#anyways. as a teen id watch it all the time and its been a few years since i last saw it

[buggiesnax]

rewatching Life on the Murder Scene just to feel something

[insomnyahhh]

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

( fluff, enemies to lovers, wacky hijinks, detention during prom, gender neutral reader, awkward teen romance )

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

great… he muttered to himself, picking up shards of the vase you two broke during a fight. the vase contained ashes of the first principal of UA high, decorated in a red and gold vase. as a way to honour their legacy and now, there’s nothing but ashes, shards and awkward silence.

after aizawa collected the ashes from the floor. he gave you two detention, during prom night. what yall did was pretty bad but it was an accident and accidents happens but apparently that wasnt enough to convince him .

you and shinso glare intensely at each other as you two swiped and wiped, blaming each other for this awful punishment ( despite being both of y’all faults)

“its your fault. if you didn’t overacted. your fatass wouldn’t have broken the vase “ you snapped.

“me? you were tackling me because i made a harmless joke about your test score. i didn’t overact , YOU did”

you guys argued back and forth. arguing like a married couple when they’re interrupted by the faint sound of music coming from the party hall. you fall on your knees, crying dramatically as shinso watched your antics with a blank expression.

suddenly your eyes light up and you get off the floor, turning towards him and he already knows what’s up. it’s one of your stupid plans. every time that mischievous smile plasters your face. shit is about to go down

“ i have an ide-“

“ whatever you’re about to say…. keep it to yourself. i’m in enough trouble already thanks to you” he said , with a hand on his hip, rolling his eyes.

“you didn’t even hear me out!, and why are you sad about prom. you’re a lonely loser. i thought your kind hated parties”

i- what??? what’s do you mean by “mY KiN and plus, why do you care . i can like the idea of prom. its a once in a lifetime event” his voice cracked from annoyance.

its only been a few minutes and none of the cleaning happened. why are they cleaning anyways. do they not have janitors. you groaned loudly, throwing the broom.

that’s it, i’m out . you dusted off your hand, making your way through the exit. you didn’t care. aizawa isnt even watching so who’s gonna tell him weither they cleaned or not

shinso saw you leaving, knowing what youre about to do is stupid. he sighs, brooming the shards under the carpet and following your lead. he can sense your prideful smirk teasing him but he ignores it , rubbing his temples

“ im going with you. aint no way i’m being left alone here.”

“ that’s more like it. let’s sneak into the dorms and head to prom”

“ what if one of the teachers catch us”

“dont worry, i have an idea!” you declared proudly

it cuts to you two wearing silly “spy” gear ( its an all black outfit)

this is your idea?! god didn’t make you for thinking hasnt he? he was in shock.

“ the dorms lights are off, plus our shoes are noisey free. all we have to do is sneak into our dorms , change into our fancy clothes and leave”

“ what about coming back? our shadows will be shown since we won’t be wearing all black. what will we do. jump off a window?

exactly.

he stares at you in disbelief before shaking your shoulders

“you can’t be serious?! WE’LL DIE.”

“ dont piss yourself, i’m pretty sure i have a glider that yaomomo made for the beach day.”

this doesn’t even surprise him. he just sighs . you have a weird way of thinking. it’s like there’s nothing but eggs inside your brain.

“ if this gets me out of detention. let’s do it” he sighed desperately. wanting this to be over already

after some time, almost being caught multiple times . the dormitories arrive, you both hoped no one was guarding the dorm halls or this stealth mission is about to get even worse.

“ i coast is clear” you whispered.

who is that?! a low voice spoke, its revovery girl.

you both start to panic. both of you hoped that she was demented so she wouldn’t be able to snitch. how old is she, like 80? that’s dementia age….right?

you both feel a hand on your shoulder, jolting and looking behind. smiling awkwardly, putting on that sweet and warm voice.

hey… recovery girl , you smiled. as shinso sweats bullets

how ya been… shinso added, recovery girl smiles back, with her signature homely smile.

what are you two doing out here, its prom. unless you two love birds have other plans

w-we are not a couple . shinso quickly corrected, speaking loud and fast, which made both you and recovery girl confused since most of the time, he speaks like a zombie.

well. we’re just here cuz… my clothes got fruit punch all over them. you pulled out the most nonsensical lie out of your ass.

she looked around and raised an eyebrow.

you wore that to prom? the universe must’ve told you a sign. well you two get going. she smiles, waving goodbye as she went to the other side of the dorm hall. that was a close one.

you two separate, heading to your dorm. as you get into your prom fit. you tought about recovery girl’s comment, the one she made about you and shinso. you pondered to yourself… do we really act like a couple. i mean, you two are always hanging out even if its just you two arguing and taunting one another. he keeps you out of trouble and you… well you put him in wacky and eventful scenarios.

but the one thing that replayed was how quickly he denied those claim. he wasn’t wrong. they arent a couple but why use that tone. why decline so quickly. WHY DO YOU CARE, WHO CARES WHAT HE THINKS! you’re definitely dating material. he has no business declining like that. you huffed as you got out.

you opened the door , lo and behold shinso was standing there. in his prom fit. his eyes glued to you. he clears his throat

“ took you long enough… although i cant say you look horrible, might i say you look quite nice” he spoke stoically, not making eye contact whatsoever.

he looked good too. you can smell the lavender scent from him, his hair was still fluffy but the colour of his fit really suited him, also making you flustered.

yeah, i can say the same about you , you muttered. stimming by moving around. there’s an awkward silence between you two until he takes your hand .

prom?

prom!

after the near death experience from the guilder . you two finally reach the hall, the hall of fun. the hall where the party starts. the night of yours lives. you two separate again. going to your designated friend group.

after talking , eating and dancing to music. you sightly get bored. i mean you’re having fun but something is off. the dj announces a slow dance to end the night. every couple get together as you sit on the bench awkwardly looking down, not noticing shinso sitting next to you

lame, isnt it . he spoke, getting your attention

yeah… super lame. you pouted pettily as you saw bunch of sappy couples, dancing and kissing. ugh!

let’s go. he spoke. taking your hand and dragging you but not to the dance floor but the …. rooftop?

peace and quiet. shinso sighed. you were right. parties arent my thing he smiled sheepishly

told you , you snickered. nudging him

you two watch the beautiful twilight sky. the setting was so serene and just perfect. he awkwardly shifts next to you. clearing his throat

so…. life . any plans other than pro hero stuff . he asked

after pondering for a moment, you answered with a simple nod. he waits for you to go on

well…. i guess i wanna start dating… maybe buy a place and hopefully be married? what about you.

nothing…. i never planned ahead and now…. i don’t know what i’m supposed to do.

well we’re still just bunch of dumb teens. we’ll figure it out eventually

yeah…. we will. he looks at you, smiling softly before leaning closer. his cheeks red, like the bow of his outfit. he chuckles awkwardly before finally getting the confidence to…..

“hey so. what recovery girl said. we sure do act like a couple, huh?” his voice dries out.

yeah and you sure were quick to deny it. like you’re offended by the idea of us two dating, you teased

i wasnt offended?! he protested.

i was just…. flustered because….

because…..? you leaned closer, smirking

shinso noticed that smirk , hiding his face in his palm and chuckles awkwardly.

you like me dontcha~

yes… he held your hand and brushes your cheek. til red and flustered. his body language awkward.

you were surprised by the sudden confession. chuckling with him. you were pretty flustered and just thinking about shinso as your boyfriend made you feel all warm and fuzzy.

will you date me? he asked.

you obviously nodded your head, speechless as you hugged him . you two lock eyes and leans in for a small kiss . a soft and gentle first kiss , the kind that gave butterflies. you guys cuddle in each other’s arms as you watched the sunset.

[theknightmarket]

"Who wouldn't be angry?"

In which Wilford's return has less fanfare than what he hoped for. TW: cursing, slight sexual references Pages: 13 - Words: 5,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Closing up the bar was the best part of the night. After everyone had gone home, either willingly or under attack from your broom, and the only sound left was the quiet tap, tap, tap of a faucet someone forgot to turn off – that was when you felt perfectly at peace. The adrenaline of work was fun, of course, but reaping the rewards of a 20-dollar tip and pair of earphones made the 2 o’clock chime all the more satisfying. 

You unwrapped the apron from your waist and tossed it over your bag. A wayward sex on the beach meant it would need washing before you could wear it again, not that you minded it too much. It was, after all, where that tip came from, and the man who spilt it was almost too apologetic. You’d had worse. 

Dimly, as you wiped down the tables for the last time, you lamented the loss of your winter-holiday themed apron. 

You preferred the Halloween one anyway, so it wasn’t a weight on your conscience that drew you to breaking into your bar late at night. The work kept you busy enough that you didn’t, and couldn’t, despair over small things. The taxes, the patrons, the staff – they were all great, but sometimes you did wish you had time for yourself. A Sunday off, once a month, that would be enough. But, as you said, no time to despair. There was still work to do. 

That night, the work entailed taking the cash out of the register and tip jar, counting it, and stuffing it into the safe, locking all the interior doors and windows, and, finally, flicking the light switch. The neon pink sign blinked once, twice, and died out at its third breath, while you brought out your keys to officially lock the front door. The little hole-in-the-wall that the bar was, it didn’t run the risk of getting broken into too strongly, but there was no reason not to take precautions. You’d heard your neighbors tell you that it was so much a safe town that you needn’t bother locking everything. You told them that you quite liked having money, thank you very much, and there was no way in hell that you were going to pay any more for insurance. 

The night’s air nipped at your face, reminding you that you were still standing outside. Your brain, meanwhile, reminded you that you weren’t on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, and watching random nature documentaries. It might have also said something about paying your rent, but you decided to ignore that part. 

So, your frigid breath fading away in front of you, you waltzed down the four blocks between you and your apartment, watching the few other folk out and about make their own ways home. A group of teens scuttled across the road, technically jay walking but you weren’t going to say anything, while a ruffled office worker took off in a hurry in the other direction. Probably wanting to get into a safe place with the baggy of drugs stuffed into his suit pocket. 

The town you lived in wasn’t a well-off one. It was two steps up from rock bottom, and only because the local deli hadn’t been closed down due to health hazards yet. You liked to think your bar made it better, but there were going to be people who didn’t agree. Those teens, for instance, who always threw crude remarks when you denied them a beer. You didn’t hold it against them. How could you, when you had done the same thing once or twice when you were a kid. It didn’t bother you anymore, so why not wait until they reached 21, or found good enough fake IDs.

You fished your keys out of your bag when you were at the stairs inside your apartment building. The little, pink bear was the only thing that distinguished it from any others, and you ran your fingers over the dimples and nicks as your legs moved for you. Fourth floor, second door on the left. Whistling the few beats of a song you could still remember from the radio, you spun the plastic toy around in the air, caught it with your other hand, and pushed it into your door.

The entry was cold. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but you were always reminded of the difference between the welcoming warmth of your bar and your home’s casual wave of air. Bringing a jacket with you was a moot point since you only needed it when you were actually inside. No, you just had to put up with it until you could get out of your work clothes and surround yourself with the fluffiest blankets you could find. You had this down to a fine art at that point, there was no reason why you couldn’t do it from muscle memory alone. 

Your keys clattered to the wooden floorboards.

No anticipated reason. None at all. You should have been moving into your bedroom by now. You should have been leaving the line of sight of your kitchen and heading to your dresser. You should have been doing anything except staring right at the man who had settled himself against your countertop with a bowl and spoon in his hands. 

You weren’t certain if you’d have preferred a complete stranger, maybe someone with a mallet ready to bash in your head. Something told you it would have been better that the mallet he had poised to bash in your heart with. 

Your mouth dropped open and you forgot about the keys on the ground. Eyes scanning his figure, you begged to find any reason that this wasn’t him, but, if there was, you were too shocked to see it. First, came the slow, creeping sensation of confusion, then a dismal sadness washed through your veins, followed within the second by a tidal wave of anger. 

In a single movement, you’d scooped up your keys, singled the sharpest one out, and lunged for Wilford. 

The fucker was lucky he had those teleporting, magic, screw-the-laws-of-physics powers that let him appear behind you before you cut through his arm. That didn’t stop you from whirling around and trying to get at his shoulder, though, but you missed again. And again. And again. 

“Stop moving!” you yelled, skidding into the fridge. It was a poorly choreographed dance that involved the two of you going around in circles, neither graceful nor calculated. The most math Wilford was doing was making sure he didn’t end up on your stove-top, and you were barely thinking, regardless of how many times the counter drove itself into your stomach. 

His response of a stern, “No!” went ignored while you flung yourself towards him for a sixth time. You were considering just chucking the keychain at him and hoping you struck gold, but luck always seemed to be on his side – if not for his evading of your attacks, then for the fact that his bowl hadn’t spiled whatever was inside it. Although, just as you cursed him for it and a bunch of other irrelevant things, he placed it near the sink and watched you fumble with the keys. Your hands were sweaty against the frigidness of the apartment, the exercise was wearing you out quickly, but you didn’t let up. He’d always liked that about you, but he was getting tired, more of the repetitiveness of the situation than the exertion.

So, what else could he do but twist your arm behind your back, hold your other hand down onto the countertop, and ignore the suggestive position it put you both in to disarm you? You didn’t stop struggling, to which he tutted and wrenched your shoulder back further. Nothing to hurt you, too much, he just needed you to calm down. If there was one thing he’d learned in your past encounters, it was that you didn’t react well to simply being verbally ordered around. 

“Now, why are you so angry?” Wilford asked. 

For a second, you stilled. He couldn’t be serious, but, then again, when was he ever? This was the norm for him. Both the prudent ignorance and the method of disarmament. After jostling for moment more, you let out a breath that gave you more wiggle room against the countertop. 

“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years.” 

Wilford apparently deemed you pacified enough to let you go, and you fell forward slightly. God, your arms hurt. You turned to face him as you rolled the shoulder that he had pulled behind you. Military man. You hated when he actually used what he was taught.

“I didn’t fake my death,” he scoffed. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you ate all my cereal and abandoned me for three years. That better?”

“I didn’t abandon you.”

You finally met his eyes. Six feet between you, far out of arm’s reach, you hated that they didn’t betray any lies. More often than not, his emotions were masked by a haze of insanity, but the genuineness was crystal clear, like the spark of lighting across a night sky. It was the kind of purity that meant he fully believed he hadn’t abandoned you, but that just made it worse. 

You forced yourself to look away.  

“You still ate all my cereal.”

“For that, I am sorry.”

You believed him there, and you hated that you did. But that was the same Wilford who left all those nights ago, wasn’t it? No reason to anything, not leaving, not coming back, not a single thing.

Huffing, you gave up. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and you now had one more chore to do before you could settle down for the night. “What do you want?” you asked as you dumped the remainder of the cereal from Wil’s bowl.

“Can’t a man check in on an old friend out of the kindness of his heart?”

You levelled him with a blank stare. His grin cracked for just a second, but it was enough for you to spot, not that you changed your expression any.

“I- well, I thought we could catch up. What have you been up to for the last… what did you say, three years?”

You took a moment to try and figure him out again. Even if it would get you nowhere in the long run, you weren’t going to entertain him if he was there out of boredom. The little voice in the back of your mind reminded you that you didn’t have to play along with him, it reminded you that you had a job and a home and a life outside of whatever Wilford was swept up in. You didn’t have to jingle around the room like a court jester playing it up for laughs.

But you still sighed, ran a hand down your face, and vaguely gestured to the kitchen counter. “Go on, then.”

Wilford waltzed over to one of the stools as though that was just what he expected you to say, and, ashamed as you were, it likely was; it was some kind of routine you used to have, albeit without the giant gap in between. When you got home from working the bar, he would be there at the stove, cooking whatever it was caught his fancy in the books lately. You’d talk about your day and ask him about his, pouring both of you a drink. You couldn’t drink on the job, but your shift ended the minute you stepped through the apartment door.

Then, of course, after solid months of strange domesticity, Wilford up and vanished in the blink of an eye. Magic.

And, what, he appeared in just the same manner, and you fell into the habit, just like that? God, you really were weak.

“So, how’s the family?” was Wilford’s first question. You didn’t answer until you got the bottles out of the fridge and laid them on the countertop in front of him.

“Fine. Youngest brother graduated; parents adopted another dog.”

You turned away from grabbing the glasses only to see your guest wedging the top off the bottle of gin with his teeth. The cork pressed to the side of his mouth a clear danger, you swiped it from him, tossed it to your other hand and grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer in one swift motion.

“You’ll crack a tooth,” you muttered, knowing damn-well he wouldn’t heed your warning as you watched him shrug and remove the cap of the vermouth as well.

You didn’t bother to be surprised when the martini glass you’d seen on a shelf disappeared and reappeared in Wilford’s hand. That little voice, whispering again, reminded you that the magic trick was old hat to you now. You didn’t have to be shocked at the casual manipulation of time and space.

“I didn’t think Danny-boy was still in schooling. What’s he going to be, eh?”

Ignoring the sudden pressure in your chest, you replied, “A pilot.”

“Oh, a ladies’ man, then!” His laugh was more suited to a world war general than the pink-moustached maniac sipping straight from the vermouth in front of you. “I wish him the best of luck.” To which he raised the bottle, and, with a final wink, chugged the thing until half of it remained.

You almost didn’t want to risk finishing the martini you were making for him. You were well aware of how high Wilford’s alcohol tolerance was, but that didn’t make it any healthier. Still, when you had taken back the vermouth and poured it into the glass, you slid it over to him, warily eyeing the rest of the bottles to see if they’d been opened in the meantime. The sight of them all the same as before didn’t bring you much comfort regardless.

“And how’s the bar doing?”

You nodded slightly, your brow still furrowed and avoiding looking directly at him. “It’s doing well. We got a new bartender, she’s… she’s good.”

“Maybe you’ll finally take some time off, then,” he thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers, “there’s a new roller rink opening up on Alto Street. We could go there on your next day off!”

That pressure tightened into a vice grip. “We?”

“Yes, we. I wouldn’t recommend it if I didn’t think it’s good.”

“But you want to go together.”

“Is that a problem?”

Avoiding looking at him didn’t help, but making eye contact wasn’t any good, either. You only got an expression of confusion. Nothing betrayed an ulterior motive. You squinted but found only that. Surprise, maybe. You tilted your head one way and then the other, as though an angle would let you see something you couldn’t before. It was all the same.

“What are you doing, Wilford?”

Only more surprise. He laid down the martini glass, a mere sliver of alcohol left in the bottom, before placing his head in his hand. “What do you mean?”

“What is this? What- what do you want?”

A tut broke the tension for a second until it rose again tenfold.

“You’ve already asked that one.” 

“Yeah, and we’ve caught up. You can leave now.”

“Well, you haven’t asked me what I’ve been up to.”

“Oh, yeah? What have you been up to, then?”

Wilford opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again with a hum. Go figure, he couldn’t tell you. Whether it was because he was bound by some contract, or couldn’t remember, or just plain hadn’t done a thing, you didn’t know, and you never had.

“Look, it was nice catching up with you, but I have to work in the morning—”

“Hold on, hold on!” Your moving away from the counter was blocked by Wilford rushing to stand and securing his hands on your shoulders. He held you in place, a new emotion appearing on his face. Desperation. The smallest amount, but it was there, and it had you changing your mind about shoving him away.

“How do I make it up to you?”

“I don’t think you can.”

You weren’t about to beat around the bush with this, even if it made you the bad guy – the kicked puppy look certainly made you think you were, but you stayed your course; you couldn’t give in so easily.

“I just… how do I know you aren’t going to disappear again?” 

“I won’t!”

“How do I know, though? You don’t have the best track record.”

When he moved his hands from your shoulders, you thought he was going to leave, walk straight out the door into the night. It took only a second longer for you to realise he was grabbing your own hands. “This time I promise I’m telling the truth.”

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn him and damn yourself and damn it all. You were weak, of course, but you were weak for the man in front of you with the stars in his eyes and sugar on his lips. And if that man was asking for a second chance – for a third time – who were you to deny him?

“Fine. Okay. Sure,” you spoke slowly, coming to grips with everything that had happened in the last half an hour.

You felt Wilford’s grip tighten at your hands and then release, and that was all that you expected, but you were talking about the time-travelling maniac in front of you. His arms were wrapped around you before you knew it, warmth and his moustache tapping at your skin. You supposed this was some kind of thanks, which you still appreciated. Gently, you lifted your hands to pat his back, causing him to squeeze slightly more, until he pulled away a few seconds later. 

“Alright,” you mumbled, barely getting the word out in time for a yawn to overtake you, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Goodnight! Sleep well.”

You returned the pleasantry with obvious tiredness in both your tone and your body. Dragging your feet, you made your way to your room while Wilford cleared up, the clinking of glasses and bottles only making you slightly worried about how much you’d have left come morning. It wasn’t enough to stop you from conking out the very instance that you touched your comforter, ready and poised to forget the last half hour’s shenanigans.

You woke up in the morning. Not surprising. It happened a lot. What didn’t happen a lot, though, was the smell of pancakes stirring you from your sleep instead of the blinding sun through your windows. You cracked your eyes open, only to see complete darkness. Immediately, you jumped from your bed and scrambled to stand up straight. Nothing. You couldn’t see anything. A creeping sense of dread curled in your stomach, wrapped around you heart, and pulled. Where was Wilford? Did he do something, was he okay, why did it still smell like pancakes—

You hand made contact with something covering your eyes. Oh. Pulling it off, you were slowly greeted with the light of the day, as you expected, and an unfamiliar piece of fabric in your palm. It was silky when you ran your thumb over it, something you didn’t think you’d ever touched, let alone owned.

You left the sleeping mask on your chaotic mess of sheets. Overwhelmed by the haze of adrenaline and sleep, you stumbled to get ready – which, given that you still had to figure out that smell, consisted of swapping out the uniform that you’d passed out in for a tank top and shorts. You weren’t fully awake when you got to the door, but you had nothing else to do but get to the kitchen and hope it was nothing you’d have to call emergency services about.

All three of your panic-questions were answered when you stopped at the archway between the mini hallway and the kitchen. The scene of Wilford at the stove, his back to you but clearly flipping something in a pan, quickly greeted you. Sizzling filled the air and disguised your footfalls on the wooden floorboards. They were nearly silent anyway, and yet you were caught as you got close to the countertop’s stools.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Wilford sang, turning to wink at you so that you could see the ‘kiss-the-cook’ apron he now sported. Something panged in your chest, like a string cut loose; you’d bought that for him years ago, back when he was cooking dinner for the two of you. The face of the cashier stuck in your mind, somewhere between amused and sickened, but you didn’t care. The only time he hadn’t worn it when cooking was after you’d wrestled it away from him to wash. And then, obviously, after he disappeared, it was stashed in the back of the drawer, piled onto by old cloths and semi-broken utensils. You wondered how he found it again.

“Did you put a sleeping mask on me?” You collapsed onto a seat and rested your arms on the laminate surface. 

“I did, yes.” He went back to peeling the sides of a pancake off the edge and said nothing else on the matter.

“…why?”

Wilford flipped the pancake once, twice, a third time, then pressed it down in a ritual you had seen many times before. The crack of batter shocked the air around it. “Given how tired you were last night – too tired to change out of your clothes, at least – I didn’t want the sun to wake you up too early.” 

“And the curtains weren’t enough?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” he tutted, “I’ve seen how much gets through those flimsy things. It’s a wonder how the stars themselves don’t keep you awake.”

He wasn’t wrong. It happened often that you would wake up in the middle of the night, drowsy and blinking, only to realise that it was ten hours earlier than when you needed to be out of bed by. It happened now, and it happened three years ago. You just never put in the effort to fix it.

So, you just sighed, giving up the debate as fast as you’d started it, and dragged your hands down your face. According to the clock on the wall opposite you, there was still six more hours until the bar opened – you didn’t like encouraging day-drinking and four o’clock was the lowest you would go – and, frankly, you didn’t know how to spend them. A routine of stupid conspiracy theories and paperwork was offset with Wilford’s presence, leaving you with the shambles of a normal morning.

You blinked back to life when he set out two plates of pancakes on the countertop, one of them in front of you and the other just to your right at the next stool over. As he rounded the jutted-out edge, he brushed the small of your back with his hand, still warm from being near the stove. You couldn’t help but tense up, entirely focused on that point of contact like you’d been called to attention by a drill sergeant. 

Wilford dropped into the seat and handed you a pair of cutlery. You didn’t notice the toppings spread along the edge until you blinked some more times to rid the blur of your vision. Half of them had been pushed to the very back of the cupboard while the other half you weren’t certain you had ever bought in the first place.

Something stopped you from reaching for any of them. Something stopped you from doing anything. 

It was a shared feeling between the pit of your stomach and your throat. Like you wanted to scream and cry and laugh at the same time. Manic, you guessed was the best word for it, but even that felt wrong. Your heart thundered in your chest and raged against your ribcage, as though it were the only thing stopping it from telling you just what was wrong with you. Maybe this was just what happened what Wilford was around you, or maybe this was just what happened when he left. You didn’t think you were sure of anything anymore. 

“Is this it?”

“What do you mean?”

The words struggled against the rush of blood in your veins. You weren’t angry. You understood that you should have been, but you weren’t, and you weren’t bitter, and you weren’t resentful. It was another feeling on the tip of your tongue. But you held onto that feeling because it was undeniably there. You would have bashed your head against the counter if you weren’t paralyzed with…

You were scared. That was it. You were downright terrified.

“Are you,” you swallowed thickly, “are you here now?”

“Honey, whatever are you talking about?” Wilford asked, facing you with that sugar-coated grin you’d always gotten so hung up over. “I’ve been here since last night.” 

Just those words made you break into an internal panic. The only way that it shone through was in the frantic movements of your pupils, darting back and forth, searching desperately for the truth in his own. Meeker than he had ever heard you before, you asked, “Are you staying?”

And, just like that, he realized what you were asking, what you were going through. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all, and, as he secured his hands on your shoulders, he saw your soul shattered into pieces. He had left, and the memory of stepping out of that front door was seared into his mind. He couldn’t forget, not even under the cover of discos and murder-mysteries, the way that the click of the lock echoed down the hallway and the stairwell, chasing after him when he was out of the building and seeping into the cracks of the pavement. It was karmic justice that the thought of you prevented him from entering any bar from that day onward. He didn’t want to risk it, and, well, he’d already forgotten so much. The few sane memories that remained were ones he didn’t want to taint with similar experiences and get them muddled up in his mind. 

Now that he was back, Wilford couldn’t imagine leaving again, not when you were staring at him, panicked and desperate for a response.

Slowly, gently, he brought you closer until your chest was pressed against his. The embrace was tight but comfortable. Supportive. A promise he couldn’t yet put into words. He shushed you as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, your own arms tugging him even closer than that, as if you expected him to disappear at any moment – not that it was unjustified. His grip on your shoulder blades tensed alongside yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. On your part, you were too preoccupied with holding back the floods of tears that threatened to spill over at any second. A few had already escaped and dampened his dress shirt. On Wilford’s, he understood already.

The pair of you sat there for five minutes more. It felt like longer, but the clock was barely passing half ten. The most concrete thought that dragged through your head was that the hug was nice. You hadn’t been held like that since the last time Wilford was there. Sure, you’d been close to other people, but the complete relaxation of your body was a sensation you could see yourself chasing like an addict’s high.

It was practically painful to pull away, though you kept your hands secured around his waist.

“Shit,” you laughed quietly, voice clogged with tears, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”

“Pish posh! I think we both needed that, and I’m more than welcome for another in the future. For now,” he rose from his seat and gathered your plates, “I’m going to make some more pancakes.”

As Wilford passed behind you, he leaned around and pecked your cheek with his lips. It must have been an unconscious decision because his eyebrows raised, and he sounded apologetic as he spoke.

“Was that too much?”

Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated. You had gone from trying to stab his with your keys to crying in his embrace in less than a day, you imagined you could handle a little kiss. And, as it happened, a larger one, too.

Wilford watched as you got up from your own stool and took a step closer to him. He was almost worried you would shove him out of the door, but you did something different. Very different.

In one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. For a second, he was focused on keeping the plates steady in his hands, before he felt the oh-so-familiar warmth of your lips on his, and, had he forgotten, this was a pleasant reminder. He sighed into your mouth as his shoulders fell from their tensed position and he tilted his head for a better angle. A lopsided grin spread over his lips, only somewhat messing up the kiss, but you continued. 

You lifted a hand up to cup his jawline, smoothing a thumb over the texture of his skin; the other you used to card through his tousled hair. Your reward? A light groan so quiet that you nearly missed it. Luckily, you didn’t, even as he tried to twist it into a hum. He’d missed this, and so had you. And besides, who were you to ignore the order on his apron?

Eventually, you had to separate. Time-travelers and bartenders both had to breath, after all.

“Oh, honey,” Wilford muttered, slowly but not subtly moving closer again.

You accepted another kiss, and then another when you parted, and then another after that. Each of them was slow and sweet, only half like him in that regard. 

“Still making those pancakes, are you?” you managed to get out in the interim.

His chuckle was just as carefree as his other sounds, but he did step back to put the plates by the sink. You moved to start cleaning them as he prepared the next pancakes. The splash of water against the sizzle of batter warmed your chest, and the glimpse of Wilford standing next to you had you grinning ear to ear.

This was good. Making breakfast in a tiny apartment, not yet dressed for the day but content to stay like this for the rest of it – you were happy with this life.

You were certain of it.

[It's weird that this blog has been open for over a year and yet this is the first Wilford one-shot I've done. Side note: this was inspired by @valentivy-makes so you should go and check out their amazing art of Wilford, because, um, you should. Thanks for reading <3]

[hyponautica]

im kinda new to lifesteal and i havent really thought about other members bsides clown and branz but school is gonna enter a break so my brain has finally been alloted time to hone in on this. and i have some design ideas for a few members.

also feel free to tell me anything about anyone if u wanna give info cuz i would also rly appreciate it. im dead srs, i will read bible length text. anyway-

ash is so emo to me. he has that angsty teen in him. long sideswept hair with a bit of it brought over his left eye. im also gonna do that thing i saw a lot of ppl do of that glitchy thing over his eye but on the hair as well cause, it just fits with his skin. i dont wanna leave em too independent to what they actually look like in game

minutes skin is good enough for what i think he would look like! but he definitely has a bow motif on his skin that i wanna add a teensy bit more to! also his hair. not fire, just like, smoky. also a trenchcoat would be good i think. and ive heard some members call him a walking base so i ran with that idea and i wanna give him a suitcase with like infinite space inside.

i think redd is good being left nice and simple! i think the simplicity adds a lot in his case. but i wanna give him slicked back hair, kinda like crocodile from one piece but a bit messier and mb a lil curly to add a bit more uniqueness?? also small demon horns cause the red motif goes hard with that idea + the suit he wears. i also dont know if i wanna keep his face featureless or give him a mask thats a rly similar red to his skin

zam is such a creature. just some sleep paralysis demon creature thing. i like to imagine his head is nothing but an eerily smooth and perfect circle and he just sharpies that signature smile on his face and it really shows when it starts to fade away. also to add to the creature vibe i wanna make him rly skinny and bony, and he hides it with oversized clothes. tho his hands definitely give way to that fact

leo, i also wanna leave him simple but i wanna make him a cyborg. the details would probably be in his cyborg parts (mainly head to draw attention to it). his channel name is on his skin as if theyre initials so i wanna make it like the initials on the side of a helmet? in this case i thought why not make the theme like how ppl imaged robots in the 80s? i dont think i can explain my idea well thru text so i guess ill show ppl when it comes down to me drawing it. i just think the cyborg idea fits when hes basically a walking moai statue from what ive seen in his videos lmao

thats kinda all i have for now which are actual solid ideas in my head! im currently walking home from school rn so its hard for me to focus as much as id like. if i remember anyone else or think of em ill post it later :33 i just havent watched enough of the members currently, itll come to me soon enough dont worry

[butterscotch-brigade]

sooo i finally watched invader zim enter the florpus!! i was gonna wait until i finished the comics first but then i saw that apparently clembrane appears in the comics after the movie?? and i didnt want to risk getting spoiled bc yknow. the movie is when he First Appears so i thought id watch it before picking the comics back up again.

anyway, here r my thoughts on the movie down below!!

it was....pretty good!! there were a LOT of positives for me, but ultimately one major thing that i really wish could have been done better (but we'll get to that in a bit). again, i liked it, i thought it was a good movie! im gonna list all the things i especially liked followed by the things that kinda bothered me a bit so bear with me lol

positivies:

i know this is an Unpopular Opinion, but i actually rly like the art style!! i still think the show's designs r better, but i rly RLY liked how vibrant and smooth the animation was in this film. plus movies based on animated series already tend to have a slightly different art style anyway (the spongebob movies and the mlpfim movie come to mind) so i didnt mind the change. add to that the fact that this movie came out 17 years after the shows cancellation and its no wonder that jhonen vasquez's art has changed since then, plus i'd imagine there was a much bigger art/animation team this time around. anyway ofc i rly loved the part where they Enter The Florpus (lol get it) and go thru all the different art/animation styles, i loooovee stuff like that and i think every animated production should do smth like that at least once solely bc i love it so much. for me

clembrane is rly funny and i love him. im glad hes here now. dib and gaz have TWO dads

PROF. MEMBRANE WAS SO FUCKING COOL????? like omg i was NOT expecting him to be so badass in this???? when he shot the giant fucking Laser Blast out of his arms and wiped out all those robots my jaw DROPPED i was in SHOCK!!!! he was hiding all that power this whole time????? DAMN no wonder hes considered one of the most important scientists on earth

the humor was really fucking funny as always w iz LOLLLL there were multiple points that made me laugh out loud. special shoutout to the callback they made to mortos der soulstealer where zim and dib are yelling at each other and zim keeps going "WHAT????" ASKDJALSKDJ thats one of my fav jokes from the show so im glad they did that here

gir aka my fav was SOOO CUUUTEEE his stupid little peace song was so funny and adorable, i love p much everything he does in this movie as usual SDKJFLDSKJ gir my beloved

even if i have some issues w it (which we'll get to shortly), i DO like seeing that dibs family really do care for him, particularly prof. membrane. hearing him say he was proud of dib did make me smile

im not entirely sure how i feel abt the tallests canonically dying, but i do think its a funny way to kill them off and end their story. like.....ofc they die bc theyre too entitled to steer their spaceship. what else would they die from SAKFJLSDKJ

all that being said, there was one major thing that kind of bugged me a bit, as well as a few minor nitpicks.

negatives:

starting off with my biggest issue, and this might be a confusing one for some, but let me explain: in my opinion, compared to the show, this movie felt just a bit too.....sanitized? "feel-good"-ish? ....happy?? now just hear me out. a large part of what made invader zim so appealing, especially to that older tween/young teen crowd (many of whom fell into the emo subculture), is the fact that, compared to other kids cartoons at the time and even today, it was a very mean-spiritied, cynical, pessimistic show. the main protagonist is a villain trying to take over the world. his rival is the show's antagonist, so audiences may find themselves rooting against him even tho hes trying to save the world. gaz is on no one's side but her own and frequently bullies her brother and does not care what happens to zim. and it works!! thats a key factor in why so many people, myself included, like the show. it isnt afraid to have unhappy/unsatisfying endings, and there are very few "happy" moments (aside from gir, ofc, who is a fan favorite for this reason; his happiness in spite of the dark world around him is a great source of irony and genuine enjoyment). and i feel like this movie lacks a lot of that cynicism and bitterness from the show, yknow? like....i like dib and i want him to succeed, but part of his appeal is knowing that he never will, or at least not in the way he wants. we want dib's family to recognize him, we want gaz to show that she still loves him, and we want prof. membrane to say that hes proud of him. but.....invader zim is not really the type of show. i understand that this is ofc a movie for kids, but again, part of what made the show so appealing was the fact that it was so dark WHILE still being for kids. the closest thing we get to any kind of "mean-spiritedness" is the tallests deaths, which, while deserved and executed in a funny way, only happens at the end. idk i just felt like this movie was kinda....playing it "safe" compared to the show it was based on yknow. but thats just my opinion idk i swear im not one of those "WHOA look at how DARK and EDGY this show is!!! that proves that its NOT FOR KIDS" types, i just feel like the overall tone was a bit lacking compared to the source material

NOW onto the nitpicks!! these werent rly major flaws that interfered w my enjoyment of the movie, just stuff that mildly irked me (lol get it). for starters i wish tak was there :( i know she was originally planned to be in the movie but they had to cut her for time constraints which is fair. still i miss her so much. tak my beloved come back to me

another nitpick, but pretty much the only other thing that i didnt like abt this movie and its SUPER minor: i dont like how frequently gaz's eyes are open throughout this movie?? ALKSJFSDLKLKDS I KNOW THATS A WEIRD THING TO COMPLAIN ABT LMAOOOO i swear it doesnt actually bother me that much but it was kind of distracting. the reason gaz's eyes are almost always closed is to add to that angry, apathetic look she always has; it conveys her personality. when her eyes DO open, they're large and cute, which is a nice contrast to her normal appearance and makes these scenes in the show/comics have more comedic impact. here, they're open a bit too frequently for my liking, and i think it made me perceive her character differently. i think she should have been grumpier LOLLL but that kind of ties back into my first point

but errmm yeah!! despite the block of text i just wrote i still rly liked this movie!! in terms of continuations to the show, however, i think i prefer the comics, although again i have not finished reading them. i just feel like theyre closer in attitude to the original show and have a lot more interesting story ideas. but again, this movie is not bad!! there were a lot of things i rly do like abt it!! im pretty easy to please tbh.

overall id say this movie has like.....7.5/10?? maybe?? its still a good movie and id probably watch it again if given the opportunity. theres a lot of cool things about it and i did enjoy myself watching it. thats just my Onion tho, lmk what u think abt it if youve seen it :) just pls be civil if u disagree w anything i said, i like hearing other ppls perspectives on things!!

[krunchylegs]

vent; more so just note2self(tw: €d, b1ng€1ng)

i cant lie ive been having binges here and there, especially during the night, ive always had trouble sleeping even as a kid id stay up the entire night and watch the sunrise, and its leaked into my teen years and even now im 18 and i still stay up like every night, i know its possible for me to sleep earlier but i dont even know why but i just stay up and its causing me this issue of eating in the night and by that point i stop tracking my calories and i have no idea what ive been adding or eating and i forget what i even eat. its really starting to upset me, im making a post about it really as a diary entry, but i think i need to make the change and start going to bed at a reasonable time, its gonna help my mental and physical health so idek why i havent been doing it earlier but i cant let myself stay up any longer, it makes me even more tired which is really difficult when youre purposely trying to under eat plus i end up eating more than i intended anyway during the night. its so irritating bc if i realize ive went over what i want to go over after calculating all the calories ive eaten during the day then ill just burn it off with exercise (ik its not the best but its better than nothing) but it feels like im ruining my own effort by bingeing, like no i dont need sugary cereal, chocolate and more salmon on a ricecake, like i should just save that for the next day if i feel i really need it but idek why but i just cant help myself when im in the kitchen, especially if im alone, but im against purging (FOR MYSELF) because of the very negative side effects, i still want to have minerals and vitamins that my body needs bc thats where most of the problems from under eating come from.

but yeah, basically my plan now is to wait until morning (bc if i go to sleep now i wont wake up until the evening) and just walk around and try burn as many calories as i can with that alone and then come back home, have a nap, and then my mum will wake me up for church, i think that ill also stick to a cal limit of 600, i usually eat around 800 to 1000 but bc ive been eating in the night ill do 600 for a few days and go to sleep early and keep up my 12k steps everyday

[musicoftheheart]

8,10,18,21,22 in the pride asks? especially 21 if its not too personal, as someone still in their mid teens any advice would be nice to read. also 26/27 since ur genderfluid, like do u like to switch between different terms or do u use gender netural terms all the time?

hi!! thanks for your questions <3

8. Describe your gender without using any words traditionally related to gender:

i dont wanna use the same answer twice but... im gonna: spin the wheel!! watch where it goes!! where will it stop? who the fuck knows!!

10. Something that gives you gender euphoria (whether you're cis or trans):

singing when i have a cold is fucking gorgeous. my range lowers so much and i can sing all the male musical theatre roles that i usually cant and its just- bloody hell its the best feeling ever!

18. How old where you when you got to attend your first Pride? Who did you go with?

so, ive actually never been to pride :( im going to one this year though, and im so excited!! its in july for some reason, but ive got time booked off work, a hotel booked in the city its in (because its like 2 ½ hours away from me) and a couple of outfit choices in the mail waiting to arrive!! so, to answer the q: ill be 19 (my current age anyway aha) and im actually going alone, because i dont have queer friends atm and my cishet friend probably wouldnt be seen dead at pride. my brothers mightve come if they could, but theyre travelling to america a few days before and wont be back for over a week :(

21. What message would you give to your younger self?

to me personally? keep your mouth shut. bide your time, wait until you have better circumstances. keep. your mouth. shut.

to anyone else? dont do that ^ be confident!! as long as its safe to do so, express yourself!! the truth about life is that people will always find faults with you. they will always nitpick, they will always judge. even if you hide yourself to blend in, there will always be something that someone will scour to find. as shitty as that sounds. so be yourself! if people stare, let them! being like everyone else is boring anyway, and although at first it might be lonely or scary, youll find your people <3

22. How do you usually celebrate Pride month?

i like to do it in "subtle" ways. i say subtle because theyre not super obvious, but theyre easy to spot too. i like to paint my nails rainbow and wear rainbow earrings (i recently got rainbow star earrings and theyre so cool!!), and ill usually do more extravagent makeup on fem days, like using coloured eyeliner or putting little stars on my cheeks. and, of course, this year ill be at a pride parade too!

26. How do you feel about the term partner rather than husband/girlfriend/etc?

27. What gender-neutral terms for yourself or others do you use (i.e. joyfriend)?

im gonna answer these two together :) so, i like partner a lot. its simple, but it gets the job done just the same as bf/gf etc. i personally like to switch/mix and match boyfriend and girlfriend as and when it feels right to me. i especially love when someone says "shes my boyfriend/hes my girlfriend" and if i ever come out as genderfluid to my brothers, id want them to introduce me like "shes my brother/hes my sister". of the two mismatched pairings, i prefer the female pronouns and male honorifics, but that might turn out to be a day-dependant thing

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[snailfen]

I'm gonna send your boy Silver for the bingo c:

THANK YOU FOR SENDING AN ASK ive been waiting here like a rabid dog waiting for people to send asks about like any pkmn characters i REALLY wanna talk im. im so normal

SILVER MY BOY SILVER i see him as an annoying little brother. i love him but i love annoying him. with silly things like friendship and love ^_^

its so difficult and annoying to try and look for content of him cus i keep running into art of him like a prettied up intimidating teenage twig but really hes just an angry cat like cmon bro i could pick this kid up by the scruff. also hes 11. but people who draw the johto quartet as teenagers doing funny stupid teenager things together and just being stupid teens (with problems) including silver? You understand.... you have my sword. i will go to battle for you and die also....

also i think hes got a little bit of the tisms. cus literally bro everysingle time he runs into you he does like SO MANY "..."s before he actually starts talking. so true bro i hate making eye contact and also talking to people suddenly. we got another one lads

people who write or draw out him and lance having a father/son dynamic are owed my firstborn. yes yes yes yes YES give that boy a father figure NOW

so angry that theres not much info on him other than whats given in the games. like i LOVE pokespe but as a gameverse fan i really really want to see a manga or short anime series that dives into things we wouldnt SEE in the games or hear about in games. ik generations kiiiiinda did that? (Havent watched all of it) but like. i wanna see stuff for the characters. please i just wanna see my blorbos for example i wanna see reds time on mt silver or blue when red was away OR more of blues time in kalos and Becoming French!

Id like to see what silvers past was like, esp since during the start of the games hes in he typically talks alot like rocket grunts (his first ever dialogue and the rocket grunt watching the goldenrod radio tower.... hmm) or even like giovanni (in pokemas at least, theres a few instances of this)

ANYWAYS thats all i gotta say. read my paragraphs boy

[the-lighthouse-lit]

BBRae Week Day 6: Feral

Length: 4,930 words

Rating: Teen and Up for some harsh language and adult themes.

───

The girl moved like a caged animal.

There was a haunted look on her face as she shifted in place between the bike rack and the side wall of the supermarket, like it was all the space she was allowed. Gar had been watching her from a better secluded spot than the one she had chosen: the tree in front of him partially obscured him, and he was leaning on the wall of a house, where it may be assumed he knew its occupants.

Her lost eyes spotted a man in a suit walking down the street, and in an instant she was focused; became still, shook off the caginess and seemed to come into the form of a normal teenage girl. She left her spot to walk opposite to him, bumped into him ever so accidentally. Gar couldn’t hear, but saw her act surprised and apologize after they collided. The man didn’t see her pocket his wallet as she walked on, but Gar did.

She was quick. Sloppy, and clearly new—but she was living off the street just like him. At this point he could tell.

Gar had to leave his spot to follow her. She came to another secluded spot, by the dumpster, and examined her prize.

Careless.

Gar could clearly see her as she went through the wallet with tense fingers. She was too focused on seeking her prey –on what she could do to people-, to consider anyone might be watching her.

Gar got comfortable against the wall –blending in as he knew- as the girl went into the nearest store. In and out. If Gar wasn’t mistaken, she’d returned a cashless wallet for the ID and cards. Gar’s lips turned up at that. Nice girl.

When she left the store, he ran up to her.

“Hey.”

She moved away like he’d yelled at her, putting distance between them even though he’d stayed a few feet away to greet her.

“That was cool. Quick and clean. Bit sloppy at the end, though. Anyone could see what you were doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The girl’s voice was a grave whisper. Nearly a hiss.

“You chose a good area, too,” he went on regardless. “Lots of distracted loaded pockets around. I bet there’s even some left for me.”

As he talked, he watched her, and it solidified in his mind she was new here. A recent runaway most like. She had good clothes, worn and ragged at the edges. The raven-black hair framing her face was stringy. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and as she walked beside him –because she’d never stopped or slowed down-, her muscles were tense. She was ready to sprint at any second.

She looked like she’d been through hell.

“I’m Gar. You?”

She stopped walking and made her face a snarl to face him. “What do you want?”

Gar knew it was best to spell it out for her. “You’re a runaway too. We gotta stick together. It’s dangerous out here. Worse for a girl.”

“If you knew what I was capable of, you’d be running the other way.”

Now. Gar wasn’t a stranger to boasts and trash talking. The streets were full of small guys like him who exaggerated their capability to defend themselves. And this was Gotham—there was always the possibility that the most unassuming character might be the recipient of a grand destiny or carrying a terrifying contraption or genetically altered to nightmarish faculties, so trash talking worked.

But the way she’s said it made him stop cold. She hadn’t sounded proud. Or forceful. If anything, she’d sounded resigned. Like she was stating a fact that was true against her will. One couldn’t help but believe her. And, again, this was Gotham. Gar should take her word for it.

The girl lost some tension, clearly feeling some satisfaction, or relief, that she’d stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t follow me,” was the last thing she told him before she walked away.

───

He followed her. Of course he did. He had to keep moving during the day anyway. Keeping an eye on a new girl the city might swallow up was the noblest use of his time he could think of.

The thing she’d said about being capable of great stuff was probably a badass boast, too. You needed those in this city. Plus, it wasn’t like Gar was completely defenseless either; he had his assets too. And why would someone capable of a great whatever be picking pockets in a parking lot?

The girl used her new cash to get a burger–Gar’s stomach rumbled at that. He pulled out the cheese sandwich he’d been saving since morning. Technically, he was a vegan. In reality, he couldn’t be too picky.

But he didn’t have to wait long for trouble to meet the girl.

The three men weren’t noticeable in appearance, just in demeanor; several feet away from the girl, Gar could tell they were following her. She was oblivious; Gar was too far away. He shoved the food in his jacket pocket and started after them, but not before an arm shot out from the next alleyway and pulled the girl in, the three men diving in right after.

Gar crashed against the wall when he got to the mouth of alleyway, and peeked around the corner. Two of the men were holding the girl to the walls by her arms; Gar thought one would’ve been more than enough. The other too stood in front of her, and one was talking to her. The bustling street behind him didn’t let Gar hear what he was saying.

But he didn’t need to know what he was saying to save her. One of the men seizing her got a beer bottle to the head. After that, the men were on alert, but they were looking at where the attack had come from, and Gar was already on the emergency stairs before them, slingshot pointing at the man who was doing the talking.

“Yoo-hoo!” He got a kick of waving at them when the trajectory of the stones he’d used on his second victim revealed his position to the two still unharmed. Now pointing at the man closest to the girl, Gar wasn’t worried. He had plenty of time to fly up the stairs after he incapacitated them enough for the girl to run away.

He just wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

One of the men raised an arm, and Gar was suddenly on the ground before him, having phased through the stairs like they had been air. His mind ran a mile a minute. Since when were there metas in Gotham? And a whole group of them?

He’d just made a big mistake.

“Who’s he?” one of them demanded.

The man holding his arm out towards Gar raised it, and Gar levitated on the air. Only now Gar saw the glowing red eyes, and a red mark on each the men’s foreheads.The man restraining him bore his eyes into his, and Gar felt it when he did… something. Something had gone through his brain, Gar knew it. The man chuckled. “He’s nobody. Street rat trying to play hero for the Gem.”

“Get rid of him,” replied the first man.

“NO!”

And then Gar felt worse than when the man had picked his brain. That had been violating, but this… this was his every worst nightmare heaped together, making his heart race and his brain want to explode.  He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel—it was like his soul had been dragged to hell.

“Are you okay?” he heard, and his body woke up, every nerve recoiling from the girl asking, because he just knew it—she was the source of this.

As reasoning returned to his body, he was left looking at the girl wide-eyed, understanding dawning on him. “You… you!”

Of course. He’d heard the accounts of the latest monster terrorizing Gotham. Known only as the Feral, it was said to spread despair and anguish where it went. A creature with four red eyes and bloody claws, making nightmares come true, making its victims hollow shells of who they had been. And he’d just found her.

Gar used the feeling returning to his legs to run far away from there.

───

If you knew what I was capable of, you’d be running the other way.

Now he got her warning.

Still, he shouldn’t have pointed his finger at her like that. At the moment he’d been filled with nothing but fear and despair; he’d never known pain like that, and he knew she was the cause of it—but she’d done that to save him.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find her. Going back to the neighborhood he’d ran from, he asked around for last sightings of the Feral, now he knew what to look for. And even though he didn’t gain any info, he knew when he was on the right path—because he began to get hunted himself.

The chase went on for hours—Gar was agile, and he knew the city’s twists and turns by now, but the men following him were many and they were relentless. At a crowded street, though wearing a brand new stolen hoodie, he was finally grabbed and dragged into a warehouse. As was natural for Gotham, none of the many witnesses intervened.

The men roughed him up plenty before they told him why they had abducted him. “Spit it out. You were spotted with the daughter of Trigon. Tell us where she is now.”

Gar spat out blood before he rejoined. “Who the fuck’s Trigon?”

“Raven’s the key to all of it,” the man said, eyes wide, his grip tightening on Gar’s chin. Great, thought Gar. Fanatics were the worst. They might actually kill him in a fit of passion. “The demon king is meant to rule over us all! His seed is the portal that would let him grace this earth! Tell us where she is!”

“Hey man, I don’t know about some demon girl, alright! You got the wrong guy!”

The doors burst open, the aftershock nearly toppling the group over. After the show of power, it was almost funny to see the girl standing at the doorway looking lost, like she hadn’t meant to do that. Or maybe that was Gar’s sense of relief.

She didn’t have to choose what to do next—the men dove towards her as soon as they saw her. When they were nearly on her, her eyes located Gar, then turned back to the men gaining on her, and Gar thought he saw a second pair of eyes glow on her forehead. The lights overhead flickered, and Gar managed to see something dark and hazy take the place of the girl before he closed his eyes and covered his head with his arms. He couldn’t help it—he must have felt he’d see something mind-breaking if he didn’t.

When he emerged, he was surprised his mind was untouched. Gar had braced himself for the effect of her powers, but it had seemed to skip him this time. The girl was left on her knees, staring at the struck down men in front of her, blood on her hands.

Gar rushed to her side. “Hey. Let’s go.” He’d since learned her name, but it didn’t feel right to use it since she hadn’t given it to him.

“I-I tried to aim it,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to…”

Gar was thinking of touching the nearest victim to see if they were alive, and maybe give her some peace of mind, when two men ran out from within the building towards them. Judging she was in no place to fight more, Gar took care of it. In the harsh fluorescent light it was clear as day when his hands became lion paws that easily cast the men down.

When he turned around, Raven was focused on his hands as they morphed back to human. “Let’s go,” Gar insisted.

Raven took the hand that had just been a paw and they ran.

───

They had ran several blocks before they stopped and she panted, “You’re a meta too.”

“Guilty,” he panted back. “Why stay in Gotham?”

Gar got his breath back to normal before he answered honestly. “I wanted to be an actor.”

She looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “What?”

Gar tried hard to keep from laughing at her expression. She looked nearly insulted he’d said something so ridiculous. And most of his satisfaction came from the fact that he could tell he’d caused her to forget her troubles for a moment. “It’s true! The acting scene here is great. That’s why I stick around. Why’d you come?”

Unfortunately, that seemed to put the world back on for her. “I’m from here. And the people after me… even if I left, I don’t know that I could outrun them. At least I know this city.”

“Well, I’ve never seen so many metas in Gotham,” he said, resolved to distract her. “What the hell’s Batman doing?”

“Batman’s been trying to round them up,” she informed him plainly. “I ran into him a few days ago. And he saw me. I only got away because he had his hands full with the other freaks.”

“You met the Bat? Lucky.”

She scowled. “You’re lucky you haven’t.”

She had her arms wrapped around her torso, and it wasn’t just for protection. Gar eyed the thin jacket she was wearing, zipped up as far as it went. It was probably fine for an autumn night a few weeks ago, but the cold had recently snuck up on the city.

“Come on.” He reached out a hand, but she only flinched back at it. It made Gar glad he hadn’t tried to hug her, which had been his first instinct. He put his hand back and walked forth, stopping to look back when she didn’t follow. “Come on.”

If only because the cold spurred her to keep moving, this time she followed.

───

The two of them walked across a deserted street, half delirious with cold as they tried the door handles of cars in silence, one on each side of the street.

When Raven found an unlocked one, the sound and feel of the handle giving was the sweetest thing they could imagine.

They got inside. Gar got in the driver’s seat, produced a screwdriver from somewhere in his person and immediately bent to remove the cover of the steering column. Raven had only wanted cover from the wind, but it seemed he was determined to turn the heat on. She watched him work for a few moments until he looked up, his elf-life gaze making her start when she’d began to doze off from sheer exhaustion the moment she was able to relax on the seat. “You think you can magic-start this thing?”

She shook her head no. She didn’t even feel like trying her powers after tonight; she was surprised he was willing to risk it. He got back to work without another word.

As he easily made the engine rumble and turned the heat on, it occurred to her that maybe he’d said it just to prove to her he wasn’t scared of her anymore.

The windows fogged up in minutes. Soon you couldn’t see through to the outside, and it made Raven feel like she and the boy in the car were alone in the universe—the closest thing to safe she’d felt in days, ever since the sky had fallen down on her. The boy next to her was a big part of it too, she knew. Why was he even still here?

“I’m Raven.”

“I’m Gar,” he responded.

Her brows furrowed. “I know.”

“I know you know. But I wanted to pretend I was aloof and mysterious and kept my name from you like you did.”

She just looked at him. She didn’t laugh or scoff or anything, but Gar got the strange feeling, the baseless certainty that she appreciated the fact that he was cracking jokes all the same. She wasn’t in a place where she could laugh, but she listened.

“You know,” she started, “I went a couple of days thinking I had to worry about this new Feral character on top of everything else, before I realized they were talking about me.” Then she gave Gar the most vulnerable gaze he’d seen yet. “I can’t control it. It comes out of me. It has before.”

“I know. I believe you.”

“Why?” she countered, like she hadn’t been the one pleading her case.

He shrugged. “I’m good at judging things. My instincts have never led me astray.”

Her face crumbled. What he said must have touched a nerve, because she looked down to bury her mouth on her hands and keep from bursting out crying. A choked whimper made it out, and Gar’s heart broke. He could never stand it when girls cried.

“You can cry, you know.” He didn’t try to lay a hand on her back; he knew by now she’d just flinch away.

“No, I have to control this,” she stated. “It comes out when I’m emotional.” She took deep ragged breaths until they became more even. Gar now understood her red eyes.

It was then he remembered food. He retrieved what was left of his sandwich from his jacket and split it in half. “Sandwich? I got it this morning from the food pantry. Cheese lasts the longest.”

She gingerly took it. “Thank you.” He didn’t know if her reluctance was due to the jacket sandwich or about continuing to take his kindness.

He made conversation as they ate. “If I’d known you had those powers I would’ve opened with, hey, I can turn into animals sometimes. That’s usually something that gets me turned away from places. But it would’ve made you trust me more. Metas in Gotham, now that’s a group that should stick together.”

“I met a meta before,” she responded. “And I did think it was a good thing because we’d band together. But when he found out the nature of my powers, he told me what he was really doing in Gotham. He had a plan to take over the city and make it safe for metas, and my power set came just in handy.” Dry irony dripped from her tone. “And he didn’t care if he put me at risk for the cause. In the end I had to run from him too.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. I think he’s still after me, too.”

“How many people are after you, exactly?”

She finished eating before going into the story. “I was running from the cops first. Then, I was in my car –when I still had my car- and a man stopped me, broke my window, forced himself inside. I prepared to fight against getting raped and killed, right?” Her eyes clouded over and she lost her airy tone when she went on, “But then he took off his baseball cap and showed me the mark on his forehead. The same one those men had before,” here Gar nodded in recognition, “And his eyes glowed red…” She shook her head. “I pretty much gave up there and then. I thought, this is too much for me. These are forces beyond my comprehension. If this level of monster wants to take me, what can I do about it? But he didn’t want to hurt me. He took me to this… temple, with other people like him. They told me I was to be the portal for a demon king to come to Earth.” She turned to watch his reaction here. But he kept looking at her, waiting for her to finish her story. “And then…” her eyebrow creased. “They got into a fight with these other guys in robes? I don’t know who fought for me, but I ran away and I left them to fight it out. That was two days ago. So, to answer your question…” she rubbed her right temple as she did the math. “The cops. A demonic cult. Another cult. Someone named Azarath. The other meta guy. Batman. And at some point I guess someone put a hit on me, because I’ve been chased by random gang-busters who definitely didn’t have powers.”

She still wasn’t touching on the reasons she was a runaway in the first place. Gar wouldn’t pry. “Damn, everyone wants a piece of you, huh?”

She looked at him. He got it. Her gaze said, And what about you?

“I don’t have an agenda,” he said.

“No, you’re just an idiot who willingly got mixed with a girl at the center of a demonic prophecy.”

Gar just smiled—he couldn’t explain himself either.

But it wasn’t enough for her. “Why?” she demanded.

Gar didn’t have an answer for her. From the moment he’d ran away from his own monster, a conman who’d managed to become his legal guardian just to take advantage of him, he’d gone through town after town, and he’d always done the most logical things, the things he needed to do to survive. Now all of that was out the window, and he didn’t really care to wonder why. Perhaps he was tired of just surviving.

But his silence seemed to enrage her. “Let’s make one thing clear. I’m not gonna fuck you.”

“Whoa!” Gar interjected.

“I’m not gonna fall in love with you because you’re helping me,” she barreled on.

“I’m scandalized and offended,” he laughed.

“I’m just stating the obvious. What else could you possibly have to gain from helping me?”

But for all her forwardness, she was blushing hard. Gar thought it was cute and admirable: cute because her body betrayed her discomfort, admirable because she was forcing herself to say what she thought needed to be said anyway.

“Uh, you know what friendship is?” he responded. “Maybe I fell in friendship with you.” He’d be seriously lying if he said he hadn’t noticed she was hot, but it didn’t mean that was why he was here. “For all you know I’m not even straight.” She scowled at him. “Okay, I’m bisexual. But…” He ran a hand through his hair. He knew he had to give her something. Gar was good with words by now—he had to be since he’d been on the run. He knew how to conceal and how to charm and how to lie. But he was still bad at talking honestly. Especially when he was figuring out what he felt while tried to talk about it. “You can’t always just do the most logical thing, right? I found a person who’s in my same situation who needs help. This is… natural. It’s… animalistic even!” Gaining courage as he talked. “I’m helping a fellow human being. I just… chose to be here with you.”

Maybe it was the warmth lulling her into a groundless sense of security, but Raven thought she got what he meant. Not only that, she wanted to let herself be persuaded into it. He was saying he’d chosen her to be a team, essentially. He was saying they could lean on each other, that he trusted her because he wanted her to trust him in turn. He was offering a home.

───

Raven didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, but she woke up the next morning to Gar shaking her. “Rae, Rae.”

“My name’s not Rae,” she complained, but understood his urgency. They needed to get out before the owners of this car came, and it was light outside the foggy windows; they had pushed their luck as it was.

They got out of the car, and instead of the packed street they had been in, they stepped into the deserted Gotham bay.

Before them stood a dozen people in dark robes.

Gar had stepped protectively before Raven by the time the foremost figure pleaded, “Raven, don’t run. Don’t fear us. We’re here to help.”

“Who are you?” Gar demanded.

“We are the Church of Azarath.” The figure removed her hood to reveal an elderly woman with an expression of otherworldly calm on her face. “I’m Azar. And the time has come to come with us,” Gar’s shoulders tended before Raven, “Azarath is where you should have been brought up. It was a colossal mistake to leave you on Earth.”

“What are you…” Raven made out. “I’m not from Earth?”

“You are, but your powers are not,” said the woman. “Your mother hid you from us, Raven. She turned down our help once, and it was a mistake. For the good of this world, don’t make the same mistake.”

“Okay, what’d you mean the world?” demanded Gar. “She’s the one everyone’s chasing!”

“Your father’s forces, seeking to use you,” Azar explained. “As a vessel for his return.”

Raven sucked in air through her teeth at the word father. It was something she hadn’t told Gar. She eyed the back of his head, but he hadn’t even flinched. It seemed he didn’t even care if she lied to him.

“Why did my mother run from you, then?”

The woman kept answering patiently. “She must have she could raise you better by herself. She took a jewel for control we gave her –a mistake on our part- and she must have thought that was enough to keep things under control. But it was never going to be enough.”

It was the first time Raven considered the people might be telling the truth. She slowly came out from behind Gar as she pulled out a necklace from under her shirt. As she expected, recognition flashed in Azar’s eyes when she saw the red jewel. “Mom said never to take it off.” She said it mostly for Gar’s sake. His shoulders lost some tension.

Azar reached out a hand. She was still a few feet away, so it wasn’t like she expected Raven to take it, thought Gar. It was just the gesture.

“We can offer you control. We can offer you knowledge about what you are. And we offer you protection while you figure it all out.”

“Why are you acting like you’re taking her away?” Gar asked, though the woman had never looked at him. “Where’s this Azarath? Why can’t you help her here?”

“You need to be where Trigon’s forces can’t reach you. Otherwise, it will all be for nothing.”

Gar and Raven looked at each other. Gar felt bubble up on his throat something stupid, but heartfelt, like Can I come too?

───

Raven took one last look at Gotham. In the light of dawn, it had always seemed to her the city hid its claws, and managed to pretend it wasn’t the wretched hive it always was.

But somehow things seemed safer last night, alone in a car with Gar and the fog concealing the two them, than now in the bright morning, with an entourage of people who had sworn to protect her.

Gar watched her stare at the city, and watched the rows of robed figures silently standing by, waiting for her. Finally, Raven turned to him.

“Promise me you’ll get out of Gotham,” she said. “They’ll be after you because of me. It’s not safe for you anymore.”

“Already have my eye on a town down south,” he assured her. “I even picked out the train I’m hopping.”

Gar had tried to plead with the Church of Azarath for a way of keeping in touch with her, but that was shot down hard. It was impossible. Even if it could be safely done, Raven needed detachment. It struck through his chest like the cold Gotham nights, the thought that he might never see her again.

“I’m sorry there was a lot I didn’t tell you,” Raven told him.

He shook his head. “No hard feelings. I didn’t share my whole past with you either.”

It was to be their last conversation, and a part of Gar wondered if she was going to kiss him. But that didn’t seem right. It wasn’t the right note to end in. More than a romance, they had been each other’s lifelines for a while. He’d met her less than a day ago, and still he felt like a different person than he was before knowing her.

She left his side slowly, gingerly approaching Azar, who moved her hands in a pattern and produced a portal. One by one, the robed figures walked through it. When the last few were making it through, Raven looked up to stare back at Gar. When it was only Azar and Raven left, Raven walked back towards Gar and dove into his arms. He hugged her back, and that felt just right.

She pulled away, arms still around his shoulders, and took one last good look at him. Her eyes seemed to say more than she could speak out loud. I wish I didn’t have to leave. And thank you.

She was still looking back at him while she walked into the portal.

Gar made a smile, and hoped that would be what she remembered, whatever happened down the line. Mostly, he desperately hoped this was the right choice. If it wasn’t –and even if it was-, he might never know. He struggled to cast that thought aside while she was staring at him. Until the portal closed, he strived to only show on his face the sheer hope that they could meet again someday.

───

Notes:

For a while I’ve been sitting on this one-shot that would be the prequel of this, dealing with the events that led Raven to be a runaway. But BBxRae week happened first, and the ‘feral’ prompt made me think of this, so this cameo out first! So, this will likely have a prequel someday (Raven-centric without Gar, though). I probably won’t write the middle, which is Raven’s journey until she meets Gar? Because in my head it’s a comic or a graphic novel, not a written story. SO until I get the money to commission that, or if someone wants to adopt this story and write out the in between, this and the upcoming prequel is all that’s coming out form this universe.

Action scenes are still the bane of my existence.

It’s anyone’s guess if Gar’s destination is Jump City or on to the Doom Patrol.

I cooked this up in my brain while watching Bulgasal, so the ‘Raven’ in my head actually looks like Gong Seung-yeon with her big distressed eyes as they go from place to place because nowhere is safe as they run from a millenary monster.

Even though this is late I still very much rushed this so I can’t assure it won’t edit it to post it on AO3.

Thanks for reading! <3

[wingsofanillyrian]

Lights Over Monaco: Chapter 1

ITS HERE! I plan on updating this weekly/biweekly, based on how busy I am. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list! 

Special thank you to my new F1 friend for inspiring this fic as well as being my beta reader, @acourtofcouture​ ! F1 fans out there, her fics are AMAZING

Chapter Masterlist

F1 Glossary

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

Nesta Archeron discovered Formula 1 when she was 9 years old. She woke before the sun one Sunday morning, quietly excited to have the television all to herself and watch whatever cartoons she wanted. But she couldn’t remember what channel they were on, instead flipping through the programs. She had almost given up when she stumbled across a race.

The moment she had seen the brightly colored open-wheeled cars flash across the screen, she paused. For whatever reason, the high pitched wasp-like scream of the twelve cylinder engines and the astonishing speed that the drivers were travelling enthralled young Nesta. She didn’t look away once for the rest of the race, or even for the post-race interviews and wrap up that most adults skipped. Something about it had her adrenaline pumping.

Nesta traded her dolls for matchbox cars, and when she grew older, picked up racing magazines instead of teen ones. Ever since that day, Formula 1 consumed her. No matter how the other kids or her two younger sisters teased her for it, her love for the sport never tarnished. 

She spent years getting up at 2 am to watch live races that were being held halfway around the world. Instead of going to her senior prom, Nesta stayed home and layed out her predictions for the season’s drivers and constructors championships. She didn’t know how to do anything half-ass. She poured her whole heart into the sport and devoted her life to it.

**********

Nesta spent her 24th birthday working. It wasn’t like she could request the day off, not that it mattered. The racetrack at Monaco was exactly where she would have been anyway, working or not.

A press pass got her through the first security checkpoint. The team tents loomed ahead as she waited for personnel to cross the unstriped asphalt, inching her car carefully through the throngs of people. She rolled her window down, soaking in the sound of air tools and snippets of conversations. 

Street tracks like Monaco were her favorite. They required drivers to push themselves with plenty of technical corners and dramatic incidents. There was less room for error, as the tracks themselves were not as wide. Drivers had to know their limits and follow the racing line closely.

Race tracks were Nesta’s comfort zone. She knew each track on the calendar like the back of her hand. Every turn was permanently etched in her mind like words on a tombstone. Race weekends followed a set schedule, something that she could appreciate. Friday: practice laps. Saturday: more practice, followed by qualifying, where each driver got the chance to set the fastest lap and secure a spot in the starting line up for the main event on Sunday.

Before she had graduated college, Nesta had managed to fully entrench herself in the world of Formula 1. Securing an internship at ESPN her sophomore year, she had made herself indispensable to the crusty old man that had been the senior track side reporter for decades. She studied everything he did and the questions he asked each driver, noting what changes she would have made. Somehow, he came to admire her spirit and taught her the tricks of the trade.

When he retired the year after Nesta graduated, he went to the board of directors and personally recommended her to fill his spot. She waited two agonizing days for their decision. 

Using whatever means necessary, Nesta had clawed her way to the top and cemented her reputation as the most cutthroat reporter in the industry. Her goal had been for everyone in motorsport to know her name, and in only two years, she had done so. Better yet, she had caught the eye of one of the fastest drivers on the grid.

Her phone rang just as she pulled into the press parking area. She answered, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

Tomas’ velvety voice thundered through the speakers of her Civic. “Hey baby. You here yet?”

“Just pulled in,” She replied, touching up her makeup in the rearview. 

“Right on time for a quickie. Meet me at my trailer in five.”

Tomas had already hung up before she had the chance to protest. Both their reputations hinged on their relationship staying secret. If the press caught wind that she was fucking a driver, her credibility would go out the window, and Tomas would be the laughing stock of the grid. So sneaking into his trailer wasn’t exactly the type of discreet she was aiming for.

Tomas Mandray had been racing for Red Bull for two years when she had scored her first exclusive interview with him. He had just been awarded pole position at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, and Nesta had sweet talked her way into the paddock. It had taken minutes for his charming blue eyes to enchant her. He had won that race, and taken her to bed straight after. 

The sex was great, but that’s all it ever was. Their relationship was purely based on the physical; nothing emotional on either end. They had agreed on that from the start. Just sex.

Unfortunately for Nesta, somewhere along the way it had become something more.

Sighing, she put on her oversized sunglasses and hid her tawny hair under a gauzy scarf. The fashion wouldn’t stand out at all amongst the celebrities that frequented the Monaco Grand Prix. Going over the top here was expected; Monaco was known for its money. Due to the lack of income tax, Monaco was a haven for white collar delinquents and royalty alike. Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s were commonplace, and women wore rings that could set a jewel thief up for life. 

No one bothered her as she strode towards the pit checkpoint, flashing her press badge to get by. She fell into her usual cadence, exuding an air of importance and invincibility. Seemingly without realizing, people moved out of her way when they saw her coming. The navy, red, and yellow of the Redbull tent came into view, and Nesta inserted herself into the crowd of mechanics and VIPs to get past security. Press wasn’t allowed in the area until after the race.

Nesta broke away once inside, heading down a back corridor. She knew the layout by heart, having walked the path many times. The door at the end of the hall led outside to Tomas’ private trailer. She didn’t bother to knock before entering. Tomas would already be waiting for her.

He set down his phone as she entered. “Finally,” He said with a savage grin. “We only have a few minutes.”

****************

Tomas left as soon as he finished, donning his jumpsuit without so much as a kiss goodbye. Utterly used to the behavior, Nesta straightened her clothes and again touched up her makeup before heading back out.

She was scheduled to conduct a pre-race interview with Cassian Valle in the Mercedes tent in twenty minutes. Redbull and Mercedes were at opposite ends of the pit, giving her plenty of time to think.

Truthfully, Nesta was dreading the interaction. Cassian was an arrogant ass. She couldn’t stand interviewing him; all he did was skirt around questions and try to flirt, which made it incredibly difficult to get any headline-worthy tidbits from him.

Azriel Sainz, Cassian’s teammate at Mercedes, was much more amiable. He was mostly forgettable and quiet, but always gave her something to work with and was sometimes downright pleasant to talk to. She could understand why the public loved him, but not why they were so enamored with Cassian. Sure, he was a three time world champion, and that earned him plenty of fans, but he was just so… dreadful.

She made it to the Mercedes pit just minutes before the scheduled time, immediately spotting her tense cameraman, Jacob. Slim built, he was average looking, nothing special. He was sweet though, if not a bit of a pushover.

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed, chocolate brown eyes wide. “Valle is waiting.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, handing Jacob her sunglasses and the scarf. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Not my fault if he was early.” Nesta accepted her microphone and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“Happy birthday by the way,” Jacob added. Yes, there was the pushover side shining through. 

Nesta threw a grin at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Cassian’s back was to her as she approached, his white Mercedes jumpsuit half on, the arms of it cinched around his waist. The crisp gray shirt he wore left little to the imagination, hugging his sculpted form. Good; at least that would capture the attention of any women that might be watching. As would the deep brown curl that fell in his face when he turned to her.

“If it isn’t my very favorite reporter,” He crooned, a grin plastered on his face. “Took you long enough to get here. I also hear it’s your birthday.” Nesta glared at Jacob. He shrank under her steely look, an apology stumbling from his lips.

“I would give you a birthday kiss, but I think you’d knock me out if I offered.”

Nesta pointedly ignored him, “Let’s just get on with it,” She said, motioning to Jacob to start recording. Once he signaled he was ready, Nesta breathed deep, the sweet scent of high octane fuel assaulting her senses. It steadied her, and she slipped into her professional mask before turning to the camera.

“As we all know, the Monaco Grand Prix offers drivers a unique set of challenges. The two-mile street course has 19 technical corners with little room for error. It is in Monaco that we get to see who has what it takes to be a Formula 1 champion.” She turned to Cassian, gave him a professional smile and continued.

“Last year, you had a puncture at turn seven when you ran over some debris. Coupled with the fumble the pit crew had with not having your tires ready when you came into the pit, you finished a disappointing 12th place, winning you no points in the driver’s championship. Do you expect that this year will be better, or will you stick to your usual aggressive driving style?”

Cassian laughed, running a hand through his unbound curls. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be changing anything. You can expect to see me on the podium, sweetheart. Most likely in first.”

Nesta grit her teeth. She couldn’t air that, and he knew it. “How about you answer the question without trying to piss me off?”

“It’s too easy,” Cassian said, that devilish grin returning. Nesta cut him a glare that simmered with violence. “Alright fine,” He relented, putting his hands up. “Go again.”

She repeated her question, and this time he answered, “I don’t really see any need to change my driving style, what happened last year was a fluke. I went wide on the turn and didn’t notice Vanserra's front wing until the last second and wasn’t able to change course.” Nesta nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I don't see myself making any mistakes like that this year. You can expect to see me on the podium, most likely in first.”

“Thank you for that Cassian. Good luck on the track today.”

“Thank you,” He said, waving at the camera. He paused before adding, “Though I won’t need luck.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and signaled for Jacob to cut the recording. At least that last bit could be edited out. “You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?”

Cassian shrugged, undoing the arms of his fire suit and slipping into them. “I do my best.” He winked at her before zipping up his suit, opening his mouth to say something else when the Mercedes team principal, Rhysand, barked at him to get his ass in gear. He gave Nesta a wordless salute before jogging off.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jacob said, packing up his camera. “That guy has balls.”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver,” Nesta said simply, putting her sunglasses back on. “Of course he does.”

**********

Nesta watched the 78 lap race from the press box, silently cheering Tomas on. Each time the pack of cars passed, the windows rattled, doing little to muffle the engine noise. She chatted with the others as necessary, keeping one eye on the tarmac below. Tomas had started from pole position, and held onto first place until the final 10 laps. He had attempted to lap an AlphaTauri driver when the driver had failed to yield, violating FIA regulations. The two had bumped tires in what was ruled a racing incident, but Nesta knew better. Tomas had lost his cool and nudged the other driver on purpose, nearly sending him into the wall. 

It was a bad call on Tomas’ part, as the comfortable four second lead he had held over second place shattered. Nesta swore under her breath as Cassian overtook Tomas, her heart dropping when the other Mercedes driver, Azriel, did the same. Tomas would not be happy about that. 

When the checkered flag waved, Cassian was first, Azriel second, and Tomas third.  The winners parked before the podium, anger radiating from Tomas as he tore his helmet off. Tamlin, the Redbull team principal, said something to Tomas that had his cheeks burning red. 

Nesta grabbed Jacob and headed for the press room. They had a half hour tops before the post-race interviews started, and Nesta had to make sure she was front row. Though it didn’t matter where she sat; she always made sure her questions were answered.

It was more so for Tomas. She wanted him to see her, to see the understanding on her face and know she supported him even when he didn't win.

They were first to the press room, and Nesta had ample time to prepare questions. She couldn’t question Tomas, or she risked uncapping his rage. Instead, she jotted down a question she knew would shift the focus from Tomas to the Mercedes drivers.

Reporters began filing in, vying for the perfect spot and debating the race results with one another. Nesta remained in her seat, determined to maintain her composure as her stomach churned. Tomas finally entered, jaw set as he took his place on the stage. Nesta tried to subtly catch his eye, but he pointedly avoided looking at her. 

Cassian and Azriel entered, laughing and congratulating each other. Nesta noted the slight change in Tomas’ posture, the only hint of the blood boiling beneath his skin. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, but still Nesta remained seated. Cassian, at least, sought her out in the crowd, and flashed her an ‘I-told-you-so’ grin when he found her. Once the clamor had died down, Nesta stood. The room quieted further, the others having learned not to talk over her if they valued their jobs. Nesta had a knack for digging up dirt on anyone she pleased.

Her eyes were still locked on Cassian as the moderator indicated she could ask her question. 

“Azriel,” She started, turning to the dark haired man, “You were lucky you were able to take second in this race, after the incident in turn twelve on lap 27 when you sustained heavy damage to your front wing, thanks to the actions of your teammate. Does it ever get under your skin that Valle’s overly-aggressive driving threatens your own position in the championship?”

The room was silent. Tomas hid his grin behind a well-manicured hand. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw fluttering. Good; she had hit a nerve. Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. 

“It was a racing incident. Could have happened to anyone. I don’t think the blame lays entirely with Cassian; I could have given him more room on the corner.”

And that was that. Nesta didn’t ask any more questions, but she could feel Cassian glaring at her throughout. At the end of the interview, all three drivers thanked everyone before leaving.

As Nesta made her way back to her car, she texted Tomas.

You okay?

Her heart pounded as she waited for the reply. Her phone buzzed minutes later.

I’ll be home late. Party at the Redbull house.

Oh. Okay. See you later then.

“Happy birthday to me,” She muttered, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

Nesta wasn’t sure why his reply stung, but it cut deep. She had hoped that he would want to see her instead of going to another party and spend time with her on her birthday. Instead, he would probably stick his tongue down another woman’s throat like usual. She couldn’t really blame him. Their relationship had to remain secret and to do so, Tomas had to maintain his playboy aura. It wasn’t really cheating if she had agreed to it.

But if that were true, why did it hurt so fucking bad when he did?

Some of her tension eased when she finally spied her car in the lot. The Blue Bullet, she had nicknamed it, due to the strikingly bright paint. It was the first purchase she had made upon being promoted, and it had since become her pride and joy. She had chosen it because it set lap records left and right when it had hit the market a few years back, and she had craved speed her whole life. On city streets, this car was the closest she could get to experiencing Formula 1 without completely breaking the bank.

“How about you don’t ask stupid fucking questions next time your prettyboy loses?”

Nesta’s breath hitched. Your prettyboy. The accusation was clear. Her hand slipped from the door handle, turning towards the voice. If he knew… If he knew about her and Tomas, they were done for. She willed her voice into solid steel.

“Cassian. I would advise you to choose your next words wisely.”

He placed a hand on her Civic, getting in her face. “Racing means you have racing incidents. I don’t expect you to understand, seeing as you’ve never been behind the wheel of a real race car.” He sneered at her car, the insult striking home.

Fear faded, replaced by a rising wave of scarlett rage. Nesta’s gaze stuck to where his hand lay on the bright blue paint, utterly vexed by the infringement. She bared her teeth at him, rising to the challenge in Cassian’s flaming hazel eyes. 

“Get. Off.”

Cassian started at the command in her tone and obeyed. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Understanding the nuances of Formula 1 is my job description. I asked about that incident because I knew it would piss you off. Looks like I was right huh?” Her temper was getting the better of her. “And by the way, would it kill you to give me a decent quote once in a while, instead of always trying to get in my pants?”

“I do not-”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Nesta scoffed, yanking the door open. 

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she slammed the car door. “I was already planning on it.”

Those parting words haunted her drive home, even as she took the long way in hopes of blowing off steam. She shifted through the gears, throwing the Civic around corners much faster than was probably safe. Nesta didn’t care; her head was a mess. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything more about Tomas. Maybe Cassian had just thought she had a crush, based on the way she had been looking at him during the conference. Gods, she couldn’t get Cassian out of her head. 

His grin followed her up the stairs to her apartment, where she snapped the curtains shut. She couldn’t bear to look out over the track any longer today. 

Those words echoed in her head as she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed alone. Swam through her thoughts of Tomas, as she struggled to keep her eyes open when the clock showed 1 am. As she finally gave in, they were her last thought. 

I was already planning on it. 

@aphoeni @planet-faerie  @nina-zcnik @linsimin @that-little-red-head @teagoddess99 @enpointe10 @electronicstrawberrystrawberry @awesomelena555 @iptneus @weesablackbeak @wonderland--memories @nessian-trash-heap @magicalwaterfall @perfectlyimpxrfect @cassians-wings @valkyrie-archeron @acourtofcouture @nesemryn @chloepereyra @illyrianshadowhunter​ 

[dr-addieramsey]

Movie Night

Book : Open Heart - Post book 3 (A few weeks after they said their ' I love you's ')

Pairing : Ethan Ramsey X F!MC(Adelaide Nicholson)

Category : Fluff

Rating : Teen+

Summary : It' s just a simple movie night with zero plot....

A/N : This is my first fic so I'm sorry if it turns out to be trashy. English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes........

It was Friday night and Ethan was sitting in his living room, a medical journal in his one hand and a glass of scotch in another. His apartment was quiet and he was really grateful for the silence. It had been a hectic week. Being the Chief of Medicine was not an easy job and all he really wanted to do was enjoy his night and the next day off. Jenner was sitting by his feet.

Although he was really enjoying the silence a part of him wished that his girlfriend was there with him. Girlfriend. Although the term seemed juvenile he still couldn't believe he got to call her his. The beautiful Head of Diagnostics always soothed his mind and felt like home. He had no idea how she did that but he was grateful that he had her in his life. Ever since he had told her a few weeks back that he loved her and she - to his relief - had said those words back they both were over-the-moon happy.

This week although she had been really busy. The Diagnostics team had a really tough case assigned to them two days back and being the head of the team she had the responsibility to solve it as soon as possible before the patient got worse. On top of that she also had to review resumes and select a new member for the team. After Ethan left the team there was one spot on the team which needed to be filled. This meant extra work for her. Ethan had offered to help her with the interviews but everyone she just said "You already have so much on your plate being the chief of medicine and anyways it's the part of the job so I have to do it. Right?" He was proud of her as her mentor and boyfriend.

But tonight he just wished she could be with him. Although he had seen her in the evening before leaving the hospital he really missed her. His train of thought was interrupted by his phone that started buzzing. He looked at the caller ID and saw Tobias' name. He was in no mood to pickup the call yet he hit the 'accept call' option.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ethan! We just diagnosed the case we got two days back and we were about to go for some drinks to Donahue's. You wanna come?"

"Is Addie with you?" If she was with them and going for drinks, Ethan would go there no matter how strongly he wanted to avoid drunk interns and idiots who wanted to talk to him.

"No. We asked her to come with us but she said she had paperwork to complete. Last I saw her she was in the office. Now, answer my question. You're coming or not?"

"Thanks for asking but I'd rather sit at home and enjoy the peace of my apartment. You enjoy. Congratulations on the solve. Bye." Ethan immediately end the call before Tobias could say another word. He placed his phone on the table and picked up his journal. His phone started buzzing again. This time he picked it up without checking who it was expecting it to be Tobias again.

"Tobias I told you I don't want to go!"

"You should really stop treating him like that babe." Addie said in her melodious voice. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he heard her voice at the other side of the line.

"Addie! Sorry I thought it was Tobias again. So, are you still at the hospital?"

"Nope! I just left. I was really missing you. What are you doing?"

"Reading a medical journal, drinking scotch and missing you."

"Yeah? You're missing me?"

"Ofcourse..." Before Ethan could finish his sentence he was interrupted by the doorbell.

"Just a second, love. There is someone at the door." He started moving towards the door."Who could be there so late?" he muttered to himself. As soon as he opened the door he was delighted to see who was at the door. Adelaide stood at the door. She looked exhausted yet beautiful. A smile made its way on her face when she saw him.

"Hi!"

"Hello, baby!" He immediately pulled her in for a kiss. Both of them let a contended sigh when the broke the kiss. Jenner came to the door wiggling his tail. She scratched him behind his ear a few times. She took of her shoes and and coat. He immediately guided her in the living room towards the couch.

"You want something to eat or drink?"

"Yes please! Can you order some pizza or maybe make some popcorn? I would like to watch a movie with you after I take a shower, only if you want to ofcourse."

"Okay, I'll make popcorn and order pizza. You go take a shower."

She made her way to the bedroom and Ethan headed to the kitchen to make popcorn

~15 minutes later ~

Ethan was on the couch ready with blankets and popcorn. Pizza had arrived a few minutes back. Everything was set up.

Adelaide walked out of the bedroom. She was wearing his black hoodie and she had her blonde hair braided. How does she manage to look beautiful in everything, he thought to himself. She smelled lilies and vanilla because of her body wash. He loved spending his nights with her in his arms.

She snuggled next to him on the couch, her head on his chest. His arm immediately went around her shoulders as if it was second nature. Everything felt right.

"So rom-com or horror?" she asked him

"What the hell is rom-com Rookie?"

"Oh my god, Ethan you are ancient. Rom-com means romantic comedy!" She started laughing and he swore it was one of his favourite sounds.

"You're not subjecting me to that kind of stuff. Let's watch horror."

"Okay! But fair warning, I scream a lot. Your ears may start to bleed. Also save me if in have a heart attack."

"Nothing will happen to you. I'll protect you." he said laughing.

"Okay Mr. Knight in shining Armor. I'm starting the movie now."

~Half-way into the movie~

Addie was practically sitting in Ethan's lap by now. Everytime she suspected a horror scene coming up she closed her eyes and buried her head in his shoulder. She was screaming at the actors to not go in that direction or to ignore the sounds and Ethan couldn't control his laughter. As much as he would've enjoyed to just sit in silence and cuddle he couldn't say he wasn't enjoying this.

"NO! NO! NO! DON'T GO THERE YOU FOOL! HE WILL KILL YOU! OH MY GOD, ETHAN HE IS GOING TO DIE!"

"Scream a little louder and maybe he'll listen to you Rookie. Don't worry as I said I'll protect you." Ethan said laughing loudly this time. The next thing that Ethan's mind registered was a bunch of popcorn hitting his face.

"First you protect yourself!" He was not the type of person to start food fights while watching movies, but she brought out a side of him that he didn't know he had. He also picked a few popcorn and threw them at her. She filled her hands with popcorn and got up from the couch. Ethan aslo took the bowl.

"You sir, have started a fight." She threw more popcorn at him. He reacted immediately throwing popcorn at her.

"Ethan stop! It'll get stuck in my hair!"

"You're the one who started it Rookie." He got up and wrapped his arms around her. They both were looking in each other's eyes. Blue and green met and both were filled with adoration.

"I love you, Addie"

"I love you too, Ethan"

Their lips met in a kiss. It was soft and gentle at first and then it grew passionate. Their mouths danced together. She put her hands on his chest and he put his and on the small of his back. They broke the kiss and looked into each other's eyes filled with desire.

"I think we have had enough of the movie. I have better ideas."

"Well I never say no to 'better ideas.' "

He lifted her and she started giggling. He carried her to the bedroom and shut the door.

~The next morning~

Ethan woke up when the sunshine entered the room. He moved his hand to the other side of the bed and it was cold. He groaned and got up. He started looking for Addie around the apartment.

When Ethan entered the kitchen he saw some pancakes and a cup of coffee on the table. It looked like it was freshly made. He smiled when he saw the sight. He moved towards the table he saw a note beside the plate. He picked it up and started reading.

Good morning,

I had to leave early for my shift. I made you breakfast. I'll come back in the evening. I'll have my break 10 a.m. Call me if you're free. Enjoy your day off. I'll miss you all day long. Love you.

Addie❤️

P.S. : I gave Jenner his food

Ethan was filled with love for this woman. He considered himself the luckiest man in the universe and promised to never let her go.

I know it was wierd 😂. Again I'm sorry for any mistakes.......

@openheartfanfics

[ramblingkat]

Fic: Tattoos

A late fic for Day 3 of UraIchi Week 2021. I went with Rebellion, which has turned into no power au Teenage Rebellion. With implied underage smuttiness, though it’s not on screen. 

Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke, Shihoin Yoruichi

Summary: Isshin was a ridiculously lenient parent. At least to Ichigo. He’d never put many limits on his oldest child, no matter what shit Ichigo got up to. So when he had firmly said no tattoos, most people would have assumed that Ichigo would have agreed, as one of the few requests of his father.

Those people did not know Ichigo very well.

Isshin was a ridiculously lenient parent. At least to Ichigo. He’d never put many limits on his oldest child, no matter what shit Ichigo got up to. So when he had firmly said no tattoos, most people would have assumed that Ichigo would have agreed, as one of the few requests of his father. 

Those people did not know Ichigo very well. 

He went from idly speculating on them, because Renji some crazy ones over his neck and shoulders. And even further down. When Isshin had heard Ichigo talking about it with Karin, he had put his foot down. And Ichigo went from idly speculating to wanting one more than anything he had ever wanted. 

He might be a bit of a shit. 

At first, he had just done some research, checking prices and styles and such. The biggest problem he was running into was that he wanted someone decent who would still give him one. The biggest stumbling block was the first thing Yoruichi-san mentioned when he asked where she got hers. 

“You are underage,” the woman pointed out, even as she admired the tattoo that was exposed on her thigh. The woman did enjoy showing off skin wherever she could, and the tattoo she had curling around her leg was much more in line with what Ichigo was looking for over Renji’s thick black lines. 

“So?” Ichigo looked at her, expression one hundred perfect unimpressed. “It’s not like I don’t have a fake ID. -You- got me that ID so we could go drinking together.” He waved away that concern. “Look. I want one, but I’m trying to be smart about it. Besides, I know you. You know every underhanded, shady place around. I know you know at least one place that will give me a tattoo without giving me who knows what else.”

He stared into her gold eyes, determination evident in his. “And if not, I’ll talk to Renji. I know he got his first ones done while he was underage.”

“Renji has shit taste,” Yoruichi protested, even as she was pulling out her phone. Ichigo felt a certain smugness as he realized that he had won. At least a little bit. She was contacting someone, and given her opinions of Isshin, Ichigo knew it wasn’t his father. 

There was a soft buzz as whoever she texted replied after a bit. Yoruichi read it, then tucked her phone away. “You are buying me lunch,” the woman informed Ichigo. “And we are stopping off, and you are buying some more food. If we bring him breakfast, he’s more likely to hear you out, at least. After that, it’s up to you to convince him.”

Already standing, Ichigo frowned a bit. Breakfast? It was afternoon.  

“Who are we going to?” The use of ‘him’ meant it wasn’t Soi Fon or his cousin Kukaku. Not that he thought either of them were tattoo people, even if his cousin had a pretty nice one herself. But those were some of the few people he knew that were in Yoruichi’s circle of friends. 

“My adopted brother.” She grinned. “Don’t worry. He’s much less likely to bite if we bring him food.”

The first view of Yoruichi’s brother would have told Ichigo they were likely adopted siblings anyway. He was pale, the skin that Ichigo could see, with a mass of ash blond hair bundled up into a messy bun. 

His back, which was facing them as they came in, was bare of cloth but covered with ink. The center of it was a woman with long dark hair in an elaborate hairstyle, wrapped in red fabric. Her pose reminded him of the statues of bodhisattvas or saints, all calm and poise, her eyes close and face a picture of peace. 

Her arms, though, were jointed like a doll’s. In one was a blade. The other held a fan with sharpen tips. 

It was a nice piece, and Ichigo wanted to look at it more. But the sound of them coming in made the man turn. He blinked a little blearily at them, though he perked up at seeing Yoruichi. 

Then the smell of the food in the bag Ichigo carried got the man’s attention. The blond sniffed the air a few times, then looked at Ichigo. He had pale eyes, though they looked more blue or gray rather than Yoruichi’s gold. 

After an elbow from Yoruichi, and Ichigo offered up the food. It vanished from his hand, and he blinked as he saw Kisuke start digging into it. Shit, the guy was as fast as Yoruichi was. Guess he trained in the family martial arts as well. 

It would explain the man’s shoulders. And arms. And the muscles on his back that were not hidden by the ink at all. And the man’s chest, where it wasn’t hidden by the loose wrap that seemed to be his shirt. Ichigo was convinced it was a scarf with pretensions, as it looped around the man’s neck, then dropped to tie around his waist. Technically, he had a shirt, even if it hid very little. That was something Ichigo could appreciate. 

Ichigo swallowed as he realized that Yoruichi’s brother was hot. Really hot. The sort of hot that made Ichigo want to put his mouth all over the guy. Shit.

“You two have fun,” Yoruichi chirped, waving and letting herself back out of the door. There was a wordless sound of protest from Ichigo, who felt a bit abandoned. Then he heard a chuckle from the man. 

“Ah, Yoruichi-san is a fan of throwing people in the deep end,” he said. “Please, have a seat, Kurosaki-san.” The man smiled. “I’m Urahara Kisuke.”

Ichigo blinked, even as he did grab a seat. They were in a lounge area, and he realized Yoruichi had led them through a side door of a tattoo parlor. “Good afternoon,” he said, memories of manners his mother had taught him kicking in. No Shihoin? Wasn’t he adopted?

Though…. “When did Yoruichi-san tell you my name?” It was a dumb question, but Ichigo was looking for anything to fill the quiet that wasn’t “Gimme a tattoo,” or “You are hot, fuck me over this chair?”

There was a soft laugh as Kisuke set the cup of juice that Yoruichi had insisted them pick up down. “I’m the one who made your ID.”

Oh. Ichigo had not expected that. Tattoo artist and a forger? That was a range of talents. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as something landed on his lap, and he looked down to see an imperious black cat looking up at him. He was reminded of Yoruichi’s cat; only this one was covered in long fur. Long, soft fur, as he carefully started to scratch the cat. It took a moment of thought from the creature, but the cat finally closed its eyes and started to purr. 

“That’s Benihime. She’s a pretty pretty princess,” Kisuke said with amusement. “And she will bully you for everything you’ll give her. I beg of you not to give her food.”

Ichigo blinked, looking back at Kisuke, who had demolished the food he had been given. “I don’t have any food to share.” Because the only food he had brought was what Kisuke had eaten.

The man gave him a lazy smile. “Well, depending on the tattoo we put together, you’ll be coming back at least once more. Maybe more often than that.” Then he gave Ichigo an undeniable once over, expression approving before the man stood and gathered his trash to throw it away. “So you’ll be seeing her a lot. She’s a slut for attention.”

“So we got something in common,” Ichigo said, mouth getting ahead of his brain as he watched Kisuke walk across the room, jeans accenting a rather nice ass. And the man was barefoot. Fuck. He was going to have to pay Yoruichi back for this later. Either with revenge or with something good. Because Ichigo was horrible at filtering his mouth at times, and he was going to end up hitting on Kisuke eventually. Probably bluntly. Hopefully, he wouldn’t insult the man.

Then Kisuke chuckled, low and throaty, and Ichigo had to swallow hard. “If you stare any harder, Kurosaki-san, you’ll set my clothing on fire. I assure you, there are easier ways of getting them off me.”

And if that wasn’t an invitation, Ichigo didn’t know what was. Especially when Kisuke glanced over his shoulder, smiling at the teen. “If you like, we can head up to my apartment and talk about designs and...other things.”

Subtlety was not a requirement here, apparently, and Ichigo grinned. A hot older guy wanted to have sex? Yes, please. 

He scooted Benihime off his lap, the cat protesting as he moved her, and then stood. “I’d like that,” he said. 

Having a chance for a little teenage rebellion was going better and better for Ichigo. 

[css1992]

could u do more high school au's pls? I was thinking maybe rich popular peter who seems untouchable and then grungy tony who just doesnt care for appearances and hes been pining after peter his whole school life

+

could u make it so that tony is rich and everyone knows it but he just doesn't care about his money and doesnt act rich so it's one of those things that u know but dont acknowledge. also if tony's daddy issues made an appearance id be so happy ty.

I’m so sorry for the delay, but I really do hope this scratches your itch! 

***

He had that sort of beauty that almost hurt to look at. So pure and soft. Pink cheeks, small eyes that squinted when he laughed – which was often –; brown, wavy hair, so shiny and silky-looking; thin, pink lips, always stretched in a smile. He had the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen, too. Honest and wide, happy.

He was never alone. Of course he wasn’t. He was too magnetic, there were always people drawn to his light, following him around, laughing at his jokes, making him laugh in return. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, a scrap of his attention. And he, being the lovely human being that he was, made room for anyone who wished to bask in his light.

Jocks liked him. Peter was great at team sports, he was light on his feet and good with his hands. He wasn’t in any teams, though, claimed he didn’t have the time, but he was always picked first in P.E. group activities. Tony knew, watched him at practice way too often – from a distance, of course, as he did his stretches and sit-ups with Rhodes.

Nerds liked him, too. He was really smart, an asset to the Decathlon team, and was always willing to help anyone having trouble in class. Even the weirdos from drama club, glee club and the school band loved him – he never made fun of them, on the contrary, he was always very vocal about how talented they were and how he wished he could be a part of their clubs, too.

Girls swooned at him. He was kind and sweet, a good listener, and gorgeous. Guys weren’t immune to his charms, either. The ones Tony knew for a fact that were gay or bi didn’t even try to pretend they didn’t watch him when he walked down the halls, but even supposedly straight guys, like Steve Rogers, sneaked a peek now and then, face flushed, if he was wearing specially tight jeans.

Tony was jealous of all those people, but he learned to deal with it. He’d been, well, admiring him from a distance for years. He was used to seeing people make passes at him, ask him out. Peter was discreet, though. If he ever dated anyone, nobody ever heard anything about it. He was a mystery, Tony wasn’t even sure if he was gay, straight, bi or whatever – there were rumors that he had made out with Wade Wilson in freshman year, but neither of them confirmed or denied it. Tony hated the guy anyway.

“If you keep staring, people are gonna know you’re in love and not actually dead inside,” Rhodey spoke up right next to him, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich. Tony averted his gaze from Peter’s table for a minute and looked at his friend, annoyed. “It’s gonna ruin your whole aesthetic.”

“Very funny,” He rolled his eyes and looked back at Peter. There were so many people around him he could barely catch a glimpse of his smile, which was annoying.

His dad’s company, Parker Innovations, had just released a new phone a few weeks earlier, it was ridiculous how many people thought they could get one for free if they kissed his ass hard enough. At least Tony didn’t have to endure that kind of nonsense anymore. People in that school learned very early on that even though he was related to Howard Stark, he wanted nothing to do with the guy – or his company, or his money. They also learned sucking up to him did nothing but annoy him, so they kind of just forgot he existed over time and he blended right in with everyone else – a blessing in its own right.

“Rhodey is right, you’re drooling, it’s a little embarrassing,” Natasha looked at him with boredom as she nibbled on her fries. “You should just ask him out, you’ve been pining for ages.”

“I’m not pining,” he huffed, irritated, and the redhead smirked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

“Right, yearning might be more accurate. Bruce?” She glanced at their other friend who scratched his chin, pretending to think about it.

“I think obsessing sounds more like it. Rhodey?”  

“Fuck you guys,” he barked before they could keep the game going, and all three laughed at him. Someone got up from Peter’s table and he caught a glimpse of his beautiful face, their eyes made contact for half a second and Tony looked away.

“No, but seriously, Tones. Just go talk to him, he’s a great guy, I’m sure he wouldn’t be an ass about it.” Bruce adjusted his glasses and said that like it was simple. Like he would have the guts to do it if he was in Tony’s position – he wouldn’t, he’d pined for Thor, an exchange student, for a year, and never worked up the courage to ask him out. The guy went back to Norway or whatever and Bruce never even said hi to him.

“I know, of course he wouldn’t, but I don’t wanna be one of those people begging for his attention, just look at that.” He pointed at the little crowd around him, people were almost literally fighting for his attention, the poor guy could barely finish his lunch. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you’re not them,” Natasha said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Tony frowned.

“How am I different?”

“You’re a certified genius, you and him have similar interests and you look hot in a ‘I’m gonna fuck  you raw in the back of my car’ kinda way. I don’t know, maybe he’s into that.” The redhead shrugged, again, saying all that like it was obvious and an unquestionable truth.

“Yeah, right, sounds just like him,” Tony scoffed.

Peter was perfect in so many ways – perfect face, perfect body, perfect grades, Tony was sure he pooped out candy or something – of course he wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He had a bad reputation, he was in detention more often than not and people in general considered him an asshole – all because he didn’t partake in their little games of social climbing or whatever. No, Peter wouldn’t go for his grungy ass. He’d probably go for all American, apple pie, boy-next-door Steve Rogers.

“No, she’s right, I’ve seen him looking at you several times.” Bruce pointed out, not for the first time, and Tony scoffed.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“AP chemistry class. I’m his lab partner, remember?” How could Tony forget? As Mr. Erskine called out their names, Tony prayed to a God he didn’t even believe in that he’d be paired up with Peter, but no such luck. “He stares at you whenever he has a chance or an excuse. You know, when you blow things up, for example.”

“Yeah, which is why he must stare, he must be afraid for his life.” Tony hated to admit that he was way more prone to causing explosive accidents when Peter was in the room. It was fucking embarrassing.

He sighed, drinking the last of his coke. No matter what his friends said, he knew he didn’t stand a chance with Peter. He was… Untouchable. He was too good for him, Tony wasn’t even sure he’d want to taint him if he had a chance –  no, scratch that, he definitely would.

He chose to watch him from afar, allowing himself a few fantasies and daydreams. He had this really stupid and lame one, where he walked up to Peter in the hall, people just parted to let him through, then he gave him his trademark, lopsided grin and asked him out. Peter smiled brightly up at him, holding his books to his chest, cheeks flushed, eyelashes fluttering as he whispered a shy “yes” and leaned up to kiss him. Yeah. That was the whole fantasy.

Peter was so untouchable to him that he didn’t even dare to dream further than that. Of course when he was alone in his room, late at night, relieving himself, a few… less pure fantasies popped up unsolicited, but he felt so guilty then, dirty even, like he was disrespecting him somehow. It was all very confusing, but he still came, shamefully, to the thought of his beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure as dream-Tony fucked him.

The bell rang and everyone hurried to get to their next period, Peter was no different, he gathered his things and stood up, looking around the cafeteria like he was looking for someone. Their eyes met again for a second, but Tony quickly looked away, grabbing his backpack in a hurry to leave.

It was Thursday, the worst day of the week for him, none of his friends were free to hang out with him until later, so he either had to head home and deal with Howard or he had to find somewhere to be for a couple of hours, until Rhodey was done with football practice so they could go to his place. That day, Tony decided to just stay by his car, smoking a cigarette and singing along to Black Sabath’s Iron Man, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. He was so distracted watching the smoke dissipate into thin air that he didn’t notice when someone approached, and jumped almost a foot in the air when they spoke.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught smoking on school grounds?” Tony almost dropped dead when he registered the angelic voice. He was already having a heart attack as it was, but the boy was so close and he had that beautiful smile in place, blushing cheeks and all. It took almost a full minute for him to calm himself down.  

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” The older teen answered when he finally found his voice and got his breath under control enough not to make a fool of himself. Peter smiled wider, biting his lower lip.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He fake whispered, leaning a little into the older boy’s space and he almost choked on nothing. Peter’s smell was inebriating, expensive and sweet, but not overly so – perfect. He recomposed himself quickly, though, and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure why Peter was talking to him and, frankly, he was too fucking nervous to think of anything cool to say. The younger teen deflated a little faced with Tony’s silence; he looked around, seeming a little lost. “You’re Tony, right?”

Fuck, the way he said his name. His name. It was fucking music to his ears, the most beautiful tune. But how did he even know his name? Sure, he was Tony Stark, so not really anonymous, but people often forgot about it.

“Yeah. And you’re Peter.” Tony didn’t play games, he didn’t even try to pretend like he didn’t know who Peter was. It would be dumb anyway, everybody knew him. The other boy nodded shyly, it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept biting his lips and looking around nervously. Tony frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s fine, it’s just, uhm. I have a flat tire and the wheel bolts are really tight and I couldn’t get them off, so I thought – I mean, could you, uh –“ He gestured wildly as he stuttered out his answer, looking in the general direction of his flashy, cherry red sports car. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re busy, but I –“

“Sure, I’ll help, don’t worry.” Tony threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. He was a little more at ease now that he knew why Peter was talking to him – he just needed help – and the best thing was, Tony was really good with cars. Of course, one didn’t need to have a PhD in mechanics to change a tire, but it still made him feel really good that he would be able to help properly.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” The chirpy attitude was back, as well as the smile, it made Tony’s heart flutter. He nodded sharply, looking away from his face, and gestured for Peter to lead the way.

When they reached his car, Tony whistled lowly, crouching down to look at the completely flat tire, as he tried to find the source of the problem. He was surprised to notice a two-inch cut on the surface of it, and it didn’t seem accidental.

“Fuck, Peter, it looks like someone sliced your tire.” When he looked up at the younger boy, he didn’t look surprised, but nervous. It was an odd reaction. Tony wondered if Peter already knew that – maybe he knew who did it and was scared of them? It made Tony’s blood boil. Why would anyone do that to Peter?

“Wh-what? How do you know that?” He bit his lower lip nervously, scratching his arm, and Tony frowned, worried.

“Here, look.” He gestured for Peter to crouch down next to him and pointed at the cut. “This is clearly a stab mark. Judging by the size and shape of it, I’d say this was probably done with a pocketknife.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Clearly.” He face-palmed, like he felt stupid, maybe for not seeing it before, but Tony still worried.

“If you want, I could go with you to the administration. We can ask them to check the security cameras. I think that one might have caught whoever did this.” He pointed at a security camera nearby, Tony knew where all of them were in the parking lot area – he’d been caught smoking way too many times not to know.

“What? There are –? I mean, look, it’s okay, it’s probably just someone trying to play a prank, it’s no big deal, it’s fine.” He stood up quickly, shaking his head, and Tony was positive he felt threatened somehow, he was acting so weird.

“If you’re sure… But if you change your mind, I’ll go with you, ok?” Tony stood up and took off his leather jacket. The weather was nice, just a bit chilly, so he was wearing a thin, white t-shirt with short sleeves underneath. He thought he heard Peter’s breath hitch for a second, but it was probably just his imagination. “Can you hold this for me?” He held out his jacket and the boy blushed, blinking rapidly.

“S-sure.”

Tony bit his bottom lip to refrain from asking, again, if everything was fine. Peter looked so freaking nervous, he was even sweating a little at the temples. Tony was positive he knew who did that to his car, but didn’t want to tell him for some reason. Maybe he wanted to protect whoever did it, maybe it was a boyfriend, or an ex. He gritted his teeth, hands closing in fists, but didn’t say anything, just crouched down and got to work.

The first bolt came off easily, it wasn’t tight at all, so he thought maybe Peter had already loosened it when he tried earlier. The second and third ones came off just as easily, though, only the fourth one was a little trickier, but nothing the younger teen couldn’t have handled himself. Tony thought maybe he hadn’t tried too hard, maybe he was afraid the person who did that would show up or something. He was so glad he was there to help, he wondered if Peter felt safe with him around, and the thought made him feel oddly proud and protective of him.

He made quick work of changing the tires, making sure not to screw the bolts too tight, then put the sliced one in the trunk of the car. When he turned around to look at Peter, he was looking intently at him, almost hypnotized, holding his jacket close to his chest like it was a puppy.

“All done.” Tony smiled and the boy seemed to snap out of a trance.

“Oh, thank you so much, really, you’re too kind.” He smiled broadly and the older teen scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it.” They were silent for a few seconds after that, but Peter kept holding his jacket and didn’t make any move to give it back to him. “Uhm, could I–?” He gestured towards the jacket and again the boy jumped up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, here.” He handed it to him and quickly crossed his empty arms over his chest. “So, uhm,… Your dad is having a gala this weekend, right? Are you gonna be there?” Ah, so Peter did know who he was, not just his first name. The older teen leaned against the car and stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Not if I can help it.” He smirked, trying to act cool, but now that he didn’t have anything to do with his hands, he was growing nervous.

“Oh,” Peter looked… disappointed? He dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet, and Tony stood up straight, frowning.

“Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just – my parents are going, so I thought I’d tag along to, you know... but it’s okay.” He kicked an imaginary rock and avoided Tony’s eyes. The older teen stared at him with wide eyes, heart beating fast – what was the end of that sentence? Peter couldn’t possibly mean–

“I don’t – what, you’d go to, like, hang out with me or something?” He felt stupid when he stumbled on the words, but Peter didn’t seem to notice, his cheeks were burning red and he was looking anywhere else but at Tony.

“I mean, you must have much better things to do, of course, I was just –” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, finally looking up at Tony. “Sorry, just forget about it, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, wait!” He rushed to interrupt him and Peter looked back at him with huge, Bambi eyes. Tony coughed awkwardly, blushing a little. “I mean, like, uhm… If you – would you wanna go as my date? To the gala?” He blurted out, finally, because what the hell. The worst that could happen was Peter say no, and he could deal with it. He would survive, for sure. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Really. It wouldn’t.

But he didn’t say no, he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling in excitement.

“I’d love to!” He answered quickly, and Tony’s heart fluttered, Peter looked genuinely happy.  “Could you – uhm, text me what color of tie you’ll be wearing? If you want! I understand if you think it’s lame, but I thought–”

“No, it’s fine.” His heart was beating so loud, Peter Fucking Parker wanted to coordinate ties with him, it was fucking corny and cliché and he loved it. “Uhm, here, give me your number.” He fished his phone from his back pocket and gave it to the younger teen.

“Cool.” Peter typed in his number and as soon as he gave his phone back, Tony sent him a smiley face so he would have his number, too. “Cool, cool, cool...” He rocked on the balls of his feet and looked around, like he was looking for something else to say.

“So… Do you have to be home soon or…?” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets again, wondering if maybe he was pushing his luck, but Peter shook his head quickly.

“Not really, no, my parents don’t really mind what time I get home as long as I let them know. You?”

“They don’t really care.” He shrugged, taking one step closer to Peter. “So… are you hungry, by any chance?”

“I’m starving.” He nodded, looking up at Tony in anticipation. It drove the butterflies in his stomach crazy.

“I know a place where they serve great burgers. We could go in my car and I could drop you off here on our way back, I’m just a little worried someone is gonna try to fuck up your car again. I mean, what if they’re targeting you or something?” Just the mention of what happened earlier made Peter nervous. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and shook his head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.” He didn’t look worried, though, at least not anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me, I am.” Tony found the sudden change odd, but thought maybe he was just trying to play it cool, so he let it go.  

“Okay, then, c’mon, my car is right there,” Tony gestured to his car and Peter smiled, taking his hands off his pockets. When he did, though, something slipped out and fell to the ground with a metallic noise. Tony quickly crouched down to get it for him, when he noticed what it was. “Wh – is that…?” He frowned, examining the pocketknife as if it was alien material. He was confused at first, because Peter didn’t seem like the kind of guy to carry one around, but then it dawned on him. When he looked at the younger teen, his face was so red it looked like he was about to explode.

“Uhm… If I told you I’ve never seen this before in my life would you believe it?” He chuckled nervously, scratching his arm, as Tony stood up. The older teen raised a brow at him.”Sorry, I just – I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze.

“You know, you could have gone with the weather or whatever.” Tony answered, amused, and it made the younger boy look up at him.

“You’re just very intimidating,” He looked at him with huge, scared eyes, and Tony cocked his head to the side.

“Me?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Peter answered pointedly, and Tony smirked, offering him his knife back.

“You do realize you just sliced your own tire so you’d have an excuse to talk to me, right? And I’m intimidating?” He joked, but Peter didn’t seem to find it funny. He winced and covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed.

“You must think I’m such a freak,” He groaned, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey, hey, yes, I do think you’re a freak.” He grabbed Peter’s thin wrists and marveled at how perfectly they fit in his hands. He definitely saved that thought for later. “But you’re a really cute one.” He grinned and Peter chuckled, a delicate flush rising onto his cheeks.

“I feel stupid.” He admitted, worrying his bottom lip, but Tony shook his head, working up the nerve to cup Peter’s face in his hand.

“I feel flattered,” He said, honestly, and Peter’s breath hitched. He stared up at Tony, eyelashes fluttering, moist, pink lips slightly open. The older teen leaned down slowly and when the Peter closed his eyes, their lips touched. Just like in his fantasies, Peter tasted sweet, his lips were soft and his arms circled Tony’s neck in a warm embrace. When they parted, Tony smiled down at him, stroking his blushing cheek. “Just promise that if this doesn’t work out you won’t, like, key my car or something.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, but they both laughed out loud, as they walked hand in hand across the parking lot.

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, eps 1-5 thoughts! opening the new season with episodes like these kinda blew me away. we had multiple serious episodes INCLUDING a two parter!! also, valerie :)

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-I don't know what I expected s2 to open with. but danny portal incident in more detail was not it. (also, I hate to break it to you, sam, but danny's parent's bigass ghost hunting rv def chugs more gas than those vehicles, lmao. unless it runs on ectoplasm or something...)

-WHY WAS DESIREE IN THE SEWER? HAVING TEA WITH IT DOWN THERE?? Her making the giant cow come alive is a boss move, we've almost had all of my fav animals as ghosts now <3 I also don't like how sam was expecting danny to just, haunt the place so the cars wouldn't get sold? I KNOWWW I know she's 14 (and I had a very annoying phase like this, I think I mentioned in a previous post, I GET IT) but they're HIS powers, and messing with (1) dealership will not really put a dent in sales overall because they can just move the cars to another sales lot, and it certainly wont change the industry anyway, it's more of a minor annoyance for (1) location. Also, usually people who work at car sales places work on commission, so if they dont make a sale, they don't have money to pay bills, or eat. sam baby if u wanna be an activist you need to like, actually look into these things. with as much money as her parents have, she could be doing a lot..more useful things for causes she cares about? it's frustrating to see someone with resources who doesn't know how to use them. but shes 14 so again. cannot be really upset :/

-IS THIS A PREDATOR VS TERMINATOR VS FREDDY KRUEGER MOVIE BUT THEYRE ALL WOMEN?? you know, sam is so right to be excited about this. /I/ want to see this movie. that rules

-paulina inviting danny and friends to her quinceañera, aw! even if it is just to get phantom to show up :') and there'll be a meteor shower, and we KNOW danny wants to be an astronaut!! there's not a meteor shower every night!! the tickets are non-refundable, but..she's rich? like. gotta agree with danny, they never get invited!! I KNOW it's the principle of keeping promises, but if she was that upset, she should've said something. directly. I hated how she was like, passive aggressive about it through the episode, like you SAID IT WAS FINE, THAT YOU'D GO TO THE PARTY TOO. MOVIES SHOW FOR A FEW WEEKS IN THEATERS. IF YOU HAD A REAL PROBLEM YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. WE'VE HAD THIS PROBLEM BEFORE, SAM. YOUR FRIENDS. ARE NOT. MIND READERS.

-MR. LANCER GOING AFTER THE GHOST WITH THE FIRE EXTINGISHER LMAO

-this outfit is everything . anytime the show does an over the top cutesty pink outfit i WANT IT. it looks like shit I wear JKASDHF I HAVE a bow like that and a pink sweater. I need leg warmers </3

-SAMS GOTTA RE-HALF-KILL HIM??? thats fucked up. but also, he finally got his logo!! it took until s2!!! this episode was lowkey very fucked and I felt like it glossed over a lot. does sam have guilt about like. kinda KILLING HIM?? I know, he also agreed and walked into the portal. but. she made the choice to redo it SO quickly (even if it was because someone had to beat desiree) and danny, during their fight, brought up a lot of stuff sam's done in the past, meaning he was holding onto those memories and resentment was building. (I KEEP SAYING HE LOWKEY NEEDS THERAPY, BUT I THINK MOST EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW KINDA DOES) which...is a red flag? and then they didnt even GO to the party URGH I know she tried to make up for it, but it really felt like Sam fucked up and barely faced any consequences and got everything she wanted in the end. I KNOW it's a kids show obv they aren't going to go too in depth, and she undid the damage, kinda, but...I DUNNO how to articulate it but it rubbed me the wrong way.

-but on a note about desiree, her powers of wishes were STRONG ENOUGH TO ERASE NOT JUST THEIR MEMORIES, BUT DANNY'S POWERS?! fuck, if I was danny I'd be like, trying to make friends with her. I know they always have horrible side effects as most genie-granted wishes do, but...c'mon, I'd at least TRY to be like 'I wish no ghosts would hurt anyone in my town' or 'I wish vlad would lose his ghost powers forever no matter What and also forget about my mom' LIKE. SHIT DESIREE IS SO POWERFUL. rewriting reality powerful, basically!! appreciate her. respect her.

-aww, sam helping tucker pass the nurse's office so he wouldn't see because he's afraid of medical stuff? very sweet. I also don't like medical stuff, I've gotten a lot better at handling it tho. but seeing blood and needles still makes me feel lightheaded x_x

-FOLEY, BY TUCKER FOLEY. I want to make my own perfume, that's so cool. even if his first attempt isn't good, he's pretty consistently shown to have an inventor/entrepreneur streak in the show, so like. I can see him inventing or making something (or several somethings) that make him $$$ when he grows up :) proud of my creative son

-I know the 'creepy abandoned hospital on the edge of town' is a joke and the creepy hospital trope is so Worn Out, but in my town we actually DO have a hospital like that! my dad was born in it, but its not in use and hasn't been for, like, 20 years! it needs to be torn down but I think the city doesn't wanna pay the money. the inside is horrible, spray painted and broken glass and shit everywhere. but there's still like, rusty equipment and fucking DOLLS all over the place. the cops drive by it pretty frequently to make sure no one is like, breaking in. (because of water damage, some of the areas really aren't safe. also, asbestos, but people still go in anyway) but also, some of my town was used in a filming for a stephen king show. So it's lowkey spooky all over. just a fun personal tidbit :) to lead into saying, any hospital abandoned for any period of time is NOT safe to quarantine these kids in JKSAHDKF like I KNOW it's a ghost trying to do this, but NONE of these parents are even like, 'well, why dont we keep them in the regular, working hospital'....YIKES. this hospital looks pretty accurate to the one in town. grungy and spooky.

-fentons are tax evaders confirmed by jack's fear of being audited, lol no one is surprised

-ghost sickness via ghost bugs. horrifying concept. I actually expected it to be a new villain, not dr. spectra again! this is a very elaborate scheme. her new form rules, love the new costume. the way none of the bg kids seem to recognize her as their old school councilor. did we just forget about that completely?

-dash watching romance movies in the fucked up ghost hospital. same.

-'oh please, you're ghosts, do you have any idea what YOU smell like?' no, tucker, what DO ghosts smell like? I genuinely didn't know they would even have a smell, I actually want to know now.

-it feels like a while since we've seen jazz!! i was happy to see her again, even if she was a head in a jar for most the episode. I want another jazz-focused ep!!

-we finally see danny doing space-related stuff!! him and his friends stargazing to open ep 3 of s2. cute :) until, GHOST PIRATES!!!!! ...ghost pirate captain is a small child?? VOICED BY TAYLOR LAUTNER???

-oh, the easy listening is ember's song instrumental slowed. 'vapor drone' THEY VAPORWAVED HER!!! ember in a pirate outfit tho >>>>. and the cruise being called m.bersback JKASDHJK. ember adopting a little pirate brother is also pretty cute. concerning this teen and little kid have such bad opinions of adults, like, who hurt you?? (how did you DIE ALSO?? im always lowkey curious about that. we know desiree died at an old age, but her ghost form is young, probably mid-20s, so I wonder how that sort of thing works...its a more mental thing, isn't it?) but ghost team-ups are always cool to see, even if ember bailed after danny took her guitar. I guess she probably thinks youngblood can handle it (which, he's been owning danny this far in the ep, so...fair)

-tucker got that sponsorship from nasty burger for their radio!!! again, opportunistic money maker king, love to see it!!!

-danny taking control of the kids SO FAST. he makes a pretty great leader. no one is surprised, im pretty sure I said I think he's the most mature of the trio, once again, correct, because he's taken on so much responsibility already. all the teens suiting up in the jumpsuits to go save the adults and taking the ship over with a BLIMP. OKAY LETS GO. this feels like it should be a mid finale or straight up finale.

-...speaking of finales. why is ep 4-5 of s2 combined into a 50 minute episode? I havent even clicked play and im concerned. weird placement, like, this season JUST started and we're getting a two parter? okay...why are the episodes placed like this? why not put this at episode 10 or something, for a mid-season thing?

-this is also a cute dress. possibly my fav dress so far. can her parents give ME cute dresses, I'LL wear them.

-it turns out the castle fright knight was in is called pariah's keep and there's something worse than fright knight in there! lovely! fuck off vlad wtf are you doing <3 your hubris <3 is going to literally get you killed <3 'ring of rage' and 'crown of fire' are great names tho. ...vlad turning into a super polite guy when he was scared of mr. pariah was hilarious. and fright knight doing the same...I mean, it makes sense, he's a knight, he serves a king? happy to see fright knight again either way :) vlad telling him to call him tho, lmfao. you WISH HE WOULD. (I wish hed call me, too. 😔)

-so...jack being genuinely concerned about vlad...maddie really didn't tell him what happened at the cabin, did she. damn. if I was her id immediately come home and be like 'YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHITTTT THIS CREEPY GUY--' like, I feel like that stuff you need to tell your partner!!! I know she didnt want Jack to think she was an irresponsible parent putting danny in danger at that time, but STILLLL. maddie spilling boiling tea on him. get his ass. how is jack this oblivious to his wife's discomfort with vlad!! ughhh

-fenton wipe (tm). trademarked toilet paper.

-DANNY AND VALERIE BEING FRIENDS??? :D that was a cute moment. 'hey val <3' and 'if you like him like him, make a move, or someone else will ;)' at sam...damn!! I love her. valerie go for it girl!!! I hate how sam and tucker treat val also, like I GET IT YOURE PROTECTIVE AND DONT TRUST but if anything him befriending valerie will help when she finds out or he tells her like I feel like she'll be more understanding that they think! ALSO I feel like her reason for not liking ghosts is valid, like you haven't really explained the full story to her anyway! she doesn't seem to have any other friends after being booted from the a-listers so im like :( but seeing them kick butt together again was nice <3

-the ghosts all RUNNING FROM PARIAH DARK IS NOT GOOD, I thought he sent them to attack or something, but no. why doesn't someone just tell desiree 'hey i wish pariah dark would die' lol. once again I think she can solve every problem <3 but seeing all the enemies in one place, being civil and hiding together? love it.

-you just know danny's gonna have to clean up vlad's stupid mess. also, jack being willing to put on the ectoskeleton pants to help maddie, as soon as vlad heard it could kill him, he suggested jack do it instead of helping maddie himself? this is why jack got the girl, my man.

-ghost skeletons. how do you end up as a skeleton ghost in your afterlife instead of a humanoid like most the ones we've seen? lmao

-the ghosts just making new homes in various stores. I'd totally be setting up in an expensive clothing store if I was a ghost.

-valerie's dad is possibly the most useful adult so far, with that ghost shield expansion!!! and valerie saving vlad and danny, even tho shes been thru it already, shes still so good!!! this family rules.

-danny: *gently caresses valerie* :)

-*then he immediately TELLS HER DAD ON HER. and his first response is 'are you okay?' :'( such a good dad...

-*me every time fright knight breathes* youre doing SO great sweetie :)

-the fenton suit thing is so silly looking. does anyone take this thing seriously

-ALL THE GHOSTS FIGHTING WITH DANNY <3 AAAAA. and the fact that pariah isn't perma-defeated, but just locked away again. yikes. he'll probably get out again, won't he? it wasn't too clear, but if vlad DID make a pact with fright knight, I am rabid. I will beat vlad to death with the fenton bat (tm). YOU DONT DESERVE A COOL KNIGHT.

-valerie being direct with sam and challenging her? kinda love that, even tho I normally don't like 'catfight' type situations. because sam has been very passive aggressive about it which is annoying. valerie knows wtf she wants and wasn't even embarrassed to tell sam, but she did tell her, giving sam time to make her own move! and sam denied it and got embarrassed/mad! and sam did have a chance when danny was about to go off and fight, and she hesitated and didn't tell him. I feel like she's hesitating because they're friends and it might make it weird between the trio (poor tucker would be third-wheeling) but if u snooze u lose, u gotta GO after what u WANT girl. smh this is a No Tsundere Zone. 😤

[five-rivers]

Interview With a Ghost (part 3: Break)

(PART 1) (PART 2)

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.

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The call came shortly after Danny had informed Tucker of his (disastrous) interview with the police and had left to go fight a giant bird ghost that had made its way to Elmerton. That bird wouldn't know what hit it. Well, it would know that Danny hit it, presumably, but not that Danny was hitting it so hard due to repressed anxiety regarding his body and the fact the police had it.

Tucker had been, as it so happened, waiting for the call.

"Hey, Sam," he said, not bothering to so much as look at the caller ID.

"So, Danny's gotten himself into a mess."

"Yep," said Tucker. "A pretty big one. Not all his fault, though."

"He did make it worse."

"Yeah. What are we going to do about it?"

"How do you feel about breaking and entering?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," said Tucker. He rolled over on his bed to stare at the ceiling. "We do that pretty frequently."

"The city morgue. ME's office, specifically."

"There'll be guards," said Tucker, "what with the rumors and all."

"I've got the Box Ghost in my thermos. He's a good distraction."

"Transport?"

"Working on it. You'll take care of the security cameras and locks?"

"As long as they're digital," said Tucker, pulling up his data on the city cameras as they spoke. "The outside ones are, but I don't know about the insides. There might be analog machines in there. Tapes. Can't do anything to anything not on a network."

"I know, I know. Hey, maybe you could send a text to whoever's supposed to be guarding it tonight? Get them to leave?"

"Mmm. Maybe. If I could figure out who that would be."

"That could backfire, though," said Sam. "If they don't send messages like that. Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud."

Tucker pulled up a building map in another window. "I think we'll probably need more than just us, though. Remember the first time we had to move... it?"

"Yeah, but who else are we going to get to do this?"

"Jazz, maybe? She has a car, too. She can be transportation."

"Tucker, we're not looping Danny in on this. Do you really think that Jazz is going to be any more cool with this than Danny?"

"I don't know, Jazz can be pretty savage when it comes to protecting Danny."

The phone made Sam's considering hum crackle with static. "We do need transport," said Sam.

"Yeah. What were you looking into for that, anyway?"

"Ugh. Cult connections."

"Dude. Danny would not be happy if we gave his you know to a cult."

"Yeah, but he can steal it back from the cult with no guilt, unlike with the police."

"But what if he just gave it back to the police?" asked Tucker, looking up the city's purchasing records, trying to determine if they had any cameras that used tapes or that weren't internet connected in or near the morgue.

"Come on, he wouldn't do that."

"Probably not, but he does do weird stuff, sometimes. Like agree to an interview with the police and almost give away his secret identity."

"Yeah," said Sam. "You keep checking how feasible this is, and I'll call Jazz, okay?"

"Sure," said Tucker. "Talk to you later."

.

Jazz eased her car into the alley behind the building that housed the city morgue and ME's office.

"Stop here," said Tucker. "I can see their network."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Jazz whispered, putting the car into park.

"You don't have to whisper," said Tucker, sitting in the passenger's seat and typing away at his mobile workstation (he insisted that it wasn't a laptop). "No one is going to hear you. Okay, yeah, I'm on their wifi. Give me a minute."

"Take your time," said Sam, who was lying down in the back seat, dressed in blacks and grays, thin gloves over her hands. "Were you guys able to sneak out okay without Danny?"

"Yeah," said Tucker.

"It was a bit trickier without him," said Jazz. She was lucky that her parents wore earplugs to sleep, and she was fairly certain Danny was out of the house entirely. Fighting a ghost, probably. She always told him to wake her up before he left, so at least one person knew where he was and could help him, but he never did.

"Okay, Jazz, you can get closer, now, then Sam can hop out and Box 'em."

"That was fast," said Jazz, starting the car forward again.

"What can I say?" said Tucker. "Pure talen-"

Something in the car started shrieking. Jazz jumped, momentarily pressing too hard on the gas, and the car lurched forward. Sam swore.

"What is that?" asked Tucker, hands over his ears.

"Who care?" shouted Sam, over the noise. "Turn it off, turn it off!"

"It's the- It's the anti-ecto alarm! I told them not to put it on my car!" She leaned across Tucker and opened the glove box. Sure enough, a sleek chrome-and-green monstrosity sat in her poor, innocent glove box, flashing screens, dials, and indicator lights at them. The car cabin lit up like a disco.

Jazz and Tucker jabbed at buttons until the thing shut up.

"Okay," said Tucker. "I think we're going to have to abort. I'm gonna bet my aunt in Chicago heard that."

Jazz blushed. "Sorry guys," she said. She was going to have words with her parents after this. What if she'd been on the highway when that thing went off? They really didn't think these things through.

"We can't abort!" protested Sam. "We need to get the thing! Before they start running tests on it!"

Jazz started backing up the car.

"Yeah, I know, but we needed stealth. We don't have that anymore. Hold up, Jazz, I need to erase my presence from their system."

Sam grumbled. "What set it off, anyway. Boxy?"

"No, it looks like this was calibrated to only go off for a class seven or above," said Tucker, peering at the alarm.

"Class seven?" repeated Jazz. "But... You don't think Danny-"

"No, he's in the suburbs, dealing with Skulker." Jazz looked over at Tucker's computer to see the Ghost Watch app icon blinking in the corner of his screen. "This is Vlad. Crap."

The door made a thunk when Sam swung it too far out and it hit a wall. Jazz winced, but rolled down her window. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"We can't let Vlad get away with it!"

"And what are you going to do? Sam!"

"Getting back into the cameras," muttered Tucker, typing furiously.

"I'm calling Danny," said Jazz.

"Won't answer, he's fighting Skulker."

"Well, maybe he's finished!" said Jazz, dialing.

There was a flare of blue white light from up ahead and an angry shout. A glowing silhouette joined Sam's dark one. She had released the Box Ghost.

Jazz groaned. "Why did she do that now?"

"Shhh!" said Tucker. Something began to make little beeping noises. "Oh, jeez."

"What's that?"

"My ghost detector. It's tuned to Vlad." He opened his door half way. "Sam!" he shouted. "Incoming!"

She pressed herself to the side of the alley just in time to avoid a dark, horned figure swooping down on her from above. The Box Ghost was not so lucky.

"... and it's got a lower range," said Tucker, faintly.

Vlad Plasmius, rimmed in fuchsia light, floated twenty feet in the air. He had one hand around the Box Ghost's neck, the other full of neon pink fire. "Oh," he said, his voice echoing clearly in the alleyway. "It's you. What are you doing here, pest?"

"Uhhhhh," said the Box Ghost as Sam tried to make her way back to the car.

"And with Daniel's little friends no less?"

Sam broke into a run, slammed Tucker's door shut, yanked open the passenger door behind him, and slid in. Jazz wasted no time in slamming on the gas. If her car got a few scrapes, so be it.

There was a second Vlad behind them. She dropped her phone and slammed on the brakes. It was still ringing.

Smiling like a villain from a slasher movie, this second Vlad stepped intangibly into the car.

"Well, now," he said, smoothly. "What's this? Daniel's friends, but no Daniel? Whatever are the three of you doing here of all places? And at this hour?"

"What are you doing here?" asked Sam.

"No need to be rude, Samantha, dear," said Vlad. "Daniel doesn't know about your little excursion, does he? He's still across town, occupied with Skulker. You can tell him he won't have to worry anymore. I'll take good care of his body."

"Dude," said Tucker, "do you have any idea how gross that sounds?"

Vlad scowled and flicked his fingers. A ray of pink burned a quarter sized hole in the back of Tucker's headrest.

"If he had a problem with me taking it, he should have hidden it better," said Vlad. "I have no desire to have the existence of half ghosts revealed simply because Daniel hid his corpse in same park the police have their annual picnic!"

"Actually," said Tucker, "they usually have it in Marley Park. Aren't you the mayor? Shouldn't you know this?"

Vlad's scowl deepened further. "Drive safely, Jasmine." The duplicate dissolved into magenta and pink mist.

Sam sneezed. "Gross, I think I got him in my nose."

"Guys," said Tucker. "I've got alerts on the police lines, someone reported a disturbance. We really need to go."

.

"Vlad stole my," Danny waved his hands in the air in place of the word. "Are you serious? And you guys know, because you were going to try to steal it, and you didn't tell me?" His friends and sister looked sheepishly at the ground. "Why did you wait 'til now to tell me? I've been having anxiety attacks about it all night. I thought that the stupid ME had, I don't know, insomnia or something! It was Vlad?"

"Yeah," said Sam.

"Argh!" said Danny, starting to pace. Thank goodness his room was large enough to have a good pace in, even with three other teens in it. "I don't even want to think what he could be doing with it, but I am! What if- What if he goes full-bore Frankenstein and freaking reanimates it? What am I supposed to do then? And the police! They're going to think I did it, and there goes my credibility with the police!"

"You were on Ghost Watch fighting Skulker when it happened," offered Tucker.

"Ghosts can be in two places at once! The police know that! That's not a good enough alibi!" He put his hands on his face and groaned. "Am I going to have to break into Vlad's house? Again? He has to have a ghost shield up around it by now. And a human shield. And a ghost-human shield. I'm dead."

"You're not dead, Danny," said Jazz.

"I am dead. In ever sense of the word. Dead, I tell you, dead."

"Deep breaths," said Jazz. "You're hyperventilating."

It was true. He sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. "I don't even know what secret lair he's brought it to."

"Wait, you mean, you can't tell where it is?" asked Sam.

"No," said Danny. "If I could, I would have known when Vlad took it."

There was a howl from downstairs as someone rang the doorbell. Danny jumped up. "I'll get it," he said. The group bundled down the stairs, trying to keep up with him.

Before opening the door, Danny glanced out the window.

"Oh, heck, it's them."

"Them who?" asked Jazz.

"Them. The detectives!"

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"Alright," said Jones, looking at the place where Phantom's body should have been but wasn't. "This is officially too big for just one team. Paterson, Collins, what were you going to do today?"

"Interview high school kids," said Collins.

"Right. You're still going to do that. I'm going to get Murphy and Madison on the break-in, talking to witnesses, but first, your opinions."

"It wasn't Phantom," said Collins. "He could have just come in and taken it, at any time, not just the middle of the night."

"And he wouldn't have needed to take out the cameras and security system," said Paterson, looking over her shoulder at the tech people set up in one corner.

"It was a human. Or a ghost who didn't want us to know who they are," finished Collins.

"Great," said Jones. "That's what I thought, too. I was hoping you'd tell me I was wrong."

"Sorry, cap," said Collins.

"Go on, get out of here," said Jones, making a shooing motion.

.

"Still can't believe that his name is Wesley Weston," said Collins. "Or that he has a record for trespassing and stalking a classmate and claiming that he's a ghost."

"Want to bet that the classmate in question is Fenton?" asked Paterson.

"No thanks," said Collins. "It would have been better if the victim's name hadn't been withheld." He avoided the word 'wish.'

"Yeah, yeah," said Paterson. She knocked on the door.

A balding red haired man with thick glasses opened the door. "Oh," he said. "Please tell me this isn't about Wesley again. Do I need a lawyer?"

"He didn't do anything," said Collins, quickly. "We just want to ask him a few questions."

"It's unrelated to the stalking charges, which were dropped," added Paterson.

"Great," grumbled the man. He turned. "Wesley! The police want to talk to you!"

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"Well," said Collins, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "That was enlightening."

"His room belongs on a movie set," said Paterson. "Jeez Louise, we're going to have to keep an eye on that kid. He has a freaking conspiracy theory board."

"It was pretty convincing, though. The kid can talk."

"We need to confirm his data, though."

"Yeah. Talk to more witnesses. See if Fenton really does run off whenever Phantom shows up."

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"Fenton?" asked Paulina Sanchez, wrinkling her nose so prettily that Paterson suspected she practiced the expression in the mirror. "What about him? I thought we were talking about Phantom. Mi amor." She leaned a little farther into the doorway. She had not let the detectives inside. "Not Fenton."

"We're investigating a number of different angles, Miss," said Collins. "Now, if you could tell us, does he seem to leave class before ghost fights break out."

"Yeah," said Paulina. "He's got some kind of sixth sense thing going on, but he's such a coward. He only ever uses it to run away. Doesn't even try to warn anyone else! I don't know how his friends stand him."

.

"You're talking about Phantom?" asked Sophia LaMar. "You'll want my parents. I'm only an initiate. I'll go get them." She closed the door.

"Do we run away from the cult house?" asked Paterson.

"No, it'll make us look bad."

.

"You know," said Paterson, "if I'd wanted a lecture on how time doesn't exist, I'd drive over to the university and sit in on a class on relativity. Not whatever that was."

"At least now we know that ghosts can time travel?" asked Collins, weakly.

"Let's hurry up and get to Fenton's house," said Paterson. "Do you think he'll even talk to us?"

"Who knows?" asked Collins.