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warden-melli · 1 year

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❤️⬛▼★

Melli, please ? (And more preferably about his biological parents for the family headcanon).

Sure ^^ Sorry I took so long to get to your ask. My headcanons for his family and backstory are pretty extensive, so feel free to ask more headcanon stuff if you’re interested. I’ve developed a pretty detailed headcanon verse for the PLA world/characters, I’ve just never really had much of an opportunity to share them.

♥ - family headcanon

Melli’s mother’s name is Fiana, and she works as a jewellery/charm maker. She has a particular passion for memento mori, and assists her mother (Melli’s grandmother) in her role as the Diamond Clans funeral celebrant, death doula, and herbalist. While jewellery making is where she earns the majority of her income, her true passion is Kalosian literature, and cuisine, something she’s sadly only experienced sparingly, and solely vicariously through the rare Kalosian traveler that would occasionally visit the village in her youth. Equally as known for her beauty as she is her rebellious and often opinionated personality, she has developed quite the reputation as a trouble maker. Her hair is long and dark, and her eyes are the same shade of blue as her sons. Her partner is Dustox, whom she was raised with as a sister. Her childhood best friend is Adaman’s mother, Minette.

Melli’s father is a rather plain, shortish man with warm brown skin, thin dark hair, a sharp wit and a lax demeanour named Haru. He is a brewer by trade, though is often caught slacking off with his fishing pole in the water ways near the Diamond Clans village. His partner pokemon is (a particularly plump) Raichu who is far happier snoozing in the village than facing any form of battle. While Melli’s mothers side of the family has been living in Hisui for generations, Melli’s father’s family only made the journey from the Johto region to join the Diamond Clan village in Hisui when Haru was only a few years old. He quickly adapted to the Hisui lifestyle, befriending several other children including his future wife Fiana, as well as meeting his lifelong best friend, Nok (Adman’s father).

From their youth Melli’s parents and Adman’s parents were inseparable, often pushing the boundaries of the villages rules, and adventuring throughout the Hisui region, and even secretly making friends with some members of the Pearl Clan. They all developed reputations as slackers and troublemakers, with Melli’s parents seen as bad influences, especially to Nok, the son of the Diamond Clans then leader leader, who was expected to follow in his fathers footsteps. When Nok came of age and publicly declined the position of leader, it was Haru who was blamed for his decision, especially when the two teamed up to start their own brewery shortly after. Despite the controversy Noks father, Leader Solitaire, begrudgingly accepted his sons decision, choosing to stay Leader until Nok either changed his mind, or another candidate for Leader would put themselves forward for the position.

His parents became closer in their teens, before falling in love and marrying in their early 20’s, causing quite the stir in the village. Despite her reputation, her beauty, her brothers respected title as Warden, and her families long history with the Diamond Clan ensured that Melli’s mother was seen as an incredibly desirable marriage candidate, having turned down many suitors before announcing her engagement. Haru was the victim of jealous rumours and mean spirited remarks from many in the village, with some loudly declaring that he was “not good enough” to be Fiana’s husband. To many he was not considered handsome enough, or to have a high enough status to marry somebody like Fiana, and because of his families somewhat recent history in the Hisui region many considered him to be “barely not an outsider”. The two responded to this treatment as they always did. They ignored it and did what they wanted to do anyway.

They tried for children almost straight away, yet failed to receive “Sinnoh’s blessings”. Minette, who was pregnant with her son at the time, assured Fiana that Sinnoh would bless her “when it’s time”, with Nok insisting that the true cause of their troubles probably originated from a well placed Wydeer kick that Haru had taken during an adventure in their teens. Despite being incredibly overjoyed for their friends blessing, the couple couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when Minette gave birth to a baby boy, Adaman.

While they remained best friends, after Adaman’s arrival the two couples had less time to spend in each others company, as Nok and Minette were busy with their newborn. Adaman was only a week or so old when a mysterious traveller from the Kalos region made contact with their village. He was looking for guidance and a safe place to stay while he was in the region. The villagers, wary of outsiders, hesitantly allowed him to enter. This was not out of the goodness of their hearts, but because he was travelling with a trusted group of merchants with whom their Clan had traded with for years, when their ships would dock on Hisuain shores as they made their way to more populated lands.

The traveller was like no one that any of them had ever seen before. Toweringly tall, with intense eyes and and a frightening air of mystery about him, Fiana and Haru were intrigued, and with their friends busy, they volunteered to be his guide. Many in the village, but especially the Warden in the Fieldlands warned them to be careful travelling with the man, yet they saw it as a chance to have another adventure. The warden personally confronted the couple, warning of outsiders and their wicked ways, yet they ignored him taking on the role anyway.

The man was quiet at first, secretive and vague about what it was exactly he was after, yet regardless was eager to learn about the region and the pokemon that resided in it. Over the first few weeks after his arrival the traveler mostly stayed silent, listening to the couple banter as they traveled the region, before returning to the village at night and hiding away until it was time to venture out again in the morning. Slowly, as they adventured day after day, he slowly began joining in on their jokes, asking questions about them and their lives and slowly opening up tiny facts about himself. Pretty soon they had explored all that they could in a single day. The group then started taking trips that would last days away from the village. On these trips, alone in the Hisui wilds, the traveller and the young couple would bond quickly, the man apologising for his coldness towards them, and opening up about his true purpose in visiting the region. He was looking for a certain pokemon, one that he had heard rumours of being sighted in the area, as told to him by the very merchants that he had traveled to the region with in the first place. They reported seeing a small, mysterious flower pokemon, and the traveller desired to find it. Fiana and Haru were intrigued by the possibility, and after quickly ruling out the local Roselia’s as the pokemon in question, the group set out to find it.

What began as a cold, reserved and almost sorrowful man quickly turned to a charming, well spoken, and intensely interesting person who seemed to delight in telling the pair tales of his travels, bits about his home region of Kalos and who equally seemed just as interested by their stories of the almighty Sinnoh, the noble pokemon and of the land in which they called home. Over the months they grew closer, the man becoming more trusting of the Diamond Clan, and in turn, the Clan becoming more accepting of his presence among them. Their bond continued to grown until one night, when camping over night in the Fieldlands during one of their expeditions, all three of them decided to escalate their relationship, and they decided to sleep together. This was of course forbidden, as the two were married and this traveller was an outsider to their clan, and yet Fiana and Haru did what they always did. Whatever it is they wanted. And they had the best night.

Their bond only grew after that night, and the next few months were spent with many more nights like it as they continued their adventure to try and find the mysterious pokemon. Secretly, the couple wished the man would never find his prize so that he might stay with them in Hisui forever, yet one afternoon, in the Fieldlands not too far from where they all spent their first night together, they finally found what they were looking for. A field of previously dead flowers came to life as they watched a small green and white pokemon with flowers on it’s back frolic in the newly formed flower meadow. They looked to the man expecting him to be excited upon finally sighting the pokemon he had traveled all the way there to just to catch a glimpse of, yet he looked defeated instead. Tearfully he told them that that wasn’t the pokemon that he was hoping to find, and that that meant that it was time for him to leave Hisui, as he couldn’t rest until he found it. They tried to change his mind, urging him to join their clan, yet he refused to agree. Finally, they managed to get him to agree to at least return to the Clan overnight, but as the trio entered the village they were confronted by the then Warden of the fieldlands, the Diamond Clan leader and much of the village who seemed to be waiting for their return. It was then that the Warden revealed that as he had been mistrustful of the outsider had been trailing them, and that he had sighted the trio during one of their adventures engaging in forbidden behaviour. He had informed the entire Clan of the outsiders disrespect in leading two members of their clan astray.

Fiana and Haru tried to defend themselves, yet refused to deny the accusation. The traveller just stood, with a blank stare as the village turned on him, hurling insults and judgments before the leader silenced them so that he may talk. Leader Solitaire looked almost remorseful as he explained that his hands were tied, and as the rules were clear he had no choice to expel the man from the Clan immediately, banishing him from the village and forbidding any member of their Clan to speak to him from that moment on. The man told Haru and Fiana to cease their objections, and addressed the entire Clan. He confirmed that the fault was all his, that he had in fact lead the clan members astray, and that he would gladly leave this land. Fiana and Haru tired to argue, yet he would hear nothing of it as he left them there, his final words a bitter reflection about the state of humanity, and of what a fool he had been to think the Diamond Clan were any different. He left the pair with one final smile as he disappeared into the wilds.

Their reputation was in tatters after that, but their good relationship with the Clan leader, and his son ensured that the pair weren’t thrown from the village. Nok and Minette, who were well aware of the nature of their relationship, mourned their loss with them in private, passing no judgment on them and continuing to work and be seen with them in public. It was a few weeks later, approaching Adaman’s first birthday, that Fiana realised that she had fallen pregnant. The couples initial wave of joy was short lived, as when they shared the news with the rest of the Clan rampant speculation had begun about who the true father of the unborn child was. The two had considered this themselves, deciding that it didn’t matter to them who the “true” father had been, as despite being caught they didn’t regret the time they had spent with the traveller at all, and they welcomed any blessing that Sinnoh would grace them with.

When the baby was born it was clear immediately that the traveller had been the one, yet true to their word Haru and Fiana didn’t love the child any less, and were so proud and overjoyed by “her” birth. They named the baby “girl”, Camellia, after the flowers that grew in Haru’s homeland of Johto, the imagery of which Fiana had adopted and would often incorporate into her jewellery designs, and as an homage to the traveller and his quest to find his flower pokemon.

The Clan members could instantly tell that Camellia was the child of the traveller, yet due to the interference of the leader kept their judgments mostly to themselves, partially to avoid the Pearl Clan getting wind of the embarrassing scandal, and to shield the child from the truth. The families connection with the Leader also helped, and in time their reputation recovered slightly, although never recovered fully, to this day with the couple being the subjects of much speculations and gossip. Melli is their only child.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Melli for much of the year lives away from the rest of the Diamond Clan, up on Mt Coronet in the highlands near Moonview Arena. It’s a small wooden cabin that has served generations of Wardens, having previously been the home of his uncle before inheriting it after his death. While he ventures down to the rest if the Clan often during the warmer months, staying with his parents whenever he’s in the village, he spends much of the winter completely isolated up on the mountain to care for Lord Electrode during the harsh icy weather. Grass types and ice don’t mix.

For the most part he likes living alone. He can eat whenever he wants to, can sing as pound as he wants, and there’s no concerned Clan aunties to yell at him for staying up late. He does get extremely lonely though, and always looks forward to mail (as delivered by lord Braviary) or visits from friends when the weather is agreeable.

▼ - childhood headcanon

Gender non-conforming trans masc. Realised he was a boy extremely young, but was too shy to tell anyone but Adaman at first, who he bonded to after Adaman accepted him as a boy straight away. He and Adaman kept it as a secret for a few years, until, with much coaching from Adaman, Melli was finally ready to tell his parents, who accepted him straight away. I headcanon that being trans in this time period/universe is generally understood and accepted, yet still comes with its own sets of expectations and problems with expectations of trans peoples roles in society, and with transition having it’s own barriers due to the technology of the time.

As they were best friends, (and before Melli came out) Melli and Adaman’s parents had pipe dreams that one day the two may be husband and wife.

Melli made friends with Stunky after Adaman’s dad offered to take both kids out to befriend an eevee. Melli instantly thought he was adorable, but was emboldened to make friends with him after adults in the village insisted that “a stunky wasn’t a suitable partner for a little girl” encouraging him to befriend a eevee like Adaman. This awoke his stubborn streak, and he insisted on keeping the stunky around. His Grandmother with a Skuntank partner of her own, came to his defence, and with her blessing, he was allowed to keep the stunky around.

★ - sad headcanon

Melli, as a teenager, found his uncle dead up on the mountain when going to visit him while he was the Warden to Lord Electrode.

He could always tell that members of the Clan treated him differently, and that contributed to his shyness initially, but then also boosted his desire to prove himself. He often feels like the harder he tries to make people respect or like him, the more people pull away. Has developed his overly confident personality as a shield to both cover his shyness, and to try and emulate Adaman and be the type of person/friend who’s confident and capable enough to help Adaman become a great leader.

Due to some expectations placed on him as a child, and the response from certain members of the village, and changes to his relationships that occurred after he came out as trans, he often wonders if it would have been easier to “stay in the closet”, despite knowing he’d be absolutely miserable.

(This ended up being extremely long, and is likely very rough, so please excuse any mistakes lol, I’ve stayed up all night writing this and I need sleep. I’m always happy to elaborate/answer headcanon questions, both for my personal canon headcanons, and for more general canon stuff too. I love Melli so much, I could talk about him forever)

#long post #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon #warden melli #melli #ask melli #Head canon #melliverse #adaman

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momoemarias · 1 year

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So I rewatched one of my fave cartoons ever recently

eene is so far in the rearview mirror for me now that I forget a lot of what it was initially like when the show was airing on tv. Like I couldn’t remember why some people thought s4 was a step down from s3 (even though I agree s3 is my fave). But I read someone’s review of a twist of ed that jogged my memory. Basically the reviewer was disappointed that they missed the opportunity to change the status quo at the end. And it hit me that there are s4 eps that are waaay more enjoyable knowing that we get s5 and the movie later. They aren’t BAD they’d just be kind of a bummer if s4 really was the end. I really disliked take this ed and shove it because it felt like such a grim note to end on. So while I do like s4 this realization made me remember why it left some people sour. That being said I wish s4 got way more credit for its silly goofy eps! It definitely wasn’t all bitter.

Here’s a possibly hot take: if anything s5 PROVES their friendship is still strong. Like Edd has every reason to be busy with school things and still chooses to be attached to the hip with slackers like Ed and Eddy? It feels unfair to me that this season gets blamed for being this dysfunctional era of the show. There are iffy moments here and there sure, but there are way more positives imo. I’m a s5 defender. It does commit a few crimes (a couple eps feel boring and they do more gross jokes?) but it’s pretty great. My least fave season is s1 (it’s just a little undercooked sorry).

I kind of wish the line in Edd’s character bible re: always being ready for action was more popular with fans. He’s a stick in the mud in a funny way not in a stops the plot in its tracks way! He’s open to silly stuff even in the later seasons! He just has to complain and be annoying (affectionate) first. I remember some of those more hypocritical writing moments confusing me as a kid (like do you want to be here?? lol) but in hindsight it just doesn’t feel that serious anymore. Edd is there because those are his friends, he likes doing the scams, there’s no ‘guilty by association’ and he wouldn’t be better off with the other kids since people love to forget he’s an outcast too.

I wish I could remember more of what it was like pre-movie. It’s so easy to handwave away some interpretations now that there’s a legit conclusion.

It feels like the abusive households theory is more prevalent than the (lame tbh) purgatory theory these days. The only thing I disagree with is that I don’t think any of the Eds’ parents are like. hellspawn or anything. I think there is neglect in both Ed and Edd’s households but they don’t hate their kids they’re just imperfect. Less malicious intent and more… they could do a lot better lol. I think Eddy’s parents are pretty good (comparatively?).

Admittedly though Ed’s home life is super hard to pin down bc the iconic WHAT HAPPENED TO THE STAIRS moment is taken so seriously. But Kevin’s parents put chains around the tv and cookie jar when he gets grounded so like!! what is real and what is cartoony exaggeration in this universe!!

On that note I actually think Ed’s bedroom being in the basement is… really cool? It would be concerning if there’s a lot of mold down there, but I always thought a teen (pre-teen in this case) boy would love having a cool spacious lair for a bedroom. He has his own tv even! I’m willing to bet the boys spend the most time in Ed’s bedroom than anyone else’s (which is so weird considering Eddy’s is on ground level AND has its own door. like hello that should be the hangout spot).

I could talk more but this has been in my drafts long enough. Sometimes a 20yo Canadian cartoon can be so personal.

#eene #ed edd n eddy #basically a thought dump lol

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spookysanta · 4 years

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NEW Fic Snippet: the TA. (c.e, h.c.)

Summary: she just wants to make a good impression. clearly, she’s made more of an impression on the two of them.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: swearing

i’ve literally been working on this idea all day. i wanted to see how my snippets do, and that’ll determine if i’ll drag it out to the end. :) also college!henry can beat my ass thanks

UNEDITED

***

“Come in.”

She opened the door slowly. She found him at his desk, typing on a computer. He paused for a moment, looking up toward the doorway with a small smile.

“Hi. You must be (Y/N).” he stood and crossed the small room stalking over to her and offering his hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Great to meet you as well, Dr. Evans.” She shook his hand eagerly. This was her first professional job, and well…it’s helpful to have him as her boss.

Mainly to look at, but that’s beside the point.

“Oh, please. You can call me Chris.” He waved her off politely. “It’s just you and I here.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay.”

He made his way back to his seat behind the desk. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the chair that sat on the opposite side of the desk.

She sat down tightly with her hands flattened under her thighs—she’s a picker.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head tightly. “Nothing.”

He noticed that her face read differently than her words were saying. She looked almost uncomfortable, unsettled. “Are you sure?”

“This is just my first TA job so I’m a bit nervous,” She was almost hesitant to tell him the truth. She rushed out, “hopefully that doesn’t compromise my position.”

“Not at all! In fact, I think this is one of the easier classes to TA for, but maybe I’m biased.” He chuckled. “So, with that said, let’s go over your requirements. Hopefully I can put your mind at ease, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled politely, trying to make herself relax but failing because Dr. Evans—Chris—was quite different that was she thought he would be. He was tall, built, and had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen.

She’d assumed that he would look like Ebenezer Scrooge from the way her friends said he ran his class. By their record, he was a strict guy—very unwavering with deadlines and course policies, sticks to his syllabus schedule, assigns a ton of work, and has an even stricter attendance policy.

But they also said he was nice, which was hard to come by with professors in this field. They could tell he was a good person deep down and liked what he taught but he was a hard ass.

And by her analyzation, that was true.

His desk was quite neat and polished; it smelled of air freshener in the room; there weren’t any papers scattered about—which she was thankful for, because she cannot work with people who were unorganized—and, most notably, there weren’t any kind of photos hanging up.

It was hard for her to determine whether he was a bachelor, or a married father that just kept things private.

Not that it mattered…but she wanted to know.

***

She sent a message to “Henry” letting her know that she was there, and sat at a table by the window. Let’s be clear—she was only doing this because Chris would’ve wanted them to meet before classes began anyway... she would not have done this on her own will.

Then she waited.

Ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty.

After forty minutes passed, she gathered her tote, phone, and keys, and made her way to the front door.

Before she could get to the door, a figure bumped into her, her body colliding with his hard chest. “Oh, shit, sorry!” the mass of flesh exclaimed, “I’m running late for a meeting and I didn’t watch where I was going.”

Her eyes met his as she took a step back. He was tall. His long brown hair was brushed behind one ear, cheeks flushed and pale, brown eyes wide.

He was cute.

“Wait,” she replied, “are you Henry?”

“Yeah…so?”

“So?” she glared at him. “I’m (Y/N).”

His eyes widened even more, as if that were possible. “Oh! I’m so sorry I’m late, my car broke down, and I ended up having to walk here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But listen, if you’re still free, I’d love to still talk with you.”

She didn’t have anywhere to be, so why not? “Sure.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

The two of them sat down at the table she chose, him slugging his shoulder bag off his body and onto the floor next to him, plopping into his seat. He folded his hands on the table and looked at her, watching as she fumbled through her bag for her planner and a pen.

“So,” he started, “it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You, too.” She replied, her eyes not looking up. She would’ve been nicer but he was late—not a good look.

“I’m usually the only TA in Chris’ class, so it’s really cool to have someone else around. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to be the only one proctoring an exam in a class of three-hundred people.”

“Three-hundred people?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s less, but that’s the average. It’s full of freshmen, too.”

She finally found her planner and a pen in the depths of her bag. “Are freshmen bad?”

He shook his head, “Not really, they’re just…odd.” He shrugged. “Some of them want to learn, some don’t, and you can tell right away. The ones that want to learn don’t want help—it’s always the procrastinators, the slackers, the ones that don’t care that need you.”

“How is that odd?”

“It’s strange to me, honestly. I didn’t really care either way my freshman year. I wanted to learn but I didn’t care enough to actually try.”

“So what changed? Chris made you seem like you were some mythical being.”

He laughed. She’ll admit, she was lost in his smile for a second. The glint in his eyes and the crinkle in his nose made her smile. “A mythical being?” he repeated. “I’m far from mythical. I think he gushes about me because I take over his office hours for him most days.”

That made her laugh. “Well, he seems to be appreciative of having you around. Hopefully I can be helpful.”

“I’m sure you can be,” he waved her off, “he probably told you that his class wasn’t that bad, but he’s totally lying. My first year helping him was rough—too much shit to do, and not enough time for it to get done.”

That sounded more accurate compared to what Chris told her yesterday. “I figured.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a great professor, and an awesome mentor to have—but sometimes he downplays stuff. He’ll say it’s “no big deal”, and it’ll be like Armageddon for us.”

She nodded slowly. “Any advice for getting on his good side?”

He chuckled. “If he likes you, you’ll know. And if he likes you, he’ll help you out. He’s not at all unreasonable, either; so just tell him what’s up when you have a problem, or if you’re overwhelmed, and he’ll do what he can to help.”

“That’s not what I heard.” She mumbled.

“Well, his students from last year will say he’s a dick, but—and you can’t tell anyone I told you this—” he leaned in closer, whispering, “he went through a nasty divorce last fall.”

So he isn’t married.

Interesting.

She’ll keep that in mind.

#chris evans x black women #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x poc!reader #professor!chris evans #college student!henry cavill #student!henry #new fic snippet #chris evans #i may delete this later

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imposterellie · 3 years

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Impaling - Day 4

Peter Parker wakes up with a horrid headache. On a normal day, he'd go to sleep for a long time in a very dark room. Parker luck dictates this absolutely will not happen.

Alternatively: what happens when you swing through the streets with an aura migraine

*TW: swearing, major injury, impaling, talk of blood, passing out, pain, panic*

@febuwhump

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Peter had woken with a terrible headache that morning. Since the bite, he didn’t often get headaches anymore, but when he did they turned into full blown killer migraines. He’d been to school with them before though, and he knew he’d be able to carry on as normal, just in a bit of discomfort all day. He thanked his lucky stars that May was out working an early shift when he left the house which meant he could grab some water and a few of his enhanced painkillers before dashing out the door to school.

The day dragged by. He spent many of his classes nursing his head, completely ignoring the teachers and trying his best to take part in conversation with MJ and Ned. It was clear they knew something was up. They kept shooting him worried glances when he zoned out mid conversation or winced when someone shouted. They finally said something when he stopped in the corridor on route to math class and leant against the lockers, his face pale. He was breathing heavily with his eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Peter. Man, you look awful,” Ned commented, awkwardly patting his friend’s shoulder. “Maybe you should go home. I’ll get notes for you.”

“It’s fine Ned, honestly, just a headache.” Peter said, trying his best to stand up straight and look as normal as possible. He still looked like death warmed up despite his best efforts.

“Dude. Go home, you’re not doing anyone any favours being in this state.” MJ reiterated, genuine concern for him on her face. “And you’ll ruin the team’s reputation if you sit in for practice today.” She grinned at him, “we don’t have slackers on our team.”

Peter smiled at her, immensely grateful for his friends.

“I love you guys, so much.” He adjusted his bag on his shoulders and turned towards the exit. “I owe you one for this.”

As Peter began the journey home, he contemplated calling Happy for a lift but he couldn’t face talking to the guy and having to endure all the noise of the car. So he walked. All the way home.

It took him far longer than usual to walk the few blocks to his apartment, probably due to his eyes being so sensitive to the light, he had to stop every few blocks just to squeeze his eyes shut and prevent his headache causing some serious vertigo.

Once he arrived back at the apartment, after fumbling with his keys for a few minutes, he went straight to his room and flopped facedown onto his bed, backpack still on. Peter laid like that for what felt like hours until he finally started to drift off to sleep.

Then his phone beeped. Then it beeped again. And again. And again.

Peter groaned and fumbled in his pocket, squinting at the bright screen, his head throbbing even more. He sighed softly when he realised it was notifications from KAREN telling him about incidents downtown that needed assistance. A huge part of him begged himself not to respond to the notifications but that niggling little voice in his brain knew just how guilty he’d feel if anything happened to anyone. So that settled it. He’d be attending that call.

Peter dragged himself off the bed, chucking his backpack onto the floor and starting to strip his clothes off. He quickly shoved his spiderman suit on, took a deep breath, and climbed out his bedroom window. His vision swam as he swung through the city but he was determined to get to the incident. He arrived in the nick of time. A car pileup on the main road was the issue, smoke everywhere and the cars minutes from going up in flames. He put all thoughts of the headache aside and leapt into action, yanking car doors off their hinges and pulling men, women and children out of the cars. He was pulling the last woman out of a car, her head steadily bleeding, when it caught on fire. If he’d been any later she would have been trapped in there.

Peter left the woman safely in the hands of the firefighters and waved at the growing crowd before swinging off into the city. The smoke and movement caused vertigo to slam into him out of nowhere and he shut his eyes for just a moment to try and stop the wave of pain and dizziness.

“Shit!” Peter exclaimed as the web he’d forgotten he was shooting missed the building he’d forgotten he was aiming for and he careened towards the ground. He had no time to do anything but brace himself for impact as he crashed through the front window of a museum, crushing a suit of armour that was probably worth more than his whole apartment building in the process.

He laid there for a second, dazed, surrounded by broken glass and the sound of an obnoxiously loud alarm blaring through the building he’d just accidentally broken into. The wave of nausea that suddenly hit him made him want to curl into a ball and cradle his head. The impact must have caused a mild concussion on top of the glaring headache he’d been nursing all day. And yet, he found that he couldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to. He tried to haul himself up but yelped when a sudden pain shot through his stomach.

Peter gingerly ripped his mask up over his mouth as he started to hyperventilate, trying to control the pain. His ears were ringing but his hearing slowly started to come back and he could hear the distorted voice of his AI saying his name.

��Peter? Peter! It appears you have taken extensive damage to your head, ribs and abdomen. My recommendation is to ring Mr Stark. Would you like me to do that for you?”

“No- no.” Peter gasped out “No St-rk. ‘m fine.”

“I’m afraid the baby monitor protocol insists that I ring him in a grave emergency, and my scanners show that this is the case. I’m sorry Peter.”

Peter groaned as the AI ceased talking and a phone line opened, ringing in his ear.

“Traitor.” He whispered as the line clicked.

“Peter? What’s going on kid?” Tony’s worried voice echoed into the suit. “Who’s a traitor?”

“Hi Mis-r Stark.” Peter slurred, gasping between sentences. “I din rob a m-seum, ‘romise.”

“I’m on route kid, hang in there okay?” Peter could faintly hear the sound of the suit clicking into place and the thrusters starting up. Tony sounded panicked; Peter couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it had something to do with the throbbing pain in his head. Peter closed his eyes for a second, trying to numb the pain a little, when the sound of the suit landing beside him woke him from his dazed state. Tony’s face filled his field of vision and peter looked up at him as Tony’s face drained of all colour. Tony spoke softly into the suit but Peter didn’t catch much of it; he just caught something about a spear? Which made absolutely no sense.

“Underoos…?” Tony said slowly, “what the hell happened?”

“Fell. ‘eadache an’ I missed building.” Peter grinned a little at the memory, the pain was sending him a bit loopy.

Tony looked grief stricken. “You gotta promise me you’re not gonna move.” He took a deep breath, “I’m trying to get some painkillers, the Quinjet isn’t far off.”

Tony surveyed the scene. An ancient medieval spear from the suit of armour that Peter had crushed was sticking out from Peter’s midsection. He’d been completely impaled on a stupid knight’s weapon. It was just Parker luck that he’d manage to damage the suit enough in the car wrecks that the spear had hit a weakness and was currently turning the kid into a human kebab.

“It doesn’ even ‘urt that bad, ‘onest.” Peter said, the expression on his face betraying that complete lie.

“Just- just don’t move kid. I’m gonna get you out of this.” Tony ran his hands through his hair, his nerves running haywire. Peter wasn’t losing any blood as the spear was blocking up the wound but tony knew that the second anyone pulled the kid off that spear, he’d start to bleed to death almost immediately.

Peter nodded, losing his ability to form words. Tony’s face was blurring out in front of him, dizziness and vertigo suddenly taking over. Tony noticed the glazed look that Peter was giving him and panicked further.

“Kid, you’ve got to stay awake. Keep those eyes open for me,” Peter obeyed, looking confused but a little more aware than he was a moment ago. “Just keep listening to me okay Underoos? I’m gonna get you out of here alive if it’s the last thing I do.”

Peter smiled softly at Tony, he wasn’t fully aware but knew that the voice that was talking belonged to someone who loved him, and would always take care of him. That thought, instead of keeping him awake and aware, sent him into the darkness. He felt safe. And that was all that mattered.

“Shit,” Tony said, his panic being sent into overdrive when Peter stopped responding. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and Tony caught Peter’s head in his hands before he fell completely to the floor.

An age seemed to pass of Tony barely holding himself together, holding the dying kid in his arms, when the quinjet landed in the wide street in front of him. The wheels had barely hit the ground when the door was opening and Bruce Banner launched himself out of the aircraft, followed quickly by Dr Cho and a team of medics holding a huge array of medical equipment.

Tony’s hands had gone numb. He barely registered Bruce gently pulling him away from Peter’s limp body. All he could feel was slick blood drying on his hands. There were people all over his kid, touching him, hurting him. He fought Bruce without even realising he was doing it.

“Tony! Tony stop, we’re helping him, we need space.” Bruce forced tony to look at him. “Go sit on the ship, get some water. Just calm down, we’ll be there soon.”

Tony nodded slowly, resigning to the man’s words.

“I promise we will take care of him.” That sentence did it for Tony and he got up, staggering towards the Quinjet before sliding down onto a chair in the main body of the aircraft, his whole being numb. This situation felt familiar. He’d done this many a time with his kid, always when Tony could have fixed it, could have prevented it. But he didn’t. And Peter got hurt every time. Tony put his head in his hands and began to sob.

The medical team worked on Peter for several long minutes out in the street before deeming him stable enough to be transferred to the aircraft. Once on board, they kicked into flight immediately and headed straight for the compound, never straying from Peter’s side. Monitors beeped and flashed, wires everywhere, pumping drugs into Peter.

There were several points on the journey that one of the monitors flatlined.

They got him back each time, but they were very quickly losing Peter and Tony had never felt anything like the guilt and loss he was feeling in that moment. None of the team dared breathe a sigh of relief when they reached the compound. Although the most difficult part was over, they could not guarantee that Peter would survive the surgery to remove the spear. He had hit a vital organ and his internal bleeding was practically fatal. It was due to Peter’s incredible healing ability that he was even alive at all.

Tony ran by the side of the gurney all the way into the building before he was forced into a seat in the private waiting room by a harried Dr Banner, who then disappeared into the operating room without a backward glance.

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

Pepper came dashing into the room after the first hour of Peter being in surgery, clutching her phone, and ran straight to Tony, hugging him as tightly as she could. He barely felt it. Barely noticed the time passing at a snail’s pace as he waited for those damn doors to open.

He didn’t know when he had nodded off but when he woke, he was laid on Pepper’s lap, her hand stroking his hair. She was talking quietly and tony glanced across the room to see who had joined them. Sat in the chairs opposite them was Happy, clutching the hand of a quietly crying May.

Tony didn’t speak, he had no idea what he could possibly say to make the situation better, so he opted to say nothing at all. He was working up the courage to stop pretending to be asleep when the doors to the OR eased open.

“Tony.” Bruce said quietly.

He was up like a shot, holding his breath in case the news was bad.

“The surgery went well. We lost him a couple of times on the table but he’s a strong kid. He’s gonna be okay.” Tony felt relief like he had never experienced before flood through him and he lost control of his legs, dropping to his knees in the middle of the floor. He heard May burst into fresh, happy tears, and Pepper sounded as though she was thanking something for answering her prayers.

“It’s going to be a very long road to recovery, but he will be okay.” Bruce smiled at the scene, feeling complete exhaustion take over him, but pleased he could save the kid that meant so much to the people in front of him. He’d never known Tony as he had been since Peter appeared in their lives, and he’ll thank the stars every day for that blessing.

Bruce said his goodbyes whilst Tony thanked him profusely, before heading off for a well-earned rest. Tony immediately found out if he was granted permission to see his kid. He was in the ICU, but stable, according to Dr Cho, and could have one visitor. Tony offered it to May but she refused, claiming it would be too hard for her, so Tony took the opportunity.

He approached the door to Peter’s room with a sudden sense of nervousness, he didn’t know what faced him in there and he barely dared imagine it. He steeled himself and pushed open the door. Peter was surrounded by wires, pipes and machines, all working to keep him alive whilst his healing ability fixed what it could in his comatose state.

Tony sat in the chair next to his bed, gingerly reaching to hold Peter’s hand, trying his best to avoid jostling the wires. Tony finally let himself truly cry, the events of the day catching up with him.

Once he had calmed, he spoke softly to Peter. The boy looked so fragile, and Tony knew he would never let the kid get hurt like this again because of a flaw in something he built.

“I promise I will always look after you Underoos, I know you’ll never stay away from danger but I will protect you with everything I have.” Tony smiled softly, listening to the constant beeping that filled the room for a moment.

Finally he whispered, “I love you, kid.”

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday4 #peter parker whump #tony stark #irondad #whump #peter parker #injury #tw #vomit tw #blood tw

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karihighman · 4 years

Text

Moms Night Out 🍻

Hailey & Stella are at Molly’s, bonding over their idiot husbands & chaotic kids. (Based on a Twitter prompt.)

“Wait you can’t be serious?” Stella asked as she passed Hailey her first beer.

“Oh no, I am!” Hailey told her, getting some of the foam off the top. “Completely serious. I come home one day and the house is fucking disaster, Jay’s like ducked under a pillow, and our two twins are barreling down the hallway screaming at the top of their lungs. I guess they were quote-un-quote sword fighting and Jay was the big scary dragon they were supposed to slay.”

Stella held back a laugh. “And?” She asked, brows and drink raised in tandem.

“And what?” Hailey questioned.

“Well, did they slay Jay or what?!”

“Oh,” Hailey grinned. “Hell yeah they did!”

“How’d they get so hyped up anyhow?”

Hailey gave Stella a deadpan look. “Have you met Jay? The man can’t say no to anything Cooper and Cici ask. They’re like, his kryptonite or something.”

Stella set her beer down. “Soooooo, sugar high?”

Hailey mumbled an “Mhmm,” as she took a long drink. “So, how ‘bout you and Kelly?”

Kidd didn’t hold back a laugh this time. “Oh Jesus. When aren’t we dealing with craziness. I swear, it’s like I ask him to do one fucking thing and he manages to not only not do it, but to have done something else instead!”

Upton motioned for her to elaborate.

“Oh, so we were taking Brian over to daycare right? And Kelly just ups and drives through the McDonalds lunch rush because Brian begs him for “nugs.””

“Nugs?” Hailey asked, her brows knitting together.

“Nuggets. Y’know, chicken nuggets?”

“Oh, got it. Okay, so? That’s not bad!”

“It is when we’ve already been late 2 times the same week dropping Bri off at daycare! I don’t wanna look like the slacker parent cause my dumbass husband is controlled by a 3 year old.”

Hailey bit her lip to keep from completely losing it. She could just picture Stella and Kelly, minding their own business when Brian makes those big puppy dog eyes and BAM! Chaos ensues.

It’s what happens with Jay all the time. Hailey says the twins can’t have ice cream until they do some spelling or practice their handwriting? She’ll come back to chocolate covered handprints not only on the kitchen counter, but all over their homework too.

But then of course Jay gives her that look, the one she’s been melting over for years, and she’s a goner. Typical. Course who could blame her? She has a hot husband. A hot sergeant husband, she might add.

“Helllooooooo? Earth to Hailey?” Stella tried, waving her hand in front of the blonde’s face.

“Hm? What? Oh, sorry.” Hailey said. “Just daydreaming.”

Stella scoffed, pouring out another round for each of them. “Uh huh. Anyway....”

“What?” Hailey asked, noting Stella’s knowing tone.

“Well, have you and Jay even had a date night since the twins came along?”

Hailey buried her head in her hands. “Oh hell, do not make me tell the story of Octoberfest 2021, Stell. I can’t do it.”

Kidd was a quarter into her beer when she perked up. “Oh no, you’re telling it.”

“Fine.”

Stella leaned on her elbows so she could listen as Hailey settled in. “So, I get Jay to agree to go to the festival with me. He says he’s got it allllll figured out, right? Babysitters would get there at 8, we’d be back by 11-11:30 tops.”

“Okay, sounding good so far...”

“Well, come to find out the original babysitters of his brother Will and girlfriend Natalie are going to the festivities too! Therefore, Jay, in all his infinite wisdom, dialed up Adam to help out last minute.”

“Oh hell.”

“Yeah. Adam’s a great friend, but a horrible babysitter. You think it was crazy when Jay was there? That was — and pardon the pun — child’s play.”

“Oh come on, Hail. I’m sure it wasn’t all bad. Besides, he and Kim are attached at the hip aren’t they?”

“Usually, Yeah. But no, not that night. Kim was out and about with Kevin, Vinessa, and Jordan.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So Ruzek’s alone with our kids and I get a call from Adam at — ready for it — 9:30 and he asks me where I keep the towels. Turns out, he let the kids “make dinner” which meant, flour and dough everywhere, pizza sauce on the fucking ceiling, cheese in I don’t even know where and—“

“Okay, okay, I get it. So Adam’s no pizza man,” Stella observed.

Hailey downed a lot more of her beer before continuing. “So then I of course pull Jay away and he’s just like, oh but they love their uncle Adam!” And im over here thinking of course they do but I don’t love him when they turn the house upside down!”

“Hailey, you’re such a mom,” Stella joked.

“Well, I made Jay go home and help Adam clean up the kitchen, meanwhile I had to wrangle the twins into pajamas and properly feed them.”

“Could be worse,” Stella offered. “One time Brian convinced Kelly that there was a mouse living in his toolkit.”

Hailey paused. “Was there?”

“Yeah, a fake one!” Stella grinned. “He’d put it there as a prank but oh man, I’d never seen Kelly so pale!” She laughed out loud at the memory. “Then Kelly told him about how to pull an even better prank. So then lo and behold, I find a “snake” in the shower and almost trip and kill myself.”

Hailey giggled. “Oh god—” she couldn’t finish her sentence because she burst out into another giggle fit. “I’m sorry, but that’s too funny!”

“He made it up to me though,” Stella winked, and Hailey smirked.

“Yeah, Jay’s had to do some groveling too...”

“Don’t you mean begging?” Stella pushed, wagging her eyebrows.

Hailey shrugged, leaving it open ended, because, as luck would have it, in come their dumbass husbands now.

“Hey,” Kelly says first, nodding at Hailey before leaning over the bar to kiss Stella.

“Hi babe,” Hailey says as Jay walks over to her. He wrapped his arms around her, sort of hugging her.

“So, where’re our kids, guys?” Stella asked as she pulled away from Severide.

“Yeah, so, about that....” Jay began, running a hand over the back of his neck. Kelly stood over near him looking just as sheepish.

“They may have wanted to go to Chuck-E-Cheese. We may have taken them.” Severide told the ladies.

“We? As in you and him, right?” Kidd asked.

“Well....” Jay began, his sentence cut short by a pair of bustling legs and high pitched squeals coming down the way.

“Momma! Momma! Look! Uncle Adam bought us milkshakes and and we won a big bear!!”

Cooper and Cici pointed towards Adam, who, of course strolled into Molly’s with the hugest teddy bear Hailey had ever seen.

“Well, actually I won the bear,” Jay defended, looking at Hailey with the rest of his sentence — ‘for you’ unspoken.

“I managed the high score at ski ball,” Kelly chimed in. Stella gave him a nod, patting his shoulder. What he didn’t see was she mouthed over to Hailey ‘sure he did.’

“You sure the kids had fun?” Stella asked, clearly amused.

“Not as much as us,” Adam said, earning eye rolls from the ladies and embarrassed looks from the menchild spouses.

Stella and Hailey grinned at each other. Yeah, some things never change.

#one chicago #chicago pd #chicago fire #fanfiction #fanfiction prompt #hailey upton #stella kidd #stellaride #upstead #stella and hailey friendship #future fic #if they had kids

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taiyakiiwrites · 3 years

Note

If your requests are still open, can I have a matchup please (preferably with a male). I’m a Pisces and my personality type is INTP and I’m a lawful neutral. Im an ambivert. I have straight black hair and brown eyes and beige skin and 5”4. I have dark circulars around my eyes so I always look tired lol. I sorta look like Kusco from Emperors New Groove.

Personality wise I would say I’m a kind person who likes to joke around with my friends. I’m sarcastic and like to pull pranks/trick my friends occasionally but its always lighthearted and never mean, I don’t like hurting peoples feelings on purpose. I try to help people (mostly my friends) when I can. I nosy and I like eavesdropping into conversations and listening to drama. I worry quite a bit about life in general and contemplate the future a lot in my head but I never usually tell people any of my concerns since I sorta fear what they’ll say. I’m standoffish with assholes and sometimes mess with them behind their backs if they deserve it. I can be envious of people and annoying and clingy at times too but I try not to be. In friend groups I tend to be the least loyal friend so I occasionally feel insecure and upset.

School wise I’m a slacker but I’m still able to get good/decent grades. I procrastinate a lot due to laziness. My favourite subjects are history and geography and my least favourites are English, maths and PE. My handwriting is really messy and sometimes even I can’t read it.

My hobbies include watching Netflix/YouTube, listening to Marina (obsessed with her songs) drawing, writing and origami. I like taking Uquizzes and talking to my friends too. My favourite movie genres are mystery and comedy’s. I like baking but I’m really bad at it. I also like trying new things but I get annoyed when I’m not instantly good at it lol.

My dislikes are homework, waking up early and being told what to do. I also get annoyed when I have to clean and I hate extreme weather like heavy rain and heatwaves too.

If requests are closed please ignore this, if not thank you!

i match you up with… DENKI KAMINARI

notes: one thing i want to say is that i absolutely adore how you described yourself as kusco—anyways, hope you enjoy who i picked out! (also im actually loving the edit i did for the kaminari header—sorry just had to give myself that pat on the back)

⇉ requests are open!! || main masterlist || rules

definition of “prepare for trouble and make it double”

you guys are going to wreak havoc

and i am ready with the popcorn

lawful neutral x chaotic neutral: a very interesting combo

i’m getting (potentially childhood?) friends to lovers or you two met on the first day of school and just instantly hit it off

you two don’t like to do schoolwork, but seeing you get hella good grades without trying rlly just get’s kaminari all “excuse me tf 😀” and that’s how he decided that he needed to Get Good™️ because 1: to impress you and 2: he wouldn’t be able to keep up with you otherwise

even when you two start out as friends, it is basically impossible for someone to tear one away from the other

the bakusquad had gave up trying at this point

and you both mutually pined for each other, kaminari being extremely obvious, so no matter what amount of time it took for you two to get together, it was far too long

things they love about you

he 100% vibes with your more artsy side—the times you create and let your imagination flow. kaminari has good ideas, he just can’t flesh them out. you, on the other hand, can. and he loves that. sometimes, talking to you on end about story or illustration ideas and watching you create is all he needs to recover from a bad day

every single time he sees you stand up for yourself, him, or anyone, he just falls more in love with you. he only has moments where he doesn’t run away and you? you do it so easily. it’s more than admirable in his eyes

you’re fun! with you in his life, there’s never a dull moment. you guys set up elaborate pranks for your friends, go hunting for rumors and gossip and report to mina with your findings, and when you two are in a room together, you make the ultimate comedic duo. kaminari could wish for nothing less in a partner!

kaminari loves your hair. i mean, he is obsessed with it. don’t ask me why because i don’t really know

also i just need to say this again but you said you looked like kusco and i love that you chose that wording omg—

if kaminari heard you say that, he would lose it (in a good way, i promise)

relationship headcanons

you guys try to study together whenever you can as to not entirely fail

emphasis on try

whether you successfully study or you don’t, the sessions always end in you and him watching netflix in the comfort on his dorm room

he’s always trying to find new movies for you—almost every day he sends you a link to either one during school with an ironic “saw this and thought of you 😳🤪😍” and will then proceed to beg you not to watch it without him

the day kaminari isn’t by your side to ease your worries is the day he is dead—somehow he knows exactly what to say every single time you get too worked up about something, especially your insecurity of being disloyal. and i am going to talk about this in a seperate bullet because i find this very important:

kaminari has had trouble with people trusting him in the past as well. it was mostly because people saw him as dumb and unreliable. he believes that with even whatever faults you believe you have, you also have that “good” inside of you and if you left him, it was for a good reason. he puts his whole trust in you, even if you don’t

a good 60-70% of your dates include movie nights, video games, and trying desperately to bake something edible while avoiding bakugou’s judgmental glare from the common room’s couch

MARINA 👏 KA 👏 RA 👏 O 👏KE

JUST YOU TWO JAMMING OUT IN YOUR DORM WITH HAIRBRUSH MICROPHONES AND MARINA BLASING

you both have similar struggles but seeing each other dealing with it puts things into perspective. y’know the saying “take your own advice”? with each other, you’re able to do that and ultimately grow as both individuals and two halfs of a whole <333

songs that remind me of you two

sunkissed by khai dreams

share your address by ben platt

favorite poison by fuller

we fell in love in october by girl in red

beachboy by mccafferty

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha matchup #mha matchup

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violetwolfraven · 4 years

Text

Ghost Guitar Battle (3/3)

((Part 3 of Violet is a fucking idiot and couldn’t help herself from pursuing a random idea when she has actual requests sitting in her inbox. I’m so sorry y’all.))

Part 1 here.

Part 2 here.

I am well aware that this is corny as fuck but whatever. Also I know I tagged this as flarrie but it’s just in the background.

Warnings: depression symptoms, parent death mentions, character feeling out of control/mind control.

...

Nick didn’t know how long he was just kind of floating in darkness.

It was dark, but it was the kind of darkness where there weren’t shadows, it wasn’t night, there was just nothing there.

A few minutes could have passed or a few months. Nick wasn’t sure. All he really knew was that he was alone, just sitting there in the dark with his guitar.

Not like the stupid thing did him any good. If he tried to play, it just sounded muted. Whatever this void thing was, it didn’t have good acoutstics.

Everything in here was muted. Nick guessed it was convenient it sounded bad when he played, since he didn’t feel like playing anyway. He wasn’t bored, scared, sad, or whatever. Everything just felt... flat. It felt like he’d been sitting there forever.

“Nick?”

Wait, did someone just say his name?

Nick stood up, turning around and seeing—

“You’re Julie’s guitarist.”

“Yeah,” the guy nodded, “Hi. My name’s Luke.”

“Did Caleb get you, too?”

Luke shook his head, “No. Well, almost, once, but... no.”

“Then how are you... you’re a ghost.”

God, everything made sense now. How Julie’s hologram thing worked and why she didn’t perform at that dance. Why it seemed like she talked to herself so much lately. Why Caleb was so interested in her in the first place.

Hell, Julie had called him ‘Luke’ by mistake once. She’d been thinking about this guy.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, “I’m a ghost. Long story short, no other ghosts can be seen by lifers when they play, so Caleb wants me under his control.”

“That’s why he came after me,” Nick realized, “I could get to Julie and Julie could get to you.”

Luke nodded, “Exactly. Only he slipped up pretending to be you. Carrie noticed and told Flynn and Julie. We came up with a plan to have me come in here and help you push him out.”

“Another ghost tried to help me. It didn’t work.”

“Wait, Willie? You saw Willie?”

“Yeah, but...” Nick sighed, “Caleb made him fade away. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“Oh. Okay. He’s my bandmate’s... he’s a friend, and we haven’t heard from him since he tried to help you. That’s why I asked.”

“Well, I don’t know. So... sorry.”

He was expecting Luke to leave, but he didn’t. He just fiddled with the strap of the electric guitar he was holding.

“So... what do you wanna play?”

“What?”

“I’m here to back you up, Nick. I can’t push Caleb out for you.”

Nick didn’t feel like laughing, but he did anyway, just at the hopelessness.

“I can’t push him out,” he said, “He’s too powerful.”

“You can,” Luke insisted, “This is your mind. You’re playing on your home turf.”

“But I’m not the one in control.”

“But you can get it back.”

“No, I can’t! I’m not good enough.”

“Not good—“ Luke cut off, sighing, “You think I thought I was good enough when I first started booking gigs with my band when I was alive?”

Nick didn’t even know what to say here.

“I was younger than you are now,” Luke said, “I was 15 when I started out. You think I thought I was as good as the bands with twice the experience and twice the recognition? No. But I acted like I did, because if you don’t at least pretend to believe in yourself, no one else will. You gotta sell yourself, Nick. Fake it till you make it.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works,” Nick muttered, “The stakes are higher than a gig.”

“This isn’t about the stakes. Don’t think about those. This is just about the music. Don’t think about the consequences, don’t worry about what’ll happen if it doesn’t work, just play. Feel the music. You’re a musician, so it’s a part of you.”

Nick still hesitated. He knew he couldn’t overpower Caleb, so what was the point?

“Come on,” Luke said, starting up a few quiet chords, “I believe in you. If nothing else, wouldn’t you rather say you tried?”

Nick picked up his guitar.

He started playing hesitantly, a sad song he’d picked up out of self-pity after Julie rejected him, before he made the mistake of getting off his butt and out of his house to give it one last shot.

He didn’t get very far in the song.

“Wha—stop, stop, stop. What was that?”

“I told you,” Nick said, vaguely irritated, “I’m not good enough.”

“No,” Luke shook his head, “No, your technique was fine. It was pretty good, actually, but you weren’t putting any of yourself into the music.”

Nick snorted, “Why do you care? We don’t know each other.”

And if you‘re close with Julie, you probably know about me as the guy who has a crush on her so why would you try to save me?

“You’re right, but this isn’t about me,” Luke insisted, “This is about you. You need to dig deeper, really connect to the music. Play something that’s you.”

Something that was him...

Nick was still hesitant to listen to the ghost his crush had a crush on, but...

He focused in deeper, and what started coming out when he started playing again was a tune something like an early 2000s pop/rock song. It was still sad, but definitely more him.

“There you go,” Luke said, but Nick wasn’t listening.

Playing guitar while feeling this deeply inside his own mind was trippy. It was almost like he could see and hear—

“I know, but what was I supposed to do, Chad?”

Nick was sitting at the kitchen table and picking at his spaghetti while eavesdropping on Ryan talking on the phone with his boyfriend in the next room.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Ryan. Nick did like Ryan. But he still really just wanted his mom. The walls were thin here, and he could hear everything that was being said about him.

“I already told you this, but sure, we can go through it again. His mom, Amanda, is in my musical theatre program. Always shows up late and half-asses choreography. We all thought she was a slacker, but then a couple months ago she unloaded the fact that she’s a single mom and can barely afford to pay for a babysitter for her kid. She’s only in school at all because she got a scholarship.”

There was a pause, and Nick wondered what this Chad guy was saying on the other side. He wondered what Chad was like in real life. He was smiling in the picture Ryan had on his counter.

“His dad’s not in the picture. Amanda never said why, but... yeah, you can still come visit, but you should be prepared for the fact that Nick’s gonna be here. In fact...”

Nick heard Ryan sigh and felt a strong sense of dread at the change in his tone of voice.

“Amanda’s been in the hospital a week and she’s not getting any better. The way everyone keeps talking, I don’t think she ever will.”

That made Nick want to cry. Everyone kept telling him he was strong for dealing with his mom being sick, but he didn’t want to be strong. He just wanted her back, and it sounded like Ryan didn’t think that was going to happen.

“No, no grandparents. Amanda doesn’t have any family. None that she talks to, at least.”

Nick was really trying not to cry now, because... because if he thought about what would happen if his mom didn’t get better, besides how he would miss her, what would happen to him?

“Of course I want to take him, Chad. Nick is my friend’s son. He’s 5 years old and he has nowhere else to go.”

What was he talking about? Taking Nick where?

“Yeah, I know I’m a little young for this, but if I don’t take him, they’re gonna put him in the foster system. Nick’s been through enough. The last thing he needs is to get dumped with some stranger.”

If it was a choice between Ryan and a stranger, Nick knew what he’d choose, but he didn’t want that choice. He just wanted his mom back.

“Chad, I already decided. I’ll use my parents’ lawyers if I have to, but I’m taking Nick in. But... I don’t blame you if you wanna bail. You signed on for me. Not some kid you’ve never met.”

Nick didn’t want Ryan to lose his boyfriend because of him. That would be bad. They looked so happy in that picture on the counter.

Then he heard Ryan laugh.

“Okay, point made. You can meet him when you visit this weekend. You’ll like him. Nick’s a really sweet kid. Love you. Bye.”

Nick couldn’t hide his tears when Ryan opened the door and came back into the main room of the apartment.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling down to be on Nick’s level, “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay. It looks like you’re gonna be living with me for a little longer.”

“You think I’m gonna live with you forever,” Nick accused, “You and Chad. You think my mom’s not gonna get better.”

Ryan froze, then sighed, “I guess you heard me, huh?”

“Your stupid walls are stupid thin,” Nick grumbled.

“My stupid walls are stupid thin, aren’t they? Maybe the wall fairy should come fix them.”

Ryan seemed kind of discouraged with how Nick didn’t find that funny.

“Look,” he said quietly, “Nick, I know I’m not your dad. I’m not even like a cool uncle. I’m just your mom’s friend who wasn’t even that good of a friend until a little while ago. Before that, I was kind of a stupid stinky friend and that’s why she didn’t let you meet me—because she knew I was stinky and she was taking care of you.”

“She always takes care of me,” Nick sniffled.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, “Because she loves you. Your mom loves you so much, and that’s never going to change. It’s just that... pretty soon, she won’t be able to take care of you anymore. While she can’t, I wanna to do it for her. Is that okay?”

Nick just wanted things to go back to normal, but... well, Ryan was better than some stranger, if those were the only options.

Little Nick had been devastated when his mom died. It still made him sad sometimes that she was gone, but he had a few nice memories of her to look back on.

And plus, she’d been so busy with work and school that he’d rarely seen her, honestly. Nick had spent most of his early childhood with various babysitters until Ryan got custody.

And besides, especially since Ryan and Chad graduated and moved in together, he had more happy memories of them.

The music shifted to be less melancholy as Nick smiled, thinking of growing up with his dads. The first couple months where Chad clearly had no idea how small children worked but tried so hard to make Nick like him anyway. The confusion of them trying to navigate the system and register him for school. Moving to Albuquerque briefly after the 3 year program Ryan was in ended.

“Nick!” Chad chided, taking the bowl of cookie dough away, “You’re not gonna have any room for dinner!”

“What’s the problem with that?” Ryan asked with a smirk, “You’re a really bad cook.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Nick shot back, “You’re a really bad cook.”

It made him a little nervous when they both froze up a bit.

Nick was well aware that he’d never called Chad or Ryan ‘dad’ before. He wasn’t sure if they were even okay with him calling them that.

He just... wanted to try it out.

Chad and Ryan had taken pictures of him on his first day of kindergarten. They’d taken care of him when he got strep throat the November of 1st grade. Ryan had taught him to sing and Chad hadn’t been phased when Nick showed zero flair for basketball and instead got into little league lacrosse.

They felt like his parents, so Nick wanted to try calling them that.

Then Chad smiled, ruffling his hair, “Well, you can’t cook at all, little man, so I’d curb the sass.”

“Yeah, cause he’s 8 years old,” Ryan objected, “Still, Nick could open a cookbook right now and be better than you. I feel bad for Gabriella and all the other Wildcats’ partners. Zeke can cook so well because none of the rest of you can.”

“What, you think he absorbed the culinary ability from the whole team?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a bad cook too, Dad,” Nick pointed out.

Ryan gasped in fake offense and Chad laughed.

“Can we get pizza?”

“Oh, Chad, he’s definitely your child.”

“You’re blaming me for our kid having good taste in food?”

The tune was evolving again, into a more current style, optimistic and fun. Memories of learning the hard way that he was a really bad dancer and both him and his dads laughing it off. Messing around in their closet and stealing/borrowing old clothes they didn’t use anymore. Missing them when they went to away games or took acting gigs out of town, but being happy for them and cheering them on whenever school didn’t interfere.

Moving to California after Chad graduated and got signed by the Lakers, conveniently around the same time Ryan and Nick’s Aunt Sharpay decided to try out Hollywood and see how different it was from Broadway.

Nick was grinning now, thinking back on all those happy memories.

“What’s up, kiddo? How was school today?”

Nick dodged Chad’s attempt to hug him, “Gross, Dad, you’re all sweaty.

“Well, I was at practice all day, so... the sweat monster’s gonna get you!”

10-year-old Nick yelped, abandoning his homework to run away as his dad chased him around the house, only for them to run headfirst into Ryan and all three of them to fall to the ground.

“First, Chad, go take a shower. Second, is that my black fedora, Nick?”

Nick shrugged, “You don’t wear it.”

“I do too.”

“Not recently.”

Ryan looked like he wanted to argue, but realized he couldn’t, and that made Nick laugh.

“Shush, little man. Ask next time you borrow it. Chad, again, go take a shower.”

“Sure,” Chad stood up, “Meanwhile, you packed your things, right Nick?”

Nick nodded proudly, “Yup.”

“Great. Reunion’s tomorrow, so we’re flying to Albuquerque tonight.”

Should be fun,” Ryan added, “I think it’ll be the first time the whole gang’s in one place since graduation. Cause Sharpay missed the first year, Zeke’s flight got cancelled the second...”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to see everyone.”

Nick tilted his head, “Why’s everybody coming this year?”

As far as he knew, there was nothing special about a 6-year reunion. Or 2014. And the former Wildcats were all pretty busy most of the time, being the successful people that they were. If someone couldn’t make it, it wasn’t like the others would hold it against them.

Nick’s dads exchanged a glance and he realized they were hiding something. He wasn’t sure exactly what, but...

“What’s so special about this year?” he asked, “Don’t say nothing. I can tell it’s not nothing.”

They had another silent conversation before either of them actually answered the question.

“We weren’t gonna tell you until we got there,” Ryan admitted, “Cause it’s kind of a surprise, but you’re gonna be spending some time with Aunt Sharpay this summer.”

“Or Troy and Gabriella,” Chad added, “We made her promise she’d drive you over there if you got tired of her.”

Nick couldn’t see himself admitting he was tired of Aunt Sharpay even if he did get tired of her, but that wasn’t why he was confused.

“Why? Where are you gonna be?”

“On our honeymoon,” Chad answered, “Everyone’s in town this year is cause we’re getting married.”

They were clearly worried about his reaction, but they didn’t have to be because despite being only 10, Nick wasn’t blind. He’d seen this coming a mile away and just been waiting on when specifically it was going to happen.

“I want a little sister or brother.”

They both laughed, and Nick tried not to cringe too much at the sweat when they did a family group hug.

The chords he was strumming now felt suspiciously like some kind of love ballad, like the kind of 90’s songs that had played at his dads’ wedding. It brought back dancing with his Aunt Sharpay and various others of his parents’ friends. Stepping on more than a few former Wildcats toes, of course on accident. Kind of bitterly plotting the kind of mischief he was going to teach the others’ kids when the time came that he finally wasn’t the only kid anymore.

Of course, that brought back memories of that angsty phase Nick went through in his tween years, when he first started realizing exactly how young his parents were to have a kid his age and questioning if they ever would’ve taken him in if there was another option.

That hadn’t been a fun train of thought. The mood of the music dipped in response, corresponding to the anxiety Nick had felt about how his dads had adopted him because they felt like they had to, not because they wanted to. That phase had ended when he decided it didn’t matter as long as they wanted him now, but it had influenced how he’d acted around Lizzie when they first met.

Lizzie had been almost 4 when they adopted her into the family, an orphan like Nick who’s parents had died in a car crash. Now, of course, she was a sassy 8-year-old firecracker who goaded him into playing with her instead of doing his homework, but she’d been a lot more skittish when she was younger. And tween Nick had always tried not to act cold to her, but it wasn’t like he knew anything about being a big brother at the time and he didn’t always succeed.

The music took on a tune almost like a sadder, more complicated version of a child’s nursery rhyme.

Lizzie was a tiny person, and despite the fact that Nick had been the one to ask for a little sibling in the first place, he had no idea how to act around her.

It seemed like that feeling was double-sided, with how Lizzie seemed a little bit scared of him, so at least it wasn’t like he was the only one playing an avoidance game, here. They were avoiding each other. It was mutual.

That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t die for her, because even if they hadn’t gotten much chance to get to know each other in the month since she’d been adopted into their family, she was still his little sister. Despite the disconnect, Nick cared for her more than he knew how to say.

But he really wished he knew how to say it, considering Lizzie was crying and they were in a public place and he was just very awkwardly trying to calm her down and look for their dads at the same time.

You’d think it would be easier to spot an NBA player and a famous actor taking a break from their careers to take their kids to Disneyland.

Nick knew that in the event he got lost, he was supposed to stay in one place so that they could find him, but staying in one place was a lot less daunting when he wasn’t trying to comfort a crying 4-year-old.

“Shh, Lizzie, they’re gonna come find us,” he said, rubbing her back and trying to talk calm, “You’ll see. They’re looking for us right now.”

He didn’t say how he struggled with the thought that if it came down to it and something dangerous happened and they had to choose between looking for Lizzie and looking for him, he didn’t know what their dads would choose.

Nick shoved those thoughts down and tried to say more comforting things, but Lizzie just wouldn’t stop crying. The noise of the crowd definitely was not helping, only stressing her out more. Nick had no idea how to calm her down, except... maybe to distract her?

“Hey, Lizzie, can you tell me your favorite princess?”

Lizzie sniffled, looking up at him with way too much of a look like a kicked puppy.

“Cinderella,” she said in her tiny little voice.

“I like Cinderella, too,” he agreed, “Yeah. You know what Cinderella likes to do? She likes to dance. We’re gonna dance, okay? You can stand on my feet.”

Lizzie stood up, stepping up to stand on Nick’s shoes, and he hummed a Disney princess song, just swaying around in a circle and holding his little sister’s hands.

To, honestly, his absolute shock, it actually seemed to be working. She wasn’t crying anymore, at least, and she actually seemed to be calming down.

Nick made a mental note that princess dance parties were a good thing to do with small children.

Naturally, the guitar shifted to sound like the kind of emo music Nick was listening to in middle school, around the time when he first met Carrie and Julie and Flynn and the guys on the lacrosse team. A few bars sounded suspiciously like the showtunes his dad had showed him at that age, too, in an attempt to get him into theatre.

It wasn’t that Nick didn’t enjoy theatre, but he still preferred music to acting. He and his lacrosse buddies did do team-building parties where they watched musicals and danced and sang to them, though.

Those parties usually ended up being at Nick’s house, given that it was big and all the guys had pretty much become honorary additional big brothers to Lizzie anyway.

Also, given that Los Feliz was most known for its music program and definitely not for its sports, the guys all thought Ryan was as cool as Chad. And even though most of them had supportive parents of their own, the good half of the team that wasn’t straight seemed to find it reassuring that two gay men could be happy and raise a family together.

And despite the time conflict it created, they were all super supportive when Nick took up guitar.

The song he was playing now sounded a lot like the beginner songs he’d learned when he first discovered his flair for the intrument.

“Dude, you’re gonna get all the girls now.”

Nick laughed, “Bro, we’re only freshmen!”

“But girls like guys who can play guitar!”

“Tyler, you’re gay!”

“I still know girls find guitar attractive!”

“He’s right,” Ethan agreed, laughing, “Girls like guitars.”

“Oddly enough, boys like ‘em too,” Anthony chimed in, “I mean I know you’re straight, Nick, but...”

The thing was, Nick wasn’t completely sure he was. He knew 14 was about the age a lot of people started to figure out their sexualities, and lately... he’d found himself getting butterflies as much when Tyler actually managed to score in their games or Kai showed off his percussion skills in marching band as when Carrie let him tag along to her practices with her band and attacked every dance move or Julie played piano and sang with that amazing voice of hers.

The realization didn’t really scare him or anything. Nick guessed he’d known for a while, but just hadn’t put a label on it even in his head until now.

“I think I’m pan,” he admitted, “Like, pansexual.”

“Amen, bro,” Kai said with zero hesitation, “Girls are cute, boys are cute, nonbinary kids are cute, it’s whatever.”

Nick laughed and accepted a high five.

“Yeah, thanks for telling us,” Ethan agreed, “Not that it really matters, but let us know if anybody gives you trouble.”

Tyler nodded solemnly, “They’ll rue the day they messed with the Los Feliz lacrosse team.”

“Of course, ignoring the fact that none of us are very intimidating.”

“Oh, shut up, Chase.”

They all groaned, and Kai grabbed the TV remote to turn something on and tune out the logical person in the room.

“We lose every game,” Chase pointed out defensively, “I mean, no hate, Nick. Being pan is totally pantastic, but—“

They all laughed too much for him to finish that sentence, at which point Nick’s dads entered the room.

“Keep it down, boys, Lizzie’s asleep,” Chad scolded quietly.

All the boys apologized quietly and Kai turned the volume on the beginning of Tangled down.

“What’s so funny, anyway?” Ryan asked.

Nick grinned up at him, “I’m pansexual, dad.”

“Oh. Okay, cool. Want me to buy you a pan flag?”

“Look!” Luke exclaimed suddenly, almost making Nick lose focus and stop playing.

The darkness was getting lighter, the shadows receding. They were standing back on the stage at the high school and Nick wasn’t feeling hopeless anymore. It was still darker than it would normally be, but barely.

“You’re doing it! Keep going!”

The memories became shorter and more random, but Nick dug deep into his emotions and played harder, bringing back—

“Lizzie, you’re getting too big to stand on my feet!”

“Maybe you should grow faster!”

and

“Carrie... uh... would you want to maybe go out sometime? Like to a movie?”

“Um... yeah. Sure, why not?”

and

“God, I really feel for Julie. I remember how bad it hurt when I lost my mom.”

“You’d think she’d realize there’s no better way to channel your feelings than through music.”

“Carrie—“

“I’m just saying, we both know how it feels to lose mothers, and did Julie come to either of us for advice? No. She’s pushed away everyone except Flynn. I feel for her too, but I’m done trying to help when she clearly isn’t willing to accept it.”

and

“Carrie wasn’t helping, Nick. Maybe she meant to, but she was pushing way too hard. She of all people should know how deeply Julie feels things.”

“Flynn, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know. Unlike your girlfriend, you actually care about people.”

and

“I want a puppy.”

“I agree with Lizzie that we should get a puppy.”

“Hmm, Ryan, what do you think? Should we get the kids a puppy?”

“I think we should wait until I’m home from tour and then we should absolutely get a puppy.”

and

“She’s not bad, Tyler, just stressed out. You and the guys keep acting like she’s demon spawn, but the fact is that Carrie’s human. She makes mistakes and tries to play them off so people will keep thinking she’s perfect. She’s got the world watching her every move and I know what it’s like. It’s not easy having a famous parent, especially since she’s a performer with a radically different style than the shadow she’s trying to break out of.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying she said yes to being your girlfriend because you’re both popular and therefore make sense together. She doesn’t like you. I’m pretty sure Carrie doesn’t even like guys and is just too scared to come out and go after someone she actually wants. Plus, she talks down to you, like, all the time. I’m gonna stay your friend no matter what, but you have to see that yeah, maybe Carrie’s got it tough, but she’s not good for you and it doesn’t seem like she even wants to be.”

and

“This isn’t working out. I think we should to break up.”

“You think we should, or you want to break up because you have a crush on Julie?”

“What about your crush on Flynn?”

“What?! I do not have a crush on—“

“I know you well enough to know, Carrie, so cut the crap. I’m not stupid. You and me never really felt that way about each other and we both know it. We were together because it was convenient and it was easier than making a move on someone one of us actually had feelings for.

“Fine. Just try not to run back to me if you chicken out from pursuing a real, heart-stopping, complicated crush again. It’d be embarrassing to make the same mistake twice.”

and

“Julie is totally into you, man.”

“Shut up, Kai.”

“I mean not that I’d know, but she’s cute, right?”

“Shut up, Tyler.”

and

“Julie rejected me. She has a crush on the guitarist in her band.”

“Oh, dang. That’s rough, kiddo.”

“It’s fine, dad. It’s really on me. She had a crush on me for a while, but I was too occupied with Carrie to pay attention. And besides, I know high school relationships rarely last forever, so...”

“Hey, look at who you’re talking to. If you really like Julie, she’s worth one more try. You know, buy her some flowers and give it one last shot. But if she says no...”

“Respect that and leave her alone, I know.”

With one last chord, a terrified tri-tone that represented Nick’s fear when Caleb first possessed him, the shadows fully disapated, leaving Nick in a well-lit, very familiar theatre.

He wasn’t afraid anymore. He had his friends and his sister and his dads behind him, with him no matter what.

And Nick still wasn’t a hundred percent sure how that had just worked, but he could feel Caleb’s hold over him disappearing. The stage was fading not because he was getting shoved down out of control, but because he was regaining control of where his body was in real life.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Luke said with a grin, “Good luck.”

He poofed away, and Nick found himself in that club Caleb had manifested when he won the first fight for control. He guessed the ghost had snuck him here between lacrosse practice and curfew.

There were a bunch of 20-somethings in brightly colored costumes who seemed to be practicing a dance nearby, but none of them were paying him any mind. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like Caleb was there, though Nick couldn’t feel him in his head anymore.

Whatever. He could see the exit from here, and from there he could find Julie and her band and help them beat that crazy dead magician.

Well, maybe he should go home first, and see his little sister. Find his phone and call the guys for a musical watch party as soon as possible. Definitely hug his dads, since the Broadway musical one of them was touring in was in town.

Nick knew he couldn’t tell them how he’d won a guitar battle for his soul, but he could enjoy that victory by himself, too.

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #nick danforth evans #ryan evans #chad danforth #carrie wilson #flynn jatp #julie molina #lacrosse team jatp #luke patterson #chyan #flarrie #ghost guitar battle #depression tw #mind control tw #parent death tw #violet’s writing

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datawyrms · 4 years

Text

Electric Influence

Danymay2020 day 10- Corruption

It was easier to ignore the fact Danny should not have walked out of that portal alive. Tucker ignored any ‘shock’ his friend must have gotten would have been lethal. Sam pretended the scorching stench of flesh burning was only the ectoplasm of the portal. She didn’t kill one of her best friends on a dare.

He’d fallen out of there, after all. Cold, glowing and terrified once he had seen himself, but it was fine! He just. Stopped being that way. He breathed, his heart raced and his grip was warm when they hugged, so tightly as if they let go they’d be separated forever.

Did it have to make sense that Danny was somehow a ghost while also being human? So their friend had ‘ghost powers’. Powers that he struggled with, but they were there to help and support him. What kind of friends would they be if they didn’t?

Sam and Tucker didn’t seem to hear the low constant buzz that felt like it was trying to rip out from under his skin. They didn’t jerk away from him, or hesitate in helping as he started falling through the floor, even though at those times it was louder, more like something clawing at his ears and demanding his attention. He didn’t want to worry them, so he didn’t mention the noise. It did make it hard to concentrate. Tucker did manage to help him without knowing about the problem, though it had been a bit of a joke.

“I swear I’m not trying to fall through every floor in the school!”

“They’re your powers dude. Maybe try thinking loud thoughts?”

Loud thoughts had actually helped. If he tried screaming in his head, louder than that irritating low hum, his powers actually seemed to respond. They still went off basically at complete random, but he could at least stop the falling or the vanishing once he noticed it. It was awkward, but he’d take anything at this point. Tucker and Sam had convinced him that letting Mom and Dad know wouldn’t be good. They might think he was dead, or something like that. With how much they seemed to focus on ghosts, he really didn’t want to be their new ‘special interest.’

They weren't sure how to react when Danny became that inverted self again. The dead-no he wasn’t dead. His ‘ghost form’. He seemed proud that he had enough control to do so intentionally, so they smiled and congratulated with a few jabs about practicing not vanishing as often. They ignored the hissing voice in the back of their minds, insisting their friend was dead. Dead people couldn’t just stop being dead with two rings of light. The small spike of fear Danny caused when he was glowing was just because of the temperature drop. He was still their friend, he wasn’t acting like some out of control monster like the Fentons said all ghosts were. So he couldn’t really be a ghost. When the black haired boy suggested he might simply be half ghost, they latched on to the excuse, not thinking very hard on why their friend even thought that.

The never ending noise changed after he figured out how to switch between himself and the green eyed ghost form he’d gotten. It was less a meaningless irritating noise, now it seemed to vary and change depending on what he was doing. At first he figured it was just more noises he had to mentally ignore, but they started to be consistent. When it pitched low with a steady pulse it became easier to become invisible, not needing the mental shout to get his powers to play along. The times he unintentionally went invisible out of alarm also dropped, now that he knew if the weird energy scrabbling at his skin was making that sound, he could shout over it before it happened.

He still failed to catch it sometimes, the odd ectoplasmic song was just a constant background noise to him now. If he didn’t tune it out from time to time, he probably would have gone mad. It was more manageable now. When he became that second self, his ghost self, the crackling sound wasn’t trapped under his skin. More that he was wrapped in it, protectively swaddled in the noise that swung from beautiful to nails on a chalkboard irritating depending on his mood. The powers always came easier like that, as if being under his human flesh made it hard to exert his will on them. More surprisingly was when he managed to just instinctively do things. He had no idea he could fly, until he had started hovering because it ‘felt better’.

He didn’t really need to think too hard, or struggle to control anything with the sound outside. He could just relax and just do. His head pounded less as his capabilities broadened. In fact it almost seemed like planning too far ahead weakened him, or had him take the wrong choice. His hangups about being a poor ghost fighter led to so many unneeded hits against Bertrand, more so when the right answer came to him too late. The self doubt and shame was a weakness.

It was easier to be reactive, to let these instincts do as they will. After all, he was getting better at all of this, Sam and Tucker said so. Relaxing into the steady buzzing confidence felt right, and seemed to be working out fine. It was still part of him, it wasn’t something to worry about.

Danny was really getting the hang of this ‘being half ghost’ thing. That should have been a good thing, that they didn’t need to fish their friend out of walls or hiss at empty air to ‘show up’, but something felt off.

He’d stopped using his powers for his own gain. Sure, Tucker was glad his friend wasn’t casually possessing people after the whole Poindexter thing, but the slow shift from occasional ghost pranks to practically none was strange. Sam would say he was just ‘more mature’ now and didn’t want to blow his cover over something stupid. Yet even she would admit it was weird he wouldn’t brag to Tucker about sneaking into locker rooms he did not belong in anymore. He just ‘wasn’t interested’ in doing that sort of thing anymore.

More disturbingly he seemed to reverse that opinion shortly after the Freakshow incident. He slipped back to ‘before the accident’ Danny, more interested in space talk than ghosts, openly offered to help sneak them into a movie for free and seemed to avoid ‘going ghost’ as much as possible. Were they bad friends for not noticing Danny had practically dropped any ‘negative’ trait like being selfish or spiteful? Surely he had only been trying to ‘not be like Vlad’, or be like a comic superhero. After all, their friend slowly slid back to his new normal over a few weeks.

Sam didn’t tell Tucker that Danny had come to her one night, eyes wide with a strange mix of terror and exhaustion.

“He would have let you die! I-I broke free but I’m so, so sorry!”

“Danny, you didn’t do anything wrong. You broke free when it counted.” she reassured her friend, trying to ignore how fragile he felt as she forced the trembling boy into a hug.

He’d shaken his head. “I let him-I didn’t even realize-”

“You couldn’t help it! It can’t happen again, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

It was only weeks later that it occurred to her that Danny might not have been talking about Freakshow that day.

The sound was too much. His skin felt stretched tight simply containing his now ever present companion. Every movement, every action felt like this would be the one that would split him open and let the crawling screaming noise devour him whole.

Though it wasn’t really a noise anymore. It could talk. It had been named, though he wasn’t sure if he had named it, or the sound had named itself. He remembered the conversation, how Tucker had called him out for such a terrible alter ego name, but he couldn’t remember if he had answered back as himself, or if Phantom had done it. They were always influencing one another now, the ghost had practically trained him into letting it take control through the constant ghost fights. Danny didn’t know how to fight, Phantom knew almost nothing but. Of course it had made sense to just let the noise prompt and delegate his actions, of course it had been easier when he didn’t try to struggle control away with a half baked plan.

Yet apparently this throbbing pulsating thing wanted more than that. Being the hero that forced ghosts back wasn’t enough, because apparently Danny was misusing their powers. Danny was their weak link.

Didn’t his friends deserve better than some slacker? Didn’t he want to be the best he could be? He’d stumbled through fourteen years with minimal success, while the new self under his skin was practically a hero within a year.

It wasn’t a fair comparison, and he was only struggling so much this year because of all the ghost fights. Yet who’s fault was that? Who was the one who let them all here to put everyone in danger?

It was his responsibility to fight it. Shirking it just showed he wasn’t a very good human.

Their only real compromise was they couldn’t worry their friends. So Danny was still present in a way, a flimsy bit of cloth hiding who really was in charge a significant amount of time.

He had always wondered how Vlad could have gone off the deep end, to turn so violently on people who were once friends. Now he was fairly sure it was easy because Plasmius barely knew the Fentons at all, and warped Vlad into whatever best suited him.

His friends didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they liked him better this way, dragging them into adventure and danger because of ghosts instead of throwing out star charts and insisting on nights they needed to watch the skies.

Phantom was always happy to remind him that Sam and Tucker liked him better than Danny nowadays. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Yet the shrieking in his ears was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The Master of Time broke him. His ghost half, his dead self, whatever Phantom was would no longer stand for Danny to put their friends at risk. He made a bad choice. He got all their friends killed. HE plunged the world into ruin by trying to escape his guilt! He’d asked Vlad to remove his humanity after all, and wasn’t Danny always insisting that was him? He couldn’t risk any of that happening, not when Clockwork gave them a second chance. The uneasy status quo was torn asunder as Phantom attempted to claim dominance over both forms by force, the static sound a shrieking agony, like knives being driven deep into his brain. He wasn’t needed, he wasn’t wanted. No one would know that Danny was gone. He was just getting replaced by a better version of him in every way. The one who didn’t almost drive the world to ruin over being an immature child.

He was a child! Of course he was! He wasn’t even sixteen, he was allowed to make mistakes. That didn’t keep the ghost from shoving him deep down, too convinced in his own way to even consider letting his other half do as much as blink.

The sound finally stopped, but he couldn’t even feel the pain that should have been put in his stomach, disconnected as he was from himself. Now he was the quiet humming nudge, aware and ever constant, but unable to act without permission.

He was fairly sure his sound was not like the electric hum Phantom had been. At least, he had no trouble ignoring him. He’d listen when talking to his friends and family sometimes, but that was it. The ghost eventually got to the point that Danny didn’t even have much to add. He already knew what to say, they were his friends and family too.

Maybe he was pointless. Trying to fight for control was exhausting, and even if he won there was nothing to do. Sam and Tucker wouldn’t know what he was going on about if he said he was trapped in his own body. Being split apart never seemed to go well, and his ghost self was vehemently against it thanks to Clockwork.

He had to just stay put and watch someone else live his life. Someone that was basically him, but not quite.

Yet as time went on, he almost started to believe Phantom. Maybe this was for the best. He’d never reach his own dream now. No one cared that Danny wasn’t actually Danny. They liked this one just fine.

He could feel the strange pressure that seemed to be trying to crush him completely. Yet it was warm and comforting instead of terror inducing. A warm weighted blanket that slowly squeezed ever tighter. He’d be whole again. Not the same, not himself. Assimilated, overwritten. Replaced.

He couldn’t bother to keep fighting it anymore. Besides, the ghost’s whole name was Danny Phantom. Maybe he was meant to have been devoured like this way back at the accident. He didn’t even need to bother to ask the ghost to protect his loved ones.

They were more Phantoms’ family now anyway.

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #sam manson #Tucker Foley #my stuff #the angst train has pulled into the station #honestly this is such a good prompt #so many ways to do it #but i'm going with the obvious #i actually had a fanfic from While The Show Was Airing #that the one we were following the whole time was Phantom #and his powers going out of control/being more violent #was his HUMAN side waking back up #(i never finished it lol)#now you know the twist for a mystery fanfic you will never find :V

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kessielrg · 4 years

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[Kingdom Hearts] F-You in Bouquet

Summary: By far, Ven's got the most boring job at the flower shop; the cashier. Sitting day in and day out for someone to browse along the rows of flowers and gardening tools, then probably walk right out again. Sometimes an interesting thing would happen- but they were few and far between. [flower shop AU focused on UX kids][Part 1 in a series of oneshots][VenxOC][EphemerxOC/F!Player]

Rating: K+ (cursing)

Word Count: 2,171 words

If you like this story, please reblog!

. . .

Ventus had the most boring job at the flower shop; being the cashier. Day in and day out, from after school to closing, Ven sat on a lumpy stool to watch next to no one come in. There was more of a commotion in the shop around spring- since they offered gardening supplies to help offset how little people randomly bought bouquets and arrangements for their loved ones. Not that Ven should be complaining- it was, in a way, easy money. He even had time to get his homework done in the first hour or so too.

Not that Skuld couldn't find something for him to do. Especially if he dared to utter that he was bored. However, just a low sigh would have made Skuld suggest he do something else if she heard him. That's happened before, and it was in the process of almost happening again. Ven sat at the front counter while Skuld sat at a wooden table behind him. The table in question was for finished arrangements that were scheduled to be picked up in person by the customer. Sometimes they used it as an extra table to make arrangements when the ones in the backroom were set to be cleaned off. Today, Skuld was making it her base of operations while she went through current, old, and new orders while also doing a bit of budgeting as well.

If her occasional grunts of agitation were any indication, the backlog had been much longer than what she had anticipated.

“Ephemer,” Skuld loudly declared, giving only the briefest of glances toward the backroom, “I'm gonna have to cancel your weekly order of flowers to Anora. We're going to need those spares for a bigger arrangement this week.”

“Naw,” Ephemer whined from the back room, “How will my wife know that I love and cherish her?”

Ven watched as Skuld let out a hard sigh, setting down her pen so she could rub her temples. In a voice that was understandably exhausted, Skuld groaned, “Ephemer…!”

That was when the young man actually came to the doorway bordering the main shop and the backroom. His face was rather serious as he looked back at his old partner in crime.

“I was joking, Skuld.” he told her- his voice no less serious. “It was a joke.”

“Uh huh,” Skuld mused as she reached for a piece of floral wire next to her. She bent it into a triangle shape as she told Ephemer, “Get back to work you lovestruck slacker.”

Before he could give a retort, Skuld tossed the bent wire in his direction. Ephemer let out a yelp of surprise before ducking back into his workspace.

“Rude!” he shouted from the backroom, leading Skuld to let out a rather amused laughter. She needed to let out that laugh- Ven could tell just by the way she sighed after recollecting herself.

After that distraction, the main shop got so eerily quiet that Ven's ears almost starting to ring. The hours went by as Skuld made corrections to orders and did whatever else she did. Time passed by so slowly, that Ven was surprised when Brain hit the counter on his way out.

“Whelp, time for me bounce.” he announced, giving Skuld and Ventus a nod.

“Have a good night.” Skuld replied with a little wave. “Remember that time sheets are due this week.”

“Already did mine.” the smooth talking young man affirmed. “But before I go, I gotta warn you two- the Queen of Sheba will be gracing you with her presence today after she gets done at work. She'll tell you the details once she gets here.”

Ven's heart suddenly leaped into his throat. “Sabrina?” he asked, almost automatically. Skuld, on the other hand, groaned.

“And here I was thinking about finishing up for the day too.” she said. Skuld placed two fingers at the bridge of her nose as she thought things over. “We're overstaffed as it is right now. Ephemer will be off the clock in another thirty minutes- and he has to go because I promised him as much when he stayed late yesterday. Which means you'll be manning the store on your own, Ven. Do you think you could help her out without the rest of us?”

“M-me?” he stammered. He even pointed to himself as if he had no idea of his own presence in the room.

“It'll be fine.” Brain nodded. “She likes you.”

The young man's head whipped to his older peer. “Really?”

“Just take her order and we'll fill it later.” Skuld added on. “Shouldn't be any different than any other customer.”

“Should.” Brain teased with a tip of his fedora. He then choose to make that the mark of his leave, failing to even warn Ven when exactly Sabrina would be coming around. Even if Ventus told Skuld he could do it, and that odd glare she gave him didn't inspire confidence, a part of him wondered even if he could handle Sabrina alone.

The waiting for her to come in became nearly unbearable. Skuld left not soon after Brain, and Ephemer left on time and wished Ven the best of luck. He just hoped she was in a good mood. Normal Sabrina was a handful because of her natural pessimism and sass. But angry Sabrina? Ven shuddered. No man alive knew how to calm Sabrina down when she was mad. He had been so lost in worrying about Sabrina's mood, and the boredom of nothing going on, that he almost fell asleep. He didn't even quite register that the little bell above the flower shop's door jingled before he saw Sabrina angrily stomping her way to the main counter.

“How do you say 'fuck you' in a bouquet?” Sabrina demanded, her voice almost a bit too loud, as she slammed her hands onto the counter. It startled Ven for a moment- definitely waking him up from his half sleep.

“I, uh...” he stammered as he tried to get his brain in gear. The pure rage in Sabrina's chocolate brown eyes filled Ven with both awe and great fear. His mind was blank, but he still managed to say one word, “Poppies.”

That immediately made Sabrina raise an eyebrow. “Poppies?” she repeated, her voice well laced with skepticism.

“Poppies.” Ven said once more, nodding his head almost a bit too fast. “Their seeds can be extracted to make drugs- opium. And, um, you're not allowed to grow them by seed in certain regions, and, uh...” The teen was about five seconds away from slapping himself. He was too stupefied by Sabrina's presence that he didn't even bother to voice the most obvious question on the table. “Why do you want a… uh, 'fuck you' bouquet anyway?”

Sabrina stood a bit straighter, her hands forming into fists. “I'm getting laid off.” she grumbled.

“I'm sorry...”

“Don't be.” she quickly shot at him. She looked away for a moment to mumble, “Boss was an asshole anyway.”

“So why are you…?”

Sabrina looked back at Ven- her eyes shining with a fierce determination. “His birthday is next week, and I want to piss him off one more time- think you can help me?”

All Ventus could gave her at this point was a slow nod. In the back of his mind, he was almost grateful that -while she didn't say she liked him directly- it was clear that she had some genuine regard toward him. Otherwise she'd be making him dig his own grave; literally.

“We'd need to have other flowers than just poppies though.” he then said to her. He quickly looked around for a scrap piece of paper so he could -badly- sketch out the arrangement for her. “The poppies can decorate the lower portion of the arrangement, but we'd need something as a focal point. Something tall that can create a semi or quarter circle in the back.”

“Like lavender?”

Ven blinked before looking back up at her. “Lavender?”

Sabrina shrugged. “Gotta know it came from me, right?”

“Right.” the young man agreed- his face flushing a bit. “Lavender could do. It might be hard to find stalks tall enough, though. But we'd still need something… something that would make a statement. What about...”

“A rose.” the two of them said at the same time. Both seemed a bit off guard by their equal thought, leading them to just stare at each other.

“Black roses represent death sometimes.” Ven suddenly said, his voice just a pitch too high as he tried to look away from Sabrina. “We can even have the thorns in tact to really make a, uh, a statement. You know?”

“Sounds good.” Sabrina nodded. She looked down at Ven's arrangement sketch- his generic looking poppies and poor lavender scribbles left much to be desired. “Do you take the rose thorns off by hand, or do you buy them in bulk like that?”

“A bit a both.” the teen told her. He took a step back or two from the counter to give her some space. “We try to get precut roses because Strelitzia keeps finding new ways to hurt herself, apparently...”

Sabrina looked up at him. “But?”

“Lauriam tries to keep some flowers growing year round in the greenhouse. Depending on the color, I might be able to cut one right off the bush for you.”

“Black roses aren't natural, are they?”

“Not exactly. The closest are really just super red ones. Sometimes a dark purple too. Even then, we sometimes use dye to make them look a bit darker.”

“Does Lauriam have any that dark?”

“I'm not sure offhand. But I can show you what he has.”

“Are you allowed to do that?” Sabrina asked, folding her arms as she gave him a neat raise of his eyebrow.

Ven looked everywhere but at her as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “No, not really.” he admitted. “But it would only be for a moment. It shouldn't hurt anything.”

“Then lead the way.”

A jolt shot through Ventus for a moment. With a shaking hand, he gestured for her to follow him to the backroom. From there, they could use a side door into the greenhouse. It was with a hyper awareness that he noted that Sabrina strolled rather close to him.

This wasn't a bad thing, not really. Sabrina was Brain's sister- almost a part of the Dandelion crew herself. She could be in the backrooms and the greenhouse if she had staff permission. Besides, Ephemer's wife and kid were allowed back this way sometimes. Usually because Ephemer couldn't keep his hands off his wife for more than a minute, but still. Ven would be lying if he said he hadn't considered doing it before too. Not with Ephemer's wife, of course, but with…

“You always forget how naturally smooth real flowers are.” Sabrina sighed. Ven took a look back at her to notice that the tip of her finger was gently grazing some tiger lilies. For a moment, he found himself jealous of a stupid flower.

“Lauriam's rose bushes are this way, Sabrina.” Ventus said. It brought her attention back to him and allowed the two of them to continue their venture.

Their check on the rose bushes didn't take long. Sabrina only gave the black rose bush a nod before deciding that they would do for the task. The duo walked back to the main shop in silence- the rest of the arrangement made in near silence.

“The flowers will be delivered on your boss's birthday, right to his office.” Ven told her once everything was settled. He bit his lip for a moment before hazarding to ask, “Since you're not going to be working for awhile, are you going to be visiting the shop more? To visit Brain or whatever.”

“Dunno.” Sabrina huffed. She looked up at him before asking, “What times are you usually here for?”

A faint blush appeared on Ven's cheeks as he scratched the tip of his nose a bit. “Pretty much every day after school. We're not opened on the weekends, you know. It really makes stuff boring.”

Sabrina gave a thoughtful hum. “Maybe I'll visit.” she decided as she picked up her receipt. “After homework's done.”

“Right.” Ven dimly agreed. Sabrina gave him one last inquisitive stare before she started to leave. After she left, the teen let out a soft sigh as he rested his hand in his head. He could have gone to sleep right then and there had he not remembered that he needed to get home soon. As he got the store ready for closing, he wondered what the odds were that Sabrina could start working at Dandelion's as well. But the thought immediately left as he shut the lights off for the night. Sabrina deciding to join their crew was just as ridiculous as asking her not to wear purple.

But, as it crossed Ven's mind when he saw Terra's truck pull into the parking lot, it wasn't entire impossible either...

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

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summary- Jimin wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with his best friend, he only knew that it was getting worse. rating- explicit / 18+ word count- 2623 pairing- yoongi x jimin genre- smut warnings- unprotected sex a/n - this is my first BTS one shot, I was dumb and didn’t realize how amazing they are until recently please be gentle lol

Jimin didn’t remember when he began to feel the way he did about Yoongi. Perhaps his feelings had blossomed between the contagious laughter and the soulful smiles. Perhaps it was the first time that Yoongi had cried in front of him, the pain and the brokenness flowing down his cheeks as Jimin held him close. Maybe it was the way he licked his lips subconsciously when deep in thought.

Jimin wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with his best friend, he only knew that it was getting worse. The yearning, it burned in his stomach, so forceful and unrelenting. It wasn’t all sexual. Jimin loved the sparkle in Yoongi’s eyes when he rapped a whole verse perfectly. He loved the sass in Yoongi’s voice when someone woke him up. He loved the childlike wonder when Yoongi found the perfect beat. He loved the fierce determination in Yoongi’s eyes when he was about to prove someone wrong. He loved Yoongi.

Jimin would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t love the way Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair, or the way his hips moved when he danced. Speaking of the devil, Jimin thought as his best friend entered the dance studio to practice with the group. Normally Jimin was the late one, but after a particularly sleepless night, he’d been itching to get to Yoongi sooner rather than later.

Flashes of his dream the night before flitted through his mind before he could stop them. Yoongi’s hands trailing torturously slow down Jimin's chest, their mouths working together like choreography, the taste of Yoongi on Jimin’s tongue.

“Jimin!” Namjoon snapped his fingers in front of Jimin's face. “You in there?”

“What? Sorry. Must’ve zoned out.” Jimin muttered.

He glanced over at Yoongi who stood silent, but concern filled in his dark eyes. Jimin flashed him a reassuring smile before jumping on Namjoon’s back and demanding his noble steed to carry him away. This seemed to satisfy Yoongi, his worried expression melting away. He rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

Practice began and Jimin's focus transitioned to making sure he got the moves right. He might have been a lovesick puppy but he was not a slacker. He pushed his body as far as it could go. Faster. Faster. Don’t forget the drop-kick. Turn, down, jump.

After practice, he had just been about to leave, second to last when he noticed Yoongi rubbing his ankle tenderly. Having come down from one of the jumps a little too aggressively had made the area tender. Jimin leaned down to inspect the minor injury.

“You okay?” He questioned.

Yoongi’s eyes met his own as he sat up straighter and it took everything Jimin had not to suck in a breath. When Yoongi had adjusted his position on the floor, it had brought their faces mere inches apart. Jimin could feel Yoongi’s hot breath fanning his face, he could smell his minty toothpaste. Jimin shivered.

“I’m fine, just a little sore.” Yoongi explained, eyes flicking from Jimin’s own down to his ankle.

Jimin had always been touchy, always been affectionate with everyone around him. He’d never shied away from physical touch with anyone, least of all Yoongi. Jimin took every opportunity he could to press his skin against the older boy’s. He took Yoongi’s ankle in his hands and rubbed the inflicted area. Yoongi hissed under his breath and Jimin’s gaze snapped up to Yoongi’s face.

Wordlessly, Jimin dug into his bag for pain relieving ointment. He placed a small amount on his hands, then massaged it into Yoongi’s ankle. Small whimpers left Yoongi’s lips involuntarily, and Jimin’s sweats seemed to grow a little tighter. He tried to adjust discreetly, keeping up with aiding Yoongi.

“Fuck.” Yoongi hissed, head falling back to expose his neck, glistening with sweat. Jimin wanted to taste it.

Jimin’s hands stilled, concerned he’d hurt his friend worse by trying to help.

“Sorry, you okay?”

“Yeah, that actually feels so fucking good. It’s like you have magic fingers.” Yoongi said breathlessly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke.

All the air left Jimin’s lungs. His mouth went dry. His eyes transfixed on Yoongi’s throat.

“Don’t stop, please.” Yoongi urged.

Jimin could taste the blood in his mouth as he bit down harshly on his bottom lip to keep from groaning at the way Yoongi damn near whined. Jimin reminded himself this was not a sexual situation. His friend was hurt and he was helping. Tell that to his dick, which had sprung to life as soon as the first noise had left Yoongi’s mouth.

Jimin took a shaky breath and continued massaging the medication into Yoongi’s skin. Jimin tortured himself for another ten minutes before suggesting that they should go play games. If Jimin didn’t get his hands off Yoongi soon he was going to bust in his pants.

Yoongi deemed his ankle well enough for that plan. Jimin helped him up and they walked to Jimin’s apartment together. Yoongi made himself at home, pulling out two water bottles and handing one to Jimin before sitting on Jimin’s bed.

“What do you want to play?” Jimin asked as he turned on the game system.

“Hmmm.. call of duty?” Yoongi offered.

Jimin set up the game and they began working together to defeat the enemy at hand. Soon Jimin noticed that Yoongi was slowing down, his right hand often reaching up to rub his left shoulder as his face contorted.

“Dude, you’re falling apart.” Jimin joked, shoving Yoongi playfully.

“I don’t know what happened. First my ankle. Now my shoulder. My whole body hurts man.” Yoongi complained.

Jimin knew it was a bad idea. He knew nothing good could possibly come of it. He knew he should remain quiet. And yet, he heard himself speak before the decision was even fully made.

“Lay down on the bed.” He instructed, standing.

“Gonna take advantage of me in my weakened state?” Yoongi joked.

“You wish!” Jimin threw back at him with a grin.

“Nah. I’m more of a top myself.” Yoongi winked before spreading himself across Jimin’s bed.

Jimin swallowed nervously, unable to retort Yoongi’s last reply. He crawled over to Yoongi, and placed his hands on the boys clothed shoulders. He began to massage the tension out.

Yoongi closed his eyes for a while then he shifted uncomfortably, before huffing in annoyance and sitting up, flinging his shirt off and laying back down.

“Stupid thing was in the way.” He grumbled.

Jimin froze, his eyes scanning along Yoongi’s smooth skin. Muscles taut underneath. Jimin willed his cock to chill for a second and thought exclusively about vaginas until the hard on passed.

“Yo, why’d you stop?” Yoongi whined.

“Sorry.” Jimin coughed, placing his hands on Yoongi’s skin once more.

His firm, yet gentle touch moved along Yoongi’s shoulders, pressing in and moving in circular motions. Yoongi let out little grunts, and Jimin did his best to ignore them. He found it difficult to get the right angle to massage the knot out of Yoongi's lower back from his position beside him.

Despite all rational judgement that Jimin possessed, he swung his leg over Yoongi’s back, straddling the older boy and resting on his plush bottom. Yoongi let out a surprised gasp and Jimin almost died on the spot. He ignored the tightening in his stomach and put all of his strength into working the knot out of Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi’s small grunts turned to loud moans as Jimin worked. The sounds of pleasure escaping Yoongi’s plump lips were downright pornographic. Jimin closed his eyes and put all of his focus into the movement of his hands, doing everything in his power not to get hard while sitting on top of his friend.

Jimin was fighting a losing battle, and after one particularly shaky moan from underneath him, he bolted off of his friend and dove under the covers to hide. His dick was throbbing with desire and he prayed to anyone listening that Yoongi hadn’t felt it.

“What's wrong?” Yoongi asked, turning to face Jimin then making a pained face and laying back down.

“I uh… I-I” Jimin stuttered.

Yoongi grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, effectively covering his lap as he sat up to face Jimin.

“Are you okay?” He asked

Jimin closed his eyes and willed the erection away with every ounce of strength he had. Yoongi ripped the blanket away to reveal Jimin’s face, and in the process, also revealed Jimin’s current issue: his rock hard issue.

Yoongi’s mouth fell open as Jimin’s stomach sank. Jimin attempted to flee the bed, but yoongi's hand darted out to catch him by the wrist, yanking him back. The bed bounced as Jimin fell into it and Yoongi hovered over the younger man. Jimin felt Yoongi’s hard cock press into his own through their sweats. A gasp left his lips as his eyes met the ones above him.

“Don’t try to run away.” Yoongi commanded softly, his gaze piercing through Jimin.

Both boys could feel Jimin’s cock twitch at Yoongi’s words. This caused Yoongi to smirk.

“You like that? Like it when I take control?” He hummed, lips brushing over Jimin’s pulse point. Jimin shivered.

“Yes.” Left Jimin’s lips in a whisper.

Yoongi’s lips ghosted down to the hollow of Jimin’s throat, placing a kiss there. Jimin lifted his chin to give Yoongi more access.

“Mmm.. so needy for me.” Yoongi smirked satisfactorily.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever. I’m not gonna play hard to get.” Jimin tossed back, though he wasn’t even the slightest bit ashamed.

“Hmmm..? You dreamt about me?” Yoongi searches Jimin’s eyes.

“Every fucking night.” Jimin admitted

“What did I do in these dreams?” Yoongi inquired.

Yoongi’s lips sucking on Jimin’s collarbones did not help Jimin think clearly enough to voice his fantasies to the other man.

“A-ah, fuck. You’d tease me, just like this.” Jimin whined.

Yoongi smiled against Jimin’s skin, then sat up to pull Jimin’s shirt off of his body. Yoongi let out a low growl upon freeing Jimin of the offending fabric. His tongue ran across his lips before he put it to use on Jimin’s nipples.

Jimin moaned, tangling his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and tugging gently. This only spurred Yoongi on. His tongue flicked against Jimin’s taught nipples, teeth tenderly grazing against the nubs as he worked his way down Jimin’s chest.

Yoongi’s hand brushed lightly over Jimin’s clothed length, causing Jimin to let out a hiss.

“What do you want?” Yoongi asked.

“Touch me. Please.” Jimin begged.

Yoongi wasted no time in sliding his hand under the waistband of Jimin’s sweats, taking his length in his hand and pumping. Jimin’s abs clenched, and as much as he loved the attention, he wanted to touch Yoongi. Jimin's fingers found Yoongis elastic and pulled the pants and boxers down, exposing Yoongi’s swollen, dripping cock.

Jimin had never been so horny is his entire life. He jerked against Yoongi's hand, while reaching out with his own to cup Yoongi's aching cock with his own hand. Yoongi groaned and pulled away. Jimin was about to ask what happened when he watched Yoongi rid himself of his sweats and boxers in one swift motion. Jimin lifted his hips to remove his own but Yoongi was too quick, leaning over and yanking the clothes from Jimin's body. Both men completely naked, on display for each other.

Jimin pulled Yoongi onto the bed with him, and flipped them around so he was on top of Yoongi once more. Jimin took his time, admiring each and every inch of Yoongi's skin as his lips trailed their way towards where Yoongi was dying to feel Jimin. Jimin licked the tip of Yoongi's swollen cock and Yoongi’s uneven breathing picked up speed. He was dizzy with desire. When Jimin’s lips finally covered the length of Yoongi’s cock, when Yoongi could feel Jimin’s tongue swirling around his shaft, Yoongi couldn’t hold back his desperate noises.

Jimin was made to suck dick, Yoongi decided. He was torn between closing his eyes and relishing the feeling and watching Jimin’s every move. Yoongi loved when Jimin’s eyes met his own, his plump lips wrapped around his length. Jimin was so pretty. Jimin did his best to excel in all things, and bringing Yoongi to the edge of release was no different. Yoongi might’ve been embarrassed at how fast he’d come to the edge if he could actually think.

“Fu-Jimi- I’m gonna-“ Yoongi warned the younger boy, but Jimin didn’t move, only sucked harder.

Yoongi's whole body convulsed as he bucked into Jimin’s waiting mouth and came with a cry of Jimin’s name. He spilled down Jimin’s throat. Jimin, the good boy he was, drank up every drop and worked Yoongi through all that his orgasm was worth.

Yoongi couldn’t stop shaking for a few moments, his whole world was spinning with the earth shattering orgasm Jimin had just gifted him. It wasn’t until Jimin licked his lips seductively, eyes trained on Yoongi’s that Yoongi was brought out of his fog.

With a growl, Yoongi pinned the younger man beneath him, holding both hands above his head with one of his own and trailing a blaze of kisses anywhere he could reach. He nipped and licked and sucked purple and red bruises all over Jimin’s body. Jimin was writhing beneath Yoongi, feeling every breath, every heartbeat, every move Yoongi made with such intensity he was sure he would explode.

“Mmm.. you did so good for me baby.. I think you deserve something in return, don’t you?” Yoongi smirked as his lips ghosted over Jimin’s leaking tip.

“Oh fuck yes please.” Jimin begged.

He’d felt so powerful, rendering Yoongi speechless with a flick of his tongue across Yoongi’s throbbing length, but now felt helpless under the older boy's touch. Stars formed behind Jimin’s eyelids when Yoongi's mouth sank down on Jimin’s erection. Jimin squirmed, gasps leaving his parted lips as Yoongi worked his magic down below. Jimin did his best not to buck his hips up into Yoongi's mouth but it just felt so good. Yoongi didn’t complain, just adjusted his jaw and worked his skillful tongue to bring Jimin higher and higher.

Jimin gripped the bed sheets with his left hand, the fingers on his right threading themselves in Yoongi’s soft blonde locks.

“Yoongi… close…” Jimin barely got the words out, breathless and falling apart.

Yoongi ran his free hand up Jimin’s torso, interlacing their fingers in a surprising sweet moment, making the whole moment more intimate, more intense. Jimin couldn’t hold it in anymore, throwing his head back and shaking as his orgasm crashed over him in waves. Yoongi took it all, working Jimin through his high. Jimin’s abdomen kept spasming even after he’d come down. Yoongi smiled to himself and crawled up Jimin’s body, connecting their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss. Jimin kissed back with the same passion, before pulling back to catch his breath. He pulled Yoongi closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

“Fuck… no wonder you call it tongue technology.” Jimin panted.

Yoongi chuckled and placed chaste kisses to the corners of Jimin’s mouth. Jimin turned, capturing Yoongi's lips with his own. He sighed contently, letting his racing heart slow down in time with Yoongi’s calming breaths. The silence was comfortable, and it stretched on as the two men held each other.

“Yoongi?” Jimin whispered.

“Yeah?” Yoongi looked up into the younger mans sparkling eyes.

“I… I love you.” Jimin bit his lip nervously, entire body tense as he waited for Yoongi to react.

Yoongi’s face softened, and his lips turned up in a tender smile.

“I love you too, Jimin. I always have.”

#yoonmin #yoonmin smut #yoonmin one shot #one shot #smut #bts #bts smut #jimin smut #yoongi smut #suga #suga smut #suga imagine #jimin imagine #yoonmin imagine #jimin x yoongi #yoongi x jimin

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ineffable-endearments · 5 years

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Crowley and Aziraphale, 3 loyalties, and existential anxiety

I’ve been thinking about the tension between Crowley and Aziraphale.

I could not type that with a straight face because the truth of the matter is that I am always thinking about the tension between Crowley and Aziraphale.

But really, there is even another tension besides Heaven vs. Hell. It’s Earth vs. Alpha Centauri. Fighting vs. running.

The world vs. Crowley.

Aziraphale had some inkling that Crowley was sort of…giving up a bit, I think, at the time that he found Agnes Nutter’s prophecies. They’d just had a very interesting day which had culminated in Crowley shutting down a couple of Aziraphale’s ideas for trying to neutralize the Antichrist (without requiring either of them to do the killing, if it came to that).

But Aziraphale was still completely shocked when Crowley mentioned just fleeing the planet entirely. You could tell he thought about it. He was tempted. Perhaps was amazed that Crowley actually felt that kind of dedication to him.

But it also terrified him. Crowley was essentially separating from Earth, splitting Aziraphale’s already-tortured loyalties again. It’s the thing that pushed him from “you can’t leave. there’s nowhere to go.” to “there is no ‘our side’! not anymore!”

As someone who is maybe a bit of a slacker but DOES fundamentally feel a sense of responsibility, Aziraphale is set on staying here to see through whatever happens with the Earth. It’s easy for me to decide that this sense of responsibility is built-in simply because the Earth and its people have intrinsic value, and I'm sure that’s part of it. But also, Aziraphale existed before the Earth, and would theoretically exist afterwards; he wasn’t even really counting on growing this attached. His responsibility started with the job he was given by Heaven, and his affection became deeper as he spent time here bonding with Crowley. I think Earth was a place where existence all came together for Aziraphale, in a way, where his God-given purpose united him with his favorite being (Crowley) and the first experiences that ever brought real joy (human society). So it’s not just about how much he likes Earth, although he certainly does. It’s an existential issue. To dismantle that is to dismantle himself.

And what about the fact that this means Crowley was willing to just instantly choose Aziraphale over everything else? Everything in creation? When things got bad he didn’t want to take any chances; he just wanted to take off with the person who mattered to him the most. I think it started when Crowley gave up on his job; he likes being a troublemaker, in a way, but he’s not like…committed to the destruction of humanity. In fact, he doesn’t WANT to see that happen. But he’s never been cast in the role of a guardian, and probably doesn’t think he really can be. God kicked him out and Hell sucks (and Heaven also sucks anyway), so Crowley is floating around with relatively little meaning aside from what he gets from his...just plain experiences. He’s very human, in that way. And those experiences, like Aziraphale’s, are centered on Earth, but he allows himself to recognize that Aziraphale is the common thread holding those experiences together. He’s willing to accept the end of everything but that thread.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, has NOT given up on his job yet. He thinks he’s still a servant of the Great Plan, Guardian of the Eastern Gate. He’s suspicious of Heaven but hasn’t yet been unmoored from what he thought was his original purpose. Aziraphale cares as much about Crowley as Crowley cares about him; if he didn’t, there wouldn’t be a thermos of holy water in Crowley’s flat. Frankly, the Arrangement would likely never have come to be at all. Crowley is the common thread for Aziraphale, too, but things are inherently more complicated for Aziraphale. He can’t pick up and run away.

Because of all this, Aziraphale really, really wants Crowley to see Armageddon through with him, but he also doesn’t want to put Crowley in danger. And as long as Crowley is here on Earth, still technically aligned with Hell as far as Hell is concerned, Aziraphale is dangerous to him. In that case, it’s easier to just break up - remove himself, the Dangerous Thing, from Crowley’s life entirely, and do not encourage him to get involved any further.

(A slight aside: this is evidence that Aziraphale still does not comprehend how much he actually means to Crowley. Given how much Heaven tends to crush the individuality out of its subjects, he probably doesn’t believe he’s allowed to want to be wanted that much, certainly not by someone who could interfere with Heaven’s plans.)

It’s also easier for Aziraphale to say no to Crowley’s proposal if he himself believes that their separation is final. Crowley is wonderful at convincing Aziraphale to do things; it’s one of the many qualities Aziraphale appreciates about Crowley, really, his brilliant wiles. Crowley can rules-lawyer Heaven until it’s okay for Aziraphale to do whatever he wants. But breaking arbitrary rules is one thing. Abandoning Earth, the place that made them who they are, is another. Aziraphale doesn’t want that temptation looming over him - because it is a real temptation.

The crux of the issue is that Aziraphale had thought he and Crowley had a common goal - to keep the world turning. That was their “side”. By suggesting they run away together, Crowley defected from that “side”. This is the deeper meaning of “there is no ‘our side.’” And by offering to leave the planet, it probably felt a bit like Crowley was willing to unravel the very thing that had brought him to Aziraphale in the first place. It’s why the suggestion that they should run away hurt Aziraphale even though it was a demonstration of love, and it seems like it should have been a nice thing. It was a rejection of two things that were central to who Aziraphale is: Heaven and Earth, although Crowley didn’t think of it as a rejection (just like suggesting that Crowley could come back to Heaven was a rejection, in a way, although Aziraphale didn’t think of it as such).

This is why “I lost my best friend.” “I’m so sorry to hear it.” is so painfully stilted. Aziraphale is genuinely sorry that Crowley is in pain, but he’s confused. There are about eight layers of meaning to sift through, even if you assume that Aziraphale knew Crowley was talking about him (which I don’t think we do know for certain).

At this point, Aziraphale doesn’t know that Crowley thinks he’s dead. He knows Crowley took Aziraphale’s breakup seriously, but then Crowley, like, double-broke-up with Aziraphale loudly and in public, so what’s up with that now? And what exactly does Crowley mean by ‘lost’ his best friend? THAT sounds a bit like a death. But he’s not dead! And how could Crowley know Aziraphale got discorporated? There’s a bit of joy in the fact that Crowley is still here, but there’s also danger, and did Crowley just admit he gave up on living because Aziraphale wouldn’t leave Earth? That’s heavy. Is Aziraphale’s rejection going to literally kill Crowley? But how was Aziraphale supposed to know that when he was trying to save the world and Crowley said he was going to leave him behind and forget about him?

We don’t, as the kids say, have time to unpack all that.

Anyway, they’re both here now. Saving the world becomes saving each other again. The Armageddon stuff happens; Crowley is proven right about Heaven, Aziraphale is proven right about humans. Crowley faces up to Hell like Aziraphale had to face up to Heaven. Aziraphale decides once and for all that he’s not Crowley’s hereditary enemy. And he asks Crowley to choose the role of a guardian, and Crowley chooses to have faith - not in God, but in a human boy.

Now they share a bench (the same one that had been occupied before by two happy lovers). The artifacts of Armageddon sit between them, but the human delivery man takes those artifacts away. And they have to figure out where to go from here. Quite literally where to go - the bus is coming. By suggesting a return to the bookshop, Aziraphale brings up the possibility of maintaining the status quo. We know he doesn’t really want to be aligned with Heaven anymore - he made clear his frustration with their behavior and embraced the Bad Angel identity - but does he have a choice? Your headcanon may vary, but I would say that by suggesting the return to the bookshop, he was consciously asking whether he still had a choice.

Not whether he had a choice between Heaven and Earth (he’d already made that one), but whether being on Crowley’s Side was still “on the table,” so to speak. After all, they’ve been through a lot just now, including a couple of decisions that were forced by Aziraphale, and before that, they’d had a huge fight. Aziraphale had always meant to come back to Crowley, but after all that, he needs to see if Crowley will still have him the way he’d suggested in 1967.

This version of Crowley doesn’t have an intrinsic sense of hope, per se. That was probably taken from him long ago, with the fall, and that’s why he was willing first to flee and then to lie down and die when the odds started looking bad. But he is gentle, not so deep down, and positively brimming with love and forgiveness. And imagination! With all of these in his heart, he extends the invitation to be on Their Own Side once again.

And Aziraphale accepts. I think he knows Crowley has agreed to stay with him as much as he’s agreed to stay with Crowley. It’s a choice they’ve been working toward for centuries.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable partners #mine

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capesandshapes · 4 years

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The Last Resort:Chapter 3 (Adrinette)

Summary: After an akuma attack goes wrong, Adrien finally learns Ladybug’s secret identity and finds himself falling even deeper in love with his friend. He thinks he’s finally gotten lucky when she declares to him that she’s currently in the business of falling love with anyone but her previous crush… until that crush turns out to be him. Now Adrien has to somehow convince the girl of his dreams to fall back in love with him, while keeping his own identity a secret from her. Well, if there was one thing his father taught him, it was how to multitask. Chapter Summary: A Gang That Is Totally More Concerned With Marinette's Attendance Than Anything Else Adrien attempts to walk Marinette to school yet again but runs into three distractions.

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

He managed to walk her to school three times before the ruse of visiting the bakery for mere pastries was called into question. Waking her up and traveling the short distance to school with Marinette felt like a gift, one which he’d rather not share. Light conversation and frequent yawns felt like they were made for just the two of them, and Adrien lived for the moments where her half-awake body would stumble and catch herself on his hands. But, like all good things, it couldn’t last.

Familiar red hair and a knowing smirk greeted him behind the bakery’s back door on the fourth morning. Alya leaned forward on the center countertop of the kitchen as Adrien entered, Nino struggling to stand and stay conscious behind her. Her face looked like the cat who caught the canary; Ironic, seeing as he was Chat Noir.

“Good morning, Hot Stuff,” Alya purred, not out of lust for him, but desire for his secrets. He had no doubt in his mind why she was there. In fact, the only question he had about her sudden appearance was why it had taken so long.

He’d avoided telling them on that first day… And then, coincidentally, the three days that followed as well. Adrien was always incredibly good at changing topics, but he never thought he would make it this far without Alya cornering him. Anything that had to do with Marinette was Alya’s business, she made sure the whole class knew that. Marinette’s once crush now becoming her pursuer ranked fairly high on the list of things that were considered Alya’s business.

“Tom and Sabine saved you a croissant, a Danish pastry, and a banana creme eclair. They said it was your usual,” Alya informed him, pulling a small cardboard box out from under the counter and letting it fall softly on the countertop. “You know...It takes a long time for these pastries to bake and… Why, I think someone might have bought all of the other banana creme eclairs,” her devious tone left little question as to who could have done such a thing.

He swallowed hard, not daring to reach for the pastry box. He’d promised the Gorilla that eclair during their lunch break, and he could already begin to hear Plagg’s high pitched whines in his head. No, he needed them; otherwise there was no way he’d be able to even attempt to walk Marinette to school anymore.

“Spill,” Alya demanded, “or the pastries get it.”

Adrien sighed, looking to Nino for some form of help. Unsurprisingly, his friend responded via nodding drowsily, his hand on Alya’s shoulder as he struggled to stay upward. Nino was never a morning person, not until he’d had a coffee or five.

Adrien had wanted to keep things secret for a while longer, maybe manage to make it until he’d somehow wooed her. After all, it wasn’t like he could tell people the full reason for his sudden concern with Marinette. God forbid if anyone caught wind of how deep his feelings went, or that he had fantasized about a future with her. If he confirmed it to Alya, then that was as good as single-handedly telling every girl in his class, and then asking them to help him. Knowing the outlandish antics of his classmates, that was just asking for a train wreck to happen. So, he did the only thing he could; he lied.

Or tried to.

“Would you believe that I really like pastries?”

Alya rolled her eyes, Nino not even trying to hide how unimpressed he was as he stood behind her. Well, it was worth a shot.

Adrien raised his hands defensively, “okay, fine! You caught me,” he groaned, “ I’m not here for the croissants. Not that they’re not good croissants but--” He grimaced. “You win. I’m here for Marinette. I’ve been waking up an hour early and coming here every day to see her.”

“You like her,” Alya grinned.

“I do,” he admitted. Relief fell over him instantaneously, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to tell another human being that. More than that, how liberating telling Alya and Nino would be. He opened his mouth to divulge more, but was interrupted by Alya.

“You, Adrien Agreste, like her, Marinette Dupain Cheng,” her voice picked up volume as she spoke, excitement bubbling over. “Adrien Agreste likes Marin--”

Adrien’s finger rose to his lips at the same time that Nino’s hand clapped over her mouth, both young men attempting to silence the girl. Within seconds, however, Nino flinched and removed his hand, whipping it on his pants as Alya momentarily stuck her tongue out at him.

She spared Adrien a passing glance, bobbing up and down on her feet before turning on her heel very suddenly. “I’m going to tell her,” she announced, her face painted in excitement. “She didn’t believe me before, but just wait when I tell her now.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nino nearly collided with Adrien as both young men practically ran across the kitchen to block the door leading to the apartment. “Hold on there, babe.”

“You really don’t need to do that,” Adrien breathed, “trust me, I have things covered.”

“Covered?” Alya scoffed, “Oh, so another three years of you two dancing around each other, great.” She frowned, tapping her foot as she impatiently waited for the two to move. “Trust me. If you just give me five seconds, she’ll be all over you. You two will be on couple dates with us in no time.” Tilting her head, she continued, “So just let me through and I’ll work my magi--”

Adrien shook his head as Nino looked to him for permission. Both boys stood up a little taller, attempting to look a bit more unmovable as she stared them down.

“Alya, I think I know what I’m doing. I’m happy with how things are going, and I want to savor this a little--”

“Savor?! Are you crazy? She’s trying to get over you! Someone could show up any minute and--”

“And what?” Nino interrupted. “He has this under control!”

“Neither of you have anything under control!” Alya’s voice peaked.

“Alya, I need to do this the right way. I want to get to know her better, I want to spend more time with her. I want to take things slow because I love her.”

The three almost didn’t hear the back door open, Alya’s voice far too loud as she asked incredulously, “Wait, you love her?!”

Thankfully, it seemed that not all powers of the cat miraculous faded away when transformed. Adrien stopped himself before he responded, catching the sound of the door before anyone else. He stiffened, his jaw feeling slightly slacker as the new person came into view. With a nudge of his elbow, Nino did as well.

Alya was the last to realize, staring at the two boys expecting an answer before realizing that their dumbstruck faces meant something. Her eyebrows knitted together as a look of horror crossed Nino, finally causing the girl to look over her shoulder.

“Is this a bad time? Juleka asked me to drop off some things Marinette lent her.” Luka. The boy stood awkwardly in the kitchen; a warm smile painted on his face as he slowly shut the door behind him. “She’s just upstairs, right?” Evidently, He had somehow missed the conversation just moments before.

“Any. Minute. Agreste.” Alya whispered through gritted teeth.

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

“I really must be late more often than I think I am,” Marinette laughed, holding onto the straps of her backpack as she did so. The number of visitors to her room that morning had initially made the girl blush, but now she walked happily along with them, evidently finding humor in the fact that so many people were dedicated to getting her to school on time when she only had a two-minute walk.

Beside her, Luka kept a casual pace as he walked with his bicycle, smiling at the girl as he hummed a tune under his breath. Every so often, the twos’ hips would bump or he’d reach for her back, filling the space that Adrien had existed in just a day prior. Together, Luka and Marinette already looked like a couple.

He wanted to hate him, if only because that’s what every piece of media told him he should do, but Luka was just such a genuinely good guy that Adrien couldn’t manage it. Instead, there was only one person that he could blame.

“You did this to yourself,” Alya whispered as she caught him staring at the two yet again.

“Thanks,” he silently cursed himself for all of his preconceived notions of romance and chivalry. He should have let Alya tell her, he should have told her himself by now, he should have kissed her that very first day, he should have dropped his transformation and told her that he was Chat Noir--

Luka’s hand brushed hers and she released a soft giggle in return.

“Ugh,” Adrien groaned, he was an absolute idiot. The worst part about his situation was that, despite diving into battles against deadly akumas and getting injured countless times, he couldn’t bring himself to walk up to the other side of her and talk to her. The great Chat Noir, capable of constantly taking rejection from one woman but somehow unable to handle walking beside her when her attention was on someone else. God, he was needy.

Nino silently mouthed a quick, ‘I’m sorry,’ at him.

Adrien mouthed, ‘thank you,’ in return. At least it was better being with Nino and Alya as well, rather than being alone with Luka and Marinette. He couldn’t imagine watching young love unfold before him alone, especially when just yesterday he’d been scoping out spots for first dates and asking himself just what sort of flowers would properly convey his current level of adoration.

“Is something wrong?” Of course, Luka had to be the one to turn around and ask. Of course, he had to catch a glimpse of Adrien’s self-deprecating look right before the blond could throw a fake smile on. Of course, Marinette had to stop as well, worry showing on her face. “You know, it feels like your rhythm might be all wrong today,” he began to reach for his guitar.

“I’m fine!” Adrien immediately replied, smiling innocently. The last thing he needed was for Luka to play his guitar. Adrien might have been a model, but he’d watched enough movies to know how well men with guitars faired. “I’m just thinking right now, nothing else.”

“Are you sure?” Marinette asked. “These past few days you’ve been really talkative, but today…”

He didn’t want to look at her, at least not when he lied. “I’m just a little tired is all.”

Marinette blinked, her mouth falling downwards sharply. Luka, however, seemed to accept the reasoning with a nod, turning to walk once again, his hand wrapping around Marinette’s to keep her moving.

The nice thing about Luka was, he never pushed. The worst thing about Marinette was, she always did.

Everyone kept walking, Luka engaging Marinette again as they entered the courtyard of the school. But Marinette didn’t pay Luka as much attention as before, her eyes downward as she fiddled with her phone.

Adrien’s vibrated moments later.

You know, if you want, I could start bringing your order to school with me instead. So you don’t have to wake up early Or walk with me If you want

He looked up to her just in time to see her say goodbye to Luka, her arms wrapping around the boy’s neck as she held him close. His arms, in turn, wrapped around her waist, holding her to him in a far too long hug before finally pulling away. Marinette grinned, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek as Luka got onto his bike.

“Talk to you after school?” Luka asked. “I have something I want to ask you.”

“Of course!”

Adrien turned away from the two, turning to his phone as Nino’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Alya peeked over at his screen from the other side of him, her voice comforting as she affirmed him, “I think that’s good, send it.”

No. I love spending time with you, Marinette.

In the distance, he heard a ding, followed by a small gasp. If he were quick enough, he would have caught her smiling up from her phone at him. Instead, he looked back in time to see her begin to run towards her friends. Still, that was enough to make him sure that there was no way he’d give up.

#adrinette #adrienette #my fanfic #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfic #all of my new followers are probably going to be like what the fuck is this #this is my COMMITMENT followers #im going to finish this bitch

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ckret2 · 5 years

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Specimen 1, Specimen 2, Specimen 3, Monster 0

Summary: Your family has bred dorats for centuries, passing the business down from mother to daughter. You do what you must to preserve your business and your family. And when the Xilien military marches in and requests three dorats for a classified experiment, you're unable to refuse.

No matter what kind of monster they make from them.

A King Ghidorah origin story.

Continuity: Godzilla, Monsterverse continuity; borrows from Showa and Heisei Characters: three dorats that are going to become King Ghidorah, a 2nd person perspective Xilien OC, and assorted other Xiliens as necessary. Wordcount: 7500 Notes: This is a blend of King G's Heisei and Showa portrayals. ME-319 (the viewpoint character) is intended to be a Xilien expy for Emmy Kano. "Female Xiliens are parthenogenetic" is an explanation for why they all look the same in Astro-Monster that doesn't depend on them being some sort of mass-produced clones. Pronouns! "She" = "Xilien who identifies as a parthenogenetic woman," "xe" = "non-parthenogenetic Xilien, regardless of sex," "he" = "person/animal from a species with no capacity for parthenogenesis, regardless of sex." Assume that all pronouns, names, terms, and everything else are translated to more familiar references for ease of the human reader's comprehension, ex: "There's a reference to pineapples, are you saying there are pineapples on Planet X?" No. No I'm not, that's a translation. Loosely inspired by this prompt:

Anonymous said: hi! if you're taking prompts, wouuuld you be willing to write another ghidorah x reader insert? i'm especially intrigued by your past idea about how if someone called them by their original names, they'd start bawling lmao i'd just love to see these guys get some of the aDORATion they deserve (i'm so sorry but i had to, this just can't be mere coincidence)

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You're a dorat breeder.

The breeding bit isn't difficult; for the most part, the dorats are perfectly happy to handle all of that themselves. Dorats have been domesticated since before recorded history, and have no trouble living and mating in indoor aeries as long as the rooms are large enough and the windows are tall and let in plenty of sunlight, natural or otherwise.

Your job is to keep them happy and healthy while they get on with their business: maintaining and cleaning your centuries-old three-story facility and the aeries suspended by chains far above the floor, keeping a close eye out for any dorats that look unwell or radiate sickly emotions to get them to a vet, keeping their food well-stocked, scheduling enough outdoor trips to ensure that the flight morphs get adequate exercise, and eventually selling them off to pet owners or to professionals whose work needs trained dorats.

You're a woman—that is to say, in a more biological sense, you're parthenogenetic—and although you've got distant cousins and a half-sibling who have fathers, you yourself only have a mother. You are the product of a single unbroken matrilineal line stretching back for over three hundred documented generations. And for several centuries, every cloned daughter in that line has been a dorat breeder. Not because you had to be—but because every one of you has wanted to be. You don't know whether it's in your genes, or whether anyone would want to work with dorats after growing up around their indoor aeries. Nature or nurture? It doesn't really matter, you suppose; you're satisfied with your job, whatever reason you chose it.

You like working with dorats. You like the way they rush up to you in a concerned huddle when you arrive for work in a bad mood, threatening to bowl you over by hopping up on their legs and beating their wings for balance because they want to get closer to your face. You like the colors they come in, from pale jade greens to citrine oranges to a thousand different shades of yellow—gold and neon and amber and more—to warm silvers and pearl whites. You like the broad wingspans and commanding presence of the flight morphs, and the acrobatic energy and even the occasional hive mind-induced stampedes of the spinetail morphs. You like their songlike cries, their shiny scales, the comforting weight of their emotions, the way they switch instantly from sinuous grace to floppy wiggling messes.

You like how small and surprisingly soft the babies are, so little you can cradle them in your hands: their teeth like rows of tiny needles when they yawn, their heads a third of their weight, scrunching up their legs and tucking their wings around them to form little balls when they sleep. You like how agile and elegant the adults are, long and serpentine, their wings simultaneously delicate and powerful, smooth scales and sharp horns and spines—you can see why museums the world over are full of ancient artwork of dorats made from precious metals and gems. But you like the adolescents the most: that's when they're long, ridiculous, uncoordinated noodles, just shifting from the infants' mix of slithering and bipedalism to full quadrupedalism, curious and hyperactive and quarrelsome with each other, constantly tripping over their rapidly expanding wings or getting their new tail spines tangled in everything from blankets to bushes to their own legs.

You've got about three dozen adolescents right now. You started with more hatchlings, but several have already been adopted. It's an orangish-gold pack, all things told, although it wasn't when they first hatched. The ones that are more green and white get adopted out fast as hatchlings, since they're comparatively rare; so much so that when you sell them, you make your customers sign a contract stating they're willing to bring them in to breed so that you can keep the colors in your gene pool.

Your current batch of adolescents is just beginning to head through puberty—as usual, at wildly different rates. Some already have horns that could pass for small but fully developed; some look like long babies, their heads and tails smooth and wings tiny. Most are in between. They still all play together, but already they've begun segregating themselves by morph when they're relaxing, the adolescent flight morphs lounging near (but not too near) the adult flight morphs, the adolescent spinetail morphs piled together in a pack right next to the adult spinetail morphs.

As hatchlings, they already gave you solid impressions of their personalities—who's withdrawn, who's outgoing, who's active, who's lazy, who's quarrelsome, who's cooperative. As they enter adolescence and their mating instincts begin to activate, you're starting to see more facets to their personalities.

And right now, you're thinking very hard about the personalities of three specific adolescent dorats—their quirks, their oddities, their likes and dislikes, their talents and flaws, their futures.

You're thinking about them because two soldiers and two scientists, wearing thin black shades and crisp gray uniforms, have dropped three reports on your desk: dossiers about Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple, as if they were persons of national interest rather than three baby pets.

###

Noodle has pretty white-ish gold scales, and—like many near-white dorats that are more gold than silver—he also has awful flaky sheds that come off in strips and tend to cling for days, which makes him a far less appealing pet than most dorats as pale as him. (Some breeders try to sell flaky near-white dorats in between sheds and let the buyer deal with the periodic draconic dandruff, since it doesn't count as a health issue that they’re legally required to report; you consider that unethical and always warn your prospective buyers.)

He's sedate almost to the point of lethargy; his best skill is napping. Noodle's definitely destined to be an indoor pet, which limits who you can adopt him out to. Hopefully even with his shedding problem, you'll be able to find someone who wants him for his ability to lounge about looking pretty rather than for an exercise companion. Though he will play enthusiastically and energetically with his peers, he tends to bow out early to watch the others play, passively absorbing their enjoyment via proximity rather than contributing to the empathic cloud of fun himself.

You suspect there's an edge of sly intelligence to Noodle's apparent idleness—perhaps he's realized that by lounging in the right place, where he can empathically benefit from the other hatchlings' entertainment without having to play himself, he can get more rewards with less effort. Would he be more active by himself, you wonder, if he had to work for his own entertainment? You might need to find someone to foster him for a few weeks to see what his personality is like when he's not around dozens of other dorats before letting someone adopt him. But aside from the possibility that he might be a clever little slacker, Noodle's a very unremarkable hatchling, all told.

Now that he's reaching adolescence, though, and the first few spines on his tails are coming in, he's demonstrated a new behavior quirk: when the adolescents separate by morph, rather that sitting with his fellow spinetails, he follows after the flight morphs and flops down amongst them. You wonder why. Does Noodle prefer the lighter psychic load of a crowd of flights? Does he think that if he socializes with them casually, then once they're old enough to start worrying about breeding, his preferred choices in mates will consider him favorably without his having to expend any extra effort wooing them? Or perhaps he wants to be part of the audience when his fellow spinetails come by to make their first childish, halting attempts at mating displays: their heads lowered, small wings tucked away, and tails waving high in what they'll soon have the muscles to develop into the spinetails' signature whip crack/rattle. And if Noodle does want to watch, why—to learn from his peers' techniques, or to admire them?

Broadly speaking, flight morphs tend to be more withdrawn than spinetail morphs—less inclined to socialize, less open with their ambient emotions. (Although there's wide variation, of course, since the reach of a flight's empathy is far broader but also under far more voluntary control than a spinetail's. They can reduce their psychic influence—but they can also choose to cast it across a far greater distance than a spinetail ever could.)

But even taking into consideration flight morphs' inclination toward tucking their emotions away to themselves, Sunshine—named for scales so bright yellow they're almost fluorescent—is one of the most withdrawn flights you've ever seen. You actually took him to a veterinary neurologist to ensure he doesn't have any kind of brain damage. The conclusion was he doesn't, he just keeps his emotions clamped up tight inside his little head.

However, aside from that, Sunshine's not skittish or sullen, and he doesn't act like he's being bullied or neglected by other dorats. He's more violent than most, which along with the clamped up emotions is a warning sign for trauma or high stress. But he keeps his violence to play fighting, has never done real damage, and always stops when his playmate cries for mercy; so you think he's just fond of fighting rather than lashing out due to anger. So you concluded that he's just remarkably introverted and left him to it.

With the onset of puberty, though, Sunshine's started to come out of his shell. He's one of the most rapidly-developing dorats in this batch, both physically and emotionally. He's already developed a couple of horns and a massive wingspan. He might have reached his adult wingspan, even, although the rest of his body hasn't quite caught up with his wings yet; he looks terribly awkward strutting around, wings akimbo and chest lifted too high when he walks.

Sunshine was also among the first flights to take an interest in showing off for the spinetails; he's been galumphing over to rear up on his legs and show off his wings since before they grew in. Now that they have grown in, he's attracting a lot more attention. (You wonder if the fact that his wingspan is disproportionate to the rest of his body makes spinetails think they look larger than they really are.) Some are flirting back, trotting up to rattle their tails or clap them on the floor if they don't have spines yet, at which point Sunshine rebuffs them and galumphs back over to the flights' company.

You wonder if he wants to flirt but not be flirted with because he doesn't yet understand the purpose of the displays he's practicing, or because he isn't yet pleased with the quality of respondents. Showing off wings doubles as a mating display and a threat display, depending on who it's directed at, so maybe he's just doing it on instinct without having quite figured out the nuances of how to use it. Or maybe he’s hoping to stir up more play fights.

However, you suspect that Sunshine is deliberately flirting. You've seen him off by himself, loner that he is, practicing popping—the mating display used mainly by flights, but sometimes by spinetails, where they stretch their wings as high as possible and then snap them down, producing a sharp pop of air and simultaneously shooting up. (You suspect that this display—and its effect on ceilings and light fixtures—is probably the leading cause behind most pet owners' decisions to spay their flight dorats.) You don't think he'd be training so diligently if he wasn't aware of what he was doing.

Conversely, among the spinetail morphs, the most physically developed so far is Pineapple—named for his unusually rough brownish-gold scales and their faint undertone of green. (In your opinion, he has the most interesting scales out of this batch of hatchings, which makes him your favorite, appearance-wise. The jades and pearls might be a hit with pet owners; but they're easy to breed for with the right parents, while you don't know if you could recreate Pineapple's scales if you tried. Your pictures of him are a hit in breeders' circles.)

He's incredibly observant, and he's strong-minded for a spinetail, able to break out of a strong emotional hive mind with next to no effort and inject new emotions without thinking. You've seen games stumble to a stop because Pineapple noticed a prospective buyer come in, or someone trip and fall out of a nest, or a kerfuffle break out across the room, and whatever new emotion the sight inspired in him was enough to disrupt everyone else's concentration. You've had far fewer spinetail stampedes while he was here, at least among the hatchlings.

His capacity for inflicting emotions on his peers is almost on par with flight morphs', except that as far as you've seen he can't consciously regulate its effect. You think that Pineapple's unique talent could make him a useful asset if he received professional training, although you don't know of a specific field that would need a spinetail dorat with that kind of ability.

Pineapple is already larger than most of the other adolescents, has developed an impressive set of horns, and has a more even coverage of spines on his tail than any of the other spinetail morphs. They already rattle, which he seems to do involuntarily as he wiggles around in play, although he hasn't made any whip cracks with his tail yet. However, emotionally he's one of the slower developers. He’s practically still a hatchling in his behavior. He plays like he's half his age. He bounces back and forth between flights and spinetails with seeming no recognition of how they've segregated themselves—although once he calms down he inevitably settles down amongst his fellow spinetails, so evidently he's got some recognition of their new social division. He neither joins the spinetails that go over to show off for the flights, nor acknowledges the flights that come to show off for them with anything more than vaguely curious disinterest.

Pineapple's one of the last adolescents for whom you've developed some sense of whether he's likely to be an active or reactive partner—the one who approaches the opposite morph to put on mating displays, or the one who waits to be approached so that he can judge the display he's presented with. It's only in the last few days that you've seen Pineapple begin to watch the flirting flights more keenly, which suggests—but doesn't guarantee—that he'll be a reactive partner.

Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple. You don't see their personalities in the dossiers on your desk. The photos on each cover sheet have them posed awkwardly and uncomfortably, heads raised and tails flat on the ground, just like all the photos of the adolescent dorats that the four military representatives took during their first visit weeks ago. In their photos, they look withdrawn and tense.

They're listed by number rather than name.

###

Most of the dorats you breed become pets. But quite a few are taken to be trained to perform public services. Spinetail morphs are the most common service animal on X, and flight morphs are commonly used in counseling and psychological therapy. Many are trained as search and rescue animals: after fires, bombings, or natural disasters, when buried people can't be found with sight, sound, smell, infrared, sonar, or x-ray, often dorats can still detect their minds. Dorats are absurdly adaptable to different environments and atmospheres; they're often sent to new colonies to carry mail, pull heavy loads, and defend Xilien colonists from aliens. Low-empathy dorats can have the last of their empathy trained out of them or chemically suppressed and be used by the police or military.

You've never bred dorats for specific functions—hunting or therapy or what have you. You maintain thorough records of each dorat's family tree, and some of their trees go back dozens of generations—calling on records kept by your mother and her mother and her mother et cetera—but none of them are what anybody would call "thoroughbreds." All the same, plenty of your dorats have been snapped up for professional services before. Thoroughbreds have a higher chance of having the physical, psychic, and personality traits a job called for, yes, but also a higher chance of carrying detrimental genetic conditions. Many people who work regularly with dorats recognize the downsides of thoroughbreds and try to find the traits they need in aeries like yours.

So you were apprehensive, but not surprised, when four representatives of the military came in and asked to speak with you about your current selection of dorats.

In the style mandatory for all soldiers, police, and public officials interacting with civilians, they didn't present you with so much as their ID numbers, much less their personal names. They instructed you to refer to them as Soldier 1, Scientist 2, Scientist 3, and Soldier 4. They referred to you by your matrilineal ID number, ME-319, which felt slightly more personal than calling you by your national ID number, but not by a lot.

"We are conducting a medical experiment with potential military applications that involves dorats," Soldier 1 said. "Controller 0 has authorized very few details to be shared with civilians. We can tell you that we need three in early adolescence. We can tell you that this will be our seventh trial, and the first six concluded in a 100% fatality rate for our dorats specimens. We do not tell you this so that you will think that we are carelessly killing off dorats, but so that you will understand that we are frustrated and vexed every time another experiment fails and recognize that we are taking the utmost care with the dorats." (You can tell that xe's repeating something Controller 0 told xem to say—or, if not, at least that xe must work closely enough with Controller 0 to have picked up its mannerisms. The computer has a tendency to instruct the populace on how they should feel about its pronouncements and decisions; the inside of a Xilien mind is one of the few things it can't control directly, and so it puts the onus on its citizens to control their minds for it.) "We are not, as you can tell, testing them en masse in hopes that one or two will survive, but testing only two and three at a time, and pouring our every resource into ensuring their survival in each trial. Their deaths are incompatible with our objectives."

Despite yourself, you did find yourself thinking that they must be exercising a great deal of caution with the dorats, 100% fatality rate notwithstanding. Still, though, you had to ask— "Why are you testing two and three at a time, then? Why not one?"

Soldier 1 was silent for a moment, and you suspected xe had a direct link to Controller 0 and was waiting for it to provide xem an answer that xe was allowed to share. "Because the very purpose of the experiment requires multiple test subjects," xe finally said. "Our first four tests used only two dorats each. We found two insufficient for stable results. Our results improved when we began using three."

So what was it, you wondered. Was the experiment about dorats' empathic capabilities? Something else concerning their brains? Some new breeding experiments? What could require multiple dorats?

You suspected you'd never find out.

"What qualities are you looking for?" you asked them, with no further questions about the nature of the experiment; because, ultimately, it didn't matter what they told you and whether or not you liked it. No matter what, you were going to comply. You have to comply when Controller 0 comes knocking. Your only recourse for objection is if Controller 0 asks you for something and you know something it doesn't that will help it get what it wants more expediently.

Shortly, Soldier 1 answered, "Compatibility with each other."

"In what sense?" you asked. "Dorats that play together well? Genetic similarity?"

"Not genetic similarity," Soldier 1 said. "Our initial tests were conducted with dorats of the same breed, to poor effect." Xe grimaced almost immediately after speaking, and the next statement came from Scientist 2: "We have our own criteria by which we'll determine compatibility. Once you have presented your pool of available dorats, we will monitor them ourselves until we have made a selection." From the switch in speakers, you suspected that Soldier 1 had overstepped xir bounds and Controller 0 had revoked xir permission to lead the conversation.

"Monitor?" you asked. "In person? Or will you be setting up recording equipment?" You didn't like the sound of either option.

"Both, most likely," Scientist 2 said.

And so it was. Cameras designed to pick up visible light and heat energy were set up around the aeries. Most days, at least one of the four from the military was there—usually either Scientist 2 or Scientist 3—watching keenly while the adolescent dorats played, relaxed, and interacted; taking notes; and recording even more footage from various angles. After a few weeks, all four came in again, asked to speak with you in your office, and presented you with the three dossiers.

And here you are.

###

Here you are.

Looking down at the military's records on Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple. Here you are.

"Why?" you ask. You wouldn't have pegged the three of them for any sort of compatibility. You don't know that you've ever seen any of them interact one-on-one with each other, much less all together.

There's a pause as they wait for instructions from Controller 0; and then, with grim solemnity, Scientist 2 takes out a translucent badge and hands it to you. Congratulations: you're now one clearance level above the average civilian.

Scientist 3 speaks. "These two, because Specimen 2—" xe taps on Sunshine's dossier, "is sexually attracted to Specimen 3." And then Pineapple's. Something squeezes inside you. These are adolescents. They're only playing around with flirting—when a flight and spinetail at this age do pair off, they tussle and cuddle. Who was this army biologist with only a few weeks' worth of footage to say that this awkward little thing with disproportionately large wings was anywhere near anything like sexual attraction?

You don't say any of that. You say, very evenly, "Oh?"

"You've seen, no doubt, that he's been putting on mating displays for the spinetail morphs," Scientist 3 says. "We've analyzed multiple displays from multiple angles, and are absolutely certain that Specimen 3 is the only spinetail morph whom Specimen 2 is always facing when he displays. His brain activity and body temperature elevate when Specimen 3 takes note of his displays, but not when any other spinetail morphs do."

Specimens 2, Specimen 3. They've already been numbered.

"Specimen 3 does not appear to reciprocate Specimen 2's sexual attraction," Scientist 3 goes on. "But this is irrelevant. As long as Specimen 2 views Specimen 3 as an object of desire, he will remain invested in both protecting and impressing him—which should yield the behavior we want to see from them."

You think of Sunshine off by himself, getting used to his new wingspan, practicing launching himself higher and higher into the air each time he snaps his wings; and wonder what it is the military plans to use that young enthusiasm to train him to do.

You think of Pineapple, tail rattling accidentally as he wiggles in play or suddenly stopping to stare in fascination at an odd sunbeam or an aerie swinging on its chain; and mentally recoil at the thought of him being an object of desire—a prize to manipulate quiet little Sunshine into doing what they want.

You think of Noodle. Curling up to snooze, or scratching at his flaking scales, or flopping down between the flight morphs with his little wings curled tight around his chest. "Why Specimen 1, then?"

"Because he has demonstrated homosexual inclinations." The way Scientist 3 says the words is so clinically precise it almost sounds pathologizing. It feels like a slap on the face. (Even if hearing the word "homosexual" applied to a dorat is momentarily disorienting, when it's so natural to assume that's the default in non-parthenogenetic species. It's easy to forget that, by a biologist's definition of the term, they do have two sexes, not just two body shapes.)

"How do you know that?" You would have noticed if any of your dorats had progressed past practicing their mating displays, and Noodle doesn't even do that much.

"I'm sure you've noticed that he lounges with the flight morphs. When he watches spinetail morphs present their mating displays, his heart rate increases and eyes dilate in a manner indicating arousal, and his—"

"Okay." You don't want to hear more. You feel like you're peering in someone's bedroom window with night vision goggles. "But, what—what does that have to do with anything?"

"Had we chosen a heterosexual flight morph or spinetail morph, it could develop a sexual rivalry with the other two specimens," Scientist 3 says. "A heterosexual spinetail morph could perceive Specimen 3 as an obstacle to obtaining Specimen 2's attention; whereas Specimen 2 might perceive a heterosexual flight morph as a potential threat to his chances of wooing Specimen 3. However, a heterosexual flight morph will not demonstrate attraction to a homosexual spinetail morph, and a homosexual spinetail morph will not demonstrate attraction to a heterosexual spinetail morph, so neither Specimen 2 nor Specimen 3 will see Specimen 1 as a rival or vice versa. We can reap the benefits of Specimen 2's attraction to Specimen 3 without concern that it will produce a schism with Specimen 1."

You almost laugh at their bizarre, mating-obsessed logic. What are they going to do if one of the spinetails is bisexual, but hasn't "demonstrated" his "inclinations" yet? What are they going to do if it turns out that Noodle likes lounging with the flights because he has as yet unrecognized intersex traits, and he suddenly sprouts a set of wings to rival Sunshine's? What then?

But you can't ask. You're silent with horror.

Because dorats don't act like that. They don't develop sexual rivalries. If two set their eyes on the same mate, their competitions don't escalate past wrapping their tails around each other and rolling around, or battering each other ineffectively with their wings and hissing until someone gives up. Often, the competition stops early when the potential mate demonstrates a willingness to produce an egg with each. Two competing over one would never escalate to the point where it would pose a threat to their ability to healthily cohabitate or cooperate.

Unless the dorats are in miserable, confined, stressed conditions. So stressed their natural empathy shuts down so they don't have to feel their peers' suffering, so miserable that losing a chance to mate means losing a chance at what may be the only pleasurable activity they're allowed, so confined that they can't flee from an infuriated rival or an unwanted mate. The kind of conditions found in illegal doratfighting pits or unlicensed breeding mills.

What the hell is the military putting their dorats through that they have to be concerned about sexual rivalries?

How the hell did their previous sets of dorats die, for this "compatibility" to be their top criteria?

What the hell are they going to do to Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple?

You look through the window in your office door, where you can see your dorats. You spot Pineapple first, trying to climb one of the chains anchoring an aerie to the ground by twisting about it and inching himself up. Noodle is sleeping in a pile of flights, one leg sticking up inelegantly. Sunshine you finally spot high above, peering over the side of an aerie, watching Pineapple climb. There is nothing you want more than to run out there, scoop the three of them up, and carry them somewhere far away.

But you can't defy Controller 0. The best you could hope to do, now that you understand the military's criteria, is try to suggest a better trio; but each and every little dorat out there is just as precious as Noodle, Sunshine, or Pineapple. You can't sacrifice any of them in their stead.

The military representatives give you a moment. Then Scientist 2 takes back the dossiers. Soldier 1 says, "If you have no objections, we are prepared to take them now."

You say nothing.

"Very well."

###

You'd like to think that you're putting on a good show of stoicism for the military representatives. But the moment you step outside your office, you're swarmed by concerned dorats desperate to comfort you. Under the circumstances, it only makes you more miserable.

You reassure them as well as you can, push them off, and begin collecting the three... specimens.

Noodle flails when you scoop him up, but once it's clear you plan to drape him over one shoulder, he clambers around to position himself: head draped over your chest, tail tip dangling past your butt, claws curled into your chain mail shirt for stability. He flicks his tongue at your chin in concern a couple of times, then droops down and almost immediately falls back asleep.

You have to shake the chain Pineapple's climbing to get his attention, but he sees how Noodle's laying and copies him on your other shoulder. He covers your head with one wing as he scrambles onto you, but once he's settled he nuzzles against your cheek, attempting to cheer you up. You feel his confusion as he presses his head against yours.

You don't even need to whistle to get Sunshine's attention. He's already watching you—or maybe watching Pineapple on your shoulder. You point at the ground and stamp a foot, and Sunshine, well-trained, glides down off his perch and flops at your feet. You don't have any shoulders left for him, but he stays close, rubbing his head between your shins. Smaller dorats sometimes weave between their owners' legs when they want their attention or want to comfort them; when they get too big for that, sometimes they do this instead. You rub him just behind his jaw, partially to thank him for the attention and partially to coax him out from between your legs so you can walk, and you take all three of them to the door where the military representatives are waiting.

Their ship is just outside. A compartment in the back is already open. At least the dorats aren't going to be in separate cages. You pat inside the compartment, and Sunshine jumps up and in, followed by Pineapple slithering off your shoulder. Sunshine immediately huddles in a back corner, watching as Pineapple explores the space. You have to slide Noodle off yourself, and he stirs and sits up as you set him down.

"You three are getting adopted by the military," you tell them. You feel guilty, like you're lying to them, even though it's not technically untrue and even if it was they wouldn't understand you. "Be good for them, okay? The future of X depends on its soldiers."

"Make your farewell quick," Soldier 1 says stiffly. You're probably lucky that you get to say farewell at all.

You force a smile, lean into the ship, and tug them close one by one to press your forehead against theirs. You focus your entire mind on your love for them instead of your worry. "Noodle. Sunshine. Pineapple." You say their names as you're touching them; this will probably be the last time they ever hear them. You pull back from Pineapple before he can pick up on your sudden sadness. "Stay safe."

You step back and Soldier 4 closes the compartment.

You watch from the door as the ship takes off and disappears into the sky.

###

You never see them again.

###

That's not true. If it was true, it would be less painful.

Years pass. You have a daughter; she grows, takes over the family business, and has a daughter and a child of her own. You start giving talks about dorat behavior.

After one of your talks, a soldier waits in the back while the chairs empty and the people who lingered behind speak to you. Only when they're gone does xe approach you. A generation has passed since you last saw xem, and xe looks far older; but you still recognize xir face instantly. An ache that you haven't felt in years stirs in your chest again. "Soldier 1," you say, nodding.

Xe nods back. "Specialist 8." And before you can question the title, xe offers you a new clearance badge.

###

There's a heavy, oppressive feel in the lab, although you can't tell why. It's clean, well-lit. There's no signs of suffering. But the air weighs down on you anyway.

Maybe it's because you're on a moon. You've never been on a world with a sky that's always black. You feel like you're clinging to the side of a marble hurtling alone through the void.

Something about the oppressive feeling is familiar.

"At this point, we doubt the fact that you raised our specimens will give you any particular insight into them," Specialist 3 tells you as xe escorts you down the hall. "We have, after all, been working with them for far longer than you knew them. But we're very impressed with your expertise on dorat psychology."

You've already been told that they're still working with the three "specimens" you gave them. You're relieved they've survived this long. They'll be getting near old age by now. You wonder if they were ever allowed to interact with any other dorats. You wonder if the three of them were enough company for each other. Dorats that aren't pets usually live in groups with at least a dozen adults, and pets benefit from regular opportunities to socialize with other dorats. Did they ever get those opportunities? Did they ever go outside? Did they give their flight morph enough chances to fly?

You suspect not. You don't know why you suspect not. Something about the heaviness in the air.

As Specialist 3 approaches a massive set of double doors and slows down, you realize what about the heaviness is familiar: it feels like entering a doratfighting pit to rescue the captive dorats. This is what it feels like when dozens of dorats' empathy have collapsed and crumpled in, forming a dense despairing ball of shut down and suppressed emotions. They can't cope with their own misery, much less their peers', and so they close in on themselves. Your hand flutters up to your head, pressing your temple where you can feel the psychic weight.

But this is so much heavier than you've ever felt before. There must be hundreds, thousands—"How many dorats are kept in this facility?"

Specialist 3 hesitates. "Just the three," xe says. "Maybe some of the scientists have personal pets in their quarters, but I doubt it. They wouldn't want to bring their pets to this environment."

You don't think xe's talking about the airless moon. Xir gaze flicks to your hand pressed to your temple, and xe says, "You see what I mean."

"This can't be just three. How?"

"You'll see. This is what you're here to address." Specialist 3's hand hovers over the door controls. "Moment of truth," xe says. "From here on out, everything you see is absolutely classified. Controller 0 values the secrecy of this information more than your life. If you tell anyone..."

You nod. You know. It was spelled out to you very explicitly. Any intel leaks that can be traced to you mean the execution of ME-319, ME-320, and ME-321: you, your daughter, your granddaughter. The termination of the ME matrilineage. Of course, you'll never tell—but you're terrified that someday, someone else might, and the blame will accidentally fall on your family. You would have refused to take this assignment if you could have; but you have to comply when Controller 0 comes knocking.

Specialist 3 nods and opens the door.

You step through and the weight closes in on your mind so heavily it feels like your vision is going black around the edges.

For a moment, you can't understand what you're looking at. The room resembles a ship hangar, but directly in front of you is what looks like a mountain of gold coins. No, not coins. Scales?

The mountain shifts.

You fall to your knees.

It's a massive, monstrous mutant. Ugly knotted scars thicker than your torso run between its necks and down its chest. It's all spines, and claws, and horns, and fangs—its fangs alone are half the length of your body. You didn't know creatures this large could survive outside the vacuum of space. You can tell, just from looking at it, that it's nothing but a weapon of mass destruction.

And it has three heads. And it has the broad wings of one flight morph and the long tails of two spinetail morphs. And it has numb, delirious despair in its eyes.

There are massive collars around each of its necks and cuffs around its ankles and tails; chains anchor each collar and cuff to the ground. In a grotesque parody of rings on fingers, piercings jab through its wing membranes and wrap around each of its phalanges; short chains connect the piercings to each other, forcing it to keep its phalanges together and its wings closed. It spasms and growls—its growl is so loud you can feel the floor beneath you vibrate—and then goes limp on the floor; and then spasms again; and whimpers; and goes limp again.

You try to ask a question, but all you can do is mouth the word, "What," silently.

"Meet Monster 0," Specialist 3 says. "Codename: King, if you prefer."

You want to be sick. Of all the things you feared, never in your worst nightmares...

"You can see the problem," xe goes on. "He's totally shut down emotionally. We can make him move—we've got the technology to force him to move—but we can't force him to feel again. The experiment is only a partial success as long as his empathic abilities are turned off. If we have to, we can move forward with this alone. But I've seen your writing on rehabilitating doratfighting rescues; if there's any way you can... Hey, where—?"

You're not listening to xem anymore. You've found your feet and you're rushing down the stairs so fast you miss a few steps and almost fall, heading for the main floor of the hangar—hangar? kennel? prison? You sprint for the heads of the mangled creatures. The other soldiers and scientists on the floor, seeing you approach—wearing a jingling chainmail tunic and a look of fury the likes of which Controller 0's perfectly emotionally repressed soldiers would never display—dive out of your way.

You head straight for Monster 0's faces.

Each face towers above you. Their heads are lying on the ground and you still have to look up to meet their eyes. They don't look anything like themselves anymore. Their distinctive scales—the flaky white gold, the electric yellow, the spiky green-tinged brownish gold—all gone, replaced by a uniform dull, pallid brass. The heads, distorted and altered as they were forced to this unnatural size, could have come from triplets. If you hadn't been told they were your dorats, you wouldn't have recognized them.

The head on the monster's right growls as you approach, bearing his fangs threateningly, but his eyes are glazed. The one in the middle flinches and squeezes his already shut eyes tighter closed, as if he can dream his way through this and wake up somewhere else. Only the one on the monster's left manages to focus, looking at you tiredly, studying you.

You know then. You know.

"Oh, my babies." You look up at them, between each of their faces, throat tight. "This isn't you."

The one on the left slowly leans in—does he recognize you? The right one's eyes are beginning to clear.

You reach out to touch the left one's snout, then the middle one. "I'm so sorry they did this to you. This isn't who you are."

Slowly, the right one drags his head toward you as well. The middle one's eyes crack open tiredly. You can feel their exhalations washing over you in gusts; you hear their lungs roaring like wind through a canyon.

"Do you remember who you're supposed to be?" You don't hide any of your emotions from them this time. Love pours out along with pity and grief. You lean against them, one at a time, pressing your forehead to their snouts: Specimen 1, 2, then 3; middle, right, and left; and you tell them their names: "Noodle. Sunshine. Pineapple."

Their eyes shoot wide open. An electric wave snaps over their skin, jolting you hard enough that you stumble back.

Two soldiers rush up to take your arms and tug you back, and for a moment you're so disoriented you can't tell if you're being rescued or arrested. The vision-blackening pressure on your mind has lifted all at once, so fast you feel lightheaded. The three dorats lift their heads as high as their chains will allow them, looking at each other as though they've only noticed each other for the first time; or perhaps looking at themselves through each other's eyes?

And then the rage hits you—like stepping outside at the most deathly hot peak of summer and walking into a wall of heat. Rage so thick it's like a tangible force, rage so overbearing you immediately break out in a sweat.

Then they raise their heads, and they sing.

That's the only word you have for it. It's a sound like you've never heard before. Dorats coo, or croon, or caterwaul; but this is singing. Three notes, high and quivering; a discordant chord, tremolo, in clear soprano voices; a wail that nearly sounds Xilien.

Something in the chord pierces straight into your psyche. You can feel your heart break, your future vanish, your every reason for living shrivel up and dissolve. You lose everything in a second. All that's left is keen, soul-throttling despair. Nothing matters. Everything is over.

From somewhere far outside the black hole in your mind, you hear soldiers who might not have expressed a single emotion in decades break down in sobs.

And still the dorats are singing like they're trying to end the world. Their necks raised, their back arched, their legs straining, their wings trembling. One by one, the chains pinning their left wing shut begin to snap.

You sink past despair into apathy.

###

Your spirits are still low when you wake up in the med bay, but at least you're no longer ready to die.

You remember what it felt like, though. You'll always remember what it felt like.

You're being tended to by Nurse 4. Once xe's established that you're of sound mind, xe places a call, and a couple of minutes later Soldier 1 and Specialist 3 come in.

They both look haggard. Soldier 1 has superficial scratches high on the side of xir neck where public officials in direct contact with Controller 0 get their implants. "Well done," xe says wearily. "Controller 0 finds your technique questionable, but approves of your fast results. You'll be sent home with high commendations—but don't expect to be called in to do that again."

Somewhere far away, you think you can feel anger, throbbing. Like the beginning of a pounding headache.

You process Soldier 1's statement backwards and in pieces. "Again?" How many more were they going to put through that torture? And then: "Fast results? You—you knew? You wanted this? This...?"

You gesture at your own head, trying to somehow indicate the feeling of your entire life falling to pieces.

Specialist 3 clears xir throat. Soldier 1 glances away. "Among other things, our experiments aimed to enhance Monster 0's inborn capacity to project emotions. Weaponize it, if you will."

You can only gape at xem.

Specialist 3 says, "We had no idea he'd develop a means to project them vocally." Xir voice is hoarse. "This is a... fascinating side effect of his modifications."

"Although one that reduces his usefulness in vacuums," Soldier 1 says.

Usefulness for what? What are they going to use them for?

You feel despair creep over you again.

###

As promised, you're awarded a slew of high commendations from Controller 0 before you go home. You never speak of them again.

Controller 0 also assigns you a therapist with a clearance level high enough for you to speak freely about your experience. You only visit xem a few times. Once you pass Soldier 4 in the waiting room. You didn't realize xe lives nearby. You didn't realize xe had been on the moon.

It's three more years before you, along with everyone else, see the news of the first planet conquered by X's new living weapon, "King." You tune out the hollow military propaganda singing their new weapon's praises as you watch the footage brought back from that distant world. All you can see in the dorats' eyes is hatred.

In another few years, your granddaughter becomes the first of your matrilineage in centuries not to take over the family dorat breeding business. Instead, she joins the military. Science branch. She received an invitation directly from Controller 0 itself.

She gushes about the opportunity to use your family's dorat expertise to work with the famous Monster 0—and perhaps to help make and train more monsters. After all, "0" is the number reserved for prototypes. Rumors have been swirling for years.

Before she leaves for basic training, you pull her aside, take a risk that could endanger your whole family, and whisper Monster 0's true names to her.

###

To the end of your life, you will fear that your meeting with your three dorats—your meeting with the thing they became—only made things worse for them.

You will never know that, years after your natural death, what you reawakened in them will give them the strength to escape.

#####

(Replies/reblogs are welcome & encouraged! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#godzilla #kotm #dorats #xiliens #king ghidorah #ghidorah #fanfic #my writing #(click that link if u wanna see uptight soldiers obsessing way too hard over the mating habits of snake kittens)

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