were listening to Ian talk about when the video would be released, you felt Shayne wrap his hand around your forearm, squeezing lightly to get your attention. That one simple touch set your entire right side on fire. You felt like he’d lit off a fireworks display under your skin. You turned to face him, and you couldn’t help noticing that he looked more than a little bit like a kicked puppy.

“Can we talk?” he asked. His voice was soft, a stark contrast to how loud he’d been just minutes before as you were filming the video outro. “Just for a few minutes, please?”

At these questions, a knot of mixed emotion -- fear, anger, a little misguided hope -- gathered in a knot at the base of your spine and squeezed so hard you went lightheaded with it.

You glanced around for Michelle, who was watching you like a hawk. You tilted your head toward Shayne and shrugged. She nodded.

“Okay,” you replied. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you said yes. You didn’t know what he could possibly have to say to you. Your mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios; that he would rub his new girlfriend in your face, that he would say something mean or insulting, that he would tear down what little you had managed to build yourself up. You wrestled those ideas into submission, though. Shayne had made his mistakes, but he had never been intentionally cruel.

He led you back through the office until he found an empty conference room. You closed the door behind you as you entered.

“What’s up?” you asked. You cringed as it was coming out of your mouth. Really? What’s up?

Now that you were alone, some of his forced Funny Man bravado seemed to crumble away. His shoulders slumped and the shine went out of his eyes, and the look he gave you was sad, exhausted.

You felt like the earth was rotating the wrong way, like God had vacuum sealed the room shut, like Saturn was crashing into Jupiter and imploding on impact.

“I, um…” he mumbled. He shoved his hands into his pockets and chuckled nervously. For a moment, you were reminded of the first time he’d asked you out. You’d both been so young then, and he had been all nerves and goofy smiles. You knew even from that first conversation that you were a goner. “I should’ve planned out what I was gonna say, huh? I had all weekend to think about it.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said. “This weekend has been… a series of really fucking weird, awful coincidences. You don’t have to, like, apologize. We’ll just chalk it up to being a series of unfortunate events.”

His brow furrowed and his head tilted slightly, which really intensified the whole kicked puppy vibe he had going. Your heart ached, and there was a moment where the muscles in your legs twitched, where your body tried to move itself over to him without your brain’s consent.

You stayed rooted to your place.

“What?” he asked, voice small, barely even audible over the hum of the air conditioning.

You shrugged. “It’s okay, Shayne. I’m not, like, upset that you moved on --”

Bold-faced lie number one.

“Wait,” he said, but you couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring through your ears.

“-- and Courtney seems really nice, so I’m happy that you’re happy --”

Bold-faced lie number two.

“No, just --” he tried to interrupt you again, but you kept going.

“-- and I’m sorry that we had to see each other again in this context, it’s been… really fucking weird. But that doesn’t mean you need to try to make it better, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Bold-faced lie number three.

Before you could conjure up more ways to end the conversation and escape the room, Shayne took a halting step forward.

“Courtney and I aren’t dating,” he said. Your mouth snapped shut as your brain slammed on the brakes. “We’re just friends. I went to the concert with her because the person she was supposed to go with canceled last minute and she couldn’t find anybody else.”

Oh.

“And I’m sorry we had to see each other again in this context, too, but not because I want to patronize you by telling you that I’m sorry things didn’t work out. I mean I am sorry things didn’t work out, but not in like a My Life Is Better Now, Sorry About That kinda way --” he stopped, faltering, obviously unsure of how to put his thoughts into words.

Oh.

“I mean, if anything, you’re the one who’s better now; --” wait, what? “-- you’re successful, doing what you love, surrounded by your friends, and you’ve clearly moved on. --” wait, what? “-- But I just wanted to talk to you because… I don’t really know why, honestly. Because a part of me is still twenty-one and in love with you, I guess.”

So that was what it was like to have every organ in your body simultaneously crushed under a hydraulic press. Interesting.

You couldn’t think of anything poetic to say, so you settled for what seemed the most pressing. “You think I cried on stage singing Towers, a song I wrote about you, because I’m over you? You think I’m the one who’s moved on?”

He shrugged meekly. “I don’t know. That was just one song. You sang a hell of a lot of other songs about how you don’t need a man, about how your life is great. And those aren’t bad things! They were really good songs, but I just assumed --”

“Carly and Alexis wrote all those songs,” you said flatly. He fell silent. “I just sing them.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity, and then there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Shayne said, his eyes still locked on yours.

A tall brunet man with a thick beard opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Hey,” he said. “There’s a meeting in here in five minutes.” And then he looked between the two of you, and his eyes narrowed. You figured the tension in the room was so palpable, even a stranger could pick up on it. “Everything okay, Shayne?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Shayne replied. “We’ll be out of here in a minute. Sorry, Matt.”

“No problem,” the man, Matt, said. He nodded at you in acknowledgment, seeming more than a little confused at your presence. The door closed softly as he left.

“It’s probably for the best,” you said. “Michelle will have a coronary if I’m gone for too long. Places to be, people to see, insanely specific and personal questions to answer.”

He laughed a little bit, nodding, and for a moment the heavy awkwardness that had settled in the room seemed to lift just slightly. “Is your number still the same?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why?”

“I’ll text you my new address. Um, if you can, if you want to, it would probably be good for you to come over tonight to talk a little more. I can order some dinner for us. Only if you want to. I just don’t think… I don’t want to leave things this way.”

A sudden bolt of anger streaked through you, fiery hot. You clenched your jaw. He didn’t want to leave things this way? He had no qualms with leaving things this way when he’d let your entire relationship go down the drain all those years ago. And now he just got to waltz back in and invite you over for dinner and pretend he didn’t cause you the worst heartbreak you’d ever felt? After you had finally gotten yourself close to okay again, he got to come back in and ruin everything, knock you right back down to where you started? That wasn’t fucking fair.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” you said, and it wasn’t a lie. You still had one more interview after leaving the Smosh offices. You’d be completely worn out by the time that was done, especially on top of the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster that you’d boarded against your will.

“I’ll send the address anyway,” Shayne said. “Don’t feel pressured to come. If you don’t, I completely get it. You can delete the text and block my number if you want. I swear that after this I’ll never bother you again. But just in case.”

“Okay,” you replied. You really didn’t want to argue with him. You just wanted to track down Michelle and the band and go on your way to the next interview and try to forget about everything that had happened in the last three days. “Fine.”

He nodded and pulled out his phone, and after a moment you felt your own vibrate in your back pocket. You wondered briefly if he had your number memorized, which would have been kind of weird, or if he’d just never deleted your contact information. The notion that the latter might be true made your heart skip a beat.

Once he had repocketed his phone, he looked up at you. There was a moment of lingering silence where it was clear that neither of you knew what to say.

Finally, you lifted your hand in farewell. “It’s been, um… it was good to see you again, Shayne.” Bold-faced lie number four. “Bye.”

“Bye, Y/N,” he said.

Doing your best to ignore the tightness in his voice, you walked past him out of the room and scurried off to meet up with the band. You found them talking to Courtney, Damien, and another girl that you didn’t recognize. She was about Courtney’s height, Chinese, with brown hair and eyes.

“Ready to go, Y/N?” Piper asked.

“I think so,” you said. You turned to Damien and nodded your head over your shoulder. “Got a minute for goodbye?”

He nodded and the two of you retreated away from the rest of the group, not leaving their view but definitely out of earshot. “I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you,” he said.

“It’s okay, Damien, really,” you replied. You reached out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “This weekend was wild for everybody involved. At least we got to see each other again, right? This has been really nice.”

He grinned and pulled you into another bear hug. “Yeah, it has been,” he said, and you felt it as a rumble in his chest more than you actually heard it. When you parted, he left one hand lingering on your arm and squeezed lightly before it dropped to his side. “Call sometime, okay? I’ve missed you.”

“Will do, Dames.” You glanced over your shoulder and saw Michelle looking at you expectantly. She tapped her wristwatch. You sighed. “I gotta run. I’ll see you around.”

He nodded and said a final goodbye before you turned to make your way back to the band. You noted on your way that Shayne had returned from the conference room. He was talking to Courtney and the brunette now.

You ignored the feeling of his eyes on you as you walked out of the offices and into the LA sunlight beyond.

***

Shayne came back from the conference room a few seconds after you did. He did his best not to watch you and Damien saying goodbye, did his best to push down the surge of jealousy as you hugged him. You were smiling up at him and it seemed easy, carefree. It was like you’d just seen each other yesterday. He wished he could be like that with you, even though he knew why he couldn’t. He was doomed to sad smiles and airless rooms and awkward tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

If time travel was real, he’d go back to that final night with you and kick his own ass.

Damien’s hand on his shoulder startled him out of his self-loathing. He turned to face his best friend and didn’t bother concealing the hurt on his face; Damien would see right past it even if he tried.

“You okay?” Damien asked. Shayne let out a strangled laugh. Of course he wasn’t okay.

“I feel like somebody tried to wring all the water out of my body,” he replied.

“What’s up with you today?” Courtney asked, and Shayne startled. He’d sort of forgotten she was there.

Shayne sighed. He figured he might as well tell her; she’d probably find out at some point anyway. That or she’d piece it together herself.

“Y/N and I used to be a couple, way back when,” he said. Courtney’s eyes went almost comically wide. “And it… didn’t end very well. Seeing each other again has been really fucking weird for both of us.”

“That’s why she cried when she sang Towers,” Courtney said, more to herself than to anyone in the room. She looked at Damien. “Is that why you know her? ‘Cause of her and Shayne?”

Damien shook his head. “Me and her were friends first. I introduced them.”

Courtney nodded slowly, obviously trying to process this new information. “Oh,” she said. Shayne couldn’t tell where her brain was (he rarely could). If he had to guess, he’d say she was probably combing over her every memory of the past weekend and looking for any indications of the history between you and Shayne. Sure enough, she continued after a moment: “that’s why she looked so constipated when we were at the photo op, and why you ‘needed some air’ halfway through the concert, and why you got all weird when I put my arm around your shoulders before, and why you disappeared after --” she stopped, her brows furrowing for a moment and then raising suddenly. She smirked. “Where’d you go after you finished filming, Shayne? You both came back pretty much at the same time.”

“Courtney --” Shayne said, voice scolding, trying to get her to stop whatever hellish train of thought she was getting onto.

“You’re still in love with her, huh?” Olivia said. She’d been silent for most of the conversation, but she was looking at him like she could see into his soul. Shayne froze. Was he that fucking obvious?

“Still in love with who?” Ian’s voice to his left startled him.

Courtney and Olivia stopped talking now, which Shayne was grateful for. They at least had the decency to let Shayne tell Ian on his own. Everyone looked from Ian to Shayne and back.

“Uh --” Shayne said. “I, um…”

“Is this about whatever weird shit is between you and the girl from the band?” Ian asked. Shayne threw his hands in the air, frustrated. Did the whole world know? Was he that easy to read?

“How did you…?”

“I’ve known you for almost five years, Shayne,” Ian replied. “You looked like you wanted to die during that entire shoot. There were a couple of moments it was so bad that I almost asked Courtney to come in and take your place. But the crew people said it didn’t come through on camera, so I just chalked it up to the fact that I know you so well. You also left with her right after we were done filming. Putting two and two together here doesn’t exactly take a rocket scientist.”

Shayne sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, which made it look even more insane than it usually did. “We dated years ago. The way it ended was my fault. I shouldn’t have broken up with her. I shouldn’t have let her go. She was… she is one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. This weekend has rubbed everything I did wrong right into my face.”

“Is that it, then?” Courtney asked. “She walks out of here and you let her? After the universe, fate, whatever you wanna call it put in all the effort to bring you together again… you let her go? You repeat your biggest mistake?”

Shayne had to force down an anguished sound at that. He knew Courtney was trying to get him to chase after you, but in reality, she was probably right. You wouldn’t want to come to his apartment to talk things out. You wouldn’t want to see him after everything. You wouldn’t forgive him. And he didn’t deserve your forgiveness, anyway. You were absolutely right to ignore the invitation.

“I asked if she would come over,” he said. He was trying to be hopeful. But he’d seen the way your eyes narrowed when he invited you to his place. Your jaw had dropped and then tightened in that way it did when you were torn between anger and disbelief. “If she does, maybe we can talk things out. But it’s been years. I don’t know if she’ll… I don’t know, you guys.”

He was breathing, that much he knew, but he was sort of starting to wonder if someone had poked a hole in his trachea because he was pretty sure the air wasn’t making it to his lungs. He looked around at his friends, all staring at him like he should know the answer, like he should be able to just whip a magical solution out of his ass and call it a day, a happy ending with a neat little bow.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he said, a little louder than necessary, because the room was suddenly way too fucking small. Before anyone could object, he walked quickly away from the group and down the hall until he found an empty soundstage. He slumped against the wall and slid down onto the ground. The events of the last three days were piling onto his shoulders like bricks. Memories of you were branded onto his brain and he couldn’t stop replaying them, a highlight reel of what he’d had and what he’d lost. You, years ago, laughing and looking at him like he was the only person in the room. You, years ago, standing in the living room, looking at him like he’d just driven a knife through your heart.

In an instant, he felt like Atlas, holding the weight of his own mistakes. Holding memories both good and bad; your first date, your first kiss, your first fight. You had said ‘I love you’ first because he wasn't brave enough, and you’d looked terrified as you did it, like you were afraid he’d laugh at you and push you away. You’d always looked half-scared, he realized; scared of rejection and pain and heartbreak. And he’d gone and thrown those fears right back in your face.

It took about three seconds for Shayne to collapse in on himself. He barely made it to the couch before his knees gave out on him. He stared up at the ceiling for a long while, desperately trying to process whatever the hell had just happened.

You were gone, and the apartment felt empty without you. It was a new type of loneliness, one he’d never experienced before. He felt a little like his chest was caving in and little like he was astral projecting, like he wasn’t quite contained within the walls of his body. He reached for his phone and sent you a barely-coherent text, apologizing and asking you to come home. And then he texted Damien and asked if he was home. He needed someone’s company.

He stared up at his ceiling while he awaited a response, considering all the things that had led him to this newest, most monumental fuck-up. Suddenly, the time he’d forgotten your birthday made him look like Boyfriend of the Year.

And then he reached into his pocket and he produced the little blue box he’d gotten just yesterday, and he opened it and looked at the ring inside. Not too flashy -- he didn’t have the money for any big diamonds, and you’d once joked that you didn’t want your engagement ring to weigh five tons. He smiled at the memory and traced his finger over the small diamond at the center of the ring.

God, what the fuck had he just done?

Shayne’s head thumped against the wall behind him, and he cried.

[tumblunni]

okay to talk about EXACTLY HOW i would handle giving charon a big good boss fight and also sympathetic backstory and redemption and all that jazz

there are approximately ten million words beneath the cut, and also ten million raspberries in my shampoo, and these charon thoughts are just as sweet as that

alright so ALREADY i kinda did feel like he was sort of a friendly enemy when i first played the game?? like his Thing of being the constantly never fightable dude actually was kind of sympathetic in a way. it always just felt like he was Chilling Out and not giving much of a shit about being evil and also had nothing personal against you the player. he doesnt follow any of cyrus’s big philosophy and he’s clearly only here for the money and really phoning it in, and that kinda makes him not your enemy at all, even though he’s on the team youre fighting. Like I always found it a good establishing moment that in the Valley Windworks when they first introduce “hey this time there’s two galactic teammates here” and all, CHARON IS STANDING DIRECTLY IN EYELINE OF YOU RUINING EVERYONE’S PLANS. he’s just standing there! and of course he’ll never do anything to warn mars about you, the game just isnt programmed that way. but it fits really well with his character if you think of it as an intentional thing? just imagine this random gramps sitting there drinking tea while all his teammates actually Care About Things and Use Effort. He’s always criticizing team galactic’s plan too and like WHY IS HE DOING THAT TO YOU if not because Nintendo Wants Him To Be My Best Friend ok. Like he doesn’t fuckin trust anyone on his team so why would he spill the beans about his big secret plans he has to make money off of this villain plan and then bail before they actually do all the dumb shit with legendaries and such. Yes ok its PROBABLY just because its a videogame and they need to exposit stuff to the player that the character is probably just thinking and not saying out loud. But wouldnt it be so much better this way!!!! Also even when you finally face off against him personally in the postgame for his actual dumb money plan he’s still like ‘lol fourth wall breaking time im gonna not have a boss battle cos if you beat cyrus’s ass i aint got no chance’. Dammit nintend i still wanted to fight him but thats endearing so i cant stay mad at u! And he has several lines during it with stuff like “i like seeing children trying so hard BUT YOURE TOO LATE” and “youth like you can live in idealism but for me its all about the money”. Like man u remember that time i had a big angry rant about how his manga version was super OOC cos they didnt just choose to make him eviler but made him murder a child? like the only time anything involving children is mentioned in canon its him being mildly more polite to children!!! MILDLY FRIENDLY! LET ME HAVE THIS...

okay so YEAH the first big change would be just giving him more screentime and more fleshed out character in these early scenes. Make him a full on friendly character who is technically on the opposite side but has no beef with you and no loyalty to the greater plan of his team. So he’s just comically like “oh hi again! yeah lol today’s plan sucks huh?” and makes idle conversation while the main character villain admin of the day is actually doing important plot stuff. like have him along for everyone’s scenes not just mars at the start, dissappear for hours until the very end. And yes definately keep the thing of the game constantly lampshading that he’s a new character for the third version of the game, and everyone in the team thinks he’s useless and forgets he’s even there. it was annoying in the original game cos he actually didnt get any love from the writers themselves, but yknow you could give him an expanded role and rewrite that stuff to be more like “oh poor guy he’s the underdog”, yknow? am i the only one who felt inherantly sorry for him?? i mean he’s a tiny grandpa!!! and he looks so sad on his official art!! Oh oh and also add the additional running jokes and expanded characterization he had in his very brief anime appearance, which was honestly the only well written part of the entire team galactic arc. It fleshed out a bit of his relationship with jupiter who never really appeared alongside him in the game except to say “im not teaming up with you” at the end. Having the context that she finds him annoying cos she’s very serious and also very dedicated to cyrus so she hates this opportunistic bastard pretending to be dedicated when its an obvious lie. And also she thinks his laugh is obnoxious XD Oh also I liked how they expanded upon that one scene of Saturn being sarcastic at gramps and made it into an actual thing that him and charon most often work together and have a mutually sassy dynamic. I found it humanizing that anime saturn is very serious but can comically overreact to very minor teasing from this grandpa! I thought that was better than the games where he’s just serious or the manga where he was 100% changed to be 100% silly and kinda stole charon’s personality for reasons i will never understand.

ANYWAY! IN SUMMARY! show scenes of charon being endearing by being not really interested in the big evilness, being underdog-y by always failing at his smaller evilnesses and getting disrespected, and also maybe drop in some more interpersonal relationships between the admins to hint that charon does indeed have some friendship going on even if he’s a tsundere bitch who’d never admit it. Also maybe the other thing from the anime where they made him a cool computer guy? cos srsly it was lazy that the games just said “he’s the science” and never clarified wtf he actually does at his job. cos cyrus is already a science boss??? he kinda already did most of the big sciencey plans?? why does he need this man if its not for mechanical or legendary pokemon stuff OK HEY MAYBE COMPUTERS! also its funny to imagine him being a memey blogger but sun and moon actually made faba canonically that so i dont think you could improve on him. TAKE NOTES FROM BEAN MAN, NINTENDO

Also maybe you could hint at the rotom backstory before it actually happens? like could just show some mild implications that he is sad, cos the ‘friendly enemy’ thing would already be decent foreshadowing for him potentially having a soft spot. “Wah i am an emotionless evil money man” says local villain, while gossipping with Dawn about his coworkers and sharing lemon squares. But like I mean i don’t really want him to be LITERALLY that, i still like him being grumpy and guarded about his secret good heart. I’m just saying “friendly” as in.. sort of a disconnect between what he says his personality is and how he actually acts. The stuff he actually says is very grumpy but like.. hey he’s saying stuff to you when he doesnt need to, and nobody else on this team is casually talking to you as if youre not an enemy. Like he’s SUBCONCIOUSLY friendly and doesnt realise it? He’d never SAY “i am lonely hello please talk to me” but he’d sure as hell walk over to you and talk to you anyway. About grumpy things! Grumpily! And maybe express occasional compliments in a sort of “haha im surrounded by idiots you’re way more down to earth than all these adults who act more like children”. Cos in that fourth wall breaking moment he has, he respects that you’re a badass and decides thats why he’s not gonna have a boss fight. “You’d just kick my ass, so lol fight these grunts instead while i run away and do my evil plan” That is the kind of sympathetic charon i want!! He’s doing a douchey thing by breaking the script of how boss battles work and making everyone else fight you instead even though he knows that they’ll lose. But he’s also likeable because breaking the script of boss battles is unexpected and comedic! And he’s also accidentally being complimentary to you so its like SIMULTANEOUS JERK AND NICE AT THE SAME TIME. Thats the good stuff!! That quality grumplegramp content!!! if he got redeemed and just 100% changed his personality to lose all the sass and sneakyness then that’d be boring yo...

OKAY WHERE WAS I? Okay hey once you’ve established that, maybe now you have a basis for the sad foreshadowing!! Like you could have one scene where he’s suddenly NOT friendly, he’s not just grumpy in the funny sort of way but actually seems cold and stoic and actually does something useful to the team’s mission or whatever. Sort of a ‘whoa what’s wrong with him today’ thing and it could be subtle cos on the first playthrough you’d just think he was being a jerk cos he’s a jerk and all. but maybe it happens on a scene of team galactic doing some evil plan in eterna forest/other place that’d potentially relate to the rotom sidequest. like he’s just really fuckin depressed to be reminded of his one big failure in life. OH maybe it could actually be at the unnamed junkyard thats mentioned in his backstory but doesnt actually feature as an area in the original game? It could make sense that it’d be part of their plan cos team galactic attacks various energy sources and other technology related places to find the stuff they need to make the big world erasure machine. could just be simply them robbing some old generator parts after their attempt to take the whole power plant failed.

Oh and also maybe add a lil something to his last scene at the galactic lab? Cos like.. what we already have in the game has potential to be a moment where he did a good thing but no its not. Like when you look at it, hey he kinda helped you out here by being all “hey lol saturn the kid is here, bye im not stopping u, feel free to take the lake trio”. Even if saturn is the one who actually SAID feel free to take the lake trio and actually had a good hint at redemptiveness moment and all. Please never take that away, that was good, you just coulda had both of them do it, yknow? And we dont wanna make charon go full good guy all of a sudden when he hasnt even finished his characetr arc, so instead make it more of a moment where its like “im a bad guy but this is going too far”. Like maybe ACTUALLY HAVE A PAYOFF for the foreshadowing that he has no loyalty to cyrus and is blatantly plotting to betray him at some point. He never actually did!! He only tries to capitalize on cyrus already being defeated in an entirely optional sidequest that fails at delivering a proper payoff.

So hey! My idea! Add some complexity here by making it clear that charon is evil in a more petty and mundane way and not in a.. like.. actually dangerous way. Once things start getting actually dangerous he starts chickening out! Like he’s a jerk who does mean things to get money but he’s just MEAN and not friggin murderous or worldending. Give him a moment of “oh shit cyrus was actually serious oh god how do i get off of this train”. Like it seemed that he never really believed that team galactic would ever truly create a new world, and he certainly didnt give a shit about it, he just thought he found an easy opportunity for a paycheck in some dumbass’s deluded plan that’d never really work. But OOPS i guess it actually is happening, oh fuck! Give him a bit of a crisis where he realizes what he actually helped this man do, but not like a full on “everything ive ever done is bad and i dont wanna be evil anymore”. Not YET! Just friggin.. “oh fuck i cant spend money if the universe doesnt exist and also i am dead”. “PLEASE HELP ME CHILD, CYRUS IS GONNA TAKE AWAY THE MONEY!!” xD It’d be fitting for his character and a good light moment of comic relief after the emotional and dark stuff happening around this section of the game. Like he already kinda does that by having that scene of saturn snarking at him, but it could be even more funny! Move the first him and saturn bickering scene to earlier on and have this be like a satisfying scene of saturn actually winning? cos in the anime it was always charon being smug and making fun of him while saturn gets all grumpy about it, now it could be the reverse with smug charon having a breakdown and realising his whole money plan is in shambles and its his own fault.

Also maybe it could have additional payoff with Charon actually helping you take down cyrus? Again, not actually because he’s switched sides but because he's still evil but evil for different reasons than cyrus. That good ‘reluctant teamup with minor goofy villain to take down big actually scary villain’ thing. With the added bonus that the minor goofy villain is objectively a worse person than the scary villain and the scary villain is still redeemable, as opposed to in the manga where they used this same trope in the form of “cyrus is good now and we’re making charon the big scary villain to prove how good cyrus is cos charon is worse”. That was dumb. It was especially dumb cos WHY ON EARTH would you pick charon for this??? like they still had moments of him being comedic and wimpy yet at the same time wanted us to believe he was legitimately threatening? ANYWAY my idea for this is that charon’s computer skills could pay off and it could be something like “oh i always put a failsafe kill switch in my computer just in case i need to grab the money and run”. Like him being a paranoid untrusting selfish asshole was actually the reason he was able to save the day! Also it would explain why cyrus’s machine only fails and summons giratina in platinum version. the manga actually did say that charon sabotaged the machine so thats one actually good thing that came from it! Congrats u filled one plothole while making twenty more XD

OH and perhaps this same section could also foreshadow the rotom thing? like I was thinking about how he could actually choose to give up and let you take the lake trio and have it still be 100% in character. It could be an extension of his “shit, i didnt think things would get this serious, please save me from the consequences of my own actions!” moment. Cos I think that any normal dumb greedy money man would still be horrified at the idea of mutilating a thousand year old majestic unicorn of mythology and then flushing it down the toilet when it outlives its uselessness. Like he doesnt do it because he wants to help you save the day or anything, just cos the idea of killing the lake trio is just too evil for even him. It could be kind of a meaningful moment about how cyrus is doing all this for good reasons yet they caused him to do these actions that are even more evil than the actual dude with evil motives. And maybe you could establish this through a scene of him and cyrus inetracting, which could also help amp up how intimidating cyrus is, in preparation for the big climax? Have charon trying to wimp out of “disposing of the useless specimens”, but cyrus is having none of it. Like it could start off funny with him making up loads of other excuses cos there’s no way he’d admit he’s having Feelings and all. “Wait but let me have them! if theyre useless to you then i can just sell them right?? ha ha thats the only reason im saying this, lol you know me i’d never be swayed by any sentiment” But cyrus sees through it instantly and gets right up in his face like fuckin Raw Cold Fury, no you are NOT going to disobey me. He is PISSED OFF because the only reason he kept this useless senile old bat around is because he’s the only one in this group who isn’t a simpering moron at the mercy of their pitiful heart. If you can’t even do that, then what’s the use of you? So everything charon tries fails and all he accomplishes is getting fired on the spot for even TALKING ABOUT defying his boss. And cyrus just orders saturn to dispose of the lake trio instead. Saturn of course is smarter and says nothing in defiance, but then the both of them work together to let you take the pokemon and just act like they failed to stop you rather than doing it on purpose. And its kind of an uncharacteristically quiet and intense moment between these dudes that are usually at each other’s throats with funny banter. They’re united for a moment but for very different reasons. Charon knew that cyrus wasnt a good guy from the very beginning and he just underestimated him, and is now feeling in over his head and worried this could be the end. And saturn always thought cyrus was good but is starting to struggle with doubts. And maybe charon actually tries to warn saturn about it? Like “hey i knew this all along but i never told you but HEY CYRUS MIGHT ACTUALLY KILL US ALL” and saturn starts on his usual speech about cyrus being the greatest but he starts to question it and AAAAA! but ultimately this moment isnt the moment where he makes the right choice, and he does end up going back to cyrus and continuing the plan. and also charon is on the edge of actually doing something good and trying to stop cyrus’s big ol doom time (albiet for selfish reasons of No Money In The New World) but he also wimps out from this chance and instead decides to grab as much cash as he can and run the fuck away, as if its even possible to outrun the destruction of a whole dimension. but at least him and saturn agreed on the lake trio rescue operation, thus their moment of almost-redemption helped the player even if they didnt actually turn good. AND then you’d have the surprise moment of charon actually stepping up at the last minute and doing his thing to sabotage the machine and all. which again doesnt really solve the whole thing and doesnt really make him turn good but at least it downgrades the threat from ‘cyrus actually succeeds in destroying the world’ to ‘okay we just need to deal with a slight case of poke-hell and one collossal centipede’. Srsly man sinnoh’s plot has the highest stakes cos in platinum you straight up actually fail and cyrus actually would have destroyed the world if not for giratina! Oh and also a random note is that i think it’d be funny if charon helped you out while still running away? like you just learn about the machine sabotage being his responsibility cos it flashes his goofy hacker logo from the anime or something. Maybe instead he hacks your Poketch and is like HEY HELLO IM GONNA SPLODE THE THING BUT NOT COS IM A GOOD GUY, BTW I AM A SAFE DISTANCE AWAY PLEASE DONT LET CYRUS KNOW I DID THIS

SO YEAH! whatever! whether or not we get that added bit of teamup with charon in the climax, we’ve still given him a bit more screentime so the player actually remembers him and actually cares about doing his optional sidequest in the postgame. so him not having a boss fight would be less of a letdown and all. But having the teamup plot would be a good opportunity to turn the wifi event into not a wifi event! maybe during his panic charon drops the key to his secret lab and thats how you get it? cos really it makes no sense at all that the magic wifi gods can just hand you something you’d have no idea existed and never have an opportunity to get. none of the other wifi items are literally a thing owned by a significant character that needs to be teleported out of his pocket by plot magic! Also it sucks that a chunk of important backstory would be hidden in a wifi event so if they still wanted rotom’s alt forms to be a wifi event then JUST make it the ability to get the forms and not the charony diary bit. Cos it makes no sense that the ENTIRE REASON CHARON EXISTS is to introduce the rotom form event yet you’d have no clue he was connected to rotom until after youve already finished the event. It gave no damn indication you had to take the key to this particular dude’s lab in team galactic!! ANd click on an otherwise unmarked wall!! Put the diary somewhere else and hey there’s a Charon Clue(tm) and now you can actually find the damn event, there you go, fixed. Also annoying cos nothing in the event tells you you have to go somewhere entirely different to catch the one rotom in the game, and click another unmarked piece of scenery that only has a staticky screen to indicate rotom if you happen to be playing at night. Seriously this is why serebii.net was such a lifesaver!!

Okay so WOOP there we go, here we are at a point where the player has seen more of charon and had oppotunities to grow to like him as a character and be suspicious that maybe he could have some sympatheticness. And if he drops an Importante Key Itemme right before the end of the game then thats a hint that postgame stuff exists involving him, and at least one clue where to find it! All the rotom diary stuff would play out exactly the same except that its less of a hell to find, lol.

BUT THEN the big difference in Stark Mountain is that now you have the full context of charon’s backstory and the game actually reacts to you having that knowledge. Like maybe if you dont do that step first then either charon never appears at stark mountain until you do, or you get an abbrieviated version of the quest without the redemption plot? I was thinking actually maybe make it one of those daily repeatable quests, to avoid the player doing the quests out of order and permenantly losing the chance to redeem gramps. Like if you dont see the rotom diary then instead of a big actual quest you just get some five minute “oh we’ve seen team galactic sneaking around stark mountain, defeat them for Some Money Or Something hey thats weird that they were only stealing money hey yknow who’s all about the money? charon! maybe go follow up on his Importante Key Itemme to continue the plot.”

SO THEN once you return Emboldened By The Knowledge Of Good Gramps, you get the proper thing. And... it would actually play out totally the same as in vanilla platinum. Charon doesn’t have a boss fight, all his minions leave him and say he sucks, he gets anticlimactically taken out by someone else in a cutscene, and his last moment is someone making a crack about him being so frail and useless that the hot volcano breeze could knock him over.

BUT THAT ISNT THE END

Its just a fake out that its gonna have the same funny ending as every other charon appearance, and the same lack of him being remotely threatening.

cos NOW WE FINALLY GIVE THE MAN A GODDAMN BOSS FIGHT

and yknow how i said i hate the manga where he’s all super evil and owns three legendaries and kills a guy? okay take away all that stuff but KEEP THE MOMENT OF GRANDPA GETTING TO DO SOMETHING BADASS FOR THE ONLY TIME EVER

Maybe he surprises everybody by actually not being down for the count! And by now he’s just SO pissed off from a whole game’s worth of failing and being disrespected that he does something desperate and stupid at the last minute. If he was meant to be the dude who invented the red chain, maybe he could use it to control heatran even if looker took away the magma stone? like i feel it’d be in character for charon to secretly steal a prototype red chain for himself during the whole “oh fuck my boss is legit destroying the world i need to get out of here” thing. Grab some stuff to sell now your last paycheck is dissappearing into an ominous void, lol. He didnt expect to actually be using it, and if the actually completed red chain puts enough stress on its weilder to make them cry blood then this thing must be even more risky to use! so its a really huge holy shit moment of tiny gramps actually doing something intimidating! and his boss fight could actually be using heatran and actually having heatran get to goddamn appear in this sidequest. it was soooo underwhelming to have to return thru the dungeon a second time to actually see heatran, this time without any story stuff to break up the long walk...

also this entire thing could be a great climax to his character arc and sort of a moment of “okay THIS was actually his motivation all along!” Cos I always felt like Charon’s real motive was low self confidence? Like he’s always on about money but he seems to focus more on SUCCESS instead. Fame and success. “Ha ha i am the greatest scientist and i want people actually aknowledge me” is a thing he repeatedly brings up and also that other characters directly demonstrate in how they act towards him. It just feels like he thinks he can buy that with money if he’s failed his whole life in earning it. And the old “acts egotistical because he actually hates himself” character archetype would work really well as a sympathetic interpretation of his character. It would be like how he’s ‘subconciously friendly’. The thing he actually does (being boastful) is because of a different reason (not believing his own lies and being super insecure about his self worth), but he keeps it so well hidden that not even he realises that its really what he feels. Similar to how he acts grumpy because of a different reason, because he actually DOES want friends and he’s just guarding his emotions under a million walls cos he’s scared of being hurt again. And scared of how he knows he’s a weak willed person who might betray his friends again for his desperation for money. Which is really a desperation to feel valid as a human being, which is really just ‘i want friends’ again under another coat of paint. So depressingly he caused his own problems because of the same character trait that was once a positive in his life! I think he works well when interpreted from that angle, he’s like a dark subversion of a pokemon professor or of your classic ash ketchum figure. Like “the power of friendship” is what turned him evil, and also turned him into a guy who acted awful to his friends. And it could add to this thematic thing if “loving pokemon” was also referenced throughout his plot in a negative sense?

That’s actually one other good thing about the manga, they removed his greedy grumpyness (bad) but replaced it with the same motive as the villain of the 2nd movie (weird flex but okay). Aka “a guy who collects legendary pokemon just as trophies and has forgotten how to treat them like genuine friends”. Even if that wouldnt be his main character concept in this hypothetical rewritten game, it could still be a secondary trait that’s used to suppliment the main emotional arc. Like instead of just saying “money money money” you could flesh out more scenes of him actually talking about HOW he’s gonna get the money and what he’s gonna use it for. Via collecting all the rare pokemon, and to collect more rare pokemon. Which will somehow (in his twisted cynical perception of how the world works) make him a person of value and get people to respect him. It could also tie together pretty much every scene he already has! Cos his backstory is finding this pokemon friend... who was a rare unknown species. And maybe as a kid he decided to become a scientist initially just out of excitement to learn more about his new friend and show them to the world! But then the realities of the difficulties in being respected as a scientist gradually wore him down and he became more cynical, more obsessed with recognition, more believing that the only way to get it was by being an asshole and he’d just get taken advantage of if he kept being soft. And he started to forget why he really wanted that fame in the first place, and instead it just became an obsession, a vain hope that he’d hate himself less if he accomplished his life’s dream. When really from the player’s perspective its obvious that even if he succeeded he’d still be depressed when he realized how he’d lost everything in the process. And it’d be a more realistic sort of way he could have turned from a good kid to an asshole gramps. There wasnt any single day he suddenly made the decision to change, it was just a gradual wearing down of his morals over the years. he became more obsessed and more cynical that normal moral ways of doing things would never get him what he wanted. he started making small sacrifices to his personal sense of morality, and eventually reached the point where he’d completely abandoned it all without even noticing the gradual change. And somewhere along the way he forgot that he started this because of his pokemon friend, and discarded it as “not good enough” in favor of this vain quest to acquire a million other rarer pokemon and just friggin put them on a shelf to boast about them and feel less empty inside. And then also his redemption was a gradual change too? After he reached that point of completely betraying his own sense of goodness, he gradually got sadder and more tired with living this way. By the time you see him ingame he’s not remotely happy with being evil and he’s just a poor dude who’s deluded that being evil is the only way to escape the sadness rather than the cause of it. And thats why his whole ‘oops im accidentally subconciously befriending my coworkers and also the enemy’ thing kinda set him on the road to eventual redemption, cos its the first bit of small upliftingness he’s had in ages. sorta recharges his Ability To Care and he starts realizing what he’s doing and feeling regret. But yeah throughout the main game he never actually acts on his doubts and just repeatedly misses the chance to get redeemed and makes you Kinda Frustrated, similar to zuko or peridot’s redemptive arc? And ultimately reuniting him with his old best friend and showing him that its not too late to fix what he broke = the actual catalyst for his changes to fully stick and he completely switches to the good side.

BUT ANYWAY thats why he needs a boss fight first!

Something like 50-70 years worth of self hate and frustration from devoting himself to a super incorrect way of defeating that self hate, and sacrificing EVERYTHING for the sake of it, and being disrespected the entire time, and being terrified that you’re getting old and running out of time, and almost dying to some guy’s weird void plan, and losing the only thing you had left aka the team galactic job and a few maybe sorta kinda friends you had, and now being disrespected AGAIN by those same people you thought were friends (but never actually admitted it to them) and then also bitchslapped by a frog?? Also this place is real fuckin sweaty?? Yeah stark mountain is a great climactic point for his entire frustrations to boil over and be a bigger eruption than the actual volcano!

Thus we have Grand Dad Gets Serious And Has An Actually Interesting Boss Fight!

but also grand dad is being emotionally open and whoops accidentally might be tearing down those walls he built up around his big ol soft as fuck heart

like the battle would possibly be more ‘you talk him down into giving up, realizing he was wrong, quitting being evil, and going home to his friend that he misses so much. and finally realizing that thats actually the only way he could ever really defeat the self hate that drove him this far in the first place. also he’s not worthless and his friends always believed he was the awesome dude he always wanted to be’. Yknow, rather than actually defeating him and all. I mean you still do that but i think it’d be a case like with the giratina fight where even if you lose or run away you get the same result, just slightly altered text? Just as long as you come here with rotom in your party your victory was already a foregone conclusion. you just get a really cool boss fight as your reward, yknow? cos seriously I WAS WAITING THE WHOLE GAME FOR THAT DAMN BOSS FIGHT!!!

obligatory link again to the cool song i think is a great summary of all of my headcanons for this man’s character arc and would also be badass backing music for a hypothetical boss fight:

context: it makes more sense if you imagine it as his own internal thoughts of all the stuff he’s been running away from accepting in his own feelings. and/or what he THINKS that the player and rotom would be saying to him, so he’s shocked into speechlessness by the fact that they actually do think he deserves a second chance and has the potential to be good.

actually that could be a really good ending to the fight!!!

like when you get through to him and convince him to stand down, he cowers in fear thinking he’s gonna get the karmic payback for everything he’s ever done. and he tries to run away from reuniting with rotom. half of him is scared that his friend hates him and the other half is.. well..

i think it would be thematically appropriate to end it with a hug

just an image of this lil toy robot pokemon hugging this scared old man, and he’s just so empty and doesnt know what to say. its the last thing he ever expected. and then his shock turns into pain and sadness, as he was really the most scared that his friend actually would forgive him. that everything he ever did really was all for nothing, and he should have done this years ago and saved all that lost time. he’s so scared because he thinks he doesnt deserve forgiveness and he doesnt know what to do now its happening. so he just lets out all those tears he’s never cried over all these years, and the scene ends with him desperately hugging his best friend and never wanting to let go ever again

And then that’d be the big moment that was really the turning point for him, though of course that wouldnt be the end of his redemption and if there was any further postgame content you could show various scenes of him atoning throughout that. or just some images in the second credits scene after you beat the postgame stuff. i’d kinda like if there was some moment of him apologising to the rest of team galactic and joining them in their attempts to rebuild the team into something good. and maybe an extra postgame segment where this redeemified team goes on some bigger quest to try and rescue cyrus from the distortion world and heal his pain too. i think you could get a lot of good scenes out of a redeemed charon being along for the ride! like you’d obviously have cyrus being skeptical that this dude really has changed so much, and probably an extension of that earlier scene where he’s pissed off that the one guy he thought agreed with him about emotions being foolish is actually being the most emotional of everyone. but i think because of that they could also have scenes of relating together and actually starting to form a friendship in the end? like i can see charon feeling guilty for never trying to reach out to cyrus before, and also believing really strongly that cyrus can be redeemed cos like ‘yo i’m way worse than you and i was able to change, please believe that its a possibility for you too!’ Also cyrus likes machines so i think he’d be happy to meet rotom and become friends. And he has that whole grandpa related backstory so it might help a lot towards healing those scars and reuniting the two of them if he starts forming a friendship with a different gramps? THERES A LOT OF GOOD THEMATIC LINKS BETWEEN THE DIFFERENT TEAM GALACTIC MEMBERS THAT ARE NEVER EXPLORED IN THE ORIGINAL GAME

also in the original version of this plotline it was a fanfic/fangame idea of an alternate universe swap where dawn/lucas/other customizeable protagonist is a galactic grunt instead of the hero. so a lot of the details were different but in that version the protag was literally adopted by whichever galactic admin they picked as their main friendship route. entirely because of self indulgent ‘i wish these guys were my dad/sister/grandpa/whatever’ feels cos sinnoh helped me thru a tough time as a kid. soooo i cant really do that charon grandpa idea where he also renovates the Old Chateau into a ghost pokemon sanctuary and becomes like an actual good pokemon professor. (also rekindles his friendship with prof rowan and agatha from the kanto elite four cos thats just a random headcanon i have) BUT i could still do all that except the part where he adopts u cos canon dawn/lucas already has a mom lol. And i think it’d be more fitting of canonverse protag to adopt Cyrus? Like obv in the canonverse itd probably be the main boss of the team who gets the bigger redemption plot and is canonically the best friend EVEN THO for tumblr user tumblunni in particular it is All Grandpas All The Time. And i like the idea of Cyboy being a survivor of child abuse who tries to become a good dad just like his parents werent. But i also like the idea of dawn’s mom adopting him as her new big brother and him getting to experience a genuine loving family for the first time! I think itd work that way cos cyrus is meant to be 27 even tho he looks older, and i dont think dawn’s mom is that young and also i just see no chemistry between them as any sort of ship. (and headcanon cyrus as asexual anyway) But also the family does still keep in touch with all the other galactic friends!!!

hhhh i wrote So Many Word just about grandpa redemption holy shit i’ll probably die if i try and cover all the other teammates now

ok i will leave it here but just know i also have Deep Headcanons about all of them, even if charon gets the most. somedaayayyyay i will share with you more!!

[the-raven-sisters]

Chapter Seventeen

Title: Ohana

Theme Song: Saturn by Sleeping At Last

Word Count: 3,994

Warnings: language, angst, violence, blood, character death

Characters: (OC) Harper Raven, (OC) Maisie Raven, (OC) Phillip Calloway, (OC) Quincy Carter, (OC) Simone González, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

A/N: “Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.”

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter List | Extra Content | Character Roster | AO3

“You know, some of these stars could be dead right now. I love how we can still see their light even after they’re gone.” Maisie finds herself sitting on the outcrop of roof outside of Harper’s room, one of her favorite memories playing out in her dreams once again.

Maisie hums in agreement. “I guess humans are kind of like stars too. Even after they’re gone, they don’t really leave us. We can still see them everywhere in our lives. The things they did for us.” Maisie’s eyes become misty as she speaks, thinking of her late foster mother, Laelynn. Harper is silent for a beat, then she suddenly gets up and climbs through the window back into her room. Maisie can hear her rummaging around until she reappears through the window.

“Well, this was supposed to be for your birthday, but Mom wasn’t supposed to die… So, I think you should have it now.” Harper hands Maisie a small, round, white box with a bright yellow bow on top. It almost looked like a daisy, Maisie’s favorite flower. Maisie tugs on the bow lightly and it falls away. When she opens the box, her breath catches.

It’s a simple gold, circular pendant made to look like a compass. She turns it over, already knowing the coordinates that are engraved there by heart. The coordinates to the Harvelle’s Roadhouse, or rather where it used to stand before it was blasted to ruins by demons.

Maisie has been waiting on this gift for years. Harper and Jo had gotten identical ones, passed down by their moms. And now Maisie has Laelynn’s. Picking the necklace from the box, she merely lets it set in her hand at first, trying to feel all the history it held. She swears, if only for a second, she could feel Laelynn with her.

Maisie hands the necklace to Harper and turns her back so her sister can secure it for her. Once it’s in place, Maisie knows she’ll never take it off.

“Thank you, Harp.” Maisie pulls her sister in for a hug and doesn’t let go. 

Maisie wakes with a start, confusion mixed with grogginess making her head pound. She slowly takes in her surroundings, wondering how she got to her old room in California. She doesn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing she remembers is telling her dad where to find Momma Q.

Maisie tries to get to her feet, but has to lean on her bedpost for support. Her eyes are still heavy and her limbs feel burdensome. Suddenly, a man's loud, angry voice makes her flinch. It almost sounds like her dad, but she has never heard him raise his voice.

Making it to the door, she slowly pulls it open and shuffles down the hall towards the voices in the living room. She can now hear another, weaker voice, but there is a short bald-headed dude and a wiry woman with wild auburn hair, blocking her view.

“You’ll pay for what you took from me,” the first voice says, but this time it’s a quiet anger, his words coming out in a low growl.

“I’ll pay with my life if I have to. But you leave my daughters out of it.” Maisie realizes with a start, that the second voice is Momma Q. Her head throbs painfully as she tries to put the pieces together of what’s happening, but what Peter says next makes her heart stop.

“Maybe I could have left Harper out of it if she could have minded her own goddamn business! But I took care of her. I would have gotten rid of that little redhead too if it weren’t for that bitch of a witch I had to deal with. In the end, you are all that really stands in the way of an eternity with my daughter.” Maisie breaks from her shocked trance, when she realizes Momma Q is now gasping for breath. She reaches for her knife, but it isn’t there. All she can do is try to talk her father down.

Maisie rushes forward, breaking through the barrier of the two vampires. The sight of her only living mother fighting for her life at the hands of her father makes Maisie sick to her stomach.

“Dad, stop! Please,” Maisie begs, her voice cracking. She runs forward, trying to pry her father’s fingers away from around Momma Q’s neck. The two vampire lackeys suddenly seem to remember their job, and surge forward to restrain Maisie.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean for you to see this. In time, you will understand. And we will have more than enough time.” Peter turns back to Quincy, a sick smile playing on his lips as he tightens his grip. Quincy’s movements become less volatile, her strength giving out.

Maisie pulls and kicks against the vampires restraining her, but she has no leverage to pull free. She screams for her mother until her voice is hoarse, even after Quincy’s arms drop and her legs stop thrashing. Peter bares his fangs, and Maisie has to squeeze her eyes shut before he plunges them into Quincy’s neck, draining the last drops of life from her body.

Maisie hears Momma Q’s body thud to the ground, but it sounds far off. Her captors finally release their hold on her and she simply crumples to the floor. She doesn’t want to open her eyes. She doesn’t want to see her dead mother’s body that she knows is only inches away from her. Silent tears stream down her face. Only one thought ricochets in her mind until she loses all consciousness.

“It’s all my fault.”

As Philip sets the plane down without so much as a bump, Harper breathes a sigh of relief. “Hey, we didn’t die in a tragic, fiery plane crash. Not that I doubted you, Phillip, because apparently you can do everything,” she quips, trying to distract herself from the anxiety their current situation has caused.

“The less you know about me, the better.” Phillip returns coolly.

“Okay, that’s not ominous at all. Thanks for the ride, daa- dude. Da dude. It’s surfer talk, we’re in California now, gotta blend in.” Harper flimsily tries to recover from the fact that she almost called Philip dad. There’s an awkward silence before Simone pipes up.

“Um, evil vampire on the loose with your kidnapped sister ring a bell?” Everyone nods in agreement and starts to file out of the small plane. Harper brings up the rear, but before she starts down the steps, Phillip calls her name.

“Yeah?” Harper looks back at him expectantly. He stands up and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Just be careful, kid. Call me when you’re ready to bring Maisie home,” Phillip says.

“You are always there when we call, huh?” Harper muses.

“Well, what can I say? You’d get yourself killed if I didn’t. As an officer of the law, I can’t have people dying on my watch if I can help it. Especially if it’s family.” Harper is surprised to hear Phillip say something so heartfelt, even if his face still portrays no emotion. “Alright, dismissed,” Phillip pats her shoulder and heads back to the cockpit. Taking a deep breath, Harper puts on a brave face.

“Sir, yes, sir.” She mocks a salute before heading after the rest of the group.

First things first, Harper needs to make sure they are on the right track. She pulls out her phone and tries Momma Q. No answer. Next, she calls the facility where Momma Q stays. When they tell her that Quincy has been checked out by a man claiming to be their uncle, Harper is oddly calm. It is close enough to the answer she was expecting.

“What did they say?” Sam asks as soon as she hangs up. She simply shakes her head.

“Uncle Peter took her for a trip,” Harper spits his name out like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

“Where would he take her?” Dean asks gruffly. Harper gives him a look that says ‘lose the attitude or I’ll kick your ass’.

“Oh yeah, I just forgot to mention the detailed notes on his plans I found in his diary.” Harper sasses back in annoyance. Sam steps between them, hands out to keep them at bay.

“Guys, now is not the time! We’re all worried about Maisie, but it’s not going to help her if we’re at each other’s throats.” Sam looks between them and makes sure they nod their agreement before he stands down.

“We can start at our family home. I don’t know that we’ll find anything but it’s a better place to think than this dirty airport parking lot at six in the morning. We need a ride, though.” As soon as Harper finishes her thought, Simone pulls up in a little red Ford Escort.

“Get in, losers,” Simone calls out through the open window. Sam and Dean eye the car skeptically.

“You couldn’t have stolen anything bigger?” Dean whines.

“It’s inconspicuous,” Simone shoots back. “And I thought it would be funny to see you and Sam trying to squeeze in the backseat,” she adds with a shrug. Dean rolls his eyes so hard he gives himself a headache. Sam turns to Harper, hoping she will save them from Simone’s pettiness.

“I call shotgun,” is all Harper says, opening the door and moving the seat up for the boys. “You wanna waste our time hotwiring another car?” Harper questions expectantly. The boys grumble assent to her point and fold themselves into the limited space of the backseat.

Sitting on her old bed, Maisie stares blankly at the wall; her thoughts and feelings ground to a halt when Momma Q’s body hit the carpet of her childhood home. The world around her faded away, feeling unreal and dream-like. At least, she hopes this is another dream, but the stirring in her gut tells her it’s all too real.

Peter pushes open the door, his posture more lighthearted than usual, unsympathetic to his daughter’s distress. The vampire watching over Maisie leaves the room at Peter’s command.

“Sorry you had to see that sweetheart. I thought my underlings would have kept a better eye on you,” Peter says, a slight edge to his voice, but it perks up as he continues. “Oh well, what’s done is done.” He pauses, gauging Maisie’s reaction, but she doesn’t even look at him.  “I hoped you would see this from my perspective, Maisie.”

“And what perspective is that?” Maisie means to come off spiteful, but the words fall flat and defeated.

Peter sits down next to Maisie, trying to catch her eye as he props his elbow on his knee and gestures with his other hand as he speaks. “She took you from me, all those years ago. And I’ve been looking for you every day since. Quincy, she would have done the same all again just to protect you from me, your own father.”

When Maisie doesn’t respond again, Peter sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Everything I’ve done is because I didn’t want to lose you again.”

“What about Harper?” Maisie finds her anger again. He may be able to justify to himself why he did this to Quincy, but not her sister. Harper didn’t steal her away; they simply had each other’s backs throughout the years. “What did she do to deserve…” Her voice trails off, as does the anger, at the thought of what had become of her sister.

Peter sighs dramatically, as if her questions are nothing but a nuisance. “She would have stopped me too, sweetheart. She didn’t understand the vision.”

That piques Maisie’s interest, and her curiosity gets the best of her. “The vision?”

Peter’s eyes twinkle as he responds, “The vision that’s kept me going all these years. Eternity with my daughter.”

The sky is starting to lighten as Simone parks their little car around the corner from the house, out of direct view. Everyone hops out, and walks down the road to catch a glimpse of the house. A few vampires linger outside, keeping an eye on the street and surrounding homes for anything suspicious. The group takes a step back to stay out of sight while they figure out a plan.

“So, who has ideas?” Sam asks, glancing to his brother and the girls.

“Let’s walk in, guns blazing,” Dean offers, looking restless, but Harper immediately shakes her head. “Well, machetes blazing.”

“And draw a shit ton of attention to the house? No, we’ve gotta do this quietly.” Harper stares off into the distance, clenching and unclenching her fists as she thinks. “I’ll sneak in, and pull Maisie out.”

Sam shakes his head fervently. “You’re not going in alone.”

Harper frowns at him. “I know how to sneak into this house, I did it a million times growing up.”

“Yeah, but like Peter said earlier, your sneaking skills suck, Harp.” Simone responds honestly.

“Really? Now we’re bringing this up?” Harper throws her a frustrated glance. Simone shrugs as if to say ‘sure, why not.’

Dean looks to Harper, slightly confused. “Did he really say that?”

“Basically,” Simone says before Harper can get a word in.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, we don’t have time for this,” Harper mumbles her thoughts out loud. “I’m going in, whether you like it or not. I made this mess, and I’m going to get my sister out of it.”

“You didn’t make anything, Peter did.” Sam interjects. “At least let someone go with you.”

“No, there’s more risk if anyone else goes. I’ve got this, okay?” Harper’s voice softens toward the end. “Just let me do this,” she says; there’s a pleading tone to her voice as she stares Sam down.

His shoulders slump. “Fine,” he sighs out.

“If something goes wrong, we’ll go with Dean’s idea, sound good?” Harper sounds matter-of-fact about it, as if ‘wrong’ couldn’t really be that bad. Dean and Simone nod, but Sam hesitates. Harper reciprocates the gesture before turning toward the house and her sister.

Sam’s hand wraps around hers when they are a few feet away from Dean and Simone. “For the record, I hate this,” he says with a half-hearted smile as she turns back to him.

Harper gives him a little smirk. “I know, but I’ll be back with Maisie soon enough.”

There’s a silence as Sam looks away for a moment, still holding her hand in his. Harper impatiently glances to the house, not wishing to wait another second.

“Relax, I’ll be back before you know it,” she says, giving him a forced smile.

“Just let her go already,” Simone talks a little louder so the couple can hear her. Harper cracks a smile in her direction before looking to Sam again.

“Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone,” she nudges him jokingly, slipping her hand out of his, and heads toward her childhood home to save her sister and fix this mess.

Harper peers around the corner to catch a glimpse of her old house; it is across the road and a few houses down from her vantage point. An idea pops into Harper’s head, and she cringes, knowing it’s the best way. Stripping off her jacket, she throws it back at Sam, standing by Dean and Simone now.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks in confusion as Sam catches it.

“I’m going jogging,” Harper shrugs before taking off down the street at a reasonable pace. She passes in front of her childhood home, feeling the gaze of the vampires keeping watch, but she keeps her eyes forward. There’s only two of them, one of them sitting on the steps of the front porch, the other sitting on the porch swing, trying to look casual.

Once she’s made it around the bend of the road to the neighbors house, she slows to a stop, hiding behind a row of tall bushes along the front yard. Rounding the neighbor’s house, Harper sneaks through their backyard and notices another vampire patrolling the back of her childhood home. She ducks behind another bush, watching as the vampire walks toward her and into the alley between the two houses.

Harper sees her opportunity, quickly and quietly walking up behind the vampire, machete in hand. She hefts the machete at his neck, slicing off his head. The body thumps softly as it hits the grass. She quickly grabs the body and head, dragging them behind the house to keep them out of sight.

Harper then crouches low as she softly pads over to the back of her childhood home and peeks into the window of Maisie old room. Maisie is on her bed and a short, Charlie Brown looking vampire, is at the door with his arms crossed over his chest. Harper takes a deep breath to steel herself, pulling her machete back out from its sheath before knocking softly on the window. She presses herself against the side of the house, waiting for the vampire to pop his head out. Her heart hammers in her chest, as the window slowly slides up and open.

The vampire’s bald head pops out of the window and Harper brings her machete down, cleanly severing his head from his body. She awkwardly hops through the window, shoving the body out of the way as she goes.

“Hey,” Harper says lamely as her feet hit the carpet. Maisie stares in disbelief at Harper standing before her, alive and well. She jumps to her feet, surprise giving way to her need to hug her sister and to know she hasn’t lost everything. As soon as she takes a step toward Harper, though, Maisie can smell her. The scent is so strong it overcomes all other emotions or senses. Maisie can feel the hunger building, and fear grips her heart.

Instead of welcoming Harper into her arms, she suddenly pushes her away. The force of Maisie’s shove surprises Harper almost more than the action itself, sending her across the room and crashing into the door. Grabbing onto the door handle to pull herself up, Harper tries to shake off the pain and confusion.

“Maisie? What the fuck was that?” Harper demands. Maisie looks at her shaking hands in shock.

“I- He turned me. Harp, I’m becoming a vampire,” Maisie chokes out, wrapping her arms around her torso. She can’t look at Harper, not wanting to see how her sister looks at her now.  

Harper holds her breath, waiting for something to give. She’s going to wake up any minute. Or Maisie is going to smile and say it’s only a joke. It can’t be real.

Without even realizing she’s taken it out, Harper is pressing her phone to her ear. It rings once before Sam’s voice rings out in her ear. It takes her a minute to find her voice.

“Sam?” She says quietly. She’s not even sure what to say.

“Harper, what is it? You ready for backup?” Sam asks desperately.

“Peter… H- he changed Maisie into a- a, um, and I don’t know what to do, tell me what to do,” Harper chokes out, eyes flying around the room.

“Has she drank human blood yet?” Sam asks, trying to keep himself level-headed for Harper’s sake.

Harper looks to her sister, relaying the question, and Maisie shakes her head. “No, she hasn’t,” Harper answers into the phone, unable to look away from Maisie.

“Okay, that’s good. She hasn’t fully transitioned then. Dean and I can make a cure, but we need the blood of the vampire who turned her, so Peter’s, right?”

“Yeah,” Harper breathes out.

“We’re coming, hold tight. Tell Maisie it’s going to be okay. It is going to be okay, Harper,” Sam’s calm voice evens her breathing. She believes him.

“Okay. It’s going to be okay, Maisie,” Harper repeats, trying to keep Sam’s calm in her own voice as she tries to help Maisie believe it too.

Maisie finally looks up to meet her sisters earnest gaze. In a split second, Harper’s head is turned at an odd angle, and there is a strange crunching sound. Time seems to slow as Maisie watches Harper’s body fall lifelessly to the ground.

“Sometimes, you have to do things yourself,” Peter’s voice cuts through Maisie’s haze. Suddenly, time speeds up to the point that Maisie no longer registers her actions. She is consumed by a blind rage, and she cannot be stopped.

When the world comes back into focus, she is standing in the living room, over her decapitated father, blood on her hands. She looks up at sound of Sam, Dean, and Simone bursting through the front door.

Sam yells Harper’s name as he runs through the house, while Dean heads straight to Maisie. Simone lingers over Peter’s body for a moment, nodding grimly, before following after Sam.

Stopping abruptly in the doorway to Maisie’s old room, Sam’s eyes immediately falling to Harper, crumpled and broken on the ground. Simone brings a hand up to cover her mouth as she gasps in horror. She had seen so much death, but this… This was something she was not expecting.

“Harper?” Sam’s voice barely comes out above a whisper. “Harper, please don’t do this to me,” he breathes out, as he falls to his knees beside her and rolls Harper onto her back. He pushes the hair gently away from her face, hoping and praying to see some sign of life in her. The sinking feeling in his gut tells him there isn’t any hope.

Harper’s eyes are open, but the empty, lifeless stare strips away any shred of denial and false hope that Sam was holding onto. Tears fill his eyes as he pulls Harper into his arms, cradling her limp form close to himself. She feels heavier than usual, the weight of the situation slowly crushing down on him.

He stares down at her through his tears, realizing there won’t be a tomorrow with her. He won’t hold her in his arms, or feel the warmth of her touch again. She won’t be beside him when he wakes up every morning. There will be a constant empty space where she used to be, that no one else could ever fill. Sam lets out one sob after another as he clings to Harper, wishing he could talk to her one more time, to hear her voice wash over him.

Dean finds Maisie in the hallway staring blankly down at Peter’s severed head. He takes her face in his hands and tries to draw her attention.

“Maisie? Baby, are you okay?” Maisie sees the movement of Dean’s lips, but no words connect with her mind. The sound of blood rushing in her ears is deafening. Not her blood, though. Dean’s blood. The machete she hadn’t even realized she was holding clatters to the floor as she pushes away from Dean. She must have grabbed the machete Harper brought in with her to go after Peter.

Harper; Maisie’s stomach lurches as she remembers the last sight of her sister. Stumbling down the hallway, she can now here Sam’s cries. Seeing Sam crumpled on the floor, cradling her sister’s body to him like she is the only thing he can feel, stops Maisie at the door like an iron fist had clamped down on her feet. The tears come faster than her breathing. She wants to go to them, to hold onto Harper. She wants to go back in time, tell Harper she is right and never let Peter back into her life.

All she can do is lean against the doorway as her legs give away. She slides down to the floor, sobs wracking her whole body. Maisie crashes her eyes shut against a world blurred by her own tears. Tears she didn’t deserve to cry. Tears won’t bring Harper back. Tears can’t wash away the fact that her sister was dead because of her.

[a-cai-jpg]

let’s go on a rly badly made rollercoaster (hopefully you’ll make it back home)

So throughout the day, as I took breaks between my angry typing in response to some videos I had to watch for work, I thought about what I wanted to write about today. 

I wanted to write about something I wanted to write about if that makes sense. For so much of the past few years, I've written things that other people wanted me to write about, in a mannerism other people preferred. Something vaguely academic and smart-sounding, with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Here is my thesis, here is how I'm going to prove that I'm right and you're wrong, and here is me making a half-hearted effort to consider your obviously incorrect opinion before reasserting the fact that I am right.

(i kid, i believe that intelligence is the ability to consider multiple realities. i grapple too often with the notion of absolute truth, breathless and terrified of falling into a great, black mindhole. of course i don't actually believe i am Right.)

But honestly, I like writing that meanders, that starts somewhere, and then goes somewhere far, and then ends up right next to where it first began. Why measure displacement when you can measure distance?

(I say all of this, but the most common criticism I have of anyone's writing is "your purpose is unclear and you barely made an effort to achieve it. highly recommend re-thinking your thesis.")

And I had things I wanted to talk about. Like, what watching television means for me and why it's so difficult to commit to a show. Or, what about why I hate it when people ask me, "How are you?" as a conversation-starter after months of not-talking. Or, maybe the very firm stance I hold that Les Miserables is a far superior musical to the Phantom of the Opera (again, I respect your opinion and probably think you're wrong if you think otherwise but hey, what is absolute truth amirite?).

And all of those things will perhaps one day make its way onto this webpage, a data cache amidst billions, trillions, I don't actually know how the Internet works, and I find it so fascinating that I am writing these words into existence and releasing it into the universe and one day it will make its way into someone's mind lifetimes later and--

I do this thing a lot, where I feel something very strongly, for no apparent reason. And then, I pull out the notes app on my phone, and I write.

And I've written about this notes-app-writing-thing that I do...on the notes app. And a lot of it is quite nice, and a lot of it will never be read by anyone else but future me. And I expect, a lot of it will make its way onto this very same webpage because everything I'm writing is everything I've written before.

I used to have this idea, definitely inspired by a movie but I can't quite remember the title, about how your dreams are always constructed of people, things, and places you've seen before. Then a friend was like, "Ok, then how does anyone get a new idea?" And then I was like, "Yo, fight the movie, don't fight me." (No, actually, I was like, "But reality and dreams are different" and then the conversation just spiraled.)

But this idea that everything in your dream is everything you've seen before makes me wonder if everything that will be created has already been created. After all, how does time work for a supreme being or Supreme Being (capital S, hello)? Like, is the universe's space and time laid out flat like a globe if you cut the seams or like--

(I think I'm going off track.)

(What I meant to say is--)

So, instead of writing about things that I have half-formed thoughts about, I'm going to write about something that I have definitely talked about but never written and/or thought about writing about okay here we go--

We used to talk about which one we liked more: the sunrise or the sunset. We had all ubiquitously said something like, "I know most people pick ____, but I think I like the ____ more."

And see, time has passed in a way that's rubbed sand over the words you said, and I can't quite remember which one was which. 

We talked about many things, mountains and gallons of words spent between us, spiraling from our lips like they were on the urgent journey to create something greater. Someone might have thought that these words would make their way into a future for us, a novel written so that we only have to live through the pages, but did you know that the words you speak write only your past?

And I think I lied when I said this is something I talked about but have never written about, because I choke on the words when I try to describe you and my head becomes fuzzy and I can't quite remember, but when I write about you, you become clear, melting into letters that flow from my chest to my fingers.

Look, this is the unfortunate truth. You have become simultaneously more and less than you. In my reality, you are who you have been in the past, when I still knew you, and that "you" has been embedded in my writing. You have become a theme, a string of motifs, a character sometimes, or even entire stories. 

And in your reality, you are becoming someone that I will never get to know.

(I am not talking about a person, I am talking about a collection of abstract ideals.)

Recently, I watched a Korean drama about characters in a comic book. It got me thinking about what happens to the stories we write, the stories we brew in our minds. When I was in middle school, I used to write stories in my head all the freaking time. I remember I couldn't finish the story, I was terrified of finishing the story, because what happens to the characters after the story ends?

(I came to terms with my existential crisis at the ripe young age of 7 years old, so why were the aftereffects catching up to me in fucking 7th grade?)

Cue character development--I'm still dealing with the fear of not living with my head in the clouds, but hey, at least I know how to end stories now.

(Not in the technical sense, in the literal sense. I once ended a story by adding another paragraph, and then another epilogue, and then another paragraph, until I finally closed the Word document and submitted it. Thus, effectively ending it.)

But I still wonder, what does happen to a story once you let it go? I've created countless worlds, drafted enough conversations to make my mouth go dry, seen the lives and deaths of enough people to be some sort of supreme being (lowercase s) in my own sense, but where does it all go?

I really try not to, but sometimes I entertain the idea that somehow, it goes on without me. A half-formed world with a crumbling sky and a cliff that falls into absolute oblivion, but there, underneath the sprawling tree, the heroine is.

She is.

And maybe then, we are.

We are, in the future that we had planned but isn't quite the one we're currently living. We are sitting at that lake I told you about, drinking cider and eating onigiri and watching the sunset. We are driving up the mountain, but really, you are the one driving because you were the one who got your driver's license first, and the rest of us are sprawled in the backseat screaming at your headrest as you nearly kill us by scraping our rental car against a railing. We are planning your wedding, looking your partner up and down, ignoring you when you say, "No really, they're my soulmate, I love them, god, Annette, can you believe it? Soulmates are real" and we are--

Man, we are all those things, but we never thought further beyond that, huh?

So maybe, we are ends.

And so maybe, all those stories ended too, when I closed the chapter in my head and put the metaphorical pen down and took a deep breath and lived my life, this real one where things hurt and things make me cry and laugh and love. But then, hey, maybe, we really did write the future. Because we are and will continue to be everything we had planned, 11 years old and sitting at my Windows XP. Until we are not. 

But even if we are not, you still are. And I still am.

Daily song rec:

Saturn by Sleeping at Last

This song fucking gets me man. Sometimes I feel something deeply sad well inside me when I hear the lyrics. But also, is this not the most beautiful melody ever written?

(The Korean drama is “Extraordinarily You.”)

[bastardnev]

The King and the Prince

*honks la cucuracha horn* HEY GUESS WHO WROTE A FIC FOR A SHIP THAT ISN’T WADE/NEV

for @champnatalya!!

(like to ao3)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Professional Wrestling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mustafa Ali/Pac | Adrian Neville Characters: Mustafa Ali, Pac | Adrian Neville Additional Tags: Denial of Feelings, nev's a Big Angry Gay Mess, mustafa's a Big Cutie, And a bit of a flirt Summary: A few lighthearted comments from Mustafa causes Neville to rethink how he'd been feeling the past few months.

If someone could kindly remind Neville as to why he agreed to spend the rest of his evening with a group of peasants, then that would be lovely.

He had originally planned on going back to his hotel room after 205 Live went off the air that week, getting some rest before heading off to the next location in the morning, but the rest of the division had other plans. Seeing as everyone was in a good mood, Cedric proposed going out for drinks once the taping was over, and they wanted the King to go with them.

The answer seemed obvious -- of course Neville was going to reject their offer. Why would he want to spend any more time with these guys than he had to? Between Raw and 205 Live, he spent two whole days of his week with them -- two days that he would have rather spent doing literally anything else. Did they really think that they could ask him to tag along with them on their late night adventures and that he would be eager and willing to go?

Then Gallagher went and made an offhand comment about being able to outdrink Neville in a way that 'only a gentleman could'. Nothing made Neville tick quite like snide remarks from the arguably inferior Englishman. Vowing to prove him wrong, Neville finally accepted their invitation, knowing damn well that he would be standing tall in the end just like the last time he and Jack had faced off.

Later, Neville was making his way back to the locker room following his main event match (and successful title defense) against TJP. He was actually in good spirits, having once again proven to the WWE Universe that there was simply no one else on the 'Neville Level' and as such there was no one who was good enough to take him down. And despite his prior hesitation, he was even looking forward to going out, the anticipation of getting yet another victory over Jack causing a devilish smirk to form on his face. He had already won one fight that evening, and nothing was stopping him from winning a second.

Neville pushed the locker room door open and immediately spotted Mustafa sitting at the far end of the room, playing around on his phone. Neville's smirk melted away, and his cocky expression was replaced with the usual annoyed one that he always wore.

Mustafa Ali had made quite a name for himself ever since arriving in WWE, earning a reputation among fans and colleagues as being one of the best high flyers in the company, and his sights were set firmly on the purple strap that could always be seen resting on Neville's shoulder. He had made his title ambitions quite clear, going as far as to tweet him about how it would take a 'Prince' like himself to dethrone the King. There would even be some times during their matches where Neville would knock him down only for him to defiantly stand back up, the fire in his eyes burning even fiercer, the challenging expression on his face unwavering. He had so much passion, ambition.

Neville hated that.

Their issues found their way outside of the ring as well. All it took was one passing glance from Mustafa for Neville's attitude to do complete one-eighty. An unusual feeling would well up inside him, almost as if there were butterflies in his stomach. Sometimes they would accidentally bump into each other in a crowded hallway and it would take a whole ten minutes for Neville to stop shaking. He felt... uneasy in his presence and would much rather be as far away from his as possible.

At the same time, if Mustafa weren't around, then Neville would be wondering where he was, why he wasn't hanging out with the other losers in the division. It was a unique hatred that not even Neville himself fully understood. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

As Neville washed up in the showers, he toyed with the idea of simply ignoring him, but there was something nagging at him. Was Mustafa going with the rest of the roster to the bar? Would he be watching him obliterate Jack in their drinking contest? Hell, had he even been asked to go in the first place? Neville knew that whenever Mustafa had a match -- even if it was against a local competitor, as was the case that night -- he spent a good amount of time alone as he mentally prepared himself. It was possible that no one had gotten around to inviting him.

The way Neville saw it, he had two options. He could go through with his original plan of ignoring him, believing that if the other cruiserweights were really Mustafa's friends then they would have already told him about the evening's festivities. That, or he could simply ask him about whether or not he'd been invited. If not, then he could make fun of him for having fake friends who didn't truly care about him. The latter seemed more fun.

Neville shut the water off and quickly dried himself before heading over to his bag, digging around for more casual clothes to slip on. It was as he was sliding a t-shirt over his head that he look a look over his shoulder at Mustafa, who was still doing God knows what on his phone. "What, are you too busy screwing around on Twitter to even acknowledge your King?" Neville asked.

Mustafa finally looked up from the device, letting out a sigh through his nose before replying with, "The last time I greeted you when you came in the room, King, you told me to shut up."

"Maybe so." Neville took a seat on one of the benches, clasping his hands together on his lap and hunching forward. "But this time is different. I actually want to speak with you."

"Do you?" He looked a little surprised.

"I want to know what you're doing tonight." Neville smirked. "If you have plans to go anywhere."

"Uh... no, I don't," he admitted. "Why do you want to know?"

Huh. Neville thought. So they didn't ask him. What good friends he has! "How about you accompany your King to the local bar tonight? I'm in the mood for celebratory drinks. Or does someone such as yourself prefer to hole up in his hotel room? Is that more your definition of 'fun'?"

Mustafa's eyebrows raised at Neville's offer, what appeared to be a faint blush growing on his cheeks. Neville couldn't even begin to imagine what he was so bashful about. Then again, he had no way of knowing how the mind of a peasant worked. "Well?" He asked. "Answer me."

"King..." Mustafa let out a little embarrassed chuckle, the sound of his laughter as well as the smile on his face making Neville go a little red himself. What the hell was he laughing at? Was he mocking him?!

"I don't think there's anything particularly funny about this, Ali." Neville scolded him with a cold glare. "You should know better than to disrespect your King. Haven't you learned anything from the last time you did that?" Neville had no problem locking Mustafa in the Rings of Saturn once again if it meant getting him to behave.

"I'm not trying to be disrespectful at all." Mustafa raised his hands self-defensively, his grin having grown wider. "I just think it's funny, that's all. You? Asking me on a date? It's not what I expected."

Neville felt his mouth drop open, the slight shade of pink on his cheeks now having grown full-on crimson. What?! A date?! Mustafa thought that Neville was actually asking him out?! "Don't think so highly of yourself, Ali!" Neville shot up from the bench. "You're not worthy enough to be anything even close to my lover." His fists clenched. "I'm asking you because all of the others are going out tonight."

"So it's not just you? Damn. Here I was thinking I was getting some alone time with the King." Mustafa clicked his tongue, though he offered Neville a wink, which caused him to swallow.

"You had better cut that out--" Neville took a few steps towards Mustafa and abruptly stopped when the locker room door opened, and they both looked to find TJ now standing in the doorway. He looked between the two of them with a puzzled expression, like he wasn't sure what in the world he'd just walked in on. Neville backed away from Mustafa and snatched his bag up, huffing and storming towards the exit.

"I'll see you later, King!" Mustafa called after him. Neville ignored him and rammed into the door with his shoulder, stepping out into the hallway. It was as the door was closing that he overheard TJ mentioning the plans to Mustafa. Just my damn luck. Had I waited a few more minutes, that bullshit could have been completely avoided.

Where the hell did Mustafa get off saying those kinds of things, anyway? Did he really think that he was that important in Neville's life to the point where Neville would actually ask him out on a date? To the point where Neville would actually be interested in being in a relationship with him?

Christ, imagine if the two of them were actually dating? Neville's mind was suddenly flooded with images of the two of them hanging out before the show started, talking about their respective matches, actually being nice to each other. He thought of greeting him with a hug, giving him a good luck kiss, waking up next to him in a hotel bed... The same butterfly feeling that Neville usually got when thinking about Mustafa returned with a vengeance, and when paired with this context, it almost seemed... nice.

NO. Neville's eyes shot open wide, his grip on the handle of his bag growing almost impossibly tight. There was no way in hell that that was what was truly going on. Neville would be damned before he-- before he actually developed feelings for someone like Mustafa. Neville was the King, dammit. He didn't have time for crushes or things of that nature. Someone who was a constant thorn in his side couldn't possibly have worked his way into his heart...

...could he?

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 36: Weezer - Part 1

From his porch on Mulholland Drive, All-Kill sits, looking out across Los Angeles. The view is beautiful at night, but on this particular morning, it looks muggy and uncomfortable. “Yeon-in,” he calls. 

At his summons, the wolf appears with a bottle of Korean soju held in its jaws. With surprising dexterity, it places the bottle on a small table next to its master. All-Kill pets his companion between the ears, then unscrews the cap, pouring the rice wine into a small glass and sipping from it.

“Little early for that, isn’t it?” T’onga says, stepping out of the house and standing behind the chair.

“I’m in a celebratory mood… Have you taken care of everything? The stragglers and loose ends?” the boss replies, keeping his eyes on the view.

“Yeah. Of course,” she says numbly.

“Good. Then the time to strike is now. Go to where Dust is and use HOUSE OF PAIN to eliminate him. No matter what you say or what it takes, do that above all else. It makes no difference what kind of ability Dust has. Once you get him into the room, he’s no match for you. I have every confidence. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve already won.” He punctuates his statement with another sip of soju and a smile.

“Right… Where’s Sang-ok?” T’onga asks.

“At his apartment. I’ll call him over when you’re done.”

“…And Sumni?” 

At the mention of this name, there is a long pause between the two, as All-Kill places his glass down. “…She’s on standby, as usual. Why? What difference does it make?”

“Oh… it doesn’t. I was just wondering where everybody was. See you later, boss…” she turns a leaves, stepping back inside the house. All-Kill turns his head and keeps his eye on her until she leaves his sight. The wolf at his feet whines softly.

“Anaheim…” he mutters, and nothing more.

                                                         ---

The Anaheim Convention Center and Arena! One of the largest gathering spots in all of Southern California, a stone’s throw away from the famous Disneyland, home to every sort of convention for every sort of event, from company-wide get-togethers, to the biggest sporting event, down to the most niche of fan conventions. And this time of year, it's home to the one and only...

TubeCon, the world’s convention for the no. 1 video-sharing network, VidTube! Here, everyone from video bloggers, pranksters, game streamers and the ever underappreciated animators gather to engage with their fans and celebrate their work. 

They mill about like termites, some old, but most young, moving between stall after stall, buying merch, taking selfies. Among them are content creators, many of whom film themselves on their phones. Their voices can be heard clearly over the general din.

“EY ITS UR BOY MERCINATOR MEETING UP WITH SOME FANS!!!”

“EY WHAT UP GUYS IT'S YO BOY RATMATT HERE AT TUBECON!!!”

“WE'RE THE SLY BROTHERS AND WE'RE HERE AT TUBECON TO GET PEOPLE'S REACTIONS TO MEETING US!!!”

At the far end of the auditorium, three men in their thirties play video games on a couch under the scrutiny of over a hundred people. 

“Julio,” one demands of his bearded companion, “would you rather eat a man or acquire a nice tan?”

“I don’t… What kind of question is that, Neil?” Julio splutters.

“Julio, answer the question!” demands the third.

“What is this place...?” Kilo mutters, taking in the atmosphere with distaste, having found himself and his friends beckoned here.

“This is probably what Hell looks like,” Moya remarks, with a thousand-yard stare. In the midst of this controlled chaos, she and Kilo stand protectively between Shizuka, who stares doe-eyed into the crowd, searching for something. For someone. Frowning, she reaches into her inside pocket and pulls out the message for the hundredth time. 

I WILL MEET YOU AT ANAHEIM and a drawing of an impossible triangle, written in permanent marker, and three tickets to this very convention. Nothing else was in the envelope delivered to Jerome’s mansion. Shizuka turns the message around, but all she sees on the back is the marker ink bleeding through the paper.

“Whoever it was that sent that letter…” Kilo grumbles, peering over her shoulder at it, “ least they could’ve done is be a little more specific. So what now, cop?” he turns to Moya, “We just supposed to stand around here, waitin’ for somebody to walk up on us?”

“This is our best move,” Moya replies, squinting suspiciously into the crowd, “For now, we have to assume the worst and that this is a Congregation trap. They’ve been one step ahead of us this whole time, and even now they still have the advantage. But waiting around in C-King’s house won’t get us any closer to stopping them, so we may as well take the chance and handle what comes of it. And besides… if T’onga really did send that message, then I don’t know when we’ll get another chance to get this close to her. No matter what happens, we can’t get separated. As long as we stick together, I’m confident we can take anything that comes our way!”

“Hrrmh… I hope you’re right…” Kilo says. Shizuka says nothing during this exchange, but looks up from the letter, glaring resolutely. 

“HEY, YOU GUYS!!” shouts a loud, raucous cry, directed at the three of them. Immediately, SATURN BARZ and WITCH MOUNTAIN come out, only to recede soon after. A man in his late 20s wearing mirror-shades suddenly stands right in front of Shizuka.

With painfully artificial exuberance, the man in sunglasses shouts, “You’re next in line, huh, bros?! Great!! Don’t be shy, I always have time for fans! Here, lemme get that for you!” He says, taking the paper from Shizuka’s hand.

“Ah…! Hey, wait…!!” she starts, but the guy soons hands it back to her, but not before scrawling chicken scratch on the back in red ink.

“Who the fuck is this…?” Kilo mutters. He then glances behind him and notices for the first time a line has formed behind them, composed of teenage girls and boys, the eldest surely no older than 14. Without moving from their spot, the trio appear to have become part of an autograph line.

“Now you got your autograph, how about a selfie?!” the shaded vlogger announces to Shizuka, already pulling out a smartphone and attaching it to a telescopic pole. “It’ll be legit, for real! You’re bound to get a ton of likes on your feed once people see me on it!”

“Ah… N-no, thanks,” Shizuka responds, taken aback, “I’m kind… of waiting for-” 

“Come on, honey, no need to be shy!” he announces again, sidling up beside her with his selfie stick raised over them, “You’re talking a major boost in online cred if you get seen with me! I’m kind of a big deal on YouTube, in case you didn’t know!” Bearing over her, he reaches a hand across her shoulders, “And hey, if we hang out a little more, maybe I can give you a few tips on how to get your own channel started! I could send a few early subscribers your way, if you do me a couple favors. What do you sGGLKH!!” 

He chokes, his tongue lolling out as Moya lifts him, one-handed, by the back of his t-shirt collar. Kilo, meanwhile, grabs the selfie stick out of his hand, breaks it in half over his knee, then pitches the phone to the other side of the auditorium. The teenagers in the line behind them gasp. Moya drops him, and they and Shizuka moves away from him, stepping around him like garbage.

“H-Hey! Wait up!!” The vlogger shouts, rubbing his neck and beginning to pursue them, “Hey! You guys! Who do you fuckin’ think you are?! Hey, I said--!!” Kilo and Moya turn at once, fixing him with furious expressions. “Yeah, what?”, they say at the same time.

The vlogger appears to forget how to speak for a moment. Then he scurries off to retrieve his phone, shouting back, “My followers are gonna hear about this, you hear me?!”

Shizuka hardly notices his departure, merely brushing lint off her shoulder. Kilo and Moya exchange a concerned glance. 

                                                         ---

The vlogger weaves his way through the crowd, eventually finding his phone lying on the ground with a cracked screen. Upon sight, he rushes to retrieve it, but crashes into a tall man in a hoodie from behind. “Hey! Watch where you’re going, jackass!” he berates before stooping to pick up his phone. The guy in the hoodie slouches, removing his earbuds from his ears and scratching his oversized afro. 

Before the vlogger stands back up, he starts wheezing. He manages to release a few choked coughs, which go unnoticed by anyone, before his neck and face begin to swell up like a balloon and his face turns a shade of pale blue. 

“Anaphylactic shock, huh? Nasty...” says Toto, and nothing more. By the time he finishes his remark, the vlogger is already dead and he has lost all interest in him. He peers over the crowd. His eyes fall upon the trio, then he slides himself into the back corridors.

Without a care in the world, he strides through the service hallways, eventually coming to the security control center. He opens the door with a stolen clearance card and enters the room, shutting the door behind him. Two dead security guards are propped up against the wall, their faces blotchy and swollen. Toto sits down at the surveillance desk and finds the trio on one of the monitors.

“They’re clinging to each other like…” he mutters to himself, keeping them in sight at all times. “Like… Like, uh… Liiiike… Oh! Like tar and feathers! … No, no, not like that, not like tar and feathers, more like…” he stops abruptly and furrows his brow deeply, searching for the correct analogy. “Flies on hot shit? No, no… Oh, yeah! Like atomic particles! Two little electrons orbiting around a neutron/proton center! That’s perfect!” He smiles, delighted. Then his smile drops.

“Wait, hold on, if the three of them are an atom, then wouldn’t splitting them up be totally bad?” he mutters, beads of sweat suddenly appearing on his forehead, “When you split an atom up, you get nuclear fusion, in other words a big fuckass huge explosion…! Applyin’ that here… Dust wanted me to separate the Joestar princess from her friends, but what if that’s a bad idea…?! What if the best bet is to take ‘em all here and now, together…?! No no no, fighting ‘em all at once is no good either, their abilities are too strong…! 

“Aaagh, did I do enough, did I miss anything?! I been here for an hour and I made sure to touch as many people as I could, but what if it ain’t enough?! What if all the people I came into contact left already?! Uuuurghh…!!” he frets manically over this, pinching his temples as his thoughts race. Then at last he freezes, and his relaxed posture returns. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he admonishes himself, “It’s just an expression, they ain’t really atoms. They just people. Caught in the flow of fate, just like everybody. Does no good to worry over how things’ll turn out. Split ‘em up, cram ‘em together… It’s all the same at the End of Time…” Fully calmed down, he reaches for the microphone and leans into it. 

Affecting an officious, professional tone, he speaks into the PA, “Attention, all convention-goers, attention all convention-goers. The Paulie Paul panel event will be commencing in ten minutes. Please proceed to the cordoned area in Hall D in an orderly fashion. Thank you.” Finished, he watches with satisfaction at the silent stampede that begins, which slams into the trio, tearing them apart. 

He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a pre-rolled spliff. He regards it for a moment, taking in the herbal scent, before shaking his head. “No, no… No time. Gotta work…” he says, getting up and leaving the security office, heading for the exhibit halls.