#this was WAY LONGER THAN I THOUGHT ITD BE

[averageclawcodeenjoyer]

Okay so hear me out on SIREN + SELKIE AU. THIS SAME DYNAMIC, BUT MILES G IS A SIREN (totally not based off a betta fish because I think that would be super pretty). HEAR ME OUT ON GANKE BEING A SILVER HARBOR/SPOTTED SEAL WHO WEARS HIS FUR COAT EVERYWHERE WITH HIM BECAUSE "ITS FASHIONABLE" OR "ITS A FAMILY HEIRLOOM/GIFT."

HEAR ME OUT ON MILES BEING "SCARED" OF WATER BECAUSE IT UNEVILS HIS GLAMOUR MAGIC (Luca reference) AND GANKE WANTING MAKING FUN OF HIM BEING "UNABLE TO SWIM" (LIES!!1!1!!!)

HEAR ME OUT ON MILES HAVING GLOWY SCALE ACCENTS (like his suit) AND PINK EYES AND PURPLE SCALES AND SHARP TEETH AND CLAWS AND GILLS ON HIS RIBS AND FINS THAT ARE SO LONG AND FLOWY AND ABSOLUTELY STUNNING, AND A MUSICAL COMPONENT TO HIS VOICE THATS HYPNOTIZING. HEAR ME OUT ON HIM HAVING SHARP VISION AND THE ABILITY TO SEE PRETTY WELL IN THE DARK, AND COARSE HAIR FROM THE SALTWATER, AND GIVES EVERYBODY THE UNCANNY VALLEY FEELUNG BECAUSE THEY KNOW HES NOT HUMAN INSTINCTUALLY BUT HAVE NO WAY TO PROVE HES NOT. He just sits there and people stare and get nervous and it's hard for him to make friends because of it :(

(And he gets predatory urges to lure and kill and eat and has to suppress them because.. obviously the library is not a good place to get hungry and murder someone.)

HEAR ME OUT ON GANKE BEING SOFT AND ROUND LIKE HE IS BECAUSE IT'S SEAL BLUBBER. HEAR ME OUT ON HIM BEING RESISTANT TO COLD AND ABKE TO WEAR A T-SHIRT AND PANTS IN NYC WINTER WHILE MILES IS BUNDLED UP LIKE AN ANTARTIC EXPLORER. HIS FRECKLES AND MOLES IN THE SAME LOCATIONS AS THEY WOULD BE AS A SEAL, HIS EYES SOFT AND BROWN AND HAVING PERFRCT VISION UNDERWATER BUT NEEDING HIS GLASSES ON LAND (Seals can't sea as well on land). NEVER BEING ABLE TO TAN AND GETTING HORRIBLY SUNBURNT EVERY TIME THEY HANG OUT OUTSIDE IN THE SUMMER. HEAR ME OUT ON GANKE GETTING SUUUUUUPER COMFY AND SLEEPY AND CHIRPING OR MAKING SMALL LITTLE SOUNDS WHEN HES HAPPY.

HEAR ME OUT ON MILES AND GANKE MEETING AND IMMEDIATELY HAVING A CONNECTION SINCE THEY BOTH HAVE LIVES REVOLVING AROUND THE SEA. BUT GANKE GETS A PREY-RESPONSE WHEN HES ALONE WITH MILES (At least for a while) BECAUSE MILES IS A PREDATOR HIGHER ON THE FOOD CHAIN THAN HE.

HEAR ME OUT ON MILES STAYING OVER AT GANKE'S PLACE AND FINDING GANKE'S COAT AND WEARING IT. ON GANKE TRYING TO CONCEAL A FREAK OUT ABOUT IT. ARE. ARE YOU LISTENING YET. AM I LOUD ENOUGH

Uhhhh minific anybody ( ・∀・)

"Damn man, no wonder you wear this all the time. Shit's nice." Miles said, coming down the stairs with Ganke's Selkie pelt wrapped around his body like a robe since it's so big on him, his hands running through the fur that is Ganke's.

Ganke paused, a piece of chocolate held halfway between the counter and his mouth. His eyes went wide as his entire world shifted sideways because holy shit, that's his coat, his only connection to the ocean, his lifeline. "Haha, yeaaahhhhh... it's, uh.. really expensive." He whispered, sounding breathless as he stared at Miles.

Miles looked up at him and smirked, looking at the way Ganke was staring at him with that funny bug-eyed expression he always got when someone asked about his coat. He always thought it was strange yet amusing how protective Ganke was over a scrap of fur. So he decided to tease him about it, stroking the fur and sauntering around to the counter where Ganke was standing.

"Is it? Well, I hope you have enough to buy a new one, because I'm keeping it." He joked, not serious at all as he looked up at the taller boy, noticing the way his face paled and he started to sweat.

Ganke felt his mouth get dry immediately, his heart starting to pound against his chest as he felt his blood pressure rise. He missed the fact that Miles was joking, partially because he was bad at social cues, and partially because if Miles wanted to keep it, he couldn't say no.

"I-- I- um, well-- it's like, a uh, important heirloom for my family, a-actually." Ganke stammered before his throat could close up and he was forced to say yes. He set the chocolate down, pressing his hot hands against the cold counter as a way to ground himself as his heart panicked. "I can get you a different coat to wear if you want." He offered, willing himself to reach out and snatch the coat back... but he couldn't. His body wouldn't move.

"Nahhh.. I like this one," Miles continued, grinning as he rolled his eyes and turned around, stepping over to the couch and sitting down, kicking his legs up. The coat was almost a blanket on him, and it smelled like Ganke, and it was so warm. "Sorry, man. You'll just have to tell your dead ancestors that you were ready to pass it on."

Ganke stood rooted in place, his terrified stare focused on the back of Miles's head. Inside. Ganke was screaming at himself to move, shout, say no, speak up. But he couldn't. That wasn't how this worked. His breath hitched quietly as he fought against the words building in the back of his throat. Words that weren't his. Words that could ruin his whole life. But he couldn't stop them. The longer he tried, the more nauseous and dizzy he was getting.

"Oh. Okay." He said quietly, his voice coming out as a choked squeak as his head reeled.

Being a Selkie was both a blessing and a curse. He could go where no one else could, free from the biological confines of the human body. He got to see the best of both worlds above and below sea. He wasn't confined to one existence or the other.

But his coat was his lifeline. It was what kept his heart beating, and what kept him connected to the sea and magic that allowed him to exist as he was. If he was separated from his coat for a long time, he started getting sick... like that one time his father had taken it away to get it professionally cleaned, not knowing it's importance to Ganke, and they couldn't get it back for three weeks. Any time somebody else had the coat in their possession, he felt like there were nails in his feet and spiders in his lungs. His entire body crawled with fear and discomfort.. but he could never ask for the coat back, nor take it by force.

There was some invisible puppeteer that lived inside him, seeing, breathing, and eating with him. Usually, it lay dormant and distant in the back of his consciousness, but in times like this, it outgrew his control over it and took over, possessing Ganke's body and keeping him from going rouge. It didn't seem to care that it would sever the only thing that kept its host alive. It would find another.

Ganke was just a body.

The beast was indifferent to him.

"Wait- really?" Miles asked, surprised as he looked over his shoulder, surprised by how much of a pushover Ganke was being. This.. wasn't like him. He narrowed his eyes slightly, confused by Ganke's response.

Ganke didn't reply for a moment, his entire body shaking as he tried to swallow back the curse that was bubbling inside him. Don't say yes, don't say yes, don't say yes--

"Y-eah." Ganke said, feeling as though each word was being drug out of his mouth like thorns, ripping and tearing at his soft body. Bile rose in his throat the longer he tried to repress it, causing him to lean forward on the counter with a grimace. "..If you want it.. you can have it. N.. n-no big deal."

Miles sat up in alarm as Ganke slowly sank down to the floor behind the counter, looking extremely green. Holy shit?

He got up and quickly hopped over to the kitchen, crouching down next to Ganke and taking the other boy's face gently into his hands. He was clammy and shaking, and he didn't look like he was doing too hot. "Uh, dude? Gee? What's going on?" He asked, noticing the wild look in Ganke's eyes.

Ganke shook his head, shuddering violently as Miles touched him. He reached out and set his hand on the fur, feeling an intense wave of nausea as his survival instincts went toe to toe with the beast. He dug the nails of his other hand into the floor, gritting his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hide the face that they were trimming with tears.

Miles’s heart lunched as he saw Ganke's reaction, his own panic spiking. Ganke looked like he wanted to vomit his soul up. "Oh, shit. Fuck, dude, uh-- Are you- having an allergic reaction to something? Did one of those chocolates have nuts in them??" Miles asked, gently setting Ganke down as he grabbed the box of chocolates, scanning over it. Nothing. What the hell? Was it something else?

Ganke couldn't respond, putting his hands over his mouth as he fought the urge to be violently ill, toeing the edge of his very existence. He looked like he was about to start frothing at the mouth.

Miles's eyes darted around, going from his friend, to the snacks, upstairs, and back. He swallowed harshly, trying to keep his composure while also hard-core freaking out. "Crap, uh, um, okay. I think I saw an Epi-Pen in your bedroom, I'm gonna go get that-- don't move." He instructed, hoping he looked like he had it together even though he very much did not. He dropped the coat onto the ground, leaping over the counter as he took off towards the stairs.

The second the pelt was off Miles, and he was moving, Ganke snatched it off the floor and wrapped it around himself, curling into a ball with it at his center. He inhaled sharply, burying his face back into his fur, shaking as he caught his breath again. He felt the magic in his blood start flowing again, soothing his clenched muscles and relaxing his lungs again. He opened his eyes dully as Miles came back, skidding around the corner and nearly eating shit as he did.

"Here- god- how the hell do I work this thing, u-uhm---" He stammered, his hands shaking slightly as he crouched down by Ganke again, trying to figure out how the Epi-Pen worked.

"Miles, wait--" Ganke said, his voice a little hoarse but definitely stronger. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, fully putting the coat on and leaning back against the cabinets. He put his hands up, still breathing heavily, but the color was coming back to his face and his eyes were normal. "I-I'm okay, Milo, it's over."

Miles paused, an unconvinced expression on his face as he looked his best friend up and down. There was no way Ganke was just okay after that. He looked like he'd been about to throw his organs up and has just been convulsing on the floor, for fucks sake!

"..Really."

"Yeah, really."

"....Really-really?"

"Miles-" Ganke sighed, pressing his hand to his head and wiping away the sweat that had gathered there during his little.. episode. "Yes, Miles, I promise. That was it. It's over. I'm okay." He insisted, glancing towards the sliding glass door at the empty night sky. Now that he had his connection to the sea back... his body was itching to go jump in the sea and feel okay.

Miles continued to stare at Ganke, not convinced that was how allergic reactions worked. He'd never seen one himself, so he didn't know, but from what he'd heard, the person didn't just get better like that. What was really going on? "But-"

"I said I'm fine!" Ganke snapped, his words coming out a little more angry than he'd meant them to. The primal need that coursed in his veins burning under his skin. He needed to go, and he needed to go now. "I just- I just need some air."

"Wh- Ganke? Wait!-" Miles protested, but Ganke had already gotten up and whisked himself off towards the sliding glass door with nothing but a curt "Give me a minute!"

What. The actual. Fuck.

Miles stared after Ganke, flinching as the door slammed and Ganke disappeared around the corner. He was left feeling so confused, and a little hurt by Ganke's reaction.

Ganke had never snapped at him like that, not even when Miles was bullying him and making fun of him for being a nerd.

None of this was adding up.

He looked down at the Epi-Pen that was still in his hands, blinking as his head reeled. He didn't understand any of this. He knew Ganke was weird about his coat, but... this was really weird.

After about ten minutes of absolute radio silence from his best friend, Miles started getting worried again. He set the Epi-Pen on the counter as he got up, grabbing his phone off the couch and pulling up his messages.

Bro are you okay? What the hell was that? He texted, staring at the message after it sent. He heard a ding and looked up, noticing Ganke's phone laying abandoned on the counter...

"..Crap."

Ganke's bare feet slammed into the earth as he raced down a trail he knew very well. A trail he traveled often. A trail that led straight down to the ocean and up the back of a big rock, where he would jump into the ocean and transform.

He didn't care about the rocks that poked into the pads of his feet, nor the blackberry vines that tangled around his ankles and ripped into his skin, causing scarlet blood to spring to the surface andrace down his legs.

He was driven by the incessant need to make sure that he was still connected to the ocean. That he hadn't given up his freedom. That he was still Ganke, not Ganke that belonged to Miles. It was wild, and terrifying, and it made him feral. He was running, ripping, clawing his way to the forest until his feet hit the sand.

"Ganke?" Miles called, pushing the door open and stepping out into the night. The late-winter air was bitter and cold on his face and he paused, momentarily rethinking his decision to go after Ganke. He didn't have a coat, and he was in a tank top and Hello-Kitty pajamas bottoms.

"Ganke..?" He asked again, raising his voice and closing the door behind him. Ganke was more important than freezing his ass off for a little bit. He shivered slightly and stepped into the grass, scanning the property for his friend.. that was nowhere to be found.

"Where the fuck did you go..?" He muttered to himself, looking around. The forest was dark, yeah, but he could still see just fine, thanks to his special eyes. He walked the length of the forest until he found a trail that looked pretty well-used. "..I guess that's a start."

Miles started off down the path, moving swiftly, but quietly, like a snake through tall grass... or, like a shark through a kelp forest. As he followed the path, his worry grew, especially upon seeing the little droplets of blood on the ground, and the broken, battered greenery that someone had tore through.

That someone being Ganke.

Miles sped up, listening to the sound of the waves getting closer. "Ganke!" He yelled again, nearly tripping and falling over a tree root that he hadn't seen poking out of the ground. God, where the hell is this kid?

Miles’s breath fogged in the air around him as he panted, no longer taking care to be quiet and stealthy. He finally broke through the brush, and his feet hit cold, grainy sand. He snapped his head up, scanning the horizon before his eyes caught something silvery shining in the moonlight. There.

Ganke.

Miles let out a relieved little chuckle, about to call out to Ganke when he realized... Ganke had made it to the top of this enormous rock.. and he wasn't stopping. Miles shot forward again just as Ganke jumped off the rock and dove into the water headfirst, a terrified scream ripping from his throat.

"GANKE!"

Miles wasn't going to lose someone else. Not again. Not him. Not like his dad.

He didn't care if it gave up his secret.

There was a bright light as Ganke hit the water, but Miles didn't notice it. He clawed his way up to the top of the stone, feeling fuzzy and slow. What the fuck was Ganke doing?! It was high tide, the middle of the night, and freezing! He was going to die for sure if Miles didn't get to him in time.

He felt sick.

Scrambling, Miles searched the waves desperately, but he didn't see Ganke anywhere. Oh god, please, not like this. He picked up a spot that didn't look like it had too many rocks and jumped as well, plunging into the icy water.

He's too important.

I need him.

Miles blinked as his eyes adjusted to the harsh pounding of the waved, grunting as he was slammed into the rock behind as he transformed. He felt his legs fuse together, his long, pink and yellow tail fanning out below him. Shimmery purple scales pricked up on his arms and torso, turning over and replacing the skin that was typically there. He blinked again as the bubbled assaulted his vision, causing him to panic even harder.

As the water pushed him back into the rock again, he dug his claws into it and dove under, diving as far under the waves as he could do he could have a moment to adjust and look around. He rubbed his eyes with the webbing between his fingers, blinking harshly as he shook himself off.

Under the water was just as unforgiving and empty as the surface was. There were sharp, jagged rocks that jutted out of the sea floor, black against the already dark water. Miles kicked his tail, propelling himself forward as he desperately searched for Ganke. But there was no sign of him, no traces, no body, no clothes.. nothing.

Miles shuddered in the cold, feeling it start to leak into his bones. He wasn't made for swimming in the winter, despite his thick scales and large fins. He lost heat quickly as he swam around, wearing in and out of boulders and seaweed. He had to keep searching, he wasn't going to lose Ganke like this. No, not like this. God.

Not again. He wasn't going to lose someone again. Ganke was too important.

But Miles's body had other plans. Long before his vision started getting hazy, and his fingers got numb, he could feel his body shutting down. His fins got heavy, his tail locking up, his scales glowing dimmer and dimmer. But he still pushed on, not going to let Ganke be the one that got away.

I need him.

Please..!

Miles wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but he knew he had when he woke up to the waves splashing him on the face. He leaned his head up, wincing as another bright light shone in his eyes, and there were big, warm hands wrapping around him and carrying him up the beach. He leaned his head tiredly against the soft embrace, feeling his body change again as the water dripped off his body.

"Miles! Miles!!" Ganke yelled as he laid Miles down on the dry sand and curled around him, sharing his body heat in an attempt to warm the other boy back up. "Hey! Don't you dare pass out on me right now!" He barked, his voice breaking as he gently grabbed Miles's face and patted it.

Miles opened his eyes again, his vision hazy and his brain foggy. For a moment, he thought he saw Ganke. But when he blinked again, the hazy edges of his vision cleared, and he realized it actually was Ganke.

"Wh- I-- where?-"

"You fucking idiot!" Ganke snapped, interrupting Miles, rubbing Miles's arms aggressively until he felt his body warming up. "I told you to stay in the house! What's wrong with you?!"

Miles blinked at him, his head lolling into the crook of Ganke's neck. He closed his eyes, clinging onto him as he listened to his heartbeat. He could tell just from the way Ganke was holding him that he wasn't really mad, just extremely worried.

That made two of them.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Miles mumbled, slinking his arms around Ganke's torso and squeezing him tightly, suddenly finding himself tearing up. "I just- I was so worried about you-- and then I couldn't find you, and then you were jumping and you didn't come back up and I-" He bit his tongue, sniffling softly as he hid his face in Ganke's body.

Ganke didn't stop rubbing Miles's back, but once he felt how tense he was, and the way he was shaking slightly, his touch got increasingly tender.

"Shhhh..." He whispered, pulling Miles's damp body up off the sand and into his lap, cradling the smaller boy and pressing his cheek to the top of Miles's head. "I know. I'm sorry too. I'm okay, Milo. I'm right here."

Ganke continued to gently rub Miles's back and shoulders, murmuring soothingly as the waves crashed in the background. As the silence lingered, so did the heavy feelings of guilt. Sure, it wasn't directly his fault, but he still habitually blamed himself. He felt like he had done something wrong and was the only one at fault for making Miles cry. It wasn't a good feeling.

He sat there, anxiety building in his chest as he waited for Miles to stop sniffling. He needed to fix this, he needed to make Miles smile and laugh again and forget about what he'd just done. It wasn't okay. He took a quiet deep breath, gnawing at his bottom lip as he rubbed the space in between Miles's shoulder blades. Fix this, damnit, Ganke.

"..So. You're all fangs and scales, huh? That's pretty hot." He said in a sly tone once Miles seemed to be okay again, prodding the other boy in the ribs. He didn't know what else to do or say, didn't know how to make it better. So he aimed towards distracting Miles from what happened.

Miles huffed, rolling his eyes as he sat up a little more, wiping the tears off his face. Embarrassing. "Shut the hell up." He said, nudging Ganke with his head affectionately. He was still incredibly upset after thinking he'd lost him, but the sound of Ganke's constant, strong heartbeat was reassuring enough.

"Nah, I'm serious though. Claws and shit? And you glow in the dark? Plus those fins? Dude, I knew you were pretty, but that takes it to a whole 'nother level--"

"Ganke." Miles groaned, interrupting as he buried his face into Ganke's neck, feeling his cheeks get warm. He was never very good with compliments, and Ganke loved to bombard him with them. It made Miles feel strangely fuzzy and nervous.

Ganke laughed, squeezing Miles gently and pressing his face to the top of Miles's head. It got quiet again, but this time it was much more comfortable and less charged. The unspoken bond between them was stronger, some silent, complicated familiarity that connected them together.

"You wanna head back and get warmed up? And.. talk? I think we have a lot to talk about." He suggested, looking up at the moon. He could feel Miles shivering against him still, trying to snuggle closer for warmth. Things had changed.. but not in a bad way.

No, this was good..

"Mh. Yeah." Miles agreed, nodding as he let out a breath. He shifted his weight as Ganke hooked his arm under his legs, standing up with him held bridal-style. "Just promise me something..?

"Of course."

"..Never do that again."

Ganke smiled, kissing the top of Miles's head gently as he started carrying him back up the beach, stepping carefully on his injured feet.

"..I promise."

Fin.

OKAY SO LIKE THAT TOOK SO FUXKING LONG AND THEN IT GLITCHED OUT ON ME AND I HAD TO RE WRITE LIKE 15 PARAGRAPHS BUT ITS DONE ITS FINISHED SO YOU SEE MY VISION.

HERE'S SOME ART TOO BECAUSE IM INSANE ACTUALLY.

Ganke if he was more mermaid-like than seal. Just for funsies.

The vision for Miles ^

ok so u know the wolf/bunny dynamic?? right so i came up with shark/seal… ITS LITERALLY CLAWCODE. ITS THEM. MILES SHARK GANKE SEAL. ready to get what they want, excellent hunters, lures prey, cunning and coy and violent x silly cute and lazy, just wants to chill and doesnt wanna be involved. PLEASE SEE MY VISION CLAWCODE NATIONNNNN

[arkos404]

fanart for the personality swap au, the lawful joke au, by @chaosaliien

love makes you blind fr, prism bailed immediatedly afterwards, here some of the other fits he tried before tho (yes scrabby reacted the same way to all of them)

,,,,,also tagging @flaint and @rateater2000 bc they said they were looking forward to it 👉👈 sorry it took this long lol, some of the refs below

[deoidesign]

I've been... Busy 👀

Trying to get all 4 arcs from season 1 into books!

(not available for sale, these are print proofs. I'm planning a Kickstarter early next year!)

[recallback-art]

You know that joke, about how dogs can't recognize themselves in the mirror, and see a different dog entirely when it's really been them the whole time?

[trainingdummyrabbit]

which character ya wanna post about? (invitation to go off)

ouuHGUHUGHHG ive been rotating this around for hours bc ive redirected myself like 5 times since u sent it but ithink i got it i got it this time. i wanna talk abt porccubus. ok gimme a minute gimme a minute

so like. i know theyre technically the same thing, across lobcorp/ruina, but i really really wanna dissect the weird contrast it has going on there. (though, isuppose, their "same"ness is kinda up in the air re:abnos, considering there was a librarian snippet abt child of the galaxy being more "vicious", but wwwwwweh [waves hands around])

so like. the thing about lobcorp porccubus is that its just. an odd fucking creature. like yeah obviously, but its about the way its perception seems to weave around it. its core themes, that of pleasure and euphoria, uncontainable and uncontrollable, would imply that its something impulsive, stimulation-seeking, something that is driven wholly by desire and would be difficult to pin down. however, the way that its logs and flavor text are written give off a much more... subdued vibe, for lack of better words to describe it.

it is the source of that elation, yes, but everything in the way it holds itself is so withdrawn. it simply floats there, yes, but there is little to no mention of it making any moves of its own (which, now that i recheck its info log, is also mentioned plaintext!) and its in-work flavor text seems to speak with the tone of someone Studying it, Speaking about it, rather than observations of its movements or descriptions of its mindset. its all very distant. speaking in third person to someone who is listening. ...right?

which is to say: whats wrong with this dog. its story implies direct exploitation yet it just… it Just. its some strange little animal. its not malevolent and trying to kill people for fun. but it also isnt all sad like petals plucked from a daisy. it just Is. it has almost the same sort of feel as some sort of object. and yet it is clearly alive. does it have a will? it must; as abnormalities Do. so what is it? it functions by its own rules and just kinda Goes Here. does it want? does it need?

porccubus itself acts more like a Service or Trade than an actual creature. you walk in and interact with it, and it knows what to do in response. game of trust - it does a little song and dance as is its nature, yet doesnt seem to desire much more.

which also brings me to the shackle-- the little necklace around its neck. it speaks about how it was chained up, for whatever reason, and yet nobody seems to have any idea why. and porccubus... just doesnt seem to mind it. never mentions it. its such a particular type of indifference. (i suppose another good question is what is it shackled to?) and even further still... what does it mean that the ego gift it grants Is that necklace?

lc!porccubus as a creature is laced with restraint. both in a literal sense, And in an internal sense. pleasure and euphoria, yet it is definitively restrained. it cannot reach out first. it does not act on its own, but rather waits for something else to reach out First. even when it breaches, it (according to what im reading,) simply... waits. waits for an approach. (you Must approach it. it has to be a Choice.) theres something very Aimless about it, mechanical almost. i cant really sum it up in any way other than That Is An Animal.

...which brings a very interesting contrast between It and its Ruina counterpart. in the library, its much more Jubilant. it speaks, for one, which is something i straight up didnt know it did for a while. the way that it presents itself outwardly is much more outspoken-- inviting, wanting someone to engage, trying to persuade that first step. it yearns! pet it! it wants to share what it has to give, but it still wants that hand of yours offered to it First. its happy! its happy! come be happy with it!! dance with it, play with it! its demeanor is so much more forward, more present... more conscious.

and crucially... that shackle is no longer tied about its neck. rather, it dangles loose from the end of its tail, almost like an accessory rather than something granted/given to it. does this represent the release of former ties? it certainly acts more free than it did before-- whatever was holding it back, is it gone now? is its shift in demeanor the jubilant frolicking of that which has never been able to soar? is this what allows its nature of wishing to share that elation to shine through? much like a dog chained to a stake, finally being set loose in an open field.

in an unspoken turn of events, porccubus seems to focus on Release. release of ties, release of inhibitions, release of that which had been holding you back. it wants nothing more than to give what it is experiencing to those which are weighed down by things that keep them unhappy. and yet, it does nothing to truly alleviate what those woes are, simply covering them up with a layer of unrelenting sweetness.

..............which of course, brings me to angela. yeah yall thought i could go an essay without her?? lol. lmao.

on the floor realization centered around her staunch desire to live, it almost seems to stick out like a sore thumb. with all of the withdrawn mourning and wishing that the rest of the phases share, pleasure is an odd slap in the face, almost. but... it really does make it hit that much harder-- Especially with that which was expanded upon above. the imagery of unshackling yourself from that which held you down, allowing yourself to feel things you never were able to-- never were Allowed to. is that not what she stands for, here?

its reaching towards an open door, trying to grasp to any amount of Living that you can reach-- you deserve that much, at least. at the Very least. you Have to be allowed something. but not only is it that desire, but its also the Ignorance. the understanding that no matter what you mask it with, all that baggage still remains. chasing those short, intense bursts of happiness-- everything else still continues to eat away at what's underneath. and yet, theres still a consciousness to that. even further than that, a commitment.

who cares what becomes of you because of this? this happiness-- this which you were never allowed to so much as dream of-- is right within your grasp. and to taste it for even the smallest of moments, the briefest amount of time-- that makes it worth it. it was all worth it. nothing matters more than this complete devotion to sensation. it doesnt matter if it tears you apart from the inside, this is what you were always looking for. this is what you deserve. and youll do anything to hold onto it.

in some odd way, it really is about rotting.

in conclusion,

[arsenicflame]

hi so, checking in (sorry, its personal bullshit again, ill get back to the fandom stuff you actually wanted,,,, eventually)

things. are going bad. like, really bad, like last january bad. like im about to lose all my personhood again bad. im hoping its still just going to be a small blip and things will start upticking soon, but. im bracing for that not to be the case. it feels different to me

i vaguely mentioned earlier in the week taking a bit of a step back, and ive decided to extend that into a full break. my queues probably going to run out before im back, though i have slowed it down some. thatll be the only noticable difference for 99% of people. i wont guarantee any dm responses on here, but ill do my best for the couple of people who have me on discord

i didnt really want to do this again but it gets messy in my head, and ive found the best way to control the clawing beast of attention and need and the things that make me want to be a person i dont want to be is to cut it off at the source. its not nice, and it hurts, and it definitely kills the chances of making friends but. i promise you its better than the alternative.

ill see you when i see you, i guess. i hope its soon. i hope this isnt how it feels to be. i hope the feelings that have existed this week go dormant again. but itll be what itll be. i can't change that

[kasaneteto]

thoughts about honesty & lying and my relationship with these concepts before intake a power nap because i only got 4 hours of sleep thanks to daylight savings

i didn’t really realize until this year just how deeply ingrained in me the urge to lie is. i will just say fucking whatever if its what i think the conversation needs. (or i should say i used to. ive been really making an effort to not say ANYTHING that i dont mean and its fucking hard but its getting easier fs) this is a bit of a double edged sword because like, i AM very good at talking to people and being friendly & this skill definitely stems from the years and years of people pleasing, but at the same time i have to really hold myself accountable if i want to be impeccable with my word, because the natural instinct to tell a lie is SO strong.

my parents would punish me for honesty so i very quickly learned it was better to lie and not get yelled at (which didnt even always work lol) and as a result have had to learn how to be honest with even myself. it was SO deeply ingrained that when a truth was difficult or painful i would just lie to myself instead of facing the music. ive gotten a lot better about being honest with myself about my feelings, my recent breakup helped me realize that i still had a lot of work to do in that respect and ive been doing a lot of introspection about it. but what im really struggling with is the impulse to say things that i think will help the conversation flow even if they arent true, and in my effort to NOT do this i seem to have become… too honest? i dunno. ive always hated fakeness and niceties of that kind so sometimes I’ll say something in response thats super honest but like….i did not need to say that.

despite my honesty making people uncomfortable at times i feel way better about myself this way. i feel like a toddler sometimes with how much i wear my heart on my sleeve these days but it feels good to know that hey at least im being genuine yknow? like what you see is what you get with me. im not exactly an open book but im not gonna pretend to be someone im not just for your sake. like ive been doing that my whole life and STILL got rejected by people left and right so like. who cares. i’ll just be myself and be honest and forthcoming and not worry about what other people think of me. because the people who like me and want to spend time with me will stick around. and if im being myself and people dont like that, WHO CARES!!!!! get well soon bitch because im fucking awesome. it feels good to say that and truly believe it.

anyways. tl;dr if we’re friends theres a good chance that one day i will say something to you and then immediately say “that wasnt true im sorry idk why i said that” because it has been happening often LOLLLL

[wovenstarlight]

weaning myself off mtl and into direct translating... slow going but it is SO satisfying

[lunar-fey]

WIP meme: dragon's son. I would like to hear about it 👉👈

@lidrens okay combining these into one bc you guys managed to both ask for the One project that i don't have any writing for and don't have enough to say abt to stretch it over two asks i'm just gonna summarize xD so one/both of you feel free to send another one <3

i never actually figured out like. where i wanted to go with the story because the dream ended. but i thought the world building was really fun! tldr it took place primarily in a like ~medieval fantasy world~ where i stepped through a portal into that world and regained memories of a past life.

in that world, if someone wanted to have a child but couldn't for whatever reason, they could go to a dragon (not like. a specific one. this was just A Thing Dragons Were Known To Do) and ask for one. if the dragon felt like you would be a good parent, they would give you an egg. it would hatch into a child that Looked Like You (not like. so much as to be weird but enough that they pass as your biological child) and would be for all intents and purposes human, except they would retain their memories through the cycle of reincarnation.

as such, "dragon's children" were often sought after for like. advisory and leadership roles for their wisdom. in the dream i realized i had been a dragons child (but lost my memories presumably due to like. getting reborn in modern earth world instead?) and was a king from like hundreds of years ago. and when i came back into that world i realized it was descended from the kingdom i had ruled, as there were much of murals on a wall of myself and other people i knew, specifically i had recognized my advisor (who was also my lover...).

after that its a little shaky bc of dream logic lmao. for some reason i was put on trial, and i had to Sing For My Life. like. essentially there was magic woven into the murals, and they would glow as you sing, and based on how they glowed The Spirits Of Our Ancestors would decide you guilty or innocent. bc they can see into your soul, or something like that. also i had to sing Against the person accusing me, who was the current ruling princess iirc.

i don't know exactly what the crime i was accused of was, but when the court when on recess for a bit i went to go look at the mural of my old lover and essentially go "oh dear we're really in it now..." when some guy walked up to me. and i Could Tell it was him but he didn't have any memories of our past life (or at least he shouldn't have.) so i didn't say anything to him, but i think in the dream he figured it out and cast spells on everyone so they'd remember who i was, and they were all like "oh shit dude hey what's up! we could never accuse you of crimes!!"

i THINK it was like. the "crime" was coming to this world? but since i was from here originally it wasn't exactly a crime anymore. i also vaugely remember something about having recognized the princess from my previous life also, and she had been a queen who wanted to fight my father for my egg because she was deemed not worthy by the dragon or something? that didnt get resolved in the dream tho and i have no idea how it would have resolved in story!

[furballfaggot]

do u need an ibuprofen for that

[yaikat]

i love joining servers and communities and shit thinking im gonna make new friends there only to realize that im gonna be the outcast and ill eventually stop talking out of awkwardness and depression. its almost like im meant to be alone

[playingonedchess]

no even simpler than that. if its a shipping fanfiction, love is a theme. please at least try to say something about it. it doesnt have to be remotely original or revolutionary or deep or anything it can be the most basic self indulgent simple sort of stuff but if you write a romance with absolutely no engagement with the theme or thought about what your writing as a story its not really a romance at all its a fictional incident report and really extremely boring to read

[mondaymelon]

— pocky for the malipo ⭑.ᐟ

⟶ ( kinich x gn!reader )

— in which... hey, does this even count as a kiss...?

— speedran this filler post for pocky day + kinch's birthday.. its single day too LMAO the coincidences are simply uncanny ..

— starts out w mualani + kinich for context , fluff !! reader likes sweets,, ...tw... use of the word orbs..

“awwww, c’mon!! it’ll be fun, i promise…”

mualani jumps up and down vigorously, her expression slowly growing more and more dejected. “the traveler told me all about it- this otherworldly tradition, y’know, with those little sweet stick thingies, they even gave me a box! it’d be a reallll big shame to waste ‘em, and wouldn’t it be super cool to do?”

recently, mualani had grown very invested in the idea of some date called “pocky day.” these sorts of random hyperfixtations happened just about every other day, but this time the obsession lasted a linger longer than most, all because of some eavesdropping on the traveler, who offhandedly mentioned it in some conversation… anyway, now that the day itself had arrived, 11/11, she was more excited than ever.

“just onnncee..! pretty please, kinich… xilonen? sharky??” seeing that no one here was willing, except for sharky, who wagged his tail in approval, mualani let out a wail.

kinich stared at her with a tired gaze, sighing slowly. “well, i don’t see how-”

“oHHH my aRCHONS, kinich, how are you so BORING?? when i contracted with this stupid guy, YOU, i thought itd be a little more fun than rotting in a cave ALLL day long but APPARENTLY not!!? live a little uGHHGH, you emo little ‘oooohh look at me im so distant and mysterious’ shut UPPP…” ajaw popped out of nowhere, face red and pixelated hands waving back and forth angrily. “c’mooon, surely you aren’t stupid and blind enough to see that this is the literally PERFECt opportunity to smoochy smoochy kiss kiss that one person you've been OGLING with those  big ORBS of yours huh????”

kinich opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. mualani watched with bated breath, squeezing sharky in her hands in anticipation, eyes sparkling, gaze screaming “oh????”. 

“...well… i guess… hmph, even someone like ajaw makes a point sometimes, huh…?” kinich coughed into his fist sheepishly, a barely noticeable blush dusting his cheeks. “though, i’m not ‘ogling’ them at all, ajaw- it’s- well, i’m just observing them. for a commission.”

“suuuUUUReeee palllll, whatever you say- YOU REALLY DIDN’T THINK I’D SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, DID YOU??? BLABLABLA LALALA I’m RIGHT AHAHAHH THATS RIGHT IM RIGHT IM-”

kinich swatted ajaw out of the air, in the way one would with a buzzing fly. he flew through the air, disappearing into the horizon with a sparkle.

“...ahem. mualani, i’ll be heading out now.” kinich turned around calmly, as if he hadn’t just committed battery. "if i may, could i get one of those ‘pocky’ you were talking about? i’ll repay you.”

"hehe... no need for repayment, just tell me how it goes later!" mualani, smug and beaming, handed over one of the boxes.

..and so the time had come.

"kinich?" glancing up from your work, you flashed him a smile. "what's the matter?"

well, it wasn't as if the saurian hunter didn't see you out often- he did. this little nook you had in the scions of canopy was, as kinich put it, "on the convenient way back" for all of his missions, and so the male found most evenings swinging by (pun intended).

no, him coming wasn't the issue here. but kinich had been uncharacteristically.. avoidant of your gaze. for the past five minutes he had been there, arms crossed and leaning against the door frame like they do in those inazuman light novels, he'd been staring at a crack in the floorboards. and to make matters more concerning, he had something strange in his hands too: some sort of box that he kept flipping around with his fingers.

"hey. kini'. we're both not great at words, so just tell me and get.. well, whatever it is. you wanna say over with." at the mention of his nickname, kinich perked up, clearing his throat.

"ah, that..."

ohh, so there was the problem. the eerily quiet atmosphere was because ajaw wasn't present... pause, now you were even more worried. kinich had somehow gotten ajaw off his ass?? unthinkable????

"is it an emergency? fuck, are we all going to die? tell me this type of thing earlier, kini', i need to pack all my-"

"what? no- i, mualani.. she, no, there's this holiday, today. the traveler mentioned it, and i thought it'd be fun to try out.. you like sweets too, so. here." kinich unearthed some sort of... stick? was he really trying to feed you sticks? c'mon now, you weren't that stupid-

"i can read your gaze. it's not like that. here, it's chocolate, just- hah..." kinich sighed, eyebrows pinched together, wearing the expression of someone watching everything go wrong. "give it a taste?"

you eyed him skeptically, before taking the stick out of his hands and taking a bite.

"...sweet."

"yeah?"

"not a stick."

"...yes."

"...give me another."

"not so fast, we need to play the game first." kinich took one of the sticks and put it into his mouth, all of a sudden looking a lot more... guilty? you couldn't quite pinpoint the expression on his face, something you'd been doing with a 30% success rate (the highest any natlanian had ever achieved). "whoever gets the last bite wins."

"...i'm just supposed to. eat the other end?"

"what, you can't?" the slight teasing edge in his voice reminded you of ajaw (just the slightest) and you immediately became exponentially irritated.

"hah, who said that? bet."

"..."

oh, so now he chose not to break eye contact.

"...a-hey, we're getting a little close, aren't we.."

"...if you wanna break it off, lose."

"...fuck, you-"

you grabbed him by the cheek, pushing yourself forward and, admittedly, forcefully touching your lips against his. whether by the suddenness or whether by the fact that you two had, well, "kissed," the esteemed malipo kinich let out what sounded like a sputter and fell backward, hands barely catching him from falling to the ground. sitting himself down, he looked up at you with flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, and the edge of his lips smudged with chocolate.

"bleh. i win." sticking out your tongue, you motioned with your hands. "the whole box, it's mine now. winner takes all, or whatever they say in mondstadt."

kinich's gaze was observant, and under it you felt your face slowly begin to warm, realizing what you had just done.

"not so fast." kinich stood back up, recomposing himself in a matter of seconds.

"one more round. you caught me off guard."

(a/n) and then reader and kinich smoochy smooch smooch kiss kissed and single day was no longer single and happy birthday kinich really did become happy for kinich fuck when am i going to find me a partner <- has unrealistic expectations

context notes!! :

ajaw purposefully left kinich alone so that he could do his.. idk if you can call it flirting. pocky game w you. best wingman ajaw we all cheer (in reality he was tired of seeing kinich act all lovey dovey whenever you were around and found the tension suffocating so he decided to take matters into his own hands)

taglist (comment to be added / send in an ask on my sb): @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @umiloa, @intpessimistic, @keiiqq, @intpessimistic, @eutopiastar, @matcha-mintea

[cloudysfluffs]

--And Once with Tickles!!

A/N: BLARHG i havent posted a fic of any kind in like four years. and i havent written a TICKLE fic in like SIX years!!!! so i might be a little rusty. but this fic has been in the works for OVER A YEAR NOW and itd be a shame if only my bf gets to see it :P so im posting it to da world!!!!!

Summary: basically just if the tickle scene from Sock Opera was longer ^^'' its literally my favorite tk scene of all time so now you can have an entire fic where i stretch it out for 5k words!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

Lee: Bill? Dipper? Bipper <3

Ler: Mabel + Stan

WARNING: THIS IS AN SFW TICKLE FIC!!!!! KINK/FETISH BLOGS DO NOT TOUCH!!!!! MOST OF THE CHARACTERS IN HERE ARE MINORS AND ALL OF THEM ARE RELATED!!!!! DON'T BE WEIRD!!!!!

“Whoah, whoah, hey-- hey, HEY!”

SMASH!

The cake prop crashed against the ground with a horrible crackling sound, breaking apart beneath both of their weights. There was a collective jump and gasp from the startled crowd. Even the puppets themselves-- or, at least, the soul piloting them-- seemed taken off guard.

Despite the panic and destruction, neither Bipper nor Mabel took too long to shake it off. Bipper landed on the ground, on his stomach, just a few feet away from Mabel, who’d landed on her side. Instantly, he pushed himself up, eyes wide, feeling around the floor for the journal. A stagelight swiveled, reflecting off the shiny gold cover, and both of them leapt for it with the determination of a starving animal on a hunt. They touched down at the very same time. They wore matching, angry glares, each gripping the journal so tightly that their knuckles were turning white. Mabel knew, as she squinted to avoid the spotlight, that there was no hope in saving the show. But there was hope for saving her brother! And if that meant sabotaging everything she worked for, then…Well, it was about time she sacrificed something for Dipper. 

They rolled across the stage, tumbling over one another, until Bipper’s head reached the edge. If he craned his neck backwards enough, he could see the confused and terrified face of the audience. Something he would’ve found amusing, if the stakes weren’t so high. Mabel was on top of him, her knee on his stomach, and both hands on the journal, tugging and yanking with all her might. He just held on, harder, gritting his teeth. The very same thought was in both of their minds. I’ve almost got it!

“Get out of my brother’s body, you evil triangle!!” Mabel yelled, pressing her leg down even harder. Enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to cause any lasting damage. She really had to engrain that thought into her head. Once Bill got out of here-- and she would get him out of here-- it would be Dipper’s body suffering the consequences. He’d already been through too much. It turned out to be just enough to get the book to slip out of his hands. Both of their eyes widened in shock, but before Bill could give too much chase, she made sure to whack him with the journal. Just for good measure. She’d wanted to do that this whole time!!

Mabel stumbled to her feet, running back to center stage, just as Bipper was starting to sit up and rub his forehead. He growled, in a way she hadn’t heard since she was in Stan’s mind, in a way she knew her brother couldn’t replicate if he tried. Fascinatingly, she watched as his face seemed to heat up, reddening his skin even more than it had been already, as he pushed himself off the ground. If he were human, she may have assumed his failure had embarrassed him. But this was Bill, they were talking about…so, if she had to guess, this was his human-body equivalent of his yellow turning red. Kinda cute! In a weird, gross way. 

“Grrr…You can’t stop me!” He scowled, his eyes narrowing on the book. Mabel looked behind her. The set pieces blocked access backstage from this side, and while she could move to the stage stairs, or even jump down, that’d take a good amount of coordination. Before she could decide…she was leapt on. She gasped, feeling the air leave her lungs as she was tackled to the wooden floor. The journal slipped from her grasp, and landed on the floor beside her. Both she and Bipper placed their hands on it at the same time, hers on the edge, and his on the palm of the cover. Bipper was sitting on top of her, straddling her waist, his chest heaving as he panted. She felt breathless, too. But, as she stared up at him, still pink in the face, and with a tired, yet satisfied grin on his face…It was as if something clicked in her mind.

“I’m a being of pure energy, with no weakness!”

Mabel stared at him, almost in disbelief. It seemed so obvious. In any other circumstance, it would’ve been the very first thing she thought of, when searching for a method to gain the upper hand in combat, without actually hurting the other person. She did it to Dipper all the time! So often, in fact, that she figured the townsfolk wouldn’t bat an eye, if they saw her do this at her own show. For the first time, it was her turn to get to wear that smug, knowing smirk. She brought her other hand around to rest over the journal like a seat belt, just so he couldn’t snatch it while she talked. 

“True…But you’re in Dipper’s body!” She reminded, to which he huffed, as if offended. What, did she think he forgot? For once, it was like she could read his mind, because she picked up for him. She lifted the hand that wasn’t protecting the journal, and wiggled her fingers.

“And I know all his weaknesses!~”

Bipper quirked a brow. In the split second between her final comment, and what she was going to do next, she could see the cogs visibly turning behind his eyes. He wasn’t used to not knowing what was about to happen. Typically, at a glance, he could look at a person and see right through to their mind, where he could pluck their thoughts and plans right out. Sometimes, he knew what someone was about to do before they did. Having to rationalize like a human made it so he had to manually run through his own mental database, for what she could possibly mean…It was such a broad assessment. He was human, for christs’ sake. What wasn’t a weakness to them, really? They couldn’t handle being stretched too far, or bleeding too much, and their limbs could only bend to a certain point. Humanity was so fragile! It was honestly a mystery how they survived so long. But he’d pinned her like this for a reason; how could she possibly hurt him? 

“What do you mean his--?”

Before he could finish, Mabel lifted her wiggling fingers…and slipped her hand into his jacket, pressing them just underneath his arm. 

Bipper felt as if his entire body seized. In the half-second that the sensation touched down, he was overcome with a surge of physical reactions he’d never experienced before. First, he shivered, goosebumps freckling over his skin. It was as if every nerve in his body ignited, with an odd, fluttery tingling. Worse, perhaps…was the way he vocally reacted.He gasped, and squeaked, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaping from his throat. The glare, which he’d taken pride in withstanding, was forcibly wiped from his expression, replaced by a shaky smile. It felt like his insides were bubbling. But when he opened his mouth to express that concern…he realized what it was.

“GaHhh--! AAAaahhahahahahaha!” It was the urge to laugh. Uncontrollable giggles poured out of him like bubbles to a heated cauldron. The heat he felt rush to his face only made that metaphor seem all the more accurate. Mabel and the audience might’ve heard Dipper’s voice, but he heard his own. The helplessness in his tone disgusted him. Out of his own control, his reflexes went haywire, demanding that he get anywhere as long as it was away. Robbed of the motor skills required for any complex movements, he found himself toppling backwards, pinning his arms to his sides. He’d hoped falling would be enough to put distance between him and his tormentor, but it seemed like the opposite had occurred. The moment he was down, she took advantage, by climbing on top of his waist, instead. She wriggled the fingers of both of her hands under each of his arms, ruthlessly scribbling for long enough for him to feel as if any attempts at fighting back would be futile. And then, she slid both hands down, grazing his ribs, before settling on his sides. The motion elicited another yelp, and another full-body shiver, before he settled back into the helpless giggling that had possessed him before. 

It was unusual. It was unbearable. It…tickled.

“Tickle tickle!~” Mabel cooed, and for some reason, Bipper felt a heat rush to his cheeks. In fact, the burning sensation stretched all the way to the tips of his ears, making him feel compelled to wrench his eyes shut and turn his head away. The words-- or was it that voice?-- made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Somehow, it seemed like her touch only tickled more, the teasing worsening the odd hypersensitivity afflicting his nerves. His hands locked around her wrists, and he arched his back, shoving pitifully while he used his heels to kick at the ground. Whether it was due to the tickle-induced weakness, or the pose was just that effective, he didn’t get anywhere. Mabel smirked, baring her braces like fangs, like she could see just how much the comment worked on him. Dipper couldn’t stand that, either!

“Awww, whatsa matter?~ Does it tiiiickle?~ Are you too tiiicklish to handle it?~ Kitchy-kitchy-koo!~”

“S-StahahaAAahahahahahahap!” He hissed, scowling, cursing the stutter in his voice. Damn Pine Tree’s twitchy little body and his squeaky little voice! How did he live, being so sensitive?? He couldn’t bear to listen to another word of that teasing, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. And, in retaliation, Mabel’s nails skittered upwards again. They passed over his ribs, before again settling into a gentle scratch just under his arms. It got the exact same reaction the downward motion over the same spot had caused; a gasp, a yelp, and a full-body shiver, all before his arms snapped right back down again. Both of them seemed irritated by that last response.

“AAGhh-! Whyhyhyhyhyhyhyhy cahahahahahahahan’t I mohohohohove my ahahahahahahahaharms?!”

“Reflexes!” Mabel chimed in, instantly, as if it were obvious. To a human, it may have been, but for Bill, ‘reflexes’ were an entirely foreign concept. He’d never felt so…effortlessly disarmed. And that was coming from someone who spent a good chunk of his life in the second dimension, and, the rest of the time, was confined to the mindscape. He was already relatively harmless. But somehow, when he had a physical body to interpret reality with, being helpless was so much more torturous. He knew the human body was pathetic, but really, how had they survived this long as a species, if all it took were a few pokes to entirely collapse them?? Perhaps it was a combination of how unfamiliar the sensation was to him, and how sensitive Dipper’s body was, anyway…but he felt he reserved the right to mentally complain, anyway. He felt naturally more whiny. As if Mabel could tell, she grinned, and retracted a hand.

“Here, let me help you!”

Her now-free arm shifted backwards, so her hand could lock around his wrist…and force it upwards, pinning it to the ground beside his head. The other hand, that had been trapped in place, wriggled its way out. She crossed it over his body, and switched which side she was attacking, her claws now slipping into his jacket to scratch beneath the arm she’d pinned. It all happened so quickly, Bipper hardly had the chance to look horrified…before he fully squealed, his laughter ratcheting up another octave. 

“EEEEeeehheheheheek!! ‘Hehehehehehehehehelp’?!” He echoed, offended, the bite of his tone lost in his giggling. He wanted to argue more thoroughly, but good god, that tickled so much more!! He arched his back, jerked at his elbow, and turned to one side, desperate for something-- anything-- to put distance between his skin and her nails. Talk about feeling disarmed! He thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, and yet, here he was. 

“Yeah! Help! Now you don’t have to flail your arms around; you can just lay back and take it!” Mabel interjected, with an innocence that seemed far too natural for how cruel she was being. Bill saw some of himself in her, sometimes. With that kind smile, and flattery. So, sweetly deceptive. He had to hand it to her, she knew how to get ‘em! This girl was brimming with potential; the unicorns and butterflies and rainbows were just a thin blanket to mask the chaos that she was capable of. The little brat. Maybe he could use that someday. But now, it only aided in annoying him. 

“You’re welcome!~”

He wasn’t an idiot. He saw what she was trying to do. But just in case he didn’t, she told him, anyway. Mabel leaned down, eyes narrowed, so they were practically nose-to-nose. 

“Get outta Dipper’s body, or I’m gonna tickle you until you pass out!!”

He growled, trying to force the corners of his lips down into a frown. She wished it would be that easy! He may be weakened, and disarmed, but please! Who did she think he was? As if he suddenly realized he had control over his not-pinned hand, he reached over to try and grab at her wrist, to pry the hand attacking him away from the spot. It did work, partially, as the tugging would occasionally slide her hand downwards…but that only meant her wiggling fingers would graze his ribs, instead, and he’d be possessed by that yelp and full-body shiver that seemed to trigger every time. The reaction weakened him. As if he wasn’t weak enough! 

“Nehehehehehehehever!” He insisted, with just enough bite in his words for him to feel a swell of pride. He was starting to get used to it! His smile suddenly seemed all the more smug, practically a smirk, despite the fact that it was hardly warranted, in his current state. He was still laughing, and squirming, his entire body leaned to one side to reflexively counteract the nails scratching away at him. Mabel huffed. 

First, her eyes drifted to the stage. She wished she could see Dipper. To everyone else here, she was tormenting her innocent brother in front of an audience for no apparent reason. Worse, none of them, not even their most loved ones, would get an honest explanation. Whoops. She’d apologize to him later. In the meantime, she turned her head in the other direction.

Everyone out there seemed absolutely captivated. Well, for the most part, at least. Some seemed confused, others seemed shocked. A shocking amount seemed pretty flustered, while others sported the exact opposite mood. She could just barely see Candy and Grenda confusedly flipping through the script just off stage. But, generally, most of the crowd was enjoying this thrilling multi-media masterpiece. Even those from the Mystery Shack. In fact, maybe especially those three! Mabel couldn’t help but smile, as she met their eyes through the smearing, colorful stage lights.

Wendy was leaning back in her seat with her boots kicked up on the empty chair in front of her, an amused smirk on her face. Though she couldn’t hear anything coherent from the crowd from up here (and wouldn’t be able to, anyway, over Bipper’s high-pitched squealing), she could tell that Wendy snickered, as she elbowed Soos in the side. Soos was one of the members of the audience who seemed a little flustered over the whole endeavor. Even in the low lighting, Mabel could see just how red his face was. He was grinning nervously, and fanning himself with his cap, and flinched just a little too hard as he was nudged. It was all very sweet. Truthfully, she didn’t care if this ruined the show for most of the audience, because it wasn’t for them anymore. It was for Dipper! …But it did make her feel good, to see them enjoying themselves. And no one seemed to be enjoying himself more than Stan!

Earlier today, he seemed to be a little skeptical about coming. He was swayed incredibly easily though, which was rare for him. He was probably the most stubborn man the twins had ever met, and yet a good puppy-dog-eyed stare and a promise that the end would blow his mind was enough to convince him that maybe this memory was priceless. He’d even brought a camera to film it. Even with one of his eyes obscured by the pop-out window of the old recording device, she could see how widely he was grinning, the expression on his face one of fond amusement. He must have assumed that this was the ‘spectacular closing act’ that she’d been bragging about just a few hours earlier. It wasn’t, but if this went well, he’d never have to find that out! He caught her looking out upon the crowd, and tilted his head so more of his face was visible, his grin seeming all the more proud. He gave her a reassuring thumbs up, and she felt a new wave of confidence wash over her. She could do this.

Her eyes fell back to the demon pinned beneath her, who hadn’t stopped giggling and struggling since she shifted her attention a few moments ago. He’d probably been yelling insults she’d been too distracted to hear. She squinted at him suspiciously. If this were Dipper, she’d be jumping to his spot about now. Heck, that’s probably what she’d do when wrecking anyone! But…this wasn’t Dipper. It wasn’t ‘just anyone’. This was Bill! He already seemed to be getting the hang of this sensation, with how consistently now he was shoving at her hands, and how successful his thrashing was becoming. If she let up for even a second, he might even be able to wriggle away, or worse! She needed to not only tickle him to death, but she needed to make the session intense. What was something Dipper wouldn’t be able to stand…? 

Her gaze flickered to the crowd again. And, suddenly…she stopped.

Her smirk returned. Her wiggling fingers ceased, and instead that hand grabbed Bipper’s opposite wrist, so she was now pinning both to the floor. The demon-possessed vessel gasped the moment he felt a moment of solace, obviously annoyed by the fact that his giggle-fit didn’t immediately die. Every time he inhaled, or exhaled, he found he couldn’t stop laughing, like the feeling was still there, under his skin. But he was too out of breath to do anything about it! He fought with this natural, human response, while Mabel sat up as straight as she could.

“For my next act, I’ll need a volunteer from the audience!” She announced, proudly, as if it made any logical sense. The poor crowd was going to be so confused. But she didn’t need most of their approval. She only needed it from one. She grinned, and shut one eye, so she could point directly at her grunkle.

“How about you, good sir? You look like you’d make a fine actor!”

Stan lifted his head away from the viewfinder, visibly startled. He glanced to either side of him, pointed to himself, and brightened when Mabel nodded in approval. He didn’t hesitate any longer than that, handing the camera over to Soos (who fumbled with it for a moment, before giving a reassuring thumbs up) and climbing out of his seat. 

Bipper was only just starting to regain his composure, when he realized what was going on. He shook his head, and blinked open his eyes, squinting out at the crowd. Jesus, had the kid’s eyes always been this bad? He almost missed Sixer’s glasses. But, the very moment he processed that Mabel’s hands had released his wrists…thick, strong arms wrapped underneath his, scooping him up into a sitting position, pressed against someone’s chest. He felt like a cat being hoisted into the arms of their owner, unable to do anything but twist his shoulders and try to wriggle out of his grasp. Mabel was still sitting on his legs.  He glared over his shoulder. The light reflected off of Stan’s glasses, obscuring his eyes, and for some reason that made him look intimidating. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was in such a small, wimpy body; anyone could look like a threat, when everyone towered over you. His hands balled into fists.

“Wh-What is this?!” He scowled, stammering, trying to roll his shoulder to free it from the old man’s grasp. But it seemed like every inch that he managed to unwind, Stan just pulled him back even tighter. It was so effortless, it was hard to feel anything other than pathetic. No wonder this kid was getting tickled constantly! Everyone in town had a leg up on him!

“Let go of me!”

“This is called a grand finale!” Mabel declared, straightening her back and cracking her knuckles. The smirk on her face was downright sinister. An evil that Bill couldn’t help but think rivaled his own. She was an expert at this, wasn’t she? She knew this would up the game, considering the strength difference between them. Even with her best efforts, she wasn’t strong enough to keep him fully still. And even if she could, she’d lose leverage by being unable to use both hands. But the addition of another person-- him, especially-- had immobilized him completely, without her ever having to lift a finger. Not to mention how calculated this whole trap with her ‘grunkle’ had been. She hadn’t even had to speak word to him, for him to understand exactly where his place was, in all of this. Maybe they were psychic. Or maybe they really just did this that frequently. Man, he’d almost pity Pine Tree, if he deserved it! But he hardly had time to dwell on something like that, anyway. Not as he watched Mabel lift her wiggling fingers threateningly. 

“Last chance!”

She was bold, too. But so was he. And that would be his first mistake. Daringly-- challengingly-- he smirked.

“Pssh, yeah, right!” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. Mabel glared, as he turned up his nose, quirked a brow, and scoffed. Anyone who thought this was Dipper might almost see it as in-character behavior. He’d been similarly snarky, around this point in sessions. Stan even rolled his eyes right back, and tightened his grip, as if he’d found it predictable. But anyone who knew the truth, knew he wasn’t doing it for any reason other than to call her bluff. This was a pathetic excuse of a torture attempt. He thought smarting off would prove as much. When, actually…it did the exact opposite.

“Like I’d be convinced by a little tihihiiihihiHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLING--!!”

Mabel’s wiggling fingers finally dug into his ribs. And it felt so distinctly different from the other spots, or even from how it felt when she was just grazing them earlier. It was like he’d been electrocuted, from the way his body jolted uncontrollably, and the way the sensation gripped him like a shock. The yelp of terror that jumped from his throat broke in the middle, fully replaced by helpless cackles. 

…Okay. Maybe not his proudest moment.

Maybe he should’ve known better. Maybe being in this body too long was getting to him. Maybe the stupid, human impulses that he’d gotten so good at ignoring also included this vessel’s apparent desire to talk himself into corners just to get himself tickled. Whatever the case, the whole time this had been going on, the more he felt his resolve…slipping. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, like his body suddenly remembered that it hadn’t gotten proper sleep in over twenty-four hours. Every part of him was sore, not that pain could even begin to compete with the tickly jolts shooting through his ribs. He considered the pro’s and con’s of dislocating a shoulder just to weasel out of here, but he couldn’t properly think. He swore he could literally feel circuits shorting in his brain, glitching and sparking and stuttering where the neat rows of coherent thought used to be. It had been a beautiful process to watch, from the other side…but was miserably frustrating, when it was your plans getting thrown out of whack! 

He wanted to growl. To kick, and scream, and either kill this vessel or one of the two holding him back. Whichever came first! But, all that came out was…

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

…A very pathetic attempt at defiance. Enough that each of his attackers dared to snicker at him in amusement. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, thrashing and twisting in the restraints.

“W-WHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEN I GEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUT OF THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIS, IHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--!!”

Mabel couldn’t help but notice just how…not-evil he looked, like this. Bill’s base form had no mouth, and yet he somehow always seemed to be grinning. Earlier, she’d seen that condescending smirk in Bipper. But now it was gone, and she was seeing a face she’d never quite seen before. It wasn’t quite the flustered, giggly look she got from her brother, but it was far from the invisible, malevolent smile that Bill was always wearing. It was something in between. It might’ve fascinated her, if she was any less focused on the task at hand. Her nails, while dull, knew how to press just right, to tickle as much as possible without translating into physical pain. She scratched at the spaces between his ribs, and played the bones like a piano, watching in satisfied amusement as every motion elicited the same, predictable reaction. Cackles, squeaks and voice-cracks echoed through the auditorium, almost sounding musical against the backing-track of her rock-opera, that no one had bothered to turn off. If anything, Bill was even squirmier than her brother was, which was certainly saying something. This was usually the point in the session where Dipper gave up fighting, especially when Stan was helping, since he obviously didn’t have a chance. But Bill still had some fight in him! 

“I don’t know what you did to deserve this, but clearly you’re gettin’ what’s coming to ya!” Stan accused, glancing over Bipper’s shoulder in an attempt to make eye contact. The kid was clearly avoiding it. But he still peeked up, for just a moment, if only to make a point to glare. Stan took advantage of his disorientation, knowing he was disarmed just long enough for him to be able to let go of his arms. Instead, he grabbed both wrists, and pulled them behind his back, like how a cop would while handcuffing you. But he didn’t need handcuffs, because his hands were big enough in comparison to grab both of the kid’s wrists in one of his palms while still having his fingers touch in the middle. And, with one hand free…he was able to pull out one last trick. 

Fingers skittered up Bipper’s spine, spurring out an involuntary shiver that was so intense, Bill was a little surprised it didn’t jolt him out of this body entirely. He didn’t get to dwell on how scarily close that had been to breaking him, though. Because in a second, that single skittering turned into a consistent, unrelenting scribble, and any coherent thought that was left slipped out through his fingers.

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Right. Almost all of the Pines’ were ticklish here. Maybe he should’ve seen that coming. 

It was positively overwhelming. Every curl of his blunt nails against the spot had his nerves lighting up in a frenzy, activating the useless instinct that had him squealing and laughing like this whole ordeal was the most hilarious joke he’d ever been told. But no part of this was funny!! Not when it was him! It was humiliating, at best, and a total disgrace to his reputation at worst. He was glad the folks at home couldn’t see this, because they would never let him live it down. 

“Ooh! Good call, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel praised, finally looking back up to meet his eyes with an approving smile on her face. She wished she could give him a thumbs up, but her hands were kinda busy. Bill couldn’t help but bristle at how unfair it was, that Stan could restrain him like this. He couldn’t lean forward even if he wanted to, and leaning backwards only pressed him further into that hand! And, somehow, despite the trap being objectively more simple, it was more confining! Now, he didn’t even have the privilege of flapping his hands, or making vaguely threatening gestures. And it all just tickled more! It was cruel, and unusual. He wrenched his eyes shut, and felt tears build in the corners. Crying had always been an annoying, uncontrollable thing his puppets did, but it felt especially humiliating in this context. Way to rub salt in the wound.

“MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Whether it be a blessing or a curse, neither of the two around him had a chance to respond to that miserable display of emotion. Because, somehow mockingly, his body turned against him. When he tried to catch his breath, he felt a hiccup of air in his chest…that caused a snort. 

The two at either of his sides brightened. And the crowd aww’ed.

He’d forgotten they were there. He was on a stage, and yet, the fact that there were more than four of them here had slipped his mind. Earlier, if he’d remembered, he would’ve shrugged it off. Whatever, who cared if they saw him like this? It wasn’t his reputation that was going to suffer for it. It was Pine Tree’s, who now had to go home and live the rest of his life knowing that most of this town had seen him get tickled on stage. And that was still, objectively, true! He knew that. He knew none of them would think twice about it. So why did the sudden realization have his face blushing hotter? Why did he feel this horrible, anxious fluttering in his stomach, like he was full of spiders? He didn’t know. But he knew it had to end. 

He couldn’t take it. It wasn’t just his self-inflicted injuries that ached, now, it was others-- his sides, and his throat, and the corners of his lips, were all begging him to just stop laughing. Other than the ache, he was pretty sure he could feel this vessel overheating. Being put in this embarrassing position had struck a match inside of him that was slowly cooking him from the inside out. But more than that, he was tired. And that was hardly a feeling he even understood. Alas, the human urge to melt into a puddle and sleep for eight hours was, apparently, real. He was on the verge of uttering a genuine please, if this didn’t end soon, and he didn’t want to pull that card unless it was a life-or-death situation. So, apparently, he only had one choice left…

Damn it. It wasn’t fair! He’d let them have this win, but his fun wasn’t over. This plan was only the first of many tricks he had up his sleeve. He glanced up at Mabel one last time, eyes narrowing, as if he could glare at her very soul. But she only countered it with a smirk. She knew she couldn’t lose. She’d never lost a tickle fight against her brother! 

Suddenly, the sound of his laughter began to taper off. It quieted into a fit of twitchy, broken coughs; it almost sounded like he was glitching. But then he slumped in his spot, quiet…and all four hands retracted. Dipper’s body melted into his Grunkle’s chest, eyes closed, as if he was out cold. Both attackers pulled back for a moment, visibly tense, and met eyes. Mabel, because she was testing to see if this was a good sign…and Stan, because he was genuinely startled. Jesus, he’d never passed out like that before! Usually he called it, when he knew he was getting to the end of his rope! Did they kill him on accident? There was a beat of silence that was just long enough to raise concern...and then, quick enough to be startling, Dipper sat up. He gasped, and clutched his chest, panting like he’d been awoken from a nightmare. And, well…he sort of had! Both of his family members jumped.

“Ahh!! He’s back!!” Mabel accused, lifting her clawed hands in preparation to strike again. She didn’t expect her brother to scream, flinching backwards in horror. 

“AAHHhh, M-Mabel!! It’s mehehe, it’s me, it’s me!!” He pleaded, bringing up his arms to protect himself in a panic. The squeaky, nervous little voice sounded different than it had, just a moment ago. Less confident, less angry, and more…well, like her brother. If it was an act, it must’ve been a pretty convincing one, because she lowered her hands. Slowly, skeptically, Dipper lowered his, too…and she saw his round, brown eyes staring back. Her posture fully relaxed, and her grin returned to her face. It actually worked!! Tickling always worked. 

[ahyperactivehero]

i asked on election night if anyone wanted a little drabble to help with the stress, and unfortunately it has taken me a little longer than i would like to get them out!

@det-agency: please write Edwin getting turned into an orb for the first time pre-canon and Charles freaking out i think itd be so fun

(fun fact, this is my first orb fic! i've wanted to write one for a minute, but this is the first that i've actually sat down and wrote out!)

Drabble 5 (Orb Fic)

London, 1991

Getting chased by a vengeful ghost was not exactly what Charles had planned for when they’d set off to speak to their client, but he supposed that’s what you get being a ghost detective.

Edwin sprinted ahead of him, his long legs easily giving him the speed that he needed to leave their client in the dust. 

“Who woulda thought our client was the guilty one?” Charles yelled out to Edwin, who glanced over his shoulder. 

“It is certainly a twist,” Edwin said. He suddenly veered off to the right, racing towards the bedroom mirror they had come through earlier. If they could get there, they could head back to their newly established office and regroup. They’d certainly need to think of a better plan now that their client had turned on them and absolutely wasted their original suspect.

Edwin reached the mirror, his hand outstretched as he concentrated on getting them back to the office. Charles turned around, his hands immediately finding comfort in his cricket bat. If that bastard even thought about getting close to them he’d smash him.

“Come on,” he heard Edwin mutter under his breath. “Find it, find it, find it.”

Mirror travel was something Charles had yet to master, but Edwin was aces at it. It would probably only take him a second before–

A choked, gasping sound came from behind him, followed by the tell-tale sound of someone stepping through a mirror. He spun around, worried for a moment that Edwin might have fallen through the mirror and been separated from him, when he felt his soul go cold.

Their client, Geoff Mann, stepped from the mirror. His hand was already through, and in his fist was an iron knife.

An iron knife covered in ghostly blood.

“Edwin!” Charles yelled, rushing forward just as Edwin staggered backwards.

His hands were on his throat, blood seeping through his fingers. Charles felt panic like he never had before. Iron hurt ghosts, but could it kill them? Was stabbing enough to obliterate a ghost? Maybe not, but what about cutting their throat?

Edwin fell straight into his arms, and Charles would have dropped his cricket bat if it weren’t for the vengeful ghost of their client standing over them. Blood dripped off of the knife and pooled on the carpet and it seemed wrong that it wouldn’t actually stain it. Not that Charles wanted anything to be stained with his best friend’s blood, it just seemed wrong that it wouldn’t.

“Hold on,” he said in what he hoped was his most reassuring voice. Gently, and without looking away from Geoff, he slid Edwin to the floor. He ignored his hand dragging down Charles’s arm, begging him to stay– to not leave him alone.

This would only take a moment. Besides, he needed to take care of the threat before he tended to Edwin.

“You fucked up,” Charles said, twirling his bat. Geoff didn’t even have the decency to look the least bit frightened. 

“You’re gonna make me move on,” Geoff said. “And I ain’t doin’ it.”

They weren’t. That’s not what their Agency did. They couldn’t force someone to move on if they didn’t want to. It wasn’t even what Geoff had originally hired them for!

But none of that mattered now. Not when Edwin was behind him, gasping and potentially dying. 

(He wasn’t even sure what dying would mean for a ghost. Would he go back to Hell? Disappear?)

He didn’t even give him a chance to respond. He swung his bat against his arm, almost enjoying the way it cracked and forced him to drop his knife.

Charles wasn’t a violent person, no matter how much he feared being like his father. But the satisfaction he got from seeing that man drop to his knees in pain after what he’d done to Edwin? Well, he might need to reflect on that.

The urge to keep going was strong– after all, what was to stop him from coming after them later? – but he forced himself to stop. 

“If anything happens to him,” Charles warned, holding out his bat against the other man’s head. “I’m comin’ back.”

Quicker than the other man could react, he bent down and picked up his knife and turned back to get Edwin. 

He laid there, air and blood gurgling as he tried to keep his wound closed. At some point his eyes had screwed shut, like that might help block out the pain. They sprang open at the first sign of Charles’s touch, that faint bit of panic he’d seen when something reminded him of Hell shooting across his face before flattening out into something more manageable.

“Let's go,” Charles said. He put his hands under his armpits, intending to haul Edwin up if he had to, but a flash of light overwhelmed his vision and Edwin disappeared.

“Edwin!” he yelled and looked from hand to hand as if he might have somehow been hiding there. 

A small orb, just a bit bigger than a cricket ball, floated there in front of him. There was no trace of Edwin, just the small, pulsing yellow orb.

“Edwin?” he asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

The orb bobbed for a moment, as if it were answering. The yellow seemed to glow brighter for a second before dimming until it was a faded, off-white color. 

Forget it. Charles had no clue what was going on, but he didn’t have time for this. He snatched Edwin up and booked it through the mirror,  no destination in mind– only intent on getting them as far away as possible.

It took several tries before he got back to the office, and by then his nonexistent heartbeat had slowed down to something far more bearable. Without even thinking he tossed his bag and bat to the floor and uncovered the ball of light he’d been keeping safe in his hands.

There was an unexpected feeling to it, not quite a weight but certainly a warmth. It reminded him of when he was alive and he’d stick his cold finger next to a heater or run them under warm water once they’d gone numb.

It was the first time he’d felt warmth since he died.

He held the orb closer to his face and chest for inspection. It was perfectly round, the edges of it reminding him of an impossible mix of glass and a cloud. It wasn’t solid, but he also couldn’t put his hand through it, even if he tried.

“Edwin?” he asked again. Could this really be Edwin? What had that ghost done to him?

The orb pulsed, yellow light coming back to it before fading again into that cool, white light.

So it really must be Edwin. 

He glanced over at Edwin’s slowly growing collection of books and wondered if there was something about this in one of them. The subject of orbs had never come up before, but then again, neither one of them had ever been as hurt as Edwin was before. 

Was this what happened when something hurt them? How badly did they need to be hurt in order for it to happen? 

“Hey,” Charles said as he ran his hand over the orb. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha.”

There was another pulse. The orb seemed to hover above his hands for a moment before gravity seemed to take over it and it dropped back down. 

In a sheer panic, Charles caught it. Or not it, he supposed. Because this thing had to be Edwin. If it wasn’t that would mean that either Edwin was gone or he’d left him behind with their insane client. 

The idea that he might have done that nearly sent him into a tailspin. Should he double back and check? What if this was a trick and the real Edwin was somehow still there? Or what if there was something special about his knife that had turned Edwin into an orb?

Gently, he cradled Edwin to his chest as he turned to look for his bag. He’d picked up the knife, hadn’t he? Thankfully, it only took a few tries before he successfully pulled it from his bag. Ha, take that Edwin, he was getting better at using it.

“See, mate,” he said, his voice low and soft as he spoke over the orb. “I told you this bag was worth it. Already earnin’ its keep, hm?”

The handle of the knife was thankfully not iron coated. Charles hadn’t even thought about that earlier when he’d grabbed it. All he’d been thinking about was that Edwin was hurt, and he’d needed to disarm the guy.

Blood covered the blade, but aside from that there seemed to be nothing interesting about it at all. Not strange markings, no traces of magic that he could tell. It looked exactly like every other boring knife out there.

Except this one had hurt his friend.

The orb– Edwin, Charles supposed– pulsed again, the light from it peeking out between his fingers. Had Charles squeezed it by accident? He’d been so focused on the knife, so caught up in thoughts of their client hurting him that he hadn’t really…

Slowly but with more force than Charles anticipated, the orb pulled free from his hand. It bobbed around the room, floating here and there as if it were looking for something. It lingered above Edwin’s chair, the space where the other boy spent most of his time in the office. 

Yet there was nothing for it to do. It’s not like the orb had hands. It couldn’t hold a book or write or do anything that usually interested Edwin. 

As if it had realized this, it lazily floated back over to Charles. That yellow light seemed to be getting even stronger, calming Charles’s nerves just a bit. A strong light had to be a good sign, yeah? Surely that meant that Edwin was fine. 

Except what if he wasn’t fine? What if yellow was bad and he was trying to warn Charles? What if he needed help, and Charles couldn’t understand him? How was he meant to do anything if Edwin couldn’t talk to him anymore?

The orb bumped into his head, the softest, gentlest headbutt Charles had ever experienced. His thoughts slowed down as he lifted his hands up to cup the orb again.

“Well, mate,” Charles said. “What do you think we should do?” 

Edwin didn’t answer. Not that Charles thought he would.

“What if I read to you?” he asked. “I love it when you read to me. Helps me relax, yeah?”

Edwin seemed to warm up in his hands again. Charles took that as a good sign.

He strolled over to Edwin’s bookcase (our bookcase, Charles, the Edwin in his mind reminded him) and browsed their selection. Most of them were detective novels, but Edwin had recently started to collect more on magic and the supernatural.

No, he thought, should really stick to a classic.

“What about Sherlock Holmes? You love him,” he said, as if Charles didn’t also love him.

He grabbed one of their Sherlock Holmes books at random and made his way over to the couch. “Might as well get comfy, eh?” he asked and sprawled out.

For a moment, Charles was sure Edwin was going to float away. Maybe he hadn’t been as interested in reading to him as he’d thought. Instead, Edwin merely rolled down until he was resting on Charles’s chest, that warm, familiar feeling spreading all over him.

So Charles read to him. He read to him until he had finished one book, and then started on another that he could reach. His voice was a low rumble, the sound fading into the background as he split his attention between the words and Edwin. Time passed slowly and hazily, the sort of dream-like quality that only came when it didn’t really matter.

Eventually, when he thought he might go insane from reading so much, he talked. He told Edwin how he was sorry he hadn’t been fast enough to stop him– because really, Charles had been right there after all– and how he hoped that Edwin forgave him. He told him that when Edwin felt better, he would do anything he wanted. He’d even go see that play he’d been talking about that Charles couldn’t remember the name of if he wanted. And there was a show that Charles was interested in going to, but they could stand at the back where it was quieter and they were less likely to get stepped on if Edwin wanted to come.

He told him how much he missed him. How worried he was about him. How he knew that it had only been about a day since he’d gone into this form, but he didn’t think he’d missed anyone this much. Not his mum or dad, not his friends or teachers. No one.

Finally, he fell silent. He was sure that if he dug down deep enough there was more for him to say, but what was the point? Edwin was still stuck looking like the world’s brightest cricket ball, and he had just spilled about everything he had in him.

“I’m just worried,” Charles said. His arms wrapped around the orb so tightly it doubled as a self-hug. “Y’know I worry.”

Then again, maybe Edwin didn’t know. Charles loved to portray himself as this confident, friendly guy. Sure, he could be protective, but did Edwin know he was serious enough that he could worry?

Something shifted. The solid, golden color the orb had been since he’d started reading to him briefly changed. It flashed blue, a color that Charles normally loved but reminded him too much of Death in this instance, before it faded, and the orb was gone.

Before he could worry whether or not Death had actually come for them, he felt a solid weight pressing down on him. And there, in his lap, laid out across him, was Edwin. His feet were tucked up, allowing his long body to fit neatly onto the couch, his head cradled against Charles’s chest.

“Edwin?” he breathlessly asked.

Edwin shifted, his head tilting back just enough to look up at him. Charles had to loosen his death grip on him to allow even that. “Charles?”

Immediately, Charles hugged him closer. He smashed Edwin’s face into his chest and pressed his chin to the top of his head. “Don’t ever do that again, mate,” he said. “I mean it.”

For a moment, Edwin was frozen. Then, he thawed and relaxed himself into Charles’s hug. “I did not mean to worry you,” he said softly.

“Yeah, well, you did,” Charles said without any heat to it. Finally, he let his arms slide away from Edwin and allowed himself to get his first real look at his friend.

The first thing he noticed was that he looked tired. Dark bags lined his eyes and blood still smeared his collar, although whatever wound had been made was gone. He seemed paler than normal as well, but Edwin was always so pale it was hard to tell. 

“Alright?” he asked, still looking for any sign that he wasn’t.

Edwin nodded. “Yes,” he said. His voice sounded stronger than before, and God if it didn’t sound like Heaven to Charles. The idea that he might never have heard his friend speak again hadn’t truly hit him until this moment. “I believe I am unharmed.”

Charles’s eyes darkened. “You were stabbed. In the neck,” he said. Or close enough, anyways. “And then you turned into this glowing ball, and… well, I didn’t know what to do.”

Edwin flinched at the mention of his wound before soothing his expression into one of fondness. “Yes, I… seem to remember that,” he said. His hand came up to touch his throat, only to find no wound there. “It would seem I have healed.”

“Maybe that’s what that was?” he asked and made a gesture with his hand to show orb-sized Edwin. “Maybe that was like ‘ghost healing’?” 

Something between annoyance and acceptance flashed across Edwin’s face. “I believe you have it right,” Edwin said. “It would seem that would be the form ghosts take when they heal.”

Charles nodded. “Kinda brills, honestly. Like a turtle goin’ into their shell or something.”

Edwin squinted his eyes at the comparison. “I suppose,” he said. And then almost immediately collapsed when he tried to get up.

“Oi!” Charles said and wrapped his arms around him. “What’re you doing? You wanna be an orb again?” 

Edwin huffed as he settled back down. His face had washed out even more after his ill-advised attempt. “No, I do not,” he said. “But it hardly seems appropriate for me to just… lay all over you.”

Before he had died, Charles might have agreed. There was a certain amount of weirdness to it, he supposed, but that didn’t mean that he wanted Edwin to get up. In fact, he wanted Edwin to stay right where he was until he was strong enough to stand without passing out again.

Edwin rolled his eyes when he said this. “I did not pass out. Ghosts cannot do that,” he said. Yet he laid his head back down against Charles’s chest, his now ruffled hair tickling Charles’s chin. 

“Go back to sleep,” Charles said. Before Edwin could argue, he held a hand up and used it to gently bop him on the arm. “And don’t say ghosts can’t sleep. That’s basically what you were doing before.”

Edwin started to shake his head, but the motion quickly became him snuggling down against Charles. “I am merely resting my eyes.”

Charles grinned, a sudden wave of fondness he’d never felt for anyone else overtaking him. “Yeah, well rest your mouth too.”

Edwin tried to flip him off but failed. “Almost had it,” Charles teased.

“I’ll figure it out one day,” he said before fading back off to sleep. 

At least this time he stayed a ghost.

[haikyu-mp4]

kinda scared to ask this but have you done a kenma x reader panic attack drabble cause i think itd be super cute but if youve already done this then im so sorry for asking T-T

thanks a bunch <33

that is such a sweet request! not sure which one of them you wanted to experience a panic attack, but I decided to have Kenma calm the reader down. also, this might be a bit longer than a drabble, hope that’s still okay<3

How to care for you

word count; 1310 – gn!reader

You hadn’t had any major panic attacks since you were younger. Sure, you struggled with anxiety, but it became less prominent after you found Kenma. He was quite straightforward and dedicated to helping you with anything you might need, and you communicated well even though he was never a big talker. So you frowned while putting away the dishes, wondering why you felt nauseous and couldn’t focus on only one problem at a time. Why did it suddenly feel like double as many problems? You moved to the fridge, looking for the bottle of water you kept in there to keep it super cold when you realised what this was, the reason you were suddenly so scared. A panic attack.

You had problems at work lately, feeling like every coworker used you to make themselves look better, which led to you making mistakes anyway. Then yesterday, you started hearing comments that suggested you probably didn’t care about your job now that you had such a rich and influential husband.

Lately, you also had your suspicions about your friends not inviting you to things anymore, probably because of jealousy, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because you weren’t enough. Your pulse started racing, hands sweating, and you slammed the door to the fridge shut, lips parted wide as your lungs desperately tried to catch on to as much air as they could, hungrily taking in more than they could handle at a time.

You didn’t get far before you sat down on the cold floor, back leaned on the front of a kitchen counter. You’re not crying, but your shoulders still shake with pitiful sobs. How stupid of you to get a panic attack again over a problem you made yourself, you think. Did you not appreciate your job? Maybe you had subconsciously started slacking off, and maybe you were rubbing your happiness too harshly into your friends’ faces. There were so many negative thoughts taking over. The only thought that rang a little louder than the others and finally slipped past your lips was a tiny whisper of Kozu, please.

Kenma had his headphones on, testing out a new game on livestream without any hitches, when he could swear he felt like some sound managed to sneak past his soundproof headphones. Or perhaps it was the slightest shaking of his desk that he still hadn’t tightened the screws of even though he kept saying he probably should. Or perhaps it was simply his husband's instinct kicking in, knowing you should still be home after you two had dinner together earlier and you told him you wanted to get some stuff done and didn’t feel like going out with your friends.

No matter how he knew, he only spent a few minutes mulling it over in his mind while chewing on the corner of his lip before excusing himself and pausing the livestream, finally taking the headphones off and getting up. Because he wasn’t a big yeller, he just made his way through your fancy house a bit quicker than usual while his catlike eyes scanned through every room. Until he got closer to the kitchen and could finally hear heaving sobs that made him kick into a small run, bare feet on the cold floor making small pat pat sounds that you couldn’t hear over your raging fears pounding the inside of your head.

Your body jolted slightly when Kozume put his hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with teary eyes. Your legs were pushed towards your chest, not helping your airflow, so Kozume put his other hand on your closest thigh, smoothing his touch over it to make you stretch it out. “You need to breathe,” he said, a simple instruction that at least made you respond.

“Help me?”

Kozume gulped. In all honesty, he wasn’t confident about how to help you. What if you didn’t respond to what calmed him down? You had been there for him through a couple of panic attacks before, and it had taken a couple of tries before you learnt that soft songs under your breath while holding him not too tightly were just the way to ease him into less deprecating thoughts and fight off the fear.

“Maybe we should move-”

“No,” you said shakily. He knew he was not strong enough to lift you off the floor, so he just nodded and racked his brain for something else. There had to be some strategy here…

“Try to think of something nice, we’re going to that event next week in our cosplays!” he said, voice light as he tried his best to encourage you. You put your hands on your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I’ll probably mess that up too, what if something goes wrong and I end up ruining your career!” you answered, the tears finally escaping while Kozume felt hopeless for a second. His heart ached from seeing you like this, he so desperately wanted to help you.

Finally, he had a thought. He shouldn’t be shy around you after all this time, but showing you love still made his ears red. So with burning ears, he sat close beside you and tucked his arms around you, leaning your legs over his lap and supporting your body on his while one hand ran up and down your back and the other massaged where he could reach on your legs to loosen up your muscles.

It was uncomfortable. The edge of the drawer behind him was slightly poking into his shoulder blade and his tailbone was not appreciating the hard floor, but that didn’t matter. Not when you tucked your head under his chin, ear resting on his chest where you could hear his heartbeat. He held you tightly, vocalising every breath he took so that you might find it easier to follow. Then, with that soft voice of his, he said “You’re at home with me. It’s safe, you don’t have to be afraid.”

As the fearful feeling finally started dissipating, you were left with an ache from the strain you put on your muscles, which finally made you slump all the way into your husband’s body. “I did want to go out with friends today, they just didn’t invite me. I’ve been so busy with work but it feels like I’m doing everything wrong there too. My life is falling apart and it’s all my fault.”

He let you ramble because he could feel that your body was more relaxed now, so he just hummed to confirm he was listening. He considered how to answer you, thinking that you probably didn’t need to hear that he could provide for both of you and you didn’t need a job. “Tomorrow, we can look at all the job-related things together and try to strategise. Maybe some knots just need to be loosened up for you to feel more in control,” he suggested, and you nodded from your awkward angle.

“Thank you.” You breathed in and out but it was still shaky.

“Mhm. And I’m sure you know, but your friends kinda suck.” That even made you laugh a little, and Kozume put on a small smile. “I could ask for a double date with the Kuroos again? I want to help you if I can, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“The Kuroo’s are so nice,” you whispered back, making him take a mental note to send his best friend a message later.

You two slowly got up off the floor and he asked you to draw a bath while he ended the livestream with a quick apology and promise of a giveaway at the end of the week. He had to join his partner for some much-needed self-care.

Nothing was more important to him than learning how to take care of you.

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