#they get to share their woes about a certain composer

[minban]

zed relationship with yasuo had been rather tumultuous, the off again and on again where one encounter might be passionate and the next full of vitriol. So, when he had shown up unannounced to his apartment and been greeted with a startled blonde, whose wide eyes had made him almost hesitate to ask where yasuo was, the last thing he had anticipated was that the two of them would get along.

They sit across from each other at the dining table, the whole process of zed making them the hot chocolates that now separated them, billowing steam, had felt familiar and fluent, as if he had always lived there. Lissom hands cradle the beverage as if warming themselves, Kaveh’s eyes had wandered along the tattoos weaving their way from his wrist to his bicep and the conversation had begun. “ I designed them.” He said coolly. The geometric shapes that eased into vibrant koi with delicate line-art, the sharp, dark edges of tribal tattoos that encompassed them. The way they all flowed elegantly made no sense considering the incongruous art styles flushed together but to the eye it was appealing, he had made sure of it.

“ I wasn’t always into it but when I moved from music I had to go somewhere.” His smile held the vestiges of sorrow that originated in those years dedicated to learning guitar and writing songs that had withered away into a new beginning in tattooing. “ tell me about yourself, other than being someone yasuo is fucking.” He says it so casually that it almost felt disconcerting, as if they were discussing the weather. “ As someone he was also fucking I know he has a liking for interesting people.” Which could have been considered a compliment.

@raytm / an uninvited and most wonderful guest

there is no denying the shock and confusion that kaveh feels upon opening the door for the stranger to have a wisp of his roommate's name on his tongue, said with such familiarity and longing that kaveh's weariness quickly morphs into concern. if this is truly someone that yasuo knows, then kaveh would be rude to not invite his guest into their house, and it's with that thought that he ushers this man into the apartment. they learn of each others names quickly as they walk around each other in the kitchen to get themselves situated at the table with drinks and snacks. kaveh smiles merily at this easy exchange, finding it quite nice that man is so comfortable with making himself at ease, stranger he might be, he is yasuo's acquaintance and kaveh would be besides himself if he were to make zed feel uncomfortable. he pushes the plate of sweets closer to zed, beckoning the man to eat as much as he pleases.

a touch of embarrassment brings a flush to his cheeks for being caught staring so openly at his new friend's tattoos. he can't help it, finding the array as fascinating as they are pretty, meshing different styles together in a way where kaveh would wish to study, taking his time taking apart each piece and admiring the beauty them all. it is a small blessing that zed does not point out how rude it is to stare and instead pushes on to speak of himself. and kaveh finds this man even more intriguing with the knowledge that the tattoos are of his own making, each one designed by the man who sits across from him. he takes a sip of his own hot cocoa as he takes in that knowledge, questions upon questions already pouring into his brain to inquire upon.

for now, those questions are withheld and stowed away for a later time. "i understand," kaveh nods, "channeling your creative outlet into another form of art can be soothing even if the medium is different to what you know. as someone who is into the arts, keeping my hands busy means that i'm also keeping my mind busy." the reason for the shift is another point that peaks kaveh's interest, and it is just another piece of information that he will have to stash away until the topic is brought up again. politeness in refraining from asking the question on kaveh's end does not stop his mind from trying to slot together information, already well aware of yasuo's career and what might have intertwined these two together.

"ah..." one of those questions is answered as they continue their conversation. crude as the statement is that it brings color to kaveh's face, it would be hard to disprove that yasuo has already had his hands on him when there is so much proof in both their conversation and the marks showing on kaveh's skin where his blouse does not cover. in his own home, he did not even consider how he might have looked to a stranger when he had opened the door to allow zed in. just the same, kaveh is not at all surprised to hear that zed is also someone who has been victim to yasuo's clutches. zed is pretty, charming, and he has been wonderful company in the short time that kaveh has come to know him. it is no wonder that yasuo had been well acquainted with zed.

kaveh wonders, then, what it would be like for yasuo to still find interest in the man who sits across from him. there is no jealousy that comes to him as he had originally thought, just a mere curiosity that may allow kaveh a moments break from his roommate's rather intense attention. to have someone to share with would not be so bad, and the prospect has him smiling to himself. he will keep zed here until yasuo gets home and gauge how that interaction will go, whether it is something that zed had been planning for or not.

"asides for our... relationship, as you have said. i don't think i'm all that interesting. i found this place online because yasuo had been searching for roommates, and to split rent was exactly something i had needed at the time. i'm an architect, and i would like to think that i have made a name for myself, however that doesn't mean my work gets any easier." kaveh thinks of all the clients who try to micromanage his drafts when they have no concept of what makes a stable construct. he thinks of how many of his juniors praise his work and name, and he thinks of how it had caused him deep distress when all that fame could not soothe the torment his life had once been. the title of genius had been a shackle that bound him, and sometimes he still feels as if that were true. alas, he does not believe zed is asking for the thoughts that had once plagued him. "i like to dab my hands in other mediums as well. sketching is an artform that i love to practice, and i have pages filled with nothing but portraits of the people i have met."

kaveh pulls out his phone and swipes to a folder in his gallery that showcases images of his finished constructs. "here," kaveh says as he pushes his phone in front of zed, encouraging him to scroll through the collection. "these are some of the buildings i have designed. i'm not in charge of the actual construction. despite that, i'm still responsible for all of the aspects, so sometimes i have to oversee the construction and work with mechanics and engineers. i'm not sure if this is what you would call interesting, but this is what i do, and i rather enjoy the process of creating a design that resonates with my clients."

[thecipherlegacy]

31. "Don't forget me" for S’cathe <3

So, fun fact! S'cathe is actually Mavasha's loyal apprentice and eventual in-law as she marries Mavasha's adopted daughter, Cathilia 💛

More Quinn family dynamics and S'cathe being a little bit of a sap below the cut :)

-----------------------

Learning that you were in a romantic relationship with your master's daughter certainly was a shock. She had been training under Darth Scorn for years, Malavai Quinn aided her on missions when needed, and yet she never knew that Cathilia had any relation to them at all.

She supposed that the lack of resemblance could be to blame, and that they didn't talk of their home life often because in the field work came first. She continued to pace in her quarters on her master's ship. Was this appropriate? Did that matter? Would this change how Master Scorn saw her? S'cathe was usually very well composed and calm, but Mavasha was not someone she wanted to be on the bad side of.

As if the woman could hear her thoughts, Mavasha stepped into the room. She always looked so imposing. Her eyes a piercing red, her skin a milky white framed by blood colored lekku, and her height. She was a tall woman and always had intimidatingly good posture. "Master" The younger one greeted and bowed respectfully. "What can I do for you?"

The darth's eyes scanned her. "You're worried. I would have been able to feel your discomfort from Hoth, S'cathe. What troubles you?" 

The chiss woman grunted and crossed her arms. "It's trivial. Nothing you nor Quinn need to trouble yourselves with, Master."

A smirk played the older woman's pale features. "No, I'm certain Quinn wouldn't be able to help you handle any troubles dealing with anxiety. Especially over something like love. The man isn't known for being knowledgeable on that subject, trust me" she teased. 

The younger sith felt her cheeks deepen in colour. "Ah. So it's that obvious?" She asked. 

"Of course it is. Now, are you worried that I am upset? Because I couldn't think of anyone else I could trust with my precious daughter." she explained. "Are we done here?"

Straight to the point. Short and sweet. Either she really didn't want to have this conversation, or it truly didn't matter. "Thank you, Master. I really do care for Cathilia. She is one of the few people who have earned that right." 

The torguta nodded. "We know, dear apprentice. Now come, we have somewhere important to be." 

S'cathe nodded. She felt relieved,but also anxious. Mavasha was very quick to respond to her woes, then dismissed them. Something was wrong here. "I'm with you, master" 

Together the group stepped off the ship and onto the blazing sands of Tatooine. S'cathe hated this planet. It was too hot. She couldn't understand how Mavasha and Malavai could stand wearing the thick dark clothing that they always wore here. She overheated easily as is, being born on Hoth, but Tatooine felt like she was being cooked alive. 

"So what is our objective, Master?" She questioned as they left the spaceport and entered the heart of Mos Ila. Malavai shot down the occasional idiot that dared to try and approach them and start a fight, but it was otherwise an uneventful walk to the Cantina. 

"I have no objective here, besides finding a possible cocktail. You, on the other hand" she stopped there and insisted S'cathe walk into the cantina first "you are going to aid another apprentice in their objective here."

S'cathe looked at her master in confusion. "Aid… another apprentice? I've never heard any master ask such a thing" 

Upon stepping in, she spotted a familiar crimson skinned figure at the bar counter, rolling her eyes as her beastly companion talked to her. The purebloods eyes lit up when she saw the group, then she approached them with the same grace her mother carried. "It's very good to see you, mother, and you father" she greeted with a smile, then turned to S'cathe. "Looks like today we get to be partners, mother arranged it with my master, claiming you could help me get the artifact my master wants twice as fast." She explained before her blue skinned lover could ask.

The chiss woman chuckled. "Well, she is right. You know my lightsaber skills are worth their weight in gold." She bragged. "I am learning under the best, you know"

"No need for flattery, apprentice. You've already earned my blessing." Mavasha scoffed. "Now go, I know Zash can be pretty demanding. When you're finished come back to the ship. I expect to hear all about this excursion and all of the damage you two inflict." She stated with a raised brow, before turning her attention back to her daughter. "We've missed you dear. Im sure you're excelling in your trials for your master"

Cathilia gently pressed her forehead to her mothers, a soft show of affection. "I will see you when my trials are over, Mother with plenty of stories to share."

"Continue to make us proud, my heart." 

With a nod, Cathilia waved to her parents and left the cantina with S'cathe, where she started to untie her pet raptor to ride across the desert. "I'm sure this came as a surprise to you. My parents being so accepting." She said with a devious chuckle in her voice. "After you called me, my mother and I had a good laugh about it and then she arranged this, just to truly prove how much she trusts you. And as a test to see how well we can fight together."

The chiss nodded with a grin as she watched the other woman mount the lizard. "So, where to, love?"

The other woman opened her log, looking over the information she had received from the pirate she met. "Time to spill the blood of renegades and sand people." Came her answer with a wicked glint in her eye. "Khem, I will meet you back at the ship. You aren't needed for this." She added. The deshade grumbled as he glared at the little chiss warrior before going back to Cathilias ship. Once he was gone the sith rolled her eyes.

"I hate that beast. I reserve my care for my family only, but he really gets on my nerves." She growled and held a hand out to help S'cathe get on the raptor. 

"And don't forget me" the other woman winked as she firmly took her hand and climbed up behind her. 

"Darling, you have my whole heart." Cathilia assured her before a gentle kiss was shared. S'cathe was so overjoyed by this day that she had nearly forgotten the heat beating down on her.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Cat, now… speaking of hearts-" she started as the raptor took off into the desert. "Lets go cut some out of those fools who hold your artifact, hm?"

[presumenothing]

(AO3)

These days Ed’s journals are actual proper travelogues, no coded shit or anything.

…okay, no, there’s still some coded shit because alchemy is an inseparable part of travelling for him and that’s just too damn dangerous to leave out in plain sight. Especially since he can’t just transmute the covers shut anymore.

Besides, old habits are hard to break. Though at least he’s trained himself (with Winry’s enthusiastic “encouragement”) out of accidentally writing shopping lists and stuff in code too, just because half his mind’s still occupied with figuring out a transmutation or three dozen.

But anyway. Somehow he keeps finding that there’s so much to write about these days whenever he arrives in a new place, or even when he visits those they’ve been in before.

(Fine, yes, probably that does say something about how much of a one-track mind he’d had, before – but getting his and Al’s bodies back had been really fucking important, okay? 

That was putting it mildly, even, and he’d always consider it a worthy exchange even if it did make him wonder sometimes if there were other things he’d missed back then.)

He doesn’t mail out excitedly longwinded accounts of his journeys like Al does, complete with local recipes, pressed dried flowers, and photos or meticulously-labelled illustrations in place of them. Or that’s what he hears from Winry, at least – when Al sends Ed letters it runs more along the lines of alchemical notes that are thoroughly annotated (and even more thoroughly coded), though sometimes dried flowers still find their way into the envelope because his brother is a ridiculous sensory-addicted dork and Ed loves him to pieces despite the constant risk of pollen allergy.

Luckily the flowers are usually flat enough to double as bookmarks for his journals, which is also a convenient way of marking the progress of his journey against Al’s. So there’s that.

Though letters between them don’t happen very often, what with how very very frequently they change towns (or even countries) entirely.

He’s pretty sure there’s now an urban legend about that time Al’s letter had to be redirected a whole fifteen times before it reached him, and he’s definitely certain the postal system of Amestris and beyond actively hates them both by now. 

(Which is seriously uncalled for, since Al always puts more than enough postage to account for the inevitable redirections? But by this point Ed will personally vouch that people everywhere can be unreasonable about the weirdest stuff. Turns out Amestris doesn’t have a monopoly on that. Possibly not even the biggest market share.)

And of course it’s almost always Al doing the sending. Contrary to what Mustang believes Ed is actually capable of semi-tidy handwriting when he needs to be – how the hell else would he draw transmutation circles and not have them blow up in his face?

But one time Ed had just gotten so immediately carried away that he’d written his reply on whatever he’d had on hand right then, which amounted to three crumpled-then-flattened-again receipts, a map from the last town, and the back of the envelope that Al had sent his letter in.

(Al’s answering letter had come with five crisply-folded sheets of blank paper; Ed could practically hear the sigh coming from it.)

So now that they’ve acknowledged that letter-writing isn’t Ed’s strong point even when it’s about alchemy, and since Al’s all for being super-organised about everything – the resemblance the Hawkeye is really starting to get terrifying – and makes plans in advance far more than Ed does (which is to say not at all), Al now includes also-coded lists of telephone numbers in his letters, along with the dates when he expects to be contactable at each place.

This way Al can continue taking however long he likes to compose each letter (and he definitely adds to them over different days, Ed can tell by the writing) while Ed can call right back to discuss seven different theories at once, and woe betide anyone who tries to bug their phone calls without at least a university library’s worth of theoretical alchemy to back it up.

It’s a great arrangement, and Ed doesn’t have to write any letters. His brother is a genius.

The resounding success of this arrangement also reminds Ed that there are more ways to say hi, still not dead! than just letters (because, once again: impossible), since so many people have insisted on expressing completely unnecessary worry over his decision to travel alone.

(Hawkeye had only expressed an offer to teach him self-defence via firearm, and when he turned that down she’d instead produced a wallet of alarmingly convincing fake documents under a half-dozen not-Edward-Elric names. “Just in case,” she’d said, which still hadn’t explained why there’d been a pass from Xing proclaiming him to be a diplomat and thus immune to Amestrisan law.

Hawkeye is the best, hands down.)

For Winry he scribbles down the compositions of metal alloys and composites by region alongside rough sketches of interesting-looking designs, and most of the time he even remembers to record all this through an engineering lens rather than an alchemical one. He collects the scraps of notes and mails them once he’s gathered enough, which he usually does every few weeks, though he saves the actual material samples for when they meet in-person because they’re just too damned troublesome to mail. (He doesn’t really send anything separate for Granny Pinako, except for that one magazine clipping from Creta that had dedicated one full-page spread to Rockbell Automail’s advances, along with a hastily-done translation on the back.)

Mustang’s team gets the occasional joke souvenir; Ed knows that Breda and Havoc have a betting pool going (because of course they do) on who can most accurately guess where he’ll go next, so he always makes sure to get things that aren’t obviously tied to any place, and addresses the parcels to Hawkeye directly because he trusts her to thoroughly destroy the postmarked evidence.

(During their last phone call Al had pretty much admitted to dropping red herrings about Ed’s plans in his letters back to the team, and Ed had laughed so hard he’d needed to sit down.)

But that’s pretty much the most regular of it – Al, Winry, and sowing chaos in Mustang’s office from afar – and no one’s complained yet, so Ed figures this is good enough. Maybe someday when they’re all back together again they can borrow some of his journals to read if they want to; he knows that Winry does enjoy reading about Al’s travels, and if nothing else Al will certainly have fun spotting which parts are actually about alchemy and cracking them. 

That’s still some time off anyway.

Right now, though, he’s got a new idea about that alkahestry fusion that Al had written about, and – how the hell do you even dial from Aerugo to Xing? 

Ed has no idea, but there’d better be a way or he’s gonna make one, see if he doesn’t.

.

.

.

(more fics here)

[absolutelyxosmittenxo]

Imagine: Miscellaneous RWBY characters spending Valentine's Day with you.

RUBY ROSE: “Happy Valentine’s Day!” cheerfully, the huntress flaunts a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies, dough molded to resemble hearts for the occasion. Ruby licks the cookie crumbs away from the corners of her mouth, smiling sheepishly. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind sharing, {Name}.”

WEISS SCHNEE: Spoiling you rotten was inevitable for Weiss, the temptation too irresistible. “I'm certain I didn't miss anything,” hands firmly on her hips, the heiress pridefully stands before a mountain of chocolate and bouquets of flowers placed outside your dormitory. All meant for you, of course.

BLAKE BELLADONNA: Pale complexion resembling a blooming strawberry patch, the Belladonna would be mesmerized as you present the stacks of romantic novels you purchased for the lovey dovey event. Messages emphasizing your love for her slipped inside, just above the signatures of acclaimed authors. Blake's excitement would be through the roof. Lucky for you, your benevolence would earn you a demonstration of some scenes in “Ninjas of Love”.

YANG XIAO LONG: Your girlfriend always has something up her sleeve, you swear. “Junior, get us another round of strawberry sunrise. And give us your Valentine's Day special.” “For the last time, we don't-” Yang would raise her fist, making Hei Xiong straighten up. “Fine, play something romantic, boys.” Leaning back contently, arm draping over your shoulder, the huntress would wink at you. “You deserve only the best on Valentine's Day, you know.”

ZWEI: The corgi performs an excavation of the backyard, digging up buried bones of the past. His canines cling to them before dropping the present before you, yipping happily in expectation. Although you aren’t sure how you can benefit from the dog’s bones, you return the gesture with an assortment of belly rubs and dog treats.

PENNY POLENDINA: Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be programmed into the robot’s hard drive, as it wasn’t imperative to her design. However, she ‘researches’ the topic upon catching wind of its existence - or, in other words, interrogating Ruby as much as possible. And you’ll be astounded at Penny’s dedication to bringing you the best Valentine’s Day of your life, as she glomps you with such vigor, thumbs prodding your palm as you venture into a Vale park (Atlesian soldiers monitoring you from the bushes and behind trees) and answering all her questions about the world.

JAUNE ARC: The youngest Arc has a lengthy list of ideas for how today will go. Guitar strings strumming as he tenderly yanked them, Jaune would sing you a little song he rehearsed many times in advance. His mind wandered to how awestruck you would be at his later arrangements, as you enjoyed a picnic in the school courtyard, danced on the roof- why were you giggling? Oh, yeah, Jaune nearly forgot he was wearing a dress to make you laugh.

NORA VALKYRIE: The thunderstruck damsel would be shouting to the Heavens “HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!” as she swings you around merrily. Once Nora gets (only a tiny fragment) of her energy wiped from her system, you would hand her a plush sloth, fabric pink and softer than anything you could have ever imagined. “You wanna know what sound a sloth makes?” you would inquire. “Press its stomach.” Accordingly, Nora would press the sloth's tummy, as it emits an adorable automated “I love you!” Let's just say you weren't allowed to be freed from the Valkyrie's embrace for what felt like hours.

PYRRHA NIKOS: “Remember when we danced the night away, gazing at the stars and dreaming of a new future?” you would ask aloud, feet embedded in the snowfall as you relax on the bench. Argus was occupied by streams of couples, woes laid to rest as they coalesced. But you chose to bask in your thoughts of the past, eyes locked on the statue of Pyrrha with much admiration and adoration. “I still love you, oh so much, Pyrrha.” Even if it might just be your imagination, you are certain the wind whispers “I still love you” in return.

LIE REN: An early riser from the mornings spent with Nora, the composed huntsman would prepare an impressive stack of heart shaped pancakes before you wake, drizzling them in syrup and layering them in butter galore. Ren’s ears perk as he registers you yawn, ignorant to the “Please do nothing to the cook” written on his apron as you slink your arms around his waist and rest your head into his shoulder. But of course, he doesn’t mind one bit.

SUN WUKONG: The Vacuo born goofball has his tail curled around a tree branch, dangling haphazardly above the ground. As to catch you off guard, Sun would drop down, holding a sign reading “Be my Valentine?”. Before the faunus knows it, he's fallen out of the tree and gets a hearty laugh and nod in agreement from you. How he smiles so stupidly and happily proves to be contagious.

NEPTUNE VASILIAS: Hydrophobia or not, Neptune was determined; mustering enough courage to reach his goal required patience, though. But seeing your eyes light up as you watch the fishes pierce through the water in their respective tanks proved satisfying. You two would lay in the middle of the aquarium on the provided comforters, marveling at the aquatic creatures swimming about and bathing in the awareness of your heartbeats. “Hey, maybe we should go to the beach after this,” you joked. Neptune gulped, “Uh..how about not?”

OZPIN: Clock chimes echo throughout the tower of Beacon Academy, on the brink of tranquility as it soothes your nerves. Reincarnation has worn the headmaster out, as his constant trial and error leave him in ruin. But as you are glowing warmly at his presence, never scrutinizing and gladly accepting a freshly brewed cup of hot chocolate, Ozpin knows he truly has found love. With a kiss, he bids you well. “Happy Valentine's Day, dear.”

GLYNDA GOODWITCH: Heartbeats of hormone influenced teenagers were rampant as they exchanged romantic quips and messages. Of course, Glynda was not excluded from the festivity as you handed her a custom made Valentine, with “You're simply magical” written on the front. She would smile with an eye roll, kissing your forehead. “And you are simply silly, but lovely.” A chorus of students either awe or gasp at the exchange. “Students, you best be heading back to your classes.”

JAMES IRONWOOD: The Tin Man has a heart embezzled in gold, contrary to the militaristic exterior James portrays. He would reserve a day off, showing a blind eye to the stress of handling an entire Atlesian military. All that matters is the tugging at your lips as you smile and wrap your arms around him. A dinner made for two perfect people would be followed with an indulgence in sweet loving, as the general would ignore the calls from Jacques. He doesn't need that heartless bastard ruining his special time with you.

WINTER SCHNEE: Similar to the composed yet occasionally arrogant general, the winter soldier hadn't spared much time to set aside for Valentine's Day prior. But as you have entered Winter's life, this year brings an exception. Draping her military uniform on the bedside, she cups your face in her hands, head nudging your temple as soft kisses are gifted to you. Weiss’ sister is an absolute sweetheart in private settings, as you have melted away the elite attitude she conveys. For once, the older Schnee senses Valentine's Day is worth her time, if you are there beside her.

CINDER FALL: “It appears the day of love is upon us, {Name}.” You would be wrapped around her finger, lured in by the enchanting flames she cast. Cinder carved the hellish embers into hearts as yours feverishly thumped in your chest. The Fall Maiden would weave her ghastly Grimm tendrils in your hair, bringing you closer. “We mustn't waste the opportunity to express how much we love one another, dear.”

ROMAN TORCHWICK: A dashing soul has to pamper his darling. Roman would shower you in miscellaneous riches; avarice glinting in his forest greens as his right hand mute, Neo, assists him in nabbing them. Concluding Valentine's Day with an extravagant dinner, you can't help but wonder how he managed to afford it all. “Isn't my love for you more important?” He realizes you're narrowing your eyes at him. “..yeah, majority of these were stolen. Happy Valentine's Day.”

MERCURY BLACK: He isn't too thrilled for Valentine's Day, preferring to disregard antagonistic responsibilities and laze about rather than doing something fancy. Mercury would tangle an arm around you, holding you on top of him as his legs were exposed and propped outward. You would pop a few chocolate hearts into his mouth, waiting for his feedback. “I'm more of a dark chocolate kinda guy, to be honest.”

EMERALD SUSTRAI: “Psh, what's the point of Valentine's Day anyway,” rolling her eyes, the Sustrai would groan. The holiday was merely a sappy and over hyped waste of time in the thief's perspective. But you've got her stumped, as you bought her something so sweet she couldn't simply idly sit by. She would be obligated to steal as she gandered at teddy bears and Valentine themed gifts. Yet Emerald knew you were worth than that. “Never thought I'd owe you, {Name}.”

NEOPOLITAN: Undoubtedly, Valentine's Day would be spent in an ice cream parlor. Your tongue swirled the refreshing taste of your most favored flavor, enjoying every moment of its existence. Prone to deviation, the mute would eye you as you consumed your icy treat. Neo would raise up your chin, halting your consumption, and gingerly peck your lips. You're a little shocked to notice the tiny girl licking her lips as she savors the taste of your favorite icecream flavor - and let's be honest: Neopolitan was much better in comparison to {favorite icecream}.

SUMMER ROSE: Summer's soul could be compared to the moon, eyes sparkling as the cosmic decorations in the evening sky hovering aloft. It was hard not falling for the silver eyed warrior. You've missed her since the fatal day she left. But she would never want you to succumb to your grief. As you set cherry blossom pink roses upon her grave, you flutter your eyelashes at the Heavens, sighing softly. “I love you.”

TAIYANG XIAO LONG: Exuberance coursing through their veins, young Ruby and Yang would shroud you in makeshift cards with cutesy, childlike illustrations of you and Taiyang. Hearts floating above your heads as your stick arms touch. Tai is touched his daughters have welcomed their new parent with open arms, “These look great, girls.” And just for their reaction, the T of STRQ would smooch you, which you happily reciprocate despite the gagging noises of the sisters.

RAVEN BRANWEN: The Branwen tribe didn't exactly commemorate the holiday of romance. Raven especially found it particularly frivolous. But as the Spring Maiden draws the tent you shared open, irises reminiscent of bloodshed would notice something amiss. A cuddly teddy bear contrasting with the gloomy atmosphere left with a note attached, wishing her a happy Valentine's from you to her. The gesture would elicit a scoff, but she can't resist the urge to internally soften with a slight smirk.

QROW BRANWEN: Valentine's Day was sure to be abundant with disaster. But he would cling to a small thread of hope. His flask is spared from his lips, as they are not parched for the alcoholic contents; he straightens himself up, slicking those ebony streaks back. Qrow would rub the back of his head, offering a gift box intended for you to open. “I'm not really the type for Valentine's Day, with how my semblance is and all, but you're worth the risk.”

OSCAR PINE: “I understand a lot has been going on lately, and we haven't really gotten a break.” Nervously, he would scratch his cheek, gesturing to a small candlelight dinner in the works. “But I thought maybe you and I could spend Valentine's Day together, and not worry about anyth- OH NO MY CASSEROLE!” What could be sweeter than burnt casserole?

SALEM: The forgotten fairytale has resided on Earth past her intended expiration date. Romance hasn't exactly been all too kind from previous pursuits. However, your significance is enough to change her mind. Dismissing her underlings, none would disturb you. Salem would lovingly caress your features with chilling fingers, emanating a genuine sense of compassion for your well-being. “I thank you, as I haven't spent a day devoted to love with true joy in so long, my dear {Name}.”

TYRIAN CALLOWS: Callous digits would fondle the petals of a faltering flower, reciting quotation similar to William Shakespeare. The scorpion would offer it to you, grinning creepily but remaining charming. “Oh, My Love, how you've tangled me in your web. I cannot escape - but how could I ever desire to do so, when the one who has trapped me is oh so lovely?~”

ILIA AMITOLA: “Would you be my Valentine?” It felt ridiculous, as an ex affiliate of the White Fang, to beseech such a thing. The chameleon's heart tingles and a sprinkle of fairy dust coats her countenance. She hasn't experienced much romantic sentiment for an individual aside from Blake, explaining her inexperience. However, accepting her proposal and kissing her cheek elicits her body to appear to completely vanish, only given away by the burning red speckles along her skin.

[unbe--weave--able]

The (Hair) Ties That Bind

Sapphic Sutcliff Week

Tuesday: Ribbons/Sharing Clothing

Pairing: Mey Rin/Grelle Sutcliff

On Ao3

The morning dawned far too early in the Phantomhive household, earlier even than the sunrise itself. The sky outside not yet touched by even the orange-pink light of the dawn. It was October and the sun wouldn’t rise for a good few hours yet, Mey Rin realised with a sigh as she set about preparing herself for the day, or rather, trying to. It was quite hard to do such things without glasses, not because she couldn’t see without them but because of quite the opposite, every tiny detail was far too in focus, it gave her a headache in such a small room. But given her status, she could hardly request a larger one, it wouldn’t be right and she would so hate to inconvenience anyone. Besides, occasionally this over abundance of vision could have its perks.

It did mean that she could spot a red velvet ribbon in the furthest corner of her room; one that most certainly didn’t belong to her for she couldn’t dream of owning something so lovely. Tossed aside and forgotten about from the night before.

Visions of long, silky, smooth dark hair framing her face and bright green eyes that seemed almost unnatural and luminous in the dark; a shy voice whispering sweet nothings to her while gentle, far more capable than she’d expected, hands ran across her body, flashed across her mind. Her cheeks flushed hot and pink.

The flustered maid hurried across the room and gingerly picked the accessory up between her fingers, holding it at arm’s length to get a good and proper look at it. It was fairly simple, as far as ribbons went, nothing too outstanding or special about it. Just an ordinary velvet ribbon really. Only it wasn’t. When it caught the candle light the dull red tones turned vibrant; a deep blood colour and suddenly it was beautiful. Sort of like Grelle, Mey Rin mused.

She hadn’t been much to look at either at first, just someone who would sometimes be there in the background. Not important to Mey Rin’s daily routine and when she was, it was because she was making a nuisance of herself and giving the poor maid even more work. But once she’d stayed those weeks and made herself known, the maid had to admit to being slightly blown away by what she’d found.

The brown-eyed girl sighed wistfully before a slightly wicked grin appeared on her face. She hadn’t done her hair yet, no she hadn’t. And she had here such a lovely red ribbon. It would be a shame to let it go to waste and stay on her bedside table until such a time that Grelle might want it. She wondered what the butler would think of her new accessory...

–

It wasn’t until breakfast time that she got any sort of an answer to that question, the dismayed sounds of woe luring her into the dining room like a curious moth to flame. Exasperated, incomprehensible words sounded from the room, getting clearer and clearer as she approached.

Peering owlishly around the edge of the door she gazed into the room, immediately joined by Finnian and Baldroy, both of whom were equally interested. Though why Baldroy was out here rather than helping with the breakfast she had no idea. (That was a lie, in her mind keeping Baldroy away from food at all costs was a rather good idea, Mr Sebastian was right sensible to be the one making breakfast today.)

Inside the room the Burnett butler was frantically trying to clean up the latest mess she’d made, her long hair cascading around her face like a waterfall, unrestrained by its usual ribbon. Clearly, Grelle was unused to maintaining such a hairstyle while she worked, she kept blowing strands out of her face as she cleaned or attempting futily to push it behind her ears. Mey Rin’s heart pounded in her chest at the sight of her, beating as though she’d just been running a marathon. Above her she heard Bard snicker, whether at Grelle or at her reaction the maid wasn’t too certain, regardless she scowled. Then she elbowed him in the chest, which only made him laugh harder.

“Shush Baldroy.” She hissed. “Mister Sebastian won’t like it if he knows we’re spying instead of working, no he won’t.”

“No, indeed he won’t Mey Rin.” Came the voice, smooth as the finest of silks, of the red eyed butler.

The trio started, falling out of the doorway like a triad of dominoes, one on top of the other. Sebastian pinched his brow and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh that clearly displayed what he thought of the Phantomhive three. They were imbeciles with not an ounce of brain between them and a single narrow-eyed glower from the man was enough to send all four of the unruly servants scrambling for the door, leaving butler and master alone.

The boys went their separate ways, Baldroy shooting a knowing, amused wink at Mey Rin, who flushed again and then pretended she’d not seen it. He could be a right horrible tease sometimes and she was certain he knew it too.

Next to her, Grelle sighed, blowing a hair out of her face before turning to Mey Rin with a nervous sort of agony on her face. And the maid could hazard a guess that she knew why that was. The loss of her hair ribbon was obviously playing on the genteel woman’s mind something awful. Mey Rin almost felt bad for having the article of clothing in question upon her person. Almost.

The butler tugged nervously at her hair, playing with the ends of it and biting her lip in a manner so sweet that it made Mey Rin wish she was far braver than she actually was. Made her want to drag the other woman down to her height right there and now and kiss away all of the worries; pluck them from her soul by way of her mouth and their entwined tongues. Pin her against a wall and…And damn what the young Master or Mister Sebastian would have to say should they come out here. She refrained. Somehow. Though her cheeks were burning brighter than a candle flame; it must’ve been fairly noticeable for Grelle stopped dead in her tracks to stare at her, green eyes blinking behind the round frames of her glasses.

This only made Mey Rin flush all the more. Such open concern on that face, and all for her! She’d never had someone care for her that way before, no she hadn’t. It was all new and a bit confusing but Grelle was looking at her so kindly and sweetly that she almost felt that her heart was going to burst from it all. Her hands twisted around the fabric of her dress as the two women stood, an almost awkward silence settling around them before Grelle made a quiet noise of distress, hair falling into her face once more.

“Oh bother…why can’t it just stay put?” She fretted, beginning to run a hand through her hair before stopping dead and swiftly pulling her fingers free again, as though had she continued to trail through it, something terrible might have happened.

“You look awful distressed miss Grelle, yes you do.” Mey Rin informed her, all wide eyed innocence as though she hadn’t a clue what was bothering the dark haired butler. “Is there something the matter?”

Grelle gave her a look that on anyone else’s face she might’ve called a glare, but as it was Grelle everything was just a bit too soft. She looked as though she was squinting in sunlight more than she did actually attempting to be in any way annoyed at the other woman. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again with a snap. This time she was most definitely scowling.

“Yes. There is rather…I’ve…oh dear…you see I’ve lost my ribbon. You know…the red one I wear in my hair… my mistress will be terribly angry with me if I’ve lost it.” She fretted. “And you see I was so worried I had. But now I see all of that was for naught…”

“Oh?” Mey Rin asked fighting back a grin. So she’d been found out already had she?

“Yes. Oh you…how could you?” Grelle asked in anguish, flailing dramatically for a moment before composing herself. Her voice dropped an octave, making a shiver run down Mey Rin’s spine. “You’re such a wicked girl Mey Rin. Stealing ribbons from me when you have your own…I ought to tell Sebastian about the fact he has a thief in his house…”

It was strange Mey Rin thought, in these private moments, when it was just the two of them. Grelle seemed entirely different to how she usually was. Though the red haired maid couldn’t say that she minded at all, even if Grelle had somehow managed to back her against the wall, one hand coming to rest up by her cheek. “Or I could simply steal from the thief. Take what’s mine…it’d only be right after all…” The gentle butler practically purred, suddenly not seeming quite so soft. In fact quite the opposite, the Burnett butler turning almost dangerous and seductive in that moment.

Mey Rin could feel her knees growing weak as Grelle reached up, trailing her hand across her cheek gently, white gloves barely even touching her skin as the butler leaned in. The maid’s heart stopped. Grelle’s lips were mere inches away from her own and she could feel her breath on her face. She longed to close the gap but her limbs seemed entirely out of her own control, not cooperating at all, she could only stare as Grelle loomed closer, and closer until… She pulled away entirely, red ribbon in her hands and calmly tied it back into her own hair, pulling it back into its usual neat queue. Humming with satisfaction Grelle turned to Mey Rin again, her own cheeks flushing as she seemed to realise what she’d just done.

Sensing an apology coming, the maid almost let out a sigh and, having regained some control over herself, wobbled her way over to the butler, tripped over her own feet and found herself colliding with Grelle’s chest. The butler’s arms came up to circle her waist and steady her automatically. There was a moment, brown eyes meeting green before someone moved. One, or perhaps both, leaning in until their lips were pressed together in the softest of kisses. If this was Grelle’s response to it, Mey Rin thought happily, perhaps she ought to steal her ribbon more often.

[pamphletstoinspire]

A prayer to protect your family from the devil

Entrust your family to the Virgin Mary and safeguard it against evil forces.

The greatest enemy to family life is also the most unseen one. From the very beginning of time, Satan has sought to divide the family. Even his name in Greek, diabolos, means “to divide.”

A powerful weapon against this insidious foe is devotion to the Virgin Mary.

During the Rite of Exorcism the priest will pray, “The glorious Mother of God, the Virgin Mary, commands you; she who by her humility and from the first moment of her Immaculate Conception crushed your proud head.”

Her humility was so radical that it crushes the “proud head” of Satan, and it remains the surest defense against him and his attacks.

St. Alpohnsus Liguori, a saint who devoted himself to the Blessed Mother, composed a prayer for families to dedicate themselves to the Virgin Mary, and invokes her protection against all assaults of the devil.

Oh Blessed and Immaculate Virgin, our Queen and Mother, refuge and consolation of all those who are in misery, I, prostrate before thy throne with all my family, choose thee for my Lady, Mother, and Advocate with God.

I, with all who belong to me, dedicate myself forever to thy service, and pray thee, oh Mother of God, to receive us into the number of thy servants, taking us all under thy protection, aiding us in life, and still more, at the hour of our death.

Oh Mother of Mercy, I choose thee Lady and ruler of my whole house, of my relatives, my interests, and all my affairs. Do not disdain to take care of them; dispose of them all as it pleases thee.

Bless me, then, and all my family, and do not permit that any of us should offend thy Son. Do thou defend us in temptations, deliver us from dangers, provide for us in our necessities, counsel us in our doubts, console us in afflictions, be with us in sickness, and especially in the agonies of death.

Do not permit the devil to glory in having in his chains any of us who are now consecrated to thee; but grant that we may come to thee in heaven to thank thee, and together with thee to praise and love our Redeemer Jesus for all eternity. Amen, thus may it be.

This is why the devil hates the Virgin Mary

According to popes and exorcists, the devil fears the Blessed Mother.

One of the surest ways of combatting the devil is by developing a close relationship with the Blessed Virgin Mary. The devil hates her and runs away from those who are close to her.

According to Italian exorcist Fr. Sante Babolin, “while I was insistently invoking the Most Holy Virgin Mary, the devil answered me: ‘I can’t stand That One (Mary) any more and neither can I stand you any more.'”

Furthermore, he discovered that “‘the strongest reactions’ of the devil during the exorcism occur ‘when references are made to her apparitions.'” Therefore, Babolin frequently invokes the Virgin Mary under her titles of “Lourdes, Fatima or Guadalupe.”

Famed exorcist Fr. Gabriele Amorth confirmed this reality in his dialogues with the devil, where the devil said to him, “I am more afraid when you say the Madonna’s name, because I am more humiliated by being beaten by a simple creature, than by Him.”

Pope Francis related similar words in a homily at St. Mary Major, “Where the Madonna is at home the devil does not enter; where there is the Mother, disturbance does not prevail, fear does not win.”

Why is the devil so afraid of the Virgin Mary, a simple girl from Nazareth?

During the Rite of Exorcism the priest will pray, “The glorious Mother of God, the Virgin Mary, commands you; she who by her humility and from the first moment of her Immaculate Conception crushed your proud head.”

This prayer is referring to a prophecy foretold in the book of Genesis, where God said to the serpent, “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will strike your head, and you will strike his heel” (Genesis 3:15). The verse can also be translated as “she will strike your head,” and has traditionally been applied to the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Her humility was so radical that it crushes the “proud head” of Satan and is the surest defense against him and his attacks. As the devil told Fr. Amorth, “She makes me angry because she is the humblest of all creatures, and because I am the proudest; because she is the purest of all creatures, and I am not; because, of all creatures, she is the most obedient to God, and I am a rebel!”

Thus, if someone wants to defeat the work of evil in their own lives and the world, one of the strongest responses is to fly to the Virgin Mary. St. Padre Pio agreed with this when he said, “Some people are so foolish that they think they can go through life without the help of the Blessed Mother. Love the Madonna and pray the Rosary, for her Rosary is the weapon against the evils of the world today. All graces given by God pass through the Blessed Mother.”

Devil admits to exorcist: “I’m afraid of the Madonna”

"If Christians knew the power of the Rosary, it would be the end of me!"

We share excerpts from private dialogues between Satan and Fr. Gabriele Amorth, an exorcist in Rome who died recently at the age of 91. Satan and this priest confronted each other on many occasions. Fr. Amorth heard it all — difficult, harsh discussions, and of course full of lies, because the devil’s action is based on lies.

THE DEVIL’S REPLY

Fabio Marchese Ragona, who is the curator of the Stanze Vaticane blog, wrote, “During an exorcism, Fr. Amorth had asked the devil when he would leave the possessed girl’s body. The devil replied that he would remain until December 8. This turned out not to be true, and when Fr. Gabriele reproached him for the lie, the devil said in reply, ‘Haven’t they ever told you I’m a liar?” (Faro di Roma, September 2016).

HOW CAN THE DEVIL BE INTERROGATED?

Fr. Gabriele Amorth confided to the website Luce di Maria (May, 2015) that “exorcists interrogate the devil and get answers out of him.” But if the devil is the prince of lies, what use is it to interrogate him?

“It’s true that we sift through the devil’s answers afterwards; perhaps the Lord forces the devil to tell the truth to demonstrate that Satan has been defeated by Christ, and is also forced to obey Christ’s followers when they act in His name.”

THE WORST HUMILIATION

According to Fr. Amorth, the evil one often “expressly declares that he is being forced to speak, which is something he will do everything to avoid. But, for example, when he is forced to reveal his name, it is a great humiliation for him—a sign of defeat. But woe to the exorcist who gets lost in questions of curiosity (which the Rite expressly forbids) or if he lets himself be guided by the devil in a conversation! Precisely because he is a master of lies, Satan is humiliated when God forces him to tell the truth.”

“I AM STRONGER THAN GOD”

In an interview with Urlo Magazine (2009), Fr. Amorth recounted, “Once, it happened that I asked a demon why, despite his superior intelligence, he preferred to descend into hell; he answered, ‘I rebelled against God; thus, I showed that I am stronger than He is.’ Therefore, for them, rebellion is a sign of victory and superiority.”

“I AM AFRAID WHEN YOU USE THE MADONNA’S NAME…”

In his book The Last Exorcist—composed of texts from various blogs, including Gloria TV and Testimonianze di fede—Fr. Amorth reports an entire dialogue he had, in his role as exorcist, with the devil.

Father Amorth: “What are the virtues of the Madonna that make you angriest?”

Demon: “She makes me angry because she is the humblest of all creatures, and because I am the proudest; because she is the purest of all creatures, and I am not; because, of all creatures, she is the most obedient to God, and I am a rebel!”

Father Amorth: “Tell me the fourth characteristic of the Madonna that makes you so afraid of her that you are more afraid when I say the Madonna’s name than when I say the name of Jesus Christ!”

Demon: “I am more afraid when you say the Madonna’s name, because I am more humiliated by being beaten by a simple creature, than by Him…”

Father Amorth: “Tell me the fourth characteristic of the Madonna that makes you most angry!”

Demon: “Because she always defeats me, because she was never compromised by any taint of sin!”

“During an exorcism,” Father Amorth remembers, “Satan told me, through the possessed person, ‘Every Hail Mary of the Rosary is a blow to the head for me; if Christians knew the power of the Rosary, it would be the end of me!'”

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER

On the Libero website (February 3, 2012), Father Amorth remembered his first encounter with Satan. It happened during an exorcism:

“Suddenly, I had the clear sensation of a demonic presence before me. I felt this demon that was looking at me intently. Scrutinizing me. Moving around me. The air became cold. It was terribly cold. Father Candido had also warned me ahead of time about these sudden changes in temperature, but it’s one thing to hear certain things talked about, and another to experience them yourself. I tried to concentrate. I closed my eyes and continued my prayer by rote. ‘Leave, therefore, you rebel. Leave, seducer, full of every kind of fraud and falsehood, enemy of virtue, persecutor of the innocent. Cede your place to Christ, in whom there is nothing of your works’ (…)”

[theguardiansseries]

From the Beginning Chapter 6

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Summary: Danny Fenton was a simple, sixteen-year-old teenager who loved fast food, video games, and getting a B on surprise pop quizzes. He’s also the half-ghost teenage hero Danny Phantom who defends Amity Park from ghost attacks on a daily basis. Somehow, the ghost attacks make a lot more sense than crushes, friendships, and falling in love with someone he is definitely not supposed to be falling in love with. It was a lot easier to separate Phantom and Fenton before, but now it’s getting harder the more he learns about himself. Just who was he? The dorky son of scientists who loved the stars or the hero that protected the town. He’s starting to feel like he won’t like the answer. (Iambic Prose) (Prequel to Guardians and Partial Show Rewrite)

<<First Chapter>> <<Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

Chapter Six

::

“Here I was starting to think that you had forgotten where I was.” Ghostwriter stood there looking like a carbon copy of a disappointed Jazz with crossed arms, a small frown, and drawn in eyebrows. It would have been hilarious if Danny hadn’t felt a small amount of guilt at how Ghostwriter seemed to have been actually waiting to see Danny again.

“Nice job on dodging the word lived.” Danny really couldn’t handle serious right now, though, and he was pretty sure his hands were still shaking. “So, uh, hey, you know that whole ‘my door is always open and you’re free to visit’ thing you were talking about? Is that still open?”

“Unlike many of my fellows, I’m not in the habit of saying one thing and doing another.” So that was a yes, then? Danny was about to ask for clarification before he watched Ghostwriter’s posture melt, the ghost stepping aside as the door opened more widely. “Of course you’re welcome back. I had just assumed it would be a touch earlier.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m- Look, man, I’m sorry about that. Things were pretty busy the last week or two of my life.” January was already reaching its end and Danny had somehow managed to fuck his life up even more than it had been before. At least he was excelling in one area of his life.

“Well, I believe at this point you’ve learned that I rather like hearing stories. I’d be willing to listen if you wish to share.” God, he was so pretentious. Danny kind of hated that he was already smiling as he followed Ghostwriter deeper into the library.

“Yeah, that might actually kind of help. I mean, not unless you’re planning to psychoanalyze me or something.” There was a quiet sound that could have been a laugh, but when Danny darted forward to see Ghostwriter’s face, all he saw was a creepily calm expression.

“I certainly have no plans to, if that reassures you. Come on. I have a reading area set up just behind the history shelves.”

“Because history puts people to sleep?” Danny felt victorious as he didn’t hear Ghostwriter say anything back. “Knew it- Oh, whoa, hey, those actually look like nice couches. The last ones were like, ugly.”

“They were certainly aged,” Ghostwriter sighed, settling down on one of the couches that looked like it could either be black or purple. Danny stopped caring about the color when he felt how soft they were, holy shit. “My brother helped me to locate some new ones. I’m not sure I like the positioning of them quite yet, but they are no doubt comfortable to work on.”

“You talk like a college professor and it’s weird. You know that, right?” Danny squirmed and wiggled around until he was tucked up in his own corner, legs dissolving into one another to form a tail that curled around itself. Danny tried not to think too hard about how he hadn’t really consciously decided to do that. “At least it’s cleaner in here. No more dust?”

“Not on this level of the library, at least,” Ghostwriter hummed, attention on his laptop even as he talked to Danny. “I believe you were about to tell me a riveting tale about all your troubles and woes of the last few weeks?”

“Nerd.” It was a bit better that Ghostwriter wasn’t looking at him, though. It somehow made it easier for Danny to tell him… everything. Technus, Valerie, the whole ordeal in space, and his powers - he told him everything he could. By the end of it he wasn’t sure if he felt better or not, but his hands weren’t shaking anymore, at least.

“I mean, it’s so stupid, you know!” Danny slumped further down on the couch, arms crossed as he glared at the ceiling. “The first girl I like never even notices me, the second girl I thought I liked turned out to just be a really good friend, and now this one is giving me up for ghost hunting.” The irony was so strong it hurt. “I have such bad luck with girls, man.”

This time Ghostwriter definitely laughed - well, it wasn’t a laugh so much as it was a snort. It was kind of funny. “Perhaps you ought to think about pursuing one who isn’t a girl, then.”

“What?” What was that supposed to mean? “What do you- Oh. Oh. Well, uh, you see, um, maybe- Oh, jeez.” That was something he had never really thought about, really? That was very not an expected topic of conversation.

Danny was saved by anymore of his stuttering speech as Ghostwriter laughed a full and loud laugh, hand clutching at his chest as he slightly bent over. Danny was pretty sure it was the first time he hadn’t seen the guy perfectly composed. “Oh, mon petit, you’re absolutely precious.”

“I- What? No? Shut up!” He wasn’t some cute, blushing girl, or whatever, and he didn’t like guys like… that. “Just- Shut up.” Ghostwriter only laughed even more, Danny tucking and curling back into his corner of the couch. There was more he wanted to tell about what had happened, and this was probably going to be the only time he’d be able to do it. Maybe he’d get lucky and Ghostwriter wouldn’t hear him over his own laughter.

“I’m afraid of how dangerous I am.” The air fell silent and still, Danny swallowing as he looked down to hide his face. A part of it was also where he didn’t want to see Ghostwriter’s pity. “I mean… You’ve seen my powers back when we fought.” 

“I… was certainly surprised by some of what I saw. A lot of your powers are unique even by ghostly standards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that sound attack you used.”

“The- Oh, yeah, the Ghostly Wail.” At the scrunched-up look that was a touch too close to judgment, Danny frowned. “Hey, I didn’t name it.” Technically, Dan named it. “Look, I just- These powers are getting more dangerous- I’m getting more dangerous. I can really hurt people. I mean I can really… really hurt people.” He’d learned that one the hard way.

“Yes. You are dangerous.” Gaze snapping up, Danny felt like his heart was in his throat as he looked at Ghostwriter’s serious expression. “You could easily kill someone with the power you have now.”

“I…” Fuck. He could, though, couldn’t he? If Valerie hadn’t been wearing that powerful suit of hers, then he could have… “What if I-”

“You never will.” The tone was absolutely certain and completely unwavering. “Oh, mon petit, you could never kill anyone.”

“You’re wrong.” Danny had seen his future, or at least, he had seen one of them. Clockwork had been careful in what Danny had seen, but he knew when he had fought Dan. He had killed people in that time. Dan may have been fused with Plasmius, as well, but his name had been Dan. It had always been Danny in control and he had turned them into a monster.

“I’m not.” Ghostwriter’s tone hadn’t wavered once. “You’re aware of how much power you have. You know you’re dangerous, and that’s why you’ll never kill anyone. Ignoring the fact that you care far too much for one so young, you gained incredible power and immediately used it protect people. You’re rather like Andrea in that regard.”

“I- What?” Soundless Clock Andrea? Why would he be Soundless Clock Andrea? “I mean, I guess I sorta can be, sometimes?”

“She never wished harm upon anyone. Until the very last, she would work to give people the chance that others never gave her. I saw the words that made up your past, Danny. I know some of what you’ve gone through, and I know that just like her, you will always fight to give people a chance they don’t deserve. You rather seem the type who fondly believes in second chances.”

Danny felt the itch and burn behind his eyes that embarrassed him more than anything Ghostwriter said. Quickly clearing his throat, Danny looked away, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now, I believe you mentioned something about being in space? You told me you wanted to be an astronaut, didn’t you?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I did- I do. Sort of. Um, yeah.” Danny knew the other was giving him a distraction, but he was grateful for it anyways. “So, I already told you how I wanted to go and explore space and everything thanks to Star Gazers.”

“I do remember, yes.” Ghostwriter seemed like he was smug, but Danny wasn’t willing to put effort into figuring that one out. He was still just trying not to cry. “At least there was one good thing from that fight.”

“Sort of. I didn’t exactly get time to stick around, but it was… Oh, man. I wish you could have seen it. Like, we think we know what it’ll be like because of movies and everything, right? But I was suddenly up there and it- I was weightless, but it’s completely different compared to Ghost Zone physics.

“Ghostwriter, it was incredible. I was suddenly floating in space. Movies and books and star gazing can’t even come close to preparing you for that. Like, you don’t really think about it, but there are entire worlds out there! Earth is so big and so huge and so diverse and we’re just one planet.”

He felt almost stupid getting carried away like this, but Ghostwriter was smiling and had his complete focus on him, now. “Just- I could see the stars, Ghostwriter.” There had been whole worlds out there, just… waiting. “I could see the stars and I knew some of them were planets. There were planets that were so far away, but they were close enough that one day we might actually live on them.”

A few glimpses. He had only managed to catch a few glimpses, but for those moments the entire fight had faded away. He had forgotten about Technus and Valerie and the satellite. He had even forgotten he was Phantom. He had just been that kid who loved the stars and wanted to know what was out there.

“I saw the sun. It- I could see Earth below me and oh, man, it was just… You never realize how big it is and how small you are, but it was so incredible. I saw the Earth and behind it I saw the sun rising up and it was just…” Danny didn’t have the words to describe that image of the sun rising over the Earth as it had been doing for longer than they could comprehend.

“Beautiful.” The word was soft and quiet and as fragile as everything inside him felt, but Danny nodded and managed to give Ghostwriter a smile.

“Yeah. It was beautiful.” The word felt almost inadequate when he said it, but it was still… perfect. “It was all perfect and I’m never going to be able to see it again.”

“What do you mean?” Ghostwriter frowned, sitting up a little more, now. “You hardly seem like the type to give up on your dreams.”

“Ghostwriter, I’m…” Danny gestured down at himself. His tail was still curled up around him and his skin was glowing. “With everything that’s happened, I’ll never be able to go up on a sanctioned flight. Even if I got my grades up, which, yeah, fat chance of that, the physicals would show that I’m not normal.”

Maybe he could have gotten his grades up, but there was no faking lab results with NASA. “They’ll never send a ghost up into space, but…” Danny bit his lip, trying to hold the words in. He had already unloaded so much baggage onto Ghostwriter. He didn’t need anymore.

“But?” Ghostwriter had a small little smile, tilting his head and looking like he honestly cared about what Danny was going to say.

“But the Ghost Zone is kind of like my space.” The words were out of him before he could stop them, and after that he knew there was no stopping it. “I mean- We’re in another world right now. This is a new world.” The Ghost Zone had been so goddamn terrifying at first, but whenever he remembered that this was a place humans had never explored, how could he not be amazed? It was a new world he was allowed to explore.

“I mean, it doesn’t really hit sometimes, does it?” This was a place where ghosts lived. That was- It was so cool. “This world is so completely different from our own. It’s- Isn’t that just amazing? This is a world that you guys probably don’t even know that well, yet.”

Just the fact that there were ghosts who could control time was amazing in of itself, but along with everything else in the Ghost Zone? This was a world he could explore, and no one would be able to stop him or say he wasn’t fit for it. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still trying to get control of my powers and everything, but one day I’d just… I’d love to see what else is in this world.”

“Oh, mon petit.” Ghostwriter’s voice was hushed, and Danny immediately felt his entire body flash with heat as his heart sped up again. God, he had been so- He had gotten so caught up and he had forgotten he was talking to a guy he barely even knew. “You really do love all of this, don’t you?”

“Sorry- Sorry. That was probably pretty boring listening to me ramble like that, huh?” Rubbing at the back of his neck and trying to not just run away like he really, really wanted to, Danny forced himself to meet Ghostwriter’s gaze and grin. “There’s not really anyone else I can talk about this with.”

“I’ve been known rather well for my ability to keep secrets,” Ghostwriter said quietly, a laugh in his words. Danny let himself really focus on him, noticing the smile. “Keeping yours won’t be too much trouble.”

“I…” God. Now Danny felt really guilty about destroying that first book, considering how amazing Ghostwriter was being. “What’s those words mean? The ones you keep saying?”

“You might have to narrow it down as there are quite a few words in the English language.” He took it all back. Ghostwriter was a jerk.

“Pretty sure the words weren’t English.” Danny watched as Ghostwriter frowned before he blinked and his face loosened up.

“Oh! Mon petit, you mean?” Ghostwriter gave an amused little smirk that was equal parts confusing and annoying. “It’s French.”

“You’re French?” Ghosts could be French? Well, actually, yeah, that kind of made sense, but it was hardly Danny’s fault that he kept running into American ghosts. Probably American ghosts? Actually, Technus had a pretty weird accent.

“I used to be.” Startling at the tone more than the words, Danny frowned as he noticed the look on Ghostwriter’s face. It… wasn’t a bad look, but Danny knew the expression secrets caused. “We should make an adventure out of it.”

“Wait, what?” Back up, hold on, Danny had been having a revelation, and suddenly Ghostwriter was talking about adventures? “I’m not Winnie the Pooh, here.”

“Oh, hush. I merely meant that we could make an adventure out of exploring the Ghost Zone. My brother, Randy, he likes to explore this world, and he knows of the more, hm, interesting parts of the Ghost Zone. His adventures tend to make for excellent novel inspiration and I’ve been on one or two of them myself. They’re a great chance to relax and experience something new and-”

“Yeah.” The word was more like a quiet breath than anything, but Ghostwriter still stopped and looked back at him. “The exploring thing? Yeah.” Danny knew he could maybe one day make friends with the ghosts, but he hadn’t expected to have a friend that was a ghost. It wasn’t all that bad. “That sounds great, Ghostwriter.”

“I’m glad.” With that, Ghostwriter was launching into describing whatever book he had been reading, Danny fighting off a laugh as he nodded and began to listen. His last few weeks may have been hell, but just sitting here in a place where he knew no one would find him? That… That was way better than talking to Jazz and having his thoughts and reactions picked at.

Damn. He really would have to thank Clockwork and suffer through an ‘I told you so’ look. Silently watching Ghostwriter flap his hands about and talk even faster, though, Danny decided that would be a fair price for a new friend.