#I absolutely think the noise could have destroyed the tower for real. just not as easily as his movie made it look

[the-awful-falafel]

After the Noise update got my thoughts sorted, I actually think Noise and Peppino are not evenly matched in a fight. They're obviously still relatively equal as rivals, and I think Peppino doesn't fully tap into into his potential most of the time, but I also think Peppino is ultimately stronger-- and that fact pisses Noise off to no end. To catch up, the Noise cheats, steals, and distorts the truth to make himself look better/stronger in comparison as much as possible (not that he even cares about being fair or fighting clean, as seen in his boss fight) and it still only gets him so far.

So much of the update reads as Noise being incredibly petty and using his movie to not only appropriate Peppino's accomplishments for personal profit, but rewrite them / cheat them so he gets to one-up Peppino at every step of the way. Even in the swap mode he gets primacy!

It's probably most telling that Peppino blasted through the final boss rush just through sheer pushed-to-the-brink adrenaline rage, while in Noise's movie reenactment he had to give himself literal super saiyan bomb superpowers out of nowhere to one-up the guy lmao. He's such a gremlin with such an insecure ego, I love it.

[bingusbongu]

A/N: HAPPY YEAR OF THE DRAGON!!!!!!!!! so, as my first post this year, and since i started watching it, here is some Rottmnt boys x Dragon mutant reader!!!! I haven't finished the series, but i may or may not have accidently spoiled myself, so,,,,,,, yeah!

This is in gn! Pronouns! You can decide what your dragon looks like, but i will add in little bleps, like without wings/with wings, or if your character likes shiny stuff, etc!

Rottmnt boys x Dragon Mutant Reader!

Raphael

• he loves the fact that he isnt the only big mutant!!! But regardless, he still tries his best to be careful with though.

• you had to sit him down and explain to him that you basically had a set of body armor for him to relax. Honestly, it makes him feel better, less afraid to hurt you when he picks you up into a hug

• protests about you joining on missions, no matter how tough you are. You join nevertheless

• your guys's duo is kinda scary. If people werent intimidated by Raph, then you being thrown into the mix? With your claws and sharp teeth and towering figure? You can sure bet you both were a terrifying sight

• you are always behind Raphael. You two fight incredibly well together. Though, after Raph is all over you, making sure you're okay

• sometimes, a dragons scales can get damaged or scuffed up to where its uncomfortable. Raph is such a sweetheart. After intense battles, he will gladdly help you apply ointment to them if it makes you feel better!

• Cuddling is abit difficult for the two of you, saying Raphael's grip could be deadly sometimes. And not to mention the spikes on the back of his shell are an obstacle, and there is no way Raph could lay ontop of you without completely crushing you

• but, you were determined to cuddle this turtle if it would kill you. The only way you two manage to safely cuddle is when Raph is laying on his side, and you slide in and cuddle up into his body, letting Raph wrap his arms around you

• He is a churring mess when you two cuddle, especially when you nestle your head under his chin or into his neck. Though, one time while you two cuddled, a deep rumble came from your throat, much like a cats purr. Your rumbling unintentionally matched Raphs churring, and he was all over you

• if you have wings??? Raph thinks it's cool that you can fly! He would love to fly too, but he is afraid he would be way too much weight and doesn't want to accidently hurt you, no matter how strong you were. So whenever you offer, he politely declines (plus points if he is afraid of heights)

• you like Shiny things??? Raph will pick up any small trinkets he finds while he is out and about. It dosent matter what, but he loves bringing it back to you and watching you absolutely light up

• Raph is always there for you, especially if you have anger problems, which most dragons do. After you completely destroyed one of the rooms in the lair, he decided it would be best to keep close to you and calm you down

• if you are getting upset, all Raph has to do is get your attention on him. Maybe he lets out a few noises like clicks and churrs to calm you. Even if it is out on the battlefield, Raph doesn't want to see you hurt yourself, so he is automatically calming you down

• dragons can get quite protective, especially if its over someone who gained their loyalty. So when you get protective over Raph, it's a new feeling, and he kinda likes being the one on the other end then the protector

• you two fit together like missing puzzle pieces

• ( bonus for gentle giant x gentle giant )

Leonardo

• you are automatically the coolest thing he has ever layed his eyes on. A dragon mutant????? Who is HIS partner???? He has to pinch himself occasionally to make sure this was real

• he brags about you for sure, to his brothers, April, random people, you name it! He is already bragging

• "My partners a dragon, What can YOURS do?"

• tries to get you to sparr with him. You're always unsure because you dont want to hurt him, and he just waves a hand at you and claims it's because he could easily beat you

• ends up with his face down on the floor and his brothers clapping. He gents v grumpy about it, so he is determined to beat you at one point, (bonus if you go easy on him just so he could win)

• he is always trying his best to impress you. You're a dragon mutant. you're already rad!!! So he tries so hard to get validation from you

• though if he messes up a trick or whatever, he gets grumpy, but it's easily forgotten when he hears your laughter. He takes it a huge accomplishment to get you to laugh!

• he always compliments you, regardless if you're just standing there or kicking ass. He is absolutely commenting on how good you look

• IF YOU were the one complimenting him, any little thing, he has a huge ego boost and is all smug about it, while deep down internally screaming in victory.

• the number of times you had to save him before he hurts himself is insane. you easily pick him up like he weighed nothing, gripping the back of his shell delicatly as he flusterdly dosent maintain eye contact

• Cuddling dosnt happen constantly, the main times it happens is at night. He would be up watching one of those baby sensory videos at midnight and youre tired of hearing it, so you snatch the electronic out of his hands and drag him to bed, trapping him in a side hug as you curl your tail around him from preventing him from getting up. He would be complaning about it until he manages to fall asleep, he cant escape your grip

• oh, you tell him you like shiny things? He makes it his mission to find you the most high quality, shiny, big, and sparkly things he could get his hands on and bring it to you. It doesn't matter how big it is, Leo is already hoisting it up and going to give it to you like the best boyfriend he is

• you have wings??? Cool! He would love a pair of wings! Can you pick him up and fly him around???? Wait- to fast he is going to be sick-

• if you had anger issues, he found out the hard way and has been traumatized since, so he refrains himself from making you upset. Though, if you were to get upset during battle, he is on the side lines cheering you on like a cheerleader

• loves watching you kick villains ass's

• he adores your bravery! And your quick reaction times. How you're not afraid to jump into action, especially if it's defending him, it makes him swoon when you get all protective over him

• you two also fight super well together! Regardless, it's you always making sure Leo doesn't get ganged up on

• you being able to be patient with his stubbornness is a must. You gotta deal with him after all

Donnie

• definitely the most chill out of his brothers that you're a dragon mutant.

• youre allowed in his lab, only if your size wont accidently knock something over or take up to much space.

• you've had to save him multiple times from his inventions blowing up. Either shielding him away or picking him up with ease and moving him away from the danger. No matter how many times he reassures you, you're already to your feet when something is going on.

• Donnie knows you're capable of handling yourself, especially in battle. He doesn't worry too much about you. He knows you can easily knock someone into the concrete road. So he doesn't hover over you, just stops occasionally to see if you're okay before going back to what he was doing

• however, he makes you point out every hurt scale after battles or missions so he could put stuff on it. He doesn't like hearing your whining of pain because a danaged scale was piercing into your skin. He has a whole bunch of ointments just for you. He is on top of making sure you're fine.

• he definitely would love running his fingers againts your smooth and bumpy scales. Its like a sensory thing he cant get enough of. Especially when he is working on something, and it goes wrong. Instead of stressing over it, he runs his hand over your smooth scales and takes a deep breath

• Dragons can be quite smart and have swell knowledge. And if you do, Donnie loves your intelligence. Especially if he is just trying something and getting stuck, and before he could freak out, you calmly recite a fact and ask his thoughts on it.

• you are litterly the only one capable of getting him into bed. If he has been overworking himself, you'll just pluck him out of his chair and take a grumpy donnie to his bed to rest for the night, and wrestle him to stay in bed

• Sometimes, when Donnie gets stressed, you bring him to an area for him to relax in. If he doesn't want to be touched, you sit down on the next chair. But if he does, youde automatically up and laying down with him and let the turtle rant yo you about something

• likes it sometimes when he gets headaches and you let him lean his head on you. While you carefully massage his head so as not to hurt him. Your hands do wonders

• A lot of times, you guys just communicate through small noises. Especially while he is working on something and can't lose his focus. Youll let out a soft chirp of praise to him as he churrs back at you in return. Making it a back and forth cycle between the two of you, and you guys understood eachother perfectly. It confuses the others, but you two are fine with youre little communication system

• Sometimes, while he is tinkering and you're in the lab, too, he likes listening to your breathing. It may sound weird, but especially if you fall asleep, it's like a calming presence

• if you like shiny things, he found out when his tools went missing and you were attempting to hord them into somewhere to keep it safe. He gives you recycled tech you find pretty, or just lets you explore places, either on missions or trips to the junk yard to fiend new pieces. He lets you keep everything you find.

• you fly? Pretty neat, he uses his gadgets to fly, so you two are able to fly together. Despite his not being natural made. He also liked to feel the inside of your wing and feel its soft tissue, while being fragile with it to not harm you

• if you have anger issuss, he already made a device to track your mood, anywhere and everywhere. Just to make sure you're okay and not pulverizing someone. Though, if he gets pissed off at a villain or someone, he will let you lose and do your thing.

Mikey

• Sunshine x Sunshine protecter

• Goodness, this sweet little mad loves you and your intensity sm

• the first time he met you he was intimidated, but now you two are partners, he adores you

• No one, absolutely no one is allowed to fuck with him. Especially when you're around. One time when Leonardo teased Mikey, you stared him down so hard at him as if ready to slam him into the nearest wall. He backed off immediately

• you are pretty protective when it comes to Mikey, sure you dont hover over him, but you just make sure he isnt getting walked all over because he is the yongest

• Raph appreciates you and protecting Mikey. It gets a little bit of weight off his back to know his youngest sibling is safe ( he still worries regardless )

• loves to draw you! If you let him he would make full drawings of you, finding you a perfect muse. With all your details and complex features gives him a challenge! ( sometimes gets carried away )

• if you let him paint your scales, he is over the MOON. each individual one is like an empty canvas waiting to pop with color. Mikey would litterly sit there with you for hours on end decorating each and every scale. And he makes sure to use matching colors with them! It looks so good that you feel bad washing it off

• if you let him have some of your scales, he is definitely going to make them into some fun jewlery for himself, or for you! Like matching jewelry!

• tries out new cooking dishes to appease your taste buds. If you like more spicy food, he is on top of that! Making sure you get the right amount of food since dragons tend to get hungry often.

• he likes to game with you! Or - well, game while you watch. The one time you tried to play, you accidently broke one of the controllers cause you pushed too hard.

• absolutely the most affectionate of the family. It doesn't matter if you're bigger than him, he his jumping up and kissing your cheek no matter what!

• if you like Shiny things, Mikey will go out of his way to make you something. He finds the prettiest things and molds it together in a gift for you! The ones he gives you are your absolute favorite, you treasure them alot more than you do anything else

• if you have wings, he absolutely begs you to take him on flights. He is the lightest out of his brothers. He uses you as quick transportation to get to places!

• there is no way you can possibly get upset when he is right next to you. Is sweetness and just cinnamon roll energy always automatically calms you down. Though, if he is in a situation where he gets hurt, you are FUMING and ready to beat the shit out of anyone who gets near him until you calm down again

• doesn't understand why people are scared of you. You're the sweetest thing! Like a big puppy! Why are people running away from you????

• he knows he is safe with you, though he can take care of himself, he does appreciate your love and care.

• you guys definitely rub your cheeks together. it's adorable. He likes the feeling of your scales against his face. it's a rouch tingling feeling he likes.

• Mikey definitely asks to pet you sometimes. He easily finds the spots you like. Either rubbing the base of your horns or scratching your chin it gets your tail wagging and you rumbling and he loves it

• you are always with him. It's hard seeing you guys apart from one another! And he doesn't mind, unless he wants to do something on his own, you let him. But regardless, where Mikey is youre not to far behind

[legends-live-in-memories]

Do You Believe in Magic?

AYO second day in a row can you believe it? I come with more content.

Fics Masterlist

Wallynette Oneshot 3.1K words (no warnings apply) Summary: “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

without further ado:

“That’s ridiculous!” He was pacing back and forth, arms waving in the air to compliment his theatrics. “Magic shouldn’t be able to do that, it defies all logic!”

“That’s the point! Magic exists outside of logical reasoning!” The shorter girl was equally as furious, standing in place and growing redder by the minute.

“Nothing exists outside of logical reasoning! Everything can easily be explained with science.” The redhead had paused his pacing to stare down the noirette before him. He was uncaring of his volume, ignorant to how his voice echoed in the large cave. “Your Lucky Charm is nothing more than transdimensional materialisation. An already pre-existing object is broken down into subatomic particles and rearranged at your location.”

“Are you really trying to tell me how my own Lucky Charm works?” She had sounded absolutely livid at the assumption. And Dick had to agree with her. Wally was in no position to tell her how her own powers worked. Before he could interject the screaming match between his two best friends, she was going off again. “And are you really trying to tell me that somewhere in the world existed a red and black-spotted doughnut just waiting to be used? That when Antibug was around a ladybug patterned flamethrower was just lying somewhere?”

“Oh please, there are plenty of flamethrowers all over the world and they probably only appeared ladybug themed due to shifts in light refraction.” He had stopped waving his arms around and crossed them in front of his chest. He was standing in her space now, leering over her trying to be imposing. “Simple fact is magic. Isn’t. Real.”

“You can run faster than the speed of sound! If you really think it was your precious science that saved you after willingly striking yourself with lightning in hopes of tapping into a cross-dimensional ‘speed-force,’ then you’re dumber than I thought.” She had gotten even closer now, pressing a finger into his chest and pushing him back.

“Are they still at this?” Kaldur had walked up beside Dick with two soda cans, silently offering him one. His voice sounded tired, visibly annoyed at the constant bickering.

“An hour and counting,” he sighs. The sounds of their bickering slowly faded into background noise. “For today at least. But they’ve been butting heads ever since she’s joined the team. Kinda exhausting.”

Marinette, a.k.a Ladybug, had joined the team after Wonder Woman deemed Paris officially safe from any more magical mayhem. While the rest of Paris’s heroes chose to retire and preserve the rest of their teen years, Marinette did not have that option. Magical Guardian and all. The JLE welcomed her with open arms and Wonder Woman decided to introduce her to the Team. She got along great with M'gann, the two could almost always be found baking or exchanging recipes in the cave’s kitchen and they, plus Artemis, went on frequent shopping trips. Conner saw her as a little sister, which was unexpected but it probably had to do with the fact she was a whole foot shorter and he had natural instincts to protect those who looked meek. She was anything but meek but first impressions were a damning thing sometimes. Marinette was Kaldur’s biggest supporter, always ready to back him up when it came to tough Team related decisions, something born from her own experience as a leader. The two understood each other the best. She also related to Dick on the importance of secret identities and while the Team still only knows him as Robin, she was the only one who never pestered him on it, respecting the lengths he would go to for the sake of anonymity.

Wally was the only one the newest member clashed with. Magic skeptic, meet magic connoisseur. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. They almost never agreed on anything. Every time the two were left alone for more than two minutes it evolved into a screaming match. Wally was insistent on pushing all of Marinette’s buttons and she was always eager to defend herself and magic as a whole. Her rather short fuse didn’t make matters any better. It hadn’t affected missions, arguments reserved for the safety of the cave, but it was only a matter of time before that became an actual issue. He voiced as much to Kaldur who agreed with only a contemplative nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s moments like these where Kaldur hated when Robin was right. At least he was on another mission with Batman so he didn’t have to bear witness to this fiasco.

The Team was currently in Louisiana investigating the disappearance of Dr. Kent Nelson, better known as Dr. Fate, the Sorcerer Supreme. And Wally was being argumentative with Marinette while simultaneously trying to impress M'gann. It had put Artemis on edge and she kept taking jabs at him whenever an opportunity arose. And even when one didn’t.

They had just barely escaped the pit above lava, standing above the cool platform.

“Don’t worry, Megalicious,” Wally had moved to support M'gann, throwing an arm above her shoulders, drawing her into his side. “I’ve got you.”

“Enough!” Artemis had cut in between the two of them, pushing Wally away from the Martian, her frustration palpable even from where Kaldur was standing. “Your little ‘Impress Megan at all costs’ game nearly got us all barbecued.”

“When did this become my fault?”

“When you lied to that whatever it was and called yourself a true believer.”

“Wally, you don’t believe?” M'gann sounded hurt at that. Wally looked across the room, before coming to a silent conclusion.

“Fine, fine! I lied about believing in magic. But magic is the real lie, a major load.”

“I can’t believe you’re still on that.” Marinette, who had remained silent before, finally entered the conversation, ready to defend her craft. “We just fell over five hundred feet below ground into an almost fiery death and you still don’t believe it? Was the magically appearing Tower not enough? Or the fact that our feet are not being scorched right now?”

Wanting to put an end to this conversation, Kaldur said his piece.

“Wally, I have studied for a year at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis.” He had crouched down, rubbing the surface of the floor. “The mystic arts created the skin icons that power my water bearers.”

“Dude, have you ever heard of bioelectricity? Hey in primitive cultures fire was once considered magical too. Today it’s all just a bunch of tricks.”

“What I do is not a trick. Do you really think destroying the Eiffel Tower, and putting it back in place is just some trick? Or how about when an old akuma was able to control the weather and created a volcano in the middle of Paris? Were those all tricks too? Were the casualties just results of things that don’t exist?” Marinette was becoming increasingly agitated as her rant went on. M'gann moved to comfort her, embracing her slightly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I never said the lives lost weren’t real! It was tragic, yeah, but that was due to real scientific explanations.”

“Science can’t bring people back from the dead.” Her voice was more subdued and sombre and her shoulders were curling into her body. The atmosphere was increasingly getting more depressing so Kaldur grabbed onto the latch, hoping that making progress into the mission would revive the Team’s energy.

He ignored Wally’s protests about heat backdrafts and came face first to a rush of frigid air.    

“Do you ever get tired of being wrong?” Artemis was rather smug as she threw a smirk over her shoulder. Kaldur just wished the rest of the mission wouldn’t be like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis was going to tear her hair out. Or probably Wally’s. Yeah, she was going to tear Wally’s hair out. It had been a week since the Dr. Fate mission and he still hasn't apologized to Marinette. His refusal to believe in magic was not only screwing up the team dynamics but it was forcing Marinette’s hand, pushing her to dig up trauma, to try and prove to him that magic is real. Artemis didn’t understand why it was so important to her that Wally believed in magic but it was and that was enough for Artemis to stand by her friend.

The two haven’t even spoken to each other since the mission and it was painfully obvious that Marinette was avoiding him. Valid, but still aggravating when it put everyone on the team on edge. Artemis wasn’t one to play peacemaker, leaving that to Kaldur and Marinette, but since this ongoing conflict involved the Parasian, and Kaldur had his hands full with a mission in Atlantis, someone had to step up and that person was her. Wonderful.  

She had tracked Wally in the medical facility, tinkering with some of the equipment and taking inventory of their supplies, a job Red Tornado routinely asks him to do. She skipped any greeting and just started plucking items out of his hands. Ignoring his protests, she kept going until his hands were empty then grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the training room and shoving him into the center ring.

“Shut up and stay,” was all she said, crossing her arms and freezing him with a glare. She wasn’t in the mood for any of his gimmicks tonight. The sound of the zetatubes announcing the Ladybug designation alerted her to Marinette’s return from Paris. Time for the next part of her plan.

“Don’t move,” she said as she turned to retrieve the other person for her plan. A firm ‘I mean it’ was tossed over her shoulder as she left.

Collecting Marinette was easier said than done. Artemis was headstrong on a good day, she will admit, but now as a woman on a mission she was down right intimidating and she knew it. Marinette took one look at her expression and bolted for the zetatube she just stepped out of. Artemis was having none of that and was able to grab the much shorter girl before she could get any further. While Artemis was mentally applauding herself she was also begrudgingly impressed with how difficult it was to hold the girl. Dragging her to the training deck was becoming more trouble than it was probably worth.

Artemis could pinpoint the exact moment Marinette’s eyes landed on the speedster because her efforts doubled and she almost escaped Artemis’s grasp. She dropped her gracelessly on the floor and moved to block the exit before either could do anything.

“Neither of you are leaving until you work out your issues,” she was huffing from exhaustion, both mental and physical. “Whether that means punching the shit out of each other or talking it out like normal people: I don’t care. But no one leaves this room until you two stop screwing with the team dynamics.”

She left no room for arguments and turned to stand outside the exit, giving them some semblance of privacy. If they didn’t work out their issues here, Artemis’s plan B involved Connor tossing them into the far end of the coastline. Hopefully, Wally and Marinette were reasonable enough it wouldn’t have to come to that.

Oh, who was she kidding?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally stared at Artemis’s retreating figure and then at a very interesting spot on the cave wall. He felt like an asshole all week and, after his experience with the helmet of Fate, he knew he would have to be the one to mend the ever growing gap between him and Marinette. Still, he couldn’t face her yet. Every time he looked at her, or saw her hastily leave any room he was in, his mind flashed to those haunting words she had said.

Science can’t bring people back from the dead.

He knew that. He knew there were harsh limitations on what science can and can’t do. Magic shouldn’t have been any different. And he thought he understood what she had to deal with during her time in Paris but he was wrong. He was so painfully wrong that it took his body being overtaken by a mystic ‘Lord of Order’ for him to really comprehend that. He just… He just couldn’t wrap his head around someone so young being entrusted with so much power. Magic was inexplicable. It defied reason and was unpredictable so he never understood how someone as self-assured as Marinette could put her faith in something that unreliable. So he lashed out at her. Then he did it again. And again so much so that he can’t remember ever having a civil conversation with her.

He messed up and he knew it but the shame he felt in the past week was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Look,” his head snapped to the sound of her voice. She wasn’t looking at him, holding herself for comfort. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, I didn’t realise it was affecting the rest of the team.”

No. no no nonono.

She shouldn’t be apologizing. She had nothing to apologize for and Wally is the ass in this situation not her so why is she apologizing? He needs to fix this. Fast.

“You don’t need to apologize,” such a terrible start, Wallace. Congratulations. “I was the one who pushed your buttons and called magic a big trick.”

She had lifted her head slightly but her gaze still wasn’t focused on him, rather she was looking beyond him just above his shoulder. He took a step closer and when she hadn’t made a break for the exit, he took that as a good sign.

“Listen, Marinette,” her eyes dart to and away from him in an instant. He didn’t let that stop him though. “All those times, times when I called magic fake or belittled its legitimacy, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just trying to wrap my head around its absurdity.”

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do,” she finally locked her gaze on him and the pain swimming in her eyes was going to burn him alive. “You still hurt me. You took everything I did, everything I’ve learned and lost and loved and called it a hoax, you called it unreal, and you doubted everything I’ve ever accomplished. I have memories I may never recover from because of magic, scars that will never heal from something you didn’t want to believe in.”

There were unshed tears in her eyes and Wally wanted to brush them away. He didn’t, but fighting the urge was herculean of him. He didn’t get the chance to respond, though, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt her.

“Did you ever realise how those arguments affected me? I used to look up to you, Kid Flash, before joining the team.” He never knew that. Why didn’t he know that? “You were always so cheerful and the media framed you as someone who believed in the impossible. That was something I needed back in Paris. Because there was nothing more impossible to me than ever getting a chance to defeat Hawkmoth.”

She was openly crying now, her cheeks blotchy and eyes red. Wally didn’t know what to say so he took a chance and opened his arms to her. A silent invitation, a quiet apology. Whatever this little spitfire needed from him. He would willingly give it.

She took the offer and crashed her face into his chest, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He wrapped his arms snuggly around her, almost crushing her to his chest.

“I needed someone who believed in the impossible to believe in me.” Her sobs were heartbreaking. Wally could only caress her on the back in a futile attempt to comfort her. “That someone was you but then you had no problem looking me in the eye and saying you don’t believe in magic. How could you?”

“I am so sorry, Marinette.” He could never apologize enough. He was willing to dedicate his life making it up to her. He was silently praying to gods he also didn’t believe in that she would let him try. Before she could say anything, and he felt the hitch in her shoulders as she was taking steadying breaths to do so, he continued.

“I never knew what I—Kid Flash— meant to you. I only argued against magic so much because I didn’t want to believe that something that unpredictable was the only thing keeping someone like you safe. I heard all the stories; Wonder Woman loved to gush and brag about her mother’s successor, but I could never believe that someone could do such incredible things by magic alone. It was mind boggling.”

Wally felt more than heard the faint gasp at his confession. He pulled her off his chest, holding her a short distance by her shoulders, so that he could look into her eyes.

“I’m really sorry; I don’t think I can ever tell you how sorry I am.” She needed to know how genuine he was. He may clown around a lot but he was absolutely serious in this moment. He hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I—,” she cut herself off, and Wally could see her growing frustrated with her own loss of words. She opened her mouth to speak again but she was interrupted.

“OH just kiss already!” Artemis’s rough voice echoed in the room and Wally’s gaze flashed to where her back was facing them by the entrance. She looked uncomfortable standing there but clearly she had an agenda she was seeing through. He didn’t pay her any more attention as he focused back on the increasingly red girl still within his grasps. The hurt that was previously in her eyes was quickly replaced with embarrassment and she couldn’t look Wally in the eyes.

He felt a sudden rush of confidence at her demeanor and hoped he wasn’t about to make the second biggest mistake of his life. He bent his head slightly, casting a smirk at the small girl.

“Well, if that’s what the people want,” he pulled her closer to him then, her mousy ‘eep’ sounding adorable in response. He cupped her chin between two fingers, tilting her head up. “May I?”

She didn’t speak but her answering nod and slow closing of her eyes encouraged him to close the distance between them.

Wally’s been struck by lightning before but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of her lips on his. Her lips tasted like slowly drying tears and her favourite vanilla lip balm. The kiss wasn’t perfect, her lips were slightly chapped, as were his, and their noses bumped into each other, but it was the best kiss of his life.

They broke away from the kiss but neither moved far from each other. They stayed like that for who knows how long. Staring intently at each other, committing the other’s face to memory. And as Wally stared at her tear streaked face and into her slightly red and puffy eyes, he came to a single conclusion.

He definitely believed in magic.

[bubblegumbeech]

Haunted Towers and Hidden Truths

Phic Phight prompt by @lexiepiper

Write a more traditional ghost story. How would things change if ghost powers weren’t super powers, but closer to old horror movie tropes?

“We shouldn’t do this Danny,” Sam said, ever the voice of reason. “This place isn’t like our usual haunts.“

But Danny shook his head, “No Sam, I have to do this. I have to know what that dream meant, if it was really a dream or something else.”

He moved to take a step forward when his other friend, Tucker, grabbed his arm, “I don’t know man, I think she’s right. There isn’t a possessed item to destroy, or an overactive ghost to try and calm down, heck even Vlad has a weakness we can exploit, we don’t know anything about this place. What if we don’t make it out of this one?”

“Come on Tucker,” Danny argued, his own confidence nothing but a mask, “It can’t be as bad as the haunted video game right? You die in the game you die in real life!”

Tucker didn’t laugh, “this is serious Danny, I know that dream had you messed up, but what if it was just that? A dream?”

“Or,” Sam cut in, “What if it’s a trap? Remember how Desiree tried to get us with that monkey’s paw when she realized we were getting involved with every scary story and urban legend in town and she didn’t want us to find out about her?”

There was also the time a ghost discovered Danny’s secret and decided to haunt him personally and make his life a living hell until he and Tucker were able to exorcise it. It had involved a gorilla, a lot of research into dead safari hunters, and one of his parent’s inventions that they rigged to do what they needed before destroying it so it couldn’t be used against Danny himself. 

“We made it through all of those things together, remember when we first saw Cujo? And we thought he was to blame for Valerie’s mother?” Danny said.

Sam deflated, “and then we did research and discovered that Cu Sith only foretell death, not cause it… But Danny, we tried to research this place, remember? We found nothing. It’s like it doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah man,” Tucker scratched the back of his neck uncertain, “I couldn’t find so much as a blueprint. No building plans, nothing. The only thing we have to go on are stories from reckless kids trying and failing to spend the night.”

“You don’t have to follow me, the last thing I want is to put you both at risk. Especially after last time.” 

Tucker groaned, “Danny you know we aren’t going to let you do this alone right? Especially not after Walker’s prison. Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t come in and save you?”

Danny smiled, “I probably would have starved to death to be fair, but yeah, I’ll try to avoid getting locked in any metal cages, deal?”

“To be fair,” Sam said, returning his smile with one of her own, strained though it was, “you probably would have died of thirst first.”

Chuckling at his friends' attempts to lighten the mood once they realized his mind wouldn’t be changed, Danny finally let himself look up at the place in question. It was a tall, crooked looking clocktower with old, brittle wood and peeling paint. In the low light of the evening it looked almost purple and with the dust and cobwebs covering it, it was clear no one had been inside for quite some time. 

The Clocktower was a recurrent presence in his dreams, the ones he’d started having since the accident that made him the way he was: different from any person, but not quite anything else. It was always there in the background, but he’d never gone inside. 

Once, during a particularly dull recurring dream where he relived the life and consequent death of a warehouse worker, he’d walked away from the endless piles of boxes and tried to go inside the clocktower instead. But no matter how far he traveled, it was always the same distance away. He just couldn’t get to it. 

Danny couldn’t shake the feeling though, that something inside might have the answers he’s been searching for. So he stepped forward, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, of course, and  Danny almost felt foolish doing it, but also, ghosts and spiritual beings all had their own rules and perceptions of what is or isn’t polite, most of which Danny had stumbled into learning the hard way, and it really didn’t hurt to check.

“No answer,” Sam said and Danny nodded, turning the handle. It was old and brass and when it turned it made a loud grinding noise that vibrated along his arm. But it did open, and without Danny needing to persuade it, so that had to be a good sign right?

Unless it really was a trap. 

“Maybe we should leave someone outside, in case it really is like Walker’s prison.” He offered, but both of his friends shook their heads and stepped past him. It was dark, musty and smelled in a weird way, like a library. If a library had locked its doors and not let anyone enter for a good century or so. 

Sam took the lead, her flashlight catching on unfamiliar shapes and shadows. “Do you know what we’re looking for?” she asked, her voice uncertain. 

Danny shook his head, “Not really, just… answers.”

They looked around the ground floor at first, but if it held anything particularly supernatural or important, it wasn’t going to be found. “This just looks like my grandma's living room.” Tucker complained, taking the sheet off of one of the couches, “we need to go further in if we want to actually find something.”

He wasn’t wrong, Danny looked over to the spiralling staircase in the back of the room, and then to the other doors that surrounded it on the first floor. “It’s probably better to do this systemically right? Go through every room on each floor and move our way up?”

“You mean like in a video game?” Sam asked, “sure, we can do that.”

They started on the left, but that room wasn’t much better when it came to finding any kind of clues. It held a kitchen, a very old kitchen, with a stove and oven that Danny had only ever seen in period movies. But…

“Why does it smell like cookies?” Danny asked, turning to his friends who both looked at him like he was crazy.

“Cookies? Yo, Danny this place smells like straight up death. Not cookies.” Tucker said, backing away from the oven and starting to open up cabinets. 

Sam rolled her eyes and did the same on the other side of the kitchen, “it doesn’t smell like death you dolt, it smells… like a graveyard.”

Danny walked to the middle of the room, towards the oven- he always made sure to be the one seeking out the more dangerous or suspicious things in the haunts they went to- while the two of them bickered. They tended to start these smaller, petty arguments when they were scared, it took the edge off. 

“Duh?” Tucker said, and Danny heard him slam one of the cabinets shut, “graveyards are death? What does it smell like to you? Your Mom’s perfume?”

“No, it smells like someone dying, you know all hospital chemicals and gross stuff.”

There wasn’t anything in the oven, but oddly, Danny had felt a wave of warmth when he opened it. Almost like it had just been used. But, ghosts didn’t need to eat, right? And there couldn’t have been a person living here, they’d notice that. At least, Danny hopes they would notice that. After being in dozens of life or death scenarios hinging on whether they noticed important but minute details, they’d become pretty good at that kind of thing.

“Ugh! Don’t talk about hospitals, I’m still not over North Mercy, that was horrible,” Tucker turned to Danny, leaning on one of the counters and ignoring the cabinet he opened right behind his head. “What do you think death smells like Danny?”

Danny walked over and closed the cabinet, he didn’t want something to suddenly appear inside of it all twisted limbs and empty eyes or for something to crawl out and scare them, or even have it slam shut on Tuckers head, like some ghosts were known to do. He didn’t have to put much thought into his answer, “It smells like burnt flesh, electricity, and polished wood.”

Tucker paled, “oh… right. Sorry.” 

He shrugged, “anything yet?”

“Not unless you count cobwebs, dust, and deteriorating cooking books,” Sam answered, walking over to both him and Tucker. 

Danny looked around at the kitchen, it looked normal, even some dying light shone in from the one window along the outer wall. The only thing weird was the shape and that was because it was at the bottom of a spiralling clocktower. There was nothing particularly scary about the place, and frankly Danny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Let’s move on, this place is giving me the creeps,” Sam said, crossing the room and going to the next door. 

Danny and Tucker followed, unwilling to be left behind, or to let her go on her own. The next room was the same size as the other two, but it had an extra window and was crammed absolutely full of books. Just books. Stacks and stacks of them where they didn’t fit on the shelves, which were completely packed themselves, and Danny had the thought that this was probably what he was smelling when they first walked in. 

It was a library. A personal one, but without any room to sit or anything to sit on despite the genuinely impressive display of books and Danny found himself gently stroking his hand against the cover of a book on the top of the nearest stack, When Ghosts Speak: Understanding Earthbound Spirits.

“Please tell me we aren’t reading all of this,” Tucker whined. Danny frowned, why wouldn’t he want to read these? It was a treasure trove of information, these books could have countless, researched, answers to questions they’ve been asking since the start of everything! 

What if one of these books could tell them why Amity Park seemed to attract the supernatural, why they seemed to gain power within the city’s boundaries, why Danny wasn’t dead. He wanted nothing more than to grab any one of these books, walk into the next room, with the couches and comfortable chairs, sit down and read and read until he found something, anything he could use. 

These books might even be able to help him deal with the supernatural threats that plagued their town. Mostly they’ve been surviving through luck and half baked internet searches with the occasional trip to the town library. And while it had been enough so far, Danny was practically salivating at the thought of being properly, genuinely prepared for something for once. 

“Of course we aren’t,” Sam said, dragging Danny out of his fantasies of maybe knowing what he was doing, “they’re completely deteriorated. If we even tried to open one it would probably fall apart.”

Danny frowned, and then looked down at the book he’d subconsciously grabbed. It didn’t seem as bad as Sam was describing, but he also didn’t want to risk it either. He’d realized early on there was a difference between what he was seeing and what was actually real. He set it down gently and looked around the rest of the room with his friends. 

“Are we so sure this place is haunted?” Danny asked. By then, the sun had set entirely and the only light left was their flashlights. High powered and with fresh batteries they were still little use against the encroaching dark and Danny wanted to move on to the next floor already if he wasn’t going to be able to open a book. 

Tucker stood up from behind a precariously leaning shelf and dusted himself off, “Dude you’re the one that said there was something here and we needed to investigate. Remember, like an hour ago when the two of us were trying to stop you from going inside?”

Danny scoffed, “that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” Sam asked, stepping closer so she could meet his eyes. There was something in her expression, curiosity or suspicion, Danny couldn’t quite parse. 

“I…” Danny stopped to think, what did he mean? Was it just that the place didn’t feel haunted? There wasn’t anything here trying to scare him away, no ominous winds or loud knocking, but they’ve gone into haunts before that took a long time to start actually reacting to them. “There’s no, I don’t know how to explain it. Usually when we go somewhere haunted, that a ghost has a claim to or whatever… there’s this feeling that I’m trespassing? I don’t feel like I’m trespassing here.”

That probably didn’t make any sense, and despite everything they didn’t usually act on Danny’s gut instincts as a group without evidence. The issue with the circus and it’s terrifying owner was a lesson too well learned after all. 

True to expectations neither Sam nor Tucker looked convinced. They shared a quick ‘what now’ look between each other and Danny resisted taking a step back and sinking into the wall. Not that he could do that, as far as he knew he couldn’t do that. Only actual ghosts could do something like that and despite everything Danny was still human- well, still had a physical form. 

Permanently. 

“Let’s move on upstairs,” Sam reasoned, “if Danny’s right there won’t be any harm in it, and if he’s not we’ll find out once whatever’s here starts actually reacting to us, right?”

Perfectly reasonable and logicked as always. Danny nodded and walked to the next door, if he was right it would lead into the room they had first entered with the staircase that twisted and climbed higher and higher into the heart of the tower. That was the next place to go. He knew that.

Tucker gently patted his shoulder as they walked towards the base of the stairs, “yeah, maybe the ghost doesn’t consider this bottom part his haunt? Maybe he just likes the clock on top?”

Danny smiled, “like the hunchback of Notre Dame?”

Smiling back, Tucker nodded, “exactly! Oh man, we gotta find out if that guy is real one of these days.”

“We have our hands a bit tied with Amity Park without going after disney characters,” Sam said, pushing the two of them from behind so they’d actually go up the stairs. “Now let's get a move on, I want to be back home before breakfast so my parents don’t realize I snuck out again.”

There was something Danny could say but he bit back the comment about how at least her parents would notice and quickly walked up the stairs instead. As soon as his feet touched the first step a bubbly feeling lifted in his chest, and it made him want to go higher as fast as he could there was someone up there waiting for him-

“Danny!” Sam called out, grabbing him by the arm, “calm down!”

Her grip on his arm was tight and Danny looked down to see what had her panicked only to find his feet had left the stairs entirely and he’d started floating upwards instead of walking. Like a human. Like his friends. Like what he was supposed to be. 

He swallowed and let himself sink back down, forcing the feeling in his chest back as much as he could. It was like trying to kill the fizz in a shaken soda by screwing a cap back on it and he struggled with it for a moment. He’d never felt like this before- sure, most ghosts and other supernatural entities tended to broadcast emotions to a higher degree than humans, and with them also being natural empaths and Danny’s unfortunate situation it often led to him being overtaken by emotions that weren’t necessarily his own. 

It’s just, they’ve never been this overwhelmingly positive before.

Even with Vlad, as human as he was, his emotions were always tinted with obsession and desperation. His need to have Danny and his mother for his own colored every interaction he’d had with the man and it often left a bitter, strained feeling in his chest. Right now, Danny felt almost giddy. And he wasn’t even sure it wasn’t just his own emotions, reacting to the environment around him. It was a nice environment after all. 

But Danny was good at ignoring things like that. 

“My bad. I’ll try and keep my feet on the ground from now on.”

Sam looked conflicted, “Danny you know we don’t mind you using your powers,” Danny nodded, they’d told him so many times over and over again, “But we don’t want to lose you to them. You promised to stay with us, remember?”

Danny smiled, “I remember. I won’t end up like that, I promised. That’s why we’re here right? To stop it?”

Sam nodded and let him go. 

The second floor was similar to the first, in that it had three rooms leading into each other with the spiral staircase in the center. Danny started with the door on the right. It was a study. There was a desk, paperwork, and a bottle of ink with a quill and Danny found himself wondering just how old this clocktower really was. And how long it had been since its occupant was truly here, alive, if ever. 

They split up and started looking around, eagerness exposed in their movements. This was the most likely place to have something useful, especially if whoever spent their time here was as studious as the lower floor suggested.  Danny went for the desk. 

There was a note on it, in perfect, looped handwriting and the ink was still glistening, fresh from the bottle if the smell had anything to say about it. Danny ran his hand across the words hoping to smudge it, but it had dried already, if barely. 

It’s nice to meet you, little anomaly.

Danny grit his teeth. 

“Guys,” he called out, holding the paper, “It knows we’re here.”

Sam and Tucker rushed over, and Sam grabbed the paper from his hand to read for herself. “Little anomaly? Isn't that kind of insensitive?”

“Yeah,” Tucker agreed, “you just have weird ghost powers right? Vlad’s the same way it’s not like you’re the only person on the planet like you.”

Hesitant to correct him, Danny bit his tongue. It was true that Vlad was a person who had unfortunately gained the abilities of a ghost, things like floating, making objects move with his mind or using his spirit to control people while he slept safe and sound at home. And he’d gained them in a similar way to Danny as well, trusting the wrong people and delving into things he never fully understood and still didn’t. 

It was just … less true for Danny was all. 

But he wasn’t going to tell them that, he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. So how did whoever, or whatever this was, know? Or was it just saying things to get under his skin, that was pretty par for the course when it came to ghosts. So why wasn’t it doing anything else? Trying to get them to leave? Was Sam right? Was it really a trap this entire time? What would happen if they went back downstairs and tried the door, would it open?

He grabbed the paper and shoved it into one of his jackets pockets, there was plenty of time to freak out over it later after all. “Let’s keep looking around, there has to be something here that it’s trying to distract us from.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything more useful than there had been downstairs. Just what one would expect from a normal office. What papers he did find had detailed extensive notes, yes. But they were in a language Danny couldn’t read and neither Sam nor Tucker even recognized. It was infuriating!

Almost like whoever was haunting this place, was telling them it had all the answers they wanted but wouldn’t give them any. He just wanted to know how - Danny shook his head. There had to be something. He wouldn’t have been led all the way here, had all those dreams, if there was nothing he could do at all. 

He threw one more frustrated look around the office before he threw the stack of papers he’d been digging through on the floor and marched over to the next door. It was unlocked, again, just like all of the others and it only served to increase Danny’s frustration. 

“Wait, Danny,” Sam noticed him leaving and quickly followed, the door slammed shut behind them, locking Tucker inside the office.

“No,” he whispered, this was all his fault, he shouldn’t have let this ghost get in his head like this! He never should have let his emotions take him over, he knew better. It led to bad things. Horrible, terrible, things. 

There was a loud bang on the door, someone was pounding against it and Danny flinched. Was the actual haunting finally starting? Was everything really just a way to lure them deeper into the tower and away from each other? 

“Guys?” he heard Tucker call out from the other side of the door, “did you seriously just leave me behind? Don’t we have like, a rule against that?!” 

Danny sighed in relief, it was just Tucker. “Are you okay Tuck? Did anything happen over there when the door shut? Any oozing walls or flying papers-”

There was another thump, probably Tucker banging his head against the door, “I know what to look for Danny I’ve been doing this the exact same amount of time as you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny acquessed. “Just get to the stairs and we’ll meet you there.”

He exchanged a glance with Sam, she was glaring a hole into the side of his head and he felt guilty for being the cause of everything going wrong, again. So he apologized and ignored her exaggerated eye roll when she said he should have known better, because well, he did. But what was he going to do, apologize twice?

The room they were in was a simple one, likely some kind of storage space that he and Sam could dig through for hours on end, but it was more important to get to Tucker than to try and make sure they didn’t miss anything. 

Which, in hindsight, was probably exactly why they’d been separated. 

A cold breeze tickled at Danny’s hair and he felt himself relax despite it all. It felt nice, the cold, and Danny liked when the haunts they went to leaned towards the chillier side like this. Sometimes, especially if Vlad was involved, it felt like he was walking into an overwarm swamp when he entered a haunt and it made him itchy and uncomfortable the entire time. Vlad never seemed to notice, and his friends complain equally about both, so Danny had mostly kept it to himself. 

The entire tower felt nice, cold dry air, the smell of books, ink, and cookies, even the playful, excited feeling that seemed to permeate throughout the tower. Like someone had designed it to appeal in every way to both sides of Danny’s instincts. 

It was unnerving. 

He followed Sam out of the room and back into the middle where the stairs were, but Tucker wasn’t there. 

Sam pulled out her phone, and Danny held his breath as it rang, once, twice, and then a click and Tucker’s familiar, annoyed voice came through the speaker and Danny sighed in relief. “Uh guys? I couldn’t get out the door so I tried to climb out a window, and there was uh, a ladder. So I’m outside right now. Come get me?”

Danny met eyes with Sam and nodded, they headed back down, “we’re coming Tuck,” he said.

“Cool, cool, actually rather than coming to get me, can we just go home? Come back later, like in the day time? How come we never do these things in the daytime?”

“You know that’s not how ghosts work Tucker.” Sam said, bored, as they walked to the front door. Danny felt a tug, something like a hand on his shoulder and turned to see what was behind him. There wasn’t anything there. 

He turned back around to see that Sam had already walked outside, and was holding the door open for him, one of her eyebrows raised. Awkwardly, Danny jogged a little, so as to not hold them up too long. But before he could actually walk outside the door slammed shut.

Sam screamed.

“Danny! Are you okay!” Tucker asked, his voice panicked and muffled from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine,” Danny said, gritting his teeth and turning around. The room didn’t look or feel any different. There was nothing screaming at him to get out or anything else malicious. If anything it seemed even cosier than before, and Danny didn’t really know how to react to that. 

He looked back at the door. There was a way, no. He couldn’t do that. Danny pinched at the bridge of his nose, the only thing to do, really, was to see who had invited him in. That’s what it was right? Some kind of weird ghostly invite?

“I’m going to go check upstairs,” he called out to his friends before walking back towards the staircase. 

They pounded on the door, “Danny don’t you dare go up there without us! Just wait, we’ll find a way in! It’s dangerous alone!” 

Ignoring their protests Danny took the stairs two steps at a time, fighting the rising excitement in his chest and firmly planting his feet against the polished wood. There were answers waiting for him, he knew there were. He just had to find them. 

The third floor had a bedroom, it was nice, cozy and the bed even looked inviting. Danny didn’t bother to stay long. Whoever it was that called him here wasn’t in this room, nor were they in the next or the one after that. Just two bedrooms and a bathroom on that floor and Danny quickly made his way to the next. 

This room was different from the rest. For one there were windows, everywhere, that seemed to play different scenes of different people from all over the world. If Danny strained his ears, he could even hear them speaking different languages. On the other side from the windows was an entire wall of clockwork that chimed and churned as the gears moved, keeping the face of the clock on the outside ticking along in sync with the rest of the world. 

When Danny stepped into the room properly the carpet sunk easily underneath his feet and he felt a nice, cold breeze that came from a purple flamed fire housed properly in a fireplace in the middle of the room. He hadn’t even noticed a chimney from outside. 

There was a man in front of the fire. He was tall and hooded and he carried an equally tall and gnarled staff in one of his gloved hands. Danny felt himself freeze, he had never seen a ghost this solid before. There was always a little bit of transparency, no matter how powerful, they didn’t have physical forms afterall. Not like Danny.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was dry and soft and Danny was thankful when it didn’t crack on his question. How embarrassing would that have been? 

The man turned around, his face changing as he did from old and aged to a younger one, closer to his parent’s age, a large jagged scar marking it’s way through one of his eyes and down his cheek. He smiled, “I am Clockwork, Master of time. All that was, All that is, and All that will be. I understand you have many questions for me. I hope to answer them.” 

A thousand questions ran rapidly through his mind, why did you call me here? Did you call me here? Why get rid of my friends? What are you and why haven’t I seen anything like you before?

“How do I prevent myself from becoming that.” Danny asked the most pressing question first, desperate. The man-ghost-Clockwork, sighed and gestured for him to sit. There was a comfortable looking couch with an equally comfortable chair across from it and a plate of cookies set on an elegantly carved coffee table between the two.

“That’s easily answered, sit, have a cookie.” Clockwork floated over, crossing his legs and settling into the chair before grabbing a cookie for himself. 

Danny glanced at them, uncertain, before taking a seat. The couch was even more comfortable than it looked and he found himself sinking back into it, confused. The room was a nice, cold, temperature as well, despite the fire clearly burning in the fireplace. 

He grabbed one of the cookies, “can I eat these?” he asked, looking over at his host.

“Of course,” Clockwork smiled, taking a bite of his own before leaning back, “I made them for you. Though your friends would have to be more careful, I’m not sure what food like this would do to a human.”

“I am human,” Danny argued, placing the cookie back on its plate. He had to, denial was all he had left at this point. 

Clockwork frowned, “yes, well, I suppose we’ll get there next. You wanted to know about your dreams.”

Finally, Danny nodded, “they’re different ever since- uh well… ever since the incident.”

“It’s natural to not want to talk about one’s death,” Clockwork said, he leaned forward and tilted his head, “or one’s birth.”

“My dreams,” Danny asked, avoiding that conversation with all the grace of a blind hippo, “why are they different. You know right?”

Sighing, Clockwork nodded and leaned back, “yes, I know everything. They’re different, frankly, because they’re dreams. It’s unsettling to you because it’s new, you’ve never dreamed before.”

Danny scowled, “that doesn’t make any sense, I had plenty of dreams when-”

Clockwork interrupted him, disappointment plain under his hood, “You can lie to your friends Daniel, but I already know the truth. Just as you do.”

“I was astral projecting. Like what Vlad does… but then why-?” Danny bit his tongue. He couldn’t say it, not outloud. It was too difficult, he’d spent too long hiding it, pushing it away and doing everything he could to keep anyone from noticing. 

“Why can’t you do it anymore?” Clockwork answered for him, Danny nodded. “The simple answer is that you aren’t like Vladimir, despite what he believes and would like you to believe as well. But that’s something else you already know. Ask me a question you don’t have the answers for.”

Danny grabbed another cookie, biting into it fiercely just to have an excuse not to speak. It tasted really good, better than anything he’d had in a while and Danny wondered if maybe there was something in it meant to sate his less human cravings. The thought didn’t help his inner turmoil. 

Clockwork smiled softly at him though and sighed, “Fine, in order to answer your question, first I have one of my own.”

“Didn’t you just say you know everything?” Danny mumbled before shoving more cookie in his mouth. 

“What good is a teacher that only lectures?” Clockwork said in retort, “do you remember how you died?”

He did, of course he did. “Kinda hard to forget that. Lab accident, electrocution, nothing fancy.” he said, curling in on himself. Clockwork had been right before, it was painful to talk about. But he wanted, no, needed the answers to his questions. He’d survive this. 

“Well, that’s where your first mistake lies. Yes, that is what stopped your heart, and likely the most memorable part, but you didn’t die from that Daniel. What killed you came after.”

Danny frowned, “that doesn’t make any sense? What happened after?”

“Your spirit was never particularly bound to your body in the first place, likely due to your parents dabbling where they shouldn’t for as long as they did before you were ever born. There was a summoning, I think you remember, that your parents were holding when your accident happened on the floor below them.”

It was frustrating, that he was right. That he knew it. “I remember them recognizing me, my spirit. I remember them finding my body and shoving me back in. I remember the pain, and waking up and seeing-” Danny choked on the realization. It couldn’t be...

“Seeing the world in your dreams?” Clockwork asked, “the way you saw it when you were a spirit, free from the confines of your body, correct?” He floated over the table, sat next to Danny, and placed a hand on his back. Danny realized he had been shaking. 

He grabbed the fabric of his jeans in a tight grip and tried to stop, “It’s all real, right? It isn’t… I’m not still dreaming? Please, I need to know.”

The hand on his back pulled him close, tucked into Clockwork’s side and Danny felt comforted despite himself, he fought to blink away tears that had been building behind his eyes as he tucked himself into Clockwork’s side. He was so solid, unlike any other ghost Danny had ever met and he seemed to radiate comfort where most just gave off fear and hurt. 

“You’re not dreaming Daniel, you never were. The world is different when you see it  through our eyes, that is all. When you woke up, you weren’t human anymore. Of course you wouldn’t be limited by a human’s sight.”

Danny curled into himself tighter, despair clouding around him and likely leeching unpleasantly into the air. It would be a wonder if Clockwork didn’t feel it. “So I’m a ghost.”

“Hardly,” Clockwork said and Danny stopped breathing, “Do you think the world is so simple it is split between what is ghostly and what is not?”

“I…” Danny had actually assumed that. So far everything they’d dealt with so far, short of Vlad, had either been a ghost or spirit of some kind, or a human that used magic or ghostly artifacts. Even Vlad had simply been a person who had learned how to control his own spirit the way a ghost would. If Danny wasn’t a human, and he wasn’t a ghost, then what was he?

Clockwork ruffled his hair, “I suppose you’re young. It is easier, afterall, to think of it that way. But Daniel, ghosts don’t have physical forms. They can possess one, or control one, and sometimes even mimic one, but they are spirits.”

He sighed, “you are something entirely different. You’re something remarkable.”

Danny leaned back, using the sleeves of his hoodie to quickly dry his tears so he could look Clockwork in the eye, “What am I?”

“You’re new.”

Danny shoved him, “Agghh, I knew that you jerk!” It was probably a bad idea to attack or antagonize someone as clearly powerful and knowledgeable as Clockwork, but really he’d been asking for it. And Danny’s patience was only so strong. 

Clockwork didn’t fight him back though, nor did he get offended. Instead he just smiled that soft smile that Danny was starting to realize was affection, and said, “did you? Weren’t you trying to read my books to find out if there was anyone else like you?”

“Well yeah-” Danny stopped, “Oh. There wouldn’t be anything would there? If I’m the first?”

He groaned, that really was just his luck. He’d never figure out anything at this rate. Clockwork, the bastard, just hummed and grabbed another cookie, offering it to him. “No there wouldn’t. But you’re not the only one who was the first or only of their kind. Who had to figure out on their own, who and what they are.”

“You mean Vlad?” Danny asked, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth, wow he really hoped he didn’t mean Vlad.

Clockwork’s smile turned brittle, “I don’t mean Vlad.”

Danny chuckled, his thoughts turning mischievous, “I don’t know, he seems pretty unique, what with all those different abilities he has and the way he can choose to be human or ghost-”

“Oh please,” Clockwork interrupted, “there’s plenty of humans like Vladimir Masters, you were fully capable of astral projecting like that from birth, no black magic necessary. Just because he found a way to twist-”

He stopped, then looked down at Danny who was trying and failing to hold back a shit eating grin. All at once the air seemed to leave him and he deflated, the irritated look on his face replaced with open and honest affection and Danny felt it sing in the air around them.

“You were messing with me.”

“To be fair I didn’t think it would work, all knowing and everything.” Danny said, unable to fight the bubbling feeling in his chest as it rose to meet the affection around them. Usually it sucked having the empathy of a ghost and being near one or at least, something with the same traits. The negative emotions tended to bounce between him and them and amplify and it always made Danny struggle to parse his own emotions from theirs. But right now, in the top of a clock tower with the most powerful entity Danny had ever met, he felt happiness and joy to a degree he’d long forgotten. It was dizzying. He was almost giddy with it.

Clockwork patted him on the head, purposefully messing his hair, “yes well. I think in time, it will be more obvious just how different you truly are, how crucial every small coincidence was that came together that night to create you. But until then, you had another question? I can answer it now.”

Danny frowned as he realized what Clockwork meant, “You! I asked that question first! How did you only answer the one you wanted to!!”

“It was important,” Clockwork said, relaxing into the couch next to Danny, “to answer that question I had to be sure you knew what you were.”

He sputtered, “But I don’t?! I’m just something new! Something different!”

“Something physical that exists with the laws of the spiritual.���

“Yeah!” Danny said, “Wait, what?”

Clockwork nodded his head, “a physical entity that exists within the realms of spiritual possibility. It must be such a struggle, to deal with both sets of instincts like that.”

Danny’s head hurt, it was too much to try and understand the details of all of this. Maybe Tucker was right and he should just have let it be, learn to live with the new normal his life was now. Wasn’t that kind of what Clockwork was suggesting anyways? Then again, unlike Tucker, he did seem to thrive off of all of Danny’s questions, whether he actually answered them or not. 

“Yeah, I have to fight my more ghostly instincts all the time. It’s exhausting.” he said, leaning into Clockwork. It should have been embarrassing, seeking comfort like that, but he’d already cried into his shoulder and there wasn’t really any way to come back from that so Danny did as he pleased. 

He felt Clockwork’s hand return to his back, a solid comforting presence, “Now why would you do that?”

Danny tilted his head in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Why would you fight against one half of yourself so thoroughly? But embrace the other side entirely?” Clockwork elaborated. “Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences in fighting against your nature?”

“But,” Danny struggled to speak, pieces of the puzzle he’d thought hopeless putting themselves together in ways he had never expected and didn’t quite understand, “my nature is bad.”

Clockwork frowned and turned to look at Danny properly, “Daniel, it’s your nature. There is nothing good or bad about it. It is only as it is. Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

This was too much, Danny sat up fully and turned entirely towards Clockwork, “are you saying, the way I become that thing from my nightmare, is by… doing what I’ve been doing to avoid becoming that thing?!”

“Yes,” Clockwork answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He blinked, the answer really couldn’t be that easy. “But in my dream, I, my instincts-”

Clockwork grabbed a cookie and placed it in his hands, “even humans react poorly, when they starve themselves. As you exist now, you simply need a different kind of sustenance. One you’ve been denying.”

Danny felt dread crawl down the length of his spine, “what kind of sustenance?”

“Spirits exist for reasons, and they exist differently from humans. In order to keep existing they need emotions, experiences, something to keep them held together. A spirit that has no reason to exist will simply disappear, you’ve seen such before it is relatively common after all. But you can’t do that, since you are physical in a way that they are not. You can starve yourself endlessly, into madness even if you’re desperate enough.”

“I do it to myself?” Danny asked, flustered and frustrated. It was true then? He really was his own worst enemy? 

Clockwork shook his head, “it is not inevitable Daniel. As you were, it was the most likely path forward. Yes. You would have noticed the symptoms, seen yourself losing control and then, in reaction, suppressed yourself further. Starved yourself further.”

Danny cringed, yeah, that sounded like him. “How do I stop it then? I just embrace what makes me ghostly? What about my parents? If they think they failed the resurrection, that I’m not human anymore, they’ll kill me for real! Or worse!”

“That is indeed troublesome, and the paths of the future where they know your truth are twisted and sharp, every small decision every tiny change causing a greater effect on their reactions as a whole. But you do not need to reveal yourself to your parents to live your truth.”

Relieved, Danny fell back into the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he’d floated off of it, was that good? Bad? He shook his head, this was all too confusing. “How then?” He asked, maybe this time he’d actually get a straight answer. 

Clockwork ruffled his hair and stood up, er, well, floated up and over towards the fire. “You continue doing what you’re doing with your friends, protecting your town and interacting with the truth of the world around you. And…” He turned around, “you can come visit me. It’s quite lonely in the clock tower they trapped me in, and there is much I can teach you about becoming. I had to learn such things about myself once after all.”

“You’ll let me come back? To visit you?” Danny didn’t know what to say. He could come visit, ask more questions, get more answers. It seemed too good to be true, and Danny found himself eager and excited at the prospect. 

For some reason, the entire conversation, he’d thought this would be a one time thing. That the clocktower would disappear behind him and leave any question he didn’t ask unanswered. To find out that wasn’t the case, that he had somehow, against all odds, made some kind of ghostly ally, was beyond expectations. “You’ll help me?”

The answering smile had Danny floating out of his seat, “Of course Daniel. I’ll even bake cookies.” 

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Imagine if the suitors went to the beach for a whole day in the modern world...what crazy crap do you think will happen

Here are a handful of crazy and/or cute headcanons that came to mind! :D

-Mozart swatting away seagulls because HE IS TRYING TO EAT IN PEACE

-Jeanne watching him, MC offering him two water guns with a silent nod (sunglasses on, we’re going full meme)

-Jeanne then proceeds to shoot at them (no gulls were harmed in making of this promotional video) and his aim is impeccable it would be disturbing if the thwarted squawking wasn’t so funny

-Little kids start swarming around Jeanne asking how he’s so amazing and wanting to play team battles, inviting him to join

-Napoleon encourages him, and even Mozart joins in despite not liking getting wet very much (he wants Jeanne to have some positive fun times bc he BIIIIIIIG depressy)

-In the end they both admit to having fun, and one of the kids even teaches Jeanne a special ten step handshake (Jeanne has no idea what that was but the kiddo was smiling so he figured he’d go with it)

-HE AND MOZART STILL SECRETLY USE THE HANDSHAKE FOR FUNSIES BUT TELL NO ONE BECAUSE THEY DON’T LIKE F U N DON’T LOOK AT THEM

-Dazai, alternatively, gathers the fallen gull army and becomes their god with a singular cylinder of Pringles. No I will not elaborate--THE SEA GULLS GOT HER!!!!!!!!

-Spends most of the beach day wetting his feet in the tide pools and talking very earnestly to the gulls about this new thing he learned about called tax evasion while people pass by this fucker in full kimono at the beach and are convinced he’s lost it

-Dazai is very much not sane but we knew this already, offers sea shells to little kids that ask him what he’s doing and tells them to listen to the secrets bird friends can tell them

-If Dazai sounds like an Animal Crossing Villager, that was entirely by accident but remains no less true

-Surprising absolutely no one, Arthur suggests volley ball after watching people play and invites some pretty ladies to join him

-Arthur ends up needing two more people to play, so he invites Vincent and Theo (Vincent is so excited about trying something new that Theo can’t say no despite wanting to make a volleyball-shaped crater in Arthur’s face)

-The funniest part about the volleyball game is that not only is Arthur a shit player (CANON WEAK ARMS FOOL) Theo destroys with his spikes, and Vincent’s reach is insane--the two brothers end up becoming the talk of the beach

-I just laugh imagining Vincent sincerely complimenting people around him and the ladies swooning because he’s just so nice and pretty is he even real

-Men aren’t happy about that^TM but at the sight of Theo’s defensive glower they keep their malicious traps shut--which turn on whichever girls weren’t interested in Vincent jahkslgjh

-**Kaguyasama narrator voice** Today on Arthur Shenanigans: Arthur loses

-Poor Isaac is hiding under the umbrella clutching sunscreen bc HE IS A PASTY BOY HELP HIM

-MC brought a few of the newest Maths/Physics books in her time for him to read, and while he doesn’t enjoy the intensity of the sun--not like vamp weakness, it’s just the strain on his body (too many stimuli too many people too much noise) that makes him tired and ultimately thirsty bc aberrant. But the change of scenery's not so bad.......

-MC laughs when she gets out of the water and the salt dries visibly on her skin, Isaac’s eyes bug out and he asks if it hurts (startles when Leo flicks sea water at him and asks how on earth they got in the water when it’s so cold!!!)

-Leo chats with him and he likes being able to draw theorems and the like in the sand, it’s like one big chalkboard (until a kid tramples across them in the middle of writing, POPPYCOCK!). Isaac ultimately has fun but prefers to stay inside poor bub

-Leonardo, surprising no one, falls asleep in the sand the second he gets there HE IS HOME (Italian beaches, amirite)

-MC decides to, after a point, bury him fully in the sand for shits

-Comte notices and aids in her shenanigans from his beach chair, snickering the whole time

-When the two are satisfied they go for a swim together, trusting Leo to look after Isaac if need be (even if he’s a mummy rn)

-Comte is relieved to hear that she knows how to swim, but also watches carefully and doesn’t let her drift out too far by keeping closer to the shore himself (riptides!!!! can be!!!!!!! dangerous!!!!!!!!!!) if he had his way (he would never impose but he worries ;-;) she’d be wearing floaties SAFETY FIRST

-They splash at each other like maniacs and chat amiably until they start swimming away as fast as possible when Leo wakes up, laughing

-How do we know that Leo woke up?

-Because he sat up ramrod straight and a tower of sand fell. He then proceeded to jump up and sprint to the water despite Isaac’s startled cries about being careful, and swam after them like a shark to get his revenge (it was like something out of an anime s2g)

-Mostly just tugs on MC’s leg, picks her up in the water, and yeets her across in retaliation; really harmless, she’s cackling the whole time

-Dunks Comte’s head in the water while he’s being scolded, and MC has to de-escalate their increasingly dangerous shenanigans before the life guard comes after them LMFAO

-They concede only bc MC looks sad/worried abt being kicked out, and agree to keep things fun FIGHT TO THE DEATH LATER TONIGHT

-Napoleon goes for a nice long walk along the shoreline and climbs the rocks if he finds any til he gets to the top (he does not go to his happy place HE GOES TO HIS HIGH LONESOME PLACE) wishes that Jupiter could be here to enjoy the brine

-Our boy Napoleon is simply just vibin he loves the beach. A little further off the sound of people is p muted, it’s just the crashing waves and crisp smell of salt, the light breeze ruffling his hair 

-Sebas is absolutely watching through binoculars and writing down how majestic Napoleon is while making sure no one gets lost/wrecked as he takes notes

Bonus: since volleyball games can often happen back to back on a sizable beach, the boys^TM were playing and Arthur called out “Theo duck!!!!” and just as Theo was saying “Are you fucking kidding me did you really think I’d--T H W A C K” Theo gets nailed in the back of the head (Arthur later died after being put in a headlock)

Shakespeare didn’t feel like playing volley ball and didn’t have much else to do (can’t swim and has no interest), so he just sat back and tried to throw Theo off his game as much as possible 

Por ejemplo: Theo misses a serve and Shakespeare just “For never was there a story of more woe; O bard Alexa, verily, play us Despacito” “SHUT THE FUCK UP”

Jeanne also gets hit by a stray volley ball, but when Vincent said “Oh no, Jeanne, duck!” he has one of either two reactions: 1. Boulevard of Broken Dreams plays obnoxiously loud as he dodges inhumanly fast 2. he quacks, gets nailed, and doesn’t react because he doesn’t have any brain cells to damage

[sorenskyhigh]

Ok... this boy in my school that I'm friends with and likes me can speak fucking Korean and it just does something to me. I keep telling myself that 2D boys are better than 3D boys but like I cannot help it (he is from fucking Ireland btw). Anyway, if you get where I'm going with this... Tendou, Aone, Kenma and a character of choice with a spouse who can speak a different language... be creative with the languages queen and go crazy. Also as a scenario :) THANKS BESTIE :)

Ooooo i love this! Yes! I gotchu! Need a reminder of the real good men, FICTIONAL

A s/o Who Speaks Another Language

Includes Tendou Satori, Aone Takanobu, Kozume Kenma, and of course my pick is gonna be Kuroo Tetsurou but just for fun I'm gonna throw in Hanamaki Takahiro

Tendou Satori

Satori loved being in France, the language, like any, was hard to learn. Still, he loved everything about the culture here. You being his language tutor was a big help as well.

Since most all of your conversations were in French, unless you were practicing your Japanese (you wanted to learn it for him), Satori never knew you were fairly fluent in Arabic.

Arabic is one of a few of the most spoken languages in France (next to French of course and contending with Spanish, German and couple of others), so a good many people could speak it but Satori had no idea you could.

The first time he heard you speak it when you were trying to give someone directions.

You both were lounging about in the grass in The Champ de Mars, the Eiffel Tower at your backs.

It was a day off for Satori and he wanted you both to have a fun lunch out. Satori and you had both worked and cooked up a lunch to take with you to eat out in the sunshine.

You both were munching on some food, his long arm around your waist as you leaned into him when a work friend of yours came up to you.

"Hey, y/n, can you give her directions? She's trying to find her hotel I think?"

"Sure," you said, before standing up and engaging her in conversation. Turns out she was trying to find the Pullman hotel, it was known for its great view of the Eiffel Tower.

She was an older women and had no idea how to use her maps on her phone.

You gave her some quick help before she was on her way. Your friend thanked you, telling you they had no idea what to do and were so glad they saw you.

With a goodbye you turned around to join Satori and his eyes were wide in cartoony shock. You chuckle a little.

"What?"

"I didn't know you could speak, well I don't exactly know what language that was but, that was really amazing!" With that he jumped up and wrapped his arms around you , kissing the top of your head incessantly.

"Yeah, there were a lot of people at my old job that couldn't speak French very well so I learned Arabic to help them out."

"Arabic? Is that what that was?" He pulled away to look at you in excitement, his eyebrows shooting to the stars. His smile was wide and ever so slightly crooked.

"Yes," you barely get out through your giggling.

"You sounded so beutiful!" You could practically see the hearts in his eyes as he stared at you.

"Thank you, it's been awhile,-" Satori cut you off before you could dog yourself.

"Oh, my dear Paradise, as always you sound lovely. No matter the language."

He proceeded to quiet your protests of how shit your thought you were in Japanese with a rather passionate kiss.

He always surprised you with these in public. Satori wasn't shy to show affection in public, he just doesn't show it like this much.

You had to stop him when his long fingered and boney hands slowly wrapped themsleves around your ass cheeks.

Aone Takanobu

Nobu never said it, but he loved the German nicknames you gave him.

He truly loved a of them. Like when you call him your Liebling (darling) when you're asking for him to grab you something you can't reach. Then there's Schnucki when he does something cute or sweet, like when he got you something you had been wanting for a long time for your birthday.

All of these and the many more you use are great, but his favorite is when you call him your Knuddelbär. He melts when you refer to him as your cuddly bear.

You tended to use it when, obviously, you two were cuddling. Like tonight. You both were cuddled together in bed, his big, strong arms wrapped around you with his nose firmly planted onto the crown of your head, taking in your scent.

You had your face securely settled into his broad chest. His large heart beating and rumbling through your skull. It was relaxing.

Nobu liked feeling your smaller heart as well. He's such a big guy that, it didn't matter how big you were, he was bigger and absolutely loved it.

You were mostly asleep as you intook a large breath before sighing contentedly. You were barely able to get out a mumbled, "Knuddelbär," before completely passing out.

Nobu was officially awake, his face red as hell, and his mouth stretched into a massive smile as always. He sighed lightly into your scalp as he squeezed his eyes closed.

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter as it always did. His lips barely forming a kiss to place on your head.

Nobu knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for awhile. He just loved it too much.

Kozume Kenma

You played game with Kenma all the time. And he loved it. His absolute favorite thing is when you get angry and start angrily yelling.

You'd always revert to Filipino when you'd get angry. Kenma didn't like seeing you irritated or angry per se. But he did love see you get angry at video games. Of course he wanted to be happy and live happily and comfortably, but he always at the very least, cracked a smile when you'd start angrily yelling about who knows what when something happens in a game.

Like right now. There was a level you both were trying to get through. Kenna kept getting a little behind because he wanted all the extra stuff in the level. You on the other hand were trying to keep the bad guys off his back.

It was always in the same spot. Seven tries now, where you had died and had to restart the level. You were so angry that you kept making smaller and more ridiculous mistakes as you both went on.

Well you had a enough. It started out with gritted teeth mumbles as you about broke your controller from the grip you had on it.

Kenma told you to wait for him but that just angered you more. You wanted to get through this level. Honestly it wasn't even that. You wanted to destroy that mini boss.

The idea consumed your entire being. It needed to be destroyed or you wouldn't be able to sleep or rest.

So you charged forward and were taking it on on your own and, well, you were obliterated, once again.

Your hands shook as you death-grip clenched the controller. Your entire figure was shaking with rage. You were going to explode in three.......two.........one........

Now you were angrily yelling at the game and controller in Filipino. Kenma just sat there, too. Oh-so-calmly was he, with is controller in hand. His back slumped with terri ke posture as his lips lifted ever so slightly into a smile. He tried to hide it, he really did.

Kenma knew all too well what it was like to be in this situation. He had raged on camera definitely more than once for this very same reason.

But he just couldn't help it. You were all worked up and angrily pointing your finger at the screen after you had just as angrily thrown your controller on the couch.

Kenma stood up and very silently pinned your arms against your sides. He looked you straight in the eye for a moment. He liked to see you get angry, but he also knew when you should calm down and relax.

"Puddin'," he said very calmly and quietly. You stopped, smoke practically spewing from your ears. He simply wrapped his arms around you, still holding your arms down. You slowly lifted your arms as much as you could, and hugged him back.

He very lightly kissed you on your cheek before starting to rock you both back and forth. Nothing was said; nothing needed to be said.

Kuroo Tetsurou

Tetsu loved hearing you speak Spanish. He loved learning about the difference in the Spanish spoken in Spain, Mexico, Argentina, Peru, and all the others.

You knew so much about the history of the language and how the culture in each country would change that slang so much. He loved when you would go on long tangents about it.

Tetsu especially loved when you sang in Spanish. His absolute favorite thing is when he get home from work absolutely exhausted and he hears you singing away as you're cleaning, making dinner, in the tub, or whatever it is that you're doing.

For example, on this particular evening, you were taking a much needed soak in the tub. Lovely smelling soaps and a couple of candles to give a nice dim light for a nice calm vibe.

Bubbles tickled your chin as you sang away. The noise echoing slightly against the walls around you. It didn't matter whether you had a magnificent voice, an average one, or a terrible one. You were just enjoying the moment.

You heard the front door handle jangle and knew Tetsu was home. You continued to sing as you heard the door open and close. The shuffle of him replacing his shoes with house slippers skitter down the hall to you.

You hear him coming closer, dropping his suitcase and then haphazardly throwing his suit jacket, more than likely on the back of the couch.

You continued to sing as his steps got closer. Then you heard a shuffle at the doorway. You opened your eyes and looked. There stood Kuroo Tetsurou, his black button up shirt stressed across his chest, his tie dangling around his neck.

He stood against the door frame, eyes closed as he listened to you. His eyes looked tired, the same as his small smile.

You continued to sing. You sang and sang until the end of the song. At the end, Tetsu smiled so happily. He opened his hazel/yellow eye to look at you. His smile quirked into a smirk as he took some tired and lazy steps towards you.

He sat himself on the edge of the tub. "Mmmmmm, my Spanish Siren. Trying to sing me a song to pull me under the depths to have her way with me, then leave my carcass for the sharks." He snorted a little at the end as he gave slow loving strokes to your cheek.

You hmmed in satisfaction before oh so calmly saying," Like this?" With that you grabbed his arm and caught him by surprise, making it easy to tug him into the full tub, water splashing out onto the tiled floors. His loud, raucous laughter as well as yours rang throughout your home.

Hanamaki Takahiro

You are his baby, his sweetheart, his lovely. Hiro loved you so much. Everything about you just amazed him. One of the many things that just amazed him, was how you sounded speaking Italian.

The first time he heard you, he was blown away. Your voice was so sexy, not that it wasn't when you spoke Japanese. There was just something about it though that he found incredible.

Hiro would urge you constantly to speak in Italian and even teach him a little. You spoke it so much that he, naturally, picked things up.

He always tells you that him speaking Italian just did not have the same ring to it as you.

"Kah-"

"Kah-"

"Mirrah-"

"Mirrah-"

"Day-"

"Day-"

"Laetto."

"Raetto."

"See, you've almost got it. Camera de letto. Try again." You say. Hiro had been wanting to learn how to say bedroom in Italian. He was having some troubles but he was surprisingly good with learning it though.

He sighed in slight defeat. "I just can't do it like you do, la mia gioia." He loved referring to you as is 'joy' but in Italian.

"Please, just one more time," you encourage him.

"I think i need a little incentive, la mia gioia," he looked at you with a small sly smirk.

You sigh before turning to him, "Quindi vuoi incentivi? Che ne dici se smetto di aiutarti?" (So you want incentives? How about if I stop helping you?)

"Oh, you sound so sexy," you cut him off with a loud laugh.

Im sorry it took so long to get this out! I've been feeling a little better and have been having actual ambition to write and wanted to do my best! Thank you as always for sending in an ask!!

@kneecapstealingalien @multifandombrainrot @vaniatslover @popcorntime-doodles @i-need-coffee-now-pls @jiheonity @shadowsbutdead @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @ghostexhibit @smallmangi @thatfunnysprout @backalley-astrologer @itsallgonnabokayihope @g00s3 @boreateo @weareallhumans123 @lil-mellow-bunbun @strawberrymakki @beelziee @mehreenackerman @taiyahhh @sakusasgerm @cr4z3d-cl0wn @detective-lazy @mainnews32 @turtletris2tumble @oshun22 @syirahtorizawa @wouldsimply31 @sadisticbelle @queenkaye33 @h3nta1t0ast3r

[moskaisley]

migraine pt. 6 | vertigo

rating: NC-17 kinda

word count: 7k........

warnings: a smidge of smut, angst, canon-typical violence (someone’s arm gets bROKE), cursing, REAL SOFT SHIT, a lil homage to filipino lolas everywhere

a/n:

i know..this is v late so i’ll just cut to the chase.... she’s finally here and i’m finally happy with it so that’s all that matters. thank you all for being incredibly patient ily 🥺💘

summary:

“You never liked being angry with him and now you understood why; it always took so much energy. It kept your heart in a perpetual state of tension, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to cry or scream. It has you wondering, how did you keep that up for three damn years? “

Where it converges and collides and slowly comes back together, little by little.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m gonna fucking die.”

“Quit being dramatic.”

“It’s hot.”

“I know.”

“Mando?”

“What.”

“We’re lost.”

Din’s jaw clenches, and he briefly looks over his shoulder to shoot you a cold glare. You two had been hiking all day, getting lost in twisting canyons in the high desert heat and bickering with each other about which way was north. Din insisted this was a faster way through and it would be easier to catch the bounty off guard on the other side. You, however, were adamant on the fact that the old woman in the cantina warned you of the thick forest nested in the valley, and that many had gotten lost trying to travel to the other side. He ultimately got his way, but the further you two crept into the chasm, the more disoriented you became. That, combined with the blazing heat on your skin, made for a very bitter argument in which you both came to a steely silence for a few miles.

A few hours later, the sky had just begun to dip below the horizon, and you stopped in your tracks at a faint crashing sound in the distance. 

“Hey, do you hear that?” Startled at the sudden call of your voice, he whipped to you and tilted his head curiously. Din stills and watches as you crane your neck to hear where the noise is coming from. You completely ignore his calls to you when you shuffle off path into a thicket of trees and rocks.  Din huffs in frustration and begrudgingly follows behind you, cursing under his breath at the fact that the bounty is probably long gone by now and that he’s gonna chew your ear off for wasting more time.

But the words die on his tongue when he sees you in awe of a towering, roaring waterfall cascading into a crystal clear pool at your feet. Trees surround the small shore, and wild grass and weeds sprout in patches along the smooth sand. The air was cool and crisp, and if he strained his ears, Din could hear birds fluttering amongst the treetops.

It was an oasis, probably untouched for decades, and you’d inadvertently found it by getting lost.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

A tender feeling bloomed in his chest when you turned and gave him an excited smile. In an instant, all of the arguing and nonsense from earlier had melted away. It was an image he’d commit to memory: the sight of you smiling beautifully in this hidden desert paradise. 

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, it is.”

It was also the perfect place to set up camp. Seeing as you could barely navigate the forest in the day, you both knew you couldn’t continue your trek through the night, so you settled down in a clearing beneath a few trees and right off the side of the shore. Dusk had started to fall by the time you were all set up. As Din stoked the flames of the small fire, he caught you casually stripping in the corner of his eye, breath hitching at the sight of your bare skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks dumbly.

“Washing off,” you say “Why? Wanna join me?”

You neatly fold your pants and put them on a mossy rock, leaving you only in your underwear and bandeau.

“Tempting, but I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.”

Din continues uselessly poking at the fire as he tries his best not to stare. Even if he’s had sex with you and seen you naked on multiple occasions, it’s instinct to respect your privacy. But he’ll still catch glimpses of you splashing around in his peripheral. The curve of your ass, your hair, the contours of your stomach...Maker, you were so fucking pretty. 

“Having fun there, Mando?”

Din scoffs and stands up, striding over to the edge of the water. 

“I’m fine, you?”

“It’s nice. You should come in with me.” 

“Not in this, I can’t,” he gestures to his beskar.

“C'mon,” you croon. A devilish smile spreads across your lips as you bend down and lightly splash him with a little bit of water. 

“Don’t start.”

You don’t listen, sending another splash at his legs.

“Y/N.”

Another splash, and he’s suddenly wading through the pool to get to you. You squeal as Din scoops you up into his arms and holds you close to him.

“You gonna behave for me now, mesh’la?”

You giggle against him as you say, “No.”

“Wrong answer.” He all but throws you back into the water like a damn fish.

But you emerge laughing happily, wading back to the shore with a goofy look on your face. 

Back at the camp, you’re both by the fire, basking in each other’s company. While you lay spread out on your side, propped up on your elbow on top of his cape, Din is sat up against a boulder. He listens to the sounds of the canyon–the waterfall roaring in the back, the crack of the fire, the rustle of the wind in the trees– and nearly dozes off until you say,

“We should just stay here. Screw the bounty, let’s just be desert hermits.”

“And what? Live off bugs and tiny fish?”

“I mean...yeah. That sounds perfect.” 

You look at him fondly from your place on the ground, and he taps your nose. You don’t know it, but he’s giving you that same lovestruck look. It does sound perfect, running off into the woods with you. Stupid, but perfect.

Your expression suddenly turns remorseful; with your free hand, you grab his on his lap.

“Hey um– I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be angry with you.”

In all honesty, he’d completely forgotten that you’d fought at all. Din intertwined his fingers with yours, and held it reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he apologizes, “I’m sorry, too. It was my fault we got lost in the first place.”

“Yeah, but look what we found,” you gesture to the oasis around you, “This is worth something, right?”

He nods and you grace him with another sweet smile.

“I don’t like being mad at you… Din.”

He knows that his name still feels unfamiliar on your tongue, but his heart still skips a beat whenever you say it.

“I don’t either.”

You sit up from your place on his cloak, and he flushes with heat as you crawl onto his lap and straddle his legs, hand still in yours. “Then, let’s just–let’s try not to destroy each other, okay?

“Okay.”

--

The fire had already died down, embers dusting bright against the black wood. Night had settled over the canyon, the only light now being the glow of the stars and moon above. Your soft, heady moans echo off the cavern walls as he guides your hips up and down his cock. You bury your face into his neck and nip at the small sliver of skin just below his jaw. Din grunts and grinds into you, dizzy at good you feel against him, and then he hears you mumble something into his shoulder.

“What did you say?”

It was hard to hear you over the sound of rushing water. You pull yourself away and meet him with a nervous stare, gazing at him directly in the eye through his visor. Din straightens himself up, gripping your waist tighter in worry.

“Hey, what’s wro–”

“I want to see you, Din.”

His stomach flips. Panic starts to settle in and he shifts under you. Your hands caress the sides of his helmet and his arms quickly go to your wrists out of instinct, but you don’t move any further.

“Relax, it doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him, but he still remains tense, “Or tomorrow, or three years down the road...Or… Or ever.”

You pause for a moment, and Din looks at you in awe. 

“I know it’s too much to ask, but I need you to know that I want to. One day. If you’d let me.”

He would. When that day would come, who knows. 

But he would. You kiss the forehead of his helmet and his eyes fall shut, holding you closer.

--

 So... forever, huh?

The word bounced and echoed in his ears. You thought you’d know him forever. A life where he’d see you every single day until you returned to the earth you stood upon…. And he took that away from you.

Din was stunned into silence, the weight of your honesty pulling at his chest. You watch him with bleary eyes, expectant for his response.

“Was I stupid enough to think you wanted it too?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“No, absolutely not.”

His hand gingerly travels from your shoulder down to yours, taking a loose hold of your palm. He expects you to pull away, but you don’t. To his surprise, you grip ever so slightly tighter.

“So why did we let it fall apart?”

“Don’t think for a second that any of this is your fault.”

“Then what was it?” 

He doesn’t respond and you scoff, irritation pulling at your features.

“Mando, you’ve gotta give me something. I’m trying to be fair but–”

“I screwed it all up with you,” he interrupts, “Let you go when I shouldn’t have. I–”

Din stills, once again paralyzed at the thought of spilling out his heart to you. The words swell in his throat and sit heavy behind his teeth. He squeezes your hand, telling himself to be brave and just spit it out already because if he doesn’t do it now, he probably never will.

He pulls and you follow, sitting yourselves down on a rock next to the still water. He keeps your hand in his, and takes a deep breath. 

“I don’t remember what my family looks like,” he begins, “I remember being with them. I remember what it was like to go to markets, to be in our house, but every time I try to picture their faces, I can’t seem to piece it all together.”

You don’t say anything, now listening intently. It’s strange– damn near uncomfortable– to have this conversation in the daylight, considering these kinds of talks have only existed in the safety and darkness of the Crest.

Din continues.

“When I was taken in as a foundling, I didn’t want a new family. I thought I didn’t need one, and I denied myself from one for a long, long time. But when you talked about leaving it all behind and starting your own, I–uh–I couldn’t help wanting to be the one you did it with.” You shuffle in your spot, heat rising to your cheeks. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I suddenly had something to lose. That it would be easier to let the dream go before I lost it all over again.” You furrow your brows and ask, “So you left?”

He bites his lip and nods.

“It was selfish–I was selfish. I convinced myself it was easier this way, that you’d be better off with someone who could give you what you wanted.”

“And you couldn’t?”

“At the time, no.” You nod slowly, soaking up his words. Your gaze travels down to your intertwined hands, and you don’t look at him when you ask, “Why’d you pull a blaster on me? Sure, you wanted to push me away but why’d it have to be like...that?”

Din clenches around your fingers, swallowing hard and answering earnestly.

“It’d be easier if you hated me.”

Your eyes shut tight and he can tell you’re struggling to keep your composure.

“That’s stupid,” you say sardonically, “And it obviously didn’t work. You just broke my heart.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. For everything. For me.”

Din has said the words more times than he can count in the past few days, but it’s only now that he feels them carry any real weight.  He watches you stew over his words, taking long heavy sighs and brushing your fingertips over your temples. Your face remained as still as it could, hiding your true feelings under the mask of heavy concentration. A trick I picked up from you, actually, you once said.

When you finally speak, your eyes meet his visor once again.

“So what now?”

Din tilts his head, confused.

“You said ‘at the time,’ you couldn’t give me what I wanted,” you explain, “But what about now? Where do we go after this?”

He ponders over the question, looking off into the distance where he sees the child splashing along the lakefront. Then, he remembers something you said a few days ago.

“It’s always going to be about us.”

You were right. It was always the two of you against the universe, fitting so perfectly together and falling so easily on one another for support. In another life, where you fully embraced those feelings and spoke them aloud, maybe it would’ve been easier for you to follow each other to the tailends of the galaxy. But years have carved a canyon between you, and now? Things were different. He wasn’t as young and you weren’t as kind. You both needed time to heal your wounds and explore the space in between. 

He looks back to you, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Wherever you want,” he says, as if it were the most simple solution in the world, “It wasn’t fair of me to ask so much of you and I should’ve just been honest. But know that I’ll be here when you need me.”

You’re pursing your lips, face tight and unreadable.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

His heart clenches and he braces for the worst.

“I understand. I don’t expect you to.” 

“And I don’t think I can stay around you either. At least, not right now...”

He hangs onto that last part, hope shamelessly building inside him. He watches you brush a tear from the corner of your eye.

“...but thank you. I really needed to hear this.”

You’re the first one to break away, standing up and letting go of his hand. Din follows suit, turning to head back to your campsite. But you surprise him. You always do. He feels a tug on his sleeve and your arms around his neck. He allows himself to be stunned for a beat before holding your waist and pulling you in close, breathing you in while he can. The words tumble from his lips, wet and sad.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know.”

--

You reach the village by dusk, weary and tired from walking all day with little to no break. It finally came time to find new parts for the Crest, as there was only so much you could do with the scrap that Mando kept onboard. The hike had been mostly quiet, save for the occasional fussy cry from the child. You were still raw and tender from this morning’s talk, and though things still remained uncertain between you, things felt a lot… lighter, like the air was easier to breathe. You never liked being angry with him and now you understood why; it always took so much energy. It kept your heart in a perpetual state of tension, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to cry or scream. It has you wondering, how did you keep that up for three damn years?

The town was relatively small, most likely acting as a trading post for travelers on the main roads. When you cross through the main square, the vendors are already breaking down and turning in for the night. You and Mando agreed to find a place to stay for the night and pick up parts first thing in the morning. 

“Back for more, little one?” 

You smile at the sound of Amir’s voice calling from one of the stands, and you walk over to greet him with a shake of your hand.

“Just the man I wanted to see.”

“I’m glad to see you again so soon,” he says fondly. 

You turn to your partner, “Mando, this is Amir. I helped him with his wagon this morning.”

He nods at the old man in greeting, “Thank you for the food. You’re very kind.”

“So, you’re Mandalorian I’ve heard all about?” Amir asks with a cheeky smirk, “I’ve been told you’ve been causing quite a lot of trouble.”

You snort lightly when Mando stiffens next to you, letting him wallow in embarrassment before coming to his rescue. 

“We’re looking for parts because our ship needs to be repaired right away,” you tell the old man, “Is there a place around here we could stay? It will only be for one night.” “Of course! My sister has a spare room. You can eat and rest there, and continue your journey tomorrow.”

You help Amir pack the rest of his produce stand and follow him to a dwelling at the end of the street. The outside of the home is covered in overgrowth, ivy climbing up the concrete walls and wild flowers decorating the front porch. Windchimes and stained transparisteel dangle over the doorway, and you could see propagated plants in clear bottles along the windowsill. When Amir opens the door, the smell of eucalyptus and broth immediately overwhelms your nostrils.

“Igme! We have guests!”

 You hear the clanging of pots and shuffling from the far end of the hall. She was a shorter, stout woman with tan skin and crooked teeth. Adjusting her thick glasses, she squints and you and your partner.

“What kind of trouble have you gotten into this time, brother?”

Amir scoffs, “Trouble? I’m no trouble. This is the girl that helped me this morning! The one with the Mando.”

“Ah, so you’ve dragged them all the way here, have you?”

The siblings bicker for a moment before she beckons you all to come inside, barking at you to sit down. When you all flood into her kitchen, she looks curiously upon the excited child in his floating pram.

“Oh? And who might you be?” She asks him with a toothy grin. 

When the baby only gurgles in response, she looks at you and Mando, “You two are quite the odd couple.”

You both panic, speaking over each other as you quickly say something along the lines of, “We’re not–It’s not like that–” But the old woman only laughs, waving you off as if to say, yeah, okay, sure. 

Igme is much more of a firecracker than her brother: Overbearing in the best way possible, but she is kind and welcoming all the same, serving each of you a helping of food before you even have a chance to introduce yourselves. You immediately tuck in, not realizing how hungry you were until you caught a whiff of whatever she had on the stove. Mando, on the other hand, sits awkwardly in his seat.

The old woman asks him pointedly, “Are you not going to eat, Mandalorian?”

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish under her intense stare.

“Igme, he can’t take the helmet off. It’s part of his religion,” Amir butts in. 

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?” She places her utensils on the table, quickly standing and shuffling over to her pantry. She pulls out a tray and starts putting Mando’s dinner on it before handing it to him. 

“Please, ma’am, it’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” he tries to say, but Igme is relentless, pointing a bony finger in his face.

“You’ll give me trouble if you don’t eat. It’s disrespectful to deny food,” she scolds, “Go upstairs, and I better not see any leftovers! You’re too skinny; you need to grow.”

Mando stands stiffly in the doorway with his tray, and you shoot him an amused smile. 

Bowing his head at the elders, he says, “Thank you both. We’re very grateful.”

“Eat!”

--

“So, it seems you’ve patched things up with him.”

You swallow, shifting in your seat shyfully. You don’t look at Amir, instead focusing on feeding the child in front of you.

“Somewhat. I thought a lot about what you said, and it really helped when I talked to him this morning.”

“Oh good,” he muses, “So you told him you loved him then?”

Your hand slips and the spoon clatters loudly to the ground. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and you hope to Maker that the walls are thick enough that Mando can’t hear you from upstairs. Amir slaps his knees, his laugh bellowing throughout the kitchen while you clean up the mess you made. 

“Igme, these kids are going to kill me.”

--

After helping clear the table and washing the dishes, you thank your hosts profusely before bidding them a goodnight. You knock on the door gently, and hear a muffled “hold on” followed by footsteps. Mando emerges in the doorway, clad in only his clothes and helmet. 

“We have a problem,” he says and you furrow your brows. 

He steps aside and you push through. The room is fairly small, containing only a few pieces of furniture along the walls: a rocking chair, an overcrowded bookshelf, a dresser, and one bed.

Not two, one. 

“It’s fine,” you huff, chewing on your bottom lip, “It’s not like we haven’t shared one before.” “Yeah, but–” he cuts himself off, “Look, I’ll just sleep in the chair.” You give him a suspicious look and cock an eyebrow.

“Don’t be weird. What you were going to say?”

“I was gonna say the last time we did, things were a lot...different.”

Your cheeks burn. He was right, of course. The last time you shared a bed with him, you weren’t in the midst of a dramatic falling out and there were a lot less clothes involved.

“That... was a long time ago,” you reason, trying to keep your tone even, “It’s just one night, a–and we’re both adults. We can handle it.”

--

You lay tense on your side, facing outwards toward the wall and hyper aware of the emptiness behind you. The lights were off already, moonlight illuminating the room in soft blues. Mando was taking an awfully long time getting the baby settled, and your stomach flipped when you heard the carrier doors close shut.

“You sure this is okay with you?” “Just get in the damn bed, Mando.”

He sighs another modulated sigh, and you feel the weight of the mattress dip and he settles into a position much similar to yours. The silence of the universe descends once more, and you’re suddenly confronted with the chasm of space between you. You swear you’re exhausted, but despite it all, you’re kept conscious by the presence of the man a few inches away.

“Are you awake?” You don’t mean to say it, but it comes out anyway.

“Yeah.”

You pull at the knitted quilt, clutching it closer to your shoulder. 

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“You’re pulling the blanket.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You loosen your grip on the sheet, and you feel it move as Mando adjusts it on his side. Another beat of silence passes by. And then,

“They’re nice people,” he says, “Igme and Amir.”

“Yeah. They are,” You say and smile fondly, “They have such great personalities to them.”

“I know. I’m damn near forty and Igme thinks I still need to grow. I was afraid she’d kill me if I didn’t eat.”

You chuckle lightly; watching him get chewed out by a woman half his size was entertaining.

“Amir’s quite nosy, y’know? Kept asking all kinds of questions about us.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“Oh, you know. This and that,” You hesitate, pulling nervously at a thread on your pillow. The bed jostles lightly, and you could only assume that Mando had shifted places.

“And what does that mean?”

You will yourself to turn around, and you’re met with the slick black of his visor. Your heart skips a beat and you can’t control yourself when you whisper,

“He asked if I loved you.”

A crackle of static cuts through the heavy air, and you see his chest heave.

“And?”

“I said I was angry with you.”

“But do you?”

You blink at him a few times, dizzy and drunk on fatigue. At this point, you wonder if you’re dreaming, that you’re not really awake and these kinds of confessions exist only in your head. In the morning, you will be facing the wall, and soon, you will fix the Razor Crest and then jet off in your own ship, parting and going your separate ways. And this late night exchange of secrets would’ve never happened because there’s still an angry, ugly part of you that wants to launch him into dead space. 

Right?

You hold your breath and tenderly reach over, looping your pinky finger in his and pulling your hands between your bodies as you utter a single word.

“Maybe.”

You’re silent for a moment, but you acquiesce, 

“Yes.”

Because in the morning, you’ll wake up like this, intertwined with him in the most gentle way possible, and you’ll savor every fleeting moment with him while you can. You’ll still split up, go your own way because something in the universe is signaling that it isn’t time for you yet. And you’ll mourn over him every second he’s away because things have gotten so complicated, and the gravity of all your lost potential will always wash over you.  Everything that ever is and was and everything that could’ve been– you could drown in it if you weren’t careful. Because even though he didn’t deserve you, he had you. He always did.

Din is quiet for a while, letting your honesty sink in. Your heart slams against your chest and you think you’re on the verge of tears because you’ve said too much and you don’t think you can handle it.

And then he asks,

“Do you remember when we got stuck in that canyon?” 

“The one with the waterfall?”

“Yeah, that one.  What if we stayed there? Became hermits like you said?”

“Does it even matter now?”

You don’t mean to sound so cynical, so you backtrack.

“We’d probably be happier. Or dead.”

You don’t see it, but you know he’s smiling.

“We should’ve gotten it right the first time,” he murmurs, “But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

--

You’re not sure how much time passes. You don’t even remember falling asleep, but the next thing you know, your eyes flutter open to meet that familiar beskar helmet, and there’s a soft whine coming from the other side of the room. In your sleepy state, it takes you a second to realize that it’s just the baby and ghosts aren’t real.

Pulling yourself out of bed and padding over to his pram, you pick up Mando’s vambrace and fiddle with the buttons until the carrier doors open. The little green bean gawks at you with wet eyes, whimpering and sniffling against his blankets.

Scooping him up into your arms, you whisper to him.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay. Did you have a nightmare?”

He digs himself into your chest, and his cries get louder. You panic when you see Mando stir from his place on the bed, so you bounce the child lightly in your arms. “Ssshhh, it’s alright. I’m here,” you assure him, “Your dad is asleep. I don’t want to wake him up. Maker knows he needs his rest.”

The kid begins to settle down after some time, relaxing in your arms while his eyes droop trying to stay awake. You breathe a sigh of relief and settle down into the rocking chair, swaying slowly and lulling the child back to sleep. 

“He gets them too, you know? The nightmares,” you tell him, “Must run in the family.”

He yawns, slipping back into unconsciousness slowly and surely. You glance at Mando’s peaceful sleeping form on the bed and continue to ramble to the child in your arms.

“That man… He’s infuriating. Things can never just be easy with him. ” He’s fully asleep now, snoring softly just like his father. You gaze out the window and notice that dawn has just started to settle over the horizon, a bright pink dusting the indigo skies. You’re overtaken by this incredible sense of calm, meditating in the quietness of the early morning. Selfishly, you think about how you could get used to this. 

“What was that word? The one he uses for children?”

Sleep begins to pull at you, too, the motions of the rocking chair settling you further into exhaustion. But you still wrack your tired brain for the word, your already limited Mando’a out of practice after not using it for so long. Adiik? A’den? Ad’eta?

“Ad’ika.”

--

It feels like a shot to the chest when Din wakes up and you’re not next to him because now he can’t tell if last night was a dream–if you really took his hand and said you loved him.  Neither of you had ever explicitly said the words out loud, and last night was about as much as he would ever get. When he shifts to the other side, his vision is still adjusting to the bright sun of the morning, and his heart sinks when he sees your blurry form asleep in the chair. 

Did you regret it? Pushing himself off the bed with a groan, he walks across the room and suddenly, all the doubts die in his mind when he finally gets a clear look at you. The child is asleep in your arms, tucked against your chest while you snooze with your head slumped against the headrest. Din could watch this forever, and he can’t help but wish that this was his normal. Intimate nights, calm mornings and a loving family within reach. 

Din’s heart twists when he realizes he could’ve but he stupidly let it go along with you. 

So he indulges in the fantasy just a little longer, taking his sweet time to get himself ready and stealing glances at you every time he could. And when it was time for it to end, he slips into the refresher, shutting the door loudly.

--

Igme and Amir wouldn’t accept your money even as you both bickered with them on giving at least something as a token of your appreciation. The only thing they’d accept was your help in setting up Amir’s produce stand in the market before you went, and so you did. Mando and Amir pitched the shade, and you laid out all of his stock on wooden tables while the child watched from his pram, happily eating some berries. Though the morning had been relatively easygoing, the air had been deeply awkward between you and your partner. You’d barely spoken aside from the occasional “sorry” for when you briefly brushed too close. But you still steal quick glances and stare at each other’s backs when the other isn’t looking, wondering when someone’s going to talk about the blurrg in the room or not.

Tearing yourself out of your thoughts, you look back at the baby, who’s thoroughly made a mess of himself with his breakfast feast.

“Oh Maker, look at you!” 

He giggles happily and you laugh with him, purple fruit juice all over his face and jacket. Crouching down, you pull at your sleeve and proceed to wipe it from his lips.

“It’s gonna stain,” Mando’s voice suddenly complains behind you. 

You clear your throat, trying to ignore the tension between you.

“Maybe you can find some new clothes for him here,” you suggest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smile at Mando warmly for just a moment before turning back to the child. After fruitlessly trying to rub off the juice from his shirt with your sleeve (and Mando prodding you with “quit it, it’s not going to work), you notice something missing from his carrier.

“His silver ball is gone.”

Mando tilts his head and digs through his blankets only to turn up empty.

“It must’ve fallen in the room.” Amir, who had stayed entertained from afar, came up to you two in your confusion.

“Did you lose something?”

“Yes,” you say, “The baby left his toy and I’d hate to leave it here.” “Igme should still be home. Go ahead and grab it.”

“Thank you so much.” You turn to Mando and gently place a hand on his arm. “Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up with you.”

-- 

Walking up to the house, a Pantoran and a man stand at the porch. Igme stands proud and tall at the doorway, hands propped against the frame to act as a steel wall between them and her home. Even with her loud, scathing voice, you don’t hear much of the conversation aside from “I don’t know who you’re talking about” and “there’s no one here.” You stride closer, hand itching to your blaster’s holster when Igme catches your gaze.

The men turn around and your heart drops when you see how heavily armed they are. They’re dressed in sleek black, clothes oddly pressed and neat. You narrow your eyes at them, and you don’t know how, but you swore you’ve seen them before.

“I thought you said there was no one here,” one of them says.

She answers quickly before you can respond. “That’s my niece, Tala.” 

With their backs turned, they don’t see Igme give you a pressing look, nodding her head and encouraging you to keep up the act. 

“Doesn’t look like she’s from around here, grandma.”

“What’s it to you?” you ask, keeping your face stern.

“You tell me, darling.”

Your gaze darts from the men and then to Igme.

“I’m visiting my family,” you lie, “Is it a crime?”

The two thugs tilt their head at you suspiciously.

“We’re looking for someone, and we have reason to believe that they stayed in your aunt’s house last night.”

“And who might that be?”

“A Mandalorian, a child, and…” 

The Pantoran takes a step closer, golden eyes boring into yours. He’s menacing and at least a head taller but you stay indignant, feet planted firmly on the ground. He takes a lock of your hair in his forefinger and your stomach turns.

“...A pretty little thing like you.”

You roughly smack his hand away and push past him, standing with Igme at the door. 

“Sorry boys, but you’ve got the wrong house. Your chances of finding a Mandalorian here are slim to none. I’m here on a family vacation, nothing else.”

The two hunters exchange looks, deliberating over their next action. You shift slowly, hand creeping towards your blaster before they turn back to you and Igme with sinister smiles.

“Thank you for your time, ma’am.”

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Igme ushers you inside, slams the door shut, and pulls the curtains on her windows. You let out a huge sigh of relief, heart slamming in your chest and sweat beading at your brow. Out of the corner of your eye, Igme stands still, staring at a picture hung on her wall. Her hands shake ever so slightly, scratching the wrinkly skin on her forearms.

“You need to find your Mandalorian and get out of here. It isn’t safe for you,” she instructs, “Take the back door and make sure you aren’t seen.”

“What about you?” “We can handle ourselves. Hasn’t been the first time.”

You nod, and say nothing more. You rush upstairs, taking the child’s ball and slipping it into your pocket. You take one last look at the small cozy room and it breaks your heart a little; Igme and Amir had been the first genuinely kind faces you’d seen in a very long time. Even if you’d only been here a day, it was easy to feel like this place was home.

Walking down the stairs, you see Igme still gazing longingly at a photo, unmoving.

“You remind us of her, you know? We were devastated when we heard the news.”

It takes a second, but then it dawns on you.

“Tala was Amir’s daughter, wasn’t she? The one in the Rebellion?”

She nods slowly, breaking her gaze from the wall to turn to you. 

“I told her to go. To never stop fighting. Amir was furious with me, but eventually, he came around. She was a hero,” She says, with a shaky breath. Circling back to you, Igme takes your face in her bony hands.

“I don’t know who those men are or why they’re here, but I know that you’re good kids. You be careful out there, okay?”

You’re speechless, heart blooming with adoration. “Igme, I can’t thank you enough for everything you and Amir have done.”

The old woman pulls you in for a warm, loving embrace, and it takes everything in you to not cry your eyes out. 

“Then don’t. Just stay alive, that would be enough.”

--

You do exactly as Igme says, stalking behind buildings and hidden streets around the bazaar to find Mando. From the end of an alley, you see a glint of beskar and your heart leaps. But as you make your way down the small road, you’re stopped by a sharp, painful tug on your hair and the barrel of a weapon pressed at your back.

“What did you say about slim chances, darling?”

Cursing under your breath, you raise your hands in begrudging surrender. The Pantoran’s hand moves from your hair to grip the back of your neck, turning you around and shoving you away from the main street. He guides you a few paces down the abandoned back road, pushing past cargo crates and trash cans that litter the way. In an alley up ahead, the sounds of struggle echo off the concrete walls and the grip on your neck tightens as your captor aims the blaster past your face in defense. 

Mando tumbles onto the ground in front of you, the other hunter stalking in tow. You act quick, slamming a hard elbow into the Pantoran’s stomach and seizing his arm, taking aim with the blaster. In his panic, he fires and the shot lands on his partner’s ribs, knocking him back into a stack of cargo crates and giving Mando a chance to get back on his feet. With your captor’s arm still in your hold, you throw him onto his back and fall to your knee. Bringing it flush against your leg, you tug with all your strength, a nasty crack resounding in your ears. He wails in pain and his blaster falls to the floor. 

“You bitch!” He seethes. His uninjured hand reaches toward his belt and whips out a vibroblade, but it’s swiftly kicked out of his hands, clattering onto the dirt as Mando stalks to your side. 

“Don’t try it.”

He aims his blaster at the writhing hunter, who squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of the gun cocking.  But something about these men itch in your consciousness–something that wasn’t right. Sure, every bounty hunter and their mother was after Mando right now, but this felt different. These two weren’t some rugged, run-of-the-mill mercs who were hired in a seedy cantina; they were trained, calculated, and damning of all, they were familiar. They knew exactly who you were at Igme’s, and if they wanted to take you in or kill you, why didn’t they do it right then and there? Unless they were explicitly told not to cause a scene.

“Wait.”

Mando’s arm relaxes only slightly, looking to you for explanation. Rising to your feet, you take a good look at the Pantoran, studying his features intently and trying to figure out where have you seen him before?

“Who do you work for?” 

He spits at your feet, “Like I’d fuckin’ tell you.”

You don’t react, steely gaze darting to his limp broken arm. Tilting up your foot, you hover over his swollen elbow, brushing it with the sole of your boot. His golden eyes go wild in panic.

“Let’s try again, darling,” you sneer, “Who. Do. You. Work. For?”

Every word was punctuated with added pressure on his injured limb. He thrashes under your hold in agony, desperately trying to pull himself from under you as curses fly from his lips. But your stance remains strong and you don’t move a muscle.

“F–f–fuck! You kriffing bitch!” “You want me to break the other one? Start talking!”

You slam your foot against his arm and he wails. Out of the corner of your eye, Mando tilts his head in what can only be worry. 

“Alright! I’ll talk!” he relents, “I’ll talk.”

Your hold loosens ever so slightly and you let him speak.

“Ever since his arrest, people have been fighting for Khan’s spot at the top. In the end, it was his cousin Kirnall Myn who took over. Once he found out the price on the Mandalorian’s head, his first order was to send us after you.”

The name made your blood run hot. You read his file on the Crest and it made you sick to your stomach. Though Khan was the main face of his ring, you learned that Kirnall was the one who kept it running like a well oiled machine. He’s the reason it expanded across the Rims; he moved the money, pulled in the most expensive clients, and had deliberately placed set-ups on planets with loose laws. With him in charge, things could get a lot worse.

And these clowns must’ve been his trusted hitmen. You let out a frustrated huff, stepping off the Pantoran’s arm and lifting his neglected gun from the ground. He’s weak, groaning in pain and slowly slipping into unconsciousness. But before he can go under, you point and send a shot through his legs. He cries out in agony again, and you’re back on your knees, pulling him by the collar of his shirt.

“I’m not going to kill you today,” you seethe, “because you’re going to go to your little hitman friends and tell them to back off. And then you’re going to tell Kirnall Myn that I’m coming for his head.”

--

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn​ @adlerorzel-blog​ @theocatkov​  @paryl​ @fruitsaladtree​ @allisondavis236​ @roxypeanut @benedrylcumbersnatch @skylerrae-solo @weirdowithnobeardo @gabbygurrl @cheesybadgers @nopeforyou @dartheldur @altarsw

thx loves 💘

[the-knight-of-the-stars]

Echoes: a Descendants Fanfic

The children of the isle, and the children of Auradon, are now lost and alone in an unknown world.

Can they remember the truth? Can they remember who they really are? Is it possible for them to find their way back home?

All they have left, are the echoes from another life...

Chapter 1: Uma

His large, calloused hand slowly caressed her cheek. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the wood smell of his clothes. How sweet it felt to be around him. Hot specks of ash flew around them, amid a thunderous sound of revolts, screams, some crackling fire. It looked like the end of the world. Through a haze, she blurred a pair of blue eyes full of melancholy, a sadness weighing on him.

"Come on Hook, I'll always be a just step away from you, " she said in a voice she didn't recognize.

"I know, we are light from the same star, right?" His deep voice slipped from his lips, tears streaming down his dirty face. Behind him, a pulsing red light blinded them, giving the young man the mythical appearance of a fiery creature. He leaned in, bringing their foreheads together in a desperate attempt to feel her close one last time "Goodbye, Uma ..."

Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounded. His words still echoed in her head, she still felt that suffocating heat, the chaotic sensation, and the sadness that vision had caused her. It had been brief, but still, she felt like she had been sleeping for days like she didn't think she would ever be able to wake up. But now the cold of the undaunted room made her hair stand on end and reminded her that it had all been a dream. She blinked several times, barely realizing she was clinging tightly to the sheets, making sure she had returned to reality. She put her hand to her heart and felt it pounding and excited. It felt alive. "I miss you," she thought, closing her eyes to that strange and familiar feeling, "Even if I don't know who you are."

Uma watched the snowfall through the grimy window and found that just as it had happened every day in that dead tundra, the sun had not risen. In that forgotten corner of fleeting feelings, only the gloom remained. Without fire, without chaos, there was no one by her side. Her breath resonated on the icy upholstered walls as if floating in the heavy silence that only abandoned houses have, that sad emptiness of having had and have lost. She got up from the bed.

But of course, Uma couldn't remember ever having anything. That loss was all she knew. All that remained inside her, like a luminous lamppost guiding her, was the hope that one day she would be able to recover everything she had lost. She walked through the lonely house, her long blue hair falling like soft clouds over her naked body, two small front braids, eternally tied, from which hung small amulets whose meanings she did not know. Only the heavy wool blanket that had wrapped her up during the night covered her.

Just like every day, Uma went to the small kitchen, lit the oil lamps, and started to heat the tea. Outside, the wind whistled, and as she cracked two eggs on a frying pan, the heat of the kitchen reminded her of her dream. Fire, ash, the musty smell of gunpowder and blood, the boy with blue eyes. That was her dream. Over and over, that vision haunted her at night. He had lost count of how many times she had had that same dream, always the same, always leaving her with that feeling that she did not understand, but could not get rid of. "I miss you".

Something inside Uma told her that there was a reason why it felt so real, why it kept popping up in her mind. It was more than a dream, it was a memory. But she couldn't be sure, Uma wasn't sure about anything. As far as she knew, that exciting memory could only be an invention of her mind.

In town, they called her a witch. They said that magic had destroyed her mind, and that was why she did not remember who she was. Maybe they were right. Maybe that sad-eyed boy she called "Hook" wasn't real, it was just magic confusing her mind. As Uma ate her breakfast, listening in the distance to the howling laughter of the forest elves, she couldn't help but feel once again disappointed that the dream hadn't changed. Why couldn't she remember more? She sipped her tea and tried to forget about it.

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

The last fishermen of the town began to gather their nets with slow and tired movements. It had been a long day. Uma said goodbye to them with a kiss thrown into the air, as was the tradition, and they responded in the same way, thanking her for the help and hard work. The dogs surrounded her amid joyous barking, and she had to dodge them laughing, as she walked away carrying her own basket overflowing with fish. In front of her stood the messy mound of windows, balconies, doors, and chimeneas. Uma had always thought that those particular tower-towns so common in the northern lands, looked like a tree made of houses stuck together. An oasis by the sea, a refuge from that mysterious, cold, and hostile land.

She entered the city swinging her basket, she knew perfectly the path between that maze of stairs. Here, the air was different, it smelled of bread, sweat, coal, human heat. It was more joyous, more comforting. Uma found the company she needed just by seeing the townspeople in their daily life while continuing to climb to the top. Boys hauling lumber, up alleys with the day's game on their backs, people on balconies spreading clothes, shaking rugs, or lighting lanterns. She paused for a moment, daring to look back, to see the huge sea from above.

Up there, where she was at the height of the birds flying and the trees seemed tiny, Uma stopped feeling so alone. Up there, among the wind, the heat, the flowers in the windows, the amber lights in the houses, and the noise of the people, even if it was only for an instant, Uma could almost feel normal, like someone loved, like someone human. And that was precisely what had motivated her to dream of one day, to be able to raise enough money to buy a little house in the highest part of town, where she could wake up every day in the midst of that joyous daily life, where she could finally feel that she was someone.

Finally, Uma reached her destination. She entered the narrow, candlelit establishment and approached the counter. She put the basket on the floor, and a skinny girl came out from the back.

"Uma! How are you? How are things going down there on the plain?" The girl greeted her with a charming smile. Uma shrugged, returning the smile.

" Hi Ruba, you know, cold as always ... I brought fish" replied Uma, smiling fondly at the girl in the store.

"I see they had good fishing today, right?" Ruba looked at her excitedly, and Uma only answered with her head "Well! How much do you want for it? It looks very good, how about 60 coins?"

"Are you crazy? Your mother would kill me if she finds out you gave me that much money" said Uma, laughing slightly. The girl from the store smiled, pleased to see her happy, and handed her a bag of fifty coins on the counter.

"Come on, take them, " Ruba said with a wink. "My mother doesn't have to know ..." Uma laughed again, slightly flushed.

"If you insist" she answered taking the bag and weighing it on her hand with pride. Ruba sighed with a huge smile.

"You know? I don't even think mother notices ... She is too busy licking a foreigner's boots" Ruba whispered with an amused tone "They say he came from the warm lands of the south and we are renting him my brother's room, you should have seen his face, He is furious to have to sleep on the kitchen floor, but he had no choice ..."

"He comes from the warm lands?" Asked Uma intrigued "And how is he?"

"Well, he is tall and handsome ... He's tanned, you know, like the people of the South ... He came on the train dressed as a prince with a ruffled suit and a suitcase full of wonders ..." Ruba explained with bright eyes of emotion "I'm sure he would love to meet you!"

"Me? Why?"

"Because you are a witch, you are the best that´s ever happened in this boring town ..."

"Thank you?"

"Oh, I almost forgot! I wanted to give you something… " Ruba said happily and took out from the folds of her dress a small wrapped package.

"To me?" Uma asked, surprised, and happy. No one had given her a gift since her teacher had died.

"The stranger brought us gifts from the south, you know, for letting him stay, and I thought why not give one to my favorite witch?" Ruba admitted, blushing a little. Uma smiled gratefully and took Ruba's hand in a happy squeeze.

"Thank you, Ruba, for everything ... You are the best friend I have made in this town ..." answered Uma, delicately keeping the gift in its folds. Ruba smiled from ear to ear.

"And you are mine, Witch ..."

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

Night fell, heavy and freezing on the plain. By the time Uma returned home, the darkness was almost absolute. Despite carrying a flashlight, she had to tap the walls for a long time to find the door. When she entered, the wall of enchanted tapestries greatly lessened the cold and the furious roar of the night wind. As soon as the door closed behind her, Uma dropped to the floor, exhausted, looking at the small hall of the house. Silence, again that deadly silence. With ragged breathing, she decided that she would stay there until her muscles relaxed, and she leaned against the wall, staring blankly, imagining not having to go back to that empty and distant house every day. She took off her coat, brushing dust and snow from her hair. In her pocket, she felt the small wrapped package that Ruba had given her, and Uma smiled again as she took it out. A gift from the south.

What wonders could come from those lands? Uma couldn't even imagine it. That northern land had been all she knew, all that interested her. That was what her teacher, the witch Aida, had taught her. Five years had passed since the villagers had found her, so cold and pale, that they had thought she was a corpse. They said that she came from the sea during a stormy night, an unconscious body that the waves threw to the beach. Villagers had given her a two-day funeral and attempted to bury her in an unmarked grave. But when the first earth fist was placed on her, she woke up. The frightened villagers took her with the only person in miles around who knew about the mysterious affairs of the world: Aida, the old witch of the forest.

Before that, Uma had no memories. She didn't know who she was, what she was, or where she came from. She only remembered the sea, the lightning, and the feeling of having lost something. Old Aida had taken her, cared for her, fed her, healed her wounds. She was the one who helped Uma overcome the shock and discovered that she knew how to speak, write, knew about the things of the world. But she still didn't know anything about herself. "You are a witch," her teacher had told her. "I can feel your magic, you probably got into forces that you shouldn't have, and this is the price you must pay. " After six months, Uma began to dream about the blue-eyed boy. And because of that dream, that memory, Uma was able to remember her name. Aida tried spells to make her remember more but never succeeded, and all Uma was left with was that fuzzy image of a world on fire.

Aida was a traditional woman, who during the time she met her taught her to rejoice in the little things in life, to cook, to attract fish, to become human again. And a year ago the old woman had died, sitting in her chair, leaving Uma with one last lesson to learn: how to survive alone. And Uma had learned, hunting her food and selling the fish that she trapped to the town's merchants, little by little, learning to make friends, to be kind to people, to trust them. Rarely did Uma think of the possibility that the world existed beyond that frozen region, that magic-filled forest, and that sparkling sea.

Uma untied the laces of Ruba's gift, thinking about her teacher, for the first time wondering if, in other lands, she could stop feeling the emptiness that consumed her inside.

She unwrapped the slip of paper, and a gold ring fell into her open hand. As soon as the metal touched her skin, Uma felt a jolt that shook her heart, like an electric shock that tore out the air, while in her head the vision of the boy with blue eyes appeared again, and his voice repeating the same words in an infinite cycle "We are light from the same star".

"Harry ..." she whispered as if her soul was breathing for the very first time "I remember you ..."

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621861/chapters/62193694

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xxiv. DECISIONS, DECISIONS

          The words rang through her like a bullet through flesh. The last time she had seen her father, it hadn't gone very well. He had hit her, and Finn came swooping in and rescued her from his filthy clutches.

But, somehow, she found herself wanting to see him again. Ivy wanted him to explain why he did everything he did in full detail.

The girl followed the Shelby brothers into the kitchen where Polly, Lizzie and Esme sat. Polly was slouched in the mahogany chair, a damp towel draped over her eyes. She had a hangover from yesterday's protests. Ivy giggled to herself, remembering the drunken state of the woman.

She quickly found a spare seat opposite the woman and sat down. She needed to think about what Tommy had said in more depth. The man had begun to speak and people had begun to move around the kitchen but Ivy paid no mind. She was lost in her thoughts; a mindless daydream of a fantasy she hoped would come to pass...

A happy family.

If only...

Ivy wondered what life would have been like if her parents had stayed together and her brother hadn't been pulled from her. Would it have been everything she had dreamt of? Or would have been just the same pain she had experienced with just her and her father?

No matter how many times she asked herself these questions, she would never know the answers. But if she could spend just a small amount of time with her father, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she remembered. Maybe they would finally be able to tell the truth to each other; the whole truth.

But for now she could only dream.

"Ivy." Tommo's deep voice pulled the girl out of her day dream. "I think Miss Solomons is a little bit hungover." Lizzie said with a wink as she left the room, Esme was quick behind her. Tom smirked, as did Polly. "Sorry, I was..." Ivy looked for an excuse but she was lost for words.

"Can you give me and Polly a minute?" Thomas asked. The girl hastily stood up from her chair and nodded, making her way towards the betting den. "And, Ivy," She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the man. "I'd like to speak with you once I'm finished. It's about Alfie." Ivy nodded again, slower this time before exiting the kitchen.

She made her way to her office, unsure whether or not she had uncompleted work to do. "Finn!" Ivy exclaimed as she was met with the sight of his auburn hair. He stood up from the chair that was sat neatly under her desk. "Ivy." He replied with a small smile.

Discomfort filled the room. The last time the pair had spoke, Michael had interrupted them and was slightly aggressive in his approach. But nevertheless, Ivy returned the smile and gestured for Finn to sit back in his chair.

Ivy's heart pounded so hard against her chest she was worried that Finn would be able to see it. Little did she know that Finn felt the same way.

The girl walked over to the opposite side of the dark wood desk and sat down in her own seat. "How have you been, Ivy?" Finn questioned as he lent forward in his chair to rest his forearms on the table.

Despite the question being completely normal, Ivy found herself being taken aback by his words. Finn was always protective, but he never was one for words. "I'm okay?" She spoke but her words were phrased as a question.

"We haven't talked about the day that Grace died and the day that Tom ran away to Wales," Finn began to explain. Ivy tensed in her chair. That was when she had her breakdown and the day that she had entirely lost it with Thomas. "You've been different, doll. Loud noises make you jump. When people shout at each other, you cry,"

He listed off the things that had changed within Ivy. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped. She was still the same girl as before. Only, the darkness had begun to take over.

And it was swallowing her whole.

"You fucking lost it with Tom." His words came out quieter than before, his eyes were cast to the desk in front of him. "H-how did..." Ivy struggled to get her words out. How did Finn know about the argument she had with Tommo?

"I saw you. With Michael. When you came out of his office, you were crying and there was blood on your hands. You were sat hugging Michael. He was helping you, I think." He was almost hissing by the end of his explanation, rage slipping through his veins.

"He wanted me to kill my father. Tom wanted me to shoot my own fucking father, how could I not shout at him?" Ivy had misunderstood his anger. "I'm not angry about fucking Tom," He launched from his chair, his hands buried in his previously slick hair. Ivy flinched, tears threatening to slip from her eyes. She hated arguing.

Finn slowly approached Ivy as she turned in her chair to face the boy. He crouched down and took her small hands in his large ones. "I'm not angry about Tom. I know how insensitive he can be." His voice was soft and gentle, his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed up at Ivy from his position on the floor.

"Why are you mad, then?" She was quiet when she spoke, she didn't want another outburst. The boy closed his eyes and carefully thought about what he was going to say next. "Michael," The word hung in the air, suspended in silence.

Ivy's heart dropped. 'How could he know about Mickey? What does he know about Michael?' Questions flashed across the girl's mind before she could form them into real words.

"You're probably just friends, and I'm probably over-reacting, but I just want to double check. You just..." He took a deep breathe before continuing his rant. "You just seem close." Finn's bright and watery eyes flickered between their conjoined hands and Ivy's face.

The girl didn't know what to say. She could tell Finn everything and risk destroying whatever it was between them. Or, she could lie to protect Finn, to prevent him from doing something that he'd regret later. But if he ever found out, he would be fuming. Was it worth the risk?

"I see him as a brother, Finn. Nothing else," She spoke with a warm smile, despite the infidelities pouring out of her mouth. "I promise there is absolutely nothing between us."

'How could I do that? He deserves the truth!' Ivy scolded herself after she had finished with her lies. Finn let out another breath, a sweet sigh of relief. "Good," He whispered, smiling down at their hands so he wasn't making eye contact.

"It's just that, Ivy, I lo-"

But their time together was cut short. Again. This time, by no other than Tommy Shelby. "Ivy, we need that chat. Now." He said the last word to Finn, completely disregarding any respect for the remnants of the previous conversation.

"We can talk later, Finn." Ivy beamed at the teen. He nodded and left without another word. Tommo gave the teen a small smile before he left the room. The man approached Ivy, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Ivy," Tom's deep voice sliced through the silence of the office. His hand stretched out to the chair in front of Ivy, pulling it back slightly so he could sit down.

She faced Tom, her back straightened and stiff. "I need you to stay calm," Even more nerves filled the girl. What could Tom possibly say that would make Ivy freak out?

"I need you to move in with Alfie again."

"Fuck off."

Ivy slammed her hands down on her desk and stood up, fury raging through her. She turned to face the wall of her office, her back towards Thomas. She had been told that they needed Alfie but could she bring herself to live with him again? "We need your father for a job, Ivy! We need him to calm down and we need to know if we can trust him. Ivy, did you hear me?"

"Yes," Her voice was timid and low. The girl thought back to earlier that day. "Maybe if I spent some more time with him, it wouldn't be as bad as I remembered." The words flashed through her head, a thought she had had whilst Tommo was talking to Polly about the strike the day before.

Ivy knew she didn't have a choice. After already disobeying Tom's orders once, she couldn't do it again. Besides, maybe she could tame  the beast she called father.

Thomas had been speaking whilst she had been thinking but she wasn't listening.

"I'll do it," Her words left her mouth at no more than a whisper. "I'll do it."

The pair had talked through their plan. Ivy would stay with her father and try to calm him down so the Shelbys could use him with the Russians. She would also spy on him and collect information about his business for Thomas.

They had discussed what her excuse would be. She couldn't just turn up on Alfie's doorstep without an explanation. He would just simply turn her away. Ivy had suggested that she would run away, again. She would tell Alfie that Tom wanted her to kill him and she refused. The girl knew that it wouldn't be difficult to act as that situation had already taken place, just without the running away.

Ivy would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, she was terrified. She knew that the truth about her father would come out in one way or another. Ivy didn't want Tom to know, she couldn't let him know. But only time would tell...

Two days after the plan was discussed, it was put into place. Ivy was stood on her father's doorstep, rain pounded down on her small frame. She had managed to conjure up some fake tears to make it look like she had actually run away. Tom had dropped her off at the end of the street with a small, "Good luck." before he began his drive back to Birmingham.

Her small fist shaking, she knocked on the door.

The maid had opened it. She recognised Ivy instantly. "Mr Solomons," She called to her master. "There's somebody here to see you." The girl was glad that she didn't mention her name, she wanted to see the surprise on her father's face. Heavy footsteps came booming down the corridor, grunts following close behind.

And there he stood, in all of his menacing glory.

Alfie towered over the girl, as he always had. His hair was stuck up in various positions, rings scattered over his hands, his shirt crinkled and un-tucked; he looked a mess. But, this was Alfie Solomons. Messy was his 'thing'.

"Ivy." His voice came out as a deep grumble that reverberated through his broad chest. Shock was laced into it as well, he was not expecting his daughter back on his doorstep, not after what had happened the last time they saw each other. "Can I come in?" Ivy squeaked, doing her best at acting like she had just run away.

Her father took a step back from the door, allowing her space to enter her old house. The man's brow was furrowed in utter confusion; he couldn't figure out why his daughter had come back to him, especially after what he had done.

Timidly, she found her way into the living room with assistance from the small maid. "Thank you." Ivy croaked as the maid helped her sit down. "Thanks," Alfie thanked the maid. "Now fuck off," The girl flinched at his words. He was always so harsh, not matter who he was speaking to.

Her father gradually made his way to the sofa and sat down next to his beloved daughter. "What are you doing here?" His voice was almost like a growl. Like a bear preying on a small, innocent dove. But Ivy wasn't innocent.

"Tom," The girl began. "H-he wanted to me to kill you. But, but I said no and I ran." Fake tears continued to pour out of the girl's crystal eyes as she clutched onto her sleeves. "All the way from Birmingham?" Alfie was still as confused as before.

"No. We were doing a job downtown and I took my chance." Silence filled the room once again. Ivy's gaze was focused on the rug that layed tattered across the floor. She couldn't believe she was back in her house. It had felt like so long since she had been there. Alfie's cold eyes burned holes into his daughter, his glare was menacing.

"I will fucking kill that gypsy scum." He hissed. "Don't. He'll kill you first. You're the only person I can trust. Please don't go." Her words were rushed. The longer she spoke, the more likely she would expose herself.

As more tears came falling from her eyes, she realised that they were no longer fake. Ivy had been holding in all of her emotions for a long time and she hadn't, truly, let them all out. Sobs racked her body, but she didn't dare look at her father.

"Oh muffin," Alfie's voice was soft; surprisingly soothing. He wrapped his large arms around the girl and pulled her in for a hug. Ivy could not stop crying, no matter how hard she tried to stop. She wanted her father back, she wanted her family back and together, she wanted to be with the Shelbys, she wanted to be with Finn...

She wanted to feel better, to stop feeling the constant pain she had always felt.

She wanted so many things she knew she could never have. And that was the real cause of the pain. Not her father, not Tommy or any other physical creature. The realisation that she would never be able to have all of these things. She would have to chose. But that decision could wait.

Now was a time to heal broken bonds. And to spy on the man that she begged she could fix.

Alfie lent back on the sofa, Ivy still between his strong arms. She rested on his chest. Her tears had slowed down but she was far from finished. "I'm so sorry. Really, muffin, I am. For everything," His words were like a bullet raging straight through her heart. Why did the truth hurt? Wasn't that exactly what she wanted to hear?

"I just wanted you to be strong. I never wanted to hurt you. I regret everything that I have ever done to you, muffin," The girl sniffed and buried her head further into her father's chest, keen to hear what else he had to say. But was it the truth? Or just more lies from another man?

Another sob broke through the quietness of the room. But this time, it didn't come from Ivy.

"I broke my little girl."

xxv. THE WHOLE TRUTH 

MASTERLIST

[solastia]

Day 19

Break My Stride, Yoongi x Jungkook, ABO, 4/4 Chapters, 14k words

YOU KNOW MY DRAMATIC ASS SAVED THIS FOR A FRIDAY! If y'all thought my screeching was annoying before, be prepared for about 10x more screeching and indecipherable noises. As the very wise Deadpool once said, “MAXIMUM EFFORT!”

First off, congratulations because this was your first fic to reach 10k hits (and it’s now at 34K hits, whaaaa??!! A few hundred of those may possibly be from me...possibly...probably...most definitely! lmao)

You know my fave ship is Yoonmin (I don’t take shipping irl seriously, don’t come for me plz) but I absolutely LOVE the dynamics between Kookie and Yoongi in this fic. Your writing, the plot, the dialogue, the whole thing is just top tier deliciousness every step of the way. It is scrumptious, mouth watering, exquisite, uuugh *chef’s kiss* bellissimo!

Ok, LOTS OF SPOILERS BECAUSE THIS FIC IS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT FICTIONAL STORY AND Y’ALL CAN’T STOP ME, MUAHAHAHA!

In the beginning of the story, you create a sense of home for the audience. We feel like we know these characters, we get a sense that they’ve been a group of friends for a very long time, and they each hold a special part of each other’s lives, and it’s freaking beautiful.

“Yoongi shook his head and started picking the olives off his slice of pizza. When he turns to his right to give the olives away, he realizes why he’d felt something was wrong.”

You see! He hadn’t even realized that Kookie was missing, but he felt like something was off.

Oh! And I wanted to ask you about the idea for a mating run! I’ve never read anything like this before, it was an interesting concept to think about. And this would be Yoongi’s 8th run! Oh babey, he was just waiting for the right mate…

“He wasn’t sure what it was, but the image of Jungkook finding someone during the run made him feel…itchy.”

Our boi is already jealous at just the idea of Kookie finding a mate (other than him ofc, but he doesn’t know that yet, bwahahahaha!!)

“Good idea, you’re going to need all the rest you can get,” Seokjin says with an ominous smirk.”

I SHOULD GIVE YOU THE SAME WARNING SEOKJINNIE!!!

“There were even booth setups for merchandise and food.”

OMG, I could see Hobi or Jin buying some cheesy “I survived the 20__ Run and All I Got Was This Shirt”. Or maybe a beer cozy!

“No, he said that would be pointless because his mate’s a cheating cheater that plays dirty. He said the chances of them covering their scent were high. He’s making sure his den is ready,” Seokjin scoffed.

Yoongi accepted the drink Jimin handed him and chuckled. “Sounds like I might actually like them.”

“You have no idea,” Jin said with a snort”

Yoongi, are you so jaded, so blind by your general saltiness that you are not understanding the very obvious clues being thrown your way?!?!?! Kookie, where are you? Put this man in his place please!!

And then when he was told that Kook bought that house he’d had his eyes on for years, uughhh, I was hurting for our Yoonie!

“Yoongi suddenly felt like crying, but he settled for collapsing onto the bench and clenching his fist.”

AAAHHH! But wait a little while Yoongi, I promise all this hurt will be over soon!

“Suddenly, Namjoon growled menacingly, startling everyone. Hoseok looked over to the spot where Namjoon was steadily staring, curiosity in his gaze before it too hardened and he started glaring with bared teeth. A random city Alpha that had been approaching them instantly halted, hands out in surrender.”

HOW COULD I FORGET THIS SUB-PLOT!!! Jin was over there laughing at how oblivious Yoongi was, and he isn’t any better, is he?!? Imagine having Joon and Hobi scaring the competition away like that??!! I would take them home immediately!

“There’s a huge plush rug and plenty of blankets, big fluffy pillows, a little stash of food and entertainment. I even put scent blockers around so no one would smell anything coming from inside,” Yoongi preened as he thought of his perfect hideaway.

Yoongi would def be one to make his little den as comfortable as possible! But I just thought of something. In your earlier description of Yoongi’s apartment, he said it was a bit stark and lacked any real decor. BUT he went out of his way to make this den as comfortable as possible. He bought a string of fairy lights, and he had to go to the big city to get them! It’s almost like it was fate, or maybe deep down he knew that something was going to happen, and he was inadvertently nesting! (please insert “I’ve connected the dots” meme here)

“He was sure there were plenty of Alphas running around with those piercings and Kook’s ginormous honker of a nose.”

:|

Was it really Kook? Or is our boy so in love that he sees Kookie wherever he goes? Lmao!

“Yoongi was about to show this guy that he wasn’t someone to be messed with and he wouldn’t be dragged off to be someone’s good little Omega bitch. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the taser he’d packed just in case.”

OMG, Yoongi is not messing around, absolutely zero chill!

“It seemed presenting had changed him physically as well, shooting him up a couple inches so he towered over Yoongi even more than usual. His arms and legs were rippling with muscle that even the black tracksuit he was wearing couldn’t hide. His face was still the same though; the innocent grin an interesting contrast with the buff build.”

SIR!! My heart cannot take this punishment! And OFC he’s a Prime Alpha, Kookie doesn’t know how to half-ass anything!

“And just like he had a million times before, Yoongi gave in like the soft ass bitch he was.”

He really is soft for all of them!!! Yoongi will let them do whatever they want with him, he’ll complain the entire way but we all know he secretly loves it!

“Yoongi dared a quick look behind him, audibly gulping at the sight of the Alpha staring at his ass like he was a starving man at an all you can eat buffet. Jungkook was grinding his jaw and had his nails dug into the dirt like he was trying to control himself.”

I mean, we’ve all seen the Yoonbooty. It does look very biteable. Relatable AF Kook!

“Jungkook continued poking around in things; picking up a candle to sniff, trying to sneak a peek into the duffle bag, ruffling around in the bag of snacks - all while stealing glances at the bed in the middle of the room. “

WAY TO NOT BE OBVIOUS KOOK!!!

“What are you doing, Kook? You’re wasting time here when you should be out there chasing down your mate. They are probably wondering where you are.”

“They know where I am.”

“You told them you were going to hang out with me and they were fine with it?”

“Hyung, you’re usually so smart. Think about it.”

Every time I read this, I die a little bit inside (in a good way, I promise). Yoongi’s whole world is about to be turned upside down, and he has no idea!!!

“The house…”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, smiling fondly at him. “I bought it for you, hyung. Whether you choose me today or not, it’s yours.”

I cry.

What a courting gift!!! Kook doesn’t understand subtlety, does he??!! And how selfless is this? This is a no-strings attached gift, given to Yoongi out of love.

I cry.

“I love the way we are now, equals with a little bit of babying me on the side,” Jungkook grins when Yoongi snorts, shaking his head fondly at the other.”

I would like to see that please.

AND THEN THIS LINE:

“Omega,” Jungkook says softly, so rife with emotion that Yoongi can hear everything he’s trying to say in just that one word. “May I enter your nest?”

This is it, this is as far as I go fam. I have been destroyed with six whole words. How can such a simple statement hold so much emotion, so much hopeful pleading?

And then the whole interaction on the bed! Yoongi asking if he wants to play cards (bwahahaha, sure Jan), Kookie being prepared to wipe away all the descenting salve, Kook getting scent high, YOONGI’S GRANDPA RUN, those first initial uses of pet names, everything was so intimate and playful. It was beautiful!

“I bet I could easily pick you up and fuck you against a wall sometime if you wanted. Maybe even have you straddle my shoulders and I could suck you off that way,” Jungkook muses so matter of factly despite the subject matter, and Yoongi can feel himself get wetter by the second.”

Aaaaaaand there’s the emotional whiplash I’ve come to love from you!

“Whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

Kookie being selfless again! I cannot! It’s about these little things that are done between partners that really matter. Kook is a newly presented virgin Prime Alpha in the midst of a claiming, and his first priority is still making sure Yoongi feels good. He’s giving him all the power here.

“Good,” Yoongi yawns loudly and throws a couple of blankets over them, tangling their legs together. “Later we can try the thing with the nipples.”

Again, I would like to see that please.

“Suddenly, Yoongi’s eyes shoot open and he gasps.

“Oh shit! Your brother is going to kill me!”

Jungkook merely laughs”

😂😂😂

“I’ll give you some meat,” Yoongi grumbles playfully as he climbs off the bed, stretching his aching limbs.

“I mean, I’m down for anything,” Jungkook giggles.”

Not to sound like a broken record, but...I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THAT PLEASE

“Jungkook walked straight towards the first woman he saw with a clipboard, blindsiding the stunned woman with one of his lethal smiles while he wrapped an arm around Yoongi’s waist to pull him close.

“Hi! We both need mating packets.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes because he could tell that Jungkook was practically bragging instead of just asking like a normal person.”

He’s practically bragging about Yoongi being his mate! I have a feeling Kookie is going to be unbearable to be around in the upcoming weeks.

And then we get a teeny tiny peek at the Nam-Jin-Hobi subplot and ooomg I hope you’re able to explore this particular pairing in the future. There is so much potential there for steamy/fluffy scenes!

“I just mean, like, soulmates. You know? Maybe we were supposed to meet to help each other find our mates. Or maybe we are all soulmates in various forms.”

DON’T! DON’T HURT ME THIS WAY, I CANNOT AND WILL NOT SURVIVE!

AAAAH this fic was wonderful! It feels complete the way you ended it, but I am definitely still craving more! Good job, dayumm!

It still amazes me how many people have read this one lol. But yeah, this is one of my favorites too. I do have other side stories that I’m working on for this one, including one from Jk’s birthday and another for Namjinseok.

I just really really love writing people that are so unapologetically whipped. Like, it’s such a major thing for me because in real life there are a ridiculous amount of people that are embarrassed to show how much they care about their SO, and like, why? Why are you even with them if you’re so embarrassed to show them any affection? Show the world that you are proud they choose to be with you, show your person that they are precious. I’m not even saying buy them shit all the time (because for some reason het males seem to think that’s what everyone means). I mean hold their damn hand, write them a note, tell them they are pretty. There’s a reason that a person who technically still identifies as gay man is in a steady relationship with me, a pan woman. And it’s because I fucking treat him like he’s the reason my heart beats and I’m not ashamed to show the world. Ok, I’m ranting now lol. I’ll stop. But you get the picture.

[raidbossmadi]

People Like Us: What’s in your Head

If we were to step into your characters' psyche, what would it look like?

Sloane 

When you enter Sloane’s psyche you step into a vast forest, trees so large you cannot see their tops and canopies so thick you cannot see the sky between them. However this forest is neither dark or uninviting. Bird songs punctate the background noise and you can hear a stream somewhere in the distance. Walk for long enough and you’ll eventually stumble on the old cabin Sloane called home on Eden-4. You can find the present version of herself there tending to her daily business, Persephone curled up in the corner of the room watching Sloane work.

Just outside the cabin is an impossibly large painting sitting on an easel, on it the world turns into childish scribbles. If you approach it you’ll find that not only can you step into it but when you do you also turn into a childish scribble version of yourself. Sloane’s childhood lives inside this easel, the innocent young girl who never knew she was going to become a Siren. You’ll find that this part of her psyche operates a lot like a children's picture book,Child Sloane doesn’t think in words she thinks pictures, concepts, colors. Mommy and Daddy are green and calm one moment but can turn red and angry. Things grow and shrink here with little regard for actual proportion. If you encounter Child Sloane she’s very trusting, she assumes you're a friend. You are a friend? Aren’t you?

Or perhaps you see the stone bricked path leading to the right of the cabin, as you walk down it the sound of the forest disappears and a thick fog covers the sides of the path. The only way to go is forward. If you look out into the fog you might be able to make out the shape of something you aren’t sure what and it never gets any clearer. All you know is it is massive, it is ancient, and it is sleeping. You stay on the path and soon enough you’ll be in the dream of Vanagard, an old abandoned temple with a fountain in the middle that runs despite all logic saying it should have stopped years ago. Leda and Steele can be found here sitting on the edge of the fountain or walking around the temple proper. You get the feeling that this is something you could never fully comprehend, but you feel at peace here. Steele will not talk to you, you are not Sloane, She is here for Sloane. Leda is more chatty, you get motherly vibes from the moment you start talking to her, she wants to know what your relation to Sloane is, oh you’re friends? Make sure she’s not working too hard, she’s doing her best.

Maybe the sounds from just beyond the forest call to you and walk abruptly into the Pandoran desert. There are so many people here, a crowd that stretches on forever and they are loud. They turn to you, their eyes are flowers and vines spill out of their mouths yet still they talk, still they beg for absolution. You press on through the never ending crowd until you meet a wall, the Cathedral of the Twin Gods towers over you and towering over it are two silhouettes the only defining features on both red and blue siren markings.

“What’s the Password?” Shadow Tyreen asks her mouth full of razor sharp teeth, you stumble and guess things you know are important to Sloane, Flowers,Vines, Persephone.  Shadow Troy laughs gilded fangs ever present. “There is no password shitweasel, but good try.”  His mechanical arm lifts you up by the scruff of your shirt and puts you over the wall. You realize now the wall has no gate, the only way in was to be brought over by the shadow twins, they are protecting the temple only they decide who goes in or out.   Inside the temple things are much more welcoming, the people have faces and you recognize them. They wear the outfits of temple priests but their all Sloane’s friends, you see yourself among the priests and get a feel for what Sloane’s idealized version of you is like, it's all your best qualities. You walk into the throne room, it’s bathed in pink light and upon the dais sit idealized versions of Tyreen and Troy. It’s a little off putting to be fair, these are manifestations of what Sloane loves about each twin, they are far far friendlier than either twin would ever be in real life. Tyreen says things like “Dear brother, would you mind fetching Sloane, she’s running late for our date.” batting her eyelashes and talking in a too sweet tone. Troy is much the same, there's no tension here no anger or sadness. Everything in this temple is the best of Sloane’s life since joining the CoV and it’s welcoming enough you almost don’t want to leave.

But when you do and find yourself back at the cabin, it’s probably for the best that you don’t investigate the gated garden, as you step towards it the sky darkens and a chill runs through you. This gate creaks open and if you ignore your better judgement and enter anyway you’ll find that the garden is overgrown, weeds and giant thorny vines have taken over what was once clearly a vegetable garden. Continue on and you’ll watch as the vines destroy and overtake anything in their path.  You come across a young Sloane covered in cuts and scrapes.

“I don’t wanna go! Don’t let them take me!” she cries but as you reach to protect her the vines spring from behind wrapping around her legs and midsection pulling her kicking and screaming back into their mass.  Continue forward and you find bodies of scientists wrapped in the tangle, syringe or scalpel still in hand. “This is for your own good.” you hear them say as you walk past along with Sloane’s protests. You will continue to encounter the young Sloane desperate for you to save her but the vines will always win.

Eventually you come to a throne of thorns towering over the landscape,built on the bodies of all the people she’s ever killed, and on the throne, literally one with it, her legs lost in the tangle of vines sits the queen of thorns; Sloane but her markings replaced with thorny vines that cut into skin and bleed constantly. This seems of little consequence to the queen of thorns who merely laughs and fills her chalice with the spilling blood. Her smile shows gilded fangs and when you look her in the eyes, you know that all she wants is to see the world burn. To see humanity laid low for its treatment of her.  But she cannot leave the throne, it is her prison and you feel  safer knowing that this creature, this aspect of Sloane will never see the light of day.

Tyreen

Entering Tyreen’s psyche is entering a place that you cannot easily make sense of. It is a vast Eridian ruin with hallways that curve upwards and stairs out of Escher painting. 

In the center you find Tyreen sitting idly on a sofa that looks entirely out of place. She’s picking her fingernails or her nose, being casual really. What’s really off putting is the fact that every so often an image of Nyriad flashes into existence around the room. She doesn’t say anything but she’s there just long enough to unnerve you. 

If you follow a hallway long enough it’ll lead you somewhere, like Nekrotafeyo. Hostile and cold, the mantas are three times larger than they should be but when they get near you they turn to dust. Young Tyreen sits outside the ramshackle shack her parents built poking bugs with a stick. If you go inside the world turns grey and you feel a tangible sadness wash over you. Leda and Typhon sit vigil at the sides of a bed and in the bed, a sickly young Troy. He’s so small, and he’s getting smaller and smaller. 

You go back outside Tyreen’s a teenager now and Troy’s there too despite having just been in the house. He’s chained to her at the wrist she looks at it and promises she’ll find a way to get it off, that they’ll be free one day. 

Again if you look closely enough around the edges, Nyriad steps in and out of existence.

Or perhaps you see the neon city of Promethea stretching upwards higher and higher. Do the buildings ever stop? People walk past, they walk through you, you don’t exist to them. Tyreen sits on the street corner begging for food, shelter, for help. No one notices her. 

Again Nyriad flickers into being. 

The way to the great stone temple of Vanagard is shattered. You can still walk the steps but they are shaky and uneven. The fog is thick here and in it you can hear the pained noises of a creature beyond. The temple is shattered in two when you get there, literally half of it flowing into oblivion.  

“Not your fault... Shouldn’t be like this...We aren’t a monster…” The words of Nyriad fade in and out. She’s more solid here than anywhere else but you can tell she can’t stay in one place. Her image flickers and vanishes when you try to get close to it. 

Beyond the sofa that Tyreen sits on in the middle of her mind scape is a door and when you open it the darkness of the ruins is bathed in golden sunlight. You walk in and find a room made of gold. Women nude save for their faces which are covered by the solid white masks of the handmaidens. They lounge on daybeds and chaise lounges holding grapes and offering them to you. There is however one person with a visible face, Sloane, who sits demurely on a throne dressed in a lavish gown. Everytime to you try to reach her though the throne gets slightly farther away. It’s not until she laughs at your attempts to reach her and approaches herself that you get any closer to her. Like she willingly has to choose to want to be close to you for that to be allowed to happen at all. 

The atmosphere changes when Sloane steps off the throne though, all the other women disappear, the gilded chamber turning to a comfortable house instead. 

You thought you were heading back to the main chamber but instead you find yourself in a black empty void. 

“T-Ty….help me.” You hear Troy call from all directions. His pain is palpable in the air.  You aren’t even sure what direction you're going in but the cries for help get louder. 

“You lied to me! You lied, again Tyreen!”

“No! That should have worked! Why didn’t it work? This was a mistake we never should have left…” you think that the space might be shrinking. You feel walls you can’t see closing in around you. Just before you can be compressed into a cube the blackness explodes. 

Towering above you is a massive vault entrance. An eye peers out of the vault inhuman and angry, the destroyer. Tyreen stands at the base of the vault  so small in comparison.  

“I understand. We could be gods. That would save Troy. Thank you.” She whispers to no one in particular. Nyriad stands behind her shaking her head frantically, her vision misinterpreted; she tries to touch Tyreen to get her to turn around but fades from existence before she can. 

You stumble out of the void you found yourself in and follow instead an iced over path walking down it you end up in a statue garden in winter. You look at the statues, they're all Tyreen’s friends and family. She sits in the middle of them all crying, she never wanted this to happen.  She reaches for the one of Leda, but it cracks and crumbles as she touches it. 

“Can you ever forgive me, mother.” 

Troy

When entering Troy’s psyche you find yourself in an editing room with only one computer turned on. Troy sits at it working away cursing under his breath. Something about nothing ever turning out quite the way he wants it to. If you try and approach he’ll put up a hand and push you away. Can’t you see he’s working?

A screen lights up despite being off a second before you walk towards it and fall into the screen. You’re on Nekrotafeyo, at least you think you are? Chunks of it open up in gaping holes in the sky and ground visual representations of the holes in his memory. They leak sweat and blood, it’s getting hotter out here. You have no choice but to run for the shack at the edge of it all.

Inside you are very small. An ant, while everyone else is so much taller, Typhon, Leda, a young Tyreen perched on the bed. All the giants speak in soft whispers.

“He’s getting sicker you know.”

“He’ll be alright.” Leda promises.

The temperature in the house is rising again. You climb the tree sized bed post to get to the top. You see Leda cradling her young son in her arms offering him her siren energy. The house begins to cool again things seem calm and serene almost. You’re no longer ant sized, you can make it out of the house again. The computer is waiting for you.

Falling back through the screen you notice things have changed, You’re on the bridge of the Centurion now. Troy stands next to his sister desperately trying to break free from the chain that binds them left wrist to left wrist it’s blue on her end and red on his.

“I don’t want to do this Tyreen! You lied to me! You lied to me then held this” he thrusts the chain at her. “Over my head. What kind of loving sister does that. Oh you’ll die if you don’t come with me, what the actual fuck Ty?”

“I… I didn’t mean it to hurt you. You don’t understand now but you will Troy, you will. This is for both of us.” Tyreen begs as she talks the chain morphs into a two headed snake sinking its fangs into both of them but neither seem to notice this.

The stone stairway is missing every other step and you have to take care not to fall into the fog. It seems hostile like it knows it should be here. The other half of the  Vanagard temple is here but it’s a collapsed heap on stone and rubble, the fog covering most of what remains. The broken half of the Eridian rune that sat above the door flickers with red light every so often but it is swallowed by the fog. Take care as you leave, you wouldn’t want to fall.

The cathedral is a medieval castle, with everyone in time period appropriate clothing. Peasants begging for an audience with their king, the broken and forlorn being allowed in to speak with him. You note that half  the castle staff are all disabled in some way but this does not seem to hamper them, they are valued here. You walk into the king’s chamber Troy sitting on a regal throne, a gilded crown on his head and a matching golden prosthetic replacing his oversized one.

“I’ll send what help I can.” He tells the serfs before sending them away. Tyreen is seated next to him though she’s snoozing away letting her brother deal with the diplomacy.

“Troy!” A high pitched voice comes from the window and in flutters a pixie Sloane who lands on his shoulder. “You’ve been working so hard all day, you should come out to the garden and relax.” She says in a singsong voice poking him on the nose.

He laughs and agrees with her, shaking Tyreen awake and then all heading out to the garden.

You try and follow after but find yourself instead in a junkyard. Hundreds of broken toys and robots all piled up on each other.

“Broken.” The wind whispers. “You’re broken. You will never be anything but a broken little man.”

Troy sits in the middle of it all, but only the left side of him. The right is a void that he claws at desperately.  The void pulls in anything to close to it including you as you try and get away but it takes you anyway.

You find yourself back in the editing room but now Sloane is there, perched on his desk. Sunlight shines from behind her as she smiles and asks what he’s working on. He answers and she laughs at the light spreading across the room enveloping him. Flowers start blooming in the cracks in the tile.

You get the feeling everything will be ok in the end.

[otpnessmess]

Of Casual Encounters And Late Nights Pt.2

Here it is! I don't know if it's as long as you wanted but it's almost double the first chapter. I hope you like it!

First Next Ao3

-

A week went by where Jason managed to avoid meeting Ladybug again while investigating, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard of her. Akuma attacks were as frequent as ever and gave him an opportunity to learn more about the terrors that had been plaguing Paris for years now apparently. He sent all new info on it to his family,  who couldn’t believe none of it had reached them up until that point. Bruce was feeling particularly flabbergasted among them.

“You mean to tell me there’s been a terrorist in Paris for years, one that’s been destroying the city twice a week, and we knew absolutely nothing about it?” He seemed to be going through the seven stages of grief before excusing himself to call Diana.

Meanwhile, Jason’s brothers piled up in front of the computer screen wanting to hear more about the heroes and their work. Tim was looking up information on the internet while Dick asked questions nonstop about their powers, and their suits, and if he had had the chance to talk to them yet. 

“They sometimes stay back after the attacks, but their powers have some kind of time limit so those are rare occasions, or so I’ve heard. They’re all proficient fighters and each have their own set of powers and weapon. Ladybug’s powers are the most impressive by far” 

The mention of her name threw him right back into the memory of the night they first met. Despite resenting not being given an opening to talk to her more then, Jason had to admit leaving had been the right choice. He wanted to stay in the shadows as long as possible, and dealing with the police on his second night in the city wouldn’t have made that easy for him. Adding to that, even though he was quite stubborn and didn’t want to accept it, he felt curious about the spotted heroine. She was sassy and clever and, if the two battles she had this week were anything to go by, her abilities to strategize rivaled Tim’s.

He came back to the present with a jolt when Dick whined about him not paying attention, eliciting a snort from both him and Damian, who also looked at the eldest with a sneer. “You’re 29 Grayson, no one that age should be making those types of noises.” Jason would rather die than saying it out loud, but sometimes he did miss the dumbasses that were his brothers. 

“You know, I don’t think we would have believed this was real even if someone had told us about it. I found a... Ladyblog? It has videos of almost every attack from the last 4 years as far as I can see, and these look every bit as outlandish as I expected them to. There’s this one where apparently the whole city was flooded.” Tim pulled up the video in the peripheral monitors for the others to see and, lo and behold, there was the video from the day Ondine had drowned Paris. Faint screams could be heard in the background as the person recording managed to get to the roof of a building just in time to see the people still left on the street be swiped by the giant wave. From then on it was all silent. “This is horrible, so many people must have died during this. How did they manage to recover? I’m sure the news of Paris underwater should’ve popped up SOMEWHERE.”

“They didn’t because it didn’t last more than an afternoon.” Jason ran a hand through his hair impatiently. The whole week he had been aching to go out as Red Hood but couldn’t risk meeting Ladybug and it was making him jittery. “That’s what Ladybug’s power is. She just….reverts everything. I haven’t been able to find out how yet, but I’ve been told it must be magic or some shit.”

“Reverts everything? Just like that? Like….turning back time?” Dick looked confused trying to come up with a rational explanation

“I don’t think so. Everyone except the victims remember everything that happened. It’s more of a cure, if you will. She fixes everything, makes a new Eiffel Tower appear, brings the dead back to life, you know, no big deal.” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at their faces. “I know, if anyone tried to tell me this before I saw it myself I wouldn’t have believed it either.”

A moment of silence on his brothers’ end was interrupted by the return of Bruce. “Diana is positively furious right now. Apparently someone received a message from these heroes years ago and thought it was a joke, so they dismissed it. Diana asked to see the message and just unleashed hell on the poor guy after watching it. It seems her mother was a former Ladybug and she grew up knowing about the magic of the ‘Miraculous’” He said the word in a way that made his sons think he was as confused as they were “The League is planning to make a trip to Paris as soon as possible to assess the situation.”

Now that brought a frown to Jason’s face. “I know I’m usually the reckless one here, but listen to me for a moment. You’re just planning on barging in here, with an angry Wonder Woman, and a probably scared shitless League, to battle a guy who makes you his minion if you show the tiniest hint of a negative emotion? Imagine if Diana got akumatized. You must really want the apocalypse to start huh?” 

He scanned their faces and wasn’t surprised to see skepticism and some smirks too. This was so not typical of him. Jason was a shoot first, ask second kinda guy, and he used to enjoy killing a little too much for it to be healthy. But he remembered what Ladybug had told him about resorting to the least amount of violence possible, and he was honestly worried about what could happen if three dozen superheroes just showed up one day to a fight. “Listen, as far as I can see, Ladybug and her team have things covered here. Give me some time to gather more information and maybe I can find a way for her and Red Hood to have a meeting. I’ll ask her if she still wants our help. But until then, you should refrain from bringing anyone here. Unless you want panic to run rampant among the citizens because the whole Justice League came.”

Snickers could be heard coming from Tim and Dick. Even Damian was trying not to show his amusement at the situation. “Who would’ve thought Todd actually had a brain. We should go if only to check whether he’s been replaced by a clone or something”

“Oh fuck off Demon Spawn, I can be smart too if I want to."

Their father seemed to be mulling over his words before sighing and nodding. “Alright. I think we can go along with what you said for now, but I want you to keep us updated regularly, and to inform us if something out of the ordinary happens. If you need us there, we’ll be on alert. And I expect that meeting with Ladybug to happen sooner rather than later. Also don’t forget why you’re originally there, we have to gather more information on what the Penguin is planning."

“You got it Brucie.” He made fingers guns at the screen with a click of his tongue. “Expect it to be at least a week until I have some big news for you, but I’ll try to make it happen as quickly as possible. And worry not about my mission, I’m almost done with it. Now my dear family, if you’ll excuse me, it’s already 2am and I would like to pretend to be a tourist at least for a day tomorrow. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

He quickly ended the call and face planted on his bed. This was going to be a long mission. One week in and he was already exhausted. He wasn’t lying when he said he was close to finishing the mission he was originally sent to Paris for, though.  He had infiltrated the goons quickly and efficiently, and managed to hear about a drug shipment due to arrive in a couple weeks together with a human one. As soon as he got the information as to where he’d call his family and they could resolve the problem easily. For now though, he couldn’t help but want to keep them away a bit longer. Be it because, even though he loved his brothers (not that he’d ever tell them), he wanted some time alone, or be it because he wanted more time to try and figure out Ladybug, he still wasn’t completely sure.

If you asked him, he would deny it to his dying breath that he was interested in the heroine, but something about her made him want to get closer and know more about her. In spite of the great amount of knowledge the public had on her, she was surrounded by an aura of mystery and something else that Jason couldn’t pinpoint, which had him turning in his sleep ever since that encounter in the alley. It also didn’t help that she seemed to be around the same age as him, her suit doing her great favours in all her red and black. Alright. Maybe he thought she was a bit attractive. Very attractive? 

“No. Nope. Not going there.” He got up and decided to ignore that part of his brain as of now. For no particular reason whatsoever. It was only normal to want to know more about the person protecting the city. Call it a professional interest, thank you very much.

The dark haired man decided to take advantage of having an expensive suite for once and took a long bath while doing some more research on Paris. He was indeed planning to walk around the city the next day after all. When he was done, Jason headed to the bed and fell asleep promptly. Dreams full of back alleys and superheroes. 

-

As luck would have it, it didn’t take long for the both of them to meet yet again. Only maybe not in the way the Gotham vigilante would have hoped for. Set on at least enjoying this pseudo-vacation he was gifted, Jason left his hotel the next morning to visit the most popular places in the city. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc of Triumph and the Champs Élysées were the places he had chosen to visit during the morning and early afternoon, but, even though his main goal was to distract himself from the tasks at hand, he couldn’t will away the questions roaming around his head. 

How was he going to contact Ladybug? He wanted to do it as Red Hood, but he didn’t want the heroine of Paris to distrust him since he was pretty sure his reputation would precede him. He was known for being the most ruthless of the batfam, the only thing keeping him from killing criminals once he was done with them was Batman’s No killing under any kind of circumstances rule (which if you asked him was a special kind of bullshit, some of them did deserve to rot in hell in his opinion), and he wasn’t sure if Ladybug would be as willing to hear him out as she may one of his brothers or father. However, his only other option would be to approach her as Jason Todd, one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons. He didn’t even know whether Ladybug would care about his family name. This wasn’t his city. And on the off chance that she might have recognized him… He was still a mere civilian. One that had, on top of that, to explain his connection to the Gotham vigilantes without giving away any of their identities. Jason knew his hands were tied. Red Hood had to be the one to try and get the attention of the spotted hero. Knowing there was no other option didn't make him happy about it though. 

Once he was done with this line of thinking his brain decided to go back to the Penguin. He was trying to instill one of the worst types of businesses in Paris and he couldn’t wait to put a stop to it. As much as he knew drug trafficking to be terrible, he was of the opinion that people who engaged in (as well as profited off of) human trafficking should have a special circle of hell destined for them. Preferably in the very depths of it.

Jason was very much aware that, for as long as he remained in this city, negative emotions had to be controlled and dissipated as quickly as possible to avoid an akumatization. Especially those of someone with the skills and knowledge he had. He had a lot of the latter in strange topics, most of which he acquired growing up during his training. And albeit he wasn’t sure whether it would actually be useful to Hawkmoth or not, he would rather not put it to the test. All of this, however, was sent to the back burner for a second as Jason's thoughts strayed towards what he would like to do to the Gotham villain when he captured him. 

Being so busy imagining the 30 different methods of torture he would like to inflict upon the Penguin had made him completely disregarded his surroundings, however. Coming back to his senses, his brain pointed out they were standing at the door of what seemed like a very nice patisserie, just in time for his stomach to growl, his lunch seemingly having been digested some time ago.

‘Maybe something sweet is exactly what I need right now’

-

Some days had passed since Marinette met Jason,  and though he was still burning in the back of her mind, she had way too many things to worry about during the day to remember him often. At night, however, the questions she had originally asked herself the first night continued to plague her, and since Tikki told her not to worry about it too much, the designer saw wise to keep her train of thought to herself. She wasn’t even sure why her brain seemed so fixed on this stranger she had only met once. Sure, he was involved in a fight, and seemed to be a foreigner, but it wasn’t that uncommon for petty altercations to break out around the city while she patrolled. Also this was Paris, for Kwamis’ sake. One of the biggest tourist capitals of the world. There was no reason why this Jason guy should’ve stuck to her mind as he did. Yet here she was. In the middle of her afternoon shift at the bakery. Still thinking about him.

A chime coming from the door brought her out of her stupor. But as she looked up, ready to greet the new customer, she suddenly froze, and her brain could only supply her with the word green. 

Green eyes she had only got a quick glance into a week ago were now in front of her and the color was even more intense as they reflected the sunlight rays that entered through the bakery’s windows.

-

There you have it peeps and pals! I'll try to update sometime again this week in between Daminette December.

Tag list:

@18-fandoms-unite-08 @bamagirl513 @j-a-n-e--d-o-e @dawnwave16

[bigskydreaming]

Lilith Clay is one of those characters that I never ever would actually want to be friends with, because she would be EXHAUSTING.

But as a reader? I adore her, because she is amazing and when allowed to be, hilariously entertaining.

For the record, I have been maintaining for decades....forget your headcanons about Donna being like a big sister to Jason in his Robin years, or all the back and forth about Kory and Roy as Jason’s friends now instead of Dick’s.

No. The true potential....and the true danger....has always been if Lilith had decided to take Jason under her wing.

(On a whim, no doubt, as that’s how she decides most things. including whether or not she feels like getting up and superheroing today or if she’s going to just sleep through the alarm indicating intruders in the Tower and trust the others to handle it. Like if they can’t, they’re probably all going to be killed by the intruders anyway, whether she’s in bed or out of it, and no one’s going to care at that point. Whereas if she doesn’t get at least three more hours of sleep, she’s going to be cranky all day and she absolutely will take it out on everyone. So really, trusting in her friends’ capabilities and ensuring she’s not a cranky bitch at them all day after they’ve just fought off intruders in their own home - when you think about it, really, isn’t this the most noble choice available to her right now? 

Welcome to the mind of Lilith.)

So yes, I maintain the real Titan to worry about Jason catching the attention of, is and always was....Lilith.

Like, the very first time Dick brought Jason to the Tower and introduced him to everyone, it would have been perfectly in character for her to wander into the room deliberately late, managing to somehow look like she was gliding, because she practices that the same way the Batfamily practices walking without making noise. And then ignore everyone else and just zero in on Jason, point a finger straight at him, and intone in the same ringing inflections she uses to tell the team she’s had a vision about the end of the world:

Lilith: Him. I see his potential, just waiting to be unlocked. The Bat knows not what he has there, but I will mold this young man like the Clay from which I take my name, and he will be. A legend.

Jason: ....huh?

Dick, throwing up his arms: This! This is why I didn’t want to bring Jason to the tower. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Bruce just thought I was being a jerk because I’m mad about the Robin thing still, or that I was just being possessive of my team but no. I KNEW putting the two of you in the same room was a bad idea, and it was going to bite me in the ass big time. I even told Donna this was going to happen.

Donna: Its true, he did. I can confirm.

Lilith: Look, Dick, I just really really think he has a lot of potential and there’s a lot I can teach him and I promise I’ll be super careful with him and I won’t break him...

Dick: See, its the fact that you think “I won’t break him” is a legitimate reassurance to make about being around a thirteen year old that concerns me. Along with fifteen million other things.

Lilith: Ugh. Fine. Well if you’re gonna be a little bitch about it, I might as well tell you I’ve seen a great calamity coming, and he’s going to play an important role in it and only I can make sure he’s prepared in the way he has to be, or it could mean the end of everything! Now is not the time to be all Neurotically Overprotective Bat Big Brother, Dick, the fate of the world is at stake!

Dick: Well when you put it that way....I don’t believe you.

Lilith: Great, so now you’re calling me a liar?

Wally: You lie all the time, Lil. Just last week you told me I was going to die before the end of the year because you were mad I recorded over your Real Housewives on the DVR.

Lilith: Stay out of this Wally or I’ll prove myself right.

Dick: Nooooot helping your case, Lil.

Lilith: Okay fine, but I only lie about stuff I don’t care about. This is obviously different!

Jason unobtrusively sidles over to Garth, whose usual calm face alongside the chaotic back and forths of his teammates makes him stand out as the clear island of sanity in the room.

I mean, Jason’s totally wrong on that count, Garth’s as ridiculous as the rest of the OG Titans and Lilith. He just has a really great poker face.

Jason: I think I just figured out why Dick labeled the bottle of Ibuprofen in his bathroom “Lilith Pills.” So is this like...should I be worried about her uttering some Chosen One prophecy sounding shit, or is she just full of shit like Dick’s saying?

Garth, considering the matter gravely, so as not to give Jason the wrong idea. Just. Its hard to know what would be the wrong idea here.

Garth: The problem is, with Lilith, those things aren’t as mutually exclusive as one might hope.

Jason: Oh. So she might be for real? I knew one of Dick’s teammates was a psychic and had visions sometimes, but Bruce’s face did that twisty thing when he mentioned that. Like, where he looks like he just took a shot of some bad vodka and that means he doesn’t believe someone’s for real but he can’t prove it. But also, sometimes he only looks like that because he just doesn’t like that someone’s for real and he can’t prove otherwise.

Garth: Good eye. If you’ve picked up on that already, you’re clearly insightful. That’s very good. You’ll need it, in this place. And yes, Lilith is legitimately a precognitive and does have visions of the future sometimes. Its just...

Jason: Its just what?

Garth squeezing out the words reluctantly because he doesn’t like speaking ill of his teammates, even though Lilith absolutely knows her own reputation and sculpted it with zeal as she says remaining unpredictable is the key to never being taken for granted...

Garth: Its just that Lilith is a bit like Cassandra of Troy....if Cassandra had prophesied the Trojan War and nobody believed her but the reason was not because of some divine curse, but because Cassandra had a bad habit of saying things like “We should invade Greece first or else they’re going to invade us,” because she was bored.

Jason: ...gotcha.

Garth: And I’m not saying Lil is....I don’t mean she does it on that kind of scale....so much as just...an example of that kind of thing. So to speak.

Jason: So listen to everything Lilith says, but take everything she says with several grains of salt, and as soon as you’ve got some free time, maybe examine those grains of salt under a high-powered microscope just to be on the safe side.

Garth: Exactly. Congratulations, you’re now as prepared to survive Lilith as anyone can be.

Jason: Survive, huh?

Garth: We’re all still kind of hoping she’ll grow into being responsible with her powers while accepting this might just be her version of being responsible with her powers.

Jason: I am maybe no longer as jealous of Dick being the leader of his own team.

Garth: Hey, then you’ve already got your big brother beat. It took us three years before he’d admit regretting he ever volunteered to be team leader.

Anywho....

Buckle in, because I’m in a Lilith mood this week, so am gonna get lengthy about her and her appeal as a character to me, lol.

Like, the first thing you gotta understand about Lilith, is she is the uncontested reigning queen of drama. And don’t even try and come for her crown. She will destroy you. Dramatically.

This is a woman who repeatedly makes herself costumes that have a full on cloak - not a cape, but a CLOAK - so that when she flares it dramatically, its not like a sheet of fabric that’s normally hanging from her back but now swishes around her front, no, she’s got a full on CLOAK that when it flares dramatically, the whole damn thing is moving and swishing and flying every which way. 

And because that isn’t enough, she also makes a point to have a hood - and not just a cast shadows covering your face hood, a full on DROWN EVERYTHING WITHIN THAT HOOD IN TOTAL DARKNESS Hood. The kind of Aesthetic that doesn’t just happen naturally with hoods. You have to have that shit custom made.

And does she need this hood for any particular reason? Is her secret identity super top secret? No. It is not. She barely ever even has one. Her civilian name is no big deal if it gets out.

Look, she just really needs the hood, okay.

And sure, one time she came back after being away from the Titans for a few years, and pretended to be a complete stranger who didn’t identify herself as ‘your old pal Lilith” and refused to divulge any personal details, or like....go anywhere without her full cloak and hood identity-shrouding regalia.

And did she need to hide her identity and be super secret hush hush for any particular reason? No, she did not.

Look, she just really didn’t want to tell anybody who she was, cuz then it’d be a whole thing and everyone would be like omg where have you been, tell us everything, and can’t a girl just wanna fight bad guys and save the world and just show up and then clock out and keep it professional? Like, she was just having that kind of a week, is all.

If that week lasted about two years, well that’s the calendar’s fault, not hers.

This is a woman whose base powerset has always been telepathy with a side of apocalyptic visions, but beyond that has gained additional powers at various points over the years.

Like telekinesis. Which she legit, literally had, spelled out definitively in canon as an ability of hers, which she had and could use.

But that she only ever used to levitate. 

Thus allowing her to hover. Dramatically. In her cloak and hood. At all times. For no reason.

To be perfectly, abundantly clear: she could fly, but did she fly? Nah. Instead she’s like “is it not enough to just use one’s telekinesis to merely hover in place above everyone else? Dramatically?”

Or teleportation. That was another power she acquired randomly at one point. Mostly inexplicably.

And which she only ever used to teleport into a crowded room so she could impart Urgent Tidings of DOOM. Or to teleport out of a crowded room when people got a little too noisy with the whole “can you give us any more details? A time frame, a context, a guest list for this particular doomsday?” She’s like, look, I just had the vision, its not like I took notes, I’m not some kind of nerd. UGH.

And then dramatically teleporting out of the room with a dramatic swirl of her dramatic cloak.

There were hardly any limitations given for her teleportation, given that there was hardly any context ever given for her teleportation, but there was no sign of any particular limit to how far she could teleport or if she could take anyone with her.

Was this ever explored as a possible advantage for the whole team to make use of in some way? No. But given that its Lilith, its actually NOT a plothole that noted strategist and master tactician Dick Grayson at no point is ever shown asking Lil if they could try seeing if she could teleport with someone else.

See, because Lilith doesn’t LIKE when people know exactly what she can do.

Because then they have the pesky habit of like....asking her to do them.

That, she does not care for.

So those conversations would probably have gone something like this.

Dick: Lilith, do you think you could teleport with someone else? If you could teleport the whole team, that would be very useful to know.

Lilith: So what is it about me, exactly, that makes you look at me and think: this is a soccer mom van? Is it my hair? My posture? Or do I just give off a certain vibe?

Dick: That wasn’t....*sigh* Never mind.

Or....

Dick: Lilith, do you think you could teleport from the Tower here to Gotham?

Lilith: I’m sorry, do I work for you? Am I getting paid? No, no and no to the power of I’m trying to take a nap here. You can take an actual cab home like any normal person, I do not come in shades of yellow and I never go beep-beep.

Dick: I wasn’t asking you to...look, I’m purely trying to establish a baseline for your teleportation.

Lilith: And I’m purely trying to establish a hard line for respecting my right to privacy. You don’t need to know every little thing about me and my powers just so you can jot that down in your little Bat Trapper-Keeper notebook where you anally note every other thing nobody actually needs to know, like a record of your poops.

Dick: I don’t do that....no. Nope. Not doing this.

Lilith: Well is there a reason you’re keeping me from sleeping then? Some of us actually need a certain number of hours of rest to function. We don’t all hang upside down in coffins once a week while our Bat-butler tops off our tanks with IVs of blood.

Dick: Its the middle of the day, you’re in the common room, and you’ve been watching a Real Housewives marathon for the last four hours.

Lilith: Oh, so now you’ve been spying on me this whole time? Where does it end, Dick? Where. Does. It. End.

Dick: Never mind. I just realized I’m not getting paid for this either. I’m gonna go do something productive, like bang my head against a wall.

And then he’d leave while regretting everything, and Lilith would settle back onto the couch smirking because she’s not actually a terrible person and refrains from doing shit like that in actual high stakes situations, but at any other time, successfully running out the clock on Dick Grayson’s Bat-tier patience is like, Peak Entertainment in her book. Wally meanwhile has been sitting on the couch unacknowledged the whole time.

Wally: Why are you like this.

Lilith *shrugging*: I blame my mother.

Wally: You don’t even know who your parents are.

Lilith: Way to rub it in, West! You wanna go? Huh?

Or one more for good measure....

The Titans could be in the middle of a battle far enough away from the Tower they had to take their jet to get there....and out of nowhere, Lilith would teleport in mid-battle, hovering just overhead, and conveniently appearing right between Roy and a villain who’d been sneaking up on him but now was stumbling back in shock and then is backhanded through a building all the way on the other side of the street by Donna, who also only noticed him when Lilith’s arrival drew everyone’s attention there.

Lilith to Roy, whilst hovering (dramatically): I just saved your life there. You’re welcome. You owe me now, but in a few years you’re going to have a super hot brother and if you get him to go out with me, I’ll call us even.

Roy: ....I don’t know what to do with that.

Lilith: There’s a good chance he’s gay, but he could just as easily be bi. Hard to say. The spirits aren’t big on outing people years ahead of schedule.

Roy: Yeah that doesn’t help any.

Lilith: That sounds like a you problem then. Well, my work here is done. 

Lilith then proceeds to teleport away. The battle is not actually over yet.

And then of course, we can’t forget that time she got light and fire powers.

Which.

I feel like by this point, I probably don’t have to spell out the hazards of pyrokinetic Lilith.

That of course, led to what at the time was thought to be the culmination of Lilith’s lifelong quest to figure out where she came from and who her parents were.

Because of course Lilith’s backstory has to be as dramatic as everything else about her, this quest took the whole team to Mt. Olympus itself.

Where it was established that Lilith’s development of light and fire abilities were because she was finally coming into her true power...as the daughter of one of the Titans of old....the Titaness of the sun, who had conceived Lilith as a weapon she intended to use to kill all the Olympian gods so she and the other Titans could reclaim their thrones.

Y’know. As one does. Some parents have kids to continue the family name, some for the tax breaks, and some to assassinate their other kids, the Greek gods. No big deal.

Anyway. There is a case to be made that ridiculously high parental expectations are a big part of why Lilith is Like That.

Granted, she was Like That long before she even knew who these parents were, let alone their expectations, but perhaps parental expectations this ridiculously high transcend the usual ordering of time and space. Who can say, really.

Of course, despite how dramatic and difficult Lilith can be at times, and the zeal with which she occasionally torments others whose only real crime was Existing Within Her Vicinity And Thus Totally A Valid Target....

Like, her heart has always always always been in the right place. She is a hero through and through, and has never wavered from doing the right thing when it really matters, or protecting people. 

So needless to say, she wasn’t exactly on board with her long lost mom’s life plan for her. Even if that argument did veer more towards “You made me grow up on Earth and think you still get a vote in how I live my life? Hah! Do you have any idea how much Earth sucks?”

Her teammates, who all live on Earth: Hey!

Lilith: What? Oh shut up, you all know its true. Don’t @ me, I’m right.

(Another missed opportunity that I maintain would be perfectly in character for her...I like to imagine that Lilith’s visions sometimes let her glimpse memes and pop culture references years before they become a thing, and so she’s always making references no one else gets and when they call her on it, she insists they’ll get it someday, its not her fault she’s a trend precursor rather than a follower. And of course, the references she makes are only actual memes from the future some of the time. The other times she’s just pulling them out of her ass to see if she can get them to catch on with anyone).

Anyway, Lilith’s overbearing mom, who absolutely is one hundred percent the source of her daughter’s Drama, if that is at all something that can be passed down as a hereditary trait....of course tries to make Lilith play ball.

Dick, flopping down right on the spot, wishing he had popcorn: Oh my god, someone who isn’t me trying to get Lil to do what they want her to do and with not a chance in hell of succeeding. You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment. Nobody talk during the movie, I need to savor every second of this.

Of course, everyone who’s ever been in a room with Lilith already knew how that movie was going to end, so ultimately Lilith’s evil Titan mom and her nefarious plots were defeated by her daughter’s Obstinacy.

That didn’t mean, however, that repercussions of Lilith’s newly revealed origins didn’t linger.

Dramatically.

Lilith: Anyway, so that’s what I think we should do next. So hop to it, Titans! Let’s get a move on.

The rest of the Titans sit around their living room eating breakfast and watching the TV and just in general not budging.

Wally: And you suddenly think you’re in charge because...why? Exactly?

Lilith: Our team is the Titans? I am an actual Titan? It’s literally right there in the name. C’mon, Wally, look alive. Irony isn’t a good enough reason for you to be this slow on the uptake.

Wally: Anyone else wanna field this one?

Roy: Lil, don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you to pieces despite your lifelong commitment to playing Devil’s Advocate on behalf of all the reasons we shouldn’t....

Garth: Great start Roy.

Roy: But the day you’re calling the shots around here is the day I tender my resignation and leave a Roy-shaped hole in the wall as I flee and seek sanctuary with the JSA, the JLA, the Green Lantern Corps....hell, even Bruce.

Lilith: How dare you say such things to me, a celestial being.

Dick: Lil, in the interest of saving time and getting you to move so I can actually see the TV, now would be a perfect occasion to look into the future and see what the chances are of us actually putting you in charge.

Lilith, flopping down on the couch: Oh never mind, I already knew that, and its not like I even actually want the stupid job anyway. Look how grumpy it makes you, and you have way more patience than I do. I just wanted to see how far I could push it. I’m booooooored. 

Garth: You do know our TV is rigged to get reception from even other planets, right? We can watch pretty much any entertainment program in the galaxy with this thing.

Lilith: Yes, but none of them have me, so its like, what’s the point, y’know?

Wally: Well do you mind letting us keep watching it at least? We do have lower standards, after all.

Lilith: Fine, whatever. I’ll just...exist, I guess.

Two minutes later...

Lilith: Hey, Donna’s an Amazon and I’m a Titan so that still makes me Donna’s boss at least, right?

All of them, in unison: NO.

And then of course, ultimately it was revealed that all of that backstory was a lie and Lilith’s real parents are both normal humans and she’s just a psychic.

Wally: You mean we went through all of that for nothing? And put up with Lil lording being a demigoddess over us for years?

Lilith: Hey, you still got a free all expenses paid trip to Mt. Olympus out of it, so you’re welcome, and you still owe me. Don’t make me sabotage your meet-cute with the woman you’re gonna marry. I’ll do it. I’ll do it so hard, she’ll think she’s allergic to you.

Wally: ...wait, does that mean I’m not going to marry Frances?

Donna: Oh Wally. You didn’t really ever think you were going to marry Frances, did you?

Wally: No, I guess not. She never really clicked with the rest of you, and to be honest I don’t think any of us would ever work out with someone who didn’t get along with the group.

Donna: ....that was a dig at me, wasn’t it.

Wally: What? No! I swear. I literally just forgot Terry existed for a second there.

Roy: Lucky bitch.

Yes. Lilith wears the title of Drama Queen with PRIDE. Its the entire basis of her claim to being royalty, after all, and no, that’s not at all how that works either, but do you want to try telling that to the woman who can and will get the Lamb Chop’s sing along song stuck in your head until it drives you insane? 

One does not simply cross Lilith and get away with it, much in the same way as one does not simply walk into Mordor. 

No, one should stock up on Plot Armor, magic rings and immortal wizard companions before even making the attempt, expect to be spotted by the all-seeing, all-knowing Eye of Sauron Lilith from the moment you even try and pull some fuckwittery within her domain, and make peace with the 90% chance this will ultimately all end in a slow motion fall to a fiery demise in a volcano with a super ominous name anyway.

Like, speaking of ominous, let’s note the fact that this is a woman whose psychic powers are at best 10% precognition, comparative to their being 90% telepathy. When picking the only codename she’s ever used, did she decide to go with something that focused on the majority shareholder of her powerset, her status as one of the most powerful telepaths in the DC universe? Something like Esper or Psyche or Brainstorm or like, idek, Sir Thinks-A-Lot?

No. No she did not.

Instead she went with Omen.

(And even that was probably only because the other Titans wouldn’t let her just flat out call herself something with Doom right in the name, on the grounds that would make most people assume she was a supervillain. To which she probably replied something like “Well that’s because most people are dumb and that’s why I don’t like most of them. Why am I even a superhero again?” She’d frame it like a real question she was asking, fully expecting an answer, but then she’d wander off while they were still trying to come up with a response to that because she’s bored now and also she doesn’t really care. Being a hero for her wasn’t always a vocation or calling like it was for the other Titans. It was more like she figured “Eh, I have superpowers and no other major life ambitions, might as well be a superhero. I guess.”)

So yeah, screw the telepathy, she’s like, “Call me Omen.”

An omen for whom, people often want to know? Just how exactly is that name meant to be taken? Is she an omen for the people the Titans try and protect, meant as an aid, to help avert some terrible fate that would otherwise befall them? Or is it meant as like, she’s an omen of doom for the bad guys they fight, a forewarning that thirty seconds from now, the Titans will be kicking their asses? 

Or maybe its meant to indicate she’s an omen as to the fate of the world, and her career as a superhero is really her attempt to avert one of the terrible apocalypses she foretells every time she pops back up after a superhero sabbatical and says “Hello, valued friends and comrades. Tis I, the unfortunate bearer of grim tidings. The fate of the world once more rests in our hands, and if we are to have any hope of saving it, we gotta take a road trip. I call shotgun.”

Donna: “You know Lil, you don’t actually have to show up with an apocalypse we have to avert, whenever you get bored or lonely and want back on the team again. You could just say hey guys, I’m back, what’s for dinner.”

Lilith: Wow Donna, I guess you don’t care about the fate of all humanity, since I am trying to prophesy here and you’re totally killing the ambiance and its ticking the spirit world off and messing with my connection to it.

Donna: You don’t have a connection to any spirit world, you drama queen. You’re a psychic who has precognitive dreams sometimes which means whatever you came here to warn us about, you already saw and definitely won’t have an update until you, y’know. Go to sleep again.

Lilith: Umm, excuse you Miss Know It All, that’s not even remotely how my visions work.

Donna; That’s literally what you told us about how they worked. 

Lilith: Well I was lying, obviously.

Donna: Why would you have lied?

Lilith: Because I do that sometimes. Are we really at all unclear on that by this point?

Donna: Right. And, you do that, why again?

Lilith: I don’t know, Donna. There you go again, always expecting me to have an answer to every single one of life’s little mysteries. Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be understood, did you ever consider that? Like, why is Dick so inexplicably drawn to redheads and yet he’s never once hit on me, a Known Redhead? If a tree falls in the forest and nobody’s around to hear it, does anybody honestly care? God, is the universe allowed to keep a little of its mystique? Is that okay with everyone?

Dick: If I could cut in for a second. Lil, just to clarify, you’re not lying about this apocalyptic vision for any mysterious reason that’s of course, undoubtedly beyond our ken. Correct?

Lilith: Obviously. I never lie about the end of the world, Dick.

Dick: Great. And just for clarity’s sake, the difference there, that makes that a no-lie zone would be....

Lilith: These end of the world situations always end up involving a lot of work for me, and would I do that much work for anything less than the end of the world?

Wally: Yeah that checks out.

Lilith: You’re going to ski straight off a cliff and win a Darwin Award for how stupid your death is.

Wally: Hah hah, joke’s on you, you already tried using that one on me and I’ve made my peace with it.

Lilith: Dammit.

Dick: Okay. And since we just established you’ve made up so many fake deaths for Wally over the years that you’re actually recycling old ones at this point, I gotta ask, one more time, just for complete clarity....so the intel about your vision is one hundred percent down to the letter accurate, to the best of your recollection?

Lilith: Oh. Well if you’re going to be technical about it, I might have embellished a little here and there. But that’s just about the aesthetic.

Dick: ....the aesthetic?

Lilith: Just because Destiny decided to make me its glorified secretary and insists on me reading off the minutes of each and every celestial meeting about “Should we end all existence yet, yay or nay,” that doesn’t mean I have to be boring about it.

Dick: I miss your fake mom.

[itsallavengers]

Like A Goddamn Teen Romcom

I wrote the first chapter of my HarleyPeter fic!!! Contains: An abundance of tired dad! Tony, a pair of awkward 17 year old boys, and some serious self confidence issues. Teen Romance really do Be Like That

“Red.”

“No.”

“Blue.”

“Nope.”

“Uhh, we’re running outta colours here. Green?”

At the breakfast table, Tony sighed loudly. “Pete, I want to dye my hair to piss Pepper off, not turn myself into walking radioactive waste. Not green.”

Peter threw up his hands. “What’s wrong with red! It’s cool, it’ll match your suit, and it’ll probably drive Miss Potts insane.”

“I’d need to dye my hair blonde before it went red, d’you know how bad that would be for it? I don’t want to destroy my follicles. They delicate things and my stylist will rip my head off entirely if I tamper with them.”

With a sigh, Peter raised the cup of coffee to his lips and took a large sip. It was common knowledge that Tony wasn’t particularly coherent before 11am and two double espressos, but Peter really hoped that Tony wouldn’t actually end up dying his hair. As amusing as that would be, Miss Potts would absolutely skin him alive, and Peter kind of liked having Iron Man around on hand to help him fight crime sometimes.

He was at the tower early on a Saturday for one reason and one reason alone: Science. Over the past few weeks he knew that Tony and Dr. Banner had been working on something big to do with green energy and were close to breaking through, and Peter couldn’t resist just asking to be part of it, simply to observe more than anything. Of course, Tony had said yes- and so here Peter was, ready to go down to Tony’s workshop and watch the magic happen. Dr. Bruce was supposed to be arriving sometime in the afternoon, so until then it’d just be him and Tony going through the specs and running simulations. He was practically buzzing with excitement- science was always fun, but science with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner? 

God, sometimes Peter couldn’t even believe his life was real.

He chewed on a croissant absently as he scrolled through his instagram, grinning at some of the comments left on his photos. His profile was pretty famous- once Tony had bought him a good quality camera for his birthday, Peter had pretty much gone wild with the whole photography thing, and for some reason a lot of people on the internet had liked it, because he was on nearly 150,000 followers and counting. It was pretty trippy, really. He rolled his eyes at a comment he saw MJ had left- something mildly insulting about his choice of footwear- and then quickly shot off a reply, before switching off his phone and turning back to Tony, who had migrated from the table to one of the counters, where he was sat chewing on an apple and fiddling with the toaster.

“I thought you said you were gonna stop messing with Brian,” Peter told him with a frown, “he doesn’t like it when you tinker.”

“No, you think he doesn’t like it when I tinker, because for some reason you associate his low-pitched beeping with sadness,” Tony told him, tongue starting to stick out as he grabbed a screwdriver from his pocket, “he’s not actually sad. He likes upgrades. Look at him,” Tony held the machine up in his hands, grinning when the sentient toaster beeped three times, “he’s fine.”

Peter pulled a face, but let it drop. Sentient kitchenware was the norm in this place. “When are we gonna go down to the shop then?” He asked somewhat excitedly, fingers curling back around the mug of coffee on the table, “I’ll have to head home at about six for dinner, but I’ve got the rest of the day here.”

“Oh, lucky me,” Tony said, shooting a fond grin over at Peter, “as for the shop- you can head down whenever you want, as long as you don’t touch, tamper or blow up any of my stuff while you’re there.”

Peter pouted. “Then what’s the point of me going down at all?”

“To observe my brilliance and pure genius?” Tony tried, and then when Peter pulled an unimpressed face, he sighed loudly, “God, I swear kids used to be more respectful in my day. I swear you used to be more respectful. What happened?”

Peter grinned. “I got to know you,” he said simply, taking a sip of his coffee.

Tony glared at him and threw a corner of toast at his head, opening his mouth to undoubtedly curse Peter’s name- however he was interrupted by the sound of sliding elevator doors, and both of them turned to the sound of the noise. Peter subconsciously sat a little straighter- undoubtedly it’d be Miss Potts, and her immaculate visage always made Peter feel way too underdressed for- well- life.

But then the person stepped out, and Peter realised very rapidly that it was not Miss Potts.

It was, in fact, one of the prettiest people that Peter had ever seen.

The boy was maybe an inch or so shorter than Peter, with hair that curled over his forehead and fell into bright blue eyes. He was grinning cheekily from ear to ear and clutching a suitcase in his left hand, the other one shoved into the pocket of his jeans. He had an air of mischief about him, and he held himself with confidence and ease. 

“Tony, your son has arrived,” he said, and Peter promptly inhaled his coffee.

A few feet away from him, Tony sighed and then put down the toaster, wandering over to hit Peter on the back a few times and clear his airways. “Harley, how many times do I have to tell you- don’t start your conversations like that when there are strangers in the room. You nearly killed Pepper last time, and now look, you’re making Peter choke. You good kid?” He asked Peter, who just gasped and then nodded a few times, his eyes watering.

He looked at the boy- Harley, Tony had said- again, and his eyes widened in shock. “You’re Tony’s son?” He asked incredulously before turning to Tony, “you have a son?”

“I don’t have a son,” Tony told him, just as Harley grinned and said, “yeah, he has a son.”

“Harley likes to be a shithead,” Tony informed Peter with a pat on the shoulder and a roll of his eyes, wandering off and over to the other kid whilst Peter just gaped, “but no, we are in no way related. He basically just met me a few years ago and imprinted like a baby duckling, and he hasn’t left me alone since.” Tony grinned and then ruffled his hair, pulling Harley into a one-armed hug. The other boy returned it fondly- and Peter could see just over the course of the last few seconds that these two were obviously close. They must have known eachother a while. 

Harley switched his gaze back over to Peter, blinking a few times before smiling. “Hi,” he said, “uh- you’re Peter, right?”

Peter suddenly forgot how to use his speech. Fuck, that boy’s eyes were pretty. Like... warm ice. If that even made sense. He nodded jerkily and then smiled back, picking out a carefully selected word from his memory banks. “Yeah.”

Harley grinned- Oh God, he had a pretty smile too. “Cool,” he said, “I’ve heard about you before. Nice to meet you.”

He’d heard about Peter? From Tony? Oh God, then that meant Harley had probably heard all the embarrassing stories, what the fuck, he was going to kill Tony dead. “I- I haven’t heard anything about you,” he responded, before realising how terrible that sounded and jerking his hands up into the air, “not that- I mean- I meant to say, how do you two know eachother?”

Tony pulled a face and nudged Harley in the ribs. “Long story,” was all he said, waving his hand and then kicking Harley’s bag lightly, “you go get unpacked, kid, and then come down and meet me and Pete in the workshop, alright? I wanna get set up.”

Harley nodded and turned away, heading back to the elevator with a laid-back whistle. Peter’s eyes slid downward for a moment, before he forced them back up and blinked rapidly. God, he needed to get a grip. Harley had a suitcase which meant, for some reason, this strange kid was staying over in the tower with them- and that also meant that Peter might be seeing a lot of him. If that was the case, it wouldn’t do to get all... tongue tied, whenever he was in the same room as him. Peter needed to be cool. And calm. And possibly suave. Maybe even alluring-

“Peter?” He blinked, turning his head back to Tony, who was now alone and looking over at him curiously. “Did you-- were you even listening?”

He stuck out his chin, pondering it. “Uhhh. No.”

Tony sighed. “Your company is always appreciated, Parker.”

He shifted on his seat and leaned forward, glancing back to the elevator before going back to Tony again. “Soooooo,” he tried to sound casual as he tapped his fingers against the table, “uh, who was that then?”

Tony wandered back into the kitchen, over to Brian the Toaster. “Harley,” he said simply, “met him in Tennessee back when I was fighting the Mandarin. Kept contact with him ever since. He’s a dumbass.”

Peter frowned. “He doesn’t seem like a dumbass,” he said, “he seems... nice.” When Tony turned and looked at him curiously, Peter just shrugged and waved a hand. “What? He’s got a nice smile!”

“He’s got a smile that makes me fear for my safety,” Tony mumbled, “but I guess you can think what you want about it. Sure you’ll get on like a house on fire- just don’t take anything he says seriously. He likes to joke.”

Peter nodded. “Is he with anyone?” He asked- and then widened his eyes as, once again, he realised that had more than one meaning, “I- not as in girlfriend-sense, as in, you know... others. Parents.”

Tony shot him a strange look. “I know that was what you meant,” he said slowly, “why would you... okay, whatever, moving on- no, he’s not here with anyone. He’s just staying over for a few nights ‘cause he wouldn’t quit bugging me about seeing this new project, just like you. So.”

“Right,” Peter said, running his fingers across the rim of his mug. There were a hundred other things he wanted to ask the man, but he didn’t want to sound weird. He guessed he would just be able to ask Harley himself, when he came back down.

Or maybe not. Peter wasn’t so great when it came to... you know... talking. To people. Who were hot.

“Just out of interest,” Peter asked Tony as they both stood up to leave for the workshop, “is he with anyone? Like- girlfriends or anything?”

Tony stopped, turning his head to look at Peter rapidly. He stared for a second, before a small smile started to crack on his face; smug and knowing and spelling terrible things for Peter. He swore his spider-sense started to tingle a little at the look on his dumb mentor’s face. “Ohhhhhh,” Tony said in sing-song while Peter’s face dropped and he raised a hand warningly, “ohh, Peter Parker, do you have a-”

“-No no no, I was just wondering, Tony, wondering,” Peter said hurriedly, but of course, he’d made it too obvious and Tony had worked it out, dancing around Peter like a five-year-old asshole and poking him in the cheek.

“You like Harley!” He said in delight, “you liiiiiiike him, wow, look at that blush!” He cackled as Peter just shoved him away grouchily, but then strung an arm over Peter and squeezed, his expression ecstatic. “But for the record, no, there’s no girlfriend. And I’m pretty sure he said something about being Pan, so...” he shrugged and then grinned, pinching Peter’s cheek, “go for gold, my newly sexually awakened Spiderboy-”

“Eugh, gross, shut up Tony,” Peter yelped and pulled a face, shoving him again, “I’m not- he’s not that... just shut up. We should be doing science. And do not tell him anything, okay? I just...” He shrugged, feeling his blush deepen as he looked at the ceiling, “I just think he’s- he’s cute, that’s all. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything- I haven’t even said more than ten words to him.”

Tony’s eyebrows wiggled up and down. He was obviously taking a lot of damn enjoyment out of this, and Peter did not appreciate it. “Well, luckily you have a whole week to woo him. He’s staying over at my tower for a little bit, and we’re all gonna be working on this science project together, so it’ll be real nice and cosy for the two of you!”

Oh dear Lord, he should never have let Tony catch onto this. “Do not try to play matchmaker,” Peter said firmly, raising a finger, “do not even think about it.  I can tell you’re thinking about it-”

“-I’m not thinking about it-”

“-and I am telling you, don’t.” Peter sighed, pressing two fingers into his forehead and shutting his eyes. “I don’t even know him, I literally just think that he’s cute.” Very very, ridiculously, should-be-illegal cute. But still. That was it.

Tony sniggered, but raised his hands in defeat all the same, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep my old-man nose out of your business,” he said with a dramatic sigh, pushing Peter toward the stairs and then stopping in his own tracks. “You head down to the shop. I’m gonna go talk to Harley, see if he needs anything.”

“Tony-”

“I promise, I promise, alright! I won’t say a word.” Tony looked like he was seconds away from bursting out into laughter, but Peter knew when Tony made a promise he kept it, so he didn’t worry too much. Just pulled a face and turned his back with an irritated huff. “There’s some tweezers in the bottom left drawer of my desk if you wanna make a last-ditch attempt to sort out that left eyebrow of yours, if you want.”

“Oh my god, just go away,” Peter muttered, cheeks flushed crimson as he remembered the little piece of information and wondered whether he would actually be able to get away with giving himself a little tidy-up before the two of them came back down to the lab. Just to keep up appearances and such. 

God. this week suddenly seemed a lot more difficult than it had done five minutes ago.

-

-

As soon as Harley sat his suitcase on the guest bed and made sure the door was firmly locked, he gave himself a moment to internally freak the Goddamn hell out. 

That was Peter Parker. 

Fuck, that was Peter Parker.

He swore under his breath and then ran his hands frantically through his hair, trying to smooth it out. He hadn’t even goddamn combed it through that morning, fully expecting to only see Tony in the tower, maybe Doctor Banner if he arrived early. He certainly had not been expecting Peter Parker to just be.... just be sat there, drinking coffee and looking every bit as perfect as he did on his instagram pictures. Harley had thought they had to be at least a tiny bit photoshopped, because surely someone’s hair couldn’t curl that prettily, their face couldn’t smile so beautifully- but nope. He’d walked into that goddamn kitchen, and Peter Parker had looked at him and smiled, and Harley had had to delve into the deepest recesses of his mind just to remember how to function like a normal human being. 

Peter Parker.

Harley followed his instagram page religiously. He could admit that he was more than just a little bit infatuated with the boy- he always looked so perfect, and he seemed so kind. Tony talked about him sometimes too- because of course Peter was also a genius that Tony Stark had taken under his wing- and when he did, Harley only ever got the idea that Peter Parker was one of the best people on the planet. Tony clearly rated him highly. For months, Harley had been working out a way for them to maybe-possibly-perhaps meet up, so that he could maybe-possibly-perhaps find a way to get Peter to fall immediately in love with him. 

But not here, not now, when Harley looked like death on two legs and hadn’t showered in days. Also, they were about to all go and do science together, which meant Peter would see Harley working off twelve cups of coffee and a redbull, which would probably terrify the boy beyond belief. 

Oh God, this was terrible. 

He stood jerkily and cursed again, pulling a face at his reflection when he passed it in the mirror. He could shower now, put on some fresh clothes and try to get his hair to do something that didn’t make it look like it was attempting to defy gravity, and then... then just do his best to treat Peter as if he wasn’t the person Harley religiously stalked on instagram. 

Wow, that sounded fucking creepy. Harley hadn’t even said more than five words to the boy, and he already knew it was going to go terribly. 

He’d just finished setting out his chosen outfit (definitely clean, probably not that appropriate for sciencing in, but definitely cool) onto the bed and was grabbing a towel to shower when Tony knocked on the door. Harley turned on his heel, throwing it open and then immediately pointing an accusing finger when he caught sight of the man. “You failed to inform me that I would not be the only young person here,” he said immediately. 

Tony looked at him with a shrug, stepping into his room and looking around, “To be fair, Peter didn’t know either,” he looked down at the bed in distaste, “Harley Keener, it’s been five minutes and you’ve already made my room look like it got bombed. How do you even manage that?”

Harley shut the door and then leaned against it, sighing. “Tony, that’s Peter Parker,” he whined.

Tony pulled a face. “Yes, it is, well done,” he said, “what about it?”

Harley just spluttered. “It’s... everything about it! I follow him on instagram, I look at his posts every day, he’s awesome and funny and cute and now he’s just here and you didn’t even warn me and my hair is messy and-”

“Whoah whaoh,” Tony made a ‘time-out’ gesture with his hands, squinting at Harley, “since when did you care about how you look? I’ve never seen you take more than two minutes to get ready in my life.”

“I-- I always care-”

“Harley, you once got gum stuck in your hair and left it in there for a week.”

He blushed, folding his arms defensively. “Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf, huh?” He mumbled, “maybe I care now, when there are cute boys in the immediate vicinity which you failed to tell me about. I only brought my homeless-rat clothes! I don’t want Peter Parker to think I’m a homeless rat!”

Tony froze. And then he sighed, very loudly and dramatically. “Oh my God,” he muttered, “this is going to be a long week. This is.... a very, very long week. Wow.” He turned back to Harley and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him an assuring smile. “I promise, Peter also looks like a homeless rat when he’s working. You will be like a match made in awkward-teenager heaven.”

Harley just sighed, slumping against the door dejectedly. “Peter Parker would never look like a homeless rat,” he muttered, “Peter Parker is perfect. Have you not seen his instagram?”

“I have,” Tony pulled a face, “and I fail to see how a picture of his scrambled eggs managed to gather 30,000 likes. Jheeze, if you like him so much, just ask him out.”

“I can’t ask him out!”

“Why the damn hell not? I didn’t even think you owned an impulse control and I’ve sure as hell never seen you act shy around strangers before. You nearly shot me in the face when you first met me, and you were, like, seven years old.”

Harley sputtered, waving a hand as he felt his cheeks go pink. “Because he’s-- he’s Peter Parker,” he said weakly.

Tony just looked at him, and then threw his hands up in the air. “That makes no fucking sense, but whatever,” he said with a sigh. Harley just flipped him off. He was having a crisis here, and Tony was being no help whatsoever. 

Maybe he could go steal some of Tony’s makeup. Or his clothes. They were roughly the same size at that point, although Tony was more filled out- but baggy clothes were in right now, yeah? Peter would think he was cool, and less rat-like than he would if he turned up in his white-faded-to-gray sweater that had super noodle stains on the collar and smelled vaguely like Monster energy drink. “Can I pilfer through your wardrobe and get some clothes?” Harley asked, standing up straighter and turning to the door. Tony blinked, and then shook his head. 

“No. No you cannot, that wardrobe costs more than your house-”

“Huh? Sorry, didn’t hear that, too busy pilfering,” Harley waved a hand behind him and opened the door, hearing Tony sigh and mutter something unsavoury behind him. He grinned to himself as he slipped out of the corridor and heard Tony follow behind him. Coming to the Tower often felt more like coming home than it ever did back in Tennessee. Here, he could be an asshole, because Tony was an asshole right back to him. It was an equilibrium. It was just... nice. 

“I regret ever inviting you here,” Tony called out as he followed Harley up to his Penthouse, “you offer me no joy and I wish I’d never met you. How’s things at home?”

“When I’m not here, do you even have friends?” Harley asked, turning his head and raising his eyebrows. “Home’s still home. Mom’s still waitressing and not giving a shit about me, dad’s still MIA. You know the drill.” He shrugged and then stepped into the elevator, feeling Tony’s shoulder bump against him as he joined him. They stood in silence for a second, before Tony poked him in the ribs and Harley yelped. “What was that for?”

“I dunno. It felt awkward, you were talking about your shitty family and I wanted to lighten the mood.” Tony made a face and then looked over to Harley. “I can have them both killed if you want,” he said with a shrug and a cocked eyebrow. 

Harley just laughed. “Thanks, old man, but I think murder might be frowned upon by some people.”

“Uh, did you just call me ‘old man’?” Tony asked, looking at him in betrayal, “you know what, offer rescinded, I am no longer willing to murder anyone for you-”

“Awww, c’mon gramps, you know I didn’t mean it like that!” Harley cackled as Tony shoved him irritably into the wall, but then leapt right back to Tony’s side and linked their arms together with a grin. “Hey- you let me wear something cool and Armani, and I’ll not make another age-related joke for the rest of my time here. Deal?”

Tony glared up at him. “You know, I preferred it when you were smaller and less willing to emotionally blackmail me.”

Harley sniggered. “I seem to remember I was emotionally blackmailing you back then too, Tony. I’m just taller now.”

“Yeah, and I hate that,” Tony groused, before ruffling his hair and giving him a gentle shove over to his room, “now shut up and go rifle through my closet. let’s deck you out in some Armani and make Peter fall hopelessly in love with you, shall we?”

-

-

By the time Harley and Tony came down to the workshop, Peter had already set up his work-surface at the desk next to Tony’s, and was preparing a coffee for him and Bruce, who’d arrived about five minutes after Tony has disappeared. He heard them before he saw them, and briefly took another moment to prepare himself before he turned from the counter and put his Casual Face on. 

Across the room, he took in Harley, now with damp hair and a change of clothes- a slightly baggy Armani shirt, skinny jeans and a pair of faded Timberlands. He looked like he belonged on a damn runway- and here Peter was with his faded school sweater, a pair of sweatpants that were at least two sizes too big for him and held up with a bit of rope he’d found in the corner of his room that morning, and no shoes. 

Brilliant. 

Peter looked away rapidly, cheeks flushing scarlet with embarrassment. God, so much for alluring. Harley wore Armani as casual-wear.... he must be loaded to afford that. Peter wouldn’t dare wear his one designer shirt in the lab, because he knew he’d ruin it within five minutes. 

A kid like Harley would never even look twice at someone like him.

Swallowing down his disappointment, he walked hurriedly over to Doctor Banner instead of joining Tony and Harley, and then made sure to spend the next few hours thoroughly avoiding the other boy. Luckily Tony and Bruce were working on different sections, and so while Peter stuck to Bruce like glue (which probably confused the Doctor, but Peter could deal with the embarrassment of that later), Tony and Harley got cracking down on the lower sections of the large instrument that was taking up the majority of the workshop. Bruce had explained that, if this all functioned correctly by the time they had finished, then it would work to condense the carbon dioxide in major cities and turn the products into rock and gravel, which would then lock in the gas and reduce the CO2 levels in the air. One placed in every city would be enough to reduce the national carbon footprint by a quite frankly ridiculous amount, and Peter was here, working at the forefront of it all. It was incredible, it was breathtaking, a complete honour to be a part of...

And all he could think about was the state of his hair.

He hadn’t washed it. It was probably lying, all greasy and gross and flat on his head. What if Harley was looking at him? What if Harley was looking at him and seeing his horribly greasy gross flat hair and laughing at him? God, it was torture. He didn’t even know why he cared so much, he’d hardly said five words to the guy and knew absolutely nothing about him other than the fact that Tony liked him. Maybe if Peter actually spoke to him, he’d realised they didn’t fit at all and he could just relax. 

But he absolutely could not speak to Harley. Not when he looked like this.

So instead, he worked very very intently on the task Bruce had set him, and made sure that he did not have to look up and potentially catch the other boy’s eye once. A few times he had to talk to Tony, but he did so by simply shouting across the room rather than walking over to him, leading to a lot of frustrated cursing from Tony himself as he finally caved and walked over to Peter instead.

“You’re being weird,” he informed Peter, “it’s very obvious.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it definitely is. Bruce, he’s being weird isn’t he?”

The other man peered out from behind what he was working on, giving Peter an apologetic face. “Little bit,” he admitted.

Peter just sighed, burying his head further into the book he was studying. He resisted the urge to glance up nervously in the direction he knew Harley was stood, in case it turned out the other boy was looking his way too. “I’m just concentrating very hard on this book,” he tried, “it’s a very fascinating book.”

Tony snorted, which showed just how much he believed in that particular excuse. Then a second later, he flopped down next to Peter, nudging his side gently and then shooting him a knowing look. “He doesn’t bite, you know. I promise.”

Peter couldn’t resist any longer; he shot a rapid glance up over to Harley, feeling his breath catch immediately in his throat as he did so. He wasn’t doing much, simply sat casually on the chair with his feet propped on the desk as he screwed something into place on what looked to be a little robot. His tongue was stuck out in concentration, hair swept out of his face messily, and Peter watched him run a hand through it absently as he leaned forward and pulled the robot closer to his eye-level, muttering something unintelligible. He looked gorgeous.

“He wears Armani in workshops,” Peter said weakly, “that’s a little outta my league-”

“-oh, shut up,” Tony rolled his eyes and smacked him around the back of the head, “I can assure you that is the first time Harley Keener has worn something with a logo on it in his life. Usually he dresses like me after three days in the shop and no sleep. He just wanted to impress you and make himself look cooler.”

At that, Peter put his book down and snorted. “Yeah, right.” Harley didn’t even know Peter. He was just some stupid greasy kid who’d taken one look at him and nearly snorted coffee up his nose.

But Tony seemed convinced. “He does! He follows your weird instagram page, he told me himself. You really don’t need to be worried about what he thinks of you, Pete- he’s already followed like, every part of your life over these past three months.”

Oh. Peter blinked, looking at Tony in surprise. Harley already knew him? Okay, well, that was... unexpected. Peter wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. “Does he like it?”

Tony pulled a face and glared at him. “I feel like he wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress you if he didn’t, Pete. Stop being dense. It’s giving me a migraine.”

“Everything gives you a migraine.”

“Well then stop adding to my long list!” Tony shoved him half-heartedly and then stood up, peering over Bruce’s shoulder. “We’re gonna call a break soon anyway. I want Chinese food and a movie- it helps my brain work.”

This time it was Peter’s turn to pull a face, looking to Bruce for support. But again, the man simply shrugged and nodded. “It’s true,” he told Peter, “it’s like a stimulant. For us, anyway. How much Chinese food did we eat while we were creating Vision, d’you think?”

“Oh, like, a fuck-ton. Fatal amounts.”

Bruce looked back at Peter. “There you go. Best things are made on a diet of Chinese and coffee.” He smacked the lid of his computer down and then stretched his back out, standing up off the desk. “I’m probably ready to break right now, actually. You wanna order something?”

Peter glanced over to Harley, now sat watching them all curiously from the other side of the room. They caught one another’s eye, and Peter quickly looked away in embarrassment, turning back to the book and pretending as if he were thoroughly invested in it. “I need to go home first,” he blurted, “shower and stuff. Just order some fried rice for me, yeah?”

Bruce and Tony nodded in acknowledgement, and Tony informed him the food would get there at five and if he didn’t arrive in time his share would almost certainly be eaten. Peter was fully aware of Tony’s love for Chinese and so did not doubt this for a second. He quickly gathered his stuff and then hightailed it out of the tower, promising he would be back within the hour.

He was not back within the hour. 

Admittedly, this was entirely his own fault. But he’d wanted to make sure that he was looking his best, so that certain people didn’t get the wrong impression about him. He could clean up okay when he wanted to, and when he could actually find the right goddamn clothes. “AUNT MAY, WHERE’D YOU PUT MY LEATHER JACKET?”

“HUH?” She called back from the kitchen.

“MY LEATHER JACKET?”

“OH- IT’S IN MY CLOSET,” she informed him, to which he rolled his eyes and then stumbled out of his room, now looking more like a nuclear waste site than a place for humans to live. He saw May peer at him curiously as he walked through the hall, and when he came back out of her room a minute later with his jacket, she raised her eyebrows. “You’re looking dashing,” she told him, “hot date?”

For some reason, it made him blush crimson. “Uh- no, what, of course not... I’m just going back to the tower and wanted to- you know- freshen up.”

She eyed him. “You’re wearing cologne.”

“So?”

“You never wear cologne. You didn’t wear cologne to your Great-Aunt Morticia’s funeral.”

Peter huffed. “Well, maybe I’m just trying something new?” He managed to hold eye contact with her for all of three seconds before caving with a large sigh. “Or... maybe Tony invited one of his other proteges to the tower and they’re really pretty and I don’t know how to act around them at all and I’m gonna look stupid for the next week,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks go hot once more, dammit. 

May put down her ladle and cocked her head. “Well,” she said, “first thing’s first, ditch the tie.”

He looked down. “Really?”

“Yes, Peter, you’re going to the tower to watch movies and eat Chinese food, not try and secure a business deal. Ditch the tie, wear a smile, and show this person how wonderful you are.” She smiled at him. “There will be unable to not fall immediately in love with you.”

He face was bright and earnest, and Peter felt his heart swell with affection as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I don’t even... we haven’t even spoke yet,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, “he might be an asshole.”

“Well, on the off-chance that he’s not-” May leaned forward and squeezed his cheeks, shooting him another grin, “just make sure to chew gum after your meal.”

Oh, great. Well now Peter was thinking about kissing him, which was stupid and dumb and not even remotely likely to happen. He groaned and then shuffled out of her grip, hearing her chuckling behind him. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he mumbled, “don’t stay up late just to harass me about it when I get back, please.”

“No promises!” She called out, “Love you!”

“Love you too.”

By the time he actually arrived back at the tower, it was half an hour later than he was supposed to have turned up, and he sighed to himself. That meant he’d have to order himself some more food and wait another thirty minutes then. Great. 

However, when he got to the communal living room where Tony, Bruce and Harley were all lounging around, he noticed in surprise that his takeout box was still there, unopened. He blinked in surprise. “Oh.”

The occupants of the room all turned to him, and Peter pointedly made sure not to look in Harley’s direction. The boy was looking at him, he could tell, but Peter didn’t dare look back. God- how the hell was he supposed to exist like this for a week? He sincerely hoped he built up some courage at some point during Harley’s stay, or it was just going to be awkward for everyone. 

“Oh, he arrives!” Tony called out, throwing up his hands, “only thirty minutes late. We’ve been waiting to start the movie! I had to actually make conversation with those two just to pass the time, it was a goddamn train-wreck.” He flicked his hand over to Bruce and Harley, who both just rolled their eyes. 

“Don’t worry, you haven’t missed much- just some of Tony’s insane inner monologues,” Bruce told him with a gentle smile, “come on- we’re watching Pacific Rim. We even saved your takeout for you.”

“No, Harley saved your takeout for you,” Tony muttered, shooting Peter a sly look before anyone else could see and then looking away again, “I was in favour of just eating it, but for some reason Mr. Keener over here has now decided he’s going to be a good Samaritan and ordered me to save it.”

“I’m always a good Samaritan,” Harley said primly, sliding the box of Peter’s takeout over to him and shooting him a smile that lit up his whole face. It was mischievous, but his eyes were kind. Peter caught himself staring, somewhat transfixed at the beautiful icy colour of his irises, but a moment later he snapped out of it and forced his eyes back to the TV screen. He ignored the stifled laughter that came from Tony’s direction. Bastard.  

He sat down in the middle of sofa between Bruce and Harley, acutely aware of every move that he made in case he brushed up against the other boy. He probably looked like an idiot, sat ramrod straight on the couch and pointedly keeping his eyes on the TV screen. He knew that if he accidentally caught Harley’s eye, he might just start staring like a creep, and no one wanted that. 

God, he was terrible at this. 

“So, Harley,” Tony said about ten minutes into the film, rolling his head on the couch in order to look over at the other boy, “you found any apartments in New York that are cheap enough to buy yet or are you still looking?”

On his left, Harley sighed dramatically. “New York is too expensive,” he whined, “how the fuck am I supposed to afford to even buy a room in this city?”

Tony eyed him. “Oh, I dunno, maybe that bursary Stark Industries granted you would help a little bit, you know? Admit it, you haven’t even started looking yet, have you?”

Peter frowned a little in confusion, looking between Harley and Tony. Harley just pulled a face and flopped further into the couch, folding his arms sullenly. It was kind of cute. “I’ve been busy!” He said defensively, “and I don’t know how to do adult things yet! I’m working up to it.”

“Your planning skills astound me,” Tony said drily, waving a hand to Peter, “Pete could probably help you out. He’s like a 70 year-old trapped in a teenage body, aren’t you kid?”

He raised his eyebrows over to Peter and then shot him a look. He was giving Peter a chance to enter the conversation, clearly. Peter swallowed, looking between Tony and Harley. “Uhh,” he began, clearing his throat, “uh, why are you even buying a house here? Aren’t you my age?”

Harley smiled (Fuck he had a nice smile) and leaned back against the couch cushions, shooting Tony a glance. “Yeah,” he began, “I am, but I’m also part of the Stark Internship Programme. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a dumbass from Tennessee like me, so I’m gonna come move to New York in order to take it. Tony’s gonna have to deal with me for the whole program, aren’t you?”

“God help me,” Tony pulled a face and folded his arms.

“But anyway,” Harley shrugged and waved a hand absently as he picked at some of his noodles, “the program starts in a few months and I, uh, still haven’t really... organised anything yet. Because I am a dumbass. Like I said. So.”

Peter huffed in a amusement, but couldn’t help adding another tick onto the Checklist of Harley Keener. Not only was this kid smart, but he was smart enough to be in the SI Internship Programme. That was rare-- Peter had barely managed to scrape by through the skin of his teeth.  

So, to summarise: Harley was gorgeous. Harley was funny. Harley was kind (he’d saved Peter’s Chinese food from Tony’s clutches, probably more than once while Peter had been gone). Harley was a good enough person to be known and loved by Tony. Harley was ridiculously clever. 

Harley was 100%, unequivocally out of Peter’s league. 

He tried not to let the realisation show on his face. Well-- it was hardly even a realisation, was it? Peter had known that from the very fucking beginning. Harley just exuded an easy confidence that Peter did not have, he was charming where Peter was horribly awkward, and he moved as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Peter had never stood a chance. 

He was quiet for the rest of the night, unable to quite look the other boy in the eye, God forbid Harley somehow spot the obvious crush Peter had managed to develop over the space of a day. God, that was just pathetic. Tony and Bruce attempted a few more times to bring him back into the conversation, but Peter just didn’t know what to say. He felt awkward and stiff, like his body was suddenly too clumsy and big for him. He talked to Tony, because Tony was easy, but couldn’t bring himself to glance over at Harley, at the risk of doing something stupid like swooning at the sight of him. 

Fuck. Harley Keener had turned him into a mess in under 24 hours-- how was Peter supposed to do this for a week? He was going to have to go home and just work on... well, getting over it all, he supposed. It wouldn’t do to just pine over a stranger. That was weird, right? Weird and stupid. 

Yeah. He’d go home, re-evaluate everything, and tomorrow he’d come back crushless and fine. It’d be alright. 

-

-

Dinner had been a disaster, and by the end of it, Harley knew that Peter hated him. 

“What did I do wrong?” He whined, head falling against the kitchen table as Tony set about making coffee for the two of them at 11 at night. Bruce had headed off to bed by that point, and Peter had pretty much sprinted back home as soon as the movie was done, so it was just him and Tony now. “I wasn’t an asshole, was I? Was I an asshole? I don’t remember being an asshole.”

“You’re always an asshole,” Tony leaned up into the cupboard to pull out two mugs, sliding one across the table toward Harley, “it’s your default mode. But no, you weren’t any worse than usual. In fact, I’d even say you were quite nice, which was surprising. You saved his Chinese food.”

Harley nodded. “I did, didn’t I? Why would he hate me for that?”

“He doesn’t hate you, Harley--”

“Well he quite clearly does, he didn’t even look me in the eye!”

Tony paused, and then sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling. Harley wasn’t sure whether he was praying to God or just sharing a silent conversation with JARVIS. “I did not ask for this,” he muttered to himself, almost too quiet for Harley to hear, “I did not ask to have to be the middle-man between a pair of pining teenagers, Jesus fucking Christ.”

Tony turned around and then leaned against the kitchen, looking at Harley. “Peter is an awkward 17 year old who has no idea how to act around you, because, despite how trashy you are in reality, you do in fact put on quite a good appearance of having it all together. Peter is looking at you and thinking, ‘whoah, that boy is so cool. I’m not cool enough for that Cool Boy’.”

Harley’s brow wrinkled. “How d’you... why would he think that?”

“Beats me,” Tony’s hand flew out helplessly as he turned back to the coffee, “the kid’s a Godsend and one day, one fucking day he’ll actually realise that. But for now, he’s still holding onto the crippling self esteem.” His head turned back to Harley and he raised an eyebrow, his expression a little softer. “Think you need to have a little more confidence in yourself too, Keener. You’re not so awful either.”

Harley just pouted. It wasn’t that he thought he was awful, per se, it was just that... well, Peter was so much better. Peter was a cool city kid, he was a brilliant photographer, he was perfect. 

Harley was just Harley. Asshole from Tennessee with a mom who couldn’t give a shit about him and no real friends to call his own. Tony Stark, a man he’d met one time when he was seven, was the closest thing he had to family. 

Realistically, he just knew he couldn’t compare with that. 

“There’s a place in Brooklyn,” Harley blurted, because God, he really didn’t want to dwell on that sort of shit, “I literally just found it on the ride up to New York this morning, actually. S’nice. One-bedroom apartment, little kitchenette. Pretty nice area.”

Tony poured coffee into his mug and then leaned across the table, doing the same to Harley’s. Harley glanced up at him as he did it, eyes drawing over to the light in Tony’s chest. Last time he’d seen Tony had been about four months ago, and the reactor hadn’t been put back in at that point. “Okay, well that’s a start,” Tony nodded approvingly and then flopped onto the stool behind him, “I can come with you to check it out tomorrow, if you want.”

“Nah, it’s--”

“Oh, God, sorry, sometimes I forget not to sound polite all the time. I meant ‘I’m coming with you to check it out, so that I know you’re not moving into a place full of asbestos and situated in-between two rival gangs.” Tony grinned at him, and God, he was an asshole. Harley loved him. 

“Maybe I want to be living between two rival gangs,” He questioned, “maybe that’s all part of my plan.”

“Yeah, kid, that’s the problem. It probably is part of your plan, and as the only vaguely responsible adult in your life, I need to make sure it does not go ahead. You’d probably try and get into an ethical debate with a crackhead while they’re pointing a gun at you, and I’d rather not deal with that cleanup.”

They both laughed, and Harley raised the cup to his lips and took a large gulp of the black coffee at the same time Tony did. Both of them sighed appreciatively.

Then Tony put the mug down and shuffled in his pockets, pulling out a pen. He leaned forward and grabbed Harley’s arm. “Hold still.”

Harley obeyed, letting Tony write out a string of numbers on his arm which he realised was a phone number. He frowned. “What--”

“That is Peter Parker’s cell,” Tony said, stabbing a finger against Harley’s forearm. “You are going to text him tonight. He’ll still be awake at this point.”

His eyes widened. “Nuh uh.”

“Yes.”

“No! He doesn’t like me and I’m not going to embarrass mys--”

“He does,” Tony rolled his eyes, but then his face turned earnest as he looked down at Harley, “I promise, kid. Trust me. Just... God, just say hey, start a conversation, don’t do anything weird like spam him with pictures of clowns like you do to me. He’ll be better over text. It’s less awkward for him.”

Harley bit his lip and looked down at the string of numbers. “If I make an idiot of myself, you have to buy me a Ferrari.”

“You know what, I’m so confident that I will take that bet.” Tony stuck out a hand, and after Harley shook it, the man shooed him away. “Now fuck off and go talk to him. Breakfast will be at like, 9, probably, depending on how much sleep I get. Have fun.” 

Harley stood up slowly, cup of coffee still held in his hands as Tony backed away and then turned over to the counter once again. He was muttering something about teen rom-coms and ‘geniuses are so fucking stupid, I swear to God’. Harley chose to ignore it in favour of backing out of the room, a hand diving into his pocket and collecting his phone. He gripped it nervously between two hands, holding it all the way up on the elevator ride to his room. He finished the coffee as soon as he got in and then tossed the mug onto his desk before flopping on the bed, looking at the phone number on his arm. 

Should I, shouldn’t I?

God, it was dumb. This whole thing was dumb. Harley was overthinking it-- this was just a cute boy with a cute smile and a cute heart-- Harley needed to suck it up and text him, the same way he texted everyone else. If he didn’t respond, he didn’t respond. So what? He could get over it. He probably wouldn’t even see Peter after this week anyway. It’d be fine. Just grow a spine and do it, Keener. 

He braced himself and opened his phone. 

Hey, Peter. This is Harley, the dumbass from Tennessee.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

The Successor

And...that’s what happened...

...

...Dammit...Why Hiroko, why...!?

She showed no hint of fear last night...It’s almost as if...

She knew she’d forfeited her life as soon as she agreed to help you...as soon as she spoke Haiji’s name.

But why!? Why would she make that sacrifice! She’s so...Stupid!

Probably because...she cared more about you than she ever did for Haiji...

Hiroko has a son...but to her, you were like her own daughters...

...It’s....my fault...

Komaru...? No, don’t say that, I-

Sh.....she’s....dead....because....of me......!

It’s my fault It’s my fault It’s my fault It’s myfault It’smyfault It’smyfault It’smyfault It’smyfaultIt’smyfaultIt’smyfaultIt’smyfaultIt’smyfaultIT’SMYFAULTIT’SMYFAULT IT’SMYFAULTIT’SMYFAAAAULT!!!!!!!!!

KOMARU!

KOMARU! PLEASE CALM DOWN!

Gah...!

*Toko desperately attempts to console the struggling Komaru as she suffered a mental breakdown, with Mikan rushing over to help her.

IT’SMYFAULTIT’SMYFAULTIT’SMYFAULTIT’SMY--

*SLAP!!*

...

...

P-Please...!

Please, don’t do this to yourself!

*Toko, ignoring the rest of Komaru’s injuries, lunges at her and hugs her tightly.

Please...Please Komaru...!

...

I-I don’t mean to c-cut in at this important moment...But...

I-It’s getting pretty late, a-and visiting times are almost over...

N-No...p-p-please....don’t go away...!

*Komaru grabs Toko’s skirt, desperate to keep her close.

I’m not leaving...

I’m not gonna leave her side. Not now, not ever again!

...

...Th-That’s fine...I’ll make an exception.

I’ll leave. Only one of us needs to be here for her, and I prefer it be Toko.

O-Ok. But please, don’t make too much noise.

*Mikan walks away to tend to other patients and Nagisa leaves the nurses office.

...*Sigh*...Never leave her side, huh? Reminds me of something...

Huh!?

Wh-What’s going on!?

I-Is this for real?

Huh?

*Nagisa walks briskly over to the lounge area where Sayaka and Hina are watching a news broadcast on TV.

Reporter: Sightings have confirmed that the tower that once stood high in the sky, has now been reduced to nothing more than a high pile of rubble. Towa Tower was the base of operations for the Towa Group before-

Towa Tower is gone!?

Someone apparently bombed the place...!

You don’t think...Haiji...?

No, that doesn’t make sense! What am I thinking!?

Right...Why would he blow up his own tower?

...

Dammit...

*Nagisa leaves quickly.

[Hope’s Peak Meadows]

Hmhmhmhmhmmm!

So you really did come back?

Course I did. Didn’t I say I would?

You never said anything about blowing up a building before you did.

Are you here to scold me?

If that tower’s gone, then it gives us an advantage, right?

Not exactly. Haiji could be anywhere in Towa City right now. We’d have no way of knowing where.

But his base of operations is destroyed, so he’s suffered a loss, hasn’t he?

The more you provoke him, the more dangerous he becomes. Even though it seems like he’s hit the limit to how insane he’s become, he’s nowhere near it.

He’s already amputated a person and killed someone, among many other things. We can’t make this worse for ourselves...

I’m sorry Monaca, but the truth is...

I really can’t trust you. I don’t think you’re going to betray us or anything, but doing things like this separate from us really doesn’t help you.

Last I checked I wasn’t part of the team anymore.

Last I checked everyone hated my guts...

It’s because you go off on your own, doing your own thing.

I’m not saying what you did was wrong, and you just wanted to get back at the people who wronged you...

But it seems more like all you want to do is ruin other people’s lives and destroy everything just for the sake of getting a kick out of it!

If you’d just talk with everyone, we could come to agreements on what to do and how to go about doing it!

...Nagisa...?

What...?

You’re...not talking about the tower anymore...are you...?

...

I...I was nothing more than like a virtual pet to my parents...You know this...

But...Of all the grief...and the strife...and the pain I’ve suffered throughout my life...

Nothing...Absolutely nothing I went through...was worse than that...

[Flashback]

Don’t be mad, Nagisa. The one who sent Mr Servant on his task was me.

...Huh? M-Monaca!? What did you say!?

Ahem, liiike I said, I was the one who asked Mr Servant to help me.

Wh-What did you tell him to do?

I asked him to bring Ms Komaru Naegi all the way back here.

Y-You’re lying right? Th-This is...some kind of joke, right?

Sorry, it’s the truuuth.

Lies! Why? Why would you do something like that!?

Oh, that’s too bad. No matter how smart you may be, you still don’t understand it, hm?

But I guess that’s to be expected. I never actually gave you a proper explanation.

E-Explanation? What are you talking about? What needs explaining? We’re going to make a paradise, right? And...And that’s why we caused this revolution, right?

Sorryyy. Monaca doesn’t care about paradise or anything like thaaat.

...What?

Oh, I guess you could say the paradise I want and the one you want are different things.

I have no interest whatsoever in a paradise where kids can live peacefully. 

S-Stop kidding around Monaca! What the heck is this?

Sorry, but this is all for the sake of the successor to Junko Enoshima.

Huh? Successor...?

Yes, the second generation of Big Sis Junko. That’s what I’m after.

My aim is different than Mr Servant’s. But we agreed to work together at the beginning.

So, don’t get so jealous, Nagisa...

I-I don’t understand...What are you talking about Monaca?

It’s fine, it’s fine...You just have to keep doing your best for my sake.

Right? For Monaca’s sake.

...Huh?

Nagisa: ...ah!?

Monaca: Mmm...chu...mmm...

Ehee...I totally stole Nagisa’s first kiiiss!

Wh-What are you doing?

You love Monaca, right? You can’t live without Monaca, riiight? You love me sooo much, sometimes you even have perverted thoughts about me, riiight?

S-Stop...Please, stop!

You’re glad you got to kiss Monaca, right? If you work hard, I can do other things too, you know...

So you’ll listen to Monaca’s little request, right?

D-Don’t come near me! Get away from me!

You have such a hard time, everyone has high expectations of you because you’re so smart. And you even have high expectations for yourself. And you’re always suffering from that, right?

I said, don’t come near meee!

*SLAP!*

But Monaca won’t expect anything of you.

...What?

From the very start, I never expected anything of you. That’s why I kept the Successor a secret. After all, you’re just a weak, weak little child who nobody expects anything from.

I-I said get back!

*SLAP!*

Maybe nobody expected anything of you in the first place.

*SLAP!*

You probably just THOUGHT they did.

*SLAP!*

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.

*SLAP!*

Don’t come near me! Get back! GET BACK!

*SLAP!*

You hit a girl...How uncool. But...

Monaca loves how uncool and worthless you are, Nagisa! Monaca loves you most in the whole wide world.

Nagisa: Mmm! MGH!

Monaca: Chu...mmm...mmm...

Nagisa: Mmm...mmmnn...

*Nagisa falls to his knees.

If you want Monaca to have high expectations of you...you gotta listen to Monaca’s requests, okay?

For Monaca’s sake...kill all the adults. Risk your life for Monaca.

Isn’t that nice, Nagisa?

...

At the time, I was willing to lay all the blame on the servant...

Because...I just couldn’t believe that you were so hell bent on slaughtering countless innocents.

Sorry...you make it sound like killing a bunch of adults was my idea and mine alone...

I killed adults for the sake of making Towa City a paradise...Because I thought that’s what we all wanted!

But clearly...I was wrong!

But even after you revealed your true nature, I still held onto hope.

And what did you do? You crushed it...!

You jeered at me, you broke my soul! You ripped my heart in two, you tried to break me mentally by using my past trauma against me! 

You even forcefully kissed me, which by the way, is SEXUAL ASSAULT, we were FUCKING KIDS Monaca!

...

Not my best moment...I’ll give you that...

But...it’s too late for apologies...Isn’t it? That was so many years ago now...and I’ve been gone for a while...

...Actually...I don’t think so...

Huh? What, you think I can be redeemed or something?

That’s not exactly what I’m saying.

Despite all you had done, I still see you as a former friend. In fact, I asked Toko and Komaru to not hurt you too badly.

I was blinded by my affection for you and I believed in your goodness. But even if that was a lie, the abuse that you suffered was very real...

So...while I have a chance...a chance to make amends with you...I want to take it...

...

My reason for coming back...my REAL reason for coming back...was because I realized something.

Outer space is empty. A place with no hope and no despair. I went there to escape from it...

But life without Hope and life without Despair is no life at all...

Right now, I just want to up and do something...but I don’t know what.

But if there’s anything I can do to let you know that I’m on your side, at least for now...then tell me.

Actually...I had something in mind...

*He whispers something in her ear.

I see...I’m sure I can do that...But will you help me?

Sure thing...

Then let’s get started...!

[ionlydatesassyelves]

sad bats part 2

there is, indeed, a second part, where things get slightly better and the hero smooches the bat.

------

Antasma had slowly recovered inch by inch in the short time he'd been taking shelter at the mansion. It hadn't taken terribly long for the angry, red swelling on his ear to go down, and after a time, he didn't shake and cringe so much when Luigi carefully tended to it.

That was the real sign of progress to Luigi. The fact that Antasma could go twenty minutes straight without shaking now, could look in Luigi's eyes and speak up while they were talking, could uncurl himself a little at a time like he was slowly unwinding his defenses. It made Luigi so proud that he was trying.

He was still hurt, and he still had a long way to go, but the first steps were often the hardest to take. Luigi knew that too well, and he had grown so eager to help the bat along.

Luigi's thoughts derailed when he felt claws sink in his leg. He stopped his hands abruptly, let Antasma press his face against his shoulder and felt him shaking. Luigi kept thinking he couldn't be comfortable curled over in his lap like that, but it was the only way Antasma would let him near his bad ear.

A minute passed, and slowly, delicately, Antasma unhooked each claw from Luigi's leg. Luigi bit his lip, fighting down a noise. It stung already, but Antamsa was hurting worse.

"Sorry," the bat whispered, so faint Luigi almost didn't catch it.

Luigi waited for the shaking to still a little more before he spoke. "Its okay," he said, and tried to match Antasma's volume. "Did I hurt you?"

The ear flinched, and Antasma squirmed a little. "...no," he decided.

Luigi pulled his hands slowly back and reapplied the disinfectant to a clean cotton ball. "I just have a little left. Is it okay if I keep going?"

A stuttering breath, like he was waiting for something worse. "Yes."

Luigi gave him another moment, then took the damaged remains of his ear very gently in his hands again. Antasma cringed when the stinging solution met his ear once more, and Luigi found himself saying "Shh, shhh, it's okay... almost done, I promise..."

Claws pressed teasingly against Luigi's legs again, like Antasma wanted to tear him apart and it took considerable effort to resist. Luigi tried to ignore the sensation. They couldn't both be on edge.

At last, he finished, moving quickly to scoot the first aid supplies away on the floor. "Okay there, all finished," he said. "Its looking a lot better."

Antasma just flinched, and held onto him a little tighter. Luigi knew what he was thinking. It looked less infected, no less just shredded remains, no less a brutal punishment he hadn't deserved.

Luigi watched the bat a moment, then very gently reached up and ran his fingers along the back of his head. "...is this okay?"

There was a pause, and Antasma relaxed. "Its fine," he managed when he recalled his words. He let Luigi pet him a minute longer, and then whispered a soft "Thank you."

Luigi smiled, absently petting the thick violet fur. It had grown soft again since Antasma had shown up, damaged and terrified and desperate to warn them about Abscuro. Kamek had said the stress probably did it, which given the ear, seemed likely.

Luigi still couldn't believe it. How anyone--even a villain, even a twisted monster--could ever treat someone else this way. If Antasma had loved Abscuro half as much as Luigi had seen him worship Bowser, how could the shadow find the will in himself to hurt him so?

"He vanted you, and I couldn't do it."

Luigi thought about those words almost constantly. Perhaps this level of hurt and betrayal was beyond him, but more than that, he really couldn't believe someone like Antasma capable of such compassion.

And an hour from now, Antasma would be in a distant corner of the house, curled up and shaking with his claws sunk into himself, convinced he didn't deserve to be anywhere near Luigi. Convinced he didn't deserve to be safe and cared for, worlds away from Abscuro.

"I couldn't do it."

Luigi's heart broke again and again for the bat. Even after all the nightmares and heartache he had endured at Antasma's hand, the nights he'd seen Kamek sleepless and sick with worry, the stress he knew he was putting on Dimentio and L all the way across the country.

This giant, deadly, horrifying thing was curled up pitifully in Luigi's arms, afraid and desperate but with no where else left to go. Allowing Luigi to gently hold his hand and pet his fur and soothe every shake and tremor out of him. It was like meeting a totally different person.

Luigi couldn't imagine hurting him the way Bowser and Abscuro had. Couldn't comprehend how Abscuro had held him closer than this and whispered he loved him as he tore the poor bat apart.

Antasma took a deep breath suddenly, and startled Luigi out of his thoughts. He pulled back a bit, and squirmed like he was unsure of himself. "...Vhat are you thinking so deeply about?" he finally asked, his voice soft and quiet.

Luigi found his smile again, scratching at that little spot between the back of Antasma's ears that made him sigh so happily. Luigi was getting fond of that noise. "Its nothing," he lied.

There was a pause, then Antasma gathered his nerves and sat up straight. He would've been much taller than Luigi even sitting up beside him. Propped in his lap like this, the bat towered over him. Their faces were so close as Antasma stared down at him with wide, glowing eyes, and Luigi felt his breath hitch in his throat. "You daydream vhen it is nothing," he half stated, half accused. "Does... something trouble you?"

Luigi shook his head, and he wasn't entirely lying. It wasn't that he was troubled, it was that he knew the longing ache in his own heart too well, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. "No, I'm fine," he decided.

Antasma held his stare, and Luigi felt his tail flick against his leg, felt the bat's hands hold so tightly to his. Not like he was afraid, like he was wondering--again--if he should be. Luigi wanted to hold him close and squeeze him tight until he understood.

"I'm just..." Luigi hesitated. He reached up and gently held the side of Antasma's face. He waited for the bat to lean into his touch and gently ran his thumb along his cheek. Antasma made an odd, conflicted sort of face, but he gave a tiny sound like he liked it and reached up to lay his hand over Luigi's. Cautiously, Luigi continued. "...I'm just... thinking about you."

Antasma slowly opened his eyes. His grip tightened on Luigi's small hand--all strength and claws and it didn't seem to dawn on him that he could crush Luigi. He held on like he was pleading, his eyes afraid and desperate and begging Luigi not to drag his guard down and hurt him when he wouldn't stop him.

"...Vhat about me?" he said slowly, and his eyes searched Luigi's frantically.

Luigi held his stare and squeezed his hand and kept gently petting his face. He really wasn't sure what to say now, he was thinking too many things. You deserve everything and I wish I could give it to you. I would physically pull all the hurt out of you and throw it in the ocean right now if I could. I want to absolutely destroy anyone who's ever enjoyed that look in your eyes. I want to piece your heart back together even if I can't have it, because you deserve to be happy and I don't think you know that and its eating me alive.

He couldn't say any of that, he was going to scare the bat. But his silence would worry him too. He had to say something. But, gold eyes searched blue, and Luigi lost his train of thought again.

"Can I kiss you?"

It came out as a strangled, hoarse whisper, and he hadn't entirely meant to say it aloud. The following silence was suffocating, and Luigi could watch every emotion flood Antasma's eyes--first he was shocked, then he grew afraid, then there was a fleeting spark of hope before he thought to be afraid again.

"It's okay, it's okay," Luigi found himself repeating. His voice was so quiet, but it was a struggle now to talk any louder. As if the moment would shatter like glass if they didn't move slowly and quietly and carefully. "You don't have to, it's okay." He ran his thumb along Antasma's cheek again, and if Antasma leaned another inch down their foreheads would be touching. Two inches and they would be kissing. "Antasma, I understand, it's okay."

The hope was back in his eyes and then he was drowning in longing. Like he hoped he was dreaming and he would be sick when he woke up but there was nothing he could possibly want more. Luigi was familiar with the feeling.

"I won't..." Luigi took a shaky breath when his voice cracked. He saw Antasma's ears pin back and his eyes melt a little softer. "...I won't hurt you. But, I-- ...I understand. If it's too much, I understand."

"No--"

Both men jumped when the bat spoke. Luigi leaned back, afraid he was crowding him, and Antasma followed him. "N-no, I-- vait..." Luigi watched him curl back, then lean cautiously closer again, his eyes darting over Luigi's face as he struggled for words. "That vasn't-- no, I-- I meant--"

Luigi waited patiently.

"Please..." Antasma managed, and his voice cracked on just that one syllable.

Luigi felt his heart flutter, and couldn't contain a shaking smile. He coaxed Antasma gently closer until he could feel the bat's warm breath against his lips. "...you're sure?" he said one more time.

Antasma considered. Honestly, deeply struggled to consider. "Yes," he decided.

Luigi hesitated one more gasp, then leaned in and pressed his lips to Antasma's mouth.

The bat went stiff, squeezing Luigi's hand tightly. Luigi kissed him tenderly, rubbing gentle circles on his cheek and the back of his hand with the worn pad of his thumbs. Something about his teeth had made Luigi think his mouth wouldn't be soft, but the dangerous fangs hid neatly behind Antasma's lips and he had been very wrong.

Slowly, Antasma relaxed, and leaned closer to Luigi, gradually returning the kiss. It was deep and warm, despite the uncertainty from both of them. Luigi heard a noise stifled in the back of Antasma's throat--a high, longing sort of hum, and Luigi's heart melted when he heard it. He wanted so badly to drag Antasma on top of him, see what other noises he would let slip, drag his hands through thick fur and make him feel incredible.

Luigi allowed himself exactly five seconds after that thought, and slowly forced himself to pull back. He watched Antasma take a staggering breath, watched him try to process everything before his eyes fluttered open and searched Luigi's.

It finally dawned on Luigi to be terrified that he'd messed up everything. He watched the gears click slowly in Antasma's heard, and grew afraid the bat wouldn't trust him anymore, would fear a repeat of what he had just escaped.

He tried not to jump when Antasma leaned in again.

The bat drifted close to his mouth once more, and as his eyes searched Luigi's again, words seemed to fail them both. He let Antasma kiss him again, slowly and hesitantly.

Luigi felt stress and tension gradually ease out of them both. Antasma moved his hands from Luigi's and propped against his shoulders as he slid closer. Their hearts hammered against each other, and Luigi sighed, tilting his head back to allow Antasma to kiss him even deeper.

Some lost defense mechanism in the back of Luigi's head kept creeping up to remind him the creature in his lap had once wanted him dead. Had devoured pieces of his mind and thrived off his fears. But then those dangerous claws scratched so gently through his hair, and that commanding voice was reduced to the pitiful humming sound again, and Luigi couldn't stand it. He didn't care.

Luigi wasn't sure when his hands had drifted down to rest on Antasma's hips, but he came slowly to his senses when Antasma pressed him against the back of the couch. He could feel the bat's tail tangled tightly around his legs, hands dragging through his hair. He began to consider what Antasma was violently pushing down in his own mind.

Carefully, Luigi slid his hands up to Antasma's chest (had to collect his thoughts after the tremor that ran through the bat) and gently pushed him until Antasma took the hint and broke the kiss. They stared at each other, dazed and a little breathless. Luigi smiled dizzily up at him. "We should probably slow down..." he said distantly.

Antasma took another steadying breath, reaching up to rub the daze from his eyes as he nodded mutely. Luigi gently pressed their lips together just for a second longer. "Thank you," he said, honestly.

Antasma looked like he had no idea what to do with that. He stared at Luigi again. Less like he was comparing him to others, and more like he had never seen anything like him.

Luigi found a hundred more things he suddenly wanted to say, but he was going to overwhelm the bat at this rate. So, instead, he gently pulled Antasma back down until he could rest his head against Luigi's shoulder again. Luigi let him squirm into a more comfortable position than he had allowed the shorter man to tend his ear in. For some reason, it wasn't like Antasma to make himself comfortable, and Luigi was so glad to feel him relax in his arms.

"Want to stay here for a bit?" Luigi quietly asked. He gently scratched Antasma's good ear as he said it, and the bat squirmed closer and allowed it.

Antasma breathed deeply for a moment, considering. Wondering what he actually wanted and what he would allow himself. Luigi smiled when he felt the bat's grip on his waist tighten. "I vould like that," he admitted.

Luigi kissed the top of his head, and caught a pointed ear turn slightly redder in his hand. He made himself comfortable around Antasma and slowly relaxed as well.