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c-e-d-dreamer · 3 years

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For AU Day for @nessianweek I thought I’d test out this College AU that’s been bouncing around my brain because I’m College AU trash that I’m considering writing a proper/chaptered fic for. Hope you enjoy! :)

Most days, University of Prythian feels like every other public college. All brooding brick buildings and precisely placed green spaces and students loudly milling about in droves. A group of frat boys throwing around a frisbee on the common. A group of girls in bikinis tops taking advantage of the late August sun. Shouts of “oh my god, hey” and “how was your summer” just barely drowning out crying parents dropping their kids off. It’s migraine inducing.

Nesta throws the car into park, the old Chevy only groaning slightly as it settles after the trek up to campus. She hears the doors open and close, but she just grips the wheel and closes her eyes, taking in three steadying breaths and hoping the oxygen can find a way to calm her spiking blood. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s a new year. After everything that happened last year, technically up should be the only direction. She hopes. Once Nesta feels like she has a hold of her frayed nerves, she slides out of the driver’s seat to find Feyre already excitedly pulling her bags from the trunk, settling them on the pavement next to the car. Elain comes up beside their youngest sister, pulling her own suitcases out.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer to your dorm, Elain?”

“I’m in Oakwood this year. It’s not that far a walk.”

Nesta nods, grabbing the last of Feyre’s bags and closing the trunk. Before Elain can wheel off with her bags, Feyre’s wrapping an arm around each of her sisters’ shoulders, a wide smile plastered across her face under her U of P baseball cap.

“The Archeron sisters are back together again!”

“Well, until Nesta graduates,” Elain reminds Feyre.

“Maybe she’ll do a fifth year, just for us.”

Nesta just raises an eyebrow at her sisters’ antics. A fifth year? Impossible. Not only because she takes her studies very seriously, keeping her GPA well above the average, but because the idea of spending an extra, unnecessary year in this place sounds like her own personal circle of hell. The sooner she can finish her degree and get on with the rest of her life, the better.

“Alright,” Feyre concedes. “Bad suggestion.”

With a wave and a promise to meet up for dinner later, Elain is off towards Oakwood Hall. Nesta hoists one of Feyre’s duffle bags onto her shoulder, following her youngest sister toward her own dorm hall. As she steps up onto the sidewalk, though, her shoulder collides with a firm body, Feyre’s bag almost falling out of her grip.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” Nesta seethes.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” a voice calls in return, already swallowed up by the groups of students moving in and out of the dorm hall.

Nesta rolls her eyes at the saccharine nickname, resettling the duffle on her shoulder and catching up to Feyre. Her sister’s dorm reminds Nesta of her own freshmen dorm from back in the day, simple and small, all white walls and plain wood furniture. Despite the things already in the room, Feyre’s roommate is nowhere to be seen.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Nesta asks, dropping the bag she had been holding onto Feyre’s bed.

“I should be good. Orientation starts in a few hours.”

A moment passes as the two sisters stare at one another. They aren’t exactly the most affectionate of families, hugging and that sort of thing. So with a small nod and smile, Nesta is on her way, back out of the dorm hall and to her car.

Luckily, the off campus apartment she’s staying in this year isn’t that long a drive, and when she walks through the door, Emerie is already inside, leaning against their kitchen counter, a fork poised between her fingers and what looks like a slice of chocolate cake perched on a plate.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Emerie drawls, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gives away the teasing nature.

“Hope you brought enough to share,” Nesta replies, eying up Emerie’s plate.

“Do I look like I’m made of money? Go to the dining hall and get your own.”

“When’s Gwyn meant to get in?”

“Not until later this week. I’m surprised you’re on campus this early.”

“Feyre has orientation this week. Plus I need to hit up the bookstore. I have Williams this semester.”

“That man seriously needs to get that stick out of his ass when it comes to having the “right edition” for his class.”

“Tell me about it,” Nesta sighs, sneaking her hand into the utensils drawer and then snagging a bite of Emerie’s cake before the female has a chance to react.

“Hey!” Emerie calls after Nesta as she retreats to her room. “You’re lucky I like you, Nesta Archeron!”

~ * * * ~

The campus bookstore is mostly filled with parents and baby-faced freshmen trying to decide which University of Prythian gear to spend all their money on, but once Nesta pushes back to where the shelves of textbooks live, the throngs of bodies thin out. She can’t help but run her finger along the spines of the books, all lined perfectly along the shelves. Each spine is a different color, a different texture, bold or curvy font declaring its title to the world, and while many are textbooks, that feel under her fingers is still a comfort. Like a heartbeat lives between the soft linen pages and beats in time with her own.

A turn around the corner and Nesta finds the section of books she needs. She scans the different titles, and when her eyes finally land on the one she needs, she can’t help the long sigh that looses from her lungs. Of course, it’s on the very top shelf. Nesta reaches her arm up, stretching up onto her tip-toes until the pads of her fingers just brush the spine of the book, trying to inch the book closer to the edge where she could get it down.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

Nesta falls back on her heels in surprise, the voice and nickname snagging on her memory. She whips her head around to find a guy leaning against the shelf, arms crossed casually across his chest and a smug smile plastered across his face. He’s tall with broad shoulders, dark curls pulled into a bun at the back of his head. Nesta’s eyes can’t help but snag on the lines of ink dancing across the skin of his arms and peeking out of the open cuts of his bro-tank. When her eyes dance back to his face, his hazel eyes are alight like he had clocked and was delighted in what she had been doing. It makes her brain crash back into action, a scowl settling easily across her features.

“You were the one who bumped into me earlier. Outside of Somerset Hall.”

“That was you?” the guy asks, not even being subtle as he checks Nesta out. “My apologies. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner.”

Nesta doesn’t even deen that with a response. With a scoff, she turns back toward the front of the bookstore. She can come back later for the book she needs, ideally when this insufferable man with his cocky grins and overconfidence is nowhere to be seen. As she weaves her way through the shelves and toward the exit, she pointedly ignores the heavy set of footsteps she can hear trailing behind her.

“At least tell me your name.”

“No.”

“No? Well that’s definitely an interesting name. My name’s Cassian by the way.”

“I don’t recall asking.”

“You didn’t have to. Your eyes were asking for you.”

That has Nesta halting in her steps. She whirls around and clearly her sudden stop has this Cassian thrown off, his own steps stumbling. Good. She likes having the upperhand.

“Does that line actually work for you?”

“Actually, I usually have to use less words. My ruggedly handsome looks do all the talking.”

“Rugged? Sure. But handsome?” Nesta pointedly rakes her eyes down his figure, and when they meet back with hazel, Cassian’s cock-sure grin slips the barest hint at the corner. “I don’t think so. You looked like you crawled out of a dumpster.”

Nesta expects his smile to fall fully at the jab, and she hopes it’s enough for him to leave her alone, but instead that smile is still stubbornly there. Even worse, it twists and shifts into a smirk, like this is all some kind of fun game. It makes Nesta’s heart give an extra kick in her chest, and before she can even think about dwelling on what that means, she turns on her heel.

“Goodbye, Cassian.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

~ * * * ~

On Thursday, Nesta finds herself at the dining hall. It’s a little late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so luckily the place is blessedly not too crowded, just a few pockets of students talking and laughing at various tables. She’s standing in front of the pastry display when her phone starts buzzing incessantly, and she slides it out of her pocket to find Feyre going off in their sister group chat.

I just met the most attractive man I have ever seen

I’m not fucking around. HIS FACE

And he called me darling

He asked me to drinks tomorrow night!

“I personally prefer the blueberry muffins.”

Nesta snaps her attention to her left to find Cassian standing there, that same wide and cocky grin from the bookstore settled across his face. His hair is down today, soft curls framing his face and brushing against his cotton tee covered shoulders.

“You again,” Nesta sighs.

“Isn’t it funny how we keep meeting?”

“Funny isn’t the word I would use.”

“It’s almost like the Universe keeps pushing us together.”

“Or you’re stalking me.”

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” Cassian says, tossing a wink Nesta’s way.

“And why would I do that?”

“I thought we already established the fact I’m ruggedly handsome?”

“Pretty sure the only thing we’ve established is that you’re full of yourself.”

Nesta turns and snags one of the wrapped chocolate chip muffins out of the display case, fully prepared to end this conversation and enjoy her snack in peace.

“You forgot something the other day, you know.”

Nesta looks back toward Cassian where he has an outstretched hand between them. There, clutched between his fingers, is the book she went to the campus bookstore to pick up. She blinks a few times at the wide script proclaiming Art Through the Ages, the cogs in her brain tripping over one another and trying to comprehend the sight before her. Her hand begins to reach out to take the book before she snaps it back to her side, her eyes locking back on Cassian’s face.

“You got the book I needed?”

“The perfect excuse to find and talk to you again.”

“Well, I can’t accept it.”

“Then you can Venmo me,” Cassian says, leaning into Nesta’s space and pressing the book into her hands. “And your Venmo will have your name, won’t it? So it’s a win-win.”

This close up, Nesta can see all the green vines and gold flecks that make up his hazel eyes. The way his nose sits just off kilter like it’s been broken and set not quite right and the stubble pushing through along his jawline. She can feel the warmth that seems to radiate off his person in rolling waves. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“It’s Nesta,” she offers, taking a step back.

“Nesta,” Cassian says, like he’s testing the weight of her name on his tongue. “Well, Nesta, how about that dinner? The offer still stands. Or we could skip straight to dessert.”

Nesta lets out a snort at the comment. She’s sure the sound isn’t particularly attractive, but she can’t help it. The audacity of this man.

“Only in your dreams,” Nesta quips, turning on her heel and heading toward the register to pay for her muffin.

“Is that a promise?”

She pretends she doesn’t hear him as she swipes her meal card and makes for the dining hall exit. She can feel Cassian’s eyes tracking her the whole way.

Later, when Nesta gets back to her room and is thumbing through Art Through the Ages, she finds a note folded up between the pages. She opens up the paper to find an unfamiliar scrawl, simple black lines spelling out ‘Cassian’ and ten digits. She hesitates for only a moment before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash.

~ * * * ~

Classes start up on Monday, and Nesta is ready to throw herself back into her books, notes, and work. She has a jammed packed schedule this semester, knocking out the rest of her general education credit requirements needed to graduate on time. The perfect distraction to keep her mind busy. At least, she was able to squeeze in enough classes that actually interest her, including a course on Early Women Writers.

On Tuesday, she walks into the science building and her chemistry class. She finds a lab table a few spots back from the front, settling onto one of the stools. She pulls her textbook and laptop from her bag and is just typing in her laptop password when she feels a presence behind her.

“I guess I should thank you for coming through on your promise. The best dreams I’ve ever had.”

Nesta can’t stop the pained sigh that pulls its way out her lungs. She rubs a hand down her face before turning to the right, just in time to find Cassian sliding into the stool beside her. He has another cotton tee on, his hair once again pulled up into a bun style.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking this class.”

Cassian reaches into his backpack and pulls out his own chemistry textbook, holding it up as some sort of proof.

“The Universe strikes again.”

“So you keep saying, but clearly the Universe has bad taste.”

Cassian throws his head back and laughs at the comment, surprising Nesta with his reaction and earning them a few curious looks from the rest of the class. The sound is deep and warm, seeming to radiate from deep within his chest. His shoulders shake like his large frame isn’t enough to contain the sound, and Nesta finds herself staring at the crinkles that appear beside his eyes.

“Alright, class. Welcome to chemistry.”

A hush falls over the whole room as the professor strides in the door and to the front of the room. She hands a small stack of syllabus sheets to each person sitting at the front to be passed back and a blank seating chart to fill in is passed between the tables. The professor goes through the syllabus for much of the allotted class time, and Nesta makes notes in the margins of hers about the grading system and circles the important deadlines she’ll need to remember.

“I hope you’re comfortable with where you’re sitting and who you’re sitting with,” the professor addresses the class an hour later. “They’ll be your lab partner for the rest of the semester.”

Nesta wants to groan as she buries her face in her hands. How did this become her life? As if simply seeing Cassian’s insufferable face three times a week for this class isn’t enough, now they actually have to interact and work with one another. If Cassian’s theory about this being the Universe's doing is correct, Nesta is pretty sure the Universe is just laughing in her face now.

“Well, would you look at that, Nes,” Cassian drawls from beside her. “Another point for the Universe.”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Nesta mutters from between her fingers.

“As long as we get to cuddle a little beforehand.”

“Cute,” Nesta says, putting as much dry sarcasm as she can behind the single word.

“You know, lab partner,” Cassian offers while he stands up and slings his backpack across his shoulders. “I think it’s going to be a great semester.”

#my fic #acotar #nessianweek2021 #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian

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muilkyu · 4 years

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Treasure vs A Bad Day

🐷 Hyunsuk

"Hello?"

A chuckle comes out of the phone, "Did you just wake up?"

You yawn into the phone prompting another chuckle to come from Hyunsuk, "Yeah. I was tired after class so I came home and went right to sleep."

"How was class?"

"So boring. I forgot my laptop so I had to take paper notes. I even had to tap the guy in front of me to ask. It was embarrassing," you groan.

"Sounds so dreadful," he replies, voice coming out with a hint of teasing.

"It was," you say, shifting you look around the room to look at the clock on the wall, "When are you coming back?"

"That's why I called. Do you want to go get food?"

"What are we going to get?" You question.

"You can pick might cheer you up," he replies. That night you settle for pasta which you'll both admit was overpriced, but it made you happy.

🐼 Jihoon

"Frowning causes wrinkles," Jihoon says walking into my bedroom.

"Does it look like I care," you respond, shrinking further into your blanket.

He signs making his way to the windows opening the curtains letting in the sunlight, "Get up right now."

"No, leave me alone."

"You know I can't do that," he replies sitting down on the side of my bed, "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Just everything today is irritating."

He nods, "Okay, I understand that, but that doesn't mean you can't make today a good day. Let's go on a walk."

"That's the last thing I want to do right now."

"Come on trust me."

You look up at him. You can see that he is trying so you groan sitting up, "Fine now get out I need to change."

🐯 Yoshi

"Hey come to the kitchen!" Yoshi shouts.

"Okay," you yell back. Shuffling over to the kitchen you are met with a smiling Yoshi holding a plate of cookies.

"Did you make these?"

"I attempted to yes. Here, try one. I hope they taste good."

Reaching for a cookie you look over the plate. They look like regular chocolate chip cookies with caramel drizzled on top. The color is golden brown so he cooked them at the right temperature. Grabbing a cookie you take a bite.

"Is it good?"

"They are delicious," you reply, taking another bite it melts in your mouth right away.

His eyes widened like he's shocked to hear the answer, "Really?"

"Yeah. What did you make cookies though I have some in the pantry?"

He sets down the plate wiping his hands on your apron he has on, "You looked a little bit down today so I thought I would cheer you up."

"That's so sweet. Thank you." You reply before giving him a hug. Honestly, you had no idea Yoshi was paying so much attention to you. This sudden gift makes you love him a bit more.

🐨 Junkyu

"It's okay you're okay," Junkyu comforts rubbing small circles into your back.

"I messed everything up. I won't graduate, then I'll have to go back home and I already have a life here."

"No, you can just take a summer course."

"Then I'll miss out on our summer," you say pushing your head farther into your knees, "I don't want you stuck at the library with me."

Sighing he runs his fingers through his head, "It won't matter as long as you get to stay here. We can study at some pretty cafes around Seoul and outside as well. The summer won't be a bummer as long as your here."

Slowly you lift your head out of your knees facing him, pout still hanging strong on your lips, "Are you sure? What are you gonna do while I'm studying?"

He thinks for a second the thought never came across his mind before he proposed the idea, "I don't know but there is no way I'm letting you go back home. You are here to stay."

🐹 Mashiho

"On a scale from 1 to 10, how sad are you?"

"Ten," you reply.

"That bad?" He questions.

"Yeah, migraine, and I have math homework."

"I can't help you with your math homework, but I can get you some ibuprofen."

Nodding in agreement you smile sadly, "That would be great."

Mashiho is already making his way to the door, "I'll be right back then. You're getting cuddles when I get back!" He adds on at the end before he's out the door.

🦁 Jaehyuk

"Come on one smile."

"I'm smiling see," you reply, smiling but it doesn't reach the eyes.

"That is a fake smile. I want a real smile," he says.

"Jae I'm not in the mood," you reply.

"Why not," he questions.

You look down at the table, "I just don't feel happy today."

"Ahh okay well is there a reason?"

You shake your head, "Not really I just woke up and it felt like it was a bad day."

He reaches for your hand holding it, "Why did you tell me?"

"You were so happy this morning I didn't want to ruin your day."

"No matter what I'm feeling you should be able to tell me how you are feeling," he tells you, he starts playing with one of the rings on your finger, "I'm your boyfriend. I want you to talk to me."

You nod knowing he is right, "Yeah, I'm sorry. I guess I just didn't know how to tell you."

Smiling he says, "You can always tell me."

Giving him a little smile back you reply, "I will."

🤖 Asahi

Mindlessly you click through the TV channels. Nothing good is on or well at least anything you currently want to watch. Groaning, you toss the remote down and reach your phone. There are a bunch of missed calls and messages from your friends. The thought of responding to them runs through your mind, but instead, you just swipe away the notifications.

One of them catches your eye though actually, two new messages do. Both are from your boyfriend so you skin over them.

Asahi

I'm coming over with food.

I'll be there in 10 minutes.

The messages were sent 10 minutes ago which means he'll be here any second. Just as you get up to look out the window to see if he's outside the bell to the door is already buzzing. Asahi doesn't even say hello as he walks in just walking to the table and setting down the food.

"Are you hungry?" He questions already opening up what looks like Bibimbap.

"Not feeling that hungry right now actually," you reply taking a seat across from him.

He stops adding the bean sprouts to his bowl, "If you're feeling down you should eat still."

"How did you know I wasn't in a good mood," you ask, surprised he was able to randomly guess how you were feeling.

He mixes up his bowl and without looking up replies, "I had a feeling so I brought you some comfort food and now I'm here to listen," he grabs a bit of food onto his spoon leaning over to bring it to you, "Now eat and tell me everything you have on your mind."

🦊 Yedam

Notes have to be the most boring thing in the world. You write them for hours only to study them and then take the quiz and nothing you wrote to be on the quiz. It's boring yet primitive to get through school.

Currently, you're at cram school, it's already 7 pm. Which isn't that late, but now you have a hand cramp from writing all day. Yedam wasn't able to join you today so here you sit face timing him instead.

"Korea is trying to kill me," you complain, placing your pencil down. You rub your eyes to stop from feeling sleepy.

"You only have 2 more pages to study," he says back.

"2 pages too many," you reply glaring at the textbook. The font is the size of an ant and it's history. Not even Korean history, world history about America, nothing fun at all.

"If you're like this I wonder how you studied back home."

"Back home I studied, but I only studied a few hours. Most of the time we had study guides so we knew what was on the test."

"Just think of this as a longer one than. It's just a self-written one with probably way more words."

You pout at the screen, "It still sucks. How am I supposed to remember all of this?"

"I'll help you study."

"No, you already have so much going on," you refuse.

"We can study together. It might actually help us. You can tutor me and vice versa," he suggests.

"Are you sure?"

"Why not. What could go so wrong?"

🐰 Doyoung

"Hot chocolate, coffee, or water?"

"What about a Vanilla Bean Frappe made with almond milk and a little caramel drizzle."

"I don't believe this is a Starbucks," he laughs.

"Then what is the point? It's either that or I'm going back to bed."

"Okay so you've decided to be grumpy today," he responds walking back into the living room.

"I've been grumpy all day. Which you would know if you weren't late today."

"Oh, so this is why you're mad," he replies, eyebrows raised.

"Not mad, 'grumpy'. I'm also extremely tired from staying up waiting for you," you say with a yawn following.

"Do you just want to go lay down?" He suggests.

You nod, "I want to take a nap while listening to sad music."

"Okay," he replies walking over to the couch to sit. He taps his lap, "Lay down here."

So you lay your hard down on his lap, "Where is my music?"

"Right away your majesty," he teases, pulling out his phone.

"Majesty?" You question, then you smirk, "I could get used to that."

🐏 Haruto

"I'm here."

You sit up wiping the tears from your face. You call back to the voice, "Bedroom."

A few shuffles are heard before your door opens. A concerned Haruto appears walking over to you, "Awee babe," He says so more tears come down your face. Arms wrap around you pulling you into a hug, "Are you okay?"

Shaking your head you place your head in his neck. Giving him a small reply of 'no' which has him holding you tighter.

"I'm here okay?" He comforts. Weakly you nod your head back.

"I'm getting you all wet."

"It's fine," he laughs lightly, "I wonder how bad today was for you to be this shaken up."

Burying your head deeper into his neck you sigh, "It was terrible."

"I bet. Look, we don't have to talk about it until you're ready."

"Okay."

🐺 Jeongwoo

"Why is she so annoying?" You groan.

"I don't even know who you are talking about."

"I told you that one girl at lunch, she keeps rolling her eyes at me. I haven't even talked to her before. I don't even know her name," you continue on.

"Okay slow down. When did she start this?"

You shrug, "It was so random. I was walking in line with some friends getting food and we made eye contact. Jeongwoo I've never seen this girl before yet she's so rude to me."

"Why does it matter then?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighs, "Well it's like you said, you don't know her. People are mean for no reason sometimes. Don't let it get to you."

You think it through knowing that he is right, "Still makes me mad."

"How about we go get some ice cream so you cool off?" He suggests.

"From the convenience store or Baskin Robbins?"

"Which one do you want?"

"Baskin Robbins. I'll pay, let's go!"

🐮 Junghwan

"I don't want to go."

Junghwan pouts, confused at the sudden change in your mood, "Why not? You've been wanting to go for weeks."

"I know just now I'm not interested anymore," you respond, crossing your arms.

Junghwan stops walking to pull you aside. He looks you up and down before asking, "You've been waiting for this shop to open up for months and now you don't wanna go. So can you tell me what's wrong?"

"It's nothing serious," you reply, uncrossing your arms. It doesn't seem to convince him because his eyebrows are still raised, "Fine there is a reason, but I don't wanna tell you."

"Why not?"

You shrug, "I don't wanna talk about it right now. We are in the middle of the street Junghwan."

"We are in a park," he points out, so you send him a small glare. He seems to get the message, "But I understand. Look we will do whatever you want today."

"Really?"

"Yeah, anything to make you happy again."

Officially back! Requests are opened again for everything but fics!

Anon request.

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ecto-american · 4 years

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If Found Please Return to Danny Phantom

Phic Phight Oneshot for @imperfection-at-itsfinest: When Jack manages to get his hands on Danny Phantom's ghost hunting logbook, an investigation reveals some information about ghosts and the infamous specter himself that a scientific study would never cover.

Read on FFN and AO3

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It would be wrong of him to read it.

Jack kept staring at the book in his hands. It resembled a diary, the front design being colorless but a pressed design. The moon with stars, with no words, and the diary itself felt unusually thin. There was no lock, as if it was almost inviting him to just read it. Jack had, in fact, already opened to the first page, and the first words greeted him. In a standard font read: If Found, Please Return to: and the name scrawled, in surprisingly tidy handwriting, was the name Danny Phantom.

What an absolute find. It was pure dumb luck. He had seen Phantom drop it, but Jack had went looking for it in hopes that the ghost teen had dropped one of the stolen Fenton gadgets. Only to recover...this book that he had taken home and into the privacy of his lab for study.

The idea of Phantom keeping a diary was kinda funny. He never struck Jack as the type to write down his deepest darkest secrets or teenage embarrassments in a book. That would imply that the ghost had some kind of emotions. They didn’t. They were blobs of ectoplasmic energy.

So it should be okay for him to read, right? Why was he so hesitant? Well...it was an invasion of privacy. But it was fine. Phantom dropped it in the park. Phantom was a menace to society. There was likely evidence in this journal that could explain all of the ghost boy’s terrible deeds, that could prove that he truly was evil. This diary could change everything.

...Jack had children though, and he knew both were avidly creative. Scrapbooking, drawing, painting, writing. They were stress outlets for his girls, and he wouldn’t ever dare dream of invading their privacy like that. So he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Phantom deserved privacy, right?

“Jack? Are you coming to dinner?” Maddie’s voice snapped him from his thought process. She hadn’t made a noise as she came down the stairs. But Maddie was a much better stealth hunter than him.

“Yes, yes! Sorry, I was distracted,” Jack apologized. He set the book down on the table. Maddie rose an eyebrow at him.

“Did you get a new ectobiology book?” she asked. His eyes glanced to the book, and he shook his head no. Maddie came over to him, studying the book cover. Of course, it didn’t resemble any of the scientific texts that they owned.

“I don’t know how to explain it…” Jack said slowly. He held it out to her. Maddie accepted it.

“This looks like it belongs to the kids,” she stated. She opened the first page, and Jack saw her eyes widen. Her breath hitched, and she looked up to him “Jack...where did you...get this?”

“He dropped it during a fight,” he replied. “I thought it was Fenton tech, but…”

Her eyes sparkled, and she shut the book. A wide grin had appeared, and she threw her arms around her husband.

“Oh Jack! This could teach us so much! If this really is a journal or some kind of diary, then he may have recorded motivations! Thoughts! We can really get into how Phantom thinks and a raw, honest, firsthand account from Phantom himself! This changes everything!”

She was right. She was absolutely right, and he hugged her back. They were scientists first and foremost, and this journal could fill in so many missing blanks about ghosts. It was a starting off point. Jack’s mind raced with all the things they could possibly learn. Just from a simple peek of the book. That was worth more than the invasion of privacy of a ghost that caused so much havoc, destruction and pain.

“We should look at it right now!” he exclaimed. Maddie pulled away with a small frown.

“After dinner,” she reminded him. “I finally got everybody corralled upstairs for a family dinner. It’s nearly impossible to get either of the girls at the same time.”

“Oh, right!” Jack nearly slapped his forehead. Yes, they were scientists first and foremost, but before even that, they were Mom and Dad. “First thing after dinner.”

“First thing after dinner,” she agreed with a smile.

Upstairs, he saw that Jazz was already serving herself. Chicken, mashed potatoes and peas. His youngest was pouring iced tea into glasses for everybody.

“Hey Ghost-kateers!” Jack greeted cheerfully with a grin. Both kids groaned in embarrassment. Perfect.

“Daaad!” his youngest complained, a whine hitching as she put the pitcher of ice tea back. “I told you, if I’m going to be some kind of ye olde soldier type, I wanna be a knight, like at the renaissance fair.”

“Ah, but if you’re a ghost-kateer, you can get an anti-ghost musket!” Jack teased. As he walked past her to get his own food, he playfully ruffled her pixie-cut hair. She waved his hand away.

“But as a ghost knight, I can get a cool sword!” she protested. Jack shook his head in fake disappointment.

“Never bring to a ghost sword to a ghost musket fight, baby boo,” her dad replied.

“Can’t shoot what you can’t see!” she shot back with a grin. Jack had to hand it to her, and he just chuckled.

“Can we please have a ghost free dinner?” Jazz scowled.

“Yes, yes, let’s save ghosts for after dinner,” Maddie agreed. Jazz shot her a grateful look, and Jack focused on getting his serving of dinner from the stove. His youngest pushed her sleeves up, exhaling. Jack stole a look at her and frowned. She had some sweat collected on her forehead.

“Honey if you're hot, you can just take your sweatshirt off,” he told her. She shook her head no.

“No, I'm fine,” she insisted. Jack was skeptical.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Mhm!”

Jack shrugged a bit. She was always insisting on wearing a hoodie, no matter the weather. If she got hot enough, she’d take it off. No need to force it. He got his food and took his seat.

“How's school going?” Maddie questioned. Jazz lit up a bit, and her sister flinched. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at her youngest.

“I managed to get a B on my chemistry test,” the youngest spoke up with a forced smile.

“That’s excellent!” Maddie’s demeanor shifted as she smiled warmly. “Keep it up!”

“Yeah!” The youngest seemed to visibly relax. “Sam’s been helping me study.”

“That’s good, I always studied better when V-man or your mom helped me,” Jack nodded at her as he cut up his chicken.

“Oh it’s true, I used to help your father study for all of our shared classes,” Maddie confirmed. “Otherwise he’d get so distracted.”

“Yeah, Sam just explains it super well,” their daughter agreed. “Tucker’s been going over math with me a bit, which helps some.”

“Well if you need a tutor, just let us know, and we’ll help you arrange one,” Maddie smiled. “What about you, Jazz?”

“Pretty good,” she replied. “Mr. Lancer asked if I wanted to be his TA this summer, which I really do. It’ll look good on a college application, and I might even get paid!”

“Have you been narrowing down where you might wanna go?” Jack asked. Jazz eagerly nodded.

“Yeah! Oxford is my number one choice, but I also would love to go to Yale or Stanford. I’ve been talking with the college counselor about what else might look good on an application for them that I can do over the summer. I wrote them down in my planner notebook earlier-”

“Hey, that kinda reminds me,” her sister interrupted. “Have you guys seen one of my notebooks? I think I lost it,” she asked them. Jack stared at her. The reminder of the notebook he actually had found. Maddie seemed unbothered by the question. This wasn’t unusual, for the parents to have to play “where’s my stuff?” with the kids.

“What notebook?” Jazz asked hesitantly.

“My important one,” came the reply. Jazz frowned lightly.

“Sorry, princess, haven’t seen any notebooks laying around,” Jack replied. He saw the briefest of a cringe cross his youngest’s features. “Did you leave it at school?” Her shoulders slumped.

“I don’t think so?” she said hesitantly. “I’ll have to check tomorrow. I was so sure I had it earlier…” Her voice trailed off before she forced a smile. “If you see it, let me know!” She picked up a forkful of chicken, only to freeze. The clattering made Jack glance up curiously as she was turning her attention to Maddie. “Can I be excused? I have some homework to get done.”

Maddie let out a soft sigh. So much for family dinner.

“Of course, just make sure you come back down before you go to bed to get your chores done,” Maddie nodded at her. The young Fenton snapped to her feet with a thanks, fully abandoning her dinner as she went to the stairs. Jazz stared after her sister, craning her neck to track her movements before hurriedly shoveling more mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“Uh, I’m not that hungry, and I totally forgot to do this online assignment,” Jazz spoke, standing up, taking hers and her sister’s plate. She was already walking away before either parent could truly give permission. “I’ll put our plates up and clean up in a bit!”

“A-alright?” Jack hesitated, watching his other child put the plates on the counter before rushing up as well. Another child down. They seemed to grow up so fast.

“Least they’re doing homework,” Maddie sighed lightly, shaking her head before taking a drink of her tea. “Oh well. Might as well take their lead and eat in the lab?”

“Please,” Jack agreed. He stood up, taking his plate. “I’m dying to see what Phantom has to say.”

January 10

Skulker: 1; captured

Ectopuss: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 8; captured

Ember: Fought; got away

Fenton Thermos: half-full

Fenton Fisher: untangled

January 11

Vultures: 1; got away

Cujo: 1; played fetch and he went back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: Full

Ghost Bazooka: overheated and doesn’t shoot anymore, take apart and fix it

January 12

Skulker: 2; got away

Box Ghost: 3; captured

Sidney: 2; got away

Fenton Fisher: tangled, untangle asap

January 13

Skulker: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 4; got away

Fenton Thermos: damaged, won’t suck up ghosts

I met a new ghost today named Desiree. She got away, but it allowed me to discover a new ghost power. Ghost ray.

Maddie furrowed her brow as she studied the words. She stood at the table, her dinner half-forgotten as she thought on the words.

“It sounds like a record,” Jack mused, and he ate another spoonful of peas. Maddie nodded in agreement.

“I think we found Phantom’s logbook,” she agreed. “I’m assuming these are the ghosts he’s fought. And he seems to be recording his powers too. This is huge, we can match up what we know about his powers and what he’s claiming.”

“And he’s recording the status of our equipment.” Jack frowned. “Why would he care?”

“Yeah, he made note that he was going to fix the Fenton Bazooka too,” Maddie pointed out. The scientist flipped through the pages, only to stop at a page, staring curiously. Maddie laid the journal on the table, pressing the spine so that the pages stayed open. She read the page aloud to Jack.

December 19

I hate my life. I hate this existence. I look in the mirror and wonder why it has to be this way. Why am I the one cursed to be this freak? Why is everything about me and my body wrong? For once, I wish something about me was normal, that somebody about me could be right. If Desiree wasn’t such an unreliable asshole with wishes, I’d give everything I have to wish that life could, for once, allow me to be a normal teenage boy.

Jack listened to her in a stumped silence. This couldn’t have been a pre-death thought process of a moody teenager. It was written too recently, and the words hit a sorrowful chord to him. He didn’t intend to, but he quickly began to feel sorry for Phantom. He was very young. It couldn’t have been easy to lose everything at that age. His daughter was his age. Jack cleared his throat.

“It’s not just a log then?” Jack questioned. Maddie shook her head, flipping the pages back.

“No, I think it’s a mix. There’s still records of ghosts and FentonWorks equipment,” she replied. Using a leg, she pulled a wheeled chair to her to sit in. She leaned back, and she pulled the journal to her. After a moment of flipping through and scanning pages, she settled on a page about a third of the way through. “It seems like this is when he began to record things other than just ghosts.”

“What’s it say?” Jack wondered. Maddie read aloud the next few entries as Jack silently continued to eat.

April 4

I only fought this shitty panther today, and he still got away. I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe he got away. I was too slow. All I do is fuck up. There’s ghostly activity happening around the school, and I just can’t figure it out. I feel like I can’t stop them anymore. I don’t know what’s going on, why I suddenly suck so much. I honestly probably just always sucked, and now it’s starting to hit me. [scribbles] and [scribbles] were trying to make me feel better, but I fucked up. It was only one ghost today, and I couldn’t catch them. It destroyed an entire store, and it’s my fault.

April 8

No ghosts today, surprisingly. But [scribbles] has been acting weird lately. The other day she poked and prodded me at dinner. No clue what that’s about. She also tried to give me this speech that I can talk to her about anything, and that she’d love me no matter what. That makes me think she found my binder. I’m honestly kinda freaking out. I knew I shouldn’t have left it out like that. She’s such a nosy know it all.

“Phantom must keep more records than just this,” Maddie lightly mused. “He has an entire binder full of information that somebody discovered.”

“Maybe on other ghosts?” Jack theorized. “He’s recording his fights, he must be also recording information about them.” Maddie’s eyes lit up.

“That makes so much sense,” she agreed. “He probably keeps so many kinds of things written down and logged. I wonder where he’s keeping it? Obviously paper, which is a bit odd. I figured a teenager would move to the digital age…” Maddie paused.

“Maybe he’s older than we think he is?” Jack suggested. “He could have died fifty years ago, and just be more comfortable with writing things down.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Maddie mused. She put down the notebook to take a long sip of her drink. Jack picked it up to observe the page she read.

“Phantom has neat handwriting,” he noted. “He’s not fighting ghosts when he writes these.” Jack’s eyes scanned the words. “...I wonder who he’s scribbled out.”

“Allies?” Maddie shrugged. “He probably went back and blacked out some of the names. Privacy. Especially if this isn’t the first time he’s lost this.”

It made the most logical sense. Jack skipped the purely log entries to one that had more written, and he read it aloud to his wife.

April 10

She was feeding on us. Spectra, the Casper High “psychologist” was feeding on emotions, like some kind of emotional vampire but she’s a ghost. It’s so scary. I saw her do it. She asked [scribbles] and [scribbles] about their lives. What made them unhappy, and why. And when they left, I saw her absorb? I guess how I’d describe it? She absorbed the energy into her skin and it just seemed to instantly revive her, and it made her happy. When she did it to me, I could just look in her eyes and know that she enjoyed every minute of my misery. I managed to stop her, with [scribbles] helping me. It was weird. She didn’t seem afraid of me. I don’t know why.

Spectra: 2; captured

“Ghosts can feed off of energy!” Maddie exclaimed. “Human energy! We always suspected it, but this is confirming something!” Jack glanced up at her excitedly. It was the first real, true ghostly discovery that Phantom was revealing to them.

April 13

All I do is fuck up lately. Because of me, this ghost dog just absolutely has been causing havoc on this girl’s life. She blames me. And I don’t blame her. I ruined her entire life. She lost her house because of me. I didn’t mean to. I tried to stop the dog, but he just won’t respond to anything I say. I can’t capture him. I’ve been trying. I’ve been just calling the dog Cujo. After the Stephen King book, because damn is this dog giving me one fucking nightmare of a time.

Cujo: 3, got away

April 16

[scribbles] kissed me. It was to force me to change back, and it worked, but she kissed me. It was great. She smelled like lavender. I don’t think my heart’s ever beaten so fast. Afterwards she clarified to me that it was just a fake-out make-out. It didn’t feel like it. I don’t want it to be. But she’s my best friend, and I can’t lose her. So I agreed, and when I came home I cried. My dad caught me, and I pretended it was just girl problems, even though that excuse made me feel even worse. He got me some ice cream, and we watched Star Trek together. It didn’t really help that much, if I’m being honest.

Anyway, apparently Cujo’s trained. He knows his commands. [scribbles] thinks it’s because he was a guard dog when he was alive for Axion Labs. For a guard dog, he’s such a playful puppy though, he loves his squeaky toy. And [scribbles] became a hunter specifically to kick my ass. It’s my lucky month. But I deserve it. Will there ever be a day where I actually can do more good than bad?

Skulker: 1; captured

[Scribbles]: 1 Red Huntress

Cujo: 1, got away

“Phantom has a family?” Maddie wondered. She chewed on her food as she thought. Jack shrugged, an odd, unsettled feeling hitting him as he put the book down for a moment. He used his spoon to push around his peas.

“I mean, we all do,” Jack reminded her. “Just...I didn’t think Phantom still talked to his family. After his death. Or did such...non-ghost things with them.” Watching Star Trek with his dad? Jack did that with his own kids all the time. It was his and his youngest daughter’s favorite show to watch together. Jazz typically preferred documentary series, and Maddie was too bothered by scientific inaccuracies to really enjoy science fiction. So it was always “their thing” and knowing that Phantom did it too was...too human.

“Yeah, I didn’t...really expect him to still be haunting them,” Maddie said. Jack could tell that this was disturbing her a little.

“But ghosts can retain their memories from life it seems,” Jack spoke up. Maddie stared at him. “The dog remembers commands from his life as a guard dog. What extent, I’m not sure.” Maddie hummed curiously.

Jack picked the book up again, skipping through more boring logs to other words.

April 29

Ember: 2; captured

Fenton Thermos: full, empty

The past few weeks have been terrible. I have definitely come to the conclusion that I really am developing a crush on [scribbles]. Or maybe I always had one, I dunno. Is this really just an effect from Ember’s supposed spell? Does ghostly mind control really last? I think I always knew that I liked her though. I mean, ever since I told her that [scribbles], she’s been so supportive. She even cut my hair for me, which really pissed my parents off, but they ended up admitting that I looked better with my hair short anyway. Almost like it’s meant to be, huh? Ha. [scribbles] is also one of the only two people who know my deeper secret. She’s been so supportive through that too. She calls me Danny, and every time she refers to me as that, it makes my heart go crazy.

But would she even like me? Would she even wanna be with somebody like me? I don’t think I’d be her type. Some other friends I met at this local support group have complained about the struggles of dating. The stories are depressing, and it makes me worried that while [scribbles] will always love and accept me as a friend, that she’d never be able to love me as a boyfriend. I hate my life.

“Aw, Phantom has a little girlfriend,” Jack half-joked, only for goosebumps to raise and an odd chill run down his spine. He looked to Maddie for her opinion, and her face was scrunched up.

“That’s a bit creepy,” she commented. “He’s pretending to be human.”

“I dunno, Mads,” Jack shrugged. He re-read the ghostly teen’s internal conflicts. “Why would he pretend to be human in a journal that nobody’s meant to read?”

“He has to be sharing it with his allies,” she argued. “Those people he’s been scribbling out. Phantom has to be pretending for them. To keep them around. He even mentioned ghostly mind control.”

She pushed her mostly-finished plate from herself, motioning for Jack to hand over the journal. He complied, and Maddie flipped through it. She stopped, and she set the journal down on the table once more. Leaning over, she studied the spine. A finger ran along the inner spine, and she frowned.

“Pages are missing,” she noticed. Jack pushed his plate out of the way to lean over as well.

Indeed, the top of the diary revealed that it was meant to be a normal, full diary. Now that Maddie pointed it out, it looked like well over a fourth of the diary had missing pages. Jack squinted, pulling his hood over his eyes. He used his googles to better examine.

“They weren’t ripped out, like in a ghost fight,” Jack told her. He pointed to what remained of a page, a barely noticeable strip. “It was carefully cut out.” Maddie narrowed her eyes to get a better look.

“You’re right,” she mused. “Phantom did this purposefully. Probably to hide stuff from his allies.”

“But why hide some stuff and not others?” Jack wondered aloud. “Clearly this girlfriend figure is an ally, but he can’t be...sharing this with her, right?” Maddie pulled back from the notebook to lean in her chair with a heavy sigh.

“...I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think he would. But he’s also a ghost, they do weird things.” Jack didn’t know how to reply, and so he continued to read.

May 16

The past few days have been so full of drama. Walker ruined my life. He absolutely ruined it. He set out to make me the most hated person in Amity Park out of pure spite, and he succeeded. I’m public enemy number one. I can never win. For a while now, I had debated telling my parents, because I so desperately want their support, but they were part of the news coverage calling me a disgusting, evil ghost. I ended up crying yesterday. I don’t think they’ll ever truly love me if they knew. I also failed Wulf. Another failure on my plate. I’m just waiting for it to all crash down on me.

Walker: 1; sent to the GZ

Wulf: 1; sent to the GZ

Walker’s goons: at least 14, all captured

Fenton Thermos: overflowingly full

“Oh this is just becoming nonsense,” Maddie complained. “He’s lying. We were there, Jack! We saw him attack us.”

“I know, I know, he did, yeah, he did,” Jack tried to gather his thoughts. “But why would he lie in this? I don’t think anybody was meant to read this?” Jack flipped through the pages. The further he flipped through in, the more he could tell that some sections had more carefully cut out papers than others. Why was Phantom cutting out? What was he hiding? Why was he hiding it?

“He meant for somebody to read this,” Maddie lightly argued.

“Yeah, it seems like it, but…,” Jack trailed off. He shook his head a bit, flipping back to where they had left off. “I dunno.”

“Hold on a second,” Maddie urged him, standing up. “Let me get something to write with, we should take some notes.”

“We can just use the scanner to make a copy of the journal afterwards, and we can further analyze it afterwards,” Jack suggested. Maddie thought on this, and she nodded, but she still reached for some scrap paper and a pen.

“Good idea, we should probably read through it fully first anyway,” she agreed. “But I still want to jot down some thoughts.”

“Of course, of course,” Jack replied. He knew that’s how she thought and processed information best, and it was always from her notes that he could visualize his own theories properly. He took a drink of tea before he continued reading the next true entry.

May 24

My entire relationship with my other crush (not [scribbles]) was a lie. She was being overshadowed by Kitty the entire time. This was my first real girlfriend, and it was all fake. I had assumed I was so lucky. I found a girl who knew and was okay with both of my biggest secrets. When I got home I ended up just going straight to my room. [scribbles] brought me dinner, but I didn’t feel like eating. Is this what life is going to be for me? I don’t want it to be like this. The only good thing is that [scribbles] doesn’t know either secret alongside our brief relationship.

Least Kitty and Johnny seem happy again. For now at least. I swear, they’re always breaking up and getting back together.

Kitty: 1; sent back to the GZ

Johnny 13: 1; sent back to the GZ

Shadow: 1; sent back to the GZ

Jack could lightly hear Maddie taking notes on her scrap paper, the pen scratching at the surface. He didn’t comment on it, silently flipping to the next page, and he continued to read.

August 19

I was forced to really face the reality of how much I fucked up [scribbles] life. I hate it. I’d do anything to take it back. It makes me wonder if I should just retire. Am I even really doing anything to help? Am I just a nuisance? Everybody thinks that.

Rationally I know I can’t. I’m the only one who can properly deal with the ghosts, who has the power and abilities to fight back without getting killed. I have to do what I can, but I just wish I could do it without making so many mistakes. [scribbles] said that it’ll be okay, and that it gets better, but it sure doesn’t fucking feel like it.

Skulker: 3; finished

Red Huntress: 2; temporary truce?

“He’s so full of...emotion for a ghost,” Maddie finally spoke up.

Jack glanced at the paper she had in front of her. There was some notes of what they had been learning so far, and there were emotions written in all caps with a line under, and a list of various emotions. Emotions Phantom seemed to be displaying. Guilty, despair, loneliness, self-hatred, self-doubt. Despite the few entries, it was already quite a list.

“It’s not just him either,” Maddie continued. Jack rose an eyebrow at her. She didn’t immediately reply, fingers on her lips as she stared down at the journal. “He’s giving emotions to other ghosts too.”

Jack stared down blankly at the journal in his hands.

“Where?”

Maddie began to write, and as she wrote, it clicked. Spectra’s joy in hurting others. Kitty and Johnny’s relationship. Walker’s spite. Cujo being a playful puppy. According to Phantom, and against what they knew as scientists, ghosts were experiencing a wide variety of emotions and for different reasons. It was weird.

Jack continued to read.

October 17

I don’t know what happened the past few days. It’s this weird blur. According to [scribbles] and [scribbles] I did a lot of bad things under Freakshow’s control. [scribbles] hugged me and told me that it was nothing that we couldn’t fix, but I doubt that. Why does this keep happening to me? I don’t want to hurt people. I want to be a good person, and I want to help Amity Park, but I don’t know what keeps happening. Everything’s a fog, and I’m exhausted.

Freakshow: 1; arrested by APPD

Circus ghosts: freed from Freakshow’s control, went back to the GZ

Replace Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, print out another sticker to put on it

“Freakshow...that was the weird circus guy,” Jack interrupted himself. Maddie nodded.

“Yeah, and if Phantom’s right...he could control the ghosts,” she mused. “So there’s a way for humans to take control of ghosts...That’s something to look into. If we can control the ghosts into staying away, it’d be such a massive scientific breakthrough.”

“We should look into Freakshow more, and see if we can talk to him!” Jack agreed. “Maybe he’ll share something with us.” Maddie smiled softly.

“I doubt that,” she replied gently. “But there’s no harm in trying. What else does it say?”

November 8

I have to fight Pariah Dark. I’m terrified. I don’t think I’ll live through it. How can I live through fighting the actual ghost king? I may never see my family again, and I can’t even tell them what happened to me if I die. I’ve been debating telling [scribbles] that I like her, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do it.

What happens if I die? I have no clue. I’m scared to find out. I can’t die now. I have to make it back. I’ll go missing, and I won’t even be declared dead as my parents’ son. Nobody will know who to really look for. I have to come back. Maybe if I succeed, and people like me again after this, I can tell my family everything.

November 10

I couldn’t tell them. My parents still despise part of me, despite what I’ve done. I know they love me, cause my mom’s already been fussing over me like crazy because of my injuries. [scribbles] said she cried when they couldn’t find me, and that my dad had gone out looking for me all over the city, even in the dangerous parts. They of course love me, but do they really love me unconditionally?

Jack felt his voice trailing off as he hit the end. He coughed lightly, and he took a long drink. Maddie stared off into nothing. The only thing he could think of was his own search for his baby girl. He wasn’t alone, bumping into several other parents desperately looking for their missing children, and several children who got separated from their parents. The entire day was somber and frightening, and Maddie had spent the entire day glued to the phone. In case she called them.

It was all...too real, and Jack flipped past more logs. He couldn’t help but begin to take note of how every single day had a log of ghost fighting activities, even if Phantom didn’t write down his feelings every day. This was so much more than the ghost hunting duo ever expected, more attacks than they were recording.

His eyes rested only for a moment on December 19, and he decided to just skip it. They had already read it earlier. No need to refresh those memories. More logs, and more missing pages, and he came upon another one.

March 26

I ripped out a lot of pages, more than I intended. I can’t risk anybody finding out what happened, but also other pages revealed too much, so I kept them tucked away where nobody could ever find them. I’d burn them, but I don’t want to lose the ghost hunting data. It’s okay now. I fixed the problem and assured that everything’s going to be fine. Possibly better. I made the right choice this time, and now I know that one day, I will grow a sick beard.

I know somebody knows my secrets now. All of them. She had known for months but wanted me to tell her. She asked me if I had a name, and ever since I told her that it was Danny, she’s been calling me that whenever she can. It made me cry the first time. It’s so great to have her know everything now. She loves me no matter what. I couldn’t ask for a better person. Even though she found out because I’m an idiot. This entire thing also made me realize how important it is to keep those secrets, and how poorly I’ve been keeping them.

I didn’t ever mean for this to turn into a diary. I wanted to keep track of ghost fights. But it honestly helps with both the dysphoria and the stresses of being a ghost. I just went back and scribbled out names. Just in case. In the future I need to be more vague.

But this is also the end for one secret. If things go wrong then well. I don’t know. I’ll make it up as I go along. But I know that this is who I am, and that I’m hitting a point where I need help to just be me.

Him: 1; captured for good

Skulker: 2; captured

Desiree: 1; captured

Ectopusses: 1; captured

Cujo: 1, sent back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: full

Fenton Anti-Creep Stick: destroyed, get new bat and sticker to put on it

Also learned a new ghost power: Ghostly wail. A scream that can just absolutely fuck somebody’s day up. I have to use it sparingly though.

Jack closed the journal, and he set it flat on the table. His mind was blank, and he couldn’t read Maddie. She continued to stare at the closed book, hand in pen but almost unsure as to what to even jot down as a note. He leaned in his seat, finishing his drink. Maddie exhaled deeply, dropping her pen in favor of stretching.

Neither said a word. Jack knew that this journal was not any kind of trick. It was too raw and emotional to be anything more than the thoughts of a teenage ghost. He regretted reading it. It held some interesting information, and he was sure if he dug deeper, that he would find more. But as it stood, his own intense guilt was settling as he knew that he just took too personal a look into the private emotional afterlife of Phantom.

“This is a lot to take in,” Maddie finally spoke. Jack only nodded.

The basement door opened, and they heard dual pairs of footsteps hop downstairs. Jack instantly brightened, and he turned in his chair to smile as his kids soon came into view.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” Jazz asked. She glanced between them, and Jack immediately shook his head no.

“No, no,” Maddie replied quickly. Jack saw her push the journal and her notes, along with her pen and a few spare lab tools, carelessly into a drawer to help assure the Fenton kids that they weren’t interrupting anything. “What’s up, sweetie?”

“Well, I have something that I wanna talk about,” their youngest spoke slowly. Jack noticed that she had finally taken off her hoodie, and that while she wore her normal tomboy attire, that something was a bit off about her. He couldn’t place it. Jazz stood close to her, an arm full of books clutched to her chest, though he couldn’t make out any titles. “It’s something important, and I don’t really want to put it off any longer.”

“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?” Jack asked. His daughter shook her head no.

“Oh, no!” she said. “It’s just…”

She took a deep breath, and soon, their son began to explain.

#phics #my phics #phic phight #team ghost

227 notes · View notes

ellewritessometimes · 4 years

Text

It’s a Gift

Summary: Cas and Dean have become very close. Dean develops a crush and is afraid to say anything. He continues to fall harder as the days go on. As the Valentine's Day party approaches, Dean wonders if he'll share the secret he's been harboring.

Ships: Dean/Cas, Crobby

Word Count: 3,552

TW: Mentions of violence and Homophobia, Swearing

Notes: This is a work from an abandoned Valentine's Day group writing project. I decided to post it still because I worked hard on it and I wanted the original intended recipient to get their fic as planned. I want to thank Luc for allowing me to reach out to them and @kermit-drinking-tea-dot-jpg for betaing this fic.

Link to read on AO3

The smell of greasy tater tots and dry nuggets wafted through the cafeteria as I walked in and took my seat at the table. The rest of the team sat down as well.

"Does anyone have a date for Valentine's party tomorrow?" Garth asked.

"I'm sure Sam will be my date," Gabe smirked. The guy was kinda obsessed with my brother.

Garth rolled his eyes and continued to take a bite of his chicken patty. I turned the page of my notebook, trying to decode my notes from last week.

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath.

"What?" Gabe asked with a mouth full of french fries.

"I can't read my notes, and the test is next period," I said in frustration. I had scrawled them down distractedly during the class.

"Would you like to borrow mine?" Cas asked.

Of course, I would like to borrow Cas's notes. He was a great student, always crazy organized.

Cas slid a spiral-bound notebook with perfect notes written in blue gel pen. The lettering looked like a font. I could never be like this. I could never sit still for that long. Oh, to be like Cas; Quarterback, Captain of the Football team, debate mentor, NHS, he really had it all. I was just a linebacker struggling to remember physics. God, Dad, is gonna kill me.

"Thanks, man," There was relief in my voice. Maybe I'd pass. A.P. Physics is not the move when you're a dumbass.

Cas smiled and picked up his book, On the Road. I've never seen him eat during school. He's always reading, helping us with homework, or keeping Gabe and Garth out of trouble.

The bell rang, so I handed Cas his notebook back. He winked, and I felt my heart pound. I'm sure he was just saying ‘you're welcome’.

* * *

Mr. Crowley handed out the test, and I inhaled deeply. I can't do this. I can't do this.

Cas looked toward me and mouthed, "Are you ok?"

I shook my head. The little shit winked again and raised his hand.

"Mr. Crowley, I think Dean is going to be ill," Cas fibbed, "I should take him to the nurse just to be sure."

"We wouldn't want that. Take him to the nurse," Mr. Crowley gave him the ok.

Cas and I walked out of the classroom and into the hallway. Cas gestured to me to follow him. He led me into an empty classroom and shut the door.

He set his notebook and pencil down on a desk and bluntly said, "Sit."

I did as I was told. I watched him write a kinematic equation on a fresh sheet.

"What do you know?" Cas asked.

"Nothing."

"I don't believe that."

"I'm a dumbass," I shrugged.

He tilted his head, and I noticed a change in his eyes.

"You don't believe you deserved to be helped," He stated and quickly changed the subject in an attempt to take what he said back. "Let's start easy."

I leaned my head over to see the problem he wrote. A hair fell on my face, and Cas pushed it away. I jumped. Cas jumped as well, startled by my reaction. His disposition changed.

"I'm sorry, I…" His voice trailed off.

"It's fine, Cas." I made an attempt to reassure him.

We moved along with the problem like it never happened. But it did happen. I would feel the touch on my forehead the rest of the day. The way his hand felt, soft and warm against my rough skin.

We must have done at least 20 problems until I finally felt comfortable doing it independently. The bell rang, and I thanked Cas. He really didn't need to do that. I wasn't shocked that he did though, he always tried to help the guys somehow. The dude's a friggin angel.

* * *

I was distracted all of the football practice. I was preoccupied thinking about Cas.

"Winchester, get your head in the game!" Coach Bobby yelled out.

I had known Bobby my whole life. He'd been more like a dad than my own blood. He was always there when Dad was deployed, on a hunting trip, or just drunk, unable to take care of Sam and me. Dad was never the most stable person.

I nodded to Bobby and tried to focus. I'd been meaning to talk to the school counselor about getting me to see a therapist or something to get diagnosed. Bobby and I suspected I had ADHD but we wouldn't know for sure. Unfortunately, I knew that Dad didn't believe in therapy. And anyway, the doctor can't fix it if I'm distracted by Cas. God, the dude can move. His passes are perfect, he makes almost every goal, and his touchdowns are so impressive. God, I sound like I have a crush.

Practice finished, and we all headed to the locker room. Bobby gave a speech.

"We've got an away game tomorrow, folks. I expect the best behavior from you all, or you will not go to the sports Valentine's Day party. I mean it." Bobby continued, "I know that this year has been hard with the Superbowl being delayed due to extenuating circumstances, but I still need you idjits to be good."

"Yes, coach," We deadpanned in unison like cult members. We started exiting the locker room.

"Dean, I would like you to stay," Coach said sternly.

Oh shit.

Bobby led me to his office and motioned for me to sit in a chair.

"What's up with you, son?" Bobby questioned, "You've got that look, is it a girl? You're not back with Jo, are you? Lisa? Or is it a guy or an enby? You know that I don't care…"

"No, it's no one," I'm such a liar. I've had a crush on Cas since he moved here in fourth grade, and Bobby can see right through my bullshit.

"Bull," Bobby raised his eyebrows.

I shrugged. I couldn't even imagine what dad would say. Actually, I could. It would be to get out of his house and never come back.

"So that's it, you just wanted to be nosey? Besides, it's no one, and dad would never let me." I sighed.

"Don't worry about your old man. I'd take care of it. Mr. King and I always have a place for you and Sam anyway." Bobby was dating Mr. Crowley, no one but Sam and I knew.

I thanked him and left to go pick up Sam from the middle school. Boy, he had grown up so fast. I remembered when he was born. And when mom died.

* * *

I pulled up at the school, music blaring. Sam rushed to my car and opened the door.

"Can you drive me to Jess's house?" Sam asked.

"No, tonight's family dinner night." Dad's A.A. sponsor told him that it was a good idea to start trying to be more of a part of our lives. That started with dinner, I guess.

* * *

Dinner with Dad was painful. Sam and Dad bickered back and forth about every single little thing. Sam wanted to go to college, Dad wanted him to keep up with the family business, then Sam said that hunting and the military don't count as a legacy. I hate it here.

"Sam, give it a rest." I dropped my fork into Cambell's chicken noodle with stars.

"You're not siding with him, are you?" Sam's face was defensive.

"I'm the adult here." Dad slurred.

"A half of one at best," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, boy?" Dad's face had that look I didn't like.

"Nothing, sir," I was trying not to get killed.

Creak. Dad slid his chair back and walked over to me. As he hovered over my head, my heart dropped to my stomach. He held his hand out and swung.

I could feel the tingling on my face as he said, "Say something else, and it's gonna be somewhere else."

Sam got up from the table and ran to his room. I hated when Sam saw this. I knew it would hurt him more, but I still spoke anyway. It's hard. I knew Dad loved us. He just didn't know how to express it.

I walked away from the table as Dad drank more beer.

"Sam, you know that…" I couldn't think of an excuse, so I said, "Open the door, please."

Sam opened the door. His eyes were red, stress hives had formed on his arm. I wanted to hold him and tell him I would get us out here. I tried to protect him. I wanted him to always be safe. I just wish he knew Dad before Mom died.

"Why?" Sam asked, "Why do you just sit there and take it."

So he won't come after you, I wanted to say. Instead, I just shrugged as he closed the door in frustration.

* * *

I woke up early to go on a run to clear my head. As I ran, I saw a familiar face. It was Cas, walking a fluffy golden retriever. There was a redheaded girl next to him. I didn't know her, but she was pretty. I stopped jogging and stared for a moment.

"Hey!" I waved.

"Oh hey, Dean!" Cas's face brightened. He turned to the girl, "Anna, this is Dean Winchester."

Anna threw up a hand shyly. I smiled in response.

"Catch you later, I guess," I said as I walked away.

It was nice to see Cas, and he looked happy to see me. His sister was nice as well. I thought of the interaction as I strolled to the abandoned house on the end of the street. Sam always asked why I liked that place so much, but I don't know why. I just like creepy things. The house feels almost supernatural.

* * *

"Hey!" Someone hit me in the back. Jo.

"Hay is for horses," Jo grinned. "Got a date for the party?"

I shook my head. I was planning on asking Lisa but Jo was a fun party person. This could pose an issue, but I decided to ignore it.

"Well, you do now, silly goose," Jo said snarkily.

I always took Jo to parties. She was indeed the life of them. We'd go, she'd flirt, I'd scope out the crowd, we'd both be disappointed, then drunkenly make out in the Impala. Maybe grab a milkshake. It was tradition, but I had never taken Lisa before. Jo and I were more like flirty friends; I really had something with Lisa.

"Same as always?" I asked.

"Yup, come get me at five, and I'll bring the refreshments." She was referring to the whiskey she would steal from her mom's bar.

Jo walked away, and I turned to see Lisa standing at her locker. She was grabbing a math textbook and a copy of Gatsby.

"Hey Lis," I started.

"What do you want, Dean," She seemed annoyed.

"Are you ok?"

"I thought you've been ignoring me," Her voice had little emotion.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't realize how distant I was," Now was not the best time. I decided to say nothing about the party.

"Also, I'm not going to the party. My mom is making me watch my sister." Lisa was disappointed.

"Aw man," Score. This would work out.

We departed from the hallway, and I went to class.

* * *

School could not end fast enough. I couldn't wait for the game.

"Winchester, come see me," Mr. Crowley ordered me to his desk.

I hesitantly got up. He seemed pleased. I could not think of what this could possibly be about.

"Dean, your make-up test is perfect," His voice was enthusiastic. "I'm very proud."

Wow. I could not believe this. I thought for sure that I had flunked. As I breezed by, Cas gave me a thumbs up. I would have to thank him later.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by like cake.

The team gathered in the locker room before entering the busses. Coach Bobby gave us one last speech.

"Alright, boys, remember what I said yesterday. Be polite and respectful but kick butt," The team cheered as soon as he said it.

We filled into the bus like sardines. This would be unpleasant on the ride home. I made sure I sat next to Cas to talk about science.

"Hey man, thank you so much," I patted his shoulder.

"Of course," He didn't even look up from his book.

"What's it about" I pointed to On the Road.

"Oh, it's not your kind of book. You wouldn't like it," Cas muttered assertively.

"I'm sure I would"

"When I finish, I'll let you borrow it," Cas clearly was uncomfortable.

"Ok," I decided not to press.

We sat in awkward silence. It was painful. I tried not to stare while he read his book, but he's all I wanted to pay attention to. I noticed the way his eyes glowed, the way his lip curled when he read something funny, the way he brushed his fringe away from his face.

"Dean...Dean...Dean," I finally noticed that Cas was talking to me.

"Huh?" Shit.

"You're staring,"

"You're a pretty picture," I tried to laugh it off, and I guess it worked because he smiled.

He titled his head in surprise at the comment, but he didn't say anything about it, just turned to his book again. I stared more this time, making it very obvious. He looked up again and grinned. This time, I scooted closer. Now, we were only inches apart. Without looking up, he put his head on my shoulder and continued reading. His hair was soft against my cheek. His arm fit perfectly next to mine. I felt so warm and fuzzy. I never had this feeling before.

* * *

"Hut, hut, 67," Bobby was yelling out commands, "Let's go, boys!"

The bright lights lit up the dark field. It was the fourth quarter, and things were looking good. Tried to keep my head in the game as I made a pass to Cas. Cas fumbled the ball, and another player tackled him.

"What are you doing, Novak?" Bobby yelled. Fumbles were out of character for Cas.

I noticed that the opponent was on top of Cas. This was more malicious than just a tackle.

"Hey!" Gabe tried to break them up but got lost in the mix.

Finally, a ref noticed and threw up a flag, "Fifteen-yard penalty!"

Cas stumbled up, his lip was bleeding, and a bruise formed around his eye. We cleared the field to regroup. Cas would most-likely be evaluated, and that player, Azazel, would be suspended. Bobby took Cas to the medical station and, after, walked to the refs and the other coach. You could see them conversing. Bobby's face was solemn.

"So, after talking to the other coach and the refs, we've decided to end this game. The behavior was unacceptable, and we want to prevent any other incidents from happening." Bob said, disappointingly.

"Ugh, I want to kill this kid!" Gabe yelled. His face was red hot.

"Exactly," Cas spoke up from the bench. No one even noticed that he walked over. "This is what we want to prevent."

Gabe crossed his arms. He's quite the drama queen.

Bobby told us to gather our stuff and meet him outside to get on the bus. Most of the team was able to grab their belongings quickly. I was about to leave the locker room when I heard someone grunt. They sounded frustrated.

"Dean! Are you still in here?" Cas called out.

"Um...yeah? Why?"

Cas walked out from behind a row of lockers, shirtless. I tried to contain myself, but the sweat against his skin, the ruffled wet hair, the smile, he looked hot. I must say.

He looked defeated, "I can't find my bag."

I nodded, and Cas continued, "Can you tell Coach Singer that I'll be late? I need to find my bag."

I ran to Bobby, "Cas can't find his bag. I'm gonna stay and help him. I'll call for you to pick me up later."

"Sounds good, kiddo," Bobby gave me two thumbs up.

I ran back to Cas just to find him with his head between his knees on a bench. I didn't know what to do, so I just placed my hand on his back and left it there.

The room smelled of old sweat and mud. The smell was so overwhelming, I don't know how I didn't notice it earlier. There are lots of things I haven't seen, I start to think about what I've actually paid attention to.

"Cas?" I question. "Are you ok?"

He shook his head. He didn't even move from his position, so I got up to look around. The lockers didn't have locks, so I opened all of them. Nothing. I checked under benches, in stalls; I even looked by the toilets.

"Man, I can't find it," I sighed.

Seconds after I said those words, the lights went out, and I heard the twist of a key.

"Damnit!" I'd never heard Cas curse before, "What are we gonna do?"

"Cas, I don't know," I said as I tried to think.

I opened my phone to see that it was dead. I couldn't use the flashlight, and if Cas didn't have his bag, he didn't have his phone with him. Thankfully, I had a charger in my pocket, but it would take at least an hour for my Motorola to charge. Damn, that phone takes forever.

"We're gonna miss the party, and it's all my fault," Cas started sobbing.

"No, don't cry," I don't do well with tears. I sat back down on the bench.

"Dean…" Cas scooted away from me.

"What?" I moved closer so I could hear him through the sobs.

Cas turned and kissed me. His soft lips against mine felt like heaven on a platter. He ran his hands through my hair as he swung his legs over onto my lap. I lay down on my back as he leaned into me. I began kissing back but still letting him lead. This is what I wanted. I've been yearning for this. He moves from my lips to my neck, and I run my hands across his muscles.

"Dean?"

"Cas?"

"God, I love it when you say my name," He says as he undresses me faster.

* * *

After we finish, I check my phone to see if it is charged. The time says 7:15. It's only been an hour since the game ended, so we're not too late.

"So what do we do now?" Cas was lying on the bench, looking at the ceiling.

"Call Bobby to pick us up, I guess?" I ran out of solutions, "I think someone stole it."

"You're probably right, but how do we get out of here?" Cas questioned.

I did not think about that. We were in a locked locker room after school hours with no way of getting out or seeing.

It took me a moment, but I came up with a solution. There's a window high up in the back, so I slid another bench towards it so I could reach it. I flicked the lock on the window, and it budged. It was a small window, but I could climb up and slide my torso through without issue.

"Cas!" I yelled as I slid downwards out of the window, back into the locker room.

"What?"

"I found a solution."

* * *

Bobby arrived quickly to pick up a poor freezing shirtless Cas and me.

"No bag?" Bobby questioned.

We shrugged and told him we couldn't find it. Bobby said that we were never playing this school again. Cas and I were content with that. I looked over to Cas and smiled. He smiled back and giggled. I held out my hand, and he took it. I felt the warm sensation through my body again as he touched me.

"What's up with you guys?" Bobby asked.

"Nothing," I smiled but quickly pulled my hand away from Cas. I wasn't ready to tell Bobby yet.

* * *

We arrived at Valentine's party, and Jo was the first to greet me.

"Did you forget about me?" Jo wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

"Sorry, I was looking for Cas's bag." I'm not lying.

"Well, I found another date." Jo turned to a girl, Lisa.

"Hey Dean," Lisa waved and pointed to a redhead, "Meet Charlie!"

"Hi! I'm Jo's girlfriend!" Charlie stuck out her hand enthusiastically.

I laughed—what a wild night. I strolled over to the drink table and grabbed some punch. Cas found me through the crowd. He was shy now.

"Dean? Are we going to talk about this?" Cas insisted.

"Sure."

"I like you."

"I get that." I wondered what the problem was.

"And?" Cas seemed unsure.

I moved closer to Cas and hugged him.

Cas told me that Gabe had grabbed his bag from the locker room because he knew that Cas was hurt. Gabe was goofy but kind at heart. Cas was thankful that he did, and no one stole it.

That reminded me that I had something to give Cas. I opened my bag and handed Cas a mixtape with some Zeppelin favorites.

"Dean, I can't take this," Cas was in awe.

"It's a gift; you keep those." I smiled and took his hand to dance.

#spn #fic #destiel crack #crack fic #request #fanfic #this is not my usual style lol #userroadhouse

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albapuella · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter One)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday.

I also tried to be fancy with the html, but it didn't come out right (you will see what I mean). However, I'm leaving it as is for now.

Chapter 1: Inciting Incidents

Day 0:

“I'm smooth as peanut butter,” Dave protested, his coffee sloshing in its cup as he swung his arm out. “Choosy moms might choose Jiff, but I ain't in the market for an older woman at the moment. Just call me Skippy, because that's how smooth I am.”

Rose looked both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Really?” She took a small, dignified sip of her tea.

“Yes!” Dave frowned. “I'm like super suave. Fucking James Bond over here.”

She squinted at him for a moment. “You do realize that James Bond is characterized by his inability to keep any woman with him longer than the length of one of his movies.”

“That's only because he's too much man to be tied down,” Dave said. “And that's not even the point: the point is that the fucker's suave. He can have any girl he wants.”

“And I suppose you can get any boy you want?” It sounded dismissive. “It would be wonderful if you managed that feat before my wedding. You know how mother worries about you, and I would rather not spend the first day wedded to my wife listening to mother wailing about how her poor little Davey's going to be all alone in the world.”

Dave felt the flush creeping up his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was experiencing his future humiliation already or if he was getting mad. Just because he couldn't keep a relationship going for long, that didn't mean he wasn't smooth. It wasn't his fault that up until very recently he'd only pursued girls because he hadn't wanted to admit he was gay... Okay, yes, that actually was his fault. The point was of course those relationships had failed. His relationship prowess had never been given a fighting chance. “Yeah, I could. In fact, I could make any of the guys here fall for me.”

“Very well, brother of mine,” Rose said, smiling that particular smile which tended to portend bad things for the person it was directed at, “how about that one?” She pointed to a man sitting alone at a table on the other end of the cafe.

Dave looked over at him without making it obvious he was doing so. Damn, Rose. The guy was a snack, obviously, but his expression indicated that the whole world had pissed in his cornflakes one at a time and had made him miss the bus to his job at the blow job factory. Still, it was too late to back out now. “Fine,” he said, setting down his cup just a little too hard. “I'll see you in two weeks, Rose, and I'll have him on my arm in a matching tux. We're going to be the hottest, gayest penguins you've ever fucking seen.”

She laughed at him. Which was fine: he was going to have the last laugh here. And there was no time like the present. He stood and strode over to the other table, curving his mouth in his smoothest, suavest fucking smile.

The man had noticed Dave's approach and looked up from his coffee, the ire on his face now joined by confusion. “Can I help you?” His voice was rough but not unpleasant. His tone was less pleasant, but Dave had expected that from his expression.

“I sure hope so,” Dave said. He put one hand on his hip and held the other out to the man. “I've just lost my name: can I have yours?”

The man blinked. Then he laughed—less amused and more disbelieving. “Seriously? You're seriously going to open up with that? That has to be the cheesiest fucking pick up line I've heard in my life. And I've heard a lot of them.”

Dave only grinned. Breaking the ice was just one of Dave's many talents. “What can I say, dude, I'm a connoisseur of fine cheese. Premium, aged in wooden crocks or whatever.” He waggled his hand. “Don't leave me hanging.”

The man looked from Dave's hand to his face and back again before heaving a sigh. He shook Dave's hand, his grip solid but not crushing. “Karkat.” Then he frowned. “What do you want?”

“Thought that was obvious, Karkat,” Dave said, trying the name out. He liked it. “I want to ask you out. On a date. I'm Dave, by the way,” he added quickly. It probably would have been smarter to open up with that. It also occurred to Dave that there were a lot of other variables he hadn't considered until this moment. “If you're single. God, I hope you're single. And into guys. Otherwise, I'm going to feel pretty stupid.”

Karkat opened his mouth but didn't speak as something too quick for Dave to pick up flashed across his face. Then he grinned, perhaps a little too widely. “You're in luck,” he said. “I am in the market for a date.”

Oh. “Cool. Cool, that's—” Dave broke off with a fake cough into his fist. “Yeah, uh. So, are you free tomorrow? Night?”

A slow nod. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” He dug through his bag and took out a small notepad. “Do you use Pesterchum?” he asked as he scribbled something down.

“I think everyone and their grandmother uses Pesterchum,” Dave said, still kind of surprised that this was going as well as it was. “Not my grandmother, I don't have one, but you know, grandmothers. Or the tech savvy ones anyway. I think your average grandmother might have some trouble—the text is kind of tiny, isn't it?”

Karkat looked up from his writing. “Right.” He ripped the page out and held it out to Dave. “Message me, and we can set up that date.”

Dave took the paper. “Thanks, I'll, uh, message you soon!” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and made his way back to Rose. He knew his face was burning, but he decided to believe it was the flush of victory rather than anything else. She was still smiling at him, and he held the paper out in front of her face. “See? I've already got his chumhandle. You're going to eat your words, Rose. I hope you like the taste of humble pie.”

Rose laughed behind her hand. “Nice work, Dave,” she said once she'd recovered. “Try not to break his heart, won’t you?”

“What?” Dave shook his head. “His heart is going to be wrapped in three layers of bubble wrap and under ten pounds of packing peanuts.” He shoved the paper into his pocket. “I got this thing on lock.”

---

Karkat tore his eyes away from the retreating Dave to jot down some notes on his notepad. Looked like he'd be able to write this article sooner rather than later. Unless Dave had been dared to come over and get his phone number. That had happened before. He scowled into his coffee. Well, if Dave never got in touch with him, then he'd just use his last disaster of a relationship to base his article on. That was what he'd planned to do originally anyway.

It wasn't a secret around the office that Karkat Vantas, despite being a font of romance wisdom, was dead in the water when it came to dating and keeping a boyfriend. He attributed this mostly to his abhorrent personality and lack of self-control. Whenever the opportunity came up for him to stick his foot in his mouth, you could find him there, furiously chewing on his toes. He'd lost count of how many times a date had ended because he'd said something he shouldn't have. Or rather, screamed something he shouldn't have at the top of his lungs with more profanity than was warranted in retrospect.

So, of course, the boss knew about Karkat's lackluster love life, too. The assignment had been one of her little jokes. One of her little mind games. “Oh, Mr. Vantas, please write an article about how to fuck up a relationship in less than two weeks—it should be easy for you seeing as you're such an expert at being so noxious that no one but your handful of friends can even stand to be anywhere around you, never mind a stranger who doesn't know your history or has any reason to want to stick around and deal with your bullshit.” Paraphrased, of course. Her version had been much less honest.

He re-read his notes.

* Dave, no last name given. Terrible pick up line. Rambles. Idiot or awkward. Or both. Dresses like a color-blind douche bag. Obnoxious sunglasses. Vision impaired? Hot. Attractive. Moderately attractive.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he set down his notepad to fish it out. He frowned down at the screen. A notification from Pesterchum? His heart rose a little despite himself until he saw the name. Kanaya. He sighed. While he was happy she was happy, he couldn't handle being gushed at right now. He put the phone on the table and finished his coffee.

---

Dave dithered for hours before he finally decided on the perfect message to open communications with.

TG: this is dave from the cafe TG: wanted to say hey TG: and ask what you want to do Saturday

Okay, so it wasn't the best rap ever, but he was stretched for material here. Also, it probably wasn't a good idea to blow up this guy's phone before Dave got some confirmation that this was even Karkat's chumhandle. It wouldn't be the first time someone had given him a dud. At least the messages were going through: that was a good sign.

CG: ARE YOU RHYMING ON PURPOSE? TG: hell yea dog TG: mc strider here by popular demand to lay down the jams TG: ive got all my adoring fans just waiting for me to shower them with stanz- TG: -as like youve never seen its a dream come true straight to you

That was enough; he had to give Karkat some time to respond. Assuming this was Karkat.

TG: this is karkat right? CG: OH I CAN TALK NOW? CG: YES THIS IS KARKAT. CG: AS CHARMING AS THIS IS (AND I AM SO UTTERLY CHARMED RIGHT NOW), DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME? TG: totally i totally do i knew as soon as i saw you yea im taking this total snack on a date

Which was not a lie, technically. Yes, Dave liked how Karkat looked, but he probably wouldn't have gone over to his table without Rose egging him on.

TG: where do you want to go skys the limit TG: but not really TG: cause no offense but i just met you TG: and i dont think were at the stage where id be willing to sell one my kidneys TG: to make your dreams of jumping out of an airplane onto the back of a narwhal or some shit like that come true TG: thats like after at least date number 5 and id expect some kind of thanks TG: at least a tongue kiss or something TG: not that i think you need to pay for dates physically TG: thats all kinds of gross TG: forget i said any of that please CG: … CG: HOW ABOUT DINNER AND A MOVIE. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. CAN WE DO THAT?

Dave grinned with relief. He'd thought for sure he'd just blown this.

TG: sounds great nothing beats the classics

With that sorted out, the rest had been easy. Dave closed his phone, feeling accomplished. He was really doing this. He was really making this happen. But first, he had some clothes to throw in the shower!

---

Karkat slid his phone back into his pocket with a sigh. Well, now he had a date for tomorrow. He looked down at the new set of notes he'd written during that 'conversation'.

* Last name Strider? Raps without provocation. Definitely visually impaired. Goes off on wild tangents. I'm going to be murdered. What the hell am I doing?

It had been difficult not to react in his normal way to the frankly bizarre things Dave had said, and he knew that was only going to be more difficult to manage in person. Still, he had to 'hook' this man as best as he was able before he could fuck it up like always. After all, he couldn't 'lose' a guy he never 'had', right? He idly entertained the thought of what 'having' Dave might be like. He was clearly crazy, but there was something endearing in his total inability to communicate like a regular person. The way he'd been so obviously nervous and out of his depth when he'd come over to ask Karkat out. The way his cheeks had flushed when Karkat had accepted. The way his body had moved when he'd walked away.

Shaking his head, Karkat tucked the notepad into his bag. No point in even thinking about it. Even if he weren't getting into this just to ruin the relationship for his article, the end would have been the same anyway. Honestly, he was doing Dave a favor: at least this way, Dave would only be wasting ten days worth of his time rather than torturous months of dealing with Karkat's bullshit before finding an excuse to cut him loose.

#homestuck #fan fic #humanstuck #my fic #wip #the html looks fine on my end #don't know why it's messed up when it goes live #*shrugs*

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 5 years

Text

Echo pt1

A very happy birthday to Kat @kthomas325 I hope you enjoy this little Modern/fantasy tale.

Warning: This is a little dark. There is blood, death, Strong Language and yeah ... please read with caution. **Still not sure what direction this is taking so I should add a warning for Author with no plot **

Masterlist

---

Echo part 1

The move had been hectic. Boxes everywhere stacked high in her office like some sort of interactive Tetris game. When they got the word that they were to relocate and join forces with another team she had hoped for a bit more time. Still, missions to be undertaken at a moment’s notice with frustratingly tight time frames that had required superhuman capabilities to accomplish were nothing new to her. Thank god she could handle high levels of stress in the workplace because otherwise, she was a likely candidate to be sent off to the looney farm.

Pretty much all of her team had already managed to settle in, she was the last. The trouble with being a partly freelance brain for hire was you tended to get sent tasks on the side that took up valuable time. This is exactly what happened the day she received the orders to move.

It had been a normal boring day pouring over the latest data from some tests on the guys that had just come back from overseas and her internal email pinged.

Notice for the attention of Dr K response required ASAP

If she hadn’t been bored out of her proverbial tree, she might have groaned a little more when she saw the familiar sender’s address. It wouldn’t be the first time her friend in the Met had abused his powers of friendship in calling for her help, but these little cases of his had a way of snowballing.

Clicking the attachment on the email her eyes scanned the words like a barcode. It was meticulous and read exactly as she was expecting it too, except for one little detail.

Undetectable traces of blood.

She reread it to make sure she hadn’t missed something before reaching for her Cell phone and searching her contacts. Fingers gliding over the screen she dialled the number for her friend. The line didn’t even manage to ring two times before it was answered a bright voice on the other end speaking.

“That was faster than I thought. Slow news day or were you just that desperate to speak to me?” There was the sound of rustling papers in the background which told her she wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil.

“Right the first time. You sent me the complete report, right?” She asked in a way that sounded like she was accusing him of trying to pull a bad practical joke on her. Her brow creased as she looked again at the text illuminated on her monitor.

“After the lecture you gave me last time where you chewed me out over lack of information? Course I sent it all.” His adamant reply just seemed to add to the rising tension she felt.

“What does it mean where you wrote the bodies had no traces of blood? You mean at the scene or…”

“Scene and autopsy. I mean there was nothing. Not a damn drop. Bodies were fresh as far as the guys in the coroner’s office could tell. They weren’t marked in any way and yet they were as empty as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.” He chuckled at his own bad joke.

“And that was seriously it? Nothing else?” She clicked at the attachments but they were only the basic preliminary photos the police took of the scene.

“Why are you asking like it’s obvious there should be?”

“Because this is all like a bad dream.” It was strange, she was logical and rational to the point of being accused of being almost robotic at times. And here she was looking at something that probably has a totally scientific explanation for it, feeling like she was being targeted. Something that was lying in the back of her mind dormant was setting off alarms.

“… Hey. Are you ok there? You know I hate it when you go quiet.” She had zoned out and the concern in the man’s voice as he spoke reminded her of the fact he was still on the line.

“Yeah. Let me know the minute you find anything else. And I want to see the full report from the medical examiner, toxicology and photos.” She knew he was making a note on something because she heard him cuss under his breath about how he could never find a pen when he needed one.

“So, you’re taking the case?”

“What do you think?”

Hanging up the phone the silence that was once comforting in her office was suddenly oppressive. The shadows felt like they were cold and creeping, prowling around her. It had been a long time since she had felt this. Getting up from behind her desk she went in search of coffee to try to distract herself with a warm drink.

There was a ringing in her ears that was low like a buzz from a hive. Her head started to pound behind her eyes at the contrast between the soft lighting in her office and the phosphorescent lighting in the building’s corridors that was harsh and bright. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to acclimatise herself as she walked to the break room.

Time had no place here, at least not the kind of time that other realms had. The twin suns had set long ago allowing the triple moons to rise high into the indigo velvet sky. The crimson rock gleamed deep and dark with a foreboding subliminal idea that it was rich with blood. The rocks here always looked fluid; the veins of magical deposits threaded their way through them giving the land underfoot a pulse.

Moving swiftly with soundless ease a single figure clad in a white cloak slipped out of a dense tree line and continued forward to a crossroads. The marker there pointed them in the direction of tonight’s meeting place, a symbol visible only to those who carried the sigil to reveal it. After following its direction for a time, a fracture in the bedrock of the Mesa that ran along the border.

The veins in the deep red rock glowed as the figure entered illuminating their journey into the flat-topped hill better than any lantern. Voices began to bounce around them, the glow becoming brighter before the walls of the narrow pathway disappeared.

A void in the rock created a natural cathedral. The stone couldn’t have followed a more structured path if it had been carved by hand. The ceiling was vaulted and appeared almost black as it was so far away from them. In the centre of this space sat the heads of some of the largest households in the known lands. With the arrival of the figure in white that made six.

“You kept us waiting.” A strong imperial voice from a black-haired man carried over the group setting a heavy silence in the air. His red-trimmed robes wrapped around his figure as it sat on a rock by the fire in the same way he would perch on his own throne.

“My apologies. It took slightly longer than planned to leave the castle.” The cloaked figure made a theatrical bow after speaking.

“You weren’t followed?” The man sitting to the left of the regal one had a slightly less polished appearance. His sandy brown hair looked a little frazzled, no doubt a result of running their fingers through it in moments of agitation as was their habit.

The cloaked figure was more than aware of the eyes of the gathering being focused on them but they showed no sign of reacting to it.

“Naturally. If I hadn’t, I would have been disappointed. But I was able to give them the slip, otherwise I would not be here at all.”

“What is the news?” A rather impatient man sporting a different style of dress and an eye patch interjected. The loose-fitting clothing was clearly easier to move around in which allowed for a better range of motion in a fight. Something the man was renowned for in the realms. The wild chestnut brown hair on his head seemed to reflect the spark of energy in his singular blue eye.

“The throne remains unchallenged. In fact, it would appear that the dear Queen is in possession of new strength.”

“What?” Their collective outcry reverberated for a moment before falling flat again.

“How could she get that?” One of the younger men gathered grumbled his question. His emerald eyes flashed for a moment with worry.

“I can only think of one way in which she might find such a thing now. With supplies into the land limited from each of ours…” The silver-haired Lord produced a ledger from inside one of his pockets and began talking as he flicked through the pages checking details of something written in an almost indecipherable font.

“She’s found a fault line.” The black-haired Lord leaned back elegantly, an amused wicked smile on his face and his crimson eyes flashed. He looked entertained but the atmosphere around him told a different tale.

“But there were no fault lines. She searched before and turned up empty it was why she arranged for trade negotiations to start with.” The concerned Lord to his left dragged his hand through his hair leaving it to settle on his neck. He had every right to be worried as they all were but it was his land that bordered closer to the Queen.

“What we gain from our harvesting in our own territory is always greater than what we would gain by trade. We are attuned to the land after all.” The young lord with emerald eyes tossed out his words factually with a sigh.

“Yes, but for her to gain such a noticeable increase that is should be sensed by others…” a crystal tipped quill scratched over a page on the notebook the ink appeared magically on the paper filling the space quickly making it appear almost completely black.

“She isn’t just feeding.”

“Keep a close eye on her. Depending on what you find our plans may change.”

“Of course.” The figure in the white cloak bowed once more before turning on heel and leaving as they had come.

No one said this was going to be easy. They had all known what they were signing up for, but the development of the Queen’s new hunting ground after the loss of the King was not one they could have foreseen.

---

After unlocking her front door, she pushed it open with her hip before entering with a large box in her arms and closed it with her foot. The box made a heavy thud sound on the coffee table the files, documents and other office records had a layer of dust on top of them that she failed to remove before tossing them in and bringing them back with her.

The dates on the files were all from around nearly 30 years ago. It had been a little shocking how many there were given the few cases there had been but that is what happens when several governing bodies investigate at once. Each department has its own methods and documents them eventually you have them accumulated together by one department into a file that could be used in court if you were at a point of prosecution for the offence.

She wasn’t interested in combined facts abbreviated for a jury and judge she wanted complete records, which was how she came to raid the archives on-site before leaving work. Dumping her bag next to the box she went straight into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards there looking for the ground coffee.

The kitchen was a room every house had but here it seemed a little bit of a waste. She wasn’t home enough to cook meals so there was typically next to no food in the place. There was a microwave and coffeemaker on the countertop and that was all. The rest of the property suffered the same neglected fate. There were enough furnishings to be comfortable but it was not what you could call a warm environment.

This was what happens when you spend more time at work than you do at home. She sighed a little as she listened to the water boil in the coffee maker. The buzzing in her head hadn’t gone away and had brought with it a tingling sensation she could feel in her bones.

She glanced up and caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window. Something about it looked different but she couldn’t place it. A nagging feeling of something she had missed was gnawing at the back of her mind. Abandoning the coffee maker, she went over and grabbed a file hoping that the answer she wanted was somewhere in all this mess.

---

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

Text

Batman #442

Can you believe thirty years ago, DC was trying to convince a bunch of adults that it was okay to read their kiddy mags?

There wasn't this much sexual tension in the last porn I watched.

This is my reputation on the line so I'd just like to point out that the above scanned panel is all off-kilter because the entire stupid page was wonky. I fucking scan like a champ! Meanwhile, Two-Face struggles to set off the explosives in the basement where Batman and Nightwing are trapped. First he needs to argue with himself about how to flip the coin. Does he catch it and flip it over onto the back of his hand? Well, to decide that, he's going to have to flip the coin. But if he's yet to decide how to flip the coin, how does he flip the coin to decide how to flip the coin?! It's a wonder Two-Face ever comes to any conclusive decision at all! I'm suddenly realizing he's Batman's least believable nemesis! And Batman sometimes fights a guy with eyes on all his fingers! Two-Face flips his coin (I suppose he's long ago figured out the procedure for coin flipping. I bet getting stuck on how to flip the coin meant he got his ass beat by Batman one too many times. Being a lawyer, he realized he needed to be prepared for pressure situations like this). The results allow him to blow up Batman and Nightwing. But he still has to wait until 2 in the morning. Or 2:02? Maybe 2:20? 2:22? I guess this time, 2:00 A.M. is fine. And being that Tim mentioned earlier that it was almost two, it looks like it's over for Bruce and Dick! But wait! Help is on the way!

If Alfred and Tim are doing what I think Alfred and Tim are doing, who's driving?!

Tim puts on Robin's suit not because he's been stalking Batman for six years and he's desperate to become the new Robin but because he has to! To save Batman's emotional psyche! It's the most unselfish thing Tim Drake has ever done! It's not like he knew at this moment that he'd eventually get to fuck Stephanie Cluemaster! That was just a reward for being so selfless! I mean Stephanie Cluemaster has agency and her sexuality isn't anybody's trophy! Also Tim is just thirteen and it's 1989 so he probably doesn't know how to have sex. You can only glean so much from MTV and the occasional nudie magazine dredged up in the bushes outside the local high school. I mean, I was pretty sure I knew how to have sex when I was thirteen from watching Lionel Richie's video for "Hello." Seriously though, I have no idea when I went from not knowing what sex was to knowing what it was. I remember seeing Clash of the Titans at the theater when I was ten and not knowing what a virgin was. So I probably didn't know what sex was at ten. It's also probable I knew at ten but just didn't know there was a word for what I am. I mean was! At ten! But by twelve, my friend Hobby Benline had had sex, so I must have known what it was by then. Unless he did it wrong and I got the information from him! Really though, I just don't know where the information came from. I think it must have just sort of condensed inside my head from a whole bunch of disparate notions and experiences.

This fucker is crazy.

Some of you Internet denizens who probably overuse the word "meh" (overuse constitutes a single use) are probably furiously typing, "You just realized that?!" Obviously I knew Two-Face was crazy! That's the whole point of all Batman's villains or else why would Arkham Kiddy-Care be a thing? But that little speech he just gave is really fucking overplaying the whole double thing! I thought maybe he was going to get all excited about the two nines in 1899 or how 1899 is sort of two 18s or maybe he was going to marvel about how he has two grandfathers! This fucker is finding twos every Goddamned where! You can tell Marv Wolfman doesn't write too many Two-Face story because across three Batman issues, he's really blown his wad on finding ways to incorporate the doubling theme. Alfred and Tim arrive just in the nick of time to see the house explode. Tim punches Two-Face in the jaw but only once so it doesn't hurt him. That's what happens when you jump right into the Robin costume without learning about the criminal you're after. Two-Face manages to pick up a crowbar to swing at Tim's head while Alfred can only watch while shitting himself and thinking, "Why the fuck can't I keep the number of a child psychologist on hand at all times?!"

The face of a man culpable for the deaths of too many children's innocence. And also just their deaths. Real deaths. Of children. One at least. Maybe now two. Fucking monster.

Robin manages to jump out of the way without mouthing off which makes Two-Face suspect something is different with Robin. He's all, "Where are all your terrible jokes, Boy Wonder?" And since we know there's an afterlife in the DC Universe, Jason Todd hears Two-Face's critique of his one-liners and his heart hardens. That's why he comes back willing to kill. Alfred finally jumps in to stop Two-Face from killing Tim while yelling, "He's only a boy!" No fucking shit, Pennyworth. Maybe you should have considered that before you allowed Bruce to never get therapy so that he eventually begins wearing a batsuit which eventually leads him to bringing in a young boy to help fight murderers which eventually led him to bringing in another young boy who was killed fighting murderers which eventually led to you driving this "only a boy" to the feet of a murderer while also lending him a superhero outfit to die in. Fuck you, Alfred! You fucking suck. I actually really like Alfred! But fuck is he problematic!

Jesus Christ, Alfred! Code names, you putz!

Alfred is making me so angry this issue! I hope Batman fires him at the end of this. He needs some time off to get his head together. Enough with being an accessory to child endangerment! Tim helps dig out Batman and Nightwing who both survived Two-Face's terrible explosives. I guess BOGO explosives aren't too reliable. And since it was Two-Face, if one of them survived, both of them had to survive. It's part of Two-Face's rules of conduct. Batman sees Robin and tears the mask off of his face, declaring there is no more Robin. But Dick and Alfred are all, "You should have seen him! He's so smart and agile and he's got terrific legs!" But Batman is apparently the only sensible one in this fucking bunch of child-murdering lunatics.

Look, I know how this ultimately turns out. But at least for one panel, I can think, "Way to go, Batman. Good decision! I'm proud of you!"

Tim is all, "Batman needs a Robin!" And Batman is all, "Fuck you!" But then Tim counters with, "What if The Joker brags about killing Robin and everybody is all, 'Hey, yeah. Where is Robin?! Man, we can kill anybody now, I guess!'" And Batman is all, "Well, I mean, it's dangerous work!" And Robin is all, "I know! That was your initial reason to not let me be Robin!" And Batman is all, "Well, I'm not hiring right now! I need to catch Two-Face! He's gotten away!" And Robin is all, "I put a tracker on him!" And Alfred and Nightwing are smiling and elbowing each other and winking and not saying at all, "Batman is going to get this kid killed!" Finally, Batman relents and agrees to discuss it because he's argued against it long enough to make it seem reasonable. Fans can't say Batman just gave in! It was an emotional debate that sorely tested my reading comprehension. Such powerful arguments on both sides! With minimal help from Robin (but enough for Batman's heart to melt), Two-Face is captured!

Later in, presumably, Alfred's bedroom.

Batman eventually relents and decides to train Tim on a trial basis. I guess all of the arguments convinced me as well. Batman totally needs a Robin! How else would, um, Batman do the, um, thing or the other, um, I mean, he just needs Robin! Duh! Batman #442 Rating: C. This issue wasn't really any worse than the others but somehow I can't bring myself to believe Dick and Alfred would be so excited about getting Batman a new Robin. I guess it's like when a friend loses a pet and you have to watch your friend spiral into a severe depression and you don't know how to make them feel better and finally the only thing you can think to do is to buy them a new pet. Then you're happy and giggly and excited when you see the way your friend's eyes light up even if they act like they resent the attempt at making them feel better. And you know the pet is going to quickly worm its way into their heart and you don't care that your friend often throws their pet off of high bridges attached to home-made parachutes because you're not thinking about the safety of the pet at this moment. Your whole purpose is just to make your friend feel better. And that's whey Alfred and Nightwing are so happy putting Tim's life in danger. Because they love Batman that much!

#Batman #A Lonely Place of Dying #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #DC Comics #DC #First Tim Drake as Robin story

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dabidevito · 6 years

Text

[fic] noctuary

read on ao3

rating: G // words: 4585

summary: (n.) - the record of a single night’s events, thoughts, or dreams

An airport adventure between two sort-of strangers, in the liminal space between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

a/n: this is a gift for @howellaf as part of @phandomficfests holiday exchange, which was an absolute joy to be a part of.

thanks as always to @knlalla for her beta work and constant encouragement. 2019 is not ready for our combined writing power ✨💛

10:21 pm, December 24th (Christmas Eve)

Phil clicks into the Virgin Atlantic app for about the hundredth time that evening, just to check that the departure time hasn’t changed in the last five minutes. He’s always been an anxious flyer. People have begun to congregate around the check-in desk, rounding up kids and various belongings in anticipation of their 10:40 pm boarding call. Phil lingers in the back corner of the gate area, where he’d been lucky enough to secure one of the few charging ports for his phone - one of the perks of being a habitually early traveler.

He bounces his leg restlessly as he waits for the app to refresh. Beyond the terminal’s foggy glass windows, the planes are beginning to accumulate a thin layer of snow. He debates switching over to the weather app on his phone, but knows if he has to look at the cataclysmic blues and purples sprawled over the radar map of New York one more time, his simmering panic will turn into a full-on spiral.

When the departures page finally loads, no thanks to JFK’s terrible WiFi, it's all of Phil's horrible traveling nightmares brought to life.

Virgin Atlantic Flight 154 to London (LHR) - CANCELLED DUE TO INCLEMENT WEATHER Please proceed to the gate agent for rebooking. We apologize for any inconvenience.

Moments later, a collective groan ripples out from the crowd as the news is spread over the loudspeaker, the cancellation now displayed in blazing red font on all the overhead screens. A desperate shuffle towards the ticket counter begins almost immediately, but Phil feels paralyzed in his dingy corner.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Filming for his studio’s latest production was supposed to wrap three days ago, and he should've been settled under a blanket with a cup of his mum's Christmas cocoa by now. Not stranded in bloody America on Christmas Eve after weeks of being away from home. But there'd been delay after delay on set, and with the holiday looming, the entire crew had worked through last night in order to get the final scenes filmed. He’s exhausted and more than a little cranky and suddenly feels totally unprepared to deal with his current worst-case scenario.

He locks his phone and closes his eyes, trying to breathe through the panic of having to book a new flight and find somewhere to stay tonight, and he's all alone in a country that isn't his and do planes even fly on Christmas? What if there's suddenly a problem with his work visa and they don't let him on the plane back to England anyway and no one at the production company will answer the phone because they're all cuddled up under blankets with cups of their mum's hot cocoa and -

"Hey."

Phil jumps as a hand comes down lightly on his shoulder, almost tilting out of his chair from the sudden jolt. The owner of the hand steadies him, fingers curling gently into the fabric of his jumper.

"You okay?" The stranger asks, except when Phil finally follows the line of the man's arm up to his face, he realizes that this person is not a stranger at all. In fact, Phil’s spent nearly every day for the last month with him in some capacity or another. The film that’s the source of his current travel predicament had been resplendent with minor speaking roles, one of which happened to be filled by a certain curly-haired actor with a posh accent. Phil’s sure that the B-roll from his set camera is overflowing with lingering shots of the man who’s currently waiting for him to get his act together and respond to a simple question.

"Oh, it's you," Phil begins, ever a beacon of eloquence. He digs around in his muddled brain for the man's name, trying to blink past the haze of panic that’s taken up residence there.

"Dan," the man supplies, retracting his hand from Phil's shoulder. "From, uh, the movie?"

Phil forces a smile onto his face. "Of course. Sorry, I was just…” He gestures vaguely around his body, not really sure what sort of excuse would play well here.

Dan offers him kind smile, one that’s more genuine than should be possible given the circumstances. “I don’t mean to bother you,” he says, “it’s just that, uh, pretty much everyone’s gotten rebooked already? I sort of - this makes me sound like a weird stalker, I swear I’m not - I just sort of noticed that you hadn’t moved since they made the announcement. And that you looked upset. But it’s really gonna be fine, I think there’s still seats on the first plane out tomorrow morning.”

Phil looks past Dan to the nearly-deserted gate area. A lone mother wrangles her son back into a buggy, various bags scattered around her. The gate agent frowns down at her computer, looking exhausted and like she’d rather be just about anywhere else. She glances wearily between two men standing in front of her desk who appear to be arguing about which flight is better. But the hundreds of other inconvenienced travelers are nowhere to be seen, making Phil feel acutely aware of just how long he’s been sitting here in silent panic. His hands feel clammy with embarrassment, that someone he kind-of-sort-of-not-really knows had to witness him being such an unfunctional, dithering failure of an adult.

“Oh! Right. Um, thank you. For, uh, saving me from sitting here and sulking all night,” Phil says as he begins to gather up his belongings and stuff them into his backpack. Dan shifts from foot to foot in front of him, scuffing his shoe against the off-white tiles.

“Right, yeah, I’m a regular old hero, huh?” Dan mumbles.

Phil glances up the long line of Dan’s body, already feeling a hundred times more at ease than he had just moments ago. “My knight in shining travel accessories,” he says, nodding at the pillow hanging around Dan’s neck and trying to suppress a laugh at his own dumb joke.

Dan flushes pink immediately at the remark, reaching up to touch the shimmery grey material of the pillow. “Oi,” he says, “if you’re gonna be hanging out with me until the bloody snowpocalypse is over, know that I won’t tolerate being made fun of for having a sense of both fashion and practicality.”

(The way his bottom lip sticks out in a little pout is illegal in about ten countries, Phil thinks. Or at least it should be.)

Phil finally gets to his feet, hoisting his backpack over his right shoulder.

"Oh, are we, uh? You want to hang out with me?" Phil honestly hadn't expected that. He'd begun to resign himself to a night alone at the airport, wandering around and lost in his own anxieties.

Dan starts reversing course immediately, much to Phil’s dismay. "Sorry, uh, we don't have to, of course, you probably want to uh, get a hotel or something. Not hang out with some guy you barely know all night. I'll just uh, see you around, or something." He's already started walking backwards and away from Phil, refusing to even meet his gaze.

"Wait, no," Phil says. "Sorry, I didn't mean - ugh." He breathes out a laugh at both of their awkwardness. Dan is looking at him with something like curiosity, or maybe hope. "Just - would you mind waiting for me? While I go see about getting on a new flight?"

Dan smiles, looking immensely relieved. "Yeah. 'Course. There's one that departs around 8 am, that's what I've got."

The gate area is well and truly deserted now as Phil makes his way over to the desk. He manages to get the final seat on the morning flight, and he shoots Dan a smile and a thumbs up as the gate agent prints out his new ticket. Phil pockets the slip of glossy paper and thanks her profusely, wishing her a happy holiday before wandering back over to where Dan's sat typing something into his phone.

He looks up as Phil approaches, locking his phone and getting to his feet. "Hey," Dan says. "Fancy a coffee? There's a Starbucks in Terminal 5 that's open til 1 am."

"Now you really are my knight in shining armor," Phil says, grinning. "C'mon, if I have to stare out at the snow-covered planes any longer, I'll go mental." He bumps his shoulder lightly into Dan's, nudging him towards some promising-looking directional signs.

11:47 pm

Dan presses some of America's weird green paper money into Phil’s hand as they enter the Starbucks, waving away Phil's protestations before they can even leave his mouth.

"I'll get us a table. Surprise me," Dan says, nodding towards the festively-patterned menu hanging above the counter before disappearing in the direction of an empty corner table. Phil stares up at the options, racking his brain for a memory of watching Dan fill a paper coffee cup from the catering table on set. There'd been a bottle of caramel syrup, staunchly ignored by the rest of the cast and crew, that he’d noticed Dan drain into his own cup day after day.

The barista coughs pointedly to get Phil's attention. "What can I get for you, sir?" she asks.

"Um, two grande caramel macchiatos and two of whatever pastries you've got left. Surprise me," Phil says, deciding to take a page out of Dan's book. He's pretty sure the barista rolls her eyes at him, but she produces two chocolate croissants from the case anyway and starts on preparing the drinks. Phil drops some stray American coins from his pocket into her tip jar. It's Christmas, and he (hopefully) won't have any use for them after tonight anyway.

Dan is staring out the window at the runway as Phil makes his way over to the table he's claimed. Stupid planes. Part of the glass has fogged over from the temperature difference, and Dan's drawn a frowny face into the condensation.

"Draw a Christmas tree at least," Phil says lightly as he sets down their feast and pulls out the opposite chair for himself. Dan begrudgingly obliges him, dragging his left pointer finger against the glass again. He smiles at Phil when he's finished, a dimple appearing in his cheek.

"Better?"

"Now our Christmas celebrations can really begin," Phil says with a laugh, pushing one of the red cups towards Dan. "Cheers."

Just then, Phil's phone screen lights up from with a text from his mum. Merry Christmas darling, see you soon. We all miss you xx, it reads. His lockscreen mocks him with the time in large white font: 12:01 am. Despite the winter weather and the cheery Christmas tunes playing softly over the speakers, his heart feels heavy in his chest. He wasn't supposed to spend Christmas like this.

When he glances across the table, Dan is looking down at his phone as well, frowning. Phil wonders what his text says, if it's from his own mum too. It makes his heart ache even more, to see Dan's dimple disappear into sadness. Under the table, he nudges his foot gently into Dan's.

Dan glances up, thumbs still poised over his phone. "Hey," Phil says softly, "Merry Christmas?" He's not sure why it comes out as a question.

Dan tilts his head a bit but offers him a small smile. "Yeah," he says. "Merry Christmas, Phil." He stretches his leg out under the table and leans it fully into Phil's, warmth seeping in even through two layers of denim.

1:05 am, December 25th (Christmas Day)

The Starbucks employees kick them out at precisely one o'clock.

They wander aimlessly through the terminal, past closed shops and a handful of weary travelers. Phil's always thought that airports exist in another dimension, one where nothing is quite right and anything is possible.

Here, a pretty boy who Phil's camera lingered on for too long takes giant, caffeine-fueled strides forward on the skywalk only to make a show of running back towards Phil against the direction of the moving walkway. He finally makes it after a few missteps, giggling as he trips and falls against the railing. Phil's laughing too, taking Dan by the arm and guiding them both off the end of the conveyor belt. In a fit of bravery (or maybe stupidity), Phil doesn't let go once they're on solid ground; instead, he links his arm through Dan's and leans minutely into his side. Phil watches a small rosy patch bloom on Dan's cheek as they keep walking, Dan tugging him closer with every step.

1:13 am

There's only a few open establishments in their terminal at this hour, one of which is a small tiki-themed bar complete with gaudy straw decorations and a lone bartender polishing some pineapple-shaped glasses. Phil immediately drags Dan over to two of the many open barstools - he feels like they deserve a drink after all they've been through tonight. Dan doesn't put up much of fight, just drops his backpack next to Phil's and takes a seat.

"What can I get ya, fellas?" The bartender asks them in a thick Texan accent. Or maybe Phil just thinks all American accents sound Texan. Phil swivels in his stool to face Dan. "What d'ya drink, mate?" He asks.

Dan leans onto the bartop, propping his head up in his right hand. "You look like a piña colada kind of guy," he says to Phil.

"Oi, what gave me away?" Phil says, laughing and turning back to Mr. Maybe-Texan. "Two of those, please."

Two turns into four turns into six, until they're both hunched over Phil's phone laughing at the absurdity of his Instagram explore page. Dan's curls are wild from the way he keeps pushing them out of his eyes, and the alcohol has given his face a pink flush that spreads down and under the collar of his shirt. Phil's about three coconut-infused sips away from saying something incredibly stupid like you're so fucking pretty or I'm glad I got stuck here with you or a slew of even more problematic things like do you live in London? I'd love to see you sometime.

"Alright, last call boys," says their bartender, startling Phil out of his rum-induced daydreams. Dan wrestles Phil's phone fully out of his hands, squinting down at the time.

"'S'not even three yet!" He exclaims, clumsily getting to his feet and leaning fully over Phil’s lap to protest more directly at Mr. Definitely-Not-Texan, who’s stood at the other end of the bar. He steadies himself with a hand pressed directly onto Phil's thigh, the other splayed across the bartop. Phil's piña colada brain knows that it only makes logical sense for him to wrap an arm around Dan's waist, to hold him close so that he won't topple over. Dan seems to comply with this genius plan, leaning even further into Phil's side and continuing his lament.

"There's not - d’ya know, it can't be last call because, because. Because! You haven't - we haven't even had any pizza yet! Phil, Phil, tell 'em, everyone knows you can't have last call until there's pizza! Isn't that - this bloody country has no good laws, I'm telling ya, pizza is the law! Phil - " Dan accentuates his point by poking Phil in the chest. "Tell me I'm right. You know I'm right. We need pizza."

"We need pizza," Phil confirms, nodding his head solemnly at Dan who is so close, so close and soft and warm against him, and -

"You're out of luck there," the bartender says. "Most everything's shut down for the night. You'll have to sleep it off instead, but you can't do it here. Sorry boys."

Phil has the distinct sense that Dan's about to turn up the dramatics to method-actor levels based on the deep inhale he takes. Regretfully, he nudges Dan out of his lap in order to sign the check, effectively cutting off his inevitable rant, and Dan sits back on his own stool to pout.

3:02 am

With nowhere else to go, they wander back towards their new plane's gate. At least, Phil's pretty sure they're headed in the right direction. Mostly he's just been following Dan.

It feels like they walk for ages, the buzz of the alcohol steadily wearing off and being replaced with a wave of exhaustion. Phil lags behind Dan for long enough that he finally stops and turns around, holding out his hand and waiting for Phil to catch up.

Phil stops too, admiring the way Dan looks like this. A bit hazy around the edges from the outdated prescription of his spare glasses, smiling and asking without words for Phil to hold his hand. It's a good image. Probably the best he could've asked for, given the circumstances. It's more than enough to motivate him to drag his heavy feet across the floor and slip his hand into Dan's. In this moment, he’d happily miss another plane just to keep Dan looking at him the way he is right now.

They walk for another eternity before reaching their gate, where a handful of people are slouched awkwardly in the small chairs. Some are asleep, some are illuminated by a blue electronic glow, and some are just simply staring off into space. Phil spots a lone outlet in a corner, but there aren't any chairs near it. He tugs Dan towards it anyway, knowing that both of their phones are low on power.

The carpet's not pristine but it looks clean enough, so they both collapse happily against the wall.

Dan digs around in his bag awkwardly for his phone charger with his right hand, still holding onto Phil's with his left. Dan's hand is warm and soft in his, and Phil takes the opportunity to examine it in more detail, holding it up in front of his face in the dim light.

"Oi, do you have some weird hand fetish you haven't told me about?" Dan’s got a laugh behind his eyes and that damn rosy patch in bloom on his cheek again and Phil is so, so done for.

Phil folds the limb in question under both of his own hands, clutching it protectively to his chest. “Hands are the best part of a person!” He asserts. “I won’t be kinkshamed in public, Daniel.”

“How about in private, then?”

Surely Phil hasn’t heard that correctly. He’s got rum and coconut sloshing around in his veins and surely Dan hasn’t just insinuated that he and Phil might see each other after this whole travel fiasco is finished. He opens his mouth to reply but can’t find any words to properly express just how much he’d like the opportunity to do just that.

Dan’s fingers tap out a quick rhythm against Phil’s t-shirt. “Your heart’s racing.”

“You make me nervous,” Phil replies, finally. Maybe he’s still got some of that liquid courage left.

Dan pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, considering. “Good nervous?”

“Yeah,” Phil laughs. “Good nervous.”

4:38 am

Even in the middle of the night, airports are never truly quiet. But in the little corner they’ve settled into here, Phil feels the calmest he’s been in a good long while.

Dan’s head is a warm, solid weight on his shoulder, soft brown curls tickling at his jaw. The pair of earbuds split between them plays something unfocused and dreamy and instrumental from Dan’s phone, lulling Phil into a weird sort of 4 am trance as he stares out at the darkness of the runway. It’s not the kind of music Phil would ever pick for himself, but he kind of likes the way it lets him drift to thinking about other things. Like Dan’s long, slow, half-asleep breaths. The way he curls the fabric of his hoodie over his knuckles.

They’re still a good three hours from sunrise but he knows that the airport will wake up painfully soon, that people will begin to arrive in short order and drag themselves onto the first early morning flights and they’ll be swept up in the rush of it all. He and Dan will board the same plane but sit twenty rows apart on opposite sides of the aisle, and that just feels so fundamentally wrong in a way he can’t understand.

Dan shifts against him and blinks open his eyes, straightening up and dragging a hand over his face. “Mmpft. Sorry. Think I dozed off for a minute there.”

He looks over at Phil, sleepy and fond. An intrusive thoughts worms its way into Phil’s brain, of seventy-five more Christmases of seeing Dan like this.

“You should sleep a bit longer,” he says softly, “before it gets too loud in here.” There’s already more and more people walking past their gate every minute. Phil tugs gently on the sleeve of Dan’s hoodie, and Dan comes easily, reaching for his phone and skipping through a few songs before settling back down against Phil. He wedges Phil’s arm out from between their bodies, draping it across his shoulders instead. “Need coffee,” he grumbles, already sounding half-asleep again.

“We just had coffee,” he tells Dan’s hair. Hadn’t they? It sort of feels like an entire lifetime has transpired between now and then.

“Ugh, that was ages ago. Need something festive this time, it’s Christmas now.”

Phil makes a little noise of agreement. Perhaps the festive beverage ranking he’s been working on could use a second opinion. He sets an alarm for an hour on his own phone, tapping slowly and awkwardly with his left hand, before returning to staring out the window. There’s a small army of snow ploughs clearing the area around the parked planes, and Phil can see a few stray snowflakes still falling in the glow of the floodlights.

He makes sure that their backpacks are still tucked in securely between his body and the wall and that the boy he’d fancied from afar just 24 hours ago is resting soundly at his other side before letting his own eyes drift closed.

5:54 am

It’s a different barista than the one who’d politely kicked them out five hours ago, but they still manage to claim the same corner table in Terminal 5’s Starbucks, condensation issues and all. A ghost of Dan’s Christmas tree still lingers in the morning fog.

Phil shows Dan the festive ranking in his Notes app, which Dan is more than happy to tear apart and completely rearrange. The destruction is worth it for the way Dan’s dimple keeps appearing in his cheek each time he moves anything with white chocolate further down the list. Phil stretches his legs fully into Dan’s space under the table and stubbornly refuses to look at the clock.

6:28 am

There’s nothing to do besides talk, which is just fine by Phil. He’s never been one to overshare but he likes hearing Dan’s voice, likes hearing about his life. About how he technically works as a law consultant but only really finds joy in acting, even though he’ll probably never land enough roles to quit his day job. About how missing out on extra time spent petting his family’s dog is the true tragedy of Christmas. About how he doesn’t usually make a habit of flirting with his cameramen, thank you very much, but he might just make an exception for ones who let him sleep on their shoulder all night.

Maybe it’s fine that the clock keeps ticking, that they’re now within an hour of their boarding call. New York’s been pretty good to him, but he has a feeling that being back home in London is going to be even better.

7:31 am

They find actual chairs to sit in at their gate this time, despite the crowd that’s gathered there. Dan’s talking on the phone with someone, presumably his mum by the way his entire side of the conversation is yeah and mhmm and I know. He’s sat cross-legged in his chair, long limbs somehow tucked up neatly under his ` body, one knee overlapping casually with Phil’s thigh. Phil traces shapes into the denim of his jeans there, stars and squiggles and something that he imagines would be a cross between a chinchilla and an armadillo if he could actually see it.

“Attention passengers, in just a few moments we will begin boarding for British Airways Flight BA178 to London, currently on time for an 8:05 am departure. At this time we’d like the begin pre-boarding for customers with...”

“Yeah, okay mum, listen, I gotta go, we’re boarding now. Okay. Yeah. Love you too, see you soon. Mhmm. Okay. Bye.” Dan ends the call, glancing around at the hectic departure scene before turning to Phil with a small smile. He takes Phil’s restless fingers and slots them between his own, a gesture that Phil is already fully addicted to.

Dan nods down at the boarding pass clutched in Phil’s other hand. “What number are you?” he asks.

“Four. You?”

Dan scrunches up his nose. “Five. How were you literally the last person to get a seat on this plane but still able to end up boarding before me?”

Phil can’t help his grin. “Guess I’ve just been lucky recently, hmm?”

8:01 am

Phil leans as far into the window as he can, watching the last few suitcases get loaded onto the plane. His brain has finally slipped into overtired and cranky mode, and he really has no desire to be in close proximity to any grumpy stranger sat next to him right now.

Well. Maybe there’s one grumpy sort-of-stranger that he wouldn't mind.

The man in the aisle seat makes a disgruntled noise as someone stops to hover over him, but Phil keeps his eyes trained out on the runway. Probably it’s just the flight attendant closing up the overhead compartments.

“Hey, I’ve got a seat up in 21B that I’ll trade you for,” says a decidedly not-flight attendant voice. “It’s first off after business class, and the guy in the window’s already asleep. Won’t be any trouble for you, unlike this one.” He nods at Phil, smiling his stupid dimpled smile like this is the best plan anyone’s ever executed in all of airplane history.

(It kind of is, in Phil’s opinion.)

The actual flight attendant comes up the aisle behind Dan. “Sir, I really need you to sit down now.”

“C’mon mate,” Dan says, as though the swap is already a done deal. Mr. Grumpy McGrumpFace looks between him and Phil before unbuckling his seatbelt and brushing past them towards the front of the plane. The flight attendant sighs and turns to follow him, and Dan swings his bag up top before slouching down dramatically next to Phil.

“Hello,” Dan says, cheeky smile still on his face.

Phil just shakes his head fondly, trying unsuccessfully to hide how pleased he is at this turn of events. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hm. Guess that’s something you’ll just have to get used to.”

The plane rumbles to life under them, someone speaking too softly over the tinny intercom. Dan produces his phone from his pocket, unraveling his headphones once again and handing one to Phil. “Your turn to sleep this time,” he says, reaching across to pull the windowshade down against the morning sun.

“Only if you play music that will give me Christmassy dreams.”

Dan just laughs and tugs Phil closer, typing ‘Mariah Carey’ into the search bar as they start to lift into the sky.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #dnp #dan and phil #*rosewrites

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lilover131 · 5 years

Text

Clear Card Chapter 35 Thoughts

I’m a little late talking about this chapter, but since the new chapter is only days away, I figured it’s now or never. Chapter 35 was as interesting as it was frustrating, so let’s dive right in! Under the cut due to length and spoilers.

The chapter starts off with the story book format we are familiar with in regards to Akiho and Kaito’s past. I found it intriguing that Sakura also hears the narrating voice and is wondering who is telling it, which has me curious as well. Is it Momo? Or someone else? It’s not clear, but it’s certainly an effective way of getting Sakura up to speed.

However, what makes this scene more interesting is the fact that Sakura has seemingly taken Akiho’s place and can express to us the feelings that are in her heart, and it’s devastating. Of course we knew that Akiho was lonely, but Sakura is really helping us to understand the depths of just how lonely she really was, and it’s pretty painful to say the least. Sakura isn’t even really paying attention to what the Clan members are saying about her at first, because she is so taken by the pain that’s in her heart from Akiho’s feelings of rejection, and it’s hard to imagine a child sitting through grown people talking right in front of her about how useless she is. It’s really disgusting.

The clan members read the letter sent from the Association about Kaito’s reading of Akiho, and it seems his comment about her ‘being like a blank book’ might have inadvertently stirred the thought of turning her into a magical tool. I wonder if this has effect on why Kaito regards her so highly now? Perhaps he feels guilty about his part in it?

Sakura seems scared when they mention ‘writing over her body’ with magic, and it’s kind of understandable. I mean…who wants to be a subject in some twisted magical experiment? Akiho likely never wanted this and just wanted to be accepted as she was and be spoken to like a person, regardless of whether she had magic or not.

The scene with the spell being conducted is super eerie. It has a sacrificial sort of feel and seems incredibly uncomfortable for Akiho/Sakura. I imagine having the very fabric of your being altered by greedy magicians is hardly pleasant, especially since they don’t seem to care very much for her well being. Even worse is how they plan on burning the book they used to guide them once they are done just to keep others from replicating it. To me, this seems more like they are burning the instructions on how to fix it when it goes wrong, but hindsight is a bitch, and I’ve seen enough movies like this to know where it’s going. Selfishness always leads to bad things, but it seems Akiho has the biggest price to pay with her poor soul at risk. What sort of heartless people can call themselves her family and do such a thing to her? This got my blood boiling and I’m sure I’m not the only one.

The next page is a little confusing, because it seems Momo and Kaito, who have now entered the pool area, have frozen time a bit further now and are commenting on the ‘voices’. I’m not sure what ‘voices’ in particular they are talking about, but I’m assuming it is the different voices that were coming from Akiho when she is in her possessed state. In the Japanese raws, it has been noticed that many of the speech bubbles when she is in that state have different fonts used, indicating that more than one person is speaking. This is incredibly creepy, but also does bring on the thought that other people are speaking through and using Akiho’s body. Kaito states that he recognizes some of the voices as some from the Association and Clan, so does this mean that those groups are currently speaking through her? It wouldn’t surprise me really, but I’m kinda a little surprised if they have that much control and are still feeling the need to send their secret attacks at Kaito from a distance. I’m really curious as to their current involvement in everything.

Kaito and Momo then give us a little insight into what is happening with Akiho’s body, and it seems the magic instilled in her is essentially trying to take over and ‘crush’ Akiho, which is a sign that whatever is happening is beginning to progress much faster, much to their dismay. From the sounds of it, Akiho is already almost at the brink of what her soul can handle, and if she absorbs any more magic, her soul would break, which would only be beneficial to the selfish Clan and Association that wish to use her as an object. This is kind of a scary thought, because it means that this is not the first time she has tried to take someone’s magic into the book. It is likely that she has taken many people’s magic already, though she is not aware of it herself.

Kaito mentions again how Sakura needs to make him “that” card, which has me still questioning exactly what kind of card he’s looking for. Since the REWIND she made before was “similar”, I’m wondering if the card he’s looking for is time based in some way, but it’s hard to tell. I’m not exactly sure what sort of card would fix a problem like this.

However, with all this information, it is becoming a little more obvious that Kaito’s intentions are good in nature as he shortens his own life again just to stop the spell from moving forward even more than it has. He wants to help Akiho, even at the cost of his own life, but the real question is why? Why did he start to care about her so much that he wants to save her soul? I’m sure we’ll get the answer to this soon since they teased the image of Akiho and Kaito’s first meeting in the garden, and Kaito in a quite determined fashion mentions that he made up his mind about something and that it was the first decision he made on his own when the scene from the past was referenced. The specifics of this decision is unknown, but I’m sure it has much to do with Akiho.

Poor Kaito looks more worn out than we’ve ever seen him by the time he’s done, and Momo points out again that he is missing what is truly important, which I’m guessing is him staying alive. If he’s doing all this for Akiho, he’s only going to make her sad if he dies or gets hurt. It’s easy to blind yourself to the pain you’re causing others when you don’t care for yourself, which has always been a theme CLAMP re-iterates with their characters, *cough* especially Syaoran *cough*.

Now comes the most frustrating part for me. Time getting rewound by Kaito…AGAIN. Admittedly, it kind of pissed me off that just when things were heating up, Kaito swoops in and makes it go away. I understand that had he left things the way they were, it would have been a real bad situation, but cooooome oooonnnn CLAMP. Couldn’t we have gathered this same information any other way? Oh well. It’s no use getting all bothered about it, so we’ll move on.

At least one thing changed from the scene before time was rewound, and that was Sakura suddenly leaping forward and hugging Akiho. It really seems that Kaito’s time magic is becoming less and less effective on her. The last time, she was able to move a pinky and noticed her finger felt strange, but this time she carried the feelings with her, and I feel like that’s a substantial step to remembering fully. I feel it won’t be long before his time magic no longer works on her, so he’s gonna have to work quickly.

Sakura crying and telling Akiho that she doesn’t know why she’s upset kinda struck a chord with me, because I have often had dreams that I can’t remember, however I do remember how they made me feel. I can remember if I was scared, happy, or sad, and with Sakura’s situation, I think it can be compared to as like a dream. Even though she can’t remember, her body does and remembers the pain she felt in her heart living Akiho’s past.

Sakura then returns home, and the poor thing is still hurting inside, which must be immensely confusing since she does not know why. But it must be soothing to know she has such loving friends and family who worry about her and care for her so much. In fact, her prince couldn’t even wait two seconds, #worriedboyfriend, after leaving her at her house to call her and ask if she was okay again, and this had me laughing pretty hard. It’s really adorable how much Syaoran worries about her, and I can imagine him calling her again like 10 minutes later and asking “Hey, are you still okay? Are you suuuure? Are you really really sure?”. But in his defense, it must be torture for him to see her in pain and know there is nothing he can do to fix it.

Despite the overall depressing atmosphere of the chapter, it did end on a positive note with Sakura very maturely saying how she would talk about her feelings once she was able to properly work through them and finished with saying her invincible spell . I have no idea where we’re gonna go from here, but I wonder if those feelings when she looks at Akiho will linger and what sort of card she’ll make next. Additionally, Kaito seems prepped to do some meddling from now on to make it happen, and it seems like Sakura may be going to their house very soon to bring over sweets and apologize to Akiho for worrying her. It’ll be interesting to see what happens next! We’ll find out in a couple days! Whooo!

Until next time!

#cardcaptor sakura #clear card #manga #chapter 35 #thoughts #theories #chrissy talks a lot #sakura #syaoran #akiho #kaito #momo #squid clan can die in a fire

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walkerismychoice · 6 years

Text

For Law and Love Chapter 4

Book: Desire and Decorum - Modern day AU

Paring: Ernest Sinclaire X MC

Raiting: PG

Summary: Another week of class begins. Will Anna ever be able to look Sinclaire in the eyes again?

Count: ~2000

Law and Love Master List - Catch up here

Anna met up with Annabelle to walk to class Monday morning. She hadn't talked to her, or anyone really, since the party Friday night. She spent a good part of Saturday sleeping off her hangover and then studied all evening. Sunday she went home to do laundry and have dinner with her dad. She told him about Luke being her TA and that she went to a gathering at his place, but omitted any and all details about Ernest Sinclaire. After her performance Friday night, she was certain he'd want nothing to do with her outside anything pertaining to Business Law.

"Hey, what happened to Friday night?" Annabelle asked with brows furrowed. "You just disappeared."

"I disappeared? I was told you had already left."

"I was still there. I was just, uh, busy with Eva." Annabelle averted her eyes shyly. "Sorry about that."

Anna smirked. "No, I get it. I'm glad one of us had a good time."

"You didn't walk home alone did you?" Anabelle inquired, concern evident in her voice.

"No, but I wish I had. I made a complete fool of myself." Anna buried her head in her hands.

"I'm sure whatever it is couldn't be that bad." Annabelle patted her on the back and Anna proceeded to tell her everything. Annabelle cringed. "Okay, yeah, that's pretty bad."

"Ugh, what's wrong with me? I'm so not looking forward to seeing him today." Anna had noted the TAs were taking turns attending class after the first day. It was just her luck that Hamid was Wednesday and Luke was Friday, so it had to be Ernest today. Why was life so cruel?

They arrived in class and took their usual seats in the middle of the room. Anna spotted Sinclaire at the front and kept her head down to avoid any chance at eye contact.

Annabelle leaned in. "He's totally looking at you."

Anna scoffed. "Is he giving me the death stare?"

"Is that any different than his normal stare?" Annabelle chuckled.

“You have a point. He’s got the RBF down.” They both giggled and were hushed by a guy in the row behind them. “Oops, we should keep it down before they have to split us up.”

Class went along as usual with Professor Richard’s self-important prattle sandwiched between short bits of important information. Anna alternated between taking notes and staring at the back of Ernest’s head thinking of all the ways she messed things up. Was there really anything to mess up anyway? He had shown zero outward interest in her. But there were those little things, like the way his eyes always seemed to be on her, or the spark she felt from the brief touch of hands at the party. It gave her hope the attraction was not one sided. At least it had until she made a literal mess of things.

Time was almost up and Anna was ready to bolt out the door immediately, when Professor Richards announced Ernest would be handing back the papers they turned in on Friday. There would be no avoiding him completely. They gathered near the front of the room and he listed off their names one by one.

"Edgewater," he called out. and she quickly shuffled over, trying not to look him in the eyes. She grabbed the a paper from his hand and turned towards the door, not even waiting for Annabelle who later caught up with her outside.

“Wait up Anna!” Annabelle was short of breath by the time she caught her. “You know you can’t avoid him all semester. That was....awkward back there.”

“I just grabbed the paper and left. I don’t see anything weird about that.”

“I don’t know, he just stood there kind of stunned for a few seconds too long and fumbled to get the next persons name out.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I’m sure only you noticed it because you were looking for it. She flipped through her paper which was thoroughly marked in red with comments and corrections and the intials ‘E.S.’ Of course he would be a super critical grader. “I got a B? Look at all these marks. This is brutal...Ernest is brutal."

“If it makes you feel any better, I got a C.” Annabelle held out her paper which was not nearly as marked up but still showed the lower grade.

“But I don’t get Bs.” Anna shook her head in disbelief. “I always get As.”

Annabelle laughed dryly. “Welcome to Harvard. You’ll get used to it.”

“Ugh. I don’t want to get used to it.” Anna flipped to the last page to see the final comments signed by Sinclaire. “What the- How is yours signed?” Annabelle held out the page to her which said ‘Ernest Sinclaire’. “Oh my god.” Anna buried her head in her hand.

“What’s wrong?” Annabelle questioned

“He signed mine ‘Ernie’, in quotes. The embarrassment is unending.”

“Am I missing something?”

“I actually almost forgot about it until now, but I might have drunkenly called him Ernie at the party.”

“You did not!” Annabelle exclaimed before doubling over with laughter. "It seems like he thought it was kind of funny though if he wrote it on your paper."

"I don't know. There are a million comments marked on mine," Anna huffed. "He hardly made any comments on yours."

"But you still got a better grade." Annabelle snatched the paper from her hand and pointed to the B on the front. "Maybe he just cares more about you."

"Or..." Anna swiped it back. "He's trying to get back at me for acting like a fool and ruining his shoes."

"Whatever you say, Anna. I've go to get to class. Text me later?" Anna nodded and Annabelle took off in the opposite direction.

~~~~~

Anna stewed over her grade from Sinclaire and was still thinking about it the next day. It wasn't just that she wasn't used to getting anything less than an A, but she was confused by the comments as well. They were actually positive for the most part with only a few minor corrections. She couldn't understand where she went wrong enough to drop an entire letter grade. It was ridiculous to obsess so much, and the only way to stop was to talk to him about it during his office hours. Of course this meant facing him and owning up to her embarrassment, but she’d have to do it sooner or later.

As Anna approached the office she could see he was with another student. He nodded his head to acknowledge her presence and she took a seat in the chairs outside to wait. No sooner had she sat down when Professor Richards peeked his head out the door.

“Can I help you with something?” His eyes ran over her body as if he was trying to survey what was underneath her clothing, causing an uneasy shiver to run down her spine. Maybe there was some truth to the rumors.

“Oh no. I’m just waiting for Ernest.” Anna looked towards Ernest’s office as she spoke and saw him look up at the mention of his name and narrow his eyes at the professor.

“I’m sure I can help you out with whatever you need Miss-”

“Edgewater. But no, that’s quite alright. I can just wait.”

“Edgewater! I can see the resemblance to Harry now. He wasn’t as pretty as you though.” Professor Richards winked at Anna, making her skin crawl.

At that moment, Ernest stood up and hurriedly rushed the student out of his office, telling him he could email any further questions. “Anna, please come in.”

Professor Richards smile turned to a scowl but he didn’t protest. Ernest ushered Anna inside and shut the door. He didn’t explain nor did she comment on why he closed the door for her and not the other student. He was shielding her from the creep next door.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” Ernest said softly before his features hardened. “He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“It’s fine, It wasn’t a big deal.” Anna lied. Professor Richards hadn’t said all that much but he didn’t have to. His tone and mannerisms were enough to make her uncomfortable.

“No Anna, its not. He crossed a line. I’ve heard rumors before, and some were pretty terrible, but I had never seen anything in person. If you want me to help you file a report-”

“Ernest, it’s okay...really.” Anna’s pleading eyes begged him to drop it. “It was gross, and yes he crossed a line, but he didn’t really do anything. I hardly think him calling me pretty is going to get him into any actual trouble.”

Ernest finally relaxed his tightly clenched fists. “Just be careful around him.”

“Luckily he’s too busy to care about us measly undergrads, and we’re stuck with you.” Anna grinned and Ernest smiled back, a genuine, honest smile she hadn’t seen before.

“What brings you in today? Here to apologize for ruining my shoes?” He still had a hint of a smile on his face.

With the unwanted attention from Professor Richards, Anna had finally forgotten, if only for a few minutes, how mortified she was. But was Ernest actually teasing her? He seemed to find it much more amusing than anything. “I’m so sorry. That was so embarrassing, and so not like me.”

“You mean to say vomiting all over someone is not a typical sign of affection from you?”

“Were you hoping for some affection from me?” She knew she shouldn’t flirt with him but she couldn’t help herself.

Ernest cleared his throat and sat up straight but his cheeks were flushing red. “I assume the actual reason you're here has something to do with the class.” Ernest speculated, trying to get back on track.

Anna sighed. He was so hot and cold. One second he was starting to let down his walls and them next he was more difficult to infiltrate than Fort Knox. “Yes, that. I wanted to talk to you about my paper. I have questions about the grading."

"You got a B. You did well." He stated matter of factly.

"But I looked at your comments and the criteria, and I don't see what I'm missing." Anna turned to the rubric on the last page.

Ernest looked over it thoughtfully and pointed to the issue. "The specifications were for 12 point font. Yours was 11."

"Seriously?" Anna questioned with an edge of irritation. "One little detail, and I drop a whole grade?"

Ernest shrugged and threw his hands up. "I don't make the rules. Besides, missing one small detail could cost you a case in court. I'm doing you a favor to be strict with you now. I expect you will now read all instructions thoroughly."

"Fine," Anna muttered. "Lesson learned. I guess I'll see you in class.

Anna stood to leave when Ernest grabbed her hand. "Wait!" He exclaimed before looking down at his hand on hers and suddenly pulling away. "I should give you my number in case you need to text me...for class related purposes."

"I do already have your email...like all the other students." Anna suppressed another smirk.

"Right..." Ernest ran a hand through his hair. "Texts are a much better way to get ahold of me if you have any urgent questions." Ernest scrawled his number on a post-it and handed it to her.

"Sure...if i have any burning questions about business law I'll make sure to text you." Anna saved the number in her phone and texted him. Ernest's phone lit up on the desk and he checked the text. "You know, in case you have any questions about my assignments that must be answered immediately." This time she failed to hold back her sly smile as she stood to leave. "See you in class Mr. Sinclaire."

Tag List: @quacksonlover, @cocomaxley, @tmarie82, @simplyaiden-blog, @lizeboredom, @alexanderkeith, @debramcg1106, @llholloway, @zackzilberg, @confessionsofabrokegirl, @writtenbycandy, @butindeed, @shelivesinthewoods, @nicestrokepam, @leelee10898, @fluffy-marshmallow-heart, @future-mrs-gremlin, @c.e, @walkerduchess, @pens-girl-87, @sweetfluffyunicorn18, @blackcatkita, @jadedpixiescribbles, @damienazariostan, @yesterday4, @snyggflicka, @endless-vall, @choicesatnight, @hopefulmoonobject, @enmchoices, @theroyalweisme, @the-everlasting-dream, @too-poor-to-buy-keys @mr-sinclaire @hhiggs, @mfackenthal, @alesana45, @thatspicegirlssong, @quartzandarrow, @flyawayblue56, @choicesyouplayandmore, @catlady0911 @boneandfur, @lovethroughthemiles, @flowerpowell, @andy-loves-corgis, @akrenich, @nekkidmolerat, @katurrade

#desire and decorum #playchoices fanfiction #Ernest Sinclaire #mr. sinclaire #for law and love #my fic

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mutantdatingproblems · 6 years

Text

We Got Tagged

Hey everyone, we got tagged by @localmutantlesbian in this mutant ask thing so here we go (as always Z will be using bolded font and Vex will use italics and if we’re both saying it it’ll be both bolded and in italics, just so ya know who’s who in our answers if ya don’t wanna read our names every time). Here we go!

1. What’s your codename/mutant name?

Z: I can’t decide honestly, I’ve considered something simple like “Shifter” and crazy shit like “Dragon Queen” but they’ve all been shot down so far either by me or by Prof.X or one of the other Profs or my friends for being lame

V: This is a question I hate because I totally would’ve gone with like “Multiple Girl” but Multiple Man has that and they won’t let me pick something in a dead or nerd language (even though I think it’d be super cool) so I also don’t have one. We don;t go into the field much yet though so it doesn’t really matter yet.

2. Age?

Z: 19 going on 20, birthday is in May

V: Same except my birthday is in June

3. Gender and pronouns?

Z: Genderfluid with a current lean towards nonbinary so they/them or she/her or he/him all work for me, I don’t really care

V: Genderqueer, They/Them or She/Her please

4. What is your mutation(s)?

Z: Shapeshifting and mild hydrokinesis and is ADHD a mutation? Cause I swear it gives me superpowers

V: Creating multiples of myself and enhanced strength, speed, and senses. And yeah ADHD should definitely count as a power.

5. Are you a member of any mutant group (X-Men, The Mutant Underground, The Brotherhood of Mutants, Morlocks, etc)?

Z: X-Men in training at Xavier's (But I have friends in The Brotherhood)

V: Ditto

6. Got any physical mutations?

Z: Yeah, although mine are mostly by choice seeing as I’m a shapeshifter. I’m fond of my claws and fangs and tails and scales and horns and freaky eyes for everyday use

V: Nope, not really.

7. When did your powers manifest?

Z: Around 13

V: 12 and a half

8. What is your favourite thing about your powers?

Z: Everything. I love my powers, I love that I can be anything and do anything if I put my mind to it. It makes me who I am honestly, I don’t know who I’d be without my powers. Hell I’d probably have killed myself if my powers hadn’t manifested when they did I hated myself so much back then. Of course being at Xavier’s and meeting V and my other friends helped too. But yeah I love my powers and how they make me feel.

V: Ditto honestly, my powers help me learn so much and so much faster than I used to be able to, the focus I gain from my clones alone is a life saver when I have to do anything I find boring (which is a lot because Inattentive ADHD sucks royally). The enhanced senses and stuff are pretty awesome too, nothing better than losing your favorite pen under a couch and being able to lift the couch over your head ta get it back. I wouldn’t trade my powers for anything in the world.

9. Biggest pet peeve related to being a mutant?

Z: Assholes being assholes to us, assholes who only approve of human-passing mutants who think we should be grateful they even tolerate that much, not being able to find good shapeshifter friendly clothing that still looks cool and comes in plus sizes, and uppity fuckwad mutants who judge others on powers or looks or anything else because god dammit we need to stick together and support each other. I could go on because I have a lot but I won’t or this’ll take forever.

V: The asshole issues that Z pointed out but also when my powers go outta control cause I lose my cool or something and I have ta calm down ta find control again and it’s really hard, or when I sneeze cause of allergies and I accidentally sneeze a clone out...it’s embarrassing. Also accidentally hurting people with my enhanced strength....I hate that too

10. Ever been to space or another dimension?

Z: Yeah by accident.....it involved tequila....lots of tequila....

V: Nope

11. Do you wear a costume (BE HONEST)

Z: Sorta? I have ta make a lot of my own clothes cause of my physical mutations and shapeshifting so sometimes they come out looking very costumey and I am fond of leather which doesn’t help. I guess my battle gear counts? Loose black cargo pants (need all the pockets for gadgets and snacks cause shapeshifting requires a fuckton of calories and effort), black tank top (lightweight body armor actually but designed ta look like a tank top), arm warmers (again armor, they cover from my wrists to halfway up my upper arm, they’re also black). black leather fingerless gloves, combat boots (with knives hidden in the toes, also black except I change the laces all the time cause I like making them funky colors and designs), and a black leather weapons belt that holds at least one stun gun, two daggers/medium sized knives, and in some cases a sword because I like it. All of it’s like....well for lack of a better term...enchanted ta survive my shifts (including into dragon form) so it doesn’t rip or tear or anything. Apparently when I shift it kinda just disappears into a pocket dimension and then reappears on me when I shift back...I dunno how it works, ask Scarlet Witch she hooked me up. And by the way the weapons are because sometimes if I’m too drained ta shift I gotta go hand-to hand.

V: Yeah kinda, it’s my battle gear too. Navy cargo pants (I keep extra snacks for Z), black t-shirt, black wrist guards, black boots with purple laces and skulls and stuff painted on them, purple weapons belt holding a stun gun, throwing knives (like a frick ton, I also store more in my pants), more knives of varying sizes, smoke bombs (great for sneak attacks, just throw to confuse enemy and then attack from all sides with clones. I have flash bombs too), and a couple different versions of brass knuckles, and then I wear opaque black sunglasses too because I like them. Oh and yes my shirt is body armor like Z’s is of course, and my boots are steel toe.

12. Are you a minority in another way (race, gender, disability, etc)?

Z: Genderfluid Panromantic Demisexual who’s got mad depression, anxiety, ADHD, and fainting spells and I’m Polyamorous

V: Genderqueer, Queer in general, demisexual and polyamorous also with severe anxiety as well as dsycalculia and ADHD

13. Coolest power you’ve seen?

Z: I love Storm’s powers, but Scarlet Witch is pretty cool too

V: I concur with Storm but I’m also fond of Z’s powers cause watching your friend turn into a dragion is really cool

14. Favourite mutant artist?

Z: Dunno

V: Ditto

15. How would your friends describe you?

Z: Loud, proud, queer as fuck, angry, musical, a water baby, a literal and metaphorical dragon, bad influence, pun queen, kind of insane, kinky, and V’s shoulder devil/inner crazy bitch.

V: Quiet, secretly vindictive, punk af, dorky, wordy, easily distracted, helpful, accidental group therapist, mom friend, and Z’s conscience/shoulder angel.

16. Enhanced/powered person you most want to meet?

Z: Deadpool, I always miss him when he visits and it sucks

V: Spiderman......I just think he seem really cool

17. Feelings about mutant registration?

Z: No, just no. That’s how they end up rounding us up and killing us all. If it’s an operation run by us mutants ourselves as a way to work together and support each other and offer aid to mutants and help mutant youth who’ve been kicked out of their homes and stuff like that then sure. But not some government list of us all, fuck no.

V: Yeah ditto on that.

18. #MutantandProud or #WeWantACure?

Z&V: #MutantandProud

Z&V: Again unless it’s something regulated by mutants for mutants, no. Because it should be a mutants choice whether or not they want their powers because some people get royally screwed and end up with powers they hate because they are dangerous or something like that. It shouldn’t be something the government or anyone else can decide, it should always be the mutants individual choice.

19. How did you choose your codename?

Z: Don’t have one yet but when I do choose it’ll probably be like...by throwing darts at a bunch of names I like or a coin flip or something

V: Don’t have one yet, I’ll tell you how I chose it when I figure one out.

20. OPTIONAL: what caused your powers to manifest?

Z: Got mad, grew talons and fangs and scales cause I was reading about mythological creatures earlier, was not pretty. It happened when I was alone though so that was a plus. (I was mad because of a text from my boyfriend at the time). The hydrokinesis thing I figured out after I got to Xavier’s...was outside in the courtyard....got catcalled by some asshole student....wished I could dump water on his head....fountain water flew up and over and dumped gallons on his head....it was awesome.

V: I sneezed at the dinner table and three clones shot out of me....the strength and speed stuff I figured out at school in gym class when suddenly I was kicking ass at track and field after always sucking at it my whole life....The senses I figured out when I could hear waaaayyyyy too much noise everywhere and everything smelled waaayyy too strong and suddenly I could see without my glasses (yeah I used ta have and need glasses, I don’t anymore but if I did they’d be cats-eye style like a vintage librarian because reasons).

Tagging: We’re not really sure who ta tag so if you wanna do it then feel free ta do it and tag us!

(And thank you again to @localmutantlesbian for tagging us! We loved doing this!)

~Mod Z

~Mod Vex

P.S Wanna know more about us? Check out our previous “Meet the Mods” posts or check out our “Meet the Mods” page on the blog!

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 7 years

Text

Miho’s Bachelorette Party

Written in conjunction and collusion with @hifftn

“You didn’t actually think you were going to get away with getting married without a bachelorette party, did you?” Jazz smirked, when Miho actually didn’t look all that enthused.

“You did,” Miho pointed out. “Sneaky tart.”

“Aaaand you wish you’d thought of it,” Jazz grinned, not the least bit put off by Miho’s attitude. “You could use a bit of fun.”

“You’re a respectable married woman and I am about to be,” Miho reasoned. “Neither of us can go around acting like we used to – hell, I’m nearly forty.”

“All the more reason to go out with a bang,” Jazz pointed out.

“There will be no banging at this party,” Miho growled, but Jazz then knew she’d won.

“Ah! So you agree? Excellent, I’ll get planning,” she declared in triumph, and Miho’s shoulders slumped.

“God damnit – no strippers either,” Miho cursed.

“Jeez you are getting old,” Jazz teased.

Sighing, Miho waved her hand in a gesture of defeat.

“You know Subaru is arranging Goto’s bachelor party, and Kurosawa is sulking,” Jazz added.

“Even after we invited him to be a groomsman?” Miho grumbled. “I know he’s sore about your friend being the photographer, but whose wedding does he think this is?”

“Maybe you should have asked him to be flower girl like we first thought?” Jazz laughed.

“Eloping does sound kind of nice,” Miho mused absently, placing her chin on hand, elbow on the desk. “Can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Eventually we’ll do a thing,” Jazz told her. “You and I have both done this before, but Kuni hasn’t, and neither has Goto.”

“Well if Seiji’s upset I’m not wearing white, he hasn’t said anything,” Miho murmured, rubbing her forehead a little. “Not sure how his folks will take the dark grey, it’s hardly traditional.”

“You said they weren’t overly formal right? And Goto’s brother didn’t seem to have a problem with it,” Jazz reasoned.

“True, but since… I get the impression he feels indebted so I doubt he’d say anything even if he did disagree.”

“Dealing with family is hard work huh?” Jazz exhaled, and Miho looked up, narrowing her eyes on her best friend.

“Right, at least the Goto family isn’t still living in the Dark Ages,” Miho nodded, then a slow smile spread. “If they cause you guys any more trouble, you know…”

She’d been going for her staple line - I was an assassin in a past life - because apparently the narrator can’t figure out any more witty one-liners, but she stopped for reasons we are all well aware of.

“After the shit I’ve endured on account of interfering families,” Jazz smiled, covering for her, “I’d sooner throttle them myself.”

There were some things that Jazz refused to tell Miho about her bachelorette party - just as Goto was kept in the dark by Subaru. For this reason, Miho was left in a state of anxiousness - not because she thought Jazz or the others would hurt her - but more perhaps that her own nature might have led Jazz’s bachelorette party down some pretty wild rabbit holes.

On the night, dolled up as one would for a night on the town, Miho was escorted by her entourage of Jazz, H, Rose and Liana to what Jazz promised would be the first of several bars that had paved Miho’s road to Goto.

“Conte? Really?” Miho queried, and that won her an elbow in the ribs.

“You have no idea how much effort I went to to organise all this,” Jazz hissed.

“Yeah well, I still get the distinct impression I’m the entertainment,” Miho replied.

“Of course you are! Did you think we do this so you could have fun? Nu-uh… it’s all for our own amusement,” Jazz grinned evilly and opened the door to the cafe on the ground floor of one of a thousand apartment buildings in the city.

Oh yes, it had been a pain to find all these places they would visit this night, but it was better than what she had originally planned. Or dragging Miho through strip clubs for example - a suggestion that came from Kyobashi of course.

Jazz on the other hand came up with slightly devious plan that could or could not work. They would visit this cafe and bars with Miho where she had met former lovers. A tour through her colourful past. For the end of the evening Jazz had planned some kind of reconciliation, just in case Miho got grumpy being reminded of all the affairs she had before she found Goto. Although Jazz had made sure only to visit bars that would remember Miho of encounters that ended on good terms.

She had reserved tables in every venue and here the table was actually decorated, much to Jazz’s joy. Yoshio - joint proprietor of Conte- brought the first round of drinks for the night and Rose scrunched up her nose at the glitter on the table, but they all clinked glasses and toasted to Miho and Goto.

“I swear, if I see a stripper somewhere you get into serious trouble,” Miho grumbled but Jazz only laughed.

“In a cafe? No, no strippers, I promise, but feel free to flash when you feel like it,” Jazz pushed a shot glass into Miho’s hand and laughed happily when the bride-to-be groaned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but not now. Hold onto the glass, though, you will need it later. It’s your personal shot glass for tonight.”

Jazz winked and grabbed her own glass, turned a bit and chatted with Liana about how the newlywed life was treating her.

Though they’d started with shots, Mika and Yoshio soon brought over platters of food - a good thing considering how Miho figured the evening would go.

Not everyone seemed pleased with the little party stowed away in one corner. Light gray eyes peered over at them in disdain, the lone seated man who owned them wearing a surly expression.

Miho and the girls didn’t notice him, but the pair of men who then entered did.

“Jesus Ichiya,” Takamune cursed. “You look even more sour than usual.”

“He can’t help it,” Ayato snickered. “He was born that way.”

The pair then looked over when boisterous laughter erupted.

“What’s going on over there?” Ayato asked Mika who had returned to the bar.

“Bachelorette party,” Mika chuckled. “Good thing Conte’s their first stop - they seem pretty wild.”

“Huh,” Ayato mused thoughtfully, trying to get a better look. “That could be fun.”

Ichiya made a disgusted sound.

And just at that moment, Jazz nudged (see pushed) Miho to her feet, demanding she demonstrate correct tequila shot protocol.

“Miho?” Ayato dropped in surprise, and Miho’s gaze shifted and locked with his.

“Oh…” she dropped, sort of trapped there with the shot glass poised. “Hi Ayato, fancy seeing you… here…”

Then her head snapped to look down at Jazz.

“You sneaky bitch,” Miho hissed. “Of course, why the hell else would we come here for a party like this.”

Ayato mosied on over, and it was H who recognised him first.

“No way, Hidaka Ayato?” she blurted over the top of her own shot glass.

“Yep,” Jazz grinned proudly. “And guess who had a short but exceptionally torrid affair with him not that long ago.”

“Oh fuck me,” Miho groaned.

“You still offering?” Ayato questioned.

“I’m getting married so…” holding up her hand and displaying her engagement ring.

“I’m offering,” Rose piped up, raising her hand.

“Me too,” H put in.

“I almost wish I could,” Liana added.

“Why don’t you join us Mr. Hidaka?” Jazz suggested, dragging Miho down and over in the booth, making room for him next to the bride-to-be.

Ayato looked over his shoulder at Taka, who stood there with an unreadable expression on his face.

“That is totally Kitami Takamune,” H whispered to Rose, who looked totally blank.

“Who?”

“Superstar soccer player, duh,” H clarified.

“Didn’t know you were into soccer H,” Miho hummed, pointedly ignoring where Ayato still stood beside her just outside the booth.

“Soccer, not so much - hot soccer players though, different story,” H grinned, and Miho had to laugh, shaking her head.

“So?” Jazz prompted. “Drinks are on us, and you can even invite your grumpy friend over there - he’s kind of attractive.”

“Kind of?” Ichiya sneered.

“Would probably look better with his shirt off,” Jazz added thoughtfully, and this caused Ayato to let out a loud laugh, and Ichiya to look even more unimpressed.

“Hey, no strippers remember?” Miho reminded Jazz.

“Hey, I doubt that’s his official occupation, so it wouldn’t count,” Liana argued lightly.

“A stripper?” Ichiya balked indignantly, but it seemed Ayato liked the idea of this, and sat down next to Miho.

“Marriage huh?” he said, nudging her lightly.

Miho, like Jazz and H, was also not Japanese, and it seemed as a result that her partners felt free to be as familiar with her in public as they so chose.

“Who’d you find more awesome than me?” he added, and Miho pursed her lips.

“I don’t recall you being this arrogant,” she huffed.

“Eh maybe chalk it up to jealousy,” he smirked. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good mature woman who isn’t batshit crazy?”

This nearly caused Jazz to spit out her mouthful, and a dribble may have escaped at the corner of Rose’s lips.

“I guess we weren’t together long enough for you to get to the batshit crazy part,” Miho declared, her voice tight.

Her eyes flickered up at Taka’s approach, then beyond at where Ichiya had turned in his seat, but hadn’t gotten up.

“So come on,” H encouraged. “Dish all the dirt, no censorship.”

“Ahh no,” Miho shut down, and poured herself another shot.

“You’re going to half-ass your last hoorah as a single woman?” Ayato snuffed. “Poor form. If you won’t tell them, I will - you know, provided this isn’t going to get splashed around the tabloids.”

“Yeah maybe you shouldn’t spill the beans,” Taka offered, even as Liana slid a shot glass in front of him and filled it.

“More drinking, less discouraging,” she told him firmly.

“We met here actually,” Ayato began. “And really it was all…”

Miho slapped her hand over his mouth.

“They’ll only be casting you in female roles from now on if you say a word more,” she threatened, then pulled her hand away with a yelp when he actually licked her. “What the hell?”

“You used to appreciate my tongue,” he chortled, and the ladies at the table laughed, while Taka blushed and Ichiya shook his head, still on the other side of the room.

What followed was a truly no holds barred rundown of the very physical relationship Miho had with the young television and film star, that ultimately ended when they decided sneaking around and keeping out of the media was a bit too much hassle, and he needed to focus on his career.

“Is Miho actually blushing?” Liana asked, leaning across the table a little.

“I’ve had half a bottle of sake already,” Miho pointed out huffily. “And you lot ate all the wings.”

“Here, put this in your mouth,” Ayato suggested, and though he was offering Miho a prawn gyoza, everyone else at the table lost it laughing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Miho sighed, but took the proffered item and bit into it.

When the food was gone, it was time for them to move on - Jazz did the shoving since her glass seemed suspiciously free of alcohol.

“One for the road?” Ayato offered, just before Miho and the girls exited the building, and Miho paused.

“I don’t think s…” she began, but he’d already pecked her on the lips before she could quite finish. “God damnit Ayato, I was an…”

“...assassin in a past life!” came a chorus of giggly female voices behind them.

“Forget marriage,” Ayato grinned cheekily. “You’re going to need all the luck you can get just to survive tonight.”

Bidding Miho goodbye, she moved to the curb where the rest of the girls had gathered beside a sleek, black stretch limousine.

“Look,” Jazz prompted, holding her cell phone out to Miho, and Miho read the text message aloud.

“Wanted to make sure you girls got around safely, heart Kuni. Huh, so he’s trying to buy my trust is he?” she added, and Jazz scowled. “Fine, fine, evidence he cares for our wellbeing accepted. Tell him I said thank you, and I’ll do it myself later.”

“Can’t believe Mr. Aikawa sent us a limo,” H grinned, then blinked when the driver finally exited, took off his cap and bowed to them dramatically.

“My name is Baba Mitsunari, and I’ll be your dashingly handsome chauffeur for this evening,” Baba declared with a flourish.

“I doubt it very much Aikawa sent us a limo with you as the driver, Baba,” Miho pointed out, eyeing him, and he looked a little wounded. “Uh huh, what did you do with the actual driver?”

“He’s having a lovely time with a hostess at the Tres Spades,” he grinned. “I’m hurt you think I did something untoward.”

Pouting, he opened the back door and motioned the party inside, but Miho lingered outside a little longer.

“Sexism aside, bachelorette parties are supposed to be a women only affair, Baba,” she pointed out, and in response he slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a sideways hug.

“Oh come on Miho, pleeeeease?” he whined, but he was still grinning. “It’s not like I got invited to Goto’s shindig, though if I’m honest, I think I’ll have a whole lot more fun with you than him.”

His wink suggested much.

“Uh huh, we had our fun,” she told him sternly, then sighed. “But, I suppose, provided you stay sober and fully clothed, I’ll let you tag along.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, kissing her on the cheek before releasing her, and Miho shook her head.

“Oh I hope I don’t regret this.”

Their next destination was much more upmarket, a bar with a sophisticated atmosphere, soft jazz music and low lighting - and Miho knew exactly who she Jazz wanted her to ‘run into’ here.

“Oh, you really are evil,” Miho growled under her breath, and Jazz just smiled happily.

Payback for all the twisted things Miho got her involved in… and all that fucking glitter.

“So what’s the story with this one?” Liana asked, ever the journalist even after a few drinks.

She asked this as they entered, and being the group of five fabulously dressed women that they were, they turned heads, including not one, but two Miho knew.

Intimately.

“This is bad,” she admitted to herself, and Rose gave her a prod in the back.

“Okay, who is it then? Is he here? He? She?”

“They,” Miho conceded, and Jazz’s eyes sparkled.

Just because she knew their haunts didn’t mean the guys she was after would actually be there, but this time - a two for one deal.

“They?” H laughed, scanning the room until she saw two men in suits seated together, who looked at each other, then over at Miho, then back at each other.

“Off you go!” Jazz ‘encouraged’ giving Miho a shove in their direction, and so Miho had no choice to continue along that trajectory, or make a really obvious and embarrassing retreat; as if she could do that.

Regaining her composure, she left her counterparts/torturers and approached the two men, who stood when she drew within conversational proximity.

“Well, this isn’t awkward at all, is it gentlemen?” she began sheepishly, planting hands on her hips.

“Awkward?” the black haired man responded with a gentle smile.

A smile Miho knew masked a very astute, sneaky mind capable of some incredibly loin-achingly sexy thoughts.

And he knew how to action those thoughts, the recollection of which obviously showed in Miho’s eyes, because he stepped forward to take her hand and kiss her on the cheek before she could recoil.

“I was thinking it’s rather nice to see you again,” he said clearly, even as Miho placed her left hand on his chest and pushed him from her personal space. “The feeling isn’t mutual perhaps?” he queried, tilting his head a little to the side, and it was criminal how a grown man, collected, calm and very adult, could suddenly look so cute. “If that were the case, why come to say hello at all?”

Then the other man cleared his throat, and Miho slid her gaze to him.

“Sorry Dr. Irie,” she apologised and he raised a brow, watching her and the man who still stood quite close to Miho, adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I’m not sure you ever addressed me that formally,” he commented. “And I have to admit being a little jealous that Yukihisa got to reprise intimacies with you, and I have not.”

Their voices were of the kind of volume that they didn’t travel far, but the other girls, Baba in tow, had inched their way with surprising stealth, to a nearby table. When they heard Irie’s comment, laughter tittered, and Miho ground her teeth and fought against what was surely not going to be the last blush of the evening.

“Sorry, Soichiro,” Miho exhaled after a few seconds getting her thoughts together.

“So you’ll join us then?” Yukihisa Maki prompted more than questioned, and he stepped back to pull a chair out for her.

“That depends,” Miho replied, flickering her gaze to the rest of her posse, “how you feel about the rest of my bachelorette party not just joining you, but also asking all sorts of inappropriate questions about our past relationship.”

The problem was, she knew he’d have no issue, he was not shy, nor in any way ashamed of the things they had done, and they places they had done them.

“Bachelorette party?” Soichiro repeated, narrowing his gaze on Miho - and much to the delight of her crew - Miho actually squirmed. “You’re getting married?”

“No need to sound so surprised,” Miho grumbled.

“It’s just, I have to wonder what changed your mind,” Soichiro smiled, but his gaze was intense. “You were so adamant you’d never marry again.”

“This is a topic of conversation you had with her So?” Yukihisa questioned, a little surprised.

“Of course,” Soichiro answered easily. “She turned me down.”

“You did not tell me that part!” Jazz blurted loudly, leaning in their direction, right across Rose’s lap.

Both Soichiro and Yukihisa then turned their focus to the group of women and their token male - who incidentally H was attempting to apply lipstick to.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Miho sniffed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, until Yukihisa took hold of her wrist and pulled her toward where the other party had congregated.

“This looks interesting,” he declared, lips poised just shy of a smirk. “I think we’d all like to hear this story, So.”

“Sorry,” Miho chuckled bitterly, but she did feel sorry for Soichiro, since he was the one who got refused.

She then introduced the two men to the group, and then her friends to them, before everyone was seated around one table.

“Did she break your heart Dr. Irie?” Rose asked boldly.

It certainly helped that new alcohol had landed - and Miho somewhat reluctantly put down her special shot glass and allowed it to be filled. Yukihisa sitting on her left watched her take a little sip, then throw it all back when Soichiro began to speak.

“If I’m honest,” he began, then Miho interjected.

“You don’t have to answer them,” she asserted. “It’s their mission tonight to humiliate me, you needn’t be a victim too-OW!”

That was Jazz’s toe connecting with Miho’s shin.

“I was in love with her, that is why I proposed,” Soichiro admitted with a nod, and Miho just couldn’t look at him.

The others, however, were waiting for him to continue with baited breath.

“And she crushed you beneath her bootheel?” H guessed.

“Jeez, I’m not a complete monster,” Miho grumbled, and Yukihisa offered to refill her glass.

“Emphasis on the complete, Princess,” Baba smirked. “You can be a real monster when you…”

“Baba!” Miho snapped, and the women laughed again.

“You too?” Yukihisa queried.

Apparently he’d already known about Soichiro and wasn’t bothered at all, but he looked perhaps a little vexed when Baba nodded quite happily in confirmation.

“You know, this all makes me out to be some kind of belligerent slut humping half of Tokyo and destroying the hopes and dreams of the other.”

“Accurate,” Jazz fake-coughed, then yelped when Miho kicked her under the table.

“I met Soichiro not long after moving to Japan okay?” Miho pouted, then forced herself to look at him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

This time there was no laughter.

“I know,” he smiled gently, making eye contact.

And suddenly the image of waking up next to him without his glasses flashed in her mind’s eye.

“Allow me to lighten the mood again with the tale of how Miho and I fell in with one another,” Yukihisa offered, breaking the soberness that had settled.

“Fell is accurate,” Miho agreed, glad to wade out of the tension.

“In loooooove?” Liana crooned with a grin.

“On my ass actually,” Miho clarified wryly. “Damn near broke my ankle.”

“He attacked you?” Rose scoffed. “Can’t think that would’ve worked out so well for him.”

“Nah,” Miho chuckled.

“She was pretty bruised afterwards though,” Jazz piped up, leaving what she meant intentionally vague so everyone else would indeed jump to the wrong conclusion.

“The swelling was quite bad for just a sprain,” Yukihisa nodded. “But some context. I believe our Miho came to the firm where I still work in search of some advertising suggestions for her matchmaking business.”

“Our matchmaking business,” the women all said together, then dissolved into cackles.

“I see,” Yukihisa chuckled. “Well, it was quite a busy evening when she was leaving, and the elevator was quite full…”

“Miho is a big fan of elevators,” Jazz snickered.

“If you’re referring to that time you saw Seiji and I, we didn’t do anything in the elevator,” Miho declared smugly.

“Oh yeah?” Jazz challenged. “What about that time wi…”

“Stop making this worse!” Miho exclaimed, lurching across Yukihisa to try and put her hand over Jazz’s mouth.

But Jazz wriggled away, basically leaving Miho sprawled across Yukihisa’s lap.

“You always did like a good spanking,” he mused, his face completely placid and composed as he said this, and he lifted one hand like he meant to actually do it.

But it was caught by Soichiro, who sent him a warning look.

“Come now, she’s spoken for,” he reminded his friend.

“And doing everything she can to distract us from the story,” Liana pointed out, as Miho sat up, still glaring at Jazz.

“She’s good at providing distraction also,” Yukihisa laughed. “Where were we?”

“Elevator,” the chimed again.

“Right,” he nodded. “Miho got a little jostled by the crowd, and ended up twisting her ankle.”

“Damsel in distress huh?” H smirked.

“More like angry as hell,” Miho huffed. “Broke the heel of a four hundred dollar pair of shoes.”

“You were fully reimbursed for that,” Yukihisa noted.

“And adequately compensated?” Jazz probed.

“I like to think a little more than just adequately,” Yukihisa replied smugly, looking sideways at Miho’s face, and she cleared her throat.

“Yeah okay, I can’t complain,” she admitted.

“It really was a case of one thing leading to another,” Yukihisa went on. “I iced and bandaged her ankle, by which time it was quite late, so I offered to drive her home.”

“Innocently of course, no ulterior motive,” Rose supposed.

“Was I thinking about crawling my hands up her leg while I was tending to her injury?” he posed rhetorically. “Absolutely.”

“She was technically your patient,” Soichiro stated, the first thing he’d said in a little bit.

“Which is entirely why…” Yukihisa began, but Miho cut him off.

“He was entirely appropriate,” she declared staunchly. “Set me on the couch, elevated my ankle and even made tea.”

Then she bit her lip.

“It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to kiss and tell,” Yukihisa then added, and the girls groaned in disappointment.

“What about you, Dr. Irie?” Baba asked shamelessly. “You ever get Miho to wear a cute little nurse’s outfit?”

At this, Soichiro’s cheeks reddened.

“That’s totally an admission,” Rose smirked, but Soichiro remained tight-lipped.

“Apparently gentlemen don’t roleplay kinky doctor-nurse scenarios and tell either,” Jazz teased, then looked over at Miho. “You ever play dress-ups with Goto, before you play getting undressed?”

“For some reason I’m now imagining him wearing a huge Domo costume,” Rose laughed.

“Oh I want that,” Miho nodded enthusiastically, again, dodging the question.

Alcohol flowed, but it wasn’t long before Soichiro excused himself, congratulating Miho on her engagement, and making his retreat - and Miho felt really guilty.

“Don’t look like that,” Yukihisa told her. “You may have broken his heart back then, but it mended. He’s seeing someone now, and they’ve been together for nearly seven or eight months.”

It wasn’t like Miho thought she was the be all and end all, but showing up like they had, with the new and questions they had, still seemed a bit rude at the very least - and Jazz would probably hear about it later. WIth him gone, Yukihisa seemed a little more open about being open, and so Miho had to sit through him regaling a great list of all the places - many of them public - he and Miho had gotten hot and heavy.

“Shameful,” Baba judged, shaking his head.

“As if you can talk!” Miho ejected, nearly spilling her drink.

They had consumed quite a bit, and all the women were beginning to feel it.

“Might I suggest you pause for some water before moving on to your next victim?” Yukihisa said.

“Doctor’s orders?” Miho grinned, substantially inebriated.

“Oh that brings back memories,” he noted, and appeared to be drifting into some recollection.

“God I wish I could see what he’s seeing right now,” Rose grinned, leaning against H a little.

“I’ll get the water,” Miho stated, sliding away from their table, swaying a little as she walked, muttering her hopes Yukihisa kept his mouth shut.

What he was thinking about, however, popped into her mind - a colourfully sweet blur of dangerously borderline sado-masochism executed in department store dressing rooms, train bathrooms and a multitude of other places where they could have been caught in flagrante delicto.

“Jesus,” she hissed out as she reached the bar.

“Nope, the name’s Go,” the cheerful young man behind the bar smiled. “Though we’ve met before I’m sure.”

“But not slept together,” Miho leveled, narrowing her eyes at him, searching her list just to make sure he wasn’t on it.

“No, but I wouldn’t be against it,” he chuckled. “Though I hear you’re getting married soon.”

“That’s the rumour,” she nodded. “And I love him, and any further attempts to get me all worked up over past indiscretions is going to be met with some serious… some serious…”

She was trying to be serious, and trying to articulate it was beginning to upset her a little more than just ‘flustered’, especially given how Soichiro had reacted, but her mind was now a bit fuzzy.

“Here,” Go said, moving around the bar with a tray, fresh glasses, and several jugs of water.

“Thanks,” Miho smiled a little sheepishly, suddenly aware of her drunken rambling.

Meanwhile, at Goto’s bachelor party…

(Art by @jove-bluh)

Once Miho’s party was watered, they bid farewell to Yukihisa - who made a point of kissing Miho’s cheek as a parting gift - and Baba prepared to drive them to their next location.

“Change of plans,” Jazz announced, giving Miho’s linked arm a squeeze.

Miho inhaled before explaining.

“Since you are an interloper in what is traditionally supposed to be a woman only affair,” she announced, “we, or rather them - the committee for embarrassing Miho as much as possible in one night - have decided you require an appropriate induction into the sisterhood.”

“Uhmm…” Baba stalled, looking from flushed face to flushed evilly grinning face.

“To Shibuya!” Liana declared, pointing dramatically, and they all piled into the limo.

Jazz: Lingerie first.

Baba: Something lacy.

H: Something minimal.

Rose: Like Jazz minimal?

Jazz: Hey!

Miho -seriously-: Jazz is right, we don’t want Baba to lose his panties five minutes after buying them.

Jazz -indignantly-: Hey!

Miho: If I’m honest, I have to wonder if Baba will be able to get himself into women’s lingerie.

Baba -nodding sagely while driving-: It’s true, I am an expert in the removal of such garments. I’m going to need a tutorial with live demonstrations. I’m a visual learner after all.

Jazz: You’re a perv after all.

Baba: Hurtful!

The girls: Accurate!

Rose: Wax or shave?

Miho -eyes shining-: Ooooh let’s wax him!

Baba -in horror, narrowly missing a pedestrian-: Excuse me?

H: Well it’s either that, or you’re going to have to lather up somewhere and shave those pins.

Miho -scoffing-: Pfft. Wax. Chest. Back. Legs. Buttcrack.

Baba: BUTTCRACK?!

Miho -cackling insanely until she starts coughing-: And ballsa…

Baba -with much urgency-: I’ll shave my legs! I’ll shave! Jazz don’t let her near me - she’s drunk and mean!

Jazz -snickering-: She doesn’t have to be drunk for that.

20 mins later

Baba -strolling with the girls back toward the limo-: Are you sure this dress doesn’t make my bum look big?

H -pinches said bum-: Seems fine to me.

Baba -shifting his weight uncomfortably-: Is a thong supposed to be that far up my...

Miho -snickering-: Well you should have let me wax it.

Jazz: If you can't taste your thong, it's not properly in place yet.

Liana -grumbling-: I still think he needs pigtails.

H -wrinkling her nose-: A grown woman isn’t going to pick up a respectable man wearing pigtails.

Baba: That’s okay, I prefer my men a little on the irreverent side.

Jazz -thinking… pondering… grinning, then cutting a glance at H-: I know your perfect match.

H -bites her lip to keep from cackling-

Rose: He still walks like a wharfie, Baba, you need to sashaaaaay.

Baba: Like this? -struts a few wobbly steps- Damnit these are uncomfortable -topples onto road-

Despite the lengthening of the hour, the streets were still busy. Baba’s unceremonious topple to the asphalt caused a car to swerve just in time to miss him, and screech to a halt, much to the relief of Baba and the girls.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Miho blurted, as they all scrambled to Baba’s side in order to help him to his feet.

Lamentably, Baba peered at them and slowly raised his left hand.

“My stockings are ruined and I chipped a nail!” he wailed dramatically, just as the driver of the car exited his vehicle and started toward them.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” he declared - not scowling, not viperous, just stating the cold hard truth that Baba could have ended up with far more than just cosmetic damage.

He adjusted his glasses as the posse of woman relocated the footpath, perhaps actually seeking an answer to what had surely been a rhetorical question - when his eyes fell upon Miho.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Miho dropped, and she looked to Jazz accusingly, but Liana was the next to speak.

“Hiiiiideki?” she questioned, considerably more drunk - it seemed - than the others. “What are you…?”

“Hideki?” Rose repeated, looking at the man and raising an eyebrow, even as Liana lurched in the man’s direction.

“Miho,” the man said flatly, completely disregarding Liana until she reached for him. “Excuse me?”

H and Jazz and Rose studied the man a few seconds, while, Baba took Liana by the arm to prevent her from accosting him.

“Whoa, they really do bear an uncanny resemblance, don’t they?” Jazz murmured, looking from him, back to Miho. “Wait… you… and him?”

Miho sighed.

“And now you know why I passed Ishigami on to you,” Miho pointed out, and there was bitterness in her voice.

Though she’d been embarrassed, teased, had her sordid past explored throughout the evening, Miho had enjoyed herself - now, however, she did not look the least bit impressed.

“Are you really going to ignore me after your friend very nearly caused an accident?” the man soured, and with another heavy exhale, Miho faced him properly.

“Our most sincere apologies for the inconvenience, Mr. Hayami,” Miho apologised, but it was exaggerated, as was the depth of her bow.

The stumble as she righted herself, however, was not exaggerated, and she was lucky Jazz caught her elbow.

“Are you drunk?” Hayami frowned, stepping closer to scrutinise the flush of her face.

The reach of his hand toward her cheek, was not well-met; in fact Miho shuffled back just out of reach with a frown.

“Oh yes,” she snapped. “In addition to being a disposable whore, I’m a total lush.”

At this everyone blinked but Hayami.

“I am quite sure those aren’t my words,” he frowned, ever so slightly, adjusting his glasses just the way Ishigami did.

“Wha?” Liana scowled, looking really confused between Miho and Hayami. “Miho, did you?”

“Mhm,” Miho confirmed in defiance, wriggling free from Jazz and planting her hands on her. “Actions do speak louder than words anyway - I got the message very clearly. Did you get the job?”

In response, Hayami shifted his feet, and it took all of Miho’s drunken self control not to relish in the atypically uncomfortable set of his body.

“Yes, in point of fact I did,” he said after a few seconds.

“What job?” Liana scowled, still convinced the man Miho was facing off against was her husband.

“Congratulations,” Miho smiled, but it was razor-edged and laced with spite. “Happily married then I hope?”

Hayami cleared his throat. He was under no true obligation to explain what had occurred during and after his bid for the CEO position - and yet with her glowering at him like that he felt… guilty?

“Actually,” he began, “she brought in her own lawyer, had the contract she signed voided on grounds of coercion, and is now working at another company.”

The snort of derision that emerged from Miho was not the slightest bit lady-like.

“So you won by default and didn’t even have to get hitched to get there?” she laughed, shaking her head. “Kicking goals. I hope you enjoy that big, cold corner office Mr. Hayami; I trust the sacrifices were worth it.”

It wasn’t a question because she didn’t care what his answer was.

Ending the conversation, Miho turned her body entirely to jazz and the others.

“I think I’m sobering up - we should do something about that,” she declared decisively, and only looked over her shoulder when Rose and H stepped around and in behind her, frowning.

“Sorry about the car thing,” Rose apologised, but her voice was flat, and conveyed absolutely the opposite of contrition.

“You should probably get back to the office,” H put in sharply. “Don’t let us waylay you any longer - we have Miho’s engagement to celebrate.”

The hand that Hayami had reached toward Miho lowered slowly, and Haymi drew himself back up and behind a well practiced mask of indifference. He offered them no parting sentiments, but retreated from Miho’s ‘guard’ and returned to his car.

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t try to put that guy on our bar crawl tour of debauchery,” Miho grated, rolling her shoulders like she actually might have liked to throw down and kick the guy’s ass.

“I might have, if you’d told me about him,” Jazz responded, eyes narrowed.

Miho sighed and began again in the direction of the limousine, pointedly ignoring the disappearing shape of Hayami’s car.

“Come on Miho, spill it,” Rose urged, and grumpily Miho glanced back.

“Sure, pass me the salt to rub in this wound,” she griped.

“Oh come on,” Jazz snorted. “It can’t hurt that much considering you have yourself a Goto-shaped bandaid.”

“Pride injuries take a while to heal,” Miho explained bitterly. “But seeing as you all asked so nicely - I was seeing this successful executive of Sanno Corporation, the CEO’s assistant in fact, and in the scheme of our journey tonight, I suppose he was the most recent. He looks like such a stiff, all pressed shirts and shined shoes, but we’d meet at all times of the day and night, stayed in at least half the five star hotels in Tokyo, and he often paid for me to meet him in other cities.”

They listened intently, and when they reached the limo, Miho turned to continue.

“I guess, at some point, having a toothbrush in his apartment, a drawer of underwear, several outfits, a mug of my own, started to feel like we’d crossed over into more serious territory and… maybe I even entertained the idea that we could…”

Then she snorted again.

“Then Sanno’s CEO died, leaving behind this ludicrous manifesto outlining the most outrageous corporate succession plan I’ve ever heard of, and Hayami was executor of his instructions. The dead CEO’s granddaughter, who didn’t even know he was her grandfather, needed to undertake a series of relationship oriented goals with one of the company executives and at the end, marry him - then he, not she would get ultimate control over the company.”

“What the actual fuck,” H spat.

“Yeah,” Miho laughed pithily. “No woman would ever agree to that shit right? So they tricked her into signing an agreement she would participate, and tried to blackmail her into involvement by threatening the collapse of the company and the destitution to all its employees.”

“That’s no way to treat a woman,” Baba scowled.

“Right?” Miho growled, but it was followed by another sigh. “Anyway. There was a list of potential executive grooms and…”

“Hayami was one of them?” Jazz filled in.

“So he dumped you for a shot at the top job,” Rose spat. “Wow, I really feel the need to have words with this guy.”

“Packed all my stuff into a cardboard box and called me over to ‘explain’ the situation; said I was a ‘smart girl’ who would obviously understand it was an opportunity he’d be mad to ignore,” Miho frowned.

Her voice had lost its sharpness though; guess it really did still hurt a bit.

“Asshole even tried to kiss me after saying marrying that woman was what was best for his life,” she chuckled sadly, then forced her gaze up into the face of her friends. “Not me.”

“I know some people who could ruin his reputation if you’re still feeling wrathful,” Baba offered, and this caused Miho’s lips to tweak upward.

“Nah,” she shrugged wryly. “At the end of the day, he can go home to that empty apartment and feed his stupid fish, because they’re the only ones there for him now.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jazz grinned.

“Uuugh,” Liana groaned. “Do you have to mention spirits?”

Liana’s question helped to dispel some of the tension and got them giggling again as they climbed into the limo, and when they were settled

“Forget that creep,” Jazz announced once the limo was in motion. “Now it’s time to get properly serious.”

She grabbed the bottle of champagne sitting in the chiller and offered refills. When all glasses were full again she turned to face Miho who sat next to her, frantically trying not to laugh.

“So here’s the deal. Being a bride means you will be a wife soon. Being a wife means – connubialities. I know that sounds scary but we thought it’s better for us to warn you before THINGS surprise you in the end.”

H almost spluttered her rum over the seats and Rose raised an eyebrow.

“Liana here was kind enough to give me a rundown on the topic-“

The mentioned woman blushed and looked shocked like a deer in the headlights, there had of course never been a conversation like that.

“And as your friend I think it’s my duty to fill you in. Here we go.”

Jazz took a deep breath and actually one of Miho’s hands, trying to fix her expression into a concerned, serious one but it was hard. It really was. Jazz cleared her throat.

“So when you are married you will share a bed and he will – and this part is inevitable, because it’s his nature – he will want you to do THINGS with him. He might start with kissing you – I know, I know, it’s embarrassing but it’s part of being married after all. So he will kiss you and this time it won’t be the chaste kiss from the wedding, but something feral. With – oh my god, I can’t even say is…” Jazz fanned her face with her free hand and H cracked up, tears forming in her eyes.

“He will put his tongue into your mouth,” Rose deadpanned.

Jazz nodded gravely, H let out a faked but very disgusted sounding “eeeewwwwww”. Liana had to hold back not to laugh.

“Thank you, Rose. I’m not sure I would have been able to say it myself,” Jazz continued. “So, after sticking his tongue into your mouth – a sanitarily questionable act – it will only get worse. He will want to undress you and while he’s at it, also himself. Maybe he will even want you to undress him. Try not to look, it’s rather startling.”

Miho rolled her eyes but H deliberately ignored her and followed the vague script the girls had drafted before.

“Startling? Why?”

Again it was Rose to give the answer. “Well, men look differently than women. I could draw you a picture.”

“I bet you could,” Miho grumbled and Jazz chuckled.

“Anyway, you are right, Rose. I’ve heard that, too. For one thing there is the shocking lack of boobs.”

“Good thing Miho has enough of that for both of them,” H piped up.

“That she has,” Liana dryly stated only for the rest to burst out into laughter again.

Except for Miho, but at least she grinned smugly.

“But the most important difference lies somewhere else…” Jazz continued after catching her breath.

“Yeah, between his legs,” H added.

“Exactly. So while girls have a cute little lovebox, guys have something else. Their - trouser snake.”

Another round of roaring laughter and now even Miho had to chuckle.

“So when a man and a woman are married, the man usually wants to stick his wing dang doodle into her altar of love. It’s just as disgusting as it sounds but you have to let him. You are only a full-fledged woman and wife once a man has planted his seed into your love garden. That’s your only purpose, serving your husband as he sees fit.” Jazz couldn’t stay serious while saying all these things, so her last words were already accompanied by her own laughter.

“And you can’t deny him access to your body! Like never!” H added with huge eyes.

“Why would I?” Miho asked back, earning another round of laughter.

“Most important is that you make him think you like it, no matter how much you detest what he’s doing. It isn’t meant to be pleasant for you, but eventually you might get used to it. Hopefully.” Jazz closed her eyes dramatically, as if she was praying for her friend.

“Okay, okay, are you finished already?” Miho half chuckled, half scolded.

“Things you should never say while he’s at it,” Liana commented with a straight face, making the others stare and then guffaw.

“Oh, but there are some things you should say while he’s at it! Like: ‘Oh my god, it’s so HUGE’,” H exclaimed, eyes wide in mocked astonishment.

“This will never fit!” Jazz chimed in.

“Is it supposed to be THAT big?” Rose added.

Miho smirked. “Well, actually…”

“The only thing you should really say is ‘fuck’, because that’s what it’s all about,” Baba suddenly piped up from the driver’s seat. Now that he was dressed up as a girl he seemed to think it would be okay to join into the conversation. “Guys notice the whole faked ‘oh my god, you are soooo big’ surprise. And you have to be a real jerk to actually believe it.”

“I bet Subaru believes it,” Jazz screeched, half laughing already. They all knew at least one or two guys who WANTED to believe it.

“Are you done with your little lesson of valu- value-… important things?” Miho was already so tipsy that she had problems with some words, much to Jazz’s delight.

“You don’t want us to impart our wisdom on you? Well, in that case we still have another place to go. Driver, to the main act!”

Jazz grabbed a scarf and motioned for Miho to come closer. “This one is a surprise, so I’m going to blindfold you.”

The whistles and suggestive ‘ooohhhh’s were only met by Miho’s cool gaze.

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that,” she stated, eyebrow raised.

“Come on, last time we did that you had fun,” Jazz shot back with a wink. The low groan from the driver’s seat got deliberately ignored.

“This is NOT going like last time!” Miho almost glared now and Jazz laughed happily.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to behave. For now.”

Miho relented and let Jazz wrap the scarf around her head.

“You know, sometimes I’m a bit jealous of the both of you. You must have had a lot of fun together,” Rose mused and Jazz grinned.

“When you reach my age you better had some fun or you did something wrong. And after everything I heard most of us already did some pretty crazy stuff.” She raised her glass for the others to join, H nudging Miho and whispering for her to know what was happening.

“To crazy stuff and fun!”

It didn’t take them long to arrive at the next bar and Jazz helped Miho out of the limo. Baba simply joined them, didn��t even pretend to wait for permission anymore.

“So, I know you might hate me a bit now for dragging through your old love joints-“ Jazz began only for Miho to interrupt with-

“A bit? Try a lot.”

But she shushed the bride to be.

“You will forgive me, I’m sure. The point is, you have to go through your past before you can face your future and soon you will be a respectable wife-,“ sarcastic coughs and giggles followed this bold statement, “and then it will be too late to rehash all your past adventures.”

“You know I’m going to come up with something embarrassing and painful for you in return,” Miho announced and although she couldn’t see it, Jazz nodded.

“I’m sure you will. And I will endure it and suffer appropriately for your amusement,” she assured her friend and led her into the bar where she took off Miho’s makeshift blindfold just to reveal the interior of Long Island to her – and the group of men around a table, with Goto in the middle. Subaru, Ishigami, Kurosawa; those were guys Jazz knew. From Miho’s description she figured the rest would be coworkers from the academy. Soma, Kaga and Shinonome. Kyobashi was also there, eyeing Rose the instant she came in. Kuni was behind the bar, Takao seemed to help him, and Saeki was also there, obviously intoxicated.

“You take me to his bachelor party?! Don’t get me wrong, that’s a rather nice surprise, but crashing their party – won’t Subaru have your head?” Despite her concerned sounding words Miho was already staggering towards the table, as if her future husband was a safe haven from the teasing of the girls.

“Don’t worry, this was the plan all along.” Jazz gave her a light push and watched with a smile how Goto noticed Miho and how his slightly grumpy expression softened.

The guys had been playing paintball –

“Really, Subaru? I mean, you are shooting all the time, do you have to do that now even in your free time?”

– before they came to Long Island for a steak and some drinks.

“Looks as if this was a good idea,” Liana slurred, making Jazz grin.

At least Ishigami was here, too, he could take his drunken wife home in the end, while the ever excitable Kurosawa was uncharacteristically quiet, passed out over a table.

Kuni waved briefly and started preparing some drinks, although lighter version of their usual choices so the girls wouldn’t just drop to the floor eventually, completely wasted. Jazz quickly made her way to the bar and kissed him lightly.

“You’re having fun? Everything okay?” He shot her a concerned glance but she just softly shook her head.

“Don’t worry, except for the expected hangover everything is great.”

“Their hangover, not yours, I hope.”

She scrunched up her nose slightly. “I’m not stupid, love. I didn’t drink, but it wasn’t easy to distract Miho, she’s quite perceptive, even when she’s drunk.”

He patted her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit.

“It’s okay, Kuni, I don’t mind.” With a sigh she looked over at Goto and Miho. “One last thing on my agenda and I can relax,” she muttered and pushed herself off the counter.

Meanwhile H and Rose had fun dragging Baba around, teasing him, telling him how to act and talk as a woman. It only took a couple of minutes before they were sitting at the bar, a smirking Kuni handing them drinks.

“Nice dress,” he commented and pushed a glass of whiskey over the bar.

“Nope, not tonight,” Rose said and snatched the glass, downed the whiskey and put the glass back on the bar. “He’s our driver tonight.”

Kuni looked at Baba with a surprised expression. “YOU are the driver? What happened to the one I sent them?”

“Sudden change of plan, don’t worry. Nothing serious.” Baba took the glass of juice Kuni handed him.

“And who are you?” Saeki asked and slid onto the seat next to Baba. Rose and H giggled.

“A friend,” H simply said, nudging Rose a bit with a grin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of H is also my friend. Takamasa Saeki, at your service.”

“Saeki?” Baba asked, earning himself a kick against the shin from Rose who motioned for him to talk higher, like a girl.

Baba cleared his throat.

“Saeki?” he cooed, making H and Rose burst into laughter.

“Exactly. THE Saeki. The famous script writer. And you are?” Saeki grabbed Baba’s hand and H lost it.

She laughed until the tears streamed down her face when Saeki frowned a bit, his drunken brain somehow registering that Baba’s hand was unusually big for a woman’s hand. Even bigger than his own…

“Her name is Mitsi,” Rose said, distracting Saeki from his train of thought.

“Mitsi… a beautiful name.” Saeki was still holding Baba’s hand, making him slightly uncomfortable.

Kuni was trembling with his suppressed laughter but didn’t say anything.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for celebrating the end of the unmarried life of Miho and Goto. I don’t know what you boys did all night, but the girls accompanied Miho on a trip down on memory lane.” Jazz laughed and waited for everyone to give her their attention. “But the trip through the past had to end somewhere, and what would be more fitting than leading her to her future husband?”

She smiled at the happy couple and Miho seemed at least a bit appeased for what Jazz had put her through.

“I would suggest we give them a moment in the spotlight. How about a dance?”

On her signal Kuni turned some music on and the guests cheered and whistled while Miho and a visibly flustered Goto were pushed towards an open space in the bar.

With a defeated sigh Miho grabbed Goto’s hand and pulled him close, they started swaying to the music. Subaru came over to Jazz and together they watched the dance.

“What did you do to her?” he asked and Jazz grinned.

“Don’t ask and I don’t have to lie. But we had quite some fun.”

That exact second, Saeki jumped from his seat, bowed exaggeratedly in front of ‘Mitsi’ and asked for this dance. Rose and H laughed so hard that they almost fell from their seats when Baba slid from his chair, with heels even taller than Saeki who didn’t seemed fazed at all, probably due to the amount of wine he already had. Of course this odd couple attracted the attention of the other guests, and Jazz couldn’t help but take a few pictures of it for future – well, let’s just call it blackmailing.

Baba wasn’t a spoilsport; that was for sure. He didn’t even flinch when Saeki’s hand slid from the small of Baba’s back a bit lower, but when Saeki attempted to dip Baba low and the whole bar was roaring with laughter even Miho and Goto stopped dancing.

“He’s stealing our spotlight,” Miho chuckled, thoroughly amused by the weird picture in front of her.

“Good. In that case no one is paying attention… let’s sneak out,” Goto suggested.

“Or…” Miho giggled and raised one eyebrow.

“Or what?”

“Second floor? And I bet no one would miss us right now.”

She was still in his arms, her fingertips caressing his arms through his shirt.

“Really? Here? And now?” Goto knew the answer but he wanted to make sure that Miho wasn’t too drunk to make a decision like this.

“Yeah, definitely. After the night I’ve had what I really need, is you. Come on…”

She lightly dragged him towards the door that hid the stairs, chuckling in anticipation and mischievousness.

That trip through her past had quite the effect on her; and now she couldn’t wait to get Goto alone. And Jazz deserved this after the eventful night she’d arranged. Miho and Goto would conquer the bar in their very own and private way - and Miho would make sure that Jazz would learn about it.

Tomorrow.

BONUS!

Like a pair of ninja, or at the very least a ninja and a noble samurai lord from a flashback that might get turned into its own story, Miho and Goto stole upstairs. The moment they stumbled through the door to what looked like it might once have been a storeroom, but had been converted into a narrow bedroom, they fumbled for one another.

Though normally Goto might have been concerned about the fact they left the door open, now, he was completely absorbed by the frustrating fabric that kept his needy hands from pressing against her skin.

“What’s taking you so looong?” Miho whined, her own clumsy fingers having trouble with his belt.

He was, in fact, having so much difficulty, he’d stopped kissing her, and was giving the zipper at the back of her dress his full attention, arms reached around her.

“Don’t stop kissing me,” she hissed. “I need to get the bad taste of this evening out of my mouth.”

This caused him pause, and with the zipper miraculously half way down her back, he looked into her face.

“What exactly have you been putting in your mouth that it would have a bad taste in it?” he questioned slowly, his eyes a little unfocused, a little bleary from drink.

“I was speaking figra… friga… fir… I wasn’t being literal!” she exclaimed, scowling. “It’s just, I was reminded of all the… of what I… hmm…”

She couldn’t quite think of a delicate way to express ‘reminded of all the guys I screwed before you’, and so let her sentence trail off.

“I want my life to start over from this moment,” she said finally, seriously, and in response Goto slid the zipper the rest of the way down and dragged her dress to the floor.

“I’m good with that,” he grinned, bringing their lips together firmly until he somehow managed the hooks on the back of her bra.

Heat flared, radiating from within as they gave into the hazy lure of hunger and desire, but Goto, who had sunk to his knees before where Miho was pressed against the wall, paused with his fingertips at the thin elastic band of her hot pink panties.

“Jazz was here first?” he said, much to Miho’s confusion.

“What?” Miho blinked - why the hell would he bring Jazz up at a time like this.

“Your underwear,” he clarified, slipping her panties down, and once she’d stepped out of them he stood to show her. “Did you get dressed in the dark or something?”

“Huh?” Miho hissed, her body aching for his touch but forced to inspect the flimsy undergarment Goto had on display.

Across the triangular front panel were indeed the words ‘Jazz was here first’ and as he turned the panties to the back, Miho read the second statement.

“There may still be some glitter. What the hell Jazz?” she exclaimed, but couldn’t help but laugh.

Goto threw the panties aside dismissively and wrapped his soon to be wife up in his arms.

“I don’t care who got there first,” he declared in a throaty rumble. “I’m going to be the only one from now on.”

And so the next day, when Kuni finished cleaning up the bar and went upstairs, he found a very interesting pair of panties just sitting there in the hallway.

@hifttn @smutmylifeup @belxsar @mirandaflamel @smile-smile-ichthys

#voltage inc #voltage otome #voltage drama #mjs #marriage matchmaking and wedding event planning #yukihisa Maki #seiichiro hayami #goto seiji #soichiro irie #ayato hidaka #hlitf #msb #kunihiko aikawa #baba mitsunari

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theboardwalkbody · 7 years

Text

Penny Dreadful and the Modern Day Time-slip AU Headcanons/ficlets: Chapter 1 - Caliban VS Bookstores (and also he discovers Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and decides Victor has some explaining to do).

Summary: Somehow the main PD characters fall through a time-slip and end up in the Modern Day world. It’s loud and boisterous and abrasive. New technology, terms, fashion, and so much more is there for them to learn about.

Caliban finds himself at a bookstore, looking for something to remind him of home; looking for something to comfort him. He stumbles across what is arguably the most frightening thing he never even imagined, however, and it leaves him wanting answers.

Bookstores have always been a place of comfort. Books of poetry piled to the ceilings offered solace and spoke to his sense of loneliness and isolation. But not these modern day bookstores. Shiny covers full of bright and colorful photographs seemed childish and gaudy. He knew he should never judge a book by it’s cover and yet he found himself doing it anyway. The flashy covers that gave away all the stories secrets weren’t even the worst of it. No, it was as if the book store went from a place for the lonely seeking thrill, adventure, and romance - a place where the scholarly and educated sought to connect to prose and perhaps another soul - and was now instead a place for children to socialize. Groups of teenagers hanging out drinking beverages that were supposed to be coffees and teas but had names quite unlike any coffee or tea he had ever heard of from the coffee shop located inside the shop (an idea that was incredible but one he felt didn’t have the charm he thought it would) were often loud and could, quite frankly, be rude. Too many times did he hear laughing and snickering from one particular group every time he passed by the shelves opposite them. It appeared to him they were not here at all for the books but simply for their coffee’s and for the status they felt it gave them. The children’s sections were endearing at first. A place for children to learn to read and have every story for every level of reading all in one convenient location but, and perhaps this was more so the fault of the parent rather than their own, they were often rowdy and uncontrolled. Crying, screaming, and tantrums were jarring to the ear and were too much distraction to allow for a pleasant reading or browsing experience. Made worse by the fact their cries could be heard across the store.

Still, his adoration for poetry and prose drove him to continue on rather than leave. He was determined to find something in which to pre-occupy his mind and soothe his soul with. Something for him to get lost in, or perhaps something to allow him the comfortable feeling of home in this new and frightening age. He stumbled among a discounted novel section - the books here had covers that were solid and plain and made of leather (well, okay, faux leather). They were new but tried to pass off as old. It was the closest thing he could get to what he was expecting so he lingered in the section. “Classics” the section was called and most of the stories were collections of works and discounted. The works of Charles Dickens were complied into one edition of a book, a selection of some of Shakespeare’s greats were bound together in a collection of their own, a collection of three works about vampires were in another. Shakespeare pulled at him and he picked up the thick book. It would offer him comfort and familiarity at least. But he found that behind it there was an entirely different book, misplaced by some careless patron or employee who perhaps wasn’t paying attention. Red faux leather with black font and trim, the title: Penny Dreadfuls. Always appreciative of macabre and horror he placed the works of Shakespeare down a moment so he could pick up this new book and see what it might contain.

He carefully opened the cover and read from the table of contents; works by Poe, of course, The String of Pearls; a work he was familiar with as it had given rise to Sweeney Todd, the play production he had become fond of during his time as a stagehand; a few authors names he couldn’t quite place and one name and title that was so jarring he could have sworn his heart had stopped, though the concept was absolutely impossible: Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

Two name’s he was all too familiar with but which made no sense with their given context: Shelley and Frankenstein. He knew of a Percy Shelley, his works he was most fond of, but he had never heard of a Mary Shelley. He assumed it was a married name, but he was unaware Percy had married. Most shocking, of course, was the name Frankenstein - written there in ink clear as day on the page was a name he both loathed and knew with such intimacy.

His hands trembled as he hastily turned to the page indicated to be the start of the work. He skimmed over the words, falling into a false sense of security as names, dates, and circumstance he did not recognize passed by his gaze. Something about a boat, a man near death, a sailor writing home to his wife - perhaps the names had been a coincidence and nothing more. However, he finished skimming the prologue and got to chapter one and began catching key terms and growing once again at the same time fearful, confused, and enraged with each familiar term. The narrative was told in first person and he was trying with all his might to forget about the coincidence of the locations, of the sequence of events, of their familiarity to what he knew about the man he knew as his creator until the moment when the narrator was named. Victor. He was reading the story of Victor Frankenstein.

In his panic and rage he had forgotten completely about the safety and security of the works of Shakespeare. He tucked the hardcover anthology under his long coat and stormed out of the shop. On his walk back to the place they had managed to secure for themselves to get out of the cold he skimmed through the pages with anticipation and dread, hoping he wouldn’t find what he ultimately figured he would. And alas, he did. A creature. A creation. An abomination. All his names except for the one’s he chose for himself. He snapped the book shut just in time to look up and see he had almost collided with a man standing at the street corner waiting to cross the road. He stopped and waited to cross as well.

“Those are good stories,” the man standing there said when he saw the cover. “Barnes and Nobel, right? They’ve got good collections. I like the old-timey feel to those editions, though.” Caliban didn’t reply. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. It didn’t seem to deter the young man, however, who kept on carrying the conversation. “Bram’s stories are cool, of course, I mean, Dracula and all. But, let’s be real, Frankenstein is the real reason for that collection. I’ve got like, three editions of it, the covers are cool.” Caliban glared at the man. “There’s more?” “Editions? Yeah of course,” the man laughed. “One of the one’s I also got at Barnes and Nobel has like lightning on the cover and the pages are colored silver, it’s pretty cool. Hey - have you read it yet or no? I guess I should have asked that first.” He wanted to laugh. Has he read it yet? He lived it. He shook his head, “I know it, lunatic playing with life and death as though he is a god, a creature neither living nor dead condemned to eternal suffering while his creator never once has to suffer like the thing he gave life to suffers.” The young man, not put off by the harshness of his voice, smiled, “yeah man! See you get it! So many people just see those old school black and white films or like hear about it from references in Alvin and the Chipmunks Meet Frankenstein and shit. Frankenweenie and like you know, the Halloween shit. Green dude with bolts in his neck - thinking that the monster is Frankenstein and shit and not realizing Frankenstein is the doctor. But you get it man! Yeah, you’ll love it. It’s such a great book!” Half the things the man said only furthered his confusion but he only added them to the ever growing list of questions he had that there would be hell to pay for should they not be answered and instead said, “No, Frankenstein is the true monster.” He had had enough of the conversation and was sick of waiting for the light to change, he turned and detoured around the block.

He reached the hole-in-the-wall room of the inn they’d managed to get and slammed the door open, startling those who chose to remain inside rather than explore their surroundings at that particular time. Among them was Victor, who’s head snapped up from it’s position cradled by his arms folded on top of the dresser he had propped a chair in front of, just the very person he wanted to unleash hell itself upon. Too bad he couldn’t. Sir Malcolm Murray and Ms. Vanessa Ives had also apparently chosen to stay in, or perhaps had gone out and already returned.

Victor looked worse for wear. He was in the beginning phases of withdrawl and was currently in a situation where he was clueless and had no means of obtaining his next fix. Caliban felt no pity for him. He tossed the book at him, aiming for his head, and was disappointed when the heavy book collided with the wall just shy of his creators head instead. It left a hole behind where the corner had hit the drywall. If Victor hadn’t have moved it most likely would have broken his nose.

“What the --” Victor began but Caliban cut him off. “What is that?” Caliban shouted. “A... book?” Victor answered like he had been asked the most stupid question in the world.

Caliban growled in response and made to cross the tiny room with the intent of wringing the wiry man’s neck but Vanessa sprung up from her seat on one of the beds and stood in his path.

“Mr. Clare,” she said calmly, “what is wrong?” He didn’t cross the boundary line she’d created between him and Victor with her own body but he did look around her and direct his next instruction at the man who liked to pretend he had all the answers, “read it.”

Victor picked up the book and turned it right side up so he could read it. “Penny Dreadfuls,” he read out loud for the benefit of the other two occupants of the room who were, undoubtedly, just as confused as him. Sir Malcolm’s attention was on him but Vanessa held Caliban’s gaze steady, her presence seemed to calm him.

“Open it!” Caliban growled, impatient.

Victor opened it and turned to the table of contents. “Poe, Stoker, Doyle, Mary Shelley’s --” he cut himself off and the silence it left behind was almost tangible.

“Read. It. Aloud.” Caliban said.

Victor swallowed, his throat felt like it had closed off and he was having a hard time breathing. “Mary -- Mary Shelley’s... Frankenstein.” He whispered his own name as he couldn’t muster anything louder. He realized his body was shaking. He was thankful he was sitting down.

Vanessa had turned around to look at her friend. Caliban moved around her and loomed over Victor. Luckily Vanessa’s presence helped to dissipate some of his anger - certainly helped curb his murderous intent - but he still wanted answers.

“How?” he asked. “I-I- I don’t know,” Victor stammered. “How can you not know?” Caliban asked. “I know just as much as you about this!” Victor yelled at him, then added, softer, “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know how... have you read it?” Caliban replied, “I skimmed it. It’s about us. You creating me. You creating a bride for me. It’s not all right. But it’s right enough.” “Anyone else?” Victor asked, as he looked up and saw Vanessa and Malcolm’s eyes focused intently on them. “No,” Caliban answered, catching what he meant. “But there’s more.” “What do you mean?” Victor questioned. “I spoke to a man about it. He said there’s more editions. Something about films and chipmunks meeting you or me and something called Frankenweenie,” he answered. Victor looked as if Caliban may as well have been speaking a different language, “What?” Caliban shrugged, “Apparently most people think I’m you.” Victor groaned. “You’re not the only one who’s disgusted by the thought!” Caliban growled, his anger rising again.

“May I see it?” Vanessa spoke up to draw their attention away from each other.

Victor hesitated but Caliban ripped the book from his grasp and handed it gently to her. For some reason he felt more comfortable with it in her possession than in anyone else’s.

“Do either of you mind if I read it?” she asked. Neither of them answered right away. “Maybe it will give us answers,” she explained. “Unless one of you would like to read it instead?”

Victor felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought. He didn’t want to read about his life. It was either accurate or it wasn’t but one thing he knew: if it mentioned him piercing the veil that separated life from death and creating life anew than it told enough of his misdeeds and he was not keen on reading about all his errors in print. He knew them well enough.

Caliban considered it but ultimately decided it would be for the best if it was Vanessa who read it. He had no interest in knowing his creator any more than he already did. He had no interest in reading about some version of his birth. He lived what he lived and had no interest in the past.

When neither of them answered in protest she concluded, “then it is settled. I’ll read it on your behalf.”

The tension in the room defused and the atmosphere began to calm down.

“I am curious, however,” Sir Malcolm spoke up, “what the hell a Frankenweenie is.”

Vanessa smiled along with Sir Malcolm but Victor groaned again and hung his head, this time out of some sense of embarrassment. Caliban sneered and looked away but only because he was trying to hide his own smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. He was still confused and upset by his discovery but he decided he was going to have to look into the situation more closely some other time when he had more resources available to him.

#penny dreadful #caliban #victor frankenstein #vanessa ives #fanfic #pdfanfic #manda writes #mandas fic

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