#Phantom (ready to fight & very wrong-footed now): My what

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 268

Fright Knight sighs, running a clawed hand through his hair in an attempt to stop the flames from flickering into being. It had been far too long since he had taken a human-ish form. His human-ish form. Ugh. He didn’t exactly care for his human form after so long as a ghost, but needs must he supposed. 

Especially with the whole, we’re going to punch a backdoor into the literal daycare part of the Infinite Realms and be surprised when literal toddlers go exploring. 

Well, at least it got him off of guard duty for a bit, which was relieving. Not that he didn’t love the darkness, but it got boring in the shadow of his sword for literal centuries with nothing else happening. He was a warrior for Realm’s sake! Borderline an Ancient in both power and age! He wasn’t meant to stay so still for so long. 

So while ghostling wrangling wasn’t exactly in his area of expertise, he could definitely gather them back up to the Realms. And deal with the curs who had decided to attack literal babies. 

The Daycare area was already understaffed due to just how large it was, and the one in charge of this section had practically sobbed to the Council (In another world they would have been put on hold for a century in line for their concerns, and then more once a Sarcophagus was opened, but they had told the other ghosts in distress, causing others to let them go up in said line) how they were almost certain they had felt at least one core form Outside the realms thanks to the breach. 

Which had understandably put everyone at an uproar. 

So here he was slipping between shadows to do reconnaissance and take stock of if any Ghostlings had left the city. And gently scruffing those he comes across in exasperation because what are you doing, ghostling? Look at the mess, what would your caretaker say? 

[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

[emeraldsandamethyst]

Character Characterization in Ghost Biology is Weird AU

It's ya Tumblr redacted gender here (this joke will age very well totally yes)

catch up in the master post [here]

I think I forgot to mention this because it's such a given to how I write Danny but Danny is trans; other traits I write, he has chronic pain, ADD and i write him stimming which can be either or both ADD/autistic things (and probably other things idk I'm no expert) i have ADD myself so I'm writing my experience, I'm not autistic to my knowledge so all I've deliberately done when writing him is give him stims; his stims aren't always healthy, he bites as a stim and tends to bite his hands or tail (very hard, especially when ghost. He will make himself bleed) but Sam or Tucker can usually redirect him to something else like a pillow or whatever; he also stops himself from hand flapping (usually) but he does do it; and shoves his hands against his ears and grinds his teeth sometimes when stressed (he's always grinding his teeth in ghost fights); oh right and he has a death scar as a ghost that he feels in both forms (Lichtenberg spirals/fractals from his hand across his chest to his opposite leg and foot)

in this AU I've given Danny two (2) obsessions as a teen, Space and Control; i love me some protection obsession Danny don't get me wrong I just went with this for this AU to make Vlad and Danny better foils because

Vlad has (3) obsessions in this AU Research and Control and Family

Vlad has only shown up once so far, alas, but he is running around doing things

Danielle's initial Obsession is Family, during the events of Kindred Spirits she develops a Control Obsession; I intend for her to keep two Obsessions until adulthood

once Danny has his baby his ghost side matures to adult and he starts developing a new obsession; right now I'm not set on what it is. It might be protection or it might be something else

Danny and his baby (Baby Phantom until they awaken/are born and Danny names them Neil) are both ice core; Vlad is fire core; Danni is a wind core

I think I mentioned it before but anyone that lives in Amity Park might be liminal. To elaborate, if they live within Danny's haunt (amity park and parts of elmerton and the rural outskirts) and are claimed by Danny then they WILL be liminal to some extent. If someone lives in Amity Park (Danny's Haunt specifically) but hasn't been claimed by Danny they can still become liminal due to ectoplasm levels but it's just a chance thing. in the case of Danny claiming them, the haunt is literally infusing itself into them to give itself more influence. It's entirely subconscious and beyond Danny's control (the haunts are the ghosts in this au, sort of, and haunts act as a kind of immune system)

So 'Team Phantom' are all liminal.

The only person that is aware of their liminality as of the beginning of this AU is Valerie Gray. She's liminal enough that she's starting to develop an obsession which does not necessarily mean a liminal person has a core, but they probably do; Valerie is liminal enough she's starting to infuse her dad's apartment with her energies during sophomore year; Danny cedes her dad's apartment (a bigger area than just the apartment or the complex, a lot of territory for someone without a core but not enough to make Valerie drain herself sick) to her and it starts the process of becoming her haunt; it's a much much slower process than it was for Danny for multiple reasons

Ghosts have family groups called Fraids (which Danny doesn't really know about because he has no ghost parents to teach him these things) and Fraids consist of Family-By-Birth, Family-By-Choice, Family-By-Theft and Family-By-Nest; I think the first two are fairly self explanatory; i'm also p sure the phandom has a better grasp of Family-By-Theft than I do;

Family-By-Nest is the term I'm using for ghosts that join together to raise children, it's a very specific thing that happens when a new ghost is born/awakens; when the new core is ready it reaches outside of itself seeking protection and care, any one that responds by offering and accepting this becomes bound to the baby and to a lesser extent anyone else that accepted the baby; in Danny and Neil's specific case, Danny had been storing a LOT of extra power (since y'know he's OP like that) and it gave all of his fellow parents-by-nest their own cores once the process finished.

Danny's fellow parents-by-nest are Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Danielle, Valerie and Dash

Jazz and Danielle are family. Entirely and totally absolutely platonic siblings. Jazz family-by-birth and Danielle family-by-theft.

Danny is polyamorous (prefers polyam over poly) and bi and ace (not sex repulsed, he likes romance and making out best but is cool with other more intense stuff); his partners (in something like a 'normal' dating relationship) are Sam and Dash (they are with Danny only not with each other); they don't have a label for their thing but Tucker is aro/ace and if he knew the term would be cool being called Sam and Danny's queer platonic partner (QPP); Valerie and Danny have been hate-flirting for years, I'm just calling it pitch, sorry. Val and Danny are pitch, they just have no idea what the feelings are or mean up until Rivalry [on AO3 here] and even then only Valerie gets something like an explanation of what it is.

This is already so long again. Uh. Right, core types and obsessions.

Dash, earth core, romance obsession [his obsession actually forms before his full core]

Sam, growth core, night obsession

Valerie, electric core, protection obsession

Jazz, fire core, research obsession

Danielle, wind core, family and control obsession

Danny, ice core, space, control obsession with 3rd forming

Neil Fenton (Baby Phantom), ice core, space obsession (@floralflowerpower has way more fleshed out ideas about baby ghosts and things, she uses the term nursery obsession to refer to babies imprinting an obsession from parents her stuff is super cool you should check it out)

And I suppose I'll end with a description of Neil. They're half ghost like Dad, when human they have red hair and purple eyes (because it's not cloning it's recombination of DNA and to simplify irl red hair is the most recessive and I decided purple eyes are as/more recessive than green, ergo Danny carries those genes even if they don't express for him); when first born they have pale blue skin, pointed ears green hair and (glowing) green eyes. After meeting Frostbite they imprint on him as family-by-choice and after that when ghost they get lil horns and their arm gets spooky translucent green with charred bones in it

Oh spirits i haven't even described adult!Danny eff. Okay this is what I'll end with (i hope)

This change happens literally when what's left of the energy he instinctively collected and then pushed into family-by-nest and Neil returns to him

Human he's as tall as Jack (6'9") and built like a long distance runner. He looks like an adult in their mid twenties (before he still looked just as 14 as he had when he died);

Ghost, when he's got legs he's 7' when he's got a tail he gets to be a long noodle boi as a treat (like, absurdly long if he had a mane of hair ppl would totally call him a dragon like an eastern style one) I'm imagining like 30ft tail but the exact length isn't important, him long boi is what important;

he's got icy blue skin, pointed ears now, and a forked tongue (he's had lil fangs as a teen and has bigger fangs now) the fangs are blunted not sharp, he has to use force to break skin can't do that on accident or well he can but it's not because he forgot his fangs are sharp it's because he did it to himself and his pain tolerance is stupid high and he didn't notice how much force he was using; he's never going to be that distracted with a partner to accidentally bite Sam or Dash and it's not an accident with Val

His Phantom jumpsuit/hazmat suit changed, maybe lil bit more white, now with neon green accents and a neon green gear circling the D P logo with (not being worn as goggles but up in his hair mimicking horns) Fenton style goggles with purple lenses

Once he learns ghost parents are supposed to have lil pouches like marsupials or seahorses (Ember tell him in Phantom's Lullaby [on AO3 here]) he manages to give himself one (it's not shape shifting tho it's a permanent change to his 'default' body)

Basically his adult body, both forms, was subconsciously influenced by what he thinks dads are: big, bright/colorful, and loud; though as a human the most he could do was be big (and accidentally be loud too r i p)

Whew okay, I think that's it for now? If you have Questions feel free to send me an ask

[sidespart]

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough. 

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan 

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning. 

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman. 

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder. 

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

 Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time) 

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back. 

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound. 

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned  into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit. 

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff. 

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

 So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE)  from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor. 

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling:  “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly. 

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton. 

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc,  and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just  Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue. 

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ. 

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

[immortalonus]

Where You Belong: Chapter 3

A/N: I hate this chapter so, so much. Unfortunately, I also couldn't find any way around it. If I got anything wrong, chances are I just missed it, so feel free to let me know.

Read on AO3 here.

“...Humans with ghost powers!? Crazy, right?” Valerie snorted, then paused.

“Or humans that turn into ghosts, or ghosts that—stay human when they die or whatever. The important thing is that there was a part of Ellie that was real. And if it hadn't been for Phantom, I'd have just left her there with Plasmius, to do whatever—to hurt—to—”

Valerie took a moment, struggling to admit out loud what she had already begun suspect for herself.

“—kill her. he was gonna murder a little girl, mama, and if Phantom hadn't convinced me she still had some human in her, if I hadn't listened to a ghost, I woulda let him.”

Phantom, if she hadn't listened to Phantom, specifically. It was a detail that still irritated her every time it came up.

The ghost boy had been so persistent, for so long in his charade of being a “good guy,” that most days, she simply tuned him out.

And truly, was that so wrong?

Up to that point, Everything Phantom had said in his own defense had been nothing more than talk. Oh, he said sorry, he said he felt bad about it, but at the end of the day, what had he done?

Ruined her fathers job and her life, then fled the scene like the criminal he was.

Stole for the hell of it and couldn't even be bothered to take the blame when he got caught.

(Valerie still had no idea why the ghost thought an “evil mind controlling clown guy,” was a reasonable excuse, at all, for anything.)

Who was always ready to fight, but never to help.

Never, not once, in all the wretched aftermath of the Grey's financial dissolutionment, had Phantom come to their aid. Not in the immediate events that came after, nor during the process of her father's dismissal, when he could well have stayed his expulsion simply by appearing, proving Damian Grey's assertions of spectral interference months before he would have been otherwise believed.

Not during the move from her childhood home to her current residence down in Elmerton. Too strapped to hire assistance, it had been down to Valerie, her father, and Fenton, who had taken his weekend off to help her move instead.

No haunting the creditors who dogged their every step, even now.

Hell, he couldn't even be bothered to tell the public that it was his fault her life was ruined! In private, yes, where he knew no one could hear. But never where it mattered, to whom it mattered, since that would require Phantom to actually give something up for once and admit what he did was wrong. Which he would never do, because Phantom, like all ghosts, was a fundamentally egotistical creature, right down to his very core.

No, Valerie had good reason to believe that she had Phantom all figured out: A showboating prig, full of hot air and false excuses, distinct from other ghosts only in his capacity to fool the masses into believing he was ever anything more.

Then Elle happened.

The ghost girl's mere existence had managed to throw Valerie's world into a whole new tailspin, leaving her reeling even as events conspired to yank more and more of her footing out from under her, teetering on the edge of her own understanding as all her convictions suffered blow after blow.

Living ghosts.

Ghostly humans.

Friends acting as enemies.

While enemies acted as friends.

“I woulda let him kill her.” She repeated, “Just like I let him kill—end—All those other ghosts I gave him, just handed 'em over for whatever freak experiments he had cooked up.”

Just like she had snuffed out who knew how many other specters during her own patrols.

How many of them were still alive in there, she wondered, underneath the ghost?

Her mother's brows seemed to furrow in response, worried, no doubt, over what exactly her daughter had done.

“I didn't mean it mama, it wasn't my fault! It was all Plasmius, you know Plasmius? That knockoff Nosferatu all the time picking fights with Phantom. He used me and he lied, and—“ Valerie licked her lips futilely seeking moisture from a mouth gone dry.

“He played human to do it.”

Valerie felt a flush of rage and shame wash over her at the words. She had been used all over again, played for a fool and manipulated just like her so-called “friends” had used her before, dangling control and importance in exchange for the very essence of her soul.

To learn that she had struck the same deal with a different kind of devil, that all her power was a tool in someone else's hands had curdled into an ache that rivaled the raw burn of a whole new betrayal.

Because unlike the A-listers she'd run with not too long ago, or even Phantom, who she'd always hated, Vlad Masters had been a man she'd seen fit to trust.

“Plasmius was Masters, and—God, they even share the same first name—My sponsor, the guy who gave me my first suit, trained me up, even kept me and daddy off the streets when things were at their worst. And me stupid enough to think it was 'cause he cared.”

A hard exclamation escaped her throat at the thought, to forceful for a scoff, too sharp for laughter.

No such thing indeed.

“Everyone's out for something. Masters—Plasmius, he was out for Phantom, and I was just the pawn that was supposed to get take him out.”

That's part of what scares me too. Why was Plasmius so dead set on Phantom? Why'd he sink so much money into taking him out? Why does Phantom hate him back?”

And it was peculiar, how much Phantom seemed to hate Plasmius. Valerie had thought for a long time that it was some kind of territory dispute, a conflict over a rare and valuable thin spot between realities. After years of chasing after Phantom, however, it became more and more clear that the ghost boy's resentment of Plasmius went beyond that of simple competition.

The mere mention of the vampiric specter was enough to turn Phantom tense and snippy, as though the mere thought of the other ghost irritated him, somehow. After witnessing the two up close, Valerie's suspicions had cemented into certainty: Phantom hated Plasmius, and he hated him personally.

“There's so much I don't know, and no one to tell me. Plasmius doesn't know that I know, and until I get out from under him, that's how it's gotta stay.”

How Valerie was supposed to get out from under Plasmius was another question entirely. Plasmius, in Vlad Master's guise, was the sole reason the Grey family had managed to keep on top of its debts for as long as they had. To make matters worse, he also provided most of the materials Valerie's suit consumed for its more elaborate systems and weaponry.

Even so, the temptation to throw it all away and smash Plasmius' smug face against her boot was a strong one, stayed only by the fear of what would happen to her father if she tried.

“Phantom went squirrelly on me too,” she said. “I thought maybe I could get something from him, since we never ended that truce. But in the end, he was still just a ghost.”

She hadn't wanted to go to Phantom, in those days between Elle's escape and her decision to plunge into the Zone, had felt too much like would be admitting something, somehow, to do so. Had it not been for the fact that Phantom was her sole and only choice, she was sure she would never have asked at all.

Once she'd made the decision to do it, he'd been easy enough to track down. She found him—where else?—but In the middle of a fight, duking it out at altitude with one of the countless animal ghosts that regularly made their way across the paltry excuse for a veil stretched across Amity Park.

The fight had been easy, the conversation that came after it, much less so.

How could someone be alive and dead at the same time? Were they alive and dead at once? all the time? Did they alternate at will? Were they born? Were they made? How many were there? A lot? How did she spot a human-ghost if she saw it? Was there a way to tell? Or did you have to guess?

Phantom had been the one to tell her that these human-ghost, ghost-human things could exist in the first place, which had lead her to expect, rather despite herself, that perhaps he could explain them, too.

So it was only natural, really, that in that moment precisely, he had chosen to clam up. He knew nothing of these miraculous hybrids, could find out nothing concerning them, and as to finding them, he had no clue at all. Nevermind that it had been he who had first told her such beings were possible in the first place, the ghost was a veritable well of ignorance, utterly unable to aid in her pursuits.

“Ghosts are narrow minded and selfish, they go round everywhere like they've got blinkers on both sides of their head. You stick an idea in front of their nose, and they grab it if they like it, and shove it away if they don't. They don't consider where you got the idea from, they don't think about why its there, they don't even goddamn care why you picked it up in the first place. All that matters is somethings blocking their little slice of the world, theirs, specifically, 'cause they wouldn't never consider any other kind.

That was Phantom's problem, he wanted a truce yeah, but his way, not mine. A truce for beating things up, not a truce for trusting and talking or or anything that might give trouble to him. That wasn't how he wanted it to work.

He was even worse with Elle. She's the only other one I could talk to—not counting you, ma—who could tell me anything about anything about what was going on!

And Elle, I couldn't track her down. When she said she had places to be, I thought she meant like Phantom when there wasn't anything fun for him to hit, not just gone! I tried tracking her, I did, but it didn't work. Either staying human hides her, or she's run too far to track.

Stupid Phantom wouldn't help me with that, neither. It was just 'oh she's fine,' this and 'why do you care' that, like I can't worry about a human girl wondering on her own without nobody to make sure she's even fed!”

Not only had he been absurdly reluctant to answer her questions, but even had the audacity to wonder if they were at all related to her continued association with Plasmius. It was an insult, beyond all doubt, as though he didn't know how little choice she had.

As though he wasn't the one who forced her into making it.

“I guess so far as he figured, if Elle wasn't being kidnapped, then she was fine. It didn't matter that she's a kid, or alone, or was stealing apples just to eat. She was strong enough to survive on her own and not melt, and that was good enough for him. He just sat there when she left, too, watching her scat like any other ghost."

Did he know how far she intended to run, or simply fail to understand why he should care?

"No matter how well he thinks he means, Phantom can't help the human parts of her. Just because she could beat any man that tried to take doesn't mean that she doesn't get—scared, or lonely, or—“ Valerie wriggled uncomfortably in her pallet of dust. “—Or that she doesn't need people. Phantom can't give that, and Plasmius is a sick piece of shit, so that left me. Just me. If I let that go, then Elle'd be alone for real.”

The worry in her mother's gaze didn't lighten, exactly, but it did shift, consternation giving way to curiosity mixed with a hearty topping of concern. It was easy to imagine the question she would have asked, if she could but speak.

“Then what is it do you think you're doing all the way out here, hm?”

Valerie sighed. This, at least, she had a clear answer for.

“I'm on a mission. There's this thing called the infini-map. Don't have all the details, but with a name like that?” She scoffed, “don't need 'em. Whatever it is, its good enough to send Plasmius into a fit just at the idea of laying claws on it.

If I could get something like that, imagine, I could find Elle in a heartbeat. No more lookin', no more running blind and hoping for luck. And when I find her, I could use it get out from under Masters thumb for good. Use it, sell it, whatever, with that thing, it would be easy. Me and daddy could be set for life.”

At the time, the idea had seemed brilliant. With her search for Elle stymied, and rental payments approaching their inevitable due, she had latched onto the idea of a Ghost Zone mission the instant her so-called benefactor had brought it up. It was a chance to bleed “Mister Masters” of a little more of his money, without actually having to tolerate his presence for any length of time. Even better, it presented an opportunity to do right by her father while staying far away from the quiet anger, the soft, dispirited sense of regret that had seemed to overtake him as jobs remained scarce, and Valerie continued to hunt.

Perhaps most selfishly, it was the opportunity for the Red Huntress to become what Valerie had had always wanted her to be: A free agent, no puppet masters, no expectations, just the world, and herself within in it.

It was one thing she truly did not regret, even now, lying in the dirt looking up at the memory of a memory ripped to tatters in her hands. Whatever else happened in this strange, wild place, it was her decision, her choice. She was finally in control.

Thinking of control, there was another reason why she wanted to speed up her search for the ghost girl.

“Elle's a good kid, but she <i>is</i> a kid, with a ghost in her she don't even know to fear. I'm not sure how long she can fight it like that without anyone to tell her what's going on. She needs someone who knows about ghosts,who can show her how to fight back, 'cause if she doesn't, I'm not sure how long she'll last until she ends up Plasmius."

“Or Phantom.”

It was an ugly theory, but explained a great deal. The identical looks, the raw antipathy towards Vlad, in particular, or how a full ghost could see himself as related, somehow, to a being that was something so much more.

All ghosts came from somewhere, and Valerie rather doubted Elle was truly Plasmius' only attempt at capturing a hybrid of his own.

“'Cause I think they're the same kinda thing. It explains why Plasmius wanted her so bad, and they change the same way, too. They go from being a ghost, ectosignitures and all, to being alive. Not some fake, but breathing, heartbeats, everything. There's something in them that's really, truly alive.

Plasmius and Elle, they're both alive," she whispered, "but only Elle's human, and I don't know how long that's gonna last.

I can't stay stupid about all this ghost shit, neither. There's so much they won't tell me, and Elle's my ticket to figuring it out. If I can find her in time, I could fix it. Bring her to the Fentons, maybe, take out the ghost before it gets too big, make cash, move out me and daddy and Elle all together. Either way, this is how I do it, right here, right now. This is my chance.”

No more being lead around like a particularly witless donkey for his carrot wielding master, no more suppressing every violent impulse that threatened to take her over any time she chanced to look “Mister Masters” in his insufferable face, no more long, interminable periods of her nose against a grindstone day after day, scraping her fingers bloody against poverty's wall in the way her father seemed convinced was better, somehow, for all the pain it so obviously caused him.

“I know it's risky, but it's worth it, it's gotta be. If I can get the infinimap, then I can fix everything, all at once. I won't owe nobody nothing, and I can start fixing things again, for everyone.”

And perhaps her mother agreed, as the shadow that had gathered against her brow seemed to ease, relaxing back into something more serene.

Valerie smiled, running her thumb over the place where her face once was, pointedly ignoring the sensation of absence in favor of the smiling visage still shining across her display.

“See, I knew you'd see it my way.” Valerie was pretty sure she'd had to have gotten her sense of adventure from somewhere, after all. “It's hard, but I'm fine. And when this is all done, it'll be more than fine, it'll be better.

Just you wait.”

Overlay image: Session end.

The memory of Theresa Grey vanished slowly, victim of her daughter's own reluctance to see her go. But vanish she did, sunshine grew pale and laughter faded, memory crushed into data and erased of meaning, and Valerie was once again alone.

She sighed, finally allowing herself to lower the photograph as she reached over for her other parcels, which she began collecting into a small bundle atop her chest.

Technically, she could reach over to put her mother with her boots and rations instead of the other way around, but found herself suddenly disinclined to do so. Without the stress of the day to keep her going, she found exhaustion pushing down at her very bones, keeping her pressed against the meager comfort of her body warmed hollow of dirt.

No, lifting herself up as little as possible seemed a very enticing proposition indeed.

She grabbed both her boots, then her gloves, peeled off to reveal the same skintight leather which coated the rest of her, the remains of her wallet, and a single, battered bag, too smooth for leather, too thick for silk: All supplies from her earlier run in with the thieving insect from before, pared down to those goods and supplies she could actually use.

She chose not to dwell on how few of them there were.

Her mother came last, placed gently at the head of the pile, where she could look it over one last time.

She should have done this sooner, she knew, perhaps even the moment she entered the Zone. Keeping the photograph on her physical person was too much of a risk, one born of foolish sentiment and thoughtless desire. She had just wanted so badly to keep one good thing with her, somewhere tangible and real, she'd disregarded the threat she put it in.

Because if there was one thing death was guaranteed to do, it was steal everything and everyone it thought was yours.

Valerie placed her hands over the small collection, reaching once again into the inorganic hum prickling ever at the edges of her mind.

Unit_1 selected (Gen_Storage:)

Report

Status: Stable (20% full)

Contents (See details)

Intake request:

Intake selected? (Y/N)

>Yes

Processing…

A flick of her mental fingers, and it was done. Boots, bag, and all turned into their own kind of mist, dissolving into the small pocket dimension that followed her always, shadows diffusing into the surrounding light, the weight of them dissipating until nothing but the memory of their pressure remained.

Valerie brushed her fingers over the space they left behind, a half smile tugged at the corners of her trembling lips.

“Goodnight, Ma,” She whispered. A grief like seaglass hung heavy on her heart, smoothed over edges cut no longer, though the heft of its sorrow lay leaden even yet.

“Sleep good now, you hear?”

No voice answered in response.

Valerie no longer expected it to.

Deep in the realm of the dead, a figure turned on its side, curled against itself on its small outcropping of stone. Legs up to its chest, arms clenched tight around its shoulders as it heaved, breath by mortal breath, seeking some moment of repose.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Pt. 5

Hey guys, it's been really busy for me at university so I have no idea when I'll have free time to write this month. Chapter 5 is actually still unfinished, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, so here's the first half of chapter 5.

In Which: Another deal is struck upon the ice

AO3 | Prologue | 4 | [ 5 ] | 6

THE PIT SINGS. A low, groaning thing. Muffled like how sounds distort underwater. It reminded Danny of the sounds of Jupiter he would listen to when he really needed to study; the sounds heavily mixed to be more ambient yet still echoing traces of the original, haunting melody of the universe.

The Pit calls for him. No, not the pit—the ectoplasm in the pit is what calls him. Pulls the waves toward him as if he were the moon, bright and full, whispering with garbled voices hello-hello-hello. His core whispers back the same words every time he is near it. Hello-hello-hello. The Pit lingers in the back of his mind and sings in familiar words he does not understand.

Talia calls it a fascination. Ra’s calls it a connection.

A visceral link. Like calls to like. Strange ectoplasmic middle fingers to the laws of the universe—to the great equalizer that is death.

(Danny thinks Ra’s is wrong. Not completely wrong, but not right either.)

When his ghost form is no longer trying to cannibalize his human self, Talia dials up his training. Before, she was merely an observer. Now, she fights him in the ring, teaching him how to dodge with bruised ribs and broken bones. Brutally correcting his stances with harsh jabs and quick strikes. Sweeps him off the floor with a twist of her leg when he forgets how to use his feet. Each day left him with such bone-deep fatigue that mor more once he fell asleep during his sixty minutes in front of the monitor.

They know, now, that the Pit has no adverse effect on him. That he can use the pit more than once.

Bruises and fractures, cuts and scrapes; injuries mean nothing when a dip in green waters will wash everything away.

Even the possibility of insanity starts to feel far-fetched.

Danny should hate this. He should really hate this.

He loved it.

Phantom had always been a fighter. A protector. An underdog matched up against bigger and stronger foes but always somehow coming up on top. He was popular. Liked by the citizens of Amity Park despite his dumpster fire of a reputation near the beginning. Somehow in the year and a half since Phantom’s conception, he went from town menace to this larger-than-life figure. (Ha!) The hero of Amity Park with all of the expectations and responsibilities that came with it.

But Danny—plain, ol’ Danny Fenton—wasn’t any of that. Wasn’t allowed to be any of that. Because Danny Fenton was a wimpy kid who tripped over air and regularly got shoved inside lockers. He was the ghost hunters’ son who was deathly afraid of the paranormal. A C-average student in a family of geniuses.

A persona unwillingly crafted and carefully maintained, because at least this way no one other than Jazz or Wes will be able to connect Fenton to Phantom. Who would believe it?

But here, in Nanda Parbat, he was neither Fenton nor Phantom— he was something more. He had no secret identity to keep from the people who have vigorously researched him. He had no need to hold back.

Here, Danny was free to be Danny.

“Daniel.”

Even if he was called by the wrong-right name.*

Danny floated up from the pit, his transformation seamless as he stepped onto the edge on quiet feet. Tahlia threw him a knapsack. “Ready yourself, we have places to be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I get my sixty-minutes after the Pit, remember?”

“I did not forget.” She smiled, resting her hand on her hip. “I simply thought that by beloved child might relish a change in scenery.”

Danny perked up, hands tightening around the straps of the knapsack. “We’re going outside?” Tahlia nodded. “Like—outside-outside. With the sky and trees and—and the stars?”

Amusement softened her sharp features, jade eyes sparkling with mirth. “The very same. Though the place we are going to is quite fickle in nature, and I am unsure if we will get another chance to go. But if you really insist on it then—”

“Wait!” He snapped his mouth shut, clutching the bag closer to his chest.

(Family, his core whispered. Family-safe-safe-protect-need-see-confirm-family-home)

The sixty minutes he gets to see his family was…precious. One of the few times the restlessness in his core would draw back; melt away like frost in the spring, leaving some sense of contentment behind. It was his refuge. Sanctuary. Physical proof that what he was doing here—(staying away-away-why-go back-back-return-home-family-home-protect)—meant something.

But.

Outside.

The Pit might have increased his training regiment, but it also allowed him to leave (escorted) the walls of his rooms. And this—

Danny could go outside.

He could go outside.

If he didn’t accept this now, then who knows when the opportunity would arise again? His family wouldn’t mind, right? Jazz did say something about how spending time outdoors is good for one’s health.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “My…my family will be alright, yes?”

Tahlia cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t they be? You have done nothing wrong that goes against our agreement, and you have progressed wonderfully in your training. I am quite proud.” At Danny’s disquieted expression, she sighed. She raised her hand. “I swear on the blood of the demon—on our blood—that I will honor our agreement and do no harm to the Fentons and your friends during our trip.”

She lowered her hand. “Are you satisfied, habeebi?”

Reluctantly, Danny nods. An agreement from Tahlia is probably the best he could do at this point. “How much time do I have to prepare?” “Everything you will need is in that back. Though, it might do you good to dress very warmly.”

----------

Danny’s first breath of fresh air was biting. It filled the lungs crisp and clean, chilled him to the bones though he could feel no cold. Each warm exhale expressed itself in swirling mists, disappearing into the slate gray clouds above. A facsimile of his own ghost sense.

Fenton did not think much of breathing; Phantom did not need it.

Danny had never realized how wonderous it was to breathe.

“We head northeast,” Tahlia called out. Like him, she is bundled in thick black layers with long leather gauntlets strapped at the end of the sleeves. Her bag secured tightly, and a sword strapped to her back. Her long black hair is bound in a tight braid beneath her fur-lined hood.

The path is covered with snow, deep enough that his first few steps past Nanda Parbat’s gates sinks his leg midway up his calf with a loud crunch. It was hardly as deep as some parts in the Far Frozen, but over there Danny had the choice to simple float over. Tahlia trudged through the snow with a preternatural grace. The path ahead was marked only by the faint traces of footprints almost—but not quite—covered with fresh snow.

Among the many things the League had taught him, this was one: the devil is in the details.

They speak little on their trek. Not that Danny particularly minds, absorbed that he was with world around him. Nanda Parbat, he learned, was built high in the mountains. Cocooned from the rest of the world by the snow-capped mountain ranges that surrounded it. A fortress of wood and stone that seemed distinct yet so carefully hidden. The high walls protected the buildings within from view. Its roofs—elongated and curved—and tall towers modelled after east Asian architecture. Though which country, Danny does not know.

Their destination—past a large protrusion of stone that covered the fortress from view once crossed—was a lake. Frozen a pale blue with ice, surrounded by more mountain walls and the opening of a cave off to the side.

Perplexed, he said “What, are we gonna go ice fishing? Just so you kno, I’m not that big of a fan. The last time I went with my dad I was nearly eaten by a sea monster.”

“We should have enough food for this exercise, Daniel. And you need have no fear of sea monsters, this lake is devoid of any such creatures.” Once they reached the mouth of the cave, she unstrapped her bag, setting it against the stone wall. Danny mimicked the motion. “We are here to train.”

“With…?”

She gestures to the katana strapped to his back.

“With swords.”

A nod.

“On the ice?”

She smiled, leading him to the edge of the frozen lake. “It has become something of a family tradition of the al Ghuls, to cross blades upon the ice.” She plants a steady foot on the lake, walking towards the center with long strides.

Danny followed behind her with some trepidation. He wouldn’t die from frostbite, he was sure, and if he fell he could always fly himself out. But that didn’t stop him from flinching at the rumbling sounds the ice made beneath his feet.

“My father trained both your father and I on this lake.” Tahlia unsheathed her sword as she took her place across from Danny. “And as your father no doubt trained Damian on his own lake, I have the pleasure of training you.” She slipped into a stance. “On your mark.”

Danny slipped into his own stance, feet apart, both hands on the hilt. Then, something nudged at the back of his mind. “Who’s Damian?”

Tahlia tilted her blade, the polished sword gleaming and sharp. “Your brother. Now—begin!”

“Wait, wha—” Danny barely managed to parry the blow.

Sparks flew as blades crossed and Danny twisted off to the side.

He slipped. Head meeting the ice, the deep crackling sound of the lake making him tense.

Tahlia points the tip of her blade against his chest. A single elegant brow arched high in dissatisfaction. Danny glared at her, brushing the fringes of his hair away from his face. “To be fair, you shouldn’t say stuff like that right before a fight. You caught me off guard.”

“If you find yourself in a fair fight, you have failed to prepare enough.” She sheathed her sword before extending an arm to help Danny to his feet. “The goal of a fight is to end it—no matter the cost. Now, take you place.”

Danny picked up his sword, then, hesitates. He looked up at Tahlia. “Did you mean what you said?” Do I have a brother?

Tahlia smiled, drawing her blade once more. “Impress me and you’ll find out.”

Danny narrowed his eyes.

“Now—”

He adjusted his stance. You’re on.

“Begin!”

Danny lunged.

[inkribbon796]

What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 6: The Wings of the Antarctic Empire

Summary: Tommy is desperate to convince Phil and Techno they’re in some kind of trap and he’d like to be taken seriously just once.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

Channel 6

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

Tommy found himself at the foot of the long, tall black stone staircase. Philza was looking down at him.

When he set his foot on the first step, Techno drew his sword and stepped in front of Phil. “I don’t think so.”

“Phil!” Tommy yelled up. “Yer[1] both in some kinda[2] illusion. Wake up.”

About five guards appeared from almost nowhere and aimed their arrows at him, Tommy recognized the pink of Niki’s hair among them. Techno took two steps down from the altar.

“Take ‘em ta the holdin’ room,”[3] Phil ordered, spreading his wings and he held the baby close to him as he flew off.

“Let’s go,” Techno ordered as he walked down the steps, Tommy found himself at the dangerous end of Techno’s sword. “Come on.”

Tommy held his hands up and turned, which resulted in Techno pushing Tommy forward.

“Don’t fuckin’[4] shove me!” Tommy shouted, but Techno and Niki lead them to the palace.

Tommy sat down in some uncomfortable chair as Techno and Niki stared at him. Ghostbur looked at Niki nervously.

“H-Hey,” Ghostbur smiled at Niki.

“Stay back,” Niki told him, bow and arrow pointed down, but not notched or ready to fire yet.

“The two of you are waiting until the old man gets back,” Techno told him.

“Techno, come on, man, you have ta[5] know this is Dream’s doin’[6],” Tommy groaned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you’re not careful you will get yourself shot,” Techno warned.

The heavy doors of the room were pushed open and Phil walked in. The lack of snow or distance gave Tommy a good look at the man. Little things about Philza were different. His eye color for one. The Phil that Tommy had always known had blue eyes but now he had more of blue-green color. He was maybe an inch or two taller. Not any taller than the other people in the room but it was noticeable enough to Tommy. His blond hair had a slightly dustier tint to it.

Phil paused when he looked at Tommy. “Stand down.”

Niki took her arrow away from her bow, “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a visitor like this,” Phil told them. “You two are from the future aren’tcha[7]?”

“Uh, yeah?” Tommy said. “We’re in an illusion. It’s Dream, he’s done somethin’[8].”

Philza just started staring at Ghostbur as a look of realization dawned on him. “I . . . Wilbur?”

“My name is Ghostbur,” Ghostbur corrected nervously, ducking behind Tommy a bit.

Niki seemed to recoil and Techno began slowly coming back to himself, clutching his head as he began grunting in pain and his knees crashed to the ground.

“Techno!” Phil rushed over.

“They’re too loud,” Techno grunted.

Tommy began stomping over, “What’s that green bastard doin’ ta yeh?”[9]

Phil used a wing to knock Tommy away before Techno was able to stab Tommy with a sword, his eyes a blood red and a frenzied look in his eyes.

“Tech, Tech, follow my voice, yeh[10] don’t need ta[5] fight here,” Phil told Techno as the warrior thrashed his head back and forth.

Niki inched closer and passed Phil a vial, he placed it under Techno’s nose and he began calming down.

“Thanks,” Phil said and inched closer. “Techno, yeh[10] need me ta[5] clear the room?”

“No, I,” Techno paused, swallowing. “I’ve got it.”

“What did that fucker do ta[5] you?” Tommy demanded. “It’s bad enough he’s got us trapped in here.”

“Dream’s not powerful enough for that,” Techno had a slight chuckle to his voice as he stood up.

“We still need ta[5] get out,” Tommy reminded him. “Tubbo an’[11] Ranboo are still trapped.”

Philza sighed, rather dramatically before he held his hand up and magic covered his hand before there was what felt like an earthquake and then a crash of some kind. Tommy, Shroud, and Ghostbur’s outfits changed into something that matched Phil and Techno’s. Tommy realized he was wearing a circlet, perched on his head and when he went to take it off to look at it he saw that it was studded with green and blue stones, and etched with perfect craftsmanship.

Tommy immediately rushed to the nearest window and saw at the foot of the palace, right outside the ground, an inn. And Tubbo stumbled out of it, looking around wildly. He was in an outfit that almost matched Tommy’s, but without the circlet and he was wearing thick gloves.

Ranboo followed after him, he was wearing a long purple cloak. But behind him, Michael was peeking his head out from behind Ranboo’s cloak.

Tommy immediately raced out of the palace, shoulding past guards and palace servants as he tried to get to Tubbo.

“Tubbo!” Tommy raced over but Tubbo glared at him, his false eye’s iris glowed with its radioactive symbol right before he punched Tommy in the gut.

“The fuck!” Tommy shouted angrily.

“I was safe!” Tubbo shouted in a fury. “Me an’[11] Ranboo an’[11] Michael were safe. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t do anythin’[12],” Tommy shouted back in anger.

“T-Tubbo,” Ranboo warned, and tried to hide Michael in his cloak.

Tubbo stopped and looked past Tommy to see, to his horror, that Techno was watching them as Michael peeked his head around Ranboo’s cape, holding his larger hand in his much smaller one.

Techno’s eyes narrowed and Tubbo moved, scooping Michael up and glaring at Techno.

“Stay back!” Tubbo ordered Techno with an angry snarl. “Get away!”

Techno looked between the three of them, Michael just staring at Techno with huge, wide dark eyes, the gears clearly starting to turn in his head.

The warrior took a step forward and Ranboo took a step forward. “Techno! Techno! Wait please, don’t hurt them.”

“Are you with them?” Techno demanded.

“I, uh,” Ranboo clearly had a look of panic on his face. “Yeah, but look I just want you to know—”

“I don’t care what you spend your time with but did it have to be with the government?” Techno spat at Ranboo.

“He’s my husband, of course I spend time with him,” Ranboo told him.

“Ehhh!” Techno sputtered. “When did you get married?!”

“Almost a year ago?” Ranboo asked.

“A year? Why am I just learning now?” Techno told him. “I’m like your mentor, I should have been the first person you told.”

“You don’t like Tubbo,” Ranboo reminded.

“Because he and Quackity tried to kill me with axes, why would I like the guy?” Techno snapped.

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” Ranboo admitted.

“Take the kid, we’ll go inside to Phil,” Techno jabbed his thumb at the palace. “And don’t worry, not killin’[13] the kid. He’s Ranboo’s too after all, right?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo answered.

“Good,” Techno told him but Tubbo still glared at Techno suspiciously. He followed at the back of the group, always braced to dump Michael into Tommy’s arms and pull out the first weapon he could get his hands on.

He only marginally calmed down when he saw Phil and Techno started complaining to Phil about Ranboo, and then balked when he found out Philza was already aware of the boy.

The little meet-up was interrupted when Jack Manifold raced in, in uniform after getting pulled in from the bubble Tubbo and Ranboo had been trapped in.

“Emperor! Enemy soldiers were spotted at the gate!” Jack yelled, the trio of teens and Niki stared at Phil in surprise.

“Where from?” Phil called out.

“From the Errin Empire,” Jack reported. “They were dressed like they were in the royal guard. We were able to apprehend them.”

“Shit,” Phil spat. “I want three guards in front ‘a[14] the nursery. Ranboo, take Michael an’[11] go with them. Niki, make sure no one gets in.”

“O-Okay,” Ranboo stammered nervously, grabbing Michael, and standing in front of Tommy expectantly. It took Tommy a bit to realize he was quietly asking Tommy to take Shroud. Tommy nodded and passed him over, Shroud became very upset to leave Tommy’s arms.

“On it!” Niki pushed Ranboo after the soldiers the instant he had both young boys in his arms.

“Tommy, Tubbo, behind me,” Philza ordered.

“Hold up, why are you the Emperor, yer[1] an anarchist?” Tubbo asked.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Techno interrupted as Puffy, Jack, and a couple soldiers dragged Chase and Jackie in.

“That’s new,” Techno hummed.

“We spotted an enemy force, we think it’s Lord Phantom,” Puffy announced.

Jackie turned to look out the window, seeing a wall of darkness in the sky, coming for them. “Storm’s comin’[15] in,” Jackie commented.

“That’s the Entity,” Phil corrected.

“What? Dark?” Chase perked up, starting to try and twist himself out of the rope tying his wrists behind his back.

Puffy kicked him down, so that he was face-down on the ground and placed a foot on his wrists. “Not so fast, buddy.”

“Puffy, let him up,” Phil ordered, “cut ‘em[16] both from their bonds.”

“You sure?” Puffy asked, taking her foot off.

“Yes,” Phil ruffled out his wings. “Battle stations! Average, can you talk Ent down?”

“I think so?” Chase said, rubbing at his wrists as he wisely kept his distance from Phil. “I just need ta[5] reach him, I didn’t forget so I imagine he’s still good too.”

The storm reached them and Phil started to hear the screams.

“How’d they sneak up that quickly?!” Jack yelled.

“Because none ‘a[14] this is real,” Phil told him.

The door was thrown open and Phantom was standing there in royal purple. “Phil, Techno, long time no see. It’s just like old times.”

“So yer[1] awake, then,” Phil sighed.

“Where’s Dark?” Chase demanded.

Phantom motioned with his head back, “Dealing with the town.”

“Then move outta[17] the fookin’[4] way,” Chase snarled.

“Aww, he’s having fun out there,” Phantom smiled.

“Here I’d hoped he wouldn’t work with yeh[10] again, yeh[10] always have been a shite[18] friend,” Phil glared at him.

“Ehh, we were both standing on the cliff, and he wanted to blow off some steam,” Phantom shrugged. “You know empaths, they get a little needy when they’re emotional so I just let him go off.”

“Fook[19] off,” Chase spat at him. “Jackie!”

Jackie grabbed Chase and they blitzed past Phantom, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t blame me when he starts getting snippy,” Phantom scoffed, bracing as he smiled at Phil and Techno. “Let’s tango, boys.”

As Phantom braced for a fight, Chase raced out into the storm.

“Dark!” Chase screamed over the whirlwind of snow. Chase was racing towards the darkest part of the storm. “Dark!”

The darkness seemed to evaporate and Dark had some soldier by the throat, when he looked at Chase he paused. “Chase?”

“There yeh[10] are,” Chase felt relief, walking over, a rumbling passing through the bubble as it began weakening from outside attacks. “We’re goin’ home. Yer okay. I’m takin’ yeh home an’ yeh can relax.”[20]

Dark blinked in disorientation, he felt drained. Phantom must have snagged some of his aura when he wasn’t looking, or the anomaly was taking more from him than he realized. “Yeah, I think that’s for the best.”

Chase was almost within arms reach and Dark realized his body needed a nap because it was getting harder to focus on things.

“Hey, yeh[10] look tired,” Chase smiled as Jackie noticed something shooting towards them, but because of the coloration of the smoke he thought it a part of Dark’s aura.

At least until it hit Chase.

Something stabbed Chase right through the heart and the marksman knew he should be dead. But he felt something in his very soul snap. Dark flinched, his eyes widening in horror.

Chase knew should be dead, the human heart was a fragile organ, but as he was tossed to the side, he felt weak and was losing blood but his heart was too stubborn to stop beating and blood was still coming from somewhere. As his soul cracked in two before snapping back together, good as new.

“Hey, Dames,” Marc spat as he grabbed Dark and pulled him closer. “Let’s try this again.”

“How dare you? What did you do?” Dark spat at Marc as he looked at Chase in horror. He was only slightly calmed when he saw Chase starting to try and pick himself up, glaring murderously at Marc. But the Actor burst into smoke and ripped a portal open, dragging Dark with him.

When the portal snapped closed, it destroyed the bubble with it. Barely a second’s warning as it shattered and violently dropped all its inhabitants onto the floor.

The bubble the Actor disappeared into snagged the Sanders bubble and seemed to violently tear it in half as it pulled it inside.

Phil screamed in agony as his bad wing returned and reminded the avian demon that he’d been grounded for years now.

“Phil!” Techno rushed over to him in concern.

Chase looked around, becoming furious when he couldn’t see Dark. “Fooker! That fooker! I’m gonna kill him.”[21]

“Average stop movin’[22]!” Jackie yelled and raced over. “Henrik! Chase needs attention, now!”

“Let me go!” Chase snapped at Jackie who was looking at him like Chase had flesh hanging off his bones. “I’m fine.”

“Yeh[10] were stabbed in the fookin’[4] heart! Stop movin’[22]!” Jackie yelled and that made people stare at Chase and Henrik who was at a brisk walk was now suddenly racing over as fast as he could. Marvin followed suit.

“Average! Lay down now!” Henrik yelled, forcing the marksman to a halt.

While the chaos of trying to get medical care and everyone just tried to figure out what was going on, Techno took a look around as Phil seemed to regain his strength and stood up.

“You okay?” Techno looked around as Ranboo was starting to get frantic.

“Where’s Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, an acute sense of panic growing within him. He scooped Michael and Shroud into his arms.

“He was right next ta[5] me, did that fucker grab him?” Tommy yelled as he looked around, his eyes locking onto Quackity who was just staring at Ranboo. Or more importantly, at Michael and Shroud, who were both crying. The screams only made Tommy even more agitated.

“What do you mean he’s just gone!” Ranboo yeled.

“Okay, give ‘em[16] here,” Philza swept in and just scooped the two toddlers into his arms, his aura soothing them and they stopped crying.

Techno took out his axe and walked closer to the remaining bubble that hadn’t been consumed by the Actor’s. His other hand summoned something that looked like a fishing pole with a small hand-sized grappling hook on the end of it and reeled it back before aiming it at the bubble and dragging it closer to him.

“Hey, let’s think about this,” Quackity urged.

But Techno slammed his axe into the bubble the instant he could and it cracked before shattering. Antfrost, George, Skeppy, and Bad all dropped to the ground but Dream rolled into a kneeling position and looked around. He almost stabbed Techno but the warrior easily used his weapons to deflect the blow.

“Hey man, chill out for five seconds, okay?” Techno chuckled.

Dream got up and looked around. He helped pull George up to his feet.

“Thanks, Techno,” Dream told him.

“That clear the books?” Techno smiled.

“Fuck no,” Dream chuckled. “You did that on your own, I didn’t ask you to do anything.”

“Ehh, it was worth a shot,” Techno shrugged, a smile still on his face.

Skeppy looked up from where he’d been laying on the ground next to Bad and when he looked up at Ponk he surged up.

“Give it,” Skeppy took the tome from Ponk, and checked it over. His eyes began to glow blue as parts of his skin began to crystallize. Magic fluttered around him. “Thank you, Ponk.”

“I was doing my best,” Ponk told him, emphatically throwing their arms up. “Took you long enough.”

“I was a bit busy,” Skeppy shot back.

Chase, once Henrik deemed him impossibly still alive and despite the blood he wasn’t dying, he looked up at the final bubble. Illinois gave Eric a kiss before he walked over to Chase.

“Actor’s up there?” Illinois glared at it.

“Yeah,” Chase said. “Fooker’s[23] a demon so snappin’[24] his neck’s so isn’t a crime.”

“Not a punishable one, and he’d only come back to life in a week,” Illinois agreed.

“Hey, the two of you are not going alone,” Silver said, in the middle of orchestrating ways to get people home. Dream ordering most of the Server group back home. Silver and Jackie quickly agreed to go with Chase and Illinois.

Philza was staring at Shroud before smiling at him. “I’ll take these two back home.”

“Deal,” Ranboo said without thinking, racing over to Chase. “Is Bomble okay in there?”

“We don’t know, but we’ll get him back home, the Sides seem to be in there as well,” Silver told him.

“No, I’m coming with,” Ranboo insisted. “I can open up a portal right into the bubble.”

“Count me in too,” Tommy rushed over.

“Absolutely not,” Silver told him.

“Let me rephrase that,” Tommy told Silver in his usual loud volume. “I am goin’[25] in there. With or without yer[26] fuckin’[4] permission.”

Silver sighed in frustration. “You two don’t take chances, and if you see Bomble, you two need to bail immediately.”

“Deal,” Ranboo spoke over Tommy and his eyes turned purple as he opened up a portal right over the group and took them right into the bubble.

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. You’re

2. kind of

3. Take them to the holding room

4. fucking

5. to

6. doing

7. aren’t you

8. something

9. What’s that green bastard doing to you?

10. you

11. and

12. anything

13. killing

14. of

15. coming

16. them

17. out of

18. shit

19. Fuck

20. We’re going home. You’re okay. I’m taking you home and you can relax.

21. Fucker! That fucker! I’m going to kill him.

22. moving

23. Fucker’s

24. snapping

25. going

26. your

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 41

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

The air was crisp and buzzing with tension as you walked through the forest that was a part of the endless gardens surrounding the palace. No matter how far you ventured, the palace still rose behind your back, melted into the very core of the mountain piercing the clouds. 

The river shimmered somewhere to your right as you followed Loki through the thicket.

"You okay?" he asked again, casting you a glance over his shoulder. 

You just nodded, a little breathless after circling around the fallen trees and muddy holes. 

The reason behind Loki's concern was getting nearer with each step. Magic was sizzling in the air, filled with energy not unlike one of a storm front's lightning about to strike. You'd passed a few bird-like creatures on your way there, but they didn't dare come close to the Rift. Double sets of wigs took them away and into safer spots. A three-eyed doe disappeared among gnarled trees, shedding starlight as it skittled off. Even the plants, usually a feral mass of color, seemed all to have withered the closer you got to the Rift. The only things left were dried, greyish branches and rotten greens of mud slipping upwards over them. 

Loki stopped at the edge of a clearing and took your hand. Your breath came out in clouds against the icy cold that shouldn't have been possible on the Edge.

In the center of the clearing hovered a rip. It was a long, sharp wound that filled you with a sense of wrongness. The mud in the direct closeness to it rose as if sucked by phantom winds and entered the dark, narrow space where it sizzled and disappeared. There was nothing natural in the way it made your skin crawl, even despite the safe distance between you. 

You couldn't blame anyone in the palace for wanting to stop it from spreading. Even if it meant complicating your life. 

Loki must've sensed your tension. He ran a hand over your back in a soothing manner, as he often did to calm you down. 

"We're far enough from it to be safe from its influence," he said. 

"Are you sure it'll be enough to hide your magic?" 

"I think so. Opening a portal requires a lot of energy from Bifrost, but the Rift should help us hide the evidence." 

"If it opens at all," you reminded him.

"Indeed," Loki sighed, getting ready for the inevitable. 

Having been almost murdered by a huge spider put both of you in an uneasy situation. No matter how you looked at it, it became obvious that your little investigation was definitely going against someone's plans. 

It would be dangerous to try and point a finger at anyone without evidence. Everyone you'd met so far had a motive. Your only wonder was the ambassador's role in this tangled mess - was he working with someone, or trying to correct the balance on his own? The notes found in his study were quite clear about his interest in the value of life on the Edge. The bloodiest conflicts in its history led to centuries of peace and freedom from Rifts forming, but was such bloodshed even possible anymore, let alone worth it? Was the ambassador's death just a door to achieving it through a new war against Asgard? Or was it simply a suicide? 

Loki and you spent a large part of the morning looking over the few facts in your possession, feeling like you were piecing a puzzle together without ever seeing the original picture. They had to connect somehow, and make sense through the details, but no matter how you looked at them, you still missed something vital. 

Those were frustrating hours that only resulted in making your heads hurt from coming up with increasingly bizarre theories. It was a good thing then, that you never left the bed and could relax for a while. There were marks on your bodies left from the night, and it took you both a while to retrace them. It took you longer to add some new ones, in ways that still made your toes curl thinking about it. Unfortunately, as pleasant as it was, it couldn't last forever. 

Which was what led you to decide to change the course of action a little bit, and play by a different set of rules. Neither Loki nor you were allowed to leave the Edge, but who would be there to blame you for it if no one ever found out? There were interesting places in the universe to pay a little visit to. 

One of those places was Asgard, where Loki claimed to have hidden a handy little device he had frequently used to trace even the thinnest whispers of magic back to its original caster. It was a long shot, considering how long ago he set foot in his chambers, but unless they'd been completely trashed, his secret stash should still hold. 

There were a few ways of sneaking into Asgard without notice, but Loki had to admit none of them led from the Edge. 

That left you with only one choice. A choice that made Loki's skin crawl. 

"Stay here," he braced through his discomfort and offered you a tight-lipped smile. "I'll see what I can do."

You watched him walk a few steps away. Loki held his chin high and shoulders square as he faced the dome of the neverending night overhead. 

"Listen, Heimdall, I know it's been a while, but don't you dare pretend you haven't been lurking-..." 

You leaned on a nearby boulder, carved with some intricate, needle-thin patterns. There was no reason you could come up with carving some huge boulder and then leaving it in the middle of a forest, but it was a good place to let your legs rest for a moment anyway. 

Loki left his bottomless bag with you as he continued his one-sided conversation, working himself up the more words poured out of him. He wasn't the most detailed about his relation with the being operating Biforst and guarding Asgard's borders, but from the way Loki talked about him, it was clear they weren't friends. What Loki had to ask of him now was a risky favor he had little hope would succeed. 

He tried it anyway, humiliating as it might make him feel. 

You watched him. His conversation turned into a rather heated argument, as one sided as it was. 

You looked up at the clusters of stars and galaxies passing the immeasurable expanse of the universe. Rarely had you felt so small and irrelevant. 

"You know," you said quietly, "Loki's really trying. He's doing his best, despite how shitty it is here. It's unfair how everybody expects so much out of him, but don’t consider how overwhelmed he is with all that's expected of him. No wonder he tries to hide it. It's hard to live knowing you'll never be what people want you to become, and how they are willing to force and shape you into what they'd rather have. But he's trying. He really is, and even now, he just needs this thing from Asgard to let us have some evidence and finish this investigation before we get killed for trying. Loki's amazing and capable, but even he needs some help sometimes, and I think now is one of those times. I try to help him as much as I can, but it's not me he needs right now. Just… be kinder on him, okay? If you're truly listening, I mean."

You sighed, biting your lip. The wind picked up some rogue leaves and dust, and took them away from the unnatural blemish looming to your right. The Rift was suspended mid-air, as if air itself had been torn and whatever lurked underneath the surface of reality, waited for the moment when it got wide enough to pass through. 

The weather on the Edge was mild usually, but you couldn't help a shudder from running down your back. 

Loki cursed in a language you didn't know. 

"At least we tried," he shrugged. 

There was a tight smile on his face, but it couldn't hide his disappointment completely. He would think of another way out, though, he just needed some time. 

Just as you were taking his bag and began to walk toward him, light enveloped both of you, and a familiar, gut-wrenching feeling threatened to bring the contents of your stomach to daylight. 

There was surprise in Loki's eyes, and a thread of hope as he reached out to you and gathered you in his arms. Clinging to him would be much more pleasant if the atoms weren't ripped out of your bodies, but before you blinked, the Bifrost plucked you out. Where you'd been standing, only faintest scorch marks remained. The Rift buzzed, but there was nothing for it to feed on. 

Pressing your face into Loki's chest didn't look dignified, but it helped you get through the blinding rush of universe passing you by. Your heart hammered against your chest, but Loki's arms held steady around you until all finally stopped. 

Peeling yourself from him took a considerable amount of effort, but once you did, both your fear and nausea dissipated. As it had happened with the Edge, the first thing that hit you was the smell you could only describe as otherworldly. It wasn't strong, but it filled you with the certainty that you were the stranger in this place of blinding gold. 

Loki and you arrived in a circular room at the end of a bridge casting rainbow reflexes under the setting sun. It was a beautiful thing, but you could only spare it a single look before a figure stepped down from the dais in the center. 

The man clad in armor of gold didn't budge at your gawking. Loki might be tall, but even in his own armor, he didn't look so menacing. 

"Hello, Heimdall," Loki nodded calmly, even though his arm was still on your back. "Long time no see, or at least on my side." 

"Coming here was an unwise choice," the warrior's voice boomed in the small space. He sheathed the impossibly long sword with ease. 

Loki put an unnerving smirk on his face. "And yet you got me through." 

You could've sworn Heimdall's eyes rested on you for the briefest moment. 

"So I did," was all he said, though. 

That was not an answer Loki had expected. He was tense, as if readying himself to argue or fight, but there was nothing about Heimdall that would suggest the need for that. The great Gatekeeper just stood, and waited. 

"We won't stay long," you promised carefully, breaking the silence. 

Loki loved you for it. 

"I have to retrieve something for the mission so thoughtfully commissioned to me. " He kept his chin high, not yielding a step. 

Staying composed and calm was an uneasy task in front of Asgard's most vigilant guardian. Loki had changed since he was a mere child, but something from those days stayed with him in the way he had to crane his neck to look into Heimdall's face. The Asgardian didn't change at all, or so it seemed. He was still an unbreakable mountain, with golden eyes capable of seeing all and knowing all. 

"I won't linger any longer than necessary," Loki added into the silence. "I know I'm not welcome." 

Heimdall took in the young Prince, who had grown strong, despite how cruel life had been to him. Then he turned his all-seeing eyes to you, noting the defiance in your pose, and the tension on your face, as if you were ready to throw fists with him, had the bargaining not worked. And based on the firm grip Loki now had over your shoulder, the Prince was aware of that. 

There was a hint of a smile on Heimdall's face, but it was obscured by the golden helmet and the shadows lurking beneath it. 

"Then go, and be quick about it." 

You cheered and quickly moved to the bridge, but Loki lingered, just a while longer. 

"Why?" he asked, the frown not fully gone from his brows. 

The Gatekeeper moved back to the dais, rising in the center. 

"I serve Asgard, and Asgard I protect," he said. "If war is imminent, I shall spill my share of blood, but if there's a chance to stop it from ever happening, I shall take that chance." 

The Guardian stood tall on the dais, as he did for as long as Loki's memory went, overlooking the portal and all the worlds it opened to. Loki bowed curtly, even though Heimdall's back was to him. The golden armor flared in the rays of the setting sun, but never before had it looked so heavy. 

You waited for him at the bridge, and despite the towers of gold and glass piercing the clouds ahead, they were secondary in your eyes, following Loki's steps instead. 

There was something unwinding in him, as if only then it truly occurred to him where he came back to. He knew that bridge, and the palace shining brightly in the sun heading to rest beyond the shore, and the salty waves that would swallow it in a few hours. Until the very moment his feet hit the bridge, Loki wasn't even aware of the ache deep in his bones that had finally eased. 

He kissed your brow and cast a glamor over both of you. Heimdall might've been forgiving, but the guards stationed at the gates far up ahead likely weren't. 

"Let's go, love," he said, leading you by the hand. 

"Are you sure we won't be noticed? There's nowhere for us to hide on the bridge." 

The waves crashed underneath it, and seagulls screamed overhead as you walked. The glamour made both of you look almost translucent, or at least it did in your eyes. You had no idea if it would work against others, in a world where magic was a common thing. 

Loki pointed ahead, where the guards were stationed at the far end of the bridge. "They have sensors sensitive enough to mark any ounce of magic on travelers."

"Makes sense. What do we do?"

"We shed the glamour." 

You blinked. The seagulls overhead shared your confusion. "Wouldn't that make us visible, though?" 

Mischievous light filled his eyes. "Not if we slip on a secret little passage beneath the bridge beforehand, and only there recall all the magic around us. We wouldn't want to alert anyone, would we?" 

"Oh dear, sounds like someone was a naughty little kid," you laughed. 

"And look at what's become of me. It's a wonder I hadn’t been banished centuries ago." 

"They are idiots for doing that now." 

The sheer conviction in your voice made Loki imagine Odin hearing that from you. You wouldn't balk or juggle around, that he was sure of. And would pay to see that, even if it earned him a few more centuries of banishment. 

The guards were closer now. Loki looked around for the tiny mark on the carved railing he made long ago. 

"Do you trust me?" he whispered in your ear, approaching the railing. The shore was close enough to see the waves crashing down on the blackened rocks, but still not close enough to jump to it. 

You looked down at the foaming chaos of the sea crashing against the pillars and stone. "I mean, I wouldn't trust you with a car, but I literally traveled worlds with you, so I guess I do?" 

"That's fair," he said and jumped over the railing. 

Despite yourself, you rushed to it, half expecting to see his bloodied corpse sprawled over the jagged rocks. The wicked grin on his face told you enough. 

"You're an ass," you growled, quietly enough not to alert the guards posted nearby. 

"You love my ass, don't lie to yourself," Loki reached out to you, urging you down. 

Crawling over the railing wet from the sea mist was not the way you imagined this day to go, but the steady form of Loki waiting below made you a little less nervous as you let go of the cold metal and fell into his arms. 

"Welcome back," the smug bastard dared to smirk at you as he navigated the barely noticeable path over the rocks. 

You noticed the glamour disperse as you neared what would be the gates overhead. The width of the bridge hid you from the guards' eyes though. Loki skittered over the rocks, somehow finding just the right place to step on. 

Despite his grip on you, you couldn't help but wince every time the cold waves crashed beneath you, the mist spraying high. The path was winding and barely noticeable. Every leap between the rocks made you tighten your arms around Loki's shoulders. 

"I know you like to joke around," you managed to say with the heart in your throat, "but please don't fake-fall or something." 

"As you wish." 

The shore neared soon. Sand never felt so much like a blessing than when Loki finally put you down on the steady ground. The cliffs to your left hid you from the guards' outpost, but Loki didn't want to linger there any longer than necessary. The patrols rarely visited the narrow stretch of a beach, but it was not impossible. 

Loki knew every stone and thorny bush on this side of Asgard. He led you up the cliffs hanging high, through a path concealed so much it looked as only the wild prey might've ever used it. You stopped only for a moment, to look over to the sea and the evening reflexes in deep shades of orange and red playing over its surface. 

Loki waited for you a few feet ahead, with an expression you’d rarely seen on him. 

"We'll get in through the stables," he said when you almost reached the top. 

The glamour was back on you as you sprinted through the lush, green fields surrounding the plain in front of long barracks. People were rushing in and out, and no one noticed two additional sets of steps in the loose hay and sand as you snuck inside. 

Most of the boxes were closed already, horses and hunting dogs readied for the night. In one or two you passed by, you could've sworn you'd seen winged creatures, but there was no way of getting close enough to them with so many people around. 

Loki led you out of the stables through a courtyard, to a narrow pathway and up the steps carved in stone to a more pronounced building. The doors were open, but no guards stood the watch there. Coming closer, the smells betrayed the reason. Kitchens, even in another world, always seemed to be a place steaming with sweat, spilled food, and not enough hands to control every pot around. 

Bent low, you followed Loki below the long tables, yielding under the weight of all the dishes prepared. Feet stumped around in a rush, plates landed heavily on the counters, and the absolutely divine smells made your stomach grumble. Loki must've felt the same because his hand reached out for a few freshly baked pastries at the same time as yours, pocketing them with a knowing wink. 

You slipped out into a dim corridor, for the interior use of the kitchens and took the doors to a pantry full of meats and sacks of something stored by the walls. 

In the far corner, Loki moved old, rotting boards to the side and revealed a small, dusty corridor hidden behind them. 

"After you.” He bowed. 

You looked at the webs and thought of their owners. "I'd prefer to stay in the back, if you don't mind." 

He only laughed and broke the thick webs before crawling inside. 

It wasn't long, and soon opened to a winding staircase full of dust and only a few slits instead of windows somewhere ahead allowing the faintest shreds of light inside. 

"A long time ago, part of the kitchens was located upstairs," Loki explained when he sat down on one of the steps. "This was a shortcut used mostly by the kitchen boys who had to run around all day, but it hasn't been used for centuries. I used to hide here with whatever I managed to sneak out of the kitchens." 

"And it looks like you haven't changed much since then," you observed, as you both pulled the pastries from your pockets. Even in the narrow space with little to no fresh air, they still smelled absolutely delicious. 

There were crunching noises as you both devoured them in record time. You hadn’t even noticed how hungry you were until you took that first damned bite. Minutes later, only a few crumbs were left, scattered on the narrow steps below. 

You caught Loki looking at a few stains of old ink that surely none of the kitchen boys had left. 

"So many hours I had spent here, feeling like an outcast among my own family," he said, tracing them with fingers. "And here I am again, as mere outlaw, no closer to them than I ever was. Do you think I'm even capable of changing?" 

There was no sorrow in his voice, not really. Loki had enough time to dwell over the same question over and over again that it no longer bore its initial weight. He was no closer to finding the answer, but at least it no longer hurt. 

Loki didn't budge as you slipped into his lap. He only turned to look at you when your hands cupped his face. 

"You are here, because you made a conscious decision to do everything in your might to prevent that pointless bloodshed and war from happening. You could have ran - look how easy it would be to just sneak out and hide in some remote location far from responsibility. Still, you chose to stay and do your best, and even if that doesn't answer your question directly, I think it's something worth keeping in mind."

Loki didn't answer. The dust in the air turned into gold as it hit the narrow rays of the setting sun. His eyes were closed as he pulled you into a slow, contemplative kiss. 

He had countless memories of the hours spent on that staircase. There were books he had all but devoured, and pages he had reread until he'd had them memorized. There were tiny spells he practiced where nothing would burn or get destroyed by untrained fingers. There were cookies and cakes and sometimes even some wine hidden from all eyes. 

And there was you, in this place of cold stone and times long since gone. Tasting you, Loki was reminded that no matter what the past had brought, the future was still a mystery worthy of waiting for. 

"Thank you," he muttered breathlessly into your lips. 

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

Character ref for; Jack, Maddie and Jazz,

Art by @gally-hin / @gally-hin-phantom

Okay so first off; in terms of Actual redesign, I didn't change a whole lot. I'm actually very fond of Jack and Maddie's design's, my only real issue was with their proportions. Like...look as a lady person who is also thiCC I do not have a fucking wasp thin waist and I'm sure I'm not the only one, lmao. As for Jack? Godamnit he looked like a brick on toothpicks. Just Let him be a fucking Bara man! Anyway of course I asked Gally to do this one bc they're fucking great at drawing different body types

I also cannot and will not take credit for Jazz's outfit. I didn't have any issue with her canon clothes aside from them being a bit plain, so what she's wearing here was literally pulled straight off of her original concept art, which I will link here.

Anyway, getting to the Actual character lore now, let's start with

Maddie Fenton

-Full name is Madeline (I haven't decided on a maiden name yet)

-Born and raised on a farm in Arkansas, had a southern accent that she trained herself out of in college bc it was just one more reason for people not to take her seriously. Still sometimes uses "y'all" completely unironically bc old habits die hard.

-She has a really big family, and they're proud of her accomplishments but feel like she's wasting her talent studying ghosts, because really, up until the Fenton portal was up and running there wasn't even any solid proof they existed. Her sister Alicia is the one outlier there, and even if she doesn't understand, it she completely supports her.

-She majored in engineering and minored in psychology at Wisconsin EDU. Her, Jack and Vlad were all in the same engineering class, and that's where they met.

-Maddie is particularly interested in how ghosts think, analysing their behavior, their motives. Not only that, but they aren't just dead people with unfinished business, they've built an entire culture in the Ghost Zone that is completely seperate from humanity, and she wants to understand all of it.

-skilled marksman and 9th degree black belt, (which is. The highest fucking level there is holy shit? I looked it up after I saw it on her wiki page.)

Jack Fenton

-He's from Minnesota (Amity park is in Illinois and him and Maddie didn't move there until after they got married) 

-okay, "but why minnesota specifically" you ask? Because. I crave. Foot ball discourse. 

-minnesota vikings vs green bay packers guys do you UNDERSTAND WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS 

-The funny thing is that Jack only watches football casually while Vlad is a fucking die hard so when these two got together to see a game it was like....

-Jack: Here to chill and have a good time.

-Vlad: Primed and ready to start a fist fight at any given moment.

-I am never not going to be salty about how Canon Jack was portrayed like a complete moron 99% percent of the time. Like no...theres a difference between Actual Stupid and ADHD induced dumbass-ery.

-Am I saying Jack Fenton has ADHD? Yes. why? Because I also have ADHD and I have always vibed So Hard with his Character.

-Jack is loud and easily excited about things that interest him. He's impulsive and fidgety and yeah, a bit absent minded. He has a mouth that clearly runs so much faster than his head. His train of thought doesn't get derailed so much as it stops and takes several different detours on the way to it's final destination.

-and that's only the tip of the iceberg, really, I'd need an entire essay to get into this completely, but I just really relate.

-Jacks skill-set / interests regarding ghosts vary a bit from Maddie's, most notably in the sense that he doesn't believe that they're static entities already set in their ways, completely incapable of change.

-Jack majored in engineering and minored in Biology at Wisconsin EDU.

-Jack's work with tech is a bit hit or miss. He definitely HAS the engineering skills, but the intrest isn't always there and he's constantly jumping back and forth between different projects. He tends to focus on the concept work and schematics and leave most of the assembly to Maddie as a result. It's an arrangement that works well for them, and has drastically decreased the number of unintentional explosions in the lab.

-A lot of Jack's work tends to revolve around ghostly biology and Ectoplasm, figuring out how ghosts are made, what makes them tick, what the hell Ectoplasm Actually Is, how it's used as an energy source, ect.

-and yes, that does also mean he handles the dissections.

-See that facial scar? Yeah, that's not actually there at the start of the series rewrite but it's very important for plot reasons so I had to include it. Can't say much more on the subject because SPOILERs owo.

Jasmine Fenton

-Jazz is a 18 years old, and a senior at Casper high.

-Which means she prepping to go away to college and won't be around to keep an eye on Danny.

-Obviously that doesn't mean I'm just writing her out of the story, oh no. Know why? Because she's also gonna go to Wisconsin EDU. ya know who else is in Wisconsin? Fuckin' Vlad.

-Jazz is autistic, Although she passes for neurotypical in part due to symptoms being completely over looked in girls due to gender stereotyping and also the fact that she doesn't have any special interests that are considered " "too weird.""

- Her hyperfixation with psychology started at a young age in an effort to better understand people, and social/emotional cues and all that.

-Jazz is well liked at school but she's not popular or apart of any specific group or clique. She's very kind and compassionate to people, and just about everyone knows her, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone who actually Considered her a friend. Except maybe Spike.

-I'm gonna have to give spike his own Character ref at some point, but he's this scary looking goth kid that's been held back twice. He's actually super sweet, just really fuckin' quiet and anxious. Him and jazz kinda ended up gravitating towards each other. She might do most of the talking, but they look out for each other.

-its not like jazz doesn't try to socialize, but it's difficult and she's found it much easier and less stressful to just. Keep to herself and let her interactions with her peers stay shallow and superficial. Sure, it's lonely sometimes but it's better than constantly worrying about saying the wrong thing or making some other misstep.

-One of Jazz's other special interests is football, and it's not so much the players or the game as it is the strategy of it? Started out as one of those things you do to bond with your dad, and she ended up getting really into it.

-She absolutley winds up getting into stupidly intense discussions with Vlad about it, too, lmao.

-Her and Danny probably bonded over SBNation bc that shit has both sentient satellites and ridiculously complex football mechanics.

-She's completely oblivious to the fact, but Dash has a massive crush on her bc holy shit this girl understands football (hey bud your toxic masculinity is showing put that shit away)

-I mentioned that Danny was in Cheer for a bit in middle school so it makes sense that she'd also be pushed into doing some kind of extracurricular activity.....so.....she was in a martial arts class for a bit thanks to Maddie and has a good grasp on self defense.

I think that's everything? I feel like I'm leaving things out tho? Idk if I did I'll come back and add on to this later and also pls don't hesitate to ask questions bc it really helps me flesh things out better.

[alyss-spazz-penedo]

@w1lmutt I know I just did part nine of the unedited v!Wind fic but I crave validation had most of this tenth part done already, so, here you go! *hands you thing*

<<First Part 9 Next>>

The sound of battle draws the heroes like lightning to uncovered metal.

This is the scene they stumble upon: Phantom, limp on the ground, and Tetra, standing over his body, one hand upon the assembled Triforce.

“Go away,” she orders, and for a moment the heroes think she’s talking to them. “We don’t need you anymore.”

Then the Triforce pulses, once, an acknowledgment.

It’s like the world freezes. Like the very air stills in their lungs as they realize the magnitude of what they’re witnessing.

In that endless heartbeat, there is only the girl, and the power at her fingertips.

“We’re going to create a new Hyrule,” Princess Zelda declares to the Triforce—to the gods themselves. “And we don’t need an eyesore like you around to do it.” Her hand clenches into a fist. “You can come back to us when it’s done, if you must. But until the new kingdom built, I want you gone. Disappear, somewhere so far away that not even Ganondorf’s remnants can reach you. That’s my wish.”

The Triforce glimmers, one final blaze of gold, before lifting gently into the sky. It splinters. The pieces separate, Power and Wisdom and Courage, flying up and up and up, fallen stars returning to the heavens.

With one last twinkle of divine light, it disappears.

(That light will not reach mortal eyes again for many generations to come.)

~o0o~

In the aftermath, Time approaches Tetra first. “What was that about?” He prompts, direct, as unfazed as ever.

Tetra side-eyes him thoughtfully, righteous indignation simmering down, before closing one eye in a wink.

"Just Link being an idiot. He doesn't seem to realize," and here her words turn acidic, clearly directed at the dazed boy just beginning to sit up in the sand, "That I can just ask my first mate exactly how long I've been out for."

"Actually-" Phantom starts. Stops. Springs to his feet, sudden, eyes wide as saucers. "Oh shit, the pirates," he breathes, with no small amount of horror.

"What is it? What have you done now?" Tetra demands, the only one more exasperated than worried.

"I, uh..." Phantom backs away as subtly as he can manage, which is not very. "I kind of... forgot them in the cave?"

"The... cave.”

Phantom looks down at his feet. "...On the other side of the island?"

“Might this be the same place you mention had a way off Outset Island?”

The boy nods meekly. “I was using the ship for that,” he croaks.

“The same ship the monsters tried to lead us to?”

Phantom digs his toe in the sand.

With mix of amusement and bone-deep weariness, Time asks, "And might there be monsters in this cave of yours?"

"I'm sure they're fine," Phantom mutters in a tiny voice, hunching in on himself. "They can take care of themselves."

Tetra, who has been looking steadily closer to popping a blood vessel with every passing second, finally explodes. “YOU SUN-ADLED LAND-LUBBING CHUCHU-BRAINED MORON! What are you waiting for?! Go! Get! Them! NOW!”

~o0o~

“I got this,” Phantom assures them all as they stop before the edge of the cliff. He gives a testing swing of his sword and, finding it now too heavy to comfortably wield, fixes on a pair of power bracelets with a small dissatisfied noise. His second swing is much smoother.

Hewn into the stone of the cliff are crude platforms of wood, forming a path down to sea level. Patrolling the narrow walkways between those platforms are flocks of Kangarocs and curious little one-eyed creatures the two natives call “Miniblins.” According to Phantom, this is the only way to get to their destination by foot.

“We’re all experienced fighters, you know. We could help,” someone points out. Phantom snorts.

“I’ll keep that in mind if I think there’ll actually be a fight,” he says cockily, bringing his sword up to rest on one shoulder. “But for now, I got this.”

It would be more convincing if Phantom didn’t still have bruises on his face and scrapes on his hands. If there weren’t a paper-thin quality to the boy’s bravado. If it didn’t seem like he needed this on some level—this reminder that he was still capable, still powerful in his own right.

No one’s quite comfortable letting the teen throw himself at the monsters alone. But Time nods his assent, and the rest of them follow his lead, even Tetra.

Their agreement secured, Phantom proceeds to stalk down the planks in a disturbingly Ganondorf-like manner.

Before the incredulous eyes of their onlookers, the monsters scramble to get out of the boy’s way, clawing their way up the sheer rock or hopping down to the paths below, only to panic anew when Phantom reaches their level in his continued descent. A not insignificant number of the creatures just dive right into the ocean below, choosing to take their chances in the waves rather than before what is clearly the second coming of the apocalypse in Hylian form.

“...Think he could do that with monsters from other time periods?” Legend asks into the stunned silence.

“Fifty rupees says no,” Warriors quips back.

“You’re on.”

“Are you guys coming or not?” Phantom calls back from the first large platform, tapping his foot impatiently. The group trails down after him, picking their way cautiously—not all of them are quite so capable of flight, after all. Their guide waits for them to catch up, counting heads like a comically short school teacher making sure her students are all there, before he starts off again, terrorizing the monster anew.

It would be a more intimidating display, they all think, if Phantom didn’t cower whenever Tetra got too close like a child with an angry parent, or do his damnedest to keep at least one person between them at all times.

(Oddly enough, the shield he hides behind most often is Twilight. Phantom’s reasons for this are simple:

1) He’s tall

2) He’s usually the closest

3) He’s the most willing—in Phantom’s eyes—to murder a man in his sleep given sufficient reason, and therefore clearly the most dangerous of the lot.

All of this, unfortunately for Phantom, rather ignores the fact that Twilight will happily throw him to the wolves at far less prompting than a nasty look or two from Tetra.)

“So what exactly are we walking into?” Someone finally asks Phantom. “It’s been nearly two days since the curse was lifted. Are you sure these pirates will still be where you left them?”

Phantom huffs at the questioning. “They’ll be there. Jabun’s Cave only has one entrance, and they wouldn’t have been able to open the doors.” He nods down at the bottom of the path. Floating on the sea’s surface and anchored to the stone cliffs, the largest platform yet awaits them. A pair of enormous doors open onto that platform—shoddy things, little more than massive slabs of wood lashed together haphazardly, but more than big enough to give a crew of Hylians difficulty. There are gaps in the uneven planking, some big enough for a child to squeeze through, but nothing that could accommodate a boat; anyone who escaped would have nowhere to go but up.

Legend whistles slowly, as if impressed by the sheer level of the fuck-up he's witnessing. "Are you telling me you left these guys trapped for two days in a cave filled with monsters? I thought you were friendly with these pirates."

Phantom not-so-discretely steps to put another person between him and Tetra, shoulders hunching defensively. "They'll be fine," he insists. "There's enough provisions on the ship to last anyone a few weeks, and the monsters know better than... to..."

Phantom trails off with a frown as they approach the final landing. There are a great many Kangarocs dotting the cliffs around the door—too many. They prefer to nest inside; they should be tending to their young in the cave, not crowding each other off perches in the open air.

"Something's wrong," he concludes, and readies his sword.

[ideasthatbuildcities]

Every Week - Inuvember 3

Hello everyone! I’m here to bring you Chapter 3 of my Inuvember fic “It’s Time Already”.

Like I said, I’m going to use the Inuvember prompts and write a whole story inspired by several prompts. The idea of this story is that you can read each chapter as a One-Shot for each prompt or you can read the whole story throughout Inuvember!

This is going to be a very angsty fic with a happy ending, I promise you. So please, bear with me.

Summary: After the final battle with Naraku, the well closes and never opens again, leaving Inuyasha and Kagome 500 years apart. Inuyasha decides he will wait for her, but he knows his friends can’t do that. How do you cope with losing the love of your life and think that you would never see them again? How do you cope with not being able to say goodbye to your best friend? Only time will tell. [InuKag] [MirSan]  

You can read chapter 3 below, in FF.net  or in  AO3.

“Every week” - Sango. tw: Character's death in this chapter. If you are concerned by this trigger warning please feel free to contact me.

Sango didn’t understand what was happening. One minute the well was gone, the next one he was able to hear Inuyasha screaming Kagome’s name from the bottom of it. 

Was Kagome dead? She didn’t want to even think of that possibility, but she didn’t know what happened during those three days the well was gone. She did what she thought was best; she waited. 

Inuyasha jumped out of the well and stood in front of them. There was a silence that Sango didn’t know how long it lasted, it could have been seconds, minutes, hours, she lost count. All she could feel was her heart beating against her ribcage, waiting for an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“She’s not coming back,” Inuyasha simply said, “She’s back with her family, Kagome is safe and sound where she belongs…” He turned around, not being able to face them. Sango felt how Miroku slightly squeezed her hand, showing her he was there to support her. 

Even though she was relieved to know that her friend was alive, there was a thought that kept resonating inside her head, growing a little louder with every passing second. At first it was a whisper but then it was so loud she couldn’t hear anything else. 

Kagome is gone forever.

“But… I couldn’t even say goodbye,” Sango said, covering her mouth as if that could hold the sob that was threatening to come out. Miroku put an arm around her, comforting her.

“I know, Sango, I’ll miss her too,” he said while applying some pressure on her shoulder. “But we have to believe Inuyasha here, he says that Kagome is alright and she’s with her family, she’s safe and sound and that’s all that matters.”

She wasn’t able to understand what Miroku was saying. Through the whole year her journey lasted, Sango was sure she was going to lose someone important to her. First, she thought that person was going to be Kohaku, since every single day that passed made her lose hope that they would ever get him back from Naraku’s grasp. 

Then, she thought she was going to lose Miroku to his Kazana, a time bomb that was always threatening to explode and swallow them all. But one thing she never imagined, was that she would be mourning the loss of Kagome, it was impossible to phantom. Kagome was supposed to be there for her and help her pick up the pieces, like she always used to. 

Who is going to help me now?  

Sango, not being able to function anymore, fell to her knees, covering her face as if that simple gesture could help her contain all the grief that was flowing inside her body. 

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“Kaede believes I’m pregnant,” Sango said under the Goshinboku. “I know you would be happy for me right now, I know it. You are the first person that I wanted to tell the news,” she added with a sad smile.

She felt a little silly doing this, coming to the Goshinboku and talking to it as if it were her friend. It had been 5 months since the well had closed and she found that coming here and talking to the tree made her feel at ease. The meadow where the tree was located made her feel safe and at peace, the same way Kagome’s reassuring presence made her feel. Being there helped her think and help her sort her thoughts and sometimes that was all she needed: peace and quiet. 

Even though Sango loved her life as a wife, sometimes the village could feel lonely. No other woman understood how she was raised, and some would even turn her heads when she behaved unladylike; like the warrior she was. 

She was doing her best to try to adjust to being a wife and to let go of her warring past, but she missed the comradeship she used to have with Kagome. Kagome knew Miroku, she knew how troublesome he could be sometimes, she also knew Inuyasha and his ability to drive everybody insane with his bad temper.

“I want to wait until I’m sure to tell Miroku, I don’t want to keep his hopes up. I know my body has gone through so much over the past year, so I don’t know how good it is to grow a baby. Kaede says that I’m a healthy young woman, so I shouldn’t worry about it…” Sango added, placing a hand on her stomach. 

She caressed her stomach with her hand and a little smile came across her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to process everything that happened that morning that led to Kaede telling her she was pregnant. Then, it dawned on her: She was going to be a mother! She never thought she was going to make it out alive of the battle with Naraku, less alone have her own family. 

Without even realizing, she started to cry, but this time, they were tears of happiness.

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It was a late night and she couldn’t sleep. Hisui had barely survived a fever and was now getting better, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something might have gone wrong and she might have lost someone else. She wasn’t ready for that. Kaede had recently passed away and the new miko was still learning about medicinal herbs, so it took her a little longer to help cure Hisui, time that he almost didn’t have. 

Sango wished that Kagome were there, knowing that she would have been able to help Hisui. The truth was: Kagome wasn’t there. Feeling all the weight and the stress building up inside her body, she sat down on one of the roots of the tree and cried, letting go of all the worry she had in her body. Monsters she could fight, but diseases? She was helpless. 

“Sango, are you hurt?” she heard a voice behind her ask. 

“No, Inuyasha, I’m okay,” she replied while wiping away her tears.

“Then why are you crying?” Inuyasha inquired, getting closer to her. 

“I’m crying because I’m tired,” she simply said, not caring to elaborate.

“I thought of her too, you know? When I saw the new miko wasn’t able to help Hisui. I was ready to go look for Sesshoumaru, just in case…” he trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence.

Sango looked at Inuyasha with her round eyes and then smiled at him, realizing that even though Kagome wasn’t there, Inuyasha was taking care of them, the same way Kagome would do. She smiled at him and said, “You know, I come here every week and talk to the Goshinboku, I feel like I’m talking to her, in a way,” Sango admitted to him. 

She never dared to bring Kagome up when Inuyasha was around. Kagome meant a lot to everybody but she knew that it was a very special topic for Inuyasha and even though he tried to convince everyone that he was okay, Sango could see that the mention of her was painful to him. 

“I know, every time I come here it reeks of you and your family,” Inuyasha replied teasingly. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, laughing for the first time in a week. 

“It’s alright, we all need a way to remember her,” he said, looking at the tree. 

They stayed in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the calmness of the night. Sango took the opportunity to look at Inuyasha and really study him. He looked so young, it seemed as if time had frozen for him, barely looking a couple of months older than he used to be when they used to fight demons and travel across Japan by foot, almost ten years ago. 

“All I need to do is survive, Sango, and sometimes I’m afraid I’m not going to make it,” Inuyasha admitted. 

Sango looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you going to meet her in the future?” Sango asked, knowing it was an obvious question. She didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t used to seeing Inuyasha so vulnerable.

“I will do my best, but I don’t know what the future holds. I haven’t seen any demons in the future; I wasn’t able to smell even one. How I am going to survive five hundred years, Sango?” he looked right at her and she could see the concern and pain on his face. 

Sango’s face softened and she had the urge to hug him, but she knew Inuyasha wouldn’t like that. Instead, she got closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. 

“I know you would see her again, Inuysha,” she reassured him. “Love always finds a way.”

Even though Inuyasha simply nodded and shrugged it off, he didn’t pull away. She knew that’s exactly what he needed to hear. 

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Sango was sitting down on the tree, tears silently running down her face. Miroku was gone and she didn’t know what to do. They lived a happy life, she couldn’t complain, but that didn’t make his departure any less painful. She knew the day would come and it seemed that even Miroku knew, since the day before leaving this world he said some of the most beautiful things he had ever said to her. 

For the past month, Miroku had been writing about his life, he said he wanted to share his story with the world because he started as a monk with a death sentence and was about to go as the luckiest man alive. He said he was sure his story would reach Kagome, and he even sent a message to her. For the past month, he had been reading his writing to her every night, and yesterday he had finish writing the last of his book.

Sango shook her head with a smile on her face. That was Miroku, the man that made her feel everything. He made her feel alive again, he made her feel like everything was possible. She was ready to die for him and to live for him. She wanted to give him everything, to love him deeply…

“You gave me everything, Sango, you did,” Miroku said as he held her wrinkled hands with his own. “I’m so glad you said yes to me all those years ago,” he added with a smile. 

“Hoshi-sama...” she replied, taken aback by his sudden confession. 

“I just wanted you to know that you made me the happiest man alive, you gave me the girls and you gave me Hisui. They are everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” he kissed her hands and then gave her a kiss in the lips. “Thank you for trusting this ill-behaved monk. I love you, Sango.”

They wished each other a good night and they went to bed. The next day, he was gone.

She knew this day would come, and she had no regrets, she loved him fully and they built something beautiful together. They had the life that they both wanted but they thought they would never get. 

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It was getting harder everyday to get to the Goshinboku; if it weren’t for Inuyasha and his young body she would never get there by herself. She still insisted on going, and Inuyasha would always carry her there and leave her alone for a few minutes so she could talk to her friend. She knew she was close to being reunited with Miroku and she was happy to see her children become parents of their own. She loved the fact that her children had the same habit of hers to come talk to the tree and find all the right answers. It had become a family thing to protect and sort their feelings under the Goshinboku.

“You ready?” she heard Inuyasha behind her.

“Could you promise me something, Inuyasha?” she asked, not even bothering to reply to his question. “Could you tell her our story and tell her that she was always on our mind?” she asked with tears in her eyes.

“Keh, of course I will tell her about you, don’t ask stupid questions.” Sango could see that Inuyasha was offended by her question and she just smiled, as she slowly climbed on his back. 

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Sango was walking towards a hut, she didn’t know where she was but she felt at peace, everything was quiet and beautiful. 

“I’m proud of you, Sango,” she heard a voice say. She looked right next to her and saw her father, walking alongside her. 

“Father?” she asked, as she realized she was young and she was able to freely move again. 

“Yes, Sango. You should know that your mother and I are proud of how strong you are and the amazing life that you have lived. You are a true warrior,” his father continued. “And I, as head of the village, want to thank you for carrying the slayers’ values in every aspect of your life; you have not only made me proud, you have made our entire village proud,” his father finished as he put a hand on her shoulder. 

Sango didn’t know what to say. She didn’t understand what was happening but she was happy to see and hear her father again. 

“Thank you, father,” she replied, holding back the tears. 

“There is someone very eager to see you, he’s been waiting for you,” he added as he pointed towards the hut she was initially walking towards. 

Sango looked again and started walking towards the hut again, drawn by it. Who was waiting for her? Could it be…?

She crossed the door of the hut and was blinded by a light. She covered her eyes and waited for her sight to adjust. She was able to see that the light was coming from a fire. There was a man sitting next to it, waiting for the stew to be ready. 

“Hello, Sango, I’ve been waiting for you,” Miroku said with a smile. 

“Hoshi-sama…” she replied and ran towards him, hugging him so tightly that she almost knocked him to the floor.

Suddenly, they were young again, and they were finally reunited. 

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Okaay, I can't believe I posted this!! I was so sure I wasn't going to be able to write this whole chapter. But I ended up writing it and crying like a baby while doing it.

I hope you like this little bit of Sango, I wanted to tell her story! Thank you so much for the awesome reviews I've been getting, the amount of love for this story is overwhelming. This story holds a very special place in my heart, so I'm very happy that you are liking it too.

I just want to tell you that the angst part is almost over, and the fluff will begin. We will see each other again in a few days, for the InuKag prompt!!

Tagging:

@witchygirl99 @fantastiqueparfait @doginabirdcage @inuvember @hinezumi @meggz0rz @heyy-ahriii @cammysansstuff @shinidamachu

Let me know if you want on/off the tag list!

[im-fairly-whitty]

You said to send you possible ideas for the Witcher Wolf world? Why not Geralt subconsciously doing wolf things while he’s in human form? Fetching things, carrying stuff in his mouth, glaring at cats, etc etc. Jaskier thinks it’s hilarious while Geralt is mortified

Changes

It had been a day and a half since Jaskier’s life had changed forever, since he’d discovered the terrific little trick fate had played on him and Geralt. A sorcerer of unknown origin, an injured wolf turned companion turned Witcher, and a freshly enchanted medallion had all come together in a way that Jaskier would have insisted only happened in fairy tales.

But despite the deliciously ironic nature of discovering that his pet wolf was really Geralt in a cursed form, things over the last day or two had been incredibly better than they ever had been for the bard and his Witcher.

At the top of the list was the fact that Jaskier was allowed—encouraged even—to touch and even kiss Geralt as often as he pleased. The close second was how attentive and loving Geralt had become, always checking in and lovingly touching Jaskier as much as he had when he’d been a wolf. Looking back Jaskier could now see how being a wolf had warmed Geralt up to being familiar with giving and receiving affection during their weeks together, an experience that had not at all been erased now that Geralt was back to normal.

But as they began to fall into their old, albeit much improved, traveling routine Jaskier began noticing other differences in Geralt that he suspected the Witcher wasn’t fully conscious of.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Jaskier asked, pointing quickly as he caught Geralt in the act for the fourth time that morning.

“Doing what?” Geralt asked, looking over.

The two of them were on foot and approaching a town as Geralt led Roach beside them. Luckily Geralt had convinced himself to wear socks and shoes again by now, having avoided any tight clothing all yesterday.

“You keep waving your hand behind you.” Jaskier said curiously. “You’ve been doing it unconsciously all morning as we’ve walked, do you feel off balance walking on two legs again?”

“Oh. No, I…uh…” Geralt cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his head. “Sometimes when someone loses a limb in a fight or an accident they’ll keep thinking they feel it, a phantom pain of sorts…”

“What do phantom limb pains have to do with-” Jaskier’s eyes widened and he broke into a grin. “You keep thinking you’ve got a tail don’t you?”

“So would you if you’d had one for two months.” Geralt grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I can’t help it, even if it makes me look like an idiot.”

“I think it’s absolutely charming.” Jaskier said gleefully, leaning over to kiss Geralt’s cheek, reveling in the way Geralt’s expression softened a bit at that. “Although you probably ought to be a bit more careful while we’re in town. You don’t want to look like you’re reaching for an invisible dagger hidden behind you or something equally disconcerting.”

“Fair point.” Geralt said, sighing heavily to himself as they entered the edge of town.

Jaskier looked up at his resigned face and then at the townspeople they were starting to pass. There were the familiar wary looks that always greeted them when he traveled with Geralt.

…well, Geralt in Witcher form anyway. Jaskier’s heart hurt a bit as he realized Geralt was about to return to a life of cold treatment after two months of being admired and treated well by strangers.

Jaskier hesitantly put his hand on Geralt’s arm, wanting to anchor him in the face of returned hostility but suddenly unsure whether this new thing they had between them was allowed where others could see it. He felt a rush of painfully fond relief when Geralt laced his fingers through his without hesitation, gently holding his hand as they walked to the town’s notice board.

“Do you think you should start small?” Jaskier asked conversationally as Geralt looked over the notices posted, trying to pretend he was perfectly calm at having over twenty years of pining realized overnight. Well, not actually overnight, but it sure felt like it. “Since you haven’t fought anything in two months I mean.”

“This one looks fine, just a small drowner nest, says to ask at the tavern for more information.” Geralt said, tugging one of the notices off its nail to get a closer look. “And I fought plenty as a wolf, you just didn’t notice.”

“What, against threatening rabbits and stray cats?” Jaskier asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Against a trio of bandits that were planning on breaking into your inn room and slitting your throat.” Geralt said, letting go of Jaskier’s hand long enough to roll up the notice and tuck it into his pocket. “And a pair of nekkers that were getting too close to our camp in the middle of the night while you were sleeping. And a pickpocket that made off with your purse in a market place before you noticed. And-”

“You’re serious?” Jaskier paled a bit.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m a wolf or a person,” Geralt said, taking Jaskier’s hand again and starting toward the tavern. “Nothing gets to hurt you when I’m around.”

“That’s extremely sweet of you to say Geralt, but what on earth did you do to the bandits?” Jaskier asked, eyes wide as he followed. “You’re telling me my pet wolf was killing people and I was too thick to even notice? That’s a bit of a shock to take in Geralt!”

“I didn’t kill the pickpocket, just chewed up his hand a bit.”  

“Geralt.”

***

“-so after my goats started dissapearin’ I figured it’s time to see if I can hire me a witcher…” the farmer trailed off. He looked questioningly between Jaskier, who was paying attention, and Geralt, who quite clearly was not.

Jaskier elbowed the witcher in the ribs, making him jolt and look back to the conversation he was supposed to be having instead of staring off across the tavern for the third time in all of ten minutes. Geralt was hardly one to get distracted without cause, putting Jaskier on edge trying to guess what it was he was focusing on that he didn’t want to bring up in front of the farmer. Some noise or smell only his witcher senses could pick up on no doubt.

Jaskier gave him a look that he hoped sufficiently communicated you’re not a wolf, I’m not going to handle all your conversations for you anymore so focus for a minute, would you?

“Sorry. Right.” Geralt said, clearing his throat and blinking as he looked back to the farmer. “Sounds simple enough, I’ll be at your farm tomorrow to take out the nest. Half payment up front, half after the job’s done.”

“I’ll have your coin ready. See you tomorrow.” The farmer said, getting up with a nob before leaving the table.

“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked as soon as the man was out of earshot. “Do you sense something?”

“What do you mean?” Geralt asked, confused.

“You were hopeless in that conversation, distracted the whole time like- there you go again!”

Jaskier said as Geralt looked away.

“Sorry.” Geralt said, his gaze snapping back to Jaskier.

“What were you looking at?” Jaskier asked, looking around the tavern. “What aren’t you telling me? Is it something dangerous?”

“Nothing important. I’m tired, can we head to our room now?” Geralt asked, standing and hefting his pack onto his shoulder.

Jaskier squinted at Geralt as the man avoided his gaze. He caught Geralt’s eye’s catching on something again and quickly turned to see what it was.

There didn’t seem to be anything dastardly out of place for a tavern. Tables of people eating and talking, a serving girl whisking tankards across the room, a rowdy game of gwent happening in the corner, a tabby cat stretching in front of the fireplace before curling up again, a man with a walking stick who-

“It’s the cat.” Jaskier said, looking back at Geralt, eyes wide.

Geralt said nothing, ducking his head and leaving the table.

“I’m right!” Jaskier cried with a grin. “It’s been distracting you this whole time!”

“Shut up Jaskier.” Geralt called back, stomping toward the stairs while making a very visible effort not to look at the sleeping cat when he passed it.

***

Normally Jaskier would spend the evening busking in the tavern below, a wolf at his feet, but they’d both wordlessly agreed on a night in for their first evening truly reunited with a roof over their heads. Geralt had taken the opportunity to spread his belongings out on the floor to closely inspect everything that might need mending or replacing or polishing after two months slung in a stranger’s pack.

Jaskier was on the bed leaned back against the headboard as he worked on the delicate process of changing out his lute’s strings one by one, quietly twisting and plucking as he maintenanced his instrument. From his vantage point he had a perfect view of Geralt as the man picked through his things, organizing and reorganizing them, but more importantly stopping every few minutes to tug at his shirt or readjust like his pants were bothering him.  

“If your clothes are bothering you that much just take them off.” Jaskier suggested gently. Normally he’d throw in a bit of a suggestive joke with that, but not after seeing his friend silently becoming increasingly exasperated with something as simple as his own clothing. “We can get you something looser to wear if it’s that bad.”

Geralt shook his head, not looking up. “It’s not the clothing’s fault, I just need to get used to it again. It’ll pass.”

“No one’s here to judge you Geralt, you don’t have to make yourself be uncomfortable if you don’t want to.” Jaskier said with a frown. “I’m sure being a person again is a bit overwhelming, you don’t have to fight every battle at once you know.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt said, looking at the fire. He unconsciously rolled his shoulders again under his shirt, his fingers tugging absently at his medallion’s chain.

Jaskier could tell where his thoughts were probably going but didn’t push, turning back to his lute strings as he watched Geralt out of the corner of his eye. They knew–or at least were reasonably sure–that if they removed Geralt’s medallion he’d turn back into a wolf, then back to a witcher when they put it back on, but they hadn’t tried it yet. Jaskier had decided not to ask, leaving such a sensitive proposal up to Geralt.

“Let’s try it.” Geralt said, pushing himself to his feet, hand still on the medallion.

“Are you sure?” Jaskier asked, setting his lute on the side table as Geralt sat beside him on the bed, not pretending he didn’t know what Geralt was talking about.

“If it works then it’ll help me relax and I won’t have to worry about sleep.” Geralt said with a shrug. “If it doesn’t work then it’s better we know now.”

“And if it works to turn you into a wolf but not to bring you back to normal?” Jaskier asked, meeting his gaze.

“Then it’s much better that we know now while we’re somewhere safe and calm.” Geralt said. Anyone other than Jaskier might have missed the way his jaw clenched slightly with nerves.

“Well at least if it doesn’t bring you back this time I know what to tell Yennifer.” Jaskier said, reaching out to smooth his thumb over the medallion. “So at least we won’t be back to square one. That reminds me, when you’re a wolf and you need to tell me something paw at the ground twice for yes and three times for no. It’s not much but it might help. And when you want me to put your medallion back on look at me, then touch your nose to your feet then look back at me alright? I only ever want to be pulling your medallion off or on if you tell me to, and I think those are signs that will be unique enough to stand out to me.”

“Been thinking about this much?” Geralt said with a smile.

“It’s hardly an everyday situation Geralt, I can’t help it if it’s gotten my imagination going.” Jaskier said. His smile dropped a bit as he reached up to stroke Geralt’s cheek. “I do hope it works both ways though. I only just got you back, I’m not going to handle it very well if I lose you again so soon.”

“I’ll still be here either way.” Geralt assured him, turning his face to kiss Jaskier’s palm. “Like you said, at least you’ll know what to tell Yen now.”

Jaskier made a face. “Yes but that would mean actually talking to her, which I’d much rather avoid if it’s all the same to you.”

“Be nice.” Geralt chuckled. “If I’m trapped as a wolf forever because you’re too petty to ask her for help I’m going to get very upset with you.”

“Fine.” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes good naturedly in an attempt to hide his own rising nervousness over the whole thing. “So, two taps at the ground for yes, three for no, touch your nose to your paws and look back up for the medallion. Got it?”

“When I got turned to a wolf the first time I didn’t realize it until a few hours had passed.” Geralt said, all seriousness now. “When I came to myself I’d been running down a road for hours, I don’t know if that was the spell or the sorcerer and if it will happen again. If I turn into a wolf and don’t seem…myself, then get out and lock me in the room alone until morning. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“Promise me.”

“Alright, I promise. Do you want to take it off or should I?” Jaskier asked, knowing he was starting to stall by now.

“Take it off, get out of the room if I start acting oddly, if I seem to be myself or at least calm then put it back on me as soon as you’re able.” Geralt said, voice as business-like as if he were laying out a plan for a monster attack.

“And if you don’t turn back?” Jaskier asked, swallowing a bit.

“You already know how to handle me as a wolf.” Geralt said with a little crooked smile Jaskier found absolutely charming. “You’ll do fine, I trust you.”

“Alright, might as well get this over with.” Jaskier said, taking a breath as he took hold of the medallion chain. He paused and kissed Geralt before pulling back. “For luck.”

“Quit stalling.” Geralt said.

Jaskier pulled the chain over Geralt’s head, closing his eyes against the blast of white light he knew to expect, having been blinded by it the last time Geralt had transformed.

When he opened his eyes again there was a large white wolf sitting on the mattress beside him, blinking hard and looking a little dazed. A set of clothes slipped to the floor, magically discarded during the transformation.

“…Geralt?” Jaskier asked, thinking suddenly that–all things considered–perhaps he should have used the last few seconds to get nearer to the door.

The wolf blinked again, looking at him, and then began panting in a doggish smile, tail wagging against the mattress.

“It’s still you, isn’t it?” Jaskier said with a relieved smile, reaching out to pet his head.

Geralt pushed up against his hand, one foreleg pawing at the mattress twice.

“Well, that’s one relief at least.” Jaskier smiled as Geralt touched his nose to his paws and looked back up expectantly. “Alright, here we go.”

Jaskier looped the medallion chain over the wolf’s head and closed his eyes against the flash of light that came with it. When he opened them again Geralt was sitting beside him, back to normal.

“Oh thank gods.” Jaskier gasped, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck. “I was going to be so upset if you stayed a wolf Geralt, I was trying not to look like it but honestly I was really afraid something like that might really happen.”

“I guess this means you won’t have to take care of the drowner nest yourself tomorrow then.” Geralt said, nuzzling his face against Jaskier’s neck.

“You didn’t say anything about that, I’d forgotten!” Jaskier said, pulling back and smacking his shoulder. “You could have gone and left the poor farmer high and dry if this had gone differently!”

“It doesn’t matter now that we know we can control it. Although having two transformations so close together is a bit…disorienting.” Geralt rubbed his forehead.

“Well would you rather sleep as a person or as a wolf tonight?” Jaskier asked, tracing his fingertip up and down the medallion chain. “You’ve got your first contract tomorrow and need your sleep, so which one would be more restful for you?”

Geralt scratched the back of his head, looking a little bashful, if such a thing was even possible on a witcher’s face. “Would you mind if I said wolf?”

“Of course not, why would I mind?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head.

“Just…I don’t know…” Geralt shrugged, looking away. “I’ve only just gotten back to normal, I suppose I feel a little bad for wanting to go back to being a wolf so soon.”

“I hate to spoil your brooding guilt darling, but I don’t think any day has ever been “normal” while around you.” Jaskier smiled as he leaned forward to kiss Geralt’s cheek. “And I don’t mind it a bit. Do whatever will make you most comfortable tonight.”

Geralt leaned forward and captured Jaskier’s mouth in a real kiss that was deep enough to send warm shivers down his spine.

“Careful,” Jaskier said breathlessly when he pulled back, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair. “You’re going to make me change my mind about letting you be a wolf for the night.”

“Tomorrow, I promise.” Geralt said through a stifled yawn. He kissed at Jaskier’s neck even as his eyelids started to grow heavy.

“You really are tired aren’t you?” Jaskier murmured, stroking the witcher’s forehead. “If transforming more than once can wear you out so quickly we’ll have to be careful when we do it. Shall I take the medallion off for the night?”

Geralt nodded and Jaskier slipped the chain off from over his head. It might have been him getting used to it, but this time the flash of light seemed much softer, leaving behind a white wolf that happily flopped onto the mattress. Geralt stretched long and luxuriously with a whine, tongue curling in a wide yawn.

“There, that looks comfortable.” Jaskier said with a smile, running his hand through Geralt’s thick white fur.

Jaskier slipped the medallion chain over his own head for safe keeping, his fingers freezing with a jolt as a nasty idea flicked across his mind a second too late. He hurriedly pulled the medallion off again, his breath coming back to him with a chuckle as he relaxed to see nothing had happened.

“Now wouldn’t that have been a mess if I’d turned into a wolf too.” He laughed, slipping the medallion back on and tucking it safely under his nightshirt. He leaned over to snuff out the candle on the side table, leaving the room dimly lit by the low fire grate as he lay down. “Seems it only works for you though, that’s a bit of luck isn’t it.”

Geralt shook his head with a sneeze, moving to curl up against Jaskier’s side, resting his head on the bard’s chest. Geralt huffed a sigh and closed his amber eyes as Jaskier smoothed a careful hand over his canine face, petting him as the wolf drifted off to sleep, effortlessly settling into the routine they’d had for weeks now.

“You know going back and forth like this is only going to make you think you have a tail as a person more often.” Jaskier said with a smirk.

Geralt whined gruffly, looking at him with a clearly unamused stare that made Jaskier laugh as he closed his eyes to sleep.

[in-command-of-the-unsc]

Day 6: Fleet, Union, Fire At Will, Crossover

Ok, quick note. This is going to be massive AU, and fan-service out the waazoo. Right, that’s all.

Also, @ladywolvesbayne , you wanted some John and Steve being badass? 😉

—————————

Well this is certainly a predicament.

Steve let the thought crossed his mind as he chucked his shield into the chest of an Elite to send it stumbling backwards, following it up with kicking its leg the wrong way so hard it snapped. The shield predictably flew back to his hand and he caught it, uppercut the Elite in the mandibles, and was rewarded with the audible crunching of bone.

When the head exploded in a splash of purple blood, he simple shoved the body aside and continued on. The Chief had arrived.

Steve sprinted forward, a cluster of Marines behind him. His mind drifted to how they’d ended up here.

Well... not even Tony was sure what happened, but they had guessed they had somehow done something wrong with the Infinity Gauntlet and sent themselves here. To another universe, with a humanity that had been fighting for its very existence.

Steve... well.... let’s just say Nat had to comfort him when he realized the extent of the war and that he couldn’t have helped at all.

A line of purple plasma blasts skittering across the ground in front brought him crashing back to reality. Seems like a— what had the Chief called them? Shade turrets! Seems like a Shade turret had spotted them, and it was aiming right at a Marine.

Steve jumped in front of the blasts and raised his shield, grunting when the superheated plasma started slamming into his shield. He was definitely able to stop it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn like all hell. “Chief!”

“Standby.” Came back over the comm.

And then an Elite corpse came flying through the trees, followed closely by the Chief, who dropped to a knee and skidded forward along the dirt. Steve instantly knew what he was doing.

Taking the initiative, the Captain sprinted forward and leaped onto Chief’s back, and then leaped again when he felt the seven foot tall man rise underneath him, sending him flying into the air.

“Cover the Cap!” Shouted one of the Marines.

Steve chuckled to himself as he landed on the raised earthwork the Shade turret was settled on, performing a combat roll to keep his momentum. He shot to his feet and turned to the left, spartan-kicking a Grunt in the face so hard its skull shattered as the body flew away.

“Rogers, on your six.”

Steve whirled as the Chief’s warning came over the comm, and proceeded to get his shield knocked out of his hand by a Brute.

“I thought you said the Storm Covenant didn’t have any Brutes?” He grunted into the comm as he rolled out of the way of a gravity hammer swing.

“They shouldn’t. Something’s wrong.”

Steve let that thought simmer as he slammed several open-palm strikes into the Brute’s chest before jumping into the air and kicking backwards off its chest, pulling a mid-air backflip and landed at a kneel. His eyes darted over the Plasma Pistol the Grunt had dropped and immediately a plan formed in his mind.

The Captain sprinted forward as the Brute lifted his hammer, and then slid between the beast’s legs as the hammer crashed down on the dirt behind him followed by a Brute snarl. Now behind it, the Captain rose to his feet and sprinted for the pistol, rolling over the ground as he grabbed it and immediately beginning to charge it up.

The Brute, for his part, was raging now. He snarled and raised his hammer, running towards Steve, who let the trigger go and sent a fully charged Plasma Pistol blast into the Brute’s knee, making it collapse with a roar and drop the hammer.

Immediately, Steve tossed the pistol and darted for the hammer as the Brute rose to one knee, and with one swing, sent the now-dead beast flying. “Chief, heads up!”

The Spartan caught the hammer sent his way in one smooth motion, and proceeded to use it to liquify the innards of three Elites by activating the gravity manipulation and slamming all three at the same time.

Spotting his shield where it had been knocked away, Steve retrieved it only to hear-

“Hunter! Defilade, defilade!”

“Shit-“

He could hear Tony calling him out for his language even when he had no idea he’d said that. Steve jumped down from the earthwork and looked over at the Hunter bearing down on the Chief. “Hey! You missed one!”

And then threw his shield into the back of the Hunter’s head. Surprisingly fast, the beast turned around and roared, charging at the Captain, only for the Chief to tear it in two with a hammer strike. Before they had a chance to do anything, a cluster of Covenant troops emerged from the trees, and a Phantom emerged from the clouds.

“Chief?” Steve tightened his shield on his arm and raised it.

The Spartan nodded in reply, before slamming the gravity hammer into Steve’s shield. The resulting shockwave took out the Covenant troops. And several dozen trees.

Without waiting, they both sprinted towards the Phantom, only for the Chief to suddenly stop, then grab the arm Steve extended to him, before launching him at the speed of an Archer missile into the sky towards the dropship.

The Covenant Pilot was in the middle of making a turn, so Steve flew straight into the troop bay, slamming into a Brute so hard it fell out of the dropship. Quickly, he threw his shield into the face of a Jackal, of which it bounced off and hit two Grunts in quick succession. As it did this, Steve drop-kicked an Elite out of the Phantom, and kicked a Grunt into a Jackal, easily catching his shield as it returned to him. He picked up a Plasma Grenade off the floor and activated it, tossing it into the cockpit before leaked out of the Phantom as it detonated in a wash of purple flame.

The two fighting styles of the Spartan and the Captain merged quite well. Quite an interesting union.

Landing on the ground, he activated his comm. “Stark, I hope you’re having better luck than us.”

—————————

“-uck than us.”

“You wish, Capsicle. We’re- woah!” Tony jerked to his left as a wash of plasma clipped his leg. “Watch the paint!” He yelled as he blasted the offending Seraph with his Arc Reactor beam. “Little Red, Aunt Peg, how about you?”

—————————

“-ow about you?”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Captain Lasky is performing effectively, Anthony.”

“Gee, thanks.” Thomas chuckled, then turned back to the bridge. “Weapons Officer, set mark 1-7-6, ready MAC-1, fire when when ready. Ready EP-1, set sweeping trajectory through targets Storm-1 through Storm-3.”

“MAC-1 firing!” The deck rumbled. “MAC round away.”

Peggy was still trying to wrap her head around how she’d even ended up here, but she wasn’t complaining. Apparently Steve had tried to come back to her, and something had gone wrong.

“Lieutenant James, set course 2-7-0. Ahead flank.” He turned back to Weapons. “Weapons, fire EP-1 at assigned target.”

“Firing EP-1!” A bright white line shot out from the front of the Infinity and sheared through not one, not two, but three Covenant frigates.

“Captain!” Lieutenant James called out.

“El-Tee?” Lasky asked the bald man.

“We have an incoming Slipspace signature. Collision alarms are flaring!”

“All hands, brace brace!” Lasky barked into the intercom.

And then a CSO-Class emerged from Slipspace right in front of them.

“Bloody....” Peggy muttered.

“Incoming projectiles!”

“Spin up poi—“

“Too late!”

The ship rumbled and the lights flashed as countless Plasma Torpedoes slammed into the vulnerable super-carrier. “Roland, re-route non-critical power to shields!”

“FRIDAY, help him!” Natasha snapped from her place in the corner.

“On it.” The two replied simultaneously.

A tense silence ensued. The CSO, however dilapidated it was, stopped firing.

....

....

....

“Slipspace rupture detected....”

“This is Captain James Cutter of the UNSC Spirit Of Fire, we’re here to help.”

“Oh my god...” Lasky muttered.

“Slipspace rupture detected....”

“This is Vice Admiral Preston Cole of the UNSC Everest, what’s your status?”

“It can’t be....” Even Roland was in disbelief.

“Slipspace rupture detected....”

“UNSC Aegis Fate...”

“Slipspace rupture detected....”

“-SC Roman Blue...”

“Slipspace rupture detected....”

“Fleet...” Lasky began. “fire at will.”

—————————

Here’s my late Day 6 of @infinity-week ! I’m really proud.

Tag list: @soclonely , @bomboclaaty , @sw-maddie , @darksabered , @im-x-winging-it

[lockawayknight]

◈ for any muse of your choice!

from send me a ◈ and I’ll reply with some scenarios [accepting~]

OOH okay i’ll do a few muses cus i think abt heysel a lot fnfndnsn i will start with cr8 i have two:

i mentioned this in a recent ask but listen……. heysel is one of the only ppl he feels comfortable crying in front of okay. imagining the first time he does so ENDS ME just the concern and overwhelm and shock cus my god it is CREIGHTON what the FUCK is going ON but just imagining her comforting him in her own special way always melts me and argh,,,,, i love to think about him having just a really shitty day in the cathrdral and her showing up by chance and seeing him tearing up at the foot of rosaria’s bed and asking what’s wrong and he just breaks down on her gnfndmd godddd okay soppy soppy soppy but listen. i love emotion gjfjsk

two, happier, LOVE to imagine her meeting pate SO much JUST THE STARK DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIM AND CREIGHTON…… who knows what she would have been expecting when she hears he has a spouse, what kind of person she’s picturing at first but god knows it probably wasn’t this pretentious clean-cut mild-mannered underhanded piece of shit fjfndnfnd. love imagining creighton inviting heysel over for dinner. pate didn’t get forewarning. he’s in his fancy houseclothes and gives creighton a very proper lecture about how he needs time to prepare for company. heysel’s snickering on the couch while creighton gets mildly and spousily chewed out… love it. think she and pate would get along nicely too, as long as she doesn’t break anything lmao

OKAY ORNIFEX!!! she is a good birb who doesn’t understand why there is such a rivalry between the fingers and the blades!!!!!! humans with their silly quarrels, heysel seems wonderfully kind, why would she dislike her!!!!!!!!! love to imagine heysel winding her way up at yorshka’s tower and fully preparing to wreak some mild chaos on the blades but instead this fkin giant crow monstrosity comes down from the rafters and asks about her pick. i like to imagine heysel talking about the fingers and the blades, ornifex would be so very curious to know about this strange human feud! and of course once she finds out heysel is friends with creighton she will surely give her some free smithing :,3c

last okay last is my fav i haven’t really talked abt magerold’s ds3 timeline but i like to imagine he manages to unpetrify that egg and it hatches, then he’s able to escape drangleic with his dragon and they escape to archdragon peak. i love to imagine heysel winding up at the peak one day and running into him, just this merchant on the edge of nowhere with so many shiny trinkets, probably carrying his scythe and looking ready to fight when he sees a (phantom?) stranger approaching (with a dragon looming behind him no less) but still so cheerful!! hello!!! so odd to get strangers up here how are u!!!! my god they would have SO much to talk about……. and i like to think she’s the one who breaks the news to him that creighton and pate are still alive, completely on accident, just in passing mentions her friend creighton and pings a painful series of memories… heysel saves the day once more. ends me to think abt. but also IMAGINE HEYSEL MEETING A DRAGON and all the shiny things they can talk abt aaaa love it love it love it

fjfjsksk ty ty i lov her and i lov thinking abt her interacting with the muses aaaa okay i shut up now have a good one!!💕💕

[darks-ink]

To Be

Did someone order post-reveal fluff?

Prompt: With his secret revealed, Danny has to wear inhibitors to school. Most days they're fine if not irritating, but when they get damaged in a chemistry lab everyone's desperate to see his powers before the inhibitors are repaired. Even teachers make a point to ask for "favors" while Danny's allowed to go all out. Prompt by: @wastefulreverie Word count: 3,474

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

“It’s broken,” Maddie reported. On the surface, her voice sounded sorry, but Danny could hear the relief underneath. It surprised him every time. How his parents continued to love him, despite the revelation of his half-ghost nature.

“Can it be fixed?” Principal Ishiyama folded her hands together, staring down Maddie. She didn’t even try to look at Danny. “You know the rules, Mrs. Fenton.”

“Doctor Fenton,” Maddie corrected, sharply. “And, yes, I am well aware. Jack and I will take it home to fix it, but there are limits to even our skills. It will take a few days, depending on the damage.”

Principal Ishiyama huffed, then nodded, jerkily. “Very well. Daniel will have to stay home and make up the lost work later.”

“What?” He jerked in his chair. “Why?”

“Because your inhibitors are broken,” Ishiyama explained, slowly, like she was talking to a child. Or a stupid ghost hybrid, apparently. “And it is against school rules for ghosts to enter the school without inhibitors.”

“But that’s so unfair! It’s not even my fault that it’s broken!” Danny felt his core stir up in his chest, and forced himself to calm down. Flashing his eyes at her would only make it worse. “It’s only a few days, I can behave myself!”

A hand landed on his shoulder, and his mom shot him a comforting look. She turned back to Ishiyama. “Look, Principal. Jack and I have listened to your strict rules on Danny’s power usage in the school. We’ve built him the inhibitors, just so he can continue to come. I will not, however, force him to stay home because one of the other kids damaged the devices.”

“Dangerous ghosts are not allowed in the school,” Ishiyama repeated, her tone forced. “Without the inhibitors—”

“Danny is not just a ghost, nor is he innately dangerous,” Maddie corrected, her eyes narrowing. “I will not let you punish him for another's actions.”

Principal Ishiyama stared back, her eyes narrowed as well. After a few moments, she said, “Fine. He can continue to attend without the inhibitors, but! If we receive any reports of him using his powers within the school, especially in a potentially dangerous context, he will be punished. Is this understood?”

“Yes, principal Ishiyama.” Danny shot her his most innocent smile. “I’ll be good.”

“Sure you will,” she said, entirely unconvinced. Her expression could not be more skeptical. “Mrs— Doctor Fenton, please let us know when the inhibitors are fixed and ready for use again. Was that all?”

“Yes, it was.” Maddie stood up, tucking the broken inhibitors into a pocket on her belt. “Danny, let’s go.”

He nodded, getting up from the chair.

Wow. His mom really had fought Ishiyama to let him continue to go to school, even without the inhibitors. And he’d been thinking that it had been their idea to equip him with those things.

---

Valerie looked up when he sat down in his usual seat, quirking an eyebrow. “Danny! I thought you weren’t allowed to come to class without the inhibitors?”

“Mom thought it was stupid to punish me if their destruction wasn’t my fault.” He shrugged, putting down his stuff. “Principal Ishiyama tried to argue but Mom looked ready to fight her and, well. Ishiyama wasn’t ready to fight a 9th degree black belt over my presence here.”

Valerie snorted. “That’s fair. I’m a pretty good fighter and even I would think twice about challenging your mom.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He leaned back in his chair to wait for class to actually start. “It’ll probably only be a few days before the inhibitors are fixed again, unfortunately.”

“You don’t like them, right?” Valerie’s fingers twitched around the bracelet on her wrist. He made a mental note to have someone check that thing out; he didn’t trust Technus’ tech.

“They’re alright, usually,” he answered her, putting away his previous thought. “A little irritating sometimes, but fine most of the time. I just don’t like, y’know, the implication. I get that my powers are scary, but at least I don’t use them to hurt or bully anyone.”

Her eyes dropped back to her wristband. “…Yeah.”

“Val, you know I wasn’t talking about that.” He nudged her with his foot. “Seriously, it’s fine. I was talking about the jocks. Nobody is telling them to wear restraints so they can’t punch anybody.”

“Unfortunately, that’s also true,” she acknowledged. “Morning, Tucker.”

Tucker grumbled a response, dropping heavily into this seat.

“Wow, you’re in a mood today.” Danny quirked an eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong, Tuck?”

“It’s— Don’t worry about it.” He flapped a dismissive hand, pulling his phone out of his pocket to demonstrate. “My phone’s charger broke, I think, or I didn’t plug it in right or something. It’s all out of battery.”

“That’s rough, buddy. Maybe someone has a charger you could borrow?” He reached over to pat Tucker on the shoulder. “If not, I can charge it for you after school.”

“Yeah, you— Wait.” Tucker grabbed Danny’s hand, suddenly, holding it out for inspection. “Your inhibitors are broken. Why can’t you charge my phone now?”

Danny made a face at him. “I’m still not allowed to use my powers in the school, Tuck. The only reason why Ishiyama didn’t force me to stay home until the inhibitors are fixed again is because Mom was about three seconds away from throwing down.”

“Ah, come on, nobody will care.” Tucker shoved his phone into Danny’s chest. “Please?”

“If I get in trouble I’m siccing my mom on you,” Danny assured Tucker, taking the phone. “Just know that.”

Tucker nodded, grinning.

“You’re a bad influence!” Valerie tacked on from Danny’s other side. “But also, I definitely wanna see this, Fenton!”

“The worst,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. He held the phone carefully between his hands, coaxing his core into releasing a little energy. Charging electronic devices was tricky; he had to find the right balance between too much power, and too little.

And to hold back on the ecto. That was also a very important part. No one wanted another incident like the possessed toaster.

Bright blue sparks danced over his fingers. Jumped from the digits to the device held in-between them. The phone’s screen lit up, suddenly, displaying a rapidly filling battery.

Danny waited until the battery passed 80% before stopping the electricity. He held onto the phone for a moment longer, until he was sure that it wouldn’t shock Tucker.

“Make sure it’s charged next time,” he said as he handed the phone back. “Once the inhibitors are fixed again, I won’t be able to charge it for you.”

“I know, I know.” Tucker rolled his eyes, taking the phone. “Thanks, though. You’re a lifesaver.”

---

“Mr. Fenton?” the reedy voice of Mr. Falluca asked, and Danny jerked to awareness. Him, almost falling asleep in class? No sir!

“Yeah?” he replied, rubbing through his eyes. “Sorry, what did you ask?”

“Nothing yet,” the teacher assured him, smiling in a way that instantly unnerved Danny. “But I was wondering if you could offer us a hand?”

Instant paranoia. “Uh, maybe? With what?”

“I was hoping you could help me with a demonstration,” Falluca started explaining, gesturing to the front of the classroom. “We don’t have any equipment for a large experiment, but I have everything I need to a demonstration… except for a bunsen burner.”

“Okay…” Danny said, slowly. “Um. Mr. Falluca, are you aware of the fact that I’m still not allowed to use my ghost powers in the school, even if I’m not wearing my inhibitors?”

Falluca started nodding before Danny had even finished talking. “Yes, of course I know, Mr. Fenton. But the inhibitors got damaged during my class, and I should’ve noticed and interfered long before it came to that. Consider the free use of your powers in my classroom an apology of sorts.”

“What about the other students? Won’t they tell Ishiyama, or Lancer, or something?”

“Nonsense, Danny. They love Phantom to bits,” Falluca dismissed. “Besides, I will say that it’s fine. Even if one of them tells the principal, well. It’s my word against theirs, isn’t it?”

Well, he could hardly argue with that. “If you’re sure, Mr. Falluca.”

Danny was promptly led to the front of the classroom, with Mr. Falluca briefly explaining what they were going to do, and how hot the flames would have to be. It all sounded fairly doable.

They waited until the bell had rung and everyone had found their seats. Mr. Falluca cleared his throat, and the class silenced.

“First off, I’m sorry to say that today’s experiment has been canceled due to safety concerns. The accident yesterday unfortunately spooked my fellow teachers. Instead I’ve put together a demonstration, so you’ll have some form of practicum to match with the theory.”

Mr. Falluca gestured over at Danny. “Now, while I have the materials, I do not have the equipment. Mr. Fenton will help me demonstrate. I expect you all to behave, and not to go running off to inform the principal about this, yes?”

“Yes, Mr. Falluca!” the class chimed back, loud and enthusiastic. Danny’s core hiccuped with startled joy.

“Very good. Mr. Fenton?” Falluca turned to look at him. “The floor is yours. Shift whenever you’re ready.”

Danny nodded, tugging on his core. Light flashed, and a few of his classmates gasped as he transformed.

“Ready,” he said, tugging on the hem of his gloves. He could handle his own flames just fine, but the heated glass? Nah, he needed protection for that stuff.

“Alright. For today’s lesson, we will be focusing on chemical reactions based on heat.” Falluca ducked below his desk, then came up again holding a large bag of sugar. “This will be our material for this test: regular sugar. When sugar gets heated, what happens to it?”

A few glances were exchanged among the students, but no one raised their hands.

“No one knows?” Falluca prodded. “I’ll pick someone to answer, then. Star?”

She jerked to awareness. “Um. It burns?”

“Eventually, yes, but before that, something else happens. Anyone else?”

Complete silence.

Mr. Falluca frowned. “Hm. Well, let’s see if you can figure it out during the demonstration. I’ll put some of the sugar in a spoon, which Danny can heat.”

The teacher shook some of the sugar into a spoon, handing it to Danny afterwards. “Slowly build up the heat, please.”

“Gotcha.” He took the spoon in his left hand, carefully holding on to the far end, and raised his right hand underneath the scooping end. Gently coaxed his core into producing heat.

A small but bright green flame formed in the palm of his right hand, directly underneath the spoon.

Danny angled the spoon a little, so the class could see the sugar on the inside. And then, slowly but surely, ramped up the heat. The sugar warmed up, its color shifting into a warm brown.

“Is it… turning into caramel?” Valerie asked, drawing Danny’s attention away from the spoon again. Huh. Was it? Falluca hadn’t actually told him what it would do.

“Correct, Miss Gray!” Falluca clapped his hands together, cheerily. “Sugar, when heated, caramelizes. Normally, I would say that you’re free to have a taste, but I’m not sure if that would be a good idea now, Danny?”

“Probably not,” he agreed, keeping up the flame. “This level of ecto-contamination isn’t actually dangerous, but it won’t taste good, especially if you’re not used to eating it. And it might make you feel queasy.”

Mr. Falluca nodded along. “Yes, I figured as much. Sorry, kids, no free caramel today! Danny, thank you for your help. You may return to your seat.”

He nodded, extinguishing the flame, and placing the hot spoon onto the desk. Having done all that, he let himself shift back to human, and walked back to his seat.

“Now,” Mr. Falluca started, “As for the science behind this…”

---

Danny had remained wary the rest of the day, but it seemed that the rest of the class had stayed true to their word. Ishiyama didn’t come complain to him, not during any of the lessons after chemistry or during lunch.

He rolled his shoulder, hearing his spine click repeatedly. Next to him, Tucker shivered and grimaced.

“Dude, do you really have to do that?”

“Nah.” Danny shrugged, then rolled his other shoulder. “But I wanna.”

Tucker glared at him, then flinched, turning towards the teacher. Mrs. Tetslaff was growling, but apparently not at them.

“Mr. Baxter, your showboating as landed another ball stuck in the rafters. How do you think we’ll get it back, hm?”

Dash shrugged, seemingly caught somewhere between meeting her gaze and cowering from it. “It’s no big deal.”

“No?” Tetslaff gritted back. “Why, are you gonna fly up there and fetch it for us?”

Danny knew what was coming even before Dash pointed at him.

Ah, yep, there it was. Right on time, buddy.

“Danny can do it, can’t he? Fly up there and get it for us?”

Tetslaff followed the finger, and Danny straightened up under her hard stare. “Hm.”

“Uh, I’m actually not allowed to use my powers in the school,” Danny tried. Nudged Tucker. “Right, Tuck?”

“Yes, yeah, exactly.” Tucker nodded along, like the good friend he was. “Buuuut…”

“No one will care, Fenton,” Tetslaff agreed, gesturing him over. “I’ve got your back.”

Well… he supposed that if it was fine with Falluca, it would be unfair not to help Tetslaff too. Right?

“I’ll have to shift,” he pointed out. “That okay?”

“Just go, scrawny.” She stepped back, half-turning. To stop the light from blinding her, maybe?

He nodded, already reaching out to his core. It woke, whirring more powerfully, releasing ghostly power into his system. Light flashed, rings haloing over his body, until he was left in his ghost form.

“Whereabouts is it?” Danny asked, craning his head up. With his enhanced vision he could see the rafters just fine, but chances were that the ball was wedged somewhere behind a beam.

“Right up here,” Dash said, pointing, and, ah. Danny had almost forgotten that the guy was also here. “Should be a pretty straight line.”

“Alright, I’ll… go get it, I guess.” Danny let gravity fade away, slowly lifting off of the ground. When no one tried stopping him, he let himself fly properly.

It was hard not to notice that almost everyone had stopped moving in the gym, though. All staring up at him and whispering, hushed.

Danny bit his lip, doing his best to focus on grabbing the ball. Whatever they were saying, he didn’t want to hear.

He halted, having leveled out with the rafters. Now where was that ball that Dash had gotten… ah! There it was.

And… stuck, apparently. Danny wrapped both of his hands around it, tugging, but it wouldn’t let go. He could’ve tried pulling harder, probably, but he was afraid of using too much power and destroying it entirely.

He bit his lip. How…

Oh, duh.

With his hands still on the ball, Danny forced it intangible. Pulled it out from its place behind the beam with ease.

“Got it!” he called down, holding out the now-tangible ball. “But, uh… There’s a few more up here, I think?”

“So that’s where all my balls keep disappearing to!” Tetslaff grunted so loudly that even Danny could hear it. “Drop that ball, Fenton, and go get the rest!”

“Gotcha!” He released the ball, watching it plummet down. Dash caught it before it hit the ground, though, raising a thumb’s up in Danny’s direction.

Ugh, weird. He still hadn’t gotten over Dash’s… everything, after the reveal.

It was better than getting beat up, he supposed, but just… weird. He’d gotten so used to all the normal stuff that the changes were throwing him off.

Actually, maybe that was why he was still so reluctantly to trust everyone with his ghost powers. Not a secret anymore, but he still kept it like one.

The fact that Ishiyama had outlawed it helped on that end too, admittedly.

Danny shook the thoughts off, floating over to another ball stuck in the rafters. Well, no point in worrying about all that, right? Fretting never helped anyone.

He grabbed onto the ball, tugging it loose with ease. Looking down to make sure it wouldn’t hit anyone, he released it. It hit the ground with a pleasing rubbery noise, bouncing off to the side.

A quick glance around led him to a third ball, but after that the rafters seemed clear.

“That was the last of them, I think,” he shouted down to Tetslaff.

“Good job, Fenton!” she yelled back, sticking up a thumb. “Now get down here and show us that athleticism of yours!”

Well. Couldn’t win them all, could you?

---

Valerie appeared to be mashing her head into her locker door. Danny paused, hesitantly, then crept closer. “Are you alright, Val?”

“Peachy,” she grumbled back, not taking her head off of the metal surface. “I broke my lock and now I can’t open my locker anymore.”

“Ah…” Well, that explained it. “Can’t you get it fixed, or replaced, or something?”

“Yeah, but that’ll take a bit.” She lifted her head, finally. “I can’t leave all this stuff overnight.”

Oh, she had her ghost hunting gear in there, huh? “Oh, you have that stuff in there, gotcha.”

She was staring at him, now. “Say, Danny…”

“I don’t think I like that tone of voice,” he said, frowning at her. “What are you doing, Val?”

“Can’t you…” She blinked at him, big watery eyes. Oof, he thought she’d outgrown the cutesy pretense. “Phase it out for me? I mean, you charged Tucker’s PDA, and I’m your friend too… right?”

“Now you’re playing dirty,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine, but you’ll have to cover for me.”

Valerie nodded, swapping places with him so she stood facing the hallway. Her back pressed against his own, warm and solid with muscle.

He took a deep breath, pulling on his core once more. Tingles ran through his arm, turning the limb cold and see-through.

Danny phased his arm through the locker, carefully feeling around for Valerie’s bag. It wasn’t that hard; there was limited space in a locker, after all. His fingers grasped onto the tough fabric, before he pulled it out. His arm, and the bag, returned to their solid state.

“Thanks, Danny.” Valerie took the bag from him again, bumping him gently. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t mention it.” He grinned back. “Literally, or Ishiyama will kill me.”

She snorted, swinging the backpack onto her back. “Yeah, I gotcha. See you tomorrow.”

---

Danny walked into the classroom, nodding at Mr. Lancer.

“Ah, Mr. Fenton,” the teacher greeted him. “I was about to ask you for your help, but I see your inhibitors were fixed sooner than predicted.”

“Uh.” Danny paused, looking down at the bracelets around his wrists. “Yeah, I mean. They’re not up to 100% functionality, but… Wait. Why?”

“Us teachers, we had planned on giving you ample opportunity to use your powers while you could,” he explained, lowering his voice so no one else could overhear. Danny crept a little closer. “But we had planned on spreading it out a little, since we thought we had a few days.”

Danny blinked at him, surprised. “But… If you’re all okay with my powers, why do I still have to wear the inhibitors?”

“Principal Ishiyama is in charge, I’m afraid.” Lancer smiled, ruefully. “And even if we had more of a say in the matter, I’m afraid that our students’ parents are very vocal about allowing a ‘potentially dangerous’ ghost in the school.”

“Right,” Danny said, stomach plummeting. “I… of course.”

“It’s needlessly cruel, and untrue as well, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about it.” Lancer patted his shoulder. “Listen, Danny. Just know that we, the teachers and the students, will always support you. We know you, the real you. Don’t mind those others too much, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I… yeah. Thanks, Mr. Lancer.”

“Always.” Lancer gestured over to the classroom as a whole. “Better get seated now, Danny. And if you ever run into trouble…”

“I know who to ask.” Danny’s core chirped in his chest, and he smiled at Lancer. “Thanks.”

He walked back to his seat, sitting down between Sam and Tucker.

“What was that about?” Tucker asked, leaning closer. “You in trouble?”

“The opposite,” Danny admitted with a laugh. “Apparently all the teachers banded together to let me use my powers while the inhibitors were broken, but they got fixed faster than they’d expected.”

“Wow, really.” Sam blinked, turning to look at Lancer. “I didn’t expect them to be willing to rebel against Ishiyama like that.”

“Yeah,” Danny said, his core rumbling loud and pleased in his chest. “It keeps surprising me, too.”