#depending on what though ill see if I keep morals for him

[snailsfall]

Only letting jimmy crystal hit it from the back because I’m too weak to have gangrene breath puffs hit my face the whole time but I’ll still let him hit because momma didn’t raise a total birch

You know what, that’s very fair, at least you still hit though!

I’m a sick freak and he’s the only exception

[cr0wbees2]

please send me art requests/asks if you have any :33

i kept wanting to post more of the mha dsmp au drawings i did but i just super didn't feel like watermarking them so i didn't

there are a ton more than this but ill post them over time :3

please excuse the fact that i absolutely cannot draw anthro pigs i was trying my best KEHEHE - also the giant empty space on the techno drawing is cause i had c!technoblade art up as reference and i didn't want to post something with it there without credits so i just covered it

also also some of this might be a little off from what me and my friend talked about cause it's been a bit BUT. shh it's fine,, it's close enough

ANYWAYS!! PHILZA AND TECHNOBLADEEE!! yknow what this means! it's time to talk about the syndicates role in the mha dsmp au!

so the syndicate has the same sort of status the yakuza did at the start of s4 (before everything with eri) where they can't be arrested or anything but they're also viewed pretty poorly by most and kept a close eye on

the syndicate takes in vigilantes and anyone else who might need help/protection that's been outcasted from society - they will assist heroes and villains, so long as the individual or group they're helping doesn't go against their personal morals/ideals (whatever those may be) - they'll teach people how to fight so they're safer on the streets, they'll give people shelter, they'll supply people with support gear, etc. etc. - they aren't good or bad

phil also probably finds out about the stuff with the hero commission like with raising kids like hawks and he is SOOO MAD. HE IS FUMINNGGG ABOUT THAT.

niki is also part of the syndicate in the au which ill get more into when i talk about her and jacks story (they're very intertwined so i will be talking about them at the same time as well) however, with that said, jack is not in the syndicate and is actually heavily against it!

ranboo isn't part of the syndicate HOWEVER! he does have frequent interactions with them, though he doesn't remember any of them! ill get more into this when i talk about ranboo and dream - but dream has a trance quirk which allows him to basically fully control one person at a time (seeing through their eyes, mind controlling them, physically controlling them. making them his puppet, literally. and they won't remember anything that happened after they're out of the trance) but once he uses his quirk on a second person or just stops using it, the first person will slowly regain control rather than regaining it instantaneously (the amount of time it takes to get back to normal would likely depend on how long they were in a trance and how strongly) AND because dream works with the syndicate a fair bit, though he's not part of it and techno and phil are kind of iffy on him especially after everything with ranboo starts happening, during that period of regaining control when dream can't see through his eyes, techno and phil will take care of him and ask if he's okay and teach them how to fight and such, but ranboo doesn't remember any of it after the fact! though he does keep a fair bit of the fighting he learned because of muscle memory!! and at some point he does some crazy fighting technique and tommy and tubbo are like?? HOWD YOU DO THAT?? WHAT??? WHERE'D YOU LEARN THAT??? and he's like. uhh…m.. i don't know? "ill get more into this when i talk about ranboo and dream" it says and then it immediately rambles for like three paragraphs. anyways!

techno and phil went to UA and were friends with aizawa, mic, and oboro! they left after oboro died and started the syndicate. mic was upset by this and no longer talks to them, but aizawa kind of understands why they did what they did and do what they do! aizawa still keeps in contact with them, but he doesn't make that publicly known since although it's not REALLY a problem, it's still ill advised for a pro hero to be buddy buddy with the syndicate

techno also has his crown in this au because oboro gave it to him! or, well, he gave techno a paper crown or something saying he gave "leader energy" and after oboro died, he made a crown a staple in his appearance to honour him

once stuff starts getting to be more trouble with dream, aizawa would ask techno and phil if they knew any villains with a trance type quirk and though they wouldn't say specifically who it was, they would tell aizawa to make sure ranboos okay! because although they aren't willing to rat out someone they're working with, they ARE willing to help save an innocent teenager no doubt about it

phils quirk is pretty straight forward, although i will note that along with having wings - like crows, he's able to remember faces incredibly well!

technos quirk allows him to turn into a giant boar and he gets more powerful in that form the more blood he sheds, but it also gets harder to control! and like shinso, he was frequently told that he had a villain's quirk growing up because of being super powerful, having blood related quirks, and having ideals that are understood by a lot of people, stain and techno are heavily associated with each other despite like. literally never interacting and not having any sort of affiliation with each other at all

basically, techno and phil are training to become heroes at ua and are friends with mic, aizawa, and oboro, but hate the hero system and after oboro dies they fully decide they think it's the worst and they leave ua and create the syndicate

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

@curseofmoons asked:

Negative character traits? Mental illnesses? Regrets? Something they’re in denial about? Someone or something they’ve had to leave behind or give up. Worst thing they’ve had to do to survive? Harshest thing anyone has ever said to them? How often do they swear? Have ever killed someone? If so, would they kill again? (For Alma and Errol)

Negative character traits?

Alma: He's naive and socially challenged

Errol: He's manipulative and could even be considered sadistic to a degree.

Mental illnesses?

Alma: Alma has autism in his human verse(s), which is less of an illness and more of a difference in experiencing the world that makes life difficult for him sometimes because others don't understand, but still worth noting.

Errol: Errol is clinically a low empathy psychopath.

Regrets?

Alma: Depending on verse, but since you and I usually do human verse for him, he regrets not fighting back or running before his father abducted him. By the time he realized something was wrong it was too late, and he wishes he would have seen the warning signs sooner.

Errol: Again, dependent on verse, but I'll do human verse here. He rarely has remorse for anything, but his regrets are usually small and selfish things. Like not using the right method to woo someone because he miscalculated when reading their responses and personality. He doesn't regret the big things, like burning his parents house to the ground. He feels absolutely no remorse for things like that.

Something they're in denial about?

Alma: He's in denial that his little sister is growing up and is capable of making her own choices and living her life the way she wants to. He still sees Arda as an innocent little girl because he's so overprotective of her. He needs to accept that she isn't a child anymore and can take care of herself. She doesn't need to be sheltered by him.

Errol: Oh, he's in denial about a lot of things. It's his coping mechanism to just pretend the things he doesn't like don't exist. The big one is his psychopathy though. He despises admitting that he has the diagnosis (in human au) and pretends like he's just like everyone else because deep down he's terrified of what he could be capable of with it. He doesn't want anyone to know he's a psychopath, so he has pretended so well not to be that sometimes even he forgets.

Someone or something they've had to leave behind or give up?

Alma: Alma had to give up on having a family that loved him and was stable. He always wanted one growing up, but in the end, Arda was the only one he could rely on. His brother was always distant and didn't care, his mother was equally distant and struggled to express any sort of love or affection, and his father was just chucked full of problems. In the end he gave up on ever having a functional family.

Errol: Errol has left behind a life of stability and luxuries such as a permanent home and many belongings in favor of being a bit of a nomad. His 'work' is dangerous and requires him to move around a lot, so he's learned to travel light with only a few personal items that he keeps. Everything else is left behind with each time he moves, which is every few months usually.

Worst thing they've had to do to survive?

Alma: Although he had to enure a lot to survive, he never had to do anything specifically bad to survive. Nothing that would compromise his morals anyways. (At least not yet.)

Errol: After burning his adoptive family's home to the ground (in human au), Errol stole all their money and ran. He's since become a hacker and a sex worker to earn money. He doesn't have any qualms about stealing electronically from people, especially the rich, and some would find his sex work to be morally wrong. He doesn't see anything wrong with it personally, but some would say it's bad. Errol would do anything to survive, even if it meant doing horrible things, and he wouldn't regret it or apologize for it.

Harshest thing anyone has ever said to them?

Alma: In his main verse, Alma has been told by his creators, both of them, that he is not a person. That he's less than human. But in his human verse, his father also told him that he doesn't matter, that his only worth is in what he can do for him, and if he won't obey, then he's useless and better off dead.

Errol: His sister has called him a monster countless times, telling him that he is crazy and deranged and fucked up in the head and a menace to society and a horrible person in general. She's said a lot of foul things to him and about him. That he can never care about anyone and is incapable of love, so how could anyone ever truly love him?

How often do they swear?

Alma: He very rarely swears, if at all. The only time he does is if there is something truly wrong and he's extremely upset, or if he's drunk, which is also extremely rare.

Errol: Oh, he'll swear left and right, no problem. He has no qualms about profanity and certainly wouldn't clutch his pearls at it like Alma does.

Have they ever killed someone? If so, would they kill again?

Alma: No, he's never killed anyone. I do think that he is capable of killing though, if he thought it was necessary to protect someone. Though, it would devastate him to do so. However, there's also the possibility that if he's corrupted enough he would be swayed to kill someone out of anger, but it would take a lot of time to get him to that point. It's not in his nature, he would have to be corrupted.

Errol: Yes, he's killed and he would do it again in a heartbeat if it benefited him in any way. He knows how to cover his tracks as well. He's not stupid. He doesn't kill needlessly, only if he feels he can get away with it and it's someone that deserves it. However, his definition of someone that deserves it may be different than some other's.

[ednaodfsw2024]

Poetry: "Character of the Happy Warrior"

Module 6: Poetic License

"Character of the Happy Warrior " by William Wordsworth

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? —It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought: Whose high endeavors are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright; Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, But makes his moral being his prime care; Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain; In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human nature's highest dower: Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives: By objects, which might force the soul to abate Her feeling, rendered more compassionate; Is placable—because occasions rise So often that demand such sacrifice; More skillful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, As more exposed to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. —'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, And what in quality or act is best Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, He labors good on good to fix, and owes To virtue every triumph that he knows: —Who, if he rise to station of command, Rises by open means; and there will stand On honorable terms, or else retire, And in himself possess his own desire; Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; And therefore, does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all: Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a Lover; and attired With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired; And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; Or if an unexpected call succeed, Come when it will, is equal to the need: —He who, though thus endued as with a sense And faculty for storm and turbulence, Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes; Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be, Are at his heart; and such fidelity It is his darling passion to approve; More brave for this, that he hath much to love:— 'Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high, Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye, Or left unthought-of in obscurity, — Who, with a toward or untoward lot, Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not— Plays, in the many games of life, that one Where what he most doth value must be won: Whom neither shape or danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that former worth stands fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, From well to better, daily self-surpast: Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth Forever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame, And leave a dead unprofitable name— Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause: This is the happy Warrior; this is he That every man in arms should wish to be.

POEM EXPLORATION

The poem "Character of the Happy Warrior" portrays an ideal individual who perseveres and gracefully faces difficulties. The poem presents a brave, compassionate, inspirational, moral image, alluding to a combat hero. The poetry is eighty-five lines long in one paragraph. There is a simple rhyme scheme in the lines. The poet presents discrete thoughts within each line of poetry. It is a conventional poetic form frequently employed in narrative and epic poetry. It is composed of iambic pentameter rhymed lines. The poem's block or strophic form highlights its rhythm and melodic quality.

The poet employs several literary devices to give the poem a sense of rhythm and organization. The poem employs a heroic couplet, with beat sets in each line. Lines in the poetry structure all have the same length and rhyme pattern. The poem uses the poetic devices of denotation, theme, and assonance. Every line ends with a repetition of assonant vowels. A few instances of vowel sounds at the end of a phrase include "wrought," "brought," "thought," "light," "bright," "discern," and "learn." It also has lyrics to express the character's feelings and thoughts, such as "pain," "fear," "compassion," "suffering," and "distress." The book's central theme is what it means to live a virtuous life. It also presents a metaphor for political or military leaders.

The poet starts with a question, "Who is the happy warrior? Who is he that every man in arms should wish to be?" The happy warrior faces the challenges of everyday life with a generous Spirit. He aligns his actions with his goals as a young child. The contented warrior detects wisdom and works hard to better himself. His morality is his primary priority, and he keeps becoming better. The joyful warrior turns suffering, terror, bloodshed, and agony into beautiful gain. He gains the ability to convert hardship into opportunity. The fighter wields authority. The warrior suppresses evil influence while using his power to uphold righteousness.

In the face of suffering, the joyful fighter is compassionate. The warrior is more concerned with others than with his personal feelings. Rather than concentrating on his feelings, the call to sacrifice causes him to show empathy for others. Being self-aware keeps him away from temptations. Being resilient increases his sensitivity to tenderness. He uses reason and the law as a compass, adhering to virtue over kindness to succeed. His victories are due to his virtue. He protects himself from wickedness and temptations. He has a solid foundation and gives his finest performance.

When he ascends to a position of authority, the happy warrior is transparent. He will hold his position for honorable terms or resign. He remains devoted to his goal and never conforms to material prosperity, honors, or worldly status. The happy warrior remains steadfast when faced with a terrible situation. Despite his adept handling of all situations, his goal is to experience "home-felt pleasures and gentle scenes." He never gives in to worldly positions, honors, or material wealth in favor of sticking to his goal. The joyful warrior looks ahead and is committed to achieving his goals, persevering through hardships until the end. So long as God is with him, he "finds comfort in himself and his cause." His greatest accomplishment is Heaven's approbation. Finally, the poet responds to his opening query: "This is the happy Warrior; this is the statement that every man in arms should wish to be."

The poem has a pleasing aesthetic since it features hopeful character imagery. The poem's main idea centers on living a virtuous life. It highlights the positive aspects of leading a faultless life and the human instinct to see the bright side of things. This poem is attractive in terms of ethical principles. That summarizes the relationship between a happy warrior and godly living. The warrior in the poem is described as joyful, giving, and with an optimistic viewpoint, much like an inner light. The joyful warrior turns suffering, terror, and bloodshed into beautiful gain despite everything happening to him. Strong emotions highlight how vivid the poem is. The poem inspires me to search within myself for similar qualities. The descriptions also inspire me to aim higher. It takes incredible resilience and skill to overcome adversity.

[orionsangel86]

So, if you don't mind, I was thinking about that asshole who was rude on your Thessaly post by insisting that Morpheus is meant to be a bad person. I'm curious if you could expand on why you think he's not. I keep going back and forth on my own rereads, especially since the Thessaly relationship and The Kindly Ones writing seem to try and push in a "he IS a bad person" direction. I can't tell if my arguments that "he's just flawed and mentally ill" are fangirl goggles or legit interpretation.

Hey! I don't mind. So when I first got that comment, initially I thought the response was genuine, because it's been a while since anyone has responded to one of my posts in a bad faith way. I frantically tried to wrap my brain around the idea that I had missed something somewhere and that I was supposed to view Morpheus as a "bad person" because even after The Kindly Ones that has never been my interpretation. I then realised the response was just a bad faith troll from an asshole and felt relief that I wasn't wrong.

But I suppose it's all up to interpretation.

The issue is really with what you consider makes a person inherently good or inherently bad. It reminds me of that line in Good Omens:

“It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Because I genuinely think this line has inspired a LOT of Neil Gaiman's characters, whether human or not.

I also get a bit wary nowadays when certain sections of fandoms start labelling characters, especially protagonists as "bad" because that causes a slipperly slope into accusations of "if you like this character YOU PERSONALLY are a BAD PERSON" (Example: OFMD fandom and the forever bizarre reaction to the character of Izzy Hands).

Dream is not bad. He is not good either. He is entirely neutral. He may occassionally do things that may be considered bad, depending on your perspective, but he also does a lot of good things as well. How do we weigh him on a scale of judgement? Are we to act as his judge and jury for every decision he makes in the comics? I suppose we could do, if we wished to, such is the fun of analysis, but I think the end result would again depend on the perspective and morals of the individual reader.

But I will at least give my own interpretation. I'm putting on my Anubis hat and weighing Dream's heart against my trusty feather. Let's see how he does. Under a cut as its long.

I personally think that for a character to be labelled as "bad" their actions and motivations must cause harm, whether to individuals or larger groups, without them showing any care or concern for those they hurt, in their pursuit to achieve their goals.

For example, Lucifer in The Sandman is still a "bad" character even though there is a LOT of "Sympathy for the Devil" type of perspective in The Sandman. Ultimately Lucifer is still selfishly motivated. He doesn't care about the souls or creatures that reside in Hell, and he certainly doesn't care about humanity. When he kicks everyone out of Hell in Season of Mists it causes havoc on Earth, and leads to the death of at least one child that we know of. It is implied that he does far more damage than is explicitly shown.

Thessaly, as previously mentioned, is definitely a bad character. She is entirely motivated by her own selfishness. She doesn't give a shit who she hurts, or the damage she causes in her persuit for revenge in Game of You. She is cruel and malicious and yes, also a TERF. She does not show any empathy or consideration for any character at any point, and honestly, even her little speech in The Wake comes across as crocodile tears.

Desire is a more complex character but still falls on the "bad" side of the scale because Desire also shows very little regard for others when playing their games or implementing their schemes. Desire is going to do whatever they want regardless of who might get hurt because like Thessaly, Desire doesn't give a fuck about your feelings. Desire is cruel. This is stated textually. Desire's motivations are also usually selfish. The only time I found Desire remotely redeemable was in Overture. Desire saved the universe. Though it is made clear that the only reason they saved the universe was because they wanted to keep living in it. It's worth noting that even though Desire is very much "bad" I absolutely adore them and consider them one of my favourite Sandman characters.

Now to Dream. Unlike the above mentioned characters, Dream's motivations are rarely selfish. Even in The Kindly Ones, I believe even if you interpret the whole thing as Dream's own elaborate suicide plan (which is only one limited interpretation) I don't believe he ever meant for as many people to get hurt as they did, it's just that he found himself in an impossible situation where things escalated to a point of no return. Also, since most casualties were Dream's creations, arguably he probably assumed that either he, or his successor, would simply recreate them once the situation was back under control.

Dream is a lawful neutral character. He has his rules and he must abide by them because "I contain the entire collective unconscious, without my rules it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed." (I know this is Netflix!Dream talking but I'm still gonna use it cos its such a good line).

The big difference between Dream and the above characters, is simple. Dream cares. He cares about everyone. He cares about literally everyone - the entire collective unconscious of the universe and he is so bursting to the brim with care and love for them that he is buckling under the weight of all that care. It is what is destroying him and it is WHY he is so depressed and so susceptable to making bad decisions on a small scale.

Every motivation of Dream's is for the greater good. When he sees what John Dee did with his ruby, he is almost crippled by the guilt of it. He blames himself for giving the ruby so much power that it could corrupt a mortal that much. He is easily swayed by Constantine to give Rachel a peaceful death, even though at first he doesn't think about it, it's not like he laughs it off and walks away - like any of the above mentioned characters would do. He listens to Constantine and agrees to show that compassion.

When he realises he once again has to kill a Vortex - something that is part of his duty as Dream of the Endless, something that is very much carved in stone as one of his rules, he still hesitates, even though he knew what happened last time and all the pain he suffered because of it. A fundamentally bad character who does not care would not have hesitated in killing Rose Walker.

In Brief Lives, whilst his initial motivations were selfish, he realised that his trip with Delirium to find Destruction was causing harm to others. When he realised that people were dying because of their quest, he put an end to it. He hurt Delirium in doing so, unintentionally, but his reasons for stopping weren't because he was bored, or because he had given up on finding Thessaly, it was because people were getting hurt and he didn't want to be responsible for that anymore.

When you look at Dream's actions on a wider scale, he is a good character. It is only on a more personal level that his flaws start to show through.

Where Dream's behaviour gets bad, it is usually because he has been hurt, and when he is hurt, he acts like a petty child throwing a tantrum. It is when his cruel side comes out, and its when he is most like Desire.

Nada is the most obvious casualty of this side of Dream. She rejected him, he threw a tantrum, and condemned her to Hell for hurting him.

Calliope tells Dream that she believed the "old you would have left me here to rot." We don't know how true this is, even in the comics, but the idea that there once was a version of Dream who might have discovered his ex wife was being frequently raped and abused whilst imprisoned and bound to evil mortal men and refused to help her simply because she left him is horrifying, but as I said, we don't know if it is or ever was true.

Ultimately, on the small scale, all it takes is for someone to tell Dream that he is in the wrong for him to relent and accept his misgivings. Constantine called him out on Rachel, so he did what he was asked to do. Calliope didn't even HAVE to ask for him to free her in the comics, he just showed up and saved her without question. When Death told him what he did to Nada was "shitty", he immediately put plans in place to make it right, even though doing so was risky and put him and the Dreaming in danger.

Even the situation with Orpheus, whilst seemingly harsh on Dream's side, his son told him to his face "you are no longer my father" and so Dream, hurt and with wounded pride, walked away from his son and refused to look back - but he still arranged for the priests to take care of him.

His choice of Thessaly as a lover is messed up, but he was messed up at the time. My view as mentioned in my previous post is that she was a rebound. They make it clear in the comic that he never approved of her murderous ways (and I have no doubt that he would also dissaprove of her transphobia, even if not mentioned explicitly).

In The Kindly Ones I don't view the situation as Dream being a bad person. I view it as everyone else being bad. Dream is caught in a huge cloud of depression and shitty circumstance and he is unable to free himself from that situation, and even when others can sense his desperation and pain, no one actually helps him. Dream's biggest flaw in The Kindly Ones, in my opinion, is not asking for help.

Because he is prideful, because even after all he has been through, he could not shake off that pride. It went full circle, he was back in his glass cage refusing to ask for help. Only this time, the glass cage was his realm, his subjects, his role as Dream of the Endless, and he could not change himself enough to free himself without making the drastic worst case decision.

My hatred of The Kindly Ones as a story, is not because I think it does a disservice to Dream, but because it does a disservice to every other character involved. By the end of that particular story, I hated every character who WASN'T Dream. Because I desperately wanted one of them, ANY of them, to actually help him. To see past his stubborn pride and hold him in their arms and shake him until he saw sense. Because the message in that story seemed to me to be that people are inherently selfish and so wrapped up in their own lives that they won't help you when you need it most. That there isn't even a point in asking for help. So what's the point?

But then I am fully aware that my feelings are complicated and partly projecting onto the characters and the story and well, that's all not really relevant to the point of this post except to ask you all to take my opinion with a grain of salt.

So back to your original question. I don't think Dream is a bad person. He is flawed, he is a character who when pushed to the limit will do drastic stupid things, but then wouldn't we all if pushed to our absolute limit? He is extremely depressed and buckling under the weight of the collective unconscious. All that unchecked emotion carried within him, and it is literally killing him.

So when weighing his heart against the feather of judgement, I think I can forgive him some bad behaviour towards some ex lovers in the grand scheme of all he has done. As flawed characters go, he's hardly the worst, and the feather is still heavier than his heart.

[slow-burn-sally]

Ok, yeah, so I think I'm autistic, and through studying up on autism traits, I've started looking at the world around me very differently. Which in turn, led me to reevaluate why I like my favorite characters, and so here's a list of my favorite characters that I believe are autistic, and why. This is just my interpretation, and my headcanons, so please don't assume I'm trying to state this as unassailable fact.

ps. I'll totally do an ADHD version of this next.

1 - My precious bean, Thomas Jopson - The Terror AMC

I mean, just look at him. He's so well organized and dedicated to his job. He's riddled with childhood trauma, and this results in him doubling down and trying really really hard to keep history from repeating itself (losing a parental figure or someone deeply important to him to illness and death). He only really makes eye contact comfortably with Crozier, and he's very single minded. Being a steward is his special interest, and he is EXTREMELY INTO IT. He's uncomfortable talking about himself, and once his order and routines are taken away, he pretty much goes off the deep end. My poor bean. Very autistic.

2 - Gilbert Norrell - Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

Probably the most cut and dry example of an autistic character in entertainment media history. He loathes socializing, hates parties, and just wants to be left alone with his books and his magic (his special interests). He's also ace, so he finds most human beings, with their obsession with sex, and their need to gather and talk loudly together, completely incomprehensible. He's always felt like an alien, and a loner, and struggles to make social connections. When he does, he hangs onto them (namely Childermass). My grumpy, socially inept baby. Ily Gilly, and now I know why I identify so strongly with you.

3 - Sherlock Holmes - All Media Types (but for the purposes of this post, I'll focus on BBC Sherlock).

I almost don't have to say anything else. The whole fandom knows this bad boy is neurodivergent. He's got insane sensory issues, will disappear into his special interests (criminology and deduction) until he literally keels over from lack of food and sleep. He's socially inept, blunt, uncomfortable with touch, and doesn't like anyone but Mrs. Hudson, John, and Detective Inspector Gary Lestrade. He's probably a virgin, and could be ace, depending on how you see him, but as I've written a lot of Johnlock smut, I don't see him that way all the time. He's incredibly intelligent, and knows a lot about the world, but with strange gaps in his knowledge that can only be explained by not at all being able to drag his focus away from his special interests to learn things like basic astronomy, or what to say to people at a party.

4 - Tintin - The Adventures Of Tintin

This boy is very autistic to me. I'm not honestly sure why I feel this about Tintin. Based on the 2011 movie, which I'm the most familiar with, he seems both driven, goal oriented, and socially naive. He stumbles into danger by not reading the situation, and he lives alone with his dog. His best friend is a hyperactive-type ADHD alcoholic, and he strikes me as queer and autistic. If you feel the same way, let me know what you think.

5 - Fitzwilliam Darcey - Pride and Prejudice

I saw this hc in a recent youtube video by Yo Samdy Sam, and I cannot unsee it. Look at this autistic boy. He's grumpy, anti-social, and really into reading, but he also cares deeply about his loved ones, and strives to do what's morally right. He is so socially unaware, that he can't understand why Elizabeth would have rejected his proposal, even though he just totally ripped on her whole family. To be fair, Elizabeth's family are an autistic person's nightmare. All the wild cackling and gossiping, and obsession with who's marrying whom. Four sisters in law, two of whom are inordinately obsessed with ribbons and giggling, and only one of which is also autistic (*cough*Mary*cough*)

6. Bunty Windermere - Father Brown

She has zero filter, and often does not understand why the things she says are hurtful or inappropriate. She's obsessed with fashion, and she's got a keen mind. She could sit around in some posh mansion somewhere, but she chooses to spend all her time with an old priest, and a grumpy church lady, solving crimes and putting herself in danger. She likes fast cars, (and can get under the hood to fix them too) handsome men, and really cute handbags, but is also perpetually single. She doesn't fit in in the world of cocktail parties and society events that surround her, because she's just too blunt, and bucks convention by being independent, unmarried, and slutty).

8. I know this is turning out to be a list of grumpy introverts, and I don't want it to seem like that's all there is to autism, but JUST LOOK AT THIS AUTISTIC BOY - Hermann Gottlieb - Pacific Rim

Hermann is pretty classically autistic. Obsessed with math and numbers. Needs order to feel safe. Is very frustrated with other people's messy, inexact opinions. He only really warms up and comes out of his shell when he falls head over heels for his ADHD-as-fuck cannon boyfriend Newton Geiszler.

9. Last but not least (for this list anyway) DI Richard Poole - Death In Paradise.

Another clear cut case. Tons of sensory issues to light, heat and crowds. Everything must be in its own special place. He's rumored to have never had a girlfriend, and can't understand people's obsession with frivolous things like friendly greetings, small talk, or anything that's not crime solving. He falls madly in love with Camille Bordey, and pretty much flubs any chance he has with her, before dying because he's bad at facial recognition. I love you so much Richard. Never change.

Again, just my opinions. This is helping me figure out my own internal world. There are definitely more than one way to read these characters, but to me, they feel autistic.

[lesbianyosano]

what do you think bsd is trying to say about war? do you have any other thoughts about political themes present in the story?

oh i have,,, thoughts,, for sure. also these are more loose threads that have been floating around in my head more than a concrete thesis so sorry if they dont make much sense as a whole

one thing i think is crucial to discussing bsd as a political story is to look at which countries' authors asagiri choses to include in the story.

obviously the main cast is japanese, but the other prominent characters come from usa and russia, and if you also take in characters from the light novels or ones, who have been foreshadowed to be important (like agatha), france and the uk come to mind. those are all states with imperialist past/present, and while there are none morally pure countries this specific selection is still pretty intense all things considered. many of the authors included in bsd were also involved politically one way or another (most had been active during the first half of the 20th century, and wrote about war one way or another)

the imperialism isnt really touched upon, unfortunately so, but ( and maybe this is just me being hopeful) i like to think its less about asagiri not seeing it and more about him not wanting to open another sensitive topic in an already complicated work of fiction.

ultimately i'd say bsd is anti-war. that's the most prevailing political theme, and one that has been slowly revealing itself and becoming more prominent the further we go into the story. worth noting is how elements that could've (and maybe should have) been shown as explicitly political avoided this framing in earlier parts of the story (fukuzawa's old profession, kunikida's ideals), but ig there's still time for that. the anti-war sentiment ties back to a lot of the works that the abilities are named after, esp in the agency. no longer human, thou shalt not die, the makioka sisters (tanizaki's light snow) are all prime examples (and kunikida's ability could technically be put under this too depending on how you look at it, since his war journalism is what made him a prominent literary figure). even if some of the authors had some questionable opinion's irl, the parts that asagiri choses to include always come back to the horrors of war.

decay of angels is another thing, given it's named after mishima's last novel, one that he left to his publisher on the same day he started a coup trying to restore the emperor of japan and commited seppuku. there was a theory i saw a while back that said bram wasnt actually a doa member, and the 5th person is yet to be revealed, and it'd be really interesting if we got mishima in bsd but he's still to this day a pretty polarizing figure (understandably so) and im not sure if asagiri would want to take that step, since it'd be a point of no return in terms of explicit politics in the story. and he's been pretty timid with that i mean look at the way he handles police brutality (cops in yokohama being portrayed as incompetent yet ultimately good people, jouno going from prime example of someone knowingly abusing their power to apparently caring abt the innocents, and this is obv a different, more complicated topic so uhh idk maybe ill talk abt it some other time adgsfgagd). idk it just seems like he's afraid to really push the ideas forwards, keeps them palatable to the general public although idk if this is a concious choice or not. im willing to give asagiri the benefit of the doubt bc of how he handles fukuchi though. people hate him bc??? idk he's not a twink and he killed someone ig but personally i adore him, goofy aah guy imo. it'd be easy to write him off as just an autoritarian crazy guy who wants to take control of the world for unspecified "greater good" but the arguments he makes are generally pretty compelling! and not just to readers, we see atsushi questioning the way world works and government's role after listening to fukuchi explain himself. its fukuchi's methods that are questionable not the ultimate goal of state abolition. and we still dont really know what his ultimate reason for doing all this is, just that he claims it's not revenge on fukuzawa, so im curious how this is going to get handled.

and the last thing is the brief anticapitalism theme in the guild arc but again, its like asagiri gave up on it before it became too prominent. fitzgerald is the ultimate capitalist and we see this esp in relation to steinbeck, whose dislikes list finansists in the enligh translation and capitalists in the polish one (no idea what is listed in japanese exactly). but fitzgerald is ultimately sort of redemed, with his (and poe's) wealth treated as a gag rather than a human rights violation

those are all the things that have been ping ponging around in my head and i hope this is in any way at least a little bit understandable. there are some things here that deserve a post of their own but id have to reread at least the last few arcs to talk about them in depth.

[honeyabyss]

When Mc gets sick

Lucifer:

will scold the hell out of you

"didn't I tell you to take care of yourself?"

you can have only a slight cold and he will insist on you staying in bed for the rest of the week

humans are weak and die easily, and you're apparently stupid on top of that for getting sick even after his warning

will constantly sigh, scold and act like it's a huge nuisance taking care of you

says he doesn't care

actually cares a lot

keeps his brothers away from you, so you have peace and silence to recover

if your condition worsens he will grow panicked, he doesn't want to lose you!

will take you to a human world doctor so you can get the right treatment

after your recovery, he will be so paranoid and overprotective for the first few weeks, will wrap you up in blankets, constantly makes sure you drink and eat enough, will put his coat over your shoulders if he even just gets the idea you might find it cold

Mammon:

"that's your own fault!"

someone like the great Mammon would never get sick

leaves the room only to come back half an hour later panting and packed with bags full of medicine and other stuff you might need

he didn't know what you need so he got one of all

there isn't the right thing among it? oh well no worries he'll get you whatever you say

after all he cares a lot for his human, even though he denies it

he will keep you company and try to distract you from your pain through telling you about his new money making schemes, or try to get you to laugh through telling you about stories where he failed and received Lucifers punishment

he doesn't like that you  have to go through this so he tries to help you however he can

if you'll ask for some quiet time, he will struggle, it's not like he doesn't want you to have some rest to recover, it's just he is so worried and confused, he feels more at ease when you talk to him or laugh about his stories, if you answer that is prove you're still alive and breathing

once you've recovered everything goes back to normal, Mammon will be confident in his ability to take care of you...for now that is, it's probably diffrent once you're actually sick again

Leviathan:

stupid normie! An otaku like him doesn't get sick, because he never leaves his room and avoids interactions with others

he, of course, secretly cares though

"Mc? I brought you these anime that we can watch together to pass the time"

"oh and in case you want to rather read something in silence, I brought you some manga recommendations, but please don't sneeze all over them..."

does the online RAD lessons with you as he stays at home almost everyday anyway, so he can show you how they work and help you

he will awkwardly sit next to you on the bed, trying to keep a small distance between the two of you A) because he is shy and nervous and B) because he can't get sick, he would miss all his in-game raids

will ask if you want to play games as well, but soon realizes that you two won't be making much progress with your current reaction time, so he chooses an easy and fun game for you

he wouldn't admit it but he might have set the game to the easiest settings and he himself plays slower for you

he is actually kind of disappointed when you recover so quick, he will miss you now that you visit RAD again instead of doing the online lessons with him, but he is glad you're feeling better again...maybe you could stay home more often with him though?

Satan:

he will buy and read every single human medicine book so he can find the best solution to your illness

will obviously read them in your room, because he can't leave you alone in this state

makes sure to keep you warm and makes you herbal tea depending on your symptoms

will skip school in favour for your well-being, especially keeps this behaviour up when Lucifer gets mad about it

will yell at everyone who dares to try and enter your room while your still sick, how dare they disturb your rest

will get embarassed about yelling and actually being the disturbance to you himself, will apologize and leave your room to keep reading somewhere else, still checks up on you occasionally and brings you light novels to read so you don't get bored

will come in stumbling into your room with the perfect medicine to cure you, only to find that you're already feeling better

gets embarassed yet again, but says it was worth reading all these books as he can now react faster the next time you get sick

will keep a check on your health and make sure you're always taking care of yourself

Asmodeus:

keep your snotty face away from him, but also come cuddle

he is very conflicted, because getting sick is not good for his skin, but he also wants to make you feel better with his hugs

will wear a mask so he doesn't get infected that easily

Asmo doesn't know much about medicine but he knows that certain herbs are good for your health, so he'll make you a nice herbal bath to boost your healing

also will take over your skin care routine and adjust it while your sick so your skin doesn't get worse, says he will only buy a refreshing face mask, comes back with more stuff though... I mean what did you expect from him?

will stay in bed with you and constantly cuddle so you don't feel lonely

he will most definetly whine if you ask him for some space or alone time, but does comply...fo at most half an hour, look this is hard on him too! His darling is sick and he can't do anything but be a moral support for you

if you thought he stops to cling to you once you've recovered, then you're mistaken, he will give you so many kisses and hugs having missed being able to do that

Beelzebub:

"Will food make you feel better?"

"You don't feel like eating?"

the poor boy is so confused, you're going to die if you don't eat! He will ask Satan what humans need when they're sick

will make yoou the perfect meal based on your symptoms, he'll even hold back on eating from it

he has a huge smile on his face while he watches you eat what he prepared, he is so proud that you like what he made you

eat as much as you can, Beel will eat everything you can't, all this boy wants for you to eat at least a bit so you have enough strength to recover

you get cold? cuddle time!

there is no way Beel will leave your side for as long as you're sick, he'll hold you close and share all his warmth and food with you

is so happy when you're better again. Will celebrate it with inviting you to a restaurant

Belphegor:

being sick is like being sleepy right?

he will just go back to sleep next to you as if nothing happend

wakes up because of your coughs and pretends to be annoyed, but is actually worried

will leave the comfort of the bed to get you some medicine, before wrapping you up into a blanket burrito and cuddling into you

don't expect to be getting up any time soon, he wants to sleep...you better not have to go to the bathroom

sleeping is best medicine but Belphie takes this a bit to literally, you two will almost only sleep

once you're better he will still want to sleep using you as a pillow, good luck getting out of that situation

Diavolo:

"Are you dying Mc?"

"Barbatos turn back the time before Mc got sick! -Wait you're going to be okay?"

Don't scare him like that! He is always ready to save you from death!

He will let you live at the castle for the time being and appoints the best doctor to take care of you, because he still isn't completly convinced you're going to make it

Does his work in your room, so he can keep a check on you

will not do much work much to Barbatos dismay, Dia is just so worried about you and will constantly ask if you need anything

his breaks consist of hugging you gently and drinking some tea with you

he will literally cry and almost crush you in his hug, when you're finally healthy again. This man was so anxious about losing you, even thugh he could've commanded Barb to just turn back time

Barbatos:

*smiles*

he knew you were going to get sick, so he's prepared

knocks on your door in the house of lamentation, before you're even able to tell anyone that you're sick

made himself a very strict schedule for everything so he can help you and still attend to his duties as a butler

gives the brothers various tasks so they can indivdually take care of you in the time he isn't able to be there for you

he will get back to you in the evening after having finished all his work for the day

will make you a light dinner and sit next to your bed

stays with you until you fall asleep stroking you hair and holding one of your hands, when you wake up the next morning Barb await you with a small breakfast, if he stayed over night or left and came back in the morning will stay a secret of his

is relieved and at the same time sad when you've recovered, will miss coming over and seeing you, maybe you can return the favor and visit him at the castle sometimes...

Solomon:

is a human so he knows what to do...

but magic is quicker!

he tries to heal you with a spell, but he just end up making it worse

"Oh no Mc I'm so sorry! Let me make it up by taking care of you!"

undefined matter soup a la Solomon, "eat this", he said, "You'll feel better", he said ...you don't feel better...

the brothers will get so angry and throw him out of the house, he is only allowed to come back once you've recovered, actually scratch that he's not setting foot anywhere near you again if it were for the demons

but Solomon finds his way into your room through your window...will stay over the night, cuddling you and constantly apologizing

will laugh about the whole ordeal once you've recovered

Simeon:

he is so calm, like yeah? Humans get sick, but they recover soon if taking care of correctly

Simeon is just the best!

he knows the right food to make for you, will give you the best medicine and make sure you're taking it at the right time

will make sure you're always comfortable

bored?  "let me get you a book!"

tired?  "let me fluff your pillow so you can sleep better!"

he will sit next to you the whole time looking so calm and confident

he will pray for you to get better quick so you don't have to suffer too long

promises you to take care of you again if you get sick in the future, this man just wants to be there for you

Luke:

"Are you dying Mc?" Version 2.0

no seriously are you? Will you become an  angel? We can live together in the celestial realm and bake desserts for Micheal!

Mc why are you so angry? No you misunderstood I don't actually want you to die!

Is so sorry he couldn't protect you from getting sick, he will feel so helpless

Simeon and you will cheer him up and tell him there wasn't anything he could have done to prevent it

Luke will bake you light desserts so you can eat some sweets while recovering

will visit you daily with Simeon after school and tell you about the day

crushes you in a big hug once you're healthy again

[kleinstar]

Plotter

been planning on doing since like ...... before last event started which is the main reason i originally postponed this, another is just that brain empty

but yeaaah the usual stuff: if you like this i have a permission to bother you (if i manage whelp im on some social recline lately) in DMs or wherever etc, also i can send you meems as well as bother you during events for some plotting...

as for what relationships i have to offer .... under cut, we can even go pre-estabsh if you like and stufffs (idk when ill contact)

FRIENDS / REALLY GOOD FRIENDS / SMTH ELSE ALONG THE LINES - is what it sounds! eiden's not a hard guy to befriend he's happy to bother you (to the point of nuisance? depends a bit...) He's happy to offer advice, happy to support even total strangers... really he's a guy that loves to do stuff for people from the bottom of his heart! this is true even if your character's a little on questionable moral side (like at reasonable amounts, depends whether you want to keep it lighthearted or not).... he's not a TOTAL pushover but he's also very much a people pleaser -- on the flipside he CAN in fact be a menace himself! Lighthearted pranks and all (he feels bad if he goes too far lol)... - generally though they'll just do with what friends would do !

BUSINESS ASSOCIATES - idk like whatever stuff business you would have with adult toy store but lol well you can always just be material supplier etc. but anything else goes too

COWORKER - he's got adult toy business (eidensspot is the url im too lazy to link) and well, he'd be your boss?

SOME SMALLTIME GIG THING? - you manage to get eiden roped into any job you can think of

FOES?? / ANTAGONISTIC ?? - its less that he would just trust anyone but more just... due to wanting to see things from all sides eiden might give people a little too much leeway sometimes so it can make him easy to screw over (but he wont give people endless chances either tho lol). it takes A Lot from him to dislike person but like if you treat him like dirt he'll have some problems lmaoo. guiltrip, gaslight, manipulate.... whatever works.

IT'S COMPLICATED/LETS TAKE SOME TIME - maybe you just start a little bad and so they have to make some real effort for them to understand each other? eiden might be willing to work it out with even more difficult people. He's very like to try to seek compromises and so on but there's just something that doesn't sit right with either of them... Maybe they just end up kind of arguing when they meet, etc.... things like that. this can be kind of on antagonisic side too ? but for some reason there is this will to work whatever this is out!

MENTORS/CONFIDANTS - Eiden is yours or you're eiden's! In whatever? Eiden's usually pretty put together but it'd be fun to have those people that will kind of challenge him sometimes too, in ...whatever? (ofc friends can be this too lmao but yknow like primary purpose...thing? idk how to put this) Take that more serious side out of him sometimes!

YOU KNOW SOMEONE HE KNOWS AND SOMETHINGS UP or uh something like that? maybe nothings up at all - like... self explanatory? common ground i guess! eiden's great mediator too if needed (tho you can also accidentally end up relying him too much if you like???? or something like that) and so on, self-explanatory enough

SPICY - i cant believe i almost forgot this, we can have it be pre-estabsh or not?

SOMETHING ELSE??? - not here? tell me! maybe its a mix of things ?

[stillness-in-green]

Why Deku's ultimatum to Overhaul is bad and he should feel bad

This is a bit outside my normal character wheelhouse, but I really need to get a rant about it off my chest, so here goes:

The Deku and Overhaul scene in Chapter 316 is terrible. It is fucking terrible.

I took a whirl around Overhaul's tag up through when the leaks first started dropping, but didn't immediately see anyone talking about why it's so fucking terrible, only concerns about letting Overhaul see Eri (understandable, but baseless, I think), some empathy towards Overhaul's current state (totally warranted!), some snark about Deku being So Done with Overhaul (haha because who cares about Deku's stated goal of trying to understand villains, right?), and, worst of all, some cooing about how Deku was being so compassionate and noble by offering Overhaul that olive branch.

Deku was not being compassionate and noble there. Deku was being arrogant, small-minded, and so shockingly cruel that it leaves me speechless that anyone could think his stunted and hard-hearted "offer" reflects well on him.

Deku's entire motivation in this arc has been wrestling with the realization that he might have been able to avoid some of the desperate battles of his past if he'd understood more about the villains he fought. He thought of three very specific people--Stain, Muscular, and Overhaul--as he reflected, "Maybe it wouldn't have had to go that way if I'd understood them better." He then thought of Gentle Criminal and La Brava, people who he’d come to some understanding of, who he’d been able to soften the conclusion of his battle with by going along with Gentle's fiction downplaying what had happened between them. The whole line of thought was intended to contextualize his newfound desire to save Shigaraki.

It soon became apparent that Stain, Muscular and Overhaul were, in fact, encounters that he would be revisiting, as a chance to see how he'd grown since he faced them, and as a dry-run on reaching out to villains that would give him a chance to practice ways he might reach out to Shigaraki when the time comes.

Well, based on his performance so far, the idea that Deku might be able to reach Shigaraki is laughable.

Firstly, his tentative questions to Muscular were ill-timed, all wrong for the middle of a battle. Muscular laughed him off, and I don’t think there’s any version of that scenario in which he would have done otherwise. Muscular was a huge threat, gleefully violent, disinterested in conversation about his history. Obviously, right in the middle of a fight was no kind of time to try to figure out what made the man tick! But Deku didn’t get the luxury of choosing the circumstances of that encounter, so yes, that battle probably was unavoidable, certainly if Deku wanted to stop him from doing further damage. But the idea that because Deku couldn't reach him right then and there, it's impossible for Deku--or, indeed, for anyone--to reach him at all is fallacious. Not every person has to be able to like or understand every other person. If Deku couldn't reach Muscular, so what? That doesn't mean it's impossible that someone might. And that means an obligation to treat Muscular like a human being, to afford him human rights, to not stop trying to find a way to rehabilitate him, even as you safeguard other people against him.

Deku's battle with Muscular being unavoidable was not some great triumph, for all that the narrative used it as an opportunity to let him show off how far he’d come in mastering One For All. In the way that matters, the way that Deku himself is currently trying to better, he hasn't advanced at all. Imasuji Goto represented his first test in the lead-up to saving Shigaraki, and Deku failed it.

His next trial was Overhaul.* Here, again, was someone who Deku was explicitly trying to understand. So what was the one thing that was most key to understanding Overhaul's current motivation? What was the one thing that Overhaul was ranting about out loud, incessantly? And what did Deku conspicuously fail to ask about? Overhaul's relationship with Pops.

This was so easy. So obvious. And Deku didn’t even try. All he could think about in the moment he was faced with that broken man was the little girl that man hurt--all thoughts of trying to understand where the man himself was coming from went right out the window, flown away in an instant. Instead of asking about why Overhaul feels the way he does, he demanded that Overhaul feel the way Deku wanted. He was essentially holding the only person Overhaul cared about hostage for the remorse he wanted Overhaul to feel.

I'm not going to try to armchair diagnose Overhaul with mental conditions. I don't have the educational background, and I'm positive Horikoshi doesn't. But it seems pretty clear that asking Overhaul to feel guilt about Eri was asking for something that he might not be capable of feeling, at least not without years of therapy that he was plainly not getting in Tartarus. And if Overhaul is not capable of feeling that guilt, then what does denying Overhaul his meeting actually solve? Who does it help? It doesn’t help Eri. Doesn’t help the old man. It certainly doesn’t help Overhaul himself. The only person who gets any satisfaction out of demanding remorse from Overhaul is Deku. And even Deku didn’t look like he found it very satisfying!

Another failure. A meaninglessly cruel, petty failure. A failure that served only to hurt a man who was already a live wire of agony, to sentence an old man to a coma he might never wake from without Overhaul's expertise, and to deprive Eri of the only actual family she had left.

And look, Pops might very well not be the ideal guardian for Eri, and I'm not saying he should get to "keep" her just because of the blood connection, but it's not like he cheerfully handed her over to Overhaul and walked out the door! He turned to Overhaul because he trusted Overhaul, because he wanted someone to help Eri and thought that maybe Overhaul could. And when Overhaul's thoughts about Eri took a very dark turn, Pops first denied his request about using her to further his research and then, when Overhaul kept pushing it, chose Eri over the kid he personally took in from the streets by telling Overhaul that he needed to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he couldn't muster any more respect for human life than that.

But, you know, Eri is so cute with Aizawa and stuff. And Pops was a criminal. Probably. Maybe? I mean, he was yakuza, anyway, so he obviously must have been a criminal even if the police never actually arrested him. Apparently, this means it's okay to just leave him in a coma forever! Even though Overhaul absolutely has enough medical expertise that letting him talk to a neurologist about what he did to Pops might enable them to figure out how to wake Pops up even without Overhaul being able to use his quirk to undo the damage. Hell, Overhaul is also the person alive who has the best handle on how Eri's quirk works. He might even know what her accumulation condition is. Maybe a better thing to ransom his access to Pops with would be Overhaul telling Aizawa everything he knows about Eri's quirk so Aizawa can use the knowledge to help her get a better handle on it.

But no. Obviously undoing some small part of the concrete harm Overhaul did was less important than how Deku felt about that harm.

And there's more! Oh, is there ever. I called Deku arrogant before; let me circle back to that.

Deku said that if Chisaki would feel the way Deku wanted him to feel, then Deku would uphold the promise to let Overhaul see Pops. But where in hell did Deku get off making that claim? Deku is a student. He's not a pro. He has no authority, medical, legal, carceral or otherwise. He has no say in where Overhaul goes or who he's allowed to see.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What kind of strings did Deku think he could pull that he could just casually make that claim without so much as going into a huddle with Hawks and Endeavor about it first? How inflated has this kid's sense of importance gotten that he made Overhaul that promise without even stopping to think about whether it was something he was in any position to ensure? It was such a bullshit ultimatum, not only because of how needlessly obstructive it was, but because it was so formless.

"If only you would feel a wish to apologize to Eri…" Okay, so what if Overhaul goes back to prison and, three days later, calls out to say, "Okay, I thought about it and I really feel like I want to apologize, now can I see Pops already?" Who gets to make that judgment call? Deku? Is he going to drop his faux-vigilante act and come visit Overhaul in prison just so he can squint at the man really hard to see if he's lying? Is Deku going to delegate the call to someone else? All Might? Hawks? A prison warden? A psychologist? Who? Who gets to be the one to say, "Okay, I think his remorse is genuine."

Then, once that call has been made, how many people have to arrange for Overhaul to be escorted out of prison and to whatever hospital Pops is in? Will Deku get to oversee that visit? Does he think he can overturn a warden declaring, "The scum doesn't deserve a visit, and the old man probably doesn't either," or a doctor protesting, "I'm not letting that man anywhere near my patient!"

The hell of it is, I think Deku could do all of that. He's got a close personal connection to All Might, who was basically a demi-god to this society for decades; he has the ear of the current top three heroes. Everyone is apparently convinced that the power to save this society rests solely in Deku's hands; I'm sure he could ask for anything he wanted. But the fact that that is the case suggests that this society is not even slightly turning away from its dependence on heroes dictating its morality. A hero having the sole right to dictate, out of hand, based on his personal feelings, the fate of people designated "villains" while the rest of society turns away is exactly what Shigaraki is angry about.

The only thing worse than Deku perpetuating the worst problems of hero society in an arc that's supposed to be about him finding a better way is that he didn’t even stop to think about it. It never even occurred to him that that was what he was doing. He thought that what he was asking of Chisaki was just and fair, and thus, he didn’t need to ask for any second opinions or permissions; he didn’t need to think about what would actually be feasible, about what was best for the people involved. He'd made his judgment call about a villain, and that's all there was to it. The villain could fall in line or--nothing. There isn't actually another choice. Hero's way or nothing

I hate it. I hate it. I don't care about whether Overhaul "deserves" to suffer; heroes making the cold decision that they will make him suffer is antithetical to everything a carceral system intended to rehabilitate prisoners stands for. And yes, Japan does at least claim on paper that the goal of incarceration in state hands is rehabilitation.

Restorative justice is superior to retributive justice. It's better for society and it's better for individuals. It is kinder, it is more compassionate. Retributive justice poisons people. It perpetuates suffering for no reason but moral grandstanding. Individuals are allowed to forgive or not forgive anyone they want, but a society should conduct itself with an eye to the long-term welfare of all of its people. That means that even the worst kinds of criminals still have human rights. It means not inflicting pain that serves no purpose.

I've gotten off-track here. Yes, I think that if Overhaul could feel regret about Eri, that would obviously be a positive development for his character. It'd hurt like hell, but it would be a hurt that indicated he was becoming a better person, a person who wanted to do more good, less ill, with his life and efforts. But you can't mandate that someone become a better person. No ultimatum handed down from on high is going to change Overhaul's heart. Telling someone, "I'll help you, but only if you only feel the way I want you to feel. Otherwise, you can just stay there and suffer," is not reaching out to help people who are suffering in the dark, which is, again, what Deku claimed he wanted to do, what he begged for Nagant's help in doing, the way he insisted to the vestiges that OFA should be used.

Deku writing people off because they don't conform to his expectations, because they can't be "good" the way he wants them to be, nor even "bad" in ways he can understand, is him failing to live up to his own expressed ideals. "I wish you'd feel bad about hurting people," wasn't enough to reach Muscular or Overhaul, and it damn well shouldn't be enough to reach Shigaraki.

Cruelty does not beget kindness. You cannot treat people with only callousness and severity, then condemn them for not taking the opportunity to grow. You have to give them opportunities to better themselves. For Overhaul, giving him an opportunity would be letting him help the man he wronged and then moving forward from there. Telling him to feel regret about Eri or else? That's doing nothing but sweeping his pain back under the rug.

---

*I have more or less exhausted my outrage over Lady Nagant in chats with friends, so I'll spare the rant on how disjointed, contradictory and ludicrous her turn was; the gist is "very, on all counts."

---

P.S. Anyone who says that Overhaul "has nothing left to live for" is being a level of ableist that defies description. Prosthetics exist. Assistive devices exist. Speech-to-text software exists. Overhaul is intelligent, driven and highly educated. Even if he never got prosthetics at all, there would still be things he could contribute to the world if he were motivated to do so. The better thing to do, though, would be to get the man some damn prosthetics, hook him up with the neurologist consulting on Pops' case, and let the two of them get on with the matter of waking up the old man.

P.P.S. Overhaul spent six months in solitary confinement. The United Nations considers solitary confinement exceeding 15 days to be a form of torture. Solitary confinement creates severe mental health issues and exacerbates existing ones. It frequently leads to a deadening of empathy, something Overhaul has in little enough amounts as it is. It is absurd to ask a man who's just come out of these conditions to "feel sorry for what you did to Eri," especially if you're planning to turn around and send him right back to solitary. Tartarus is inhuman, and the only reason more of the escapees aren't total wrecks like Overhaul is because Horikoshi clearly didn't bother to do the reading on the wide array of problems that those characters should be experiencing physically, mentally and socially.

[tenthgrove]

Hello, I just saw that you opened your request. I'm the one who ended up writing a whole prompt! Imagine this for each member from La Squadra: they had an one-night stand with a random woman, she accidentally got pregnant and decided to have the baby without telling them. After a while, the woman got ill and passed away, but not without before sending her child with their father (let's imagine she has the direction of their hideout even if it's ooc, or she knew where they hang out). So, one day someone knocks the door and introduces themselves as the kid of one of the members/if it's too young, someone left them on the door with a explainatory note... How do you think each member would react by discovering that they have a child and they're supposed to take care of them from now? You can make each kid with different ages if you want, it would be funny to see Prosciutto or Ghiaccio dealing with a rebellious teenage son or Risotto trying to take care of a toddler, but I guess not all of them would want to keep their children. Sorry if it's a lot, haha.

La Squadra did a Diavolo

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic/Familial, SFW

A/N: your idea about mixing up the ages got me thinking, and I ended up using randomisers for the children’s ages (though I did consciously change some of them) and genders. It added a fun bit of chance to this prompt.

Formaggio, with an 8 year old daughter

The whole thing feels surreal to him. There's a little girl on his doorstep calling herself his daughter and by all evidence, it's true. He doesn't really know how to feel about it at first. On one hand it's kind of cool he had a kid all this time and you're clearly a lovely girl, but on the other hand, what the fuck? Still, not being the practical sort, his sense of sentiment far outweighs any question of how he's actually going to look after a child, so without much deliberation, Formaggio agrees to let you stay.

Formaggio isn't too experienced with kids but he doesn't exactly dislike them either, so he figures he knows what to do. At your age you can at least do the basics of looking after yourself, so he isn't too worried. The only problem is that if you ask him to cook for you or help clean your room, his eyes go very wide. He never quite picked up those skills himself, he's afraid, so you're going to have to ask someone else for that one.

The good news is that Formaggio is a very easy-going, fun sort of dad, who is a natural at playing with you and lets you do what you want when he can't be around. He quickly gets used to showing affection to you, letting you cuddle up to him on the sofa in front of the squad and even carrying you around once in a while. He gives amazing piggy back rides.

The bad news (or more good news, depending on how you are) is that you have to leave school. Risotto says that at your age you can't be trusted not to tell anyone your new family is a bunch of assassins, and taking you to and from school each day would be too much of a hassle. Nonetheless, you're welcome to continue your education from home, though Formaggio will hardly push you if you don't keep up with it. Melone is much better on that front.

Despite the risk, Formaggio can't bring himself to force you to lose all your friends, so he lets you keep meeting with them. Furthermore, he knows a few guys in other squads who have kids about your age, so he's happy to introduce you to them if you want a friend you can be more honest about your home life with. Formaggio might not have a clue what he's doing, but he's doing pretty good.

Illuso, with a 3 year old daughter

He's been fearing this day would come for years. A small child knocking on the door of the hideout, holding a note in hand addressed to him, just as a shady looking car drives away. Yeah, Illuso remembers your mother pretty well and he remembers the distinct lack of precautions they took during their encounter. Now, the consequences of his actions are here at his house, and Risotto is currently standing in the doorway of the office looking ready to give him the biggest dressing-down of his life.

After his tongue-lashing, Illuso frantically agrees to take responsibility for what he's done and see to it that you're well cared for, and begins the task of looking for relatives who might take you. Unfortunately, none of your mother's family can be traced, and Illuso can't exactly call up his own right now. Leaving you on the door of an orphanage isn't an option because you're old enough to say where you've come from, so it looks like for the time being, Illuso is stuck with you.

Initially, Illuso is not thrilled. He pawns you off on Melone, Sorbet and Gelato whenever possible and tries to live his life as before. But increasingly, he can't help finding himself visiting your room whenever he's stressed or has had a bad mission. There's something so pure about gently stroking your hair as you sleep. He can't help but feel... attachment, as he rubs his thumb against your tiny palm.

From then on, Illuso starts to make a point of spending more time with you. You're at the age where you just want to touch and explore everything you're given, so letting you make a mess with his makeup and beauty creams is an easy way for him to observe and learn about you. He even starts doing the more practical things like washing and feeding you every so often.

Eventually, Illuso becomes an actual father to you. He loves you as a father should and puts his time into making you happy. Illuso is glad he didn't give you away, as you've opened his eyes to so many things. For the first time in many years, he feels human. He feels redeemable.

Prosciutto, with a 13 year old son

As you tell him your story Prosciutto racks his brains. He didn't have many one-night-stands in his youth but the ones he did have were so far back he barely remembers them, so your mother's name doesn't immediately ring any bells. If it weren't for the striking resemblance between you, Prosciutto probably would have thrown you out for a liar there and then. But as you are, it's clear you're being honest. He lets you in.

After a short interrogation by Risotto to make certain you aren't acting on behalf of some third party looking to infiltrate the squad, it's agreed you can stay, so long as you keep quiet about it to your friends. At your age you can largely look after yourself and all you really needed was a roof over your head, so there's no problem with you moving into the spare room as long as you stay out of the others' way.

Education isn't much of an issue either, since you're likely well settled in your current school and can get yourself there and back. Just whatever you do, don't go telling anyone you live with a bunch of gangsters now. Prosciutto means it, you could seriously put yourself in danger if you do that.

Much to your father's ire, you end up befriending several members of the squad, especially the younger ones like Melone, Ghiaccio and Pesci who have some generational overlap with how you were raised. Prosciutto would rather you didn't do this but at the end of the day, he can't really stop you. God forbid you call him an old boomer again.

Your relationship is overall positive- Prosciutto makes a point of taking you on outings when he has the time, and giving you parental advice when you need it. However that doesn't stop you from making fun of his stuffy, old habits, and playing the moral high ground in regards to his work.

On that note, the problem comes when you develop an interest in the squad's work. It's only inevitable, given how pervasive the topic is in conversations around the house, and the fact you're more than old enough to know what a gang is, but the day you first ask him about it is no less welcome. What's scary is that you're about the same age as Passione's youngest recruits and, well, if you ended up joining them because of him, Prosciutto might never forgive himself.

Pesci, with a 6 month old son

He knew it had been a mistake. Not long after his 18th birthday he'd given in to the squad's pestering about his virginity and finally gotten rid of it just to shut them up. Now he's ridden with guilt. Not only did the poor woman get pregnant because of him but now she's died. He can't help but wonder, the letter attached to the basket you came in was very vague after all, was your mother's death at all related to your birth? If so, Pesci doesn't know how he'll forgive himself.

Pesci immediately panics and stumbles into his Fra's bedroom crying louder than you are. Prosciutto remains calm, advising him to first make sure this actually is his baby through Melone, in case this is somebody trying to trick him, and to then think through his options rationally. As far as Prosciutto sees it, he has two. He can either see to it that you're taken in by a caring, reliable individual, or he can keep you for himself. Surprisingly, Prosciutto's actually okay with the second one, since in his eyes duty to one's family is absolute.

Pesci stammers a bit and asks if he can wait a few days to make his mind up, which Prosciutto permits. But it isn't long at all until Pesci is far too attached to you to ever let you go, and it becomes clear you'll be staying for the long-run. Risotto is hardly happy about this but agrees with Prosciutto's sentiment of family, so he doesn't try to insist you be sent away.

Pesci is an incredibly loving father. He'll dash from the other side of the house at a moment's notice if he hears you crying. That said, being so young himself it's inevitable he requires some help with raising you. Sorbet and Gelato chip in quite regularly, as does Melone when Pesci is desperate enough to fall on using him. Prosciutto helps out too, being your uncle, and occasionally you've even had Risotto answer your cries.

La Squadra can only hope their situation improves somehow in the coming years, since Pesci has no idea how he's going to deal with an older child in a house full of assassins. At very least, being so young it's a long time before he has to worry about things like school. For now, what's important is that you are loved very dearly. Pesci has discovered a new protective streak in himself, something he discovers every time he looks in your eyes.

Melone, with a 4 year old son

When you arrived you were frightened and confused. You struggled to babble out the story you were told to tell as the strange men crowded around you in the front room of the house. Then, a bizarre looking man with purple hair pushed to the front of the crowd, insisting he knew what to do in a situation like this. He carried you somewhere quiet, and gently asked you to repeat your story again. You told him you were looking for your father, Melone.

Melone is elated. He's always wanted a child, but getting into a relationship stable enough to produce one has never been an option with the life he lives. Now the happy accident he never new he had has come home to him! Carrying you back to the living room, Melone introduces you as his son and announces to the team that he will be keeping you.

This is met with some protest. Not only are you of the age where you'll need constant supervision, but quite frankly, nobody trusts Melone to take care of a kid. Melone refutes their accusations harshly, making it absolutely clear he will not be giving you up without a fight. Finally, Risotto surrenders, on the terms that if he catches any signs of abuse or neglect, he will see to it personally that you are re-homed elsewhere.

Melone's parenting style is relatively laid-back. He believes parents should be a 'safe base' from which children should explore the world, coming back when they need advice but ultimately following their own whims within reason. He encourages you to play as you wish and does not stop you from bonding with the rest of the squad. Finding supervision for you while he's on missions proves to be a non-issue, since his stand's massive range means he can often do most of a mission's work at home.

When the time comes to educate you, Melone decides against the risks of enrolling you in school. He is an amazing teacher and can teach you everything you'd need in half the hours of a typical curriculum. Beyond the essentials of literacy and simple maths, Melone largely encourages you to follow you own interests rather than stick to some boring, arbitrary list of useless things a normal curriculum for some reason expects you to learn.

That said, he knows the importance of making friends, so he frequently takes you out to meet with neighbourhood children. All-in-all, the squad is surprised at his sensible parenting choices, and the happy child you are turning out to be.

Ghiaccio, with a 2 year old son

It's almost comedic the lengths Ghiaccio goes to to avoid the problem. As the others crowd around you in Melone's lap, Ghiaccio cowers in the corner insisting that you absolutely cannot be his. It's very obvious you are, of course. You look almost exactly like him, and have a cry to match. You've even inherited the same, mild visual impairments that earned him his glasses. There's no getting away from the truth.

After accepting the truth, Ghiaccio takes you away to his room to 'clear his head' before deciding where to send you in the morning, but when morning comes, that deliberation time quickly turns into a few more days, then a month, then never. It's clear Ghiaccio's become attached to you, and he cannot bring himself to give you away.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have the foggiest clue in hell how to look after a toddler. He has a hard enough time understanding what it is adults want from him, let alone small children. There are times he even considers giving you away again, but they never last long enough for him to go through with it. Bit by bit, he slowly learns how to be a father.

Melone is his primary co-parent. As cautious as Ghiaccio is about letting him around his baby, it soon becomes clear Melone can understand your needs far better than he can. The pair have many sessions together teaching Ghiaccio how to do things like wash you or cook your food. It's honestly a massive help, and probably the main reason Ghiaccio doesn't completely melt down within a month of having you.

These issues aside, Ghiaccio is a person who is very genuine in his affections. He would break the shins of anyone who even looked at you threateningly, and every fibre of his being wants you to be happy. He even learns to control his temper, as he knows from experience just how damaging an angry parent can be for a child. He's going to give you a better childhood than what his parents gave him, and that's a promise.

Risotto, with a 6 year old daughter

Well, perhaps this ought to have been expected. In his early 20s Risotto was really far less careful than he ought to be in regards to his encounters, so he probably had this coming. You are at a difficult age, old enough to understand your father is a criminal but young enough to still need his care. If he takes you in, there will be many challenges. And yet he cannot bring himself to turn you away. Looking at you he feels... obligation.

In the early days he tries his best to shelter you. He keeps you in his room and tells the others not to talk to you. But that's no way for you to live, and he knows it. Eventually, he swallows his fears and lets you explore your new home, even taking you out to the park a few minutes each day so you can run around. He talks to Melone about continuing your education, and asks Sorbet and Gelato if they'd let the spare room next to them be turned into a bedroom for you. He's going to make sure he raises you right.

Risotto may be quiet and introverted, but do not mistake that for emotionally distant. He does not underestimate his vital role in your emotional well-being, and is quick to pick up on when you are feeling sad or lonely. He makes sure to pick you up in his arms and ask what's wrong when that happens.

Though he didn't know her well, he mourns your mother with you, and is very watchful for the signs of attachment issues that may result from losing a parent at such a tender age. Being all you have left, Risotto gains a new instinct of self-preservation. For the first time in years, his life has meaning.

In terms of bonding, he prefers calm activities that allow him to passively observe your interests, such as watching movies or reading you books. When he's working in his office and doesn't need his camera on, he's happy for you to sit in his lap as long as you're quiet. He would ask if you don't read what's on his screen, though, at least not while you're so young. He'll give you a better explanation of what he's doing some day, but not just yet.

Sorbet and Gelato, with a 12 year old daughter

First of all, let's make clear that regardless of which one is biologically your father, they both feel equal responsibility for you. No doubt they were both present for your conception anyway, so as far as they're concerned, if one of them has a secret kid from a hookup, they both have a secret kid from a hookup.

Having always wanted children, they are happy when you appear on the doorstep and introduce yourself as their daughter. Though they don't say it out loud to avoid upsetting you, they kind of wish your mum had kicked it sooner so they could have raised you from a younger age, but they're more than happy to make do with what they've got. There's no hesitation in welcoming you to live with them permanently, and anyone who has a problem with this isn't brave enough to say it.

Right from the get-go they are very permitting parents, awarding you a generous helping of their cash each week and having a rule list that pretty much starts and ends with "don't talk to the police." Despite your age they don't expect you to be independent, and are happy to cook for you and help you out with other things when you ask. It seems parenthood was made for them.

Despite all this, there is one problem in your relationship that is making things difficult. That of your fathers' work. You're 12 years old and you aren't stupid. You know they kill for a living and you know they enjoy it. When you stumble into the bathroom at 1am to find them covered in blood and laughing together, there's no making excuses. No matter how good they are with you, this is going to make you afraid of them.

Sorbet and Gelato are incredibly stringent in solving these early issues. After all these years they've finally got the family they wanted, and they aren't going to let it slip away from their own cruelty. They are honest with you about their occupation, since they want you to know you can trust them, and make absolutely clear it won't affect their care for you. You are welcome to ask questions and receive honest answers, but other than that Sorbet and Gelato will make a point of not accidentally causing you to witness something you shouldn't.

With them, you are welcome to continue your old life in terms of school and friends. They want to spend time with you, but they don't want to overtake your existence completely. When you are up for it, they are keen to take you on outings that interest you so you can spend time together as a family. They hope you know how happy you make them.

[datawyrms]

Ghostly Mystery Tour

For Phic Fight 2021! dey’s lovely prompt c:

On Ao3

Maddie and Jack had fully prepared for their adventure into the Ghost Zone—or so they thought. The fuel on Specter Speeder had fizzled out about a mile in. They're stuck. At least, until Phantom comes by, offering help.

“I just don’t understand it Maddie, I swear I charged it just this morning!” Jack’s voice managed to be louder than his frantic jabbing at the fuel gauge in the enclosed space, the sickly green glow outside making him look ill instead of agitated.

“I’m sure you did honey, but we need to think of a plan.” Maddie was already trying to think of what they could use. They weren’t too far away from the portal home, with how quickly the Speeder ran out of power. They had plenty of gear and weaponry packed in for their research trip, but the Specter Speeder wasn’t powered with something they could just toss in a gas can and bring along. “Maybe we can hook some of the ropes to the floating land masses and tow it?”

“Oh! Great idea!” Jack brightened, shoving the previous problem aside, hands now occupied with measuring the distance of the nearby rocks. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can get back to work!”

The problem about how safe it actually was to breathe in the air when in the realm of the dead had been accounted for, but if they had to waste the air tanks just to get back- well they wouldn’t get to have nearly the amount of time to actually explore on foot, let alone gathering samples. They could learn so much about the ectoplasmic terrors from the world they clawed out of, weaknesses they didn’t need to fear on Earth even! So to have their expedition, a trip that had been months in the making derailed like this in mere moments hurt. At least Jack could keep his eyes forward, his positive attitude the only thing keeping her from screaming from the absolute unfairness of it all. “Just run the best options past me before you open the hatch, okay darling?”

“You betcha!”

She was still going to enable the Fenton Child Safety Lock as a precaution, he could get a little over eager when he saw an opportunity. It was just a matter of what tools could be repurposed into a makeshift claw or skewer to actually keep hold of the rocks. What would be the smallest loss?

The sound of something hitting the roof of the speeder halted her thoughts, turning to look out of the windows, drawing up her hood in case they’d be fighting so soon. Even Jack had stopped with his mental calculations, pulling a weapon from under the seat. “Company already? Guess we’ll show em what for, eh honey?”

“Well it is the Ghost Zone, they’re probably braver here. Not that it’ll be any problem.” A little boasting could help keep morale up, even if the situation was less than ideal. Stranded with a ghost already trying to take advantage, typical.

“Well one little zap with this baby and it’ll scoot right on back!”

If the ghost could hear them, maybe it would be frightened off just by their voices. Whatever had hit them hadn’t shown itself near the window, or hit their vehicle again. It didn’t feel right. There might be no evidence for whatever it was lurking around, but sometimes you had to follow your intuition. Jack was inquisitive, but didn’t ask out loud as his wife stood to knock the ceiling herself.

“Sooo are we doing knock knock jokes, or do you need a tow?”

She should have known. Of all the ghosts, it would have to be the one that always managed to get her hackles up, pretending to be helpful so people trusted him. A ghost that even tried to have a human name to fit in, not that she’d ever call this thing ‘Danny’. It was an insult to her baby boy, quite frankly. “What are you up to now?”

“Asking you if you need this thing moved. Duh,” the ghost snorted, the metal clanking as he knocked it again. “Talking at you from the roof feels dumb, you gonna shoot if I go to the front?”

“Depends on what you do, ghost scum!” Jack had looked pensive for a moment, but spoke up quickly on spotting Maddie reaching for a notebook. He just had to give her time to think it over, and he was great at distractions.

“Is scum what you call all people who help you out, or am I just your favourite?” A white haired head appeared at the top of their window, looking down with an amused smirk at the pair. Still playing innocent when they were at a disadvantage.

“You’re a ghost ‘claiming’ to want to help.”

That earned a frown, though the ghost stopped half hiding to float in front of their stranded speeder. “Riiiight. Put it that way, whatever,” he paused, as if studying their faces. His green eyes lingered on the weapon, notably so even as he went back to jabbering. “I’ve got some stuff to do, but I can drag the s-that thing back to the portal. So?”

The hunters shared a glance, unsure how to handle it. Phantom liked to claim he liked humans and protecting them, but he was a ghost. There had to be something he wanted out of them in return. Or might get violent if refused in the wrong way. At least he shouldn’t be able to see the quickly scrawled message to Jack. ‘You play the doubtful one, I’ll pretend to trust him- it’ll underestimate us’

“As if, spooky! Jack Fenton doesn’t need any ghost’s help!”

The ghost bought the open hostility without a second thought, eyes rolling to a sky that wasn’t here. “Really? I heard tow trucks were expensive out of state! Can’t imagine the out of dimension costs.”

It was going to be difficult to stay civil when it would be so much easier to just demand the ghost stop playing around. “We’re listening. So what do you want?”

“Awwww Mads, we don’t need this punk’s help! He doesn’t even have toes!”

The passion Jack had put into his moping managed to baffle the ghost. “Wait, what? Of course I do! No, stop, why does that matter? I know tows and toes are different things! I’m not that bad of a student, sheesh.” He seemed quite thrown, which was good. If the ghost forgot what the plan had been he might just get lost.

“Yeah, and you don’t have either Phantom!” Her husband managed to keep from laughing, but the shake in his shoulders showed it was a near thing.

Phantom glanced down at the black wispy tail that made up his legs, muttering something. “Well okay I don’t right now, but I normally do!”

It was a bit fascinating that Jack had distracted the ghost from his goal so completely. They’d have to think about an invention that could replicate the effect. “Can we focus please? I already said I’d listen to what you wanted.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” he coughed, a strangely human expression of embarrassment. “I don’t actually need anything? I just have some stuff to do so you’d need to wait a bit.”

Oh right. Sure, the most dangerous ghost in town wanted to help the ghost hunters that wanted to destroy him ‘just because’. Just wait here while he goes to get some friends to attack them! Honestly, did ghosts think they were stupid? “Then why not tell us when you’re done? We’re not moving very quickly.”

“Cus he wants to make us think we’re safe before WHAM! Outnumbered by cowardly ghosts!” Jack expressed her true feelings effortlessly. “Not that it’d help em!”

“No way, you think I’d leave you guys here where anyone can try something?” The ghost still seemed confused, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. “You guys are here to study or whatever anyway, right? So you can look around while I get my errands done. And you know, you don’t get attacked. Most of the little guys leave me alone.”

As if that was a surprise! A ghost of Phantom’s strength could destroy smaller and weaker entities without effort. Perhaps it was a subtle threat slipping through his mask of ‘helpful child’. The idea of going deeper into the Ghost Zone, completely at his mercy was...well absolutely idiotic. Even if they could probably overcome him...being able to still get some studies done would make it not a complete waste of a trip. “So you think it’s likely we’ll be attacked here, so close to the portal?”

“Yeah, by him!” Jack looked tempted to grab his weapon, but refrained. “So what if we say no, huh?”

“Then I guess you can float here? Up to you, I guess.”

It was strange, to see the cocky ghost a bit hesitant. Even if there was an obvious threat he wasn’t mentioning. “Well if you could pull the Speeder, you could take it even if we don’t want you to.”

“I think that’s called kidnapping.” Phantom’s cocky smirk returned “Which is weird, you’re not kids! Adultnapping? Nah, that sounds dumb.”

“Ah cut the innocent act, we’re not falling for it!”

“Hey, I said it’s up to you! Either you agree to come along and I get you back home, or I just leave you guys to do whatever you plan to do. Even if yes, I could totally just drag the ship anyway. I’m not, because I’m trying to help, remember?” A hint of frustration slid past the confidence at ‘remember’, but the ghost folding his arms behind his head as if kicking back to relax did defang most of the threat. “I don’t have all day here.”

“We don’t have all day either Phantom. We have family to get back to, and no idea how long you plan to be ‘on errands’.” Maddie pointed out, still unsure what they should do. Trusting him was stupid, but he had showed his hand. Refusal might be met with the same result anyway, but ‘agreeing’ might trick the ghost into thinking they fell for his ‘trustworthy’ act.

“Like an hour or two? Not too long.”

“Well I’d use my Fenton Stopwatch! So don’t think you can pretend it’s a shorter time than it is, ghost!”

“Yeah yeah, you do that D-Jack,” he stumbled over the ghost hunter’s name, but otherwise didn’t move from relaxing. “It’s not gonna kill you to trust me for a bit.”

Even though it very much could kill them. He really was a smug bit of ectoplasm, thinking he blended in with humans well enough to be considered one. “So only a few hours, and you won’t stop us from researching or taking samples? Or lead us to a trap?”

“If I wanted people to get threatened by ghosts, I could just take some days off. No trouble, cross my heart. I’d swear to die but I got the jump on that bit,” he snorted at his own joke, but otherwise left the family to consider.

It was just safer to say ‘yes’ so the ghost thought they were fools. It had nothing to do with wanting to salvage something out of this disaster of an expedition. “Yes. We’ll accept your help, this time.”

“And you aren’t getting any thanks until we’re home, got it?” Good, ghost hunter, bad ghost hunter. An easy enough trick. Even if she wished Jack was the ‘trusting’ one. Yelling would feel nice.

“Yeeeah, kinda expected that too. Rude.” The ghost only shrugged before flying up and out of sight. She half expected to hear the ghost grab the Speeder, but they only really noticed when they started moving. Moving very, very quickly.

She couldn’t help it, her curiosity tamped down some of the fear she should be feeling, pointing out interesting landmasses as they passed, Jack just as enthusiastic to discuss what caused them, if the ghost built them or they were simply generated when a ghost squirmed into existence. A great castle that seemed familiar, an island with some sort of skull as a decoration and thousands of doors. Most ghosts they only could get sparing glimpses at, even when carrying an entire vehicle the ghost boy was fast. Ridiculously so. She thought it was his small figure that contributed to how quickly the pest could move- how the ghost could just vanish out of range in moments. That most of the power behind his physical attacks came from the speed they were delivered with instead of raw strength. Clearly that was an incorrect hypothesis, moving this quickly and carrying so much extra weight without any real difficulty. They slowed near what seemed to be another castle, though it was much less foreboding looking then the other one.

That sinking dread returned after they landed. She had some landmarks, but this much distance would be a big ask to get back. That, and this castle seemed more...occupied, judging by some humanoid ghosts loitering near the gates. One even waved. To them, or the ghost carrying them?

“Okayyy so. Ground rules? Don’t shoot anyone. None of these guys even go through the portal, they’re not the fighting type. Other than that? Have fun, I guess?” He’d stopped floating, standing on the ground beside their stalled craft. He didn’t look as if preparing to fight, which is what she’d assumed the ghost meant by ‘errands’. So what was he up to?

“We won’t do anything if they don’t.” A lie, honestly, but the ghost nodded.

“Wait, what’s that stuff for?” White gloves pointed at the masks the ghost hunters were pulling from under the seats. “Like you can hear me, there’s air out here.”

“It might be safe for ghosts, but we aren’t ghosts.”

Phantom opened his mouth as if to protest before shutting it with a frown. Strange, it was hard to get him to shut up most of the time.

“Nice try, we’re not gonna choke on ghost air today, Phantom!” Jack chuckled, adjusting his mask before popping open the hatch.

“I wasn’t expecting you to- oh whatever. Just don’t embarrass me,” he sounded like a sulking kid, only glancing at them for a moment before kicking off the ground to fly closer to the castle. Off to fight whoever ‘owned’ this area, perhaps?

“Well look at that! Regular plants!” Jack shook her from her pondering, crouched over what looked like a tended to flower bed near the walls. “Well, ghost plants that aren’t trying to attack. Think we should sketch em for the kids?”

“Well Jazz has been more interested in ghosts lately, I suppose.” It was interesting, but she was more curious about the ghost meandering past the walls. They seemed docile, almost like people just walking and apparently talking with one another. Not attempting to fight for territory or resources. Perhaps they were just repeating the memories of their lives over and over? Yet none of them had reacted badly to Phantom zipping past either. A different breed of ghost, perhaps? Or ghosts often had ‘kings’ that kept the lesser ones from squabbling. The large brute of a ghost that stole the town had claimed to be a king of sorts, and this was another castle...but she didn’t want to test anything by getting their attention. They might only act savagely towards humans, being jealous of those still alive after all.

“Yeah, she has! Danno might not like em, but that goth chick he’s eyeing might like em too!” He was already sketching away, quickly getting the basics. He’d fill in the details from memory back home. “You want to try seeing if those ones talk? Not sure how the ghost kid thinks we could embarrass him, ha!”

“Oh he was probably just trying to insult us. He likes to pretend to be a teenager,” she waved that question away, double checking her weapon was easy to reach in case of an emergency. No reason to make their predicament worse by being unprepared. While still considering to go near those ghosts instead of safely observing from a distance. Jack’s enthusiasm was too infectious, really, but that’s how they made so many discoveries!

The ghosts didn’t object to her moving closer, but she kept off the busier paths to be safe. So many stalls of what seemed to be goods, clothing and paintings, rugs and nick knacks. Well, the ghosts didn’t need anything to live, so it would make sense for them to prioritize other items first, but the art was strange. What did the dead know of creativity? Were these all recreations of something found in life? No, some of the paintings had the green skies of the Ghost Zone, implying at least some ‘new’ thought. They were strange, very unlike the wild animals that often attacked the town, or the showy inhuman mimics that tried to claim world domination. They just looked like greener, more transparent people. Barely any of them even floated much. They’d need new categories, they broke too many rules that stayed true on Earth.

“Oh that’s a lovely shade of blue! I wish I could make something like it.” The voice echoed, but it wasn’t growling or mocking. In fact, the ghost woman who had paused beside the hunter was smiling warmly, despite the dead red eyes. “Are you just visiting for a bit?”

“We’re mostly stuck going wherever the ghost boy is taking us, our ship broke down,” Maddie struggled not to frown, her natural inclination to get away from the still potentially dangerous ghost strong with so many fights. She could tell it the truth, in a sense. Phantom was far more likely to be dangerous then this waif of a woman. How she could move in so many ruffles was baffling.

“Oh dear! Well if he’s any trouble you can let Dorthea know, she’s a caring ruler. A human helped her get her rightful throne back, so I’m sure she’d be happy to help!” The ghost tittered a little, as if expecting that to be obvious.

So the ghost did know she was human? Far more alarming was the idea some other human had been dragged this far from home, possibly trapped. Maybe this would turn into a rescue mission. Unless it was too late for them, a distinct possibility. “Oh really? How did that happen?”

“Oh I don’t really know the details, but it was a human that inspired our good Queen that she didn’t need to fear that tyrant and she could fight back. I wish I’d seen it!”

It was disquieting how human the ghost sounded, a friendly sort of gossip. If only she had a way to record it. “The human got back home after helping, right?”

“Well I assume so, she had no intentions of staying here very long, that’s for sure!” She laughed easily, apparently blind to Maddie’s confusion and apprehension, or just unable to see it past the mask and goggles. “I’m fairly sure Sir Phantom took her back, you could ask him.”

Sir? That town terrorizing scoundrel was respected around here? And had been taking humans out of the ghost zone? Probably because he made whoever it was get here in the first place, just to rescue them. Was that why he was here? To stage some new act with this ghost queen? “Right, I might do that.” Would she? This morning she hadn’t expected to talk to ghosts, let alone multiple.

“Oh! If you see any of those angry blobs you can just run back towards the guards and they’ll deal with it. It’s their job, and they’re quite good at it. I actually considered doing that job for a bit, but I like looking after the plants more. Maybe I’ll switch in a decade or two!” The ghost kept talking, apparently taking Maddie’s lack of further questions as permission to keep chattering.

“Can’t you deal with them yourself?” Attacking ghost blobs was something she knew about, and if this ghost was strong enough to mimic humans, shouldn’t it be able to deal with the much less sophisticated tactics of blobs?

“Me? Oh no, I’m not not trained. Do you still have lions on the other side? It would be like trying to fight one of those with a stick!” She laughed, but not unkindly.

“You’re both ghosts though, aren’t you?” Perhaps they differentiated themselves by name in the Ghost Zone? It would lend some evidence to the ‘different breeds’ of ghost hypothesis she was rapidly stringing together.

She tapped at her chin for a moment at the question. “I suppose we are, but they’re more like animals. They might have always been animals, or never alive at all! It’s perfectly safe here though, they usually fight more among themselves.”

Well that was fascinating. Some ghosts didn’t instinctively know how to fight and had to be taught? Yet didn’t consider themselves completely separated from the more animalistic ectoplasmic terrors. Perhaps the more ‘domestic’ setting here made the ghosts less feral and more reliant on their previous memories. Well, the ghost could be lying, but she couldn’t see the benefit she’d gain from deception here. “So you’re kind of stuck here then? We saw a lot of those outside of this place.”

“No no, we’ve got safer ways to travel than just flying around! Not all of us are that brave, dear. Though I don’t think I’d want to stay somewhere else very long anyway. Here it’s safe, all my friends are here and we have one of the largest markets in the whole Ghost Zone. Other ghosts come to us!” There was a hint of pride as she spoke about her ‘home’, gesturing over to some of the stalls Maddie hadn't had time to look at before getting interrupted. “I was really hoping to get something from the seven armed bloke over there, but he’s not very interested in my clothing. Maybe next time.”

Said ‘bloke’ had far too many eyes to go with the arms, and a collection of honestly terrifying little statues with strange designs that made her head hurt if she looked at it too long. A clear outsider to the more human ones, but not causing a stir. So much for constantly fighting out groups, but they barely had anything in common either! Not to mention engaging in some kind of simplistic trading. “So this happens often?”

“Pretty much. It’s fun to make new things, but you get bored of just your own stuff after a few centuries you know? So we swap and find new things.”

Well of course, it’s not like the ghosts needed to trade for something vital to existence. Swapping ‘things’ made more sense in that context. So why weren’t any trying to trade strength or favours? Or simply taking what they wanted? Was it related to having a queen? She had so many questions that knowing what ones needed to be asked was next to impossible. “I suppose you would. How can you tell if a ghost that comes is peaceful?”

“Asking!” She laughed again, apparently finding the question funny. So they didn’t deal with constant attacks from spectres like Phantom trying to ‘take over?’ Why?

“Oh geeze, I’m so sorry if she said anything about trying to-” Phantom’s voice interrupted her thoughts, the ghost suddenly floating beside the other ghost and sputtering.

“Sorry? She’s been perfectly lovely! Haven’t you- oh I’m so rude, I didn’t even get your name!” the ghost tisked at herself, once again strangely apologetic.

“Wait, she has?” His doubtful tone made the ghost hunter scowl. As if he had any room to judge them.

“We’re scientists, not uncontrollable monsters.” Like him. She was fairly sure he caught the implication when the boy muttered something she couldn’t hear.

“Cool. Anyway, got another stop, then I’ll get you two back home.” He still hovered, glancing between the two of them a few times. “Oh. Maddie, that’s her name.”

“Lovely speaking with you Maddie! Had a good trip back, I’m Guenivier if you’re ever in the area again,” she smiled and gave another wave before somehow drifting back into the crowd without displacing even a bit of that dress.

“Who said you can give out my name?” Maddie hissed, once certain the other ghost was out of earshot.

He leaned back on teenager mannerisms, scoffing and heading away. “Because she wanted to know and thinks you aren’t a total ghost hater? It’s not gonna hurt anything.”

“How can I know you don’t have a way to locate people by name?”

He was rolling his eyes again as if she was being ridiculous. “You live in a house with a giant glowing sign. Not exactly subtle.”

“That isn’t in the ghost zone.”

“It’s attached to the ghost zone, it totally counts.”

It really was like arguing with a teenager when he bantered on like this. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Yes ma’am. Sheesh.” He hopped on top of the speeder, kicking his heels against the side. “Hey Jack, you coming?”

“Coming!” he bellowed back, jogging over from the patch of plants she’d left him at. However, he wasn’t just carrying his notebook, but a folded glowing bit of cloth. Some sort of tapestry judging by all the stitching? “Just wanted to get a few more lines done-” he broke off after spotting his wife, apparently reminded that he shouldn’t be so chummy with the ghost. “I mean I leave when I want to, you can’t boss Fentons around!”

“Oh come onnn, can you pretend you don’t hate me for like five minutes? I’m not even doing anything!” Phantom complained, flopping backwards onto the Speeder. “You were totally having a good time”.

“How did you get that, dear?” Maddie chose to ignore their sulking captor and instead look at what Jack managed to gather besides sketches.

“Oh, one of the ghosties liked my pictures and asked to trade for one! So I gave em a page for this! We can study how they made it back home, neat huh?”

Apparently he hadn’t been too worried about it being a trap, but a picture he’d just sketched wasn’t a big ask for something that could teach them a lot about the ghosts in here, so it was a good trade nonetheless. “You did great sweetie. Just make sure to store it safely, just in case.”

“Already on it sweet cheeks!” He was indeed, already pulling out a large sample bag to store their find before opening the hatch again.

“Ew. I changed my mind, go back to threatening me. Sappy is worse.”

Well, at least the ghost regretted his actions a bit. He’d be more sorry if he tried anything, but this did just seem to be something to sooth that hero complex it had. So far, anyway. She was tempted to ask the ghost what it had been up to at the castle, but it didn’t really matter. He’d just lie anyway, he clearly wasn’t the same sort of ghost as the weaker ones back there.

“Ha, he crumples in the face of our love Madds!” Jack laughed, hugging his wife and they got comfortable back in the speeder. “You think he’d take us back home if I said how much I love ya?”

“I so don’t need to hear this.” He was muffled, apparently still flopped on the speeder. He didn’t add anything before the Speeder lifted from the ground and resumed speeding through the strange green expanse.

“Clearly he buys his own teenager delusion.” Maddie mused, content to rest against Jack and look through his sketches. “Did they seem strangely lifelike to you too?”

“Oh sure! They just talked and didn’t even seem interested in going to the human world! Even though one was very jealous of how bright my jumpsuit is.” He leaned a bit to flick a few pages forward. “I sketched a couple and got their names, so we can see if we can look em up. See if they’re similar to their old selves according to history and all.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t get a complete name, but apparently they have jobs? Not like the wilder ghosts, and they do have a queen…” she paused, remembering the ‘human’ Phantom apparently ‘helped home. “Hey! You did help someone home from the ghost zone before, did you?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, she’s back safe. Wasn’t even a whole day.” He sounded distracted, or at least surprised by the question.

It could be a valuable lead. That, and the human might need help after such an experience. Who knew how ecto contaminated they might be! “Who was it?”

“How should I know? Just because I’m in town a lot doesn’t mean I know everyone’s name.”

She frowned, glancing at Jack who only shrugged. So he hadn’t heard that story, only her. “You know ours.”

“Because you shout them at me and shoot at me a lot? Pretty easy to remember!”

“Ghost kid’s got a point.” Jack admitted, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll just find who it is ourselves! Just an extra project.”

“What, and just make their life weird again by bringing up ghost stuff? Leave em alone.”

Well now they absolutely had to look into it, if Phantom wasn’t keen on the idea. Better to let him think they agreed though. “True, it could just lead you back to them.”

“Hey! This is all you, not me!”

Jack chuckled. “You’re really good at riling him up. Almost sounds like our Danny like that, getting all touchy about fun family activities!”

“Well he probably copies behaviour from local teenagers,” she didn't like that comparison though. Their children were nothing like life destroying ghosts. It was better to turn her attention to the passing green and how the amount of doors seemed to dwindle as masses of ice started to become the most prominent detail. That made more sense, actually. Phantom had started using ice in addition to ectoblasts, if he came from somewhere with this sort of climate it seemed less out of place with his other abilities. Even if he was otherwise ill suited to snow and ice with how he insisted on looking like a kid.

The next stop felt more like a mistake, with only hills of untouched white powder and ice to see, but the crunch of snow below confirmed they were no longer moving. Good thing they came prepared with heated coats!

“Not a whole lot around here! If it wasn’t for all the green we could pretend we were in Alaska.” Jack chattered as he shrugged a coat on, still apparently too excited to look around to keep his suspicion up. “They don’t all like castles, or maybe it’s a hidden one!”

He better not be thinking Santa had an ice castle. That was probably what he was thinking of, but she didn’t really want to bring up their annual argument at the moment. He could be wrong today, there were more important things to do. “You do realize it’s a frozen wasteland you’ve stranded us on?”

“It’s not that cold.” Phantom objected, circling the Speeder idly.

“Easy for a ghost to say, you’re always cold ghost kid!”

He stopped at that, glancing back at Jack. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“Only because we brought warm clothing. Jumpsuits aren’t enough for the living.” Maddie huffed, looking at the snowfields to find anything worth looking at. The structures of ice were somewhat interesting, but not inherently ghostly.

“Well you guys can stay here, I guess.” The ghost bit at his lip, playing up the concern now that they pointed out a frozen wasteland was cold. Honestly, how did anyone fall for Phantom’s act if he made mistakes like this? “I don’t think Frostbite’s people come out this far…”

“Oh, are they dangerous? We can take any of your little ghostly pals!”

Phantom looked as if Jack suggested exploding a building. “No! Don’t fight any of them! They just look scary, okay? Just ignore them, if any show up.” He didn’t wait for a response before flying off this time, apparently in much more of a hurry this time.

“Sounds like he’s worried about what we can do to his little pals, huh?” Jack elbowed his wife with a grin. “Well, maybe we can find something weird about the ice here!”

It was better to try getting some of the ghost ice instead of doing nothing, though she doubted it would be very different from regular ice, beyond the ectocontamination. Now what would a ghost think is ‘scary looking’? He hadn’t given such a warning when close to all of the other ghosts, after all. It was a bit of a mystery, and none of the ice here had any identifying marks or hints of another odd little ghost ‘civilization’. ‘Frostbite’ wasn’t much of a name either, perhaps they were more like the wild sort that came to Amity?

“Oh hoh! Look at this!” Jack yelled out, pointing to something below him as he waved her over.

A large, clawed footprint left in the snow, and fairly deep. So something monstrous after all, as expected. “Maybe we can get a cast of it?” They had supplies for it, but she wasn’t certain if it would work in the ice correctly. The tracks didn’t go for long, but following them wasn’t a very tantalizing idea. Better to keep a distance and be well armed if they wanted to tangle with whatever left this. It wasn’t as distracting as the previous stop, but the sound of crunches increasing in volume had the couple back on edge and wary.

“Seriously, we should just go-”

It sounded like the ghost boy was near wherever the crunches were coming from, which didn’t improve her mood one iota.

“Nonsense! I have been asking to meet them for how long?” A deep, growling and carrying voice came in response as Maddie readied a weapon.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. You don’t want to, trust me.”

“Seems he doesn’t have a very high opinion of ghost hunters, eh Mads?” Jack was less noticeably readied, still half crouched near the footprint, but his hand hovered where a weapon was concealed. She focused on her breathing as the sound grew louder, eyes narrowed as she spotted a large figure cresting the nearby hill. With the little white haired ghost boy completely at ease near it. Nothing like his regular behaviour, let alone the talking. Why would this huge beast know of them?

“What did I say about not shooting people?” Phantom actually seemed to blush on seeing her holding the weapon, smacking his face. “Okay, you saw them, bye now!”

The large furred creature ignored how the smaller ghost pushed at their shoulder, instead waving with a horrific ice claw, bones gleaming from within as it seemed to rip at the very air. “Well our first meeting was hardly perfect either, I can manage.”

“Yeah but I can’t just pull a ‘won’t shoot a big yeti’ icicle out of their jumpsuits!”

For a human loving ghost, Phantom was certainly very concerned about this giant horned monster being harmed by ‘mere humans’. More proof of his act, at least. Though the large creature did have a cloak of some sort and clothing. He spoke well, if you ignored the fanged mouth and growls. A strange contradiction of appearance and intent. That wasn’t a normal thing for ghosts either, you could gather a decent amount about one by how they looked. So why was this one chatting and apparently interested in seeing two humans? “So, you’re the ‘Frostbite’ he mentioned?” She hazarded a guess, but wasn’t going to put the gun away.

It showed its fangs, maw wide and unnerving. “Yes, I am! It is an honour to meet you” The furry head bowed slightly, as if trying a sort of nod of respect. “Your work assisted the Great One in vanquishing Pariah Dark, we all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Please don’t call me that. Especially in front of them!” the green eyed ghost practically squawked, somehow flushing even harder when he didn’t even have blood.

Maddie’s mind almost flipped over from the sheer confusion of what this terrifying ghost said. They had ‘helped’ vanquish something? More likely, Phantom had stolen something. So why did this ghost still give them credit? That wasn’t even starting to touch why the ghost boy would be considered great in any aspect. “Assisted him? Do you mean with that ghost who took our town into the Ghost Zone?” She wasn’t sure if that was what the ‘king’ ghost was called, but it made more sense than anything else she could think of.

“Indeed. The King of All Ghosts would have sent the infinite realms into chaos and conflict. Of course we are grateful for your help in preventing that.”

“That’s when you stole the Ecto Skeleton!” Jack spoke up, no longer tense. “You never brought it back.”

“That’s not my fault, that thing almost wasted me! It was gone once I woke up!” The boy objected, but seemed to settle down when the larger ghost ruffled his hair. “I wanted to bring it back.”

“I’m sure now they understand how vitally important that technology was, for your world and ours.” The ghost’s yellow eyes watched them expectantly, the unnerving void of pointed daggers thankfully closed now.

“Well it did get Amity back where it belonged.” Losing the Ecto Skeleton had been a blow, but an acceptable one to get back to normal. The fact that more ghosts seemed to know and care about their part of it was somewhat unnerving. She very much doubted Phantom just ‘lost’ it either. Jack suffered from the demands of the suit, but the ghost was just ectoplasm and electricity. Quite unlikely he could be drained that much, it wasn’t meant for ghosts to use in the first place.

“Your world? Doesn’t the kid live here?” Jack asked, making his wife blink. She hadn’t noticed that odd phrasing.

“No, no. The Great One prefers the human world and his friends. How are they doing?”

He froze up, eyes flicking to the hunters and back to the yeti. “Fine. They’re great.” He darted closer to the two hunters, gesturing at them to move. “Okay let’s go.”

How much interacting was this ghost doing with humans to have ‘friends’ it told other ghosts about? They could be in danger, or used as targets! “No no, we’d love to hear about your friends.”

“Nope, you don’t, gotta get home right? Big hurry, don’t trust me, remember?” He was practically pleading with them.

Frostbite’s ears twitched as he tilted his head. “Don’t trust you? Surely they’re the ones who taught your friends how to drive that craft of yours?”

Phantom had the gall to turn invisible.

“We were unaware anyone other than us was using it, actually.” Maddie didn’t bother to keep the frost from her voice.

“Ah, well at least the good news is I already knew how to make a replacement battery for it when the Great One came asking for help.” His tail twitched, as one of the great claws scratched at his furry chest. “It should be good as new once you can install it.”

So not only was this ghost stealing technology and bringing humans to the ghost zone, it was teaching other ghosts how it worked! The second that ghost was in their grasp, he’d have some serious answering to do. “Do all of you call him that?” It was the only question she could ask without wishing to spit acid, quite frankly.

“All of the Far Frozen recognize him as such, but not all ghosts are the same. He should be proud of the title, a savour of two worlds.”

“Frostbite I’m begging you, stop! It’s embarrassing!” The ghost dropped his invisibility, still looking more like a flustered kid instead of the heroics seeking fame junkie he was.

“Well if it helps your relationship with these ghost hunters, I think it is important that they know.”

“Yeah no. Let’s not.”

It felt like there was something the two ghosts weren’t saying. That, and the fact Phantom didn’t seem to like being hailed as a hero here in the Ghost Zone didn’t make sense. Why all the grandstanding in Amity then?

“Well we’ll be glad for the lift home. You shouldn’t steal from us, kid.” Jack tried a stern approach, and the ghost actually flinched from the rebuke.

“You’re not the only ones who want to map this place out, that’s all,” he didn’t really seem to be answering them, more talking to himself before launching himself at the Speeder again. “You can shoot at me about it back home or whatever.”

“Travel safely! Do try and explore your other half more often, Great one. You’re always welcome here.” His great furry head watched them all easily, seeking out the ghost hunters eyes as well. "I understand you are less interested, but you are welcome to see the realities of my home as well. It may surprise you, in a good way."

She desperately wanted to ask what that monster of a ghost meant by that, but managed to hold her tongue. If all the ghosts here saw Phantom as some sort of godlike hero, chewing him out here wasn’t safe. Jack’s small nod of agreement and warm hug helped, but it couldn’t stop her mind churning. They’d seen and hurt so much, and none of it made any sense! This Frostbite just threw in several more wrenches in the works with only a few sentences, but with how agitated Phantom was getting now wasn’t the time to push their luck. Perhaps when the shoe was on the other foot, and the boy needed their assistance.

He didn’t speak up or grumble this time as they left the frozen land behind. Though that might be them as well,m sitting close together and considering the notes and samples they had taken. That and the huge list of questions Jack had scrawled down in the margins of a sketch of Frostbite. How could a ghost like Phantom truly manage to stay in the human world most of the time? Did it have to do with this ‘other half’ that ghost had mentioned? Would knowing what it was reveal a weakness in the ghost? So many questions, but no answers. Why had Phantom even let them speak to any ghosts, considering how badly he’d reacted to some of the information given? He couldn’t genuinely be wanting to help.

The inviting glow of the portal appeared sooner than either of them could expect, the ghost dropping the ship on the lab floor with a loud clunk.

“See? Home. No ‘evil plan’” he floated into view, and she was fairly sure he only did so to make those air quotes with his hands.

“So you say, ghost kid. Don’t think we won’t be checking for tricks!”

“Yeah sure,” he shrugged, grinning after a moment. “Oh hey, by the way, you do know what the Speeder is powered with, right?”

Maddie didn’t actually know how to take that question. “Of course we do, we built it!”

“Uh huh.” His grin widened as he kicked back, legs vanishing into that strange tail. “All you had to do was take the cover off. It’s the Ghost Zone! There’s ectoplasm everywhere! I just had Frostbite make a backup.”

...Had they really- They had. They’d been dragged around by a ghost for no reason at all! “Why you little-”

He kept laughing before turning and getting out of the way. “Thanks for flying with Phantom Zone Tours! I’m out.” A jaunty wave and he was gone, leaving two baffled ghost hunters behind.

“I think some fudge is in order after that!”

She couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe fudge could make sense of that whole affair. All that for a prank? It didn’t add up. They’d have a lot of work to do.

[justfyiiamafly-fearme]

Undercity doctor Viktor AU

Au where Viktor turned down the offer of going to the academy after coming across Hextex earlier than in the show, he uses it to make the 'armour, prosthetics ' but unlike in cannon game its not apart of his actual body, he can leave it whenever but it helps him get around with out strain and offers a way to remain anonymous.

Viktor becomes known as a suspicious individual in the undercity and is unknown to those up top, he keeps all of his equipment secure and unable to be stolen and is based where Silco was in the show which he is not happy about. People tend to avoid him except for a few who he came across who were hurt and helped them, rumours about him being a doctor spread but people were still weary.

At some point after Vander became the girls carer but before Silco shows up Powder winds up getting sick but none of the doctors they have access to know how to help her. Remembering the rumours of the mechanical doctor he takes her to him in a panic.

It becomes clear rather quickly that Viktor was not as some of the more unsavoury rumours suggested.

He identified her ailment and a form of gas poisoning meaning she'd been going to areas she should not have been going and gave her an antidote for it while being his charming self and making her and violet laugh, praising her abilities with her creations and bouncing ideas that has Powder gleaming with joy and Vander and Violet slightly concerned. Vander is of course grateful, even more so when he refuses payment because the patient was under eighteen. "I am a man of sciences so I often think of the future, and as we can agree the children of today are apart of said future. It is our duty to ensure they get to see and be apart of it"

Viktor becomes more well known throughout the undercity and is of her visited by powder and the rest of the gang following suit. He helps Powder with her explosives and gives her a safe place in his lab dedicated to creating and testing them out. He also creates a simulator for the group to practice fighting (while instilling morals) and teaches them how to treat injuries and how to identify illnesses. Vander every now and again stops by with food and drinks as thanks and offering an open invention to the last drink, that Viktor always declines because he never leaves his lab and even if he did it would have to be without the armour. No one has seen what he looks like underneath it, Powders puppy eyes have come close though.

Going from the start of the show instead of Jayce getting robbed he winds up hearing rumours about Viktor when acquiring some illegal equipment, being annoyed at someone figuring out how to use the gems before him and excited at the prospect that there's proof that it works he decides to pay Viktor a visit.

Jayce is a bit antagonistic out of jealously and at Viktors rejection of helping him with his research, its far too dangerous to become a house hold item.

Viktor takes a bit of enjoyment out of being the source of annoyance but isn't fond of Jayces clear disapproval of the undercity and waves him off.

Days later Silco turns up with an obvious offer and gets turned down, he leaves after issuing a threat towards Vander and the childern.

Knowing he can't brush it off he leaves his lab without the armour and goes to the last drop, his leg having quite an issue with tyre travel with how long he's gone without being dependent on his crutch.

When he enters and sits at the bar Vander of course doesn't recognize him until he asks for a vodka. Vander is surprised and nearly drops his smoke pipe but quickly recovers. Viktor is.... not what he expected.

Viktor only stays long enough to pass on the warning and then leaves, turning down Vanders offer of help to bat back out of concern.

Jayce keeps popping up at the lab and eventually Viktor gets annoyed enough to give him help in his research, just enough that he has the original teleportation down like in the show. Of cause this backfires because if anything Jayce is coming around even more much to his surprise and dare he say yes beginning to grow fond of his presence.

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

@loosingdreams@sayosdreams@audreycressworth@cyra04@that-golden-lyre@nessiantrashh@misswonderflower@dontgetsalmonella@caram267@bickbickbarnes@sabrinasam-blog

[whosjunglejim4322]

Umbra | J. Seo (m)

》 Genre: vampire au! Smut, fluff, minor angst and mentions of violence, This story also features Yuta, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung and Mark as his coven members

》 Warnings: spitting, dry humping, mentions of blood obvi, mentions of feeding, strong boy trying not to fuck you into oblivion, his eyes get black he's when he's hungry/horny, disgusting amount of fluff, omg sorta strength kink? Johnny is very in love w you and very protective cause some of his brothers are out of pocket, Jungwoo wants to b ur bestie lowkey, Yuta is a lil shit

Chapter 2 

There are many things that Johnny loves about you. He could spend all his time showering you with professions of his adoration, and he'd never grow tired of it. Though, his concept of time and yours are slightly different.

He's patient, excessively so sometimes, in your humble opinion. But, he also never expected in his three hundred and forty five years of existence, to find someone who manages to warm his cold and stagnant heart in the way you have.

Now, anytime away from you is a bit bothersome.

It's just, he never knew humans like you existed. In his world, there are either those who lust after his kind and the benefits in which their heightened senses and skills provide, or those who see him as a complete moral abomination.

Even now, in a society that has to live in conjunction with vampires, there are still so many people who fear him. Well, they fear what they think he is. A creature of the night, a demon, something that is only greedy for strife and nothing more.

You were the first person who genuinely throttled him, curious and wide eyed, completely fascinated by him. And not in a way that made him feel like he was under a microscope, but in a way that made him feel as though he was something...to be admired.

Your heartbeat, even after a year, still flutters like the wings of dragonfly whenever he displays his strength; swinging you up into his arms like you're made of feathers and all things delicate.

At first, he thought you were scared, weary, perhaps, about his abnormalities. He couldn't find any other explanation for the way you seemed to shrink in his presence whenever he'd dip his head below your chin to grace your throat with his lips, cooling your hot skin.

It didn't make sense. Not until he realized there is a direct correlation to your change and scent, and these moments in which he can be himself around you.

You like it. You like that he's different, a complete opposite to what you'd find in the common world. If he thought he could be any more enamored, anymore breathless than he was before (no pun intended) he was wrong.

Even now, with you lying with your back against his hard chest, playing with his slim fingers, your voice is nothing but earnest. Curious, in your own little world that consists of just you and him.

He thinks, no he knows, that if he had a pulse it would be racing every time he's around you. Every time you ask him a question that would normally repulse anyone else, even when you place his cool palm against your blazing cheek, giddy about the difference in temperature. He can tell that you just want to know more about him, about how he exists in the world. He simply can't resist indulging you.

"So...everyone doesn't taste the same? I always just assumed that blood is, well, blood." He smiles to himself as you trace shapes into his palm, before flipping his hand over and grazing your fingertips over his protruding knuckles.

The feeling of your skin against his is so pleasant he almost gets distracted.

"Well, it depends, really," his free hand strokes up and down your arms, savoring the softness. "sometimes the difference is slight, like someone who's A or B negative, but other times it can be quite stark. It's about chemistry really."

He can already see your expression in his head, furrowed brows, lips pursed in a manner too cute for your own good. He absentmindedly pushes you further against his chest, reclining slightly against the pillows as to make it more comfortable for you. You hum in satisfaction.

"Chemistry? Like how you feel about the person?" He can't quite pinpoint what is laced within the lilt of your voice, he answers nonetheless, chuckling warmly.

The sound is like pure velvet, causing your skin to tingle. You shiver, and he pulls your blanket over you, worried his lack of body heat may be disturbing your comfort. He doesn't realize how wrong he is.

"It's more like, how that person has lived. Their natural...how do I say...essence? Yes, their essence sometimes can determine how desirable some ones blood is to us."

He doesn't miss the way your heartbeat falters in rythm. He grins, as you take both of his hands in yours and intertwine your fingers. He twists his wrist and brings your knuckles up to his lips, kissing your skin.

You shift underneath the covers, suddenly thankful for his cool temperature. You know that most of the vampires that exist in society use blood bags from the banks provided, but you still wonder...

"Am I...am I desirable to you? Like, my blood, or whatever." You wish you could say you usually aren't so bad at speaking when you're around him, but that would be a blatant lie.

It's the most endearing thing he's ever witnessed.

His hands are gone from yours and elsewhere in the blink of an eye, one strong arm locked around your torso as his free hand reaches down to cup your chin. He turns and lifts your head towards him, gently, and the look in his eyes has your breath stalling momentarily.

"Of course you are, silly," he says it as if it's the most obvious thing ever, leaning down to peck your nose. Butterflies swarm violently in your belly. "I desire you in every way there is to desire someone, it makes me want to keep you all to myself. No one else should be allowed to even think about you, or your blood, in that way."

He looks lost in thought for a second, pupils almost darkening the whole of his irises, before he seemingly brings himself out of his daze. You turn in his hold, adjusting your position so that you're practically lying on top of him, chests touching and your legs cradled between his hips. He holds you effortlessly in his arms.

"Well it wouldn't matter anyways, cause I'm all yours." His pearly teeth show from behind the pillowy surface of his lips, as he leans in to kiss you in a manner that has you reaching out to wrap your hand around the nape of his neck.

"Mhm, all mine." He murmurs, nose nudging against yours as he shifts back and forth from your top lip, and then your bottom, tongue exploring the surface of each.

Kissing you, is another experience entirely for him. He wonders if it feels for you as it does for him, like pure intoxication. It brings back memories, memories he didn't think could still be reachable in the depths of his mind.

A time where he was warm, where life thrummed through his veins like the rushing current of a river. You are springtime on his tongue, the rays of sunlight that once heated his skin, the smell of flora in the air that mingles with the fleeting breeze.

He almost whines when you depart from his mouth, yearning already heavy in the pit of his stomach.

You look almost nervous, suddenly finicking with the front of his shirt as you sit back on his lap. He can hear the acceleration of your heartbeat, can smell the anxiety that is almost as heady as your desire.

He reaches out to cup your cheek, something he often does as a comforting gesture. You smile softly, meeting his curious, tepid gaze.

"So...I have a question," your voice shakes and you huff. "I mean, I was just wondering," he senses your struggle, wrapping his arms around you and sitting up so that your chests are nearly touching again, his palms splayed against your lower back.

"You can ask me anything, sweetheart. You know that." His voice, as sweet as honey, calms your racing pulse for a moment. Until you actually say the words out loud, wincing as if preparing for a scolding.

"Well I know you have a family, of sorts, from what you've told me. And I know you've always been really...hesitant to tell me more about them? I mean I've never been over, to your home or met them,"

Understanding washes over him, hands rubbing your back soothingly as the glint in his irises provokes an odd sensation within your belly. Like he knew this conversation would have to be had one day.

He lets you finish speaking, though your voice has even more of a tremor than before, now.

"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, I understand if you don't want me over there."

Urgency calcifies in his chest, the sad lilt to your soft voice making him feel ill. The way you say it is as if you think he doesn't want you in his space, like he's keeping you away from there because of something other than rational reasoning, doesn't sit right with him.

He cups your jaw, firmly but gently.

"I want you with me as much as possible, never think that I don't want you. That is not at all why I haven't brought you over there," You have no choice but to believe him, when he's looking at you with such a passionate gaze far heavier than what you're used to in a normal setting, his words concise.

"I am...well I'm old, and so are they. I've spent a long time being alienated, far before we were even accepted in the new world. We've settled here since before you were born, so you won't remember what it was like when people were forced to live along side us."

You hate hearing the unusual grain of what seems to be dejection in his tone, though you listen fervently anyways, his hands still comforting you despite the fact that his eyes are the ones cast down. You want to kiss the furrow between his dark brows.

"I've accepted who I am, furthermore I've accepted who I want to be. I realized that, it would do me no good to be a monster if people were willing, even if begrudgingly, to accept our existence. But my brothers,"

Your stomach sinks at the way he says it, knowing without a doubt that this is the answer to your original question, that his stance had to be explained before he told you something like this.

"they don't feel the same way as me, so they are stuck in their ways beyond coercion. They live very different lives, they are what our kind refer to as nightcrawlers, it's sardonic inside joke for those of us that would rather not conform to the new age of mutual concurrency."

"They are still a bit resentful for the fact that they can't exactly give in to their natural instincts. They don't see the humans acceptance as welcoming, they see it as a mockery. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

You look a bit out of it, like maybe you're frightened and he's suddenly worried he's gone overboard, that he's scared you in a way that can't be fixed. His eyes are suddenly frantic.

But then you speak, and you don't sound vexed, nor unsettled. Your question is simple, your thighs tightening around his waist as if to draw yourself closer to his comfort, arms looping around his shoulders.

"Do they all feel that way?"

He smiles, muscles untensing as you play with his hair in the way you usually do. Your eyes never leave his, and he wonders how he got so lucky.

"The youngest, well the youngest in our years, they're a bit less malicious about it. They don't cross anyone unless someone crosses them, but they can be excessively territorial because of their youth."

The tension, despite talking about a topic so heavy, is light again. You feel a bit silly now, understanding why he might not want you in close proximity with his coven.

But, still, knowing that there are people, for lack of better term, that have been in his life unimaginably long; a completely different, solidified version of a family, it makes you more nosey than usual. Could they really be that different from him?

"And...you're sure that if I were to meet them, it would end badly?" His eyebrow twitches in an inquisitive manner, surprise coloring his sharp features.

"I- well I thought you were just curious, I didn't think you'd actually want to meet them. Especially after all of that,"

It's as if he's speaking to himself out loud, his pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips. You resist the urge to kiss him so suddenly.

"but I don't suppose so. It's already established that you're mine. If there's one rule we follow, it's that. They know how I feel about you, despite our differences."

The sturdiness to his voice when he speaks of you being his, has your belly filling with heat at an irrational rate, and you suddenly remember how it felt to see him before you actually got to know him.

He's incredibly intimidating on the surface, firm and stoic. You can't see how anyone would want to anger him.

"So then I'd be safe, meeting them. And I'd get to see if you guys really have furniture."

Despite not needing to, he swallows. It's hard impossible to say no to you, when you look at him like that and sound so genuinely interested at a prospect that would make any other person run for the hills, even cracking jokes.

You're soft, and too innocent for your own good. He should say no, but to risk seeing a pout form on your soft lips, or having to hear the disappointment in your voice, it's unbearable.

"You really want to meet them, don't you?" He can't fight his smile when your face lights up like that.

"Well, I think it's important. They're your family, one way or another." You're gentle when you speak, honest.

"You're safe with me, you have to know that. But they're...not used to being around humans that aren't just accessories. The last thing I want is for one of them to say something that makes you uncomfortable."

It's evident in the low timbre of his tone that he's serious, and any smart person might listen. But as he said, and as you believe wholeheartedly, you're safe with him. Safer than you'd ever be.

And, as wrong as it may be, you want to see what other vampires are like. You're really only used to Johnny, the exception, where as most modern vampires only come out when absolutely necessary. Meeting him, and falling in love with him, has given you a brand new sight towards the world. Is it that insane to want to meet his brothers that have been so close to him for so long?

"I'll be with you, so it won't matter. I'll bet they're not even that scary, no ones scarier than you."

Your triumphant, playful smile has him grinning from ear to ear, leaning down to capture your lips between his own. Even though you're wrong about them, he's weak. Too weak.

"Yeah? Afraid I'll eat you for breakfast?" His breath is suddenly against your earlobe and you shudder pleasantly, grasping onto his shoulders before regaining some sort of composure.

"I'm definitely dinner, breakfast is really overrated. Unless it's breakfast for dinner, that's way better for some reason?"

He's kissing you again, despite the fact that he's smiling too hard for his own good, swiftly flipping you over so that you're caged underneath his body. His weight is barely perceptible even with your chests touching, forearms holding himself up.

"You'll be the death of me, you know that?" He has a hard time speaking without strain due to the way his throat has suddenly tightened with need, your legs wrapping around his trim torso and pushing his hips further against yours.

"Not possible, unless I've suddenly charmed your heart into beating again." You tease, though his eyebrows remain furrowed in concentration as he kisses you between words, dangerously sensual. You smell too divine.

"Very possible, actually. If you only knew how you make me feel."

Your belly lurches at the desperation that flows from him, his aura downright fever inducing. Without thinking, your crotch nudges his, bucking with the slightest of movements. But it's enough, enough to have his jaw clenching and a habitual breath of restraint leaving his nose.

Five fingers grasp your chin, so he can kiss you, hard. His hips begin to roll as his teeth nibble your bottom lip, the fabric of his jeans an arousing juxtaposition to your soft lounge shorts, your lack of underwear making it all the more satisfying.

He's hard, too. Knowing his dick is just underneath, hard for you, it'll never not give you whiplash. It gets you drunk, knowing your effect on him is as overwhelming as his on you. You're whimpering against his tongue, rubbing yourself on his bulge.

"Mmm, fuck." He growls, capturing your wrists in his palms before your next breath, raising them above your head and making sure they're comfortable against the pillows.

He's inches away from your face now, and his expression alone is enough to have your walls pulsing around nothing, desire seeping into your chest and hardening your nipples, goosebumps forming across your skin.

He looks at you like he's hungry, nostrils flaring avariciously. He tries so very hard to fight the darkness that fills his sclera like ink, knowing how very monstrous and unlike himself it makes him appear.

But he hears the way it makes your heart race. He can practically taste the thrill that seeps from your pores, the unbridled arousal that drips from your cunt like syrup. Your neck cranes upwards to try and reach his lips, and he smirks before meeting you halfway.

"Do you want me to keep rubbing your pussy like this," he looks down between your bodies and purposely rolls his hips in an accentuated fashion. "or do you want my dick?"

His voice is brusque, but caring and accommodating as it always is, his plump lips quivering slightly from the way his mouth waters.

"Can I have your dick, please?" You return, his mouth quirking up into a sideways grin.

"Such good manners," he kisses you again, sloppily, the sounds lewd and causing you to shiver against his unwavering body. "how could I ever deny you?"

You blink, and cool air is breezing against your wet slit, the nakedness sending a wave of tingles through your nerve endings. Before you can look down, you feel his cock against your clit, smooth and rounded tip gathering wetness from your hole before circling it over your clit.

He uses one hand to keep your legs parted for his viewing, fingers softly gripping your flesh as he sits back on his haunches. You feel impatience crawling up your throat, toes already curling as your bud throbs and your walls ache.

He's so pretty, he is raven hair against olive skin, an onyx sky against shimmering stars. Your hands reach out for his hips, delicate but fierce in their strength. He rubs his shaft against your folds, before prodding at your entrance.

He always watches your expression when he first slides in, the way your mouth falls open and you are suddenly this beautiful, agonizingly worked up thing. He bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes flicker from your pussy, lovlier than a flower and welcoming him with a squeeze, to your face.

Your eyes are bleary as they stare back up at him, your breathing already erratic. His lip curls with the need to hiss, to ravage you. But he takes it slow, he loves watching you fall apart too much. And you're so wet around him, moaning his name like it's the only word you know.

"Johnnyyyy, oh - umph." He rocks into, gracefully and with a deliberate curl. You claw at the front of his tee shirt, pulling him down to your face.

He eagerly obliges, meeting your lips with a soft smack, the angle only pushing him deeper within your body. His pace has increased, the front of his thighs colliding with the back of yours. His mouth somehow remains steady, as if he's not fucking you like he is.

He's parting from you sooner than you'd like, but you know he likes to fuck you like this, able to see all of you and savor it. It's still the most incredible thing he'll ever witness or experience, he's sure of it.

He can't believe a creature like him could be so lucky, here with his manhood buried to the hilt inside of someone so breathtaking, so innately divine. Your essence is thick and wet, coating his shaft each time he pulls out.

"Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin' pretty baby." His voice is gruff, nose twitching and eyes black. You wrap your fingers around his strong, sturdy forearms as his hands grip the softness of your waist. His lips purse and a string of spit dribbles down your clit.

"Ungh, oh my- ohhhhh Johnny please please." You're not sure what your begging for, and it doesn't matter. Because he'll give you whatever it is you need before you know you need it, already hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, gripping your jaw and pushing it up so that he can mouth at your sensitive neck.

"Mmm, I got you baby, I'm right here," he takes your earlobe in his mouth before marking your throat, licking and sucking. "I can already feel your belly tensing sweetheart, gonna make a mess for me?"

All you can do is nod, eyes squeezed shut and hands exploring his firm abdomen while he pushes himself all the way into you; rocking his hips back and forth to make sure the tip of his cock is rubbing that sweet spot inside of you. Your clit is being stimulated in the process, and you know you're not going to last long.

He knows it too, and his thumb is suddenly on your swelling bud, rubbing you in circles faster than you can comprehend, but with just enough pressure to have your nails digging into his back with fervor. Having unbreakable skin must be a plus, in his case.

You're tensing more now, twitching even. Your energy is buzzing around him, electric. Your heart pounds like a drum, rattling against your ribcage and causing blood to thrum viciously throughout your veins. His thrusts become a bit more frantic, his senses completely overcome with you.

He's so lost in his own pleasure he doesn't even hear you cum. He feels you go limp underneath him, back arching off the bed and your walls spasming around his cock.

He realizes now that you're trying to shove your face in the pillows, a silent sob ripping through your body. He's pulling you to him, and you're suddenly in his lap, as he comforts you with a soothing coo.

When you move your face from the crook of his neck and he's met with your teary eyes and damp skin, he's thrown off the edge.

Your forehead is against his as he bites back a snarl of sorts, pumping into you from below with as much restraint as he can muster as to not overwhelm you since you've just cum as well.

He has to move his hands away from you for a quick second, opting for the bed sheets instead while you cling onto him and kiss his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. He feels selfish, but he also doesn't want to crush your hip bones in such a state.

Your breathing is still uneven, even after several minutes and once he's sure that he's in his right frame of mind, his arms are around you again.

Your body is sweetly ravaged by his mouth, lips leaving a wet trail over too much skin in such a short amount of time. You're still sensitive, wincing as his enthusiasm causes you to shift on his lap.

"Oh." He uses one arm to wrap around your middle, slowly pulling you off of his dick and lying you down against the comforter.

You whine at the loss of contact as he disappears, returning in a blur with a warm, damp cloth. He's in between your legs, wiping away your shared mess and muttering soft sorrys when he's just a smidge too rough. You're still embarrassed by his need to take care of you like this, bashfully looking away.

You don't realize he's gone and returned until the covers are being thrown over your body, his arms securing you to his solid chest and his lips against your ear.

"You need sleep, don't argue." He kisses the back of your head and you smile to yourself, snuggling further against his figure. You feel like you're being warmed from the inside out, despite how cool his skin is against yours.

"M'not gonna argue, you made me tired," The thump of your pulse and the shy lilt to your voice satisfies him, and he wishes that he could make love to you all over again.

"When will you take me to go meet the others?" Your speech is already slightly slurred with sleep, a yawn following. He sighs, kissing behind your ear.

"Give me until tomorrow night, I need to discuss a few things. Then we'll go, I promise."

He wishes that this could be a more exciting prospect for him, that in the back of his mind he weren't, for the first time in a long time, genuinely worried about how his brothers might react.

It's got nothing to do with his capability. Without question he will keep you safe, his strength is comparable to the eldest and he'd forge fire if it meant having you whole and in his arms.

But his coven, they're different than what he knows you're expecting. He knows that because of primal, and ancestral rules that they will not lay a hand on you.

If he's honest, it's more so what might come out of their mouths that worries him. He can't have them slip up and say something they're not supposed. It'll kill him if there's even one crease of worry or sadness etched onto your pretty face. He won't allow it.

But if it's important to you, it's important to him. You're here, asleep in his arms, and he's certain that if he had a soul, he would trade it if it meant another lifetime of your existence.

•

Johnny isn't next to you when you wake up, which isn't a particularly uncommon occurrence. It's just that normally he'd let you know beforehand, even shaking you awake sometimes just to mumble a be back soon in your ear, despite the fact that you're half asleep.

You reach over to your bedside table to grab your phone, clicking it on and feeling a bit less tense realizing he's left you a message. You smile.

Sorry I had to leave so early, sweetheart. I'm speaking with my brothers and getting some things taken care of. Don't worry. I love you and I'll see you soon. xx

He must be serious, about the way they behave. It's not that you don't believe him, you'd just rather see the positives, in whatever way you can. It's a little bit startling to think about today, if you're honest. Especially after such an all consuming night, the sun now too bright in your eyes, the scent of Johnny still on your sheets and clothes.

You feel anything but dark and dreary when you think of him. That's not to say he's not quite scary if you don't know him. Broad and towering, gaze low and piercing in a way that'll have you looking away nervously if he were to make eye contact with you.

But you can't imagine him as anything but what he is, beautiful and lively and kind, soft around the cold hard edges.

You stretch as you rise from your bed, joints popping as you pull yourself onto your feet. You wince slightly, realizing between your thighs is still fairly sore, ghosts of his touch lingering on your heated skin.

You and Johnny don't have sex incredibly often, at least not by normal human couple standards. It's pretty obvious why. His ability to control his strength, his desire, his thirst; in that state, as he has explained, it leaves him a little bit frayed.

It's not like you're not satisfied anyways, he's more than generous with his mouth and fingers, and despite the fact that he holds nearly half of his full vigor back when the two of you are intimate, it's still a little bit throttling for you afterwards.

The day is boring without him, quite frankly, but despite whatever you may think about it, you still respect his decision to plan ahead for your visit.

You do get it, it's not that. If anything, you just feel too safe with him. To the point where you sometimes feel invincible in his arms.

It almost makes up for the fact that you don't get to show him off as much as you'd like, as silly as it sounds. His kind can go out in the sun, but it's a bit bothersome after a while from what you've heard. He is almost a cliché in that department, most days either spent with him in doors or at night.

Sometimes, though, you wonder what it would be like if he were human. It wouldn't make a difference, you're sure of that, because he'll always be your Johnny. But the thought does venture into your mind every now and then, because of the way he speaks of his humanhood. As if he's trying not to admit how much he misses it.

You often wonder what he must have looked like when he could blush, with his vibrant smile on show, and dimples high on his soft cheeks.

A small, selfish part of you envies the people who might have gotten to witness him like that. Warm, a little uncoordinated maybe, eyes topaz in the sun. He must have been a sight to behold, throughout his human life.

Deep down, a part of you knows that, that is what this whole thing with his brothers boils down to. You're not just curious, you're madly in love with him. So much so that when he's away, it does feel uncomfortable. You never believed people when they spoke of love that way, you always thought it to be quite gross, actually.

And maybe you're just a silly little human with silly little feelings, to be so smitten after a year. But there's no going back now, he's a part of you, so of course you think about how much of him you've never gotten to see. Of course you want to meet any tangible part of his incomprehensible life, his family. Even if it's not conventional.

It leaves an odd pit in your stomach, thinking of him young and youthful, thinking of his mother and father and the life that they had created so many lifetimes ago.

You think of him at eighteen, maybe still plush in some areas not yet tainted by the work of adulthood. Had he ever been in love, back then? You swallow back the irrational bitterness you suddenly taste.

You think of him at twenty, and what he might have been passionate about. What life was even like for him. You think of his first kiss, and him at twenty four, a year before his life as what he is now, began.

Truthfully, you don't know a lot about him. It's a strange, sudden realization, but it's just never really mattered in all honesty. Because you know him, how he is now, which is all you'll ever get and is more than what you could've ever asked for.

You've always felt like it's different because his existence in itself has been so tremulous, and in a lot of ways very hard to talk about without it getting uncomfortable because of all that he has lost, or subsequently reminding him of what he is.

Never things he'd admit out loud, but definitely something you've picked up on in his expression or the wistfulness in his voice. It doesn't matter, to you; the bad parts. He's yours, and somehow you two have found each other despite so many centuries vouching on never having met one another at all. You wish you could truly express to him how nothing would ever stray you away.

You've showered and eaten an inadequate dinner by the time Johnny shows up, presence barely perceptible until he's wrapping his strong arms around you from behind.

You're used to it by now, not even flinching anymore. You melt instantaneously, placing your hands over his that are resting around your waist.

"Hi." He whispers, lips against the shell of your ear. You shiver and let out a giggle, turning in his grasp to get a kiss. He's on your lips before you even have to lift yourself on your tippy toes.

"Mm, hi." You mumble, hands cupping his jaw. You hum as he pulls you closer, spinning you so that you're pressed against the counter, his hand on the small of your back blocking you from the hard edge.

"We could stay here, you know," he smiles against your mouth, half teasing and half serious. "a change of plan never hurt anybody."

The idea is actually tempting.

"But I just showered." You pout, and his hands are rubbing your sides, eyes contemplative.

"You're right, you shouldn't go over there smelling anymore enticing than you already do, anyways." He says it with a grit of his teeth, as if the mere thought bothers him.

You're too distracted by his face to really absorb what he's saying, smiling up at him, practically beaming. Before he can quirk his brow and boop your nose with the tip of his finger, you kiss him again.

It's chaste, but it's sincere.

"You're so cute when you're all disgruntled." You state, throwing your arms around his neck. He snorts, shaking his head and licking his heart shaped lips lips out of habit.

"I'm not disgruntled, I just want this to go well." He replies, broad shoulders slumping. You unhook your arms from around him to grasp his hands, large and welcoming in yours. He intertwines your fingers.

"It will. Because I'm with you." It's simple, and undeniable. He knows that, and accepts defeat when he sees how truly bright the gleam in your eye is. You're his own little sun. 

During the drive to his home, Johnny takes this time to give you some much needed insight on the creatures you’ll be meeting. He gives you their names, some key characteristics so that you won’t be startled by their behavior, but he doesn’t give you their ages. He simply refers to the one named Yuta as the oldest, and Mark as the youngest. 

“Youngest and oldest in vampire years or..?” You ask, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smile at your interest. You forget to focus for a moment, tracing the planes of his side profile with your eyes. 

“Yuta was my age when he was changed, but he is, in our terms, the eldest. Mark is the youngest both in the factors.” His thumb strokes the back of your knuckles where your clasped hands rest on the center console, though it doesn’t soothe all the burning questions that you’ve decided need to stay in your head, for now. 

You think of mark first, something about his youth, despite the fact that he is centuries older than you, seeming a little bit less intimidating. Almost abstract, in a way. As he describes the youngest, it’s easy to picture a boyish smile, innocence. Until he throws in the fact that the ones that get changed before the brain is fully developed, tend to be the ones with more of an unsteady grasp on their more potent emotions. You can guess what that means, and he suddenly regrets ever opening his mouth. 

Johnny almost debates whether or not he should turn the car around and forget about this occasion all together, growing anxious at your monotone expression and the way you are chewing the skin of your bottom lip, and not realizing you are just lost in deep thought, not perturbed or uncomfortable. 

Really, you are just trying to make out what his brothers may be like. Taeyong, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Doyoung. For some reason, it’s the thought of meeting Yuta that seems the most daunting. Despite the fact that he is Johnny’s age, not technically but anyways - knowing that he has been around for so long has you wondering how a person like that even thinks. 

Maybe you should've listened to your boyfriend. No, you're brave. But sometimes you are not very smart.

You are pulled for your reverie of sorts when your surroundings become darker, gloomier in the way that the trees seem to shield the road ahead from the sun, forming a canopy from above and casting misshapen shadows across the ground.

You don’t realize you’re clutching his hand tighter until Johnny turns to look at you with worried eyes, all the stars and every wish that he could ever grant you swirling in his chocolate irises. 

“Are you alright? We can turn around and-” 

You shake your head in defiance, determined. You aren’t going to back out now, not when you can already see the house from around the bend, pillars high and spiraling, a wide balcony peeking out from behind the trees. 

“I’m perfectly fine, promise.” you give him a soft, reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but he knows you’ll likely scowl at him if he keeps insisting on your indifference, so he takes the car just a little bit further, rounding a bend and stalling before cutting the engine. 

The house is a lot more grand that you’d previously expected, the outside still kempt but not as pristine. Mostly, you thought that it would offensive to coin their home as something dark and menacing, not wanting to contribute to the cliché. But, it does in fact feel as though you are walking into a lair.  

It’s beauty is undeniable, though, despite the lack of real warmth that it exudes. Upon entering, wide open space greets you, black marble flooring underneath your boots and a staircase straddling either side of the entryway. Above it is a balcony, hanging over the foyer from the second floor. 

“So I was correct, about the furniture.” You murmur, pressed against his hard side with your arms wound around his forearm despite the fact that the house is seemingly empty. You know that it’s not, though. Any living being who walked into this house would be able to feel it, the static that seems to raise the hair on the back of your neck. 

“You'll have to forgive our complacency when it comes to interior design,"  

The voice seems to appear out of nowhere, melodic and smooth and echoing off of the walls in a way that makes the direction of the sound imperceptible. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone making their way down the left staircase, gliding more so than walking. 

"So many years leave us comfortable, rather than fashionable."

Two figures float behind him, while three others descend down the opposite staircase. You could've sworn you'd only glanced at Johnny for half a second, before they suddenly materialized.

The man is suddenly right in front of you, and your eyes act as if they have no choice but to meet his, your breath stalling. It reminds you of the first time you saw Johnny, how shocking it was to be faced with such inhuman beauty.

"My name is Taeyong, it's lovely to meet you." The creature flashes a bright smile, something unreadable in his sharp eyes. His quaint lips are mischievous, or maybe you're just paranoid.

You don't have a chance to respond, already surrounded by a group that seem oddly eager to meet you despite what Johnny had warned, their gate an obvious contrast to your boyfriends. 

They seem to sway effortlessly rather than stand perfectly still, their proximity closer than that of strangers. The energy around them feels unpredictable, and without thought your hand tightens around Johnny's.

"Wow, she smells good." A voice muses from the group, and you follow it to find a face that you somehow automatically know belongs to Mark. His face is youthful, eyes wide and full of glee and then a bit amused, due to what you can assume is from your boyfriend glaring at him sharply.

"No wonder he's so attached." The boy beside Mark, with dimples as deep as you've ever seen, hums to his friend.

"Please, don't be so crude, children. She is our guest." This voice is authoritative, the timbre low but the tone gentle like the stroke of a feather.

The group seems to make way for him without thought, and again, you're instantly struck with recognition simply by his presence alone.

He approaches you without caution, you blink and he's suddenly right there. His hair is longer than the others, curling around his prominent chin and framing his elegant features.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you, we've heard so much about the little human that's enamored our dear brother." You can't look away from his cunning face, his eyes are almost wild in excitement, plush lips stretching across his face to reveal a million wat smile.

He extends his hand towards you, with a bit more reserve now - and the first thing you notice are the sharp, glossy black nails that are more akin to claws, formed into stilettos at the tips of his delicate, slender fingers.

"Careful." Johnny mutters to his brother through his teeth, the man giggling in amusement as he gently takes your hand in his. You hadn't even realized you'd extended it back, his skin almost colder than Johnny's if possible.

"Tsk, so worried. For what reason? Look, I'm being as gentle as a hummingbird. Her hands are so soft."

Yuta. It's undeniable, he's too confident, bemused by this whole ordeal and even more so by the way his brother has stiffened beside you, pulling you back just a fraction of an inch.

The elder sighs wistfully, allowing your hand to drop from his. He meets your eyes once more, your skin buzzing oddly.

"My name is-"

"Yuta. I-I know, I mean I guessed."

It's the first word you've spoken to any them, and your voice is shakier than you'd like, throat dry. The mans lips twitch into a grin, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he clasps his hands together in a stunned manner.

"Wow, perceptive you are. So sure, despite appearing so meek."

You can't decipher his tone, worried that maybe you've messed up by interrupting him. He seems a bit perplexed, in a curious way. You're grateful for a new voice introducing themselves, directing your attention elsewhere.

"I'm Jungwoo," His voice is the most welcoming. "your skin is so pretty. Is that weird to say?" He mutters the last part to the slender, inquisitive man beside him, who's features are similar to that of a feline. He seems indifferent.

But, for the first time since you've arrived, you smile, an odd sense of relief flooding through your nervous system. You feel Johnny relax as well, and you glance up at him for just a moment, to see him already looking down at you.

"It's nice to meet you, Jungwoo," The jubilent vampire flashes you a smile. "all of you, really. Thankyou for welcoming me into your home."

"Of course, doll. Should we give her a tour?" Yuta speaks and Johnny responds almost a heartbeat after the elders suggestion.

"I can do that, give her some space." His voice is polite but firm, and Yuta giggles again, while the others back up a bit. Johnny readjusts his grip on your hand and begins moving towards the right staircase, turning his head to send the rest a look you can't see.

He leads you down the left corridor into a massive hallway, the walls a deep shade of plum, floors white marble instead of black like the ones downstairs.

Once you're out of view from the rest, he stills, turning towards you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

"I'm sorry about that, really." His eyes are apologetic and you snort, embracing his middle and kissing his chin.

"Sorry for what? I'm fine, they were fine."

He lets out a sigh, broad shoulders slumping as he does so. He believes you enough to not keep on, pressing his lips to your forehead before continuing his non informative tour.

"I wish they'd keep at least some of their thoughts to themselves," you're turning, brought down another lengthy hall with a massive picture window framing the north wall. Heavy burgundy curtains keep the sun from shining through the glass.

To the left is another set of stairs, small in comparison to the ones you've seen so far, framed with elegant railing. "this is my room, up here." He points to the door that sits right at the top of them, lonesome and heavy looking.

Your heartbeat is suddenly loud in your own ears, excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospect of being in a space that belongs to him. He senses this, and smiles to himself as he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pushes it open.

Everything about his room is inherently Johnny. It's simple, but so very him.

The atmosphere is completely different to what the rest of the house provokes, the floors a deep cherry red, hardwood. A round, red rug sits in the middle of the room, a leather sectional nestled in the corner to the right. Beside it hangs rows of shelves with a multitude of books, more than you'd normally see lounging in some ones room. He's probably read them all three times over by now.

He has a television, which shouldn't make you giggle as it does. It's far bigger than necessary, taking up almost all the space on the eastern wall. There's a door almost adjacent to the one you entered from, which you presume is the bathroom.

"I love it, it's so comfortable in here." You muse, trotting towards the sectional and throwing yourself on the massive sofa. He chuckles, sauntering towards you and lifting your head so that he can place it atop his lap.

He can't lie to himself, it makes him ache in the most pleasant of ways to have you here, in a place that has been his only real peace since he's met you. Well, scratch that. You are his only safe haven.

"Yeah?" He replies, scratching your scalp lightly, studying the softness of your features as you gaze up at him, elated.

"Mhm, it feels like stepping into a different house entirely. Not that I have an issue with the interior design." You playfully mock his brother Taeyong’s earlier words, and laughter bubbles from your boyfriends throat.

"You don't think it's too melancholy? The house, I mean."

You shake your head indifferently, hair ruffling against the material of his jeans that are covering his thick thighs.

"To be honest it is quite....vampire-y, but it's elegant. And big. And knowing you live here makes it not seem so dark."

His hands are suddenly cupping the area just underneath your arms, effortlessly pulling you up so that you're straddling his lap. Your thighs find their place immediately, knees squeezing his torso.

"You're too good. Too pretty to be in a place like this." Despite his tone his eyes are formed into crescent moons from his smile, and you don't fight the urge to kiss him.

"Shush, or I'll battle you to the death." You mumble, his nose nudging your cheek as he tilts his head to move in a steady rythm with your mouth.

"Mm, think I beat you to it." He teases, and you can feel his smile. You're not in the frame of mind to scold him for that one.

Naturally, without even thinking, your body heats up fast from the way he kisses you. Even if he's trying to be chaste, it always ends up with a flame being fed by his tongue. His scent, the sensation of wholeness when you're surrounded by him.

Especially now, in the comfort of and quiet of his room when all you can hear is the smack of your mouths, steady and calculated. You're encapsulated by everything that belongs to the person you love.

A soft push to your shoulders has you humming in confusion, you're still not back on earth when you break apart to see the contrived, reluctant expression that twists his face.

"We can't - not here." He strains, very much so aware of way your hips are planted so firmly against his, the sweet scent of blood that rushes like a current through the area between your thighs.

You pout, and instinctually he's cupping your face between his palms, kissing it away. His fingertips graze the shell of your ear. 

"Don't give me that look, you know why I'm saying no. If they thought you smelled good before, you'd be the finest of dining options if you walked down there wet."

Your body pulses with arousal, arousal that he can practically taste on the tip of his tongue. A petulant whine slips from your throat, while your palms graze his hardening length through his jeans, and his cock twitches.

Fuck. He really can't deny you, can he?

[slashingdisneypasta]

Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

//

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

~

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?