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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

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Retirement

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For Maribat March Day 21 - Domestic Bliss

The first time Marinette and Garfield ever discussed retirement was before they even started dating. For superheroes, retirement was just a fact of life. One day, if you make it long enough, you'll put down the suit and you'll never pick it up again. Maybe someone will take your place. Hopefully, no one will need to. But no matter how strong you are, not even if you're Superman in his prime, the simple fact was that someday you would retire.

"What do you think you'll do after you retire?" Marinette mused to Garfield. Out of all the Titans, Marinette spent the most time around Gar, simply because the two of them spent a lot of time in the living room. Marinette liked the ambient noise that his video games provided when she worked on her projects, and Gar liked to have someone to talk to while he played. Most of Marinette's current focus was on the embroidery in her hands, as she stitched vines running down the sleeves of her shirt, but she still took the time to start a conversation with Gar.

"I dunno..." Gar glanced up from the game he was playing. "What'll you do once you give up being Ladybug."

"That's a tough question. I used to think that I wanted to run a big fashion company, like Agreste Fashion, but now I think I want something a little more low-key. In my ideal future, I own a little boutique where I make custom clothing. There would be a fabric store and a café on the same block as me, and I would never have to leave the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice. I think I might try going to college and see where that takes me. I applied to Jump City University right before Christmas, and they accepted me. If I went, I would start classes in the fall.”

Marinette’s head jerked up as she gave Gar her full, undivided attention. “I’m going to JCU next fall!” she exclaimed excitedly. “We might have classes together. What are you planning on majoring in?”

Gar shrugged, “JCU has a veterinary program that I'm interested in. I'd be taking animal behavior, biology, chemistry, and a whole bunch of other science classes.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s nothing much. I didn’t expect them to accept me, anyway.”

Gar seemed oddly subdued about the idea of going to college. He was a naturally enthusiastic person, which made it very out of character for him to be so dismissive. It worried Marinette. “No, you deserve praise for your accomplishment. Jump City University is a very selective school.”

“I’m not a genius. I’m just me.”

“You’re smart, Gar, I know you are. Getting accepted to JCU is just one of the many reasons why you are brilliant.”

“Are you gonna name them all for me?” joked Gar.

His question was rhetorical, just a joke, but Marinette wasn't finished convincing Gar that he deserved all the praise in the world. “For starters, you can finish any video game in less than a day. Even the ones where you need logic and strategy, you fly right through them. Secondly, you’re a genius when it comes to animals. And it’s not just because of your superpower. You taught yourself animal behavior so that you could blend in with the animals you’re imitating. Thirdly, you pretend not to be invested in politics, but I’ve seen how you keep yourself informed about environmental policies and activism. You really care about the planet. Fourthly-“

"Alright, Buginette,” laughed Gar, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’ve proven your point.”

Marinette set her embroidery down on the coffee table and moved to Gar's couch. "Is this game multiplayer?"

"Yep. Do you want to play a few rounds?"

"Hmm... I think I could spare a few minutes to kick your butt."

"Please. I'm going to squash you like the little bug you are."

"You wish!"

----------

The next time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was well after they started dating. They got together in their Junior year at JCU after spending two years in relationship limbo, with both too nervous to make the first move. They finally confessed their feelings for each other after Dick and Starfire locked them in a closet together until they admitted that they liked each other. They graduated college as a couple, with Gar planning on attending veterinary school and Marinette planning on starting up her fashion business. That summer they spent a lot of time talking about the future.

"I've been thinking of recruiting someone to take over as Ladybug," remarked Marinette as she cuddled up next to Gar on the couch.

"Really? Who do you have your eye on?" asked Gar.

"Wonder Woman recently took on a new protege, Cassie Sandsmark. The Ladybug Miraculous already has some connections to Wonder Woman and her home of Themyscira. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, was a wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous for quite some time."

"If you gave up the Miraculous would you still fight crime?"

Marinette shook her head. "I think it might be time to give up crimefighting. It's been ten years since I took up the Ladybug Miraculous to fight Hawkmoth, and six years since Hawkmoth was defeated. I wasn't ready to give up that responsibility then, but I think I'm ready now."

"When would you give up the Miraculous?"

"Soon. I talked to Wonder Woman about it last week and she's enthusiastic about the idea. I would need to spend some time getting to know Cassie, just to make sure she's a good fit, and Tikki would need to vet her as well, but I have a good feeling that she'll pass any tests of character we put her through." Marinette turned to face Gar. "I didn't want to make any concrete decisions before I talked to you. I know that we've always fought crime together, but I'm ready to move on with my life. I'm ready to retire."

Gar nodded. "I understand and I fully support your decision. I've been considering leaving the Titans as well. I know I could continue living in the Tower and attend veterinary school at JCU, but last week I got an acceptance letter from UC Davis for their School of Veterinary Medicine."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Gar, that's amazing! I remember looking into UC Davis when you were applying, and their program is nationally ranked."

Gar grinned. "The best in the country. It's too good to pass up."

"You have to go!" exclaimed Marinette. "This is your dream!"

"I think I'll send in my acceptance tomorrow," decided Gar. "Maybe we can go to Davis this weekend and scout out an apartment."

"And fabric stores," chimed in Marinette.

Gar laughed. "Anything for you, Buginette."

----------

The final time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was years later. Marinette and Gar had gotten married and had moved back to Jump City. Marinette opened her fashion boutique, which had very quickly exploded in popularity. Gar started working for a non-profit veterinary clinic, which provided free veterinary services to lower-income neighborhoods. They had both achieved their dreams, and yet neither seemed content with their lives.

"Maybe we just need a change of scenery," suggested Marinette, leaning her head against Gar as they both sat on the beach watching the sunset. "I'm so tired of the city."

"Maybe," said Gar. "It would be nice to have a house with a backyard, rather than just an apartment."

Marinette sighed. "I know that I always said that I wanted to be the owner of a successful boutique, but this wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm so busy that I feel like I never get to spend any time with you anymore. Every day my inbox is filled with emails asking me to sell my company or expand to more locations. I'm tired of it. My passion is for making clothes, not running a business."

"I know how you feel. Every day I encounter another neglectful pet owner who brings their animal to the clinic for help but refuses to listen to me when I tell them that they need to change the way they treat their animal. It's exhausting."

"We could both just quit our jobs and move into the woods," joked Marinette.

Gar nodded, but he wasn't joking. "I've actually been thinking about that. There are a lot of remote regions with a real need for veterinary practices to provide medical assistance for the farm animals out there. I would feel a lot more useful taking care of animals that don't have anyone else."

Marinette turned to face Gar. "I wouldn't mind moving. I've been sending all of the offers to buy my boutique straight to my email archive, but I'm sure if I looked through them all I could find someone who would be able to take care of the business aspect of Ladybug Designs. I could retire from the business and design on my own time, when the inspiration strikes, instead of forcing myself to churn out design after design."

"You really wouldn't mind?" asked Gar, a hopeful look on his face.

Marinette shook her head. "I was serious about moving out of the city. There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I've been waiting for the right moment. I think that moment is now. Gar, I'm pregnant."

The deer-in-the-headlights look on Gar's face was comical, to say the least. Marinette giggled, "Well?"

Gar snapped back to reality, transforming into an elephant, trumpeting his joy. He turned back into himself and wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I'm so happy! This is the best news I could have ever heard, Buginette. Now we have to move. I want our kid to have a backyard and a dog and a big driveway where I can teach them how to ride a bike and a pond where they can swim in the summer-"

Marinette cut Gar off with a kiss. "One thing at a time," she giggled.

"I think this will be the best decision we have ever made," declared Gar.

Marinette agreed. "I think that partial retirement will be good for us."

----------

This was bliss. The feeling of grass under Marinette’s bare feet as she walked back to the house from the lake, hand in hand with Gar. The sound of their daughter's laughter as she danced around them, catching fireflies. The taste of homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream, eaten rebelliously early as Gar proclaimed, "Dessert before dinner!" The sight of the stars up above them, no light pollution to mask the beauty of the heavens. The sound of Gar's voice, whispering, "I love you, Buginette," into Marinette's ear. And as Marinette settled into her husband's arms, she knew for certain that retirement was the best decision she had ever made.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #garfield logan #marinette dupain-cheng #garmari #MaribatMarch2021 #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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obwjam · 4 years ago

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Hey!! I was wondering, can you do a Loki x female teen borrower story where the borrower is caught by Loki and starts crying and then Loki feels real bad about making the tiny cry so he tries to make it up to her?? And in the beginning there could be a little fear play👍🏻, which is why the borrower starts crying.

I love your stories btw!! They’re so good!!💗💗

fsjfsajfd thank u omg 🥺🥺 sorry this took a while i’ve had a busy last couple weeks lol but here ya go :)

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

You thought they were all gone.

You could have sworn you counted them all. Red suit, shield guy, bow and arrows, woman in black, guy with a hammer, the green monster. You had counted six. There were only six of them.

Six of them that you knew of, anyway.

See, there was a seventh. A seventh that you never saw, and that was by design. He was kept on the down low so his brother could try to reform him; teach him the ways of good and teach him to help the city, not destroy it. As a gesture of goodwill on his part, he let his brother roam free around the tower while they were all out on a mission. Building trust was essential.

But you didn’t know this. You assumed you were free to replenish your supplies, like you did every time they all went out. So you slid open the piece of tile from the ceiling you had cut off, dropped your rope down and gently landed on the kitchen counter. With two bags slung over your shoulder, you were excited for today’s haul.

You would soon be interrupted.

Loki had sensed something was off almost immediately. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was a thin rope dangling from the ceiling that wasn’t there before. He normally wouldn’t touch the kitchen, but now that he was alone, he was wont to wander off.

He saw you scampering across the counter, heading straight for the bread. “What in the nine realms...” he whispered, careful to keep his voice low. A tiny person. He had certainly heard the tales, but he had never seen such a thing with his own eyes, and the last place he expected to see one was on Earth.

A mischievous smile spread across his face.

Tip-toeing ever so lightly, he made his way over to the counter where you were just reaching the wrapped up loaf of bread. You didn’t even realize someone was there.

“Now, what do you think you’re doing, little one?”

You nearly fainted right then and there. No, you thought. No no no no no... I have to be hearing things...

You were frozen to your spot, but you managed to turn your head around enough to see the giant hovering over you with an evil grin. You dropped both your bags.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” the giant teased. “Afternoon snack, is it?” He reached over you, delighting in the way you twitched when his hand got close, and grabbed the bag of bread. You looked at it with tearful eyes.

“This isn’t yours, you know,” Loki tutted. He tossed the bread onto the table. “And the kitchen is no place for a creature such as yourself.”

“Please-- please, NO!” you cried as Loki’s hands descended down. You weren’t poised to run away, so you shut her eyes tight and clenched your jaw as Loki pinched your waist and pulled you up.

“You can’t be older than a teenager!” Loki gasped, feigning sorrow as he held you in front of his face. You were writhing. Loki hummed.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be making a daring escape, borrower,” he smiled. “You’re mine now.”

“LET ME GO! PLEASE!” you shouted, but Loki ignored you. Back in Asgard, catching a little one like this came with great honor. Loki almost scoffed at how easy it was to capture you.

But something was beginning to eat at him as he brought you back to his room. He had never really planned on catching a kid.

Once you were safely to Loki’s quarters, he opened up the palm that was holding you. You were trembling and holding yourself tight while tears streamed down your face.

“No... no...” you kept repeating. “No, this isn’t real, this isn’t real...”

“Look at me, borrower,” Loki instructed. You just shook your head. You were too scared to move. You yelped, though, when Loki grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you up into the air.

“When I saw look at me, you look,” Loki sneered. You cowered from his words, your tiny legs flailing about as you tried to wriggle free of Loki’s grasp.

“You should be relieved,” Loki said lowly. You whimpered. “I saved you from an awful accident. If any one of those Avengers had found you, you would be fully dissected by now.”

“Please...” you said again, your voice scratchy. “Please -- please don’t -- don’t hurt me...”

“Oh, I won’t hurt you,” Loki said. “See, that is why you’re lucky. I don’t hurt creatures who are too weak to defend themselves.”

Creature. You couldn’t get over how he kept calling you that. You were just a tiny little thing that he could do whatever he wanted with. You knew he was lying. You weren’t safe here at all.

“In the natural order of things, I rank above all,” Loki continued, “so when I say look at me, you. Look.”

Your whole body was suddenly whipped to the side as he roughly twisted his hand so you would be facing him. Your entire body was shaking from the pure fear of Loki’s entire face engulfing your field of vision.

And that was the last straw.

You sobbed. You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and just when you thought you would run out of tears, more appeared. The realization that you would be kept in captivity for the rest of your life hit you like a ton of bricks. You were going to be his pet. You would never get a chance to be free again.

At this display, Loki softly gasped. He hadn’t actually expected you to break down as much as you were. Without thinking, he lowered you back into his palm and gently brought his hand up. This time, he made sure not to loom.

“Little one...” he sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

You didn’t look at him.

“I... I’m sorry,” he managed, hoping that would get you to stop. You were still crying, but you finally tilted her head up at him in confusion. Did he just... apologize?

“I was only teasing,” he tried. It was hard for him to sound sincere. “I am not going to hurt you. I only meant to have some fun.”

Your tears slowed down until you were left sitting in a puddle in Loki’s hand, sniffling and wiping your puffy red eyes.

“What is your name, little one?”

You whimpered and shook your head.

“Okay... that’s fine.” He stared at your tiny, shaking form. “I am Loki,” he finally said. “I’m stuck here in this tower, just like you.”

You huffed. You were not alike.

“At least you have the freedom to roam where you please. I am not allowed to step foot outside the doors of this wretched place.”

At this, you looked up. “Really?” you asked, voice raspy and impossibly small.

“Oh, yes. My oafish brother won’t allow it. And unfortunately, on this pathetic little rock, he’s in command. So now that I told you my name, won’t you tell me yours?”

Your eyes darted back and forth. Should you say? He could just be trying to get you to let your guard down. But there was something so sincere about the way he was asking. You could feel it.

“I’m... I’m (y/n),” you said so quietly that Loki almost didn’t hear. “(Y/n). And I’m stuck here too.”

Loki smiled. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been here since I was nine.”

“Since childhood? And you have never been seen?”

“A few times,” you shrugged. “But nobody really knew what to do, and they never came looking for me. Except for the time that the guy with the bow and arrow thought I was a bug and tried to squash me.”

Loki felt his chest fill with rage. Clint was already his least favorite.

“Where is the rest of your kind, borrower?”

You shook her head. “I dunno where they are. I live here by myself.”

“By yourself? You have no family of your size? No lineage?”

You shrugged. “I mean, I used to have parents, but...” you trailed off. “That was a long time ago.”

Loki blinked. He hadn’t expected this.

“...why don’t you stay here with me, (y/n),” he said, trying not to sound too sympathetic. You wiped your eyes one more time.

“Stay with you?” you repeated in awe, surprised he had said your name.

“Yes. You will be safe in here.”

You pondered his offer. If you said yes, you would be stuck with him. If you said no, though, he might get upset again... or tell one of the Avengers about you. He seemed to be lightening up a bit. You really had no other choice.

“Okay,” you said finally. “I’ll stay.”

“Wonderful,” Loki said in amusement. You gasped and gripped onto the folds of his skin as he lowered his palm down to his bedside table. You immediately jumped off and landed next to a large, bright object that you didn’t recognize. You yelped and skidded back.

“That’s just a clock, borrower,” Loki laughed.

“A clock... I know that,” you lied. Something else caught your eye. “What... what is this?”

“I believe humans call it an ‘eye phone,’ though I don't understand where the eye part comes in.”

You giggled. “I don’t either.” With your new vantage point, you could suddenly see a world of new objects. Loki watched with a smirk at your sense of wonder.

“What’s that again?” you asked, pointing to a flat, black screen across the room.

“That’s a television. It’s how humans entertain themselves.” Loki paused. “Would you... like to see how it works?”

You eagerly nodded. Loki waved his hand, and the TV flickered to life.

“I don’t understand how humans can stomach this garbage,” Loki complained. “I mean, look at this. She’s taming a dragon like that?! You would never approach a female dragon from the front, unless you want to be killed.” Loki stole a glance down at you. You were staring wide-eyed at the TV. So this is what it looked like.

Without warning, Loki carefully reached down and scooped you up from the table. Your heart leapt up to your throat, but your nerves calmed when Loki swung his feet onto his bed and stretched out. From your new vantage point, you were sitting in Loki’s hand, which was resting on his chest, which had a direct view to the TV.

“Is this alright?” Loki asked, straining his eyes to look down. You nodded, too awestruck to say anything as you tucked your knees to your chest and settled in.

As the show progressed, you became decidedly less interested in what was going on. It had been an emotionally taxing period of time, and you were tired. You slowly unfurled your legs and leaned back into the curves of Loki’s fingers, mimicking his own relaxed position. You could barely keep your eyes open. The thumping of his heart was like a low and steady drum marching you off to a quiet and happy place.

Loki’s fingers twitched at every movement you made. Eventually, he realized you had stopped moving and that your hair had settled into a single spot. He peered down. You were fast asleep, your tiny chest rising and falling to the slow beat of his heart.

Loki couldn’t stop staring at you. He didn’t quite understand why he felt this way, but he knew what he had to do.

From this day forth, he would be your protector.

#marvel g/t #been a hot second since i wrote marvel AND loki damn #g/t #obwrites

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businessbois · 4 years ago

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hello blue :D i would like to know everything you would like to tell me about your favourite fic you've written

lyssie shrugofgod weirdly-enough this is the kindest thing ever i hope you're ready for vaguely comprehensible ranting.

okay so i couldn't choose between two fics "once i called you brother" and "the art and (mine)craft of war" because i could talk forever about both, but im gonna talk about "once i called you brother" because its the less popular one

heres the link :)

so i basically wrote this fic because i thought that the song "the plagues" from prince of egypt (or at least the opening lines) were incredibly perfect for c!tommy and c!techno and it was a shame that no one did an animatic for it yet. i cannot draw so i just wrote a fic for it.

once i called you brother once i thought the chance to make you laugh was all i ever wanted

is that literally not tommy with techno though?

and then the rest of the song can read as like doomsday or november 16th, you know, them arguing about selfishness and betrayal and all that. the song fucking slaps.

but anyways the fic itself? the opening is inspired by how like, if you didn't know who technoblade was during the beginning of the smp, he would just be this mysterious figure of legend that tommy, wilbur, or dream occasionally talked about. it hit me during the dream v technoblade duel stuff that since techno had never been on the smp before, he was just this invisible dude with a huge reputation and that was so cool to me.

"Alrighty, I've been here before, right?"

"Listen, Techn—Dream..."

these are quotes from tommy that i quoted in the fic. i used to do this a lot, just stick quotes with no context into fics because i assumed everyone had the same precise memory of everything that went on the smp that i did. the first one is referring to tommy being surrounded by people outside the community house and "i've been here before" is him remembering a similar scenario on smpearth and therefore technoblade. the second is when he accidentally calls dream techno (about 30 seconds into this comp) again adding to techno's thing of being just this widely alluded to figure.

"Who do you think will win? My bets on our boy, Dream, but feel free to be wrong."

Niki stays quiet, a small frown on her face.

i feel bad for cutting niki absolutely owning dream with "well, techno's my friend" but it simply couldnt stay in for fic purposes

waking up to a frantic Bitzel muttering about hypothermia and something heavy and red covering his shivering frame.

smpearth is canon because i Want it to be canon and in my canon there's a moment where tommy passes out in the middle of a fight and techno brings him back to business bay wrapped up in his cape because he's technosoft and all their fighting is more like play fighting anyways

Tommy knows that love is earned. That if he does well in some Championships, then his place in the family is secured.

this is inspired by the bet that wilbur and tommy had in like mcc8 that if they placed fifth or higher tommy could be in sbi. in tommy's pov it becomes, "you have to earn your place in this family."

“Because I’m not the vice president.”

this is from one of his exile streams where he's talking to dream about why people won't visit him anymore

Tommy is 10 and too big for his boots.

this section is inspired by tommy's story of how he met techno as told in this storytime.

there is something that flickers at the back of his mind when the ratty zombie child calls him The Blade.

i think it's so incredibly special that everybody calls techno The Blade but like,, that's tommy's nickname for him. theres this moment where tommy's talking about giving techno a nickname and techno's like "you call me The Blade!' again, everybody calls techno The Blade, but he tells tommy "you call me The Blade." like i don't know how to articulate this but, that's tommy's nickname for him. they're brothers.

Tommy's been to war with soft, pale blues.

ae reference because again, smpearth is canon cuz i said

Tommy is 13 and standing over the remains of Business Bay's storage area.

this is an smpearth thing. wisp and vop did a whole grief of business bay, it was very dramatic very tragic. the thing with techno coming to business bay to talk to tommy is from this comic and i hold this headcanon close to my heart.

"Tommy, if anyone gives you trouble—and I mean serious trouble, not the kind we have—you tell me.”

Tommy hears an echo of similar words from the man who just burnt down everything he’s worked for.

"Tommy, anyone that touches you fucks with me... I will kill Techno if it takes me all of my life to prepare for it, you understand me?"

im so proud of this parallel between wisp and techno man you have no clue. okay, so like i said before, the ae versus bb thing in my head is very much like play fighting. sometimes it gets serious like the scenario which is happening in the fic where things actually get destroyed. that's because they're stubborn teenaged boys and conflicts can go from fun to actual trouble real quick. these "similar words" and the following quote are references to one of my favorite wisp moments ever. wisp, for anyone unclear on smpearth backstory, was a part of business bay before he betrayed them for the antarctic empire. he was also the one who burnt down the storage area which is why tommy's remembering this quote so bitterly.

Tommy rolls his eyes. "I pinky promise, Technoblade." He sticks out his little finger like a challenge.

the pinky promising is Canon from like the post-exile streams i think and i headcanon it as something tommy just does with people

and so this is to put context to the "using techno" thing. because i've always kinda viewed as like calling in a friend (or a big brot—[gunshot]) in for help so this part of the fic gives it the background to be like that

But then, Tommy is 16 and standing in a cataclysm, once again watching everything he’s worked for get destroyed by a man who swore to protect him.

this line solidifies that parallel to wisp where techno made a similar promise to protect tommy and now he's destroying everything tommy's worked for (business bay in wisp's case, lmanburg in techno's case) im very proud of this parallel.

His tall brown-haired friend from competitions past

wilbur of course, the competitions past being mcm

He collects titles like music discs

i asked my friend for things that people collect and they said "records" and i said "wait—"

Technoblade is 17 and he has no family. He has a friend who makes sure he sleeps. He has a friend who creates bridges and mischief. He has a bug that he still hasn't squashed.

i've always loved the idea of sbi becoming this little found family on smpearth. like they're not super lovely dovey "we're like brothers" but they're so fond of each other and they hang out when they're not pretending to be at war. and so theres still that room to say that they're not family, but like they totally are

Bright blue eyes beg him for some entertainment, so Techno sighs and grabs The Complete Works of William Shakespeare off the shelf.

this headcanon that techno used to read them shakespeare comes from wilbur's offhand comment asking techno to recite king lear to them

Wilbur's planted himself at Techno's side for the duration of the finale, something that he's grateful for. Wilbur's always been his person to lean on for things like this.

inspired by i think wilbur saying that he was techno's like designated extrovert during mcc's and i really love that aspect of their relationship. because techno is looked at as "the older brother" in so many ways, but like in this way, when wilbur's guiding him through social situations and supporting him, he gets to be wilbur soot's little brother.

Technoblade never says I love you, but he reads his baby brother The Twelfth Night instead of Hamlet and ends Theseus' tale after the Minotaur.

this was one of the first things i had written for this fic. so obviously hamlet is a tragedy while the twelfth night is a rocking good time. so like going back to that shakespeare headcanon but techno protecting tommy in the little ways. the theseus part is inspired by me not knowing the rest of theseus' story after he gets home and his dad jumps into the ocean. like the exile and death stuff i didn't hear about until the dsmp so that's where that came from. techno, even though it kind of goes against who he is, leaving theseus' story as a victory where the hero slays the monster, just to give his little brother something with a happy ending

"Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? THEN DIE LIKE ONE!"

i did always think this could be seen as like "well if you want to be a hero, then you can die like one" and leaving off the unspoken "but if you don't want to be--if you choose not to be, then you get to live. so don't be a hero. please don't be a hero." and theres like that little tragedy there that i really love in techno and tommy's relationship. like, i love you, you love me, all i ever wanted was to make you laugh, but we don't speak the same language. we don't understand each other. everything you are is against everything i stand for. so yeah bedrock bros feels. i wrote this long before exile and all that so its even more complicated now gosh.

#long post

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fugaciousgloom · 5 years ago

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I’m bored, so here’s some of the pregame headcanons asd plotlines I was talking about.

I’m just going to go by who comes to mind first:

Maki:

Collects information for money, mostly about her peers.

Runs a podcast about Danganronpa murders and motives.

Favorite Danganronpa series is Ultra Despair Girls, she thinks it’s criminally underrated.

Only friends with Kaede, Rantaro, and Shuichi, but considered popular because Kaede and Rantaro are.

Carries a switchblade/pocket knife on her at all times.

Has been suspended twice for smoking in the school bathrooms.

She purposefully started acting out after almost getting adopted from the orphanage because she didn’t want to be adopted.

Has made multiple attempts to run away with Shuichi, but has always been caught.

Shuichi:

Kyoko kinny and will fight any haters.

Outcasted at school for strange, obsessive behaviors.

Gets into petty fights a lot and has to have his ass saved by Maki every other day.

Listens to Maki’s podcast religiously.

Sneaks out with Maki and her friends to see Danganronpa episode premieres that play in the town square.

Has every murder, motive, killer, and victim memorized and quotes characters a lot.

Can be really possessive and is aggressive to anyone who gets too close to his close friends and Maki.

Kaede:

Really, really sadistic.

Ibuki and Sayaka were her favorites and she cosplays as them a lot.

Rich Girl™.

Has auditioned for Danganronpa at least three times since Freshmen year.

One of, if not the, most popular girls in school.

Has a twin sister that hates Danganronpa.

Begs Tsumugi to recommend her for Danganronpa.

Himiko:

Most people in school either fear her or hate her.

Will not hesitate to slap a bitch.

Always has candy on her to keep her blood sugar up.

Gets really bored really quickly.

Has no interest in watching Danganronpa, but auditioned anyways just for the thrill of it.

Pretty laid back until you piss her off.

Tsumugi:

Works at Danganronpa studio as a costume designer and advertiser

Is rumored to have killed someone.

People approach her to try and get ahead in casting or meet past killing game participants, even though neither are in her control.

Pulls out her Monokuma and Junko voice randomly to surprise people and amuse her friends.

Hosts Danganronpa servers from multiple platforms and runs the official Danganronpa social media accounts.

Kokichi:

Despises Danganronpa, but pretends to like it to fit in.

Only friends are Shuichi, Himiko, and Angie.

Lumped in with the weird kids.

Cares about everyone a lot, but acts aloof.

Bad Liar™, but lies a lot anyways.

Was friends with Miu and Rantaro in middle school, but stopped when they both became popular.

Has never smoked or drank in his entire life despite the pressure from his friends.

Tenko:

Angie and Rantaro were the ones to introduce her to Danganronpa.

Sakura Stan.

Lives in a very toxic, misogynistic household with her father and three brothers.

Flirts to get her way.

Tried to teach herself Aikido, but quit after her father caught her.

Used to be popular, but an incident occurred between her and Kirumi that made everyone in the school outcast her.

Angie:

Rumored to be possessed by a demon.

Loves the occult.

The school weird kid.

The only open Lebsian in the school.

Monokuma has always and will always be her favorite.

Usually lumped in with people like Korekiyo, Kirumi, and Kokichi.

Korekiyo:

Awkward as fuck.

Covers his face out of shame.

Has violent, angry episodes where he lashes out at anyone nearby.

His classmates are lowkey afraid of him.

Rumored to be a serial killer.

Despises every kid in school besides Angie and Himiko.

Has a sick sister who's been in the hospital since he was a little kid.

Kirumi:

Extremely egotistical and self centered.

Everyone in her school thinks shes a bit of a weirdo.

Auditioned for a main role in Danganronpa.

Often talks about her plot to win Danganronpa and get the prize.

It makes most of her classmates uncomfortable.

Desperate to be popular.

Miu:

Has an attitude and is bot afraid to speak her opinions.

Always wanted to be a scientist, but was made fun of as it contrasted how she presented herself visually.

Soda kinny.

Is grossed out by the thought of sex, but acts as if shes done it a million times before.

Honestly doesn't even like Kaede or her friends, but stays because it keeps the target of bullies off her back.

Makes fun of Kiibo every chance she gets.

Kiibo:

He is a human.

Rarely shows emotion, but he feels a lot of emotions.

His father owns a tech company and is often away. Because of this, they don't talk much and Kiibo doesn't know much about his father.

Bullied harshly. They call him a robot and even go so far as to threaten him.

Smart when it comes to math and science, but has trouble with more creative subjects.

Rantaro:

Rich and popular.

Girls confess their love to him every single day, but he turns them all down.

His parents are literally never home since they travel for work, so he hosts most of the parties.

Kept hanging out with Tenko after she was outcasted because he sympathized with her.

Closeted gay, but openly flirts with guys in his grade (mostly Kaito). Everyone assumes he's joking.

His sisters are also really into Danganronpa and encouraged him when he told them he was auditioning.

Gonta:

Very intimidating.

Always scowling.

He's actually a big teddy bear, but people still avoid him.

The only person that hangs out with him is Ryoma, who sometimes drags Kirumi to sit with them.

Likes bugs because he thinks they are misunderstood like him.

Once saw a student squash a spider and body slammed him.

Afterwards, rumours spread that he would lose control and attack anyone randomly.

Ryoma:

Has given up on life.

Approached Gonta because he didn't care if he was attacked (and was kind of hoping for it, honestly) and accidentally became friends with him.

His girlfriend died because of a local gang and he felt he couldn't do anything about it.

People think he has an addiction to cigarettes, but they're actually just candy cigarettes.

Always liked Leon and Mondo.

Kaito:

Infamous bully.

Targets anyone and everyone that's not in his close friend group.

Has sent multiple people to the hospital.

Secretly has an interest in the stars and can list off useless trivia about space.

A total closet case.

Lives with his grandparents who are very traditional.

Surrounded by toxic masculinity at home, so he puts himself out there as manly.

The only friend he "bullies" is Rantaro because he keeps making passes at him, but he can't bring himself to do anymore than light teasing and it drives him insane.

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depizan · 4 years ago

Text

I was thinking about the post I reblogged about the loss of the Alliance in SWTOR, and some of my other disappointments with how faction is handled in the game, and how faction based MMOs in general tend to get stuck in this kind of "eternal conflict" mode. (Not that factionless MMOs don't get stuck in their own kind of weird "eternal conflict" mode, too. Look at Guild Wars 2 and the growing list of things that have tried to destroy Tyria.)

But there are stories that lend themselves to a faction model, and SWTOR does have - or does begin with - one of those. It's just that with no prospect of whatever conflict divides the factions ever being resolved, you have a weird permanent stalemate situation, kind of. The Sith Empire will never win, because that would make Republic players unhappy. The Galactic Republic will never win, because that would make Empire players unhappy. No actual solution to the conflict can ever be found because then it would be game over. (Also, no real faction shifting because how would you code that?)

Except... maybe none of that is true. There are games that have faction shifting of a kind coded in. Think of all the minor factions in World of Warcraft, some opposed to one another, some just independent. Sure, those faction shifts are mostly achieved with some kind of grind, but it does prove that mutable factions are codeable.

This might even solve the problem of the Smuggler and the Bounty Hunter being tied to specific factions when that leads to some very odd story stuff, particularly outside of each class story. It suggests a way to handle factional grouping and third faction classes without making those factions "better" because all flashpoints are available to them.

Here is Mac's theoretical redesign of SWTOR with a different handling of factions and playing into the story focus that is the game's best quality.

Republic and Empire each get three classes, Smuggler and Bounty Hunter are Underworld (a third, neutral to the others faction). Since the galaxy is supposed to be under a peace treaty - the Treaty of Coruscant - you design the game with flexible faction tagging and lean in hard to the Cold War set up.

You have degrees of faction, just like those minor factions in WoW. I'm going to borrow the middle part of WoW's faction set up for this. Theirs runs Hated - Hostile - Unfriendly - Neutral - Friendly - Honored - Revered - Exalted. We just need the middle chunk, from Hostile to Friendly. Hostile is typical enemy mob: bar is red, it will attack you on sight. Unfriendly is an orange bar, but will not fight you unless you attack. Neutral is a yellow bar, again, will not fight you unless you attack. Friendly is typical allied mob: bar is green, etc.

Imperial players can go to Coruscant, and Republic players to Dromund Kaas, but everything is Unfriendly to them, they can't buy anything (except maybe at the spaceport?), and there are no quests available to them. Underworld players start out one tick up at Neutral and have a few merchants and quests available. Ones that it makes sense would be available to random people. (This is to balance out Underworld space starting at Neutral to Pubs and Imps.) And, obviously, Pub space starts out Friendly to Pubs and Imps space Friendly to Imps. (Though I would be slightly tempted to have Korriban be neutral to the Agent class because, as a non-Force-Sensitive you don't really belong there.)

(As you can see, we're basically using a game mechanic to underline the state of galaxy. We can also set things so that people can't go fuck things up for their fellow players by coding it so that if you just go attack people on the opposite faction capitol, you get blipped to hostile and squashed like a bug.)

Now, we write the game like there is actually a Cold War happening. This means missions for Imps and Pubs that send people into "enemy" space (not, to start with the capital or Force User planets, though) where they have to accomplish their missions without attracting the attention of the other faction. We can take advantage of instancing to allow for diplomatic incidents, like thinking "well, they can't report I'm here if they're dead," without triggering the anti-trolling splat mobs. This is also where we introduce some side quests that give people the opportunity to work on becoming to Neutral with the opposite faction.

Smugglers and Bounty Hunters are off doing Underworld stuff, with some options to take quests that benefit the Republic or the Empire. (Giving them the chance to work on becoming Friendly with one or both factions.)

All class stories get written so that there are several potential outcomes. We're going to use the Agent story as a model here, and basically set it up so that everyone has a story line that ends with them still loyal to the faction they began with, now Underworld/Unallied, or loyal to the opposite faction. This gets paired with the ability for characters to keep doing things to make the other faction like them better and you're setting up defections or the decision to go neutral with mechanics and story.

You use the Cold War setting to ramp up general tension. Have more missions like that one on Republic Hoth where you can work with some Imperials. Or the times where a Sith Warrior can use Republic soldiers to their advantage. So the whole base game has this good overlay of people wanting peace and people wanting to go back to war (on all sides!). This lets you really flesh out the factions, and the good and bad people in them. Have a more positive sort of Gray Morality going on.

As far as Flashpoints go, you re-write The Black Talon/Esseles for proper Cold War subtlety. I think we want to use the intro flashpoints to give people a better idea of the kind of proxy conflict stuff, where you might be fighting what appear to be a third party (like pirates), but you get info (of the non provable kind) that they're working for the Empire/Republic. And maybe come up with some kind of mechanic where party members can get special communications based on faction. Like, the main (everybody) cut scenes for the Esseles talk about it being pirates that are attacking them, but the Jedi/Trooper characters get a quick comm call that the pirates are probably working for the Empire and after a particular person.

For all the shared flashpoints, you tweak them so they are truly shared. One queue for everyone, we still need to work out exactly how we're getting the different factions their special flavor bits, but there's more of that here. And maybe a kind of saboteur mechanic for things like what to do with the missiles on Cademimu, so that they can still be launched at a fleet for a DS option, but it's not in-character obvious that someone did it.

We can still have some Empire and Republic specific flashpoints, which we might allow Underworld characters who are Friendly with the right faction to do. (Or maybe not if we're keeping the ones we have. They've got a bit of a secret mission vibe. Maybe we add a fun treasure hunt flashpoint for the Underworld folks.)

The end of the base game becomes the Cold War going hot because of Revan (and let's say it's not the Republic at large backing him, but a smaller group within the Republic that's okay with his plan). Now we get proper fall out from someone wanting to commit mass murder, we get a good climax, and we can shift from writing eight class stories to three-ish main stories with class and faction related flavor bits. You'd have those fighting for the Republic (ex-Empire characters could get good flavor bits about fighting their old allies and some suspicion from their new ones - a suspicion ex-Underworld characters would also get), for the Empire (again, joined members get some good flavor bits), or who are with the Underworld now.

First expansion is the war, maybe with some of what we used to have in Chapter Three going on. I'm also kind of tempted to weave in some actual foreshadowing for Zakuul here. I'm not keen on Space Voldemort or the time skip, but other parts of those expansions seem worth trying to save. But maybe we have the player characters working with Lana and Theron like in the Revan expansion, but it's about hints that there's something bad coming instead.

Next expansion, Zakuul attacks, things go super to shit, Lana, Theron, some people from Zakuul and the player character(s) form the Alliance. Oooh, wait, lets go ahead and keep the Vitiate/Valkorian thing, and have killing the Emperor be the end of the first expansion (because he wants to eat the galaxy - he's gone mad, but the Empire as a whole won't acknowlege it and are following him off a cliff, the Republic isn't seeing him and the Empire as separate, even evil characters live in the galaxy, etc). Now, Zakuul invades because when you kill Vitiate, Valkorian keels over. Whoops.

(Zakuul is the backup plan. If he can't destroy the galaxy as Vitiate, here comes the uber-Empire! You just managed to off him, but the uber-Empire gets fired at the known galaxy anyway.)

Now we have one story going, with different flavors depending on the characters relation to the three old factions. Kind of like we do in the existing game. And we avoid bumping the player character up to a ridiculous level of authority by making them part of the leadership of the Alliance instead of the leader. Keep them more in line with the base game power level.

Not quite sure where we go from here, but basically you have this kind of flowing faction thing going through the game that meshes well with the story.

I don't know. Mostly I wanted to work out how you could do something more interesting with faction.

#Mac vs SWTOR #Mac rewrites the game #long post #very long post #god if they'd done it like this I might even like the expansions

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otomeramblings · 5 years ago

Text

And then the Sun Shone so Bright

Pairing: None; Tenma-centric A/N: hhhh I’m sorry this took me so long! I was having a hard time finding motivation to write during these past 2 weeks. But! inspiration finally struck. I originally was gonna make this romantic but then parts of the song gave me natsugumi feels and well, here we are lol But also! I’m sorry I didn’t include Kumon but I haven’t read episode 6 yet;;; Thank you so much, @chewie-santatoast!! You’re very kind and I’m glad you like what I put out there!! I hope you like this one too and thank you for requesting~~

🎵 Song: Best of Me by BTS 🎵

As Igawa finished sending a message, he pocketed his phone and lifted his gaze to see Tenma still eyeing the rack of keychains in the back corner of the store. The bags with sweet treats they had picked up still hung from Tenma’s wrist as he stood there, one hand on his hip and one on his chin, clearly trying to find something.

After shooting wrapped up, they went to one of the local bakeries to buy some souvenirs for Tenma’s theatre troupe. It was something he had taken the habit of doing and while he was surprised by it at first, Igawa was fast to encourage this new development; after the first time, he always made sure that whenever the boy had a shoot out of town or overseas, they would always be able to find a moment in their schedule so that he could buy something he could bring back.

They had been doing some window shopping after successfully purchasing the treats when Tenma stopped in front of one of the stores and insisted on going inside.

If he had to venture a guess, Igawa would say that the object that had originally caught Tenma’s attention was the small bonsai keychain that now dangled from in between his fingers. He couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed in his face at that; Tenma’s love for bonsai, while strange in the eyes of his peers for a boy his age, was actually something Igawa himself had grown incredibly fond of since it was one of the topics (besides acting) that actually made Tenma ramble with excitement. Since he had already had his hands on it, though, Igawa had an inkling as to what he was now searching for.

After a few minutes, and having four more keychains in his hands, Tenma strode towards the register. As he placed the items on the counter, Igawa could see that his hunch had been spot-on. Tenma threw a quick glance his way and he must have seen the way in which his manager was fighting back a smile because he quickly spoke up:

“They would just bug me later if I only got one for myself.”

“Of course, Tenma,” he replied with a small nod. It was an excuse but Igawa knew better than to try to get Tenma to admit it, so he didn’t press for more.

As his eyes inspected each of the designs as the cashier rang them up, he understood what had taken the boy so long when he was picking them. He could tell exactly which one would go to each person just by looking at them. Igawa admittedly didn’t know the members of the Summer Troupe very well, but he had gathered quite a bit of information from his conversations with Tenma.

Next to the small bonsai tree, there was a little white kitten wearing a pink bonnet;

“Dammit,” Tenma clicked his tongue seeing the traffic-jam they were stuck in. “I know it’s frustrating but can’t you let them know that you’ll be late for rehearsals?” Igawa spared a glance his way and saw that Tenma was already typing something on his phone. “Yeah, but that’s not the problem,” he grumbled. “We are trying on the new costumes today and Yuki’s already difficult enough normally. I don’t need to give him another excuse to call me- a hack, oh for the love of-.” Judging from the exasperated tone in his voice and the quick typing that followed, Igawa could guess what response Tenma had received and he tried his best to squash down his amusement before commenting again. “Yuki? That’s….Rurikawa, right? You mentioned he’s in charge of making all of the company’s costumes? He did a really good job for your debut performance.” After seeing the state in which the theatre was, a part of him had honestly been worried about the production quality, but he had been blown away by it and the costumes were one of the things that had impressed him the most. “Yeah,” Tenma sighed before putting his phone down. “I hate to admit it, but the kid’s got some real talent in that department and he has potential in acting as well. Now if only he could do something about that snarky attitude of his,” Tenma complained but Igawa could hear the tint of fondness that hid in his tone behind his initial annoyance.

next to it, there was a pink crown with white and gold accents;

“Is that a new script?” Igawa asked when he saw the manilla envelope resting on Tenma’s lap once he entered the car. He knew Tenma wasn’t scheduled to shoot anything soon but it wouldn’t be long until the Summer Troupe started their rehearsals for their new play. “No, this is one of dad’s old scripts.” Seeing the surprise on his face, Tenma added: “I asked him if I could lend it to one of my troupe mates and he agreed.” “Oh?” “Yeah, remember when dad had to play that prince character in a drama?” He did remember; that performance had earned Mr Sumeragi a couple of awards when he was just starting his career. At Igawa’s hum of affirmation, Tenma continued: “Well, one of my troupe members wants to act in a similar role in the future, so I thought giving this a look would help him have a more concrete idea of what it’s like.” Igawa nodded with a smile. “His acting and his presence on stage still need some work, but I think reading this can not only motivate him but also give him some inspiration since it has all the annotations dad made on it when he used it.” Tenma was using that determined and straightforward tone that often laced his voice whenever he spoke about anything related to acting; it reminded him that despite his young age, he was a professional through and through. One thing that had always been true about Tenma was that he was a perfectionist and someone incredibly proud of his work; because of that, he expected that everyone met the same standards he had for himself. That hadn’t changed after he started performing with Mankai, but the way he went about it when talking to his colleagues was definitely different and he was now seeing exactly where it rooted from.

next to that one, there was probably the most unique keychain of the bunch: a small almost translucent triangle protractor,

“Is that homework?” Igawa asked as he closed the door of the trailer. Tenma paused his furious scribbling when he heard his manager’s question and the guilty darting of his eyes told the answer before he even opened his mouth. “......no…...I’ll do it after I finish this!” he scrambled to answer. Igawa sighed a bit in response; Tenma hated doing his school work and usually he would push him to work on it but since he knew that there was a professional tutor in the dorms that could help him, he decided to let him off the hook this time.

“So, what were you writing then?”

“Oh!” Tenma’s eyes lit up at the question. “I just thought up a few ideas I want to try out the next time we have to do street acts. Some of them are a bit advanced but I think Misumi and I could pull them off.” “Really?” he inquired, sitting across from the boy and taking a sip from his coffee. “Yeah.” he shook his head as he closed the notebook. “Misumi’s talent is kinda terrifying; if we could do something to help him focus more, he could probably be as good as me.” Igawa’s eyebrows shot up at that since Tenma was not one to give out praise freely to anyone. If he recalled correctly, Ikuraga’s performance had probably been the second best on their show next to Tenma’s, so while he was shocked by the admission, he could definitely see where the actor was coming from. “I didn’t know you started putting stickers on your things.” Igawa pointed out when his gaze fell on the notebook. “What? No, I don’t-” Tenma exclaimed but stopped himself when his eyes landed on the stickers that adorned the back of his notebook. An ice-cream cone, a slice of watermelon and onigiri surrounded a bigger yellow triangle that had a few words scribbled on with a marker. Twisting his neck, he was able to make out the words: “Good luck, Tenma~~!! (*^▽^*)”

and, finally, there was a paint pallet with a small brush dipped in green paint.

“Yes, yes, I’ll ask him about it. Yes, mom, I won’t forget. Okay, bye.”

“Everything okay?” Igawa asked once Tenma hung up, his eyes focused on the road. “Huh?” the boy asked absentmindedly as he opened another app on his phone. “Yeah, it’s nothing serious. She told me she wants a copy of the poster of Water Me! since it was our first performance. I told her that they already had the flyer with the picture but she says it’s too small, so I told her that I could probably ask Kazunari to make another copy since he’s the one that designed the final version.” He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but Igawa could hear the pride in his voice, happy that his parents were openly acknowledging and accepting his theatre career.

“It is an important milestone,” the manager nodded and then added. ”And it was a beautiful poster.” Tenma hummed in agreement. “Yeah, Kazunari can be obnoxious as hell but he’s got a real eye for design. All of the company’s posters and our website are a testament to that,” he admitted as he scrolled on his phone. “He’s probably gonna be over the moon once I ask him for a copy.” They had arrived at the dorms so Igawa could see Tenma rolling his eyes in what could be mistaken for exasperation were it not for the slight smile on his face. He had seen Kazunari Miyoshi once after their first (eventful) meeting and in that occasion the older boy had Tenma in a side hug while they took a selfie together and what had caught Igawa’s attention was that despite the fact that Tenma didn’t really like taking selfies with people (besides the occasional fan), the protests that came from his mouth were half-hearted at best and it didn’t take long for him to settle and smile for the picture. After it was taken, he could hear Miyoshi saying he would caption it with “Nothing better than some Ice-cream after rehearsals with TenTen!!”

Each of the keychains had gold chains and gold borders and detailing, making it obvious that they were part of the same set despite the wide variety of designs.

As the employee put them all in separate bags after Tenma told her they were gifts, Igawa couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth nor the fondness that seeped through his voice when he said: “I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The actor just shrugged in response. “Of course they will,” he replied with confidence but his manager could see the redness in the tips of his ears.

Tenma had always been a good kid. Arrogant and too blunt at times, yes, but never with the intention of hurting others. However, being in the spotlight from such a young age had isolated him from his peers and his parents' constant travelling only served to make him build even more walls around himself; be confident and keep your head up, your work is what matters, that was the motto by which Tenma lived his life and that was a big detriment in any interpersonal relationships he could have formed. But now, seeing him fuss over which souvenirs to bring to his friends, the deep mark the Mankai Company left on him was glaringly obvious.

He remembered the genuine concern he showed when his parents wanted him to quit. It was one of the few times he saw Tenma’s eyes tainted with fear; and at first, Igawa had thought he had been afraid of the possibility that this project he had worked so hard towards would be crushed, but later on he learned that it was more than that, it was the fear of having to let go of the people who had managed to bring down his walls and had put their all in supporting him so he could turn his past regrets into victories.

Tenma had never looked happier than he did now and that translated to his acting as well; he still carried himself with confidence but now there was also a lightness to his steps that wasn’t there before. Igawa knew that Mankai and the Summer Troupe probably didn’t really understand how much they had truly helped Tenma become a better version of himself in every sense but he would forever be thankful for it.

🎵 Part of the song-based requests [closed] 🎵

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#tenma sumeragi

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magicstar16 · 4 years ago

Text

A cruel joke

NOTICE: This is a fanfic based on Spectralreplicas Puella magi au, I do not own the au. I also do not own the Puella magi madoka magica franchise or the Danganronpa franchise.

Summary: After a nasty fight and being kicked off of Shuichi’s team, Kokichi sets off on his own to fight a witch himself. He later discovers how disturbingly appropriate the witch and it’s labyrinth seem to be, given his situation

Third and also kinda second person narration, mostly second.

TW Character death

Also may or may not be slightly OOC but Kokichi’s going through a lot and he needs time to be an actual human being with feelies and not just a lying little shit nugget.

Kokichi ran through the labyrinth, panting heavily, knocking out familiars who got to close. The familiars were just little fuzzballs balancing on top of bouncy balls, so he could just knock them away as he would with the little balls that came with his mallet. He’d use one of the balls on his outfit, but that took magic, and with his soul gem already pretty murky, he couldn’t risk it. Besides, even if he could afford to take that risk, there weren’t many walls, the labyrinth took the form of an outdoor, cheap county carnival, so there wouldn’t be much to bounce on. In the distance he saw the witch, it was a black ball with cartoonish arms and legs, with a large, cartoony mouth for a face, riding a colorful unicycle. The witch’s cacophonous laughter echoed throughout the labyrinth. Kokichi ran towards the witch without hesitation, pushing off the familiars. The witch pedaled away, still laughing. “Stop running away, You stupid witch!” Kokichi yelled, in between breaths. “This would be so much easier if I was still on a team” he said to himself.

He stopped in his tracks

“Oh wait...” he muttered, his voice trailing off

“That’s right...”

*Flashback*

Kokichi jumped from platform to platform, knocking around his croquet balls as they bounced around as carelessly as he did, with a childlike laughter that only he could produce, while smashing the occasional familiar. The giant witch’s slow, rusty, mechanical wire-like arms kept trying to squash him, like a slow bear trying to squash an annoying little fly. “Come on, you overgrown toy! Give me your best shot!” He laughed, taunting the witch. Shuichi, Kaito, and Gonta, however, were not amused with Kokichi’s jokes at the witch.

“Stop screwing around Kokichi” Kaito yelled, trying to shoot away the rusty familiars in a nearly blind panic. Kaito’s arrows kept flying towards different directions, sometimes at the familiars, who kept getting closer and closer towards him as Kaito tried to distance himself.

Shuichi ducked the arrows and croquet balls that flew around the labyrinth. “Would Everyone stop screwing around?! PLEASE?!” Shuichi asked, desperately trying to find some sort of week point.

“Shuichi! Over here! Gonta may have found weak point!” Gonta called out to Shuichi, near the base of the witch. Near the base of the gigantic mechanical body, in a mess of wires and gears, Gonta seemed to have found a large, beating mechanical heart. Shuichi lit up! “Thanks Gonta!” Shuichi replied, Shuichi shot at the heart rapidly, the witch didn’t seem to notice, as it was busy with Kokichi.

Kokichi panted,”Is that all you got, rust bucket?” He asked, Now face to face wtih the witch. It’s glowing eyes glared right at him. It slowly opened it’s mouth, revealing what appeared to be a second mouth with a large cannon inside. Kokichi stared blankly. “Is that supposed to be a no?” he asked.

As Gonta was wailing on the witch’s heart with his butterfly net, he looked up at the witch, seeing if it had noticed him and Shuichi yet.

Good news: The witch didn’t notice them!

Bad news: It sure had noticed Kokichi.

Gonta saw the cannon emerging from it’s mouth, it started heating up, about to fire any second. In a moment of impulse, Gonta leaped away from the heart, and onto the platforms to where Kokichi was.

“Kokichiiiiiii!”

Kokichi stumbled back and looked up at Gonta, who taking the bright, fire like blast for the smaller boy. Kokichi was even more dumbfounded by larger boys action. “Why” Kokichi muttered. “Why are you doing this? You should be helping Shuichi.” Gonta grunted, trying to ground himself in place. “Because” Gonta replied, through pained grunts. “Gonta... g-gentleman. G-gentlemen... protect... others...” Gonta looked back at Kokichi and smiled, even though Gonta could feel his soul gem cracking. “Becoming... gentleman... was... G-gonta’s... wish... after... all...”

Two tortured screams echoed throughout the labyrinth, both followed by a crash and a crack as the labyrinth disappeared. It all happened so quickly. Kokichi fell onto the ground, feet first, not a perfect landing, but still a landing. Gonta was not so lucky, as he fell onto the ground limply, like a ragdoll dropped by a child.

Kokichi chuckled at the bug-lover, who had seemed to suddenly detransformed for some reason. “Klutz” He teased, trying to shove Gonta’s words in the back of his mind. Kokichi detransformed. “Come on ya big lug, we gotta meet with the others!” Gonta just laid there. “Don’t be so dramatic, I know your soul gem took a crapload of damage, but Shumai and Kaito will definitely share the grief seed if you beg enough!” Kokichi joked, trying to laugh, but all he could muster was a chuckle.

“C-come on idiot” Kokichi murmured, trying to maintain his carefree tone. “T-this isn’t funny” Kokichi kicked the body a little, with no response. “Is this payback for that time I pretended to be dead, and laughed when I saw you crying? Well, I get the point you’re trying to make now.” He said, trying to hold back a couple of tears that seemed to have pricked up. “It’s not very funny on the other end! Ya got me Gonta! You can get up and laugh at me now!” Still no response. Kokichi got on his knees, in an apologetic position “I-i-if you want an apology, I’m sorry! I really am! I understand that it’s not funny! I won’t do it again! Now Please! get! up!!” He cried as he banged his fists on the pavement. Kokichi felt some tears fall down his face, he just couldn’t hold back anymore.

Kaito and Shuichi, now back in their civilian forms, looked around for the grief seed from the witch Kaito looked under some parked cars, “Come on, stupid seed, stop screwing around. My sidekick needs you so he can clear his soul gem.” He said, frustrated. He looked under some more cars, hoping that nobody would be driving out to see four schoolboys (allegedly) screwing around in a parking lot. He REALLY wasn’t in the mood to get scolded by some stranger for playing in a parking lot in the middle of the evening, as he was already mentally preparing himself from the scolding he’d surely get from his grandparents for staying out way past dinner. That and hoping someone wouldn’t run over the seed if it was near a car wheel or something. Kaito ducked under a pickup truck and lit up as he saw a small, black glimmer. “There you are” He chuckled. He looked at the black seed with the gear-like design on it. He found it kinda cool that all grief seeds seemed to have their own symbol. He reached into the underside of the truck and grabbed it. He got up and waved to the others! “found it!” Kaito called out. Shuichi got up from looking under another car, dusting off his uniform and ran over to Kaito. “Alright, good work Kaito! Now we need to tell the others!” Shuichi and Kaito both walked to the side of the lot to avoid any cars, and the two began their search for Gonta and Kokichi.

Kokichi sobbed on his knees quietly, clutching his scarf tightly, begging Gonta to wake up. “P-please Gonta...” He whispered. “I’m sorry for tricking you, I’m sorry...” Kokichi looked up to see Shuichi and Kaito running back. “Shit they might have seen me” Kokichi thought. He turned away and wiped his tears and pulled himself together, and then leaned on a nearby car with his hands behind his head and his elbows up. Trying to look as relaxed as possible. “Took ya long enough.” Kokichi chuckled as they approached. Shuichi, being shuichi, seemed to immediately notice something was off. “What happend to Gonta?’” Shuichi asked. Kokichi, Shuichi, and Kaito looked down at Gonta, who wasn’t moving an inch. “Probably tired, he took a lot of damage after all, let’s help him up” Kaito suggested. Shuichi, and Kaito grabbed Gonta by the arms and lifted him up. Kokichi helped, uncomfortably pulling Gonta up by the feet. The trio took their green-haired teammate to a grassy area on the side of the lot. They laid Gonta on his back. Gonta’s eyes were closed, he had a pained expression stuck on his face. He was unmoving, and cold, like a statue. Shuichi checked the side of Gonta’s neck for a pulse. “H-his heart isn’t beating” Shuichi said worryingly.

Kokichi choked back some tears. This couldn’t be happening. Gonta couldn’t eb dead, and not because of him, right? Sure Kokichi may have lied, manipulated and took advantage of the gentle giant’s kindness and stupidity so he wouldn’t have to do as much work fighting witches, but Gonta always pulled through. He’d bounce back again right? This was just payback!

“It’s completely shattered” Kaito muttered.

“What is?” Shuichi asked

“Gonta’s soul gem... It’s completely destroyed!”

Those words sent a chill up Kokichi’s spine. Kaito held the light green soul gem in his hand. Pieces were scattered around in his palm.

Kaito looked down at his shaking palm. “You...” He muttered, clutching the remains of the gem. “YOU!” Katio shouted at Kokichi, as slammed his empty fist against another car, making Kokichi unknowingly flinch. “GONTA’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! HE’S DEAD BECAUSE YOU SCREWED AROUND AND HE HAD TO SAVE YOU FROM YOUR OWN STUPIDITY! YOU! KILLED! GONTA!” Kaito screamed in between sobs, Slamming his fist against the car for emphasis on the last 3 words.

Kokichi looked down, not wanting to look up at the enraged taller boy, he’d rather die show himself in such a sorry state. Kokichi choked back tears, and he defeneded himself the only way he knew how.

“It was his fault” Kokichi lied. “He was being stupid again. All he does is waste time trying to save us indvidualy, or be selfless at all” Another lie. “We’re not friends, we’re teammates. We’re colleagues, hinting witches is our job, you don’t need to save teammates” Kokichi spewed out another lie. Kokichi looked up, with a fake smile on his face and a twisted feeling in his guts as he said the following words. “I don’t need him! I never needed him or any of you morons!” He could feel his heart shatter as he spewed out the lie. Like venom that he spit out and swallowed at the same time.

Kaito baweled with rage and punched the car, choking back sobs. “You monster” He whispered. “You lying, heartless, little monster” Kokichi maintained his smile despite that it felt like glass shards were being stabbed into his heart. “I don’t know why we ever let you on the team, all you do is make everything harder for us!” Kokichi maintained his composure, even though the words felt like knives in his chest. Kaito stormed off. Shuichi, who had been silently mourning over Gonta as the fight when down, approached Kokichi with a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry Kokichi, but Kaito’s right. You don’t corporate with are plans, aside from being a distraction to witches, you also not only take advantage of Gonta, but...” Shuichi hesitated, and choked out a sob “You’re not even grateful for his sacrifice” Shuichi wiped back his tears and looked at Kokichi, right in the eyes. “You’re kicked off the team Kokichi. We can’t be with you if you’re going to be like this” Shuichi looked away, “And, I don’t think we should speak for a while” Shuichi muttered, in a way that was clearly putting it lightly. Kokichi could tell that Shuichi meant that they didn’t want to be friends anymore. He could tell when someone was lying. That was his personal magic after all. Even then he didn’t need magic to know what Shuichi meant. This wasn’t the first that some told Kokichi that they didn’t want to be friends anymore. As Shuichi dragged Gonta’s body away, Kokichi held back his overwhelming amount of tears and yelled out one more lie, without any thought

“FINE! I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP! I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP!”

Kokichi ran off, wishing that Shuichi would at least call out to him, but of course he didn’t.

Nobody would call out his name now

*End of flashback*

Kokichi aimlessly ran throughout the labyrinth as the painful memory flashed through his mind, tears blurred his vision. He could still hear the witch cackling in the labyrinth, the sound pulsed through his head, it almost hurt to listen to. “Shut up!” Kokichi yelled, as if the witch would listen. He batted away at more familiars, it almost seemed as if they were laughing too. In the distance he saw the witch, it seemed as though it was gesturing Kokichi to come towards it. Kokichi ran towards it with whatever strength he somehow had left. “GET! BACK! HERE!” Kokichi screamed, in between tired, stressed breaths. The witch kept laughing as it pedaled away, fast enough to keep away from Kokichi, but slow enough to stay in Kokichi’s sight. Kokichi chased the witch all the way into what seemed like a funhouse. Kokichi walked around the funhouse cautiously, in case the witch could have set up a surprise attack. He heard a little giggle from behind him, Kokichi turned around, to his surprise, there was nothing there. He kept walking through the funhouse, looking around at it’s seemingly endless maze of mirrors. Kokichi felt something tap on his shoulder, he turned around again, nothing.

Nothing but faint giggling

As he looked at all the mirrors in the funhouse, he could hear more giggling, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The mirrors frames seemed to be locked to wide, goofy smiles, in a similar to comedy masks, it was as if they were about to burst into laughter at any minute. He quickly walked through the halls of the the funhouse until he saw a single mirror in his way, surrounded by giggling familiars. Kokichi stopped and stared at what the mirror displayed.

It was him, crying and knocking around familiars, like he had been earlier. It was like the familiars had recorded him or something. There were even some mirrors laughing at it. (It seemed the mirrors were also familiars.) were all laughing at the “footage” (For lack of a better word) of Kokichi crying and knocking away at familiars with his mallet, like a bunch of children laughing at a funny clown on tv.

Kokichi picked a ball off of his hat and placed it on the floor. He lined up his mallet near the ball. He glared at the mirror playing the footage of him in such a sorry state. He hit the ball with all his might watching it crash into the mirror playing the footage of him, and then bounce from mirror to mirror, breaking them upon each impact. He smirked to himself as he watched the ball smash the mirrors into pieces. He left the hallway proud of himself, there wasn’t really a need to get the ball back, he could always summon more, the balls on his outfit grew back over a certain period of time.

However, as Kokichi walked away, he felt a blunt impact on the back of his head, causing him to stumble forward onto his stomach. He picked himself, back up, rubbing the back of his head. He looked down to see the ball he had hit earlier. He chuckled to himself, “At least nobody saw that”.

He realized what he said. He plopped the ball back onto his hat and walked away casually. (Sure he didn’t HAVE to retrieve his balls after hitting them, but it was still good to get them back whenever he could, every bounce made his mallet hits stronger after all). Hoping none of the mirrors recorded that. His hopes started to diminish as he went further into the funhouse, hearing more and more laughter as he got deeper. He could even see some of the mirror familiars laughing at him, writing insults on lower leveled mirrors for Kokichi to read, and even playing the footage of him getting hit by his own ball. Kokichi kept looking forward, he needed to preserve his magic to fight the witch, or any familiars that decided to gang up on him.

He trudged up to a large door with laughing mouths on it. He opened the door to see what appeared to be a circus ring, with the witch in the center, the seats were filled with familiars. They cheered as Kokichi entered, as if they were excited to see him. Kokichi glared at the witch, it bounced gleefully and gestured Kokichi to come towards it. Kokichi sprinted after the witch with his mallet. Kokichi swung with all his might, but the witch dodged. Kokichi kept trying to hit the witch, but it kept dodging. As Kokichi kept trying to hit the witch, the laughter from it and it’s familiars got louder and louder. Kokichi, stumbled around, desperately trying to hit the witch. Eventually Kokichi collapsed onto the ground, it was like he could barely be able to hear his own breathing over the laughter from the labyrinth. The witch rolled up to his pathetic form.

“Why?” Kokichi asked, more to himself to the witch. “Why would it bring me to the center of it’s own labyrinth?”

As if to answer his question, the witch opened it’s gaping mouth in a rectangular shape, like a tv screen. The familiars all went silent. Kokichi stared at the mouth in shock. It was a mirror playing footage of him, but not just any footage.

It was footage of his fight with Kaito.

It almost hurt to watch the recording, but the strange (Or worst) part was that the recording paused in between Kaito’s sentences, to give time for the familiars in the audience to laugh, like a sitcom.

“GONTA’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!” There was Laughter from the audience “HE’S DEAD BECAUSE YOU SCREWED AROUND AND HE HAD TO SAVE YOU FROM YOUR OWN STUPIDITY!” again, there was laughter. ”YOU! KILLED! GONTA!” There was not only laughter, but cheering from the crowd, almost as if the familiars were all saying “You tell him” in response. Kokichi watched his response in the recording. Wishing he could say how he really felt. Wishing he had the courage to say the truth.

The truth was, It was Kokichi’s fault.

The truth was, Kokichi was the stupid one, in a way

The truth was, Kokichi really did see them as friends.

The truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was the truth was...

“I need you” Kokichi whispered, pleadingly, “I need you”

Kokichi kept his head down as he tried to hold back tears. The recording continued the play, with the occasional laughter from the familiars. Until the recording finally ended, with the last scene. Himself, running away while crying.

As the recording stopped and the witch’s mouth returned to normal size, there was silence. Much to Kokichi’s relief. He looked up to face the witch.

The witch began to faintly giggle, the giggle grew into a mocking laughter, and then grew into a hysterical cackle, even pointing at Kokichi. It’s voice became deeper, and gained a demented echo to it. It’s familiars began to laugh to, the fuzzy ball balancing familiars pointed their tiny arms at Kokichi, while the mirror familiars wrote insults on their reflective surfaces, the on their frames now animated with laughter. With insults such as Crybaby, fool, liar, weakling, monster, and others. Kokichi stared at the at the crowd of familiars, all while tears poured out of his eyes. It all seemed so funny to them, his struggle, his misery, his despair, it was all so funny to these sick beings. It was all so funny that...

He started laughing too.

“Oh I get it now!” He shouted. “I get the joke now!” He yelled out to the crowd, crying and laughing at the same time. He turned to the witch, as if it could understand him.

“This is all a big joke!” He said. “This is a joke and I’m the punchline!” Kokichi laughed, feeling a little dumb that he didn’t get it sooner. “You’re some kind of a clown or circus witch” He explained. “You’re entire thing is making people laugh, or more accurately, making people do things to make YOU laugh!” He gestured towards is outfit. “My costume is basically a clown costume, and clowns make people laugh. One of the most common types of humor is seeing other people get hurt, like slapstick!” Kokichi felt kinda stupid for explaining the witch’s own gimmick to itself, but the explanation was more for his own benefit, it would be impossible to hear himself think with the cacophony of laughter from the witch and it’s familiars. “It all makes sense, the cheap carnival theme, the familiars, the funhouse, the circus tent center, The witch leading me here, the familiars being excited to see me.” He let out a deranged laugh, almost on par with the witch’s laughter. “This is all an act and I’m the main event! I’m the hilarious main event! This is all slapstick to you all! To you all, I’m just a clown putting on a show!” He picked up is mallet. “And the best part is, it’s kinda true in a way. It really is kinda funny!” He picked up his mallet and pounced onto the witch, smashing his mallet right on to unicycle, making sure it couldn’t get away. “So go ahead! Laugh at me!” Kokichi smashed his mallet on the witch, who was still laughing at him. “Laugh at the funny clown!” He smashed the mallet onto the witch again, knocking a few teeth out of it’s giant face- mouth.

“Laugh at the pathetic, crybaby, lying, heartless clown who can’t hold on to a single friend!” Kokichi than rapidly mashed his hammer on the witch, his laughing now indistinguishable to his gross sobbing.

Finally, after for what seemed like eternity of laughing, crying, and smashing, the witch was finally dead. The labyrinth disappeared, revealing the empty city crosswalk where it had spawned. Kokichi detransformed and collapsed onto the sidewalk, he panted, he could barely breathe. He picked up the grief seed and crawled onto a nearby bench at an empty bus stop and sighed. He looked at the grief seed’s pattern, it was a laughing mouth, just like the one on the witch. It was like even after defeat, the witch still laughed at Kokichi. The purple haired boy could still hear the witches laughter in his mind. Kokichi took his sould gem and placed the grief seed on it, watching a the murky blackness fade away. Kokichi felt as if a giant weight that had been left on his chest for hours and had finally been lifted. Kokichi took a deep breath in relief.

But why did he still hurt? He had no injuries (At least no major ones) and his soul gem was squeaky clean. Plus, how would he get home? It was almost 9:00, he should have been home an hour ago.

Kokichi didn’t really care anymore. He figured he’d just take the next bus, it would only be arriving in about ten minutes anyway. He could just say he got lost or something, It had happened before.

Kokichi stared at his soul gem, now in ring form, feeling tears prick up in his eyes. He curled up into a ball.

And finally cried.

#danganronpa #dangaronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #tw character death #puella magi madoka magica au #puella magi au #a witch being a bitch #Kokichi isn't a crybaby here #he just thinks he's one #also he's been through a lot in this fic #fanfiction #emotionally damaged kokichi #being meguca is suffering #kokichi actually feels feelings #Ya'll better like this I accidently missed a therapy appointment to write this #Took up almost a whole school day

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kinglazrus · 5 years ago

Text

Crystal Heart

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @that-dumbass-on-a-horse: Ghost sickness. Maddie and Jack try to fix it, but make it worse instead

Summary: When a ghost boy becomes a ghost man, his body goes through certain changes. And when his parents find out and try to help him, they inevitably almost kill him in the process. Almost.

Warnings: non-graphic body horror (melting)

Word count: 7248

I had to look up pictures of blood cells under a microscope and that was actually super cool. I love it when fanfiction involves fun research

As soon as Maddie saw the green flush on Danny's cheeks, she knew what it was. Some dastardly ectoplasmic pathogen from the Ghost Zone had infected her baby boy. It must have been from all the time he spent in the lab. Too many times, Maddie had caught him sneaking up from the basement with a sheepish look on his face. Occasionally, Sam and Tucker were with him. Maddie would have to get them tested for whatever illness currently afflicted Danny.

"I'm telling you, I feel fine," Danny said, looking anything but fine. He lay in bed, cheeks flushed an unearthly green. Sweat shone on his forehead.

"Good try, mister. Maybe I'll believe you when you stop covering your mouth like you have to puke," Maddie chastised her son. Standing with her hand on her hip, she shook her head. She had heard of teens faking illness to get out of school; it was so touching to know her boy wasn't like that.

"Mom, really, I'm fine," Danny insisted. He covered his mouth as he spoke, earning a very pointed glare from Maddie.

"I've already called the school. They know you're staying home today. Don't worry, your father and I will get you fixed up."

Panic and desperation filled Danny's eyes. It warmed Maddie's heart to see it. Who knew he cared so much about his classes? With how his grades had been dropping over the past year, she thought he had given up on school.

After pinning Danny with one last stern look, Maddie left his room and headed down to the kitchen. There should be a few packages of chicken noodle soup in the pantry for her to make. They usually kept a well-stocked supply dry soups, pastas, and other side dishes for the days dinner came to life. Maddie scanned the shelves, dragging her fingers across the various boxes, and grinned when she found the one she wanted. Pulling it out, she saw there was only one package left. It looked like they would need to restock soon.

Maddie quickly set to work making the soup, throwing the mixture of noodles and powder into a pot of water, turning the stove on low to simmer, and setting the oven timer to remind herself when to check it. With that done, she headed down to the lab.

Jack was hunched over his workstation, beakers laid out on the counter in front of him. Bubbling mixtures of various consistencies and colours filled the beakers, steam rising from more than a few even though they weren't set over heat.

"Danny's staying home today," she told Jack. "I think he caught a ghost bug."

"No son of mine is gonna get taken down but a ghost! I'll squash it like a fly!" declared.

Maddie smiled fondly and shook her head. "No, Jack. Not a bug ghost, a ghost bug. He's sick."

"Oh. Well, we'll squash that sickness anyway! And then we'll squash the ghost that gave it to him! And then we'll squash Phantom!"

"You said it, honey!" She kissed Jack on the cheek before heading to her own station. Taking a test sample kit out from the cupboard, she pulled out a Fenton Swab and a Fenton Tube. They were nearly identical to the standard cotton swab and sample tube they were modelled after, except the Fenton versions were designed to withstand ectoplasm's acidic properties. They also had the word Fenton on them.

"Whatcha doing, Mads?" Jack asked, briefly looking up from his work.

"I want to rule out environmental factors. Danny spends so much time down here, and he never wears a jumpsuit since his got misplaced. We need to make sure the portal doesn't contain any contagions that could make others sick," she explained. Sticking her thumb against the DNA scanner, she opened the portal doors.

Green light spilled over the lab floor, rippling over the metal panels. Carefully, Maddie took the Fenton Swab and stuck it in the portal's swirling mass. It wasn't like sticking something in water. The ectoplasm in the portal had no resistance. Even though it looked opaque from afar, up close it more resembled a colourful mist. Swirling her hand around, she dragged the swab through the ectoplasm, coating it thoroughly.

It was mesmerizing. Despite how long she and Jack had studied ectoplasm for, she still didn't understand how its state of matter worked. It could go from solid to gas in an instant, or hang in the air like a fog and become liquid the moment it touched something. Sometimes it took minutes to dissipate, other times it took hours. There were so many contradicting circumstances, it was fascinating.

Perhaps ectoplasm was its own state of matter that couldn't be defined by Earthly physics.

Maddie waited until ectoplasm was practically dripping off the cotton end before pulling her hand back out, dropping the swab into the sample tube. Analyzing it would be easy enough. They had studied samples from the portal before, but ectoplasm's most consistent trait was how inconsistent it was. You could take two ectoplasmic samples from a single entity one week apart and their surface properties would be completely different.

The one core characteristic was a unique pattern of crystallization, visible with careful observation under a microscope. Each ghost seemed to have their own pattern. In some cases, they were highly personal. The ghost who liked to shout about boxes all the time had a square crystallization pattern.

If she could isolate the ectoplasm making Danny sick, she could compare the pattern with the portal and see if they matched. If they did, then she could study the rest of the portal sample and see what was making Danny sick.

Maddie tapped her foot as she placed a drop of ectoplasm on a slide and put it under the microscope, setting the rest of the sample aside for later testing.

"No need for that!"

Maddie paused just before putting her eye to the lens, turning to face Jack instead.

He grinned widely at her, holding out one of the beakers from his desk. "I've got our solution right here!" He wiggled the beaker. The thick purple substance inside barely jiggled. "It's the newest version of ecto-dejecto. This time, it actually works."

Reaching out, Jack took the sample Maddie had put aside. He stuck the swab into the purple goo; it stayed standing upright when he let go. The goo around the swab hissed and steamed.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Maddie asked.

"Uh, maybe?"

Green bubbles bloomed across the top layer of goo, quickly expanding upward. Jack yelped and dropped the beaker as the ectoplasm foamed over his hand. The beaker shatterd as soon as it hit the ground, glass shards going flying. The goo kept expanding, fizzing and frothing as it changed from purple to green, growing until it was a mound as big as a medium sized dog. With a few final hisses, the ectoplasm settled.

"It doesn't work yet, but it will," Jack said, confidence unshaken.

"I know it will," Maddie said. She had complete faith in her husband. Jack might bumble around sometimes, but his mind was truly brilliant. Where other people looked at things and saw only what was on the surface, Jack saw everything. He always excelled more on the chemistry side of things, even if he had a few mishaps every now and then.

It's what made them such a good team. Maddie handled the math, physics, and most of the weapon construction while Jack handled the ideas. She brought his head out of the clouds when he went too far. He raised her up so she could see all the possibilities and push them farther.

"Well, hey, I've got more ectoplasm to test with now," Jack said. He bent down and prodded the quivering mass.

In the silence, Maddie heard the oven beeping upstairs.

"Oh, shoot, Danny's soup." Maddie leapt out of her seat. She snatched a spare swab and sample tube from the counter and took off for the stairs. "Don't forget to clean up the glass!" She tossed the words over her shoulder, hoping Jack heard her.

On the stove, the pot was boiling over. Water hissed as it doused the element, steam and smoke clouding over the stove. Maddie grabbed a tea towel and shoved the pot off the element, accidentally splashing more water out.

"Oh, no," she grumbled, shutting off the stove. She took in the mess with a defeated sigh. There was more soup on the counter than there was in the pot. The timer must have gone off some time ago, or she had set it for too long. Tossing the tea towel over the spilled soup, she left it there to soak up some of the mess and went to the fridge instead, hoping they had something she could give Danny.

Her prospects were slim. Some questionable lunch meat that was about to expire. A door full of condiments. A ceramic pot that rattled every few seconds. Its lid was tied down to keep the reanimated fruit cocktail from escaping. Overall, the fridge was woefully empty. Maddie really needed to go grocery shopping.

She ended up taking a carton of orange juice from the door, pouring a glass, and decided Danny would have to settle for this until she came back from the store.

"Danny, sweetie?" Maddie asked, gently knocking on his door. It creaked open. Peeking inside, she saw his empty bed. A clatter from the bathroom drew her attention. "Oh, Danny." She shook her head, setting the glass of orange juice down on his dresser, and headed down the hall.

The door was shut. Soft white light shone underneath it, not nearly as bright as it should have been. One of the lights above the mirror must have burnt out again. Gently, she knocked and called Danny's name.

"Uh, just a minute!" Danny said.

The light under the door flared, then settled. Maddie heard the toilet flushing, followed by a quick burst of water from the tap. Finally, the knob turned, the lock clicking out of place, and Danny eased the door open. He kept one hand over his mouth.

"Hey, Mom. What brings you here?" he asked. Behind his palm, Maddie saw his lips twitch into a smile.

"You do, young man. I told you to stay in bed," Maddie said, crossing her arms.

"Bathroom. Had to go. You know how it is," Danny said. Using his elbow, he bumped the door open wider, his other hand pressed against his head. He squeezed past Maddie and shuffled backward toward his room. "But bed sounds like a great idea. In fact, I think I'll have a nap. No need to check on me or anything. You don't even need to open the door!"

He chuckled weakly, sidling into his room, and kicked the door shut.

Maddie wasn't sure what to make of all that. Danny hadn't even shut off the bathroom light. Reaching through the doorway to do just that, she noticed something odd. The toilet lid was down. Danny had the habit of leaving it up, no matter how much she reminded him not to. It was a small detail, but an curious one nonetheless. She decided not to dwell on it. More than likely, he was finally starting to build up the habit.

Maddie was halfway down the stairs when she remembered she needed a spit sample from Danny. Heading back up, she paused on the landing when she heard Danny talking, voice low.

"I don't know what's wrong." He sounded panicked. "I've only been awake for a couple hours but it's getting worse."

Maddie stopped. Instead of pushing Danny's door open, she crept forward, holding her ear against it. While she would never let Danny get away with eavesdropping, as his concerned mother, she had the right to listen in on his conversation.

"I don't know. My mouth was kind of hurting yesterday, but that's a whole other thing, right?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Tucker! I'm being serious here! First it was the blush, and then it was my hair." Maddie frowned at that. "What's next? My eyes?"

Danny's dresser rattled—she hoped he saw the orange juice—and he groaned. "Yep, it's the eyes now!"

Maddie really should go in there. Her baby was clearly panicking and needed her help.

"I don't care about my teeth!"

In a minute. She would go in, in a minute.

"Ugh, fine, whatever." Maddie heard Danny shuffling around, drawers opening and closing. It lasted for a full thirty seconds before he spoke again. "Okay, I got it. Happy now?" His words slurred slightly, as if he wasn't closing his mouth all the way.

Deciding enough was enough, Maddie pushed the door open without knocking. "Sorry, Danny, I forgot that I... needed..." The excuse died on her lips as she got a good look at Danny.

Green swirled in his eyes and a white streak cut through his hair. Danny spit out the large Saturn pendant of his chewable necklace and whispered into his phone. "Tucker, I got to go." Tossing his phone back into his bed, he stepped forward and raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Mom, I can explain."

"Oh, my poor baby, you're so much worse than I thought," Maddie said. She rushed forward, taking Danny's face in her hands, and turned his head to the side so she could examine the streak in his hair. His bangs were white from root to tip. Using her thumb and forefinger, she pulled his eye open wide and examined his iris.

It looked like the infection was spreading. She thought it was a simple case of contamination, but that wouldn't do this. The green blush, yes, but changing his hair and eyes? Altering his physical and chemical makeup? This was serious.

"I'm sorry, Danny. Your nap has to wait. You're coming down to the lab with me now." Taking Danny by the wrist, Maddie pulled him out of his room.

"It's really not what you think!" Under his breath, he added, "I hope it's not what I think, either."

"Danny, your father and I are experts. Whatever you think it is, it isn't. Your dad is working on a cure right now. But at the rate this is accelerating, I can't let you out of my sight. I have to check all your vitals and keep detailed notes about how this progresses," Maddie said. "This is nothing like the ghost flu your father and I had."

"I still say that was just a regular flu."

"Now is not the time for your sass." Maddie dragged Danny all the way down to the lab.

Glass no longer littered the floor, although the blob of ectoplasm still sat beside Maddie's chair. Pulling the chair out, she pushed Danny into the seat and wheeled him across the lab to the medical station. Setting him out of the way in the hollow of the safety shower, Maddie opened the cupboard beneath the eyewash station and pulled out what she needed.

Beyond the run of the mill first-aid kit, the lab had a few tools you would find in a standard health clinic.

Danny squirmed and tried to leave his seat a few times, but Maddie kept pushing him back down. She didn't let him stand until she had taken his vitals, checked his eyes, nose, and throat, and gave him a thorough physical exam.

"Mom!" Danny whined when Maddie lifted shirt. She ignored him, looking over his body for signs of discolouration. There weren't any, yet. She suspected it was only a matter of time.

"Jack, how's that ecto-dejecto coming?" she asked.

"Almost got it!"

"Ecto-dejecto?" Danny paled.

Maddie sent him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. We're fixing the recipe so that it destabilizes the ectoplasm rather than makes it stronger. It will make it easier for your body to flush out the toxins." Her eyes dropped to the pendant around Danny's neck, his conversation with Tucker returning to mind. "What was Tucker talking about with your teeth?"

She had only spared them a brief glance when checking Danny's through, more concerned with hidden rashes or pustules.

"You were spying on me?" Danny's cheeks flushed in anger. "So not cool!"

"Danny, I'm your mother and I'm worried about you. You're sick."

"I'm fine! That doesn't make it okay to spy on me."

"You'll understand when you're older."

Danny tipped his head back and groaned.

"Now, open your mouth."

Danny squinted at her, which earned him nothing but a motherly glare. Stubborn but relenting, he slowly opened his mouth. Maddie rolled her eyes at her son's antics. Once his mouth was open wide enough, she checked his teeth. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

"What's bothering you about them?" she asked. The hair and eyes were undoubtedly ghost-related matters. So far, Maddie was inclined to agree with Danny that his mouth pains were simply a coincidence.

"My gums just started hurting yesterday. Like there was a lot of pressure or something," Danny explained.

"And the necklace?"

"Chewing on something kind of helped, I guess. That was the first time I tried it, but it felt okay."

Something about that resonated with Maddie. She leaned back, frowning. It sounded like what happened when children teeth. When Danny was a baby growing in his teeth for the first time, he chewed on everything to make it stop hurting. Maddie had to throw out so many of his stuffed animals because he chewed on them until they were too dirty to keep.

"Can you pull your lips down?"

Danny obliged, raising his chin so Maddie could get a better look. The gums looked fine, no bumps or bulges, and his teeth were still in line.

"Top lip," she said.

Hooking his finger under his lip, Danny pulled it up. Maddie's eyes widened immediately. On the left side, between his canine tooth and lateral incisor, the sharp tip of a new tooth poked out of his gums. It looked like it was growing over his other teeth.

"You have an extra tooth," she declared.

"A what?" Danny shouted. He ran his fingers along his top teeth, pausing to feel the new one growing in.

"It's fine," Maddie said, waving off his concern. "Your father had one growing behind his incisor in college. He just had to get it removed. It's not related to whatever this," she gestured to his hair and eyes, "is."

"Oh." Danny deflated, looking relieved, although he didn't take his finger out of his mouth. He kept touching the new tooth. Swivelling in the chair, he leaned toward the wall, examining his reflection in the shining surface.

"Mads! I did it!" Jack's heavy steps thudded across the lab as he pounded over.

Content that Danny was occupied and wouldn't slip away the second she took her eyes off him, Maddie focused on Jack. He bounced on his heels, holding out a test tube filled to the brim with a yellow-tinged liquid.

"It's all about using the ectoplasm's natural properties against itself. If we can lock it in a liquid state, the ectoplasm loses hold of its form and liquifies! Just watch." He scurried back to Maddie's workstation.

With a careful tip of his hand, he poured a single drop of ecto-dejecto on the solidified ectoplasm. Sickly yellow patches spread across its surface. The ectoplasm started breaking down. Sloughing off in chunks, layer upon layer melted away, dripping down to the floor until only a wide green puddle remained.

"It's perfect! Pass me the syringe."

Jack got the needle ready in record time. Maddie wasn't concerned about giving Danny the ecto-dejecto without doing trials on living creatures first. Anti-ectoplasmic agents, by their very nature, did not harm living tissue. They isolated and attacked ectoplasm and ectoplasm alone. For this reason, anti-ghost weaponry was completely harmless to humans. Ghost shields, ghost guns, none of them could hard people.

It was also was the very same reason why Maddie and Jack did not have strict rules barring Danny and Jazz from the lab. They wanted their children to be curious. What better way to promote an interest in science then let them explore it in a safe manner with chemicals and compounds that would not harm them?

Danny was still examining his reflection, although he was probing something on the right side of his mouth instead.

Maddie pushed up his t-shirt sleeve. "Hold still, sweetie," she said, and stabbed his shoulder with the needle. Pressed the plunger, she injected him with the ecto-dejecto.

"Ow!" Danny flinched, jerking around to face Maddie. His gaze caught on the needle in her hand. "What was that?"

"Don't worry, you'll be all better by tomorrow," Maddie assured him.

"No, really." Danny stood up. He swayed, careening into the wall, and gasped. Staring down at his hands, he flexed his trembling fingers. "Seriously." He looked up at Maddie, helpless. "What was that?"

His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

"Danny!" Maddie dropped to her knees beside him, Jack joining her a second later. Panic overwhelmed her. That shouldn't have happened. The ecto-dejecto was perfect. It should have worked flawlessly. Instead, Danny's skin around the injection site was quickly turning a dark, sickly green. His breathing was shallow, and his eyelids fluttered.

Pressing two fingers to Danny's neck, Maddie felt his pulse, erratic. What happened? What went wrong? What did Maddie do? She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just sent Danny to his grave.

"Mads." Jack's voice snapped her out of her spiralling thoughts. "We need to get him to the hospital. I'll carry him up to the RV. You call Jazz. We'll get her taken out of school."

"Right. Right." Maddie nodded, swallowing thickly. She had never been more thankful to have Jack by her side. Right when her vision started narrowing and all she could see was one outcome—Danny dead, Maddie his murderer—Jack was there to pull her up.

Moving back, she gave Jack room to gather Danny up. Jack was a big man, with thick arms and heavy-looking hands, but he cradled Danny so gently, as if he was a baby again.

"See the big picture, focus on the little steps," Jack said.

"Big picture, little steps," Maddie repeated. The words rang out in her head, over and over like a mantra. Big picture, little steps. Saving Danny, calling Jazz. Her phone was at her workstation. While Jack carried Danny upstairs, Maddie sprinted over to her station, snagging her phone off the counter. She easily found the number for Casper High.

"Casper High, this is Connie Burjan."

"H–hello Ms. Burjan." Maddie took a deep breath and smoothed out her voice. "This is Madeline Fenton, calling for Jasmine Fenton. I'm her mother."

"What can I do for you?"

"There's an emergency and we need to pull Jazz out of school. She needs to be with her family right now."

"Of course. I'll call her to the principal's office. I hope everything will be alright."

Maddie gave a rueful grin. "So do I." She hung up and headed upstairs.

Jack already had Danny in the back of the RV, laid out on one of the benches. He looked so small curled up on his side, shaking and shivering. Seeing him like that sent a surge of loathing through Maddie. She did this.

"You take Danny to the hospital. I'll pick up Jazz," Jack said, motioning to the little-used family car.

"No, we can't," Maddie said. She cursed softly. "We never got the transmission fixed."

They used the car so little. It was a relic from days past, the same vehicle Jack had in college. These days, they preferred the RV both because of its size and its ghost defenses.

"We pick up Jazz on the way," Jack said.

Maddie didn't want Jazz to see her brother this way, but she nodded anyway. They could leave Jazz at school for the rest of the day, but that didn't feel right. The whole family needed to be together.

Jack climbed into the back with Danny, sitting on the floor rather than the bench opposite his, while Maddie got in the front seat. Starting the car, she practically tore out of the garage, ripping through the back alley behind their house. She may have been a less hazardous driver than Jack, but she was just as fast.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay," Jack whispered. Looking in the rear-view mirror, Maddie saw him running his hands through Danny's hair in a soothing gesture. It reminded her of when Danny was little. He used to get sick so easily, stuck at home for days on end with a cold or flu. One of them would sit with him until he fell asleep, reading books about astronomy and brushing his hair like Jack was doing now.

Maddie's grip on the steering wheel tightened. This was nothing like back then. The bruise on Danny's arm had spread, a spotty discolouration taking over the whole limb.

When they got to the school, Jazz was already waiting outside, standing on the front steps. She ran up the sidewalk the second the RV came into view, bounding toward the vehicle. Jack threw the door open for her.

"What happened? Ms. Burjan didn't say," Jazz said. Her gaze fell to Danny. She paled, cupping her mouth. "Danny!"

She clambered into the car, leaving Jack to shut the door again, and immediately knelt in front of her brother. Her hands hovered over him before she touched his forehead, feeling his temperature. "What happened?" she asked.

"He was sick. Some kind of ghost sickness. We– I gave him ecto-dejecto to flush it out," Maddie explained shakily. She couldn't meet her daughter's eyes.

Jazz stared down at Danny. Gnawing on her thumbnail, she kept swivelling her head back and forth, glancing between Danny, Jack, and Maddie. She looked conflicted.

"Jazz?" Jack asked, seeing the same indecision as Maddie.

"You can't take him to the hospital," Jazz said. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Danny, and pulled him into a protective embrace.

"Jasmine! Your brother needs a doctor!" Maddie said.

"No, you don't understand!" Jazz shook her head vigorously. "You can't take him, they'll– they'll find out."

"Find out what?" Jack asked.

She bit her lip, holding Danny closer. Whispering an apology in Danny's ear, she raised her head and glared defiantly at Maddie and Jack. "They'll find out Danny's not human!"

Maddie slammed her foot on the breaks. Jack's arms shout out to brace himself on the sides of the RV. Jazz yelped, sliding forward, and curled around Danny to protect him as he fell halfway off the bench.

Panting, Maddie turned around and stared at Jazz. "He's what?" she asked.

Jazz shifted, putting herself between Danny and Maddie, as if he needed protecting from her. "He's not human," she repeated. "He's... his accident. It did something to him." Shaking her head, she continued, "If you take him to the hospital, they'll report him. It's in that stupid ecto act the G.I.W. have. Any cases of ecto-contamination need to be reported so they can take care of it."

Maddie's mind refused to process that information. She heard it, loud and clear, but she couldn't comprehend it. Of course Danny was human. He was her son, her baby boy, her flesh and blood. She brought him into this world. To say he wasn't human was just ridiculous. Impossible. No accident could change someone that much. No accident could take away someone's humanity.

The streak in Danny's hair stood out, glaringly bright, against his dark locks. The bruising had spread to his neck now. It would only be a matter of minutes before it touched his cheeks, too.

"Jazz, what happened to Danny?" Maddie was afraid of the answer.

"I can't tell you," Jazz whispered. "It's not my secret. I already said too much. But anything that could help him? None of that is going to be at the hospital. If ecto-dejecto did this to him, he doesn't need human medicine."

Maddie paled.

"Jazzypants," Jack said softly, reaching out.

Jazz scooted back, taking Danny with her. "We have to go back home. And you have to promise me. You have promise that, no matter what you find out, you won't hurt Danny."

"Jazz–"

"Promise!"

"We promise," Maddie said.

"Okay." Jazz nodded. "Okay. Let's get Danny home."

Facing forward, Maddie turned the RV around.

—

The couch was hardly sanitary. Jack and Maddie had to carry it in from the garage, and it was covered in dust. Maddie told Jazz as much, but her daughter refused to let them put Danny on the examination table.

"I can't let him wake up like that, lying there, with you looking over him," Jazz said. "It's his worst nightmare."

It broke Maddie's heart to hear that.

Jazz sat with Danny, his head in her lap. She had taken Jack's place stroking his hair. Maybe that was for the best. Based on what Jazz said, Danny wouldn't react well to either Maddie or Jack being the first face he saw if we woke up.

When, Maddie corrected herself. When he wakes up.

The couch sat all the way across the lab, as far from Maddie and Jack as it could get. Not to keep Danny away from them, but because they hadn't cleaned up the puddle of ectoplasm on the floor yet. It was a medical hazard, not to mention an accident waiting to happen, but they had other things to focus on right now.

Maddie forced herself to look away from her children, a heartfelt scene, and turned back to her microscope. She had a sample of Danny's blood underneath it and was looking for signs of crystallization. If she wanted to treat him right, she needed to know just how ghostly he was, and if he was even sick in the first place.

Danny himself said he didn't know what was going on.

Zooming in forty times, one hundred times, four hundred times, Maddie scowled in frustration. She could see his blood cells, but she couldn't see any crystallization. It didn't make sense.

"Anything, Jack?" Maddie asked, pulling back from the lens.

Jack, sitting beside her, leaned forward and scrutinized the computer screen. It was plugged in to the microscope, showing the same view Maddie saw of the sample. He shook his head.

"I don't get it. It should be there," he said.

Maddie nodded. Switching out Danny's sample for the ectoplasm from the portal, she shifted closer to Jack and scoured the screen. The image was blindingly bright. Unlike human blood, which could be seen as individual cells when you looked close enough, ectoplasm remained one solid mass no matter how far you zoomed in. The only thing that seemed to change was how large the crystallization lines were.

In the portal's sample, they swirled together in spiral patterns. It mimicked the way the ectoplasm moved in the portal itself.

Maddie wondered how that worked. Other ghosts had some form of conscience that seemed to influence and be influenced by their ectoplasm, resulting in unique patterns. The portal, however, had no consciousness. Perhaps all ambient ectoplasm from the Ghost Zone would bear an identical pattern. It was something they would have to look into, once Danny was fine.

Staring at the bright screen too long hurt Maddie's eyes. She was forced to look away, rubbing spots out of her vision. There had to be something they were missing.

Jack drummed his fingers on the table and hummed.

"What is it?" Maddie asked.

"Ectoplasm isn't blood," he said.

Maddie blinked, confused. "Yes?"

"So, why are we looking at Danny's blood like it's ectoplasm?"

Maddie blinked again. Her thoughts snapped into place. "Of course!" she shouted. She switched the ectoplasm with Danny's sample once again, zooming the microscope in to one thousand.

"Enlarge the image," Maddie said.

On the computer keyboard, Jack tapped a few keys, doing as asked. The image blew up to fill the screen.

Maddie pointed to one of Danny's red blood cells. "There," she said. She traced her nail along a thin line just barely visible, cutting across the cell. "Ectoplasm is one solid mass, as far as we know, but blood isn't. The crystallization appears on the individual cells, not around them."

"You found something?" Jazz called from across the room.

"You betcha, Jazzypants!" Jack whooped, throwing up his arms.

Maddie left him to celebrate, focusing instead on the pattern she could see. It looked like starbursts. Of course they would, this was Danny. She expected nothing less from her space-loving son. Scanning the image over and over, she tried to see if she could tell exactly how ghostly Danny was. The crystallization appeared fainter, but there was just as much of it as any ectoplasmic sample, simply reduced to a smaller space. Maddie's gaze caught on one of the cells in the corner of the image.

"That's odd," she said. "Jack, look at this." She beckoned him closer, pointing to what had caught her attention. "That cell there. It's the same swirl pattern as the portal.

"You're right," Jack murmured, fascinated.

Tapping her finger on her cheek, Maddie kept staring. There was something else about the pattern, something that nagged at her. It was almost familiar, which should be impossible because every ghost was unique.

"Jack, compare this sample to other ones we have logged in the system," Maddie said.

Behind her, Jazz called, "You don't need to do that!"

"Yes we do."

On the computer monitor, Maddie saw Jazz's reflection. Jazz carefully lifted Danny's head, sliding off the couch, and set him back down. Scurrying across the lab, her socks slipped on the metal tiles.

"Jazz, be careful!" Maddie swivelled her chair around, reaching out to Jazz, but was too late to catch her. Jazz's feet shot out from under her and she hit the ground hard. She groaned, rubbing her backside.

"You should be more careful, you almost fell into the..." Maddie's words died out. The puddle of ectoplasm was gone. "Jack, did you clean up the mess from earlier?"

"Hm? The glass? Yeah, I got it all," he said.

"No, not that, the–" A green blur shot across the lab.

Maddie leapt to her feet, instinctively reaching for an ecto-weapon, but she wasn't wearing any. The green mass zipped back and forth, moving erratically, too fast for Maddie to see. Until it stopped over Danny, hovering.

The ghost was small, about the size of a puppy. It had no arms or legs, just a shimmering body. Spiral patterns danced across its skin, shifting constantly. Yellow rash-like patches smothered the spirals in some places.

Maddie's gaze fell from the ghost to where the puddle of ectoplasm had been mere minutes ago.

"It didn't work," she said quietly, gaping at the ghost.

"Maddie, you should look at this."

"No, Jack, it didn't work!"

"Baby, you really need to look at this!"

Maddie turned, annoyed Jack wasn't listening to her, and froze. The computer had found a match in the crystal patterns. Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom, one hundred percent.

—

There were only so many dramatic revelations Maddie could handle in one day. First Danny had a ghost flu, then it was worse than a flu, then he was dying, then he wasn't, and then it turned out he was dead all along. Her heart couldn't take it.

She sat on the floor in front of Danny's couch, watching him sleep. The reanimated ghost slept with him, curled up on his back. It was almost cute. Normally, Maddie would have blasted the thing to shreds by now for even getting close to Danny, much less touching him. But right now, that ghost was a sign of hope.

Not only did the ghost recover from the ecto-dejecto, but it gained consciousness. Unless, of course, the portal was conscious after all. That thought sent shivers up her spine. What did that say about Danny, who shared key DNA elements with the portal's ectoplasm? What did it say about the newly birthed ghost that already seemed so attached to him?

It was just Maddie, Danny, and the ghost in the lab. Jazz and Jack had gone upstairs to eat, at Maddie's insistence. It had been a harrowing day and it was barely past noon. Inching forward, she rested her elbows on the cushion beside Danny, folding her arms. The ghost on his back shuffled and yawned, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her. She took that as a good sign.

Danny had stopped shaking not too long ago. The discolouration on his skin had started fading, although not the way Maddie wanted it to. Rather than disappearing completely, it was turning a light salmon colour, a couple shades pinker than a nasty sunburn. Judging by the yellow stains that had yet to fade from the portal ghost, Danny's pink patches would not disappear completely. The sight of them sickened her. Not because they were ugly—Danny could never be ugly to her—but because they were a sign of what she had almost done.

The first few seconds after learning Danny was Phantom, Maddie felt betrayed. How could her own son not trust her with something so monumental? The second thing she felt was a cathartic realization as all the pieces fell into place. The failing grades, the absences, breaking curfew. All their inventions reacting to Danny. It explained everything. Looking back, she should have seen it sooner. Maddie really despised hindsight.

She reached out and brushed Danny's hair away from his forehead, briefly checking his temperature. Disturbingly cold, but Jazz said that was normal for him. Maddie had no choice but to trust her information.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. How many times had she threatened Danny to his face, without knowing it was really him? All the experiments she and Jack had proposed, all the ways they would take Phantom apart to figure out how he ticked. It was horrible.

"I'm so, so sorry." She ran her hand through his hair. Her palm came away wet. Confused, she stared at the ectoplasm streaked across her hand. Pushing Danny's hair back, she checked his scalp for an injury, finding a viscous patch of skin. Before Maddie could process what was happening, Danny was already halfway gone.

"No, no!" She tried to hold him together, but it didn't work. Beneath her helpless gaze, Danny melted, leaving her kneeling in a pool of his ectoplasm, horrified. Her voice caught behind her tongue and refused to move any farther. Cupping her mouth, she croaked pathetically, squeezing her eyes shut. A horrible sob tore through her throat.

Maddie gripped the edge of the couch, punching the cushion. The ghost laying there squawked in protest. Maddie's head snapped up.

"You," she said. Pulling herself up, she braced herself on either side of the ghost. "This happened to you. You came back. How did you do it? Make him come back!"

Crying out in grief, she lowered her head against the couch, shaking. Danny was supposed to be fine. He was supposed to wake up and realize Maddie and Jack knew his secret. He was supposed to wake up and smile because he didn't have to hide anymore. He wasn't... he wasn't supposed to... he couldn't...

A soft white glow filled the room. Maddie opened her eyes, nearly blinded by the light. It came from the ectoplasm. Bright stretching over the puddle, rippling outward from the center at Maddie's knees. The ectoplasm started rising, the rings rising with it, cascading downward.

Slowly, a shape took form, growing out of the ectoplasm. A faceless blob that quickly grew a head, a torso, arms. An achingly familiar form. The ectoplasm creeped back together, sucked inward as the last of the rings faded, and Danny Phantom fell forward into Maddie's waiting arms. She buried a hand on his hair, pressing his face against her shoulder, and let out a broken laugh.

Danny shifted, his arms raising, wrapping around her. "Mom?" he asked, lifting his head.

Maddie wiped her eyes on her sleeve and pulled back so she could see him. He looked different. Where white strands had glistened in Danny's human hair, a black streak now marked his ghost form. His eyes were brighter. Green flecked sparkled on his cheeks like stars. Two new, sharp teeth sat over his canines and lateral incisors on either side of his mouth. He even looked a little taller.

The discolouration remained, though. Grey instead of red.

He tipped his head down, focusing on his body. Startled into action, he yelped and scrambled away, putting distance between them. "I– I mean, Maddie. Madeline. Madeline Fenton. What are you doing here?" he said in a false, deep voice. "In your own lab. What are you doing here in your lab?"

Maddie couldn't help it. She laughed.

"Mo– addie. What, uh, what's going on right now? Am I being punked?" Danny floated back, casting a nervous glance around the room.

"I'm sorry, it's just." She paused to giggle. "How did you ever keep this a secret from us? That voice is so terrible."

"Hey! I like my voice!" Danny shouted, dropping the false voice. His eyes widened and he quickly resumed the charade. "I mean, I like my voice. This voice. This is my voice. And you... you are still laughing."

"Danny..." Maddie wiped her eyes again, this time tears of happiness. "We know."

"You... know?"

"We know."

Danny gawked at her. All it took was Maddie opening her arms and he flew forward, crashing into her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied," he whispered.

Maddie nearly started crying again. "I'm sorry you had to."

"I just, you and Dad. Fighting ghosts is what you do, and I panicked and didn't tell you, and then it felt like I had waited too long. But I... how do you know?" He peered up at her, tilting his head.

"Jazz told us. We thought... we thought you were dying."

"I felt like it."

Maddie cringed.

"Oh, no, geez, I didn't mean it like that. I meant before you got me with whatever that was. I don't remember anything after that and now I feel kind of great actually," Danny said in a rush. Standing up, he flexed his fists and looked down. Following his gaze, Maddie saw he was examining his reflection in the floor. "Did I go through ghost puberty or something?"

Silence stretched between them for a second.

"Oh my god," Danny said, eyes widening. "I totally went through ghost puberty."

He leaned down to get a better look. Before he could, the portal ghost barrelled into his chest, throwing him back against the couch. The ghost zipped around him, nuzzling him and saying gibberish words. At least it sounded like gibberish to Maddie.

Danny caught the ghost in his arms, trapping it against his chest in a bear hug. "And who's this?" he asked.

"Your new best friend," Maddie teased.

"Damn. Sam and Tucker will be so disappointed." Danny flopped onto his back, holding the ghost above his head as if it were a cat.

Maddie felt a sense of calm wash over her. She didn't realize she had still been nervous, but hearing Danny's sarcastic voice, seeing him play with the new ghost, her worries finally disappeared. Everything was going to be okay.

#phic phight #phic phight 2020 #danny phantom #phanfiction #phanfic #phicc #tumblroneshots #hurt/comfort #reveal fic #ghost puberty #ghost sickness #slight melting #but it gets fixed

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maximumjinx · 6 years ago

Text

Ladybug’s Finale

Chapter 2

- didn’t expect this to get any attention, but appreciate it nonetheless!-

“Ladybug, remember to breathe.” Adrien spoke, slightly panicked. The heroine’s air of mystery and professionalism in her new suit was lost with her wheezing, bent over with hands on her knees.

“Oh my god I’m an idiot. Of course you’re Chat, same blonde hair, same eyes, nobody showers that much! How could I have never seen it?” Ladybug spoke rapidly, freaking out not because Chat was Adrien, someone she didn’t really know how to feel about, but how blind she was to it all.

“Are you upset?” Adrien looked downwards, not meeting her eyes.

“Yes! No? I’m feeling a lot.” She hadn’t felt this much in a while if she were honest with herself. Ever since Lila returned everything had been mildly numb. The panic in her heart and head felt familiar, and a tad comforting.

“Are you disappointed?”

Ladybug didn’t know how to answer. A few weeks ago, she would have been jumping for joy. But Chat was so pushy about his feelings he disregarded her own. Adrien didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the class, so he also wasn’t concerned with how she felt either. Regardless, she was cast aside.

She wasn’t disappointed that Chat was Adrien or vice versa, but maybe she was disappointed in them as a person.

She wanted so badly to reveal herself, if only to see what his reaction would be. To turn the question back on him. Instead, she squashed her curiosity. Revealing her identity now could be even more dangerous.

“If I’m honest, I don’t know how to feel about you,” she held back, watching her partner deflate, “I think I have to get to know you again. From scratch.”

Hope filled the boy’s eyes.

“I’m okay with that. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Ladybug frowned. She had thought it was mostly due to her avoidance of Chat Noir, but he hadn’t called her a pet name all night. It seemed like he was holding back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything Bug.”

“You don’t call me your Lady anymore.” Her face remained passive. “What’s up?”

She didn’t want to ask if he found someone. She didn’t want to ask if he had stopped loving her

Adrien blushed, cheeks finally uncovered to show how bashful he can be.

“I- you said-“ he stumbled, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Ladybug hummed. She felt some relief flood into her body. She took a few steps to the edge of the roof and took a seat. Adrien followed suit.

“I didn’t like it in the middle of a fight.”

“I know, I act stupid sometimes-“

“No,” She turned to him, a flicker of feeling in her chest as she met his eyes. “Don’t apologize for acting like yourself. Just for the poor timing.”

Adrien smiled at that. He dug his hands into his pockets, squeezing his fingers.

“Honestly, it was Marinette that changed my mind.”

Ladybug choked on air.

“The bakery girl?”

“Multimouse, baker, class president, designer.” Adrien smiled, “She is a girl of many hats. Makes them too!”

She felt the lilt of smile struggle to surface. Adrien had always been Chat, silliness and all. Why hadn’t he shared that part of him? Or had she not seen it in a cloud of model perfection?

“What made her change your mind?”

“She wanted to stand up to this girl at our school, Lila. She isn’t mean like Chloe, but lies a lot.” Adrien’s brows furrowed. “To make friends, gain popularity, I don’t know really. But it drove Mari up a wall.”

Ladybug lifted her eyebrows. “Mari, huh? Guess I’m not the only one graced with nicknames.”

Adrien must have been getting cold, his cheeks were dusted with color.

“Marinette kept trying to call her out on it, Lila even lied to me too. You knew that though.” He recalled her outburst in the park. “She gets akumatized so often and it’s such a headache. I told Mari to let it go, since it wasn’t hurting anyone.”

Ladybug’s fingers felt cold. It started to climb up her arms and shoulders.

“Doesn’t it hurt her?” She spoke so softly, almost afraid to say it.

Adrien looked at the street below. Suddenly being so up high without his suit made him feel uneasy. He felt vulnerable.

“Lila has taken over the class. She almost got Marinette expelled, and would have too if I hadn’t threatened her.” Ladybug’s head snapped up. “She’s been using anything and everything to hang off me and use my father. She uses everyone.”

Adrien lifted his fist out of his pocket and slammed it onto the cold gutter. Ladybug didn’t jump.

“She makes me uncomfortable, she talks badly about my friend. She makes promises to the class with her lies and never follows through.” His father’s image flickered in his head, “People like that really are the worst aren’t they?”

He shook his hair out, enjoying the ends to curl up randomly instead of styled to perfection. It was weird to see him like that, like he had finally put down the front he’d been wearing.

“Anyways, Lila never took no for an answer. The only love I’ve know is from Chloe who was the same. They don’t care about my space, my feelings, my voice.” He looked up at his lady in red. “Mari probably felt the same about Lila. You probably felt the same about me.”

Ladybug felt confused. She didn’t want to let Adrien off the hook like that, but she could see he was learning about something he had no experience with.

“You care about this girl enough to threaten Rossi?” She chewed on her lip, trying to focus on one point of Adrien’s face as to not get overwhelmed.

“She’s the only one who has cared so much about other people’s feelings in our class. She talks through their problems, helps them with their projects, keeps them company when they don’t want to talk at all.” His eyes shone. It was so dark, but he may as well have been wearing his mask.

“And I let her down.” He sighed, “The least I could do is have her back.”

“Maybe, let her know you have it? So she doesn’t feel so..” Ladybug didn’t want to finish. Adrien nudged her shoulder with his own.

“So, did you learn anything new about me?”

Ladybug thought to herself.

“You’re more timid than you let on.” Adrien frowned at that response. “You’re more thoughtful too. You aren’t this boistroseous personality that you like to show off, and you feel more guilt than you probably should.”

“I can’t really tell if any of this is good or bad LB.”

“It doesn’t really have to be one or the other,” she decided, “it’s you. For me, that’s enough.”

—

“It’s getting late. And we haven’t talked about a plan.”

“Yeah,” Adrien looked toward the direction he came, “not feeling up to going home, yknow?”

“Your dad would be worried.”

“He doesn’t notice. I’d like to say his behavior is explained by being Hawkmoth, but he’s been like this since before superheroes and akumas. My mom’s disappearance really messed him up.” Adrien looked down at his hands.

“It messed you up too,” Ladybug defended, “and you didn’t become a supervillain.”

Adrien winced. She wanted to slap herself, it was too soon.

“Ladybug.” Adrien turned, “you have to take the Black Cat miraculous.”

Her jaw dropped.

“What? No.” She stood up. “Why would you even say that?”

“It’s not safe under that roof.”

“It is with you!”

“We can’t risk that.” Adrien dusted himself off, rising to meet her.

“I just can’t be without my partner Adrien. I won’t.” Her heart was beating so fast. Was he giving up?

“We’ll figure it out. You can leave it somewhere I can get it and transform.” Adrien paused. “That might be riskier actually.”

“So then keep it!” She wrapped her arms around herself, “you need to be there with me.”

Adrien smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We both know you’ve been able to handle akumas yourself for a while now.”

“What happens if I get hurt? You need to be there to help me, you’re supposed to have my back!” Ladybug was furious. How could he do this.

Adrien nodded, seeing the argument.

“Why not train with the old man then?”

Both heroes snapped towards the new voice. Plagg poked his head from Adrien’s hood.

“He could get better at his job, and Fu can hold the miraculous until he’s ready.” The small kwami looked unamused, as he always did, but Adrien hadn’t seen him this serious in...well ever.

“He already has a full schedule, when would he have the time?”

Adrien felt a little annoyed they spoke without him.

“You managed to get more free time, what did you do?” Plagg already knew the answer. He knew Ladybug was Marinette and he knew that humans were still to blind to see true value in one another.

Ladybug looked away, and pulled her hood down.

“I prioritized my responsibilities.”

“There you go!” Plagg turned to Adrien, “drop your friends.”

“No!” Ladybug protested. Adrien looked taken aback.

“Plagg that won’t fix things.”

“They don’t care about your friend, hanging out with them means hanging out with sausage hair, and its a few hours every week that you can dedicate to training.”

“Those are his friends!”

Plagg snapped to the heroine, green eyes ablaze. For a moment she was reminded that she’s talking to a god. One of destruction.

“Adrien, I know I haven’t been around in a few hundred years. But training was always put first. This isn’t a hobby you accepted. It’s a duty.” Plagg stared his chosen down. He let the kid have fun, but he can always whip him into shape.

“Ladybug, he’s right.”

She felt something twist inside her. Was it fair to have Adrien lose his friends too? They were everything to him.

Adrien read her mind.

“I needed them and school for a lot of reasons. I wanted to get away from my father and the constant supervision. Chat Noir isn’t a curse, it’s a freedom, and if I want to keep it and my friends and you, I have to work for it.” Adrien looked determined, like he wasn’t going to take no for answer. He slipped his ring off and handed it to his kwami.

“Send me an address in the morning. I don’t have a shoot so I’ll start my first lesson then.”

Plagg smiled, “I’m proud of you, kit.”

“What if you get into trouble?” Ladybug watched the exchanged helplessly.

“I’ll be as susceptible as anyone else.” He shrugged, “and you have my back.”

“What about your friends?”

Adrien grinned, wide and delighted.

“Guess I’ll move to the back.”

--TAGLIST--

@shannaro-sakura @uninspired-writer @magic-miraculous @mividaexo @juhavs @salsyy301 @liamnl @reblog-trasher @autumnhunter1

#i don't know how to do taglists #but comment tag if you want to be tagged #lots of ladrien lol #ladrien #ml salt #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #hawkmoth #lila rossi #ladybug's finale #fic #salt fic #plot fic #idk #maximumjinx

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kmomof4 · 5 years ago

Text

Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

We’re back y’all!!! I am so glad that you enjoyed last weeks installment and I’m hoping that you’ll like this one just as much, if not even more!!! We have quite a bit throwing back to canon in this chapter and I so hope you enjoy it!!! Thank you all again for coming along on this journey with me! Words cannot express how much it truly means to me!!!

@profdanglaisstuff and @hollyethecurious both deserve every good thing and all the love I can possibly give for their invaluable assistance and input in the crafting of this story!!! I also want to express my appreciation to the ladies of the CSSNS and the CSMM discords for their encouragement and help with a title! And finally to @spartanguard for bringing this story to LIFE every single week!!! Real life got in the way this week, so the chapter art will be up tomorrow. But even so, my heart is so full, just know that I’ll never be able to adequately express how much your hard work on behalf of this story means to me! I am immensely grateful!!! Thank you all so much ladies!!! I couldn’t have done this without you!!!

Chapter summary: 19yrs after leaving Massachusetts, Emma returns to Killian.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: 8751 of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Loves Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

19yrs later Emma Swan Fisher drove down the meandering gravel road that purported to lead to the address, and the man, written on the envelope tucked into her purse. Purported, because she had left the main road almost three minutes ago and there was still no sign of the house. She finally came around a bend and laid eyes on the… her jaw dropped, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. It was a mansion, there was no other word for it. She pulled into a courtyard in front of the most magnificent home she had ever seen. Realizing what she probably looked like, her jaw snapped shut. Being seen gaping like a fish wouldn’t exactly be the best first impression.

Climbing the stairs to the front porch, she could see into the house through the top half of the door. It was designed like a farmhouse window with wood mullions dividing the glass into smaller windows so that she could easily see in. The doorbell echoed as a tall, older gentleman came toward the door. She stepped back as she waited for him to answer.

He opened the door and a gasp left his lips. “Miss Emma?” Surprise colored his words and his face. She stepped back further in alarm at his question, nearly taking a tumble off the steps. He reached out, catching her before she could fall. He was clothed in black slacks and white shirt, open at the top with the sleeves rolled up. He was probably a little old to be sporting a mostly grey ponytail, she guessed him to be in his late 50’s, early 60’s.

“Do I know you?” she asked, regaining her balance. He still held on to her by the elbow and she had to stop herself from jerking away from him. He was only trying to help her.

He looked down and chuckled. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t expect you do, Miss. But I certainly remember you, although you were only a wee lass when last I saw you.” He looked back up at her with a broad smile. “I expect that you are here for Master Killian.”

“Uh, yes,” she agreed.

“Please come in, lass,” he invited, “I’m Starkey, his butler.” He held the door open for her and followed her into a bright, sunny room with floor to ceiling windows opposite letting in the late morning light. She followed him through several rooms, all sporting spectacular views of green lawns sloping down to the Atlantic, before he led her out to a screened-in porch, where she could just discern the waves breaking on the beach and the salty sea air wrapped around her like a blanket. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful and peaceful in all her life. “I’ll let Master Killian know that you’re here.”

“Thank you.” She nodded at him as he left the room. She was still stunned at the reception she had received when he had opened the door. It made the relationship that her mother must have had with this Killian Jones much more clear. If the butler knew who she was, and remembered her after all this time, they must have been very close, indeed. But if they were so close, why had Emma never heard of him? She knew, of course, that she had been born in Boston, and that the family had moved back to her mother’s birthplace in Minnesota when she was three. She’d been so young when they left Massachusetts, it never occurred to her to ask about their years there when she was growing up. She had a feeling though, that she was soon to get a crash course about that time of her life.

She couldn’t decide if she was dreading it or excited about the prospect.

Emma shook her head. It didn’t matter. She had come here today for one purpose. To hand deliver this letter, written by her recently deceased mother, to the closest friend she had ever had. She had been given this task just a few weeks before Ingrid died. Emma sighed. Those days had been a blur. Anna and Elsa returning home, home health nurses around the clock, being woken in the middle of the night with the news that the end was near, sobbing in her sisters’ arms after she was gone, taking care of legal affairs, it was a miracle that she remained sane. Once everything had calmed down, she knew she had to fulfill her promise. So here she was. Her past had no bearing on what she was here to do. It had no bearing on her future. She’d deliver the letter and leave, duty fulfilled.

Suddenly, Emma felt a familiar shiver race down her spine. It had been awhile since she’d felt it, but not so long that it was wholly unfamiliar. She had felt a similar shiver occasionally over the years when she’d visited Boston with her college friends on the weekends. Especially when they visited the North End. But now, the tingling she’d felt under her skin when she entered the gates of the estate, intensified into full body chills before coalescing around her heart and almost tugging her back toward the main house. She turned away from the view of the ocean back into the house, only to meet another vision in the form of the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.

A myriad of emotions paraded themselves across his beautiful features. Relief, joy, sadness, excitement, something else that she wouldn’t name. He looked at her as someone would look at their greatest pride and joy, and dearest love all at once.

“Emma,” he breathed.

Emma stepped toward the man slowly, trying to bring her racing heartbeat under control. Her steps faltered slightly as she approached him, trying to catalog everything about his appearance. He was young. Way too young to be a close friend to her 57 year old mother. He didn’t look to be any older than she was. His black hair was gently mussed as if he had a habit of running his hands through it, black scruff with just a hint of ginger, the bluest eyes she’d ever seen (and given the blue eyes of her mother and sisters, that was saying a lot). He was dressed casually in jeans and a gray pullover that stretched enticingly across his chest and biceps. She couldn’t help but wonder at the strength of those muscles and how they’d feel underneath her hands. A shiver of desire ran through her that she promptly squashed. Whoa! Where did that come from? She ran her tongue across her lips as her eyes met his. The tightness in her chest subsided briefly but then intensified as she approached him. Along with the tightness, a wave of dizziness overcame her so suddenly that her knees buckled and she nearly fell at his feet before he caught her in his strong arms.

“Emma,” he cried, “Are you all right?” His clear concern for her well being took the edge off the embarrassment she felt showing that kind of weakness to a virtual stranger.

“Y- yes,” she stammered, “I’m fine. Thank you.” She clutched at his forearms as she gathered her legs back under her and attempted to stand.

“Here,” He lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the small table in the breakfast nook before setting her down on one of the chairs. “How about I make us some hot chocolate? See if we can’t get you feeling a bit better.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Hot chocolate would be great.”

A few minutes later, Emma watched as her host placed two hot chocolates with whipped cream and cinnamon on the small table and sat down opposite her.

“How did you know how I liked my hot chocolate,” she asked, with a small smile.

A sad smile crossed his face as he shrugged. “Lucky guess. This was how Ingrid liked to drink hers.”

Emma took a sip of her drink. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Jones,” she apologized, with a shake of her head.

He waved away her apology. “No need to apologize, lass. I’m just glad that your color is a little better now that you have some ‘elixir of the gods’ in you, as Ingrid used to call it. And please,” his penetrating blue gaze seemed to pierce to her very soul, “call me Killian.” She nodded, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s been many years since you and your family left Massachusetts, Emma.” He looked into her eyes, hope and a shyness that she didn’t expect swirling in their depths. She couldn’t explain this unexpected draw to him, but she wanted to stick around and try to get to the bottom of the mystery connecting this man to her family. “How is your mom? Your sisters?”

Emma was brought back to the man before her with the mention of her mother. “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten,” she exclaimed, reaching into her purse with the letter. “That’s why I’m here.” She handed the envelope to him. “My mom asked me to hand deliver this to you.” She looked down and tried to swallow over the sudden lump in her throat. He gently took it from her and she heard the rip of him tearing it open.

She looked up when he’d been silent for several moments reading the letter in his hands. Sorrow sat upon his brow and his eyes were very red, as if he were trying to hold back tears. He folded it back up and laid it on the table between them.

“So Ingrid is dead,” he sighed.

“Yes.”

“When your family didn’t come back four years ago and there was no contact, I was afraid that something like this might have happened,” he murmured. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

The clear anguish and sorrow on his face nearly broke her heart anew. She couldn’t possibly refuse him this, no matter how much she wanted to question him.

“The uterine cancer won in the end,” she began, haltingly. “She was diagnosed just before Christmas of my senior year in high school, 2012. Being so close to the Mayo Clinic, she was able to be treated there.”

Killian nodded. “They’re the best at what they do. I’m glad they were able to treat her.”

“She went into remission just before Anna and I graduated. Anna got her degree in graphic design from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design and was planning a fall wedding, so,” she shrugged, “perfect timing.”

“Indeed.” His blue eyes bore into hers sending even more shivers of attraction down her spine that she felt helpless to stop.

“The type of cancer it was,” she continued, ��we always knew there was a good chance of it coming back. We were planning on moving back here after I graduated, I was accepted to Harvard, but we decided that she should stay close to her doctors.” Killian nodded at her to continue. “She stayed healthy all through my years at Harvard, but…” here she faltered, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed again. “It came back. She told us the day after I graduated. She was dead three months later.”

Killian bowed his head in sorrow. “It’s taken this long for the estate to get settled and all the legal proceedings to wind up. I’m sorry.”

His head snapped back up again. “You have nothing to be sorry for, lass,” he choked out. “I’m glad you were able to come and give me the news in person, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to find out any other way.”

Emma could feel the blush rising on her face. “It was nothing,” she demurred, “I promised Mom.”

A few moments passed in silence before finally, Killian spoke. “Tell me about your sisters,” he encouraged. “Is Elsa still the quiet one?”

Emma laughed heartily. “As opposed to Anna? Yes! Absolutely!”

Killian chuckled. “I’ll never forget watching Anna learn to walk. She only walked for about a week and then she ran.” He chuckled again, shaking his head. “And never stopped.”

Emma laughed again. “That is still true. Anna is a bundle of energy. She surely needs it now...”

“Tell me about Elsa and Anna,” he repeated. “How are they?” Emma lightly shook her head, trying to focus on his question about her sisters instead of the obvious confusion surrounding his memory of her twenty-six year old sister.

“Elsa came home,” Emma began, “after Mom was first diagnosed. She took a job with the St. Paul Chamber of Commerce and has made such a difference in the business community since then, that she’s running for Mayor, and doing very well in the polls. She’s also dating a guy she met at some shindig last year.” She laughed as Killian’s face fell into a tight frown. He certainly had the disapproving Dad look nailed.

“Well, tell me about him,” he very nearly growled. Emma couldn’t hold back her grin. “His name is Jack Frost, owns his own, very popular, restaurant, he’s 30, and treats her like a queen.”

Killian relaxed. “As long as he treats her right, I have no objection,” he huffed. Emma couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. Killian’s face broke into a sheepish grin as his face and ears turned red and he scratched behind his ear again. Doubtless he realized just how ridiculous he sounded. His slight bashfulness was adorable as well as the protective instincts he just displayed. “And what about Anna?”

“Anna and Kristoff welcomed their first child, Aggie, last summer. They named him after Anna’s father.” A soft smile broke over her face. “Here’s a picture of Ingrid holding him,” she continued, pulling out her phone. “He was born about a month before she died.”

His smile matched hers. “I’m glad she was able to see and hold him.”

The bittersweet moment ended when Emma put her phone back away. Killian looked back up at her. “He’s obviously taking after Anna,” she added. “He has two speeds. On and off. He just started walking.” She couldn’t stop her smile from widening as she thought about her nephew. She looked back over at Killian who sported an almost awed joy on his face. How had she been drawn in so quickly and easily to this man? A man she had grown up not even knowing of his existence, and had only finally met such a short time ago. She couldn’t believe how easy he was to talk to, to share intimate details of the lives of her family with.

“And now, what about yourself, lass? You said you attended Harvard?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled, proudly. “I studied Sociology with a concentration in Family and Adoption.” She could feel her cheeks heating up. “I’m thinking about going to law school so that I could specialize in adoptions.” She shrugged and looked away from him. “Given our family history…” she trailed away.

She looked back up at him to see his face split in the widest grin she had ever seen. “I don’t think I could be more proud of you,” he murmured. “That’s wonderful, Emma.”

She could feel the blush spreading again but she maintained eye contact with him, basking in his praise. Why was she so receptive to him? So willing to accept his admiration. She barely knew him!

She fixed him with a hard, confused stare. “Okay, now it’s my turn.” Killian scratched behind his ear in what she recognized as a nervous tic. Something wasn’t right here and physical attraction aside, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. “How exactly did you know my mom? She said that you were her best friend. You tell me stories of my twenty-six year old sister as a toddler. But you don’t look any older than I am.”

Killian chuckled and his ears turned red again as he took a sip of his drink. “I’m much older than I look, lass,” he admitted.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life,” she sassed.

He chuckled again. “Not quite.”

“So how old are you?”

“I’m a lot older than I look.” He fixed her with just as hard a stare as she’d leveled at him. “Let’s just leave it at that. But believe me when I tell you, that not only was I Ingrid’s closest friend, she was also mine.”

His cerulean gaze spoke to the deepest part of her. She knew that he was telling her the truth. Emma prided herself on being able to tell when someone was lying. A sixth sense, so to speak, that was unfailingly accurate if someone was trying to feed her a load of bull. That sixth sense was eerily silent at his statements.

She nodded. “Okay.” She had no idea why she was backing down. Yes, he was telling her the truth, but he wasn’t telling her all of it. How could he be when he didn’t look as old as Anna was now, much less old enough to be such an intimate friend of her mother? She didn’t want to let him off the hook quite so easily, but the quickening of her heartbeat and the tug she felt toward him ever since seeing him for the first time only confirmed what everything else about this encounter pointed toward. The reception she had received, both from him and his butler, and his obvious love for her mother and knowledge of her sisters, all combined to tell her one thing. She was exactly where she belonged. She was home. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she could trust this man in front of her. Knowing that was one thing, acting on it however, was quite another.

“Please,” she begged. “I do trust you. I just want to know your connection with my family.” She knew that she was treading on thin ice, pushing him on this, but she couldn’t help the natural curiosity and desire to put together the puzzle that had been presented her in this man.

“Perhaps that would be a better topic of conversation at a more… neutral location.” Her brow furrowed at his words. “I will answer all your questions. You have my word. I have a lunch appointment that I must depart for soon in order to make, but may I escort you to dinner this evening?”

Emma’s eyebrows jumped nearly to her hairline. “Are you asking me on a date? You just met me!” she exclaimed.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He chuckled. “Then yes, I guess I am.” His face turned serious, his eyes burning into hers, sending her heart rate into a gallop. “Would you go out with me, Swan?”

“What did you say?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Why did you call me that?”

Killian also paled. “It’s your middle name. Anna thought you should have it because of your birthmark.” Her hand rose to her neck where her birthmark was. “Ingrid told me on the day you were born.” He rose from the table and kneeled before her, holding out his hand. “Please, Emma,” he begged, “I know it seems crazy.”

“Yes, it does,” she exclaimed, standing to her feet, her heart galloping in her chest. “Much older than you look? Telling me about the day I was born and when Anna learned to walk? Do you know what you sound like?”

Killian looked down at the floor. “Like a madman, I’m sure.” He looked back up at her, his azure eyes pleading. “And if your face is telling me anything, you’re ready to run out my door and never come back.”

“How can you know that?” she whispered.

His eyes grew soft as they gazed into her own. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you’re something of an open book.” He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her awaiting her answer. “Please give me a chance.”

She continued to stare at him, the two opposing voices in her head vying for dominance. The one telling her that it was too much, it was too soon, the mystery of the man in front of her didn’t matter. This, he, was dangerous and she would be well served to run as fast and as far away as she could. But the second voice spoke from her heart and told her what she already knew. She could trust him. She could look in his eyes and see how much he cared for her, how much he loved her. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but she knew that everything he had told her today was the truth. That piece of her heart, that she never knew she had until today, responded back to his. She placed her hand in his outstretched one.

Killian’s face rivaled the sun at noon as his fingers curled around her own. He rose to his feet before her. “Thank you, Swan.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed her knuckles with his lips, never taking his eyes off of hers. A gasp escaped her as her heart rate sped up even further with a flood of arousal coming over her. He turned her hand over in his own and closed his eyes as he seemed to inhale deeply, drawing his nose along the inside of her wrist. He held his breath for several seconds before slowly letting it out, his warm breath brushing along her skin and raising goosebumps in his wake. His eyes opened and met hers again. “Where may I pick you up this evening?”

Emma swallowed heavily, trying to will her heart rate to slow down. “I’m at The Harborside Inn.”

“I know exactly where it is,” he declared. “I’ll see you at 8.”

~*~*~

Emma opened the door after his knock rang through the cozy, comfortably furnished room. Her eyes widened in appreciation as her eyes landed on him standing on her threshold. He appeared to be equally speechless.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he breathed.

“I, uh…” He looked to be dressed all in black. From the dark silk shirt and waistcoat, showing just a peek of dark chest hair to the black jeans and boots on his feet. A black leather jacket completed the ensemble. The same tingling under her skin she felt earlier intensified into the full body chills and heart tug yet again as her eyes raked hungrily over him. “Thank you.”

His appearance made her doubly grateful that she had done some shopping that afternoon after leaving his estate. She had found a small boutique near her hotel and was helped by a perky blonde saleslady who helped her find the perfect dress and accessories for her date tonight. She wore a pink flowing number with cap sleeves and a v neckline paired with nude pumps while pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. If his widened eyes and shortness of breath were any indication, she did good.

He shook himself out of his apparent daze and held out his arm to her. “Shall we, milady?”

“We shall,” she replied, smiling and slipping her arm through his.

He led her downstairs and out the back toward the pier. Her eyes widened in surprise as they landed on a full sized ship that looked straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean. Killian preened beside her at her reaction. “Is that yours?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“She is, indeed,” he replied, proudly. “Behold, the Jolly Roger!”

She couldn’t wipe the shock off her face if she tried. She turned to him, mouth hanging open. “The Jolly Roger? Like from Peter Pan? Are you serious?”

He led her up the gangplank and down onto the deck of the ship. A chuckle escaped his lips and a delighted grin adorned his features as his eyes danced. “Peter Pan is my favorite book of all time. Although I’m definitely partial to Captain Hook. So, of course, I had to name her the Jolly Roger.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him as he led her to the helm. “So, where are we going that it takes a ship to get there?”

Killian’s grin grew even more, if possible. “I got in touch with an old friend of mine this afternoon. He owns a restaurant on the other side of the island. Very upscale, very popular, reservation only. It’s booked solid for the next three years. Most of the menu changes daily according to what the fishermen bring in, but his lobster dishes are the best to be found in all of New England. He was very pleased to arrange an extra seating for us this evening.” Killian drew her into his side as he steered the ship away from the pier and out to the open water. “The Nautilus is right on the water and we can pull in right there and enjoy our meal.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he looked down at her. She couldn’t suppress the shiver his gaze engendered as she returned his scrutiny. There it was again. The bone deep certainty that she was home. That at his side was where she was supposed to be. Her gaze drifted to his lips as his tongue peeked out between them. He cleared his throat, drawing her eyes back up to his. The hunger she saw there nearly took her breath away.

He looked back out over the water as the lights of Edgartown faded behind them. But she would have none of it. Throwing caution to the wind, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands and turned his face toward her again before drawing him into a kiss.

Killian groaned into her mouth as she opened in invitation. He gathered her to him even more tightly, her body lining up perfectly to his. Her earlier thought about how his muscles would feel under her hands came back to mind as her own hands wrapped around his biceps as their tongues tangled until she pulled away trying to catch her breath.

“That was…” Killian trailed away, his forehead resting on hers.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

~*~*~

“Killian!” an older bald man exclaimed striding towards them with his arm outstretched.

“Nemo!” Killian called out. Emma immediately mourned the loss of heat when Killian removed his hand from the small of her back to greet his friend. The men met halfway and clasped hands before pulling each other into an affectionate embrace. Emma couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie between them.

Killian led his friend back to where she stood. The genuine smile that lit up his features put her even more at ease at meeting someone who clearly meant a lot to him.

“Emma, I’d like you to meet Captain Nemo,” he introduced. Her face broke into a delighted grin to match his own. “Nemo, my old friend, this is Emma Fisher.” He shot her a bashful, almost apologetic look as Nemo took her hand in between his.

“It is so lovely to meet you, my dear,” he enthused, pumping her hand up and down. “When Killian called this afternoon, I was delighted to add one more seating to the evening.” He cut his eyes back toward Killian. “We’ve been friends a very long time, but it’s also been a very long time since I’ve seen him. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see this one again.”

“It’s very nice to meet you as well, Captain,” she replied. “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of my favorite adventures from when I was a kid.”

Nemo beamed at her even more than he already was. “I’m so glad! It is also my favorite story. I very much identified with Captain Nemo for many, many years, before I met Killian in the course of my travels. It was his influence that turned me onto a better, nobler path.” Mirth and a bit of mischief could be seen in his eyes as he looked at Killian again.

Killian blushed and scratched behind his ear. The move was even more endearing now, in the presence of his friend, than it was earlier.

“But enough about that,” Nemo continued, “Let me show you to your table.” Killian’s hand returned to the small of her back as they followed Nemo through the large, but very intimate dining room. The low lights and ample space between tables, she could only see five, created an ambiance that sent a flutter of awareness down her spine as they followed their host into another, much smaller room. It contained a single table, set for two. Emma gasped at the loveliness of the setting. The small table was covered by a white tablecloth that fell to the floor. A tall, navy blue pillar candle in a hurricane lamp with a ring of yellow buttercups around the base adorned the center of the table. Killian came around her and held her chair out for her.

“So now you’re going to be a gentleman?” She smirked at him.

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan,” he cooed, his warm breath brushing the shell of her ear as she sat down. She sent him a small smile as he removed his jacket and seated himself across from her.

Their waiter approached to fill their water glasses. “What may I bring you to drink?” Nemo asked, stepping aside to give the waiter room.

“A bottle of the Premier Cru Les Vaillons 2015, if you please, sir,” Killian decided. He leaned over to her, whispering, “An excellent vintage for the lobster that’s being served tonight.” She nodded her acknowledgement before looking up at their host again.

“Excellent choice,” Nemo agreed. “I’ll get that right out to you and your meals will be out shortly.” Nemo and their waiter disappeared and she was finally able to direct her attention to her company for the evening. She could see the flickering yellow candlelight in his eyes that sparkled in the low lighting. His pupils dilated as he watched her, whether from the lighting or desire, she couldn’t tell.

His eyes grew dark when she lightly wet her lips. She returned his obvious admiration until Nemo returned with their wine. “Your Lobster Thermidor is being prepared as we speak,” he informed them as he poured their wine. “The lobster was harvested this very afternoon after I spoke with you, Killian. It will be served with a simple green salad topped with a light herb vinaigrette and couscous.” Nemo backed away and gave a slight bow to the couple. “It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Emma and I hope you both enjoy your evening here at the Nautilus.”

Killian smiled. “Thank you, my friend. I’m sure we will.” Nemo withdrew and left them alone.

Conversation was light as they waited for their meals. Ranging from favorite books and television shows to a quite vigorous debate on whether Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies lived up to his Lord of the Rings saga. Casual and light touches did nothing to quell the simmering desire brought up by their earlier kiss. Aware of the desire in his eyes, and sending him a sultry smile back, she knew there was only one way she wanted the evening to end. Once their meals arrived, they both dug into the succulent dish accompanied, on her part, with moans of delight as she’d never tasted anything so delicious. Killian appeared spellbound as she swirled a piece of bread in the last of the creamy sauce left behind on her plate. She looked up at him and was gratified to see the desire in his eyes as she opened her mouth and laid the piece of bread on her tongue before closing her lips around her fingers and drawing them out of her mouth.

Normally, she wouldn’t be so bold as to play the blatant seductress, but the connection she had felt with him, even after she had left him earlier today, plus the effect of the wine was definitely playing a part in her attempts to flirt. He ran his tongue across his lips and a different kind of hunger colored his countenance before he seemed to shake himself out from under her spell. She couldn’t help the stab of disappointment she felt when he looked down at their table.

“Before this goes any further, Emma…” he looked up and his voice trailed away. The darkness of his eyes flashed blood red and a rage that she had only read about took over his visage.

Her sharp intake of breath and her face going pale snapped him out of whatever had overtaken him. He turned conciliatory and concerned eyes upon her. “Emma, are you all right?” He reached out and grabbed her hand with his own.

“Am I alright? What about you?” she asked. “What was that?” She turned to look behind her where the back of the restaurant was a glass wall looking out on the water. She could see nothing that might have incited the drastic change in her companion. “Your eyes went red and I’ve never seen anyone so angry as what I saw on your face just now.”

He shook his head. Not in denial, but in sorrow. “I’m sorry, Emma. I…” he looked back at her. “I promised to answer all your questions. I didn’t want to do it tonight, I was hoping to postpone that just for a little while. I just wanted us to have a fun evening, as a proper first date should be. A chance to get to know each other a little bit. Enjoy each other's company. But circumstances have changed enough that I see I’m going to have to answer all your questions tonight. And I can only hope that you’ll listen, believe, and not reject me. And what is between us.” He stared earnestly into her eyes, hope and trepidation mixing in his until she couldn’t discern which was stronger.

The connection she felt and the trust she had placed in him prompted her to nod her head at him to continue. But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth.

“You wanted to know what my connection was to your family.” She nodded. “You wanted to know how old I am.” She nodded again. He swallowed heavily. “I am a 450 year old vampire.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t make sense out of what she had just heard. “W-what?” she stammered.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud again.” He shut his eyes, his anguish etched across his face. “You heard exactly what I said.”

She shook her head. “Yes,” she agreed, “I heard what you said. But…”

“I told you that I was much older than I looked,” he interrupted, “and you said you believed me.” The pleading she saw in his eyes nearly undid her.

“Yes, I believed you. I have a thing about lies.” She shook her head again, trying to clear it, before dropping it into her propped up hands. “I can tell when someone is lying to me. And I know you weren’t.”

“Look at me, please, Emma,” he begged her. She lifted her head and looked into his earnest, forthright eyes. “Everything I will tell you is the truth. You have to trust me,” he pled.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

He nodded and took a deep breath, seemingly to gather himself. “In answer to your first question, my connection with your family is this. I met Ingrid when she was a child,” he began. Truth. “I saved her life when her parents were killed.” Truth. “I was a close friend and watched her grow up.” Truth. “I was there when she took custody of your sisters and when she adopted you.” Truth.

“I’m telling you all this now because the monster that made me what I am, is here. He’s here for you.” He looked at her again, pleading with her to believe him.

“Why me?”

“We are soulmates,” he asserted. “And we are prophesied to destroy him. Rumplestiltskin.”

She was speechless for a long moment.

“Rumplestiltskin?” she croaked, finally finding her voice. “As in Rumplestiltskin Rumplestiltskin? The fairy tale Rumplestiltskin?”

“All the fairy tales that you know and love, were, at one time, real. They happened to real people. Their true stories have largely been lost, but some still survive in some form. The true story of Rumplestiltskin is much more sinister than the fairy tale you know. He was the first vampire. Created by Darkness from the dawn of time. The baby from the fairy tale was my older brother, Liam. When my mother defeated him, he swore vengeance upon our family. He took that vengeance thirty years later. He murdered Liam, in front of me, and then made me what I am. It was then that I swore vengeance upon him.”

Her heart flooded with compassion for him. The pain of that loss lay plainly upon his brow. She reached out and threaded her fingers through his. He looked up at her, surprised. “I’m so sorry. It may have been hundreds of years ago, but it obviously still pains you.”

He gave her a small smile before looking down at their joined hands. “It does.” He squeezed her hand and ran his thumb along her knuckles. “But this helps.”

“Liam’s murder and my turning happened on the Jolly. In the captain's cabin. I couldn’t return home to my family, so I renamed the ship and became a pirate. In 1650, I found a prophecy in my log book. A prophecy concerning the destruction of Rumplestiltskin. The Blue Fairy, she was the fairy godmother to our family, wrote it. I found it then, but promptly forgot about it until almost sixteen years later. When I met my soulmate for the first time,” his blue eyes bored into hers, “Emma Swan.”

Emma gasped. “Me?”

“You,” he confirmed.

Emma’s head was spinning. As much as she believed him, she did, trying to wrap her mind around everything he had already told her was proving difficult. He was her soulmate. Her soulmate! Did soulmates even exist? Apparently they did, given the connection that she’d felt since she met him. She looked over at him, knowing that the trepidation she was feeling had to be written all over her face. He looked at her so earnestly, so hopeful, with so much love. As nervous as he obviously was to begin his story, none of those nerves were in evidence now. He had laid it all out for her and was waiting for her response.

“I…” she stammered.

“There’s more,” he continued.

Emma withdrew her hand from his to drop her face into them. “How much more,” she moaned.

“I can tell you more about yourself,” he admitted, “and your past, I can tell you more about what my life has been like. But if you’d rather I not, you’ve got the most important information. We can save all that for another time, if you prefer.”

She raised her head and waved her hands around. “Yeah, I think I’d appreciate that. Don’t think I’m ready at the moment for any more.”

Killian took one of her hands in his own again. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that our first date took this turn, Emma.”

Captain Nemo approached their table. “How did you enjoy your meal, my friends?” he boomed.

Emma turned to him somewhat startled only to catch a look of significance pass between the two men. “It was w-wonderful,” she stammered. “What?” she questioned, looking back and forth between them. Killian looked back at her, somewhat abashed.

“It’s nothing, Swan,” he contended.

Emma felt the indignation rise underneath her breastbone. She rose from her chair and placed her hands on the table. “Don’t lie to me. I told you I could tell when someone was lying to me.”

Killian’s face immediately fell in shame. “You are absolutely correct, Emma. I apologize.” He motioned back to her chair. “Please sit back down?”

Emma took a deep breath before murmuring her acceptance of his apology and returning to her seat.

“Nemo was relaying what we already knew.” Killian looked back at his friend. “That Rumplestiltskin is outside.”

Emma’s head whipped back to their host so quickly, she heard and felt a pop in her neck. “How do you know?” she asked, astonished.

“I told you, Swan, that he was an old friend.”

Emma turned overwhelmed and incredulous eyes back upon Killian. “Just how old are we talking here?”

Killian’s focus on her face never wavered as he lay yet another truth before her. “Nemo and I have been friends since we met for the first time toward the end of the nineteenth century. Nemo is the Captain Nemo that Jules Verne made famous, in a supposed work of fiction, in the early 1860’s.”

Emma could feel the panic rising up within her, making it hard to breathe. She shook her head again and rose once more. “I don’t think I can handle any more of this.” She could barely look at Killian, not wanting to see the disappointment she was sure was in his eyes. “Captain, would you be so kind as to call me a cab?” She spoke to the table again. “Killian, I can’t… I just can’t right now. Please, just leave me alone.” Pushing her emotions deep down, Emma turned from the table and walked as calmly as she could toward the front of the restaurant.

~*~*~

Nemo approached Killian, still sitting utterly forlorn at the table. “You’re not just going to sit there, are you?” he asked.

Killian looked up incredulously at his friend and rose from the table. “Bloody hell, of course not! With Rumplestiltskin out there? What do you take me for?”

Nemo chuckled. “Just making sure, my friend,” he said, clapping him on the back. “Your cab will be here in moments.”

Grim determination adorned his features. “Thank you, Nemo. I’ll not let anything happen to her. Not this time.”

“I know you won’t,” he replied. “That’s why I asked for two cabs to be sent when I called. I knew you wouldn’t want to let her out of your sight.”

Killian rose from the table and placed his hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “You surmised correctly, my friend.”

“She is still in the lobby, waiting for hers. As soon as they arrive, I’ll get her on her way, and then you can come out. I don’t imagine that she’d want to see you waiting as well.”

“I’d imagine not,” Killian conceded.

Nemo left then toward the front of the restaurant. Killian turned toward the glass wall. “I know you’re there,” he growled, “and you’re not going to get her. Not if I have anything to say about it.” His eyes flashed red, and he stormed out of the room.

~*~*~

Emma stood at the door to her room when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had understandably felt anxious from the moment she had left The Nautilus. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt exposed and out from under Killian’s protection. She’d had to fight with herself to not rub her arms trying to will away the fear that licked under her skin. But now that fear was intensified for no apparent reason. She opened the door and entered the darkened room, closing and locking the door behind her.

That only made the goosebumps already along her skin tighten even further. The panic from earlier was making a reappearance as she made her way to the bed to turn on the lamp at the bedside table. She drew in a stuttered breath as the lamp cast its soft glow around the room.

A sound she’d never heard the likes of in all her born days drew her attention to the corner of the room. It was a giggle. Of course, she had heard a giggle before, but this was altogether different. It was a sound that she could imagine coming from a homicidal maniac on the big screen or from a creature released from the pits of hell to do what it pleased with the inhabitants of the earth. It was full of a depraved glee that shot waves of terror down her spine.

She turned toward the sound and beheld something that she couldn’t have conceived of in her worst nightmares. Green skin shimmered in the low light, lank hair lay hopelessly tangled around its face, but it was the eyes that forced the scream out of her mouth. At the same instant, the creature waved its hand towards her and the scream was cut off as if with the sharpest knife. She was frozen in place, unable to move as the creature moved deliberately towards her.

She should never have left Killian. It was one thing to listen to what he had to say. It was another to believe and trust him. But it was altogether different to see the things he spoke of alive and in person. At the time, it was a bridge too far to stay with him. And she was going to pay the ultimate price for her folly. She was about to die at the hands of this terrifying monster. Her frozen state notwithstanding, the terror and panic were about to steal her consciousness away. Red eyes and fangs were going to be the last things she ever saw. A lone tear tracked down her cheek. I’m sorry, Killian.

~*~*~

Killian arrived at Emma’s door with the Blue Fairy only to find it locked. The fairy closed her eyes, apparently trying to ascertain if there was any danger nearby. He knocked on the door.

“Emma, it’s Killian, darling,” he said, as he rattled the door knob in his hand. “Please let me in. I don’t want to leave you alone with Rumplestiltskin still out there.”

The Blue Fairy’s eyes flew open. “He’s in there!” she cried, “He’s in the room with her.”

That was all Killian needed to hear. He backed up and kicked the door in with all his might. His beloved was standing near her bed, frozen. Just as he had been all those years ago. His sire stood several feet away from her yet, not having had enough time to execute his foul plans. Killian rushed to Emma and gathered her frozen form in his arms.

“I’ve got you, my darling,” he crooned in her ear. “I won’t let him hurt you. Blue will take care of him for the moment.” He turned to where the two magical beings were locked in a fierce struggle. Dark and light magic sparked and crackled between the adversaries as they met in the center of the room.

Killian lifted Emma in his arms and called to the Blue Fairy as he ran out of the room. An inhuman howl of rage followed them out as the fairy shrunk down to her normal size and led them out the fire exit into the night. Once they were outside the building, she waved her wand over Emma’s frozen form. The enchantment that held her dissolved and she collapsed into Killian’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry! I never should have left you!” She cried into his shoulder as he held her tightly against him.

“Shhh,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “Shhhhhhh. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Turning to the fairy who hovered a short distance away, he asked, “Can you transport us to the Jolly? It’s still at The Nautilus.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she agreed. A cloud of blue smoke enveloped them and the next thing they knew they stood at the helm of the Jolly Roger. They looked into the restaurant where they had enjoyed a marvelous dinner only a short time before and saw Nemo standing at the window. His face was suffused with joy as he raised a hand to them in farewell.

~*~*~

Once they were out to sea, Emma knew they had over half an hour before they’d arrive back at Killian’s estate. She leaned on the gunwale and stared out at the moon and stars shining down on the gentle waves. The chill that pulled her toward Killian was ever present when he was near, but now, she knew he stood just behind her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.

“Aye, beautiful,” he murmured.

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “Why do I have the feeling that you aren’t talking about the same thing I am?”

He mirrored her position against the gunwale and looked down at her. “Perhaps I’m not,” he agreed.

“I’m sorry for running,” she confessed, looking down at her clasped hands. “I just couldn’t…” she paused, searching for the right word, “deal… with everything you were telling me.”

“You’ve no need to apologize, Swan,” he demurred. “Laying all that on you at once, when our attachment was still so new… anyone would have reacted the same.”

“But I nearly lost you,” she began, “because of my foolishness. You almost lost me. If Rumplestiltskin had succeeded, I’d be dead right now and we wouldn’t be able to destroy him.”

Killian turned and gathered her into his arms. “Oh, my darling,” he whispered into her hair. “We are soulmates. Unbound by time. This is the fourth time you’ve lived, and if that monster had taken you again, you’d eventually be reborn again and we’d destroy him next time.” He continued to stroke her back and she could feel the last of the fear and anxiety at what had happened tonight leave her body. With a deep breath, she melted further into his embrace. He pulled back slightly until he could look into her eyes. “I’ve waited centuries for you, my love.” He pulled her back to him. “And I would wait centuries more. I’d go to the end of the world for you. Or time.”

“What if you made me a vampire?” she speculated. She looked back up at him. He was already shaking his head. “Is that possible? Do you know how to do it?” She was starting to get excited. She plowed ahead, even in the face of his reluctance. “Then he couldn’t kill me. I’d be able to stay with you, but we could take our time and formulate a foolproof plan to destroy him, and when we were ready, we could bring the battle to him, instead of always being on the defensive.” She was rambling now, she knew it, but she had to convince him that her idea had merit.

“Emma, I could never inflict on you what was forced on me,” he began.

“But you wouldn’t be inflicting it on me,” she interrupted. “I’m willingly asking for it. Think about it. Please, think about it. Promise me that you will. This will work. If you agree.”

The pleading desperation in her eyes was his undoing. Killian sighed. “I don’t need to think about it,” he acknowledged. “You’re right. Making you a vampire, like me, would give us the greatest weapon available to us, time. And protection for you that in 350 years, I’ve been unable to provide. The night you and your family left Massachusetts, he was waiting for me in my kitchen when I arrived home, holding Starkey captive. I was able to subdue him that night because actions I had taken years beforehand had finally given me the advantage in our strange, centuries long relationship. When that was over, Blue gave me a vision of how to destroy him. But that doesn’t mean that it will be easy, nor that we’d be ready to try it in the near future.” He breathed deeply and released a long, slow exhale. “When we get home, I’ll show you to your room and I want you to really think about this. To really deal with everything you’ve learned tonight. You needn’t fear him breaching our sanctuary. That night, before she left, Blue placed magical barriers around the estate and the Jolly that prevents him from entering.”

Emma rested her head back on his chest, her soul enveloped in peace. Peace only he could give. The peace that came from finding her soulmate. The one she was destined to be with. The one that she would remain with. Forever.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing!

#cssns20 #of darkness vampires and soulmates #krystal writes #art by spartanguard #ch6

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rose-of-gabriel · 5 years ago

Text

i wrote a fic about the Mandalorian taking care of you while you menstruate bc i can

that’s where we’re at rn

You have a personal bone to pick with whatever laser-brain designed the human female. Let’s make it continuously bleed for a quarter of every month, and since that isn’t enough of a pain, let’s add actual pain on top of that. Genius.

You bite your lip and try to focus on successfully landing the Razor Crest. Mando’s cashing in on three separate bounties, which should give you enough credits to take it easy for a while. Well, as easy as the Mandalorian can take it. You suspect his pace was even more ruthless before he found the kid, but fatherhood has forced him to relent, just a little.

You really don’t mind his lifestyle. Anything is better than that mind-numbing mechanics job back on Nevarro, though the stabbing pain in your gut makes you miss the old shack you called home. No one around to judge you for collapsing in on yourself and praying for death.

That’s how Mando finds you: in the pilot’s chair, folded in half with your head on your knees. You don’t bother to look up as you grumble, “Ready to go?”

He doesn’t respond right away, probably deciding whether or not he should be concerned. You realize that this is the first time he’s seen you like this. Your implant makes it so you only bleed every three months, and you’ve been traveling together for almost four. The part of you that is harboring a completely futile crush on the Mandalorian wants to melt into the floor. The rest of you can’t be bothered to care, knowing that if it doesn’t concern his kid, his work, or his creed, he doesn’t care, anyway.

When he still doesn’t answer, you slowly lift you head to meet his metal gaze. You try to offer a smile, but the lights of the cockpit make your head pulse and it turns into a grimace.

The baritone of his voice reveals nothing when he asks, “You okay?”

No, you want to growl between your teeth. You don’t, because if there’s one person in the universe you know you shouldn’t complain to, it’s the Mandalorian.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You close your eyes and take a purposeful breath through your nose. “Are there any heat packs left in the medkit?”

“No. I think we used them up when the kid had that cold.”

Kriffing aces.

“Okay, I’ll add it to the list.” You sag deeper into the chair. “We shouldn’t go so long between supply trips, next time.”

“No one was stopping you when we were on Malthor.” He says with a hint of mockery.

You wave a dismissive hand. “That was all merchants and you know I can’t haggle for shit.”

He blows out a breath, the closest thing you get to making him laugh. It’s a small victory that nearly makes you forget the demon attacking your uterus.

You haul yourself out of the pilot’s seat and the protests from you body must be so loud even the Mandalorian can hear, because he takes a step forward and insists, “What’s wrong?”

You start to say it’s nothing when he takes yet another step, getting closer than you’ve ever dared to. Gods, you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath catches.

“I’ve spent my whole life watching people.” He says in a tone you’ve never heard before, equal parts menacing and tender. It makes your gut twist in a completely different way. Then he adds dryly, “And you’ve got about as much subtlety as a rancor.”

You deflate.

“Yeah, yeah, piss off.” You mutter under your breath. Then in a huff, you admit, “It’s menstrual pain. You happy? Nothing I haven’t dealt with before so let’s go.”

You’re through the hatch faster than you need to be, the awkwardness burning under your skin. You busy yourself with the kid’s cradle, making sure he’s secure despite there being nothing to actually secure him with. The child tilts his little head at you like he can sense your embarrassment.

“Hey, Bug.” You whisper conspiratorially, “Don’t look at me like that.”

He lets out a string of nonsense that sounds a lot like you’re the one acting weird, although you may just be projecting. Mando drops down from the cockpit and you suddenly remember you need to check every single pocket of your day pack, just to make sure everything is where you left it.

“Is it bad?”

The question surprises you, and you’re not really sure why. It’s not because he cares. You know there’s a heart underneath all that beskar. It’s something in his voice, a gentleness that isn’t like the kind he uses with the kid.

After a moment, your neurons decide to fire again and you manage to say, “No. I mean, mine are pretty heavy, and the pain is sometimes a lot, and the migraines really suck but oh my gods, I can’t believe I am talking to you about this.” Or that you just said that part out loud.

You spin on your heel, all attempts at subtly flying out the window as you activate the kid’s pram. “Ready to go, Bug?” You squeak, cheeks burning.

You reach for the control panel to lower the ramp when Mando takes your hand and pulls you around to face him. You can’t think of anything other than kriffkriffkriffkriffkriff, heart hammering against your ribs so hard he must be able to see it.

There’s a torturous moment of silence before he says, “You stay here with the kid. I’ll go to town and get what we need.”

That brings your panic to a screeching halt. “But… you have to turn in the quarries.”

“I’ll collect the credits then head to the shopping district.”

All your nerves start to dissipate in the wake of a very familiar spite. “Mando, I’m not a liability. I don’t need to stay behind.”

A nagging voice reminds you that there’s no way to sound tough when talking to the kriffing Mandalorian, but something shifts. There’s the slightest dip of his helmet that makes you think you’ve surprised him, that he’s looking at you through new eyes.

“I know you can handle yourself.” He says carefully, like he’s worried about getting this wrong. “This isn’t an emergency, though. Just… just let me go. Try to feel… better.”

There’s something in his voice that helps you know it isn’t a judgement, that he’s not offering because he thinks you’re some stupid flower that needs protected. He’s just a friend who sees your pain and wants to help, in whatever small way he can.

You do smile, this time, though quickly squash it in favor of a very serious-business-face. “Okay, fine. Let me help you unload the quarries, at least.”

Once that’s done, you sit on the loading ramp with Bug and watch the Mandalorian leave for as long as you can before the pulsing behind your eyes becomes too much. Leaving the ramp lowered, you shut the bay doors and find your data pad, searching for a kid-friendly holo that Bug will like. He’s going through a phase where anything to do with water excites him. You lay out your bedroll and set the kid up with a Mon Cala cartoon, his ears perking up in approval.

After he’s situated, you skulk off to the fresher. Luckily, you have a decent stash, so you don’t have to ask the Mando-fucking-lorian to buy you menstrual products. The Crest’s medkit is pretty sparse, though, and most of what you do have is either for field injuries or baby stuff. You toss back some child’s pain killers and go to curl up with the kid, keeping your eyes shut tight against the barrage of colorful animations.

By the time Mando comes back, you’re both only half awake. Without a word, he scoops the child from your arms and settles him in the bassinet that Kuiil made. You don’t try to move, just listen as the Mandalorian flits about the ship and puts away supplies. After a while, he returns, sitting with his back against the wall, facing you.

“How’d it go?” you mumble, peeling your eyes open to see that he’s removed his armor and sits in just his helmet and base layers. You want to appreciate the form-fitting clothes, but everything hurts too much.

“Sit up for a second.” He tells you, and that’s when you notice the huge shopping bag beside him. He coaxes you up, then fishes into the bag. “Here.” He says, handing you a heat pack.

“Oh, bless you.” You nearly weep, cracking it in half to activate the heated gel. You press the pad against your stomach and immediately sag with relief.

“Take these.” The Mandalorian says, producing two white pills and a thermos. “They’ll help with the pain, and your headache.”

“Oh…” you bring the thermos to your nose and realize it’s some kind of tea. “Thank you.”

You revel in the hot compress and tea, totally satiated, but the Mandalorian goes on. “I picked these up, too.” You actually gasp when he pulls out a box of golden tuiles. “I thought they might be…”

“My favorite.” You all-but shriek, setting your tea aside and making the same grabby hands you’ve seen the kid do a hundred times. You stare at the pack of cookies as if they’re precious treasure. “How the hell did you know?”

Even the voice modulator can’t hide his amusement. “A few weeks ago, when we were in that market place on Naboo? A woman was selling them and you got this feral look in your eye.”

“Yeah, that’s because these are the best thing ever.” You insist, tearing the box open. The sweet scent is like a drug, and without thinking, you reach in and hand him a cookie. “You have to try one.”

Equally thoughtless, Mando takes it, and before the obvious can come crashing down, you spin around and shove a cookie into your mouth, burying your head between your knees. You try to focus on the taste of the cookie and not the fact you just stupidly offered the Mandalorian food when you know full-well that he can’t eat in front of you. Nothing to do now but just bear down and wait out the awkwardness.

Your ears are practically ringing as the seconds tick by, bracing for the humiliation as he reminds you about one of his culture’s most obvious rules. You wait, but instead of a discontented sigh, you hear a crunch, chewing, and then, “Okay, yeah. I see your point.”

Your brain short circuits at the sound of his unmodulated voice, but there’s no time to savor it. He’s already getting up and heading toward the cockpit, speaking to you from behind a wall of static. “I’m going to set course for Arvala.”

You lift your head, too tired to process what just happened or what it means, if it means anything. “Hey, Mando.” He stops but doesn’t turn around. You smile anyway, because this definitely meant something. “Thank you, for all this. It’s… thank you.”

He turns his head just slightly and gives you a nod before disappearing into the cockpit. You take another swig of tea before curling up on your bedroll. Physically, you’re a disaster, but even that can’t keep the smile off your face.

#the mandalorian #fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #baby yoda #din djarin #is this domestic fluff??#fanfic #what have i done #star wars

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onegoosemad · 6 years ago

Text

EVERYTHING IS BAD AND THERES LOTS OF WORDS AND STUFF.

Okay so lemme just start off by saying this is really quite long. It began as me planning, and I just kept blood writing.

I was really on the fence with posting this because it’s been a long time since i’ve written properly and it’s all pretty janky. It’s also a lil’ more grimdark than I’m accustomed to.

But! To explain... It is the red/pur elite comic but much more fleshed out. This was the original direction for the comic but I stopped as I feel it’s one of those ones better communicated by text.

Red has been imprisoned by the enemy, and Purple is determined to save him.

~~~~~~ clicky below to read ~~~~~

This wasn’t like Red.

They’d completed hundreds of these assignments in their lifetimes; sneaking behind enemy lines, placing bombs and sabotaging software, destroying their designated target, retrieving the information they’d been commanded to find. It was all trivial. It was all practiced and perfect- only going astray where Zim was involved in something crucial- and Red and Purple were masters of this game, often designated leaders for both their height and skills.

But this time Red had not made it to the rendezvous.

Purple willed his pak legs to move quicker, their nimble tips kicking dust and stones loose from the barren dead planet- the smoking, cracked buildings growing closer. The base ahead was still reeling from the Irken attacks. This outpost had been tolerated by Irk for generations for the simple purpose of Elite training. The native race- a bulky, armored lizard-like species called the Morallv, hated Irkens with an absolute fury, and though it would take only a single blast from the newly constructed ‘Massive’ to wipe them from existence, they forever proved to be a good exercise for the Elite training. Get in, sabotage their weapons, upload crippling malware to their computers, blow up a few barracks on the way out- and by the time they recover, the next generation of Elites would be ready to sink their sharp claws into the outposts beating vitals.

Purple lived for challenges like these, he and Red would share excited ideas for how they would handle upcoming attacks, they’d make bets with each other on who could do the most, move the quickest, break the most, kill the most.

If there were any doubts that they’d return, they were never so much as joked about; both knew in unspoken beliefs that if it were enough to kill them, it would kill them both.

Yet Purple charged on, alone.

Somewhere behind him he heard the sound of a familiar engine- growing distant. Ascending.

He glanced back in time to see the Elite flagship blip out of existence and disappear into the sandy-colored sky above him. A pang of doubt shook through his ‘spooch- Was this the right choice?

The pak legs slowed to a halt, faltering for a moment as their suspended master dropped a few inches in space. He could still hail them and return to his home.

Purple let his antenna drop as his eyes closed; he thought of ‘home’- the Empire. The organised, efficient war machine was as close as an Irken knew to a ‘home’. He had a place amongst it, an expectation. He imagined himself returning to training, carrying on his classes, his assignments, and eventually ascending to something greater when it was all complete but he could feel a cold, wicked sensation enveloping him as he tried to picture it all- a void, an emptiness- an absence. His imagined self stood in solitude, without the familiar, red-eyed Irken smirking slyly at his side. He opened his eyes again and exhaled. That lonely world was not his.

Deftly his thin claws pecked at holographic keys on his gauntlet and a screen appeared in a blip above it, Irken doom scrawled across the intangible screen. He ignored the usual information- his rank, his location, his Pak status- and he keyed in the ID for Reds Pak. He was so accustomed to checking on his partner when they were separated, he was confident he could recite Reds unique ID number backwards.

The display brought up the information in a blink. Though limited by the void of space, the Empire kept tabs on all things- even if it meant only basic information- and from the little he had available, Purple could confirm at the very least that Reds Pak was still active.

He dismissed the screen with a single swipe. The thin spiked lances of his Pak resumed their pace.

The lesser ones were trying to hide their panic, trying to mimic their leaders stoic scowl.

Ever since they’d been dropped in this small, damp cell block, there had been fear emitting from the smaller Elites. Red, being both the most skilled and the tallest, was immediately looked to for guidance. But all he could manage was to bark them into submission- his mind occupied by the simple fact that he, an Elite- one of the best of his generation- had been captured.

He kept mulling the thought over in his mind, it’d all happened so quickly he could barely see where he’d faltered. He analysed it again and again- there had been a distraction, something stole his attention, and the beast he faced took the opportunity to strike him down.

The smaller Irkens were expected to be here. They were weak, not as clever, not as fierce- the only surprise that Zim and Skoodge hadn’t ended up here too, and that added more insult than Red ever dare mention. He had been relieved to find that Purple was not among them.

The Elite to his left whimpered pitifully, the only acknowledgement it received from Red was a warning glare.

Carefully, accompanied by a hiss of air through his teeth, he pulled the gauntlet of his right arm into his lap. The three claws protruding from it no longer did his bidding and hung limply from the end. Further up, jagged angular pieces jutted from his shoulder- all that remained of the armor there- he picked at one piece meekly as he considered pulling it free. He thought better of it and tapped the display on his right gauntlet. There was signal, but it was only enough to keep his Pak connected to the Empire and to maintain its life-giving functions.

Metal scraped on metal as the cell door opened abruptly. A sizeable beast sauntered through the door, shooting a sadistic toothy grin around the room as it entered. Hot air snorted out of its thick round nostrils, and a bassy rumble emitted from the leathery, armor-clad chest as it chuckled.

“Hello little bugs.”

Stomp. It stepped to the nearest Irken.

“Who wants to go first?”

Kneeling down to the quivering bugs level, the Morallv draped an arm lazily over its knee. The huge rounded underbite still turned upwards in an unsettling smirk.

“We know enough about you little insects to know that you’re all extremely knowledgeable on your Empire, and you’re going to share it all with us.”

Two thick yellow claws pinched the Irkens antenna between their tips.

“And you’ll want to know, over the years we’ve gotten particularly good at… Squashing bugs.”

Red had to admit- the Elite in question was doing a surprisingly good job of holding their composure, even as the claws pinched that little bit tighter there was no response. Realising his threat was having no effect the Morallv began to frown, dropping the four claws of his hand onto the top of the Elites skull- easily dwarfing the smaller creatures head- and he squeezed only hard enough to promise squeezing more.

The Elite faltered. It was subtle, but all in the room noticed- She looked. She looked at Red. Whether for guidance, reassurance or just simply a plea for help, she looked to her leader.

The wicked smile returned to the lizards face and he pushed the small Irken over with little effort. He crossed the small room with purpose and stood before Red, craning low enough to snort hot, damp air into the Irkens face.

Reds glare remained.

“So.” A split-tongue darted out to lick yellowing teeth in excitement. “You’re the leader, are you? They really do get shorter each generation.”

Ignoring the quip about his height (he was the tallest of them all, why would that topic ever hurt him?) Red simply stared unbreaking and unspeaking. He had no plan. He barely even had hopes. But he knew he would not play this game.

The Morallv knew that too.

He’d been sitting against the wall, letting his Pak work its magic on repairing his wounds, flooding his body with suppressants for the pain emitting from every break, tear and cut on his body. But now he found himself face-down against the ground with a fresh pain ringing from his jaw and a heavy, clawed boot pressing hard on his shoulders.

Morphine flushed a new wave of numbness through his body, and Red found himself thanking whoever on Irk decided that painkillers needed to be a Pak feature.

Until the boot pressed harder and the pain swelled again.

“I know you’re going to take the longest to break.” The bassy voice rumbled above him, Red clawed feebly at the ground with his working claws. The weight was too much for him to force off. “But the quicker you start to crack, the quicker your friends will give in to us.”

Pressing harder again, Red tried to distract himself from the pressure by focusing elsewhere- he looked for a moment to the other Elites, but the fear in their eyes made him furious- he listened instead, to the advice of Purple, and to the noise of his Pak. Many a time Purple had lamented about the sound of his working Pak being a reassuring one. Knowledge that you’re alive, he liked to say. It was true- nothing was more certain for an Irken than the little clicks and whirs of the life support on their backs. Quietly, he could hear the sound of a louder click, feeling a small vibration emitting somewhere from the machinery. A snapped propellor on a fan, he mused. Of all the damage his Pak could have sustained, that was fairly trivial.

Crack.

It took all of his willpower not to give the Morallv the satisfaction of crying out as something in Reds chest went from solid to snapped. His working claws dug three deep holes beneath them, and even his broken ones twitched in pain. He hissed and clenched his eyes shut.

The pain echoed again as the armored boot kicked him swiftly in the side- sending him crashing into the wall where he slumped, cradling his chest, staring in outrage at the candy-colored liquid that had dribbled from his teeth.

A bassy snort was the goodbye the lizard gave as it left the room.

The closest Elite rushed to Reds aid, but he only moved enough to bat the smaller Irken away.

Every record for their class said the same thing. Purple was a master of stealth.

Red hadn’t believed it when Purple came up on top of their first infiltration challenge. It’d been simple; get past Irken guards, steal a keycard, and get out without being noticed.

They went in one by one, waiting their turn expectantly, eager to prove themselves the moment their cold, militaint instructor said ‘go.’

Go! She had shouted to Purple. Instead the lilac eyed Irken swayed from one foot to the other lazily- and flicked a single, pink keycard out, pinched between the tips of his claws idly.

He’d gotten punched for his arrogance, but that day started his legend amongst the class- that loud, distracted, lazy and eccentric Purple reserved all his sneaking ability for the right moments.

But it was always a game, a challenge. A dare. Never before had he been in this situation. Perched high in the shadows, pipes and cables of an enemy fortification, his Pak barely able to keep his heart rate constant as he watched the Morallv soldiers pace beneath him.

The slight tap-tapping of his Pak legs had pushed his nerves to the edge and his experience knew to retract them, opting instead to move around in the darkness on foot. Arguably far slower, but this way he was completely silent.

They had all been briefed on the enemy on the journey over. The lists of weaknesses and strengths displayed on repeat inside his head. The lizards were heavily armored, big, and extremely strong. As well as having a toxic venom, they were formidable. But they had their weaknesses. One- thankfully to Purples advantage- was their inability to see in low light.

To Irken eyes, the shadows were simply a deeper shade of pink. To the lizards, they were an empty void that rendered Purple completely invisible.

Every flashing keypad or exposed cable was a prime opportunity to create more hiding places, and- given any other situation- Purple would have delighted in plunging the base in to darkness.

But today it was for necessity.

Anxiously, he checked the display on his gauntlet again. Pink characters and numbers soothed his nerves- Reds Pak was still active.

Tiny round indents in the walls, screws and bolts or metal panels all served as grapple points for thin Irken claws, Purple moving nimbly from one space to the next, across the tops of wide ventilation pipes and ledges of the ceilings. The dimly lit cobalt corridors seemed to stretch on forever, and he began to doubt his sense of direction as the doors and markings began to meld into the same sight- giving the illusion of running in circles. He perched atop a large circular pipe, surveying for any emergency hiding places, then dropped to the floor with an expert roll.

An amber light glowed fiercely from a large screen across the hall. Antenna twitching and sensing for movement around him, Purple silently approached it and tapped the screen deftly only to realise... the language was unreadable to him. It was some primitive scrawl the lizards defaced their computers with. He managed to find a map of the level he was on, but apart from deciphering the large ‘you are here’ marker, he couldn’t learn anything more from the screen.

With a growl of irritation, he pulled cables from his gauntlet, forcing their thin needle-like tips into any open port the screen offered. He wished- for yet another reason- that Red was at his side. Hacking was more the scarlet Irkens skill. In fact, Red succeeded over Purple in almost everything technology based- and Purple made up for the skills Red lacked. Together they were the perfect team.

Apart, this screen would remain unhacked.

Long black antennae twitched upright suddenly as Purple detected something- Vibrations, footsteps, from around the corner. There was a vent mere metres away, it took only seconds to tear the cover off, slip in and replace it. Perfectly timed as two Morallv guards turned into the hallway. Male and female walking side by side idly and chatting, one held a long staff with a round amber ball on the end- a weapon Purple couldn’t identify- and the female held an armful of candy bars.

“-might have a chance this time.”

“Unno” Muffled by a mouthful of candy, the female chewed loudly. “Ya say that each time. But each time the bugs attack us we get a bunch of them and they just all die.”

“They do!” The other exclaimed, the sound echoing so loudly in the metal vent that it caused Purples antenna to flick back against his head. “But this time! This time I have a good feeling!”

“You really think any of those bugs are going to give us access to their mainframe? Isn’t it, like, programmed into them that they can’t?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Can they… Like. Think? Or is that programmed too?”

“Why are you asking me, you idiot?”

The male shrugged as the pair passed Purples hiding spot, turning down another nearby corridor.

“Hey i’m just making conversation-” “Take a bar, and shut up.”

Purple waited until the cacophony of stomping and crunching grew quiet before he silently undid the vent again, slipping out like a shadow.

He placed it against the wall again with a gentle tink, Pak tools screwing it in place once more with practiced precision.

The ground receded from beneath him suddenly as he was lurched upwards, snagged by the long metal appendages of his Pak. Panic set in for a moment and he swung around to meet the glassy snake-eyed gaze of a Morallv guard that had been lagging behind his friends.

It snapped a candy bar on its teeth idly.

“Fellas!” It boomed without breaking its stare on Purple, causing his sensitive antenna to flick away. “Come check out this bug I caught!”

Thin silver blades burst forth from Purples Pak and shot towards his assailant, the spiked legs burying themselves straight into the glazed eyes locked on to him- and he was thrown down the corridor as the lizard wailed in pain, eyes covered by blood-filled claws.

The Irken had no chance to collect himself as boots stomped hard against his back, pinning him to the metal floor. Snacks littered the ground around him as the female lizard forsook them to grab at the dancing Pak legs, managing to grab hold of one and tear it in half with a wild show of sparking electricity. Three remaining daggers proved too quick for her as Purple directed them to slash across her torso, taking pieces from armor and leaving bloodied lines in the thinner places. She swung wildly, trying to wrangle the deft blades.

Taking the opportunity, Purple managed to throw her off balance and off his back, swiftly rolling to a crouch and pausing only to hiss in defiance.

Bright!

Claws covered his eyes suddenly, trying to alleviate the sudden overstimulation- blinding, white light so fierce he couldn’t open his eyes again without them stinging like hot fire. Even closed, the shining burned so intensely he swore he could feel it in his Pak.

That light!

One eye cracked open a sliver- regretting it instantly, he found himself feeling as though he’d just stared into Irks sun- he spotted the source to his left. The remaining lizard held his staff high above his head, the light on its end flicking erratically in pulses and flashes, the Irkens sensitive eyes could only stand a second of exposure before the pain became blinding again.

As a desperate last resort Purple summoned the blaster from inside his Pak and shot wildly in the suspect direction. He hadn’t wanted to rely on his blaster at all. For starters, his skill relied mainly in hand-to-hand combat and melee weaponry. Shooting was more Reds thing. A Pak blaster was also powerful enough to shoot through metal walls and loud enough to be heard yards away.

Relief washed over his senses as the light returned to a normal level. He rubbed his eyes feverishly, attempting to disperse the white circle that appeared in his vision and left him blind.

Metal creaked and cables screeched as something vital was once again torn from his Pak- vaguely sensing the presence of his blaster leave him, Purple bared his teeth to what he assumed was near him and swung the remaining legs of his Pak in a flurry around him, noting where they collided with anything that felt like it wasn’t wall or floor.

Shapes finally began to come in to view and he could assess his situation. The light bearing lizard laid in a crumpled heap on the ground, a large hole carved in his torso with liquids and bloody lumps collecting in a puddle around him, the horrible light weapon forgotten beside him.

The female Morallv stood ahead of him with her arms up, protecting her face from the wildly swinging blades- seeing his target now, the three thin legs all came down in a single point and pierced the lizards skull with a sound that would have disgusted a member of any other race.

Using the skull as a leg-up, Purple ascended into the mess of cables and pipes on the ceiling once again, hiding deep in the shadows as the remaining Morallv felt blindly at the wall, clutching his bloody face with one hand, and using the other to signal the alarm from the console on the wall.

Soothing.

He never thought he’d find a floor so comfortable.

No- Comfortable was the wrong word. Such a relief? So pleasant? So soothing?

The concrete was cold, icy to most- but against his swollen flesh and white-hot wounds, the cold was a welcome sensation. Laying on his side, staring unfocused ahead with his mangled arm pinned between the floor and his body, Red inhaled sharply- following the breath into his body, where it twanged off broken bones and sent pain rippling through his torso.

Everything was sore. He’d been through a lot, as an Elite. He was hard to defeat- but that didn’t mean he left unscathed from classes and brawls. Broken bones, slashes from weapons and claws, punctures from lances, they were all experiences he had under his belt. But this was all so much at once. His Pak suppressed pain, yet there was so much for it to deal with it couldn’t address them all. Somewhere in the distance his antenna picked up the vibration of something unusual, but he was too focused on his own predicament to wonder. The irkens around him had all received a similar welcome over the course of the night and all were a sad example of Elites. A few had collapsed, curling around on themselves in pain, some were bearing it as well as Red himself- sitting or laying motionless, reserving their energy. At least one, Red assumed, had died from the assault.

An attempt at dislodging his arm was stopped with a hiss, Red wanted to be stronger- at least be strong enough to sit upright, but his body wouldn’t permit it. The frustration building inside him was nothing he’d experienced before, he’d occupied his mind with brutal ways to tear lizards apart and images of him doing it, but now his mind wandered again. To here. This grimey, dark, damp cell, covered with generations of- he assumed- Irken blood.

He was meant to be stronger.

The irken near him scuttled backwards as Red exhaled through his teeth, angry, flexing his working claws. This wasn’t meant to happen. He’d failed the Empire. And it happened so early in his legacy. He hadn’t even finished his Elite training! He’d never piloted anything bigger than a Voot, and the only planets he’d been to outside of Irken rule were the ones meant for Elite training- one he’d failed on!

One he would die on.

He wanted to be an invader. He wanted to sink entire races with his own claws- he was destined to be a terrible force.

But instead, he would bleed out in some forgotten cell, succumbing to the wounds induced by a big reptiles blunt blows.

He unclenched his teeth, letting his claws relax and his antenna droop. Thoughts turning to Purple- His closest companion. Purple had made it out. He was certain of that. Tailing only a few feet behind his friend- always in proximity- Red had watched the Elite flagship descending on the horizon. They were en route to return to their normal lives. Back to class and back to assignments.

And Red had looked back. One finally gloating smirk at the lizards on their tail. He stopped to insult them.

But that stupid light caught his attention- that one moment of distraction was his downfall.

All he could do now was regret. The flagship left. He heard it. The Empire didn’t bother with captured Irkens, they were unworthy.

This was the end.

As if prompted by his thoughts, something changed. Something terrible. They all felt it.

Reds eyes snapped open and he sat up against his body's protests- looking around the other Irkens with him had the same response. They felt the same thing. Wide eyed and antenna bolt-upright they all exchanged terrified glances, then looked to Red who only mirrored their fear.

Working claws shook like leaves as he brought them to the opposite gauntlet. He tapped the holographic keys slowly, fear mounting in the room as the Irkens all came to the same conclusion.

The screen popped up over his gauntlet.

There was no writing, no report from his Pak, nor rank or any information.

There was only static on a blank screen.

Clawing like a feral animal he slipped from the rounded pipe he was travelling across. Sharp scratches across the metal made a cacophony of noise as he slipped down, breathless and dizzy.

Something was wrong.

Unable to get a grip, he fell, barely breaking his fall with the three working legs of his Pak. Shaking a foggy cloud from his head he quickly realised the predicament his fall had put him in and he darted for the closest hiding point-a random pile of crates, barrels and storage containers. Ducking in deep and making himself as small as possible in the shadows, he struggled for breath.

Purple ignored the group of lizards stomping around the hallway looking for the source of the noise, his attention focused on typing rapidly on the screen of his gauntlet. Entering the same digits he was so accustomed to, he prayed to Irk that the feeling of dread he was suffering with wasn’t related to Red…

Yet the pink screen was gut-wrenchingly void of any normal information, showing only a series of numbers.

Code 437

The sounds of the Morallv boots faded out of existence for Purple- his antenna quivered and drooped, raking his memory for the meaning of that code as despair began to settle deep in his ‘spooch.

They’d been briefed on Pak codes in one of the earliest classes, desperately he tried to recall the meaning of 437. Codes like these were typically used in the aftermath of a battle or incursion, to let the Empire decipher what had happened. 148 was the most common code, it meant that the organic host for the Pak- the body, had been destroyed. Purple had committed that one to memory. 361 meant that the Pak had been removed forcibly and ceased function from sustaining severe damage. 362 meant the same, but the addition of the body dying off first.

Code 437…

Purple sucked a breath through his teeth. That code was a precaution. Specifically appearing only when Irken were captured. In order to preserve their secrets, and prevent any prying aliens from gaining access to their technology, the Empire ordered the Paks connection to be severed.

They had switched off Reds Pak.

Typing in a flurry, Purple searched for the few other IDs he could recall; finding all that had been absent from the rendezvous- not that he paid them any real attention then- showed the same Pak code.

The empire had abandoned them all.

He tried to focus on the threat at present, watching the small pod of lizards shrug and cease their searching as they seperated down different corridors. Purple was eager to get moving again, he had to act quickly… Time was even more dire, now.

Voices of his various instructors echoed in his head as he replayed the memories of his classes. Paks were vitally important, sustaining life itself for Irkens, but their function was heavily reliant on the Empire. An Irken without a Pak was doomed to die. But as well, an Irken without a Pak was a soldier without a commander- and deemed a threat to the Empire. Without direct connection to their collective a Pak was programmed to cease all function. Like a battery losing charge, their life-sustaining features would begin to wane. Small things at first, the power of their ocular implants would fade, their Pak would no longer prioritise suppressing pain, then it would stop suppressing weak, primitive emotions like fear, and eventually…

Purple slipped from his hiding place hastily, keeping low and keeping to the shadows.

The Paks would become too weak to sustain vital functions like breathing and blood circulation. The function of the relevant organs were long lost to Irken ‘evolution’ and without the Pak, the organic host could not survive.

He’d intentionally distract himself during those classes. Red enquired once, asking why Purple insisted on getting his attention every few seconds to whisper something stupid or silently torment a smaller Elite between them, and Purple had dodged the question. In truth, it scared him. Death was for inferior Irkens. He had no fear of it. Even if he were struck down- it’d be in the middle of a heated, epic battle, not… Slowly and tortiously. The thought of watching ones body decay as the mind followed along sluggishly… It petrified him.

And it was so much worse when Red admitted that he shared that fear.

The corridors were getting darker and less hospitable as he pressed on. The further he delved down them, the less they looked like quarters or common rooms; far less inviting. Crates and barrels began to appear in mass littering the walls, inspecting some he found various primitive weapons like spears and maces- and a single orb that resembled the light from the staff, which he promptly smashed on the ground- he figured he was nearing an arsenal. The subtle decorations on the walls had shifted from soft and pleasantly colored panels and shapes to hard cobalt metal, the occasional angular spike splitting the wall. Sharp columns supported a wire-riddled ceiling, resembling a mass of worms.

He passed a wide open doorway, spying ships of different sizes parked across a blue-painted hanger. Committing that area to memory he pressed on. Purple could still hail ships, but he wasn’t certain that they would arrive quickly enough- or at all- and preferred to simply steal an inferior Morallv vessel.

Antenna perked upwards as he caught a familiar scent. Wafting from a hallway mere metres away he urged his Pak to squash his senses for a moment- the smell was overpowering. Familiar to him, in smaller bursts, from training at the academy. The smell of blood.

It smothered him like a fog, hesitantly he approached as his ‘spooch went into a fit of disgust. It didn’t smell of the coppery, salty substances that came from other fleshy races. It was Irken blood.

A plain, uninteresting door was the source of the smell at its strongest. Purple knew it was the door to a cell. He swallowed nervously- not certain if he was brave enough to pass through this portal. The scent of death was suffocating him and his imagination was beginning to run wild, even with his Paks attempts at suppressing his fear.

Claws stretched out hesitantly ahead of him, faltering before they made contact with the door. Trying to steady his shaking hands he swallowed nervously and-

The door began to open.

There had been a split second of opportunity. He acted on reaction, digging his Pak legs into the metal above the doorframe and launching himself upwards and onto a ledge there. A lizard sauntered his way out, glancing absently over his shoulder as he left the room. Candied pink liquid dripped from his claws and knuckles.

A thin needle-like spike slipped into the space of the automatic door, the mechanism whirring for a moment as it tried to close against the Pak leg. Jamming a couple more spikes in there, Purple managed to force it open and slipped in the cell. He broke a piece from the fourth, ruined leg, and wedged it in place before turning to survey the room- and stumbled backwards.

It was all just as his fearful mind had imagined. There was a small collection of Irkens littered about the room, limp and unmoving. New blood splatters decorated walls and floors, adding to the marks that had been there for decades. The damp, heavy scent of the cell was overwhelming and Purple had to clutch his forehead to regain his composure.

He scanned the dim room quickly, finding the target he so desperately sought. Red sat against the far wall; head bowed, eyes closed, his antenna limp and his uniform bloodied. Purple was cautious to approach, ghosting his claws along a mangled broken arm, too fearful to touch in case he might cause more damage- and he knelt in front of his partner.

He brought his hand to Reds face, delicately avoiding his skin with the tips of his claws and pressing the palm against his friends cheek in an effort to stir him.

His gauntlet was wrenched downwards quickly and painfully- he should have seen that coming- claws leaving a few thin cracks in the small console there. Crimson eyes squinted, unfocused, as the owner hissed through his teeth in warning.

“Red!” Purple pleaded, trying to break free with little conviction, hoping instead that Red would let him go.

The Irken gawked for a moment, realisation settled in and he ripped his working claws away- only to swat Purple across the chest full-force, knocking him off balance.

Purple landed on his backside with a graceless ‘oof’.

“What are you doing here?” Red shouted, but his voice lacked the intensity it usually did. He sounded exhausted and hoarse.

“Saving your sorry ass.” Purple rubbed his own sore quarters, shooting an accusing glare at his partner. The expression faded quickly as he surveyed the damage once more.

Sensing his eyes, Red bristled- “You should be aboard the flagship.”

“And so should you!” He countered, through his arms up angrily. “Now let’s go!”

Grabbing the crimson gauntlet and tugging gently, Purple tried to stir Red from his spot, but the Irken cast his gaze to the claws laying limp in his lap and ignored his partners insistence.

“I can’t.”

The resignation in that voice turned to daggers that cut straight through into Purples Pak; he felt the mechanisms within it stop for a split moment as he turned to his partner. Reds exhausted, defeated form seemed to slump further down the wall as he avoided Purples gaze. “I’ve failed, Pur. I’m unworthy. The empire has cut connection to my Pak, even if I left-”

“They could reconnect you, let's go!”

Red shook his head. “They don’t just do that for anyone that just shows up the control brains door. I’ve failed and failures are deactivated.”

“No!” Purple snarled, more intensely than he’d meant. If Red wouldn’t walk out on his own legs, then Purple would drag him. He lunged at his friend, wrapping his arms around his torso and lifting- Until Red cried out in pain and he promptly let go.

“You jerk-” Red whimpered, breathless. “My Pak can’t suppress pain anymore don’t you dare come near me again or-”

“You’ll what, bleed on me some more?” Gently this time, he put his claws on the sides of the bloodied chest, trying to aid Red in standing up- but the Irken didn’t accept the gesture and remained unmoving.

“Go away, Purple.”

His voice was cold.

The intruding Irken pulled his claws back to his chest, gripping them together nervously as he studied Red. This was out of character, he didn’t… Know what to do. Red had always been strong, but that could often work against him. He held ideas fiercely and little could be done to sway him, if he was certain of this…

Purple opened his mouth to say something witty and dismissive back, ready to try coaxing Red out again- not this feeble, defeated creature that sat before him- but vibrations hit his sensitive antenna and he spun around, looking in fear at the door. Something was coming, and he had mere seconds before he was sealed away to face the same fate as his comrades. He moved then faltered- turning to Red again, he placed his claws on the Irkens cheek and tried to let his eyes promise- I promise I’ll come back- and then he darted through the jammed door.

All the reptiles saw was a blur pass by them, then looked to the open portal- and chaos broke loose. One made certain the door was sealed and the rest took chase.

It took hours for Purple to shake them.

Retreating to an abandoned, dusty room and hiding himself away in the corner beneath old crates and pallets, he’d resigned to sitting in silence. His Pak whirred and clicked feverishly on his back as it focused on soothing his organic body.

What now?

He was lost. Both in terms of maps, and goals- he thought the hard part had been getting in, it never occurred that Red would refuse to get out.

He nibbled idly on the tips of his claws. Red was a stubborn jerk. In any other situation, Purple would physically force the other, but pain, true pain, was not something he was familiar with and he was hesitant to inflict it on his friend. Plus, he had no real plan for escape. He flopped onto his back, throwing up a cloud of dust around him, and stared at the dark, unlit bulbs on the ceiling above him.

Noise travelled down the hallway outside and he sat upright again, pak legs extending in anticipation. He growled quietly at himself, at this image. Here he was hiding away in the darkness, afraid of footsteps outside like some inferior prey creature, while his friend was likely dying rooms away.

He hooked his metal legs into the vent above him, leaping in with new found intensity and he weaved through the ventilation pipes, pausing only to peak at the rooms beneath him, until he arrived at the hanger. Rounded Morallv heads bobbed a few stories beneath him as they patrolled, he waited until they all separated into different corners and he dropped from the ceiling, landing onto a banister overlooking the lower level of the hanger.

Humming almost silently, he scanned the interior of the ground-level ship base. The ships were all varying shapes and sizes but kept a uniform theme. Boxy, ugly, primitive things painted blue and orange, that looked like floating boulders when compared to something as advanced as an Irken Spittle Runner. The larger ships were far too large to be an option for escape, they were designed to carry multiples of the sluggish, heavy lizard creatures at once- their engineers favouring space over functionality. He sprinted quickly along the banister and leapt to the floor beneath, landing silently beside one of the smaller ships. It was a one-person ship to a Morallv, but it was roomy enough to fit several Irkens. Pressing his claws to the blue-colored cockpit he inspected the inside- the controls seemed fairly simple, and the rear of the ship boasted a few decent looking thrusters. This ship was made for speed. Not that these reptiles knew what ‘quick’ was- It was merely faster than their own ships, and that was all Purple needed.

His claws traced the edge of the ship trying to find a way to access the controls, pausing as he spied the heavy metal landing gear attached to the floor beneath the craft. They were large, vice-like claws that clamped the ship in place, he tugged at them with his own fingers. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t move.

No matter, when it came to escape he would merely call out his blaster and…

He glanced over his shoulder, doing exactly what he intended in his plan. A sad, bent and headless metal appendage emerged from his Pak and sparked a few times to emphasize the lack of said blaster.

Blades through the brain was far too kind for that stupid lizard, he scowled.

No matter- Red still had a functioning blaster, when it came to escape, he could be the one to blow up the landing gear and free the ship. The thought of Red, toting his weapon around like the trigger happy fool he was, wicked smirk on his face- it made Purple snicker.

Darting to the underside of the next ship, then the one behind it, he crossed the hanger unnoticed and slipped through the main door to the base.

Retracing the steps he took hours before, he weaved through corridors and across open rooms. Carefully avoiding the patrolling lizards, he ducked behind pallets of weapons and metal armor, climbed into vents or disappeared into dark shadows when he needed. He couldn’t help the feeling of wicked pride growing inside him at how simple it was to evade these fools. He barely had to try.

Hearing Red’s words echo in his head, he urged himself to focus. “Don’t get cocky, Purple.” Reds memory glared, a hidden smirk barely showing on his lips. “You get cocky on a mission and you’ll get caught.”

If only he’d listened to his own advice.

They’d caught on, he pinched the tip of one claw between the others anxiously, lilac eyes watching intently from his shadowed hiding spot. There’s a guard now, standing at the door of the cell, looking bored. A shorter, rounder, orange-skinned lizard that leaned against the wall between the door and a console, flicking his claws idly against a polearm that stood taller than he did. Purple surveyed the room, grasping around for inspiration of a plan. The distance between him and the guard was too great for a direct attack; he would be spotted long before he landed a hit on anything vital, and given the guards proximity to the console it would be easy for him to sound the alarm. Purple could quickly retreat into hiding in that situation, but it would likely send some unwanted attention towards Red.

Standing as high as he dared, he peeked into the boxes surrounding him. The irony of being a base under constant attack by the Irkens was that the Morallv kept weapons on hand at all time- weapons that this Irken was eager and willing to use against them, he slowly and quietly removed what he believed to be a Morallv dagger, though to him, it was longer than his gauntlet- and he retreated back into his hiding spot.

The lizard scratched idly at his nostrils.

Slipping the handle flat against his palm, Purple held the blade behind him, claws pointed down the sharp metal as though holding a shard of ice.

He held his breath, and threw it deftly.

Then closed his eyes and considered praying to Irk.

The lizard collapsed forward onto his knees, weakly pawing at the space beside his head before continuing his downward motion, his chest hitting the ground with a loud thud.

The blades handle protruded from his temple, a puddle of blood rapidly growing beneath the glassy-eyed face.

Sighing in relief, Purple wasted no time and hastily approached the body, frisking it for anything that might gain him access to the cell. A key, a card, even a thumb if the door required a print scanner- and he found a bracer humming with energy and glowing with intricate technology mounted on the beasts wrist. When it didn’t come loose on its own, he hacked at the muscle until he could wriggle it off.

The reader by the door beeped in approval as he held the bracer against it. The door scraped open angrily, and Purple worried for a moment that it may catch a passerbys attention, but he didn’t wait to find out.

He burst into the cell and inspected it quickly again- choosing to ignore the obvious decline in numbers- one or two Irkens looked at the door in fear, recognising the sound of the reader at the door and knowing what would typically follow it through. Their fear became surprise at the sight of the Irken.

He ignored them, going straight to Red.

The injured Elite lay on his side this time, one antenna was snapped halfway up the base and the top half angled away. Pink blood stained his armor, his skin, and had dried in trails from his mouth. His eyes cracked open at the disturbance, having the strength to do no more than glare- realising who it was that stood before him, he exhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes again.

Purple wasn’t ignored so easily, he slipped his claws under Reds shoulders and sat him upright, ignoring the yelp of protest that his partner gave. Lilac eyes fixed fiercely on tired crimson and Purple hissed back.

“We’re going.”

Closing his eyes again, Red had no response.

“I said we’re going, Red.”

Stubbornly he ignored again.

“Red!” Purple snapped, flicking his claws against the intact antenna and causing Red to jump, eyes open and glaring at the assault. “I can’t get off this planet on my own, my Pak blaster is ruined and I need it to get the ship free. You are coming with me whether you like it or not just so I don’t die here, too!”

Reds glare softened to a sad stare and he batted Purples claws away. “My Pak won’t respond to me, I can’t call my blaster out if I wanted to.”

The other Irken scoffed in response. “Your Pak might be cut off but the mechanics still work fine, let’s go.”

“I’ve tried already, it won’t obey me.”

“Tell it louder, then! Come on!”

“I can’t call my blaster out, I need the permission of my rank to do that, without the Empire I have no rank which means no permission. Idiot.”

Purple raised a non-existent eyebrow, looking at his partner queerly.

“What about your Pak legs?”

Red shrugged.

“It won’t work.” “Have you actually tried?”

“I’m telling you, Purple, it won’t work.”

It stayed silent for a beat as they stared at each other. Purple tilted his head and glared accusingly. “You’re really giving up?”

The creature across from him kept his stone-wall expression. “I don’t get a choice.”

“You’re really just going to let yourself die here?”

“The Empire decided that for me.”

“You’re really going to be outdone by the ones that made it back, like Zim?”

Red bristled.

“-Or Skoodge. They’re going to finish their training, you know.” “Shut up.” “- And you won’t, caus you’ll be dead.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Purple, I’m not happy about this either-”

“-You won’t because you gave up.”

A savage expression contorted across Reds face as that scenario ran through his head- exactly as Purple had intended, nothing got his friend more riled up than the idea of being second best, or Zim, combining the two had the perfect result. Until, the expression faded and that meak, uncharacteristic look of defeat fell over Reds features again.

“Whatever.” Was the grand finale.

Resignation mirrored in Purple, he tried to stop his shoulders drooping as Reds did. He sighed, cupping the other Irkens cheeks in his hands and leaning close- crimson eyes closed knowing this ritual, one they’d acted out in any time of need where their nerves got the better of them or their anger took control. Their Paks created an endless supply of electricity which surged through their bodies at all times- as they pressed their heads together, eyes closed, they waited for the familiar zap of the two circuits meeting, a soothing spark that reminded them of the others presence. Except, with one half of the circuit broken, the spark did not come. Lilac eyes remained closed as he spoke-

“We’re going.”

It was an order.

Ignoring all protest he pulled Red upwards, to his feet- and the Irken stumbled immediately as his legs gave way, Purple barely catching him in time before he fell to the ground again.

Maybe he had been a bit too eager with his battered friend.

Had he not been preoccupied with the extreme amount of pain he was in, Red would have been tearing strips off of Purple- both with words and with claws. He managed, against all his expectations, to plant the soles of his boots on the ground but the moment his weight shifted back under him, his legs threatened to buckle again.

It was embarrassing. Having to cling to Purples side for support. Silvery Pak legs wrapped around him gently to aid him in staying upright, and he was lead slowly- at Reds demand- from the room.

Red gave his partner a queer look at the sight of the dead lizard as they stepped over it, the blade still protruding proudly like a grizzly trophy. Purple just smiled a toothy smile.

The trip to the hanger was agonisingly slow. They’d been extremely lucky, managing to avoid the high-traffic areas of the base- mostly to Purples credit, as he’d learned the most favourite routes. They’d snuck into the hanger through a maintenance shaft, their pace faltering the closer they got to their goal as Red tired. But once the promised ship was in sight the battered Irken was practically dragged to it and allowed to flop against the side of the metal craft.

Purple busied himself with the cockpit, managing to pop the glass chamber open. It swung with so much force it nearly clipped him on the chin and he fell backwards with a thud. Red spent enough energy to give him a disapproving look before closing his eyes again.

Barbaric alien language scrawled across the screen within the cockpit, Purple leaned in far enough to search for anything that resembled a mechanism or a button to allow the landing gear to unlock- and finding none he slipped his upper half out again, turning to Red. And he did something all Irkens were reminded to never do.

He forced the top panel of Reds Pak open, delving his claws in deep to the mechanisms within. Red shot upright suddenly in alarm, teeth clenched and eyes wide- the sensation akin to another race having thin, probing claws within their skulls.

Metal and cables reacted involuntarily, turning on the assaulting claws and trying to force them out. Purple found the Pak legs first- or they found him, as they slashed at his gauntlets, he ignored them and continued to dig around in the enigma of Irken technology in an attempt to find the blaster. He encountered Reds favoured tablet next, one he’d tap away idly on whenever Purple was bored and trying desperately to get his attention. A tube of some sort wrapped around his wrist and he wrenched the arm free from the Pak, making Red shudder in response.

After what felt like an eternity his other hand clawed at a gun-like shape and he pulled it outwards, the mechanism whirring and clicking as it refused to be coaxed free. Wrangling it as far as he could, and pointing it to the landing gear, he pulled the trigger that existed only for situations like these.

Bang!

Pink fire exploded blindly around the claw-like vice. The sound reverberated off the walls and the force shook a few things loose from a nearby bench, clattering to the floor with loud metallic clangs. The ship rocked, teetering to one side.

As voices began to shout from the main door to the base, Purple scooped up his shaken friend and dumped him unceremoniously into the ship, jumping in after and kicking the ship into action.

#invader zim #invaderzim #invaderzim fanfiction #almighty tallest #tallest red #tallest purple #irken elite #irken elite red #irken elite purple

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returnn-of-the-mac · 6 years ago

Note

The companions (+ Maxson) talk to Sole about an annoying or boring subject and Sole screams Shut Up! 🤐

This one was a lot of fun! Sorry it took so long to complete! If I were a companion in this request, I think I would annoy Sole by fangirling over MCR. Other than that, I’m totally 100% Codsworth (tag yoself when you’re done reading). I also had to change some name brands to made-up pseudonyms to avoid copyright issues. I normally like to write a silent Sole, but this request kinda required a talking Sole. Anyway, please enjoy!😄 (also the movie nickname rq one should be out either tonight or tomorrow!)

FO4 Companions (+Maxson) React: Companions Rambling & Sole Telling Them to Shut Up

Sole’s eye twitched as their companion rambled on for the third day in a row about the same topic. As much as they adored their companion and admired their enthusiasm about the subject, they couldn’t take it anymore. A fed-up Sole stopped dead in their tracks, turned around, and snapped:

Strong:

“Shut up! I‘m done listening to you explain the best way to gut and cook rotting narwhal flesh,” Sole fumed, “I don’t care if you drench it in tato paste or barbecue blood. I’m never going to eat it, Strong. Never!”

Strong frowned, “No be mean human! Or no find milk! Be nice!”

“Strong, I’m sorry. I’m not eating a parasite-infested narwhal corpse.”

“Come on! Rotting horn whale taste like giant fish stick!”

Deacon:

”Shut up! I don’t want to hear about the benefits of changing the HQ password to DEACON IS COOL anymore,” Sole hissed, “Besides, there is a huge hole in your plan. You can’t even spell that with the letters available!”

“Woah there, calm down pal. I didn’t think of that,” Deacon mumbled. He quickly lit up, “But there’s nothing a little permanent marker can’t fix!”

“You think Desdemona isn’t going to notice black marker squiggles all over the door?”

Deacon scoffed, “Um, I’m not stupid. That’s why I’m going to use a brown marker, pal.”

Curie:

“Shut up! I can’t listen to you talk about spinal contusions and brain injuries anymore. It’s making me squeamish.”

Curie immediately stopped talking and her face fell.

“Curie, I’m sorry, I—“

“I’m sorry, [Madame/Monsieur],” the synth began, her eyes welling with tears, “I hope I didn’t upset you. I just find that topic fascinating.”

Gage:

“Shut up! I don’t care about all the pranks you’ve played on Mason. I don’t blame him for being pissed off.”

“Damn. Anyone teach ya manners, boss?” Gage scowled, “Anyway, what? Ya ain’t gonna appreciate the fact that I egged the furry bastard while he was ramblin some mumbo-jumbo-bullshit to his pack of loonies?”

Sole shook their head.

“Or that I lit a bag of Molerat shit on fire right on top of his pompous-ass throne?”

Sole shook their head again.

“Well, boss. You ain’t got no sense of humor, then.”

Piper:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired about hearing about how Sturges is a synth,” Sole shouted, “I can get behind McDonough being a synth, but there is no way that Sturges is one.”

“But Blue, he has all the signs. He—“

“And so what? What do you want me to do? Even if he hypothetically is a synth, I’m not turning my back on him. I’m still friends with Danse and I’m not dead yet. Curie’s a synth and she’s a sweetheart. X6? Nick?”

Piper‘s face dropped for a moment, before glaring at Sole and turning her back.

Sole sighed, “Piper, I—“

“Don’t talk to me right now.,” The reporter hissed.

Longfellow:

“Shut up! I don’t care about the eight basic knots.”

Longfellow shook his head in disappointment, “I understand you’re sick of this old man bugging you about tying knots, but it is useful information. You never know when you could find yourself in a situation where you need to tie a good ol reef knot, or clove hitch!”

Longfellow pulled a small rope from out of his pocket and Sole sighed.

“Shall we attempt a figure-eight knot today?”

MacCready:

“Shut up! Stop talking about Santa Claus. I know you read about him in an old book we found but—“

MacCready stubbornly crossed his arms, “Oh yeah? I think you’re just being a snob. Some of us haven’t been lucky enough experienced this, [name]. How can you not obsess over a fat guy who spies on people to see if they’re good, breaks into homes, and leaves presents?That’s so cool!” He paused, “I…probably would’ve gotten coal though.”

Sole’s eyebrows furrowed, “Mac—“

“It’s a darn shame he had to die when the bomb dropped. He could’ve brought so much joy to the Commonwealth.”

“—he’s not real.”

MacCready’s jaw dropped, “But the books, the posters, the pictures…there’s so much evidence.”

“Marketing.”

MacCready shook his head in disappointment, “Pre-war Capitalist propaganda…”

Ada:

“Shut up! I already told you I don’t know what a Sara is. How am I supposed to understand what you’re talking about when you tell me you were a Sara prototype?”

“[Sir/Ma’am], like I said before: Sara was a virtual assistant software that was going to be implemented in all future Vault Tec electronic devices. It had a speech recognition engine that could assist users. My biggest flaw was that I could not translate into other languages. I was scraped and remained inactive in a dumpster for years before Jackson reprogrammed me.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around that technological advancement. It doesn’t seem real.”

“Yes, it was highly advanced. That is why it did not make its debut before the bombs dropped.”

Hancock:

“Shut up! I’m done listening to your crazy Daddy-O trip stories. If you hate the chem so much, why don’t you stop taking it?”

Hancock laughed, “Well, [brother/sister], my Daddy-O rides are a lot more fun to talk about than my Jet or Mentat highs,” he thought for a moment, “I mean, besides the time I solved the theory of Quantum Physics on a Mentat high— that was fuckin wild— but other than that it’s more entertaining to talk about the time I shoved an entire summer squash up my ass while on the Big D.”

Cait:

“Shut up! I wish we’d never found that copy of 40 Shades of Silver. Please stop talking about it.”

“Darlin, I never read. But I could not for the life of me put down that book,” Cait sighed, “It was so…wonderfully smutty.”

Sole grimaced.

“That lass really knows how to have a good time. Sounds like a fantasy of mine, gettin hot n dirty n aggressive like that.”

“Stop…”

“Why? Ain’t it a pleasure to talk about?”

Codsworth:

“Shut up! I don’t understand your obsession with Mr. Tidy Magic Erasers. You’ve been talking about them now for. Three. Days.”

Codsworth beamed, “Well, [sir/mum], you know what they say: there’s no tidy like Mr. Tidy!”

Sole rolled their eyes.

“Besides, have you seen how well those suckers eliminate stuck-on grease and grime from dishes,” Codsworth began, “Oh wait, you haven’t. That’s right. You don’t wash your own dishes.”

Preston:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired of hearing about all the settlements that need our help. Maybe they‘d have a better chance of defending themselves if we didn’t coddle them.”

Preston crossed his arms, “How could you say that, General? I thought you truly embraced the values of the Minutemen.”

“I do Preston, but I think we just need to take a break.”

“Justice never rests. These settlements need us, General. I understand it’s exhausting, but we need to protect these innocent people from the dangers of the Commonwealth.”

Nick:

“Shut up! Please, no more dad jokes. I’m begging you, Nick,” Sole plead, “I’m…I’m annoyed.”

The detective chuckled, “Hi annoyed, I’m Nick Valentine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Stop!”

“I’m not moving!”

Sole grunted in defeat at the detective wore a smug smirk, pleased by the outcome of his jokes.

Maxson:

“Shut up! I’m tired of hearing about the technological prowess of the Prydwen. It’s not that great. It’s just a blimp.”

“Show some respect,” Maxson growled, “And you think the Prydwen is just a blimp? How dare you deride the work of the prestigious mechanics who designed the Prydwen. It is my pride and joy. It is the most advanced vehicle in the Commonwealth.”

“Maybe you should get those prestigious mechanics to work on your Vertibird death traps.”

Maxson frowned, “Vertibird design overhauls are in the agenda. We just have more important projects to tackle before then…such as the redesign of my quarters,” Sole shook their head as Maxson pulled out a color card, “I’m thinking a Deep Ruby Maroon would feel more homey than the current Grumpy Grunt Grey I currently have. But I also like Apple Cider Brown. What do you think?”

Danse:

“Shut up! Can we please just talk about something other than the Fancy Lad Snack cakes?” Sole pled.

“First of all, don’t talk to me like that, soldier. That’s blatant disrespect and I will not tolerate it,” Danse barked.

“Sorry…”

“Second, that Courser friend of yours is out of his damn mind. How can any sane individual honestly believe that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones?”

“Each to their own?”

“That only pertains to subjective topics. This argument— if we can even call it that— is a solid fact and therefore cannot be disputed.”

X6-88:

“Shut up! What is with synths and Fancy Lad snack cakes? You’ve been raving about them for three days.”

“Hey, now. I suggest you calm down,” X6 warned, “A lot of people— such as your Brotherhood friend— like the vanilla cakes, [sir/ma’am], but the real delicacy are the strawberry cakes with chocolate icing.”

“Does it really matter who likes what flavor?”

“Yes. This is an urgent matter. We should not have to dispute this to be completely honest. It is a fact that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones.”

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #danse #paladin danse #hancock #deacon #maccready #piper #maxson #elder maxson #porter gage #gage #longfellow #curie #ada #strong #cait #x6 #x6 88 #nick valentine #react

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punished-lamb · 5 years ago

Text

Mob’s Bizarre Adventure

Summary: This is a short spin-off story that involves Mob and Reigen preventing an evil demon from taking over MobDonalds. There are many exciting twists and turns as our heroes deal with this great mysterious threat. It’s very tongue and cheek.

Word Count: 2098

a/n: This is a goofy story contained in the Mob Psycho world that involves wacky high jinx and plentiful amounts of corn. This is my first posting, so enjoy the show and please leave any comments you want, thank you.

All was normal in Seasoning City, there hasn’t been a huge psychic threat in a while. Mob and Reigen only had to worry about the small exorcism work around town, so they could enjoy their personal lives better. The steady work flow isn’t much of a bother to either of them as it allows for a nice daily task.

Recently, Mob has been tasked with a daily mission, where he must exorcise a recurring demon at the local MobDonalds. Every day he is required to wear a corn cob costume and spin a sign to scare off the looming demon, or that’s at least what Reigen told him. Mob spends a few hours each day outside the establishment with him levitating the sign above his head as he wiggles his fingies in the air for extra flare. The sign reads “MobDonalds limited time exclusive Corn Mobs on a stick” for their new promotion.

Mob tries to stay enthused during his current assignment, but it’s starting to get him after doing it for the past 4 days. He just moves that sign like a good little boy for what seems like forever. As time passes more and more people are attracted to the establishment by Mob’s twirling. Luckly, Mob hasn’t encountered anyone he knows as he does this act, especially not Tsubomi. As Mob begins to doubt how much the is helping the demon problem, Tome spots him in his Corn Mob set up. She walks over with her sexy pink DS in her pocket. She asks, “Uhhh...Mob, why are you a corn?”

“Master said that if I do this, it’ll deter the demon that wishes to demolish this restaurant chain” said Mob in his usual monotone voice.

Tome gives a smug look, like if you rated her out of 10 on how smug she looked, that bitch would be SMUG. “You’re still taking those wack ass jobs, look at yourself, you’re a corn Mob, a corn.”

“I guess this task was a little out of the ordinary” Mob says as he looks down at the ground with the corn costume™ hiding his mouth in slight shame.

“Did he even tell you what the name of this “demon” was, Mob?” Tome asks, doubting the entire assignment.

Mob looks back at Tome and says, “Burger King”. Tome can’t believe how dumb that sounded. She tells him to get out of that costume as she goes to get them two corn mobs.

Mob walks to the bathroom that is located on the side of the building to get out of the corn costume™. He enters the men’s section and squeezes out of the costume from the head whole. The bathroom looks quite immaculate with every surface shining. Mob washes his face by the sink to get some of the sweat off from standing in the sun all day. He wiggles all the water off so he is no longer damp. He takes his corn costume™ and leaves the bathroom.

Mob sees Tome stand outside the MobDonalds with two corn mobs on a stick. She is already suckling hers because of the butter melting on it. “There you are Mob, took you long enough, your corn mob is drippy '', Tome calls out. Mob stares at the melty corn mob admiringly. “Uh, Mob. Get rid of that raggy costume already, it smells like ass bro.”

Mob throws the corn costume™ into its designated costume bin by the mobdonals gate. He then snags his corn mob from Tome’s delicious buttery hand. Mob thanks her for getting him a nice little treat as they walk around town together. The two suclke their corn mobs together as they chat about after school clubs.

As the two continue to chat, Mob’s phone begins to ring. Mob answers only to hear Reigen’s shouting voice, “Mob!!! Where’s the Corn Mob, Mob!!!”

“Uhhh...Corn Mob got a corn mob” said Mob hoping master won’t be as mad.

“YOU WHAT!!! Mob this job is of utmost importance, all these people are around this restaurant without a powerful corn esper to protect it. Think of the kids Mob” Reigen said angrily, clenching a corn mob in his hand

“Not to be rude but you never told me how a corn and esper hybrid was supposed to ward off a demon” Mob asked as Tome is devouring the corn mob in spectacular fashion.

“Mob, babycakes, you know demons work in unique ways” Reigen sighs, “Besides, you should have at least told me you felt for today, the MobDonalds manager is flipping out without its corn mob.”

“Sorry master, I guess it was spur of the moment,” Mob said while nibbling his corn mob.

Reigen responds with slight disappointment, “It’s okay, I’ll go take over, I’ll see ya later Mob.”

“Okay, see you, master” Mob hangs up and continues his hangout with Tome. They plan on heading to the shopping center and hanging out for the rest of the day.

As Mob goes on to enjoy the rest of his free day, Reigen is stuck in an undersized corn costume™, sweating his ass off with an advertising sign. “Oh my god, I didn’t know this suit was such a pain in the ass,” Reigen exclaimed with sweat covering his forehead. He had been taking Mob’s spot for what seemed like hours, but in reality was about 37 and a half minutes. Reigen passed the time in the by suckling as many corn mobs as he needed. And boy did he suckle them good…...what, anyways he was out there for a long time.

Reigen struggles to pull in as many customers as Mob did due to him not being able to spin the sign as skillfully. In fact, he keeps fumbling it on the ground. As he goes to pick up the sign, a little boy points at him and tugs his mother’s skirt. “Mommy, mommy look. There’s an old bum dressed as a corn mob,” yelled the snot nosed boy.

“Now, now, don’t make fun of the homeless Timmy,” the mother reprimanded her son as she dragged him away.

Reigen overheard the mother and boy duo and shattered his ego more than it was before. He grits his teeth and in that moment he decides that he is done for today. He angrily atoms to the bathroom area with his corn leaves rustling. He plops out of the corn costume™ and throws it in the outside dumpster. “Humf, serves that thing right.” He kicks the dumpster and stubs his toe. “Ack!!!”

Reigen proceeds to scream at the dumpster. But little did he know the chain reaction he just started. Although he didn’t take the Burger King demon seriously, there was trouble brewing there due to there not being a Corn Mob guardian in front of the MobDonalds establishment during its limited time offer.

Reigen notices a cold waft of air behind him. This alarming feeling causes him to turn around. He sees a burger king crown laying on the ground. His eyes widen as the ground starts to shake. Panic spreads throughout the MobDonalds line as the establishment begins to sink into the ground. A tiny mountain emerges with a Burger King on top of it. Reigen freaks out and calls Mob.

While all that was happening, Mob was still hanging out with Tome as they had a fun and exciting day in an Ikea. They have just exited the Swidish furniture store with meatball platters in hands. Mob’s phone starts playing Shawty Like a Melody as a ringtone for Reigen. Tome is quick to blurt out, “Oh my, it’s not who I think it is is it”

Mob just stares directly into Tome’s eyes as his eyes get increasingly bigger. Mob answers his absurdly tiny phone to hear Reigen freaking out. “Holy...MOB,MOB,MOB listen! You need to get over to MobDonalds right no…” Beep Beep Beep. Reigen was cut off due to an unknown reason.

“Tome, I think I need to go to MobDonalds now, master seems to be having trouble,” said Mob as he threw away his meatball platter.

Tome squints in confusion“Wha...alright, well imma head back home. I have to put these meatballs in the fridge for later.” The two say their goodbyes and part ways. Tome seems a little annoyed Mob had to be taken away for work on such short notice.

Mob rushes like Sonic down the street back to where the mountain has erected itself. He sees Reigen at the bottom of the mini mountain with the Burger King on top. Mob greets his master as Reigen fills him in on what happened

After Mob hears the story about the mini mount Burger King, it’s clear that there is only one thing left to do. Mob retrieves the corn costume™ from the dumpster and flies up to the Burger King door with both hands in the air. He slowly opened the door to see the man behind it all. A vocaloid voice can be heard from the shadows, “Haha, I see we have a corn mob on the loose, looks like it's time to double down on the serving.” It was none other than Hatsune Miku holding a whopper, standing while a smug smile.

“Miss Miku, why did you want to destroy the MobDonalds?” asked Mob with his wittle voice.

Miku scoffed, “Noob, can’t you see, MobDonalds’ new promotion only stands in the way of my new promotion with Burger King-sama.” Her face looked very evil with her smile going ear to ear as she took a bite from her whopper.

“Miku, can’t you see, nothing but harm was brought to the people you're trying to sell to. Look at them, down there. They’re screaming for their lives.” Progression toward Mob’s explosion has risen to 69% due to Miku's neglectful actions.

She laughs in vocaloid. “Nothing more than a minor loss to my profit margin, HEHEHE MWAHAHAHAHA”

“No! Don’t you see, they’re more than a profit margin. They’re more than loyal and valued customers, they’re the life and soul of this community. And I’m beginning to think that they don’t need this so called whopper,” progression toward Mob’s explosion had risen to 76%

Miku cracks her knuckles and lets out a high pitched squeal that shatters the windows. “You’re just like one of them, esper or not. Nothing more than a little bug for me to squash.” She throws her whopper at Mob and starts to float and glows purple.

Mob’s corn costume™ got stained from the mess of a burger that was thrown. Progression toward Mob’s explosion grew to 90% as he stared at the pile of tomato, onion, lettuce, and meat. Miku proceeded to laugh at Mob, taunting him further. “Alright, it’s time to end this man’s whole career!!!”

Miku begins to float across the Burger King floor toward Mob as the progression toward his explosion reaches 100%. Mob goes and does the only thing he can think of. He reaches down into his pocket and throws a corn mob at Miku. It knocks her on the forehead, leaving a buttery mark on her head. It starts to sizzle and boil causing Miku to scream in immense pain until she turns into dust and blows away.

Mob floats out of the Burger King as it sinks back into the Earth. He lands near Reigen and Dimple while MobDonalds rises back up and everything goes back to normal. “Woah Mob, that was quick,” Reigen said with a thumbs up

“Yeah, Miku wanted Burger King to rule the world but I had to stop her,” Mob explained while looking intently at his master.

“Well regardless, let's take a break, it’s been a long day” Reigen patted Mob’s little corn head

“Wait a minute, Dimble, when did you get here. Why did you appear so late in this story?” Mob questioned while staring at his floating green friend.

Dimple explained, “Well ya see, the author forgot to write me in earlier because he was too busy thinking of Tome’s feet to include me,” Mob and Reigen just stare at him like he has no idea what he is talking about. “What!? It was his fault not mine.” Dimple crossed his arms in anger.

Mob and Reigen are still confused but just shrug their shoulders and go along with it. “Anyways, let’s go relax at the office, maybe there might be a new job wait.” They all walk off as the credits roll.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to get back to playing animal crossing new horizons on nintendo switch.

#mob psycho fanfic #mob psycho story #reigen arakata #mp100 shitpost #mp100 shigeo #corn mob #mobdonalds #mp100 tome #shitpost #shitpost story #Comedy #adventure #sexy pink ds

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