#or I’d walk around with an electromagnet so I can just pick him up

[space-hopper14]

If I were in gravity falls I’d throw things at fords head just to watch them clank against his metal plate.

[neopuff]

title: blades (chapter 2: grateful) (click for chapter 1) word count: ~1900 ship: six/holiday summary: Six learns about his magnablades all over again. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47419594/chapters/119493331

“So let me get this straight: we’re all infected with nanites, except for you, because we tried to kill each other and you got trapped in an electromagnetic explosion. And you can’t ever leave your little germ-free box without risking exposure, is that right?”

White Knight nodded.

“And my new partner is, what, the teenager? We fight mutants together and he can turn them back to normal?” Six crossed his arms over his chest. “This can’t be real.”

“It’s real, Six. And they’re called EVOs, not mutants.”

“Who came up with that? It sounds stupid.”

White sighed. “I don’t know. Dr. Holiday could probably tell you. Try to focus on the important details.”

“Like the fact that you and I clearly haven’t been friends in years, and now I spend all my time with a woman I’m not even sleeping with and a kid who isn’t mine. Those details?”

White Knight could feel a headache coming on. He’d forgotten how annoying Six used to be - though they’d gotten along back then, it was only for short bursts at a time. “Dr. Holiday and Rex.”

“You don’t expect me to remember that. There’s no way I’m staying here, Knight. We’re wearing monkey suits, for Christ’s sake. And where’s my katana?”

“Give it a day, Six. There’s always EVOs running amok somewhere, we can send you out in the field with Rex and you’ll see if they can keep your interest.”

“Fine. And my katana?”

“It’s in your room. Holiday can take you-” White paused, interrupted by the smirk that appeared on Six’s face. It’d been so many years since he last saw this behavior in Six that he’d forgotten how single-minded the man used to be. “Nevermind. I’ll show you where it is.”

“I’d be fine with her,” Six responded with a clear thought in mind. “Are you sure I haven’t hit that? Really?”

“I cannot stress enough how we don’t talk about this kind of thing anymore.”

Six scoffed. “She couldn’t be more my type. I could see her being a reason to stick around in this place.”

White felt his headache getting worse and worse every second. “Look. Once you’ve experienced her…personality, you may change your tune.”

“A shining endorsement from you.”

“Forget it. Just get to your room and then back to the lab, I wasn’t kidding about there always being EVO problems. Just got an alert.”

Six gave his de facto boss a sarcastic two-finger salute. “Lead the way, partner.”

x

When Six left the room to have a private, informative conversation with White Knight, Holiday stood there uncomfortably with Rex, Bobo, and Caesar trying to figure out what to do next. Six would still be as skilled without his memories, sure, but he was so different. In just two minutes, he’d proven himself to be a hotheaded asshole with no sense of personal space.

She walked over to Six’s magnablades that were still laying on the floor. Holiday picked them up carefully, her head swimming with thoughts that the magnetic pulse they emitted could’ve been part of the problem. That didn’t make Six’s amnesia her fault, but she didn’t understand why he’d pulled out his swords to begin with. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was going to attack Rex.

That didn’t make sense. Though White Knight’s orders were just as confusing. There was no way White would explain himself and now Six wasn't able to. Great.

Holiday held the swords to her chest and sighed. She’d just keep these with her until he needed them back. 

If he ever needed them back.

x

Six had had quite the day. It was stressful and upsetting and life-altering and he wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decision - but he was sticking to it.

Knight hadn’t been particularly convincing earlier in the day, and he’d been right about Holiday’s personality not matching her looks. But Rex’s trust in him made Six change his mind. He was going to give this place a shot, if only to become the man he used to be. The man who saved lives instead of taking them and built trusting, close relationships with people he cared about rather than keep everyone at a distance.

It was going to be an adjustment.

He’d also found out through Rex that his face was recently plastered all over TV for some weird news show - so going back to his old job permanently would’ve been difficult. His life of secrecy was pretty much destroyed the moment that went on the air.

Six spent a few hours after Rex destroyed his brother’s machine getting better acquainted with Providence and how it operated. He learned more about nanites and mutations and Rex than he probably needed to know, but it was better to know too much than too little. He wanted to be prepared for whatever he’d be facing.

After a quick bite to eat, Six headed back to his room (or dorm, or apartment, or whatever they called them). He’d looked around it earlier and was surprised by the size - less surprised by the lack of personal effects. He had his clothes, his weapons, his sunglasses, and some medication in the bathroom. At least he had his own bathroom, he supposed. Could’ve been worse.

He typed in the key code that Knight provided and raised a curious eyebrow as the door slid open: the lights were already on and Dr. Holiday was standing in front of his dresser holding something.

She turned to him with a light blush on her cheeks, looking like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Six. I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

Six absolutely couldn’t help himself from smirking and leaning casually against the wall. “Do you usually let yourself into my room whenever you want?”

Holiday stared at him for a second before turning away and sighing deeply. The action made Six feel like he’d done something wrong - he wasn’t the one who was trespassing in someone else’s bedroom. Even if she used to spend a lot of time in his room, he would have no way of knowing that now.

“No, I don’t.” She held her arms across her stomach and pouted, looking around the room. “I just wanted to bring you your magnablades.”

“My what?” Six stepped closer and realized that was what she placed on his dresser. He hadn’t seen them before, and upon closer inspection he noticed they were swords with a particularly unique design. “Since when have I used these?”

Holiday shrugged. “I made them for you a couple years ago.”

“You made them for me?” He picked them up and squeezed the handles, fascinated by how nicely they fit into his hands. She definitely wasn’t lying, they felt like they were made just for him. “Why?”

“You were training Rex and sometimes his builds would go haywire.” She reached out and laid her hands on top of his, pushing the two swords together. “When connected, the blades emit a magnetic pulse that can move certain metals out of your way.”

Six stared down at their hands, then up at her face. Though she’d annoyed him earlier in the day, he decided at that moment that he liked listening to her talk. She had a pretty voice and what seemed to be a brilliant mind. So maybe she was a little stuck-up, that wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker. 

Also…he had a feeling that Knight was wrong about them. These swords seemed like a romantic gift, if Six had to guess. Plus she knew the code to get into his room. That was definitely a relationship kind of thing. Wasn’t it? 

She turned to look back at him, and Six could feel his heart pounding in his head as he stared into her eyes. If they hadn’t been in a relationship, that would mean he worked side-by-side with this woman for half a decade without cracking. Without even so much as kissing her? How?

“It’s Rebecca, right?” he asked suddenly. “Dr. Rebecca Holiday.”

Holiday removed her hands from his and shoved them in her white coat pockets. “Right. And of course your full name is…”

He smirked, placing the magnablades back down on the dresser. “Six is all I’ve got.”

“Of course it is.” Holiday rolled her eyes. She knew that wouldn’t work and she didn’t even know what she’d do with the information if Six gave it to her.

Six liked that she asked, though. It meant she still had some interest in him, after all. He’d learned throughout the day that his older self had been much more mature and calm about his undeniable feelings for the doctor, and that she seemed to prefer the kind of man who didn’t throw her a line every other sentence. Which was also going to be an adjustment, because he really wanted to tell her things she deserved to be told. She might not appreciate all of it, though.

Instead, unable to completely hold himself back, Six turned to her and asked, “Did I ever tell you you’re beautiful?”

Her cheeks turned bright red and she rolled her eyes again, arms huddling tighter around herself. “You’ve said it a few times today, thanks.”

“No, I mean…before today,” he added. “You give me checkups, you build me swords, you do who knows what else for me. I know this can’t all be in your job description.”

She sighed again. “I don’t do this work for compliments. It needed to be done, so I did it.”

“So that’s a no.”

“It’s a it-doesn’t-matter. You’re - well, you were…or, well, you… are my friend, Six.” Holiday was stumbling over her words like a teenager. “You being here for me and Rex is reason enough for me to help you.”

Six stared at her as she spoke, trying to ignore how cute she looked when she muttered. 

Friend, friend, friend. He’d never been much for friends. He’d never considered any of the Numbers to be his friends, not even Five. White was probably the closest he’d ever had, and even that friendship was pretty on-and-off. But here, in this room, stood a woman that felt like a pillar of kindness and generosity, and she was referring to him as her friend. It was absolutely baffling. He must have become a truly amazing person in those missing six years to justify a relationship like this.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he responded, "but I like to think I'm more grateful now than I used to be."

"Excuse me?"

Six leaned forward, a little in her space again but God did he enjoy being in her space. She smelled really good. "Anything you need, Dr. Holiday, just let me know. Anything at all."

Holiday blushed again, not as obviously this time, and pressed her hand into his shoulder blade to push him away from her face. "If I come up with something, I'll tell you, alright?"

She headed towards the door and Six watched her walk away with a satisfied smile on his face. "And feel free to visit anytime. My door's always open for you."

Holiday sighed again and left the room without another word.

Six stared at his closed door for a few seconds, then turned to grab his fancy new swords. He really wanted to play around with these. Maybe Rex wouldn't mind going toe-to-toe again.

[g4rous]

Your blog is so cute! I was wondering if it would be okay to request a fem!reader x Genos one shot or HC where reader is Saitama's younger sis & he asks Genos to pick her up at the train station & keep her busy for the day since he's trying to prepare for dinner. While reader and Genos are around town, there is a monster who attacks the city and Genos is fighting it, but loses. Reader steps in & defeats the monster with no problem. She smiles and acts like it's no big deal & helps patch Genos up

Aaa I loved writing this, the idea was so exciting! 😭💕 Genos deserves more love and appreciation 💕 I hope you like how this turned out and ty for the request! 💞💕

 “As expected of master Saitama’s sibling”

 Two canary yellow orbs meet your (e/c) ones as you look up from your phone.

You were waiting on the bench at the train station for your close friend to show up, and as soon as you saw the blond man you couldn’t help but smile.

You joyfully waved at him before you stood up to greet him with a warm hug, to which he smiled gently.

“I apologize for the wait,” he said, slowly letting go of you, “master Saitama thought it might be a good idea you and I spend some time in the city before we go eat dinner at home. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes of course! I’d love to spend the day with you,” you smiled at him and took his hand.

He’s lucky he doesn’t have the ability to blush, otherwise he’d constantly have to hide his face from your loving gestures. Nonetheless he could still feel his face heating up.

He smiled back and took hold of your hand as you two left the crowded train station. This wasn’t the first time you two went out, actually you’ve been dating for a while, and your feelings for each other were crystal clear. Genos being Genos, when Saitama first introduced you it took him a bit to warm up to you, but ever since he saw your true, loving side he couldn’t deny the butterflies in his stomach.

You were the only person he treated with similar respect as he did Saitama. He would constantly call you to make sure you’re doing ok, rant about his missions to you, go shopping with you, and well, any activity that you’d want, he’d be more than up for it.

The two of you decided to take a stroll around the city until dinner is ready, because surely it wouldn’t take your brother too long to make it. But even though you’re just walking around, the mood is calm and refreshing. You can always count on returning home satisfied after a walk with your Demon Cyborg.

You two came across a fountain, one where you’d always enjoy sitting and looking at it’s beautiful, modern decorations. You two sat next to it, as usual and began chatting about your day. Genos is all ears when you have anything to say, even if it’s just bland things you do routinely. However, the poor boy’s prone to losing focus on what you’re saying after a while because all he’s doing is staring at you, taking in your alluring features. He could get so into it and not even notice he’s been staring at you for 10 minutes. Such as now.

“Um, Genos..?” you give him a small, nervous wave and giggle.

“Oh, I apologize y/n!” he jolted, returning back to reality, “do not worry, I heard what you were talking about.” He added, somewhat bashfully.

“It’s alright!” you chuckled, but were cut off by an earsplitting roar from behind.

You quickly turned around, only to see a monster demolishing the buildings in it’s path. Genos already had his fighting stance and weapons ready.

“It looks like a threat level demon to me. Stay here, I’ll take care of it in a moment,” he added, but before you could say anything he already darted towards the threat.

He said it was just a level demon threat, but you couldn’t help but think otherwise. It looks like it’s even higher than demon, if not dragon. It always worried you how reckless and brash he could be, and this case wasn’t any different, so you quickly ran towards him so he wouldn’t get hurt.

The monster wasn’t colossal, it was the size of a smaller bus, but the aura it gave off was way more menacing, definitely not to be taken so lightly.

You were trying to locate the blond man but there was so much dust and debris flying around you had to protect the remaining defenseless citizens at the site first. All you could hear in the meanwhile was the constant, heavy sound of clashing metal and flesh.

And just as the dust cleared up you saw finally saw the cyborg, clearly taken damage from all the attacks, still taking a stance with his one remaining arm. It wasn’t about speed, or immense, raw power. During his encounters with Sonic and numerous monsters he gained way more of both during the last couple months. However, this opponent was different, it’s electromagnetic pulse made all types of machinery ineffective. It wasn’t even that overwhelming, but rather the worst match-up for any type of machinery whatsoever. Before Genos could make another move he was thrown into a wall by his foe, it’s four ghastly eyes now staring at you, murderous intent swarming in the air around it.

Just when Genos was about to step in again he was jolted by a loud ‘‘thump’’, as the monster dropped before him, you standing right behind it’s bleeding body. He stood there for a few moments, trying to process what had happened, his face frozen in confusion until you finally managed to approach him to see if he’s ok.

“Did you.. do that?” he asked, “what just happened?” he continued, still bewildered at the fact that the monster he had so much trouble with is now dead in front of you two.

“I uh, did it yes,” you chuckled nervously, now looking at his damaged body.

“How did you do it?” he asked somewhat loudly, not being able to comprehend you did that. He knew you were an excellent fighter, but he never really saw you in action like this. This feeling, it was like the first time he saw Saitama defeat Mosquito girl while he was laying on the ground, on the brink of death. It was a whirlpool of turmoil, shock and amazement.

“I just beat it’s ass, it was no problem really!” you laughed, “I guess it’s ability wasn’t a really good match for your cyborg counterparts, so please don’t blame yourself,” you added caringly.

He still stood there, unable to comprehend the situation in front of him, but snapped out of it as you took his hand.

“We should give Dr. Kuseno a visit before we go eat dinner, don’t you think?” you added light-heartedly, but you were serious about it, Genos’ state like this was making you worry after all.

“Right..” he answered, taking a good grip on your hand again, “thank you.”

You smiled again and placed a quick peck on his cheek as you started walking, to which he smiled softly.

“Well, what was I surprised for anyway, y/n is after all master Saitama’s sister.” He thought to himself, that smile not leaving his face.

[airplanned]

Zelda Trill AU part 3!

It’s absolutely shocking that I’ve never written anything involving Star Trek.  SHOCKING.

So this was really fun and useless.  Enjoy!

***

Part 1

After his unpleasant time in Hylia's presence and his turning down an away mission and his mild sinus infection, Link was very much looking forward to spending some time with people who liked him and appreciated him and weren't about to spread rumors that he was untrustworthy or...or...

She wouldn't say anything about the actual mistakes he'd made.  She couldn't with implicating herself too.  If she took him down, he'd take her down with him.  But it was the things that he hadn't done that concerned him.  She was not above lying.

And he couldn't stop thinking abut her.  Not just Zelda, with her flashing hair and flashing eyes.  But hauntings of Tetra.  Of Sheik.

He'd made the mistake of reconnecting with her once.  He wasn't going to make that same mistake again.  He'd seen how it turns out, how inevitably after too long, people turn on each other.

He needed to spend some time with his short-term friends.  Friends who knew only Link and could pull him out of his own history.

He wasn't the last to arrive at Ruto's quarters for her weekly card game.  Most of his friends were endearingly bad at cards.  He half suspected that they enjoyed losing.  Otherwise they'd find something else to do together.

"Liiiink!" Ruto called.  "You made it!  I was worried, because heard you weren't feeling well."

He flopped into a chair between Yunobo and Russel.  "I've had the worst day.  I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Ruto preened.  Yunobo gave him a concerned look.  "We're all having...what's this again?"

"Andorian barley ale," Groose said, holding up his mug.  In addition to trying out card games every week, the group tried out "drinks from around the galaxy."

"Yeah, that," Yunobo said.  "But we can get you some tea if you want."

Link grinned.  See?  Best friends.

The door chimed and Ruto straightened.  "Oh!  Since Malon couldn't come, I invited the new girl.  Come in!"

Link's blood froze.

And there she was.  All the memories hitting him again like a hammer.

So maybe they weren't the best friends after all.

"Zelda!  You made it!  This is Groose, Yunobo, Link, and Russel.  Everyone, this is Zelda."

There was a chorus of "Hey, Zelda," and she flashed a brilliant smile at them all.  Her eyes met Link's briefly, then swept away without even the slightest hint of  reaction.  Groose popped out of his seat to pull out her chair for her, like a smitten gentleman, and Link thought he might throw up at the lovestruck look on his friend's face.  "Thank you all so much for inviting me."  She beamed up at Groose, and the guy's ears turned red with pleasure.  When he took his seat, he scooted it closer to hers.

Link would have to pull him aside later and make up something horrendous about hooking up with Trills.  Would Groose believe they had spikes?

"I'm actually feeling pretty bad," Link said, half way out of his chair.  "I think I should--"

"You do not feel bad.  You're just shy," Ruto said.  "This is why I didn't tell you a new person was coming."

Rude.

"Anyway, we're playing a game called Ben'tick and we need six people."

Ben'tick.  Of course.

Yunobo slipped a mug of tea in front of him and Russel grabbed his shoulder, pressing him back into his seat.

Zelda sat directly across from him.  Which meant they were going to be partners. 

"Excuse Link.  He's shy."

"You're both Trill," Groose said.  "Do you know each other?"

"There actually is a whole planet full of us," she teased.  Her half smile made his heart hurt.  "We don't all know each other."

"Oh.  Right.  Sorry."

That lie wasn't going to last, especially after their scene in the commander's office.  But he did appreciate it for the moment.  They could pretend they didn't know each other.  He could do that.

Goorse asked, "Have you played before?"

"No.  You'll have to teach me."

Link was ignoring her, so he didn't roll his eyes.  Tetra Hylia was a fiend at Ben'tick.  She'd taught him.  Her eyes caught his again, and her fingernail tapped twice against the table.  Shut up.

"Of course we'll teach you!" Groose said.  He stretched an arm over her chair to lean in and run through the rules.  Her eyebrows puckered in confusion, and she asked a series of simplistic questions.

Tetra would roll into a bar on the outskirts, and flop down into a seat at the highest rolling table, announcing that she was the best player in the quadrant, and proceed to take everyone's currency without a shred of guilt.  Zelda, it seemed, was ready to con everyone.  Not surprising considering Hylia was a champion liar.  Not surprising considering Zelda had a level of innocent cuteness that Tetra couldn't have pulled off.  She held up her hand of cards to show Groose and bated her eyes with her lips slightly parted.

"She'll figure it out as we go," Link said.

"Link's going to be your partner," Ruto explained, gathering up the card to shuffle them.  "Don't worry.  You're in good hands."

"It is good to have a partner you can rely on," she said.  Only Link picked up on the edge in her voice.

"He's good at this game."  Ruto grinned at him.  "If you need it, he'll carry you through.  And he'll kick you if you make a mistake."

That was a good idea.  He aimed a swift kick at her shin.

And missed.  "Ow!" Groose barked.  He glared at Link and retreated to his own seat, pretending that he was pulling in his arms to collect his hand of cards.

Zelda lifted her eyes over her fanned hand and smirked.  He was not going to survive the night.

She folded up her cards and tapped them twice against the table as if neatening them--A signal from a hundred years ago that she had four face cards.

Link sighed.  There was nothing for it.  He found a low number to throw out, letting her take the first hand.

#

Ruto threw down her hand.  "Okay, we have to have a rule where the Trills aren't on a team."

Yunobo said, "Don't the symbionts communicate with an electromagnetic disturbance?  I think they're talking to each other."

"No, it's the tapping," said Russel.  "We always thought the way Link tapped his cards was a tick.  But she does it too.  They're signalling each other."

"No way!" Groose said.  "Zelda would have to have played this before to know any signals."

Everyone groaned.  Ruto rubbed her temple.  "She has played this before.  She's hustling you!"

Groose snapped around to give her a betrayed look. 

She gave him a sympathetic look.  "Link was carrying me most of the time."  Then she gathered all the chips in the pot and pulled them towards her.

"I'm on shift at 0700 tomorrow," Russel said.  "I should get going." 

That effectively ended the night, and as much as Link tried to delay leaving so her wouldn't have to walk with her, Groose unfortunately noticed and shouted after him, "Hey, Fi, you making a move on Ruto?"

The dangers of Ruto thinking that was true outweighed a brief walk in the hallway, so off he went, following awkwardly behind Groose and Zelda as they discussed his recent shore leave.  He went mountain climbing.  Link knew he fell, but Groose made no mention of that.

"I'm down that way," Groose said, pointing down a corridor away from the turbo lift.  "If you wanna..."

Link would have been better off if he'd left Ruto's claiming he'd needed to be somewhere else, headed to the opposite end of the ship.

Zelda laughed.  "No thank you, but that was a good try."

Groose beamed and gave her a thumbs up.

Link didn't have much choice but to fall into step beside her to the turbolift.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?" she said.  The edge in her voice was back, but not nearly as sharp.

"Leave Groose alone," he said.

"Why?  Are you jealous?"  The turbolift arrived and they both stepped aboard.  "Deck 7."

"Deck 5.  He'd not the brightest, but hes my friend, and I don't want him to get hurt."

"Because I'll murder him?  That's really the story you're sticking with?"

Link clenched his teeth.

"Look," she said.  "I didn't pick this assignment.  If I had a choice, I'd stay as far away from you as possible.  But I don't have a choice, and neither do you.  So are we going to make this work and ignore each other like professionals, or are you going to be broody and impossible forever?"

He turned on her.  "This ship is my home.  If you put a toe out of line, if you put anyone here in danger, if you do anything suspicious at all--"

"As if you wouldn't put this ship with everyone you claim to love onboard on course to fly straight into a star while you escape in a shuttle craft like the coward you are--"

The turbolift jerked and shuddered.  The lights flickered, and suddenly they were falling two floors, three.  They grabbed for each other's elbows as the emergency locks activated, hauling them to a stop with a sickening lurch.  For a moment the lights were off, the hum of the ship silent around them, and there was only the harsh sound of her breath and the fierce grip of her fingers on his arms.  The emergency lights came on, low and red, and they straightened away from each other, instantly on alert.

"We've fallen out of warp," she said.

"Fi to ops...Revali come in."

"Hylia to engineering."

"Fi to the bridge...Emergency override: doors open."

The doors did not open.  Zelda tapped at the dark console, before shaking her head and popping it open, immediately pushing her hands into the wires.  "Power's out.  Let me release the door locks."

There was a hiss, and Link crammed his fingertips into the slit between the doors, gritting his teeth and prying them apart.  The floor of Deck 8 was visible about a meter above the floor of the turbo lift.  The hallway was lit with emergency lighting as well.  Link shook out his hands and then cupped them, offering her a foothold and then hefting her up and out.  He hauled himself up after her and went straight to the console on the wall.

"Main power is down.  Some sort of energy spike."  He tapped away as she eased closer to watch over his shoulder.  She was so close that it pricked his neck.  "Propulsion is down.  Engines are running on auxiliary power.  Life support is functioning off the backup systems. And I can't reach anyone."

"What about comms?"

He shook his head.  "I don't know.  They're running on auxiliary power, so they should be functioning.  This is Lt. Fi to all hands."  They both stared vaguely at the floor, waiting for a response.  Link shook his head,  "Why can't we reach anyone?"

"A localized dampening field?"

"Maybe.  I need to get to the bridge."

"Preferably quickly."

"Yeah." He nodded.  "Let's go."

Part 4

[ladyeliot]

Damn melody.

Request: @mostly-marvel-musings​ : Well hi there!! If you’re up for it, could you do a no. 1 and 7 with Tony Stark from your Superhero prompts please?!

Pairing: Superhero!Tony Stark x Villain!Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been trying for a long time to get the documentation that explained the creation of his AI, and that time you almost succeeded.

Warnings: SMUT⚡(+18). Touching, unprotected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 2186

A/N:  This is the first time I write a smut, I’m afraid. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Superhero vs Villain!Reader Prompts

The confrontation had made your insides scream in pain. You prayed that nothing and no one would stand in your way as you drove to your lair at extreme speed. The meeting with Iron Man had been planned from the beginning, your chances to get the documentation where the process of development of his AI based on his own genetics was located had been scarce during the last months, but that day you almost made it. The word “surrender” was not in your vocabulary and never would be.

You arrived at your hideout on the outskirts of New York County with barely a breath. Your body was full of bruises and you felt how blood could wash over your face. Your radar sense could do little at that time, Tony had prepared for your arrival and his AI had restricted the electromagnetic emissions that helped heighten all your senses. So that confrontation was catastrophic, little could your martial arts and combat strategy skills do against the legion of drones that awaited you.

As soon as you stepped on the floor you stood in front of a mirror, your appearance was sickly, your right shoulder was dislocated and that was accompanied by the cut on your forehead, making you look like the ruin personified. You slowly lowered the zip of the black lycra suit that was sticking to your body, preventing the pain in your shoulder from making you squirm even more.  You left the upper part of your body uncovered, covered only with a bra, which showed a series of hematomas covering the abdomen. Internally you found yourself cursing that person and his power, and you imagined the day when you would finally finish with him.

You took a breath and looked at yourself again in front of the mirror, your eyes had darkened from the rage you felt, that was the best time to place the dislocated shoulder bone, but your internal receptor regions, which were slowly recovering, emanated a signal in your body. You quickly grabbed one of the knives hidden in the back of your ankle and stood on guard. The house was dark, all silent, but a slight breath came into your ears, and it was not yours.

You came down the stairs slowly, the breathing could be heard more clearly, that meant you were approaching it. Your sense of smell quickly discovered who it was and where it was. It was impossible for you to return after what had just happened and better still, how had she found you and how had she overcome the security measures?

“Why do you have a room full of pictures and articles about yourself?  you opened the door very carefully and there he was.

He wasn’t wearing the Iron Man suit, instead he was wearing a black Tom Ford suit, accompanied by a red tie, but even so, you knew perfectly well that that didn’t mean he didn’t have his Iron Man suit on him. Tony was in the middle of your small private laboratory, specifically observing a corner where there were photographs of you analyzing facial changes when your emitting and receiving regions were set in motion. The hand holding the knife was shaking from the pain in your right shoulder, and when Tony looked away from you he noticed.

“An interesting sight,” he said, gazing at your naked upper body. He reached into his Tom Ford’s pocket. “Just like this place.”

“What are you doing here?” you spit out those words as if the life in them was gone.

“I only care about you,” he approached the center table and picked up a small gadget in his hands. “External receiving regions, very interesting. Is that what has kept you away from my lab so far?”

Your breath accelerated as you contemplated the behaviour of the person in front of you, he walked around as if nothing had happened and his indifference made your blood boil. Finally he stopped and watched you pointing at your shoulder passively.

“That looks painful,” he said, arching his eyebrows. “I think I’d better put that on you.“ 

"Don’t you dare come any closer…”

“Okay,” he raised his hands and put them back in his pockets. “I just wanted to be nice.”

His tone of voice definitely contained hints of impassivity, but also of disdain and arrogance, all of which shaped that man. So, thanks to your own pride, which gave you strength, you took a breath and in one quick movement put the bone back in place, hiding the moans of pain while clenching your teeth very tightly. The last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of seeing you suffer in front of him again.

“You’re enjoying it,” you said, getting your breathing back to normal. “What do you want? Have you come to gloat over your success?”

“No, that’s not my style,” he said without hesitation and then pointed to the knife you were holding in your left hand. “Why don’t you put down that knife so we can talk like civilized people?”

“Do you think that after today I’m going to be in front of you without a weapon?” you held your breath, chin up.

A smile of arrogance spread across your opponent’s face, causing your body to quiver. Tony, noticing the event, smiled slightly and took a step towards you, which caused you to step back away from him. The tension of the environment was evident, and your uninvited guest had the ability to take control in such situations.

“Are you scared?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Scared?” you stood firmly keeping your gaze fixed on his. “Why do you think I should be afraid?

"Perhaps because if I had wanted to, you would have been dead…” he looked at his watch indifferently. “Two hours.”

You mumbled, clenching your fist around the knife and wanting to stab him as soon as he got a slip.

“And if you’re so sure of it, why didn’t you?” you asked, leaving your lips half open and arching an eyebrow, as Tony continued to approach with airs and graces.

“And what are you waiting for to finish up and put that knife through my neck?” he asked, leaving his lips half open a short distance away. “Stop flirting and kill me.

How could he dare to think what you were flirting with him about? You knew you had all the power at that very moment, as he had said you could put an end to that story, but your body was extremely blocked, and his last words didn’t help either. All your senses were heightened at that moment, you felt the touch of the dried blood on your forehead, you listened to his breathing intensely as it crashed into your face and you could smell his woody perfume mixed with the whiskey emanating from his mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tony whispered, drawing a smug smile on his face that caused your gaze to turn to his lips. 

“You’re not taking me to bed,” you spit out the words finding some lucidity in your brain. "Ever.”

Tony’s lips opened to show how his tongue slowly danced to his lips. You knew what his game was, you had seen it on several occasions in the charity galas he organized, and you were not willing to fall into it, as it was surely a distraction to achieve something. He was only a few inches from your body, your breasts were almost touching, a subtle movement from one of you and the contact was made. He was teasing you, gloating while keeping his gaze fixed on your lips.

“Who said it had to be on the bed?” 

You felt his fingers touching your naked belly, slowly caressing each of the bruises that the dispute with Iron Man had caused you. He turned his gaze to them but quickly turned it back to your lips. Your jaw tightened but when you felt Tony’s lips fall slightly on your right shoulder the tension in your body dissipated. You closed your eyes and let his lips run down your neck, making his tongue come into play as well. Although all your senses were on his actions, you held the knife firmly in your left hand. 

“Look at you…” he whispered a few millimeters away from your neck. His voice was hoarse and it was killing you. “Two hours ago you wanted to kill me and now you’re moaning at my touch.”

With your eyes still closed, your mouth curved into a smile of arrogance.

"Look at you…” you imitated his words. “Two hours ago you wanted to kill me and now you can’t resist putting a hand on me.”

You opened your eyes to meet Tony’s dilated pupils, radiating uncontrolled lust. In one swift movement he guided you to the nearest wall behind you, causing your body to collide with force and severe pain in all your contusions. You couldn’t stop a small moan from coming from inside your throat, a mixture of pain and excitement.

“I think thats the first time I’ve heard you moan…” he said, brushing his teeth against your skin before biting you.  “It was like a fucking melody.”

Another groan came from between your lips. You wanted to touch him, you needed to touch him. The knife slipped from between your fingers leaving a dry sound when it hit the ground. As soon as you were free of it you reached for his tie, but he quickly spun you around hard preventing you from having any chance to touch his body. You could have easily gotten rid of his tether, especially when his defenses were so low, but you did not. Tony quickly unzipped your suit leaving your whole body exposed.

Your legs opened up in need, and he soon realised that gesture, unsubtly holding his hand so that his fingers touched your clit, while he brusquely brought his length to your ass.

"I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.” His voice was so dark that it caused your wetness to intensify.

“I haven’t even taken your clothes off and you’re already this hard” you gave a half smile as you bit into your lower lip, feeling his fingers dancing on your folds.

“Oh baby, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me,” he muttered, bringing two of his fingers inside you, causing both of you to groan.

You didn’t know if it was Tony Stark’s possessive behaviour, or the intensification of all your senses, but your body began to tremble. As if the marks he’d made on you that day weren’t enough, his tongue was marking your neck.

“You take my fingers so well don’t you?”

“Shut up and take your pants off.” You ordered to blindly reach out to meet his cock, which was begging to be released.

“Oh honey, you sound so needy” he mocked increasing the speed of his fingers inside you while his thumb stimulated your clitoris. “Let’s see how quickly you can cum.

You moved your hips to intensify the friction, while he, with his other hand, unzipped his trousers and released his erection. You felt that the climax was near, your legs could barely hold you and your breath, which was broken between moans, informed you that you were going to fall down in just a couple of seconds. It was just when you were on the edge that Tony withdrew his fingers leaving you empty, but not for long.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to his body to slide into you with one blow. That feeling of pleasure that you experienced when you felt him completely inside and heard his moaning in your ear, made you free yourself from all the accumulated tension. Tony brought his hand back to your clitoris, slowly rubbing your thigh, sending you to the edge.

You groaned in desperation, calling out his name as if life were your own, which caused you to squeeze his cock even harder.

"My name sounds so good when it comes from your lips,” Tony intensified the speed of friction, crashing into your hips with more force. “Shit, you’re so adorable that I think I could even forgive you.”

The warmth of your interior continued to be latent until you felt it overflow inside you, filling you with all its pleasure and desire. Your breaths were completely out of sync at a frantic pace. Tony held you by the waist, avoiding putting his fingers on the bruises.

“Please remind me again why we are having sex,” you said leaning your forehead against the wall and trying to return to your normal breathing.

“Do you really need me to explain?"  Tony whispered, kissing your naked back as he pulled his cock out from inside you, causing a soft moan in your throat.  "There’s that damn melody again…”

Tag list: @imerdwarf @mycosmicparadise @lavendertales

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[fulokis]

Fulokis WandaVision Rewrite- Chapter 1

Hey wanted to take my two cents at something that made more sense than what they actually did to quicksilver. Hope you like it!

Peter stood staring at the man in front of him. He hadn't spoken for what seemed like a few minutes, still processing what Peter had told him. Peter sighed, he hadn't meant to let it slip, he still wasn't sure how it had happened. One minute the two were arguing with each other and then the next the room was enveloped in an awkward silence.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" Erik asked. He had assumed that Peter was his son since the Pentagon, but he didn't want to freak the kid out.

"Just forget it." Peter said quickly trying to bury his feelings in his chest.

"Pietro, why didn't you want to tell me?" Erik asked knowing he was pushing.

Peter looked down at the floor, "I haven't been called that since the Cuban Missile crisis. Not even in the house."

"Those damn soviets am I right?" Erik attempted to joke.

"No." Peter said, "It was so that me and Wanda could go to school without getting harassed. So we could live life. So that we could protect ourselves when we didn't have a father to protect us."

"Wanda?" Erik asked, "Peter if I had known..."

"But you didn't because you left. You left and Wanda died!" Peter said, surprised at his own reaction and his anger. "Not because of the Russians, not because of the Americans, because of you. Because you left us, Wanda died. You know what killed her Bullets. Bullets from guns. Both things made of Metal! You could have stopped them, you could have saved her. But you were too busy killing the president to care about your family."

"Peter..."

"No. It's too late for that." Peter said storming out of the mansion.

Peter ran. He always ran, it helped him think. But all he could think about was his twin sister, her body laying there on the pavement. Him helpless to do anything. That's why he'd developed speed, he was too late, and running became an obsession. When his mother had gone into labor with Lorna his powers developed. He didn't even realize that they had until he was sitting by his mothers side in the hospital watching his newborn sister asleep.

Peter stopped running, he was probably an hour's drive from the mansion by now. He looked around his surroundings, he was in New York City. The sounds of horns from angry drivers, and the buzz of the electricity made the night loud and bright. The buildings loomed over head, one caught Peters eyes in particular. It was shorter than the rest only about four stories tall, the most noteworthy feature of its appearance was the large circular window on the top floor. Something about it reminded him of his sister.

Peter walked up to the door, to his surprise it was unlocked. Walking inside he shouted "Hello?"

"Pietro?" He could hear a woman's voice call out.

"How do you know my name?" He asked walking in the direction he heard the voice.

"Because I am the Sorcerer Supreme." The woman replied walking down the right side of the twin staircase that circled the entry room. "I know all Pietro."

Peter looked up at the woman "Yeah, Yeah and every old person claims they know all. Tell me something I haven't heard."

"Wanda is alive, in another universe that is." The sorcerer said finishing descending the stairs, "I can bring you to her."

Peter thought for a second, "How do I know I can trust you? And were you stalking me?"

"I won't force you. But I Think you're curious." She said, "I think you want to know how your sister would have turned out. Who she is." She rose her hand in front of the door and Peter looked through.

A woman stood in front of a cradle singing a lullaby in a language he didn't recognize. She looked up from her children as if almost sensing that he was there. Peter gasped, she had mom's eyes. He chuckled how many times had he seen those eyes look at him with disappointment. But this time they weren't, they were looking towards him with adoration. A look he'd only seen a few times from his mother since Wanda's death. The woman's hair was even the same color he had been jealous he didn't inherit.

"How did you do that?" He asked, unable to take his eyes off of the door.

"With a spell of course." She replied.

"What's that language she's speaking?" Peter asked, watching as someone else appeared on the screen and talking to who he assumed was Wanda.

"It's from a country that does not exist here."

"This isn't possible. You're messing with my..."

"I'm a twin." Wanda said, "I had a brother, his name was Pietro."

"What?" Peter said looking at the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Keep watching Pietro." She said nodding towards the door.

"He was killed by Ultron, wasn't he?" The other woman said.

Peter turned around, "So you're saying that there's this universe where Wanda is alive and I'm dead?"

"Fascinating isn't it?" The woman said, "A universe where you're dead and one where your sister is. Pietro the Multiverse works in strange ways, if anything this is destiny."

"It's fake. It has to be." Peter replied, "There's no way that its real."

"Then how is it possible that your father can bend the electromagnetic fields of the earth to change its polarity? Or that your beloved professor can send a message to the minds of every person on the planet? You know its more than possible Pietro, you know more than anyone how probable it is."

Peter swallowed, "I should go back, they're probably worried about me."

He turned to walk away but the woman stepped in front of him, "We both know they're not. We both know they don't care where you are or what you're doing."

"I should go." Peter said getting choked up thinking about what the woman in front of him was saying. Wanda was there, in another universe, but she was there. There and she clearly loved him and missed him, more than his father had. It wasn't like any of them would miss him if he popped over for a few minutes if only to give her a hug.

"You don't want to go do you?" The woman turned her head inquisitively.

"No." Peter admitted, "Maybe its too late for her here, but there I doubt it is."

"You want to go?" She asked.

"Yeah, so do I just step through this door or like..." Peter asked.

"It's a little more complicated than that." The woman said motioning for him to follow her up the stairs.  Peter followed resisting the urge to use his speed to explore the building. The woman led him to a library that reminded him of the one at the x-mansion. There were books on everything, from simple fake magic tricks to forbidden spells. Peter's eyes were drawn by a particular book. The title was almost impossible to read from the spine, so he picked it up and looked at the cover. The Strange Phenomena of the Witch Blessed Mutants the title read. Peter had seen the book before, strangely not at the mansion but in his own house outside of D.C. "What are you doing?" The woman asked popping right next to Peter.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked her.

"Do you want to see your sister or are you here to snoop?"

"You know more than you're letting on." Peter said, "What aren't you telling me?"

"Pietro, why would you think that?"

"This book, its in the wrong spot. It shouldn't be with the A's it should be with the H's if we're going by last name." Pietro said.

"Oops my bad." The woman said through gritted teeth.

"Either that or you wanted me to find this and its all some part of an elaborate plan to trap me in this other universe for some shady reasons." Peter watched as the woman's face dropped and he smiled, "I'm kidding, lighten up will ya?"

"That's a good one." She said awkwardly throwing up a fake smile, motioning for Peter to follow her. Peter followed her until they got to an open room. "Stand in the middle." She commanded.

"Okay." Peter gulped his anxiety resurfacing. He stepped into the middle of the room and a purple ring surrounded him.

"In order to travel through dimensions you need a protection spell. It keeps you from loosing your mind at the possibilities and the infinite outcomes between dimensions." The woman explained. She threw her hands up slightly and nothing happened.

"Was that supposed to do anything?" Peter asked looking around the room.

The woman ignored his comment and started chanting in Latin. The circle around Peter lit up with a purple glow. Peter attempted to touch it but yanked his hand back when he felt the heat the magic was producing. Peter watched intently and imagined Wanda doing something similar with her magic. The woman pulled out a necklace and made it float near the circle. The necklace began to syphon the energy off the circle, making the air around Peter unbelievably hot. Peter tried to stay conscious but the heat was unbearable and he hit the ground a few seconds later.

The woman kneeled over him and shook him gently. Peter startled looking up in confusion. "Uh..."

"Relax Pietro," The woman said "It's normal to feel overwhelmed by magic, especially when it's your first time."

"First time? Pfft I'm not that lame lady. Least you could do is take me out to dinner first." Peter said attempting to sit up.

"Take it slowly." The woman almost barked "Going to fast could potentially be fatal."

"Fatal? What is there like a list of side effects?"

"All the standard Magical ones." She said standing up, "Nausea, Heart attack, stroke, cancer..."

"I'd have said no if I knew it was going to kill me." Peter said easing onto an elbow.

"Possible side effects darling." She replied flipping through a worn out book.

"Darling? That's a little fast even for me."

She sighed and walked over to him, extending a hand down to help him up. "You should get going, after all your sister is waiting for you."

"Is it weird that I feel like I'm gonna barf?"

"No." She replied to him "Oh before I forget, you'll need to put this on before you go through."

Peter took the necklace and slipped it over his head "And you're sure this will work?"

"Of course it will. My magic never fails." She said and looked at him with a smile leading him down the stairs.

"By the way what's your name? You know if I want to come back home and what not."

The woman stopped dead in her tracks, "I'm... Agnes." She said.

"Coolio." Peter replied following her to the door.

Agnes motioned and the doorway led to a small field, "This is the closest that I can get you, you'll need to run a few miles to the west. There's a wall around the town your sister lives in, it's a security measure against humans harming the perfect little mutant community that lives there."

"So what your saying is my sister has a bunch of mutants that live with her?"

"Yes Pietro, she found her people." Agnes said pushing Peter through the portal and closing it behind him.

Peter fell landing in a mud pile. "Not cool!" He shouted "So not cool." He took a breath and stood up. The night was cool a slight wind blew through the trees. Peter looked around, he had landed in a corn field, the stocks were brown and fragile. He smiled to himself as he saw a scarecrow sitting in front of him.

"You stuck here too buddy?" He asked the limp sack of hay. Before smiling and starting to run. Peter ran and this time instead of thinking he enjoyed the air running across his face. The feeling of his feet hitting the ground, the sounds that each foot made when coming into contact with the mud. Peter kept running until he nearly collided with a military vehicle.

Seeing the vehicle he decided to take a look through the area. There was a drone on a table glowing red. A guy in a quarantine unit, being questioned by medical staff. Peter kept running, there seemed nothing related to mutants anywhere in the facility. He figured that they had no idea that there was a mutant community.

Peter kept running until he found the wall. Taking one look at it he decided to run through it. Running through he could hear and feel some of the most painful times of his life and he stopped as he could feel apocalypse trying to crush his skull. The pain was so real almost like living it again, almost like nearly dying again. Out of breath Peter collapsed on the ground, a new sensation spreading across his body. His body burned, it felt like his blood was causing his body to burn. He could feel the pain everywhere in his body, circular areas burned the most. Then he opened his eyes again and Peter couldn't explain what he saw. Metal corpses littered the ground even more were flying around shooting concentrated fire of some sort. Peter tried to call out to his father, he tried to call out for the professor or someone for help, but all he could feel was the burning hot pain from his injured nerves. Then it was quiet the dust and metal settled and everything was dark, but he could hear someone calling to him. Wanda he thought smiling before passing out.

"My goodness Ralph!" Agnes cried, "You're filthy and tracking mud into my kitchen!"

"Aw cut it out will ya?!" Ralph said back "At least I'm not running around the house getting in your way."

"You're not supposed to be running at all. If they find out you were using your powers..."

"Ha, if they do I'll be long gone."

"I swear it won't be my fault if you end up in prison for twenty." Agnes said.

"It'd be a blessing if I did." Ralph mumbled.

"What was that?" Agnes asked in a shrill tone.

"I said you look lovely tonight."

"Why yes I do don't I?"

"What's the reason?" Ralph asked.

"Of course you forgot! Why did I think you would remember?" Agnes sniped.

"Because you forgot your self?" Ralph offered up.

"Forgot? Ralph you know I don't forget." Agnes said, "Tonight is the night we're having a picnic in the yard. Go clean up."

"Why not just the gazebo in the town square?" Ralph asked after he had run upstairs and changed in a matter of seconds.

"We've been over this Ralph, it's best for you to not draw attention to yourself. Which means..." Agnes prompted.

Ralph sighed "No powers, No criminal activity and most of all no doing things that the people in town will think as of odd. But I'm pretty sure that having a yard picnic would be considered odd, gazebo not so much."

"Ralph people don't care what you do in your own yard, besides if you really are that worried you can tell them I asked you to."

"That's the reason I married you, because you asked me to. Though I do question that decision, what with the creepy basement and all."

"Oh Ralph you charmer." Agnes said leading him out of the house. She walked over to where their yard intersected with the next door neighbors yard. With a wave of her hand she placed down a picnic blanket and a bunch of food.

"'It won't be my fault if you end up in prison for twenty' yeah right, totally won't be your fault if you keep using your powers." Ralph said sarcastically under his breath.

"What was that?" Agnes asked from on the blanket.

"Nothing important." Ralph said.

"Come join me, please." Agnes said, "Look I know the move hasn't been easy on you. Especially since we've literally had to become different people. But Ralph I don't regret it, I can't regret it."

"Eh didn't much like it there anyway, here is nice it's quiet. No trouble for you to get into, no weird sorcerer fights I have to save your ass from."

"I'm still a witch Ralph."

Ralph chuckled and looked up at the stars, "No you're not, you can be anything you want, but not a witch not anymore."

"Do you miss teaching?" Agnes asked eyeing the house behind them.

"Teaching?" Ralph asked vaguely remembering something like it "Feels like a lifetime ago." He said slowly.

"Interesting." Agnes said.

"Huh?" Ralph asked.

"Nothing it's not important."

Ralph shrugged it off and continued looking at the stars in silence, "You ever think how massive the universe is, and how little you really know?"

"Yes I do." Agnes replied keeping focused on the neighbors house.

"I want to know how life got here. On earth I mean. Out the trillions of planets out there, why this tiny hunk?" Ralph said glancing over at Agnes. "What's something you want to know?"

"How she did all this." Agnes said a dark tone seeping into her voice. Agnes turned to face Ralph and started to cast a spell.

"You freak me out when you do that without a warning you know." Ralph said watching her guide the purple energy flowing out of her hands.

Agnes ignored Ralph and continued to chant until the spell was ready. Without warning she shot her magic at the necklace her companion wore, smiling as it hit the beads. Something seemed to stir inside the man and he stood up. Using his super speed he ran to the front door of the neighbors house and stood there.

Peter felt weird, he couldn't remember how long he had been running. Or even how long it had been since he left the mansion. The last thing he could remember before blacking out was his body on fire and hearing Wanda calling to him. He looked down, some how he had managed to change clothes. Instead of his typical jacket he wore a brown one, much like the one he had seen his father wearing every once in a while. His shirt was a purple flower print. He smiled, maybe it was weird to wake up in these random clothes, but at least they had his second favorite color.

Peter looked up at the door. This was it, after nearly 15 years he was about to look his twin sister in the eyes again. Only he knew it wasn't quite his twin sister. Peter swallowed nervous at the action he was about to perform. He rose his hand and considered using his speed to get the nerve wracking action over with. Deciding against it he firmly pressed against the plastic button of the doorbell.

The shouting from inside the house he had heard earlier had been replaced with hushed voices, that were seemingly surprised at a sudden visitor. The door swung open with a creak and a young woman stood in front of it. Peter stood there looking at her, waiting for some semblance of recognition.

"Wanda who is this?" A man from slightly further inside the house asked.

Peter waited for a second before extending his arms out and stepping forward slightly. "Long lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin sister to death or what?"

The woman stared for a second processing what was happening. "Pietro?" Her voice cracked.

Peter made a movement with his head to indicate that it was indeed him. Wanda sighed softly and took her brother in her arms. Peter closed his eyes at his sisters embrace, it felt good to have his second half here in the same room with him. Wanda broke contact and Peter glanced around the house. It was quaint reminded him of their moms house, simple yet useful. Peter locked eyes with the man who asked Wanda for his identity. "Who's the popsicle?"

Next >>

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S8E7: Day Forty-Seven

Season 8 Episode 7: Day Forty-Seven

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: Kinkade and Rizavi film a vlog that follows a relatively normal day on the IGF-Atlas with its humorous moments and the stress of battle.

[Google Doc]

Kinkade: Hello. This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 0600 hours. It’s day forty-seven. And this is a glimpse at day-to-day life aboard the IGF-Atlas.

[Cut to Kinkade brushing his teeth as the camera floats over his shoulder.]

Kinkade: Last night, I unpacked my video gear and decided to document the crew. I know it seems strange, but before Earth was attacked, I didn’t go anywhere without my camera.

[Cut to Kinkade running on a treadmill.]

Kinkade: Back home, people asked me why I liked recording things. They also asked me why I didn’t talk that much. To both of those things, I’d always say… [grunts]

[Cut to Kinkade doing pull-ups.]

Kinkade: Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

Romelle: You’re recording? Why?

Griffin: Kinkade has always been, uh… an individual who’s most comfortable observing and reflecting on life. Being a fighter pilot was actually his backup plan.

[Cut to Kinkade wearing a blindfold as he works on his blaster rifle.]

Kinkade: It’s true. I learned how to shoot with a camera before I learned how to shoot with a rifle. I guess filming is just a small piece of the larger puzzle that makes up the picture of who I am. Hm.

[Cut to Kinkade turning the camera on once more and walking to a fighter jet.]

Rizavi: So you’re really shooting another documentary? Please tell me this is going to be more exciting than that project you did for Mr. Pollard’s biology class about yeast.

Kinkade: That was actually about the process of fermentation. Yeast converts carbohydrates into carbon diox--

Rizavi: Boring! Okay, look, if this little documentary is how history will remember us, I’m gonna help you spruce it up! How many cameras do you have? What’s your visual effects budget? Do you have any smoke bombs?

[Cut to Keith and Pidge facing the camera as it focuses on Pidge directly.]

Kinkade: Okay. We’re set.

Rizavi: So, uh, catch us up on what’s going on.

Pidge: Right. Well, the Atlas is headed to the Grei-Aye system where we’ve identified the remains of a disabled robeast.

Rizavi: Oh! Those things are pretty dangerous, right?

Pidge: Do I need to explain that the robeast was one of the ones used in Honerva’s intergalactic ritual?

Rizavi: No, it’s fine.

Pidge: Okay. Um, so, once the Atlas arrives in orbit around the planet, the other Paladins and I will head down to the surface to secure the robeast and hopefully find its Altean pilot.

Rizavi: Ugh, okay. Keith! Why don’t you tell us about the dangers of this mission?

Keith: Well, every mission has some inherent dangers. For this one, we have to be especially diligent about the robeast. Even if it’s not fully functional, it can still pose an extreme threat. Combine that with the hostile Altean that’s probably still in the vicinity, and you’ve potentially got threats on multiple fronts.

Hunk: Hey, guys. What’s up? You making a movie? Cool. Can I be in it? Now, wait, if this is an action movie… is it? I don’t wanna be in it.

Rizavi: Hunk, we’re trying to do an interview here.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Yeah, my bad. I just came by to see if you wanted to try this new recipe I’ve been experimenting with. This is just the first pass. The final version of it will be coming soon. No, Bae Bae! Not for you! I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ll make you some doggy treats later.

Kinkade: What’s the recipe? Can we watch you work?

Hunk: Well, yeah! Yeah, this’ll be great! I’ve secretly always wanted my own cooking show.

Rizavi: What? No! Keith was just telling us about the mission and all the dangers! We’re not losing that to document cooking.

Kinkade: But, I like cooking.

Rizavi: It’s like you’re trying to make this boring.

Hunk: Whoa, first of all, cooking is not boring, okay? And it can bring people together. Some of the best times of my life were spent breaking bread with loved ones.

Keith: So, is this interview over?

Rizavi: No! Great, now the talent’s getting restless!

Iverson: Everyone, report to your battle stations immediately! I repeat… battle stations immediately! This is not a drill!

Rizavi: The camera!

Kinkade: Leave it! We need to go!

Rizavi: But this is gold!

Kinkade: Come o--

Iverson: MFE pilots, report to hangars alpha-bravo! Scrambling fighters in five! Paladins, stand by for launch.

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the fallen camera and carries it around.]

Shiro: Where did it come from? Veronica, get me eyes on it!

Coran: That thing just appeared out of nowhere!

Shiro: Iverson, fire when ready!

Iverson: Target acquired! We’ve got lock! Wait. No… we lost it! Target has gone dark!

Veronica: Electromagnetic radiation from that planet is overloading our radars.

Shiro: Voltron, do you have a visual? I repeat, Voltron, do you have a visual?

Keith: Not yet. We’re going in now! Stand by! We can’t see a thing in here!

Griffin: Copy that. We have zero visibility as well. We need a visual.

Curtis: Roger. Trying another avenue. Scanning for biometrics. Visual acquired!

Coran: Incoming!

Iverson: Recharging all starboard cannons!

Curtis: Sensors are offline!

Iverson: What is that thing?

Coran: It’s massive!

Shiro: Iverson, open fire!

Coran: Direct hit! It’s coming back around for another shot!

Shiro: Veronica, prep shields!

[Scene change as the camera falls down a vent into Sam and Slav’s workstation.]

Sam: Whatever hit us just knocked loose the gravity generator! Grab the flaxum assembly!

Slav: I can’t do that! It’s red!

Sam: Is this one of your crazy probability, reality things?

[Scene change to a hallway as soldiers float through to their stations.]

Shiro: All crew, report to stations and prepare for Atlas transformation--

Atlas Crewmember: Go, go, go!

Shiro: --in T-minus thirty seconds!

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the camera again and carries it.]

Colleen: Bae Bae, what are you doing out here? And what’s this in your mouth? A camera? Come on, girl.

Shiro: All crew, prepare for Atlas transformation sequence in five… four… three… two… one!

[Scene change as the camera dies, then powers on again facing Kinkade once more.]

Kinkade: Camera’s fully charged. We’re good to go. The time is now 0900 hours. We just experienced a minor mishap aboard the IGF-Atlas, but we’re back on track. In the future, we’ll hopefully be avoiding creature-occupied gas planets.

[Cut to Kinkade floating through a hallway.]

Kinkade: Hey, Seok Jin, where you headed?

Seok Jin: I’m transporting these samples back to Earth. Commander Holt thinks it can help with the recovery efforts there.

Kinkade: Well, they couldn’t have picked a better man for the job. Take care, man. Hey, Seok Jin… we’ll miss you, buddy.

[Scene change to the camera looking into the mess hall, where Vrepit Sal is cleaning tables and then rotates to face the hallway.]

Rizavi: There you are! Tell me this thing was recording during the attack! That was so intense! Oh, this documentary’s gonna be awesome!

[Cut to Kolivan sitting in a small office facing the camera.]

Kolivan: I believe our heading readout en route was 92254739.275. Wait, no. It was 9.265. Yes. That was our heading per our readout just prior to our deployment.

Rizavi: [mock snoring]

Kolivan: Our teams vary in size. Often we use the three-person unit, but it’s not unusual to have a four- or a five- or perhaps even a six-person unit. Seven seems rare, but... it could happen.

Rizavi: Okay, I like everything you’re telling me, but let’s just try it a little less like you’re reporting the facts to your commanding officer and a little more like you’re telling your friend an exciting story in the gym. You understand?

Kolivan: Yes, understood.

Rizavi: Okay, good. Why don’t you tell us about your last mission?

Kolivan: Our last mission took place on planet K-V Exus. The Blades divided into three four-person teams and we escorted approximately twelve rescue crafts to the surface. I believe our heading readout was 359.222--

Rizavi: Thank! Thank you! Okay, I think we got it!

Kolivan: But I wasn’t done.

Rizavi: Yeah, you nailed it. Yeah. We need to get someone more exciting in here.

[Cut to Coran leaning into the camera as it slowly attempts to focus on him.]

Coran: Then the Atlas started firing with everything it had! And don’t forget the white hole is swirling right next to us the entire time! Oh, no, it’s about to close! Meanwhile, not one, but two, yes, two, robeasts are attacking! Shiro’s shouting out orders. “Coran, get closer! Iverson, open fire!” Beams of quintessence energy are converging from all over the galaxy! Ah! You know, you could just imagine it.

[Scene change to Rizavi turning the camera on in Slav and Sam’s workspace.]

Sam: Welcome to the engine room. What you see here is just a tiny part of what keeps the ship functioning.

Rizavi: Slav, you’ve created some incredible technology. What do you think of the Atlas?

Slav: I can respect any engineering that extrapolates for transmutation, but I wish the writing was in Altean.

Sam: He’s mentioned that a few times.

Rizavi: So what are you doing now?

Slav: Right now we’re about to adjust the gravity generator, which was fractionally increased during our last battle.

Sam: Yes, our gravity generator is actually a fluid system, ever-changing depending on the specific needs of the location, so it requires recalibrating from time to time. Okay, adjust gravity generator back down to .12.

Slav: Copy. Adjusting now.

Sam: What did you press?

Slav: I don’t know! Which one is the two again? I can’t read these weird symbols you call numbers! Hey, big guy, toss me over! Oh, no. Directly on a crack!

Kinkade: Weird.

[Cut to the camera focusing on some juniberry shoots in a pot.]

Colleen: Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s an Altean juniberry. The first one to bloom in nearly ten thousand years. I managed to get it to grow by resequencing the genetic code of a similar plant. I wanna give it to Allura. These are our fertilizers. We have fish emulsion, worm castings, Kaltenecker manure. Just so much great recycled poop! And this is our lighting station. I like to say our lighting array is literally out of this world! You know, because we’re, you know, on a space ship.

Rizavi: Can I take a shot at this?

[Cut to the camera panning across the crops in the grow room.]

Rizavi: Welcome to extreme space harvesting! Where we have plants and crops and super fertilizers all under one roof! Meet Colleen Holt, the botanical genius behind it all.

[Cut to Colleen sitting in a chair in the grow room.]

Colleen: I guess I just liked plants all my life. I’ve done a lot of research, but I know I have much to learn. I guess… I like… the challenge. I’m sorry, where am I supposed to be looking?

Rizavi: Without Colleen, all life aboard the ship could perish. One bad crop, the introduction of one foreign pest, and it’s all over.

Colleen: I just like plants.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something again? I just--I just came in to see if Colleen had a very specific type of yeast.

Kinkade: Yeast? What for?

Rizavi: Oh, no.

Hunk: It’s that recipe I’ve been working on. I think I got the topping down, but I’m still trying to figure out the sweet bread.

Colleen: Well, I have so many strains of yeast, it’ll make your head spin. I got AB972, S288C. I even have O unilateralis. Don’t mess with that one.

Kinkade: Are you getting this?

Rizavi: Unfortunately, yes.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through a hallway.]

Rizavi: The time is 1200 hours. We just got word that we are in the Grei-Aye star system. The Paladins will be heading down to the surface of the planet any second now.

[Cut to the camera facing Allura, Lance, and Keith in the hangar for Black Lion.]

Rizavi: Lance, how are you feeling about the mission you’re about to go on?

Lance: Oh, hey. I’m feeling good, I guess. Maybe a little tense. Maybe a lot tense. I don’t know. Why’d you have to ask me that question?

Allura: I think what Lance is trying to say is he’ll be fine. We all will.

Keith: Let’s move out.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi standing a ways away from Blue Lion as it launches.]

Rizavi: Right now, we’re headed to the situation room where we’ll be monitoring the Paladins in real-time.

Kinkade: By the way, you know we’re not gonna be able to bring our camera into that meeting, right?

Rizavi: Says who?

[Scene change to the situation room where Veronica, Coran, Sam, and Shiro are all facing a screen showing a no-signal symbol.]

Sam: Come in, Pidge. Are you reading us?

Pidge: Okay, we’ve just touched down on the surface.

Keith: We’re at the crash site now.

Pidge: That’s the robeast. It looks disabled, just like our intel reported. The Altean should be nearby.

Shiro: Paladins, brace for incoming!

Hunk: I didn’t know it could do that!

Keith: Take cover!

Shiro: Paladins, report! We’ve lost visual. Bridge, lock onto that ship now!

Curtis: Yes, Captain. Adjusting to long-range parameters. Locked on!

Shiro: Light it up!

Curtis: Direct hit!

Lance: Nice shot, Atlas!

Hunk: Yeah, thanks for the cover!

Shiro: Bridge, stay on alert.

[Cut to the Altean viewscreen of Pidge’s point of view through her helmet.]

Allura: Stand by, Atlas. We’re approaching the ship.

Hunk: Guys, there doesn’t seem to be a pilot inside.

Keith: Hey, guys. Over here.

Pidge: Keith’s found something. Let’s go! Give me a second. Just reconfiguring to this barrier’s isometric frequency. There! That should do it.

Keith: Atlas, our target is acquired.

Overlapping voices: Yippee! Alright! Yeah!

Shiro: Great job, everyone!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through another hallway.]

Rizavi: We just got word that the Paladins have returned from their mission. Maybe we can catch a glimpse of this new Altean.

Kinkade: This’ll be the sixth Altean pilot we’ve recovered from the powered-down robeasts left behind after Honerva escaped Oriande. Allura keeps trying, but she hasn’t been able to get any information from them as of yet.

[Camera cuts to Rizavi standing outside a room marked “Authorized Personnel Only”.]

Rizavi: Commander Shirogane said you two were needed on the bridge. We’ll cover your station.

Woman: Yes, Lieutenant.

Rizavi: There! Oh, man, I think we missed the beginning.

Romelle: Tavo, please. You and I grew up alongside one another. You must trust me. We’re here to help.

Tavo: We were told you are a traitor, and I can see now that it is true.

Allura: I’m done talking with him. I’m done with all of them.

Kinkade: Uh, what are you doing?

Rizavi: Sh! I got an idea.

Lance: Anything?

Allura: No. He was just like the others. A true believer in Honerva, and there’s nothing I can say that would make him think otherwise.

Lance: I’m sorry.

Allura: No, I am. These Alteans are the key to unlocking Honerva’s plan. They’re my people, but they won’t speak with me. You have no idea what it’s like to find out after ten thousand years that you’re not the last of your kind… only to be rejected by them.

Lance: I don’t. But I wish every day there were something I could do to change it all for you. You’ve suffered more than anyone should in a thousand lifetimes. But still you persist. Through the pain, you inspire. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.

Kinkade: No, that’s private.

Rizavi: Kinkade, what are you doing? That was our love angle!

[Camera cuts out, then focuses in on Romelle’s face.]

Kinkade: Please don’t touch that.

Romelle: Oh, sorry.

Rizavi: So, Romelle, you know these Alteans from your time on the colony?

Romelle: Yes, I lived alongside them for many decaphoebs. They are good people.

Kinkade: What do you think would make them join forces with Honerva?

Romelle: I don’t know. But you must understand, my people were hunted nearly to extinction. They’re afraid. And this Honerva… she’s turned that fear to aggression. If there was just some way to get through to them.

[Cut to the mess hall.]

Griffin: I’ve never seen anything like it. All those tentacles… so nasty.

[Cut to the kitchen where Hunk is stirring something purple in a pan.]

Hunk: Oh, hey. You’re just in time. I was just about to add the yeast Colleen gave me. No, Bae Bae! Bad dog!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi sitting at a table with Allura.]

Kinkade: First off, thanks for doing this, Allura.

Allura: You’re welcome.

Rizavi: Maybe we can start with the Alteans we have aboard.

Allura: What about them? They’re on the wrong side of this war and they refuse to speak with me. There’s nothing else to say.

Rizavi: So, you’re frustrated?

Allura: Yes, I am. Oriande was destroyed, Lotor is back, and we aren’t any closer to tracking down Honerva. She’s out there, right now, planning something, preparing, and growing stronger. And we’re here flying around in circles, searching for Fraunhofer lines that don’t appear and scanning for wormhole signatures that don’t exist!

Rizavi: Do you think we’ll ever find Honerva?

Allura: No. I think she’ll find us.

[Camera cuts back to Hunk in the kitchen, this time wearing oven mitts.]

Hunk: Okay, it’s been a long day, but I’m finally done.

Kinkade: What is it?

Hunk: It’s an authentic Altean dessert! I’m gonna give it to the Alteans. Coran helped me with the recipe, but I think his memory was, like, a little bit fuzzy, so, you know, I did some improvising. No big whoop.

Kinkade: You did this for them? Why?

Hunk: Well, I don’t know. Because food has a way of reminding people of moments in time. That’s why I made a dessert. Usually, when you eat dessert, you’re pretty happy, right? Who knows? Maybe this’ll help those Alteans remember some moment that made them smile. Something before all this madness. That could go a long way in building a relationship. Well, that’s just what I think.

[Cut to the Alteans in a holding cell as the camera zooms out and pans to face Hunk.]

Hunk: Please, eat. Look, it’s good! Mm, really!

Tavo: You made this? It reminds me of home.

Hunk: Well, I had a little help from someone born and raised on Altea. A-and I know you don’t wanna talk with them, but Allura and Coran know more about your homeland than anyone alive. They were on Altea until its final day. They both would’ve stayed and died to protect it if Alfor hadn’t sent them away. That’s how much they loved it.

Tavo: I heard Altea was one of the most beautiful places in the universe. Did your Alteans ever tell you about the zyo crystal springs outside of the capital? The stories say those cliffs were more beautiful than all of the stars combined.

Hunk: They never told me about them. But I’m sure they’d love to tell you themselves.

[Scene change to Kinkade sitting in casual clothes facing the camera.]

Kinkade: This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 2300 hours. Day forty-seven aboard the IGF-Atlas is officially done.

End.

[depressedacadamia]

Daisies and Distress

Summary: Hazel loves flowers and plants but poor Frank is allergic. What happens when these two get into an arguement about Hazel's precious plants?

A/N: I HAD WRITERS BLOCK BUT I’M BACK BITCHESSS

Read on AO3

If there was one thing that Frank had to say he didn’t like about Hazel, he would say nothing.

But if there was one thing that Hazel owned that Frank hated, it would be the magnitudes of flowers and plants that she owned. Frank could tolerate the plants- after all, they weren’t harming him but when it came to the flowers and in particular, the daisies, he drew the line. Daisies had pollen. A lot of pollen and with one gentle breeze of air, that pollen could be up his nose and the next thing he nose, he’s sent into sneezing fits.

Hazel told him to simply stay out of her cabin. If he didn’t come in, he wouldn’t have to deal with the flowers. However, Frank seemed to object to the idea on the basis that it would mean they couldn’t have their secret kissing sessions. It wasn’t that everyone didn’t know they were dating, for it was almost as obvious as Percy and Annabeth's relationship, it was simply Hazel was raised in a very traditional time. She couldn’t feel comfortable if she knew everyone was watching them together- at most, she could tolerate them holding hands in public or a peck on the cheek.

So here the dilemma settled- either Frank would stop visiting Hazel (something that would never happen in his eyes) or Hazel would get rid of the flowers (something that would never happen in her eyes). Hazel loved her plants. To her, they were a source of beauty that she could create that wouldn’t curse everyone around her- unlike her precious metals.

“I am not getting rid of any of my plants nor flowers for you Frank!” Hazel called out.

“How about just half of the flowers? The really pollen-y ones? Like…” He turned around and pointed at the vast collection of daisies. “All of these?”

“But those are my favourite ones!”

“You could always replace them with another yellow plant right?”

“Daisies are white,” Hazel deadpanned, turning around to face her boyfriend with her hands on her hips. To anyone else, this encounter may seem quite humorous- considering the height difference, a very much petit Hazel whom Frank was almost towering over. That said, Frank did not underestimate her might due to her height- he knew that if she wanted, he could be flat on his back, with her spartha under his throat.

“But they’re yellow in the middle,” He argued.

“The petals of the flower itself are white.”

“But I’m allergic to pollen Hazel! I start sneezing like crazy and my eyes go all red and itchy!”

She shrugged her shoulders and hummed. “So don’t come to my cabin. Simple.”

“But...but….”

Hazel smiled wickedly, her innocence disappearing for a second. “ But what?”

Frank grumbled something unintelligible and Hazel knew she had checkmated him- fair and square. Frank felt hopeless- why was Hazel so relentless on this! As a couple, they spent most of their time in Hazel’s cabin, doing coupley things. Was she trying to tell him something? Frank swore he remembered someone telling him that in a relationship, the other partner always hints what they want. Was this what Hazel was doing now? And if so, what exactly was she trying to say?

Was she trying to tell him that she didn’t want to see him anymore? Was that why she refused to get rid of daisies? Just as Frank was about to raise the question, he looked back up and saw that Hazel was nowhere to be found.

Hazel thought the daisies were starting to look weedy. She did not want to just get rid of them because they had started out gorgeous and beautiful and she loved that they’d close up at night and open in the day but by now, they looked quite… un-aesthetically pleasing.

“What are you doing?” A blonde figure by the door asked. Jason stood there, his eyebrows creasing and his forehead sparkled with perspiration.

“Just trying to get rid of these daisies. I picked them a while ago but now they’re just getting weedy.”

Jason sighed happily. “ Oh thank goodness. I was going crazy from how much Frank ranted about those flowers. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know tha-”

“-Don’t tell Frank anything… for now of course. I don’t plan on letting them be gone for long,” She smiled.

Jason frowned. “ Hazel, what exactly are you on about?”

Hazel gave a heavy sigh, as if she were slightly irritated by the lack of intelligence around her. “Just because I'm getting rid of these flowers does not mean I’m not going to replace them.”

Jason’s mouth opened and then closed and then opened and then closed.

“You look like a goldfish.”

“I don’t like you,” Jason huffed, slightly offended. He happened to think he looked quite handsome. Hazel gave him a sugar like smile before ushering him out of her cabin and letting the soft candle light combined with the setting sun give light to her place.

Hazel had managed to find new daisies, fresh ones that wouldn’t weed up for at least a week or two- if she put fertiliser pellets in their water (she was running low on those). The sun was rising and Frank had not come by her cabin the previous night- which Hazel would have dictated as strange had the recent argument not occurred.

“Can I come in?” A voice echoed along with a gentle knock on the door. Hazel, ready to win, opened the door swiftly; only for the figure to not be Frank. She frowned, confused as to why Leo was even at Camp Jupiter- After all, he wasn’t very welcome considering his first impression on them.

“Uh.. sure?”

Leo, messy as usual, walked in. His hair was in its regular curly state (although Hazel could have sworn that she saw some ends that had clearly been set on fire) and his smile was bright. But Hazel knew Leo and she knew Sammy- when they had that certain innocence to their smile, nothing good could come out of it.

“You look...suspicious,” She started, her hands resting on her hips and her eyes never leaving Leo.

“What?” Leo shrugged. “Just because I’m being nice, you're assuming I have an ulterior motive?”

“I never said you were nice. Nice try though.”

“Offended. Anyway, I’m here because my baby Festus needed to stretch their legs so we went for a ride. Thought I’d say hello before we hopped back to Long Island.”

Hazel frowned. “You came all the way here from Long Island? That’s quite far, isn’t it?”

Leo stayed silent, his back to Hazel; the only sounds being his fingers stretching and his knuckles cracking.

“You said hello to Jason? I know he’d be mad if he knew you came without giving him a heads up.”

“Oh thanks for the reminder.” He paused and turned around. “ How long have you had those flowers? They certainly don’t look like they’ve been here for ages.”

She raised an eyebrow and her arms went to cross over her chest. Something was up. She knew Leo was smart, genius even. Despite that, when it came to plants and flowers, he was as clueless as it gets.

She had seen Calypso’s attempts to teach him nature care but it was clear that Leo was not very good at plants. As a child of Hephaestus, they just didn’t speak to him well, unlike Festus.

“That’s because they haven’t been here for ages. Freshly picked as of yesterday evening,” She informed him.

“How’s Frank?”

“What’s with all the topic hopping?”

Hazel’s eyes shot to Leo fingers fiddling. Yes, it was normal for Leo to fidget, in fact, it would be considered strange if he didn’t but the way he was fiddling now was odd. Hazel knew that Leo would make small contraptions- like pistons or mini electromagnets. But he wasn’t making anything, he was just folding his fingers back and forth anxiously.

“Which one of them sent you?”

“Who! People? Send me? Why would anyone send me here? I came here all on my own accord because they- I mean I, uh, I wanted to say hi!” Leo blurted. She narrowed her eyes. Just as she was to give a response, the door opened.

There was no knock. No warning. It just opened. No one asked for permission. That's what told Hazel that it was Frank. She remembered how she had told him that for him, her door was always open. From that day, Frank had simply walked into Hazel’s cabin as no knock was required.

“What is he doing here?” Frank asked immediately. They both seemed quite startled in his eyes. Leo couldn’t have looked more suspicious with his nervous, fiddling hands and Hazel, well Frank couldn’t even read Hazel if he tried at this point.

“Leo came t-”

“Why is he in your cabin so early in the morning? Did he stay the night? Is that why you kept the flowers? What, to ward me off like I’m some miasma?”

Frustratedly, Hazel facepalmed. “What are you on about?”

“This!” Frank exploded, his hands and arms flying everywhere. He felt like shit, in fact, he hated feeling like this. It made him feel dark- useless and pathetic. Here he was accusing his girlfriend of going behind his back with a guy whom he could trust with all his life because of what? Jealousy? Anger?

“I kept the flowers because I wanted them. Leo visited because the others made him and no! He didn’t stay the night and besides, I was out picking flowers in the evening- you can even ask Jason!”

“I..I…” But Frank had no words. He couldn’t believe he had acted so stupidly all over a couple of flowers but he wasn’t prepared to set aside his ego and accept all the blame- after all, shouldn’t Hazel’s boyfriend mean more to her than a couple of flowers?

Awkwardly, Leo shuffled from foot to foot. “ Ah.. so it seems my job here is done.”

“So they did send you!” Hazel whipped her head towards Leo. He quickly wiggled his way between her and Frank.

“Sorrygottogobye!”

Folding her arms, Hazel snorted, slightly amused. “He really thinks he can get away- doesn’t he.”

“He was always a little more clueless than us all. It’s why Calypso is good for him,” Frank agreed.

“Don’t think you’ve been let off so easily, mister!” Hazel turned on Frank. “ What was that back then? Are you really getting so worked up over some flowers?”

Frank mumbled something inaudible.

“Huh?”

He took a deep breath. “ I said, I don’t wanna have to stop seeing you at night but those flowers are the work of Pluto.”

“Proserpina actually, but close enough.”

“Really? She always seemed so nice,” Frank mused. Hazel cringed.

“You clearly haven’t been to one of our family reunions.”

“It can’t be that bad?” Frank offered. Hazel shook her head.

“Nico has spent more time in the underworld as a dandelion than he has spent as a demigod.”

“Well,” Frank sighed, slightly alarmed. “Now I know to always decline an invite from Proserpina, thanks.”

“Frank, come on! They’re just flowers!” Hazel tried to reason. What if he actually didn’t mind the flowers? What if this was his way of telling her that he didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore? Is that what he was doing? Using the flowers as an excuse?

“Okay. Do you want to break up?” Frank asked bluntly. Hazel could feel her heart drop. Her mouth felt dry.

“Why? Do you?”

Frank could feel his chest spike in pain. Why wasn’t she answering the question? “ No.Of course not! But with the way you’re being so stubborn, I assumed that you wanted to end things and I-”

“-Well I assumed that you wanted to end things with how you’ve been avoiding me like the plague,” Hazel mumbled. Her heart felt so fluttery that she could have sworn that in that moment it became a butterfly and she had to do everything in her power to prevent it from flying away.

“No!” Frank cried, walking towards Hazel. His arms slipped around her and he rested his chin on the crown of her head. He could smell her shampoo and he closed his eyes, relishing in the moment. He could feel his heart but it was no longer racing but instead steady. He felt at peace.

Hazel’s arms wrapped around Frank's waist as she nuzzled her head into his chest. She rested her head there, listening to his frantic heartbeat calm down. She broke the hug reluctantly and looked up at Frank, her eyes wide- innocent like a puppy.

“You’re warm,” She smiled. Frank stared at her lips as they parted into a smile, her entire face brightening. He wanted to melt at the very sight. He leant down and gently pressed his lips against hers. She let out a small squeak of surprise before melting into the kiss against him. Her hands were firmly planted against his chest as his hand brushed against her cheek. She could feel the small calluses on his fingertips from wielding his bow and arrows.

“Does this mean you’ll get rid of the flowers?” Frank whispered.

“No way.” Hazel winked.

[aoifeanamadan]

After School Special

Fandom: Minecraft YouTube rpf (mcyt)

Word count: 3888

Relationship: DreamNotFound (DreamxGeorgeNotFound)

Summary:

The sky is blue, the sun is hot and Dream hates George.

He really hated him, all smug and sarcastic and closed off. Where Dream was friendly, loud and outgoing, George was quiet and pretentious. It was like he thought he was above everyone else.

Needless to say, neither of them were over the moon when they found out they had to spend two months working together in weekend detention.

Support this work on AO3 :)

Chapter One: Spanish? 

Dream was an early riser, he always had been. It was nice to wake up to quiet suburbia, to see the world jostle into life. He witnessed the cellophane peace stretch and tear. The house was quiet before sunrise. It felt delicate, holy. It felt like it was all his. Dream could wander, tiptoe around the soft quiet. It was like he was the only person left on the planet.

Lie-ins felt wrong on a cellular level. They made him feel a dirty kind of guilt, the missed opportunity. Every day since he was a child, he was up before the sun. And every day he watched the sunrise while eating breakfast. It was gorgeous. Watching the sweet pinks and dusted oranges floating up from the horizon assured him he was there, he was human.

It felt right, millions of years of evolution proving him right. Once the sun was up, the house got moving.

He loved the mornings, seeing his family bleary-eyed and cotton-mouthed. It was a different kind of vulnerability, one coated in familiarity. It made him certain that they were all there. Real and familiar and the same as always.

On the first morning of his senior year, Dream missed the sunrise. I was nothing ominous or scary, he just overslept. His alarm clock’s batteries had run out the night before and Dream couldn’t wake up without the siren blare. His sister had to knock on his hardwood door as she passed on her way downstairs.

Dream wasn’t superstitious. Witches didn’t scare him, he thought spells were bullshit. But missing the sunrise on the first morning of his last year of school, it scared him a little bit. He didn’t realise it at the time, head stuffed with shitfuckshitshit I’m going to be late , that end of the world feeling that comes with waking up late on a Monday. But the thing that scared him was the uncertainty, the proof that things were changing soon.

Normally, once the house was moving enough, he could take a shower without feeling guilty for shattering the peace of the sunrise. It was always the same, hair first then his body, his teeth.

No matter how many times he washed and changed his bedsheets, the night always made him feel dirty. Seeing the water go down the drain felt like seeing the air rushing into his lungs, his blood pumping. It was certain, it worked. Always the same soap, the same shampoo.

That morning, he had to run to the shower. Dream liked routine, a plan, but he liked efficiency more. Even his shower routine was streamlined to be as time-effective as possible. He’d had the same shower gel since he was 11, fresh and clear.

It was just his luck that his Bubble Cucumber & Aloe Vera Hair & Body Wash would run out the first morning in 7 years that he was running late.

But, he adapted. The family soap felt gritty against his skin. It felt like there was a snail leaving a trail of lime behind it. Dream felt dirty, the night was ground into his skin. But, ‘a positive attitude was his most important accessory’ according to his mother, so he got on with it. He showered, he got dressed and he rushed his way downstairs.

His socks thudded softly against the carpeted stairs as he jogged into the kitchen, wearing shoes in the morning wasn’t right in his brain. He was pulling his jumper on over his head as he walked in, really it was inevitable that he’d walk into the door frame. There was a red mark on his forehead under his hairline. Fuck. His sister’s laughter only added to the heat building in the back of his brain.

Dream was a creature of habit, he knew what worked. And why fix what’s not broken? Two slices of white bread toast (with the dial at setting 2) with blackcurrant jam, butter on both sides and no crusts.  A glass of orange juice without bits. It was an easy breakfast, it worked. He never felt hungry before lunch.

The bits in orange juice were gross, the way they congealed on the side of the glass. Just the sight of gravity dragging them down the inside of the glass, leaving a trail of orange guts and gore, it was enough to make him squirm.

So, naturally, when Dream reached to pour the orange juice that morning, he was met with a stream of obnoxiously bit filled orange juice. Dream took his deep breaths, but the rise and fall of his chest made his skin rub against his t-shirt. The feeling of the shirt sticking to his wet, slimy skin was the final straw. He punched his hand twice, squeezed his eyes shut and stood up.

In hindsight, taking the carton and pouring it down the sink was an overreaction. But at the time, despite the protests from his sisters, it seemed like the only option. There would have been no issue other than a new shortage of orange juice, but Murphy’s Law was at play.

Just as Dream was going to throw the emptied carton in the bin, his mother walked in.

“Oh Clay, for God’s sake. I had just bought that!”

Dream got into Sapnap’s car five minutes late with toast in his mouth, ‘thoroughly sorry for wasting perfectly good orange juice’ but more sorry for being seen throwing it away.

“What took so long dude?” Sapnap was smiling from the driver’s seat. The second Dream got in, he put his head on the dashboard. Sapnap only got an exaggerated groan as a response. Dream didn't lift his head.

“Okay!” Sapnap, still grinning, started them on the journey towards school. His predictions about how their senior year would go were a welcome distraction from Dream’s building stress headache.

It was easy, it always was. Dream and Sapnap, Sapnap and Dream. They knew each other better than they knew themselves. Dream didn’t need to pretend to be excited or upbeat. He just had to be there. And he was. And so was Sapnap. And that morning, that was enough for both of them. To know they had each other, each in the other’s corner.

Sapnap talked the whole journey and Dream loved him for it. They understood each other, knew what the other needed. That morning, Dream needed a distraction while Sapnap needed to get the nerves of a first day back at school out of his system.

By the time they were parked, they were running behind.

Dream was late to his first class, physics. He got into school just as first the bell rang but the receptionist wouldn’t let him past. He tried to protest but was only met with a lecture about time management. They didn’t want to hear about his excuse, his mother’s lecture about food waste.

“Well, how could I ‘manage my time’ if my mother was the one keeping me back? What am I meant to say to my mother? I’m not about to tell my mom to shut up.” Dream was almost pleading by that point. His day had gone from bad to worse, to worse, to worse.

“I’d be careful before taking that tone with a staff member if I were you, Dream.” Dream wanted to hit back, stand up for himself, but he swallowed his words. The receptionist didn’t care what he had to say, they were just happy to get him in trouble. Drunk on power and projecting their highschool experience onto Dream. This wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause.

Dream just nodded, bit back his ‘Fuck you’, apologised and headed to the other office for a late note, appeased only with a muttered whisper of ‘total bullshit’ as he walked away.

Such was the tyranny of high school.

When he finally got into the class, equipped with his note, the teacher barely paid him any attention. He didn’t even want the note. He just told him to sit down in any empty seat, then he went back to his diagram of magnetic fields.

Dream surveyed the classroom and was met with a packed grid of chairs. He could see his friends, all the way at the back of the class. It felt like light-years away. They were all frowning at him in sympathy. Dream didn’t like it at all, he didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. Bad was the only one who wasn’t looking at him like he just told them his puppy died. He was tapping his watch and mouthing ‘Don’t be late’. Dream smiled back sadly and shook his head.

The only empty seat was in the front row next to Weird Sarah. Dream bit the inside of his mouth to keep from getting mad, and sat down next to her.

He turned to her, hoping to make some kind of friendship using the ‘positive attitude’ that his mother so valued, but was only met with the sight of her picking her nose at age 18. She turned to him and glared.

Dream thought that might be the final straw, after everything that had gone wrong. His head felt like a tea kettle, he was surprised other people couldn’t see steam coming out of his ears.

But, he counted his deep breaths and clenched his fists until he could refocus on electromagnetism, or whatever the teacher was talking about.

Dream had been so focused on not letting everything from the morning get to him then and there, and culminate into a public rage, he had forgotten to pay attention. He was completely lost.

The teacher must’ve noticed the look on Dream’s face, because it was then he chose to engage  Dream in the lesson.

“Dream, can you tell me how to label exhibit 6.3?”

The words felt like a death sentence. Dream just stared blankly back at him, turning red. Everyone was quiet, all witnesses to Dream’s public execution by way of embarrassment. He wanted to yell, to tell them all he wasn’t stupid he was just panicking. Instead, he sat there in the silence. Any other day he would have had some cocky, charismatic answer but that Monday he had nothing.

He could feel his classmates’ eyes burning into the back of his head, looking at him expectantly. Dream couldn’t have remembered the answer right then if he had a masters degree in electromagnetism. The silence was starting to become painful. He had to say something.

“No?” It came out as more of a question than an answer. The teacher looked at Dream, disappointed. It was too early for this.

“No Dream, you cannot, because you were too focused on staring at your blank notebook. Pay attention please.”

The teacher, Mr McCarthy, was a nice man. He was old - maybe fifty or sixty - with grey hair and frail shoulders. He had three grandchildren and two kids of his own. His youngest grandchild, Lucy, was the apple of his eye. He liked golf, reading and the Netflix programme ‘Too Hot to Handle’. He was a good teacher.

None of that mattered to Dream, who at that moment felt like his teacher might have actually been the devil.

The embarrassment was burning in his chest, in his hands. And he hated it. He didn’t get embarrassed. Dream did not get embarrassed. He got mad and angry and mean, but not embarrassed. So, he flicked the switch. The blood that was flowing to his cheeks changed course to his ears.

He felt it building up inside him again, the same anger from earlier was rushing back in to suffocate the embarrassment. This whole class was fucking bull, what did Mr McCarthy even know about jackshit?

Dream didn’t even hear him open the question up to the rest of the class. He only heard George’s response.

“It’s particle radiation.”

George said it easily, nearly muttering. He didn’t even have to think about it. The class went silent. Dream heard Bad mutter an “Oh no.”

One thing everyone knew about Dream was that he did not like to lose. Ever since he was a kid, everything was a competition. Who could brush their teeth fastest? Who could finish the storybook first? He once stayed up for 27 hours just to make sure he was better than Sapnap at Call Of Duty. He was competitive to the core. It’s easy to be like that when you’re used to winning. Every time he was the best at something, it fueled him to be the best at something else. It was an easy cycle, the blueprint never failed him.

Dream didn’t lose, but somehow George always found a way to put him in second place. Ever since they were kids. When they were doing races, George was faster. When they were doing rock, paper, scissors George was luckier. When they were doing spelling bees, George was smarter.

Dream still didn’t lose, how could he, but he also didn’t win. And that wasn’t acceptable.

George knowing the answer to Mr McCarthy’s question was his final straw that morning.

“Yeah, of course he would need to answer.” It was a mutter to Sarah, under his breath. Sarah didn’t even glance towards him. But, in the silence of the classroom, it was 1000 decibels. Everyone froze, thankful to have front seats to their own personal soap opera.

“What’d you just say?” George’s head snapped towards Dream, all aggression and thought out anger. He was giving Dream a chance to retreat. Everyone knew he wasn’t going to take it. Dream wasn’t the type to retreat.

“I said of course you would need to prove how smart you are to the whole class.” Dream was looking back at him, matching his anger. Nobody was talking.

“Boys,” Mr McCarthy, bless his soul, tried to intervene. It was a lost cause. No one even noticed him. “Just because you’re mad that you didn’t know the answer. Stop acting like a little bitch.” George was talking as if he was speaking to a younger brother, scowling at Dream. He sounded like he barely cared about what was happening. It looked like he would be cold to the touch, like a statue. It made it look like Dream was throwing a tantrum

“George!” Mr McCarthy had never heard George swear before. Dream had. Everyone in the class had. George had been swearing like a sailor since he was eight.

“I’m a bitch? Coming from you? You fucking weirdo-” Dream’s anger was only building. Seeing George look cool and collected while he felt his face heating up made it worse. He stood up, the clatter of the stool bouncing off the walls.

“Boys!” That was the final straw for Mr McCarthy. He slammed his book down on the desk as he yelled. No one moved. Dream was left standing, breathing heavily. It was like they’d been snapped back to reality, remembering that there was actually a teacher in the room. Even if it was only Mr McCarthy.

He pointed his bony finger at Dream and then at George.

“You two. Outside. Now.”

In life, there were some simple truths. The sky was blue, the sun was hot. And, Dream and George hated each other.

But, in the same was the sky had been red in the beginning and the sun would be nothing in the end, it hadn’t always been that way.

When they were younger, much younger, everything had been different. When they were kids, five years old, maybe six, Dream, George and Sapnap had been real friends, or as real a friendship could be at age nine. Sapnap had been the glue holding them all together. He was a mediator, no matter how hard he tried to start the joking fights he was always the one to end the serious ones.

Sometimes Dream thought that without Sapnap, he and George wouldn’t have made it past the age of 10 without killing each other. They were always fighting, over catch, snap, tip the can, even tic tac toe.

Things changed as they got older though. Where Dream and Sapnap got more confident, bigger, taller, stronger, George went quiet. He wasn’t shy, he just seemed mad. He was all snark and edge and frost. He retreated into himself totally, Dream never had any idea what he was thinking. By the age of ten, Dream was sure George hated him, so he decided to hate George back even harder.  

The more time that passed, the more he believed his story. That George had shut him out, and Dream was only acting in self-defence.

After all, George was weird. Where Dream was loud, the life of every party, the centre of the school community, George was quiet and pretentious. It was like he thought he was better than everyone else because he didn’t engage with the school.

Everyone wanted to be Dream’s friends, everyone except George.

Bad came into the picture in high school, all kindness and unconditional friendship. He was just what Dream and Sapnap had needed, he kept them human. Bad stopped him from being a bully. Sapnap had always said to be nice because it was the right thing to do. Bad said to be nice because empathy was a virtue, he explained his experience growing up, how just one person being nice to him could’ve changed everything. He made Sapnap and Dream kinder.

Where Dream hated George, all sarcasm and snark, George seemed to have a vague dislike of Dream. It was as if he didn’t even care enough to dislike him. Even if Dream didn’t want to admit it, on some level he knew that he hated George more than George hated him. This only spurred him on to hate George even more.

Sapnap tried to stop him. Him and George were still good friends. He didn’t let them talk about each other and never told them anything about the other. That was Sapnap to a T, as loyal as they come. No matter how many times he started fake fights, Dream knew he’d always be there if he really needed him.

But, standing out in the hall in the middle of what should've been a normal physics class, Sapnap was not there. Mr McCarthy and George, however, were right in front of him, and they were on route to the principal’s office.

A solid telling off later, his third of the day, George and Dream had received their punishment. For swearing and publically fighting during physics, they were sentenced to two months worth of weekend classes together.

It was that or four months of after school detention. Dream didn’t want to admit it, but he had George to thank for negotiating it down to what it was. Dream would never tell a soul, but it was a tiny bit badass to see George debating the principal while she was mid-rant.

Dream was a lot more grateful than he was letting off.

If he wanted to stay on as the first striker on the soccer team, he needed to be at every practice. And practices were after school, exactly when their detention was first scheduled. He couldn’t have Sapnap out on the soccer field without him to pass to, how would he cope with the loneliness?

George had after school commitments as well apparently, considering how hard he fought to get the mandatory attendance to the weekend classes the school ran instead. He argued that him and Dream could improve their schooling and learn to co-exist, instead of sitting in silence and letting their hatred simmer.

They were even allowed to pick the class, as a way to start them on their journey of cooperation.

Once they left the office, miraculously still alive, Dream turned to George. He tried to push down the automatic response of ‘Fuck this guy’ in order to choose the class they would take. Before he could even open his mouth, George was talking.

“We’re doing English.” Before Dream could reply, he was walking away. Asshole.

Dream chased after him down the hall.

“Hey, hey!” George didn’t even turn around until Dream was tapping his shoulder. Asshole.

“Huh?” George had the audacity to look confused. “What do you want now?”

Dream just looked at him in disbelief, shaking his head. He was so fucking obnoxious.

“Why would we do English? I wanted to do-” Dream hesitated. He hadn’t actually thought about what he wanted to do, too distracted by what an idiot George was for speaking for the both of them without consulting him. Dream realised his pause for too long. “-Spanish.”

Dream did not want to do Spanish.

“Spanish?” George was looking at him like he was an idiot. It made Dream want to double down even harder.

“Yeah. Spanish.” It didn’t even sound convincing to his own ears.

“You don’t do Spanish.” George was getting annoyed. Dream was proving everything that he thought about him right.

“I do!” Dream didn’t know why he was committing so hard to his lie. He didn’t want George to know he was right, God knows how smug it would make him.

“Speak some Spanish right now then.” George was challenging him. It caught Dream off guard. He hadn’t expected the exchange to go further than him saying he wanted to do Spanish, which he did not.

He would’ve spoken some, but never having learned a word of Spanish made that a bit difficult. He hesitated too long for it to be believable.

“No.” Dream’s brain was stuttering. He was trapped in his own lie. This was exactly what his mother always said would happen if you lied, you’d get trapped in it. “No?” George looked at him, smirking like an idiot. Asshole. Of course he would like watching Dream in misery, Sapnap was wrong about him.

“No.” They both stood there in the hall, Dream prayed for the bell to ring and give him an excuse to leave. The bell did not ring.

“Okay then. We’re doing English. For one, we both actually do it. And you need the help.” Before Dream could protest, George walked away. Dream wanted to punch him.

His mother didn’t take the news well. Most parents wouldn’t be over the moon hearing that their child was going to be in weekend detention for two months. Dream tried to spin it as a fun afternoon class but that plan was derailed when his dad came in holding the phone, with the principal on the other end of the line.

In school the next day, after spending twenty minutes complaining to his friends, Dream found George during lunch.

“Hey, I’m going to need your number.” Dream didn’t bother with manners. They were well past that point. He was just following the orders of his mother, who wanted them to co-operate completely. She figured Dream would need George’s number.

George looked up from his friends, eyebrows raised. When he saw Dream, he got up. They walked just a few steps away from the table.

“George, your number?” Dream just wanted to get it over with so he could go back to his friends and complain about the whole situation

“Oh yeah, it’s 08 fuck you 69.” George rolled his eyes, taking the phone from Dream’s hand.

He saved his contact under Gogy <3 and walked away. Dream was left scowling at George’s back.

[q-gorgeous]

Why Am I So Heavy?

fanfiction

Word count: 4318

Prompt for the Phic Phight by @voidetrap. Danny is a ghost who became half-human after stumbling through a portal to the human world.

guys this is the longest fic ive ever written i hope this keeps up i need to catch up to laz

Footsteps could be heard walking through a forest, the sounds of twigs snapping as two teenagers made their way through the trees.

“C’mon, Sam. The last time you dragged me out here to do some spooky ritual I was hiccuping out daisies for a week. Can’t you find someone else to drag out into the middle of nowhere, or go by yourself?”

“No can do, Tucker. Going on hikes by yourself is dangerous and everyone else was busy.”

Tucker grumbled. “I wish I was busy.”

“Here we are!” Sam shouted, running past Tucker into a clearing in the trees that led to a cliff overlooking the rest of the forest. 

Sam walked over to a large, dead tree and started rummaging around in it’s hollow base. She pulled out a large stick, a toolbox, and a crystal ball. 

“Today the earth and sun’s electromagnetic fields are supposed to form a portal, which usually just exchanges electrons. Though I think if I can get this pentagram set up with these quartz and crystals, I can make it work. Oh! And today’s also the solstice, that’ll help too.”

Tucker watched as Sam walked around the clearing, drawing a large pentagram into the ground with a stick. “Electromagnetic hoohaa? How do you even know what that means?”

Looking up at him, pausing in her task, she blew hair out of her eyes. “Don’t you ever go listen to the Fenton’s when they give presentations at the library? They’re kind of weird, but the concepts they propose are actually pretty rad.”

Tucker shook his head vigorously. “Nuh uh. No way. The last time you took me with it was only the two of us and he spent three hours talking about his childhood. Three hours! I didn’t wanna know about how he cried every night at dinner because he had to eat horse meat.”

Looking back down to her drawing in the dirt, Sam shrugged. “Your loss then. Lately they’ve started bringing their inventions in to show people and they go over their blueprints and everything. Mrs. Fenton is also thinking about doing defense classes. Did you know she’s a fourth degree black belt?”

“Nope, and I don’t really care to learn more.” He squinted his eyes and looked up into the trees, smiling mischievously. “Though… I would like to learn more about Jazz Fenton.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Dream on, Tuck. Now come here and put down these candles and quartz at each point while I lug the crystal ball over here.”

Tucker walked over and bent down to open the toolbox, scooping everything out of it. “Dream on? Next time I see Jazz Fenton I’ll walk right up to her and use one of my signature pick up lines. It’s foolproof!” He placed a candle and quartz on the ground at his feet.

“Okay, Tucker.” Sam grunted as she lifted the crystal ball into her arms. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She placed the crystal ball in the center of the pentagram and walked over to her backpack as Tucker lit each of the candles. She pulled out a book and flipped to her latest entry. Stepping over a log and kneeling behind it, she beckoned Tucker over.

“Okay, come behind here. I’m not sure what’ll happen but the Fenton’s said when they tried opening a ghost portal in college it blew up in their friend’s face.”

“Wait, what?!”

Before Tucker could continue, Sam interrupted him, chanting. 

“Vocare nos spirituum ligno!”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny floated on his back through the ghost zone, bored out of his mind. Everyone was busy today. 

Ember and Skulker were on a date. Johnny and Kitty were fighting. Even the Box Ghost had something to do! What was a dead guy supposed to do for entertainment around here?

He rolled onto his stomach and let out a large sigh. The ghost zone needed a new attraction or something. Like a theme park. Yeah, maybe he should talk to-

Something a ways ahead of him caught his eye. It looked like a little flicker of green light. Looking closely again, he could see a small swirl of green mist. 

Today just got a lot more interesting. 

He flew over to it but soon it disappeared again, without a trace. He scratched the top of his head. What was that? He floated around the space in a circle, his eyes never leaving the spot. 

After a few seconds, he shrugged. Maybe it was a ghost trying to form that wasn’t very successful. He wondered where it went. Purgatory? Maybe.

Just as Danny was turning away, he could see the swirl again out of the corner of his eye but it increased in size and suddenly Danny was screaming in pain. 

Pain, why was he in so much pain? Were ghosts even supposed to feel this much pain? What was happening?

And suddenly, suddenly he was falling. Falling and falling through this bright, swirling thing that engulfed him. 

The last thought that went through his mind was that he had forgotten what gravity felt like, and with a smack, everything went dark. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

“Si vocare te spirituum.” Tucker said as he looked over Sam’s shoulder at her book. “Clearly you don’t know latin.”

Sam was fuming and pushed his face away from her. “Why’d you tell me to use google translate if you KNOW LATIN?!”

Tucker raised his hands in surrender as he backed away from her. “I couldn’t have you knowing I knew latin! I’d be forever dragged into your schemes!”

“Yeah, well-” Sam was cut off as she heard a groan come from the clearing on the other side of the log. Looking over, covering Tucker’s mouth to shush him, she could see a pale skinned boy with black hair laying on top of her now crushed crystal ball. 

A swirling green portal that she hadn’t noticed during her bickering with Tucker was hovering above him, flickering out of existence. Gaze traveling back down to the boy, she scrunched her eyebrows. 

This didn’t look like a ghost. He looked like a normal kid. Why did a normal kid just fall out of her ghost portal?

Sam stood up slowly and stepped over the log and out of Tucker’s grasp as he tried to hold her back. She walked over to the boy and knelt down and was just about to check his pulse when he groaned again, sending her toppling down onto her butt. 

“Ugh, why do I feel so heavy?”

His eyes slowly slid open, and his head shakily raised and his gaze met hers. They stared at each other until he started taking in his surroundings, panic growing on his face. 

“Where am I?! What did you do to me?!” Sam shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t know! I was trying to open a portal to the ghost zone and then you fell out! What were you even doing in there?”

“What was I doing in there? What do you think I was doing in there? I’m a ghost!”

Tucker cleared his throat from where he still knelt behind the log. “Sorry to break it to you, dude, but you don’t look like any ghost I’ve ever seen.” “What do you-” The boy stopped as his hair fell into his eyes. “Black? My hair isn’t black! What’s going on?!”

Sam hurriedly pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the camera, pointing it at his face so he could see himself. “What are you supposed to look like?”

The boy grabbed his hair, pulled on the skin under his blue eyes, pinched his arms. His breaths started coming faster and faster until he glared up at Sam, his eyes now flashing green. “What did you do to me?!” He yelled, the sound much louder than anything a human should be capable of, prompting Sam and Tucker to cover their ears.

“I don’t know!” Sam shouted, her heart beating wildly. “I was just trying to open a portal to see if the ghost zone was real! I didn’t know you’d be there!”

“I wanna go home!” He wailed, sending the candles and quartz flying away from the pentagram. 

A flash of white light appeared around the boy’s waist, traveling across his figure until a glowing ghost with white hair lay on the ground instead. Floating up, he flexed his fingers and pulled an ectoblast into his hand. 

“Sam!” Tucker shouted. “When you’re done talking to ghosts aren’t you supposed to say goodbye to them when they need to leave? Right”

She nodded and looked back up at the boy. “Yeah. Goodbye, spirit! Begone!”

He kept floating steadily towards her, an angry look in his eyes. 

Panic flared up inside her chest. 

“Goodbye! Au revoir! Auf wiedersehen!”

“Sam?!” Tucker shrieked. 

“It’s not working!”

The ghost boy pulled back an arm, readying to throw the ectoplasm in his hand when he shuddered and dropped to the ground, the bright flash appearing once again and leaving behind the same, human looking boy from before. 

“What is this?” He grumbled into the dirt. “I feel so heavy and tired. And warm. Gosh, way too warm.”

Sam listened to him wheeze in confusion, her brows furrowed. Ghosts didn’t need to breathe, did they? Why was this one out of breath on the ground?

She scooted towards him slowly and held out her hand to him.

“Can I see something?” She asked softly. 

He looked at her hand, puzzled, before placing his own on top of it. Sam cradled it with one hand and with the other she took two fingers and placed them on his wrist.

Her mouth dropped open. 

“You… You have a pulse.”

“What?” He pulled his hand away, glaring down at the offending appendage. “That can’t be possible.”

“Well it’s there.” She said, nodding towards him. “ Check for yourself.”

He squinted at her, brows drawn, but reached up two fingers and placed them on the side of his neck. His eyes shot open and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

“But… I died. I was a ghost. This can’t… This isn’t…”

The trio was silent for a few moments until Tucker plopped down next to Sam.

“What do we do now?” He asked. 

In response, the ghost boy’s stomach grumbled and with wide eyes he looked at it in shock. 

“Well.” Sam said. “I guess we need to get him some food. Let’s start cleaning up.”

Tucker and Sam began cleaning up, storing the candles and quartz back in the toolbox and erasing the pentagram while the ghost boy just stared at the ground.

“Uh, Sam?” Tucker started. “What are we going to do about the crystal ball?”

Sam looked at the ground where it was smashed to pieces and groaned. 

“We’ll have to lug a garbage bag back with us. Can you grab the shovel from the tree and I’ll get a bag from my backpack?”

“Can do, Stew.” Tucker saluted and walked over to the hollow in the trunk. 

Sam picked up the book she had dropped on the ground and stuck it in her backpack before grabbing a bag. Turning back around she saw the ghost boy standing shakily, one hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Sorry for breaking your...thing.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s okay, I can just get a new one. It’s not like it was really your fault anyways.”

As she held the bag open, Tucker began scooping up shards of the crystal ball and soon Sam tied it off, slinging it over her shoulder. After storing the shovel back in the tree Tucker joined the two.

“So, man, did you ever say what your name was?”

“Oh, uh, Danny. Danny Phantom.”

“Nice to meet you, sort of.” Danny’s face fell at that and Tucker back tracked. “But it’s going good now! Right? First impressions aren’t everything!”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m Sam, and that’s Tucker, my reluctant right hand man.”

Tucker flared up the collar on his button up shirt. “That’s Tucker Foley, TF for Too Fine.”

Chuckling, Sam elbowed him. 

“Well, since you’ll need sustenance and shelter for an unforeseeable amount of time, you can sleep over at my house tonight!”

Sam’s face dropped. “Oh my god, Tucker.”

“What? It’s not weird to have sleepovers at our age. It just means we have extra friend time.”

“Not that! What are we supposed to do with him? He’s supposed to be dead! He doesn’t have a birth certificate or any kind of identification! And it’s not like he can stay with us forever. My parents would freak.”

“Hm.” Tucker tapped his chin. “I did not think of that.”

Danny groaned. “So I have to eat food now and find shelter without having anyway to do that? Being dead is so much easier.”

“We’ll make it work!” Sam rushed. “Let’s just go to the Nasty Burger and get something to eat first. Then we’ll figure something out.”

Both boys nodded simultaneously. 

“Okay.”

“Sounds good.”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

The three were in a booth at the Nasty Burger, Sam and Tucker long finished with their food while Danny was on his sixth round of a Mighty Meaty Burger meal. 

“Dude, even if you haven’t eaten since you died surely you aren’t that hungry? You’ve only felt hunger for like, an hour now.” Tucker said incredulously as he tapped something on his phone. 

“Try not eating anything for an entire year and see how much you miss the feeling of eating delicious food.” Danny quipped back, his mouth full. 

“You got me there.” Tucker said as he threw a finger gun towards Danny. 

“Okay, guys, I think we need to start talking about what we’re going to do instead of watching Danny eat.” She tapped her chin as she thought. “We could go talk to the Fentons!”

Tucker looked at her, a deadpan expression on his face. 

“You want to go talk to the Fentons, who are ghost hunters, about this ghost-human hybrid that we accidentally unleashed?”

“Wait ghost hunters?” Danny mumbled around a mouth full of food. 

“Who else are we gonna talk to? They’re the only people who study ghosts around here, and they know me. No one else would want to listen to a bunch of kids anyways.”

“Wait, Sam, can we go back to the ghost hunter part-” 

“Do you know how risky it would be to bring him there?” Tucker asked. “We don’t know what’d they’d do to him, especially because there’d be no trace of him, since he's, you know, dead.”

“Tucker-”

“They’re not gonna kidnap him, Tucker!”

“How do you-”

“GUYS!” Danny yelled.

Sam and Tucker paused in their bickering, looking at Danny’s glowing green eyes. 

“Can you explain the ghost hunters thing?”

“Oh. Right.” Sam says. “Well, they’ve been studying ectology since they were in college, they even tried to create a ghost portal but it was unsuccessful. Lately they’ve been working on a newer model and an arsenal of ghost hunting weapons, but they haven’t had the chance to really test them yet.” She pulls a flyer out of her backpack. 

“They do presentations at the library every week.”

Danny looks at the paper for a few moments before resting his face in his hands. 

“Why would you want to give them a chance to test their weapons? Wouldn’t they be gung ho at any opportunity?”

“Not necessarily!” Sam said rushedly. “They only just moved here a couple months ago but they’re very nice, though a little over the top. They have two daughters too. They should be able to realize that you’re just a kid that needs help.” 

Danny raised his head back up and leveled a stare at her. 

“When's the next meeting?” He asked. 

“Tomorrow at noon.”

He leaned back in his seat, head tilted against the back, and groaned. “Ugh. I guess we really have no other option.” Tucker swiped a fry from Danny’s tray. “Don’t worry man. If they try anything, they’ll probably be stopped by Jazz. She doesn’t believe in the whole ghost schtick.”

“Jazz?” Danny asked as he picked up his burger. 

“That’s the oldest Fenton daughter. They also have a daughter named Elle. She sort of looks like you, actually.” Sam said. 

“Yeah. She’s a feisty little gremlin. Always beating my high scores when we go to the arcade.” Tucker pouted. 

Sam looked at her watch, checking the time. “Well guys, I think we better get going. It’s getting pretty late. Don’t wanna miss the presentation tomorrow.” She jittered excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to tell them I opened a ghost portal!”

“Are you into all their ecto, ghost hunting stuff?” Danny asked wryly. 

“Not really. I’m more into witchcraft and goth stuff. Ghosts just happened to fall in between those somewhere.” Sam stood up and collected her trash. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I’ll meet you at Tucker’s house.”

She waved goodbye and left the restaurant. 

“So…” Tucker started. “Do you wanna go back to my place and play some video games?”

“Video games?” Danny asked. 

Tucker clutched his chest in mock horror. “You don’t remember video games?! Forget sleep, there’s much you need to see!”

And with that, Tucker jumped up and dragged Danny out the door by the wrist. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny walked out the front door of Tucker’s house, yawning. When he blinked open his eyes he could see Sam standing there, tapping her foot. 

“What? I haven’t weighed this much in a year. Walking around was tiring.” Danny told her.

“We also played video games until three in the morning.” Tucker yawned as he walked out behind him.

“Why would you tell her that?” Danny asked, turning around. 

“To make her mad?” Tucker shrugged. 

Sam sighed. “Whatever guys. Let’s just get going. They’re starting soon.”

They walked down the street in silence until Danny spoke. 

“How many people usually go to these things? Is there a lot?”

“No.” Sam said. “Usually it’s just me. And Tucker when I can get him to go.”

Tucker groans. “I just hope Mr. Fenton doesn’t get into telling His Life Story: Volume Two. It was so boring the last time.”

“What do we do if they won’t help us?” Danny asked.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other in silence. Sam took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m sure they’ll help us. They’re nice people.”

Soon they walked inside the library, the building quiet except for the few hushed voices reading children's books and the boisterous laughter that could be heard coming from Mr. Fenton across the building. When Danny heard it, he paused, hands clenched into fists. 

“What if they hate me? What if they won’t help us? I’ll just be stuck here, alive and homeless. What if they strap me down on some table, tearing me apart molecule by molecule?”

Sam turned to face Danny, walking towards him and resting her hands on his shoulders. “They probably won’t be able to tell anyways. It’ll be alright. We’ll go in and wait until the meeting is over and then go talk to them.”

Danny’s shoulders shook, and he took a deep breath and nodded. 

Together, the three of them walked to the presentation room. 

“Just remember, stay calm. It’ll be-”

A clatter resounded through the room as they crossed through the door.

“Danno?”

Mr. Fenton was standing in front of the projector screen, an ectogun laying on the floor at his feet. His eyes were wide and haunted, looking straight at Danny.

Looking behind him, Danny wore a confused expression on his face.

“Me?” He said, pointing at himself. 

The older man nodded. “But how are you… You… This can’t be possible.” He looked Danny over again and then his gaze traveled to Sam. “Ms. Manson, what..?”

“Do you know Danny, Mr. Fenton?” Sam asked softly, confused. 

“He’s my son.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open and she looked at Tucker who was leaning up against the door frame, staring blankly at the floor. Danny still looked confused, but a chirpy voice soon interrupted them. 

“Jack, sweetie, the staff room ran out of sugar again but I think your coffee should be fine with only four packets.” 

The three kids turned around to see Mrs. Fenton standing behind them, two coffee cups in her hands. She smiled at them until her gaze landed on Danny. Her expression soured and she dropped the coffees, pulling out an ectogun from her suit pointing it at Danny.

“What is this ectoplasmic scum doing here impersonating our boy?!”

“Wait!” Sam shouted, putting herself between the barrel of Mrs. Fenton’s gun and Danny. “He has a pulse!” “That’s impossible.” Mrs. Fenton scoffed. “Our son passed a year ago. That’s just a form of post human consciousness.”

“No, please!” Sam reached behind her, searching for Danny’s hand. Once she found it, he grabbed it in a death grip, she pulled it forward, opening up his wrist for the woman. “Please, trust me.”

Mrs. Fenton threw another sour look towards Sam, but obliged the girl. She placed her fingers over Danny’s wrist and waited. Once she felt the fast pulse underneath his skin, her eyes widened and shock flashed across her face. 

Dropping his wrist, she stepped back, nearly collapsing until Tucker caught her. 

“What is this?” Maddie whispered. “What happened?”

Sam moved to sit down at one of the chairs in the room, still holding Danny’s hand and pulling him behind her. “Yesterday had the perfect atmosphere and phenomenon to create a natural ghost portal and after one of your presentations I wanted to try, because who knew when I’d get a better chance.

“When we finished the ritual a swirling green portal formed and he fell out like this but…”

“He has two forms.” Tucker continued. “And he can still do ghost stuff. But he can feel hunger and gravity and he produces heat. Has a pulse. But he doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“We came to talk to you guys because we didn’t know what to do… Like, what are we gonna do with someone with no identification who’s supposed to be dead?” Sam asked. 

Mr. Fenton knelt down in front of Danny, touseling the boy's hair, and rested his hands on his shoulders. 

“Do you want to come back home with us? Do you trust us?”

Danny’s grip was still tight on Sam’s hand, and he looked from Mr. Fenton to Mrs. Fenton, who had tears in her eyes and her own tight grip on Tucker’s hand. He nodded.

Mr. Fenton’s own eyes filled with tears and he wrapped Danny up in a bear hug, squeezing the life right back out of him. Slowly, Danny lifted his own arms up around the man, feeling his own tears running down his face. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

One Month Later

“Haha! Beat you again!” Elle laughed.

“Man, you really are a little gremlin, aren’t you?” Danny shot back at her, throwing a pillow in her face. 

“Excuse you, I’m adorable.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

He clicked on the New Round option in the game, going through the fighters and picking the same character as he did for the last fight.

A small frown formed on Elle’s face. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. Why do you ask?” He shot her a look before the round started. 

“You keep picking the same character that had been your favorite before…”

Elle trailed off and when Danny turned to look at her there were tears in her eyes. 

“No, no don’t cry, Elle. It’s alright. I’m here now. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

She sniffed and rubbed some tears off her face. “Yeah. It’s the only thing I could’ve asked for.” She paused. “Do you think you’ll ever remember?”

Danny looked down at his hands. “I’m not sure. But even if I don’t I’ll still be here for you whenever you need it, okay?”

Elle smiled. “Okay.”

Danny’s phone chirped and he pulled it out from his pocket. 

“Oh, that’s Sam. We’re supposed to go see that new movie with Tucker. Rematch when I get home?”

“Can it be called a rematch if I know you’re gonna lose again?”

“You wish!” He pulled her into a side hug. “See you when I get home?”

“Yeah. See you!” She waved him off.

Danny ran down the stairs and was about to bolt out the door to greet his friends when Jazz stopped him. 

“Where are you going, little brother?” She asked.

Danny rolled his eyes at the name. “Just to see a movie with Sam and Tucker. I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay?”

Jazz nodded and walked over to him. “Can I have a hug before you leave?”

Danny opened his arms and she pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Stay safe.” She whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of ghost muscles now.”

Jazz snorted and pushed Danny towards the door. “Okay. Off you go.” 

He opened the door to see Sam and Tucker standing outside it. When Sam looked up, she elbowed Tucker in the side and pointed past Danny at Jazz. 

“Pft, I’ve been practicing. This’ll be no biggie.”

Clearing his throat, Tucker caught Jazz’s attention. 

“Do you like dates? How do you feel about a raisin?” He shot a pair of finger guns at her. 

Jazz tsked and smiled at Tucker. “Dates are very tasty, and a raisin would be a delicious treat!”

Confusion crossed over Tucker’s face before horror broke across it. Sam broke out laughing beside him. 

“Better luck next time, Tucker.” Jazz said before walking back to the kitchen.

Tucker kneeled onto the ground, holding his face in his hands. “The shame. I’ve taken the honor from my family's name. I’ve embarrassed myself for the last time.”

“As if.” Sam snorted. 

“Hey!” Tucker shouted at her.

Danny chuckled and shook his head at his friend's antics. 

“Come on, guys. Let’s go see this movie.”

[fanficparker]

Forelsket | Tom x Haz one-shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Tom Holland

Word count: 4.25k words

Warnings: Swearing, angst, anxiety, mentions of sexual abuse

Summary: Tom is a troubled teen. He can’t write his papers, he’s on the verge of failing his exam until a stranger slid his paper for him to copy.

_____________________

(Written in Tom's POV)

I looked into the microscope. The patch on the display was blotchy and green with some pink dots. I don't remember seeing anything like this in previous lab sessions ever. Or maybe I missed the class when we prepared this particular slide. But my page was still empty except for my name, roll number and date. I couldn't recognize the previous four slides too. Just three more are left. There was no doubt I ruined my theory exam and now I will ruin the practical too. There was no hope for me to pass this exam.

If I fail... Maybe... Maybe they'll send me back to Chris. And it's the last thing I ever want on Earth to happen.

I gulped slowly. It was painful. My throat felt dry. I wanted to drink water but I only have limited time to finish this paper and the page in front of me is completely blank. My stomach crumbled painfully. Now I could even taste the bile in my mouth. The next I could feel were my eyes getting wet.

God, I can't cry right in front of my whole fucking class. I let my eyes wander around the students. My gaze fell on the paper next to me.

Beautiful diagrams and a detailed description of the slides.

If he's not seeing then maybe I can copy. I held my breath and scribbled on my paper as fast as I can. Half of his paper was covered by his hand while he was looking into his microscope. I tried my best to copy the visible portion. His head bent at the paper to write the answer for the next question. His blue eyes met mine. My heart dropped.

I haven't copied enough to pass yet. I looked at him hopefully and sorry. He looked at my paper. I felt so ashamed, weak, dumb and guilty— not the best combination of obscure feelings all at the same time.

He slid his paper towards me and smiled.

I blinked in disbelief.

"Return it to me in ten minutes at microscope number seven," he whispered and shifted to the next specimen, carefully observing and writing the conclusion in the extra sheet.

I took in a sharp breath, remembered God and ran my pen on my paper. I changed the text structure and numbering a little bit. Five questions were enough for me to pass in aggregate.

When I got to the sixth specimen I had written enough to pass and slid his paper back to him, mumbling a thank you. He simply nodded like it was nothing. He again smiled at me. The kind of smile that made his clear blue eyes shiny and corners crinkle.

I wished I knew how to smile like that. I returned him a smile, surely not even one percent of the brightness of his. He stapled the pages together and moved to deposit the papers like most of the other students and walked out of the lab.

I had read his name on the paper— Harrison John Osterfield.

***

From that day on, I observed that he was pretty famous in our boarding school, always in the good books of the teachers. He studied in the other section and lived in hostel number five.

I didn't stalk him, he was just one of those people who were way too visible on the school campus. I have seen him setting up posters, sitting in the cafeteria, library, park and almost everywhere on the campus. Sometimes he would be walking around the gardens, headphones tucked in his ears, sometimes he would be sitting on the bench reading a book or sometimes doing his homework in the library.

I don't know if he noticed me. I am surely not that visible.

But one other thing that I noticed was that every time I saw him, he was mostly alone.

There was a difference between us.

He was alone but not lonely. I was alone and lonely.

He seemed to enjoy his company. And I was asking myself why I was even alive.

I studied till four in the morning almost every day but couldn't even remember a bloody terminology. It was like the words hated me. I surely hated them too but had no choice. I was stuck with them and they refused to stay with me.

Most of my nights were also spent silently weeping under my covers while everyone in my room was asleep. I used to wake up and see the tear stains on my white pillow covers. The only thing consistent in my life.

But today I washed the covers too.

***

I got to know that he was also a member of the club- The Inkers. Basically the group of smart students. They represented the school in debates, quizzes and other stuff.

And here I was reading the exact same page of my physics textbook for the third time. My mind keeps dozing off.

If...

What if...

What if I ask him to help me?

I shook off the desire and wiped my eyes. The tears were blurring my vision as they always do.

Electromagnetic induction... I began reading. I can't understand the equation, no matter how much I try.

I pushed the book aside, switched off my table lamp and got inside the covers. My eyes were too dry to continue with my daily night routine. I hope I won't see tear marks on the fresh pillow covers this time.

***

I found myself standing outside the room assigned for 'The Inkers'. The club name was written in bold on the door which was half-opened.

I could see students sitting, walking, talking, interacting. This place was definitely not meant for me. I then saw him. He was talking to a group of students. Seemed like he was instructing them.

His smile was still so bright and he talked with his hands while tucking at the end of his jacket ever so often. Everything he does added to his style and charm.

He looked so approachable. Yet I failed to approach him.

I clenched my books tighter and walked away.

This became more like a routine. As the exams came nearer, I found myself walking across 'The Inkers' more often but never dared to knock at the door.

Weirdly, I had stopped crying myself to sleep, hoping the next day I'll ask him for help in studies and he'll help me.

My interactions with him were all in my sleep, in my dreams. I'd smile remembering my time with him even if it was in my imagination. I imagine him sitting across me, explaining me the weird exceptions in inorganic chemistry or explaining the key features of bryophytes or telling me a trick to learn the concept of electromagnetic induction.

***

I remember his smile. I remember his blue eyes. I remember how clear and shiny they were. I remember how his cheeks pushed up and made those eyes crinkle.

I remember how his lips curved when he was giving the speech on Renaissance literature. I remember how his expressions hardened, how he tried to contain his sadness and anger when talking about things like climate change, animal cruelty and so on.

I attended all the debates and speech competitions in which he participated this month, sitting at the back seat seeing him, hoping he doesn't see me.

He was an amazing orator. The way his voice carried his emotions was extremely heart-touching. He could make everybody feel what he felt.

I got a 'B+' in my E-waste management essay. I still can't believe. I heard his debate on the topic and... Wow. The teacher was impressed by me. I didn't feel vulnerable for the first time. I loved that feeling.

***

He even interacts with the audience and told about himself. He told us that he wasn't good at learning facts, so quizzes weren't his thing. He liked subjective things, movies, novels and wanted to become an actor.

An actor?

Can you believe?

I thought he'll tell me something like a doctor or scientist. But he wants to become an actor.

How amazing is that.

***

Next month, he stared in our school play.

I attended the recitation of the Twelfth Night. He was actually the main lead.

God! When he said, "If music be the food of love, play on," I declared myself to be his number one fan!

The way he said it. God! It was so... so... so... amazing!!!

I don't think he saw me but I was the first one who stood up as the curtains fell and clapped and cheered. For him.

I cheered?

Can you believe?

***

I was again standing outside 'The Inkers.' I peeked my head a little to find him but I couldn't find him today. I sighed and turned at my feet, only to collide with someone. My books fell on the floor. Before I could even utter an apology, the person crouched down to collect my books. My eyes met with those same pair of blue eyes. So clear. So shiny.

His smile reached his eyes seeing me while I suspected my heart-beat was non-existent right now. He quickly picked up my books and stood straight, pushing his curls out of his face.

"Hi! How are you doing?" He asked. His voice was so friendly and cheerful that it was almost like he was booming.

But 'how am I doing?' Isn't it something a person asks an acquaintance. Does he still remember me? Remember me as the dumb kid who copied his paper?

"Alexi said she saw you here often. I was actually going to ask you. Glad I met you here," He smiled even more.

"I... uh... yea-yeah." I stuttered the response.

Our confidence level was on the opposite ends of an irregularly weighted beam balance.

"Do you want to join the club?" He asked looking at the signboard and then back at me. The smile was still sticking to his lips.

Me? The club?

If it was the thirteen century then the club belonged to the nobility and I was a poor commoner.

"No." I chuckled trying to hide my embarrassment.

He looked confused. I tightened my fists and swallowed slowly before speaking— "I-I wanted some help in class. Thought if anyone could---"

He didn't let me finish and spoke instead.

"You should have told me early! Just three weeks to finals." He said as his expressions changed from cheerful to panicky in seconds.

How does he know I needed that sort of big help? Can't I ask just him a single question, why will three weeks' time be less?

But he let me copy his paper. The paper my peers claimed was too easy. Maybe he remembers how dumb I was.

His bottom lip quivered for a second then he spoke again, "Don't worry we'll manage. What subject you want help in?"

I gulped again and bit my lower lip.

He looked at me, curiously waiting for the answer.

"All," I said. I could hear my own voice sounding screechy. My gaze fell on my shoes.

I was so embarrassed. Maybe even ashamed. He didn't speak for a minute and then he sighed.

"No problem, we will get it done!" He stated confidently and patted my shoulder. My head shot up to look at his determined yet soft emotions. My heart felt like it was over-filling with warmth. I couldn't stop my lips to curl into a small smile.

"Thank you so much," I thanked him genuinely, he shrugged it off. I stretched my right hand for a handshake, "I am--"

"Tom. I know," He answered cutting me mid-sentence, "And I'm---"

"Harrison. I know," I said almost imitating his style.

He laughed shaking my hand. I laughed seeing him laughing. Maybe it was the heartiest laugh I have ever produced in years. I couldn't even stop smiling when the laughter subsided.

"When should we start?" He asked.

"As per your convenience."

"Let's first go for lunch. It's already lunchtime."

He wanted me to accompany him to the eating area. I nodded following him.

We sat on the bench and started eating our meals. He was eating as if he was hungry for a long time. And I was just somehow managing to push my food down my oesophagus with water.

"So, I'll collect all my notes today and we can meet tomorrow morning here for breakfast and then we'll plan your studies." He said, biting the carrot.

"Ah... Okay," I replied looking down at my plate. I still can't believe that he's talking to me and even going to help me with exams.

If it was a dream, I don't want it to end ever.

***

"Where's your breakfast tray?" He asked when we settled on the bench.

"I-I don't eat breakfast."

"What do you mean you don't eat breakfast? Why will you not eat breakfast?" He was surprised.

"I don't feel hungry in the morning," I said the truth.

"What?! We ate dinner at eight last night. It's already nine in the morning. You have to eat it. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" He preached.

"I can't develop a habit of eating breakfast just like that," I defended, pressing my lips together.

"You should start with fruits. I have an apple in my backpack." He said taking out the said apple and handling me to eat.

I did eat it (half). And by the lunchtime I was hungry.

How weird is this human body? I never felt hungry when I used to skip breakfast and when I finally ate, I am already hungry.

After breakfast, attending our classes and having lunch, he took me to 'The Inkers.' He introduced me to the other club members as his 'friend'.

We sat on the corner and he took out his notes.

"So, for what purpose, are you going to study?" He asked. I was confused at first but then answered—

"To pass the exams," I said and surprisingly I didn't feel ashamed this time.

He divided the chapters in our books. He collected important terms and asked me to focus on only them rather than the complete syllabus. He made me flow charts and venn diagram. He explained me everything like a story. He never judged me when I couldn't answer or understand.

We continued to eat and study together daily. After the first week, we even started to hang out together. He made me hear his favourite songs. I loved his music choice. He taught me to maintain a balance on the skateboard. He told me about him, his family, his dog, his ambitions. He asked me to do the same, I shrugged it off saying, "Not much" or "Nothing exciting."

***

Harrison praised my answers. He said my writing style was very organic. I don't even know what it meant but he surely loved reading whatever I wrote. I showed him my middle-school poetry book and he made me read everything on it multiple times. I hope his interest was genuine.

He even asked me to call him 'Haz' instead of 'Harrison'.

He kept telling me things. I loved listening to him. I loved when he snaked his arm around my shoulder. I loved the way he said my name. I loved his face, his eyes, his voice, his confidence, his generosity, his patience, his intelligence, everything about him.

I may even be in love with him.

***

On Sundays, I used to go to the forgotten pet centre near our school. It was the only thing I liked about my life (except for Harrison, but it's just the latest addition). I love playing with those cute puppies. I never told anyone about it but I literally asked him if he wants to accompany me there.

You should have looked at his face! He was so excited, he hugged me so tight and couldn't stop giggling.

"You should have told me earlier, Holland! You have no idea how much I love dogs. I even have a super sweet dog back at home." He told me.

We played with the dogs and ate ice-cream. We laughed and talked so much. I don't even know why he's sticking with me, but he said he liked the way I talk and I should talk more often. He didn't stop there, he took me to a nearby fare. We enjoyed some rides and even got in for a fun photoshoot.

I cried that night. But those were tears of joy. I had a friend and he was fricking amazing.

***

Exams were over.

And I am sure I have done better than just passing. But I am sad. It's the end of the year, the Christmas break. He'll be gone to his home and I'll be all alone, again. Or worse— I will have to go to Chris's place for the holidays.

I sighed looking up at the blank night sky.

"Hey yo, mate. How were your exams?" Harrison asked, plopping down beside me, looking up at the sky.

"Your courtesy. Can't thank you enough." I said, looking at his face. He nodded still looking at the sky, giving me an opportunity to stare at his wonderful features. He did have some bad teen breakouts on his face. I do too. Yes, they weren't pretty. Acne isn't pretty but I don't think everything about a person needs to be pretty. People can be beautiful regardless of not being perfectly pretty.

And Harrison is beautiful.

My eyes landed on his slightly parted lips. I wondered how it would feel to kiss them. I licked my suddenly drying lips.

"You up for Christmas holidays?" He asked, turning his face to look at me. I averted my gaze to the ground beneath.

"I... I dunno," I replied, pulling my legs near to my chest.

There was a pause. It felt like he would say something but he didn't. I spoke instead.

"I don't want to go to uncle's," I told him the secret I never tell anyone. He looked at me confused.

"He... He is not a good man," I said as my throat felt choking and tears started to well up and suddenly I started feeling so dirty.

Harrison's expressions turned serious, he shifted a bit closer to me. He snaked his arm around my shoulders and dragged me closer to his body. He let me rest my head on his shoulder. That's when I realised that I was crying.

"Talk to me, Tom," Harrison insisted softly as his fingers combed through my hairs.

I started weeping harder, he pushed me closer and engulfed me into a real tight hug.

"You are safe here, Tom. You shouldn't be afraid. Tell me." He kept repeating while his hands caressed my back. I had grabbed his sweater in my fist and was badly sobbing into the material. I will surely ruin the delicate fabric.

He let me sob silently for a while. And when he realised that I had stopped crying, he pulled himself away, then he rested his fingers below my chin and lifted it to meet his gaze.

His eyes seemed glossier.

"Do you trust me?"

I nodded. He waited for me to tell the whole thing.

"He used to t-touch me in wrong ways when I was younger," I confessed, embarrassed. I wanted to look down, away from his gaze but my chin was still fixed on the spot by his fingers.

I first thought that he's also going to cry. But then I saw his pained, empathetic expressions changing into hard angry ones. And suddenly his face radiated so much anger that I had to move back. His hand fell on the grass as he clenched them into a fist. He stood up.

"You'll come with me. Start packing your bags. I'll tell my parents. You will never ever have to see that asshole's face again. That bloody bastard. Eww. Fucking disgusting! He'll regret what I'll do to him. How dare he?!!!!" Harrison growled angrily. "Pack your bags. Mum will take us to our home on Saturday." He ordered almost rushing away but I stood up and grabbed his arm.

"You can't tell your parents," I said, terrified.

"I fucking will! That bastard will be in jail!" He almost yelled.

"No. No. You can't." I begged him, tugging him towards me.

"Are you an idiot Tom? He raped you. Multiple times! You're not even an adult, yet!" He jerked his hand away from my grip.

"He hasn't done that for years---"

"That doesn't forgive or change anything!"

"It's-it's my life. You don't have to make decisions for me!" I yelled this time. He froze and blinked at me.

"What?" He said coming closer, his expressions suddenly softening.

I didn't reply.

"He is the reason why you are broken, Tom. I can see the damage. I don't understand why you don't see---"

"I know that I am damaged. But it won't fix anything," I said, tears spilling down my face.

He came closer and cupped my face in his hands. He softly wiped off my tears with his thumbs. He bent down a little to see directly into my eyes.

"Would you have let him go if I was at your place?" He asked, his voice soft yet demanding. My breath was stuck in my throat but he didn't let the question slip away.

"You are my best friend in the world Haz," I answered honestly.

"And you are more than that to me."

My heart crumbled like a piece of paper. None of us spoke for minutes, just stood there on the same spot, motionless. I swallowed slowly, taking in a breath.

"It's... It's just... High school crush."

I couldn't believe my own words but he rolled his head back and laughed.

I waited for him to stop laughing. He did, and his expressions again turned serious.

"Time will tell that. But the main thing is... No one deserves what you suffered. And he needs to be punished. That's justice. And to be honest, if you were even a complete stranger to me, I would have said the same thing."

Well... He has too many reasons to be my high school crush.

I nodded in understanding. I should stop saving that evil Chris. Harrison is right.

"So you are coming with us? You can forget that more than friends thing, we'll talk about it later or maybe never, as per your wish. And definitely sexual orientation." He said rubbing his neck.

I thought for a minute.

"But... I... I am a boy. It's very shameful to admit that I was raped---"

"If anyone should be ashamed, it's your ugly uncle. Being a boy or a girl won't change the crime. You shouldn't be ashamed." He stated and again pulled me into a hug.

"You should never be ashamed. Never." His voice cracked and I knew that he was the one crying now. I placed my hands on his torso and pulled myself off his chest.

I looked at his tear-stained face. I wanted to grab his face and plant kisses all across it. But all I felt were his hands again holding my face. He brought his face down and planted a kiss on my forehead, his lips lingered on the spot for a few seconds, whispering the word 'Never'. When he parted, I didn't even waste a single minute and grabbed his face.

I crashed my lips into his. His lips were sandwiched between mine. I slowly and gently sucked on them as his hands travelled to hold my waist. He let out a small moan and my heart fluttered like a butterfly. When I broke the kiss, his eyes were still closed and mouth half-open. His chest was rising and falling with every breath he inhaled and exhaled. It felt as if the kiss wasn't yet over for him.

I don't know why but I was also breathing heavily. His lips slowly curved into a small smile and his eyelids half-opened.

"You know you are my first kiss, Tom?" He said slowly as if he was satisfied.

"I wish I could say the same for you," I said but with a sad smile. His hand moved from my waist to my face. He slowly pushed away the fallen curls on my forehead.

"It doesn't matter." He leaned towards me, his breath lingering on my lips.

"It's the first time I am going to kiss someone. Please don't mind if it's not that good." He whispered. His words only made my heart go even more crazy.

He softly attached his lips to mine. I felt his throbbing heartbeat in his chest and his firm stature. I pulled his face closer to mine, he moaned again, his mouth slightly parted. I swiped my tongue over his bottom lip. He took in a sharp breath.

I loved how his body reacted to everything I did. I never felt this crazy in my life. So... so... so... crazy. Kissing Harrison Osterfield was crazy and him kissing me back was even crazier. Who knew he could get this nervous and cute?

When he finally broke the kiss, I couldn't stop but kiss his pink, flushed cheeks.

"I feel crazy." He said giggling.

"Same."

"You'll come with us?"

"No doubt on that."

I smiled and looked at the sky. It was still empty but my heart was full of warmth.

Was it how it feels to fall in love?

Crazy... Crazy... Crazy...

I love crazy...

*THE END*

______________________

A/N: Everyone- your likes, comments & reblogs mean a lot to me. Love you guys. I know this pairing isn't getting me much notes but still I wanted to write this and I genuinely enjoyed writing this. Thanks for everyone who supported me. It gave me strength to write what I desire. Thank you so much guys.

Add yourself to the Tom x Haz fic column of my regular taglist (link on my bio/profile description) or send me an ask if you wanna see more content like this.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Who are you?

Chu Zihang held the molten skull of the massive immortal he’d just killed and turned to look at the clawed beast that had been attacking me. Now it was that creature’s turn to shudder. 

During the whole process of burning it, Chu Zihang looked at this now skeletonized immortal with a quiet face and steely eyes, as if burning a dragon servitor was something he had done many times before.

He looked at the clawed beast with the same calm and still demeanor, waiting for the beast to understand that it was no match for him.

It opened its mouth wide, showing its alien long fangs and roared at Chu Zihang, but, at the same time, it stepped back until it got to the door. Then it turned and fled. It didn’t want to fight with him after watching him so thoroughly immolate another creature nearly three times its size!

Chu Zihang dropped the gradually cooling skull and it shattered on the floor.

I ran to him, sobs forcing themselves out of me and hugged him as tight as I could.  His arms wrapped around me and squeezed tighter. I felt the weight as his head rested on mine. “Meixiu... I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re here now, so it’s okay!” I whimpered and pressed him to me as hard as I could, feeling his bones, the muscles in his back. He was no longer a dream but solid now, back into my reality.

He pulled away from me, looking down at me. His brow knitted in confusion and he frowned. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

“We’re going to have to talk later.” I said in a low whisper.

Zihang cautiously walked around my back and looked at the baby he finally understood to be his daughter for the first time. The baby looked up at him and mewled, squirming in her swaddle. “Oh.” He said.

I sighed. “She’s probably wet. Poor thing.”

“Can you dry her off?” He looked at me.

I squinted. “No, I mean she peed-”

“Ah.” He looked around. The engine room was silent save the hiss of steam. “There’s something wrong. They’re not coming.”

“We probably scared them off?”

“There’s about twenty of them on this ship. How could we scare all of them? They would have just heard the noise. They should be coming to us.”

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

Chu Zihang’s eyes unfocused and I held my breath. He was listening and honing all four senses, just as he taught me to do. 

We both saw it at the same time. The flash of an electric spark in the white steam. This ionization phenomenon we’d seen once before, flashing in a white skirt.

“Susie.” He whispered.

A low voice chanted and the temperature in the room started to rise. A wind kicked up, swirling the steam.

“It’s said that no one has been able to master the Soul Skill ‘Royal Fire’ for many years.” The girl’s cold voice came from out of nowhere. “You are really a mysterious person. Who are you?”

Her signature black blades rose out of the fog, arranging themselves into a ring around us.

Chu Zihang was stunned. His eyes narrowed. He shook his head. “No.” He looked around for her, but didn’t see her.

She had to be close. Without serious exertion, she could not extend her Soul Skill far and it sounded like she was calm. Her influence was magnetizing every surface around us and arcs of electromagnetic energy were leaping and snaking through every corner of the room.

I glanced at Chu Zihang. He wasn’t frightened or angry. Instead, he seemed sad and confused. He met my eyes. “This isn’t like her.”  He whispered.

“She doesn’t remember you.” I whispered back.

“No...” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t do this.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing once again. I held my breath as well, trying to stay as silent as possible. I didn’t know Susie as well as he did and his upset was upsetting to me. We stood back to back, Ru’Yi between us.

He suddenly opened his eyes and then raised his face to the ceiling. I followed his gaze to a speaker. She wasn’t in the room with us but speaking to us through an address system.

Last time, she had poisoned me and made it impossible for me to use my Release skill. Now she was not even in the room. She was really good and making sure she had an advantage before going in.

Susie had suddenly gone silent. Johann didn’t move but I saw the slight tension in his knees and hips. He was coiled tight like a spring and could go in any direction in an instant. My heart was pumping faster and faster. The longer we waited, the sooner someone would have to make a move.

The electricity in the atmosphere suddenly burst in activity and the black blades spun so quickly the the metal began to scream. The floor and the walls cracked and the small bits of shrapnel filled the air. 

Zihang’s eyes narrowed and he closed his eyes lowering his head. A frown pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Zihang?” I called to him softly. I’d never seen him like this.

The hundreds of metal bits flew at us, each one with the same lethality as a bullet, leaving no way to escape.

Chu Zihang let out a low animal snarl and his release of Royal Fire shifted. I was suddenly ringed by a black and red circle and the temperature in the steam room was raised to thousands of degrees in an instant. The expanding air burst through the ventilation and plumbing systems.

But surrounding Ru’Yi and I there was no flame and no heat at all! Chu Zihang had exploded the entire steam room but had set up an exclusion zone where no flames or heat were permitted.

The metal objects in contact with Royal fire were immediately out of Susie’s control. The smaller metal fragments even began to melt. Only the original black blades remained unaffected. They still shot straight at us.

Zihang yanked Tongzi from its sheath at my side and I drew Spider Fang. He shattered the blades coming at me, and I knocked away the blades coming at him.

The blades I struck whirled in midair and recovered, coming at us again! Zihang and I stayed back to back. The blades were dancing around us. Trying to get at Zihang who had the black capable of killing them.

Zihang suddenly took a powerful leap, straight up from a standing start and aimed Royal Fire again, this time directly at the ceiling, destroying it. I heard Susie’s scream as she fell down from the floor above us. The black blades were lost in the debris.

Royal Fire burst again, sending the debris scattering away from where Ru’Yi and I stood. Ru’Yi had had enough of this and cried, gasping in distress, but I couldn’t comfort her. Not yet.

Susie didn’t bother landing before she launched an attack on Zihang, calling her blades to him. But he was no longer the inexperienced novice from before. He shifted slightly to the left and drove his knee into her abdomen with all his strength, going down the rest of the way to ground.

Susie lay gasping on the floor, looking up at him in disbelief as he stood over her. “How did you know where I was?” She asked in a harsh rasp, coughing and gagging from the force of the hit.

“Susie! How could you do this?” Johann’s voice was no longer the soft, child-like appeal of a teenager but that of the commander of Lionheart. “How could you? You know the rule! Deadly force should only be used against dragons, death servitors, and hybrids who have lost control. We are none of those things! This isn’t you! This is wrong. You should know this!”

Susie was silent, stunned. “You’re from Cassell?”

“Answer me! Who told you to attack us?!”

I pulled Ru’Yi from her wrap and walked away to try to nurse her. She was unhurt but her face was blackened from the metal soot in the air.

“My orders come from the highest authority. Don’t act like you’re innocent!” She grunted, trying to get up and failing. “Royal Fire is uncontrollable! It’s like creating a bomb in thin air! But when you use it, you have complete control! No one knows where you come from. Just like no one knows where Lu Mingfei comes from! Yet, Lu Mingfei... he knows you and took you in. If Lu Mingfei is a Dragon King, then shouldn’t you be too?”

Chu Zihang’s voice softened. “You’ve been deceived. Mingfei is no Dragon King. And neither am I.”

“Dragon Kings often don’t know they’re Dragon Kings until they’ve awakened! Until then, they believe they’re ordinary humans!” She shot back. “I can’t take your word for it. I have to make conclusions based on what I know!”

Chu Zihang reached toward the ground, grabbed one of the black knives and stabbed her straight through her arm, nailing her to the ground.

Susie wailed in agony and I grabbed Ru’Yi’s head and pressed her to my chest so she wouldn’t see it. Like an experienced surgeon, he pinned all her limbs, both arms and both legs, with her own blades.

He wasn’t finished. Ignoring her screaming, he picked up the iron pipes scattered nearby, one by one, and, expertly using his soul skill, welded them into a cage around her body.

“Susie... you’re my friend, too. Does that make you a dragon king?” He looked down her while she sobbed on the floor. “Thanks to your use of the Blood Rage technique, these injuries won’t be permanent. I have to go help my other friends but when I’m done, I’ll come back and break you free of this brainwashing.”

He removed the dark trenchcoat from his back and tenderly covered her. “I don’t want to do this. But you’re just too strong.” He smiled at her. 

“Who are you?” She asked again.

He didn’t answer, he returned to me, placing one arm behind my back, escorting me out.

Susie wailed one more time as we left the room. “Who are you?!”

[unpack-my-heart]

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between

@violetreddie @constantreaderfool @tinyarmedtrex @xandertheundead @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth @annoyingtozier @burymestanding

Read on AO3 HERE

To: stanelyuris@outlook.com

From: trashmouthtozier@gmail.com

Dear Stan The Reanimating Man,

Howzzit. My name is Richard Wentworth Tozier The First, and I’m being haunted.

Well, haunted is a strong word. There’s a guy that lives in (deads in?) my house who insists he died in the 1940s. I can’t touch him, and he walks through my walls when I’m in the shower and last night he burnt all my food when he floated through the table. Burnt broccoli is no laughing matter, Stanley. So I’m inclined to believe him.

Now, your website has confused me somewhat. Are you a wizard? Do you use a wand? Or are you some sort of reverse exorcist? It says that you’re a ‘corporeal reanimator’ but that just makes me think of Victor Frankenstein and we all know how that went down. I’m getting distracted.

I need your help.

Can you come and visit me and Eds? Eds is the ghost, the dead dude, the broccoli burner etc etc. I’ll tell him about you. I’ll pay for your transport, of course.

I’ve attached my contact details, so please do ring me or reply to this email ASA fuckin’ P.

Anxiously awaiting your response,

Richie

Stan sat back in his comfy office chair and sighed.

A wizard.

Stanley Uris was many things, but a wizard he was not. He was perfectly clear on the website, and had provided a lengthy FAQ that went to great lengths to explain what corporeal reanimation was, and why it should not be confused with magic, witchcraft or necromancy. He was not a necromancer. He was a scientist. A man of rationality, of logic and mathematical precision, and he just so happened to be able to reanimate the dead.

He tapped out a short reply, and hit send, and before opening google to check flight times to Scotland.

To: trashmouthtozier@gmail.com

From: stanelyuris@outlook.com

Dear Richard Tozier,

I’m not a wizard. Please click here to re-read my FAQs. I am a corporeal reanimator. I can manipulate energy, I don’t have a wand, and I don’t know any spells.

I have booked a flight to Scotland that lands next Wednesday at 21:00 (9pm). You can pick me up from Edinburgh International Airport. I’ll be staying with you. I am a vegetarian.

Dr. Stan Uris.

– X –

When Richie had shown Eddie the reply from Stan Uris, he’d expected Eddie to be elated. He hadn’t expected Eddie to immediately disappear through the floorboards.

“Eds! You know I hate it when you do that,” Richie yelled, charging down the stairs into the kitchen where Eddie was pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back.

“We don’t know anything about this man, Richie. We don’t know who he is or what his motivations are or what he might …”

“What he might what?”

“What he might do to me,” Eddie finished in a whisper, staring at Richie with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Richie opened and closed his mouth, failing to find the right words, the words that would reassure Eddie that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him, that he wouldn’t let a wizard zap him into the great beyond without their consent, that he’d fight tooth and nail to keep Eddie right there, with him, in their little house on the moors.

Because that’s what it was, really. Their house. The walking through the walls, the singing jaunty songs at three in the morning when he was trying to sleep, ad the way the ceiling lights would flicker violently when Eddie descended through the floorboards, maybe Richie had grown used to it. Maybe he’d laugh until his stomach hurt when Eddie pretended to get stuck half way through a wall, waving his limbs pitifully. Maybe his heart would beat erratically when he’d slip the oven mitts onto Eddie’s hands and make a show of pulling him out of the wall, and maybe his breath would catch in his throat when Eddie faux-swooned, batting his eyelashes and simpering, “my hero, Rich,” before laughing, high and bright and infectious. Maybe, in the dead of night,  Richie would watch Eddie from his bedroom window as he walked around the moors, as he shone in the dark like a star. A mass of burning rock that Richie had grown … used to. Maybe.

He’d never say as much, though.

“Rich?”

Richie blinked.

Eddie was still waiting for a response.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Richie said, “I won’t. I won’t let him take you away”

“Do you promise?” Eddie replied, mousey-small and honeyvoiced.

“I promise, Eds. So long as there’s breath in my lungs and blood in my veins I won’t let him take you away from me”

– X –

Stan’s plane was late. Richie had been waiting in the arrivals lounge of Edinburgh International Airport for over an hour now. Mike was waiting in his truck, Mr. Chips curled up on the passenger seat, BBC Radio 4 filtering out of the speaker, a picture of perfect calm. Richie was not calm, having convinced himself thirty minutes ago that sending a stranger several hundreds of pounds over PayPal under the guise of transporting them over an ocean to help him with his ghost problem was reckless at best and downright idiotic as worst.

Fifteen more minutes pass, and Richie was seconds away from turning around and giving up when a man with a mass of curly hair and large, thin rimmed glasses appeared in front of him.

“Richard?”

“Holy shit you came”

The man smiled, a sly quirk of the lips.

“I did. Are you ready to go?”

Richie grinned, “Fuck yeah, now, lemme tell you about my Eds --”

– X –

The drive from Edinburgh to Skye was long, over five hours, but Richie found himself silent for most of it. Banished to the back seat of Mike’s truck at the first rest-stop after Stan complained of feeling car sick, his many attempts to join in the animated conversation between Stan and Mike had failed miserably.

“Yoo’v got a PhD? Are ye a medical doctor or…?”

“My PhD was in plasma physics, so I’d be useless in any emergency that didn’t involve electromagnets”

“So yer a smart one, then?”

“I suppose so”

Mike and Stan continue to chatter, the conversation ebbing and flowing effortlessly. A torturous four hours later and they’d arrived back at Richie’s little house. Richie hopped out of the truck, knees buckling immediately under the weight of his leaden bones. The lights in the house were on, and Richie could see a lacquered shadow pacing back and forth in the kitchen window.

“He’s in,” Richie muttered, gesturing towards the window.

Stan and Mike glanced towards the kitchen, but predictably, Eddie had disappeared. Richie suppressed a groan.

“Have you met him?” Stan asked Mike as he walked back to the truck, swinging the back door open and hauling his duffle bag towards him.

“Nae, I haven’t. I have – I’ve met other ghosts though, other … people”

“Oh?”

“My parents died in a house fire years ago. Ah still see my maw walkin’ around sometimes”

Richie, growing increasingly impatient, cut Stan off before he could reply.

“Maybe we could discuss Mike’s tragic history later? Do you want me to go into the house and see if I can get Eddie to agree to show himself?”

Stan was silent for several moments, pulling various small electronic devices out of his bag.

“No, I’ll go. I want to ask him something,” Stan said, tucking a small black box into the back pocket of his jeans. He held his hand out to Richie, gesturing at the house keys clutched in his hands.

“Are you sure? He’s quite flighty. I really think I should –”

“Richie. It’s fine, I’m not going to hurt him, I just want to talk,” Stan reassured, voice soft but eyes firm, confident.

Richie hesitated, but gave Stan the keys nevertheless.

“If I hear him yelling, I’m gonna come runnin’, though, just a warning”

Stan said nothing, just walked purposefully to the door of the house, opened it, and shut it behind him.

– X –

When Stan had first walked through the door into the house, he’d been prepared to have to stomp right back out again. Most of the people who called him out were frauds, or had particularly noisy water pipes. He’d give them the number of a particularly good plumber, and bill them for wasting his time.

The house was still. Too still.

“Edward?”

Silence.

“Edward, my name is Stan. I’m here to help you. Your friend Richie called me, can you come out?”

Still nothing.

“Okay, Edward. I’m going to turn off all the lights now, is that okay?”

Silence, but then a click, and the lights in the house all flicked off at once. Stan shut the fuse cupboard, and stepped into the centre of the room. The small black box in his back pocket started vibrating violently, letting off a high-pitched hum.

“You can call me Eddie, if you want”

Stan span on his heels, and there he was, as if he’d always been there. A man, around Stan’s height, maybe smaller, dressed in a khaki uniform.

“Eddie?”

“Richie said you wouldn’t hurt me but I don’t think I trust you”

“I know. You don’t have to trust me yet, but I need to ask you a favour. Can you hold this?”

Stan plucked the black box from his pocket and held it out to Eddie, who stared at it.

“What is it?”

“It’s an energy converter. I want to see what type of energy you are, it’ll help me better understand how to help you”

“What type of … energy? What does that mean?” Eddie asked, taking several cautious steps towards Stan.

“Have you ever heard the theory that energy cannot be created or destroyed?”

Eddie shook his head.

“Basically, all living things are infused with energy,” Stan continued, still holding out the black box, “and when living things die, the energy doesn’t just disappear. Sometimes it seeps into the ground and helps trees and plants to grow, sometimes it evaporates into the sky and causes electrical storms and sometimes it gets stuck”

“Is that me? Am I stuck?”

Stan nodded his head.

“You’re stuck, or, your energy is stuck, and the longer you’ve been stuck, the stronger your electrical current has become. What you are now is basically just a big ball of pure energy, and this energy can represent itself in reality as various different types depending on the context”

As he was talking, Stan felt Eddie take the black box out of his hands.

“Good, so in a few moments we should –“

– X –

A few seconds after Stan disappeared into the house, all of the lights in the house turned off at once.

“Are you soft on him?” Mike asked, breaking the silence.

“Soft on Stan? Naw,” Richie replied, knowing that that wasn’t what Mike was asking, but choosing to avoid the question nevertheless.

“Not him. Eddie. Are you soft on him?”

“He’s a ghost”

“That’s not what I asked”

“He’s dead”

“That’s not what I asked”

Richie slumped against Mike’s truck, leaning his head back on the passenger side window.

“I guess I might be just a little soft on him”

“Stan might be able to help ye. He’s smart, he’ll figure it out”

A ball of pure white light shot out of the open living room window, careening into the sky before bursting into a shock of blue flame, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Richie screamed, slamming a hand over his mouth.

“Eddie!”

Richie and Mike ran towards the house, and started pounding on the locked door with clenched fists.

“EDDIE!” Richie roared again, debating throwing a rock through the kitchen window and throwing himself through it, broken glass be damned. As soon as he’d found a reasonable sized rock, however, the door swung open.

Stan was standing on the other side of the door, a wry smile on his face, and behind him, wringing his hands, stood Eddie.

Mike, unfazed, stuck out his hand, “nice ta’ finally meet ye, Eddie”

Richie slapped at his arm, “he can’t touch you, dumbass”

“I was jist tryin’ tae be polite, he looks like he might boak”

Stan waved his hand, as if to catch their bickering in his hands. Mike and Richie fell silent, expectant.

“I know how to help you”

– X –

It takes Stan five attempts to explain to Richie what he’d already explained to Eddie.

“So he’s just … energy?”

“Yes, Richie”

“So … he could like, power my TV?”

“No… it’s not that kind of energy,” Stan said, exasperated, before picking Richie’s phone up off the table.

“Look, if I pan the camera over you and Mike, you both look entirely normal, yes?”

Mike waved at the camera, and Richie pouted.

“You look lovely,” Stan deadpanned, before panning the camera over to where Eddie was hovering in the corner of the room, “and when I pan it over to him,”

The phone screeched, a shimmery metallic sound, and the same pure white light that had erupted out of the living room window filled the screen.

“In some ways, Eddie is light energy. Here, his energy is made up of photons. He is pure light energy, but if you touch him,” Stan stood up, and walked purposefully through Eddie’s body. Eddie shrieked, and disappeared through the wall.

Stan held up his arm, and motioned to Richie, “touch my arm.”

Richie did.

“Jesus fuck that’s hot”

“Yup. That’s thermal energy. When you touch Eddie, or when he touches you, it burns because his energy vibrates your living particles much more than they normally vibrate, so it generates heat”

“I wish I’d paid attention in physics at school,” Richie muttered, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically, “well, what’s your big grand plan to bring Eddie back to the world of the flesh?”

“I’m going to turn Eddie’s energy back into matter. Have you heard of the equation E equals MC squared?”

“Uh … was that that dude with the moustache?”

“Yes, it was the dude with the moustache. Well, I’ll be using that equation and putting Eddie’s energy through a process that is sort of like the reverse of a nuclear bomb. In his current state, he’s like an exploding nuclear bomb in stasis, so I need to reverse that process.”

At that, a very panicked looking Eddie flies through the wall.

“I’m … I’m a bomb? Could I hurt someone?”

“No, no you’re quite stable, I just need to –” Stan tries, holding his hands up as if to calm Eddie, but it doesn’t work.

Eddie starts pacing around the room, muttering to himself, and it’s then that Richie remembers when Eddie died.

“Eddie, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Richie asks, not waiting for a response, already half way to the kitchen. Eddie follows wordlessly.

Richie shuts the door behind him, and Eddie floats through the wall.

“Richie, Rich, I don’t want to hurt you, maybe I should leave, maybe I should go out onto the moors, away from everything, away from you, I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want –”

“Eddie!” Richie cut him off, and thrust the oven mitts at a very forlorn looking Eddie.

“You’re not going to hurt me, you could never hurt me. You could never,” Richie said, sincerity dripping from his words like honey. He grabbed at Eddie’s oven-mitted hands, clasping them between his own, and wished for the thousandth time that there was nothing separating them.

Eddie blinked, eyes dry, face perfect, hair perfect.

“Please let us help you,” Richie pleased, “please let me help you”

“Okay,” Eddie whispered, and together, still joined at the hands, they walked back into the living room.

[big-low-t]

Needles at the Mall

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Over and over again. Every day. Clink. Clink. Clink. He listened to the needles and any other metal objects on the grounds as they got unceremoniously picked up by the electromagnet he was using. The steel-lined shoes he had to wear were already making his feet hurt today, but he had to have them on to avoid getting pricked by an infected needle.

It was really nice, he thought, that they gave away free needles to the junkies. It was even more nice that most of the junkies apparently had no use for a trash can or one of the many needle disposal bins around the clinic.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The clinic building used to be a shopping mall. He used to spend a lot of time there with family and friends when he was younger.

He remembered one time he was with a friend, was it Todd? Rod? Sometimes he couldn't remember old friends. Some fade away. But that day he was sitting in the food court finishing up his drink, shooting the proverbial shit with Todd when a girl he knew walked over and started talking to them both. He joked about something, the girl, god only knows what her name was, said he was so sweet and funny and kissed him on the cheek. It wasn't anywhere near a “boyfriend/girlfriend” type of kiss, but it was the closest thing he had ever gotten to this point of his young life and he savored every second of it. She was cute anyway, but out of his league for sure, or at least he thought so. He thought everyone and everything was out of his league those days. But for a few brief moments he thought he was worthy, thought he might at some point in his desperate life find a girlfriend, and maybe, just maybe, before he turned 60, get to touch some of those soft bits that made him feel light headed and loopy.

All that new-found confidence was put to the test twenty minutes later when they were walking towards the record shop. Several girls his age were coming up an escalator and the second one back looked at him. Right directly at him... and she smiled. She smiled. The prettiest smile he had ever seen in his entire life. The prettiest red curly hair he had ever seen, the prettiest... “Hey, dude, watch out, we are at the record store” said Todd, breaking him out of his daze.

“Hey Todd, that girl smiled at me, I swear she did.”

“Well dumb ass, go talk to her” said Todd

“I, well, err... umm... I wanted to see if that new Mindset Stinger 99 album was out.”

“Dude, you are hopeless,” said Todd as he shook his head and they both walked into the record store. He seemed to remember buying an album that day. He also seemed to remember never talking to that pretty girl or ever seeing that glorious smile or that shiny curly red hair ever again.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

He emptied the needles and trash in the truck and went back to where he left off. He remembered loving this town. Absolutely one hundred percent thinking this is the place, THE place he wanted to live in forever. As he looked around now everything seemed old, run down, faded. Like the place was just barely holding on to the fabric of reality. One stiff breeze might blow the whole thing down as if the town was nothing but movie set building fronts and poorly made props. Boom. Gone. Would that be such a bad thing? He wondered about that.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Back at it now, a few old soda cans, more needles and eww a pile of something a person or maybe a large sick animal defecated onto the ground. This was turning out to be a good day already. What happened to all of this? Why didn't he finish school? Why did he take this job? Was his Mom really going to kick him out of the house?

Clink. Clink. Slush. Scrape. Eww.

He drifted back to the old mall, the old days, the old friends. He laughed when remembering one day when him and (For the love of all things was it Steve? Brian?) “My mind is shot, like I don't eat enough carrots or something. Wait, carrots are... oh boy. Fudge.” He mumbled to himself. “What is good for memory? If I could remember maybe I'd get some of it!”

That one day at the mall seemed weird. The people walking around were different. One guy had a Civil-War cap on, a denim jacket and no shirt underneath. The fellow beside him was wearing overalls and well-worn work boots. Honest to god he heard several “Yeee Haaas” yelled inside the place that day. He walked onward and saw another guy. This prime specimen of six foot six inches of big boy took the cake. He was wearing ripped up jeans, black boots and had a confederate flag draped over him like Superman wears his cape. “Super Redneck?” he thought. He laughed but quickly looked away because a fight was the last thing he needed. He started thinking he didn't fit in at the mall today and that if he said something bad about country music, Chevy pick-up trucks or chewing tobacco he would get his ass kicked. As him and his friend, (whoever the hell it was), headed towards the exit he finally saw it. A sign listing events at the Coliseum. Tonight Hank Junior was playing. That sure as shit brought them there good ole' boys down from the hills and out of the hollers.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

He tossed the last of the refuse into the back of the truck, put up his tools and took off the thick rubber gloves he had to wear (Safety Rule 11C, hazmat protection essentials) He laughed as he remembered the training videos for Blood-Born Pathogens. The one that apparently was made when the mall was still alive and kicking. The girl with the big 80's hair was yelling at her boyfriend because he didn't follow the safety rules and now they both had Hepatitis C, or B or whatever letter it was. Funny as hell video. “How could you do this to me Johnny?” the girl had yelled. Were all the guys named “Johnny” in those safety videos? It seemed that way. Wished he could remember his old friends names as good as he could remember that stupid ass video.

He sighed and drove over to the spot by the river where he had to clean next. Got out his lunch bag, pulled out his simple sandwich, drank a Yoo-Hoo chocolate drink and ate a handful of cheese crackers.

This is the life, he thought, looking around at the fading city. This is the life.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

[ladyofpurple]

answer all of the questions!!

holy SHIT ok bless you omg

(sorry it's a full day late i took this shit SERIOUSLY. don't ask me how many hours this took, i was in A Mood™️ last night. removed the ones already answered xoxo)

angel; have you ever been in love?

yeah. didn't end too well, but i loved him.

petal; favorite novel and author?

this is like asking me to pick a favorite child. i guess favorite author would be stephen king, if only based entirely on the sheer quantity of his books i own alone. favorite book would probably be special topics in calamity physics by marisha pessl, and i'm only saying that because it's been my go-to response for years. i have lots of favorite books. ask me again in five minutes and i'll give you another one.

honey perfume; favorite perfume/scent?

freshly made coffee. lilacs. jasmine. cut grass. the ground after it rains. chocolate chip cookies in the oven. cigarette smoke on skin. my mom's shampoo. my grandma. my dog when he's just had a bath. thanksgiving dinner. acrylic paint on canvas. sawdust. that one cologne i can't name but can smell on a guy from a mile away. mulled cranberry and apple juice. vanilla. coconut. fresh laundry. peppermint.

sweet pea; what’s your zodiac?

virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising ✨

softie; talk about your sexuality.

i'm biromantic asexual, primarily attracted to men more than women (but have had too many crushes on girls to consider myself het), generally sex repulsed when it comes to the thought of having it myself. i prefer to call myself queer in passing conversation, it's easier than explaining asexuality and the differences between sexual and romantic attraction. if someone asks more specifically, i'll usually just call myself bi for simplicity's sake, even though the ace part is a much more important (to me) part of my identity. monogamous as fuck.

i'm still struggling with internalized homophobia and a lot of "am i even queer enough" thoughts, which is super fun. took me a long time to even consider the fact that i might like girls at all. i'll probably never come out to my parents. not that they'd, like, disown me or whatever, but they're juuuuust homophobic/transphobic enough that my few attempts to educate them when they say something A Little Yikes have shown me that i should probably just stay in the closet unless i absolutely have to come out. like i'm getting married to a woman or something.

sugarplum; what’s the color of your eyes and hair?

i usually say my eyes are green because it's easier, and they mostly are, but i have rings of greyish blue around the irises and sometimes they're more hazel in the middle. they always have a green tint to them though, even if the intensity of the green varies.

my natural hair is brown, a little on the darker and slightly ashy side of completely generic. currently a former blonde, although i'm hoping to bleach my fucking YEAR of growout soon, and then go some crazy color as a last hurrah before i have to go dark again. being broke fucking sucks.

wings; coffee or tea?

tea!! black tea. chai, to be specific, with an irresponsible amount of milk and sugar. chai lattes are a fucking drug okay? coffee makes me sick (not a judgement, a literal fact. last time i tried some i threw up).

fairytale; are you a cat or dog person?

cat!! but my family has a chihuahua named sonny and you can pry that little monster from my cold dead hands ok i will fight you.

snowflake; favorite time period?

okay, i wrote and rewrote my answer to this about 10 times. then i tried to divide it up into categories (aesthetics, history, fashion, vibes, geographical location, etc), but that didn't help. so basically: i don't have one, because i have too many.

i like the american 20s-60s for the aesthetic, music/movies, and the fashion. i also like the european 1600s-1800s for the interesting history and also vibe. i love the french and russian revolutions — the fashion! the art! the wars and political upheaval! I FUCKING LOVE HISTORY. then, of course, we can't forget the rennaisance. or the witch trials (pick your continent). and ancient greece? the roman empire? hello?? did i mention empires? how bout we mosy on over to south america — can i interest you in the mayans? incans? aztecs? what about china and japan? korea? vietnam? and don't even get me fucking STARTED on the black plague.

ancient egypt? sign me the FUCK UP. vikings? yes please. the celts? oh boy. the MYTHOLOGY. the ARCHITECTURE. the LANGUAGES and POLITICS and LITERATURE and REVOLUTIONS and GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN ANY OF THESE

i uh. might have gotten a little excited. basically i like history a lot. and mythology. and linguistics. and cultural practices. and the politics and prejudices behind wars and stuff. and learning in general. moving on.

vanilla; do you believe in ghosts?

let's put it this way: i don't not believe in ghosts??

listen. we don't know jack shit. we don't know what happens after we die, there are constant scientific revelations that turn our understanding of the universe completely upside-down, and there is literally no way to know which religions or myths or urban legends could have some grain of truth to them. like, dude, i've literally thought i was haunted before. psychology is bananas and the universe is infinite.

demons could be real. ghosts could be real. what if we just haven't invented the necessary technology to prove it yet? what if we never do, and they just fuck around alongside us, moving furniture and making shadow puppets on the walls just for kicks until the earth explodes? what if that one tumblr post was right and ghosts are actually real people from alternate universes or timelines that we see accidentally bc some cosmic wires got crossed? who fucking knows.

i love horror movies and scary stories and ghost hunter shows just as much as the next gal. but listen. psychics? mediums? people who accept every single creepypasta retold third-hand from their neighbor's kid's classmate's second cousin who "totally knows a guy"? doubt.jpeg

i don't understand the sheer amount of assumptions made willy-nilly about the nature of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. the assumption that "oh this machine that totally doesn't look like a coathanger taped to a walkman will work because ghosts have this temperature and can always communicate like this and are electromagnetic" or whatever just baffles me. to a certain degree, following a general consensus is one thing — some basic things everyone can agree on? that's cool. ghosts can walk through walls and are probably dead people or whatever. but oh my god, taking every single story as absolute, undeniable proof?? taking these stories and expanding on them to infer intentions and scientific facts to something that by it's very nature is unknowable and assuming, like, every spirit is created equal?? and yeah, ghost hunting shows are fun and campy and kinda creepy but like. you really, genuinely don't think any of them have ever faked anything at all??? even if ghosts are real, it's fucking reality tv, my dude. it's the entertainment industry. at least maintain the slightest ounce of critical thought before taking zak bagans' word as the goddamn gospel.

and sidenote, maybe it's just my limited exposure as a white woman in the western world, but of all the shows and podcasts and movies and documentaries and whatnot i've been able to find and consume, there's the constant use of christian ideology applied to every situation that just really burns my bacon. what, there's never been an atheist ghost? if you see a shadow person and you don't know the lord's prayer by heart, are you automatically fucked? why are there never stories about, i don't know, viking ghosts? does your religion in life preclude you from becoming a ghost in the first place? is that why people never mention buddhist ghosts? i don't get it, and that's why even though i'm self-admittedly the most superstitious person i've ever met, true believers make me roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. makes me come across as more skeptical than i theoretically am. I HAVE VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OK

but like, you couldn't pay me to fuck with a ouija board. i'm not stupid.

delicate; diamonds or pearls?

both have their appeal and their place, but diamonds, i guess. i like the sparkle. but fake ones!! or synthetic. diamonds are overpriced and artificial scarcity is a scam and i don't need a dumb rock that some poor person in a mine somewhere was exploited and possibly died for. no blood diamonds in this house, thank you very much.

if i ever get engaged, i don't want a diamond ring. i'd want something cool, a little unusual, like a ruby or a sapphire or some other sparkly gem that isn't literally shoved in your face every waking moment as the expected standard symbol of True Love. they're cheaper, they're cool-looking, as a ring they still hold the cultural symbolism of an engagement/wedding ring. and honestly, as long as it's well-made and durable, whatever hypothetical gem it is doesn't have to be real either. i'm a woman of simple needs and demonstrably low standards. no point in going into debt for a fucking piece of jewelry, regardless of ~tradition~.

lavender dream; favorite album?

oh lord. welcome to the black parade, i guess. or anything by panic! at the disco. there are dozens of possible options — my interests are mercurial and my memory is garbage. but i'll always be an emo little shit. black parade and vices and virtues were also the first two albums i ever listened to where i loved every single song on them, and i happened to listen to them for the first time at around the same point in my life (i got into mcr super late. like, 2012 late. rip).

silky; what’s your biggest dream?

it's cheesy but i guess i just want stability and, by extension, happiness. emotional stability, mental stability, financial stability, stable living situation, stable routines, stable relationships... you get the idea. i have ambitions and passions, of course, but my ultimate goal is happiness at this point in my life, and i'm pretty sure stabilizing all those things would go a pretty long way in achieving that goal.

a little apartment with walls i can paint because white walls make me angry. bookshelves and posters and fandom merch on every wall. a computer i can actually play games on again, and somewhere i can paint and draw and record my podcasts. someone who loves me, maybe. a cat, if i'm stable enough. space for people to come visit me, and a place for them to sleep if they need. a tiny balcony, if i really want to shoot for the stars. a job i don't hate. the spoons to hang out with my friends, and the money to not worry about buying little presents for the people i care about sometimes. i don't need much.

strawberry kiss; do you have a crush right now?

nope.

glitter; favorite fictional character?

another loaded question. like books, if you ask me again in five minutes i'll probably give you a different answer. but in this particular moment, caleb and jester from critical role (please don't make me choose between them). i won't go full shipping mode rn, but jester is so funny and silly and sweet, so much more complex than she seems, and she tries so hard to make everyone happy even when she's so sad inside. the healer who treats healing as an inconvenience in battle (she's so fucking valid and also mood), the glue that keeps the party together. and caleb learning to trust again, facing his trauma and coming out of his shell. he loves his friends so much he plays wizard as a support class and i love him so much.

i love the mighty nein in general, of course, and all the guests/honorary members they've had. pumat!! pls don't be evil reani!! keg!! shakäste and grand duchess anastasia!! cali!! kiri!!!! the brotps! empire siblings! chaos crew! nott the best detective agency! i still love molly and all his assholery to bits (fight me), and mourn his lost potential. i adore yasha, even when she's gone; fjord has grown so much; beau and nott and caduceus — i love all their flaws and disagreements and their character arcs and the excitement of watching them grow and learn. but if i had to choose, caleb, jester and molly have always been my top 3 since day 1 and, well, molly isn't really an option anymore.

but like i said, ask me again in a minute. i have a fucking list.

swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.

a collection of things off the top of my head:

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. — Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

a tired feminist Mood™️

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

i got my love of books from my grandma — some of my favorites i got from her. sometimes, as a treat, she used to take my sister and i to bookstores and we'd stay there for ages, getting to pick one out, roaming the shelves, the mental torture of having to choose. the peace of being surrounded by thousands of potential worlds, so much information, so many stories just waiting to be told; being surrounded by strangers who share that same wonder. the anxious drive home so we could read them, being unable to wait that long so i inevitably start reading in the car and make myself sick. telling her in excited detail all my favorite parts. if we were lucky, maybe we got to split a bear claw, or she'd drive past starbucks and get us something there too (tall vanilla soy steamer with one pump of vanilla syrup, whipped cream on top that always melted too quickly and squirted out the hole in the lid, so hot it burned my tongue but so good i didn't care). i have never felt more at home than i do when i'm surrounded by books.

"There are a lot of different types of freedom. We talk about freedom the same way we talk about art, like it was a statement of quality rather than a description. “Art” doesn’t mean good or bad. Art just means art. It can be terrible and still be art. Freedom can be good or bad, too. There can be terrible freedom. You freed me, and I didn’t ask you to." — Alice Isn't Dead, season 1, chapter 2: Alice

as cringey as it is to admit it, this line made me cry a lot after my breakup.

"So you aren't American?" asked Shadow.

"Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

[side-eyes white america real hard]

there's more, of course. there's always more. don't even get me started on song lyrics, we'll be here all day.

lace; what’s your favorite plant/flower?

lilacs and roses.

mermaid; do you prefer the forest or the ocean? why?

both, i guess. but in different ways, and in different circumstances.

the sea is wild. it is endless and deep and unknowable. it is beautiful and dangerous. i am terrified of the ocean, and yet my favorite place in the world is an empty beach on the oregon coast. i have picked sand from between my toes for days with hair crusted in salt, danced around bonfires and watched the stars while marshmallows burn, gotten pulled under the waves as a child and nearly swept out to sea. picked starfish and crabs from small pools in the rocks, and swum (accidentally) with wild sea lions. in a long skirt, too early in the year to be swimming, i once took off my shoes and waded fully clothed into the water to my waist and just... danced. splashed and kicked and laughed with a boy i barely knew until our throats were sore and our toes were numb, walking home hours later with our soaked clothes clinging to our legs, shoes squelching, dripping algae as we went. the ocean is freeing and overwhelming all at once. i love it and am petrified by it in equal measure.

the forest is beautiful in a different way. it is silent and dense and serene. you are surrounded by life and yet, somehow, completely alone. there is magic in the forest, and history, and even when all else dies, that will remain. the trees grow from the corpses of their ancestors, and some have lived dozens of our lifetimes — with luck, a few dozen more. it is quiet there, peaceful, even the tiniest wood in the middle of a city muffling the outside world through the trees. you can feel the ancient ways deep in your soul as you follow winding paths strewn with fallen leaves, the mystery and wonder and superstitions of your forefathers. you wonder what it would be like, to run your fingers over the moss, to take off your shoes and socks and just run, leaping and dancing over rocks and roots, hair wild and air filling your lungs in deep, pure gulps as you shed the responsibilities and struggles of modern life, for just a moment remembering what freedom tastes like. it is primal, this connection to nature, one we have nearly forgotten over time. and as the sky grows dark and the silence of night presses against you, shadows looming, every footfall deafening, perhaps you begin to understand why some believed in monsters.

honeymoon; do you keep a journal?

i used to. honestly, that's a good idea, i should start doing that again. lord knows i have enough empty journal-type books.

starlight; do you believe in love at first sight and soulmates? why/why not?

i want to. i want to believe there's someone out there for me, the love of my life, someone to whom i'll be the love of their life, and that when i meet them i'll just... know.

but when i met my ex, i didn't really look twice at him for a while — no love at first sight. and when we were together, when i loved him and he swore he loved me back, i thought he hung the stars in the sky and knew i would marry him someday. couldn't even consider the idea that that wouldn't happen. and then when he broke up with me, he ghosted me so suddenly and thoroughly that he even preemptively cut contact with every single one of our mutual friends he thought might side with me in the breakup, before anybody even knew we'd had a fight. so, not soulmates either.

i really want to believe that someday the perfect romance will just fall into place and i can have the happily ever after i've always dreamed of. but the reality is i might never even have another s.o. for the rest of my life. maybe i'll get hit by a car tomorrow, or my hypothetical soulmate moves to argentina to become an alpaca farmer on a mountain somewhere and we never even meet. maybe i'm so traumatized by the betrayal and lies that i'll never have the courage to even try again.

and even so, happily ever after doesn't have to include a fairytale romance, regardless of whether i want it or not. i still like to cling to that hope though, deep down.

princess; what do you value most in people?

i'm going to assume you mean "real people" as in people i have positive relationships with, and not random strangers on the street.

loyalty. kindness. support. humor. similar values. patience. being able to grow together and teach each other things, so we can make each other better. honesty. trust. compassion. confidence. emotional vulnerability. communication. intelligence, or at least a willingness to learn. strength.

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 1.6 - In which we meet futuristic techno Dredd

II heard the cape arrive on his souped up motorcycle.  I didn’t want to be seen fleeing the scene of a fight, and risk being labeled one of the bad guys by yet another person, but I wasn’t about to get closer to the street either, in case Lung was feeling better.  Since there was nowhere to go, I just stayed put.  Just resting felt good.

Yeah it’s better you stay and try to explain what went down. Fleeing after all this..wouldn’t be a good look. And let’s try to stay far away from  the knocked-out fire demon while we’re at it.

If you’d asked me just a few hours ago about how I thought I would feel meeting a big name superhero, I would have used words like excited and giddy.  The reality was that I was almost too exhausted to care.

You have experienced a loooot of things just today girl. It’s not everyday you get into a life or death fight and then meet some people of dubious character, all in the span of like 20 minutes. Shame your first encounter with a bona-fide superhero is in a situation like this.

It looked as though he flew up onto the roof, but the six-foot long weapon the man held kind of jerked as he landed.  I was pretty sure I saw the tines of a grappling hook retreating back into the end of the weapon.  So this was what Armsmaster looked like in person, I thought.

Armsmaster! So...master of weapons? He seems to have a pretty badass one in one arm, which seems to have multiple uses. Good old Grappling Hooks! The way for grounded super heroes to keep up with flight-types!

The largest superhero organization in the world was the Protectorate, spanning Canada and the States, with ongoing talks about including Mexico in the deal.  It was a government sponsored league of superheroes with a base in each ‘cape city’.  That is, they had a team set up in each city with a sizable population of heroes and villains.  Brockton Bay’s team was officially ‘The Protectorate East-North-East’, and were headquartered in the floating, forcefield-shrouded island that you could see from the Boardwalk.  This guy, Armsmaster, was the guy in charge of the local team. ��When the core group of the top Protectorate members from around Canada and the States assembled in that classic ‘v’ formation for the photo shoots, Armsmaster was one of the guys in the wings.  This was a guy who had his own action figures.  Poseable Armsmaster with interchangeable Halberd parts.

Wooaaah. So he’s a really big shot! Leader of the local Protectorate which seems to be this universe’s version of the Avengers/Justice League/big main hero organization. He lives in that badass flying fortess! And seems to be pretty marketable as well. Meeting him in the flesh like this in your first day, woah .

He really did look like a superhero, not like some guy in a costume.  It was an important distinction.  He wore body armor, dark blue with silver highlights, had a sharply angled v-shaped visor covering his eyes and nose.  With only the lower half of his face exposed, I could see a beard trimmed to trace the edges of his jaw.  If I had to judge, with only the lower half of his face to go by, I’d guess he was in his late twenties or early thirties.

High-tech superhero armor and professional gear! Sweet!

He’s giving me a mix of iron man and judge dredd vibes with that costume. Either way he seems to exude “veteran and skilled super” a lot.

His trademark and weapon was his Halberd, which was basically a spear with an axe head on the end, souped up with gadgets and the kind of technology you generally only saw in science fiction.  He was the kind of guy who appeared on magazine covers and did interviews on TV, so you could find almost anything about Armsmaster through various media, short of his secret identity.  I knew his weapon could cut through steel as though it was butter, that it had plasma injectors for stuff that the blade alone couldn’t cut and that he could fire off directed electromagnetic pulses to shut down forcefields and mechanical devices.

HE HAS A MASTER WEAPON WHICH CAN ACT AS ALL OF THE WEAPONS AT THE SAME TIME. THAT’S SO AWESOME

I knew he was gonna be technologically-focused, with that badass floating island and all!

A spear-axe hybrid strong enough to cut through steel, with plasma injectors and EMP blasts?? Fucking sweet.

“You gonna fight me?” He called out.

“I’m a good guy,” I said.

Stepping closer to me, he tilted his head, “You don’t look like one.”

Oof. That’s true. Miss looking-like-a-living-bug with dark colors and yellow lenses doesn’t seem very heroic at... all

Also I really like how that line was delivered for some reason. You don’t look like one

That stung, especially coming from him.  It was like Michael Jordan saying you sucked at basketball.  “That’s… not intentional,” I responded, not a little defensively, “I was more than halfway done putting the costume together when I realized it was already looking more edgy than I’d intended, and I couldn’t do anything about it by then.”

Your power is very hard to use in a kid-friendly way! You command a swarm of biting, stinging, maybe-venomous, maybe-flesh eating bugs! That grimdark look is actually apropiate

I wonder if this work will explore heroes who want to do good things but have characteristically “evil powers”. Taylor could easily be one!

There was a long pause.  Nervously, I turned my eyes from that opaque visor.  I glanced at his chest emblem, a silhouette of his visor in blue against a silver background, and was struck with the ridiculous thought that I had once owned a pair of underpants with his emblem on the front.

Pfft! Taylor your young fangirl self is adorable

Also gave me Deku flashbacks, as with the hero journals

“You’re telling the truth,” he said.  It was a definitive statement, which startled me.  I wanted to ask how he knew, but I wasn’t about to do or say anything that might change his mind. 

Lie-detector?? God his suit just has everything

I love technology based powers by the way. When a hero stacks himself up to the teeth in sweet tech it’s a sight to behold

He approached closer, looking me over as I sat there with my arms around my knees, he asked, “You need a hospital?”

“No,” I said. “Don’t think so.  I’m as surprised as you are.”

“You’re a new face,” he said.

“I haven’t even come up with a name yet.  You know how hard it is to come up with a bug-themed name that doesn’t make me sound like a supervillain or a complete dork?”

Hmm that’s true! Swarm sounds villanous, same with Plague, Sting, Hivemind, Pestilence...

Bug is probably too simple. (Insect) Queen maybe? Eh Queen is so general that it’s probably taken already. Control? Probably taken  and sounds villanous.

He chuckled, and it sounded warm, very normal, “I wouldn’t know.  I got into the game early enough that I didn’t have to worry about missing out on all of the good names.”

There was a pause in the conversation.  I suddenly felt awkward.  I don’t know why, but I admitted to him, “I almost died.”

“That’s why we have the Ward program,” he said.  There was no judgement in his tone, no pressure.  Just a statement.

Hmm, what is that? Some sort of superhero training?

I nodded, more to give a response than out of any agreement with the answer.  The Wards were the under-eighteen subdivision of the Protectorate, and Brockton Bay did have its own team of Wards, with the same naming convention as the Protectorate; The Wards East-North-East.  I had considered applying to join, but the notion of escaping the stresses of high school by flinging myself into a mess of teenage drama, adult oversight and schedules seemed self-defeating.

Oooh so it’s like the Teen Titans, and other young superhero groups! Young teenage superheroes! Nice!

Also yeah, that would probably be similar to school, and you wanted escapism with this. I don’t think you would get bullied though, but I understand your reticence.

“You get Lung?” I asked, to change the subject from the Wards.  I was pretty sure that he was obligated to try and induct new heroes into either the Protectorate or the Wards, depending on their age, to promote the whole agenda of organized heroes who are accountable for their actions, and I really didn’t want him to get on my case about joining.

He probably is obligated to ask, yeah. I suppose they don’t condone vigilantism. So changing the subject to the dragon man is probably a good idea!

“Lung was unconscious, beaten and battered when I arrived.  I pumped him full of tranquilizers to be safe and temporarily restrained him under a steel cage I welded to the sidewalk.  I’ll pick him up on my way back.”

“Good,” I said, “With him in jail, I’ll feel like I accomplished something today.  Only reason I started the fight was because I overheard him telling his men to shoot some kids.  Only realized later that he was talking about some other villains.”

Armsmaster turned to look at me.  So I told him, walking him through the fight in general, the arrival of the teenage bad guys, and their general descriptions.  Before I finished, he was pacing back and forth on the roof.

“These guys.  They knew I was coming?”

Yeeah that was a pretty epic misunderstanding there.

Also they probably knew you were coming thanks to the kinda-omniscient know-it-all in their team soooo yeah.

I nodded, once.  As much respect as I had for Armsmaster, I wasn’t in much of a mood to repeat myself.

“That explains a lot,” he said, staring off into the distance.  After a few moments, he went on to explain, “They’re slippery.  On those few occasions we do manage to get in a toe to toe fight with them, they either win, or they get away more or less unscathed, or both.  We know so little about them.  Grue and Hellhound were working on their own before they joined the group, so there’s some information there, but the other two?  They’re nonentities.  If the girl Tattletale has some way of detecting or tracking us, it would go a long way towards explaining why they’re doing as well as they are.”

Insteresting! So Regent and Tattletale are very well hidden! I imagine it must be easy for Tattletale to do so, but I still don’t know what Regent does... He’s definitely the most misterious of them all at the moment.

Heh, and he uses Hellhound for Bitch, he’s a hero so of course

It kind of surprised me to hear one of the top level heroes admitting to being anything less than perfectly on top of things.

“It’s funny,” I said, after a few moment’s thought, “They didn’t seem that hardcore.  Grue said they were kind of panicking when they heard Lung was coming after them, and they were casually joking around while the fight was going on.  Grue was making fun of Regent.”

“They said all this in front of you?” he asked.

I shrugged, “I think they thought I was helping them out.  The way Tattletale talked, I think she thought I was a bad guy too or something.”  With a touch of bitterness, I said, “Dunno, I guess it was the costume that led them to that assumption.”

“Could you have taken them in a fight?” Armsmaster asked me.

I started to shrug, and winced a little.  I was feeling a little sore in the shoulder, where I’d tumbled on the roof after being blasted by Lung’s flames.  I said, “Like you said, we don’t know a lot about them, but I think that girl with the dogs-”

“Hellhound,” Armsmaster said.

“I think she could have kicked my ass on her own, so no.  I probably couldn’t have fought them.”

Yeah they didn’t really seem evil per se, they were pretty nice to us! Maybe because they confused us for a villain...

And yeah I don’t think you could have beaten them. Of the two powers I sorta know of them, hellbeasts and kinda-omniscience beat bugs, I’m pretty sure. So yeah.

“Then count it as a good thing that they got the wrong impression,” Armsmaster said.

“I’ll try to look at it that way,” I said, struck by how he easily he was able to employ the whole ‘take a negative and turn it into a positive’ mindset I’d been trying to maintain.  I envied that.

Heroes tends to be more optimistic than most.

“That a girl,” he said, “And while we’re looking forward, we need to decide where we go from here.”

My heart sank.  I knew he was going to bring up the Wards again.

Yeaah and he’ll put you in an awkward spot again...

What do you want to do Taylor? Start as a standalone hero and then work your way up through your acts and deeds? Could you even do that and still be well-regarded by the Protectorate?

“Who gets the credit for Lung?”

Caught off guard, I looked up at him.  I started to speak, but he held up his hand.

“Hear me out.  What you’ve done tonight is spectacular.  You played a part in getting a major villain into custody.  You just need to consider the consequences.”

“Consequences,” I muttered, even as the word spectacular rang in my ears.

Oh, so he wants to talk about who gets the credit? Huh, didn’t expect that. It could be a good first step for her hero career, but it could also be dangerous to let villains know about her existence, especially if she’s going solo

“Lung has an extensive gang throughout Brockton Bay and neighboring cities.  More than that, he has two superpowered flunkies.  Oni Lee and Bakuda.”

I shook my head, “I know about Oni Lee, and Grue mentioned fighting him.  I’ve never heard of Bakuda.”

So he has two liutenants with powers! Oni Lee was mentioned before and now... Bakuda. Baku- makes me think explosions from Bakuha, so it could be explosions-based?

Seems to be a new member, anyways.

Armsmaster nodded, “Not surprising.  She’s new.  What we know about her is limited.  She made her first appearance and demonstration of her powers by way of a drawn out terrorism campaign against Cornell University.  Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were foiled by the New York Protectorate.  This is… something of a concern.”

Damn, terrorism against a University and a conforntation with the New York Protectorate? She seems to have some infamy even before joining

“What are her powers?”

“Are you aware of the Tinker classification?”

I started to shrug, but remembered my sore shoulder and nodded instead.  It was probably more polite, too.  I said, “Covers anyone with powers that give them an advanced grasp of science.  Lets them make technology years ahead of its time.  Ray guns, ice blasters, mechanized suits of armor, advanced computers.”

Oh sweet

So tinkers are the inventors, the tech-based superheroes who use futuristic technology and all kinds of high-specs gear, and that is their superpower?

Oh I love technology-based powers so much.

“Close enough,” Armsmaster said.  It struck me he would be a Tinker, if his Halberd and armor were any indication.  That, or he got his stuff from someone else.  He elaborated,  “Well, most Tinkers have a specialty or a special trick.  Something they’re particualrly good at or something that they can do, which other Tinkers can’t.  Bakuda’s specialty is bombs.”

I stared at him.  A woman with a power that let her make bombs that were technologically decades ahead of their time.  No wonder he saw it as a concern.

So Armsmaster is a tinker! Makes sense with his impossibly-amazing plasma spear-axe, lie detector and super armor. I suppose a tinker’s threat can vary a lot depending on prep time and current gear. I like them!

Super-advanced explosives? Oh boy, that sounds like potencially a fucking nightmare

“Now I want you to consider the danger involved in taking the credit for Lung’s capture.  Without a doubt, Oni Lee and Bakuda will be looking to accomplish two goals.  Freeing their boss and getting vengeance on the one responsible.  I suspect you’re now aware… these are scary people.  Scarier in some ways than their boss.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t take the credit,” I said.

“I’m saying you have two options.  Option one is to join the Wards, where you’ll have support and protection in the event of an altercation.  Option two is to keep your head down.  Don’t take the credit.  Fly under the radar.”

Yeah I could see how Taylor could become the target of these two underlings, which would probably be more than she can handle.

So Armsmaster is offering her the possibilities of

a) Joining the teenage super-squad and take the credit for Lung or

b)Keep going solo but maintain your involvment in this a secret

I wasn’t prepared to make a decision like that.  Usually, I went to sleep at eleven or so, waking up at six thirty to get ready for my morning run.  At my best guess, it was somewhere between one and two in the morning.  I was emotionally exhausted from the highs and lows of the evening, and I could barely wrap my head around the complications and headaches that would come from joining the Wards, let alone having two insanely dangerous sociopaths coming after me. 

Aand one of those options is already giving Taylor a headache

On top of that, I wasn’t so ignorant as to miss Armsmaster’s motives. If I opted to not take the credit for Lung’s capture, Armsmaster would, I was sure.  I didn’t want to get on the bad side of a major player.

....True, politics could be at play here

Athough I don’t know if Taylor has just a bad view of power structures in general, considering she thought that autobiographical book she read was probably all propaganda

...Which could be true, and the whole system could be corrupt at least a little, and Armsmaster is offering her two options where he hopes he gets the credit and the glory

“Please keep my involvement in Lung’s capture secret,” I told him, painfully disappointed to have to say it, even as I knew it made the most sense.

He smiled, which I hadn’t expected.  He had a nice smile.  It made me think that he could win the hearts of a lot of women, whatever the top two-thirds of his face looked like.  “I think you’ll look back and see this was a smart decision,” Armsmaster said, turning to walk to the other end of the roof, “Call me at the PHQ if you’re ever in a pinch.” He stepped off the edge of the roof and dropped out of sight.

He seems very pleased at her decision, which reinforces my belief that he did want to get the credit after all. Or he’s happy she doesn’t get in trouble. Or both.

Armsmaster seems like an ok guy, probably a little vain, or glory-seeking, but in a way, all superheroes are a bit like that. I have defintely seen much worse examples.

You get a thumbs-up, cool plasma-spear man

Call me if you’re ever in a pinch.  He’d been saying, without openly admitting, that he owed me one.  He would take the lion’s share of the credit for Lung’s capture, but he owed me one.

Before I was all the way down the fire escape, I heard the thrum of his motorcycle, presumably carrying Lung towards a life of confinement. I could hope.

Oh true! Nice, you can call in a favour of a team leader of the superhero mega-alliance! Good start to your superhero career, Taylor!

And he just took away Lung so it seems she was indeed the push the situation needed to get him into custody! Yes!

It would take me a half hour to get home.  On the way, I would stop and pull on the sweatshirt and jeans I had hidden.  I knew my dad went to sleep even earlier than I did, and he slept like a log, so I had nothing to worry about as far as wrapping up the night.

It could have gone worse.  Strange as it sounds, those words were a security blanket I wrapped around myself to keep myself from dwelling on the fact that tomorrow was a school day.

It could have gone worse is a good mentality to have!

Let’s hope the three bitches aren’t too insufferable tomorrow.