#like clearly they seemed more chill about teenagers just doing whatever

[timelesslords]

do we ever get a canon explanation for where/with whom dina lived in jackson before she was an adult or are we meant to assume it's another ellie-and-her-garage situation

[swimmpantyz]

NOT ME. (pt 1)

gojo satoru x reader

summary: Being Satoru's classmate was difficult. Being Satoru's friend... worse. You were no one replacement. He knew that, but you still filled a place he thought no one would ever fill.

content: hurt & comfort, slow burn, teenager gojo satoru, swearing, slice of life, mention of deaths, both of you are immature, & +

trope: friends to lovers

tried to make my boy satoru the most cannon I could, but it's hard work fr

no proofread!!

Transferring from Kyoto to Tokyo shouldn't have been a big change. It's just school after all.

Yet, the first period that started in april could be called the most weird spring that you have ever experienced.

With only three more classmates to be with: Shoko, who you spent your time the most with.

Geto, who didn't talk much... But it was cool to chill around with him.

And Gojo, he was... Special.

You clearly remember his crazy ass showing off his reversed technique like an eccentric scientist who just discovered electricity.

The rest of the school seemed gloomy due to some recent loss of classmates, better said, deaths.

But none of that mattered as long as you had Shoko to keep you company. She didn't seem that fazed, yet, with the time, you started to get how she dealt with things: a cold head and desensitization, with her words "It's a key on the medical world." - seeing so much deaths that you get used to it.

Fall came along with the second period of school... Which was not surprisingly worse than the previous one.

Just days before school, Geto, the quiet guy, deserted and became a traitor. And that devastated Satoru.

Shoko wasn't the type of girl that got into other people business, and you neither. But seeing that once cheerful and cocky guy turn into... Whatever that was, felt unsettling.

"Wanna train?" You offered with a small smile when you found him staring with his eyebrows clenched at literally nothing. Maybe the sky, maybe the clouds, or maybe just the place, you couldn't tell. It was rare to find him in school, even more than before Geto's betrayal.

You were almost a hundred percent sure he was going to reject you. You actually hoped he did... But he just shrugged and walked next to you to the gym.

It was easy to figure out that he felt lonely.

"You sure?" He asked with his well known smug tone, shifting his personality so fast that you actually wondered if he had multiple personalities.

You just let a short huf, positioning yourself in the middle of the 'ring', as you started to call it. "Don't go cry about it later." And the training felt just as if you were again at the beginning of april.

It was already afternoon, and the walk back to the dormitories felt pleasingly refreshing.

Your face showing a grin from ear to ear had Satoru glaring down at you... Surprisingly, he wasn't fully untouchable yet, a small almost unnoticeable cut on his lip was a proof and winning trophy at the same time.

He was again frowning, this time with a small pout on his face.

"What are you so proud of? I'm not the one with a limping leg." His voice was more lighted up and bubbly, his all mighty personality showing little by little.

"My leg is perfectly fine, see?" You jumped on your spot, a small sting still remained on your muscles. And he kicked the back of your leg, making you hiss.

"That was uncalled?" You said, eyebrows clenching a little while dodging the next kick.

"That doesn't sound like it's fine, though?" He mocked you, his pink lips stretching as he started to smile a bit again.

"At least be a good loser." You walked faster as you spoke with a little grin, but of course he was faster and got easily in front of you.

"I could never." He smugly said, but it sounded more like just tease, leaning forward with his chest puffing out like a bird would do.

"Well, good to know you're bad at something." You teased back, his smirk turning into a small smile more friendly than it used to be.

You missed Shoko's company as Satoru started to hang out more with you.

He was cool, yeah, but you couldn't talk about all the things you used to tell Shoko.

"Recently I've been seeing the numer Pi a lot." Satoru's whose head was leaning on his desk while looking outside, turned towards you.

His mesmerizing light blue eyes stared at you... Not even the Pacific Ocean with the sun on all its glory could shine as his eyes did.

"... I've been seeing the number six a lot, too." He said, and you chuckled at his words.

"Six for... Six eyes?" You joked even though it was dumb. He rolled his eyes, a short amused huff leaving his lips.

"That could be." He went again to his resting spot... And you missed Shoko's comfort silent moments, because this one with Satoru was nothing but awkward.

"Hey, listen, it's cool, isn't it?' You turned the volume of your phone higher, Shoko listening to the music playing with a concentrated expression.

"... It's trash." That was her final verdict, and you whined over it.

"What's trash?" Satoru's curious ass and white hair popped through the window out of nowhere. You haven't seen him recently. He had a lot of curses to take down. Basically, the higher-ups needed him distracted and focused on something else. Their intentions were clear as water.

You motioned him to get closer, handing your phone with the song playing. He listened to it with a thoughtful expression, long fingers holding his chin up as if he was extremely focused on it.

"It's fire." He finally said, moving his head along with the song. You nudged Shoko, triumphantly saying: 'See? seeee??'

"Whatever, if you take his judgement as valid... That's on you." She shrugged, lighting a cig inside the classroom and taking a drag, blowing it to your face with a smile, you half-chuckled half-coughed at her action.

"Yeah, sure... addict." You muttered the last word, making Satoru snicker even though he was still listening to the song.

"Who is it?" He asked, his voice louder, as if he wasn't the only one with the phone speaker on his ear.

"Soulja boy." He let out a loud 'huh?' playing deaf, but you knew damn well he did in fact hear you.

You took your phone back from his hands and almost shouted on his ear:

"Soulja boy!" He pushed you off fastly, caressing his now pink ear with an upset scowl.

"What was that for?!" He complained, looking at his fingers with big eyes. "You spit on me!" His hands cleaned on his pants.

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour.

"It's just a little bit of saliva." You shrugged it off and he let out a low 'eww', tuggling your shit and using it as a towel. Dragging you closer when you tried to push him off.

"Quit squirming, this is your fault." He used a deeper tone, trying to sound devilish, but it just made you laugh while your poor shirt was getting wrinkled between the struggle. Satoru couldn't hold it and laughed too, a little bit too hysterically for your taste.

It was near the end of the second term when Satoru's birthday came, as the winter.

You and Shoko decided to give him a present, he was enduring his birthday without his best friend after all.

You showed up in 'surprise', but he was waiting on the front of his house, as if he alredy expected you two.

It was your first time there, and apparently Shoko's first time too.

"Happy birthday!" You and Shoko spoke in unison, handing him some silly gifts a couple of teenage girls could afford.

Satoru smiled and accepted them.

"Cards, hm?" He asked, looking at your gift, tracing the design of the little box with his fingers. It was a deep black small box with light blue decorations. But the cards inside were of a shiny white with navy blue numbers and symbols.

"Wanna play?" You offered, looking at him and then at Shoko, but she sighed a bit, shaking her head.

"I wish, but I still have some work to do, have fun though, see you all on monday." She waved off, patting Satoru and you on your shoulders.

"She's fast when it comes to leave." You chuckled, looking up at him again. "So?" He opened his door wider in response, moving a bit aside to let you in.

The place felt even more huge inside. He was too rich to bare and to not be jealous.

"Close your mouth, you're drooling on my floor." He teased you, but you didn't mind, and you didn't answer back, just looking around his place. "Seriously, what's up with you?" He kept teasing, getting slightly annoyed by your lack of response, nudging you and failing again. "Remember?... I'm the birthday boy!" You snapped your head and smiled, making him blink in awe.

"Happy birthday!" He huffed amused.

"Thanks." ...

But poker with only two players was pretty boring. But it was the only game Satoru knew.

"You're not that good at being perfect, huh?" You teased as he kept mixing the cards, looking at you with his white eyebrows raising.

"What do you mean?" You shrugged, playing with your glass.

"You know just only one card game? really?" He throw a card to your hair, getting stuck in your strands.

"And?" He stubbornly asked, taking his time with the cards. "It's boring to be good at everything." You sarcastically snorted at that.

"Suree." Rolling his eyes, he gave you the deck.

"Teach me then." He crossed his arms, leaning back on literal air.

"Alright." You put the cards upside down on the table. "Let's play Blackjack... You only have to reach twenty-one, the person who's most close without getting over - wins." You started explaining. "The ace is worth eleven. The king, queen, and jack, ten." You took one of the cards. It was a queen. "You can stop whenever you want. If you go over the amount, you lose." He nodded at your explanation.

"It's too easy to be fun." He said, tilting his face, arms still crossed while he looked down at you with squinting eyes.

"Just play, smartass." He didn't move, a little smirk increasing. You squeezed his nose playfully, copying his smile, making him grimace just a little. "If you wanna play solitaire all by yourself, it's on you... But that sounds pretty depressing for a birthday, doesn't it?" You mockingly pouted, and he huffed, biting his lower lips as he repressed a smile, leaning and grabbing a card to play.

You stopped with two cards, then Satoru did the same.

"An ace and a king." He showed his twenty one, and you groaned, earning a bigger smirk from him.

"You mixed the cards wrong." You complained, making him chuckle at your words.

"... At least be a good loser."

The last period of school. The days were less cool, making it feel like the spring came earlier.

Shoko was barely present. Apparently, being a Jujutsu nurse had its things, for example: working your ass 24/7 like your life depended on it. They called it practice, and she called it illegal unpaid work.

The only good thing to add to the list was that the higher ups 'trusted' Satoru enough to not overwork him with a stupidly high amount of curses to get rid of... Months of using him like some sort of war weapon just to finally say: 'Ah yeah, this boy ain't betraying our ass too.'

But that was actually good. You weren't the only student in class now.

"I swear I own you a big one, Satoru." You told him sincerely, while both of you were training in the camp.

"Pff, why?" He asked humored, his voice showing his curiosity.

"Thanks to you I'm not dying of boredom." Sighing in relief you kept training... Well, if playing basket counted as training in sorcerer terms.

"You're welcome." He clicked his tongue as he dunked the ball with a grin on his face.

"Don't you sometimes wish to go to a normal school? to be a normal boy?" You asked out of nowhere, making him stop on his tracks and look at you as if you said the craziest thing in the world.

"Are you crazy? why would I want to be a weak-ass nobody?" You rolled your eyes at his words.

"Well, what if we were on a world where curses and sorcerers didn't exist?" He shrugged, getting again on the little game you two have been on from about an hour.

"You're not planing on changing schools again at this time, are you? our graduation is around the corner." He asked with narrowed judgement eyes. The corner of his lips going down as if he disliked the idea. You just shook your face as an answer. "... Then you're asking dumb questions, there's no meaning on asking something that will never happen." He stubbornly said. Sighing at his behaviour, you said:

"Fine brat, have it your way." With his chin raised and looking down at you from over his shoulder, he said:

"Like always." Maybe your last days of school are going to be actual hell.

"Mann... I hate sassy men." You muttered enough for him to listen, earning a basketball ball hitting lightly the back of your head.

There was one day when Satoru came to school with the shittiest mood you ever saw on him.

Like the mood swings he used to have when Geto left... You wondered if that was what troubled him, if he saw Suguru again.

You couldn't ask him though, how could you? knowing him, he will just brush it off, or even laugh it off if he has enough strength.

If you actually thought he was getting more fun to be around, the next days ruined all progress he ever had.

"Just do it Gojo, I don't wanna be in school too." You complained. After getting his back in some dumb battering with Yaga for the forth time this week, you two got 'grounded', as if you weren't already adults, staying in the classroom until you finished your homework.

"I don't want to." He nonchalantly said, his face was glued to his desk, looking at his phone with bored eyes.

" 'I din't wint ti.' " You mocked him. "Did I ask if you wanted to? I told you to do it." He left his phone down as he raised his head to glare at you.

"And who the hell do you think you are to go all bossy on me?" You glared back at him, getting up of your sit.

"Oh, I don't know... who am I but the bitch who deals with your shitty attitude every single day? I can bet all my inheritance that I'm the only one who's got your back even though you've been nothing but a dickhead with everyone." He got up from his chair too, you have never ever saw that upset face he was making. Eyebrows furrowing deeply and jaw clenching.

"Did I ever ask you to do that, smartass? it's fucking on you." You approached him, chests pressing against each other as you stared up at him.

"Fucking say that again." He leaned towards you, his hot breath brushing your face, he had that annoying smile on his face, the one you disliked so much.

"Are you deaf?" He asked mockingly, bitter voice that it was more of a whisper, but he was so close that you heard him loud and clear. "It's. Fucking On. You. I never asked you to be by my side, I don't need anyone, and that includes you." His words hurt, his attitude hurt, even his expression towards you hurt. But that feeling was little compared to your anger towards him.

"You're on your own now, don't ever talk to me ever again." Your hands pushed his chest to leave the classroom in storm with long fast steps.

Gojo stood there in the middle of the classroom, staring at the door you just passed through.

"... I've always been on my own." He whispered, the words that he couldn't tell you due to your soon leaving. But they weren't entirely true, and he knew it.

It's been a month, and Gojo took your words literally and even further.

He didn't show up in school since your short-tempered discussion... Of course, nothing will come out well if you put two explosive teenagers full of hormones and stubborness in the same room.

You practically begged Shoko to come back again. You felt like a crazy ex stalking and sending her messages like a creep.

But you were the only one in your class... And who else was there to talk to in school? Nanami? just the thought of it was hilarious. If he ghosted you on facebook, what could you expect in real life? he didn't like people to get on his nerves, and you had a talent on doing so.

"No, I'm not going. Stop calling me." Shoko sounded tired and annoyed. In just months, her voice changed a lot. It was more raspy than it used to be. Certainly due to smoking.

"Pleasee, I need you... I miss you. I'm gonna die here alone and it will be your fault." You whined exaggeratedly.

"Stop saying dumb shit, go and study. Or I don't know... find a job." She hanged up and you threw your head on your desk, smacking your forehead, letting out a little 'ow.'

And as if your day wasn't bad enough, Gojo apparently decided that it was finally the day to get back to school, stepping inside the classroom out of nowhere.

He was leaning on the door frame, overhearing your call, staring at you with a thoughtful expression with his eyebrows clenched. White teeth biting his lower lip.

After looking him up and down, you turned around, ignoring his presence.

He let out a long sigh, getting inside the classroom and sitting on his usual desk, ignoring you too.

Why was he there? You doubted it was because of his clan or the higher ups. Maybe Yaga's doing? it made more sense. That man was really nosy when he wanted.

You felt his eyes from time to time, side eyeing you, and it burned the back of your head. Your hand itched to grab a chair and throw it to his face.

"The fuck are you looking at?" You aggressively asked, looking back at him and connecting eyes.

He didn't answer and just kept staring at you.

"Cat got your tongue? pussy." You turned around again, looking at your phone.

He shifted on his seat.

"You have memory problems or what? can't recall your own words?" He hastily said, your eyes twitched by his words.

"Who's got your tongue now?" Your blood boiled at his condescending tone.

"Eat shit you Gollum looking ass bitch." You finally snapped, getting up and confronting him, he did the same, just like last time.

"The fuck did you just call me? then who are you? fucking Dopey - short and stupid." You gasped at his words, when you truly wanted to laugh, it was funny.

"Yeah, keep shitting our friendship genius, that's the only thing you're good at." He scoffed at your words, arms crossed on his chest.

"I'm literally Gojo Satoru, you dumbass, did you also forgot who are you talking to?" You frowned up at him, his shit eating grin only encouraging you to keep going.

"I give a fuck about who the hell you are, it doesn't change the fact that you're dickhead." You raised your voice, he scowled as leaned more towards you.

"Stop screaming on my face, you're spitting!" He yelled back, a few drops of his spit going to your face, making you frown deeper.

"Yeah, well, you should have thought about it before screwing me over!" You got even closer to him, noses almost touching. He leaned in, too, challenging. "You love fucking everything up, huh? you're right, you're good at everything, especially at that. I could say that lately you even mastered it, Gojo." His eyes squinted, long white eyelashes fluttering, and if you didn't know him well, you couldn't say he was hurt. But you knew him. "At least kiss me, could you? I like to get kissed when I get fucked." You practically spate all the best insults you had... Did this count as outsmart him? he literally couldn't say anything, just staring down deeply at you, with his lips slightly parted, eyes that you couldn't describe what was the primary feeling.

He opened and closed his mouth, but even if he was about to say anything, a sudden cough interrupted both of you.

"... Do I really have to remind to both of you that this is an institution?" Yaga's sternly voice sounded loud and clear. It took you and Gojo long seconds to finally sit down when he pointed the chairs. And it took Yaga past an hour of a lecture about your not-so-little verbal discussion.

This time, being grounded was on you.

...

[pocketramblr]

Ask Game: Manuel brutally but accidentally kills All For One for good.

You have clocked my niche perfectly

1- "how the heck does that happen" well, during the Hosu chaos when it's all going very badly, another hero (mostly underestimating how much an asset Manual the Water Guy is at fighting fires) tells him to focus on finding his student and getting Izuku evacuated. Obviously Izuku will not evacuate, but he will get Manual to Tenya faster. So now there's two teenagers and the most chill pro hero in an alleyway fighting Stain, while Tomura and Kurogiri watch. And Tomura "fan of heroes with no merch" either recognizes Manual and knows he doesn't want to risk an actual pro ruining his fun with Stain, or doesn't recognize him and finds that even more suspicious as he has no clue what power level this npc is at. So while Manuel is trying to first aid Tenya and Native (oh yeah I guess there's a second pro in the alley too lol) while Izuku keeps Stain occupied and gets backup, he's also trying to figure out the Nomu thing. And then kurogiri appears, and Tenya yells because he recognizes him, but he can't move to shove Manual out of the way of the warp.

2- Manual is dropped in a very spooky lab with more nomu and some faceless creep on a throne. Manual does not judge the faceless thing, whatever some people look different. He does, however, Judge His Vibe. This guy clocked murderous intent from a teenager he barely saw on tv before it even happened, he Just Knows this guy is bad news. And in charge of the LoV, clearly, since Shigaraki didn't make sense as a leader and Stain just seemed mad about it. But Manual is also careful, and does not act on his vibe checks without further investigation. So he asks the suited creep "oh my god, are you the one that made the Nomu? Like the villain factory five years ago?" And AfO is just so pleased to be recognized as such a threat and confirms this, wondering what quirk he's about to steal from Manual.

And then Manual uses his quirk, and well, there's a lot of water in the Nomu labs. In the Nomu tanks. Running through the building, through AfO's medical equipment.

A lot of water.

3- Without the life-support equipment and half drowned, it is really really easy for Manual to hit him on the back of the head with a broken bit of pipe. This was not supposed to kill him- Manual saw a shape moving and thought it would not do much against a nomu, plus AfO is supposed to have a million quirks but- ah well. He's super dead now. And Manual is also surrounded by half finished nomu, also fairly dead now. And he's got to find the exit.

4- when Manual radios in that he's been warped under the Jakku hospital during the league attack in Hosu and he needs hero backup, now, he didn't expect all the backup he'd get. But all the heroes in Jakku were watching the news in Hosu and feeling useless, so they rush over and well. There's not much for them to do but cleanup nomu stuff and file reports. Manual appreciates the support anyway. And the blanket a nurse got him, and a coffee. And that everyone lets him focus on updates from Hosu, almost dropping his phone in relief that Stain has been taken in and the three -why are there three? There were two when he left!- teenagers are fine. The heroes offer to get him a ride to Hosu asap, but Manual stands up, pauses, and goes "wait, what about the mole? AfO had to have people working for him in this hospital to keep a lab like that under cover, right?"

5- with that terrifying thought, the Jakku heroes rush him out faster so they can figure that out, and Manual is on a train to Hosu. Once he gets closer to the city and two train switches later, he finds himself alone in the car with a tall, thin blond man. He knows the guy has to have some hero connection, because they were literally the only two people allowed on this train right now but he does not expect the guy to take a phone call, anxiously ask about a kid, get cut off, start swearing profusely in English, and then repeat "All For One? Are you sure????" about a dozen times before demanding around the clock watch until he can get there, and hanging up. The guy goes "Manual, huh?"

Manual looks up and answers, thinking he's being addressed, and the blond guy realizes it's him, and suddenly he's All Might and All Might is thanking Manual, bowing low. And that's just too much for Manual after the stressful week he's had. He passes out.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Have you never heard of such a thing, darling?

(The Timari Buzzfeed Unsolved AU)

Chapter 3: The Mysterious Case of Collège Françoise Dupont

The video opens, and everyone is almost blinded by the color pink.

The white room of all the previous videos is almost missed. There is something far more unsettling about this background. At least, with the all-white room, it is easy enough to get used to. White is a common furniture color and minimalism and/or modernism has become a thing in recent years, so it’s not entirely surprising to see. However, an all-pink room would take dedication. Especially since almost everything is the exact same shade.

A teenage girl is the one who sits in front of the camera, smiling. Cross-legged on a bed on the floor. While her smile is not creepily stiff like the one her friend usually gives, it is still offputting. Fond, but in a wistful way, as if she is in mourning.

And then she breaks, giggling and pulling a whiteboard out of seemingly nowhere.

On the whiteboard is the words ‘The Gotham Files with Tim Drake’ in black ink. A hand comes into frame this time to give her a pink whiteboard marker, and she scratches out Gotham in favor of the word Paris.

And then she smirks, hastily scratching out the name Tim Drake and replacing it with her own name, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

A person off-camera makes a vague sound of protest, and she sticks her tongue out at them for a moment.

Finally, though, she caves. In the bottom right corner, she writes something in tiny print. The camera zooms in to find the words ‘Also Tim, I guess’.

(The dreaded dubstep is still there, bouncing around in the background, but it is a faint echo of what it once was. Haunting the viewers, even from across the pond. Slowly increasing in volume. It is coming.)

Tim gives a huff of laughter and steps into frame, removing the whiteboard from view before carefully taking a seat beside her. “Hey, everyone, bet you didn’t think you’d see us together again so soon.”

“He has followed me to France. Send help,” Marinette deadpans.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “You do realize that you were the one that suggested I come visit to be ‘fair’ or whatever.”

“Details.”

He gives her a mildly exasperated look before turning to the camera. “Whatever. Let’s just skip to the school.”

“Oooooh, can we do a transition?” Marinette says, her eyes gleaming.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Like?”

Marinette reaches towards the camera. “Like when a person goes to put their hand over the camera and –.”

Her voice cuts out the moment her hand covers the entirety of the frame.

She draws her hand back to reveal that they aren’t at her house anymore. Instead, they are standing in front of what appears to have once been a school building, though it hopefully isn’t being used as such anymore. Some of the windows are broken. What had clearly once been a beautiful courtyard has been overrun with plants.

The scenery is not the only thing that has changed, though. They, too, have changed.

As in... changed their clothes. From pajamas into what is almost formalwear. Tim is wearing what seems to be a suit, though his suit jacket is currently being used by Marinette to stave off the chill her sundress does not entirely shield her from.

Tim smiles at her. “So, Mari, since we’re in your country, do you want to explain the lore?”

Marinette sends him a playfully annoyed look before smiling. “Well, everyone, this is an abandoned school. It used to be a school for the rich and famous – and their kids – buuuut there was a scandal a few years back. His father, one of the teachers, is said to have…” she hesitates, briefly. “... well, it’s said that the body of Adrien Agreste is hidden somewhere on campus.”

“That’s probably not true,” Tim pitches in. “This place was torn apart by the French police and they found nothing. But the rumors made everyone withdraw their kids – and, more importantly – their funds. So, the building was forced to close. And yet the rumors remain.”

Marinette and Tim turned to look at the school building. It was only abandoned recently, so it looks much better than the other places they’ve visited so far. There is no reason why they should be scared of this place in comparison to the other ones. This one doesn’t look like it's nearly as much as a safety hazard as the ones before it.

And yet.

They hesitate at the threshold. Marinette tugs the suit jacket tighter around herself. The camera pans just slightly as Tim adjusts it in his hands, tightening his grip.

Maybe they weren’t quite as sure that they wouldn’t find a body as they had originally tried to make people believe.

Or not.

“Okay, obligatory moment of silence over,” Tim says. “Now, let’s go disrespect the dead!”

“It’s not disrespectful! At least… it’s not meant to be. Ghost marriage is meant to everyone a sense of…” She waves her hands around. Perhaps she is fighting off a ghost. Or, more likely, she’s just trying to recall a word. “Completion, I guess?”

He considers this. “Sure, but…”

“And it’s not like I’m actually going to be doing all of the proper rites or tying Adrien Agreste’s ghost to me,” she adds, smiling faintly. “I just thought it might be fun to give the guy a proper sendoff? I mean, we’re not going to find the body – I hope – or get his killer behind bars, but…” She shrugs. “It’s something.”

He lifts an arm and slings it over her shoulders, as always. “I think it sounds fun.”

Her hand shifts from her backpack strap, sliding up to lace her fingers with his. “It should be. But, uh, don’t tell my parents?”

“Mmmmmm… can I have some cookies later?”

“Sure.”

“Then sure,” he says, completely nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

They step into the building. As always, graffiti litters everything.

But that is hardly what they focus on. Desks and chairs are overturned at best, broken to pieces at worst. The floor, once elegant tile, had been smashed to pieces. The stairs in a stairwell they pass looks completely unusable. The police really had torn the place apart looking for a body.

But there isn’t one here. Neither Tim nor Marinette cringe and cover their noses, suggesting there is no corpse rotting beneath the floorboards, with only the beat of its telltale heart to give away its location. The only thing that happens is that Tim sneezes and mumbles bitterly about dust.

When he does, his breath fogs in front of him.

“Wicked,” Tim says, before immediately pretending to be a fire-breathing dragon. As you must do at least once upon realizing that it is cold enough to do so.

Marinette giggles at his antics, looking around, drawing Tim’s jacket tighter around herself. “I think the AC units here are broken.”

Not much of a surprise, considering everything else is.

“Yep. Guess the fans aren’t going to be getting a sleepover this time, either. Shame, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to convince you again.”

Marinette winks. “I’m sure you can think of a way.”

“I dunno. Youtube does not pay that well.”

She rolls her eyes. “We can do it next time, promise. But we have to get through this time, first, so we should hurry up before we get frostbite.”

They set up shop in the cafeteria, preparing incense to burn and setting a tiny doll down on one of the tables. The doll is hardly traditional. It's one of those little green army guys that come in packages of around a hundred. They had probably found it on the way there and picked it up. But it is still, technically, a doll. So it should be enough.

Briefly, as Tim pulls out a lighter, he pauses.

He looks around.

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“I…” His lips pull into a frown. “Dunno. Maybe the reason people think a body is here is that this place makes you go insane.”

“You're not going insane," she promises.

"... aw, thanks, Mari," he says, but his eyes are narrowed. Clearly he does not trust that she is being entirely genuine.

This is probably for the best, because she is smirking in that specific way she always does when she is about to gaslight him. "Tim, darling, the fact that you can see me is proof you’re already insane. I don’t exist.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, gently knocking his shoulder against hers. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Potential gas leak aside, let’s marry you to a dead guy!”

Marinette pumps her fist in the air. Who cares about a potential gas leak? It’s wedding time!

They burn incense, first. Marinette explains that it's supposed to strengthen the spirit. She does not seem all that worried about this fact, so she either does not believe that this particular ghost exists or she genuinely had character development in the previous video and no longer believes in ghosts. It’s a tossup, really.

Either way, Marinette walks down the ‘aisle’ (a gap between tables), holding the leftover incense rods like a really ugly bouquet.

She gets to the end and smiles at Tim, trading the ‘bouquet’ for a pair of dice that have been shoddily taped over so that the sides alternate between saying ‘no’ and ‘yes’.

“Now,” says Tim, looking at his phone. It is playing music, but it is clear that that is not what he is currently paying attention to. “Throw your ‘blocks’ and let’s see if the lucky groom wants to continue with the ceremony.”

She rolls the dice, and seems mildly surprised when both dice land on ‘yes’. There was a one-in-four chance of that happening, so it wasn’t statistically irregular or anything, but humans like to ascribe meaning where there is none.

Perhaps that is why they believe in ghosts.

Marinette grins. “Cool. The ghost is into me. Think I can get a dowry out of it?”

“Isn’t your family the one that’s supposed to provide the dowry?”

She snickers. “I mean, maybe traditionally, but I’m wearing the pants in this relationship.”

Marinette is wearing a dress.

Tim looks like he wants to point this out, but decides not to. He clears his throat.

“Bow to… Heaven and Earth?” Tim says, unsurely.

Marinette turns so she is no longer facing them and does a brief bow.

“Bow to your elders – actually, they're not here, so skip that one…”

She snickers as she turns slightly to the left and bows, presumably towards where her home is.

Tim grins. “Alright, now bow to each other.”

Marinette bowed to the doll.

It fell over, almost as if in response.

She blinks, and then smiles bemusedly. “Well, it fell forward. Maybe it was trying to bow. I’m gonna consider that close enough.”

“As your priest, I agree, that was clear intent,” Tim says, nodding ‘seriously’. And then he smiles widely. “And so, by the power vested in me by… literally no one, I’m not even part of this religion… I now pronounce you ghost-groom and wife.”

Marinette kneels to pick up the tiny soldier, gently placing it back on its feet.

Good. Wedding over. Now for the part of wedding days that people actually like:

The after party!

They begin to lay out some Tupperware containers, filled with different kinds of sandwiches.

Tim practically dives to get his hands on the box of macarons. Technically they, too, are sandwiches. Sandwiches of the unhealthy variety, but sandwiches nonetheless.

Marinette is a little healthier. Perhaps because her parents are, supposedly, somewhere in the city with her, and therefore she can get in trouble for eating dessert without an entree first. She washes down her grilled cheese sandwiches with tea. If she is at all bitter about not getting any macarons, she is hiding it like a champ.

The toy soldier gets tuna sandwiches, assumedly because neither of them wants to eat them.

Marinette cradles her thermos of tea in her hands, smiling faintly. She opens her mouth to say something to Tim.

The video cuts to later.

It’s clear they spent quite a lot of time there. Their noses are pink from the cold, and several sandwiches and macarons have been eaten.

Including a tuna sandwich or two, judging by the slight shift in the way they’re arranged in the box.

One of them must have given in and eaten them after all.

That was the past, though. Now, they are cleaning up after themselves. It is not entirely necessary, the building is abandoned, after all, it isn’t like anyone would be inconvenienced if they didn’t... but they are good kids, so they ignore this fact.

“Can’t believe you eat with your mouth open, Mari,” Tim says.

Marinette sends him a confused little frown. “What? No, I don’t?”

“Yes, you do. I’ve cut all proof of you not doing that out of the video. You will forever be known among my fans as someone who eats with their mouth open.”

Realization dawns on her face.

She groans.

“Remind me why I hang out with you?” she says, shoving Tupperware back into her backpack with maybe a little more force than was strictly necessary.

“My dashing good looks.”

“I would never agree to such things in front of my husband,” she sniffs, setting the toy soldier delicately in her jacket pocket. Not Tim’s jacket pocket, because it is clear by now that he is never getting it back. Her jacket pocket. Just like the toy soldier is her husband, now, meaning she is unable to adulterize. "I am loyal, you know."

Tim considers this for a moment, stashing away the leftover incense and lighter, and then shouldering the bag. He seems to be thinking hard about his good qualities.

He finally decides on one:

“Theeeeeeen… because I stalked you to France?”

A strange choice, but it works.

“True. Thanks for reminding me,” she says, giggling, her eyes lighting up at the acceptance of her dumb bit from earlier.

They head out, back in the halls, only to pause.

Because a shadow shifts.

Their smiles drop immediately in favor of wary expressions. Even if they don’t believe there are ghosts here, there was still a very real chance of finding raccoons and opossums and other things that carry rabies.

Hesitantly, Tim points a flashlight at the shadow.

It is a cat.

They were right about the thing that could carry rabies thing.

Though it doesn’t seem this cat has it. It does not seem like it is intent on attacking them. Nor is it running away. It blinks lazily at them.

They both relax, almost imperceptibly.

The cat is tiny, but seems well cared for. It is probably a housecat that got away recently, or perhaps an outdoor cat. This is dangerous, considering it’s a black cat, and black cats are not entirely safe to let out into the world, since people are superstitious and sucky...

However, it does not have a collar.

Strange.

Who has been feeding it?

Whatever.

At least that means the cat is Free Real Estate.

Marinette coos and kneels in front of it. The cat doesn’t seem to mind, its tail flicking lazily, seemingly watching her with the same kind of curiosity.

It isn’t scared, isn’t hissing. Hasn’t even bothered to stand. It is just… meeting her gaze.

“Well, aren’t you the cutest little thing,” Marinette says, lifting her hand to pet it.

Tim puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks, if only momentarily. “It could have a disease.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” she says, without hesitation.

He sighs, but there is something fond lining his eyes as he shrugs and squats down next to her. “So, are you taking him home?”

“If it doesn’t hate me, yes, absolutely,” she says, lifting her hand again and letting the cat sniff it.

The cat gives a quiet meow and, finally, stands up, if only so it can step forward and rub against her hand.

“The cat has chosen,” Tim intones in the most grave voice he can muster. Which is to say, not very grave at all. It is hard to sound serious while looking longingly at a cat.

He was so visibly desperate that the cat almost seems to laugh, looping around Marinette one more time before coming to rub up against his leg.

Marinette looks like she might cry over the sheer adorableness. She starts cooing in French. There is a caption box at the bottom of the screen, but it is hard to tell if it is genuinely what she is saying. The words, while all technically words, surely should not be strung together in that particular order.

(Maybe they shouldn't have ignored the gas leak thing from earlier.)

The cat, being a cat, does not seem the slightest bit put off by the possibly insane babbling, only taking in Marinette’s soft tone and Tim’s hand scratching beneath his chin, and deciding that, yes, these are his humans.

“I shall name you…” Marinette squints. “You are a boy. So. Plagg.”

Tim looks as if he is not sure which part of that particular statement was worse. That she has simply decided that the cat is a boy without checking, or that she has decided that Plagg is a good name for a boy (or a girl, or… anything at all, really).

“We are not naming him Plagg,” he complains, tipping his head back in a groan. And then he looks at the cat again when it bunts against his hand. He coos. “How about Adrien? You know, the Jewish faith says that the dead live on when you name people after them. Might as well honor him, since we are trespassing in his… domain, or whatever it is people think this is.”

Marinette looks affronted. “You suck, you know. I can’t believe you’re using the religion card to overrule my decisions. You’re such a fake feminist…”

He sticks his tongue out at her playfully.

But, according to a short clip of the pair of them both calling the cat to them with their chosen names, the cat preferred the name ‘Adrien’.

Tim smirks, hugging the cat – Adrien – to his chest. The cat rubs himself against him.

Marinette sighs and crawls over defeatedly. To her delight, the cat squirms out of Tim’s grip and into her lap. She brightens up immediately. “Well,” she says, more for the sake of the audience than anything. “Still no sign of the supernatural, but at least we got this cute little cat.”

Said cat meows as if in agreement.

When she scratches it behind the ear, its head briefly turns towards the camera to lean into her touch, and its eyes seem to glow.

Camera flares really are a pain.

Either way, the two humans are entirely unaware of the mistake, for they are unable to see the footage as it is being made, and therefore continue on as normal.

Marinette leans against his shoulder, sighing. “When you go back to America, I’m keeping him.”

Despite the clear attempt to keep her tone light, there is still a wistful edge. It is not hard to imagine that losing a friend and a cat at the same time would be hard.

Especially since Tim seems to be thinking along the same lines: “Hey! I named him!”

“Exactly! You named him! Therefore I get to have him!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

He huffs. “Great argument.”

“Well, if I actually tried that would just be unfair, you know,” she says.

“Oh yeah?” he raises an eyebrow in challenge, sure she is bluffing.

But then she leans closer to his face, smiling. “Paris to New Jersey is an eight-hour flight, minimum. You wouldn’t put him through that. Therefore, I win.”

Tim, for the briefest of moments, doesn’t react. His eyes have widened just slightly at the sudden closeness, and his face turns a delicate shade of pink. He inches his face away from hers the slightest bit. He swallows thickly and quickly averts his gaze.

Even the damn cat seems to have a knowing look on its face.

Not that he was being particularly subtle, to be fair. You don’t travel across the world on a whim for just anyone.

Still, even the cat?

He groans, turning his head away to bury his face in his hands.

She giggles and presses further against his side, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder, her eyelashes batting playfully.

“I win,” she says.

He grumbles incoherently.

“Besides, we found him in Paris. This is my city, therefore he is mine.”

“That’s not fair,” he says. And then something seems to occur to him. He turns to look at her, their noses just barely brushing. Red begins to dust itself across her cheeks as well. “I found you in Gotham, though. That’s my city. Does that make you mine?”

For a moment, Marinette hesitates.

And then she turns her head away, back toward the camera, smiling.

“The shippers are going to have a damn field day.”

He laughs and goes back to playing with their new cat. “Well, since you’re a married woman now, maybe they’ll chill out.”

Marinette snickers. “They will not.”

“Not at all. Now it’s a forbidden romance.” He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Lean towards me like you’re gonna kiss me for the outro?”

Marinette, briefly, tips her head back in a laugh. And then she looks at him, something sly in her expression. She takes his face in both hands and leans in –.

The scene pauses in the moment when their lips seem to meet. A future version of Tim, probably greenscreened in, appears, his head perfectly covering where their lips might actually be touching, if the way his past self’s eyes are wide in surprise means anything.

People replay the video several times, and eventually come to the realization that Marinette’s hands are placed carefully in a way that almost hides the way her thumbs keep their lips from actually touching.

Disappointing, but not particularly surprising, considering they had all but said they were going to fake it for the camera.

Viewers finally allow the rest of the video to play.

It is a Honey sponsorship.

As one, they groan and close out of the video.

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

Next Chapter

[paalove]

fic prompt: anything about sandray + nick's post-canon bisexual-centric semi-nonsexual quasi-throuple 👬🏻🧍🏻‍♂️

hiiiiiiiiiii you sent this [mumble] eons ago but. here. :DDDD

~.~

“I have good ideas,” Ray insists.

Sand nods, eyes wide and earnest, because Nick is handling the loud, insulting laughter.

“Sorry,” Nick says, “You do!”

And the thing is, they all know he means it, but it sounds insincere; Sand snorts.

In Ray’s defence, today’s idea is a really good one.

He’s scowling at them both, arms crossed as they wait for the traffic to change – they just need to cross this one busy road, but the lights are taking so goddamn long – and the wrinkling of his forehead makes Sand lean in and mirror the pout, saying, “Aw.”

Hooking a finger under the strap of Sand’s backpack, Ray tilts his head up and gives Sand an imploring look, lower lip pouting, and Sand kisses it as required.

It’s a light peck.

Giggling, Nick says, “Shit guys, the lights have changed,” in the voice of a guy who wasn’t watching the lights.

As they cross, Nick has to jump back into their space to avoid a couple of motorbikes – he’s not so great at watching the road, and Ray laughs at him like it’s not Sand pulling him across the road by the hand, like Nick is the one being the most embarrassing.

“Dumbass,” Sand joins in loyally.

“Man,” Nick complains, “You’re a dick, how much am I helping you right now?”

“Yeah, Sand, how much is he helping-“

“-Fuck off,” Sand laughs too, “Who’s carrying all our shit?”

Only one of them has a backpack.

Ray and Nick exchange a glance as Nick precedes the two of them through a piece of metal fencing – not technically a gate, originally, but whatever.

Nick decides, “You’re the tallest.”

“Yeah, Sand, it’s fair because you’re the tallest-“

Sand shoves Ray through the fencing, just makes him stumble and pout a little, and makes eye contact with Nick past him; Nick’s doing stupid shit with his eyebrows, wiggling them like a cartoon, and Sand laughs and shakes his head and follows.

Last night this fence seemed a little more dangerous – screeched too loudly when Sand prised it apart, sharp on their hands, and in the darkness it was harder to see where they were walking after.

“It’s totally chill,” Nick insisted, but Sand peered up through the dead-seeming branches above them, the half-stone half-dirt path they had to scramble up, and wasn’t sure.

He nodded anyway and said, “Okay, show me this spot you know,” because Nick had promised there was a great one.

The path was steeper than it looked.

After the first time Nick slid backwards, Sand catching him, he turned around in his arms all enthused, saying, “I told you! Not easy enough to get into that it’s full of teenagers, fine for us!”

And he didn’t seem wrong.

Sand spent the whole night feeling like he was planning some kind of murder, sure, but he’s done weirder shit to get laid.

Ray’s hand is in Nick’s, and Sand’s basically pushing his back to make sure he keeps going upwards.

“I used to come up here to skip school,” Nick is explaining, not sounding like he’s having trouble at all.

Breathless, Ray asks, “Wouldn’t school have been easier?”

“Oh, they didn’t like me so much-“

“-Because of the-“

“-Yeah, yeah, you know how it is,” he says cheerfully.

And they finally reach the top, twigs in Sand’s hair and dirt all down Ray’s side, wide smile on Nick’s face and a growing one on Sand’s.

Ray makes a sceptical expression as he approaches the picnic benches.

They kind of do look like shit, Sand agrees, bare patches of long-peeled paint and some worrying dips in the one closest to them, but the middle one should do the job.

He checked.

“Okay, now jump up and down,” he told Nick, standing back and holding his phone light up to see clearly.

Nick, on top of the table, said, “How hard are you planning on doing it?”

“If anyone knows that better than-“

Interrupting with a laugh, Nick nodded, said, “Yeah, okay, checking is good,” and starts jumping.

“Feels fine?”

“Hmm,” Nick considered, still bouncing, “No cracks, maybe some wobbling?”

Perfect.

…

“Are you sure,” Ray wheedles, again, not hopeful but not trusting the benches.

Nick nods sadly.

Sand rolls his eyes and says, “If I tie you to a tree, we’ll spend a week checking for ticks,” just like he did last time.

He sighs.

“Aren’t the benches a little…” and he looks at them again, because for real.

Finally letting the backpack drop, Sand reaches inside and rummages for a second, before pulling out a rolled-up towel.

He flicks it open, onto one of the tables, and says, “Don’t worry, the towel’s clean.”

So prepared.

“Put it away,” Sand tells him sternly, grinning himself, “You’re annoying.”

“What?” he asks, confused, points at himself.

“Yeah, that,” Sand agrees, nodding at Ray’s face.

Ray pouts.

Eventually, Sand looks away from him, and Ray watches his small, pleased smile when he says, “Thanks, Nick.”

“No worries, man,” says Nick, smoothing down a corner of the towel, which now has some other stuff on it.

From the backpack, Ray guesses.

Ray does have good ideas, and the best one is always handing those ideas to Sand so he can finish them.

Second towel, lube, some-

“Ooh, is this the new rope?” he gasps, running a finger over it – it feels rough even to the touch, not like what they’ve used before, and Ray turns to grin at them both. “You didn’t say you found it!”

When Sand leans in, they meet tongue-first – he gets Ray, really he does.

…

Nick takes himself, Ray’s clothes, and the backpack off to the next bench over –  nearly but not quite perpendicular to Sand and Ray’s, it gives him a good view, but he’s a couple of yards away, far enough to feel like they might not have spotted him, definitely far enough for them to forget he’s there soon, it’s perfect.

He grabs a banana from the backpack and unlocks his phone.

Sand gives him a thumbs-up, so he turns on the audio. Not music, it’s an ASMR thing that sounds like a muffled family picnic, because of the theme, and he’s going to slowly turn up the sound as they get more into it – there’s a whole plan, he’s faithful to it, it’s going to be awesome.

For now, though, he sits back and watches as Sand cajoles Ray into putting one leg up onto the table part, leaving the other one down on the bench.

“Feels okay?”

Ray, as always, says, “No, too much effort,” and whines at Sand.

He can’t see Ray’s face too well, but he can see the fondness on Sand’s, and he can see the heat in Sand’s eyes as well, so he can guess what Ray’s got going on that makes Sand say, “You can manage it.”

That always does something to Nick – not Ray’s whole whiny thing, that’s not hot, and not really Sand’s bossy act, but the combination of it, the way Ray will seem more naked just by the way Sand looks at him – Nick feels his crotch stirring, tightening, and decides not to do anything about it just yet.

Sand’s hands move over the rope and over Ray’s ankle with equally careful consideration, running back and forth, and Nick watches the way he leans over to affix the leg up on the table, then strokes a hand all the way up Ray’s leg, up to his exposed ass.

Doesn’t seem to do anything with it, even though Ray’s whining, and moves to the other ankle.

His body hides Ray from Nick for a second, so he watches Sand’s hands, folding over the rope once before fixing that ankle to the bench.

“Why do you do it like that?” Nick calls.

Sand turns, and he doesn’t look surprised enough to have actually forgotten that Nick was there yet – but there’s a startled jump in what he can see of Ray’s body that makes Nick smirk.

Echoing smile on his face, Sand says, “The rope?”

“Yeah, why do you fold it?” he asks, curious.

“Oh, it’s safer for his nerve endings,” Sand explains, going to pick up the lube. “Distributes the pressure more evenly,” and stops talking to Nick to say a barely audible, “Shh, I know.”

Nick sits back, satisfied by the explanation.

He wasn’t there for the others’ whole discussion of what exactly they wanted to do – he knows what Ray wanted, announcing around dinner last week that he wanted Sand to fuck him against a tree, will you help, Nick? – so he watches with interest as Sand strokes Ray like he’s a cat, hand open over his whole back, seeming to scratch down it, and Ray turns his head like he’s trying to watch Sand’s face.

The face that must be disappearing from sight, the way Sand goes to kneel behind him.

Nick leans over to one side.

Ray’s arms are free, whole top half of his body squirming as Sand’s face enters his crease, and Nick can hear sounds like the dirtiest kissing, licking and sucking sounds as Ray groans, and Nick remembers-

He doesn’t bother to unlock his phone, just presses the ‘volume up’ key twice, and can’t see any reaction to the sudden jump in the sounds of, “What a lovely day,” nonsense discussion.

Sand’s head bobs, and Nick suddenly, inanely, wishes he could see exactly what his tongue is doing.

Moving, Ray’s chest is against the towel but his hands are up, under him, doing something that makes him twist and gasp louder.

Increasing the volume again, Nick suggests, “Is he supposed to be touching himself?”

This time they both jump.

“Ray,” Sand scolds, head drawing back, met with a high-pitched whine.

Their chests are heaving – hey, so is Nick’s, even though he’s for sure the only one without a hand on his cock. Sand stands up, over Ray, and it’s weird that he can look so intimidating, skinny as he is, still having a twig in his hair like that, but Nick’s pretty fucking hard now and that can make you see shit that isn’t really there, for sure.

He’s got the lube to hand, and Nick presses his hands against his own thighs, leans back, watches.

Sand entering Ray seems to make them both shudder, gasp, and Nick finds himself gasping too, in unison, much more quietly.

One hand pressing both of Ray’s against the table, another stroking up and down the higher-up leg, Sand pounds into him hard, and Nick finds himself watching the movement of jeans over Sand’s mostly-clothed thigh. He wonders if there’ll be an impression on Ray’s skin after.

They seem to breathe in sync, and Ray’s squirming makes his head turn, looking nearly in Nick’s direction so he can see the almost-pained squint, half-open mouth like he’s trying to groan, shadow cast by Sand’s arm over him.

Nick doesn’t touch himself – he’s the lookout.

He keeps looking.

[mioyeo]

I’m a Dad ?! : 1# MEETING HIM

Just to be left with a baby all of the sudden when your just a growing teenager yourself isn’t easy

Pairing : player!Choi San x Ateez

Warnings : this chapter includes Meantions of illnesses , Slight fat shaming without knowledge, breakdowns,arguments, mentions of sexual inter course , character dead

Word count: 1,7k

He laid down exhausted from another night with one of his toys , the girls where all annoying so they ended up having to leave before he reached his limit

Everyone knew him as the player " Choi " , every girl in town had a crush on him because of his amazing looks and flirtatious ways of speaking to them

San stood up going to his balcony as he starred at the busy night time in Seoul letting the wind blow through his hair as he closed his eyes

Sometimes the question was , did he really want to keep being a player ? what type of future would he have if he kept his ways ?

" San come out dinner is ready ! "

One of his roommates called out for him making the male step out the balcony and go out the room just to be attacked with the delicious smell coming from the kitchen

" It smells so good in here "

He sat down smiling as the other roommates came out and sat down as well

“Wooyoung’s skills ain’t no joke ”

" Glad you guys like my food, but let's eat before it gets cold "

They paced each other's plates and started digging in

" So how was your hook up ? I saw her ran out crying  as I was coming in "

Yunho asked as he held in the urge to laugh

" Horrible I yelled at her for scratching me hard on the back , they don't satisfy me anymore it was all fun at first but now it's just plain irritating with these dumb ass girls "

" I mean all you want is to get laid so it really shouldn't be a problem to bear with them ? "

Hongjoong laughed as he took a sip of his water looking at San

" What do you mean bear with it ? , she dug her long ass nails on my back it hurts "

" So what type of s3x do you like since the aggressive one is not for you ? "

" He likes the gentle one where the girls whisper sweet things to him as he moans softly for more , and he has a neck kiss kink "

Everyone looked at Jongho surprised

" What ? He was talking about it to her "

" Jongho did you spy on me ?! "

He shook his head scooping the food into his mouth

" Yeah I heard it too, let's say you where kinda loud when that happened "

Seonghwa and Mingi laughed clearly amused by the look on San’s face

" Wait are we talking about that one girl San incredibly dated for months almost a year ? "

" Yeah , where is she actually ? It's been a while since I saw  her at the flower "

Yunho asked looking for an answer

" She actually left San and said he deserved someone who'd last longer than she would whatever that meant and just left him standing in the rain "

Wooyoung said sighing seeing  San gripping his cup hard

" Is that why he became like this ? "

" I'd say yes , it was his way of handling the pain and heartbreak "

He scoffed at the way they talked about him as if he wasn't even there in the first place

" I almost forgot to say I actually saw her last week , she looked really pale and horrible let alone she seemed to have gained weight "

Hongjoong said looking at San

" That's her problem I don't care , and can we please stop talking about her ? I'm over it "

San said almost slamming his hands on the table

" Chill dude , since your over it why do you care if we talk about her  ? "

Yeosang said pouring juice into his cup

" Yeah why do you care you guys broke up "

" Because she fucking left me ! Do you like talking about people who hurt you ?! "

He yelled at Mingi with anger filled in his voice

" San calm down he didn't mean it to sound that w-"

" No Seonghwa I meant what I said, why does he care ? They clearly broke up "

Mingi stopped the elder from defending him as he crossed his arms looking at San

" Why do you care ? , I can talk as much as I want about her she's not yours anymore you said you've moved on so what's the deal? "

" Nobody talks to their friends about their ex "

San yelled again

" San ! Stop yelling and Mingi drop it "

Wooyoung yelled at both of them to stop

" Wooyoung's right stop yelling it's late already so stop making  unnecessary drama "

Hongjoong held Mingi back who had a frown on his face

" You guys really are some- "

Seonghwa was cut off by their house phone ringing

" Hello who's there ? "

" Good evening, This is Seouls hospital am I perhaps talking to  Choi San ? "

" Ah , no it's his friend but why is the hospital calling him for and this late ? "

Everyone looked at him confused when he said hospital

" Well we tried to reach for any  relatives of the deceased but just found this number on a peace of paper saying Choi San , and we need him to come and get something "

" Ok we'll be there shortly ..... thank you bye "

Seonghwa looked at the confused boys

" San you need to go to the hospital urgently someone you apparently know passed away and they need you to get something "

San's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, he didn't understand what Seonghwa meant

" San ! you need to go to the hospital now hurry and let's go don't just stand there ! "

Seonghwa snapped his fingers at him

" Let's go ! "

..........

San was still dumbfounded by everything that was happening but still dragged himself inside the hospital and walked to the receptionist

" Excuse me miss , I was called suddenly to be here because someone I apparently knew passed away and they want me to get som-"

" Choi San ?! "

" Yeah that's my na- "

" We have been waiting for you follow me ! "

The nurse rushed towards the baby station making him confused  to why he was there

" Why are we in the Baby section ? "

" Sir , as you see that tiny one with the Shiba-Inu onesie is your son his mom just passed away after birth , we have tried to get her to stay strong but she gave up the battle in the end "

" But I don't have a child and I wasn't expecting a child this must be a mistake I'm not the only Choi San that exits "

The nurse checked him out to be sure before saying anything else

" But you are the guy in the picture thought see "

She pulled out a mini picture

The picture

" So are you really going to tell me that this isn't really you either sir ? "

He looked at the picture feeling strange

" And there is a message behind it too , I feel bad for you having to loose a loved one "

" I want a DNA test , this isn't enough to prove that I'm related to that child in there "

The nurse signaled him to follow her towards the lab

" Here , they will take your Saliva or even blood for a test so wait outside "

"Here , they will take your Saliva or even blood for a test so wait outside "

" San what is all this ? "

Hongjoong asked as he looked at the younger who had a frown on his face

" I don't know , their are telling me that I am father of  some random child I don't know "

San looked up to him feeling some type of uneasiness rush throughout his whole body

" And are you waiting for the results? "

" No , the results will come in some days "

He sighed sitting down as he flipped the photo and started reading the message , the hand writing seemed very familiar too

The message

𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘣𝘴 ,  𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘐𝘯 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 , 𝘴𝘰 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 . 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦  𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 , 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯  𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦  𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 way to 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 , 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯  𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱  𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 , 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 ,  𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰u

“ J-Jasmine ”

He stuttered her name choking on his tears as he fell to his knees

" Choi San the results will be available in s-"

" I'll take my son with me "

" Oh... ok , we will get him ready to leave with you so please wait at the baby station "

San started throwing the chairs around angrily

" Why did you lie to me ?! "

Seonghwa who had read the message behind the picture held him tight into his embrace

" San it's ok , let's get the little one and go home so you can rest i under- "

" You don't fucking understand me Seonghwa ?! I was left with a child and sh-he is dead how will I get over it , all this time I’ve been blaming her ! "

He shed tears hiccuping without an end

" What if I'll be a bad dad ? I'm still a child myself , I barely finished college "

" San please it's never to late for you to grow up and be someone for your child , you know we are here we will help you through this "

Yunho hugged him patting his back

" Guys look how cute and tiny he is "

Wooyoung whispered smiling at the baby carrier

" He indeed looks like his dad "

Yeosang teased making San smile with tears

" Really ? Can I see him "

San asked wiping his tears , all his worries suddenly gone as he starred at his son

" He-e is so adorable and beautiful an-nd looks just like his mom "

He sucked in his tears smiling at the tiny baby that grabbed his finger smiling with his closed eyes

" See your already bonding with him "

Mingi said patting his back

" Guys let's leave its so depressing here with all these machines beeping "

Hongjoong said making everyone go out towards the family van

" Now that you've become a dad San you should really stop sleeping around "

Seonghwa said and San nodded unable to stop staring at the little one that he grew to love

I'll protect you will all my strength my Sanie~

[polyamorousmood]

can you be a teenager and be polyamorous?

this sounds like a silly question, but can i explain real quick-

so i’m, ofc, a teenager, and i’ve never actually been in any kind of romantic relationship before, or even kissed anyone - not that i don’t want to, my parents are just homophobic - and idk, i think i’m polyam, but… like, am i allowed to be, if i’m a teenager? i’m ace and i already know i don’t want any kind of sexual relationship w/ anyone, and i know that polyamory is often only seen as a sexual thing by a lot of the general public, so maybe that’s why i’ve seen so much stuff online saying that kids can’t be polyam as it’s inherently sexual (i don’t think it always is), or the classic ‘they’re too young to know’ but i just feel like they’re right sometimes, like, i haven’t had the experience and years and stuff that adults have had, and that makes me feel like an idiot for even wanting anything to do w/ this part of the community.

except… it’s like. when i think of being older and married or in a relationship, i always think of it being someone who’s not a man (i’m a nonbinary lesbian), but like, i also think of it as more than one person? like. i’d be happy w/ two wives i think. or a partner who has a partner, that i’m not dating, esp since i’m ace and not of course everyone else is and everyone has different needs wants in a relationship. and while these are obviously just thoughts, i’ve also put. like. a lot of thought into it, and the traditional relationship structure (monogamous man/woman) doesn’t really seem like something that work for me. like also bc i’m aro and i could have a qpr but i wouldn’t mind if it was w/ more than one person or if my partner had like a date or other qpr partner or like… you get the gist. not even ‘wouldn’t mind’ i think it’d be neat, like the traditional relationship structure just never felt like it was right for me.

idk, i’m sorry, this ask is so incoherent. i just. wanted to know if i could be teenage and polyam, or if there’s something wrong w/ me and my thinking for wanting to be so, like i honestly don’t know if there is, and it’s not great sometimes, wanting to use a label for yourself in your head and not knowing if you… can

TL;DR (and it will be long): you can be whatever you feel, at any stage of life, forever. So, yeah, it could be other things, but if that's how your feeling, it doesn't really matter if you change your mind later. You can be it now.

So here's the thing: you do have a lot going on. All teenagers do, and as much as adults condescend to teenagers about it, the only way to figure it out for you personally is for you --personally-- to stumble through it. And you're clearly a bit overwhelmed. That's chill and normal. As stressful as it is, try not to stress it; these are all things that will be okay once the dust has settled.

When I was a teen, I didn't want to touch anyone. I thought I was ace. I barely even wanted a romantic relationship. Now I want several high-sex romantic relationships. I changed in that. I haven't changed in other ways, such as not wanting kids. Everyone told me I'd want them eventually, and here I am as an established adult, happily childless.

If you think you're poly now, you're allowed to call yourself poly! If you wanna say you're "questioning poly" or "interested in exploring" poly that's fine, too, in the same way bi people sometimes go "I'm mean I'm pretty sure I'm bi because my gender people SO HOT but some days I'm not feeling it and I've never actually had gay sex soooo for now I'm just going to call myself bicurious". And a lot of people will probably tell you you're too young to know, but that's not going to change how you feel. Maybe you'll grow in a different direction. Maybe you'll have a 10 year headstart on happiness that everyone on poly forums wishes they had. Both of those things sound fine to me. Those are both 👌👍✅ outcomes.

You can also want all those things and not consider yourself poly. Maybe you're just meant to join a commune 🤷

The point of labels is for you to be able to describe your experience, not to define you. If you think "poly" is an adequate word to describe the experience of "ace but wanting to build my life with multiple close women" then go for it! You could also describe yourself as other things to other people. Like, if you're in a very queer environment like Tumblr, you might feel comfortable saying "I wanna be in a poly lesbian QPR!" but to conservative adults you might just stick to "I'm not looking to get married too quick, its just going to be me and my best girl friends for awhile!" and to someone who's trying to understand but really isn't getting it you might choose to describe it as "I'm trying to found-family-trope my life. Like, we're not sexual, but we're everything for each other, you know?"

So I guess to wrap this up back to you initial question: "poly" isn't inherently sexual, and you can use it to describe anything you think it applies to, yourself especially. However, it may carry that connotation with others, so it might be a lot of trouble (up to you whether its worth that trouble) to identify yourself as that to those people. In your own head? do whatever the fuck you want lmao I'm not the thought police🚫🚓

Use them terms -- "poly" included -- when they suit you. Be that the current mood, the current conversation, the current stage in life, whatever.

[msfbgraves]

i swear that TIG lowkey likes terry and daniel together lmao. just from some of the things he’s said in interviews or when asked to share his thoughts…he may not know what silverrusso is but he definitely has some ideas about them. maybe even feels. and not just that, but TIG’s acting choices concerning daniel even from kk3 have been highly suspicious. it got more subtle in CK but at the same time more sensual and more powerful?? every single scene they have together is charged with this wild energy that is barely restrained. the air cackles with electricity and terry channels this into every second he has with danny boy. amazing. ridiculous. outrageous chemistry.

I read tkk3 as maniac decides to seduce young teenager as revenge for hurting his own flame, falls in love at first glimpse (forget sight! He's already intrigued by his happily dancing shadow), doubles down on the seduction since the boy is into it (God he's pretty), gets unexpectedly broken up with, beats him up twice (by proxy) because that is Not Allowed, admits defeat, goes on Massive Bender, becomes a Good Person because The Boy seems into that, truly tries to not be a maniac anymore, stops collecting young boys because I suppose his therapist conditioned him out of those behaviours with a shock collar, puts all his manic energies into Being Normal, you've never seen anyone be This Extra about Being Chill, and then he takes one look at those Baby Browns and all of that goes straight out of the window. It really feels like TIG went: "What would I be liked coked out of my mind?" But the thing is, and I say this with the deepest love and respect, I think that most people could not take enough coke to get to his baseline of energy. And yes he seems very happy to work with Ralph Macchio, but (and I know I'm not spouting a popular opinion here) Ralph seems a bit reserved? Intimidated? That's just the vibe I get. Yes, the energy is off the charts, and he calls Thomas the sweetest guy and an absolute pro but I detect some "Whoa! You're a lot, sir" 😅 there. Like, Ralph [in whatever he chooses to show us, which I know is a persona] normally makes men all bashful or helplessly aggressive because they're into him and They Shouldn't Be. And Ralph is always like "I'm just A Little Guy" while blowing the world kisses. But Thomas reacts to that [Again, who knows him really, it's all in interviews and he too is at work so it's a persona too] not with confusion but with "Hells yeah, get me some of that!" and it's the first time Ralph truly does not have the upper hand when playing the seduction card. That's how I see Silverusso in canon too. Daniel is very much into Terry but he's got such a forceful personality, Daniel is afraid he'll get swamped. And Terry can do a lot of things, but truly tone himself down is not one of them. And sure this could all be an act to play up their roles in a franchise in interviews, actors are known to do that. But that's how their dynamic reads to me.

And of course TIG knows what Silverusso is. They all know what LawRusso is, do we believe they haven't looked into other ships? He's been writing scripts for TV, of course he knows about fandom. He may have been asked not to read any for legal reasons but he clearly appreciates fandom going by his enthusiasm for fanart. Naw, man knows what's up.

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

Elise Propaganda

"The game she's from was relentlessly dragged through the mud for years and years and Elise took the brunt of it. She's a teenage girl who due to spoilery circumstances can't cry or else she'll basically trigger the apocalypse, AND she's the ruler of her kingdom - and gets dragged into Eggman's plot and faces a ton of danger. She basically has never been allowed to let go, or be herself, or just do whatever she wants, or even show emotion - and her arc is about her starting to try and go against that and be free. BUT because she's a human girl everyone in the Sonic fanbase hated her for more than a decade."

"she did nothing wrong!!!! people love to villify her, pit her against other girls for no reason, and make her seem as selfish as can be even though she literally spends the entire game being pretty selfless. one moment of selfishness and of wanting a friend amidst her 10 years of loneliness makes her the worst person ever, even if SHE ACTUALLY DOESNT EVEN DO IT? she still gives up everything after all that time spent alone and it's like the only thing she does that's of (bad) note the entire game. the rest of the time she's being captured (by eggman), trying to help sonic (by pointing things out during gameplay), learning to be brave and growing as a person (escaping with Amy, running away from Eggman), literally giving herself up so no else gets harmed, and just being nice overall. people also love to say Amy hates her or something even though they literally become friends in the game? even after the kiss, they're clearly doing fine, Amy hugs her after they win. hello?? i just love her a lot and people are so mean to her? she's a sweet girl, she just wanted a friend and that makes her the worst i guess. she doesnt even go through with it😭"

Veth Propaganda

"(spoilers) people have mostly chilled out about it now but bestie back in 2020 people were saying that she was as bad as if not worse than HotBoi McWarcrimes Treason Raven Way bc she SUGGESTED they do an immoral act HYPOTHETICALLY so that she could get her original body back. she didn’t even WANT to do it she was just trying to figure out what the evil hag who cursed her wanted from them. also people willfully misinterpret her character saying that she used to be an interesting character, but that once she got what she wanted she should have stopped adventuring and gone back to being a housewife bc she was Boring and Being A Bad Mom. like do they even hear themselves????? SHES A WORKING MOM OKAY. SHE LIKES ADVENTURING. LEAVE HER ALONE god forbid women do anything"

2B Propaganda

"constant victim of oversexualization and in pretty much all of the n:a ai ""art"" i've seen like i get she's pretty but this is too much. say what you will but she would Not fucking look like that sometimes..."

[system-comforts]

Hi! This might be a little disorganised and super long, but i'm wondering if whatever's going on with us is plurality.

Right now all the other guys are quiet, and just chilling out. Some of em are saying "yeah, dude, we're a system." and I dunno. Also there's Elliott, who is pretty insistent that he's the only one who's actually there and real and has ever been, and he has no idea what the rest of us are.

I have no idea how any of us knew each other's names. There was definitely some good old childhood trauma and earlier thought it was more of a "oh just have a bad sense of self" thing, but after coming across the plural community on a search for cptsd things, realised that there's a lot of things that match up.

Then everyone kinda started being loud and like "oh yeah, hi, I'm here, different person, just roommates in this head apartment" and I don't even know if I was the one who figured that out. Probably not, because it's super fuzzy, and none of us can really remember clearly what happened when anyone else was in control/fronting/doing their thing.

Used to think that it was just normal dissociation/derealisation/depersonalisation or whatever, but sometimes when talking to therapists or other people descriptions are vague and blurry, and then suddenly another time the memory is super clear??

Also is it possible to think you're a system and create system symptoms without being one?

Because sometimes the dude who's kinda just there and being rational and isn't really a person, just always there fronting on the right side keeping us from actually doing anything that stupid, mostly just making us seem polite, ESPECIALLY Callum, he's aggressive and loud and also does not care about manners, when we're all like "no whatever's going on isn't a system, this is all some other weird brain thing" smushes it all into one gray blob that's sort of badly mixed?

And then sometimes everyone just becomes themselves again, either when someone brings something up that we all have different views on, like yesterday, when we were supposed to journal about religion/source energy, and we've all got different ideas about that, or whenever anyone thinks "huh, are we a system?"

Yesterday it was kind of like everyone was popping up and talking and also started being really loud, and half of us were denying the other's existence, and the other half were just existing and being loud, and I don't know, but it felt like warzone brain.

Also sometimes the gajillion thoughts a minute can be all of us screaming across the house, or just one of us having a lot of loud thoughts and their brain just doing annoying brain stuff.

It was really stressful yesterday, and I've been scared to talk to anyone about this or any suspicions of plurality. I feel like it's either going to be super stigmatised or I'm going to be completely ignored and misinterpreted, which it won't be the first time. Also really scared that it'll make getting hrt take even longer, even though we're all dudes, and know what we need. I know I should talk to my therapist, but I'm really scared. Others have been asking for me to tell them what's going on, but I'm terrified. All of us are. Is it a good idea to open up about this?

Also, on a goofier level, I/we have joked about being a disorganised mess because this brain is an apartment of teenage boys.

Sorry, this is really long, but help please?

Hey there. Exploring if you're a system or not can definitely be a complicated and long process. It can be even more difficult as you deal with other things going on in your mind. There are a couple different questions in your ask which I'll try to address, as well as offer my support to you as you continue to explore this question.

One of your main questions is wondering if you are a system. We can give perspective from our own experience and try to give resources that may help with this question. Ultimately, whether you are plural, have something else going on, or something else is determined by you, your doctors and therapists, and other professionals.

It can he helpful to consult credible online resources, books, and even explore other people's personal experiences, but also know that every system is different and may not present like others online. We hope you can continue to explore plurality by continuing to talk with your members, exploring people's roles, and even looking into other mental health conditions and theories.

All this being said, your second question asked if it's a good idea to tell your therapist about you questioning being plural. This is hard for me to give a yes or no to, since I don't know your therapist, your monetary or home/family situation, etc. That being said, having someone to help as you question your plurality and general mental health can be extremely helpful. I highly suggest talking to your therapist especially if it involves potential trauma.

As a final note, it's understandable to fear being misunderstood or ignored. Not all therapists are knowledgable about dissociation, systems, or plurality in general. That being said, how you explain your plurality can be important in their initial impression and direction for therapy and/or diagnosis. If you need to, write out before hand what you want to explain. Write about symptoms, like forgetfulness, fuzzy memories, identity confusion, and about your potential system members. Using system language (headmates, alters, system, dissociation) is up to you, but it might be best to avoid those words so the therapist can get an unbiased view and give their unbiased opinion.

Finally, if your therapist feels they are not qualified or unsure about what to do next, they may consult other therapists or even suggest a different one. This can be good for getting more specific help.

Your final question is if a person can not be a system but create symptoms on their own. In my opinion, people can attribute symptoms they have to one disorder or cause when another might fit better. This doesn't happen all the time; it just means that consulting many different sources, talking with professionals, and being honest and curious about your symptoms are important things to do. And importantly, it's ok to explore your mental health, to question what you might have, and it's ok to be right or wrong about that. In my view, it's better to explore something and be wrong than to let a potential problem be left unexplored/treated.

I hope some of this advice has helped! We wish you the best of luck.

-mod venus

[unpassive-viewer]

Kings of Summer (2013) Review

“Hey Joe? Did you know we’ve been walking for half a mile? I can tell by how much we’ve bonded.” - Biaggio

“He took the Monopoly, too. As a way to spite me.” - Frank Toy

Hey gang, wow. It’s been like... eight months since I was here last. Still no Northman review in the works. To be honest I sort of forgot I had this account. I started grad school in January, so my other passion projects sort of went out the window. 

Instead of reviewing a movie that anyone remembers or is in theatres, I’m going to review/break down one of my favourites - Kings of Summer. I don’t think that many people know this one. It was Nick Robinson pre-Love Simon. I have endless love for this film. It feels like a warm hug. Every time I need to bring myself back to reality or chill the hell out, I watch this film. Considering the whole grad school thing, it’s likely I’ll need to watch it again pretty soon. 

The movie follows three teenagers who are frustrated with their families and decide to build a house in the woods to escape them for a summer. It’s a coming of age story about navigating relationships, self-discovery and growing up. Sounds simple enough, right? But this film is so much more than a typical attempt at engaging a teenage audience. In addition to the coming of age element, it’s also a look at a father/son relationship that’s on the rocks, as they tend to be when you’re 15. I really believe it has something for everyone, it is so funny and so wholesome. 

The cast is “star-studded” in the best way. Nick Robinson (as mentioned), Alison Brie, Nick Offerman, Megan Mullally, Moises Arias (maybe better known as Rico from Hannah Montanna), Lilli Reinhart (Riverdale), Erin Moriarty (The Boys), Marc Evan Jackson (Kevin from B99), Eugene Cordero, and Hannibal Buress and Kumail Nanjiani in smaller roles, among others. All of the adult actors are pretty established in comedy, and bring really interesting depth to the characters they embody. 

The soundtrack is fantastic. Like I could not think of better music for a coming of age movie. I regularly listen to it while studying or writing papers. ( https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2c86gY4Ehvpngyxx8LwnTX?si=c2f2381ee3c2468f for anyone interested). 

The art direction is phenomenal as well. This movie is very close to Arrival in that watching it feels like taking a breath of fresh air. There are so many shots that seem to place you into a cool summer evening in the woods. They remind me so much of the summers of my childhood, where I’d be out before noon and come home as the streetlights turned on. 

And it is funny. The humour is very much typical of Nick Offerman, paired with capitalizing on tension and awkwardness among all the characters. It gives me a little secondhand embarrassment, but some of the most effective humour is within the scenes you sort of wish would just end. 

So, clearly I’m already biased to this film. It’s in my top five movies of all time, if that says anything. 

From here on is more of an analysis, so spoilers inbound:

I’m going to organize the content of this movie into two sections - one which will follow the standard three-act play, and the other which I will affectionately label “fuck around and find out”. 

Before we start, some general character sketches of everyone so I don’t have to go through the entire synopsis.

Joe Toy: Fantastical thinker, head-in-the-clouds-syndrome. Rebellious, sort of petulant, and at least in the beginning expects to be able to do whatever he wants just because he wants to. Bottom line, he’s a selfish teenager. 

Patrick Keeney: Joe’s best friend. Cautious - a total reflection of his household. Patrick is caught between wanting to make Joe happy, his realistic thinking, and figuring out who he wants to be in relation to those around him. 

Biaggio: A-grade comic relief. Awkward, a little strange, but very loyal. We don’t hear anything about Biaggio’s family until the last 30 minutes of the movie. We don’t find out if they anticipated his disappearance or not since he seems to trust his father, but at the very least they were not worried that he’d gone missing. We can only imagine the kind of household he lives in considering his personality and the relative ease with which he returns after being gone for three and a half weeks. 

Kelly: Joe’s love interest. Clearly has her own shit going on. She opens with a boyfriend who is visibly a lot older than she is, and is working a job where she has to deal with idiots constantly. Kelly needs someone who is kind to her and treats her like a person, which is 100% not Joe for like 95% of the movie, which is probably why she ends up with Patrick. 

Frank Toy: Joe’s dad, widower, typical Nick Offerman character. Headstrong and combative. Not bad, just lonely and punishing others for it. 

Mr and Ms. Keeney: overbearing helicopter parents who love their son a whole lot, despite how in his business they are.

Heather: Joe’s older sister. Must be somewhat similar to her mother, based on the way that Frank describes their mother as being someone who just “let Joe be”. She’s a sort of voice of reason, but is also fed up with her father’s antics. She’s the quintessential “sibling who got out of the oppressive household” character. Often a catalyst for Frank’s realizations. 

And with that, I will break down the acts and the things that I noticed. This is mostly a commentary on how the acts set one another up, and the ways they transition between one another. 

Act 1: The transitions between acts are marked with the song “The Pipe”. The first time we hear this song is prior to the director giving us the first shot - it plays, and eventually opens on Joe (Nick Robinson), Patrick (Gabriel Basso) and Biaggio (Moises Arias) in what we will later learn is a flash-forward. They’re in-sync, hammering on a pipe in the middle of the woods. As any film major will say, the opening scene is always the most important of the movie. It sets up the entire rest of the film. This shot gives us an important look into their dynamic - Biaggio dancing, and Patrick and Joe complementing one another’s beats on the pipe. In this scene, they are still youthful. We then jump to “one month earlier”, with Joe in the shower dreaming about Kelly (Erin Moriarty), and Frank (Nick Offerman) pounding on the bathroom door, “you’ve been in there for fifty four, no, fifty five minutes!”. From these scenes we know several things - 1) Patrick and Joe are the best friends of the group, Biaggio is adding his very particular flare to the dynamic, 2) Kelly is Joe’s love interest, 3) Joe and Frank are at complete odds with one another. In act 1, we’re at the beginning of our character’s arcs. Joe is rebelling against his father, Frank is bringing down the hammer on his son, Patrick wants to get away from his helicopter parents, and... well, we don’t know much about Biaggio. It’s Biaggio and Joe who initially discover the clearing in the woods where they’ll build the house, and so the plan is hatched.

The crucial parts we learn in Act 1 are all the things that motivate the change which takes place in Act 2. The art direction here is more simplistic, since we’re just setting up the characters. Much of it is reflected between the beginning and ends of the narratives with the characters external to Joe; Biaggio is the first to find the clearing where they build the house, as they walk in darkness after escaping the beach party. Biaggio is conversely the last to leave, also under the cover of darkness. Patrick stumbles into the clearing with the two of them the following day, unsure of the plan, and is the one to tear a hole in the wall of the house they built together. I’m sensing metaphors all around...

Act 2: The second time we hear “The Pipe” it shepherds in Act 2. It comes after a scene with the parents of Patrick and Joe check a greyhound bus for evidence of where their children have gone, and find their phones and a single Monopoly piece. Frank’s Monopoly piece. The scene ends with Frank saying, “he’s taunting me,”. Act 2 begins with, of course, “The Pipe”. Now in the present, we return to Patrick, Joe and Biaggio at the pipe in the woods, followed by Joe’s speech about “being men and answering to no one”. This, of course, will be the catalyst to all of Joe’s character development. 

The art direction begins to take on a warmer tone leading up to Act 2. The boys have broken out - they’re free, they’re having fun. There are multiple shots of the scenery, of the sunlight coming through the leaves of the trees - this is the part that really speaks to my childhood. 

Act 3: Act 3 begins again with “The Pipe”, but this time we don’t see Patrick, Joe and Biaggio. The music starts after Kelly brings Frank to the hideout in the woods, and Biaggio shows up to try and redirect the attention of a copperhead that has backed Joe and Kelly into a corner. This is where we somewhat of a resolution to Joe’s struggle with his father, when they begin to work together as a team. There’s as much of a heart-to-heart as you can get between them. 

Leading up to Act 3, after Joe kicks Patrick, Kelly and Biaggio from the house in the woods, the shots take a cooler tone. Joe’s scenes are overcast, whereas Patrick’s are still warm now that he’s back with his family. Patrick’s narrative at this point has mostly been based around how he’s already mature, he had much less learning to do than Joe, and could go home. Joe on the other hand suffers a radical shock to his worldview, which is reflected in the scenery. I’ll discuss in a moment the divergence between the fuck around and find out sections of the movie, but I’ll note here that Patrick’s scene immediately follows a scene showing Frank and Joe. Patrick is mirrored in the same position, but is the only one of the three who is actually happy.

The resolution to Act 3 is somewhat ambiguous. We don’t totally get resolution between Patrick, Joe, and Kelly, but we can see that there’s at least forgiveness between them. Ultimately we don’t need to, because we can see that Joe has grown up, completed his character arc, and he’s less of a petulant child than he was before. This leads essentially into my next method of breakdown:

Fuck Around/Find Out: The Frank and Joe Dichotomy

This breakdown I am making based on the character arcs of both Joe and Frank in relation to one another. This is split almost evenly 2/3 to 1/3 of the runtime, and is how we learn that Joe and his dad are very much parallel to one another. As much as Joe’s is the critical character arc, the narrative underpins the entire film. Frank is really a grown-up version of Joe, navigating his own grief and isolation, with no interest in doing any of the things that would allow him to have a better relationship with his son. They exist in opposition to one another, with Joe perpetually looking for the upper hand on his father. Even when Joe disappears, Frank maintains a “he’s messing with me” narrative, which Patrick’s parents do not have. This childish back and forth is what I’d label the “fuck around” portion of the film, which translates to at least the first 2/3.

The “find out” part of this breakdown takes place once we see that both Joe and his father are alone - physically and emotionally. Joe has cast all of his friends aside after finding out Kelly is with Patrick, and Frank is alone after Heather leaves their house with the conversation, “Heather, am I a bastard?”, “no dad, a bastard would make everyone around him miserable just because he is,”. That’s the tie between them, when both of their arcs meet - they’re both making everyone else miserable because they are. 

The scene I’m most interested in is where their parallel scenes with food. Joe has run out of money for the chickens that he was “hunting” (buying form the Boston market) and elects to eat a mouse which we can assume came from inside the forest house, whereas Frank hasn’t bothered to cook anything and instead finally eats the leftover dumplings that he’d previously complained about. They are united in their pathetic meals, neither deciding to take initiative and eat something other than what’s immediately available to them. They’re feeling sorry for themselves, why would they? The scene then cuts between them, both lying on their couches, looking up towards nothing. They are both alone, and they feel it. 

This is the scene I’d mentioned which leads into Patrick’s; Patrick is also reintroduced to us sleeping on a couch, but he’s the only one who is in a good mood. He’s been able to rest, and he’s given up on his idea that his parents are the villains (it’s debatable that he ever thought that in the first place). Throughout the film Patrick’s family is cast in contrast to Joe’s. They have inverse problems with their parents, but at the end of the day what Joe has that Patrick doesn’t is a perpetual power struggle between himself and his father. 

The scenes in the “find out” portion of the movie are where we start to see divergence between the characters. Joe is thrust into the realization that he needs to grow up for real in his isolation. I’d argue that his father also has to come to terms with admitting that he’s wrong, but Joe’s is the arc that is more glaring in this instance. The reason I say this is that if Frank had his own similar character arc, it’s unlikely that Joe would have felt the need to run away in the first place. Their dynamic culminates, of course, in them being able to at least somewhat settle their grievances at the end of the movie. Like any tumultuous parent/child relationship, there’s no real “sorry” moment, just a mutual understanding that settles between them. It’s the equivalent of your parent bringing you a bowl of fruit after a blow-out, or waking up to find they’ve taken your car to get its oil changed. 

So yeah, that’s my little (not so little) stream of consciousness assessment of Kings of Summer. I may come back and edit this one later - I’ve been writing about Harry Truman for the last three weeks, which makes it hard to switch into coherent creative-style writing. 

Have you seen Kings of Summer? If you haven’t, please watch it. It would make my nerd heart so happy to know other people like my favourite movies. 

Oh yeah, and if it wasn’t clear already - 5/5 stars. or 10/10. I have no idea what metric I’ve been using to rate movies, or if I even had for the last few posts. All you need to know is it’s good, ok?

[guardianspirits13]

Okay so with everything going on right now and all the exciting new information, there is one thing I see being overlooked a lot, and that is something I want to talk about: Natsuo Todoroki.

In almost every scene he appears in during the manga, he mentions Touya, and I really want to try to imagine the sort of effect this new information will have on him.

Natsuo and Touya have a clearly established relationship as kids, and while Fuyumi says they played together a lot, in one translation of a the scene in 253 Natsuo says that Touya used to tell him everything, implying that they also talked openly about what Endeavor was doing to their family and how they felt about it.

Natsuo was entirely ignored by Endeavor as a kid to the point where his existence was hardly acknowledged, and with information from the new light novel we know that Rei hardly took care of him either after Shouto was born. Natsuo would have been about four, not nearly old enough to do things on his own and was likely raised mostly by his older siblings.

Now imagine what it was like for Natsuo when Touya died. He would have been 10 at the most, and however Touya died (and I say died because it was considered a hard fact to the Todoroki family for almost a decade) and wether or not he witnessed it does not change the fact that it has been one of the most traumatic, defining events of his life so far. Not only was he still very much a child, Touya was likely his best friend and the single person he could rely on. Touya and Natsuo helped each other through the trauma they were both experiencing, so I can’t even imagine how devastating it would have been for Natsuo to lose his sole support system so suddenly without any grief counseling in sight.

If you think about it even now, at the core Dabi and Natsuo share strikingly similar viewpoints on hero society as a whole, and they both despise Endeavor for the same reasons. They also both seem to be very emotionally driven and have internalized their feelings that show only under stressful circumstances.

I am going to attribute the different outcomes in who they are now to Natsuo still having a stable home and Fuyumi to help him cope, and whatever happened to Touya he was almost definitely homeless and alone so it was easy for him to fall in with a group of loveable societal rejects (although I very much want to know exactly what he did for the years between ‘dying’ and joining the league).

So now finally, I will try my best to predict how Natsuo might react to the information that his brother is alive, especially assuming he finds out through the same video that Rei does. Horikoshi went out of his way to establish a relationship between the two, so either way it will definitely be heartbreaking.

First off is knowing that Touya is alive. Even with that information alone and nothing about Dabi himself, it would not explicitly be joyful. A huge part of who Natsuo has become is because of how his past-e.g. losing Touya- has shaped him. A significant example being that in the new light novel we learn that he wanted to be in the medical field to help people in situations like his mother ‘whose hearts have been hurt’. I think before any sort of positive emotion this information will definitely rattle him to the core, as it has Shouto and Endeavor. This is not just about Touya being alive, but it’s about how much of Natsuo’s life has been shaped by his death. I’d imagine under normal circumstances some form of joy or excitement would set in after the initial shock, but judging by the content of the video I can’t imagine that.

And finally we get to Touya’s status as a criminal, terrorist, and his admission to murdering over 30 people. I’m going to re-iterate what I said before, that Natsuo obviously looked up to his brother, and the image of teenaged Touya that he has been imagining and hearing in his head for the past decade is so drastically different from who he is now. **Now we have no reference point for how Touya was as a kid, wether or not he exhibited early antisocial tendencies or wether he was as kind and protective as the fandom seems to think of him. My point still stands that Natsuo looked up to him as a kid and immortalized him in his memory, so the cognitive dissonance between the Touya he knew and the Touya that we see now will also be destructive.

**Another side note, I wrote this before I saw the translation that Touya considered kiling Shouto while they were kids, which is certainly chilling and adds a whole nother level to this mess, so take that as you will

I honestly have no idea how he will react based on this last point.

One one hand, Natsuo is known for his brutal honesty in expressing how he feels, and this could be no different. There is definitely the possibility that he could blame Touya for abandoning them and betraying them, along with the horror of knowing how many people he murdered.

There is also a much different response to anticipate, mainly because Natsuo is also a very sympathetic person with a particular soft spot for his older brother, and may choose to view him as more as a victim.

Horikoshi is an incredible writer and is very capable of portraying subtle and complex emotions in his characters, and he is also well known for uncanny parallels and coming full circle in his writing, so I have theorized for a while now that the sibling’s responses to Touya’s return might be opposite to their willingness to forgive Endeavor, based mostly on their relationships with both of them. I think it would be poetic if Natsuo (who again is very emotionally driven) would have an initial response of just wanting to reunite with his brother and willing to overlook his transgressions in the moment, Shouto would still walk a middle line of being very conflicted and unsure, and if Fuyumi would blame him the most, for abandoning her and inadvertently leaving her to sacrifice most of her childhood and getting a higher education to look after the house and her younger brothers, as that had been a shared responsibility previously.

If you made it this far in the post, thank you so much for reading! Most of this is just speculation, but it’s been on my mind for a while so with the final reveal out of the way I have long been prepared to rant about the significance of Touya in Natsuo’s life and how his return would affect him. I’d love if you’s be willing to share your thoughts on all this before the next chapter.

Peace!

[finelinevogue]

Obsessed with your imagines you so when they have 3 kids and they’re all older! What about one where Harry has to have a sex talk with his kids OR y/n and Harry come home to find their kids throwing a party? I think both could be super funny

this has me excited cause i love the idea of them throwing a party when y/n and harry are at date night!! (does contain smut)

oli - 21, felix - 19, belle - 16

“We’re so fucking screwed.”

“Belle, for the millionth time, chill the fuck out.”

But how the fuck was anyone supposed to be chill when there was a full-on house party, close to being a rave, occurring in their house? A house that was their mum’s life work. A house party that their parents new nothing about. A night where absolutely anything and everything could go wrong.

The three siblings stood at the bottom of the stairs, in front of the door, looking around at the scenes occurring between each room. There were girls whispering to each other on the sofas, there was a group of guys playing beer pong in the kitchen and there was a large group of people hanging around by the pool and some even taking a dip. What had meant to be a low-key party had managed to turn into the whole neighbourhood plus the next town over. It was completely overboard.

“Who’s idea was this again?” Belle asked, clearly not understanding the full reasoning behind a full fledged party in their house.

“All of ours.” Oli responded, when in reality it was really just his, and a bit of Felix, idea.

“Nope. I’m not getting grounded because you two dickheads wanted to be rebels.” Belle put her hands up as if to stop this whole situation. She did not want to be a part of this and yet had somehow got screwed up with it all.

“So what are you going to do?” Felix asked.

“Anywhere where this doesn’t have my name stamped all over it.” Belle gestured around her, all of them groaning when they heard something smash from a nearby room. They were actually going to be locked up forever after this.

“Belle, mum and dad are out for the night. Dad said he booked a hotel for them to stay over at, so they won’t even be back until tomorrow morning.” Oli explained, trying to calm down his very nervous sister.

“Yeah, plus if you’re so insistent on leaving why did you get so dressed up?” Felix did have a point. Belle had gone through the effort tonight to be looking as best she could. She was sporting a little black dress with black fishnet tights and her trusty Doc Martens. It was a very colourful outfit, as she would explain. Belle had even gone to the effort of adding glue-on gems to her makeup. Whereas her brothers were just wearing sweaters and trousers and trainers. Typical teenage boys.

“I’ll bet that’s why.” Oli nodded behind Belle and smirked as he watched his little sister turn around.

Megan Dover. Belle’s high school crush and cleverest person in the year. Felix and Oli caught Belle blush when their little sister looked at Megan, waving to her cutely. Belle was a lot more introverted than Megan, but Belle didn’t mind. She admired that Megan was so outspoken and kind and smart, but too bad they didn’t truly know of Belle’s existence. At least, not really.

“Alright fine, i’ll stay, but just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Belle rolled her eyes and then walked off in the direction of the kitchen - if she was ever going to speak to Megan she’d need at least 4 shots in her system.

“Be safe little B.” Oli waved her off and then the two brothers looked at each other knowingly. “Is Heather here?”

“Not yet no, think she’s coming with the girls in a bit.” Felix checked his phone as his brother questioned him. “What about Bea?”

“She’s upstairs.”

“Why? I thought we weren’t allowing anyone upstairs?”

“Dude she’s my girlfriend, I think she gets a pass.” Oli patted his brothers back and then saunters up the stairs two at a time to go and find his girlfriend and reintroduce her to the party.

Another smash of something glass sounding came from the kitchen, along with a turn of screams and mumbles of oops.

“Fuck, we are so screwed.” Felix muttered under his breath as he made his way to the kitchen to clean up whatever was now broken.

••••

Meanwhile, you and Harry were basking in each other’s presence at a fancy new restaurant downtown called Caste Inn.

Harry decided it was time for you to have a treat and so was taking you out for dinner and then retreating to a fancy hotel, where he would not let you rest for the whole night. He was already being really handsy this evening, but you kept swatting his prying hands away because you were in public.

“Babe, c’mon i’m dying here!” He whined as you swatted his hand away from the skirt of your dress for the fifth time since mains. You were lucky you were in a crescent shaped booth so it was hard for anyone to see what was going on underneath the table, but you still felt so exposed.

“Quit it Harry.” You sniped, returning your attention back to the desserts menu. The restaurant was that kind of place where the portions are sparrow sized and yet cost you as much as it would to donate a kidney, so there was no surprise that you were still hungry and had room for dessert.

“Just wanna love on my wife.” He pouted next to you, keeping his arm slunk around the back of the booth to continue to caress your far shoulder delicately.

“We’re in the middle of a restaurant, you’re crazy.” You snickered, trying your hardest to focus on the desserts; Tiramisu, Chocolate Orange Gateau, Pecan Pie, Creme Brulé and an endless list of more mouthwatering yumminess.

“Fucking crazy for you, yes.” He kissed your cheek once, twice and then bit it too on the third, making you moan slightly at the exposure of it all. “You used to let me do this kind of thing all the time, what happened hey?”

“I got old.” You laughed, but really you felt saddened by the thought of it. You were approaching your forties and you felt as though time wasn’t on your side anymore. Life was all flying by so fast and it was becoming so hard to stop it for a moment to see how beautiful it all is. Harry could tell you were faking your happiness in that moment and he hated that you felt this way. He loved you. He would worship the ground you walk upon. Nothing would ever be too much of an ask for him if it meant keeping your happy. Yes, you were getting older, but it didn’t mean that was a bad thing. At least you were getting older together and becoming maturer together.

“Talk to me, love.” He gently asked, knowing there was something on your mind that was bothering you.

“I just… I just feel like i’m getting older—”

“You are love, yes.” He interrupted you, which earned him a slap to the thigh. He didn’t let your hand go though, leaving it to rest on his tight thigh.

“And then suddenly that’s going to be it. No more Y/N.”

“Don’t say things like that to me, please love.” Harry shook his head, squeezing your hand a little tighter.

“And I feel like i’ll have regretted not doing so many things. Like I won’t have lived my life.”

“Things like?”

“Things like riding a motorcycle with you. Things like staying up all night with a bottle of wine and a good bit of Elvis. Reckless things, like skinny dipping or crashing a high school party. Things like, having my husband finger fuck me in a public restaurant. I remember when everything seemed so free and chaotic and I loved it. Now I feel stuck.”

“Stuck how, love?” Harry leaned in closer to you, his eyes full of love and determination because if that’s what you wanted he could give you all those things - especially the orgasm.

“I’m a mum, H. You’re a dad. We’re parents,m. Good ones at that. Aren’t we supposed to be grown up and responsible now? We don’t get to take risks anymore, because we have a family right? God, I sound so pathetic.” You sighed and put the menu down, not thinking about which pudding you wanted to fill yourself up with anymore.

“Babe. If you want to ride a motorcycle and go skinny dipping then let’s fucking do it. Why are you so afraid to hold back? Because we have kids, because darling believe me when I tell you - however much it disturbs me - our kids are out doing just as many reckless and crazy things as we used to do. Maybe we should fuck the prestigious system and show our children, all parents - including us - that adulthood, parenthood, doesn’t define the choices you make. We do.”

You couldn’t stop looking at your husband, drinking in every last drop of his beauty. His words filled your heart with rose petals and chocolates, warming you up delightfully. God, you were so lucky to have him. He helped you through the most toughest of times and continued to stick with you, not because a ring says he has to, but because he loves you. Undeniably and irrevocably loves you.

That was all it took for you to comply.

Quickly, you moved one of your legs under the table cloth so it draped over Harry’s thighs and made an opening between your legs. The cloth hid everything well, along with the dirty napkins that sat upon your laps.

“Wh- what are you doing love?” Harry asked confused, after not hearing a word back from you for his earlier speech.

“Harry I love you, I do, but will you just shut up and fuck my pussy with your fingers already.” You whispered wetly against his ear with your lips. He groaned at the words and tightened his grip around your leg, widening the gap he had to work with.

His hand slid underneath your dress slowly, squeezing the flesh of your thighs in tease, until he got to where your panties were. Or at least where they should be.

“Shit, you’re not wearing any pants?” Harry asked quizzically, pushing his fingers against your glistening pussy and feeling just how ready you were for him.

“Oh fuck!” You muffled out before Harry quickly slapped your slit because you were making too much noise, which only then made you squeal a bit more. He slapped your cunt hard enough the second time for you to get the memo that you needed to be quiet - but fuck was that a challenge. As much as you can be quiet, you just don’t like to be. You like knowing that your moans and whines turn Harry in even more, just as much as you love hearing his.

“Fucking hell, soaked already.” His fingers toyed with the folds of your cunt, feeling how puffy they were between his ringed fingers. “Gotta be quiet for me okay?” Just as he started pushing his delicious fingers inside of you, the waiter turned up at the table with a cheery face and not a bouncing clue what was happening between the two of you.

“Desserts?” He asked politely with his charming smile, but you didn’t see it for too long before having to close your eyes shut at the sudden movement of Harrys fingers. He wasn’t stopping on the waiters behalf, in fact he was more forcefully going for it. He moved his fingers in circles inside of you, thumbing over your clit in the way he knew you desired most. He was insatiable.

Reckless.

“No, just the bill please. Need to take my wife home to take care of some things.” Harry spoke for you both, not understanding why he was being so open with the amount of information he was giving away. But fucking hell you didn’t care because his fingers were providing you pleasures beyond reason.

“Yes Sir. I’ll only be two minutes.” He smiled again before he was gone, taking the menus with him.

“Here that baby?” Harry whispered into your ear, moving his fingers more freely now there was less of an audience, “you’ve got two minutes to cum.”

“Wha—”

Questioning his authority would have to wait, for Harry got to work very quickly and perfectly. His fingers slicked in and out of you so erotically and if it wasn’t for the live music and loud chatter of the room, the sounds of his fingers driving in and out of you would be heard by everyone. His fingers curled to all the right places, touching the most sensitive parts of your walls and hell did it feel blissful.

“I’d say you’ve got about a minute left baby, and I think you can cum for me before then. Can’t you? Or am I not good enough for that kind of release anymore?” Harry taunted you and pressed wet kisses to your ear. You were too lost in euphoric paradise to notice, or even care, whether anyone could see or was watching you both. You were too focused on your husband. Your Harry.

“N-no. I can cum. You’re so good - shit - so g-good.” You stammered out, breathless from the air stolen from your lungs because of this erotic moment. This was so bad behaved of you both that you were starting to get a high off of it.

“Cum for me then baby. Do it. I’ve got you.” He kissed your lips to capture the moan that trailed off your tongue as you reached your high. You felt so high and yet so safe. Harry steadied you as your legs shook and kissed you senseless, to quieten your whines. He admired that you had been so willing for this and he would be lying if he said he didn’t have a raging hard-on right now.

“I love you,” you raced out quickly, “I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He kissed your lips again and withdrew his fingers from your dripping cunt. You picked up a napkin but he quite quickly took it away from you, throwing it to the other side of the table.

“What are you doing?” You whisper shouted, needing to clean yourself up.

“More like what are you doing?”

“Cleaning my mess.” You said frustratedly.

“Leave that to me.” He spoke whilst holding intense eye contact with you, bringing his fingers that were coated in your arousal to his lips and sucking them dry. Every last drop worked its way into his mouth and he salivated at the taste - the smell.

“Harry—”

“The bill Sir.” The waiter interrupted you without knowing. Harry took out his wallet and used his card on the card machine, before signing his name on the cheque as if to affirm that he has paid.

“Thank you.” Harry spoke kindly, completely different to how he was with you all but two minutes ago.

“Thank you Sir, Ma’am. Have a lovely rest of your evening.” And he wad gone again with his smile.

Harry turned to you with the largest grin on his face, “Oh we will.”

••••

“Oli stop eating the leftover lasagne it’s for mums lunch!”

Belle was rushing around trying to chill everything down. The party was so out of control that even Oli and Felix were wasted. Megan was blowing hot and cold with her too, so she had no idea where she stood with them.

People were everywhere. Too many people that it was becoming claustrophobic. Felix was currently playing beer pong with a group of his friends, Heather attached at his hip, whilst Oli was sitting on the kitchen countertop eating cold lasagne. The boy was like chuffing Garfield. Belle was doing her best to keep calm, but as the night progressed it started to become worse and worse as it got harder to control.

As Belle turned to leave the kitchen, her brother clearly not listening to her, she bumped into someone. Kyle. Fucking Kyle. The guy who had obsessed over her to the point where Harry was seriously considering getting a restraining order on him to protect his daughter. He was a straight A creep and Belle hadn’t even realised he’d been invited to this party. Then again, over half of these people had most definitely not been invited.

“Oh hey Isabelle.” He stressed her whole name, knowing how much she hated it. Well, she didn’t hate her name she just hated him saying her name.

“Go away Kyle.”

“But I just got here.”

“And now you can just leave. Party’s ending anyways.” Belle stood her ground, but her hands were shaking from being even remotely close to this guy. He was disgusting to the point where if you were stuck between having to choose between being with him or eating mouldy cheese, you’d eat the cheese on a fucking silver platter.

“Looks quite alive to me.”

“Well i’m shutting it down and you’re going to leave. Now.”

“You need to liven up Belle.” Kyle chuckled through his nose, making him look scary as he towered over Belle, “let me help you.” He leaned forwards to grab her arm but she was quick to push him away.

“No! Leave me alone!” Belle shouted, trying to dodge around him but he was quicker. He grabbed her arm tight and pulled her back to him, chest touching chest. “Get off me Kyle.” Belle squirmed in his hold, which only made Kyle happier - the creep.

“C’mon Bella, live a little.”

“My name’s not Bella and I told you to get the fuck off of me.” Belle pulled back with all her might, whilst kicking him square in the balls - probably hard enough so he’ll never be able to have children - and then drove her knee up to crack his nose - successfully. Damn, that felt good. Heavily badass, actually.

“You fucking psycho!” Kyle held his nose and his balls in pain, straightening himself up as if to launch himself with fury at Belle. Luckily for her the outburst between the pair had caught attention of people - including Oli and Felix.

Oli was quick to step in front of Kyle, Felix just behind him. “You dare lay a fucking finger on my sister and I swear to you you’ll regret it.” Oli threatened, fists curled tight at his sides.

Heather came to hug Belle, comforting as she cried through the after shock of the situation. She’d been so brave and handled herself so well though. “You okay?” She kindly asked.

“Y-yeah.” No.

Everyone was now watching. The music had been muted to the point where you could tell it was playing but you couldn’t tell which song it was. Friends of Oli and Felix were standing close by in case things got messy, which normally only happened between the two brothers and not this way. Doors could be heard opening and shutting as people came in and out from places to watch the debacle occur between the hosts of the party and the unwelcome visitor. Oli and Felix knew they had to be careful though, because one wrong video and it could badly effect their dad’s career. Belle shook in Heathers arms and wished this nightmare of an evening to be over.

“Oh the whore’s not worth it anyways.” Kyle laughed, rolling his eyes as he pointed towards Belle.

“The fuck did you just call my daughter?”

Oh fucking shit balls.

“Dad?” Belle asked warily, seeing his dad stood in the doorway of the front door, her mum standing close behind him with her hand tightly clutched to his. As much as Belle was terrified that her parents had busted them, she also felt safe in their presence.

“Oh and here comes perfect-dad-of-the-year Harry Styles to the rescue.” Kyle teased which made Felix move forward in protest of his words.

“Fix.” Harry sternly called his name, making his son stop and look towards his dad who was shaking his head with a soft smile. Harry walked over towards Belle first, you still clutched tightly to him. “You alright?” He asked sincerely, not looking cross or disappointed at all. Belle nodded quickly and kept her head pressed to Heather’s chest. Harry turned to see his boys, raising his eyebrows to wordlessly ask them the same question to which they nodded too.

Harry dropped your hand, leaving you to stand with your sons, and left your forehead with a kiss before making his way to Kyle. “You okay boys?” You asked again, even though you knew Harry just asked.

“Yeah. Are you mum?” Oli asked, coming to wrap his arm around his mums neck to comfort her. He was so kind and thoughtful, just like his dad.

“Listen up, Kyle.” Harry started, keeping a good distance between him and the boy, “If you ever come near my family again i’m ordering a restraining order. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise. If you break that order you’ll be going to jail. Big league jail too. Again not a threat, a promise. So you’re going to leave my house, this property in its’ entirety and go home to sit in your room and think about whether you would prefer to be in a prison cell instead. Do you understand?”

Okay, you’d be lying if you said his authority didn’t turn you on.

“Y-yeah.” Kyle mumbled pathetically.

“I said do you understand?” Harry repeated again, clearly not satisfied with the answer given.

“Yes Mr Styles.” Kyle said more surely, before scramming from the house, from the party and from the neighbourhood.

“Now everyone out of my house before I call the police.” Everyone knew how that was not an empty threat and dashed out of his house. Some looked at him in awe, because this was probably their once and only chance of being in the presence of the Harry Styles. He sighed as he walked to the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen counter to think.

“Should we—” Belle started to talk but you cut her off.

“No, hunny. Let me go talk to your dad. You lot,” referring to your children and girlfriends who’d kindly stayed behind in support, “can go fetch some bin liners and start cleaning this all up.” You pointed around to the mess that was your house, before walking off to the kitchen.

You looked around at the mess. A broken vase. Litter everywhere. Half-drunken drinks left on the table. Bottle openers you definitely didn’t own before tonight. Trousers? You couldn’t help but giggle at the surrounding sight.

“What’s got you laughing?” Harry asked, still in his fancy shoes and fancy coat, you still in your fancy heels and your fancy coat. Yet, you were both standing in what looks like a garbage dump site. Harry moved his hand away from his face and looked at you with a blank expression.

“You were right!” You laughed.

“Your reaction as if that’s a bloody miracle, love, which kind of an ego crush, but continue.” He rolled his eyes and you rolled yours in response. You clicked your way over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, he kept his wrapped around his own obviously still closing himself off.

“Our kids are being reckless and crazy.” You recalled dinners earlier conversation, smiling up at him in admiration.

“I didn’t actually mean it, it was just a quick way to make you feel better.” He groaned in frustration.

“Well gee thanks babe!” You laughed at the whole irony of this situation. “Harry, babe, look at me,” you had to used your hand to turn his cheek to face you, stroking his cheek to calm him, “adulthood - parenthood - doesn’t define the choices we have to make. We do. And our children, apart from that last little bit, seemed like they had the most freeing and most brilliant night yet! Let them be reckless H. Let them make mistakes. Just because this happened doesn’t make us bad parents, and it doesn’t make us bad parents if we decide no punishment—”

“Ha like that’s going to happen!” Harry cut you off and you glared at him to just shut up.

“Just shut up, you oaf. Let the kids live while they’re young.”

“You did not just reference one of my songs.” Harry looked to the ceiling as he smiled widely, before shortly laughing at how cheesy that was. “Oh my god Y/N!”

“What? Was is that bad?”

“Yes, babe. Yeah it really was.” He looked back down at you to see you smiling and he couldn’t help but cup your cheeks and kiss you silly. His perfect lips fit yours and you tasted him until you couldn’t breathe. “I love you.”

“I love you. Now go help clean up.” You ordered him, making him look at you confused.

“What the hell have I done to deserve this?”

“You booked the hotel for next weekend instead of this weekend you div. Now go.” You smacked his backside and he strolled back over to you and pushed you into the counter. You gasped at the sudden motion.

“Do that again and let’s see what happens.” He whispered dangerously against your lips.

“Go clean up and then see what’s waiting in our bedroom.” You bit your lip and tugged Harry’s hand to under your dress, giving him only a slight feel of how wet you were before letting his hand go and walking away.

“Kids, hand me a bloody bin bag. Now!”

[redrobin-detective]

the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

______________________________________________

Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was  frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal. 

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning. 

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said. 

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!” 

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking. 

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid. 

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise. 

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away. 

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost. 

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

[lighthouseas]

to my grave

another byler fic...ahaha...was in a silly goofy mood at 2 am again...it is based on that earlier post about mike getting vecna’d and trying to hide it. also i will say this is less byler focused and more from mike’s pov. so don’t expect kissing/fluffy stuff- this is angsty and sad because i’m just different like that.

words: 1k

tw/cw: swearing, suicidal tendencies, internalized homophobia

It was happening again.

Mike bit his lip in a poor attempt to hide the sudden, shooting pain that was seemingly being speared through his head; to his immense relief, the rest of the Party were busy fiddling with Dustin’s radio as he insisted he could reach Suzie with this new, “high tech” radio he’d snagged and they could have a “romantic conversation” while everyone else watched on in jealousy.  So far, his attempts hadn’t actually been successful.

“I’m- uh- I’m just going to go use the bathroom.” Mike could only mumble as the pain began getting more intense.  He could feel a pair of eyes trained on him as he tried his best to walk like a normal teenager up the stairs and safely into the bathroom.

He didn’t bother to think who the pair of eyes could be.

After what seemed like hours (though it was probably more like thirty seconds), Mike had safely slammed the door shut and hunched over the sink, the searing pain in his entire head making him want to simply rip his eyes out and flush them down the drain.  Hot tears streamed down his face as he stared at his reflection in the mirror- he’d gone ghostly pale, and a nosebleed that was beginning to form had already began dripping on his shirt.

It’d been like this for about five days now- ever since they’d gotten back from California and Hawkins had basically opened gates to hell.  He’d managed to hide it well.  Mike knew he shouldn’t be trying to conceal what was happening to him.  He knew what had happened to Max…and what had almost happened to El.  But his situation was…different.

And if his death was because he had to hide a secret he thought was stowed away so deeply within his bones that no one, not even Vecna, would be able to find it, then so be it. 

Because he would take this secret to his grave, if he had to.

It was the only way.

“F-fuck,” Mike placed a hand over his now rather sweaty forehead, sighing shakily. “Just fucking take me already, you fucker.  I can’t- I can’t-”

Mike was unable to finish his sentence as he felt his stomach lurch, and quickly rushed over to the toilet to vomit.  This was new.  So far, all it had been was headaches and nosebleeds.  Mike wasn’t actually aware Vecna could cause his victims to hurl.

Mike only had a moment for his stomach to rest before it dropped again as he heard a sharp knock at the door.  

“Mike?”

Shit.

“Mike, are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while…” Will sounded concerned. Mike prayed he hadn’t brought the rest of the Party up with him.

“Fine.  Fine.  Just…uh, food….food poisoning.”

“Jesus, Mike, are you alright?”

Mike was about to answer before he felt his stomach lurch again, and cursed Vecna’s powers or whatever shit he was doing to him as Will could clearly hear the ruckus from the bathroom from outside. Mike would’ve told him not to worry, that everything was perfectly fine and he just needed some water or whatever, but he didn’t have a chance to do any of that before the bathroom door flew open, and footsteps could be heard walking in.

“W-will, I’m fine, really-”

“Mike.” he kneeled down to Mike’s level, but Mike refused to look at him, a hot blush suddenly staining his already vomit-covered cheeks.  He must’ve looked ridiculous.

“Mike, look at me.”

The whole room had fallen silent.  Mike couldn’t help but feel something was slightly off about Will’s voice.  Chills ran down his spine as a single finger placed itself under Mike’s chin, forcing Mike to look at Will.

Except it wasn’t Will.

“Mike…you don’t need to hide from me.”

Mike’s breathing quickened as he stared directly into blank, white eyes, threatening to pierce through his already damaged heart.  

“It’s not real,” Mike murmured. “It’s not real, it’s not fucking real, he’s just fucking with you…” cold sweat covered Mike’s entire body as Vecna smirked.

“He’ll never love you, Mike.”

“It’s not real…”

“How could you think of him like that! You have a girlfriend…”

“Stop…”

“You’re just a dirty little liar, Mike, you always have been…”

“GO AWAY!”

“You can’t run from them, Mike…”

Mike closed his eyes, his breathing patterns now reaching the point of hyperventilation. “Stop, stop, STOP!!”

“Mike…your time is almost up. Mike….Mike…MIKE!”

Mike’s eyes shot open.  A grandfather clock hung in front of him, seemingly a centerpiece in an abyss of ugly, writhing black vines.  He clenched his fists, slamming them into his head, trying to make the pain go away, to make it disappear, to alter his brain so he could finally start feeling normal again.  

What even was normal? 

“Mike…Mike…MIKE!”

Someone had their arms wrapped tightly around him.  The bathroom was back to normal.  The grandfather clock had disappeared, and the entire Party was standing in the open door, each of them looking equally disturbed.  Mike’s breathing still hadn’t gone back to normal, and someone was holding him tightly, whispering comforting words in his ear.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.  He’s not here, he can’t get to you.”

It was Will.

So he had been at the bathroom door.

Judging by that, he’d definitely seen and heard everything that had just happened.  Mike wondered how long it had lasted.

“I’m sorry.” was all Mike could croak out.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped you! We know how to beat this thing!” Lucas yelled.  Mike’s “episode” had probably hit him the hardest since he had almost lost Max to it.  Twice. And now, she was in the hospital, nearly dead because of it.

Despite this, Mike couldn’t find the energy to formulate a response.

He didn’t really want to respond, anyways.  

“Give it a rest, guys,” Will murmured, gently running a hand down Mike’s hair.

Secretly, Mike just wanted to stay on the bathroom floor forever, Will running his hand through Mike’s curls as he essentially cuddled him like a lost teddy bear.  But he couldn’t do that.  Mike shot up, wiping the excess blood off of his nose and storming out of the bathroom.

“Mike! Stop it! Talk to us! What the hell was that?” Will shouted.

Of all people to ask him that, it had to be Will.  Mike stopped, a lump beginning to form in his throat as he tried to form a coherent sentence.  Will, Lucas, and Dustin all stared intently at him.  He bit his lip, training his eyes on the floor.

Will placed a hand on his shoulder, making Mike visibly flinch. “How long has it been going on?”

Mike could barely get words out. “F-five. Five days.”

Will dropped his hand from Mike’s shoulder, terror flooding his and their other friends’ faces.  Despite this, Mike could only look at Will, who stared intently back at him.  For a moment, the entire world seemed to melt away.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Will almost sounded hurt, somewhat like a little kindergartener.

Mike couldn’t take it anymore.  He absolutely hated the pitiful looks his friends were giving him.  He hated that Vecna had chosen to fuck with him because of his secret, his shameful, ugly fucking secret that he just wished would get banished to the Upside Down like everything else seemed to these days.

He jerked his shoulder away from Will’s hand, a sudden anger overtaking him. “Because,” he breathed, “I want to be taken.”

Mike didn’t stay to hear his friends yelling at him, or see Will’s look of utter betrayal.  He turned his back on them, just like he knew he was good at.  He turned his back on them, swinging the front door open and running out into the pouring rain.  Puffs of smoke from the Upside Down flooded the sky.  The world had gone to shit.  And he was fine going with it.

Because if it meant that he wouldn’t be in love with Will Byers anymore, it was worth it.

God, Mike would do anything for that boy.

“Take me,” Mike murmured. “I’m ready.”

And the world, in all of its misery, seemed to open up just for him.  Mike willingly fell, willingly looked into Vecna’s eyes, which seemed all the more inviting then they had been a few minutes ago. 

“You’re right.  He’ll never love me.”

“Mike…it’s time for your suffering…to end.”

[pricklenettle]

Phic Phight 2022: Watermelon

The prompt is from @grimgrinningghoul 

Characters: Pamela Manson, Sam, Danny

WC: 5632

Prompt: Sam's parents won't let her get a cat, but they never said anything about a ghost. So when Sam comes home with a round blob purring within the confines of her backpack, the Mansons find themselves at a stalemate. (PR292)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38187562

----------

The front door slammed and Sam’s boots stomped through the foyer. Pamela groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, this child was giving her premature wrinkles. Pamela shifted to lean against the stair’s banister, pinching at her skirt to make it lay better. Sam froze as soon as she shouldered through the door and saw Pamela in ambush position, her face instantly twisted into mulish defiance. Pamela sneered right back.

“Why weren’t you here for dinner last night?”

Sam just stared into the distance over her shoulder. “I was busy.”

“I thought we made a deal?” Pamela jabbed her glossy fingernail at the stubborn creature that stood before her. Where had she gone wrong? “We let you do whatever it is you do with your friends, as long as you come home for dinner.”

Pamela was already reciting in her head everything Sam would snap back with. ‘You don’t actually care if I show up,’ ‘you just want to keep me away from my friends,’ ‘you just want to control me with your banal rules,’ ‘what do you care?’ So she was surprised when Sam just put her head down and bit out, “sorry.” before charging for the stairs like a freight train.

Pamela put her arm out. Sam already had one foot on the first step and was gripping the banister.

Pamela narrowed her eyes. “No sarcastic quip today?”

Was that guilt that made Sam avoid her gaze or just regular teenage rebellion? Was it for missing dinner so many times, or something else? Knowing Sam, it was always something else.

Sam grit her teeth at the challenge. “Maybe I just don’t think your stupid dinner is worth the breath.”

Sam tried to barrel her way through again but now Pamela thought she knew what this was about. Was that purring?

“Samantha,” Pamela asked sweetly. “Open your backpack.”

“Why?” Sam tightened her grip on the strap as though Pamela was going to rip it off her back.

Now she was almost certain she heard a cat’s meow. “I think you know our policy on pets.”

“That they’re disease-carrying balls of hair and poor potty training? Yeah.”

Pamela’s face was stony. “Your father is allergic to cats.”

Sam’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Look, it’s not a cat.” She swung the bag off her shoulder and plopped it between her feet, she tore open the zipper. “Well, not exactly.”

Pamela reared back in shock. The creature nestled on top of Sam’s books, thermos, and pencil case was clearly a ghost. It was a pale wispy gray, blobbed into one pat of horror. Now the bag was open, the purring was inescapable, it vibrated in Pamela’s ribcage like the frizz from a far away radio tower. The cat’s acid green eyes met hers and she felt a chill down her spine. And Sam was cooing over the thing.

She got down on one knee to stroke it. Where Sam’s hand touched, the ghost’s fur became more clear and detailed, as though it was remembering being alive. How fur was supposed to fluff and clump before it returned to its original wispy shape. It reminded Pamela of washing paint out of old brushes. Squeezing the white goop out into the water, momentarily seeing the bristles clearly, and then when the pressure released, the paint still caught inside seeming to be as plentiful as ever. The purring had increased noticeably in volume.

Pamela finally stuttered back to life. “What are you doing with that thing— don’t touch it. Get away from the bag!” She tried to pull her away but Sam just shook her off. She spun on her heel. “I’m going to call the Fentons.”

“Don’t do that!” Sam cried, she was petting the ghost again. “She’s a sweetheart.”

Pamela slumped into an armchair. “Samantha, whether the ghost is benevolent or not, there is no way on this earth that I would let you bring it in to haunt us.”

Sam sat back on the step, half cradling the backpack. Pamela got a good look at the mud, twigs, and— was that ectoplasm? Clinging to the bottom of Sam’s soles. She grimaced, sparing a glance for her beautiful walnut floor that Sam appeared to be doing her best to stain irreparably.

Sam’s glare was at her most determined. “Why not, a ghost cat won’t need food or a litter box, it won’t shed and it doesn't make dandruff.” She crossed her arms.

“Because it’s dead,” Pamela cried. “You don’t think that’s a tad morbid?”

Sam shrugged, mutinous as ever. She grabbed the cat and held it up, its stubby paws helplessly hanging, its tail was ghostly long, curling away like smoke. It mewled, tiny and sweet, just like a cat. Sam’s voice dripped with mockery. “You’re right, the cat looks like the root of all evil. Maybe its presence will turn me into a demon child.”

Pamela dragged her hands over her face, frustrated. That was a challenge if she ever heard one. The whole Sam situation had been spiraling out of control for a long time, Sam had lost all respect— all decency. She never talked to them anymore, was always lost in her own world— Pamela simply didn’t know what to do anymore. She stared at the cat, propping her head up with her hand.

“What’s its name?”

Sam’s head shot up, surprise brightening her eyes. “Watermelon.”

Pamela arched her eyebrow.

“I didn’t name her,” she admitted. “Danny’s the one who found her. He wanted to keep her, but you know how his parents are.”

Pamela grimaced, the Fenton boy, she should have known. Absolutely so much worse than Tucker— that one was only weird, the Fenton boy was eerie. She sometimes wondered if the Fenton’s inventions had corrupted the whole family in some strange disturbing way. If she could bar Sam from seeing him completely she would.

“Why Watermelon?” she asked instead. It was a surprisingly cute name.

Sam shrugged. “I think Danny just thought it was a good fit. I was going to rename her— maybe Nightshade or… medusa?”

“Let’s stick with the original.” Pamela hurried.

“So we’re keeping her?”

Pamela gazed as though hypnotized by Sam’s open, surprised glee.

She sighed and looked away. “You can ask your father when he gets home.” She stood, studying the ghost cat, then shook her head. “Just please come to family dinner at least once a week.”

She walked out with a smile, leaving Sam with her own challenge, play nice or give up on ghost cats.

…

That night they found out why the Fenton boy thought Watermelon was a suitable name. Pamela was lying wide awake in bed, listening to the cat run wild all over the house. Her fists closed tighter in the blankets with every crash and distent rip. She could just imagine those soft paws curving into long glowing claws. At first, Sam had tried to contain the cat in her room, but it soon became clear that wasn’t going to be possible so she’d given up sometime around midnight in favor of bed. Now the cat was racing back and forth in front of their bedroom door. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it felt like the temperature had gradually started to drop, and now Pamela was shivering. Goosebumps pinched over her skin.

She lay there stewing a growing frustration, if she hadn’t bargained for Sam’s good behavior, she would have got up and strangled that cat. It didn’t help that her husband had conked out as surely as if someone had dropped a cement brick on his head. The cat screeched back down the corridor toward their door, mewling pitifully. Pamela waited with gritted teeth for the cat to gallop away. But this time, nothing.

Pamela shot upright. The house had gone dead silent. The air was freezing like she’d been transported into a meat freezer, but sweat was dripping down her back. She whipped the blankets back, marching toward the door before her mind could catch up to her. Her hand froze on the doorknob. She really should just take advantage of the silence to get to sleep, but something was going on on the other side of that door and she knew it with every fiber of her being. She threw it open, peering into the dark corridor. Her foot stepped into something wet and ice cold.

She shrieked, she jumped back into the doorframe, jarring her spine. When she looked down, something dark and glimmering was splattered on the floor, right in front of her door. She screamed again. “Sam. Get down here.”

After a moment, Sam came bumping down the stairs with her phone’s flashlight bouncing shakily against the walls. She dragged herself to where Pamela stood in stark terror.

“What is— oh.”

Her flashlight had fallen on the wet thing. It was Watermelon.

The cat’s neck was broken, barely hanging by a thread, its middle cleaved in two by impossible tire marks, and Pamela stood at the edge of a dreadfully still pool of blood. Its flesh had developed gangrene, the fur sticking up a faintly phosphorescent, ghostly green. Its insides however were an inescapable red. Its death preserved in vivid detail. Its green flesh hung like canyons over the red soup.

Sam swept her flashlight over the scene once then she cursed. “Holy…” She flipped the phone around to dial a number.

The two stood in utter silence over the corpse as it rang.

Finally, Sam straightened. “Danny? So do you mind explaining—”

Pamela snatched the phone away from her ear. Sam yelled, but Pamela was not going to take whatever answer the Fenton boy gave through Sam’s filter. She hit the speakerphone. “Would you happen to know why the ghost you gave my daughter has turned into a murder scene on my floor?” She snarled.

A beat. Then another. “Oh, crud. Sam, did I not tell you about how she recreates her death every night at the hour she died?”

“No, you didn’t,” Sam said dryly.

“Oh, of course I didn’t, because the box ghost showed up and then— So, she does that.” Danny finished lamely. “Sorry, I’m sure that was an unpleasant surprise.”

Sam grabbed the phone back. Pamela let her take it, she felt numb, numb and utterly furious. She lowered her voice and turned as though to keep Pamela from hearing— this of course made Pamela perk her ears up. “Danny,” Sam began dangerously. “Is the name a pun?”

Danny’s protests were so insistent, even Pamela could make them out. “Hey, it’s not often you meet a ghost who can change the chemical makeup of their ectoplasm so it appears red, and she just kind of reminded me of that time we threw a watermelon off the roof— anyway, it doesn’t seem to bother her, and she isn’t in pain when she recreates her death. It’s just an automatic reflex— she probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it.”

Sam’s silence stretched.

“Plus er- watermelons are very cute and sweet?”

“We’ll discuss your comedic timing later. Get some sleep, dummy.” But there was a hint of a smile twisting her lips as she hung up.

There was an unspoken agreement that they were going to stand there in the cold hallway and wait for the ghost to un-splatter her floor. It was a small slice of eternity pressed into agonized form. Pamela had to wiggle her toes and breath on her hands to keep them from falling asleep. Sam sank into a crouch outside the Watermelon puddle.

The first sign that purgatory was ending, Pamela noticed that a lime green color was starting to creep in on the edges of the puddle, just as though someone had added bleach to the mix. Then all at once, the glowing green spread inward to converge on the cat, followed by the liquid itself, lifting away from the floor without even leaving a stain. The corpse sucked it all back in, then sprang up, purring and mewling as though it hadn’t been roadkill just a second ago.

Watermelon pranced in the air, incorporeal tail lashing behind it like a smokescreen. She bounded around Sam, rubbing up against her affectionately. Sam caught it in her arms and snuggled her face into its fur, cradling it like a baby.

Pamela sighed. “You’re still going to keep it aren’t you.”

“Yes,” came the muffled reply. When Sam looked up, she rubbed at the dark circles under her eyes.

“I can’t handle any more disasters like tonight.”

“I just had no idea what sort of accommodations a ghost cat might need.”

“And you do now?”

“A ghost shield for one, hey, I am inventing the ghost pet industry from scratch.”

“I always wanted my daughter to be a pioneer,” Pamela muttered as she turned back into her room and back to bed.

…

Pamela was already sick to death of that cat. She fumed silently, her long nails biting into her palms as Watermelon looped around her ankles in a continuous figure eight. It, of course, phased through itself whenever it found its swirly legs or tummy in the way. The creature had torn the side of her second best armchair right off. The fabric was hung with ragged strips and its yellow guts puffed out in agonized lumps spread all across her best sitting room like the pox.

With a sweet smile, Pamela knelt down and grabbed Watermelon by the scruff. “I will kill you again a second time, you monster. Don’t touch my furniture.”

The armchair wasn’t the only thing that had suffered from the cat’s presence. The screens on almost every window would need to be replaced. Pamela wailed, normal cats couldn’t tear at screens through a closed window. Worse, whenever Sam slept over with her friends, it would meow piteously all night. Yesterday, she’d woken up with the cat staring at her. That was normal cat behavior, but the fact that it was floating upsidedown in a corner of the ceiling put a nasty spin on it. To be fair to Sam, the creature had calmed down a lot since its arrival.

Pamela still felt frayed at the edges. If the cat would just do what it was told, or at least acted like a normal cat. She picked it up, holding Watermelon above her head. Its green eyes were pierceable, regarding her with grave analysis.

“Why can’t you just be pleasant and sweet? Aren’t you grateful I let you stay?”

The cat promptly slipped out of her hands and bounded away through the air like a cloud. Pamela sighed. And that’s when the doorbell rang loudly through the house.

Pamela froze then cursed, marching at top speed toward the front door. The mirrors on the way revealed a couple strands of hair had been knocked loose. She slicked them back into her updo with sure hands. She would just be careful to keep her visitor away from the cat’s mess.

Her mouth twisted into a brilliant smile automatically as she opened the door. “Agnes, it’s always a pleasure.”

Agnes’s smile was just as wide. “Pamela, why, have you gotten skinnier?”

If she had, Agnes hadn’t, the poor dear looked like uncooked sausage in that pink skirt. And the white blouse with the ridiculous ruffles down her chest did nothing for her figure.. Her grin widened and she continued to exchange pleasantries as she held the door open for her. It was good she’d scheduled this meeting, spending time with another sane human being was all she needed.

She chose the kitchen. All the blazing white appliances were an impressive collection, and the rose print tablecloth with the african violet Sam had gifted her, added a homey touch.

“Coffee?” she asked as Agnes scooted a chair out.

“Earl gray, please.”

Pamela prepared the water. After a thought, she pulled out the glass teapot. It had been a wedding present even though neither her nor her husband drank tea. She shoved the teabags into the strainer, watching in disgust the weak color seeping out with the hot water. She handed Agnes a cup with an effortless smile, and folded her hands around her own cup.

Agnes began, “I simply loved your idea to improve the park by— oh my, I didn’t know you had a cat.”

Pamela’s smile dropped. She spun in her seat to find Watermelon gracefully approaching with classical nonchalance. She looked a lot more substantial than usual— almost normal, was that for Agnes’s sake? Somehow it had not occurred to her that Watermelon would care to appear before her visitors. At least it wasn’t floating.

Pamela turned back to Agnes. “Yes, my daughter brought it home. She has such a heart for animals in need.”

Watermelon’s eyes never left Agnes. It began to purr loudly.

“I just love cats, I have two at home, Rosa and Jaque. We should set up a playdate!”

A playdate for cats? Inwardly Pamala was snorting in disgust but she just kept that smile tight. Agnes got out her phone to show pictures of the two beautiful felines straight from the groomer.

Watermelon was wrapping itself around Agnes’s legs, thankfully she didn’t seem to notice that it was phasing through most of the chair legs.

“She has such lovely long fur, it’s so soft it’s almost like stroking the air. What shampoo do you use?”

It reached up to put its front paws on her leg, mewling pitifully.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Agnes said, running her fingers over its cheeks. “Do you mind if I give her a treat? I have one here in my purse.”

Pamela gestured to go ahead, holding back every comment about cat loving spinsters that was crowding her mouth. It certainly seemed like Agnes had grown more attached since that nasty divorce. Agnes held out the treat, but instead of going for that, Watermelon leapt upward. Agnes gasped when its paws, and then its head, disappeared into Agnes’s chest. Its tail lashed behind it, finally disappearing like a snuffed candle. Pamela’s chair screeched backward. She kept waiting for Watermelon to fly off through Agnes’s head. Pamela would need to smooth things over, Agnes would be terrified, shocked even. But no Watermelon reappeared. Soon it was clear that it was not going to.

Agnes stared at her intently, unblinking.

“Mrow?”

Pamela shrieked and threw the salt shaker at her, jumping back to her feet. It only bounced off and clattered to the floor. Margurite— no, Watermelon’s eyes darted to it and she leapt out of her chair to bat at the salt shaker with a spryness that Pamela doubted the woman had ever possessed. The grown woman sprang and bounced across the floor, smacking the shaker till it came apart, flinging salt everywhere.

Pamela covered her face. This couldn’t be happening. She spun, dashing out of the room. “Sam,” she cried.

Nothing, of course, Sam was at school. Pamela ran across her polished floor, heels clacking loudly. Watermelon gave chase, running into a cabinet with enough force to make the vase on top crash to the floor. She tripped over her own feet, landing in a sprawl. Watermelon skidded past her, catching her footing on all fours.

“Mrow?” Watermelon said again, a sound that could not usually come out of a human throat. She began purring, staring slit eyed at Pamela as she reached up to claw at her floor length curtains.

Pamela gasped. “Don’t you dare.”

Watermelon jumped up, clinging heavily to the fabric. She seemed frustrated that human fingernails weren’t up to her usual standard of damage. Predictably, the curtain rods gave out with a crash, landing Watermelon on Agnes’s butt.

Pamela scrambled to her feet, gripping her scraped elbows. She ran for the stairway. “You monster,” she spat as she scrambled up. “Do you have any idea how much those cost?”

Her phone rested forgotten on the glass coffee table next to the armchair the cat had already ruined. It took her three tries to unlock it. She tapped to Sam’s number, Sam’s icon looked miserable in the pink dress she’d forced her to wear for family photos. The photographer had barely had time to take the picture before she’d started scribbling all over it with marker. Just like a toddler, she thought bitterly. It rang and rang, giving Watermelon plenty of time to catch up. Pamela backed up to the wall, holding the phone tightly to her ear.

Watermelon seemed to be ignoring her now. She made Agnes climb up onto the mantel, blundering into every item in her way with her new bulk. How the cat kept her balance on the narrow shelf Pamela had no idea.

“Get down, Watermelon, you’re going to hurt her, then what will happen to the PTA?” she pleaded.

Finally, Sam picked up. Her voice sounded even more annoyed than usual over the phone. “What is it, Mom?”

Pamela swallowed down any comment about rudeness. “Thank goodness, Sam, your stupid cat is awful, the worst, you’d better—”

“If you’re just going to complain about Watermelon, I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait.” Pamela soldiered closer to poor Agnes, holding out a hand as though she’d be able to catch her if she fell. “I think Watermelon’s possessed her,” she wailed.

“What? Posessed who?”

“Agnes! Oh no, not the china cabinet,” she cried as the cat leapt from the mantel to the top of the glass fronted cabinet.

Sam swore and distant muttering came over the phone. “Okay, Mom, we’ll be right over.”

The contents of the cabinet clattered ominously as Watermelon shifted her— immense— weight. Pamela grimly tossed the phone into the pile of chair fluff. She had to admit the sight of a flabby middle aged woman in a pink pencil skirt wobbling so high up, might be a humorous situation.

“Get down from there at once and act like a respectable creature.”

She should have known how that was going to go.

…

It felt like an eternity before Sam crashed through the doors and came barging up the stairs like a one girl elephant stampede. Pamela gritted her teeth and held her position, the trail of destruction would lead her straight to them. Pamela had managed to corner Watermelon in the upstairs hallway, but only after she’d needed to retreat to find all the cat toys Sam had accumulated in her room. Whenever Watermelon seemed about to lose interest, Pamela batted her back with a broom.

“Mom?” Sam peeked around the corner, briefly gilded from behind by the bay window.

Pamela threw down the broom and ran toward her. “Oh, Sam, I have had a miserable time.” She wailed. She skidded to a stop when Danny Fenton appeared right behind her daughter. She put up her nose, pointing one shaking hand at the boy. “You, are the reason this nightmare happened.”

They both ignored her in favor of staring at Agnes’s state. At the moment she was rolling on her back, a fake mouse in her mouth. The pink skirt and white blouse were never going to recover. Absolutely covered in dirt from when Watermelon got into Sam’s greenhouse. As for the woman’s nails? Pamela shivered to look at them.

She spun on her daughter. Fury ping-ponged around her skull, growing more inflamed with every bounce. “What did you bring the Fenton boy here for? Are you not satisfied with ruining our relationship with Agnes? Do you also want to spread the shame all over town?”

Sam’s mouth pressed into a flat line. “Danny would never do that,” she bit out. “Besides a video of this getting out would just be what she deserves anyway, stuck up ass kisser.”

“Sam!”

“What did she do to get possessed? I bet she was messing with Watermelon, I bet you were letting her do it.”

The Fenton boy looked pained. Tentatively he started, “I’m sure—”

Pamela transferred her glare to him, intensified tenfold.  

He swallowed, eyes darting anywhere to avoid meeting her gaze, looking green enough to have swallowed twenty unripe apples. There was a loud clatter when he fumbled something large and metal he’d been dragging behind him.

“What is that?” Pamela demanded.

“The Fenton’s ghost catcher,” Sam said.

“Sorry we took so long getting here, this thing was hard to get out of my parent’s basement.”

Sam gave him the evil eye for apologizing then sent one at Pamela for good measure. She stomped past, growling under her breath. Danny followed, the metal frame of the ghost catcher bouncing, and jangling, and gouging into her floor. Pamela covered her face, the day just kept getting better.

Sam got on her knees cooing softly. Agnes dropped the mouse and rolled up to rest her head on Sam’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Sam made a face, she’d never liked Agnes, but she still gave a few short strokes to her hair. Sam gestured impatiently for Danny to hurry up whatever he was doing. Danny grunted, concentrating on the metal frame. Finally, he stopped fiddling with it, rewarded for his efforts when eerie green lines shot out of the metal frame, weaving together into a strange net. He was very careful not to let even his fingers pass through it. He heaved it up, then dropped it over their heads so they both passed through the strange glowing field. Pamela yelped, waiting for Sam to grow an extra head or something. But the only thing that happened was Agnes slumped over and Watermelon came shooting out, spiraling in the air above Sam, purring happily. Sam pushed Agnes to the floor and leapt up to settle Watermelon in her arms.

“Sweetheart, oh baby, I was so worried about you.” She rubbed her face into Watermelon’s cheek, the fur ruffling with the consistency somewhere between silk and gray smoke.

Pamela sagged against the wall. “You should have been worried about me.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “It’s a cat, mom, if you couldn’t deal with that you’re worse off than I thought.”

“No, you need to take this seriously,” Pamela growled, feeling herself puffing up into a furious predator. “That ghost possessed Agnes.” She gestured disdainfully to the crumpled mess on the floor. “It is a danger to you and everyone else. I would be a bad mother if I let you go near the thing, let alone keep it.”

The Fenton boy looked like he wanted to sink through the floor, actually, he looked more wounded than Sam who just clutched that stupid cat.

“We made a deal—”

“Stop. You’re smarter than this, Sam.” Pamela stomped toward her, heels clicking smartly on the walnut floor she’d probably have to completely replace after today. “It’s time to stop playing. Do I really need to save you from your own stupid mistakes? Or will you act like a mature adult for once in your life and cut the ghost loose?” Sam’s face refused to change, just set, hard and stubborn as cement, but she gripped the cat so tightly her arms disappeared in Watermelon’s rippling not-fur. Pamela took another step, reaching for the ghost’s nape.

The Fenton boy, of all foolish things, stepped in between them. Hands out, nervous as a zebra in a lion documentary, but still standing as though he needed to protect Sam from her own mother.

Pamela wanted to scream from the impertinence. “Get out.” She whispered. Ice cubes falling from her lips. “I never invited you into this house. Get out, and stay away from my daughter.”

“Wait,” he said. “I’m sorry, this is my fault, but please let Sam keep Watermelon.”

“I can speak for myself,” Sam snapped.

“He glanced back at her but when she didn’t have anything more to say he continued. “If overshadowing is the only thing you're worried about, Tucker is on his way with a gadget my parents made that will keep Watermelon from pulling that particular stunt again.”

“I’m surprised at you,” Pamela admitted. “I would think you of all people would recognize my daughter’s foolishness about this ghost. You should really be blasting it out of existence not instigate her.”

Those dark eyebrows wedged down into an upset stare. Pamela noted it with amusement. His temper was betraying him, this useless teenager would never be able to hold an adult discussion without exploding. Sam really would be better off without him dragging her down.

“Do you even realize how you’ve been talking to her—”

Sam put her hand on his shoulder, stepping back into the fray. “Thank’s my shining knight, I’ll take it from here,” she said wryly.

“Go ahead then, speak for yourself— if you actually have anything to say,” Pamela said nastily.

Sam didn’t even twitch. “If you’re done acting superior, I’ll repeat Danny’s excellent point. Watermelon won’t be able to overshadow anyone anymore. We already addressed the problem. Is there any other reason why you want to get rid of her?”

Pamela could think of a thousand. For one thing, it was creepy, not normal, hard to deal with, and her daughter already loved it more than her. Pamela pressed her lips together, annalizing how she held it like a beloved comfort blanket. It made sense, Watermelon, in all its horrifying, unpredictable, otherworldly energy held more in common with Sam than Pamela ever did. A dead thing. Roadkill.

Pamela’s perfect lipstick mouth curved into an automatic smile. She’d failed completely as a mother. She dug her fingernails into her palms. It was clear she loved that creature dearly. Did Pamela really want to be the bad guy in this situation? Yes, she kind of did, she discovered. She wanted to grab Sam and shake her until she resolved into the perfect daughter she’d always imagined. Until she listened to what she said. Until she started making sense.

Pamela sighed rubbing her forehead. “Fine. But make sure you clean up after that devil’s mess completely.”

Pamela turned and walked away. She ignored the two’s excited muttering behind her back as she turned the corner.

Had she made a mistake? Was the cat really safe? Would Sam’s respect for her fall even lower? Pamela would just have to swallow the bitter bile. There was no closing her eyes to the happy glow in Sam’s eyes whenever the cat came near. Better to be able to watch those rare smiles from an awkward distance than destroy what was left of their fragile relationship.

Pamela suddenly realized her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. She collapsed into an armchair, burying her face in her hands.

Over a cat everything was spiraling out of control.

Across the room, a gilded mirror showed an unwanted vision of herself. Hair in disarray, scrapes on her elbows and knees, and mud splattered on her skirt from Sam’s garden. Pamela sniffed, wiping her nose. Trying to stay in control had left her nothing.  Maybe it was time to try letting go.

…

Pamela’s glossy fingernails clinked pleasantly against her wine glass. She took a sip, flipping the page of her book at the same time. The lights were dim, Sam was at the Fenton’s and her husband was meeting with some business partners in New York. No one was likely to disturb her this night. Except— loud purring announced Watermelon’s presence on the arm of the couch she sat in. Pamela eyed her with doubt, noting the black collar with eerie green wiring around its neck. Tucker had been grandiose in his assurances of the tech’s effectiveness, and certainly, there had been no other similar events in the months that had passed. Pamela’s mouth crumpled, her and Sam’s relationship was as strained as ever. But perhaps… Their weekly dinner had progressed from icy silence to acknowledging each other’s presence enough to comment on things like the weather. It was like Sam had become a stranger while she wasn’t looking.

Things would just take time. They were both wounded animals teasing at a missing tooth with sore tounges. Eventually, she hoped she’d be able to step on her pride long enough that they’d both be able to open up to each other again.

Pamela had grown comfortable avoiding the cat as much as possible, sometimes she even managed to convince herself that it wasn’t in the house. Determined that no cat— not even deceased, would drive her out of her seat, Pamela stared down at her book. Before she knew it she’d forgotten the cat’s presence completely. An ice cold paw on her leg shocked her back into the moment. Without her noticing, Watermelon had wiggled down off its perch and now rested half upside down to reveal its white fluffy underbelly, stretched out leisurely with one paw chilling right through Pamela’s pant leg. It blinked up at her innocently.

Pamela regarded it unamused. “You are going to be very unwelcome company in the winter.”

Watermelon just kept purring and Pamela had no choice but to return to her book.

…

She fell asleep there, propped upright by all her pillows and the book still open in her lap, the cat resting its head comfortably on her hip. She woke up gradually to a cool fluffy thing rubbing against her cheek. Blinking suddenly awake, she looked down to see that while Watermelon lovingly nuzzled her with its head, its body was still draped over Pamela’s legs. Watermelon hadn’t bothered to get up in favor of disconnecting its head by nothing but the most ephemeral of connections.

Pamela jolted then sagged back. She dragged her fingers through her hair with a ragged sigh. Watermelon hadn’t settled down, if anything its begging for pets became more insistent.

Tentatively, hand shaking, Pamela began to stroke the ghost cat.

Her purr tripled in volume.

Pamela pulled the cat fully into her lap, putting more heart behind her cuddling. Perhaps a little weirdness wasn’t so bad.