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raaorqtpbpdy · 8 months

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Have You Ever...

Danny gets invited to a hero convention as Danny Phantom, and his booth is next to none other than the legendary Ben 10, one of Danny's own favorite heroes. But when the two start playing a modified version of Never-Have-I-Ever to alleviate their boredom between handshakes with fans, they accidentally expose some things they didn't really mean to.

You can also read it on AO3

Written for X-over Danuary Week 2024, Day 1: Ben 10 | Prison Thanks @crossoverdanuary for running this!

I got a late start because I had DnD today, and I finished this at like 10pm, so I didn't have time to edit. I'm planning on editing it later this week, but until then, sorry for any mistakes. [Edit: it has now been edited]

[Warning for mentions of past traumatic experiences]

It was weird to see such a huge convention center so empty.

Well, it wasn't completely empty, but a few people carrying boxes and setting up displays was a significantly smaller crowd than Danny would normally expect to see in a place like this.

"Ah! Danny Phantom you're here!" A woman with a high ponytail and a convention staff t-shirt walked over to him. "Wow, I'm so excited that you actually came!"

Her voice was familiar.

"Sally, right?" he guessed. "Sally Braddock?"

"You remembered!" She said brightly.

Sally had been the one who'd convinced Danny to come to this convention. She'd offered him pretty substantial payment, but it was only when she told him he could have three free tickets to the convention as well that Tucker told him he had to agree or they wouldn't be friends anymore.

So here he was, at San Diego Hero Con, halfway across the country, to sit at a table and sign autographs for a few hours each day, and then do an hour-long panel with a bunch of other teen heroes, and another tomorrow on specifically ghost hunting. (He was still debating whether he should actually show up to that one, or if it would be too dangerous.) The worst part, though, was how early he had to wake up to set up his booth before the event started.

"Here's your presenter badge," Sally said, and handed him a bright yellow name tag clipped to a blue lanyard with the convention's logo on it. "Celebrity meet-and-greets are over there. I'll lead the way. We try not to put them too close to each other or the lines get out of control, but your booth is right next to Ben 10's."

Danny perked up at that. "The alien guy?"

"Yup!"

Oh, man, he hoped he'd get the chance to talk to him. Ben 10 was Danny's favorite superhero. He got to fight real life aliens, sometimes in actual space! And sure, Danny had been to space before that one time Technus had taken over a satellite, but it had still been a ghost fight. It wasn't the same.

"So, this is your table," Sally said, pointing to an empty, white folding table. "Do you have a tablecloth, or banners or headshots or anything?" she asked him with a tight smile.

"Uh.... I don't photograph well," he replied.

Sally sighed. "Well, I can bring over one of the convention tablecloths, but you really should get some kind of poster or cardboard cut-out or something that shows people who they're meeting. And you'll definitely need something to sign. Comic books, or T-shirts. Anything, really. There's a portrait artist in Artists Alley who works pretty fast, her name is Jess. If you get something from her, I can send a gopher to make copies for you to sign."

"Uh, okay? But, I can just call a friend to bring something."

"Whatever works." With that, Sally left to go organize something else.

Danny called up Sam, who was back at the hotel with Tucker—Tucker would no doubt still be sleeping—and asked her to find a nearby print shop and get a Danny Phantom Banner to hang up and a whole bunch of 8x10 illustrations of him. He let her pick the picture, but asked her to please not pick anything too embarrassing.

Right as he hung up, a pair of people approached the booth next to him carrying plastic tubs. It was none other than Ben 10 himself and a tall, furry, blue alien who was no doubt one of his allies. (That or a cosplayer, but since they were with Ben 10 himself, Danny felt safe in assuming that they really were an alien.) The two of them placed their tubs on the floor and opened them up to start unpacking their display.

"Woah, hi!" Danny said, louder than he meant to.

Ben 10 snapped his head around, muscles tensing. Danny recognized that response all too well, and tried not to let out a sympathetic wince.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said. "You're Ben 10, right? I know this is cringey to say, but I'm a huge fan."

"Uh, thanks? Just Ben is fine."

"I'm Danny Phantom, but you can just call me Danny."

"I can see that... uh... nice to meet you?" Ben replied. He seemed uncomfortable. Had Danny come on too strong.

"Something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not," Ben said, though it wasn't very convincing.

"I am Rook Blonko," Ben's companion said, offering Danny a handshake which he excitedly accepted. "It is an honor to meet another hero, though I will admit, it was only recently that I came to learn about you."

"Oh, yeah," Danny let out an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his head. "My scope is a lot more regional and sometimes not very... in this dimension."

"That would be... the Ghost Zone, right?" Ben said casually. "What's it like? Anything like the Null Void?"

So he was at least somewhat familiar with Danny and his exploits. Danny tried not to let that go to his head, but he couldn't help feeling a little giddy nonetheless. Ben laid down a black tablecloth with his logo on it and spread it across his table. This definitely wasn't his first rodeo.

"I don't know about the Null Void," Danny said. "It's like the bottom side of this dimension. It's where ghosts live... or... not live. Reside. Almost everything is green because of all the ectoplasm there, and when humans go there, they can pass right through walls and objects just like ghosts can in this dimension."

"That does not sound like the Null Void at all," Rook observed, pulling rods and boards out of one of the boxes and assembling them into a small standing shelf.

"What's the Null Void like?" Danny asked.

"Mostly red," Ben said with a shrug. "Full of floating islands and enormous aliens. Used as a penal colony for this dimension's worst criminals."

"Oh... yeah, no. Aside from the floating islands, that doesn't sound anything like the Ghost Zone," Danny agreed. "Although it's kind of a cool coincidence that we both have experience with alternate dimensions."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ben looked over at Danny and his sad excuse for a booth—really looking for the first time. "First time at one of these things?"

"Oh yeah," Danny confirmed. "My friend is bailing me out at a print shop right now, but I was so unprepared."

Ben snorted. "Here," he said, digging through one of his boxes and pulling out a bright green swath of fabric. "You can use one of my tablecloths. I brought an extra, just in case. It has my logo on one side, but if you turn it around so the logo faces you no one will be the wiser. We have basically the same color scheme, so it works out."

"Thanks," Danny accepted the tablecloth, slightly surprised, and spread it out over his table. It was almost exactly ectoplasm green, just a shade or two darker. "Have you been to a lot of conventions?"

"A few," Ben said.

"This is your fourth," Rook said.

"That sounds right. If it hadn't been for Rook, I probably would've been just as lost as you at my first one. He's all about preparing in advance. But yeah, I've been a public hero for over a year now, and since my identity isn't a secret anymore, it's easier for the people who run these things to get a hold of me."

"About that... why don't you have a secret identity?"

"It wasn't exactly my choice," Ben replied. "Some kid found it out and exposed me on the internet. It turned out surprisingly well, though, for the most part. Must be nice for you though, not having an alternate identity—not that being dead is nice or anything like that—I mean, it's not a bad thing—or it is a bad thing? I uh... yeah, I don't know what I'm saying."

After taking a moment to parse that rambling sentence, Danny burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! Is that why you're acting so uncomfortable around me? Because I'm dead? Ha! You don't have to worry about that. You're fine."

"Serious?"

"Dead serious," Danny replied with a smirk.

Ben shook his head with a soft laugh. "Alright, fine.... Actually, that's not the only reason. Back when I was ten and just starting out I had... a bad experience with a ghost-like alien of mine. Ever since, ghost stuff just puts me a little on edge."

"Oh... I see. Well, don't worry, I won't take it personally," Danny said. "Did you really start doing this when you were ten?"

"Yeah. Although I kinda retired for a few years when I was eleven, and started up again when I was fifteen."

Danny did some quick math in his head. "Oh, so altogether, you and me have been in this for about the same amount of time. 'Cause I got started a little over two years ago."

"Yeah?" Ben was silent for a few moments. He pulled out boxed figurines of his alien forms and lined them up on the shelf Rook had assembled. "So... when did you...."

"Die?" Danny finished for him. "I was fourteen. I'm almost seventeen now. In about three months, I mean."

"Do you still age?"

"Sort of?" Danny shrugged.

He and Jazz had come up with an answer to this question a little while ago, when people noticed that Danny Phantom was starting to look older, even though ghosts supposedly didn't age.

"A ghost's body is a reflection of their mental image of themself. In the Zone, ghosts don't really age or change unless something specific happens that makes them feel older or different. Because I spend so much time in the human world still, because I learn and grow with each fight, I still feel like I'm growing up, so I look like I'm growing up, too."

"That is fascinating," Rook said. "I would love to learn more about ghostly biology."

"I would love to tell you about it. Problem is, I really don't know that much," Danny told him apologetically. He shrugged. "Sorry. I'm a superhero, not a scientist."

"I'm here!" Sam called, her heavy combat boots tromping into the room. She was carrying a large cardboard box. "I would have been here sooner, but I had to put together a design for the banner. Luckily I found a printer that could make one for you on short notice like this, or you'd be screwed."

"You're a life saver!"

"You wish," she scoffed. "I got you a banner and three hundred head shots."

"That's not gonna be enough," Ben said immediately.

"Ya think?" Sam asked.

"Trust me."

She sighed heavily in annoyance. "Okay, I can go back and get some more, but you so owe me, Danny."

"Yeah, I know," Danny said, taking the box from Sam. "You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, taking one of the head shots off the top of the stack and leaving again.

"Is that your friend?" Ben asked.

"One of them," Danny confirmed, setting the box down on the table. "That's Sam. She and Tucker have been with me since the beginning. He's probably still asleep at the hotel."

He pulled out a stack of head shots for the table and slid the box with the rest underneath. She'd picked a good picture. It was a poster illustration for a local ghost awareness presentation he'd done a while back, and he nearly sighed with relief when he saw it. He'd been half afraid she'd pick one of the grainy newspaper photos of him in his underwear.

"That's cool," Ben said. "Yeah, I don't think anyone could do this job without allies. When I first started, I had my Grandpa and my cousin, then my cousin and my best friend, and now I have Rook as my partner."

"We have been together for a year," Rook added.

"Like... together together or...?"

"Working partners," Ben clarified insistently. "It's not like that."

"Oh, okay, my bad."

Hoping to alleviate his embarrassment, Danny unfurled his new banner and flew up to hang it on the wall behind his booth. It looked cool, but not too complicated. Just his name and logo and a little bit of ghost designs around the edges. Sam had done a good job with it.

"You are not the first to think that," Rook consoled. "It is a more common assumption than one might think."

They continued chatting idly while they set up their booths. Danny got to ask Rook what kind of alien he was, and what his home planet was like. Sam showed up with a whole bunch more photos and then immediately abandoned them to get a sneak preview of artist alley before she came back as an attendee.

Just before the convention center officially opened, Danny worked up the courage to ask Ben for an autograph, and Ben obliged him with a smile, offering an exchange, rather than asking for payment. Danny eagerly accepted, signing one of his own pictures and trading it for Ben's. Ben's looked far more professional than his own. He hoped people wouldn't be disappointed.

As people started trickling in past the security checkpoint up front, both heroes only got a few people in the beginning. After only about twenty minutes of boredom, Ben suggested they play a game.

"Sure," Danny agreed. "What game?"

"My buddy Kevin calls it Reverse-Never-Have-I-Ever, and my cousin calls it Have-You-Ever." Ben said. "See, we could never play regular Never-Have-I-Ever, because we all knew all the weird stuff we'd done and we'd target each other mercilessly. With this version, You say something you have done, and anyone who hasn't done it loses a point. If everyone's done it, no one loses a point."

"Okay... I think I get the idea, but why don't you start? Five fingers or ten?"

"Let's start with five," Ben said. "Rook, you playing?"

"I will pass," Rook said. "I always lose this game."

"Alright, if that's what you want." Ben shrugged. "Alright, Danny, have you ever... transformed into a different species?"

"Yes."

"You have?!"

"Uh, yeah. I went from human to ghost. Duh."

"Oh... right, duh," Ben agreed, shaking his head at how foolish he'd been to blow his first question like that. "Wow, I can't believe I didn't even think about that...."

"My turn, right?" Danny said. "Have you ever fought an evil alternate version of yourself?"

"Yeah, like six of 'em."

"Okay, well, now you're just showing off."

Ben smirked. "Oh, I never get to use this one on my friends. Have you ever been to space?"

Danny smirked right back. "One of my rogues possessed an orbital satellite."

"Damn it!"

Someone walked over to Danny's table and he smiled at her, pointedly ignored the way she shivered when he shook her hand, and signed a photo for her.

"Okay," he said, shifting his attention back to the game, "have you ever... been cut in two."

"I regenerated, but yeah."

"How?" Danny demanded.

"Plant alien."

"I should've guessed. Stupid plant creatures with their stupid regenerative powers. Undergrowth-ass alien. Lame."

Ben laughed at him while he signed a figurine for a fan who came to his table. "How about this. Have you ever fought a medieval-style knight?"

"A knight? Hold on." Danny considered that for a moment. Had he? He'd rescued Sam from Dora's realm that one time, and yeah, he'd definitely had to fight the ghosts of knights then. Oh! Also Fright Knight. How could he forget about him. "Yes, I have definitely fought knights on several occasions. Ghost knights, obviously."

"Ugh! I really thought I had you with that one. Why do ghosts who died a thousand years ago have to stick around for so long?"

"Nope!" Danny teased. "Okay, how about this one. Have you ever fought a ghost?"

"Define ghost?" Ben asked.

"The law defines a ghost as any creature which produces ectoplasm, is composed of ectoplasm, or requires ectoplasm to survive," Danny recited.

There was no need to say which law—that would be the anti-ecto acts. It was stupid that those stupid acts were still even law when public support of ghosts had never been higher. Although, they hadn't been as heavily enforced the last year or so, since the G.I.W. lost a lot of funding after repeatedly failing to catch their most wanted, Danny.

"Then yes, I have," Ben said. "Have you ever fought an alien?"

"Define alien."

"A creature originating from a planet or plane other than Earth."

"Then yes, ghosts."

"Ah ah ah!" Ben argued. "Ghosts are the spirits of dead humans, which means they originate on Earth."

"Except that not all ghosts are the spirits of dead humans," Danny countered right back. "Many ghosts originally formed inside the Ghost Zone, which makes them, by your definition, aliens, and I have fought them, too. Also I fought off some Incurseans back when they invaded the Earth a little while back. It was awesome."

Ben groaned.

"Haha! Gotcha!"

"Just go already."

"Have you ever died?"

"Ha! Yes, I have," Ben said, as if dying was some huge victory. "You probably thought you had me, but you were wrong. I may have been brought back through alien magic and/or time travel, but yes, I have died. Speaking of which, have you ever time-traveled."

"Psh, have I time traveled?" Danny scoffed. "I have literally met the Ancient, omniscient Master of Time. He's a huge pain in the neck."

It was at this point that more people started accumulating at the two heroes' tables. Some got in line for autographs, though both Ben and Danny were too engrossed in their game at this point to give their full attention. Others just stood, watching, and listening to the two of them. A few even started filming their little game.

"Alright, my turn," Danny said. "Have you ever... oh, I have a good one! Have you ever had to fight your best friend after he copied your powers which then caused him to lose his mind and become evil?"

"Literally how?!" Ben shouted.

"Is that a no?"

"No, I meant 'literally how' as in how has something that specific happened to both of us?"

"No way!"

"Yes way! That's happened to Kevin more than once."

"What?!"

"I know, right?"

"It is also strange for this game to go so long without any of the participants losing a point," Rook said. "I believe it is at this point that I would have lost, had I been participating."

"You put up a good fight, Rook," Ben joked.

"But... I was not playing?"

"I was teasing, Rook."

"Ah, yes."

"Whose turn is it now?" Ben asked. "Mine, right?"

"Yeah," Danny confirmed.

"Have you ever had a limb severed?"

"Yes, but I'm a ghost, so I reattached it pretty easily. Have you ever altered the fabric of reality?"

"I once had to recreate the entire universe after it got destroyed, and then went on intergalactic trial for doing it. And the worst part is, ever since then, grape smoothies just don't taste the same. It's so frustrating. I did get this super comfortable hoodie out of it, though."

"Ew, smoothies?" Danny grimaced. "What are you a yoga mom?"

Ben stood up, slamming a hand on his table and with the other, he pointed accusingly at Danny. "Smoothies are delicious, screw you!"

"You're just frustrated because I'm winning."

"You're not winning, neither of us have lost a single point! But you will!" Ben declared. "Have you ever saved the whole entire universe."

"Yes."

"What?" Ben fell back into his chair, deflated.

"A while back, this one group, the G.I.W. tried to destroy the Ghost Zone with a special anti-ghost nuke, and I stopped them. The Ghost Zone is the flip side of our dimension, so if it had been destroyed, it would have taken our universe along with it. Hence, I saved the universe. I just didn't let it get all over international news first."

"Boo!"

"Isn't that my line?" Danny said.

Ben threw a sharpie at him and he turned intangible and let it pass right through him while he laughed at his own joke.

"Anyway, have you ever visited an alternate timeline where the entire earth is barren and desolate and the alternate version of you rules supreme?"

"Yes, I call it the Mad Universe, because it looked like Mad Max, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can see it. But really? You have?"

"Yup. The alternate version of Rook was a jerk."

Rook frowned but didn't have the chance to say anything before Ben kept talking.

"Have you ever... I don't know... every time I go weirder, you just match me. Have you ever had a family member be friends with one of you enemies?"

"Yeah, my dad considers my archenemy his best friend in the world," Danny said. "The feeling is not mutual, though. Have you ever been imprisoned by one of your enemies?"

"More times than I can count. Have you ever asexually reproduced?"

"Do clones count?"

"No!" Ben refused.

"Yes," Rook argued, possibly still upset about Ben's jerk comment. "Technically, cloning is a form of asexual reproduction."

"But could they fly?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to asexual reproduction, but yes," Danny said. "They were ghosts. They could fly. Most of them were too unstable to survive though. There's only one left." He frowned.

"Oh... sorry."

"It's... fine." It wasn't fine. He still found himself lying awake at night thinking about them sometimes. Danny shook his head and plastered on a determined grin. "I really think I've got you this time, though."

"Do you?" Ben did not sound convinced.

"Have you ever had to fight sentient food that was not still alive?"

"Y—wait...." Ben frowned as he thought about it for a long moment. "No... I haven't."

"Yes!" Danny cheered and Ben buried his head in his hands, humiliated. "This puts me in the lead."

"Not for long," Ben said. "Have you ever eaten food from another planet?"

"Wha—noooo...."

"Ha!"

"We're dead even again."

Their game continued.

"Have you ever fought a cult's subject of worship?"

"Have you ever had a Christmas-themed battle?"

"Have you ever fought on the same side as one of your enemies?"

"Have you ever been called upon to end a war?"

"Have you ever unexpectedly developed a new power that caused you trouble?"

"Have you ever used your powers to get out of other responsibilities?"

"Have you ever had to skip out on something you were really looking forward to and save the day?"

"Have you ever been blamed for property damage your enemies caused just because you happened to be there at the time?"

"Have you ever been mind controlled?"

"Have you ever fought an evil circus?"

The game kept going on and on, while they absently shook hands and signed autographs, with neither of them giving up another point. Until Sally showed up to tell them it was time to go to the teen hero panel they were on.

It was only then that they looked up and saw all the cameras that had been recording their game. How long had they been recording? How much had they gotten?

"Uh... right," Ben said. "Sorry everyone. You can come back for autographs after the panel. And Danny, I think we're gonna have to call it a draw."

"We'll have to have a rematch some other time," Danny said, trying to keep his tone light, despite his sudden anxiety.

Sally led the two of them to a large room with rows upon rows of empty seats, right down the aisle to the stage up front where a man in his thirties was already standing, and a masked teenage girl with glowing pink hair and eyes was sitting behind the table.

"Hello, I'm John and I'll be moderating this panel," the man introduced. "This is Lucky Girl, another teen hero we invited. Lucky Girl, this is Ben 10 and Danny Phantom."

"Nice to meet you," Danny said.

"I can't believe they roped you into this," Ben said, smiling at the girl like he knew her.

"Shut up," the girl barked back. "We can't all gain international fame overnight, and I have to pay for student housing."

"You two already know each other?" John asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah, we've known each other for a long time," Ben said. "All our lives, in fact."

"Ben, I swear if you give me away I will hex you so bad your children's children's children will travel for miles just to spit on your grave."

Ben put up his hands in surrender, and took his seat without another word. Danny followed his lead. This Lucky Girl didn't seem like the kind of person he wanted to mess with.

Once they were all in their seats, John gave them a quick run down of how the panel would go. He would ask a few questions. They would answer. He would open it up to questions from the audience, and they would answer those too. After an hour, the panel would be over, and they would return to their booths, or in Lucky Girl's case, simply leave, as she apparently didn't have a booth.

"She uses her powers to disguise herself, but she can't keep that up for more than an hour and a half," Ben whispered to Danny, clearly sensing his confusion. "She'll probably hang around for a little while after to greet fans, but she'll have to leave when her mana's drained."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense," Danny whispered back, nodding. "I was worried it might be like a sexism thing."

"As if she'd stand for something like that," Ben scoffed.

Soon enough, the doors opened, and people started trickling in. The seats filled up with mostly teens and young adults, with a few parents and older adults sprinkled in. Danny noticed Sam and Tucker come in and sit in the back row and waved at them. Rook was also sitting in the back row, trying not to draw attention to himself. Although, it seemed like most people thought he was a cosplayer, so he didn't really have to bother hiding.

When the doors closed, John started the panel.

The first part was easy.

John asked questions like: "How do you balance being a hero with the other responsibilities you have as an adolescent?"

"Honestly, not well. You know how people say 'you can sleep when you're dead'? Yeah, that's a lie."

"I'm lucky enough to have a good memory so I don't have to study much, otherwise my grades in school would tank. For me, the real struggle is finding time to do chores."

"I prioritize my other responsibilities. I don't usually face world-ending, city-destroying threats like these two, which allows me the luxury of saving hero work for after my homework is finished."

And: "Where do you go when you want to de-stress after saving the day?"

"I usually go over to my friends' and play video games. I feel safe around them."

"If the sun's still up, Mr. Smoothie. But if it's late, I like to go out for chili fries."

"The library. I know it makes me sound like a nerd, but whatever. I am a nerd. Who cares."

And: "How do your parents figure in to you heroic activities?"

"They... don't know. They don't exactly have a great opinion of ghosts, and they don't recognize me when... I mean, they don't recognize me anymore. So I guess they don't figure in." That wasn't entirely true, but Danny wasn't about to say they shot at him in front of a crowd of hundreds of people.

"My parents are actually very supportive. At first, they wanted me to quit, because they were worried about my safety, but I changed their minds. They raised me to know right from wrong, and to help others whenever I can, and they're proud of me."

"My parents don't know either, and I don't live with them right now because I live on my school campus, so I guess, like Phantom, my parents don't really figure in either."

They were easy questions to answer, even if Danny didn't always tell the whole truth. John kept things light, focusing mostly on them being teenagers, and how being a hero affected that aspect of their life, rather than the other way around. There were a couple questions about battles and enemies, but for the most part, they avoided the heavy stuff.

Then, about halfway into the panel, John opened it up to the audience to ask questions.

They didn't shy away from the heavy stuff.

"Hi, I'm Mandy, big fan," said a girl with curly brown hair. "I have two questions for Ben, first is, are you dating anyone?"

Ben chuckled, trying to sound amused, even though, up close, Danny could tell the question made him uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not dating right now."

The girl giggled for a moment before asking her next question. "My next question is: when you're fighting an alien invasion basically by yourself, do you ever feel afraid?"

Ben didn't answer right away. He took a breath, and nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I know I'm strong, and there's a lot that I can do and have done, but when I'm outnumbered a thousand to one, yeah, I'm a little afraid."

"Not that you were ever actually by yourself," Lucky Girl pointed out.

"Heh," Ben rubbed his neck awkwardly. "That's true. Even if there weren't many, I've always had people in my corner."

The next person who stepped up was a guy in a Danny Phantom T-shirt which read 'it's not gay if he's dead.'

Danny immediately groaned and Ben grinned hugely. "Before you ask your question, I have a question for you. Where did you get that shirt?"

"I got it at a souvenir shop when I went to Amity Park, but I think you can buy them online, too," they guy said.

"I'm getting one."

Danny groaned even more insistently.

"My question is for Phantom. If you hadn't died, do you think you still would have become a hero, and protected your home from ghosts?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Danny admitted. "Amity Park does have other ghost hunters, the Fentons and Red Huntress, for example. If I hadn't d... if I didn't have my powers, I wouldn't really have the ability to protect anybody. I'd probably leave it to the ghost hunters who were better equipped."

"And for Lucky Girl, are you single?"

"Ha ha no," she said flatly. "I have a boyfriend."

"Figures."

Next up was a girl in some pretty fantastic Lucky Girl cosplay. Her wig even lit up. Although she looked like she was quite a bit taller than the real thing.

"Lucky Girl, do your periods ever interfere with fighting crime?"

"Uh... that's a bit personal," Lucky Girl said instantly, as if the answer was instinctive.

But when she saw the way the girl reacted like she'd been slapped, hunching in on herself with shame, Lucky Girl bit her lip and answered anyway.

"Actually... the life of a superhero is really stressful. The kind of stress that has... biological effects. When I first started fighting crime as, like, a regular thing, I didn't have a period for months. When I finally did again it was... you know what, I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, it was really bad. Like, my doctor prescribed me pills to stop me from menstruating bad. So... I guess the answer to your question is 'not anymore' and also sorry for the TMI." She finished with a short grimace.

"Thank you for answering," the girl said before going to sit back down.

Ben covered his mic and turned to her. "How come I never knew about that?"

"Are you kidding?" Lucky Girl muttered back. "Like I'm gonna discuss my cycle with a fifteen-year-old boy."

Ben didn't even attempt to argue with that.

As... much as those questions were, it was the next one that really stopped everything in its tracks.

"Hi, I'm Michael. I don't know if you know about this video that's going around. It was only posted, like, less than an hour ago, but it's really blown up in fan circles already," the young man said. "The video shows Phantom and Ben 10... I guess playing a game or something? Where you guys are asking each other if you'd done certain things and basically comparing experiences with each other? Do you know it?"

Ben and Danny shot each other anxious looks.

"Uh... I haven't seen it, but I think we know what you're talking about," Ben answered cautiously. "Is that your question?"

"No, my question is... well, in the video you guys are talking about alternate timelines, and fighting evil versions of yourselves, and getting mind-controlled, and changing reality. I guess my question is. Did all that stuff really happen to you guys?"

Neither Ben nor Danny wanted to answer. They didn't look at each other, or the crowd. They deeply regretted playing a game that revealed such personal secrets in a public space.

Finally, Ben cleared his throat. "Yes, all that happened." Danny nodded his own confirmation. "The life we lead is a dangerous one, and it demands sacrifices, and it takes a lot from you, and it puts you in a lot of strange situations that few others can understand. It's... not for everyone."

The next fan stepped up to the mic. "Follow up questions. First, how are you guys like... functional? Because I mean, if I'd gone through the kind of stuff you were talking about in that video, I think I'd have a mental breakdown. Second, why would you put yourselves through all that?"

"Well, first off, bold of you to assume I've never had a mental breakdown," Danny said. "And secondly, if we don't do it, who will?" he asked. "We're not just random ordinary high schoolers who up and decided to subject ourselves to unspeakable trauma just for the fun of it.

"We do this because we have the power to do things others can't, to fight enemies other people can't fight. We do this because if we don't... if we don't, people die. Or worse. People experience the kind of things we do trying to protect them. So I guess the answer to both of your questions is, what other choice do we have?"

"Yeah, exactly what Danny said," Ben agreed. "I tried to give up my powers, and my responsibilities once, and people got hurt because of it. My grandpa.... Because I wanted to live a normal life, to take it easy, there was no one else to protect them. It is every individual's responsibility to do what they can to help others. It just so happens that we can do more than most, and that comes with drawbacks.

"Lucky Girl, care to weigh in? You weren't in the video, but I know you've had your share of superhero related trauma."

"I think you guys pretty much covered it," she replied. "I don't think I've been through quite as much as you two, but I definitely know about the sacrifices we make for this life. I also know that it's worth it to know that the people and places you love are safe and protected because of you."

The boy's both nodded in agreement.

The questions didn't really lighten up after that. "What's the worst experience you've ever had as a hero?" "Have you ever failed to protect someone?" "We heard Ben 10 say so already, but have you ever wanted to quit, or wished you never had powers in the first place?"

After a point, John noticed how uncomfortable they were getting and had to step in and ask that the next few questions not be so dark.

A younger girl, maybe even a middle schooler, hand mercy on them at last, and asked, "What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you while you were saving the day?" and from there the questions finally eased up.

It felt like it had been far longer than an hour when the session ended, and they left the stage and returned to their booths to sign autographs and shake hands and listen to dozens of people gushing, "I'm you're biggest fan!"

They didn't pick up their game again, even when things got slow. Evidently they'd learned their lesson. And they kept learning it as more and more of the people who came to visit them asked about that video. Each time Danny had to smile and laugh it off, the regret deepened.

It had been a while since he felt like such a complete idiot. Since he'd done something so thoughtless. He'd gotten a lot better at keeping secrets over the years, but he'd just been so excited to talk with someone he had so much in common with—and yeah, he'd probably gotten a little too competitive also. He should have known better.

"So uh... I was at your panel earlier," said a girl who placed a science magazine on the table for him to sign. The cover touted an article about 10 Things You Didn't Know About Ghosts (they have their own culture!). Danny remembered doing that interview.

"That's nice, thanks for coming," Danny said, his smile tensing. "Do you want me to sign the cover, or the page with the article."

"The cover please," the girl said. "For Marnie. And um... I was too nervous to stand up and ask before, but... I was really curious."

"Oh?" Danny asked, keeping his eyes on his hand as he signed the cover 'To Marnie, stay spooky'.

"Why would you make it a game?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be better to try to forget all those things?"

"Easier said than done," Danny said. "Things like that stay with you. Turning them into a joke or a game takes the power away from those bad memories. When you're laughing at your fears, what can they do to you? That's the way I see it. Ben might have another reason, and technically, it was his game. He came up with it."

"So... what you're saying is, laughter is the best medicine?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Danny agreed. He slid the magazine back to her. "Thanks for coming by."

Finally, Danny's shift was over, and Ben's ended at the same time. Just in time, too, because Danny was just about out of photos. He'd have to get more for tomorrow. He signed his last picture with a sigh of relief, thankful that the convention staff had come by to cut off the line when it was about time for him to be finished.

"You finished too, Danny?" Ben asked.

"Yup."

"You wanna go get lunch with us? Wait... do ghosts eat?"

"We do, but I was gonna meet up with my friends for lunch today, and then explore the convention a little." Danny said. "Are you gonna be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm here for the whole con," Ben said. "Here, let me give you my number. We should keep in touch."

"Totally!" Danny agreed. "It'll be nice to have an actual superhero friend. I love Sam and Tucker, but there are some things...."

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

After swapping numbers the two of them headed off to their separate engagements. Danny transformed and got to experience what else Hero Con had to offer without getting swarmed by fans like he saw happening to Ben that afternoon.

They met up again the next day. Chatted at their booths, had lunch together, checked out the fan artists, just hung out for a while. This time around, Danny didn't have his human form to protect him from the crowds.

That video of their game haunted them both for the rest of the convention. People kept bringing it up until it became almost more annoying than mortifying.

When Hero Con finally ended, they both breathed sighs of relief. The convention was over, but Ben and Danny kept in touch. They never did have that rematch though. In fact, they were both pretty much done with 'Have-You-Ever'.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #ben 10 #ben tennyson #gwen tennyson #fic #things i wrote #crossover danuary week #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover #party games #past trauma #humor #dp x ben 10 #dp crossover #dialogue heavy

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shadowphoenixrider · 4 months

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Over a Bowl of Gumbo

(Direct sequel to Sins of the Past, where Gambit makes good on his promise to Shadow, and they Talk. More fluffy than the other one, but about the same amount of talking! At least we know where all the X'Men's 'talk about your feelings' budget went.)

Gambit made his way down the dormitory hall, following the voices that floated up from the dorm with its door ajar, keeping careful hold of the bowl in his hands.

Almost as soon as he'd crossed the mansion's threshold Shadow had been taken from him, bundled away into hot towels and towards the medbay, Beast rattling off orders in Medical-Speak that Gambit had no hope in understanding.

He'd not seen her since, and though he knew full well Beast would take care of the mutant, Gambit had found his mind loud with chattering worries. He couldn't silence them, but he could busy himself the only reliable way he knew how - something that made an even grumpy Scott forgive him. A bit.

As he approached the room, the voices became clearer; a warm southern drawl and the quieter accent no-one could place, talking casually. Gambit smiled warmly, gently drumming his knuckles on the door before pushing his way in.

Shadow was sat up in bed, propped up by pillows and in soft long-sleeved pyjamas, whilst Rogue sat at her feet.

"Hope Gambit not interruptin', mes amies?" He asked, glancing between them.

"No, we're fine here, sugah." Rogue smiled, eying the bowl in his hands and standing up. "There any more of that gumbo of yours?"

"Some, if ya quick. Hopefully Wolverine ain't ate it all." Gambit replied. He noticed the two women share a glance and smile, before Rogue began to take her leave. "She ok?" He asked lowly as she passed him.

"Doin' better now." Rogue nodded. "You did good, Remy."

They shared a smile before she left, and Gambit made his way into the room.

"What've you got?" Shadow asked, shifting to sit more upright.

"Gambit do believe he promised you a bowl of his gumbo when we got back. Careful, it still hot." He smiled, gently passing it to her. Their fingers brushed, and both had to resist the instinct to recoil. "No shrimp, only de chicken."

"And enough spice to kill?" Shadow raised an eyebrow, setting the bowl in the dip of her crossed legs. Gambit chuckled richly - he hadn't realized how much he'd missed her ripostes.

"Need a little spice to warm ya up!" He grinned, sitting where Rogue once had. "Beast would agree!"

"Uh huh." Shadow stirred the stew, taking a conservative taste. Gambit found himself watching her face carefully, gauging her reaction.

To his relief, she smiled, uttering a pleased hum. "Mmm! I can see why Rogue wants to get more."

Gambit beamed at her praise, not quite sure why.

"Glad ya like it, petite." And with that, Shadow dug in - her hunger clear.

Gambit turned his attention to her room, letting her eat in peace. Despite her still being at the X-Mansion as a guest, Shadow was already making her dorm her own. Large posters clung to the wall, one of a sci-fi show Gambit was fairly sure Beast also liked, another that listed all of the raptor birds that could be seen in their area, and yet another with all of the constellations in the night's sky. Books and textbooks were propped up haphazardly together, ranging from the expected subjects of cell biology and biochemistry to a variety of sci-fi and fantasy reference books, one about cat behaviour and another with a title Gambit was sure was there to embarrass people snooping in her room.

Another pile of books sat on the desk by the window, conspicuously kept separate from the others - one Star Wars novel, another about dragons and the last about bird migration. A model of one of the ships from the sci-fi show sat in pride of place in the window, along with a small black resin Egyptian cat, painted with colourful jewellery. Gambit smiled to see it.

"I told Rogue." Shadow's voice broke the Cajun from his thoughts, and he looked back to the young woman. She was stirring the gumbo thoughtfully, having devoured a good half of it already.

"'Bout what happened with your powers?" He asked. She nodded.

"Yeah. I figured that of everyone here, including you, she'd know what it's like..." Gambit nodded.

"That she does, petite. What'd she say?"

Shadow smiled.

"Oh, sugah." Rogue reached forward, gently taking Shadow's hand in her gloved one. "Ah'm so sorry."

"Yeah. When I saw it happening to Wolverine, even on purpose..." Shadow shook her head. "I panicked. It brought everything back, and I just...bolted."

Rogue squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Ah know that feelin', sugah. Did it myself when mine came in too." She smiled sadly. "Folks 'round here have similar stories, though. You're not alone."

A small smile pulled at Shadow's lips.

"I...yeah. I guess you're right. I just...I didn't know how you'd react. I was scared-"

"That we'd treat you differently." Rogue finished for her. "Oh hun..." Another gentle squeeze. "We all have our demons in our past. If we turned you away for yours, all the X-Men'd have to disband!" She smiled softly, kindly. "You're safe here, Shadow. They'd understand."

Shadow's smile trembled, eyes stinging.

"I, I hope so."

"Gambit brought you in like a bedraggled kitty cat he found in a storm drain." Rogue chuckled. "You're not gonna get left out in the cold like that here."

Shadow took a shuddery breath, trying to regain her composure.

"Thank you. I...I'm still not looking forward to telling the others about it."

"Don't worry about that. You can tell them today, tomorrow, or never at all, if ya like." Rogue said. "No-one needs to tell their stories if they're not ready or don't want to." She smirked. "And if they start buggin' you? They'll have to go through me!"

That made Shadow giggle.

"Thank you, Rogue." She squeezed the other woman's hand. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem, sugah."

Gambit smiled fondly.

"Rogue always better than me at sayin' the right things," he said.

"I dunno." Shadow said, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I think you did alright."

"You're very kind, petite."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the young woman finishing off the last of her meal. Gambit noticed that the teal-clothed pyjamas she was wearing were patterned with sleeping cats, one curled into a ball prominently stitched over the shallow swell of her right breast.

Lifting his eyes to her face - least he be caught staring at that area - he noted that whilst her eyes were still a little red, that was the only evidence of her previous sorrow and distress. The colour was back in her face (perhaps a little intensely thanks to the spices), brightening her nose and cheeks. Her hair had mostly dried, curling tightly in on itself - she seemed to have lost an inch of height, but her brunette curls were now defined, almost like ringlets. He could just glimpse her pale ear lobes hiding behind the thick curtain of her hair.

"You're staring." Her voice snapped him back to reality, and to Gambit's surprise, he felt heat rise into his face.

"Ah! Jus' admirin' the scenery, petite!" He said, scratching the back of his neck. She raised an eyebrow at him, that same unconvinced look as she'd had when they first met. "I...Ya look much better, Shadow."

"I am." She nodded. "I should be better tomorrow, but Beast wants me to take it easy until then. Says it's better not to tempt fate after a shock to the system like I had." She paused for a moment, spinning the spoon in her fingers. "I don't know if he told you, but...I was entering a bad stage of hypothermia."

"Yeah." Gambit looked away, out of the window, where the rain still hadn't let up. His gaze drifted to where they had been. "Said that it were lucky I found you when I did. That..."

"Shadow's hypothermia symptoms were progressing fast." Beast said gravely. "She was displaying one of its most insidious symptoms; confusion. If she had been left alone for much longer, Shadow might not have been able to rescue herself, either under her own power, or to have enough wherewithal to call for assistance."

"You mean..." Gambit's heart felt like it stopped in his chest. The doctor dipped his head.

"Yes. We could have lost her, if not for your intervention."

"Yeah." Was Shadow's soft assent. A long pause, before she made a little 'hah!' "I guess that's two I owe you, now."

"Two?" Gambit raised an eyebrow, looking back to her.

"When you saved me in that alley, remember? When we first met." Shadow smiled. "Now you can add this to the list."

"Hah! You don't owe Gambit anythin', petite." He chuckled. "Gambit just happy you're safe. Besides, ya did pay me back for de first save. Healed me, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." She chuckled. "Well...I guess this gumbo makes two, then. It was fantastic." True to her word - aside for the last remnants of brown liquid at the bottom, the bowl was cleaned.

"Ah, only too glad ya liked it, mon amie." Gambit smiled proudly. "It be a Gambit special."

"It certainly was special. Thank you." Shadow's smile was warm and reached her eyes, making his heart trip over one of its beats. She reached to put the bowl on the bedside table, and Gambit leant over to help. Disappointedly, there was no accidental contact between them this time.

"How mad was Scott?" Shadow asked.

"Very." Gambit chuckled ruefully. "Guess most of it were out of worry for you, be fair. Did kinda disappear without tellin' them and didn't have my comm on. After what happened wit you, makes sense."

"Not mention you have that ability to magically disappear and appear without anyone hearing you." Shadow smirked, folding her arms.

"Hah! So ya keep tellin' me." He chuckled. "Didn't even me a chance to get outta my gear 'fore he be givin' me de lecture 'bout always keepin' my comm on, not disappearin' when he talkin' to me, all de usual." He leant back, stretching his long legs out. "Heard it all before."

Shadow raised an eyebrow at him.

"I dunno Gambit, if he has to keep saying it..."

"Don't! Ya as bad as Rogue!" He laughed. "Least he be keepin' it shorter dis time. Worried 'bout ya. Though, Gambit did manage to sweeten him up by promisin' to do his gumbo for dinner."

"Aw, and here I thought I was special!"

"Hey now, Gambit did promise ya first!" He turned his head, and noticed Shadow's eyes were roving down his body, specially down his legs. He gave no indication he'd seen her. "Gumbo take a while to cook anyway, so might as well do a big batch for de team too, non?"

"That's fair, I guess." A thoughtful pause. "Hey, Gambit?"

"Mmm?"

"...Why did you turn your comm off?"

Ah.

"Well..." Gambit rubbed the back of his neck, feeling traitorous heat start to crawl up his face. "If I knew you were in the state you were, woulda kept it on. But..." Why was finding the words so difficult all of a sudden?

"Gambit thought ya needed time. Scott can be pushy, even when he mean well, and...Gambit didn't think dat was what ya needed right den. So, he figured if he find ya first, you would have the time ya needed...and not be alone."

Shadow fiddled with the bedsheet, winding it around her finger.

"How did you know I didn't want to be alone?" She asked quietly. Gambit tried to ignore the sting in his chest at the insinuation.

"Let's jus' say Gambit have some experience wit this," he said. "De types of alone ya wanna be that nearly kills you...That's when ya need someone more den anythin'."

Shadow opened her mouth. Closed it. Just stared at him for a long couple of seconds, before she glanced shyly at her crossed feet.

"Thank you, then," she said softly, raising her head to look him in the eyes. "For...not just rescuing me, but being there for me." A smile grew across her lips. "For being my friend."

Gambit smiled back, feeling warmth blossom in his chest.

"De rien, petite." He replied. "Any time. You make it easy."

He was pleasantly surprised to see her blush slightly, and more so when she reached over, taking his hand. Though her hand was much smaller than his, her fingers were long and delicate-looking - surprisingly elegant for a woman who presented herself more as scrappy and laissez faire.

"I mean it, Gambit." Shadow said, her gentle voice full of deep-hearted conviction. "Thank you."

The Cajun found himself lost for words for a good few moments, before he clasped her hand in both of his, encompassing her with warmth.

"I feel de same, Shadow. Merci."

Her smile was like a sunrise, and Gambit found himself lingering, staring into blue eyes that reminded him of aquamarines, enjoying this quiet, peaceful moment.

That was until Shadow yawned widely.

"Urgh. Mmm, sorry Gambit." She rubbed her eyes with her spare hand. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"It ok, mon amie." He smiled, squeezing her hand with his. "Ya been through a lot. An' de gumbo probably makin' ya sleepy too."

"Yeah." She looked at him from under regretful hooded eyes. "Sorry to chase you away."

"Non, don't be. Gambit happy to stay an' watch over you, but ya probably get better sleep without him." He smiled sadly, reluctantly getting to his feet.

"Depends on how loud your card shuffling is." She smiled, settling back onto the pillows. "But yeah. I think I need a kip. Thank you again, Gambit. For the save and the food."

"No problem." Gambit replied, taking the bowl. "Get some rest now, ok? Don't go sneakin' out again."

"Hah, rich coming from you." She chuckled, her tone light. "Alright. I'll see you when I see you."

"Sleep well, mon amie." Gambit said, stepping away. Shadow's light went off behind him.

Just before he left the room however, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder. Shadow had her back to him, only her wild messy hair visible above the sheets bundled around her.

"Fais de beaux rêves...chère." Gambit whispered softly, before he closed the door behind him.

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cloudyskiiees · 6 months

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guys i posted chapter seven of my alenoah death loop fic…. i was gonna wait till alenoah week was over but i am too impatient! anyways here’s the link (because i still done know how to share individual chapters)

Chapter Seven: A Change in Dynamic

Chapter Summary: Noah confronts a shaken up Gwen, and things take a new turn.

#total drama #alenoah #tdi alenoah #tdi noah #tdi alejandro #tdi fanfic #total drama island #tdi courtney #tdi gwen #i’m so ehehehhe #this chapter is very #dialogue heavy #there’s a lot of character focus #gwourtney #enjoy…..

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snazzy-suit · 5 months

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Luigi: Liaison of Ghosts Chapter 5.4 - Hey! Creatures! Leave Them Kids Alone!

MP - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5.1 -5.2 - 5.3 - (5.4) - 5.5 - 5.6 - 5.7 - 5.8 - 5.9 - 5.10 - 6 - 7.1 - 7.2 - 7.3 - 7.4 - 7.5 - 8

Part 4 of 10

[Prefer to read on ao3? Click here]

In which the final kid is found and Luigi deals with ghostly back-talk (and not in the way you think).

______________________________

When Luigi re-enters the house, he immediately notices that the atmosphere feels, for lack of a better word, lighter. The oppressive energy from before has almost completely dissipated, like a heavy fog burning away in the morning sun. It’s incredible how much a difference it makes now that the home has four less entities darkening its halls. The improvement is welcoming, but Luigi doesn’t allow it to lower his guard.

Pepper once again leads the charge, snout to the ground as he tracks Gooigi’s scent. They trek silently through the halls, Luigi staying extra vigilant as the Polterpup focuses on their task. Soon, the duo find themselves at the bottom of a narrow staircase.

So, they’re on the second story, are they? It makes sense, now that Luigi thinks about it. Koojo had implied the summoning had taken place in a room upstairs.

Pepper abruptly leaps up onto the fourth step. They pause and turn around, looking at the plumber expectantly. Luigi holsters the Poltergust’s wand and silently ascends after them. He can’t help but wonder if the stairs have been tampered with—another haunting classic among ghosts and spirits. The thought has Luigi suddenly gripping the railing like a lifeline, memories of steps folding unnaturally like blinds in a window drifting to the forefront of his mind. He rather not have friction burns added to the growing list of tonight’s endured abuse.

A low growl pulls Luigi from his scrutiny of the old planks. His head snaps up to find Pepper just one step shy from the landing. The spectral canine's tail is low, though not tucked, and had the spirit possessed proper ears, Luigi is certain they would be drawn back. Luigi’s brows furrow with concern and trepidation. With each ghost he captured, Pepper had slowly begun to relax until they were more like their happy, go-lucky self. To see them so suddenly back on edge does not bode well.

“Pepper?” Luigi whispers, cautiously approaching the spirit, “What’s wrong?"

The Polterpup gives no indication that they heard him. Then, without warning, they leap the remaining distance to the second story landing. The air ripples around the spectral canine, and they vanish before they even touch the floor.

Now, disappearing from the visible spectrum is not exactly an unusual thing for spirits—especially Pepper—but Luigi knows magic-based shenanigans when he sees it. The Polterpup didn’t turn invisible, they were forcibly displaced.

The spirit canine had passed through a portal.

Luigi swears under his breath. He doesn’t have the tools to determine the nature of the portal—where it leads, if it is a one-way trip—and he doesn’t have the time to retrieve them. Still, it would be foolish to proceed without at least informing the professor of the situation. Luigi pulls out his battered phone and sends E. Gadd a quick update (as well as a silent thanks for “hero-proofing” the device). With that done, the plumber cautiously ascends the remaining steps. He hesitates at the landing.

He steps forward.

A fragile veil shatters like glass, and a thick miasma crashes into him like a wave. It’s as if Luigi had walked out into a blizzard after spending hours in a sauna. The air practically vibrates with negative energy, and the pressure is borderline suffocating. Luigi braces himself against a wall as he takes a moment to catch his breath and adjust to the staggering change in atmosphere.

And he thought the first floor had been bad.

Luigi has dealt with his fair share of dark entities in the past, but he can’t recall a ghost with this kind of power. Spirits, yes, but they didn’t usually exude such… malice. Not even King Boo. As difficult as it is for Luigi to admit, the spectral monarch isn’t necessarily evil. An egomaniacal jerk, certainly, but not evil. This ghost? Well, the plumber understands now why Nolem had been so disturbed by it.

Luigi distantly wonders how his partner felt when he had first breached the delicate barrier. As a supernatural entity himself, it may not have been as harsh, but certainly disconcerting. The plumber shudders involuntarily at the thought of what the kid must have endured. They would have adapted to it by now, but paranormal miasmas like this are especially taxing if you lack any experience with them.

Luigi straightens and gives his head a clearing shake. He fully turns around, not surprised, but no less uneasy to find the stairs are gone. In its place is a wall. When he reaches out to touch it, he finds it is completely solid—the portal had been one-way after all. On a whim, Luigi retrieves his phone and attempts to contact the professor. There isn’t the faintest signal. Luigi sighs, thankful that he had the foresight to contact his mentor before entering the unknown. He pockets the now useless device and begins making his way down the empty hallway.

There’s no turning back now.

Luigi silently takes in his surroundings as he goes. The walls are sparsely decorated with family photos and tasteful paintings. The jade-green wallpaper beneath them is minutely faded, but Luigi gets the impression that’s intentional. A plush, wine-red rug lies beneath his feet, narrowly concealing the worn floorboards below.

Luigi grimaces at the color-scheme. Definitely not to his taste, but he isn’t here to critique interior design.

The plumber pauses at an intersection in the hall, looking down each of the alternate paths with a frown. It’s unnervingly quiet, and there’s no visible abnormalities to indicate where the ghosts or wayward spirit hound may have gone.

Visible…

Luigi retrieves the Poltergust's wand from its holster and activates the Dark-Light. He aims the beam downward and sweeps it along the floor. Sure enough, a set of glowing paw prints shimmer into view, trailing down the adjacent hallway. With a silent cheer, Luigi follows Pepper's tracks.

The prints lead Luigi to the end of the hall and take a sharp left. Luigi silently follows, distantly noting that the trail has intermittent gaps near areas where the hallways branch off. Time passes. After turning what feels like the dozenth corner, Luigi finally stops—struck dumb by a new development.

The tracks are now pointing toward him.

Luigi frowns. He has been diligently following the paw prints, never straying from their path, and there’s no shift in the tracks to indicate Pepper had changed direction. So far, it’s been an oddly straight trail. The plumber turns in place and shines the Dark-Light down on the carpet behind him. He is further baffled to find the tracks abruptly end at the corner he had just rounded.

Luigi tears his eyes from the anomaly to properly inspect his surroundings. Now that he is paying closer attention, Luigi realizes that the hallway feels oddly familiar. The placement of the doors, the console table adorned with family photos, the painting of a lush meadow... he��s been here before. How had he gotten so turned around? It’s a large house, sure, but the plumber has navigated sprawling manors with little difficulty—this should be nothing in comparison.

Unless...

Dread settles in Luigi’s stomach as a theory pops into his mind. Without a word, Luigi returns the Poltergust’s wand to its holster and takes off down the hall. He turns left when it intersects with another hall, and again at the next corner. If he’s picturing the floorplan in his head correctly, he is currently in a hall that runs parallel to his starting point. Luigi turns right—

—and finds himself at the end of a very familiar hallway.

Luigi stares at the meadow painting with a neutral expression, but internally, he is screaming. The path he took should have led him away from here. It makes no logical sense that he ended up back where he started. But logic has no place here, Luigi realizes. Not where the paranormal are concerned.

There’s not a doubt in Luigi’s mind; the hallways have been enchanted. Specifically, where they intersect. Tracking Pepper is going to be next to impossible unless Luigi can establish a pattern.

He decides to first test the enchantment’s consistency. Will taking the same path yield the same results? The plumber dashes down the hall and turns left as he had before. He nearly trips when he winds up right where he came from.

Luigi glares at the meadow painting as if it had personally offended him. The drop-off points are indeed inconsistent. For clarity’s sake, he retraces his steps to see if it makes any impact. This time, Luigi ends up in a different hallway, one he doesn’t recognize. He can say this with confidence, because this one has an onion lying in the middle of the floor, and he would have certainly remembered passing that little oddity. 1

So much for finding a pattern.

Luigi distantly recalls a towering hotel and a floor ruled by a trio of ghostly magicians. How he traveled from room-to-nonsensical-room in search of the next elevator button. At one point, the triplets had placed an enchantment on the doorways, and the plumber found himself entering bathrooms instead of hallways, and stages instead of suites. There had seemed to be no rhyme or reason to where the doors led, but they had at least stayed consistent—the path remaining the same when he found himself backtracking.

Whatever spell this ghost is using is completely random. There's no puzzle for Luigi to solve, and that just makes things infinitely more difficult.

A familiar bark at his left quickly pulls Luigi from his silent musing. He whirls to the sound and is beyond relieved to find his canine companion sitting halfway down the adjacent passageway. Luigi moves to join them, but hesitates at the threshold of the intersecting halls, afraid he will be thrown into a new area should he dare cross. Seeing his hesitation, the Polterpup confidently trots up to the plumber and tugs on his pant leg until he crosses over the metaphorical line. Pepper releases their hold and dashes back down the hall with a bark of encouragement. The plumber casts a furtive glance over his shoulder, bemused.

Why hadn’t the enchantment worked that time?

Luigi quietly approaches Pepper, offering the latter a hushed reprimand for running off. His half-hearted scolding sputters out as he takes notice of what has captured the canine's attention. The pup is plopped before an innocuous, oak door. There aren’t any visible barriers, and the plumber doesn’t feel any malicious energy warning off potential intruders. While relieving, it doesn’t ease the trepidation settling in the plumber’s gut. He glances at the Polterpup; they don’t appear to be bothered by whatever lay on the other side of this door. Luigi cautiously grasps the handle, and when it offers no resistance, he opens the door.

The plumber isn’t sure what he expected to find on the other side—other than an angry ghost—but a cramped hall closet certainly wouldn’t have been his first guess. He is greeted by an assortment of coats, shoes, and—to his quiet amusement—a vacuum cleaner. Luigi quirks a brow at the bland discovery. Why did Pepper lead him to a closet? What was he supposed to find here?

Luigi reaches toward the wall of coats, intending to part them, when something suddenly lunges from the storage space’s depths.

“Take this, evil ghost!"

Luigi narrowly avoids being brained by a swinging clothes iron. When his attacker misses, their forward momentum sends them crashing to the floor in a heap. Luigi hastily steps back but pauses in his retreat as he takes in the ambusher’s appearance.

They’re a Doogan—an adolescent with russet fur and pale blue eyes. The longer patch of hair on their head is hidden by a baseball cap bearing a team mascot Luigi doesn’t recognize, presumably from the kid’s school.

Pepper curiously sniffs at the fallen teen. The Doogan scoots away with a startled yelp, holding the clothing iron up like a shield. “Stay back!” he barks. “I’m warning you!”

When Pepper ignores the threat and steps a little closer, the teenager thrusts his unconventional means of defense out to deflect them. Pepper, rather unimpressed, simply catches the ironing tool in his maw. The Doogan fumbles his hold in surprise. With a shake of Pepper’s head, the iron goes flying back into the closet.

The teen looks between his discarded weapon and the Polterpup with wide eyes. “What the—? Why didn’t it work?! I thought ghosts couldn’t stand iron!" 2

“Iron, as in the metal,” Luigi corrects, somewhat amused, “not the tool you use to get wrinkles out of clothes. Also, iron isn’t as effective as folklore makes it out to be.”

“Oh." The teen frowns to himself. “I knew I should have tried to whittle a stake instead."

“...where are you getting your paranormal information from?"

“The s/cryptids page on the ‘seenit’ forum. Those guys really seemed to know their stuff, so I, uh..." They trail off, looking up at the plumber with sudden recognition. “Star bits and pieces—you’re Luigi.” The teen smiles, laughing nervously. “Luigi’s in my house. I’m being rescued by one of the Mario Brothers. This is awesome."

Luigi can’t help but smile back, amused by the reaction. Mario faces star-struck gawping almost every day, but for Luigi, such encounters are still largely novel (he honestly doesn’t know how his brother handles it). “You must be Dane."

“Wha—Oh! Yeah, that’s me. Dane—Dane Pawper. Well, my parents named me Larry, so my full name is Larry Dane Pawper but who wants to go by Larry?" He blinks, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous."

“No worries, I’m the same way." Luigi offers Dane his hand to help the teen up. They happily accept the offer, but grimace as they feel his damp glove.

“Hey, why are you all wet?” Dane asks, brow raised.

“I shower with my clothes on.”

That startles a laugh out of the teen, and Luigi is grateful they hadn’t been put off by his flat tone. Sometimes his sense of humor comes off as a touch derisive, even if it’s not his intention.

“No, but seriously, what happened?” The teen glances up and down the hall, as if searching for the cause of Luigi’s saturated state. “Did one of our pipes burst again?”

Luigi imperceptibly cringes, feeling a tad self-conscious. “A Blooper ghost threw your pool at me.”

“Oh...” Dane rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, looking anywhere but at Luigi. “I’m sorry. I... This is my fault. All these ghosts are here because of me," he mumbles. “I’m the one that read from the book."

Luigi’s brows rise marginally. Dane was the summoner? That certainly explains why the strongest ghost targeted him. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to take all the blame. From what Koojo told me, it was a group decision."

The Doogan’s eyes light up. “You talked to Koojo? Is he okay? What about the others?"

“He’s fine, they all are," Luigi assures. “They’re outside waiting with a friend while my partners and I handle the rest of these ghosts."

Dane’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thank the Stars," he sighs. Then, curiously, “Wait, partners? As in more than one? Is Mario here too?"

Luigi fights back a laugh. His brother is talented in many things, but for whatever reason, Mario flounders whenever he tries to wield the Poltergust.

“No, ghost hunting isn’t really his thing," he says mildly. “Pepper and Gooigi are my partners in crime tonight."

The teen perks, suddenly looking elated. “Dude! Same here!”

When Luigi gives him an odd look, Dane reaches into the pockets of his orange jacket and procures a pepper shaker and a pair of sunglasses with a large stylized ‘G’ printed on the arms. Luigi stares at the items with thinly veiled dismay.

“Good Grambi,” Luigi mumbles quietly, “The Boos back at the mansion would adore you.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Dare I ask why you have pepper in your pocket?”

“For protection,” the kid says like it’s obvious. “From demons!”

Luigi takes a deep, composing breath. “Remind me to make some book recommendations after we get out of here,” he says tiredly. “And to clarify, Pepper is my dog. Also, I said Gooigi, not the fashion brand.”

“Goo... igi...?” Dane repeats slowly. “Is that a portmanteau of ‘Goo’ and ‘Luigi’?”

Luigi offers a somewhat solemn nod.

“Uh... would this ‘Gooigi’ person happen to look like you if you were a lime-green fruit snack?”

“You’ve seen him?”

The teen suddenly looks embarrassed. “Yeah... I, uh, kinda ran away... from him...?” His voice lilts as if asking a question. At Luigi’s blank stare, he hurries to elaborate. “I didn’t know he was a good guy!”

“You just said he looks exactly like me.”

“Man, I don’t know! I thought he was some kind of evil shapeshifter the armored ghost summoned to try and trick me! When I first saw them, they were standing together all buddy-buddy, looking at that awful spell book.”

Luigi frowns to himself, unnerved by the revelation. Gooigi knows better than to attempt magic on his own. Luigi and the professor both were very clear in teaching him about the dangers of the arcane arts. What could have pushed Gooigi to ignore their warnings? And then there was the other matter...

“Armored ghost?” Luigi asks. Nolem had said Dane’s attacker was wearing a hood. He didn’t mention anything about armor…

“Yeah, it was a Koopa wearing old armor—really old armor—and he talked weird.” Dane begins to wring his hands nervously. “Anyway, your buddy tried to convince me he was there to help, but while I was distracted, the armored ghost snuck up behind me and grabbed me! Then it got really cold.” The kid shudders. “Next thing I know, I’m on the ground, and Gummy Man is reaching for me. I freaked out and ran past him, and then both of them started chasing me!” Dane frowns to himself. “I thought they were working together, but looking back, your buddy must have just been trying to stop the other guy...”

A dozen questions pop into the plumber’s mind. The first to leave his mouth is, undoubtedly, the least imperative.

“...Gummy Man?"

“I’m not very creative."

Maybe not, but Luigi is definitely going to tease his partner about this later. “What happened after that?”

“Magic hallway shenanigans,” Dane shrugs. “I turned a corner, and they were gone. I considered trying to find the stairs again, but I wasn’t about to risk another encounter with that armored jerk, so I hid in this closet instead. I’ve been here ever since.”

Luigi nods slowly to himself as he processes the teen’s words. When he doesn’t respond after a couple beats of silence, Dane regards him with apprehension.

“Hey, uh, you’re not mad at me, are you?” he asks timidly. “Cause I’m sorry about running from your friend—”

Luigi quickly shakes his head. “No! No, I’m not mad. Just... confused,” he brings a hand to his chin, but quickly aborts the move at the unpleasant feeling of his damp glove. “Your friend, Nolem, told me the ghost that came after you was wearing a hood, not armor.”

“Oh! No, he was right,” the Doogan nods emphatically, “The hooded ghost came after me first. The armored ghost didn’t start chasing me until after he fought the hooded guy.”

Luigi can feel a headache coming on. He’s been so focused on contending with the hooded entity that he completely forgot Koojo had said there were six ghosts. He sighs, resisting the urge to rub at his temples. “How about you start from the beginning? Right after the ghosts were summoned.”

“Uh... okay...” Dane scratches at the edge of his cap. “Well, we immediately knew something was off about the ghosts, but we—dumbly—tried to ask them questions anyway. They just... started laughing. Real creepy-like. All except for the armored and hooded ghost. I tried to read the spell that would dismiss them, but the hooded ghost swiped the book from me and then, boom! I’m suddenly pinned to the wall by magic.” The Doogan wiggles his fingers with emphasis. “All the other ghosts chased after my friends.” Dane pauses for a moment, looking uncertain. “Wait, no... not all the ghosts. The armored ghost stayed behind and started attacking hooded mcfreako. I think they were fighting over the spell book...”

Luigi winces imperceptibly. Whatever those dark entities wanted with the book, it couldn’t be good. “I take it the armored ghost won?”

“Not at first. The hooded ghost wasted no time in making use of that book. It did... something to the armored ghost—cast a spell on them, I think—and while our knight in rusted armor was recovering, it... called for back-up.”

...no. Oh please don’t let that mean what it implies.

“Dane,” Luigi says quietly, “How many ghosts are up here?”

“Including the hooded and armored ghost? Four.” 3

Luigi briefly closes his eyes, sighing heavily. It’s still less than ideal, but he was anticipating much worse. “Can you describe the other two ghosts?”

“Yeah. One of ‘em was a Clubba—shadowy, like the others—and the second ghost was... I don’t even know. They just kinda looked like a bad Halloween costume. Not very threatening. At. All.” The teen frowns suddenly, scratching their head. “Things sort of get fuzzy after that. If they summoned anything else, I don’t remember seeing it. I must have blacked out at some point, because one second everyone was fighting, and the next the hooded ghost was gone. Then the armored ghost had the book, and they were coming after me and I ran and somehow managed to lose them, but I couldn’t find the stairs because magic and then I saw your green friend with the armored ghost and got the world’s worst hug and freaked out and ran even more and—!”

“Whoa! Easy there, Dane. Deep breaths.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I know, I’m rambling again.” Dane takes an exaggerated breath and sighs. “Anyway, you know the rest from there. I ducked into this closet and... here we are.” He looks to Luigi, eyes imploring. “I don’t understand... Why are these ghosts so angry? All we wanted was for them to tell us our fortunes!”

Luigi stares back at the teen, utterly bewildered. “You summoned dark entities to tell you your fortune?”

“We didn’t know they were going to be evil ghosts! That’s not what the spell said!”

“What, exactly, was the spell?”

“…I don’t remember. Hold on, let me check.” Before Luigi can ask what they mean, Dane pulls a cellphone out of their pocket. “I took a picture of part of the page. It’s in a weird language, so I plugged part of the spell into Goomble translate. It says something about fortune telling ghosts.” The teen passes their phone to Luigi, who accepts it with raised brows.

“You have a signal up here?”

Dane shakes their head. “Nope. Not a single bar. But lucky for us, I had the foresight to do a screen cap on the results before we started the séance.” He frowns to himself. “Too bad I didn’t have the foresight not to read from the book in the first place.”

Luigi doesn’t deign to comment, too focused on scrutinizing the image on the Doogan’s phone. He vaguely recognizes the language, and though he is far from fluent, he can discern a few words and phrases. They, unfortunately, don’t line up with Goomble’s shoddy translation.

Luigi grimaces, looking rather pained. “Dane, this isn’t the correct translation.”

“Wait, Goomble translate is wrong?” Dane asks, eyes wide, “Since when does that happen?!”

Luigi isn’t sure if the kid is being sincere or facetious. Before he can decide whether to answer the question, Dane plows ahead with another one. “Well, what’s it say, then?”

“I can’t give you an exact translation, but I can promise you it’s not a spell to summon ghosts that tell your fortune.” Luigi pauses, looking more and more exhausted the longer he studies the image. “It summons ghosts that bring misfortune.”

Dane stares quietly back at the plumber. “…Someone at Goomble is getting fired.”

“I doubt it,” Luigi sighs, returning the teen’s phone. As an afterthought, he reaches into his pocket and procures a purple business card. He hands it to Dane. “Here, if you want to meet a real fortune telling ghost, I recommend Madame Clairvoya. She’s a bit… eccentric, but she won’t destroy your home or abduct your friends, so… there’s that.”

“I’m sold.” Dane flips the card, inspecting it. “Hey, why is this dry when you’re still all soggy?”

“I get all my business cards charmed by a stationary wizard.”

The teen blinks back at him.

“Yes,” Luigi says eventually, “that is a real thing.”

“Okay… why not get your clothes charmed, too?”

“Have you ever tried washing waterproof clothes?”

“…I see your point.”

A sudden growl startles the two mortals, drawing their attention to its source: the Polterpup. Pepper is staring down the hallway with utmost focus. Luigi follows their gaze. The hairs on the back of his neck rise.

At the end of the hall stands—err, floats—yet another Vitiate. They are a Koopa wearing armor from a time long passed. It reminds him of what the Koopatrol stationed at Bowser’s castle wear, only slightly more elaborate. They don’t appear to be carrying a weapon, but that offers little comfort; there, hovering at the entity’s side, is an old, worn book.

There’s no doubt about it, this must be the armored ghost Dane had told him about. But... where is Gooigi? Didn’t the kid say he was with the ghost when he last saw them?

‘They must not have appreciated Gooigi’s interference when they tried to capture the kid,’ Luigi thinks grimly. He sends a silent prayer to the Stars that his partner parted from the ghost in one piece.

“What’s with your dog?” Dane whispers, shielded from view by the open closet door. “Is there a ghost cat around here or something?”

Luigi shakes his head imperceptibly, not taking his eyes off the looming Vitiate. “We have company,” he quietly replies. “Get back in the closet. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out. Pepper? I want you to go with the kid.”

Dane looks like he’s about to protest, but seems to think better of it and squeezes back into the closet with a final uncertain glance at the plumber. Luigi looks down at Pepper. The Polterpup continues to stare down the hallway, seemingly ignoring him. It isn’t until Dane wordlessly beckons to Pepper that the canine finally moves. Luigi watches them slink away into the closet, bewildered. He shakes his head as he closes the door behind them. He could worry about Pepper’s strange behavior later.

Luigi has barely taken his hand away from the door when he detects movement from the Vitiate. He whirls around, poised to attack or defend, should he need to. Luigi tenses as the dark entity slowly stalks toward him. No... not stalks. The ghost’s movements don’t resemble that of a predator. They are being cautious, Luigi realizes. They are as wary of him as he is of them.

The armored Vitiate halts a few paces away and regards him quietly. Luigi finds himself mirroring their silent scrutiny. It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to register that the Vitiate’s eyes are glowing red instead of white. Now, usually red eyes are indicative of something sinister—something to be wary of—but that’s not necessarily the case when dealing with these types of ghosts. In life, this had been no run-of-the-mill Koopa—they had been a Dark Koopa. Dark species thrive in, well, darkness, and not just literally. Negative energy does not affect them the way it does other species. This carries on into the afterlife, shielding them from potential corruption.

In other words, they aren’t completely nuts. This makes peace-talks considerably more viable.

“R̸ets͢am̡ ̧s’̢melog ͜e͘m̛ilş ͘e̷ht e̢b ͠ts̷um ùoy̵.” 4

Luigi blinks. Or... maybe not.

The Dark Koopa nods to itself. “Yn̵n͠a͠c̸nų ́s̡i͏ ec͜na͢lb̨m͏e͞ser͘ eht͢ …se͡y. E͠ga͘ḿi͏ ͡rúo̸y ni ̢m̢e͡ḩt͘ ̨e̶d̡am ͘y͏l̷r͏a͞èlc ̵o͝uy̴.”

“Uh...” Luigi says intelligently, “What?”

“E͏c͠na̢ra̛ep̀pa͝ ͝ŕuoy ̕d̵n̷o̡y̢e̴b̷ ̕s̵e̸įt̕i̡ral͞imi̢s ͜e͡r͝a͢hs ͟uoy ́ta͟ht ̕ees̸ I...” the ghost sighs. “Evi͞tąr̛e͝p̢oo̢c͜ e̡r͢om ̨èb̛ ̛lļiw͢ ̢uoy epoh̸ ͏y̢lno ̴ņa͡c̢ I.”

When Dane had told Luigi that the armored ghost talked strangely, he had assumed that the entity spoke with an accent or another dialect—perhaps a different language altogether. But this... the ghost sounds like the time he and Mario had played one of their records in reverse to see if there really were secret messages hidden in the lyrics.

And the white knight is talking backwards...

…Backwards!

“That’s it!”

The armored Dark Koopa recoils slightly at his outburst, and Luigi is quick to placate them. “I think I have a way we can communicate. Hold on...” Luigi retrieves his phone and opens an audio recording application as the ghost watches on, perplexed. He holds the phone up, pointing the receiver toward the ghost. “If you speak into this, I can play it back in reverse and then I’ll be able to understand you!”

The Vitiate eyes his phone critically. They look back to Luigi, and even though he can’t see the entity’s face, Luigi gets the feeling they’re annoyed.

“Yr̀asse̢c̢e̴nn̸u ͘y̧l̷e͡r̷i͘tn̶e ̴s͏i͠ s͠ih̷t ͏t͞ub, ͝g͏n͟i͏k͏nih̵t reve͜lc ruo͏y ̛d͟nèmm͢o̸c̨ I̛,” they rumble. The ghost suddenly calls the floating spell book forth and opens it. They turn the open tome to Luigi and emphatically point to one of the passages. “Ka̕ęr̛b l͟l̴i̵w͝ ̵y͟aw ̀s͢ih͘t k̸a͞ep̛s͠ ͡o̢t̕ ̡em͟ ͡gnic̨r̢of ̢xeh̸ eh̶t̶ ͜d̴na͘ ,̀d͞uo͏ļa ͜s͏i͘ht ̸dae̵r͝.”

Luigi nearly trips backwards as the book is abruptly thrust in front of him. He can feel the blood drain from his face as he regards the book like one would a serpent poised to strike.

“Um...” he breathes shakily, “Magical books and I don’t really get along.” Luigi holds out the phone once more. “Look, I’m sure there’s a good reason you want me to perform magic, but I’d rather get a little context before I read from a book that was used to summon dark entities.”

The Vitiate growls angrily, but acquiesces despite their clear displeasure. Luigi breathes a sigh of relief as the spell book is called away from his personal space.

“Lĺe̕w͟ yr̷e̡v,” the ghost huffs. “Er͜u̧tan̷ ̛ỳm fo ͠ytįtne̢ na̕ ̀ni̶ ͏ht͝i̡af d͟ni̶ĺb eca͜lp̴ o̵t hsi̢lo̷of eb dlu̡o͡w ̨t̀i͠ es̴op̢p̡us ̸I̴. E̛t̷sa͟h ek̵a̛m t́ưb̶! ...tn̢emom͠ yn͘a ͜ta ̵rae̢pṕa ͞dl͡u̵o̸c̀ ͜ŗe͞ts͟a͢m ̢y̸m.”

Luigi doesn’t need to understand the Vitiate’s reply to pick up on their sense of urgency. He sets the phone to record audio and holds it up to the dark entity. “Okay, now tell me what spell you’re trying to get me to cast.”

“E͜sre̕ve͝r ͞ni ̴k̕a͞e̴ps ̢o̕t e̡m̕ ͜gn͜ic͢rof xeh͞ ́eḩt̶ ͡k͝a͢èr̨b̀ lliw ̀k̴oob ̨e̕ht͟ ́ņi ͘nóit̷at͝n͏a͢c͞ni ̵eh̕t. E͡ro̸m̀ g̸ni͟ht̕on͟.”

Luigi stops the recording and reverses the playback.

<< [“Nothing more. The incantation in the book will break the hex forcing me to speak in reverse.”] <<

Luigi hums thoughtfully. The two statements seemed to be out of order. Did the speech reversal go by sentence? How would the hex know where a statement begins and ends? Does the speaker have to already know what they’re going to say before they can talk?

Magic is weird. And complicated.

Luigi shrugs to himself. The plumber supposes he should be grateful that the hex’s reversal doesn’t go by word—that would make translation even *more *difficult. The audio still sounds a little off, but he at least can finally understand the ghost’s words. He starts a new recording. “Did you have my partner attempt to break the hex?”

“Kr͡ow t̴’n̢di̴d ti ̨os̸,̴ f͏fo saw̢ ̶n͡oit͞ai̶c̨n̴une͢ ̴şih͢ tu͘b, ͜s̢e̶y —” The Dark Koopa ghost stops suddenly, narrowing their eyes as they regard him. “...me̵l̀o̢g em̧ils ̡r͟uơy t̢em̵ I̵ wonk̵ ̴ųoy did͜ ̵w͘o̴h?”

<< [“How did you know I met your slime golem?”] << a pause << [“Yes, but his enunciation was off, so it didn’t work—”] <<

Luigi frowns marginally. Slime golem? That’s... an interesting way to describe his paranormal partner. “Dane, the kid that summoned you, told me he saw you two together. Speaking of which, where—”

“Hct̷e͟rw ͞t͢a͡ht ot͞ ne͘ko͏p̛s ͘e̡v͡’͟ùo͞y͜?!”

Luigi reels back, startled by the Vitiate’s ferocity. He wordlessly starts a new recording. “I... didn’t quite catch that, but I have a feeling your angry interruption has something to do with Dane?”

The ghost growls lowly. To Luigi’s growing unease, their head turns to the closet door just over his shoulder. “…écn̡e͝ser̸p͡ ̷ym̕ ̵d̢e͏cnuón̸n͘a t́i re͢tfa͡ m̵oo͏r ta͡h͠t͢ otn̛i͠ ͝ret̢s͟kc͝írt̷ ȩh̨t d̵e͘re̛h̨su ̶uo͏y.” The entity’s eyes narrow. “Eh͜ ͜t’͘n͜s͠i ̀,̴ereh̷t͝ ̕ni̸ g̨n͞id͘i͢h̀ ̕s’e̛h? D̨r̷awoç eht͝.”

Before Luigi can think to stop the recording and play it back, the subtle creak of a door hinge captures his attention. He pleads to the Stars that it’s Gooigi or another ghost exiting a nearby room, but his partner can’t open doors and somehow an angry specter seems too merciful in the given moment.

“Uh... Luigi? Did you call my name?” Luigi whips around at the voice, wide-eyed. Dane is peering at him from around the partially open closet door. “’Cuz I heard you say ‘Dane’, like, twice now.”

“Er̕a̷ ̸u̷o̶y ̡er̕ȩht!”

Luigi snaps his focus back to the Dark Koopa in time to see them conjure up an honest-to-stars battle axe. Their piercing red gaze is honed on the Doogan, and they look positively murderous. Luigi, perhaps foolishly, is quick to leap between them.

“Wait!” he shouts, hands raised, “I know you’re angry at the kid for bringing you here, but this isn’t the way to handle it!”

“Nam̕u̵h,̶ g̡nihto̡n ̶w͞onk̸ uoy͟!” The ghost snarls, cutting their hand through the air in a command to move. “Dl͡i̴h͏c ̶ęht́ re̛t̕f͜a ̷to͟n m̴’i̸! Ed͞is͢a p̕ȩt̶s̛, wo͠n̴!”

Too afraid to take his eyes off the furious entity, Luigi forgoes checking the audio and hastily stuffs his phone back into his pocket. Keeping one hand raised, he allows the other to drift back to hover over the Poltergust’s wand. “Hold on,” he pleads, “I’ll read from the spell book like you asked, and we can properly talk this out, okay?”

The ghost turns their gaze back to Dane. For a terrifying moment, it looks like they aren’t going to yield. Then, to Luigi’s relief (and no small amount of dread), the spell book is called forward once more. It opens as it comes to a stop in front of the plumber. A section of one of the pages brightens slightly with an ethereal glow.

“K̵c̕iuq́ eb̶.” Luigi looks up from the old tome. The ghost hasn’t taken their eyes off Dane. “Ŗeg͜no̸l tnemo̡m a̷ tiaw ͟t’́nt́s͜um͘ h͘tur̸t e̡h́t,̀ ͠e̶k̀a͏s̵ r̸ùoy͝ ̷r̡o͞f͢.”

“Luigi! What are you doing?!”

Luigi dares a glance over his shoulder at the trembling, partially hidden teen. “Kid, get back in the closet! Let me handle this.”

“But you can’t seriously be considering using that book, right?!” he cries. “After everything you’ve seen tonight?! That armored jerk is probably trying to trick you into summoning more ghosts!”

“Dane, I know you’re scared but—”

“U͡oy ̴tc͢a͜r̛t̢s̶ìd ͘ot g̛ni̧yr͡t ̛e͠ra’y̡eh̕t; d̨e͡èh͟ ̛on̛ ͢me͢ht̨ ya͘p.”

The armored Dark Koopa gestures urgently at the book. “Ec͝n̕ah͝c̡ a eváh ll̕it̴s̨ e͘w ̧e͏l̢i͞h͞w wǫn͠ ́xe̕h ͠eht̸ ͏k͟aer͢b!”

“I don’t know what that thing just said, but don’t listen to ‘em! What if that spell curses you or something?!”

“E̵t̡ąti͘seh ̴u͡oy od̀ ́y͞h͜w?! G̷n͢il̢l̨ats ͢e͜r̛a ͡y͝e͝h͢t t͘a̶ht͏ ͘e͏e͏s̸ ̕t̷on ͠u̡oỳ na̴c —!”

“Maybe it did something to Gooigi!”

“Ru͠ç ͝u̷o͜y̕,͘ ̀e̡cn̢e̕l̸ìs͡!”

Before Luigi can react, the dark entity hurls their axe over his head with a furious snarl. Dane shrieks as the weapon sails past the door, inches from his face. Another axe quickly forms in the Vitiate’s hand. Luigi doesn’t give the ghost a chance to correct their aim. With practiced motion, the Poltergust’s wand is quickly swiped from its holster, and Luigi takes a familiar stance as the Strobulb charges. The Vitiate registers his movement and looks to Luigi right as the Strobulb flashes.

The ghost reels back with a cry. Ordinarily, this would be the part where Luigi activates the Poltergust’s intake, but... he hesitates. The dark entity shields their eyes and darts backwards, putting distance between them. As they retreat, the Vitiate blindly throws their axe in Dane’s approximate direction. It falls short of its target by a large margin, but the attempt is enough to scare the kid out of hiding.

“See?!” he shouts, scrambling to Luigi’s side, “That creep tried to kill me! I knew we couldn’t trust it!”

A white blur dashes from the closet, cutting off any retort Luigi may have had to Dane’s proclamation. It shoots past him and snatches the spell book, still floating before him, out of the air.

“Pepper?!” Luigi yelps, “What are you—?”

The Polterpup darts back the way he came before Luigi can finish. But instead of returning to the closet, the ghostly canine sprints to another door across the hall and barrels through it.

“Yeah! Pepper’s got the right idea!” Dane cheers, “Let’s split!”

A furious cry pulls both of their attention back to the Vitiate. They watch as a line of spear constructs materialize in front of the Dark Koopa. With a wave of the ghost’s hand, the spears align themselves so that their points are trained on the Doogan. Luigi takes note that the ghost has deigned to lower the visor of their helmet, rendering the Strobulb useless.

“...we’re boned,” Dane squeaks.

The Vitiate reels their hand back and quickly thrusts it forward, the spear constructs following suit. Dane takes off down the hall with a panicked scream, and Luigi quickly leaps between him and the oncoming attack. At the last possible moment, he activates the Burst function of the Poltergust. The constructs are blown away by the powerful gust. Before the Dark Koopa can summon more, Luigi levels a Suction Shot at their visor and fires. It hits its mark, sticking to the face plate and obscuring the ghost’s vision. As the latter struggles to remove the hinderance, Luigi turns to address his charge, only to find that the kid has already fled into the room where Pepper disappeared.

“Stars give me strength,” he mutters.

Fighting the urge to tear his hair out, Luigi quickly dashes through the open door and slams it shut behind him. The room he’s entered appears to be a bedroom, most likely for guests if the lack of personalization is anything to go by. Along the far wall are two large windows that overlook the side yard. Pepper paces beneath them, spell book still firmly clamped in his maw. Dane is standing in the middle of the room, staring at the plumber with wide eyes.

“What do we do now?” the teen asks, voice shaking. “We’re trapped.”

Luigi looks to the windows and back at Dane. “Do those windows open?”

Dane blinks slowly. “Uh... yeah, but—”

Luigi wordlessly passes the kid without waiting for him to finish. He hovers a hand over the glass of the nearest window, checking for traps. Finding none, he quickly flips the latches and, with slight difficulty, lifts the window open along its neglected tracks. There is a ledge below the window wide enough for them to stand on. He doesn’t immediately see an easy way to climb down, but it won’t prove to be a concern. He’ll have Pepper gently lower Dane to safety.

“Wait, you’re not seriously suggesting we climb out the window, are you?!”

“Not we,” he replies briskly, “you. I’m staying behind.”

“Huh?”

“I still have a job to do, and I need to get you somewhere safe,” Luigi nods to the window. “Climb out onto the ledge. You don’t have to worry about finding a way off the roof; Pepper will lower you down.”

“How can they—? Oh. Right. Ghost dog. They can float and stuff.” Dane steps over to the window, glancing back at the plumber. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine.” Luigi takes a knee in front of the Polterpup and extends a hand. “Here, Pepper, give me the book and help out the kid, okay?”

Pepper stares blankly at his hand. Then, to Luigi’s growing shock and frustration, the ghostly canine backs up in a clear refusal.

“Pepper, buddy, this isn’t the time for a game of keep-away,” he says, desperately trying to keep a level head. “Please give me the book and—”

A startled yelp from the teen abruptly draws Luigi’s focus away from the Polterpup. He turns and finds that Dane is gone.

“Dane?!” Luigi frantically rushes to the window. Did the kid fall?!

Before he can reach the windowsill, Pepper leaps past him and through the opening, spell book in tow. But, just as the ghostly canine passes over the window’s ledge, a familiar shimmer envelopes them, and they disappear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Luigi whispers in disbelief. Apparently, the ghosts had been prepared for this. And if there’s a portal attached to *this *window, it’s likely the other windows are enchanted as well.

So much for an easy escape.

The hairs at the back of Luigi’s neck abruptly stand on end. He whirls around and has to bite back a scream when he comes face-to-face with the Dark Koopa Vitiate. Before he can react, the entity seizes him by the straps of his overalls.

“L̸o̸of̡ ͘g̀ni̶n̶aȩm͞-͟ĺle̕w͏ u͘oy̸, dnah ̷s̛’̢r͝e̵t̸s͡a̧m̕ ̡y͡m o͞tni ͞t̡hg̸i̷r gni̸yal̸p̴ ̵e̶r̕’uo̷y!” the Vitiate hisses. “Dnat͡sr̨e͡ḑn̴ư ̡u̵òy͟ eka͏m òt̨ ́e̢va̡h͠ ̶tsuj̷ l̀l’i̵, ne͜t̸s̛i͝l̀ t’̴no͏w͡ ̡uoy f͝i.”

The ghost lunges forward with a snarl, and Luigi feels a sharp chill shoot down his spine as he is pushed out the window. The next thing he knows, he is falling. It’s a very short distance, but Luigi is unprepared for the sudden drop and lands in an awkward heap.

“Luigi! Oh, thank Jaydes! I thought the ghosts found a way to separate us.”

Luigi looks up to find a very relieved Dane hovering over him. The teen smiles and offers Luigi a hand. He blinks dumbly at the appendage before slowly accepting the kid’s help.

“Thanks.” Luigi inspects his surroundings as he’s pulled to his feet. He’s dismayed to find they are back in one of the upstairs hallways. Fortunately, it’s not one occupied by an angry ghost.

But... why didn’t the Vitiate come through the portal as well?

“Well..." Dane says, breaking through Luigi’s stupor, “So much for that window of opportunity, eh?”

Luigi briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep, composing breath. He doesn’t know if that was an intended pun, but he refuses to comment on it either way.

“I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple,” he admits tiredly. “It rarely is.”

“In all fairness, I don’t know how you could have foreseen that our guest bedroom window would dump us out through a painting.”

At Luigi’s quizzical look, the teen points at a spot over his shoulder. He turns and is further exasperated when he spies the painting of the meadow.

“Actually, you’d be surprised how often I deal with painting portals in my line of work.” Luigi tentatively taps the canvas. Like with the staircase, it appears to be a one-way trip.

“Oh.” Dane eyes the painting with furrowed brows. “Do ghosts really like art or something?”

“…or something.” Luigi unconsciously frowns at the meadow painting. “Though I wouldn’t call it art.”

Dane says nothing. Luigi is suddenly uncomfortably aware that he had said that last part out loud. He cringes as he turns to find the teen staring at him. He begins to apologize, afraid that he may have offended them, when Dane cuts him off.

“Do… do ghosts have a thing for doors, too?”

That’s when Luigi realizes that Dane isn’t looking at him, but past him, down the hall. He follows Dane’s line of sight and must do a double take. The walls of the once-familiar hallway are lined to the brim with identical doors. Looking over Dane’s shoulder reveals the same sight.

“Not to this degree,” he answers distantly. “Those weren’t there a moment ago, were they?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but the teen shakes their head, confirming his belief. Luigi tiredly massages his temples. Things were only getting more complicated.

“Apparently the ghosts did not appreciate our escape attempt. They’re going to do all they can to make it difficult to try again.”

“What do we do now?”

“We find my partner.” Luigi looks to the Polterpup. He is quietly relieved to find that during his brief absence, the dog had relinquished their hold on the spell book. “Pepper, can you pick up Gooigi’s scent?”

The spirit canine lowers their snout to the ground and paces up and down the hall. They return to Luigi, whining dejectedly.

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way,” Luigi sighs. “We’re going to have to check all the rooms.”

Dane looks at the plumber with wide eyes. “You mean we have to go through every single door?”

“Fortunately, no—most of them are fakes—but it’s still going to be pretty tedious.”

“Yeesh, no kidding.” Dane strides across the hall. “It would probably go faster if we each took a wall. How about I get this side of the hall and you get the other?”

“Ah... I don’t think that’s wise. There’s no telling what spells may have been placed on these doors. You could get hurt.”

The Doogan waves a hand dismissively as he approaches one of the doors. “I’m just gonna take a peek, is all. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Dane grabs the brass knob before he can respond. Luigi lunges, hand out-stretched in warning.

“Wait! That one is a—!"

The door swings open upon contact, slamming the teen harshly against the wall and pinning them in place. Pepper rushes over and begins futilely scratching at the paranormal trap. Dane’s muffled screams shock the plumber into action. He hastily retrieves the Poltergust’s wand, aims the nozzle at the door’s center, and activates the Suction Shot. Luigi yanks on the rope with one sharp tug, pulling the door off its hinges and shattering it into pieces. Dane collapses to the ground with a miserable groan. He blearily peers up at Luigi.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?" he wheezes.

Luigi grimaces, offering the Doogan a hand up. “I find it’s best not to say things that can tempt fate."

Dane stands with Luigi’s help, eyeing the plumber curiously. “How did you know that door was a trap?”

“It’s... kind of a six sense I have.” 5 Luigi shrugs. “Look, I appreciate that you want to help, but in this case, it’s best if I’m the only one checking doors.”

Dane cringes, watching as the remains of the trap fade out of existence. “Hard lesson learned.”

“And,” Luigi continues, a tad sharply, “when I tell you to do something—or not to do something—I need you to listen. Do you understand?”

The Doogan straightens from their slouch, nodding at Luigi with wide eyes. “Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

“I’m serious,” he says firmly. “Your actions back there escalated a situation that may have been resolved peacefully had you stayed hidden like I told you.”

Dane shrinks in on himself at the plumber’s tone. “’m sorry...” he says, contrite.

Luigi sighs quietly. “Okay then.” He walks over to where Pepper had left the spell book and scoops it up. An alarmingly powerful urge to open the book washes over him. Luigi stares down at the cover, startled. Is this the book’s influence? Does everyone who touches it feel this way?

Maybe letting Pepper keep it isn’t such a bad idea...

“Hey, uh... I can carry that for you, if you want.”

Luigi tears his gaze away from the book and looks back at the kid. He hopes he doesn’t look as unnerved as he feels. “What?”

“You know, so you can have your hands free,” Dane mimes a boxer’s stance, “for beating up ghosts and stuff.”

A fistfight with a ghost would go rather poorly, Luigi thinks, but the teen has a point. He can’t sufficiently defend anyone with a book tucked under his arm. Still, the notion of handing over the spell book fills him with dread and an anger that doesn’t feel like his own. “Okay,” he says, “But you must promise me not to open the book unless I tell you too, understand?”

“Yes sir!” Dane offers a mock salute. “I read you loud and clear.”

Somehow this doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence, but Luigi relents. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to keep the book, to open it—!

“Here.”

Dane accepts the tome with a nod and tucks it under an arm. Something desperately urges Luigi to take it back, but he quashes the command with placation. ‘It’s only temporary,’ he tells himself.

“You okay, man?”

Luigi gives himself a quick shake. Focus! “I’m fine,” he says, convincing no one. “Just... do you feel anything while holding that book?”

Dane frowns. He gives the old tome a thoughtful look. “Buyer’s remorse, mostly. Why, do you get weird vibes from it?”

Luigi mirrors his frown. “...among other things,” he says.

“Cryptic.”

Luigi shakes his head. “Never mind.” He quickly takes up the Poltergust’s wand and approaches the next door. “Let’s get started."

______________________________

Luigi: "The ghosts manifested these trap doors to make it more difficult to escape. They must be very cunning."

The ghosts: "Hey, you know what would be really funny—"

And so begins the second story shenanigans. I'm not super thrilled with how this chapter turned out, but it's also been rewritten to death, so I might just be tired of looking at the damn thing. Next chapter will be more fun (Gooigi's coming back y'all!).

Anyway, the final kid wasn't supposed to have as big of a roll as he ended up having, but my muse had other ideas. Please bear with me if you find him tiresome; things will start to (hopefully) make sense soon enough. ^^'

It's a surprise tool that will (not) help us later. ↩︎

When I first wrote this, I was going to have Luigi correct Dane by telling him that iron is a deterrent for faes, not ghosts, but when I was looking up different folklores for reference, I learned otherwise. Apparently, that's why a lot of older cemeteries are surrounded by iron wrought fences—it's to keep the ghosts contained. The more you know~ ↩︎

All the ghosts in this story are of established Mario-verse species/races. I'm clarifying this, because I want people to know it's possible to figure out the identities of the ghosts that have only been described so far. I've looked at this chapter so much at this point I honestly can't tell if I've made it too obvious or too vague... ↩︎

And now you know what the chapter summary was alluding to. I am. SO sorry for this. ^^' Fortunately, all key dialogue will be translated within the story. The rest is up to you. It's possible to read backwards, but if that's too tedious, you can paste the dialogue in the top text box here and it will reverse it for you. ↩︎

I always thought it was a neat detail that Luigi will look at trap doors as he passes them in the first Luigi's Mansion. Meta explanation: a subtle game mechanic that allows new players to sus out trap doors without having to constantly check the map. In-universe explanation: Luigi has an inner BS-ometer that is tuned specifically to doors. ↩︎

#luigi #polterpup #luigi's mansion #luigi's mansion dark moon #luigi's mansion 3 #fanfic #dialogue heavy #doogan #dark koopa #ghost #luigi's mansion au #LLoG AU #LLoG Fic #suit speaks #edit - fixed the footnotes (hopefully)#edit 2 - nope. footnotes aren't working right. I give up lol

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

Text

“You know, I’m not really worried about who’s screwing who in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. Kinda seems irrelevant in retrospect.” Steve says as they both watch the sun rise over the quarry.

“Kinda sucks that it would take fighting in an apocalypse together for you to be okay with me being gay, Harrington.” Eddie pushes some rocks over the edge, not making eye contact.

“Jesus, no. That’s not what I'm saying. It's just like— I see all these people I care about going through the world's most awful shit, and I can’t help but think if they could just find a little bit of happiness in all of this, then it shouldn’t matter where it comes from. As long as we aren’t hurting anybody, who cares? I don’t think—No. I know that even if the world weren’t ending, I would always end up here.” Steve leans his head on his knee and gazes at Eddie’s face. Although Steve had only gotten to really know him over the past six months, it seemed like Eddie had aged years.

It isn’t that Eddie looked old or wrinkly. It is just that Eddie provides this atmosphere of knowing too much for too long. He seemed tired. Strange because Steve doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful.

“What? Always end up in a fenced-off Hawkins waiting for your inevitable doom next the town freak?”

Steve resists correcting Eddie’s dig at himself; he knows after all this time it won’t do any good. “No, not that. We all know out of all of us, Dustin would have seen this coming.”

Eddie laughs, “You got that right.”

Steve picks at his worn combat boots, the leather mixing with the dirt. “I think that something would have to lead me to understand that. It was inevitable for me to learn. That happiness, no matter how it comes to us, shouldn’t be taken for granted. There is so much pain in this world, and it’s so easy to do that, to cause pain. To hurt. To hate. It's hard to love, even harder to find happiness in that. I think people don’t choose who they love, but they might choose who they hate. I'm not sure I'm making a whole lot of sense. Robin tells me I just say what I think, and that I don't think before I say.”

Eddie hums, “Yea, but I like it. It's honest. Doesn't have to make sense, to be honest.”

Steve smiles, “I guess what I’m saying is. I always needed this. In every version of every universe, in order to be happy.”

Eddie finally turns his head towards Steve. It isn’t a snap of the neck like he expects. No, it’s a slow, careful turn, as if Eddie is wading through water. Is so sure and practiced in a place he wouldn’t normally be. “To be happy? You mean—you mean you couldn’t be happy unless you understood your friends? Like me?”

“Sure, maybe that too.”

“Too?” Eddie swallows, eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Think I wouldn’t ever been happy, not understanding these parts of myself. Never would have known anything other than hate. Because it was just easier.”

Eddie scoots closer and dares to ask, “Never learned to love?”

Steve slides himself across the damp morning dew on the grass. He breaks eye contact first but brushes Eddie’s pinky. “Yea, never would have learned to love.”

Eddie looks forwards but claps their hands together, closing the remaining distance between them. The orange glow of dawn seeps into baby blue; Eddie rests his head on Steve's shoulders and sighs contently.

Steve gently kisses the top of Eddie’s head. “The end of the world doesn’t seem too bad when you have someone to share it with.”

#steddie #stranger things #zombie apocalypse #its the end of the world and all I want is you #steve harrington #zombie apocolypse au #alternate universe #eddie munson #steve harrington needs a hug #dialogue snippet #dialogue heavy #my writing #writing prompt #angst #hurt comfort #ao3 #ficlet

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space-blue · 2 years

Text

Miles doesn't know what a songcord is. Spider has an awkward time explaining.

Spider Socorro & Miles Quaritch fic! Dialogue heavy, emotional hurt, angst, banter, and hopefully a cute Spider... Miles is not having a great time in this conversation.

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keyh0use · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 1: Free Choice

jealously, Semi-public sex, Rafe acting like a brat to get what he wants

Rafe's back hit the large trunk of the towering tree with a sickening crack, startled gasp slipping out at the contact.

Before the boy could get his bearings, Barry was fusing their mouths together, two large hands coming up to cradle his flushed face.

Confused, and wildly turned on by the sudden change, Rafe mumbled, "Shit, what—"

"Isn't this what you wanted, Rafey," Barry asks, dark brow cocked. The nickname makes both of them cringe, but it gets the point across, Rafe's responding grin annoyingly attractive.

Lithe fingers curl into the material of Barry's sweatshirt and the boy inquires, "You're jealous? Really?"

"Should I be?" snaps Barry.

The two of them arrived mid-afternoon to the corn maze Rafe had been raving about for weeks, noting several times it was all the rave this time of year for north side families, seeing how it was put on by one of their own.

And sure, Barry could admit the farm had been cute upon first glance, only a couple groups moving about and the October sun comfortable.

Then they approached the girl sitting behind a table covered in a checkered tablecloth with a metal box to pay the entry fee—and she gave Rafe a very warm welcome.

Her freckled face was stretched in a wide smile the entire interaction, not paying a lick of attention to Barry's presence and openly flirting with the kook boy.

And Rafe...Rafe hadn't flirted back, no. But he was unusually friendly, happily engaging in conversation and nudging Barry's arm when he laughed. Like they were just buddies or something.

When the bitch finally turned to greet Barry, acting like she'd seen a fucking ghost upon the sight of him, his intention was to introduce himself as Rafe's boyfriend. Just to be petty.

But that didn't happen because Rafe was quick to interrupt the introduction, boasting about the ugly orange cupcakes the girl had supposedly baked.

Then Rafe had the audacity to cling to the older man the whole way through the maze, making light-hearted chit-chat and kissing his face lovingly, like nothing happened.

"No, of course not," Rafe assures the other man, leaning in to share an affectionate kiss, one that Barry very rudely pulls away from.

Instead of making a counter argument about how disrespectful that whole debacle felt, Barry instructs, "Turn around."

"What? Barry, there's people—"

"Oh, shit, you're totally right." Barry fixes a stern look on the boy's face and meanly says, "Did it sound like you had a choice? You don't. Turn your ass around."

Not one to disobey, Rafe glanced nervously from side to side before doing as told, only to have his face shoved roughly into the bark.

The splintering wood is cold and damp against Rafe's sensitive skin, no doubt nicking him where it cuts in to his face.

Rafe's pants and briefs are unceremoniously yanked down his long legs, pooling around his ankles and leaving him completely exposed from the waist down, an embarrassed sound escapes him and has Barry huffing a laugh.

"This is—Barry," the boy nervously rambles, trying to make sense of his conflicted thoughts just as two spit covered fingers push inside of him without warning. "Fuck! Barry, no, we can't—"

"Calm the hell down, country club. If anyone's goin' away for public indecency, it ain't gonna be the pretty white boy."

Two fingers quickly becomes three, scissoring and curling, Rafe still relaxed from being fucked before breakfast.

Barry used his clean hand to undo his button and zipper to free his aching cock, quick to remove the digits and replace them with the fat cockhead, pressed bluntly against the boys entrance.

"We—" Rafe breaks off with a deep groan and lolls his head down, forehead pressed against the tree as he pants harshly. "Barry, we shouldn't, this is wrong."

"Is it?" Calloused hands come to grip the kooks slim hips just as Barry's kicking his legs further apart, choosing to yank him back instead of snapping forward, impaling Rafe on his sizeable prick. In a teasing tone, the dealer asks, "Does this feel wrong, baby?"

The kook is trying to keep a watchful eye on the opening of the maze, sure a group of unsuspecting strangers will stumble out and catch the two in the act, fucking against a tree like animals.

Only blue eyes can't help but flutter when Barry pulls out halfway and fucks back in deeper, causing Rafe to let out a cry into the otherwise quiet autumn evening.

Not the whistling wind or the faint sound of music in the distance can cover the obscene noises the two are making.

"You wanted this," accuses Barry, hunched over the boys slender form and grunting in his ear on every inward thrust. "Admit it, bitch, you pissed me off on purpose—"

Rafe insists, "No!"

"No? You're lying." Barry curls rough fingers around the boy's throat, effectively keeping Rafe pinned in place as a punishing pace is set. "You want that north side slut, Rafe? You gonna take her to midsummer's and invite her to Sunday dinner? Huh? That what you want, baby boy?"

Short, blunt nails reach back to dig into Barry's hip, latching on like a lifeline. "God, no, no—"

Pulling Rafe closer by his throat, the man spits, "No of 'course not, baby, you're too much of a cock whore. Right? Can't live without it?"

Bobbing his head dumbly in reply, Rafe's free hand flies between them to fist his own neglected cock, weeping precome like a faucet as Barry assaults the bundle of nerves inside him.

Barry prompts, "Tell me. Tell me you need it, Rafe, please—"

"I do!" whines the kook. "I love your big cock, love you!"

The absence of Barry's fingers digging into his throat isn't missed because the man wraps his large hand around Rafes and helps strip the boys prick, breathing heavily over his shoulder.

There's people coming—Barry hears the laughter first, and clocks the exact moment Rafe does, the boy tensing around him.

Tight rings of muscle flex around Barry's pulsating cock and it swells before he's flooding Rafe with warm, sticky come.

"Oh," moans Rafe at the sensation, eyes squeezing shut as Barry's guided masturbation brings him off too, shooting ropes of come against the dark wood of the tree.

Then it's a scramble for Barry to right then in time for the strangers to come around the corner, finding the two locked in an affectionate embrace but otherwise unsuspecting.

The walk back to the truck is peaceful, Rafe's hand in Barry's until they're within sight of the kook girl, who waves enthusiastically at the boy.

Only this time Rafe doesn't just wave back and continue on like the older man expected, instead the boy is turned to press a heated kiss to his boyfriends mouth.

Barry can't help but to glance back at the entry table, a sick satisfaction settling in his chest when he spots the obvious scowl on the bitches face.

#just getting a feel for this cause idk how to exclude plot #rafebarry #rafe x barry #dialogue heavy #just because #kinktober #the others will be longer + better

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lostplotbunniesbg3 · 5 months

Note

Halsin and Wyll (optionally also Gale and/or Lae'zel) discuss their relationship with romance and polyamory

That's it, I just think it would be fascinating to read it, with all of them having very different views on it

A Little Polyamory Bunny Halsin and Wyll, Gale, and/or Lae'zel

This bunny is a short fic challenge to examine the views of Polyamory with Wyll, Gale, and/or Lae'zel having this discussion with Halsin.

This could be a really deep dive into the different opinions of the characters, either as one on one talks with Halsin or even a group talk around the fire or over drinks at the Elfsong Tavern!

The idea here is fascinating as an examination of how each character's past experiences, upbringing, and outlook on life affect how they feel about Polyamory. Gale might feel more comfortable with only one close relationship due to the difficulty trusting after Mystra or how intensely he feels his emotions. Wyll may lean more into the traditional romance and struggle to reconcile that with the idea of affection for multiple partners. Lae'zel could be impacted by Githyanki culture clashing with Faerun society's expectations, working out where emotions, sex, and relationships meet in the middle.

Plenty to play with for this plot bunny which leans heavily on the dialogue and would be great practice for a writer wanting to test their character voicing skills!

(About the gif... No, no explanation, only plot bunny - go write!)

#bg3 fanfic prompt #wyll ravengard #halsin #lae'zel #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #bg3 wyll #fanfic prompt #polyamory #conversation fic #dialogue heavy #short fic prompt

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trashypandasdamien · 24 days

Text

New work out!

Lover of Mine, where have you gone?

Main pairing: Pennywaynes

Rating: General

No TWs

Status: Complete

Word count: 1,9k

Tags: Slice of life, fluff, angst, banter, flirting, dialogue heavy

Summary:

Martha's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Maybe you'll finally let yourself relax for once."

"Relax?" Alfred scoffed, though his heart warmed at the thought. "With you two around? Not a chance."

"That's the spirit," Thomas said, his voice full of humor and affection. "Just as long as you know we're in this together."

"Always," Alfred replied.

#alfred pennyworth #batman #thomas wayne #Martha Wayne #Fluff #Slice of life #dialogue heavy #angst #flirting #Banter

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tasavvur-e-jaana · 1 year

Text

Blessings Beneath the Stars

After a long time, and because I am a liar who lied about not coming back, I wrote for RRR. it is not what you think. it is quiet and gentle, but not romantic. whatever it is, hopefully, it is not total trash.

MY boy (Lacchu) is back. And oh, not beta read. all mistakes are my own.

Companion piece to 'Will you be my Valentine'.

“I’ve been thinking. If I die tonight, would it really make a difference in the world? Who'd mourn me?” Lacchu mumbled after a drag of a joint held lazily between his forefinger and thumb. It seemed as if he was only thinking out loud. “More importantly,” he continued, “Why would anyone?”

His companion for the evening was a bit shocked at the confession. He really was not built for that sort of thing. Sympathy. Kindness. Saying the right words. “Bheem would. Jenny would. Malli. Loki.” I would. He stopped himself from adding that. Lacchu would definitely think of that as pity. Even if Ram’s sentiments would be honest. Ram was actually growing to be fond of Lacchu. The guy had will. And he was funny. With Bheem being busy with either the fight or when free, with Jenny, Ram had started to feel lonely. He was, and always had been in dire need of friends. No one else in the tribe seemed to understand him or be honest with him as much as Lacchu had. At least, that is what Ram felt.

“Yeah, sure.” Lacchu acquiesced. And Ram, Ram felt relieved as if he’d dodged a bullet. When he had gone with Lacchu to get the supplies, he had not thought the night before returning to the tribe would turn this desolate as the younger man opened a packet of marijuana with a twinkle in his eye and carefully rolled a joint. They had begun to form an acquaintance. Well, acquaintance would still be too far-fetched. Lacchu had not forgiven him. Was likely not going to ever. Ram was okay with that. It was definitely not friendship. Fraternizing? God, he hoped not. Whatever the confines or definitions would be, the crux of the matter was Lacchu was tolerating him gradually, in small quantities, for when they either had to work together, albeit reluctantly, judging by the amount of complaining Lacchu would do, or in the rare events of Lacchu wanting someone to share his joint with. “But they'll get over it. I'm not important enough. Not useful enough.”

“You are useful.”

“Yeah, not like you! It’s like-,” Lacchu mused for a second, “like salt in gulab jamuns.”

Ram could not help but huff out a tiny laugh. “Well, at least you’re funnier than I am.” “Ah, a clown then.” Lacchu glanced sideways at Ram.

“Please don't. Being morose and melancholic is my jam.”

“Well yeah, glad to piss on your parade!” He offered the lit joint to Ram who declined with a wave of his hand. Lacchu shrugged.

“Please tell me this is your stupid idea of a joke. Because I am not going to lug all this-” Ram gestured vaguely to the supplies, “back alone.” The attempt for the humour absolutely fell flat but Lacchu smirked nonetheless, his dark eyes emanating waves of sadness in the pinkish evening light. “You're not serious, are you?” Ram was actually worried now.

“Maybe. ‘M not suicidal if that's what you're worried about. Just you know, indifferent.” The younger man took another lazy drag.

“To death?” Ram squealed - which he would absolutely deny later.

“Why not?” he retorted. Ram had no answer. Fortunately, Lacchu did not notice the dumbfounded look on Ram’s face, going on his own trajectory. “I mean, I am just a microscopic cog in a catastrophic war. Unimportant. Replaceable. I have no purpose. If I die, someone else will take my place and the revolt will go on. It’s not like I am Bheem. Or you.” He added as an afterthought.

“Do you genuinely think if Bheem or I die, the revolt will suffer?” Lacchu nodded his head. “Well, let me tell you. That is not true. I think the inquilaab has gained enough momentum that no one man will be able to take it ahead or stop. We will be free. I feel it in my bones.” There was a twinkle of hope in Ram’s eyes that made Lacchu bite back his comeback. If he were bothered to look closely, Ram would find a glint of appreciation for him in the dark eyes of the other man.

“Maybe. But your village, this tribe, a small part of it will be devastated.” Before Ram could assure him that they would be saddened by his demise too, Lacchu continued. “I used to think that we, as humans, do not serve a glorious purpose. We too are meant to exist in harmony with nature. Birth, do your thing, and death. Soil to soil. Ashes to ashes. That sort of thing. You know, most of us, who live in the forest think so. I was very much at peace then.” Lacchu contemplated out loud, taking another puff. At this point, it was more like he was babbling, not for Ram. for the surroundings. For the very forest on whose precipice they were sitting. As if the Universe or Nature would have an answer in the form of the rustle of the dark leaves, a quiver of the branches, an occasional hoot of an owl, or the rapidly rising chirp of the cicadas.

“Hmm… A glorious purpose is bad for mental peace.” Ram chuckled softly. He liked this Lacchu. Free. Open. And just the right side of insane.

“But then YOU.” He jabbed the finger of his free hand in Ram’s chest. “OW!” Ram was surprised by the sudden force. “You had to capture me. You had to torture me. You had to torture my- Bheem.” Ram gaped at him openmouthed. Eerily similar to a goldfish in the tank. “Actually, you know what? It goes further than that. Before you. THEY had to capture Malli. And then Delhi. I was so ignorant. Naive. Stupid. But happy. I sure was happy.” He sounded too nostalgic for Ram’s liking. “How do you do it, Ram?”

“Honesty? I have no idea anymore. It is like I am on autopilot. I had no choice. I have no choice. Sometimes I wish I could- I just-” The next part was confessed, so tender, so soft, that Lacchu barely could hear it. There is something about nature and nights that make you vulnerable to an unnerving degree, and Ram, Ram was no exception. “want to run away.” He laughed just as he said it out loud. And laughed harder still. “Look at this! The great Alluri Sita Rama Raju wanting to run away like a coward!”

“Well, you could. At least I’d get back my best friend.”

“Lacchu I-”

“Please don’t.”

“Right.” Ram cleared his throat which sounded like an apology in disguise. "You never told him, did you?"

“Told him what?”

Ram pointed his eyes at the hand lying in Lacchu’s lap, the middle finger slightly bent, not having healed properly from Ram’s assault. Lacchu reflexively coiled his hand into a fist as if that would hide the injuries Ram was intimately aware of being the one who put him there. “There’s no point,” he said dismissively. But of course, because he was just a little bit of a bastard, he added, “The question here is, why didn’t you?”

Now, Lacchu was not by any means a petty man. Then again, he was also not the very embodiment of sweetness and benevolence as Bheem. Ram visibly jerked as if he had felt a literal whiplash to his face. And that reaction brought a minuscule satisfaction, a soothing effect of a salve to his otherwise aching heart.

“I don’t know.” Well, Ram exactly knew why. There was no point in hiding anymore. “I didn’t,” he corrected, “I don’t want him to hate me. Not any more than he does, if he doesn’t already. I know it is incredibly selfish of me but-”

“He doesn’t hate you. If he did, you’d know. He hates just as he loves, with a dangerous fury. It can be scathing when directly aimed at you. Like the Sun.”

“Huh. perhaps that is true. Like the Sun. Too near and you burn, too far and you freeze to death.”

“Hmm. It is a double-edged sword. Finding the perfect distance. For what it’s worth, I am a little relieved you didn’t tell him. Bheem- he,” Lacchu paused to collect his words forming at a speed in his mind which his tongue could not keep up with. “He does not do well with hate. He was not made for it.”

“Isn’t that an irony?” Ram smiled sadly. “I was made exactly for that.”

“Right. I guess it goes something like - opposites attract?” Lacchu raised an eyebrow, and Ram could not help but add a hint of authenticity to his smile, widening by a mere millimetre. Lacchu wanted to say something, his mouth opening to form a wide yawn instead but he didn’t bother to cover it with his hand.

"Lacchu," Ram called out softly to the man who was already teetering on the edge of dozing off. "Get some sleep. I'll take the first watch." It usually meant Ram would end up being awake for the whole night anyway. Not waking lacchu up. They never spoke about it. Lacchu never offered or chastised.

Lacchu just hummed in response, stretching more on the makeshift bed, and turning onto his stomach. Ram stole a glance at him, he looked innocent. And younger than he was. The past few months had made him grow up sooner than he should have. Those early years of youth, stolen. Passing him by. Just like Ram and his childhood. However, here, Ram was one of the major culprits.

For now, all he could do was to protect him from physical harm that may befall him. And hope that he would learn his worth someday. By himself. An opportunity that was robbed of Ram. He had not worked that out you see, his worth had always been thrust upon him. More so after Baba's demise. Ram tried not to think about that gruesome episode. Although, lonely nights were the perfect catalysts for such thoughts. However, tonight, Ram refused to draw into the familiar feeling of despair - his constant companion whom he’d learned to be more than comfortable with.

So, in the dark, almost silent, very much serene backdrop of the late hour, Ram pulled out the packet from his companion’s backpack and rolled himself a new companion. It was a little out of shape, pressed a bit too hard on one side, but it would do. He lit it, the first drag blowing into the breeze, mingling with the damp air… and the smoker began to count his blessings beneath the stars.

let me know if it was good, bad, or downright ugly. comments are welcome as always :))

@ronaldofandom - you are going to love me for this.

@carminavulcana @vijayasena @yehsahihai @ladydarkey @taylorklaine @fathomlessbabbling idk who else to tag. Lmk!

#doodles fics #rrr #rrr fics #lacchu rrr #ram rrr #bheem rrr #lacchu and ram #dialogue heavy #rrr movie #rrr fandom #mostly angst and talking #light angst

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dansconcepts · 2 months

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Quirky RC!Hajime - Talentsharer Drabble

Hajime sharing someone’s Ultimate if he touches them (or vice versa) would make SDR2 sillier, probably, and this is my evidence.

Behind The Scenes: “Ultimate Talentsharer? What the hell, that's not even a talent! How can you be good at something that's not even measurable?” Junko sighs. “No, fuck you, that's total bullshit! ...What? He's still able to share talents? What do you mean 'it's canon now'-?! Hey! Hey!” Manicured hands yeet her phone. “Ugh! He's supposed to be a normie, a basic bitch, just a regular fucking guy! What am I supposed to do now?!”

What is my talent? Hajime ponders to himself. The wind blows through the trees, caressing his face softly as he sighs, before turning to the white-haired guy next to him.

“You really want to help me figure out what my talent is?”

Komaeda shrugs, a smile on his face. “Yes. I imagine it’ll be quite fun. I’m sure it’ll be a talent full of hope!”

Man, this guy is so nice. “Alright, but how do I start?”

The Lucky Student looks away for a second. “Hmm. Well, since we’re on the beach right now, maybe we could see if you’re the Ultimate Swimmer, or an athlete of some kind?”

Grayish eyes start roaming over his figure, studying him, and he can feels his face start to warm. He shakes it off. “I guess I’ll swim for a bit.” If only to stop myself from overheating. “You’re free to time me.”

He tosses his shirt off-

“Oh!”

Hajime blinks. “Is something wrong?”

“No, ahem, not at all, sorry.” He grins sheepishly. “I just didn't expect you to do that so suddenly.”

“Why? Do I look bad?” He frowns. Although he doesn't remember much, he does know he was pretty devoted to his exercise routine for a while in preparation for being a Hope's Peak student. But he didn't fill out in the way he was hoping for, so maybe... He looks down at himself.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees white hair swishing and hands moving as Komaeda frantically shakes his head. “No! I didn't mean anything like that! You have an amazing physique. I apologize that I even sounded like I was insinuating otherwise.”

'Physique'? Who says it like that? He huffs, amused, even though he can feel his chest puff with a little pride. With careful folds, he rests his shirt into a pink, as if sunburnt, Komaeda's hands. He's so pale, it makes sense he'd be red even with the breeze...

Hajime tips his toes into the water. The chill sends shockwaves through his body as he cringes at the sensation. He takes a deep breath and tries again. He starts walking in further and further, watching the water rise as he slowly submerges inside. While he's pretty sure he knows how to swim, he doesn't feel anything particularly special when he gets in.

Komaeda calls him back after a bit. “Well, you’re definitely fit, from the looks of it.” He grins. “But it still looked pretty average.”

Yeah, I figured as much. Hajime sighs.

“Oh, there's always more hope, Hinata! Why don't we try something else? Like...” He turns, before whipping back to him. “How about music?”

With that, they head to the Titty Typhoon for some instruments. On their way, Ibuki plows into Hajime.

“Oof!” He exclaims.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” The musician staggers on her feet, her arms flailing. Komaeda reaches out to steady her. “Thanks Nagi-chan! Sorry, Hajimeme!”

Hajime breathes. “It’s alright, Ibuki.”

“What are you in a rush for?” Nagito asks.

“Ibuki promised Kazu she’d help him with a playlist for one of his little machiney-sheens and she mayyyyyyy be running late!” She blurts out. “Sorry, gotta blast!”

She runs off.

Hajime sighs. He can hear her frantic apologies to Souda. Guess he wasn’t that far.

They keep going. You should escape, skip town / No more excuses / Abandon ship or drown / No more excuses. The song plays in his head. When they reach Titty Typhoon, him and Komaeda peruse the spare instruments available, with Nagito grabbing the microphone stand.

“A mic?” Hajime eyes it dubiously.

“You have a nice voice.” Komaeda comments.

“H-huh?” Shit, was I humming out loud?

Nagito hums. “Maybe that’s your talent. How about you sing something?”

He definitely doesn't recall having much of an interest in singing or even doing it ever, so if he’s the Ultimate Singer, it sure would seem strange. But that guitar…

He picks it up and strums. He doesn’t remember owning a guitar, but he must have if he knows how to play it already. As if muscle memory kicks in, he starts playing opening notes and the words escape his mouth, singing along to the song previously in his head.

When he’s done, he steals a look at Nagito, who is looking at him with wide eyes. “Um, we already have an Ultimate Musician, so maybe you’re the Ultimate Guitarist? ...Trash like me’s opinion is useless though.”

Hajime presses on. “But what did you think?”

“I-” Nagito pauses. “I thought it was amazing. You have a really powerful voice.”

Hajime grins. Something in him feels the silliest urge to hug him. He ignores it, and just puts a hand on his shoulder instead. “Thanks.”

“W-well again, I really-!”

“No. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have no idea what my talent could be. So thanks.”

Later on, Komaeda exits to grab Ibuki for a second opinion, and Hajime attempts to replicate his performance. He's on the stage again. It feels strange to be at the center, having pairs of eyes on him, even if it's just Komaeda and Ibuki.

The microphone feels foreign in his hands, the guitar even more so. This doesn't feel right anymore. What did he do earlier? Just move his hands on strings? He does that. Simultaneously, his voice cracks when he opens his mouth. He wants to evapourate into a damn puddle.

“It's okay if you're nervous, Hajimemey!” Ibuki yells, “I get those kind of jitters allllllll the time! What works for me is feeling the music!”

Yeah, just feel the music Hajime... “Haha, sorry.” He tries to laugh off. “Let me try again.”

This time, he starts gentle, singing first before grabbing onto the guitar. He strums, and-

SNAP!

The guitar string breaks. He barely even did anything!

Loud feedback starts playing on the speakers, and Ibuki yelps, covering her ears.

Komaeda immediately steps towards the speakers, yanking the plug off with a ferocity he didn't expect him to have. “Um. My apologies. It must have been my luck that caused the speakers to turn loud. Are you alright?”

“I’m...” Horrified. “fine. I'm sorry, Ibuki. I even broke the guitar string too...”

The musician rubs at her ears. “Ah, Hajim-jim, it's all good! I'm just gonna go repair the guitar string. Ibuki just needs to find a spare.”

Hajime looks down, embarrassed at wasting her time. And oh, would you look at that? A white string is right next to him. How lucky. He grabs it, going, “Is this it?”

“WAH! Perfect! Thanks!” She grins, snatching it out of his hand. She grabs the broken guitar and immediately runs off again.

And he's left with Komaeda once more. He chuckles sheepishly. “...On second thought, maybe this isn’t my talent and just beginner’s luck?”

“Undoubtedly.” The white-haired student shoots out. “Without a question.”

He barks out a laugh. God, was he really that bad? He reflects on it. No, yeah, he was pretty bad.

They go around, tidying the place with amicable silence.

Suddenly, loud sirens start blaring throughout the island. He whips to Komaeda, whose eyes are just as wide as his. They both immediately rush out. A flurry of movement is caught in the corner of his eye as he runs past, meeting most of his classmates at the beach. There's confused noises and fingers pointing at the sea in front of them.

What is everyone looking at? He wonders. He looks out into the horizon.

What was originally calm and serene now had some kind of bump, as if a large wave was incoming. But that's impossible, right?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Monokuma pops up behind them. “What the hell is this? Why'd the tsunami warning alarms go off?!” Oh, of course that's it... what is happening today? “Hell, I didn't even know we had those!” His red eye glowers. “What did you crazy kids do?!”

“We didn't do shit!” Fuyuhiko roars. “Is this supposed to be another motive? I thought you said you couldn't hurt us directly!”

“Ah, yes... this is totally a part of the plan... NOT!” The bear growls.

Monomi shuffles out from behind Monokuma, sobbing, “Oh, this is so bad!”

“Shut up! I'm trying to figure out how to fix this!”

“This must be my fault...” Nagito sighs. “I'm sorry everyone. But we can only unite during this moment of despair to create a newfound hope!” His words are immediately washed away with everyone screaming and crying.

“Hajibro!” A familiar voice yells, and upon turning his head, he sees Souda approaching him, and quickly. “It was nice knowing you!” The mechanic hugs him desperately.

“Everyone, we must start to evacuate!” Sonia yells. Gundham nods. “The god of darkness may greet our souls, and I shall defeat him before we descend into his realm!”

There's no way this is how it ends! He hasn't even figured out his talent yet! Why does it have to be like this? Surely, there's gotta be something that can be made to counteract this... He'll need fuel, a large fan, maybe? Wheels to ensure it can be moved... steel... a wall?

“I have an idea!”

Hajime shares his idea with Kazuichi, who blinks tears out of his eyes and peers up at him curiously. “Didn't know you were into mechanics, Hajime. Man, you really do listen to my rambles! This is why you're my soul bro!” It's definitely not that, but I'll let him have this. He nudges Souda to focus, damn it. “Oh, yeah! I could see that working. The problem is we don't really have the parts on this island for any of that...”

“It's impressive you came up with that in such short notice, Hajime. Maybe you're the Ultimate Inventor?” Nagito tilts his head. As much as Hajime would love to address that- it's a really good point actually- there's not enough time anymore!

The water gets closer and closer, its wave oh so high-

before crashing against the beach, providing them a gentle mist while soaking the sand and settling back into serene waters.

“What?!” Hiyoko screeches. “How in the hell are we not dead?!”

Mikan wipes away tears of relief. “It looked much more threatening earlier...”

“Our hope was high, thanks to Hinata! It turned our luck around!”

“Awesome!” Akane yells out victoriously.

Yeah, I don't know about that Komaeda... I'm just glad nothing bad happened.

“Okay, I'm back!” Monokuma's voice rings. The bear does a double take at the scene in front of him. “What the hell?! It's gone?! Damn it! All that work for nothing!”

#quirky au #talentsharer hajime au #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #ibuki mioda #ibuki holds a special place in my heart bc i love her energy #crack treated seriously #dialogue heavy #also yes junko at the beginning #bc my fav thing is writing an annoyed junko considering everything she's done #junko enoshima #implied komahina #but in the pre-stages i guess #sdr2 #long post #this wasn't supposed to be this long...#there's a set it off reference! i love them #drabbles #danganronpa

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lumi-klovstad-games · 10 months

Text

"No Love Lost" aka "Ailani Meets The Emperor Again"

A short scene in which Ailani, the recently returned Second Primarch, meets what's left of the Emperor for the first time in 10,000 years to declare her intentions. And finally get a lot of crap off her chest.

Gonna be honest, this is basically Daddy Issues: The Fanfic.

Ailani had made it before the Emperor at long last. She barely remembered what he’d looked like, if she’d ever known even a fraction of the truth of his appearance at all, for all his psychic posturing. But what sat on the Golden Throne was barely the man who was barely her father. A massive, decrepit corpse, more skeleton than man, more deceased than deity. Yet the pressure in her brain told her that something connected to that body was still VERY much alive… and it was at least somewhat aware of her.

The Emperor’s Daughter failed to bow or kneel, and this did not go unnoticed by the attendant Custodes. She stood there, sizing up this undead monument to a single man’s arrogance, ego, and mistakes. Her green-stained eyes looked him over. Her ears heard the whirring and clicking of the ancient machinery of the Golden Throne.

There was much silence for a long while. It had been ten thousand years, and their last exchange had almost come to blows much as their first had. Her last act in his Imperium was to fire on his soldiers and betray his trust by favoring her people above his orders. What was there she could possibly say? Would it even do her any good at all? Was whatever was left of the Emperor even cognizant enough to answer in any way? There was only one way to find out.

“I've returned.” Ailani said, breaking the silence.

Her head filled with unfiltered thoughts that were not hers.

TRAITOR

DISGUSTING

DISAPPOINTMENT

ABERRANCE

The Second Primarch laughed darkly.

“Yeah. It’s nice to see you too, Dad. I suppose we both are just going to have to accept that we’ll always be a disappointment to each other. I for not being who or what you wanted me to be, and you for being an irredeemably arrogant bastard. I mean, I admire your ability to consistently remain true to your character, even if that character has always been less than stellar. I'm not sure what was more impressive: your ability to remain consistently unpleasant around me or your knack for making enemies you didn’t have to have.”

ABOMINATION

MISCREANT

APOSTATE

REPUGNANT

“You know, I never liked you much either. But the ideals you sold me? Those were maybe the only good you ever put in my life. I never really believed in your Imperium or your Crusade. I certainly never believed in you – how could I when the first thing you ever did around me was express your revulsion for my identity and then try to kill my parents?”

FALSE

KIDNAPPERS

CORRUPTORS

HYPOCRITE

“Still refusing to admit you’re wrong. 10,000 years and how many wars to end all wars and you still haven’t changed. Well, you may not have believed a damn word you said when you poured honey in my ears to get me to come to Terra the first time, but they were words worth believing in. And as far as I’m concerned, you already got what you deserved.”

The Custodes reached for their weapons, but did not draw. Not yet.

SANCTIMONIOUS

UNGRATEFUL

UNNATURAL

BROKEN

Ailani let out a judging laugh.

“Ungrateful? Ungrateful?! My legion and I did good work. We did what we were told to do. What we were MADE to do. Made, BY YOU, to do. And we did it well. Our lives were dedicated to your mandates, your purpose. But because I wasn’t the child you WANTED, you never trusted us. You took my family, my community, my whole WORLD hostage to ensure my loyalty. But I did the work. ‘Maybe,’ I told myself, ‘maybe if I work hard enough, if I prove my usefulness, he might ease off. He might see that I’m just as worthy as my brothers. He might realize that he doesn’t need to hold a sword over my family’s necks to make me keep my promise.’ But you never did. Nothing I did was EVER enough for you! I will ALWAYS be a deviant in your eyes. A freak. A mistake. But I’ve finally realized, that’s not MY problem. It’s yours. And I’m done letting the people of this Imperium suffer for this grudge. I’m back, and you’re not. You can just sit there and simmer. I’m done with you, and I don’t expect I’ll speak with you again. I’m a healer. I learned triage a long time ago. I know better than to waste energy and resources on a lost cause when there’s ways to use them to do more good elsewhere. So that’s what I’ll do. The Imperium is wounded. It’s sick. It’s in pain. Untold teeming billions upon billions are crying out. They need help. So I’m going to help them however I can. They didn’t ask for any of this. Yes, they’ve done SO MUCH WRONG. They are so afraid and hateful, but that isn’t their fault. They’ve never known another way. It’s just another way they’ve been injured. And for all your faults, I know neither one of us ever wanted this for them. We both believe in a better tomorrow, and a better mankind to live in it, after all. On the oath I swore ten thousand years ago, I swear I will keep trying to make the Imperial Ideal the Imperial Reality. You can trust me, just like you always could and should have.”

The Custodes relaxed as Ailani turned to leave. She stopped at the door to the Throne Room. She had a feeling she needed to.

REMISS

THANK

YOU

̲D̲A̲U̲G̲H̲T̲E̲R̲

Ailani smiled.

“Maybe I will see you again, actually.”

#my ocs #warhammer 40000 #my oc stuff #warhammer 40k #wh40k #fanon Primarch #Second Primarch #lost primarch #fanfiction #Ailani #god emperor of mankind #emperor of mankind #dialogue heavy #female primarch #trans primarch

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shadowphoenixrider · 4 months

Text

Skin Deep (2/2)

(Continuation to this. I hope you like dialogue because, erm, there's a lot of it here! Also forgive me for my first attempt are writing...most of the X-Men here! I'm doing my best! Medical descriptions continue, but with less blood this time.)

"So, Hank, tell us what you've discovered of our new friend's mutant powers." Professor Xavier said, gesturing for the doctor to speak.

"Shadow's power are utterly fascinating!" Beast replied excitedly, glancing briefly to the young woman sitting on the medical cot, before addressing the others that had gathered in equal curiosity; Wolverine and Rogue stood either side of the professor, whilst Gambit leaned up against the wall, shuffling his cards to keep his hands busy.

"She has the gift of cellular communication and manipulation; not to the extent of being able to shapeshift, but it seems she is able to perform manipulations on the micro-level to command cells to move, divide and perform all their specialised functions as they have evolved to do. Indeed, she is so in tune with them, she can process information from them as if they were her own; sometimes even more efficiently than normal."

"How so?" Xavier asked, steepling his fingers.

"Cells in our bodies communicate by the use of biochemical signalling." It was Shadow who spoke this time. "With the exception of nerve cells, which use the changes in their membrane potential - a form of electrical charge - to transmit electrical signals, usually by the use of voltage gated ion channels."

"Fucking hell, now there's two of them." Wolverine groaned, and Gambit had to suppress a smirk.

"I can control these signals myself, but I also seem to be able to...streamline them? I can make things happen much more quickly than what a human or mutant's body could do alone." Shadow nodded to Gambit. "A pneumothorax-"

"A pneumo-what?" Rogue frowned. "English please, sugah."

"Pneumothorax - 'air in chest'." Shadow explained. "It's when air becomes trapped in the pleural sac that wraps around the lungs to keep them lubricated, and avoid friction from rubbing against the ribs as they inflate and deflate. Usually those of the size I found in Gambit's require a drain, but I managed to eliminate it just by speeding the process of the reabsorption of air into the surrounding tissues."

"Not only that, but the wound you repaired." Beast gestured. "Gambit, if you'd be so kind to show the rest of us your right palm."

Gambit tugged his glove off, opening his hand up to the others as they leaned over.

"There's nothing there, sugah." Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Sure you're not jokin' with us?"

"Non, there definitely were something here, mon amie." Gambit said. "Made a mistake wit one of my cards durin' de scuffle, cut my hand open pretty bad. Couldn't move my fingers dat well after. Like they be caught on something."

"It was a deep laceration with an injury to a palmar digital vein and a seventy-five percent division of the extensor tendons." Shadow added. "A repair that would have certainly required surgery and several months of hand therapy to heal properly."

Wolverine uttered a low whistle. Gambit found himself flexing his fingers. No wonder she was so intent on healing me. That fils de putain nearly disabled me for months!

"And yet there's not a mark to be seen." Xavier commented, rubbing his chin. "How does it feel, Gambit?"

"Like before it were hurt." He replied, spinning a card expertly through his fingers to demonstrate. "Wouldn't have believed it myself if Gambit didn't see it happen wit his own eyes." He looked to Shadow, offering her a smile. She returned it with a shy one of her own, ducking her head.

"I've told you how the scene looked when Wolverine and I got there, Professor." Heads turned to see Cyclops walking into the medbay. "Yet Gambit was completely fine. Shadow's power seems to be like Wolverine's healing on tap."

"Glad you could join us, Cyclops." Xavier smiled. Gambit noticed movement out of the corner of his eye; Shadow had tilted her head in the very same motion she had when they'd first met. "Yes, I remember your description of the scene. It is very fortunate Gambit crossed paths with someone with such gifts."

"Petite?" The Cajun asked, shifting attention once again. Shadow's blue eyes flicked back and forth a moment, thinking.

"You've got a cut, Cyclops," she said. "I think it's...your left hand?"

Everyone's gaze swung back to said mutant, who looked taken aback.

"I...I do. I got a papercut a couple of minutes ago. How did you-"

"Ya hearin' something," Gambit's eyes fixed on Shadow, realization dawning, "aren't you?"

She blushed, looking away and scratching at the back of her neck.

"Yeah." Her gaze returned, although now she was looking at her feet dangling off the edge of the cot, her hand playing with her hair. "It's...a part of my power. When hurt or damaged, cells release a chemical signal to call for assistance. For some reason, I can hear it. The stronger the sound, the more the person is hurt."

"Extraordinary!" Beast breathed.

"Lotta people hurt in lotta differn' ways. Bein' able to hear all that, all the time? That sounds a pretty noisy life, sugah." Rogue said gently.

"Yes and no." Shadow admitted. "It seems to be just for recent traumatic injuries than anything chronic like cancer. But..." She wrapped her arms around herself. "You're right. I've had to learn to tune it out sometimes. Especially in crowded places, but also..." Her fingers curled into her hoodie. "People get weird sometimes when you offer to help. You know?"

No-one had to say anything, or even nod to understand. Even the mutants who could pass knew the tightrope you had to walk, not to hint or suggest you were something else, an 'other'. Regardless of the comfort in your own skin, the danger remained in the back of your head.

"I am sorry your gifts have brought you sorrow." Xavier spoke kindly.

"Thank you, but I'm one of the lucky ones." Shadow replied, smiling sadly. "It's easy enough to hide, and it doesn't give me too many problems."

"Now hold on a second." Wolverine spoke up. "If it's easy to hide, why'd you get attacked in the first place?"

"The sound I hear when someone's in pain is like tinnitus - a ringing tone." Shadow explained. "But I heard a completely different noise, like the signal was going in and out." She sighed, running a hand through her curly hair. "I got curious, followed it to the source, which was the guy with a gun welded to his arm." A wry smile. "I asked if he was doing ok, and he took offence. You know the rest."

"The cybernetics were extremely crude." Beast mused, scratching his chin. "You were likely hearing his body under stress, reacting to the foreign matter forcibly bonded to it."

"Den you were in the wrong place at the wrong time." Gambit shook his head, twirling a card over his fingers. "Lucky I were dere, petite."

"Yes." Cyclops folded his arms. "Though it sounds like he would have attacked anyone, mutant or otherwise. He just got 'lucky'."

"That's not exactly comforting, Slim." Was Wolverine's gruff response.

"At least this escalation appears restricted to a single person." Xavier spoke calmly. "A dangerous extremist that we managed to stop before he could cause any damage."

"Gambit beg to differ." The Cajun grumbled.

"What've you gotta worry 'bout?" Rogue grinned at him, thumping him on the shoulder almost hard enough to knock him to the side. "She fixed you right up!"

"Dat don't mean it didn't hurt de whole time!" He retorted, shooting her a look. She just replied with a raised eyebrow, amused. "'Sides, dat fight be harder den Gambit expecting." He frowned, looking back to the professor. "If dey start figurin' out how to wire dose blasters up, we're gon' be in a lotta trouble."

"Indeed." Xavier nodded. "However, we are getting off subject." He turned back to Shadow and Beast. "You clearly have some control over your powers, but I am curious of the limits of your potential. I presume you've never used them in anger?"

"No." Shadow shook her head. Gambit raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully.

Lying...? He wondered.

"I can't manipulate cells beyond one or two in a pteri dish without having direct skin-to-skin contact with them, and it takes a while to establish the connection with another's body." Shadow continued. "And that's not easy to do when they are other things going on - people throwing hands at you tends to disrupt your concentration."

The Cajun's dark gaze flicked to Xavier, wondering if he sensed the same thing he had. The Professor may have the clarity of a telepath, but Gambit had read more than enough people to sense something was off. His gut told him there was something she wasn't telling them. But what, he had no idea.

"I get the impression that our friend has learned to control her mutation, yet little more." Beast suggested. "Do you practice your powers at all, Shadow?"

"On myself, yeah. I use them when no-one's looking, to heal bumps and scrapes." She folded her arms. "Hard to practice on others though, without revealing myself."

"I can imagine it's not an easy thing to ask someone." Cyclops said. Gambit traced the edge of the card he was holding, recalling the strange feeling of someone under his skin.

"No. Nor easy to explain." Shadow sighed, her hands fidgeting with her sleeves. "I was lucky I had an understanding partner for a while, who let me practice on him."

Gambit saw Rogue cross her arms from the corner of his eye, sadness flashing across her face for a moment.

"What happened to him?" She asked softly. Shadow's shoulders slumped.

"Things fell apart. He loved me for who I was...but he wanted that part of me to stay a neat party trick, something to put on the shelf that only the two of us could use as an asset." She scowled. "There were other problems, that of two high school sweethearts growing up and away from one another, but it was my powers that broke us in the end. Because they can be safely ignored, he wanted me to just put them aside and concentrate on marrying, settling down and having babies together. As if my powers aren't a part of me like my eyes or lungs or hair!"

Her lips curled into a furious snarl, eyes flashing with boiling resentment.

"I have a power that doctors could only dream of having, something that could help, and instead he just...wanted me to forget about it, pretend to be normal!" The anger soon broke however, and a thickness entered her voice. "I'll never be normal. And after everything we'd both been through, I thought he'd understand that better than anyone."

Shadow chuckled bitterly.

"Not that it really matters now, though. Even if they'd let me practice as a mutant, I never could pass the tests needed to qualify as a proper clinician." She glanced up at Beast, who offered her a sympathetic smile. "Had to go for a lab tech job instead. I figured maybe my ability could still help with diagnostics if I was careful and could back my reports up with evidence. Tilt the needle more in the patient's favour, you know?"

"I sense a 'but' coming." Cyclops said what Gambit was thinking. Shadow blew a sigh out of her nose.

"Everything was fine for a while. Then, I'm three days into my annual leave and I get a call saying they're tacking three months of administrative leave onto the end of it." She ran a hand through her hair. "One of the techs got his thumb up his ass about me 'potentially' being a mutant. Overheard me talking to myself and thought it was good grounds to start shit."

"I presume this had nothing to do with your ability, since you can communicate with cells silently." Beast spoke, a claw tapping his chin in thought.

"No, nothing to do with my power. Sometimes I just talk to myself to help me think through a problem. Or just inanimate objects in general. It's just a thing I've always done since I was a child, nothing to do with being a mutant." She lifted a shoulder. "Maybe something I said in my ramblings could have been suspicious? But at the same time, how do you prove that I'm actually speaking to something to communicate, over just plain eccentricity?"

"People like those see mutants in every corner." Wolverine grunted. "Woulda only been a matter of time."

"Yeah, I guess so." Shadow agreed, briefly pulling her lips into a thin line. "So, yeah. Signed off work 'cos of some asshole, and now I potentially have a hate group gunning for me too." She rested her elbows on her knees, her forehead on her knuckles. "Deep joy."

"You have my deepest sympathies, Miss Shadow." Beast spoke, resting a massive hand delicately onto her shoulder. "But, if we may return to the subject of your current power and limitations?" She looked back up, nodding. "Thank you. I have reason to believe that whilst you have a good grasp on your powers right now, their greater depths are as of yet untapped. You should be able to refine them in multiple ways; offensively, defensively and as a general utility, both for yourself and others."

"I figured as much myself." Shadow said. "I've been able to exceed my body's normal limits temporarily by some subtle manipulations, but it's difficult to maintain due to the damage it causes. Such as lifting the control limts on my muscles - I could use them to their full potential to lift a car, but it requires focus first to lift the limits and keep them off, and then to endure and heal the damage suffered from such an act."

"That could improve with time and training." Beast replied. "As you well know, you wouldn't be able to heal as you do without practice, or be able to tune the sounds of hurt from others out."

"I am curious as to your current limitations of your healing." Xavier spoke, and Gambit felt the telepath's gaze on him. "You said you can only use it with skin-to-skin contact?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I need it to be able to commune with another person's cells and form the connection into their body. It's like I have to move my consciousness into the person, and that's what takes the time. Of course, if the injury is in just one area, like the arm, it's quicker for me to connect with that area than it is to fully 'move' into another's body."

Gambit paused his card shuffling, interest piqued fully.

"Interesting. From what Gambit told me of what happens, it seems as if your body enters a trance - still alive and functioning, but your mind elsewhere."

"Yeah. I kinda...'lose' connection with my own body temporarily, especially if I fully 'move' into another's. But it's more a case that I don't notice what my body's feeling - not that I've actually moved inside the person."

"So if your body was to be hurt or the connection broken..." Beast mused.

"I'd be ripped back into myself." Shadow said, winding one of the drawstrings of her hoodie around her finger. "Had it happen a couple of times by accident, and it's always unpleasant. It takes me a couple of seconds to adapt to a person's body when I enter and then readapt to my own when I return - you can imagine that a jarring re-entry doesn't exactly make me feel very good."

"No, it doesn't." Xavier agreed. Gambit lifted an eyebrow. Getting forced out of someone's head must feel the same way for the Professor and Jean.

"What's it like, bein' under someone's skin?" It was Rogue who spoke this time.

"Loud." Shadow chuckled. "Bodies are a riot of noise, both from cells talking to one another to just the general sounds like the heart beating, breathing, all that." Her eyes became far away, flicking back and forth in thought. "It...is hard to explain. It's like I become someone else, but I'm not them. I'm...I'm like a house guest. I can listen to their music, move their furniture around and stuff like that, but it's not my house."

"Sounds 'bout right." Gambit chimed in. "Feels like dere someone under your skin wit you."

"Brrr," Rogue shivered. "Don't like the sound of that, sugah."

"Yeah, it a weird feelin' at first. But after a while you get used to it. It don't hurt, it just...uncomfortable. Least to begin with."

"That's pretty much how my ex described it." Shadow nodded. "Uncomfortable and weird, but not painful. I can understand why people wouldn't enjoy the experience, nor the thought of having someone with near free reign over the most precious thing to them."

"Near free reign?" Xavier asked, his brows furrowing. "You don't have full control?"

"No." Shadow shook her head. "Like I said, I'm a guest. I've not yet been forcibly evicted by someone on purpose, but they still have full control of their body whilst I'm inside them. Anything I do, the person could fight back against me."

"Did dat when Gambit felt his fingers move without him." The Cajun added. "Her grip strong, but not complete."

"With enough strength and contrary directions, a person can overpower me." Shadow said. "I mean, all it would take is for someone to sock me in the jaw and I'm flung straight out." She turned her head slightly, looking thoughtful. "I also...have rules."

"Rules?" Gambit's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Technically I have control over every cell in the body. That includes brain cells." A sudden tension tightened the air. "I don't think you need me to tell you what that means, even over the fact I can already technically puppeteer a person if I wanted to." Shadow slowly raised her gaze to the others, meeting their eyes and holding them firmly.

"I don't know what I can do in that regard, I don't want to know, and I never will know." She spoke firmly, with conviction. "It is my one unwritten master rule I follow above all others - I will never touch or interfere with another's cognition or will or anything to do with the brain. Partially because it is wrong, and partially because I'm shit scared about how badly I could fuck someone up if I make a mistake. Help someone suffering a stroke, sure - that's just a blood vessels, I know how they work. But I will never, never touch the brain tissue itself."

Gambit considered her, impressed both with the heated force behind her words, and the fact she'd shown her hand in this way. It would have been easy to lie by omission, and yet here she was, highlighting how much trust he'd laid into her hands. He'd essentially given himself to her like a patient gave themselves to a surgeon, and like that surgeon, she'd repaid his trust only by taking care of him. No more, no less.

"An admirable code to live by." Beast said softly. "Your own Hippocratic Oath."

"I try to follow that too." Shadow said. "'Do no harm'."

The doctor gave her a wry smile.

"The Hippocratic Oath is a little more lengthy than that, but the colloquial version will be more than enough for your needs, I think."

"Words don't give me much comfort, sweetheart." Wolverine growled. "We just have to trust that you won't mess with our heads?"

"You wouldn't need Shadow's help anyway." Gambit countered. "You heal jus' fine on ya own."

"That may be Cajun, but what about the others who need her help? What about you?"

"She looked after me well enough."

"You don't have to trust me." Shadow retorted, pulling herself up to her full height. "Like I said, I wouldn't be able to heal you anyway if the contact wasn't fully consensual. Besides," she gestured broadly. "the fuck am I gonna do? I'm useless unless my hands are on someone's skin! I don't even know how to fight! I have nothing to gain except a grave."

"We are getting ahead of ourselves." Xavier spoke with steely firmness, fixing Wolverine with a glare. "You are assuming that Shadow will even stay with us."

Wolverine grunted, folding his arms but offering no further objection.

"But Professor, that is your preference, isn't it?" Cyclops piped up. "For Shadow to stay whilst we investigate the Friends of Humanity member that attacked her?"

"It is my recommendation, yes." Xavier agreed, turning to the young woman. "If you stay, you can train and refine your powers, and perhaps learn some techniques to help keep yourself safe when you leave us in the future. This will not be a permanent placement, unless you wish it to be." His ice blue eyes shot another glare at Wolverine. "Regardless of current opinion."

"Still don't like it." Said mutant grumbled.

"Why is her powers differen' to what the Professor an' Jean can do?" Rogue asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. "They could do much worse, but we're fine with them! Ah, no offence, Professor."

"None taken, Rogue."

Wolverine growled in frustration, scowling.

"Fine. But if she stays, I'm keeping an eye on her."

"That's fair." Shadow nodded. "So long as you'll at least grant me that chance for a scrap with you if I do screw up, and you don't just off me whilst I'm sleeping."

"Thought you said you couldn't fight?"

"I can't." She smiled, holding her hands out. "I just prefer to be stabbed in the front, not the back."

Despite himself, a smile tugged on the corner of Wolverine's mouth, and also on Gambit's.

"Does that mean you've made a decision, Shadow?" Xavier asked.

"Yeah." She nodded. "I'll stay for a little while. Least 'til the heat dies down from those guys, and my job lets me back in."

"A fair agreement." Xavier smiled slightly. "There are some spare dorms for you to stay in, and we can help make arrangements to move some of your personal belongings here, if you wish."

"I'll go and sort that, Professor." Cyclops spoke, taking his leave.

"I'll let the others know we got a new guest." Rogue added, offering a smile to Shadow. "Welcome to the family, sugah."

"Now, to more prudent matters," Xavier began, "whilst you are our guest here, you will be expected to pick up your side of the tasks here, as well as train. This is a school, not a hotel."

"Wasn't expecting a free hand-out." Shadow replied, looking to Beast. "I'm happy to help as best I can, and I'll try to keep out from under your feet otherwise."

"I am certainly grateful for another pair of hands." The doctor grinned at her.

"Good." Xavier said, becoming thoughtful. "Did you say you were expecting to be on leave for three months?"

"Round about, yeah. I have one week of annual leave, then the admin leave starts." Shadow snorted. "Least I should be grateful they let me keep the holiday..."

"Alright. Then we will make the necessary arrangements to accommodate you." Xavier turned. "Please come with me, Shadow. We'll sort out the details in my office."

The young woman nodded, hopping off the medical cot to follow closely behind. Gambit watched her go, sharing a quick smile with her before his gaze became a little more intent than he expected; whilst Shadow's hoodie was baggy and hid much of her form, her jeans absolutely did not. He found his gaze wandering down her back to her hips and legs, lingering to watch her thighs flex under the denim-

Wolverine elbowed him in the ribs.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, Cajun." He grunted, a smirk playing on his gruff features. "She's not on the menu."

"Gambit can appreciate fine art without havin' to touch it, mon ami." He retorted, glaring. "'Sides, thought ya didn't like her."

"Hmph. Maybe she's not a threat. But still gonna keep an eye on her, just in case." Gambit folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Don't give me that look. You shouldn't be getting ideas either way; she'll be gone after those three months, anyway."

It turned out that Shadow would stay for much, much longer than that...

#sprs writing #x men #multipart fic #dialogue heavy #exposition dump #self insert #gambit #charles xavier #professor x #wolverine #logan howlett #remy lebeau #x men rogue #anna marie darkholme #x men cyclops #scott summers #x men beast #hank mccoy #x men oc: shadow

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