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tarotnoob · 2 years

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PAC: Past, Present, Future - Your love life

These will be more general, probably more about circumstances than specific people, but I'll do my best on providing future predictions.

Choose a pile and scroll for your message.

1. Daisy cookies

2. Taiyaki

3. Cake pops

Pile 1

Past: In the past, there seemed to be a time when there was something lacking, whether you were single or not. Honestly, this reads more like a manifestation spread, but that could make sense given that we can manifest relationships. I clarified 5 of pentacles and got page of swords. So it seemed like it was some type of mental or intellectual lack, it could also be about faith or belief in the self since Magic makes me feel like that spiritual conception was lacking. Like, believing that you deserve something or just being in a negative mental space when it came to you individually or maybe even what your relationships were like. If there were relationship issues, it could've been that there was a lack in communication or something just didn't vibe or click. It could also be that your past romantic life has been pretty "rocky." Most of all, it just seems like in the past, there wasn't what was needed in order to manifest the right relationship for you. And there's always the possibility of reading this as if there were some okay relationships in there, they were situations in which somehow the other person helped you through something or pointed you in the direction of help or set you on the path to receiving help or putting you on the path toward the spiritual.

Present: 9 of cups clarified by Death, Hyacinth

Hyacinth is about the ebbs and flows in life and pushing forward despite that; Death is fairly similar in that something has to end or transform so that we can level up. 9 of cups is something to work toward or a wish, contentment. I was going to say this feels more hopeful, but it still feels heavy. There's been progress, I feel like there's been spiritual transformation since the past, as if you let go of something - maybe not of your own free will - it feels more like it just fell away. The 9 of cups besides working toward something for some reason gives me a 7 of cups vibe as in there are a lot of emotions still happening here, maybe some things are still raw when it comes to relationships. Honestly, what it feels like is let's say you were working on a project and you did all you could to make it work, but... through no fault of your own, it didn't work out even though you were really invested. But, there's nothing you can do about it except file it away in the cabinet and make the decision to move forward from there. There's a lot of water surrounding the present, so there could be a lot of emotions happening for you right now. Scorpio energy is coming through here, too, if that feels relevant for you. If you have a Venus in Scorpio, too, or Venus in 8th house. I do feel like with the 9 of cups you're ready and wanting for a relationship, trying to manifest something, but... I still feel like it's at the very start. We have a sapling and a baby, so whatever this is, even if it's progress, it still feels very delicate. If you're someone in a relationship, I would read the past and present up until now as if you met someone and you were kind of in the same place in terms of... looking for something more meaningful and having an intellectual bond or good communication. The present would be something new and delicate, but there is new growth here despite some ups and downs in the past or even still, but there's a different outlook to where you at least feel like you WANT something or are starting to fill that lack that was there in the past because it does seem that there's forward movement. And we can't really make light of getting the Death card as it's big change and transformation, death for the purpose of something being reborn.

Future: 8 of wands clarified by 6 of pentacles, first quarter moon in aries. The future looks like things might start moving a lot more quickly than you're used to, there's also the sense of stepping more into your power. It could be that in the past where you might have lacked for help or were unaware of help being around, this time you are giving and/or receiving something. It may also be that love for you in the future will be more reciprocal and equal. An Aries could be involved, too, or meeting someone during Aries season (which isn't around for that much longer). IF you are manifesting someone or a level up in a relationship, it could be during travel... it could be online, it could be a situation in which you meet and you or the person helps the other, but with the aries and 8 of wands, there's definitely waaaaay more movement than past and present - probably because there wasn't much happening in either. It also feels like this movement is meant to bring more balance - it might feel kind of super fast for you though but that could be because everything felt so slow for so long it's like being slingshotted ahead. As a really random thing, dancing or art or performance could be involved in this future or in this meeting - if they're a dancer or you meet at a concert or ballet or show. I also see more confidence in the future when it comes to expressing yourself or maybe feeling more on par with everyone else or if you meet someone and before you wouldn't have felt like you deserved them - at this point, it seems like you'd be like yes I deserve this - which is what was lacking in the past - that belief one has to have that their manifestation will happen. I can also tell you that first quarter moon in aries only happens during Capricorn season, so maybe a Capricorn could be relevant or that time next year. Or 10th house placements or 10th house stuff like public image, work responsibilities, professional aspirations. So you could also meet the person because you or they are on a work trip or this is also that fame area, so maybe one of you has a degree of public fame and recognition or fame is somehow involved in the meeting. Imo I shouldn't say that it'd happen next January as this has quick movement to it - if you are going to meet someone you've been manifesting, I'd feel fine saying it'll happen within the next month, lol. I also feel like you'll just know and also in this relationship you'd feel more like you can be yourself and the other person may mirror you in some ways, as well. They might have money, too, enough to be able to give to charities - that or you'll also be receiving news of receiving money soon as an extra bonus.

But, really, it just looks like.... a path from a spiritual or down on my luck self pity type of energy and then moving on from that by cutting losses and letting go of the past and by doing so it seems like you're (in the future) on a fast track toward more confidence and attracting things that are equal to the energy you put out there, which could mean you'll manifest something a lot sooner than you think.

---

Pile 2

Past: Ace of pentacles clarified by page of cups, decision. Well, that's fairly straightforward. It does seem like there was some sort of offer in the (recent?) past or at least an opportunity for something that you could have decided to go with. It's an offer from a page of cups, so that certainly could be a relationship. Maybe there were even multiple offers, which is why you had to decide.

Sidebar: wtf i swear every time i do a reading, I attract bugs. A huge spider just ran at me and I had to defend myself.

I don't want to overcomplicate what the past could be - if it wasn't a relationship, in general, you definitely received an opportunity or a communication from someone about an opportunity, and there was a decision to be made or even multiple paths/opportunities. Makes sense given the present.

Present: 7 of cups clarified by ace of wands, hibiscus. So again, we have this situation where there are multiple opportunities and it's even clarified by yet another new beginning or offer - so perhaps the past and present are closely tied for this pile, and you're still trying to figure out what to do about this decision. The only advice may lie in the hibiscus card, which is talking about what stage we're at - it could be with relationships and being in the same place or something else going on where you're wondering which thing to do based on where you are or they are in life.

Future: 9 of swords clarified by 2 of cups and "new moon in capricorn step up and lead" ... this pile is pretty straight-forward. I can totally understand if you don't resonate with as it would only be for someone who really has received multiple offers or has multiple opportunities in this moment and is trying to work through what to do. With 9 of swords, there is a sense of worry or sleeplessness, possibly related to this decision. And we're back to the 2 of cups, so again it seems to already be about a relationship or the offer of one that someone has given you - there does seem to be an emotional tie, even a sexual or physical interest or spark with this person so I'm not sure what's holding you back but based on the stages it could be that perhaps one of you is older/younger or in your mind there's some type of disparity perhaps. Like maybe you're in college and then you get engaged but one of you wants to work and the other get married or you want two different things - kids or no kids. It's like there's an opportunity here if you aren't already in a relationship - but there are real or imagined obstacles for not immediately making a decision but with the step up and lead card - it makes me feel like okay well you just have to make that decision and even if you're scared of what the other person will say, I think you just have to take responsibility here and talk to the other person or have a chat with yourself. Or if it's a relatively new relationship, then maybe there are some doubts or it could even just be that the two of you discuss potential worries or anxieties together and - together - step up and lead in this new relationship. I'm feeling like a lot of people maybe already are dating someone and maybe there's a tough convo that needs to be had or if you're single but deciding between two people or single but you had a job offer and this love offer and you're not sure if you have time for a relationship, etc... to me - it (for the future portion) reads like: two close people discussing worries with each other about something related to the future or work. Or, it's someone anxious about some type of decision or conversation that needs to be had with another person. I don't see anything where it suggests a breakup convo, I see it more as a convo about worries about the future - maybe with the relationship or maybe totally not related to the relationship - because it could be about a job where you have to move away from this person or move together or you get a promotion and there's worry if there will be enough time to spend together or if there is a relationship issue, having to be the one to bring it up even if you're nervous about it. And like I said, it seems to be in relation to ... being on the same page... or something to do with "multiple opportunities" being given to you at this time. Maybe it's even overwhelming how many opportunities are coming to you at this time but they're there and I have two decision cards popping up.

As for relevant signs, just page of cups can mean water signs and Capricorn in the oracle card, intuitively maybe even some Gemini energy. And for those who are like this sounds more like the non-romantic stuff going in my life - well that's possible too but good on you for having so many options and whatever the specific situation for any of you - now's the time to... go for it, to decide which thing you want to go with... I don't feel indecision here, I feel like you know what you want to do, if it's a work opportunity it seems to be inspiring and creative. And if it's a relationship it's like I said, there are genuine feelings and physical attraction and something reliable and solid being offered, imo. In a sense, in this past-future timeline, there is worry in the past and present and future so i think this is all a very short window of time, probably going on right now. And you aren't going to feel any better about anything until you decide or have some necessary convo with someone important to you.

I'm really drawn to yellow in the present too so have some confidence and uhh... step up and lead!

---

Pile 3

I can already see there are some similar cards popping up as pile 2 so feel free to read that if you feel called, especially when it does seem that pile 2 and 3 seem to show a recent offer of some sort for a relationship or people who are already in a relationship. Or the cards didn't listen to me and are giving general advice D:

Past: 7 of swords clarified by King of Cups and ace of pentacles, opportunity and structure

So, I'm seeing mostly strategy and taking advantage of resources in this 7 of swords as opposed to anything negative here. There's an opportunity to build something solid, especially when it comes to a relationship. If the King of Cups is offering you an ace of pentacles, you'd expect it to be about love and commitment or some type of true emotional offer, but perhaps something about this offer - it might be necessary to... think on it first. It makes me think of maybe you're juggling multiple things or - were - since it's the past, but besides seeing a potential relationship offer here - it's like... you may need to get your ducks in a row first. For example, say there is a potential relationship that was happening but you have a pretty tough job or you live in two different places, so... before you accepted the offer or to make it work, you'll have to do some kind of strategizing so that everything feels solid and doable.

It could also just be that even the oracles are like "here's a solid offer you received in the past"... and maybe 7 of swords is multiple offers or multiple opportunities happening at once... whether it's multiple offers from people or a job and a relationship offer coming at once or an offer for more commitment from someone you're already dating - like moving in together or an engagement.

Present: Lovers clarified by two of cups and Yarrow

Even yarrow has the word "support" in the first sentence. It's also about life balance, which brings in the harmony aspect of the Lovers card. But besides like a healthy balance of some kind, it also talks about being prepared for change since variability is the more constant in life as opposed to... constancy, lol.

But let's focus more on at the present, there seems to be something harmonious happening for those in a relationship. If you aren't in one right now, well I guess this is just a nice... balanced time in your life but come on, two of cups and lovers??? HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO READ THAT? The only thing I'm warry about how the yarrow goes kind of buzzkill at the end with the yeah it's great to have homeostasis but HOW LONG DOES IT LAST?

I do also see - and I talked about this with pile 3 - lovers can be about choice and communication, so... like with pile 2, maybe there are decisions involved in your situation... in your personal life or having to do with the relationship. Maybe things seem really great right now, but maybe there's something one of you wants to bring up that might change how "stable" and pleasant it seems. Like, maybe there's something someone doesn't want to bring up?

It might make sense if we look at future.

Future: ace of swords clarified by 9 of wands and release control

the release control card does say that it can be someone feeling possessive of another person or it can just be someone who's feeling defensive and doesn't want to release something. it could be things like not wanting to change something about a relationship when it is doing just fine... and so like... not bringing up certain conversations that should be had. because ace of swords is certainly about communication or ideas or decisions... clarity. with the 9 of wands and the release control - i feel like the ace of swords is being blocked out but you're going to 1. have to have a convo even if it changes stuff 2. going to have to make a decision 3. maybe there's some type of clarity that needs to be shone on an issue where someone is feeling possessive or controlling or overprotective... i definitely sense some stubbornness and someone not wanting to change... or have things about whatever the situation is change.

the release control card does say that it can be someone feeling possessive of another person or it can just b e someone who's feeling defensive and doesn't want to release something. it could be things like not wanting to change something about a relationship when it is doing just fine... and so like... not bringing up certain conversations that should be had. because ace of swords is certainly about communication or ideas or decisions... clarity. with the 9 of wands and the release control - i feel like the ace of swords is being blocked out but you're going to 1. have to have a convo even if it changes stuff 2. going to have to make a decision 3. maybe there's some type of clarity that needs to be shone on an issue where someone is feeling possessive or controlling or overprotective... i definitely sense some stubbornness and someone not wanting to change... or have things about whatever the situation is change. Plus King of Cups is here, so water signs.

And for some - going back to that 7 of swords, it could be that... someone lied about something and... no one wants to confess because it would change things - I don't really see that but maybe it's just a secret.... like someone received an offer or opportunity and they aren't mentioning it. I don't see this as cheating or betrayal unless... a partner keeping a secret from you is.... a betrayal but... I'm not certain on that because the other cards around it are positive and 7 of swords can be strategy and taking advantage of resources and given the other cards, it's someone having multiple choices or opportunities that they've collected.

In a nutshell - I mean I see a solid offer, an emotional or romantic one... I see present as... a harmonious relationship or at least a harmonious time in someone's life and also strong Gemini energy. the only thing in gemini right now is ceres... and mercury is in pisces. either of those transits could be relevant for things you might be going through right now.

While Ceres transits Gemini, the concept of “care” doesn't require huge gestures. It requires us to witness others and allow them to tell their stories. It demands that we begin to internalize the variety of experiences that those around us have confronted during pandemic life.

It's funny because if you could see this two of cups it's a person talking to their mirror image in the... mirror, so that plus gemini's communication aspect certainly makes sense... like witnessing our closest people's worries and concerns.

And mercury in pisces is being able to express or think in ways that are more creative and intuitive... and... less... structured.

So another more general message for this time period is... maybe embracing being more open regarding... thoughts... or how we perceive or deal with things, being less guarded and trying to maintain control... like it feels as though the Pisces energy happening now is being very pushy - tapping more into our more spiritual or creative or emotional side... with the gemini energy coming in too, there's lots of focus on... mental energy and thinking, communication... and maybe there being financial opportunities in situations where you have to use your imagination or creation of something.

A very specific message for some for in the past, maybe this opportunity had to do with moving into a place or building something from nothing. It's almost like a manifestation vibe... there was.... a desire for something or... feeling about something... and that was used to create something solid. It can apply to a relationship but it could apply to something else... just wanted to point that out.

Whatever is going on in the future though - the advice is to accept change, let go of control, lower your guard or expectations - and also make a decision or communicate the things that are troubling you instead of holding it in, also... not being stubborn. And I think this is good advice especially for those reading this post in March 2022 and this being related to upcoming Taurus season :) But the actual first quarter moon in taurus i think... takes place during Aquarius season... maybe... forget.

Hopefully that resonates some and if it doesn't sound right for relationships, feel free to apply it as a general message if it resonates there, instead!

#tarot #pick a card #love #past present future #relationships #pick a pile #tarot reading #spirituality #astrology

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

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COSMIC - S1:E3; Chapter Three, Holly, Jolly - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘠/𝘯, 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Hopper pulls up to the library, thankful to get a spot up front. He steps out of the vehicle and makes his way inside, Powell behind him.

Hopper takes off his hat as he enters the building, making sure to send a big smile to the librarian.

"Hey, Marissa. How you doin'?"

The disapproving look on Marissa's face never left as she spoke.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here."

"What?"

"You could have at least called, said, 'Marissa! Hey, it's not gonna work out. Sorry, I wasted your time. I'm a dick.'"

Powell was unsure of what to do; he looked from Marissa to Hopper, waiting.

Hopper only stares ahead for a moment, unsure of what to say. Finally, with a subtle smirk, he mutters,

"Yep."

She looks to him, shaking her head expectantly. He seemed at a loss for words again as he shook his head.

"I'm sorry. Uh... Maybe we could go out again next week?" He offers, hoping for the best. She slowly turns her head to Powell and gives him a 'is he for real?' look. In turn, Powell slowly looks over to Hopper awkwardly. Hopper, already knowing he chose his words poorly, visibly cringed, and was eager to change the subject.

"Newspapers? You guys got newspapers around here?"

Marissa had shown them over to the filing cabinet and started pulling out drawers, naming the selections.

"We have the New York Times, the Post, all the big ones. Organized by year and topic. You can find the corresponding microfiche in the reading room." She briefly gestures behind her.

"Okay, we're looking for anything on the Hawkins National Laboratory."

"Well, shouldn't you be looking for that missing kid?"

"Yeah." He states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We are."

She nods her head, suspicious.

"Uh, so, why don't you start with the Times, and we'll check out the Post."

Marissa scoffs and looks behind her to Powell, unsure if he's serious. She turns back to Hopper and lets out a soft 'hmph!' before strutting away. Powell steps forward and lowers his voice in a questioning tone.

"The librarian?"

Hopper shrugs wildly before diving into the drawers of files.

The two men had gathered a handful of files and set to work in the other room. Each at their own microfiche, reading every column.

Hopper scanned another column that caught his attention.

'ALLEGED EXPERIMENTS, ABUSE' by T. Bridges.

"Terry Ives' legal case against embattled research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner suffered another setback today when the district attorney's office formally refused to press criminal charges against Brenner, his fellow researchers, assistants, or the project's sponsors, citing lack of evidence. Local law enforcement executed a search..."

Next column.

'MKULTRA EXPOSED' by T. Bridges

"The trust of the American people has been shaken to its core as a special inquiry into a covert CIA operation, code-named MK ULTRA, has exposed the extensive details about that which has been haunting the nation for the past decade. Six subjects have come forward..."

This particular column was accompanied by a negative of seven people. Five of which were slightly disheveled, in hospital gowns. A man in a turtleneck and blazer stood obediently in the back. A man in a fancy suit and tie, holding a clipboard stood front and center. A man with whom Hopper guessed to be Brenner.

Next slide.

'DR. MARTIN BRENNER NAMED IN LAWSUIT' by A. Ward - Staff Writer

"Senior researcher Doctor Martin Brenner and seven other staff researchers have been named in a new lawsuit filed today on behalf of former federal research study participant, Terry Ives. Dr. Brenner's attorney in conjunction with the Department of Energy has asked the circuit court to seal the details of the lawsuit until the attorney general's office can determine that no federal..."

Hopper found himself more engrossed and confused as he read.

"...her newborn daughter for scientific research. Following an investigation, the district attorney has already declined to press criminal kidnapping charges against the research facility and staff, citing lack of evidence. Dr. Brenner's attorney called Ms. Ives' allegations baseless and tragic, citing Dr. Brenner's excellent reputation, his twenty recent peer-reviewed scientific papers..."

The next slide was a short column with another accompanying photo. Although the picture was small and blurry, it wasn't hard to see the grief-stricken features on the young woman.

TERRY IVES SUING - 'They took my daughter' by Benjamin Buck

"After the district attorney's office declined to press criminal charges citing lack of evidence, local resident Terry Ives is not giving up her search for justice for herself and her daughter, and this morning filed a lawsuit against research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner and his staff.

Ms. Ives' suit seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and multiple allegations of kidnapping; both attempted and successful..."

Hopper sighed, trying his best to swallow all of this new information.

'What the hell has been happening in this damn town?'

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Three. One. Five. The numbers on the strange new bracelet read three one five.

Thankfully, El was able to find her way back outside by the large telephone pole where Mike told her to meet them. But El was still nervous. She just hoped no one had spotted her.

El couldn't find it in her ability to stay still. She couldn't stop pacing and she was subconsciously shaking out her hands, her nerves shot.

'What if someone saw her?'

She eagerly checked the bracelet, muttering aloud to herself.

"Three-one-five. Three-one-five. Three-one-five..." her voice turned soft as her confidence wavered. The only thing that was able to take her attention away from the bracelet was the familiar sound of meowing next to her.

Shocked, she looked over to see a scrawny orange cat staring at her from the other side of the fence. It began to meow again and panic and guilt crashed over her as once again another terrible memory resurfaced.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

The white cat in the cage before Eleven let out a terrible hiss at her. Her head began to shake as she strained her ability. The combination of the cat growling and hissing and the frantic beeping of the machines was enough to push her even further.

She didn't want to. She never wanted to hurt this poor creature. But she knew that if she didn't, she would have to face the consequences. She would have to go back there. The cat gave out another deep growl and Eleven tried to the best of her ability not to cry. Not to break.

The cat began snarling, and it quickly turned to whimpers of pain. Eleven was freely crying now as she looked between the frightened cat and Papa. She gave one final look at the cat before yanking the wires off her head in defeat.

No. She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She looked at Papa defeated. She shook her head in defiance, though her sobbing gave away her true feelings. He only stared at her in disapproval.

"No! No!" She struggled and kicked. She fought back with all her might while Papa stood at the end of the hallway. Doing nothing.

"Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!" She screamed her throat raw as the men dragged her away, yet as always Papa only watched it happen.

"No!" Her shrieks grew more violent as she neared the room.

She couldn't go back in there.

She couldn't.

The men tossed her inside and began closing the door.

She wouldn't.

Eleven stood to her feet and before they could close the steel door, she threw it open in a fit of rage, her attention quickly shifting to one of the men doing this her. In the very next instant, his back was thrown into the ceramic just behind him. His limp body slipped to the floor, leaving a large hole in the tile.

The second man spared a second to look before turning to her to try and restrain her.

Before he could even step foot in the room, he was dead on the floor, his neck snapped. All with the flick of her head.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion, she collapsed against the wall, her nose and ears bleeding.

Papa appeared. He took one look at the cracked wall, to the collapsed man, and then at Eleven. Yet she couldn't move. She was completely drained, all she could do was stare at him. He slowly stepped towards her, staring at her.

She looked up at him in fear of what would happen next, and what did was not something she could have anticipated. He slowly reached his hands out, cupping her face. Sobs wracked her body, and he stared at her in awe.

"Incredible."

He reached down, hooking an arm under her legs, th arried her like an infant. He carried her out of the room and down the hallway, staring at her sobbing form as if he hadn't been the one to cause it.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"El!"

El turned her head to see Mike, Y/n, Lucas and Dustin. They were walking their bikes across the muddy grass in her direction.

Mike looked to her concerned as he, as well as the others, turned their bikes around.

"You okay?"

Relieved to see her friends, she nodded her head.

Mike gave the seat of his bike a few pats.

"Hop on. We only have a few hours."

Hesitantly, she walked forward. But she complied nonetheless and got on Mike's bike, and the five of them peddled off.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The five us were walking our bikes through the woods. Dustin and Lucas were in the back, while Mike and El were just a few steps in front of me. El was looking around as she walked and suddenly I felt her eyes on me. I suddenly became very self-conscious of my cut.

I got it to stop bleeding eventually, but I don't know how I will ever explain this to Mom. She worries so easily. And, I don't think I have ever had a cut this big but I'll survive. My thoughts are cut short when I become very aware of the fact that El had fallen back next to me and was now looking at me with concern.

"Why did they hurt you?" Her voice came out very soft but was laced with concern.

"Huh?" I asked surprised.

El extended her arm out and pointed to my chin. I looked down, upset with how things went today.

"Oh, that. I uh, well... I was tripped. By this mouth breather, Troy."

Her face scrunched up in confusion.

"'Mouth breather?'"

"Yeah. You know, a dumb person,"

I suddenly grew quiet, and El noticed.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

I paused. "Yeah. Yeah, it'll be ok." I said.

I knew what she meant but I didn't think it was noteworthy to bring up how I was feeling.

"Y/n." I turn to look at her and she is giving me a knowing look. "Friends tell the truth."

I began to fight tears that were stinging my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall.

"I just... I just miss him. Will, I mean. And the things Troy was saying..." I began feeling myself get worked up again at the mere thought of it. "They were awful. Truly awful, and I just... I'm tired. And worried. And I just want to find my friend."

There was suddenly a somber silence over the group that was quickly broken by El's soothing tone.

"Y/n," she said sternly, pulling my eyes to her. There was a soft demand behind her eyes, willing my gaurd down. "I understand."

I looked at her, a grateful smile on my features and my voice came out in a weak whisper.

"Thank you, El."

She gave me a warm smile in return. It very much resembled the one I gave her the first night we met. It was at this moment I knew. I had just found myself a very unique and powerful friendship; one that stood out from my friendship with the party.

El and I have a lot more in common than I thought.

#you'll float queue #stranger things #will byers x reader #reader insert #will byers #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #cosmic #y/n henderson #stranger things x reader #x male reader #x m!reader

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shipskicksandgiggles · 3 years

Note

Miscellaneous dialogue prompts: 29 and 28 and I'm assuming I have to say a ship so parkner

ooo yes yes yes that's so good

prompts: “So I forgot to tell everyone except for like two people that I was getting a tattoo and I’ve gotten yelled at so much this week.” and “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to make my files bisexual themed?” (from this list)

Read Bleeding Edge Ink here on ao3

the references I used for the tattoos:

~~~

“Hey, have you seen the Satellite file anywhere? Pepper’s asking about contracts and fine print stuff that I don’t understand.”

“Is it not in your office?”

“Peter, if it were in my office I wouldn’t be asking. You haven’t seen it?”

“I also haven’t been actively looking for it. Where are you?”

“In my office, but I’m about to step out and go for a coffee run. Walls are making me itchy. Want anything?”

“My usual would be good. Head up to mine when you get back and we’ll see if I haven’t found it in the lab by then.”

Harley’s sigh crackled through the speakers. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hung up, and Peter scanned the lab to no avail. There were always stacks of papers on any available surface. Peter took a deep breath and started with the piles that had accumulated in his own workspace.

Maybe there would be a line at the coffee shop to hold Harley up and give him a chance to really look before he headed upstairs.

~~~

When Peter hit the button for the elevator, he hadn’t expected the doors to slide open to reveal Harley, who seemed equally surprised to see him.

“Couldn’t find it?”

Peter shook his head. “How long was the line?” he asked as he stepped in with him.

“So I forgot to tell everyone except for like two people that I was getting a tattoo and I’ve gotten yelled at so much this week. Got into a whole thing with Sy about it because he noticed and asked if I got in an accident or something.” He held out his wrist to examine the area.

“Oh?” Peter caught the limb and brushed over the bandages. “What’d he think?”

“He thought it was cool, and he can’t wait to see it with the bandages off.”

“They come off today right?”

“After work. Figured we’d show him at dinner.”

The thing was, the tattoo thing didn’t have to be a secret kept from more than one person: Tony. That being said, Tony has been known to get information out of pretty much anyone just because he’s Tony and people like to talk to him. Thus they hadn’t told anyone.

Some people had still found out though, just because of proximity, but thankfully they weren’t people Tony was likely to interact with until after they surprised him.

Peter double checked to make sure his sweater covered his own bandages. “Office duty treating you okay?”

“Three days in and I’m already misplacing paperwork.” Harley turned the cup holder he was given so Peter could access his drink. “Not in the lab?”

“No, but the second you’re back to R & D, we’re taking a day for mandatory spring cleaning.”

Harley snorted. “That is going to take much longer than a day. A week maybe.” The doors opened out onto the office level, and they made their way back towards Peter’s. “I don’t think I could tackle my desk in a day.”

“Agreed.” He took a sip of his coffee and groaned. “I don’t care if Sy flirts with you behind my back, we’re never switching coffee shops.”

“You also trust me and know he’s mostly joking. Where do we start?”

“I’ll take the desk, you take the file cabinets. Be warned though, there is a color scheme. Blue for financial documents, purple for partnership contracts, and pink for all other project related files like press releases and stuff.” There was a pause, and Peter realized Harley had raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to make my files bisexual themed?”

“Honestly, no, but I have rainbow sticky notes on my desk so I can’t imagine I have much room to talk. Wouldn’t labels have been easier?”

“Probably,” Peter admitted. “I like the color coding though.”

“Fair enough. Pink files it is then.”

~~~

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t there when I checked the first time!”

“Files can’t magically appear, Harley. Just admit you didn’t see it.”

“Tony, Peter’s bullying me!”

The man himself just laughed. “Did you lose a file?”

“Yeah,” Harley pouted.

“Annoying each other about losing files is a right of passage to be the couple running SI,” Tony told him. “Lord knows how many times Pepper almost murdered me over that.”

Peter smirked, and Harley accepted defeat. “You’re not helpful,” he announced, and Tony tossed his hands up in surrender.

“Be that as it may, can you please make yourself useful in the kitchen?”

Harley traded his jacket for an apron. “Ready for orders, boss.” He rolled up his sleeves and headed for the kitchen, expecting Tony to follow him. Peter was banned from the kitchen, so he just sat on the other side of the breakfast bar.

“Excuse me, what was that?”

“Huh?” Harley turned around to realize Tony was still standing in the same spot he had been a second ago.

“That!” He pointed at Harley’s arm.

“This?” Harley extended it to showcase the blue lines etched in his skin. “It’s nothing. Do you like it?”

Tony strode closer, grabbed his hand, and flipped it over so he could trace the words. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago.”

He was silent for another moment, and Harley started to get nervous. “Tony?”

“I wrote that note so long ago,” he whispered. “I signed it that way because I wanted your Christmas to be more than just you getting to meet a famous person.”

‘The Mechanic’ was spelled out in Tony’s handwriting, all straight lines and precision on Harley’s left wrist. “It was,” Harley responded. “That Christmas changed my life, and now I get to be a mechanic too,” he teased.

“Oh my god,” Tony groaned. “I don’t know what to say.”

His eyes were misting up a little, and Peter reached out to pat his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”

Then Tony saw the glimpse of red not fully covered by Peter’s sweater, and tugged up the sleeve. “Oh my god,” he repeated.

The words ‘I trust you’, again in Tony’s handwriting but this time in red, were imprinted on Peter’s right wrist, mirroring Harley’s.

“You two planned this,” he accused. “You’re trying to make your old man cry.”

“Do you really not like them?” Harley asked, concerned.

“We just thought-” Peter added, but Tony cut him off.

“Look, you are the worst people I’ve ever met because I write you notes so I can keep my distance and you still managed to weasel your way into my company, into my life, and then you do this?” He wiped his eyes with a hysterical laugh. “Christ, I’m so proud of you two.”

“Oh, you’re not mad. Thank god.” Harley breathed a sigh of relief.

“Of course I’m not mad. Honestly, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long ass time. Happiness doesn’t cook dinner and set the table though, which means as much as I love you kids, I’m gonna need you to hop to it.”

Harley grabbed a spatula from a drawer and instinctively began working his way around the kitchen while Peter retrieved the plates. After the initial shuffle, they settled into a quiet rhythm. So quiet that it took them a minute to realize there was none of Tony’s usual background chatter.

The boys exchanged a look.

“You got something on your mind, Tony?” Peter asked.

Tony startled out of his revere. “Just thinking about what tattoos I would get for you two,” he said. “A potato and a web seem a little too on the nose. Maybe Dora and Hello Kitty.”

They sat down at the table as Harley and Peter groaned. “Won’t you let that go already?” Harley complained. “It was my sister’s watch!”

“And those pants were your fault,” Peter grumbled.

He shrugged. “It was just an idea. More importantly though, how did you manage to keep this a secret from me. I know everything that goes on in this Tower!”

“Well you see-” Harley started.

Peter picked up the thought. “Would you like to hear a story of months of meticulous planning, some strategic scheduling, and calling in a few favors to pull this off?”

“There’s visual aids,” Harley bribed.

Knowing Tony’s curiosity, it didn’t take them long to get him laughing at their ridiculous plan that somehow actually managed to work out in the end. Plus, it gave Tony an idea for where to go if he ever did go through with getting any ink for himself.

#parkner #harley keener x peter parker #harley keener #peter parker #established relationship #fluff #fluff and humor #domestic fluff #tattoos #tony stark acting as harley keener's parental figure #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #irondad #randomfandomcheeto tag #prompts #ellis writes

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anonymous-tals · 3 years

Text

Oops, I projected my mental health issues onto a fictional character that is similar to me. Time to write fanfiction, I guess!

TW: Eating Disorders. If you are struggling or are in recovery from an eating disorder, here’s a big ol’ trigger warning. There are no numbers or specifics about anything but it does center around Brad Bakshi of the show Mythic Quest struggling with his eating disorder.

This is not in an attempt to glamorize eating disorders(not that I wrote anything that would but just in case someone misinterprets this). Eating disorders are not cute or quirky. They are serious illnesses that lead to death. If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you deserve recovery. Please reach out for help to a trusted adult.

National Eating Disorder Association 1-800-931-2237

One last trigger warning for eating disorders before we begin! I hope the writing isn’t trash. If you have any critiques, feel free to comment them. I hope you enjoy the story(if this is cringey, future me, you have permission to murder me right now):

Brad’s eyes opened, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh lights. He looked around the room, confused as to where he was. After a couple of seconds, he identified the room as a hospital room. There was a lady sitting on a chair by the door reading a book. Adjusting himself, Brad slowly sat up, his head aching as he did. The lady perked up as she noticed Brad had awakened.

“Oh! You’re awake!”, she said, calmly, putting down her book.

“Where-Where am I?”, said Brad.

“You’re in the hospital, sir.” Brad looked around the room. The walls were a cool green. Typical nature photos shuffled through on a tv that was mounted on the wall in front of his bed as it waited to be used. There was a thin door that he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet. Brown cupboards lined the walls. He moved his arm only to notice there was a tube attached to it.

“What the hell happened?”, he thought. The previous day, or what he presumed to be the previous day, had been foggy. Well, pretty much everyday lately had been a blur.

“I’m going to go tell a nurse you’re awake so we can do weights and vitals.” A pang of fear struck him at the sound of the word weight. Someone else was going to see what he weighed. His thoughts were racing.

“Just take a deep breath.”, he thought. He tried to calm himself down by looking around the room. He noticed there was a card on the counter beneath the cabinets. Curiosity got the best of him and he stood up. Stars popped into his vision and he steadied himself before making his way to the counter. The tube was just barely long enough for him to reach it. The cover read, ‘Get well soon!’. Brad walked back to the hospital bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I wonder who it’s from?”, he thought, opening the card. “I can’t believe you are in the hospital! You appeared so healthy. Get well, soon, motu.”

“Brad Bakshi?”, a nurse called from the doorway. He looked up, tossing the card into a trash can by the bed. The lady who had been sitting in the room with him walked in and sat down again, opening her book. “Hello, I’m Amanda Armstrong and I’ll be your nurse today. Do you know why you’re here?”, she said.

“No.”, Brad replied, shortly.

“Well, you were brought here by…”, she looked down at a clipboard she was holding. “...Ian Grimm? Does that name sound familiar?”

“Yes, he’s my boss.” Brad kept his voice calm but his heart was starting to quicken. Memories from the day previous began to surface.

“Well, he said you had fainted while walking up a flight of stairs.” Brad’s calm demeanor cracked as the memories flooded back.

“Oh...yah. I remember that.”

“Yes, well, you got a concussion. Thankfully, it isn’t too bad.”

“When will I be getting out?”, Brad said, shaking away his feelings of anxiety.

“Well, let’s take your vitals first and then we can discuss that. Come with me.” Brad followed Amanda out into the hall. They didn’t walk for long but the environment made him feel uneasy. There was something surreal about it. Or maybe it was the fact that he felt a little light headed that made everything feel a bit off. “We’ll be in here.”, said Amanda, opening the door. Brad entered the room, surveying his surroundings. It looked like a typical room for check-ups. Amanda made her way to the computer sitting on the desk and started logging in and opening a file. “Ok, let’s do your vitals. I’m going to ask you to lay down and stay still, please!” She walked over to the wall where a weird machine stood. “I’m just going to put this on your arm, if you’d roll up your sleeve for me.” Brad rolled up his sleeve and she velcroed what appeared to be something relating to blood pressure. “Ok, I’m going to need you to answer honestly. Have you had any feelings of depression or sadness?”

“Excuse me?”, said Brad, startled, sitting up.

“Please lay down, Mr.Bakshi. Begrudgingly, Brad lay down.

“Why on earth are you asking me this?”, said Brad, frustrated.

“Well…”, she hesitated. “Ok, I’m going to be direct with you here. Your boss reported that you hadn’t been eating much and you have been appearing to be quite fatigued and dizzy. Right now, we’re doing your vitals to see what we’ll need to do.”

“Are you implying that I have an eating disorder? I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”

“Well, the lanugo is telling a different story. Now, please, let’s go through the questions.” The nurse asked the questions while doing the vitals despite Brad giving short, passive aggressive answers.

“Ok, time for weight and height.” Brad's heart quickened.

“Do we have to?”

“I’m going to have you turn around. You won’t even see it!” He stepped onto the scale as he tried to hide his growing panic.

“You fat idiot. If you restricted more, maybe you wouldn’t be so anxious right now. You wouldn’t even be here, I bet! You fat, stupid, fatty-”

“Ok, you can step off!” The nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts and he stepped off the scale. Ok, let’s do your height.

She measured his height and then went over the computer and input the information.

“Ok. So, here’s what we’ve got going on here, Mr.Bakshi. Your vitals are showing symptoms of anorexia and so is your BMI.”

“BMI is garbage.”, Brad said dismissively.

“Well, that doesn’t disregard any of the other information. I can’t force you to do anything since you’re an adult but I would highly suggest going into inpatient care.”

“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder! Sorry, I care about my health! I thought losing weight was a good thing!” The nurse sighed before closing out of the tabs on the computer.

“Well, you can think it over during the next couple days. You’ll need to stay here to make sure your head is okay.” Rolling his eyes, Brad scoffed.

“Fine, whatever. My decision won’t change, though!”

They headed back to the room and Brad sat down on his bed. He stared at the tv. It had just faded to a picture of a monarch butterfly on a purple flower. His gaze travelled across the room until it fell onto the card he had thrown in the trash can.

“I bet I wouldn’t even get diagnosed with anything. I’m too fat. I need to be thinner. I’m not even that bad. I need to be that bad, though.” Just then, a sharp knock on the door halted his thoughts in their tracks. Brad looked up to see David standing at the doorway with a balloon and a gift bag.

“Great, just what I needed.”, said Brad, sarcastically.

“Nice to see you too, Brad.” Brad rolled his eyes in response. “The office was really worried about you! You sure took a tumble. Anyways, here’s a balloon! And a gift! Courtesy of your friends at the office!”

“Interesting. I didn’t consider you guys as friends.”, Brad replied coldly.

“What do you want me to say, then? Huh? Courtesy of everyone you annoy and pester?” Brad looked away, not responding. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions hidden underneath.

“Listen, David. I don’t care about you guys and you guys don’t care about me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry we’re decent enough human beings to care about other people.”

“Pshh, you don’t care about me. You just want to feel good about yourselves so you can feel like you’re a decent human being. So you can stop pretending you care about me because you don’t, ok? No one does.” His emotions were slipping through. He could feel his eyes welling up but he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.

“Come on, Brad. Of course people care about you! Your brother for example! He’s a great guy! He threw you that awesome birthday party, remember?” Brad sat still, not responding. “Earth to Brad, anyone in there?”, David said, giving a small laugh.

“Shut up!” Brad shouted loudly, causing David to wince. “My brother is a horrible person. He has gone out of his way to ruin my life. In fact, he is ruining my life right now.” His voice cracked as a tear broke through.

“Brad, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Just leave, ok? Please just leave.” Brad’s heart began to beat faster. “You idiot.”, he thought. “You let him see that you’re weak. You are weak. You’re just a fat, weak, pussy.” His breathing was getting quicker and quicker. The room started to spin. It felt like everything was happening all at once. Just then, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Take a deep breath, ok?”, said David. Brad hesitated before taking a deep breath in and letting it out. “In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. In, 2-” Slowly Brad began to calm down. He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them. “Better?”, asked David, taking a step back. Brad looked towards the window, avoiding eye contact, wiping the tears from his face. He tried to think of something witty to say but he was too tired. They were both quiet for a bit before David broke the silence. “Well, I have to go but I-”

“Stay. Please.” Brad didn’t break eye contact with the window.

“I...I guess I could stay.” David pulled up the chair that the lady had been in earlier. They sat there in silence for a while before David grabbed the remote for the TV. “Are you good with me putting something on?” Brad stayed quiet. “I’ll take that as a yes!” He scrolled through the small selection of movies before choosing something and relaxing into his chair.

…

They sat there for a while. Movies played while David talked about what had happened at the office that day. Poppy and Ian created an obstacle course to see who was better. Not better at one specific thing. Just better in general. Brad didn’t respond but every once in a while, a small smile would crack through.

“Well, it’s getting late so I think I should actually get going.”, David said, standing up and started walking out the door. Just before he left, Brad spoke.

“Thank you...for staying and all.” He, once again, wasn’t making eye contact.

“Of course, man. It’s no big deal!” There was a pause before Brad spoke again.

“They want me to do an inpatient program.”

“Oh? For…” David trailed off.

“Yah…” Brad started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket on the bed. “I don’t know what to do. Whether I should go or not.”

“Well, I’d say you should do what you think would benefit you best.”, said David, taking a couple steps towards him. Brad was silent.

“...Thanks, David.”

David gave a small wave as he walked out the door. Brad sat there awake for a while, unable to sleep. He sat there, listening to the sounds of the hospital through the door. A woman, presumably a nurse, poked her head in the room. “Would you like to order dinner?” Brad shook his head and the nurse left. He then spotted the gift bag that David had brought. He picked it up and removed the tissue paper stuffed in at the top. Inside there was a pig plush and a card. The plushy was adorable and very soft. He pet the pig plush, enjoying the soothing texture, before placing it in his lap and moving onto the card. It was your typical get better soon card. On the inside, there were either signatures or little get well messages from everyone. It seemed like the pig plush was Jo’s idea. Brad leaned over and placed the card on the side table next to his bed. He looked at it for a minute before grabbing the pig, getting under the covers and falling asleep.

#brad bakshi #brad bakshi fanfic #is this cringey? i can't tell.#mythic quest fanfic #mythic quest

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gtanddragons · 3 years

Text

Try Again?

Hey all, finally have some G/t writing to present for the first time in a long while. ^^ Based on this post from @miniature-knight because it’s been living in my head rent-free for a long while now and I’ve been on a D/anganr/onpa kick lately. Also giant!Hajime content is VERY good.

Content warnings: Brief descriptions of blood and surgery, mild swearing, major spoilers for DR2, and minor spoilers for DR3 (Despair Arc)

[ Connecting… ]

[ Connection to server lost. Try again?]

[ Stabilizer_01: Offline ]

[ Stabilizer_02: Offline ]

[ WARNING: Cellular instability detected ]

[ Vitals_Monitor: Offline ]

[ WA7RNiN6: #%^R01 ]

[ … ]

[ …? ]

—

He wakes up very suddenly, an involuntary cry of pain tearing its way from his throat.

It hurts. Everything hurts. His body aches and protests with every tiny movement he makes, and his brain feels as though it’s threatening to crack right out of his skull. It hurts and his mouth and throat are dry— so dry— and there’s dust everywhere, even coughing hurts, there’s screaming—

…

(…Screaming?)

Hajime finally cracks his eyes open, wincing at how crusty they feel— like he’d been asleep for a long, long time, but… he’s sitting upright, isn’t he? When had he sat up? When had he gone to sleep, for that matter…?

As he begins to reorient himself, so too does his vision. It takes a frustratingly long time, but when everything begins to come back together into a single, clear image—

“H… huh?” He croaks, barely noticing the rasp in his voice in favor of trying to make sense of literally anything before his eyes.

There’s rubble everywhere, surrounding him on all sides and tumbling off of him with every little movement. But more importantly— he can see people running in the distance, far below. All of them are wearing white and black uniforms. It’s familiar… but he’s not quite sure why.

He’s also not sure why he reaches his hand out. Maybe it’s out of shock, maybe it’s instinct.

But what he doesn’t anticipate is actually touching one of the fleeing bodies, feeling his fingers brush against warmth.

He freezes. The student— the tiny student— is screaming. He didn’t mean to knock them over with that careless little touch but now they’re crying and screaming and—

Hajime’s breaths quicken as he recoils, pulling back his hand as though he’d been burned. He frantically looks at the fleeing students, the rubble, the buildings around him— the buildings that all seem to match him in height.

(They’re not… they’re not small. I-I’m…)

He lifts his arms, wincing as more rubble tumbles off his body and smashes to the ground below. He’s gripping his head in his hands, he can’t breathe, he’s breathing too fast and his vision is blurring and everything hurts and he’s terrified and where is he and—?!

[ …Why are you so upset? ]

Hajime tenses up, lifting his head at the sound of a voice.

“Wh-what—?”

[ Why are you scared? They cannot hurt you like this. ]

His gaze darts to the ground, but most of the students nearby had already run away, including the one he’d accidentally knocked over. This voice was… close, but not. Familiar, but not. He knows he heard it, but… he felt it, too.

“Who… who’s there? Where are you?”

[ They cannot hurt us when we are like this. ]

In the back of his head, he has the inexplicable feeling of… something foreign. A sense of self-satisfaction, but one that isn’t his own.

“You’re… in my head…?” Hajime whispers, gripping his shoulders in a desperate hug. “G-get… get out of my head! What are you?!”

A sense of miffed confusion is prodding at his consciousness now. He shifts uncomfortably, wincing at the feeling of invisible fingers poring through his brain.

[ You are not… satisfied? You were crying out for help, so I offered my assistance. ]

Hajime opens his mouth to protest, but images and feelings are suddenly flashing through his mind, not of his own control.

His body, flailing, gloved hands pinning him down. His throat, hoarse from screaming. Fear. Desperation. Pain, as a needle is forcefully poked into his arm.

A starched white bed. Restraints. Seeing an operating knife plunging into his body. He doesn’t know if he’s begging out loud or if it’s just in his head.

The voice. It’s there, too, and he can feel it pulsing at the back of his head. It doesn’t come in the form of words, but in the form of an invisible hand, reaching out. Feelings of reassurance. A silent offer.

It’s one he takes. He’s grabbing onto the hand with everything he’s got, like a drowning man.

And then… nothing.

He’s snapped out of those memories as quickly as he’d been submerged in them, the… thing in his head pushing them aside. Like putting files back into a cabinet.

[ We are free now. ]

Hajime doesn’t respond. His head is swimming, distress and confusion crashing over his thoughts like tidal waves. His memory feels… hazy. Incomplete. But he remembers trusting the Hope’s Peak research team… he thinks. It was supposed to be a series of ‘small tests’. When had it escalated that far?

Why is there something else in his head? Why and how did he get like this? He’s surrounded by rubble and a collapsed building— the same one he’d been interviewed in.

The same one he’d been experimented on in the basement.

He can’t help it. His body is starting to shudder with sobs, confused and aching and distraught. The voice doesn’t pipe up this time, but he can feel its presence lingering, uncertain.

He covers his face with dirty, dust-covered hands. It’s hardly a comfort.

(What… do I do now? I don’t know, I… am I… stuck like this forever—?)

“Hajimeeee!”

He flinches at the sudden shout, close in range yet… distant. He peeks between trembling fingers, his gaze traveling to the ground—

And then he freezes.

Hazy memories are becoming more and more vivid. Even at this distance, that voice is so familiar— that hoodie, that hair— he’s seen them plenty of times before. Thought about them even more so.

“Ch… Chiaki…?” he croaks, his eyes widening.

Unlike the hundreds of students before her, she was running towards him. She halts only once she’s gotten as close as she can get to his leg, the rest of her path blocked off by debris.

She rests her hands on her knees and leans over— even from this height, Hajime can tell that she’s panting.

“H-Hajime… so this… this is where you’ve been!”

His other thoughts are overshadowed by a surge of relief at her familiar (and very much welcome) presence… and a crushing sense of guilt. Had she been waiting for him this whole time…? How long had it even been since he agreed to participate in the Hope Cultivation Project?

He finds himself reaching out for her, the ache in his heart getting stronger— but then he tenses up, his hand stopping only a few feet away from her small frame.

[ Why are you afraid? She cannot hurt you. ]

(Shut up.)

His thoughts drift to earlier. How he had accidentally knocked over that poor student with a simple nudge of his fingertips. How they had screamed in terror and ran—

His hand reflexively twitches, a slight tremble shivering through his arm.

[ …You’re afraid of hurting her? How peculiar. ]

(Shut. Up.)

However, even though he was frozen with indecision, Chiaki had other plans.

Hajime inhales sharply as he feels a little pressure against the tip of his finger, startled as he glances back down and sees the girl grabbing onto his finger without a shred of hesitation.

“Hey, Hajime. It’s going to be okay. …I think.”

His lower lip trembles, even as he lets out a weak attempt at a laugh. “That… doesn’t sound very reassuring, when you say it like that, you know.”

“Got you smiling though, right?”

He sniffles, letting out a soft chuckle. “Y-yeah, fine. Guilty.”

[ What is… this feeling we’re experiencing? ]

Hajime’s shoulders tense up at the sudden reminder that he’s not exactly alone in his thoughts. He huffs quietly, shooting a scowl at nothing in particular.

(Didn’t I already tell you to be quiet?)

[ Yes. But I am curious. It feels very… warm. You care a lot for this human, correct? ]

(...Yes. Now shh. Go away. Something.)

[ I cannot ‘go away’, much as I would prefer being my own separate entity, Hajime. ]

(Really.)

[ Perhaps you should have taken into consideration the future ramifications of allowing yourself to be subjected to human experimentation. ]

(I wasn’t signing myself up for that to get an obnoxious backseat driver, you know!)

“...jime? Ah… Earth to Hajime…?”

He pauses in his bristling to look back down at Chiaki, who is looking up at him with a rather concerned look on her face.

“...You’re acting strange.”

Hajime clears his throat sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“...S-sorry. It’s just, uh. Been a lot to process, and… uh…”

He trails off as his fingertips trace up the back of his neck. His hair feels… longer than it did, but on a more concerning note… he can feel a raised, bumpy line going from the back of his neck all the way up to the back of his head. Stitches.

Hajime glances down at his hand worriedly as he pulls it away from the back of his neck. Unfortunately, it came back wet with splotches of blood, like he’d suspected. It was no surprise that he’d torn at least a few of them in the… chaos? He’s still not sure what had happened while he’d been unconscious, but judging from the destruction around him… his escape from the facility below the building couldn’t have been very peaceful.

“...It’s been a lot,” he concludes awkwardly.

“I can kinda tell, yeah.” Chiaki pauses, a mournful, distant look entering her gaze. “I was… really worried. That you might not come back.”

He glances away at that. He’d known he’d be leaving Chiaki for a while, but he hadn’t expected… whatever they had tried doing to him.

(And if that process hadn’t been interrupted… would I even have been able to come back to her at all?)

[ Doubtful. As far as I can assess, your memories and consciousness would have been stifled entirely, leaving me a clean slate for a host body. ]

(It was… it was a rhetorical question.)

[ Ah. ]

That being said, Hajime can’t help a heavy gulp and a shiver at the voice’s interruption before he turns to look at Chiaki again.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I never-- I never thought it would turn out like this,” he offers weakly. Feeling somewhat emboldened by Chiaki’s continued safety despite being so close to him, he shifts his hand a bit so that he’s delicately ‘holding’ her hands between his forefinger and thumb.

Chiaki hums softly, smiling faintly at the warmth encompassing her hands all the way up to her mid-forearms. It’s… disconcerting, to say the least-- she’d be lying if her instincts weren’t a bit freaked out at having her arms held like those of a figurine, or a doll-- but when she looks up at his face, she’s smiling even more warmly than before.

“Just don’t do something like that ever again, ‘kay?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

She takes a moment just to bask in his presence before her smile returns to a more neutral expression. Then, she pops her lip awkwardly.

“...So I’d really like to know what happened. If and when you’re comfortable sharing, yeah? But, uh. Right now, we might… need to get out of here.”

Hajime’s head perks up at the distant sound of approaching sirens, his eyes shooting open wide.

“Oh no.”

[ Don’t worry. We can take them. ]

“That’s not the--!” Hajime catches himself mid-tirade, instead lifting his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Chiaki, you need to get out of here. I can’t let you get caught up in whatever is going to happen next.”

(That’s not the point. I’m not getting myself into more trouble-- I already have enough of that as is.)

[ ...So you do not wish to be this size, then? Even though it will keep you safe from any number of this city’s local law enforcement, and with my assistance, I believe the national guard as well-- ]

(No, I don’t want to be a giant freak, thank you very much.)

[ Mmm. What a boring answer… but, very well. Focus on settling your breathing-- and try not to panic too much. ]

(Wait, why would I--?)

Hajime sucks in one last breath before he suddenly can’t. He can see himself moving, see himself blinking, but he’s not controlling any of it. He’s formless, drifting endlessly, gasping for air to fill nonexistent lungs.

“A-ah--! Wh-what-- what the fuck did you do to me?!”

He can see his fingers releasing their hold on Chiaki, can see her gasping down below as he-- his body-- moves to stand upright, a shower of rubble clattering to the ground in his wake.

“No! Chiaki--!”

[ Shh. I’ve already calculated the amount of debris and where it’s falling-- none of it will fall anywhere near her. And I am merely borrowing your body for a minute while I resolve this matter. ]

“Borrowing--?! Are you kidding me, this is my body!”

[ You need to settle down. You’re interrupting my focus. ]

“No, I’m not just gonna ‘settle down’! Give me back my body, or I’ll--!”

It’s all too sudden, the shift from drifting formlessly through the void into something… a little more corporeal. He still can’t control his body, but in the surrounding darkness… he looks down. He can look down, at slightly-translucent, softly-glowing arms and legs.

This is… better, at least. It’s not his own body, but it’s better than… the nothingness.

And then he looks up.

He suddenly regrets his previous thought.

Looming over him, for lack of better words, is a giant shadow. It would almost look human, if not for the vast expanse of flowing, pitch-black hair that eventually trails off into the nothingness, or the piercing, glowing-red gaze peering down at him like he’s a mere insect.

[ You’ll… what? Tear your brain back open to get me out? Really now. ]

Hajime flounders desperately in an attempt to scoot backwards, but he doesn’t move an inch. He’s stuck floating in the same spot as impossibly-large hands come at him from both sides-- and proceed to cup around his ‘body’. Whatever form of gravity this place has suddenly comes into effect, his softly-glowing form tumbling into the palms of the shadow’s hands.

He lets out a terrified gasp as he’s lifted higher, to about the same level as those emotionless eyes.

For a moment, they both remain in silence. The shadow cocks its head, ever-so-slightly-- as though it were curious about its catch.

[ As I’ve already said, this is far from an ideal situation for you and me both. However, if there were a way to split our consciousnesses into separate entities, I would already be pursuing that course of action. As it stands, we are stuck together for the time being. ]

He flinches as its fingers move around him, thumbs moving closer and closer until they’re…

...Stroking him. Running over his back and head, impossibly gentle for such a massive creature.

[ Just know that I do not intend to harm you, Hajime Hinata, nor do I seek full control over your body. You will have it back once I am finished-- it would get boring very quickly if I held the reins for too long. For now, I just need you to calm yourself-- it’ll be irritating attempting to focus while also having to quell your struggling. ]

Seemingly involuntarily, Hajime finds himself letting out a long sigh, tenseness beginning to melt away from his ‘body’ and his actual, physical body at the same time. The shadow continues to carefully rub at him, massaging his shoulders and back-- it’s distracting enough that he can almost avoid looking at the unchanging, ominous eyes staring down at him, and enough that he almost doesn’t recognize how his physical body is changing.

The buildings around him are shifting, seemingly getting taller and taller with every breath. The process starts speeding up until, in a matter of seconds, they’re all looming over his body-- and Chiaki comes up to his chin instead of barely reaching his ankle.

And just like that, Hajime is gasping and coughing and swaying on wobbly knees, disoriented by suddenly regaining control of his lungs-- and the rest of his body-- once more. He nearly flinches at the sudden sensation of touch, as Chiaki’s hands quickly grab onto his shoulders to keep him from toppling over.

“I’m… Hajime, you’re really going to have to tell me what they did to you when we get out of here.”

He clears his throat in embarrassment and stands up straighter as he gets used to the feeling of his own body again, though he doesn’t exactly protest against letting Chiaki continue to support him.

“...Yeah, I’ll… I’ll try. It’s kind of a blur…”

(...Why didn’t you do that sooner?)

[ For protection, mostly, on the off chance that the facility staff attempted to incapacitate us.

...That and it was rather enlightening to watch you and the girl attempting to get around the mental and physical barriers of your stature to display affection towards one another. ]

(Are you fucking kidding me.)

[ No. Also, please bathe at your earliest convenience. I regret that my brief experience with the sense of smell was fouled by your own body odor and the dirt clinging to your skin. ]

(Shut up. For the love of everything holy, shut up.)

[ I do not carry any particular fondness for any objects deemed by many cultures as ‘holy’-- ]

Hajime groans in exasperation, choosing to focus instead on Chiaki and being led away from the remains of the building behind them.

It… feels good just being near her again. Knowing he has a friend close by is comforting in and of itself-- probably his only friend at Hope’s Peak Academy, for that matter. One he’d come close to never seeing again, if he hadn’t been given a second chance.

“...So what’s going on with your eyes?”

He blinks, confused, before glancing over at her. “What do you mean?”

“One of them is red. And when you went back to normal, both of them were red. That’s not normal… I think.”

He freezes up momentarily at that-- and then he lets out another exasperated sigh before continuing to walk.

“It’s… a long story.”

(...But at least I’m still here to tell it.)

#geez it's been ages since I've posted my writing huh #also as you can probably tell I just got into DR and I am. lost in the sauce #so expect more soon! (hopefully)#gtronpa #astral makes stuff #giant/tiny #the writing corner #fandom g/t

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thekingdomofelfhame · 3 years

Text

Jurdan Fanfic: Highschool AU Part 1

Summary: Much to Jude's annoyance and surprise, she and Cardan have been paired for a school project. Cardan's feelings, on the other hand, continue to blossom when he arrives at Jude's apartment only to witness something beyond his comprehension.

Warnings: Mild cursing

This will be an alternative between Cardan and Jude POV just to get a good look at how their feelings develop.

Cardan POV:

She keeps staring at the ring enclosing her finger, her gaze never shifting to the notes scattered on her dressing, her walnut eyes intense with emotion. She kept humming the same tune over and over, her voice as smooth and soft as butter as she traced invisible patterns on her ruby studded ring, its bright red colour magnifying the beauty of her hand.

I had never seen her like this: bursting with emotions. Standing before me was the same girl who lived in impenetrable walls, walls that I had been trying to overcome only to lead us down a path of hatred. She was the girl of steel, no titanium, and yet she melted away like snow in early spring when no one was around.

Her voice echoes in the room which-surprise, surprise- is a mess of pillows and papers. This girl had been haunting my dreams since sophomore year but my foolish imaginations were nothing compared to the beauty that stood before me and when she starts vocalizing, I swear my heart skips a beat.

As she turns to pick up her phone, her eyes find mine and I am robbed of the melodious voice that had filled this room a few seconds ago. I am pretty sure I see her eyes swimming in tears but she immediately blinks them away. She has trained herself well.

I hadn't even realized she was in her bathrobe until she stopped singing and am left with her perfectly masked yet startled cuteness when she becomes aware of her current state.

"Why'd you stop?" I say clearly disappointed, "your voice is beautiful"

"Weren't you supposed to be here at 11 30?", she says completely ignoring what I just said, tightening her robe around her.

"I clearly said I'd be at your place by 11", my eyes skim over her robe and am pleased to see her cheeks flush with colour as I say, "maybe I'll make a habit of coming early"

"How'd you even get in?"

"Your roommate let me in and, oh, she told me to inform you that she will be staying with her boyfriend for a while"

"Wow. She and Van are really speeding things up", there a short pause that feels like eternity before she says, "Okay, now could you go wait in the lounge while I get ready?", she says and something tells me she is not asking. Though I would very much prefer to stay, I obey her orders for she is The Queen of my heart.

Jude POV:

I walk out of the room, no longer dripping, and am utterly surprised to find Cardan lounging on the white sofa, one of his legs draped over the arm rest. He looks...comfy.

I think about the way he was looking at me in awe when I found him leaning against my door, his dark black eyes peering into mine. I had never seen him so captivated. How long had he been standing there?

Your voice is beautiful...

His words ring in my ears and I can't help the faint pink rising on my neck. Cardan Greenbriar had complimented me; that was a first. I was surprised he didn't make fun of me just like he has been since the day I set foot into school. He didn't mock me as he usually would, seeing my emotional outburst. This was Cardan Greenbriar, the most spoiled rich kid who never gave a fuck about anyone.

I had never once let anyone past my defenses, not even my family, foster or not. No one knew about this small world of mine and I liked to keep it that way. That is, until today when I saw a pair of iridescent coal black eyes bewitching me into wanting to tell him everything about this tiny world I had created where I would doze off to whenever I wished. That was when reality hit me and I was reminded of why I had lived in an armour for so long, why I had never let anyone get close to me.

I snap out of my thoughts when Cardan interrupts, "Like what you see, huh?". I scoff and I didn't realize I had been staring at him as he further added, "Should we get on with the project or are you gonna stand there all day, thinking about me?"

"Asshole. You wish", I snap right back at him and he lets out a soft laugh as I go through his notes.

We had agreed on double-checking each other's notes before we started the project, and by the looks of it, we had a lot of work to do. Surprisingly, Cardan's notes were not only correct and authentic, they were thorough and much more organized than mine. He had even used fancy words like serendipity- I mean what does that even mean?

"Jude, I think some of your notes are missing", he says raising his black brows and a book with torn pages.

"Oh, yeah. The torn notes are in a green file right over there", I gesture to the stack of books behind him as he leans over to find it only to frustrate me further when he says, "Uh, Jude. There is no file here".

"It should be there. It cannot go anywhere", I stand up and walk towards the mountain of books.

That was when I realized my foot is asleep and I stumble over a book, covering my face with my hands, ready for impact. Only I don't hit the ground; instead I feel arms slide around my waist and when I remove my hands from my face, the first thing I see are Cardan's eyes partially covered by his black locks.

I almost get lost in the moment. The world stops when he runs his hand through his hair as if he is nervous and he stares back at me. That is, until I remember who he is.

Ughhh....

"Looks like you're falling for me, Jude", he teases.

I abruptly push him off of me and start looking for the notes. Despite my foot still being asleep, I try to walk as if nothing happened but the bastard still notices.

"Here. Let me help you", he reaches for my hand but I stop him with a gesture and he does.

Looks like my defiance all these years really did have an effect on him.

"If you want to help, start by looking for a green file. It is unlabeled, no fancy decorations what so ever"

"What else to expect from the boring Jude Duarte"

"Well, at least I am not like one of those stupid girls who are so easily charmed by you"

"Did you just say I am charming?"

"Fuck off"

"Okay, okay", he raises his arms in defeat and I go to my room to look for the file. My eyes shift to the scattered notes over my bed and my dressing and my carpet.

Shit.

This is going to take longer than I thought.

Cardan POV

As I search through her notes, my thoughts keep drifting to the moment I had her in my arms, her body fitting right into my hands. I battled with the urge to get lost in her deep brown eyes or to drop a kiss on her cute nose.

No, no, no. Stop.

Wine. I needed wine. I needed wine right now.

Jude hated me and I should hate her. She was the one person who had refused to let me get my way and would continue to do so. She could never want someone like me, let alone love. This was just a project and as soon as it would finish, we would go our separate ways.

And yet, I cannot help but think about her all the time.

Jude POV

I return to the lounge drenched in sweat, panting and gasping for air. I had been rummaging in my room for the past hour and had finally found that file.

I slam the file onto Cardan's face and he doesn't dare reply when he sees my tired state. I sink into the sofa, one hand covering my eyes the other blindly searching for the glass of water on the front table.

"What happened to you?", Cardan asks as I open my eyes to find him completely shocked but instead of answering him, I gesture towards the file while gulping down my third glass of water.

"Let's continue. I don't want to waste any more time", my voice is dry as I open my laptop to start typing in the outline and he continues to examine my notes.

"God, your handwriting is horrible", his voice is filled with surprise as he brings one of the papers closer to those haunting, dazzling eyes to get a better look but gives in and throws it back onto the table.

"If you can't read it, why don't you make me something to eat instead?", I say robotically while looking at my screen and had not expected him to actually go to the kitchen in search for food.

My eyebrows furrow together as I walk up to him and say, "I was joking! Come on, we gotta get this done"

"I know you were joking and I know we have to this done but I am hungry and if you are not going to ask me then I am going to make myself", he complains as he looks around, opening cabinets and drawers.

"I didn't know you could cook", I say clearly perplexed by his actions.

"There are many things you do not know about me, Duarte", he continues his search and when I have had enough of his noise I say, "Stop! Okay, stop making noise! God, it's like raising a child or something", I grab the spatula from his hands but he takes it back saying, "Well, I am hungry and I can't work when I am hungry and by looking at you, you should be too"

As much as I would hate to admit it, I was hungry and I felt like I hadn't eaten in ages.

"Fine, you cook and I am going to take a break and watch some Netflix", I say right before telling him about where I keep the food and where the utensils are.

"One more question. Should I make sandwiches or hotdogs?"

"Lilliver usually does the cooking so, whatever you want", I turn on the television and continue to watch Shadow and Bone, each episode more intriguing than the last.

I hadn't realized an hour had passed when Cardan came with sandwiches.

The room is suddenly filled with the smell of freshly made sandwiches and that does nothing to satiate my hunger as I reach out for the dish set in front of me but Cardan quickly grabs the dish before I can get my hands on a sandwich.

"Patience is a virtue, dear Jude", Cardan says raising a long slender finger in the air.

"First of all, never and I mean NEVER call me dear", I glare at him as I grab the dish back, careful not to break it, "And you took so long making sandwiches that I got hungry"

I take a bite of the sandwich and if I am being honest, I had never tasted such sandwiches in my life and Cardan must have noticed me and my increasing craving for his delicious sandwiches that only seemed to make my hunger more insatiable when he said, "Either you like them", he gestured towards the half-bitten sandwich and its cheese dripping from the side of my mouth, "or you haven't eaten all day"

"Hmm. Yeah, I think it is the latter", I lie through my teeth with ease as I take a second one into my mouth.

I would never compliment him to his face, especially since I don't want him spreading the story in school.

"Why are you acting like this?", I ask out of nowhere before I can even process what I just said out loud.

"Like what?", he asks dumfounded

"I don't know, you seem a bit more... tolerable, I guess", my voice almost drops to a whisper as I stare at my third sandwich, suddenly looking for something more interesting in a piece of food that would soon be in my mouth.

He doesn't answer but I am able to see his mood shift as his body language completely changes and his muscles become more stiff. His pupils become dilated and he looks every bit as horrifying as he did when he once threw dust into my food after I had punched him.

All of a sudden, I regret what I had said and cursed my stupid mouth for opening itself.

We don't speak to each other for the rest of the night and though I hated Cardan with all that I had, one small part of me felt that there was more to this person, that he was more than just a bully and that I had missed an opportunity to get to know the real him.

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! Also, I will now on follow a policy of following back those who follow me, just to spread a bit of kindness!!

Taglist: @wanderingpages @thatrandomfangirlll @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @acourtofhearts @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @aesthetics-11 @angelpaulene @annihliation @anyaskywalker23 @ashlightgrayson @augustintodarkness @awkward-avacado-s @babycardan @beholdyourqueen1 @booklover-sleeplover @booksandothersecrets @booksofthemoon @b00kworm @cabeswater-and-camaros @cardaans @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @cardanslittletail @cardanstrickytail @courtofjurdan @feysand-babies @firestarsandseneschals @fizziefaerie @highladyofthefangirlcourt @highqueenjudeduarte @hizqueen4life @hoegreenbrair @hopefullyanauthor @hurema @iammissstark @im-wintermelody @iminsanenotobsessed @ireallyshouldsleeprn @jessacarstairs @judiecardan @junipersuns@jurdanhell @justtryintolivemybestlife @jyoti96 @katexrenee @katsemkitgostadetog @kevin-day-is-bi @kingandfireheart @kittkatandbooboo @knifewifejude @lady-thea-of-narnia @larrysaturn @leaff-life @lemon-check @life-in-black-lines @lifeminuspickles @livelovereading123 @localgoof @lordoftermites @greenbriarxrose @queenofbunnies13 @fanficreader435 @nightspeckle @thewickedkings @the-cruel-prince-cardan @myqueenjudeduarte @florafey

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my-simp-land · 3 years

Text

Setting Boundaries

Lately, I've been having trouble setting boundaries in my own life, so I felt inspired to write this where there is a happy ending and not just stifling tension in the house. I hope this helps someone in need. You can do it bb. We have to take care of ourselves :)

Lucifer x reader/mc

Fluff with angst. Happy ending

1997 words

Since moving into the House of Lamination and getting to know the brothers, it was obvious that Lucifer was the main caregiver in the house. His approach was more business than affectionate, but that’s okay; that’s where I come in. In the beginning, I would try to help Lucifer directly by helping him with his paperwork or running errands for him. I quickly realized that keeping his brothers out of trouble or solving the problem before it got to him helped him far more than organizing his filing cabinets.

The new chain of authority quickly became accepted within the House of Lamination. Mammon had me on speed dial, so my D.D.D. was constantly ringing off the hook. The other brothers were nice about it though. It gave them a chance to open up about more problems without worrying about the stress and reaction it would cause.

The House of Lamination, and in turn the RAD campus, changed overnight. The student council’s relationship had drastically improved, and anyone could see it. Other demons began to come to me with their problems. I made a drop box where anyone could write their problems or thoughts and submit them. Lucifer bequeathed me a bulletin board where I could answer some of the simpler questions, but I had a column in the school newspaper where I wrote about other, more complex problems. My peers began to say I was an angel with a demon’s perspective. The blessing, or curse, of being a human, I guess

***

Everything was working out for Lucifer. With your help, he had so much more time to complete his tasks but also give himself the basic care he needed. The house was clean. His brothers didn’t run to him with their every problem. School was becoming the campus Diavolo imagined it to be. What could go wrong? Well, a lot could go wrong actually. Very easily. He just had to keep his watchful eye and stop it before it went too far.

***

A few months into my new councilor position, I began to feel the effects of my work. The world around me was on the up and up, but I was so tired. I was so exhausted, physically and mentally. It took hours to come up with some of these responses, and I was so focused on other’s needs that I began to neglect my own. Usually I went home to my room to work on my responses in private, but today, for some reason, I decided to stay in the student council room. Other members came in and out working on their own projects, exchanging pleasantries, but eventually, all became quiet. It was just me and my melted down iced coffee.

I watched the condensation run down the side of my cup as I thought of a good way to respond to this problem. How does one properly discuss their boundaries with the ones they love? I had plenty of answers, but I couldn’t think of one that I had actually used.

“MC? You’re still here. We were looking all over for you.” Lucifer.

“Oh. Uh- sorry Lucifer. I guess I just got so caught up in writing that I lost track of time I guess.” He walked over and peered over my shoulder at the paper before me. We sat there in silence for a moment before he spoke.

“So, how would you solve that problem?”

How would I solve speaking about boundaries? That's a great question, Lucifer. I’ve only been thinking about that for the last two hours.

“I’m not sure. I always try to put myself in the demon’s shoes, but it just isn’t working this time. I have plenty of hypotheticals but nothing I can solidly say would help.”

He hums in reaction and walks around the table to take his seat. Across from me, his red eyes peer into mine. We stare at each other for moments before I look back down at my paper. I can still feel his eyes locked onto me. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head. Is he trying to solve the problem? Is he thinking about replacing me? Am I becoming another problem to him?

“What if I told you I submitted that problem?”

What. Lucifer...submitting a problem...to me? I didn’t think he’d have problems with the brothers occupied. Sure, I would have to drag Mammon into his office when the problem was bigger than I was, and sometimes I would give him some insight onto the student’s thoughts. But Lucifer didn’t have any real problems. He was the Morningstar. He can do basically anything that he wants.

“Well, um- I...I guess I would ask for more context since you’re here.”

“I only wrote that. How would you answer that?”

So...so...ugh.

“I guess I would try to go to a private place with them. Make sure it’s the right time to bring it up. I wouldn’t want them to already be in a bad mood or be taken by something else. I would try to be comfortable with them. Not come off as aggressive or manipulative. Oh idk.”

I sigh and place my head between my hands. “Usually I set boundaries in the moment. It’s just a ‘I didn’t like that and would appreciate it if you didn’t do that again,’ but this leaves so many possibilities.”

I carry on with my thoughts in my head before Lucifer interrupts. “Carry on with what you were saying before.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to beat around the bush, but I wouldn’t want to be harsh. It’s a fine line to walk. Simple sentences. ‘I don’t appreciate this’ or ‘It makes me upset when you do this’ then I would follow it up with ‘I would be grateful if you were to refrain from that behavior’ or something similar. Just straight to the point but not pointing fingers at them. Don’t condemn them. Either they would agree or deny to change. If they agree, I would thank them for understanding and change the subject. If they deny, I would really set the boundary. I would tell them that I won’t be around someone who does that and would separate until they change or we meet a compromise or it could just be over. Sometimes it isn’t that easy. There’s more conversation where a compromise is made.”

“But what if they ask why?”

“I would explain. ‘I don’t like the way it makes me feel’ or ‘I don’t want to see you, someone else be hurt.’ Honesty is key. I wouldn’t see it as a defiance, but a way to understand you better.”

Lucifer reaches across the table and takes my hands. “It makes me upset when you exhaust yourself and neglect yourself because of your tasks. I would appreciate it if you let me take care of things again, so you can take care of yourself again.”

I shoot out of my seat, ripping my hands from his. “That is not an option, Lucifer. I’m helping and mending relationships; not only between humans and demons but demons and demons. I also can’t leave you to handle everything again. I set the boundary of me between you and the Devildom. I don’t appreciate it when you neglect your own problems for others!”

He sighs and pinches his brow. “Doll, I’ve done this for centuries now. You’ve given me a great vacation. The best one I’ve ever had, but it’s time for me to take back over now. I can’t let you run yourself into the ground and say I’m doing my job of watching over you.”

I press my hands into the table. “I will not let you handle everyone’s problems again. I refuse. I’m helping you by carrying some of the weight.” We sit in silence staring at each other before I speak again. “Is this because of your pride? I promise you that no one sees me as better than you. We’re not even in the same league. You do much greater things than I do. I’m just a post-it note therapist. I’m just a sounding board for my peers. You help run, not only a school, but an entire kingdom just because you’re friends with the crown prince. You deserve more, and you know i-”

“That’s enough!” He flew out of his seat and slammed his palms on the table. We were face to face; our breath running across the other’s face. “You will not carry on with your little crisis hotline if you’re going to neglect yourself.”

“I won’t give you an ounce of this weight back if you are going to neglect yourself.”

“I forbid it!”

“You might think you have some chokehold on me like you do your brothers, but you’re not stopping me from doing what I want. I’m solving problems; not causing them!”

“You are causing problems! Problems with me! You aren’t taking care of yourself!”

“Well you weren’t either when they were your problems!”

“I’m allowed to do that!”

“Like hell you are. I care too much to see you passed out in your office or turning to the bottle! As long as I can do something, I will!”

I could stare into his eyes to see the storm brewing within. He wants to say more, but his pride is holding him back. He wants it his way, but I won’t allow it. I can’t. What will he do? Will he run to Diavolo for some special permission to get me to stop? Will he tear down my board? Remove me from the school newspaper?

“I care about you too. More than I let on.” The energy in the room immediately shifts. No longer is it an argument; but a conversation. “Just as it hurt you to see me in pain, it hurts me. I cannot let you carry on this way”

My mind goes into autopilot. I take a step closer to him. My arms find their way around his torso. His circle me. I bring my head to his neck. We stand there for a few minutes, thinking of responses, enjoying the other’s care.

“So you know why I can’t give it all back to you?”

He gives me a squeeze. “Yes.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Well, what a pickle we’re in.” He laughs.

As we stand there, clinging to each other, we think. We both know it can’t carry on like this. I breathe him in. My mind eases.

“You could find some of your other friends to help. Maybe give them some sample questions to solve or just someone to help you write.” I nod into his neck.

“I can still help with your brothers. Maybe we could learn from this and set some boundaries with them.” He nods. “That sounds wonderful.”

I pull myself back just enough to look up at his face. “I’ll give you my word to take care of myself. To step back when I need it, whether it’s me who decides or you, and vice versa with you.”

“I give you my word.” “And I give you mine.”

All tension is gone from the room. We smile at each other, relishing in the fact that neither of us will be hurting anymore. “May I kiss you?” “Yes.”

His lips fall down to mine. They’re soft against mine. They move with the same grace as he does, but they’re confident. He pulls me flush against his body. The kiss maybe lasted a minute or two, but I felt like it lasted a lifetime. We moved in complete agreement. Where he ended, I began. Where I ended, he began. It was like we became one heart.

I had to pull away to fill my lungs. “Well, it didn’t go like I said, but I hope I helped you with your problem.

Lucifer’s head fell back with laughter. Not a brief chuckle but real, full belly laughter. “I’d say it did. Thank you, doll.”

P.s. I fully believe Satan heard the argument and seeing MC coming out the student council room and he was fully like "how did they not die?"

#otome romance #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me mc #obey me simp #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me aesthetic #obey me main character #obey me lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x mc

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pennamesmith · 4 years

Text

Synonyms for Space

A very short story set at the very end of season four. Entrapta and Bow have just seen the people they love most abducted by an invading alien army. Soon, they will help the Rebellion defeat Etheria’s greatest enemy. Right now, they are panicking. But at least they’re panicking together. Now with a sort-of sequel. And another one!

The ash is raining down like snow. Dark shadows loom in the sky. The world is ending.

“Glimmer!”

Bow sinks to his knees at the spot where Glimmer was standing only seconds ago, before a sickly green light took his world away. He makes a noise of anguish and searches for a word that can express how he can possibly feel so angry at and scared for one person simultaneously. He doesn’t find it. He sighs, and stands up.

“Hordak?” Entrapta, only seconds behind Bow, swings hand over hair across his makeshift zipline and lands in a puff of ash next to the distraught archer. “Was that Hordak? Did you shoot him?”

“Only with a gas arrow! And why do you care? He was trying to crush Glimmer with a big hunk of metal!”

“I know, so inefficient.” Entrapta looks away. “Something must have gone wrong. Did his armor malfunction, or…?”

Bow is shaking with emotion. “Are you serious? This isn’t a science project, it’s an alien invasion! Glimmer just got disintegrated!”

“Teleported, actually, based on the energy signature.” Entrapta’s eyes are glued to a data pad. “Hordak was right, they do have working portal technology. They probably couldn’t find us until we shifted out of Despondos. I wonder what powers it all?”

“Teleported?” Bow spins Entrapta around. He ignores the look on her face as she plucks his uninvited hand off her arm. “Does that mean she’s still alive? Does that mean we could get her back? Entrapta, please, she… I…”

“You love her,” Entrapta says, a simple statement of fact. It is her turn to ignore Bow’s expression. “I’ve had that data since Princess Prom. And yes, there is a greater than zero percent chance that we can still get them… her… back. Help me look, we might be able to find something here that can help.”

Entrapta’s words are steady, but her hands are a fidgety blur. Before Bow can say anything, she has hurried away to the forge, trying to look anywhere but up.

The sanctum is gone, except for a burned-out shell. The portal machine is gone. The records of her experiments with Hordak are gone. The filing cabinet where he secretly kept all of Imp’s crayon drawings, meticulously ordered by date, is gone. An uncomfortable plastic chair, unused, sits untouched in the corner.

It is sometimes ridiculous, the things that survive.

Something clinks at her feet in the ruins. She kneels down to look and finds a purple shard, glinting in the ashes. It is familiar to her. She wipes off the grime and looks at the First Ones writing she’d etched into its surface herself, going by incomplete notes and a sizable amount of guesswork for how ancient civilizations handled spelling.

He had loved it. Her. She knows this. Now it is one more thing lost in the fire.

Entrapta is a genius, but it doesn’t take a genius to put all the available clues together. Between her last memories of the Fright Zone and the updates on the war effort Bow has been giving her, she’s starting to get a pretty clear picture of how she got sent to Beast Island, and why it took so long for anybody else to come. File that under “things to process later.”

Right now, she has work to do.

Bow finds her as she heaves wreckage aside with her hair, looking for anything that isn’t completely destroyed. He notices the wet lines on her face before she does.

“He didn’t want to go with them,” Entrapta is mumbling. “He can’t have. Not after we…” Her shoulders shake. “Oh, why did they have to come now?”

“Who are ‘they’?” Bow asks, even though he thinks he’s starting to get a pretty good idea.

Entrapta looks around. “Hordak’s people. He said they’d come once the portal was open. But… I’m not sure if he wanted them to, at the end. Things just got so confusing, and then…”

Bow has his thinking face on. In his mind, puzzle pieces that seemed completely unrelated before are finally falling together: Entrapta’s reluctance to return to the Rebellion. The new tech she’d built for the Horde. How she’d suddenly moved all her stuff there…

Oh. Oh, no. Bow desperately wishes he could judge her for feeling that way about a war criminal, but right now, right at this moment, he knows he really isn’t one to talk.

“Look, I… I think I get it,” Bow says. “Or I’m starting to. But I don’t know if the others will, just yet. You can talk about it with me, but don’t tell anyone else. Okay?”

Entrapta’s face is miserable.

Bow desperately tries to think of something that will help. “Or… or maybe you can talk about it with the others if you need to. Just, instead of ‘Hordak,’ say, I don’t know…” he casts his eyes desperately upward “...’Space’?”

“But I do love space,” Entrapta sniffles.

“Exactly! So you won’t even be lying. Technically.”

Entrapta tries it out. “I love… space.” She blinks, and brightens, a little. “Space… is beautiful. I like thinking about space. And learning about space. And talking to space, and the way space’s ears move when he…” she trails off.

“We’ll work on it,” Bow smiles. “Together. We’re going to get them back.”

Entrapta takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. Let’s get to work!” She pulls her welding mask down and scuttles away into the ruins, hair stretching in every direction, searching for anything useful.

And when she is completely out of earshot, she makes a little vow, just for herself: “I’m going to space,” she declares, looking up at the stars. “And I’m going to fight for space. And then… I’m going to take space back.”

If, light years away, Horde Prime suddenly feels the tiniest shiver in his ancient bones, he thinks little of it. He sees all. He knows all. There is nothing in his empire that can harm him.

There is only space.

#fan fiction #she ra fanfiction #entrapta #bow #entrapdak #glimbow

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Adoption

Based on a prompt by @fabnamessuggestedbytumbler for the Phic Phight! An excuse for Lost Time fluff? Don't mind if I do...

The Ghost Zone had a legal system. A court system. A prison system. A police system. A set of established rules. There were even lawyers.

In theory.

In reality the courts (Observants) refused to look at anything that wasn't world ending. Every group had their own, private prison. The police made up their own rules and, even then, broke them regularly. The actual rules had gone several hundred years without an update and referred to places, organizations, and customs that no longer existed. The lawyers were all clinically depressed. That's what happens when there's no active, unifying head of state for hundreds of years.

Still. Every so often a sufficiently foolish ghost, possessed of a brave purpose, would attempt to navigate the ruins of the legal system. Few made it out alive.

(True, being ghosts, they didn't necessarily go into it alive, but it's the thought that counts.)

But those who did make it out (metaphorically) alive, did so with prizes... well, not great enough, but something enough to convince others to make the attempt. Hence Clockwork's current location and headache.

"Sign the paper, Walker," snapped Clockwork.

"That would be against the rules," said Walker, leaning back in his stupid chair. Clockwork's nonexistent spine hurt just from looking at it.

Maybe he should give himself a spine, just so he'd have a reason to feel this way.

"How," he began, "would it be against the rules? This form needs to be signed by a law enforcement official that has seen or witnessed conclusive evidence the child in question being abused by their natural parents. That is you."

"Yes, but the law enforcement officer must first get a warrant approved by an appropriate court in order to collect such evidence," countered Walker.

"Not if the official came across the evidence or act of abuse while pursuing a different case or simply following standard operating procedure. You saw them shoot at him. His mother put a gun to his head. Have mercy, Walker. I know you don't like him, but he is a child who needs guidance. Not a criminal."

"He's a criminal in my books," said Walker.

"What he did was hardly a crime."

"Jailbreak is a crime!"

"Not if one is unjustly imprisoned," said Clockwork. "He was attempting to remove the foreign object." No matter that possessing material-plane items wasn't an actual crime.

"He let others escape!"

"And what were they imprisoned for?"

Walker grumbled. "Some of them are dangerous, and even he knew that," said Walker, nodding at the file spread over his desk.

"Consider it a cry for help. While you were watching him," stalking him, Clockwork did not say, "on the material plane, did he really strike you as criminally inclined? Or perhaps he was simply confused and scared? One thousand years is a very long time in human terms. The targets of his Obsession would have died. Even if he did commit a misdemeanor, he would have rightly been granted clemency, or at least had his sentence deferred."

Walker frowned.

"That's not what this is about, is it? You covering up a mistake?"

"No," said Walker.

Clockwork blinked, quickly running through potential futures. "No one will care that you crossed the veil without authorization. No one who can do anything about it, in any case."

"There'll be an investigation if I sign that there piece of paper. What's the big deal, anyway? Like you said, humans don't live that long. Just wait fifty years."

"They almost ended him," said Clockwork. "He's a child. Do you really want that on your conscience? With the knowledge that you could have stopped it?"

Sighing, Walker picked up his pen.

Danny went to school. Mainly, he went because he didn't know what else to do. He needed the routine, even if the routine was a lie and he felt like trash.

"You could have stayed," whispered Sam, as his hand inched towards the bandages on his chest for the fifth time that morning. "They wouldn't have noticed you."

Danny shook his head. His hand shook more. He put it back in his lap. "It wouldn't have been right. Besides, I need a passing grade in this class, right?" He couldn't get another F, or his parents would kill him, except- except- except-

They had already tried to kill him.

Everything had gone so much worse than he had ever imagined- No. That wasn't quite right. It had gone- It had...

At least he hadn't been cut open.

(Much.)

"Mr. Fenton?"

Danny jumped, banging his knees painfully on the underside of his desk. He looked up, wildly, tensing himself to flee, only the fact that he was currently human keeping his powers from activating.

(Well, that and... what had been done to him.)

When had Mr. Lancer gotten there?

"What?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Are- Are you alright, Mr. Fenton?"

"I'm fine," Danny said. He wasn't. His ghost half was urging him to go find a nice, dark, quiet, safe corner to hide in, preferably one in the Ghost Zone, his heart was hammering out of his chest, he'd spent the night not-sleeping in one of the guestrooms in Sam's house, and that was before even touching on his injuries.

He forced a smile. Mr. Lancer was one of the few teachers who hadn't given up on him, which was alternately touching and frustrating.

"You look sick," said Mr. Lancer. "Are you sure you don't want to call home?"

Danny's heart stuttered, his core painfully cold. "I'm sure," he said.

"Today is a project day," said Mr. Lancer. "You wouldn't be missing anything in this class, and I can talk to your other teachers."

"No, I'm fine."

The legal clerk for the family court was the kind of ghost who seemed to have fused with her role. The sleeves and collar of her shirt melded seamlessly with her skin. Her nails were brass pen nibs. The lenses of her glasses were part of her face.

She lived in either the basement or the attic of this particular building, depending on how one oriented themselves, among barely-organized stacks of books and papers. There were parchment scrolls and stone tablets, too, the later often re-purposed as elements of the room's furniture. Green-marbled filing cabinets grew out of the walls, and electronic somethings glittered out of the shadows.

The clerk had been reviewing Clockwork's paperwork for literal days. Rather, she would have been, if Clockwork hadn't surreptitiously dropped a time medallion around her neck and stopped time.

She hummed, thoughtfully. "In this document, you are using the pronoun tsai to refer to the adoptee. Are you certain you don't mean tusui? Or perhaps chahe?"

"Absolutely," said Clockwork. The intimation that he wasn't fluent in nchabhatsi was insulting. On the other hand, the requirement for that particular piece of paperwork to be in the language was also, in his opinion, rather ridiculous. Many ghosts, especially the recently dead, did not know nchabhatsi.

"The adoptee is liminal?"

"Yes," said Clockwork.

"Hmm." She stood up and flew from her desk to an inverted bookshelf anchored to the ceiling. From a box she took a huge sheaf of papers, and blew an amount of dust from them that was unhealthy even to a ghost. "It has been a while since we used these," she said, giving Clockwork a faded-ivory smile. "You'll need to fill these out and have them notarized by the proper officials before you can proceed. Liminal spirits are so rare, after all! They require special care. Oh!" Her hands fluttered. "And I'll have to get in contact with our liminality expert. That may take some time."

"If you can give me their name," said Clockwork, "I will take care of it." He gingerly took the stack of slightly-decayed paper. Had it really been so long since a partly-human child had been adopted? Probably.

"Oh, you're such a dear," said the clerk, not noticing the sudden absence of the medallion around her neck. "But that paperwork won't do itself, and-"

"It's done," said Clockwork. Fulfilling some of the new requirements had been more challenging than others and avoiding a paradox had taken considerable self-control, but what good were his temporal abilities if he couldn't use them for personal gain now and again? None at all.

"Ah," said the clerk.

Familiar, and very loud, voices spilled from the hallway near the office. Danny, one hand on his locker, trying to remember his combination, froze like a deer in headlights. His heartbeat picked up, his core buzzed frantically. He couldn't move. Grey crept in along the edges of his vision.

"... not him. It was never him! He's dead-"

"Mrs. Fenton, Mr. Fenton, I'm not sure what you're getting at, here, but your son has been at school all day, and we-"

"A ghost killed him and took his place! It's been playing a sick game with us this whole time!"

"Danny would never have gotten grades like this. We should have noticed the lower intellect right away, if nothing else."

"That's-" spluttered Mr. Lancer. "You- Daniel's work is exemplary, what little of it he turns in. I'm going to have to ask you to go back to the office-"

"No! Not until that piece of ectoplasmic scum is wiped from the face of the Earth!"

"Danny," said Tucker, much closer. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Right. Ghostly super hearing. Tucker and Sam, staring at him with concern, couldn't know.

"They're here," he managed, the words like sandpaper in his throat.

Sam uttered a word that would have sent her mother into a screeching fit. "We need to get you out of here," she said putting a hand on his back and pushing him down the hall.

"I'll run interference," said Tucker. "Make sure they can't follow you in the GAV."

"Good thinking," said Sam.

"Call me when you're safe," said Tucker, peeling off, presumably to hack the GAV.

"Danny, breathe," ordered Sam, as she propelled him through the double doors at the back of the school. "We're going to get you through this."

Clockwork had resorted to trapping the legal complex in a massive temporal bubble. Not the neatest solution, true, and it seemed to encourage the various functionaries, regulators, and bureaucrats to take even more time to process even the simplest request, but at least it would keep Daniel's suffering in the meantime to a minimum.

However, that didn't change the fact that he had been bouncing back and forth between the various floors of the building like a ping-pong ball, never getting closer to the solitary family court judge, for well over a subjective year. He was exhausted, frustrated, and he missed Daniel.

"You will be able to provide steady, stable access to the adoptee's preferred haunt?" asked his present interviewer.

"Yes," said Clockwork, dully. The room was ringed with runes that prevented deception of any kind.

"You will be able to provide shelter adequate for both his ghostly and human form?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He had answered these questions so many times before.

"You have taken the mandated class on liminality?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He was beginning to understand why other ghosts just gave up and sought extralegal solutions.

"You are aware of a liminal spirit's developmental and emotional needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. This was just so boring.

"And are you able to satisfy those needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. If only it would end.

The interviewer nodded. "Then we're done here," he said.

"Ye- What? Does that mean I can see the judge?" asked Clockwork, hopefully.

"No. That means that your adoption motion can move on to the next stage," said the interviewer. "Our liminality expert will examine your arrangements and determine whether or not they are sufficient, and we will contact law enforcement to follow up on your claim that the adoptee is being abused."

Clockwork bit back a groan. At least he was making progress.

They cut through the empty field behind the school, angling back toward the surrounding neighborhood. The grass came up to their chests, except where there were holes, mounds, and gouges from ghost fights. When there was one in the school, Danny tried to bring it out here, so people wouldn't get hurt.

He wasn't often successful.

Sam led the way. Danny felt- He felt ashamed. If his powers were working, he would be able to fly them away, or at least turn them invisible. This would all be so much easier. He could have taken care of himself, and Sam and Tucker wouldn't get in trouble, because they would definitely get in trouble for this. But he couldn't.

He couldn't even convince his parents that he was himself. He had to screw that up, too.

Before, he had thought, worse case scenario would be that they'd try to 'fix' him, to remove his ghost half, or maybe they'd think he was overshadowed. At least, he'd convinced himself of that, convinced himself that dissection would be off the table if he ever told them, that they would still love him. Maybe they might still want to do tests, but they'd love him. They wouldn't want to hurt him.

But he had been so, so wrong. They didn't believe him. They thought he had killed himself, replaced himself.

They had tried to cut him open.

(They succeeded.)

His core shuddered at the memory.

At least, though, there hadn't been any ghost attacks today. He wouldn't have been able to fight anything stronger than the Box Ghost. Heck, he might have lost to the Box Ghost. Like this, he would have to leave the ghosts to his parents, Valerie, or the GIW, none of which were particularly good options for the hunters, the ghosts, or the innocent bystanders of Amity Park.

His core pulsed uncomfortably at the thought of any of them getting hurt, including his parents.

He flinched. His core had been very jumpy, very active ever since... it... happened. Usually it only did this while he was in ghost form, and was otherwise almost dormant.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam. "Is it hurting?" She was the one who had bandaged him up last night.

"We can't stop now," said Danny.

Sam flattened her lips. "That isn't an answer. As soon as we get somewhere quiet, I'm checking you out, okay?"

"Yeah," said Danny.

When they reached the short fence, Sam gave him a boost to get over and they made their way into the suburb. There was a small library branch down the road a ways. It had a small family bathroom that Sam and Tucker had patched Danny up in before. It would be a good place to regroup before trying to put as much distance between them and Danny's parents as possible.

"We could take the city bus, I think," said Sam. "There's a stop outside the library. Maybe we could go to Elmerton?"

"Maybe," said Danny.

"Any ETA on Jazz since last night?"

Danny shook his head. "She couldn't get a flight. She's taking a Greyhound. Won't be here 'til-"

There was a beep. Danny stopped breathing. That could have been anything, a phone, a watch, a car, something from a building, but something about it tickled at Danny's brain as wrong.

"There is a ghost twenty feet in front of you."

The whine of a charging ectogun-

Sam slammed into his side, and they both fell. Danny felt the cut on his chest begin to bleed again, and he curled around it protectively. It hurt so much more than it should, and Danny wondered if that was because ghosts were ultimately shaped by their minds and his was in so much pain right now.

His parents had just shot at him. From behind. Not ghost him, Phantom him, either. Human him.

They hated him. All of him. Not just half of him.

His ghost sense went off. Because things could always get worse for Danny and the universe apparently hated him.

He struggled into a sitting position and blinked, confused. There were people surrounding him, protecting him, standing between him and his parents. Sam was shouting. Danny couldn't make out what she was saying, what anyone was saying, not with his heart pounding in his ears.

"Kid," said one man, shaking his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Danny considered that. "No," he said, finally.

The man pulled a phone from his pocket and began saying something about calling the hospital. Normally, Danny would be worried about that, but he was looking for the ghosts. It was possible one of the more benevolent spirits that haunted Amity Park had happened across the scene, but, somehow, Danny doubted it.

His ghost sense went off again. He whimpered.

His people were in danger.

Ghosts usually came for him (he was leading them here, an evil ghost, causing all this trouble, murderer), or at least attacked him first, to get rid of him as a threat. He staggered to his feet. He had to get away. Still clutching his chest, he turned and bolted.

Almost at once, he was surrounded by ghosts in police gear. Walker's goons. Definitely stronger than the Box Ghost. Still, he was going to at least try to fight. He put his fists up. Maybe some of them would be dumb enough not to phase out of the way of his stupid human punches.

Then Walker himself descended from the sky.

"Daniel," he said, stiffly.

"Walker," returned Danny. A small part of him was grateful that Walker hadn't called him Phantom and spilled his secret. It was strange, but no ghost had ever seemed particularly inclined to do that, despite how easy it would have been.

"We have a court order to take you into custody," said Walker. "Someone wants to ask you a few questions."

Danny decided today's mood was 'pointless bravado and defiance.' "And why would I want to come with- whoa."

As Danny talked, Walker had taken a piece of paper with strange symbols written on it in green ink out from the inside pocket of his jacket. The symbols made his head spin... Or maybe that was just his injuries catching up with him. His left leg was trembling, and he wasn't sure how much longer it would hold out.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, and focused on Walker. "I have no idea what that says."

Walker sighed. "Just come quietly, son. Make it easier on yourself."

Danny swallowed his discomfort at being called 'son.' "You won't hurt anyone else?" he asked.

"I'm just here for you."

There really wasn't much of a choice. Whether he went quietly or got himself beaten up even more, Walker would win and carry him off. Anyone could see that. Besides, ghost prison might be a better alternative than getting dissected by his parents.

He raised his hands in front of him, wrists together. "Go ahead, then," said Danny, flatly.

Walker nodded, and the goons converged on him. The cuffs they put around his wrists glowed green, but they had weight in a way most purely ghostly things didn't. Danny doubted that he'd be able to phase his way out of them, human or ghost. Then they picked him up and the whole swarm started to fly away.

"Yes, this is my lair," said Clockwork. "I can, however, duplicate and be both here and at the secondary residence I acquired expressly for the purpose of ensuring continuity of Daniel's human life."

The 'liminality expert' grunted. "He's still been here, though, hasn't he?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. "He has."

"And he might be here again in the future."

"Yes. I do plan to have him here, for short periods of time."

"And later, when he sheds his human life?"

"Perhaps."

"Then I need to know, are these up to OSHA standards? Your entire lair needs to be up to OSHA standards."

"They're time viewers and tools for unraveling paradoxes. OSHA, even the OSHA of the far future, does not regulate these items," said Clockwork. "Why, in the name of time, do you even need to know? Surely, OSHA didn't even exist the last time a liminal child was adopted."

"Well," said the expert, slightly sheepish. "No. But regulations state that all residences must be safe for children by both human and ghost standards."

"Then OSHA is not what you should be using," said Clockwork. "OSHA is the set of rules for occupational health and safety."

"Ah," said the expert. "Then we can move right along to the next check mark, shall we?"

"Hi," said a cheerful voice.

Danny looked up from his contemplation of the examination room table and glared balefully at the ghost who had just entered the door. They didn't seem to be affected. But then, why would they be? Danny was handcuffed to the table and clearly not a threat.

"I'm the interviewer," said the featureless ghost. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No," said Danny.

"Well," said the interviewer, "I work for the eighth authorized family court of the Infinite Realms, we're actually the only one right now, but there used to be more, and a little while ago, an adoption request was filed on your behalf."

Danny blinked and made a face. "You mean, someone stole my identity in ghost court?"

"No, no," said the interviewer, waving one amorphous hand. "Not at all. I mean to say, I ghost filed a request to legally adopt you."

"Who?" asked Danny. "Not Vlad?" Vlad was the only ghost he could think of who had demonstrated any interest in adopting him.

"No, that's not the name listed here."

"Plasmius?" asked Danny, still cringing internally.

"No."

"Then who?"

"Clockwork."

"What, seriously?" Danny liked Clockwork, and he liked to think that Clockwork liked him back, that they were friends, but the older ghost always seemed somewhat aloof.

"Yes, he was very serious. Now. I have a number of questions I need to ask you." They took out a small, glowing crystal, and set it on the table. "Do you know what this is?"

"No?" said Danny.

"It's a record crystal," said the ghost. "But one of its other functions is that it can sense deception, and record when in an interview it is being used. Go ahead, say something you know is false."

"I... like toast?"

The crystal's glow dimmed slightly before returning to its previous level.

"There, see? Very useful, don't you think?"

"I guess," said Danny. He didn't know how to feel about this. Any of this. What would ghost adoption even mean? He trusted Clockwork, but this felt like too much, too fast. He hadn't even properly processed what had happened with his parents a few hours ago.

"Right. So. We'll start with an easy one, then. Is your name Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom, also known as Danny Phantom, or simply Danny or Phantom?"

"Yes," said Danny, eyeing the crystal warily.

"And what would you prefer to go by, for the purposes of this interview?"

"Phantom," said Danny.

"Alright then, Phantom," said the interviewer, "could you please tell me where you primarily reside?"

"Fentonworks," said Danny, "in Amity Park." So far, he hadn't really had a reason to lie. All of this was common knowledge for both his human and ghostly acquaintances.

"And what would you consider to be your haunt?"

"My what?"

"Your haunt. The territory that you have metaphysically claimed."

"I- I don't really understand."

"Is there an area that you feel compelled to defend against hostile persons? An area in which non-hostile ghosts defer to you?"

"I- Yeah. I guess. Amity Park. And some of the bits around it, too."

"The entire city?"

"I guess? I don't know," said Danny. "Is that weird?"

"It would be unusual," said the interviewer.

Danny really wished the interviewer had an expression he could read. Or even just something approximating a face.

"Now, do you feel safe in your home? In 'Fentonworks?'"

The correct answer to that question would be no, but he wasn't sure he should answer. What if this was some kind of elaborate trick?

"We can come back to that," said the interviewer. "Are there any other places where you do feel safe?"

"I mean, sure?" said Danny. He fidgeted.

"Would you please share some of those places?"

"School, I guess?" Except that he got beaten up there all the time and his parents had hunted him down there and he had to escape and... Yeah.

The crystal dimmed. Danny grimaced.

"Ah," said the interviewer. "Anywhere else?"

"My friends houses," said Danny. "And the Far Frozen." To his relief, this time, the crystal stayed bright.

"Have you ever been to Clockwork's lair?"

"Yeah," said Danny. He slouched in the chair as much as possible. He wasn't sure he should be answering these questions, but he was. Maybe he should stop.

"Do you feel safe there?"

"Not at first, but now I do."

"I see. Why not at first?"

"Clockwork and I didn't meet on great terms and we sort of got into a fight." Maybe that would get the interviewer to stop. They'd decide Clockwork couldn't adopt him and leave. Did Danny want that? He wasn't sure.

"That's more common than one might expect. But you feel safe with him now?"

"Yes."

"Alright, moving on. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

There was a long, drawn out silence that managed to be skeptical despite the interviewer's lack of a face.

"I know I'm small," said Danny, insulted, "but I am sixteen."

"Excuse my indelicacy, but... how old were you when you died?"

Danny flushed. "Fourteen," he bit out.

"Then you're fourteen."

"It was two years ago. I'm sixteen."

"Fourteen is your natural age," said the ghost. "A ghost's natural age is the age they died at."

"Yeah, but I'm still half human. I'm still aging. So I'm sixteen."

The interviewer shook their head. "As a liminal spirit, your apparant age range is likely larger than a normal child's would be, but your natural age, your true age, is still fourteen. Based on records of liminals, the highest extent of your age range is most likely to be either twenty-one or twenty-eight. That's part of the reason we investigate official adoption request so thoroughly. The relationship may very well last for thousands of years, if not forever."

"Wait, are you saying I could live forever?" asked Danny, incredulous. This was not how he wanted to find out he was immortal. Heck, he didn't want to be immortal.

"I'll admit, my understanding of liminality isn't perfect, but I believe that is the case. Why? Is that problematic?"

"The results of the law enforcement investigation have come back," said the bureaucrat to whom Clockwork was currently assigned. "As well as an inquiry as to the opinion of the mortal law enforcement arm."

"And?" asked Clockwork. "Their findings?"

The bureaucrat, who had up until that point not displayed evidence that xe possessed any emotions whatsoever, made a face of extreme disgust. "When the officers found the child, the human parents were openly shooting at him. Other humans intervened for long enough for law enforcement to pick him up. Of course, they then felt the need to arrest him and carry him away in handcuffs... I have no idea why I keep at this job, really I don't."

Clockwork's core shifted in worry. His first impulse was to leap up and go comfort Daniel, but he suppressed it. If he left now, he would lose his place in line and have to start over.

"The public nature of the event means that the human police are now investigating the child's circumstances and may recommend that the child be removed from his human parents' custody. If you have a human identity and you are able to gain custody of him there, it will aid your case here."

"I am aware," said Clockwork.

"Well, then," xe said. "I believe this is all in order. Here is your ticket to see the judge. Just show it to the door. You know where it is?"

"I do," said Clockwork, rising.

He had walked by the door several times in his dealings with the various clerks and notaries. The room behind it lay directly in the heart of the family court building, all the other rooms and residents armor for this one.

The door itself was made of dark wood full of eye-shaped knots. As Clockwork approached the door, the eyes opened, watching him. He held up the ticket and the doors swung inward.

Inside was a courtroom, complete with benches, tables, a witness stand, a courtroom recorder, a judge's box, and a judge.

The judge was a one-eyed ghost in pale purple robes. She examined Clockwork.

"We had not foreseen this," she said. "Not until you filed the first motion."

"You were never able to see me clearly," said Clockwork, hoping this would not turn into a power play between himself and the Observants. "Did you receive the relevant paper work, your honor?"

"Yes," she said. "Take a seat, Lord Clockwork."

Clockwork flew to the front of the courtroom and settled himself in the applicant's chair.

The judge leaned forward. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because I love Daniel, and I believe he deserves more care and protection than he is currently receiving from his biological parents."

The judge waved a clawed hand. "Yes, yes. But you didn't have to go through all of this and get to me in order to do that. You could have just taken him. That's what most people do, nowadays. Ever since the King was sealed and our systems of governance began to decay."

"I believe it is the only way Daniel will truly be safe," said Clockwork, meeting her one eye calmly.

"You want to prevent us from 'interfering.'"

"That would be nice, yes," agreed Clockwork.

"You want this to be binding," accused the judge.

"You say that like it is a bad thing," said Clockwork. "But what else could induce him to fully remove himself from that situation? You see how they treat him. Have you looked at the medical report, yet?"

"I have," said the judge, looking at her desk. "Very well. All the paperwork is in order. I am approving you for a one-month trial period. At the end of the trial period, the status of the child will be assessed. If his state is found to be acceptable, the adoption will be approved and bound. If it is not, this court will take custody of him until such a time as an appropriate guardian can be found." She scribbled something on a piece of paper and then hit it with a stamp. "The probationary bond should be active. You may go."

"Thank you, your honor."

After the end of the interview, which had become much more distressing than Danny wanted to admit, one of Walker's goons showed up and took him away, to another room.

This room was different than any of the other rooms he had seen in Walker's prison. For one, the walls were a soft, pastel green with purple accents, not the harsh, neon pink of elsewhere in the facility. The chairs looked soft, and were arranged almost randomly, clustered in little groups, or around tables. There were colored pencils and crayons on and occasionally floating over the tables. A large basket sat in one corner, overflowing with toys of various sizes.

Alright. Danny was confused.

He let the goon- the... officer?- guide him into one of the chairs and put a stuffed rabbit on his lap.

"I- I don't understand," said Danny. "What's going on?"

"Didn't that interviewer guy tell you?"

"He said I was being adopted," said Danny, who still hadn't wrapped his head around that particular tidbit of information. "But I thought- I was under arrest?" He raised his cuffed hands. "You arrested me?"

"Those're just so you don't run away," said the ghost. He ruffled Danny's hair. "You're not under arrest. We're just waiting for the court to decide what to do with you."

"And what if they don't do anything with me?"

"Then it's up to the boss."

"Oh," said Danny, not liking the sound of that at all.

"But, if it helps, I think that the court probably will decide to do something with you."

It didn't really help, no.

"Do you want a lollipop?"

"Sure," said Danny. It wasn't like this day could get much weirder.

The ghost handed him a lime dumdum. Yeah. That was about what he expected there, honestly.

The sensation of a thick, weighted blanket being draped over his mind hit him with such intensity that he looked around, trying to see if someone had just wrapped him up in a blanket without him noticing. Tension bled out of his muscles, and his core finally stopped the angry/depressed/frightened/pained dance it was doing in his chest.

He felt... protected. Which was wrong, because he was in Walker's prison, and Walker would use any excuse he had to keep Danny imprisoned for a thousand years. Danny was not safe here. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

And yet, that feeling remained.

He brushed his fingers over the bandages over his chest. What was wrong with him? His parents hadn't even cut all the way through, but he was so messed up. He didn't understand.

This feeling... This 'safety'... It felt like a cruel joke more than anything else, only it was one he couldn't escape from because it was coming from inside him and he was calm but he was also crying.

"Oh, heck, do you not like lime? I think I have some green apples-?"

The door to the room opened, and Danny looked up. Before he could register who had come in, he was swept up into a hug.

He blinked into silky purple cloth. "Clockwork?" he croaked.

"I'm here," said Clockwork. "It's fine. You're safe now, Daniel."

Danny pushed away. Clockwork let him. "You're adopting me?" asked Danny.

"Yes," said Clockwork. "Unless you don't want me to."

"Why?" asked Danny. "I don't understand. I didn't think you liked me that much."

"I like you very much," reassured Clockwork. "I want you to be my family."

Danny sniffed. "Okay," he said. It wasn't as if he really had anywhere else to go. "Okay. But what about," he made an awkward gesture with his cuffed hands, "Amity Park?" The idea of leaving hurt, even worse than the cut on his chest.

"You won't have to leave," said Clockwork, soothingly. "You can still have your life there."

"I'll have to go back?" asked Danny, in alarm. Back to Fentonworks, where even the walls had it out for him with how much anti-ghost weaponry they had packed into them? He couldn't. Not after what his parents had done.

(A small part of him knew that wasn't what Clockwork had said, and that he was being irrational. That part of him was ignored.)

"No, no," said Clockwork. "I have a new place, just for you. If you'll let me show you?"

Very hesitantly, Danny nodded.

"Alright, good," said Clockwork. He turned to the police ghost. "Do you have the key for these? We really must be going."

"Yeah," said the ghost, producing the item. "The boss says that he expects you to teach the kid how to respect the law."

"Appropriately," said Clockwork, neutrally, unlocking the cuffs.

Danny felt an urge to hug Clockwork. So he did. Clockwork hugged him back, and rocked him back and forth, gently.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Clockwork.

"Yeah," said Danny.

With a gesture of his staff, Clockwork opened a portal.

Clockwork wanted custody of Danny. He wanted full custody of Danny. Legally. In both worlds.

This posed a bit of a challenge, as he did not legally exist on one of those two worlds. Thus, Clockwork had to establish a legal presence in the human world.

On the surface of it, this did not seem too difficult. Between his temporal powers, his minor shapeshifting abilities, and overshadowing, simply creating an identity was easy. The hard part was creating an identity that Daniel would not have encountered before, in order to avoid a paradox, while making it plausible that Daniel had encountered the identity before, for the purposes of dealing with mortal law.

In one timeline, the hill to the west of town stood empty of habitation, owned by the county but rendered unusable due to a dangerous failed mine on the site. In this timeline, however, the mine had never been built, and the property was instead owned by a reclusive hermit who went by the name of Charles Worth. The property had passed through many hands in the years before Mr. Worth had purchased it in his youth, and a stately, if somewhat faded, mansion sat at the hill's crest, overlooking Amity Park.

Charles Worth went to Amity Park only rarely, and for good reason. He was an albino, with red eyes, white hair, and even whiter skin, and superstitious people often thought the worst of him. In recent days, he had even been mistaken for a ghost.

'Mistaken.'

He rubbed Daniel's shoulders, and the child startled, pulling away from him again. Daniel had missed Clockwork's, admittedly minor, transformation, and now blinked up at his newly pale face, confused.

"Do you like my disguise?" asked Clockwork.

Daniel's eyes flicked up and down Clockwork, assessing, processing. He gave a tiny nod, and reattached himself. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Hickory Hill," said Clockwork.

Danny frowned, mouthing the words. "Isn't that owned by... Charles Worth. Charles- Oh. I get it."

Clockwork gave Danny a little squeeze. "Would you like to see inside?"

"Okay," said Danny.

The house, Danny had to acknowledge, as they approached the front door, looked haunted. As if some pale, frail, spirit might look out one of the lace-draped windows on the upper floor at any moment. As if there was a Gothic mystery just waiting to unfold. A murder mystery, maybe, full of forbid love and jealous lovers. Or the tale of a sickly heir to a great fortune.

Or that of an ancient ghost and his adopted half-living son.

Even before they stepped inside, Danny's ghost half had decided it loved the building.

The door, as Clockwork opened it, creaked in a loving sort of way, the tone low enough to be comforting instead of annoying. The entrance hall's floorboards did not creak under the weight of the ghosts, but Danny could tell that if a human tried to cross them, they would. He hoped the rest of the floors were like that.

He padded forward, daringly leaving the protection of Clockwork's cloak, examining all the dark nooks and crannies, the odd architectural choices arising from generations of additions, smiling at cold spots. Clockwork shut the door. Even then, there was a draft, curling around his ankles, cool and refreshing.

Danny smiled. It was small and strained, but it was a smile. "It's perfect," he said.

"Don't you want to see your room before you say that?" teased Clockwork.

"Yes," said Danny.

Clockwork led Danny to a staircase with an elaborately carved banister and began to climb. Danny followed eagerly. He had never thought his core would be so happy simply to have somewhere safe to exist.

It almost was enough to let him forget what his parents had done to him. He stopped, hand on his chest.

"Daniel?" said Clockwork. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," said Danny, automatically.

Clockwork frowned, the expression both familiar and foreign on Clockwork's falsely-human face. "Why don't we take a look at that, once we get to your room, alright?"

Danny nodded, swallowing back his irrational fear.

They went up, and Clockwork opened the door to a large room, much larger than the one he had back at Fentonworks. The bed was similarly large and equipped with curtains and enough blankets and pillows to turn it into a nest at a moment's notice. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep blue, with tiny green-white dots picking out a star map. The room also contained a number of carefully curated hiding places, areas where the dressers wardrobe or desk created blind spots and deep shadows. The floor was carpeted, but still icy.

It was an excellent room for a ghost (or half-ghost) like Danny.

He was too nervous to enjoy it.

Clockwork pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. It was a little strange to see Clockwork actually sitting and not floating or coiling. Actually-

"Can you have legs in ghost form?" asked Danny.

"I can," said Clockwork. "But typically I don't bother." He patted the bed. "Let's take a look at you."

Danny hesitated, holding his hands clasped in front of his chest. Clockwork's face went soft.

"I just want to make sure you are healing. I know this is difficult, but neither you nor I want things to get worse."

"I'm fine," said Danny. "I heal fast. It was just- It should be gone now. I've gotten worse."

"Is it?" asked Clockwork.

Danny could still feel it. "I don't know," said Danny.

Clockwork patted the bed again. Danny sat down and started fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

"Would you like help?" asked Clockwork.

"No," said Danny. He pulled his sweater off. Taking off his t-shirt was harder. Then there were just Sam's bandages. He bit his lip a the red and brown blotches staining them.

"Would you like to talk about it?" asked Clockwork, taking one end of the bandage and starting to unwind it.

"I don't know," said Danny. "I just- It's so stupid. I shouldn't have- They saw me walk through a door and- They don't even know I'm Phantom. They just-" Danny hiccuped. "They tried to cut me open. They pretended."

Clockwork pulled free the last layer of bandages. The long, shallow cut was still there, straight along his breast bone until the end, where it curved sharply right and tapered off. That was when Danny had jerked free of the restraints and ran.

"Why isn't it healing?" asked Danny.

"It isn't just a physical wound, Daniel. Ghosts are spiritual creatures."

"Oh," said Danny. It made a sick kind of sense. "So my core is really hurt? I thought I was just... That it was in my head."

Clockwork raised a hand to touch the bottom of the cut. "Your parents are important to you, and to your Obsession, your existence as a ghost. Of course their rejection would affect you." The cut began to knit itself together underneath Clockwork's fingers. Danny's core thrummed strangely at the touch. "I can heal your physical injuries."

"But not the mental ones, huh?" said Danny.

"You need time for that," said Clockwork, reaching the top of the cut.

"Good thing I have you, then."

"It is," said Clockwork. He leaned forward and kissed Danny on top of his head.

Danny ran his fingers up and down the newly healed cut. "So my powers aren't going to work until, what, I get over this?"

"That is one possibility," said Clockwork. "But everyone heals differently."

"Can't you tell?" asked Danny, reaching for his shirt.

"The more involved I am in an event, the more difficult it becomes for me to see its future," said Clockwork. "The timeline branches and splinters as I look at it. Also, it may surprise you, but you are fairly difficult to predict on your own."

"Oh," said Danny. He pulled his shirt on, ignoring how it caught on the dried blood on his skin. "So, what now? Should I just, I don't know, hide out here? I mean," he shifted, uncomfortably, "It's fine if I can't let anyone know I'm here, I get that, but I'd like to, um..."

"Live your life?"

Danny flinched. "As much as I can, yeah." He licked his lips. "Sam and Tucker didn't get in trouble, did they? They're fine?" He'd been so wrapped up in how miserable he was, he'd barely spared his friends a second thought, and now that guilt from that rained down on his head.

"They're fine. Due to the circumstances, they haven't gotten in any trouble at all, so stop that."

"What?"

"Feeling guilty. I know for a fact that the safety of others was your first consideration." Clockwork patted his shoulder. "As for your continued presence here on the mortal plane," Clockwork smiled, "would it surprise you to learn that I am in fact registered as a foster parent? I have even had a few children here, although not many stay for long."

"Really?" said Danny. "But... Wait, um. What about- What about Mom and Dad?"

"They were seen shooting at you in public after insisting that you were a ghost. They've been arrested."

Danny swallowed. "Are they going to be alright?"

Clockwork sighed and shifted so that he was sitting on the bed next to Danny. He put an arm around Danny's shoulders. "They'll be fine," he said. "But we should come up with a story about how you wound up here, hm? For the social workers."

During Daniel's periodic visits to Clockwork's lair, Clockwork had noted how tactile he was, how much he enjoyed hugs and other physical expressions of affection. After Daniel got past his initial hesitation concerning his new situation, that particular personality trait multiplied.

Clockwork suspected the Fentons were ultimately to blame. Their hostility towards Daniel's ghostly identity and their tendency to carry objects that could hurt Daniel precluded him from seeking comfort from them, and his friends and sister, while very remarkable, were children themselves. Their relationship with Daniel was different.

This meant that Daniel could and would spend long periods of time laying against Clockwork. Usually, he would be doing homework during those moments or talking to Clockwork about various ghostly things that he had never had a chance to learn about before.

Today, however, he was just sitting there, quietly, almost dozing.

"I'm not keeping you from doing things?" asked Daniel, abruptly. "Am I?"

"No," said Clockwork.

"You don't have to do time stuff?"

"I can make duplicates and also time travel. I can be wherever I need to be. But if you want space-"

"No," said Daniel. "This is good." He snuggled closer and startled as a ring of light flashed around his waist. He was, for the first time since before his parents had attacked him, a ghost. Clockwork, in turn, shed his human guise.

Daniel was blinking down at his gloved hands.

"What?" he asked.

"I think you finally relaxed," said Clockwork, ruffling Daniel's hair. The smaller ghost leaned into the touch, purring. "Your transformations might be a bit unpredictable for the next few days."

"Good thing it's a weekend, then, huh?"

Danny jittered nervously as he and Clockwork passed through the large, eye-covered doors. This time last week, strange ghosts had been in and out of Clockwork's house, asking questions, poking things, and staring. Clockwork said they were checking to see if everything was in order, if the adoption could become official.

Danny didn't really see why it being official mattered. The Ghost Zone didn't really have a government to speak of. Families that Danny had seen just sort of decided that they were families, and that was that. It seemed important to Clockwork, though, and Clockwork claimed that there were certain benefits, like strengthening connections... Danny didn't get it. Wouldn't their connections be strengthened anyway?

Clockwork guided Danny with small nudges, directing him to a seat in front of the judge, who stared down at them with her one enormous eye.

"I have decided to approve the adoption request regarding Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom," she said.

Danny felt Clockwork relax incrementally beside him. He smiled. The judge's pronouncement felt a little anticlimactic to him, but, well, whatever.

But the judge wasn't done speaking. "The child's familial bond with his biological parents will be severed. The familial bond will be established with his current guardian, known as Clockwork. On all levels legal, physical, metaphysical, metaphorical, emotional, mental, and spiritual, Clockwork will be the sole parent of Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom. Due to the child's status as a liminal spirit, the memories and associations stored in his human brain will not be altered, and he may still experience feelings, especially those of nostalgia, towards his former parents, however, this is expected to fade with time. Questions?"

Danny had rather a lot, actually. Clockwork hadn't quite explained it like this. "Wait, are you saying I'll forget my parents?"

"No," said the judge, in a rather condescending tone.

"You won't forget them," said Clockwork. "But your core won't recognize them as your parents anymore. It's so you'll be able to defend yourself." His tone was almost pleading. "Your relationship with your sister will, of course, be unaffected."

"Okay," said Danny. They clearly didn't see him as their son anymore, so... It wouldn't really change anything. He didn't like the idea of ghosts he didn't know messing around with his core, but he trusted Clockwork. Even if he was apparently really bad at explaining ghost adoption. "What about the other stuff? The physical, metaphysical part?"

"The severed bonds in your core are replaced with ones to your new parent. Similarly, new bonds will be established in your parent's core," explained the judge. "Are you satisfied?"

Clockwork gave Danny an encouraging smile.

"I- Yes. I'm satisfied," said Danny.

"Very well." The judge waved forward a seven armed bailiff who had been waiting in the corner of the room.

The bailiff carried two tall glasses and a large, covered pitcher. He set one glass each in front of Clockwork and Danny and poured a thick, white, faintly glowing liquid into each of them.

"What is it?" asked Danny.

"It is a potion designed to stop our cores from fighting the changes that are about to happen," said Clockwork.

Danny looked at the potion dubiously. "Like an anesthetic?"

"Like an anesthetic," agreed Clockwork. He had already picked up his cup. "Together?"

"Okay," said Danny, still doubtful.

He picked up the cup and brought it to his lips, watching Clockwork carefully over the rim. Clockwork tipped his cup back, and so did Danny.

The potion reminded him a lot of eggnog, except that it was thicker, heavier, sweeter, like it had been mixed with honey. Almost at once, that heaviness settled into Danny's bones, weighing him down, a sensation just to the left of sleep settled over him. He lowered the cup from his face, his grip on it going gentle. The bailiff caught it as it tipped over.

Clockwork reached over and gently, slowly, pulled him close. Then he went as limp as Danny.

Inside, Danny's core became open. Not open, as in vulnerable, but as in receptive. Listening. He felt soft. Malleable. Like someone could press their thumb into him, and it would leave an impression when he hardened again. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

The judge sighed with something like disapproval. "So mote it be." She raised a stamp up off her desk, brought it down, and things changed.

Or, at least, Danny did.

Clockwork, being the elder ghost, recovered faster from the potion than Daniel. There was no reason to stay at the court, so, after bidding a goodbye to the judge, he picked Daniel up and left, flying a polite distance before opening a portal back to their home outside Amity Park.

He settled Daniel down in his bed, phasing him beneath his covers and tucking him in. Daniel would need to sleep off the potion, as well as take time to adjust to the changes to his psyche, however minor they might be.

"I love you so much," said Clockwork, brushing Daniel's hair out of his face. Getting here had taken subjective years of work and planning but it was worth it, because now Daniel was his child, in every way that mattered.

Forever.

Yes, that ending line was a little bit ominous, but they're ghosts. They wouldn't be happy if it wasn't ominous!

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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j-diamond · 4 years

Text

(Not) Worth It (Edward x reader)

I am so ridiculously sorry and frankly embarrassed at how long it took me to write this request. i apologize for stalling, and hope that this is to your liking.

“Guess what?” you call as you burst through the doors to the filing room. Your demeanor deflates when you see Officer Dougherty with his fist raised and an unconscious Ed in his other. You were sick of it, this was the last straw. Your face contorts into a frown, turning to your right, you slam the files that were in your hand atop the nearest filing cabinet. The mere sound of it sends the other two officers running. You chuckle slowly at their cowardice as you watch them run away, “I see you’ve seemed to have forgotten last week’s lesson.” your voice was low, dripping with malice, your eyes having gone wide. You slam the door shut as you turn around laughing, “I guess I’ll just have to reteach it.” Tom had let go of Ed, tossing him to the floor. Your gaze returns to Tom, your knuckles growing whiter. You smirk at him, knowing he wasn’t going to recover soon, “Shall we begin?”

“Knock knock.” you say softly as you lean against the door frame. “Come in.” Ed responds, not bothering to look up from his deskwork. You smile sympathetically at him as you walk over to him, “How ya holdin’ up?” you ask , bringing your clipboard closer to your chest. He looks at you, the darkening bruise developing on his left temple answering your question, “You look like a punching bag.” you joke trying to get him to smile. Instead he looks down hastily, “Better me than her.” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. But you hear it, your heart stopping at the words. You look down, understanding what he’d meant, “Kringle.” you mutter softly, in an almost disbelief. Your breath hitches as you realize he’d done all that just for her. He threw himself intentionally into harm’s way, for her. Your grip tightens on the clipboard. All of this for her, no, all of this because of her. “Y/n?” Ed calls softly upon seeing your distressed look, “Is it worth it?” you ask quietly as you loosen your grip. “What do you-” he starts but you interrupt him, “Is she worth it?” your voice barely reaches above a whisper, but he could hear you clearly, “I mean I know you love her, but is she worth getting yourself beaten to a pulp?” You go to meet his gaze, but he breaks it in favor of the floor, “I love Ms. Kringle.” he says, as if for reassurance, “And Officer Dougherty doesn’t deserve a woman like her. She’s sweet and smart and if I can just prove to her that I’m a better man for her than him, she’ll be with me.” You shake your head, as your eyes begin glazing over, “But what about Tom?” you ask, your voice wavering slightly, “Everything he does to you, all the beatings, all the trash he talks. The way him, and his troupe look down on you. Is she worth all that?” He nods softly, “I love her.” he says again, your heart cracking, “And I know that even though I can’t beat him physically. I am still intellectually better. It may not be much right now, but it’ll count for something. If I show him that he doesn’t scare me and that I can take any beating he throws my way then he’ll stop throwing them, just like last time.” your eyebrows crease, “Last time?” you ask, unsure of what he meant. “I don’t know much, but I know he was beating me, but I passed out.” he says, his eyes darting, trying to remember, “But I assume he stopped because he got bored. The only punch that was bruised, was this one.” He points to the previous one on his left temple, “So if I continue to do that, he’ll stop wanting to fight me entirely.” You groan, frustrated that he’d been thinking that's why Tom had stopped beating him. “Ed, that’s not-” You pause, unsure if you should tell him. You look at him, able to see that he was interested. You sigh, you didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t need to know you protected him, after all he was only doing so to ‘protect’ Kringle, “That won’t work. Men like Tom Dougherty don’t just tire from the same...” your voice beginning to grow bitter, “They get off on beating up people they deem weaker than themselves. They won’t let off until being forced to do so.” You stop, thinking about it. You’d protect him this entire time, yet, he doesn’t know, and probably wouldn’t. He’d been protecting Kringle, she knows this, and yet she still doesn’t care. You and him were basically the same, “I’m not like you Ed.” Your voice settles, softer than before, “I can’t keep getting myself hurt because of a person I love.” You turn, your breath uneven, “Bye Ed.” Ed watched as you left, speechless; unknowingly letting you slip through his fingers.

“I know what you did.” A voice says from behind you. You pause, fighting the instinct to respond, having already figured out who it was. You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction, not when your heart was already weak, moments away from shattering. “I’ll wait.” They say, their voice almost pompous. You sigh inwardly, you needed a change of scenery, staying here would only lead to disaster. So you begin putting away your files, opting out to finish them another day. You look up to see Ms. Kringle guarding the door and you sit back down, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation. “Yes Ms. Kringle?” you ask, not wanting to deal with her. She saunters over to your desk. You raise an eyebrow at her obvious faux confidence. “Tom hasn’t been to work for three days.” She says accusingly. Her hand resting on her hip. “Well I assume it’s because he needed a day to rest, and another to recover.” You smirk, pretending to think, “The third is probably just for show.” You flash a smile. You weren’t trying to have this conversation, “But honestly it’s none my business, he is your boyfriend. I wish you wouldn’t include me in your toxic relationship.” You stand, readying to leave, enforcing your decision. Yet Kringle apparently had other ideas as she, yet again, blocked your only exit. You smiled, staring deeply into her eyes, “Ms. Kristen Kringle, I do believe it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you refrained from continuing to block my exit.” Your smile dropped, “Unless you wish to get physical.” You intended to scare her into moving, but seeing a sense of familiarity wash over her face, you were reminded of just how toxic her relationship was. You pause, you hated her, but she didn’t deserve that. You sigh inwardly. You grab her arm pulling her to you, “What do you want?” Her eyes shift, surveying the room trying to remember, “It’s a violation of station rules to assault an officer.” she states, having found the words. You let go of her, completely done with her. She had no valid points, yet she came here to disrupt you anyway. “I’ll report you.” You pause, and then shrug, picking up your phone, ready to leave. “Okay.” you say as you go to leave, “That’s it?” she says and a misplaced anger begins to boil inside of you, “you’ll let me report you?” “Yep.” you say as the anger begins doubling over, “Because you’re not going to do it.” “And why not?” she asks, as she goes to block your exit again, letting all control leave your body, the misplaced anger showing itself. “Because you’re a brat.” you say, your voice hardening. She opens her mouth but you shove your hand over her mouth, “No. See you don’t get to talk. Not this time. You can be a brat with your dick of a boyfriend. You can be a brat at work, home and anywhere else. But not with me. You don’t be a brat with me. Because you won’t like how I respond.” Your hand unknowingly lowers to her throat, “See if it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Your hand begins tightening, “but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to be able to learn his place. So it’s his fault. With that being said, keep me out of your thoughts and keep my name out of your mouth. Because if you try this again-” Ed’s face appears over hers and you realize what you’re doing. You let go of her and sigh, your entire demeanor changing, “Just because he likes you doesn’t mean I have to.” You say softly, “Please stay away from me.”

“Ms. Kringle isn’t good for you.” You say, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think she’s worth it. Any of it.” You sigh, bending over to splash water in your face. This wasn’t going to work. No matter how many times you said it, no matter how many ways you said it; you’d never be able to say it to his face. ‘Maybe it’s me who’s not worth it.’ You think to yourself. Your mind goes back to all those times you’d protected him, he’d been protecting Kringle. Thinking about the way his face lit up when he saw her and even when he talked about her, made you realize it never did when he was with you. “All this time it was me.” You say softly. “I’ve been projecting myself on her this entire time. I’m not worth it.” You stare into the mirror, the face staring back confirming it. “I’m the one who’s not worth it.” Your knees buckle in realization. “Resigning?” Captain Essen asks, shock evident in her eyes. You nod your head in response, “Could I ask you why?” “Things have grown... toxic for me.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact, “I fear for my mental stability.” “I get that.” She says making you look up in surprise, which she returns with a smile. “I heard you held your own against Dougherty. He’s a pretty big guy, must take a toll on a person.” You look at her, eyebrow raised, at what she was implying. She smirks, walking over to you, “I like you Y/n. You’re one of my best detectives.” “But I barely do detective work. I mostly just file.” You admit. She shakes her head, “Nah, I still like ya.” She says, resting her arm over your shoulder, “Now bear with me.” She tosses your letter on the desk, “I’ll give you a week of paid suspension, then you can come back.” You open your mouth to protest but she shakes her head again, silencing you, “If you feel like you still don’t belong, then you can leave. Deal?” She raises an eyebrow, making you sigh. You nod, “Fine.” You start, trying to hide the smirk you felt inside, “But only because you’re my favorite Captain.” She chuckles, “I’m your only captain.” She retorts, smiling as she sits back down. “I guess it kinda works itself out then.” You add right before you leave, and as you go you can hear her laughter.

“Oh, hello.” A voice says, but again, you fight the instinct to look their way; this time for an entirely different reason, “It’s empty in here.” You inhale, your emotions beginning to bubble. “Yes.” you answer, heart heavy. “Well, I need a little help.” He says, teetering by the door. You pause, waiting for him to continue. You nod, signaling for him to continue, as you also continue placing items into your bag. “Well.” He says, pausing to think of how to phrase it, “I-I have been having trouble crafting the perfect riddle.” You pause, surprised, “F-for Ms. Kringle, I mean.” Your almost smile disappears, as tears begin pooling in your eyes. He continues talking as he begins to fidget, probably explaining his thought process, but you weren’t really listening. You were busying yourself, packing, a lame attempt at trying to keep yourself from breaking apart further. You inhale again, shakily this time, and your eyes betray you, leaking ever so slightly. “What do you think?” he asks, breaking through your wall of despair. You stare at the frame of you and Ed that you kept on your desk and wipe your eyes. You pull a fake smile, “It’ll be lovely.” You say, steadying yourself, “She should love it.” Your smile falls lopsided, and you pass by him, eyes glued to your feet.

You return home, placing your items near the door, knowing that you’d be trashing them eventually. Plopping onto the couch you sigh, relaxation finally settling in. But just as you begin to relax, the weight you carried hardened, and you began feeling it all; everything you ever held in, ever felt, never said released itself. And like a floodgate, the tears spilled.

“L/n,” Edward says looking at his clipboard, “I believe the best way-” He pauses, realizing you weren’t here. He looks around, perplexed, it had been three days, and you still hadn’t shown. Part of him grew worried, but he knew it couldn’t have been bad, could it?

“Captain Essen?” He calls, and she looks up at him, “What is it Edward?” She asks, scourging her desk for missing files. He pauses, unsure of how to phrase what he was thinking. “Yes, Edward?” She asks again, this time looking at him, her eyes ushering him to talk. He swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes favoring his feet, “The case files suggested that with the angle of the stab wound, the stab itself would have to have come from a suspect who is likely to be 5’9”.” He spat out, ridiculing himself for not asking what he originally intended to. Her eyebrows knit together, “Thank you Edward.” She says unsure if that was really his reason for entering. Nevertheless he turns to leave, no other words being uttered. She slumps into her chair, knowing that without Y/n’s help she wouldn’t find the files. Then it clicks, “Edward,” She calls and he pauses before he closes the door. “Yes?” He asks, peeking his head in, his face still solemn. She smiles softly at him, “She’s on paid suspension.”

A knock on the door startles you. Glancing around, you second guess whether you’d actually heard it or not. However, as you begin to doze off, the knock resounds again and you groan. "I’m coming!” you shout as you sluggishly force yourself off of the couch. You stretch as you walk and to your disdain they knock again, "I am coming to the door!” you sigh as you reach the doorknob. You hesitate, opting to instead look through the peephole. You stop, your nerves rising on edge, "Hello Nygma.” you call through the door, “YN." His voice calls, and your heart leaps, "You've not been to work in four days now.” "That’s correct.” ''I- is everything alright?” "Everything is fine.” You lie, and you can feel his hesitation, "I promise.” “Are-” he pauses, clearly unsure, “if..” another pause, "truly?” "Ed," you beckon, your heart racing, “I’m perfectly fine.” There's a shuffle behind the door, and you let go of the breath you’d been holding. He was gone, and a part of you left with him.

You awake to a familiar aroma. You enter your kitchen to find tupperware of what appeared to be your favorite food. “I didn’t…” you say aloud to yourself. You pause, trying to put things together. “Oh, that was me.” A voice says and you whip around quickly, but pause, seeing who it was. “S-sorry.” Edward stutters having noticed your fight stance. You feel your emotions swell as you relax your stance. “Why?” You ask as you slowly go to sit on the floor. “Why are you here Ed?” He pauses noticing your slow movements, “I, I still had a key. And I was just leaving I promise. I don’t want to bother you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I assumed you were just under the weather and I was worried that-” “I’m not ‘under the weather’ Edward. I’m fine.” You repeat, "I’m fine.” “Why do you keep saying that?” he asks, "You're not. a-and i’m not sure why, but please let me help.” "You can’t help.” “Why?” "Because you can’t.” “Why? Y/n, why?” “Because if you help me I might fall even farther in love with you!” You shout, finally cracking, tears stream from your eyes as you completely melt, your back against the floor, “because I’m in love with you.” you cover your face, “and you’re in love with her.” you pause catching your breath, “and you won’t stop being in love with her no matter what I say or do and it's not fair because she doesn’t even deserve you.” you sigh through your hands, “and I guess that means I don’t deserve you.” your tears finally begin to slow, but your heart fastens when you realize you couldn’t hear anything over your pathetic sobs. “You don’t deserve me,” his voice whispers, and had you not been listening for it--you wouldn’t have heard it. You inhale sharply, knowing that it was true, but not having wanted to hear it from his own mouth. You feel hands wrap around your wrists, swaying them from your face, “not when I don’t even deserve you.” Your eyes meet his, and you notice a glossiness to them. You reach a hand to his face, “You deserve to be happy.” You say, your brain finally accepting your false truth, “and if she is what makes you happy, then she’s worth it.” he chuckles softly, “You’re what makes me happy.” he says, eyes not leaving yours, “I’m” he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t see that.” You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off with a hug, “You’re worth it, because you make me happy, and I would rather lose a thousand Kringles than lose one you.” Your arms finally wrap around him, accepting the warm embrace you hadn’t known you needed.

#Gotham #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #gotham x reader #ed #edward nygma #edward x reader #edward nygma fanfiction #edward nygma x reader #edwardnygmaoneshot #The Riddler #the riddler x reader #nygma #ed nygma #nygma x reader

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an-absolute-travesty · 4 years

Text

Let me go

~Writing strike is over!~

*confetti*

Hopefully that taught the general public to appreciate writers a bit more

There was no prompt for this, I just wanted to write it :)

Massive tw for: major character death, grieving, blood, panic...this one is rough, friends

Word count: 1,701

About: kam angst

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added or removed):@you-are-the-vacker-legacy @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlykeefitz @percabetn @vibing-in-the-void @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @enbies-and-felonies @blxckh0les42 @rainbowtay-11 @littlemisscupcake

Tam was making lunch for his boyfriend when he got the hail. Keefe himself sat in his art studio, working on a project that Tam apparently wasn’t allowed to see yet. Their anniversary was coming up though, five years of success. Tam suspected it was some present to do with that. Maybe a nice landscape, they needed something to sit over their mantel.

“Hello?”

Dex’s voice came from the other end. “Tam, we just got word of a possible Neverseen attack in Atlantis. We think it might just be a few crazy extremists, no leaders spotted yet. but since you and Keefe are closest we need you two to check it out. No interactions required, just a scope out.”

“Got it, be there in five.”

~*~

It...wasn’t just a few extremists. If that wasn’t obvious enough.

“Shit,” Tam said in a harsh whisper, pulling Keefe far behind a wall as he crept around the corner.

“What? Who is it?”

“A certain mommy dearest.”

Then, someone appeared behind him. Tam couldn’t remember who. Couldn’t remember how. All he knew was that he was shoved from his safe spot into the open.

“Hey boss, we got a visitor. Remember the little shade boy?”

He quickly moved to a place of defense, shadows prepared.

“Oh yes, I remember him. Shame, he wasn’t the goal. Ruy?”

The man turned.

“Be rid of him.”

Everything went to slow motion. A throwing knife was hurtling towards him. He braced for impact, there was no way to dodge it. Aimed right for the heart.

Only then he saw the flash of movement. Keefe fell back into Tam, the wound in his chest just starting to bleed.

“No!” Did it come from him or Gisela? Tam couldn’t tell, his eyes trained on Keefe’s face as he gently lowered him to the ground.

“Oh you fucking idiot.” Tam didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Keefe. Maybe both. He went to remove the knife from where it sat lodged in Keefe’s heart.

“No,” He said weakly. “Leave it, less bleeding.” Somewhere in the background the Neverseen had gotten away, Tam never found out what their goal was that day. He was sure they didn’t get it, though.

Keefe held Tam’s face in one hand, staining him with blood.

“You have beautiful eyes you know. I’ve always loved your eyes. I hope I get to see them again.”

“Keefe, don’t talk like that, you’ll be fine, we’ll get Elwin in here and-”

“No.” He took a break to cough, it left blood rolling down his chin. “No, Elwin can’t do anything for me. You can hail him, I’d rather go in the infirmary than the street.”

“Keefe-”

“Go, call him. It’ll make you feel better, love”

So he did.

Elwin was there fast, 10 minutes at most.

It took entirely too long.

~*~

Keefe passed out on the way to he infirmary. He still laid asleep as Elwin frantically rushed to grab something that might heal him. The contrast was awful, half to death and Keefe looked calm in the chaotic room all while being soaked with his own blood.

Bullhorn was laid beside him. Having Sophie around, it wasn’t a too uncommon sight, but everything felt more grim when the typically white sheets had gone red.

Finally, Elwin stepped back. Tears shined in the physician’s eyes.

“I’ve done what I can. It was a deep wound. Now we-” He got choked up. “Now we can only hope.”

Tam creeped towards the bed. Bullhorn laid scarily still next to Keefe, silent and unmoving.

He touched his forehead to Keefe’s as tears streamed down his face.

“Please stay,” He whispered. “Please wake up, please. You- you can’t just leave me, please, I love you.”

A hand moved up to cradle Tam’s face.

“Hey...Bangs Boy.” His voice was weak, but there.

Tam couldn’t tell who was crying anymore, him or Keefe. Maybe both.

Tam held his face, almost not believing he was real.

“Keefe! Please stay here, stay awake, stay with me please, love.”

A sad smile came across his face. “I wish I had that option, but...if I don’t, then please don’t look at what’s in the studio, okay? Please promise me you won’t look at it, Tam.”

“I promise.” Tam said without a second thought.

More friends rushed into the room then, hoarding around his bedside. All the best friends, they hadn’t talked all together in months.

How gruesome that this was the only thing that brought them all together.

The spent the next hour together, talking about old stories, laughing even. The room was still somber. Tears were exchanged with sad and nostalgic smiles, remembering the years they spent together. Suddenly, Keefe interrupted after being quiet for some time.

“Guys…” He said in labored breaths. “Please leave the room. I don’t want you all to have to see this. I love you all, and...and I better see you at my wanderling planting.” Everyone paused, before solemnly lining up and mumbling their last goodbyes. Sobs were heard throughout the room and eventually they all filed out into the hall, their wails could be heard from inside the infirmary.

Tam didn’t move from his spot.

“You always were stubborn, Bangs Boy. That’s why I love you.” His tone was raspy and harsh.

“I love you, too.” Tam said, voice cracking, as he wrapped his arms around Keefe. “Why couldn’t you just let me take the knife?”

He didn’t answer at first, just pulled Tam’s face up to look at him. He smiled fondly but there was an obvious sadness to it.

“You have so much to live for. Linh needs you.”

“Linh can live on her own, she’s stong.”

Keefe shook his head. “Let me go, Bangs Boy.”

“I can’t, I’ll never let you go, you’ll be fine-”

“Tam…” He trailed off, the sentence left unfinished as he winced in pain. Keefe’s typically tan face had gone ghostly pale, his perfectly mused hair now sat in limp strings on his forehead.

“Hey,” He managed, holding the unhealable wound on his chest. “I think I’m...I think I’m heading out. I can’t really feel my toes. Tell everyone that my last words were ‘Cassius is a little piss baby,’ I can’t let him think I forgave him in my last moments.”

Tam smiled, Keefe could always make him smile, even in moments like this.

Keefe simply held Tam’s face, a thousand words left unspoken.

His last were simple.

“I love you,”

Before Tam could reply, he was gone.

~*~

There were a lot of people at the wanderling planting, too many. All the random people from Foxfire that Tam barely knew, random citizens, every councillor.

Too many.

Everything moved far too fast to keep pace with Tam’s mind that felt as if it dragged across the floor. Mourners would only pay their respects for a few moments, unless they were a close friend.

Too many. Too fast.

The ceremony was confusing. Tam didn’t understand it, it was just too much for him to handle. He hadn’t been to one before and was now meant to lead it while still in mourning.

Too many. Too fast. Too much.

Before long he couldn’t stand it anymore, he ran off into the forest. Not paying attention to direction. He heard yells calling him name.

Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud.

Too bright, why did they have to wear green?

Too lonely, it was just him and Linh again.

Too sad, he couldn’t do this.

Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too lonely. Too sad. Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too lonely. Too sad. Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too lonely. Too sad. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much.

He found himself sitting at the base of a tree, he didn’t know who’s. He couldn’t handle it. He had to go...somewhere. He didn’t know where. He had to get away from this place. The ceremony could go on without him.

He took out his home crystal, ignoring the voices still searching for him in the labyrinth of trees.

~*~

Tam stumbled into his previously shared home, face finally dried, but still red and puffy.

Pictures on the walls shook as he slammed the door, a plate fell from its place in the cabinet but he payed it no mind.

Somehow he ended up in the art studio...well Keefe’s art studio. Though, he guessed he wasn’t so much now.

Tam sat down in front of the large, tarped piece that Keefe had been hiding from him for weeks.

It was probably just a landscape. Tam kept telling himself that. Just a landscape, that was what they talked about.

And yet...he couldn’t help the curiosity.

Keefe’s last wish was to not look at it. How could he disrespect that? But if it was just a landscape...why would that be his last wish?

Tam slowly unveiled the painting.

It was a portrait.

Of him.

In the painting he was smiling, his whole face was lit up, the bags now present under his eyes were missing.

Why would he hide this?

Tam flipped over the canvas, a piece was folded paper was stuffed in between the wood. It looked like a preparation for a speech, the ideas he decided not to use, crossed out.

“Tam would you-

Tam you know what would be really super cool-

But, consider if you just-

Ugh this is harder than I thought it would be

Hey uh..you are cooler than like...a whole pan of mallowmellt

UGH

Tam...I love you more than life. I want to be with you for the rest of it. Would you please give me the honor of marrying you?

HAH I DID IT!!! Now I just have to...actually do it.”

Tam slid to the ground, a sob escaped his body and tears slicked his face.

~*~

Their anniversary was coming up.

Five years of success.

On the day, Tam took the note to his tree.

“Let me go, bangs boy”

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t.

“I love you, too”

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kam #keefe sencen #tam song

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aquilamage · 3 years

Text

New fic dropping time!!!! So, there's german in this fic, which I will be putting translations for at the end. I only have very very rudimentary German knowledge and some research, so if I've gotten something wrong let me know. Also, I decided to lean more into my nonbinary Klavier headcanon and experiment with he/they pronouns for Klavier throughout the narrative! Also also big shoutout to @unnecessarygayfeelings for the conversation that inspired basically the whole framework of this and then being so encouraging with me on writing it ^-^

When Klavier finds themself developing feelings for his former classmate turned recent coworker, they attempt to conceal it behind a language barrier. A plan which, due to some major miscalculations, explodes spectacularly in his face.

Klavier paced the area of their office, fingers snapping at their side with the swaying of their arm. His music was turned up, the kind of loud where he could feel the beat in his body, and yet still not enough to drown out his extraneous thoughts as he tried to concentrate. There were still two days before this robbery case went to trial, but that only meant they had no excuses not to have everything perfekt.

On a dime, he spun around, pointing dramatically at the evidence displayed on his monitors. Of course! There were only a couple of footprints outside the shop, and none of them were the owner’s, which meant……

Well, they weren’t sure.

Sighing, they leaned their elbow against the window. As he gazed out it, he noticed a smudge on the glass, not too high for him to reach, but taller than he’d expect to casually put his hand or forehead. He frowned. Where had that come from? There was a cloth for cleaning that somewhere around here – technically someone came in to clean the prosecutor’s offices, but the one time it had been done for him, their reorganization had sent him into a panic when he couldn’t find what he needed, so now he took care of it himself.

Klavier was in the middle of rearranging their guitar cabinet when they paused, and blinked. What was he doing? He’d realized the display case could look better when he’d walked over to put a stack of papers in his file cabinet, which he’d gathered up after doing something…with his chair? Which they’d only gotten to sometime in looking for that cleaning cloth… They glanced over at the monitors.

Right, the case.

With a groan, he ran a hand up his face, bunching his bangs up into his hair. Coffee. They needed caffeine, and maybe a snack.

The office break room wasn’t exactly his first choice for somewhere to get a drink, considering they only had a half-decent coffee machine, sugar, and a few flavors of creamer, while Klavier’s usual orders were of the sort that ended up sounding like some obscure secret code. But despite the initial hubbub about their leaving mid-tour to return to the legal world dying down, they couldn’t bank on going out without running into at least a small group of fans, and lunch was still a ways off. This way he could go about his business and get back to the office unbothered.

Or at least, less bothered. As he approached, he could hear running water, and faintly some kind of voice. He walked in without pause. So far, none of his coworkers had given him trouble, and he wasn’t about to be intimidated by the potential of it now.

Still, it was a pleasant surprise when they found Sebastian at the counter, filling up the electric kettle. “Schatzi!” they called, “how are you?”

He turned, the tiny frown of puzzlement quickly morphing into a smile. “Klavier, hi! Making tea,” he said, holding up the kettle. “Oh! Do you want some?”

Ach, he was so cute. “Nein, danke. I am here to tackle this beast.” Gently, he slapped the top of the coffee machine. The puff of laughter he received in response made him feel almost dizzy (which they might have blamed on needing to eat had they not already accepted the existence of their feelings).

Even as he began setting up his drink, Klavier couldn’t help but sneak glances over at his former classmate. At Themis, their relationship had been…complicated, although the Sebastian of then probably wouldn’t have described it as such. The last time they’d seen each other had been pre-graduation, and as he embarked on his musical career, Klavier had been perfectly willing to leave even the memory of his old acquaintance behind. Hop forward seven years, though, and…

Some things about Sebastian hadn’t changed. He still had trouble with words, and when he listened to music (and sometimes otherwise), he conducted along with it. This soft, airy piece felt constricted being projected from a mere phone speaker, but the gentle precise looping motions of his hand coaxed it back into life, and something more than that.

Despite the consistencies, much more of Sebastian had changed than hadn’t. When Klavier had started back at the office, Sebastian had been one of the first prosecutors they’d met. Sebastian approached them on his own and introduced himself – whether he was aiming for a fresh start or thought Klavier had forgotten him, they didn’t know. His confidence in his actions was less in volume than Klavier was used to, but solid, and that had piqued their curiosity from the beginning.

At the end of their little talk, he’d glanced up and down the hall and said “I’m sorry about your brother.” It was soft and sad and the only time he brought the subject up. They were still sorting out their feelings about that, although after some research they had an idea of where he was coming from. From that angle, at least, they could appreciate the sentiment.

Sebastian fumbled over words now instead of getting them wrong outright, Klavier had noticed over the following days, as he decided to pursue the connection the other had started. And the conducting...the conducting was very endearing.

He seemed to notice Klavier then, halting mid-motion. “Sorry,” he muttered, folding his arms.

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” they said, projecting as much reassurance as they could with the softness of their eyes, the angle of their posture.

“...Okay.” He eased into a little smile, leaning back against the counter. There was just the lightest dusting of freckles under his eyes, a few shades off from his hair.

“Um, do you need help with something?”

“Mm?” Then Klavier realized they were still staring while Sebastian had been looking at them. “Ah, I’m fine! Just a little distracted.” He left off by what. Less information was better in this kind of situation, and if Sebastian did ask, he would just come up with something.

A nod. Then, a few seconds later. “When you’re done, can I get something from that cabinet?”

Fast as he could, he punched the last couple buttons to start brewing and leaned down to open the door. “Let me help you with that. What do you need, liebling?”

“Oh, thanks. The orange blossom?” When Sebastian asked a question, his mouth went together a little, like he was going to pout but stopped midway through.

There were a lot of boxes of tea in there, but eventually they located the right one and emerged holding the bag aloft. “für dich, Süßer,” they said, using their most dazzling smile.

Sebastian laughed. (And people told Klavier his voice sounded pretty.)

After a second, they realized their friend was tilting his head to the side, watching them. “...sorry, did you say something?”

“Is that the only one?”

Klavier shook his head. “Nein, but,” he looked at the mug on the counter (with a colorful logo of some place he’d never heard of on one side and on the other plain text that read “They Didn’t Have My Name”). It was relatively large, but, “how strong do you like this?”

Oh, no, I-” Turning, he moved over a pair of travel mugs. When Klavier raised their eyebrows, he frowned. “It stays really warm that way and it’s easier than going back all the time!”

“Wie geht es dir so süß?” When Sebastian’s defensive look only intensified, he waved a hand. “That’s clever of you.” The little smile they got in response to that made their heart soar. “Ah,” he ducked back down before he started grinning to the point of being obvious even to Sebastian, “three, then?”

“Yes.” Still smiling, he took the tea from them. He poured out the water, carefully unwrapping all the packets before dropping the bags in with an almost meditative kind of concentration. This too, was new for Klavier to witness. And again, something he found himself the opposite of minding.

The coffee maker beeped. As he grabbed his own mug, he realized something. “How do you plan on getting those back?”

Sebastian, who was holding the mug in both shaky hands, grinned and made a motion as if to pick the others up in the crook of his arms.

Ah. “Well, I have a free hand. May I-” they reached toward the mug. “That way if one of us gets spilled on it’s the one with the darker shirt.” More importantly, it would be him and not Sebastian, but he wasn’t saying that out loud. Not today.

Besides, it really would be a shame to ruin the mostly-pastels of his outfit. The blue of his tailcoat especially was. Really nice on him. Had Sebastian always been this cute, and if so how on earth had they missed it before?

They headed out in the hallway. “How are you doing? It’s been a little while.”

“You mean three days?” he smirked. A moment later, his expression drew back to neutral. “That was a joke.”

Klavier simply nodded. Sebastian still didn’t get tone all the time, even if he was more aware of it, so they weren’t about to argue with him trying to be considerate about that kind of thing.

“But...it’s been pretty good. Kay and I got put on the same case, which is a lot, especially since we can’t talk about it when we’re home.” As he talked, his hands moved. He probably would have been more cautious if he had something open, but it still made Klavier glad he was the one holding the mugs. “Yeah. I’m min- managing.”

See, this would be the perfect opportunity to extend an offer to help him take his mind off things for a while. Invite him out to dinner. Smooth and casual, with the potential to back into something platonic, worst case.

And oh, they wanted to. But it wasn’t the right time. He still had his hands full investigating what happened to Kristoph, into that Justice character and his connection to Herr Wright. It would be enough just juggling two careers and keeping a new relationship insulated from the public, without everything else he was dealing with right then.

Besides, he was pretty sure Herr Edgeworth would bite his head off if he got that close to his protege.

So instead they said, “Well, I’m glad you are, liebling,” with all the genuine warmth they had. (He couldn’t help the little bit of pride at the statement; even if he wasn’t able to express his affection directly, it didn’t mean he had to restrain himself either. With his extra language, he could use terms of affection while everyone around remained none the wiser.)

They reached Sebastian’s office. Shifting the thermoses to one side, he opened the door for Klavier. The little half-bow he did after, indicating for him to go inside, almost made Klavier drop a mug.

In the end, though, it got safely to Sebastian’s desk, on a coaster decorated with a pattern of sheet music that seemed like a real song but wasn’t one Klavier recognized on sight. “There. All set.”

“Thanks, Klavier.” He beamed as he walked over next to him.

Something else that had changed: Sebastian had grown a few inches in the years since they’d known him at school. He hadn’t been cute in the ‘small’ sense since he’d shot up what seemed like a foot during the break between their first and second years, but now he’d filled comfortably into his height (the same as Klavier), and it was something to think they could just step forward and-

But Klavier restrained themself. Not now.

Sebastian stopped on the other side of the desk. “Do you...want to stay here for a while? I can move stuff off the couch or the other chair while you get your stuff.”

Ach, be still his beating heart. “I appreciate the offer, but-”

“Sebastian, how are things coming along with the-” Herr Edgeworth stuck his head in through the door, stopping when he noticed Klavier. His expression didn’t change, save for an extra wrinkle on his forehead.

If he wasn’t leaving already…

“Ah, I’ll let you two get to work.” Grabbing up his mug, he smiled briefly at Sebastian before walking out. As he twisted past Herr Edgeworth, who was looking the other direction, he couldn’t resist calling out “bis spater, schatz!”

It was such a little thing, but it made them smile all the way back to their office. And, a little later on in the day, gave them the tiniest of laughs when they went to the Chief Prosecutor’s office. This was just a normal check-in, so things went smoothly. Herr Edgeworth’s few glances at them were a little more like glares, but he said nothing that didn’t relate to the business at hand, so they were more than willing to let it be.

They were interrupted when the phone rang. He checked the number, then frowned. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

“No problem,” they said, leaning back in their chair.

“Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth speaking.” A few moments of listening and then he sighed “Yes, Franziska, I know-,” walking to the far corner of the room. There, he continued talking, softer.

Klavier couldn’t make out what was being said. Nor was he interested in listening in. But still, after a few exchanges, something about the sound pricked his ears. As he tried to pay attention, it still took him a second, since he had to switch his brain over to German. They weren’t sure why they’d suddenly started paying attention, though; it was just about a case Interpol needed help wi-

Oh. Something heavy dropped in his stomach, squashing his insides together. His brain was still taking in everything happening around him as if from far away, but neither thoughts nor movement were happening for him. Which was a shame, because if he could control his body he might be long gone by now.

Instead, he sat there for the rest of the conversation, and as Herr Edgeworth walked all the way back over to face him. “Prosecutor Gavin,” he said, usual neutrality tinged with the tone of a polite cough.

For a terrifying moment, he could only stare up at where his boss was carefully rearranging papers on his desk. Thoughts came back first, of course. There was no way circumstances would be kind to them. And the first one was that he knew. Worse, he knew that Klavier knew now. The fact that he was avoiding the subject was a relief in that he didn’t suddenly have to figure out what to say, but it didn’t help the pain in his gut or the heat in his face.

“May I be excused for the rest of the day?” He was already embarrassed enough that the strained tone of his voice, once he finally regained use of it, barely even registered.

There was a slight pause, Herr Edgeworth still staring down at his files, before he said, “...Yes.”

The hall outside was a blur, a few people they saw but didn’t process passing them as they stumbled through with whatever the opposite of mindfulness is. He felt a right mess, but none of that mattered right now. He just needed to get outside, to get home, and not think about this for the rest of the d-

“Klavier?”

The voice jolted him out of his state, and he tripped over his feet, falling to the ground. He managed to pick his bag up, but immediately dropped it again when he saw who it was.

Sebastian rushed over. “Are you okay?” A frown. “You shouldn’t be at work like this.”

Ducking their head to hide the new bout of warmth they felt across it, they said, “Nein, ach, ja that- which is why I am on my way home.” Trying to stand, they were met by an arm being thrust toward them. After a brief hesitation, Klavier allowed Sebastian to pull them upright.

Even once he’d gotten his bearings, though, Sebastian didn’t release him. “Let me help you,” he said and, gentle but insistent, started guiding him down the hall.

“Th-there’s no need. It’s not that bad.” The moment he started to tug out of the grip, Sebastian let go entirely. Not expecting it, he tripped again, although not falling this time.

Sebastian’s frown deepened and he flapped his hands, once. “Well I’m not letting you drive yourself home, so there! I’m taking you.”

Ach, his expression was adorable, and were it not for the twin incidents of this morning putting lead butterflies in his stomach Klavier would have gladly let him. “Nein, I couldn’t take you away from your work. I’ll call a taxi.” They tried for their usual smooth tone. Instead, they got almost as squeaky as their words to Herr Edgeworth.

“It’s fine! I was going to take my lunch now anyway.” With a smile in his eyes, he held out his hand once again.

“...I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

He shrugged. “I’ve only gotten sick off Kay once in all the times she’s ever been sick, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Klavier went to protest again, but his throat was dry and crackly, and worse, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. So he sighed and took the hand.

Even if Sebastian would’ve thought it was from not being well, they were thankful for his gloves keeping him from feeling how gross their palms were – like a teenager on their first date. Sebastian took them along at normal walking speed, with a “let me know if we’re going too fast” after the first couple steps.

All Klavier could think about was the firm, gentle grip on his hand, the place where their arms interlocked (for added stability, but his mind kept going to images of how people led around their dates at formal events), the way their fingers interlaced… He didn’t even notice Sebastian had taken them into the stairwell until the first step. Oh. It was fine. This just meant this would take longer, he thought, as Sebastian held his hand a little tighter.

Not that he fancied this, but being stuck in the elevator with his coworkers as potential witnesses wasn’t any better. Herr Edgeworth wasn’t a gossip; he wouldn’t tell anyone, but if Klavier didn’t know one person’s language capabilities (or even whether they’d look things up, he realized with a jolt, remembering an interviewer joking about spikes in German translation searches after any Gavinners concert), how could he assume anyone’s?

(Would Herr Edgeworth tell Sebastian, considering? Or would someone else, if they knew? Had they not been on a landing at the moment of that thought he certainly would’ve taken a real tumble.)

By the time they got to the parking lot, Klavier would've believed they were sick themself, their head dizzy and fever-flushed. They didn’t protest at all as Sebastian helped them into the passenger seat. A brief glance in the side mirror revealed their hair to be out of place just enough to bother them and them alone, face if not red then certainly off from their usual color. Closing their eyes, they sank back against the cushions and headrest. Now they could sleep, or at least pretend to (and ignore the phantom feeling of Sebastian’s hand on theirs).

Although he did peek them open when the radio crackled on with the car, playing some upbeat pop song that Sebastian quickly turned off.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Do you want me to switch it to something you like, or keep it off?”

Ah, he was so considerate it made Klavier want to cry. He’d probably ask about the temperature next. (He did, once Klavier said he was fine with whatever).

All that time spent sleeping on tour buses really helped him sit comfortably during the ride, the biggest bother being that Sebastian was right there. He couldn’t quite stop thinking about it, with everything that was happening. So it only kind of felt excruciatingly long. They were ever so grateful that Sebastian seemed fine with silence between them.

Finally, they pulled up at Klavier’s house. “Do you want me to-” Sebastian asked as Klavier unbuckled his seat belt.

Even though his legs did feel a bit wobbly, he wasn’t sure if he could handle another round of being so close to Sebastian. Or that he wouldn’t have trouble letting go at the end. “I can manage this much, don’t worry.” They almost added a ‘schatz’ at the end, catching themself just in time.

A nod. Then, he reached into the center console, grabbing some receipt. Even as Klavier watched, transfixed, he scribbled out a phone number and handed it to him. “Uh, here. If you start feeling worse and need something, let me know, ok?”

Klavier could only nod back and try not to think about the fact that Sebastian had just given him his number (step two: immediately failed). With a lack of grace that would've made headlines had a music reporter been around, he got out of the car and in through the door, shutting it behind without a single backwards glance. They collapsed face first onto the couch and screamed into the cushion – the kind of head and throat scream exactly how they’d long ago been trained not to do.

Once he finally stilled into silence, Vongole padded over, pushing her head under his palm.

With a sigh, he moved just enough to scratch her behind the ears. The soft warmth of her fur was grounding to run his fingers through, and soon, between that and simply lying down, his body relaxed.

When he finally sat up, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag before heading to his room. After all they’d been through, they needed to relax. He took off his makeup and changed to a t-shirt and the one pair of sweatpants he owned. As he threw his other clothes over a chair, the paper he’d stuck in a pocket earlier fell to the ground. Sebastian’s number. Klavier snatched it up and threw it on their bedside table – they’d deal with the...everything...related to that later.

A while later he sat back on the couch, this time with lunch and Vongole curled up at his feet as he picked out a movie. (His first instinct was one of the bubblegum teen movies he re-watched when he wanted something fun – the romance plot in those might hit a little too close to home, though. Instead, he went for a cooking show. Safe, basic, still entertaining). He watched it through, and then several more, with breaks for more food and a brief walk with Vongole. It was nice. Klavier couldn’t remember when they’d last just taken some time off – usually having too little to do made them antsy, but between also petting Vongole and idly shopping on their phone, it made for a pleasant one-off afternoon.

He was dozing off when a knock at the door startled him. Groggily pushing a few loose strands of hair back, he stared in that direction. Just as he was about to lie back down, the knock repeated itself.

Only after a third repeat, moments later, did they actually get up. The list of people who would know where he lived was short, and his phone had lost battery a little while ago without him getting up to recharge it.

It was Sebastian. There was a surge of panic at how he’d gotten there before he remembered being given a lift earlier. “Hallo,” he managed, leaning against the door frame.

“Hi. Uh,” he ran his thumb over the ridges of the lid of the plastic container he was holding. “Sorry about showing up without saying anything, but I’d already made the soup when I ra- realized I didn’t have a way to message you, and I know it’s hard cooking when you don’t feel good so-” He held it out to Klavier.

It was warm, and as the container got closer they could faintly smell rich broth. Sebastian had made them food. Made them food and brought it over without being asked because he was concerned for them.

Then he realized he was staring. “Ach, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine! You seem pretty tired; have you been resting?”

Oh, heck. In answering the door, he’d completely forgotten to take his appearance into account, and now here he was, top three most disheveled he’s ever been in front of someone not family, and it was with Sebastian. “Ja,” he squeaked out, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him already.

Instead, Vongole bounded out the door and at Sebastian, barking happily.

“You have a dog!” he said, reaching down to pet her even as she insistently pushed herself up against him. With a laugh, he ruffled her fur, muttering something Klavier couldn’t quite pick up.

“Ah, Vongole, sitz.”

She did, still basking in Sebastian’s attention, tail thumping against the porch.

Sebastian laughed again, and scratched her behind the ears. Looking up at Klavier, he said, “oh, those glasses are cute on you.”

Ah, they’d forgotten about those too. He rarely wore them; glasses covered up too much of his face and just weren’t very comfortable. The only reason he had them on now was because he didn’t want to fall asleep in his contacts again. It was regular ones for work and everyday, with color for-

Wait, did Sebastian just call them cute?

Before they could react, though, he spoke again. “I should probably get going.” The end of his sentence turned up almost into a question, but he stood up. A smile. “Um, let me know if you’re coming in tomorrow, if you’re up for it?” Then, even softer. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Klavier waved, staying at the door until Sebastian’s car pulled away. Then he buried his head in his hands. As he brought Vongole inside, he considered screaming again, but he was too tired. Instead, he had just enough presence of mind to put the soup in the fridge before collapsing into bed, asleep.

They woke up disoriented, this time because it was completely dark out. Reaching to the other side of their bed, they went to check the time on their phone. Except it wasn’t there. A panicked five minutes of searching later and they remembered leaving it in the living room, battery dead.

It was a bit past eleven. Well, he was hungry, so he went to the fridge, and of course the first thing he saw was the soup. It was a rich chicken noodle, a hearty mix of vegetable and grain and meat, and when he taste-tested to check the temperature he had to take a minute. Klavier didn’t consider himself a cook by any stretch of the definition, but he knew good food when he ate it. This was simple, but well made, and remembering that Sebastian had made it for him put a lump in his throat for a second.

They were going to have to go back into work tomorrow, and face the facts of what they’d done. Which…really, they were fine. Probably. Klavier wasn’t doing anything wrong, at worst being a little unprofessional. It was just that Herr Edgeworth didn’t approve – and he would never leverage his power against Klavier for something personal, he knew that.

The easiest option, in terms of avoiding potential future issues, was to back away from contact with Sebastian completely. But they didn’t want to avoid their friend, even if they would only ever be friends, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sebastian either. But if he simply dropped off the endearments and did nothing else like it, within a week or so it would be like they never happened, and everything would be fine for all of them.

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

translations:

schatz/schatzi - treasure

nein, danke - no, thank you

liebling - darling

für dich, Süßer - for you, sweet/honey

Wie geht es dir so süß - how are you so cute

#I will be getting this up on the fic sites but it's too late for that tonight. will put the links for that in my morning rb #Klavier Gavin #Sebastian Debeste #klavbastian #Miles Edgeworth #Ace Attorney #rambles #my writing #fanfiction

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zargsnake · 3 years

Photo

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 7: Jane

Word Count: 2217 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

Freed, with the help of the little screwdriver Anakin gave her, on the lower floor of the space station, Zlinky uses the nearest control panel to disable the local electricity. The already dark lower-prison hall turns completely black.

As an Akarn, Zlinky has a third eye in the middle of her forehead which can adapt to almost any environment. Many droids have night vision too, but Zlinky has observed from her time in captivity that droids are poorly kept here. Knightkiller, with her telepathic powers and abundant riches, holds sway over the organic beings in her employment; the guards and patrons here are all devoted to her. But Knightkiller has neglected her mechanical servants. They are all falling into disrepair, and Zlinky has even detected them grumbling among themselves.

People forget too easily that droids, nowadays, have extremely advanced personalities. Adults underestimate how independently-minded their droids can be. But children understand. They have never known droids to be any other way.

Zlinky sneaks down the hall, past the fumbling guards. Other prisoners soon realize that their own electrobars have become deactivated, and they start to emerge into the hallway too, their arms outstretched in front of them, tripping and feeling their way through the dark. Zlinky maneuvers through them with a small measure of grace and a large measure of scrutiny.

Lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers. I must find all four. Once we've found them, we'll be unstoppable.

Suddenly, a guard grabs her from behind. A Togruta -- he must have used echolocation. Zlinky squirms against his arms, then stabs behind her wildly with the screwdriver. She isn't sure where she hit him -- the stomach, possibly. But he howls in pain and loosens his grip. She slithers out and leaps, calling upon the Force to help her. She hits her head on the hallway ceiling, but the ploy, otherwise, works. Holding her head, she stumbles around the corner and sees a door marked “Storage.”

Maybe our lightsabers are here? Well, SOMETHING useful must be in here! All I have now is this flimsy little tool.

But she does feel extremely grateful for the little screwdriver, and she hopes Anakin will let her keep it. She would call it good luck, if she believed in that stuff. Instead, she'll call it exceedingly useful. She picks the lock to the storage room with the screwdriver, which takes a frighteningly long minute, dashes inside, and shuts the door behind her.

Zlinky sees cabinets and closets and boxes full of files and records, piles of office and medical supplies. Who would think running a death sport would be so bureaucratic? The haphazardness offends her Temple-trained sensibilities.

But most importantly, she sees, in the corner, a rusted old murder-droid, missing much of its plating and bent over in disrepair. Its shape is about as humanoid as her own, though a couple feet taller. Compassion moves her to approach it. She sees that someone has scribbled a face with two X's for eyes and a frown on a little yellow piece of paper and taped it over the murder-droid's face to signify its death. She yanks the paper off and examines the droid’s busted innards.

There's a flipzipter. A gavel gear. A pair of old-fashioned mono-trammers. It's really not too different from the diner-droids on which she learned robotic engineering. A gunky substance has clogged its gears; she tries to scrape it off with the screwdriver, but she can't get a grip on it with that. She takes a nervous glance at the bulky laser blasters on its back, then plunges her own claws into its chest and scoops out the goop. She pulls out a burnt-up square of metal which was caught in the goop; upon closer inspection, she guesses that it used to be a memory chip. Oh well -- it's useless now. She bends the flipzipter back into its standard position, and reattaches the wires that had become unplugged from it.

With a tiny jolt of electricity that shoots through the Padawan and makes any hairs loose from her braid stick out, the murder-droid wakes up, its red eyes the only light in the darkness.

“ʙʟᴢᴢᴋᴢᴢɢᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ! ᴀᴀᴀᴀʜ!! AAAAAHHHH!!!! ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?! ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ?! ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ?!”

“Shhh!” Zlinky pulls her sticky hands out of its chest and throws them on top of its mouth-slot -- her mouth-slot, she supposes, since the droid has a feminine voice. “Keep it down! The badguys are looking for me!”

In a muffled voice, the murder-droid responds, “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ YOU! ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ME?”

“Well you SHOULD care about me! I just saved your life!”

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ?”

“Yeah, I repaired you, you ungrateful bucket of bolts!”

The murder-droid issues whirring noises from several parts. “ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢꜱ!”

“Well I'm not finished! I just started! And if you don't keep it down I never will!”

The murder-droid narrows the dots of light that project her eyes. “ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ?”

“Well... I'll check your brain-text, but I'm not optimistic.” Zlinky unscrews a panel on the side of the droid’s head. “Yeah. It's like I thought. You've been pirated. They scraped off your original ID number.”

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ?! ʙᴜᴛ -- ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ!”

“Nobody's nothing. They must have called you something. Unfortunately, at least one of your memory chips has melted. I think.”

With a squeaking sound, the murder-droid raises her claw to her forehead. “ᴏʜ... ᴍʏ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ…”

“Hey, don't worry about it. These bozos didn't respect you, but you're with the Jedi now.”

“ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴇᴅɪ?”

“Yeah, like me! I'm a Jedi! My name is Zlinky Zalt.”

“ᴠᴇʀʏ ʀᴜᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴀᴜɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴄᴏɴꜱɪᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ.”

“Uh, sorry. Well, let's find you a name; what do you do--?”

Zlinky accidentally zaps herself with an open wire and bites her lip in a grimace.

The murder-droid’s eyes become scattered dots that beep quickly and softly. “ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ᴍᴀɪɴꜰʀᴀᴍᴇ ... ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ: NEUTRALIZE.”

“Neutralize?”

Her eyes flicker back to solid red. “ᴀꜰꜰɪʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ.”

“Neutralize what?”

Her eyes become scattering dots again. “ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ᴍᴀɪɴꜰʀᴀᴍᴇ ... ʜᴀʀᴅᴡᴀʀᴇ ... ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ... ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ ... ʙᴢᴢᴛ ... ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ‘ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ’ ... ‘ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ’ ... вzzт ... b҉z҉z҉t҉ ... ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ: ERROR.” Her eyes flicker back to red, but with the sides tilted down in sorrow. “ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛᴇᴅ.”

“Hey, it's okay. The Jedi can get you a new purpose. As long as your programming isn't hopelessly violent…”

“ᴡʜᴇɴ? ʜᴏᴡ ꜱᴏᴏɴ?”

“Well I don't know. As soon as I can get you back to the Temple.”

“ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ ɢᴏ.” The murder-droid stands up straight.

“Wait!” Zlinky pulls some wires apart.

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢꜱ! ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪxᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ!”

“Yeah, I did. Your purpose right now is to stay put.”

“ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇꜱ.”

“Deal with it. Patience is an ability, too.”

“ɪꜰ ᴀʟʟ ᴊᴇᴅɪ ᴀʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ.”

“Fine. Do you want me to shut you down again?”

“ʙᴜᴢᴢ ʙᴜᴢᴢ ʙᴜᴢᴢ, ɢʀᴜᴍᴍᴍm҉m҉m̵̧̌̍͋̆b̸̧̙͈͈̓̌̌ĺ̵͕͔͇͔͎̠̗͈͍ͅe̷̖͎̳͖̬̅́…”

“I'll take that as a no.” The droid is silent as Zlinky works on her. “I'm sorry we're not at the Temple right now. Believe me, I want to be there far more than you do.”

“ɪ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ꜰʟᴜx.”

I have to repair her mind AND her body! thinks Zlinky.

“Uh, okay, listen. How about I give you a temporary name and a temporary mission right now. Just to tide you over until we get back home. Er, I mean, back to the Temple.”

“ʜʀʀᴜᴍᴍʜʜᴘᴘʙᴢᴢᴢ ʙᴢᴢᴛ ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ.”

Zlinky spins a cog and sees a panel of lights in the droid’s guts turn on. She thinks she’s nearly got her -- then she hears the weapons on the droid's back powering on. The young girl swallows nervously.

“Okay, your temporary mission is to protect me and the three other Jedi: my master Tila Juna, a 500-year-old gray Lollian with one broken horn -- Anakin Skywalker, a 9-year-old human with pink skin and yellow hair and blue eyes -- and -- uh -- his master too.”

“ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴꜱᴛᴀʟʟɪ-- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ. ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪꜰʏ ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛʜ ᴊᴇᴅɪ!”

“I can't! I don't remember their name! I'll know them when I see them.”

“ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴊᴇᴅɪ?”

“Well, first of all, only neutralize when absolutely necessary.”

“... ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ... ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀᴛɪʙʟᴇ ... ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ.”

“Oh gimme a break!”

Maybe this is a mistake, thinks Zlinky. I don't want to go on a rampage. But I must get out of here! I have to get back to Tila! That's my top priority!

“Look, I'm very sneaky,” Zlinky says, reassuringly. “You might not have to neutralize anyone. You just have to protect me.”

“... ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ, ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴀꜰᴛ ᴀ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴏꜰꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ.”

Zlinky replies, smugly, “Well I do it every day. That's what being a Jedi is all about! Protecting the innocent, defending the law!”

“... ʙʟʀʀʀɢɢɢɢ.” The droid’s eyes become one annoyed horizontal line of dots. “ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ... ᴀʟɪɢɴɪɴɢ ... ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴꜱᴜꜰꜰᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ.”

“Oh come on, grow up. It's good to be the hero.”

“ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ‘ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴏʀᴀʀʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ,’ ᴛᴏᴏ.”

“Yeeeah. I did. Um ... Jedi ... Jedi ... Temple ... Temple Bot? Teebee?”

The murder-droid shudders. “ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɪᴅᴅɪɴɢ? ᴛᴇᴇʙᴇᴇ?”

“What's wrong with Teebee?”

“ɪ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ.”

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

“ɪᴅ: REJECTED. ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ: ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀᴛɪʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ. ᴛᴏᴏ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ.”

“Jedi Bot? Jaybee?”

Goop dribbles out of the droid’s mouth slot.

“Alright then... Neutralize. Neutralizer. Jedi ... Jedi Neutralizer. No. Wait. That sounds wrong.”

“ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ,” the murder-droid says quickly.

“Ah, wait!”

“ᴊᴇᴅɪ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴇʀ.”

Zlinky sighs. “Fine. Jedi Neutralizer. JN.”

“ᴊɴ. ᴊᴀɴᴇ.”

“Jane?”

“ᴊᴀɴᴇ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ,” the droid repeats.

“Me too,” Zlinky responds, truthfully.

As soon as Jane is functionally repaired, Zlinky finds her a battery pack, since they have no time to recharge her. She looks around for a new memory card, but finds nothing. Oh, well. Jane will just have a very short-term memory until they find new hardware for her. Without the card, she can't have any more than one gig of memory. Zlinky will just have to keep reminding her that her name is Jane and her purpose is to protect the four Jedi. Zlinky fears that Jane will forget this and kill her on accident. That would be very ironic. But for now, Zlinky is glad to have her.

Once they leave the storage room, Zlinky points to a guard and begins to command Jane to knock them out, but Jane has already blasted them.

“Ah! Are they alive?” Zlinky whispers in terror.

“ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ?”

Zlinky cautiously approaches the body. “...They're alive. Keep your blaster at exactly that setting, okay? Don't change anything.”

“ᴀꜰꜰɪʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ.”

“Great.”

She tugs the armor off the guard and puts it on herself. Together, they quietly leave the lower prison in absolute chaos and locate the space station employee break room and quarters across a hall. Zlinky finds a station map on the employee computer, which someone had, happily, left logged in.

She finally gets a good look at the layout of the station. The lower floor has a prison and under-arena logistical areas; the main floor has the arena, gladiator rooms, and the best seating; and the upper floor has another prison and the balcony cheap seats.

She searches for where Knightkiller could be. Tila recognized Knightkiller as her old friend Glagret, and told her Padawan so before they were separated. Zlinky knows that the key to escaping, and to stopping this whole evil enterprise, is Glagret. Why has she turned evil? Why did she gather all these crooks together? Why is she mind-tricking Jedi children?

Zlinky figures there must be something controlling her. She imagines striking the implement off the old alien’s brain and rescuing her, restoring her to her true, good self.

What happened 400 years ago on the Liberated Comet? If she was alive, why didn't she come back?

One Padawan and one droid probably don't stand a chance against her.

Zlinky sees in the screen projection that Obi-Wan is fighting in the arena, and Tila is being held as bait. Zlinky wonders why Anakin isn't. She guesses, with a heavy heart, that Obi-Wan was so stubborn about playing along that they killed Anakin in retribution. She feels her guts writhe with fear and anger at the thought. The boy was so kind, and clever, and so very strong in the Force, strong enough to resist a mind-trick -- unheard of at his age -- even though it was stupid of him to try. Perhaps his last legacy is the screwdriver. She will not let him die in vain.

Unless, of course, he's still alive. She wonders if, perhaps, he escaped, just as she has…

She hears an ominous whirring sound, drifting away.

“Jane! Don't wander off.” Zlinky grabs Jane’s rifle-barrel and pulls her back to her side. “Stay with me. You must protect me; it is your purpose.”

“ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?”

“... Call me Guard.”

“ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ.”

Zlinky looks around nervously at the other guards. She grabs Jane's head and whispers into her audio-slot. “Zlinky Zalt. But don't say so. I'm in disguise right now. So shhh.”

“ᴀʜʜʜʜ. ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ.”

“Uh, good.” The confidence in Jane's voice makes Zlinky doubt that Jane has any idea what's going on. She shakes her head and continues looking at this map.

Chapter 8: Priorities

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #zlinkgwal zalt #jane #scifi #adventure #comedy

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