#solder sleeve

[heatshrinktube]

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[celaenaeiln]

The Batman/Captain America Crossover is just a treasure trove of goodness

First you have cute little Dick glaring at the Nazi with his arms crossed: >:(

Bucky bragging about having the better mentor 😂

Lmao imagine walking into the bat cave and finding a 100ft tall playing card of Joker - BATMAN WHY?

Bucky calling Dick a shrimp! Ngl I was expecting Dick to beef right back. Bucky reminds me of Roy sm in this comic.

Even the Joker joining into fight the Nazi villain! Best villain vs villain battle!! He’s literally like “I’m crazy and evil but not that crazy and evil”

The crossover teamups!

Bruce bragging to Bucky about being cooler. He totally didn’t forget that comment.

THIS ONE! THE ICONIC “MY LEGS ARE TOO LONG FOR THIS CHAIR IM GONNA SLOUCH” POSE. Batman invented this before it ever came into the 21st century.

And finally, it all begins again!

Dick!Bats and Bruce Wayne Jr!Robin break Cap out of the ice and then the marvel movies begin. Avengers Assemble!

I nearly forgot - Dick and Bucky get stranded in the middle of nowhere farm and have to radio in to get Batman and Cap to pick them up. It was very “when are you coming?” And “oh shit! I knew we forgot something!!”

[samstree]

Ooh 17 for the sensory prompts please?

Thank you for the prompt! It's from the sensory prompt list. I really like these so I'm welcoming more! <3

17. Your bed after travelling

(Obikin, rated G, also posted on AO3)

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan calls out from their shared bed, too cozy to move. “Anakin, will you come to bed?”

The door to the living room is left open for the bright light to spill into the dark bedroom. Obi-Wan watches as Anakin continues to tinker with Artoo’s communication unit, his legs crossed on the floor and back leaned against the droid himself, who has powered down for the night.

Even droids know it’s time for some rest.

“In a bit,” Anakin answers absently, not lifting his eyes from the circuit board.

It’s way past midnight, and the temple has settled into a blissful quietness. Even the murmurs of Coruscant seem to have faded into the darkness. Finally, Obi-Wan gets to sleep in a familiar, soft bed after days of battle and traveling. The only problem—Anakin won’t sleep.

And he needs it. He was the one who piloted the ship back home when Obi-Wan fell asleep in the passenger seat, promising faintly that he’d take over later. When he opened his eyes next, they were already at the temple’s hangar bay and Anakin was waking him gently with a hand on his shoulder.

Obi-Wan stretches under the duvet, his hands touching the cool, soft sheets on the empty space next to him. He tries not to worry, but the dark circles under Anakin’s eyes make that mission impossible.

“Anakin?” he calls again, knowing he’s getting dangerously close to nagging, something that historically has never worked and will only result in a sulking Anakin. “You need to sleep.”

Smoke drifts from the soldering iron in Anakin’s mechanical hand when he pauses.

“No, I don’t. It’s fine.” He only meets Obi-Wan’s eyes for a moment, a tight smile at his lips, aiming at reassurance. It would work better if his eyes weren’t red-rimmed with exhaustion. “And I can go much longer without sleep. I’ve done it before.”

“That’s more the reason to not suffer again.” Obi-Wan sighs, knowing he’s properly nagging now. “Anakin…”

“And the nagging is unbecoming, Obi-Wan. You promised you’d stop.”

“I did not,” Obi-Wan insists. “I promised I’d try. When you don’t particularly need me to nag, but that is not the case at the moment.”

Anakin’s stubbornness always has a way of reflecting back at Obi-Wan, bringing out the same side of him. He lets out a long breath, tossing and turning for a moment under the cover. The bed is truly too empty without Anakin beside him. The worry will also keep him awake through the night, if this goes on for longer.

“Go to sleep. If you want to talk my ears off, it might as well be in your dream,” Anakin adds petulantly. “I said I’m fine.”

Sometimes, Obi-Wan wonders why he loves this impossible boy so much. So many of the grey hairs at his temple can trace back to either fighting with Anakin, or trying to take care of Anakin. Fighting to take care of him is another challenge that Obi-Wan has grown accustomed to since the beginning of the war. It scares him how little Anakin cares for his own wellbeing.

But Obi-Wan might still have a trick or two up his sleeve.

“What if I’m not?” he says, after a moment of plotting.

“Hmm?” Anakin blinks up at him, a frown slowly forming between his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan props himself up on the bed, touching his temple like he’s nursing a headache. “What if I don’t feel fine, Anakin? In fact, I believe I have been struggling to sleep.”

A pause, and those beautiful eyes widen with concern.

“Oh.” Something clatters to the ground, but Anakin doesn’t seem to care. He scrambles to put away the tools and the circuitry, and with a few long strides, he’s at Obi-Wan’s bedside. His voice is impossibly soft when he speaks next. “What’s wrong? You were already tired on our way back. Do you feel sick?”

Anakin is kneeling beside Obi-Wan, helping him to lie down on the pillow and pulling up the cover. He reaches out with his flesh hand to brush back the stray hair over Obi-Wan’s eyes to better observe him. There’s distress written all over on his face now.

Obi-Wan clears his throat, catching Anakin’s hand before his worried mind spirals out of control.

“I’m not sick, darling. I may just be overtired, and somehow that’s keeping me awake.” Obi-Wan keeps his voice small and sad, his chin tucked under the soft duvet. “Ridiculous notion, I know.”

Still looking skeptical, Anakin presses their foreheads together to check Obi-Wan’s temperature. He pulls away, looking slightly relieved.

“Not ridiculous,” Anakin says, shaking his head. “I know the feeling, when you’re so keyed up that your mind won’t quiet down. Gods, you must be exhausted. How can I help?”

A proud smile is forming at the corners of Obi-Wan’s lips, having landed Anakin exactly where he wants him. So he presses a small kiss in the palm around his cheek, hiding that smile. He still needs to keep the look on his face pitiful enough to incite sympathy.

Obi-Wan looks up from under his lashes with pleading eyes. “Will you come into bed? You know I sleep better when you’re holding me.”

“Of course,” Anakin says immediately, ready to climb into bed already.

“Wait.” Obi-Wan halts the motion, eyeing a fully dressed Anakin. “Could you also change into your pajamas? Having your obi and tabard in bed cannot be comfortable.” After a beat, he adds, “for me, that is.”

Anakin only nods with understanding before undressing and shedding all the outer layers of his robes on the floor. Obi-Wan would lecture him, except things have gone his way so quickly that he really should count his blessings for now. Anakin then finds an old sleeping shirt on the other side of the room and pulls it over his head. He also turns off the living room light and shuts the door.

The bedroom is only lit by a dim lamp, the warm light setting a cozy atmosphere.

Obi-Wan lifts the cover eagerly to let Anakin slip in. The bed sinks under the two of them and their bodies fit together perfectly. He hums with contentment to show appreciation for the solid weight next to him.

“Like this?” Anakin circles Obi-Wan’s waist with his arms, head burrowed into the crook of his neck.

“No, more like—” Obi-Wan lies back against the pillows, guiding Anakin to lay on his chest, supporting more of his weight. His hand ends up buried in the short curls at the nape of Anakin’s neck, so he plays with those curls, knowing repeated motions are a good way to make Anakin drowsy. “—like this. I prefer it when there is weight on me.”

“Yes, you’re an odd one.” Anakin huffs against Obi-Wan’s chest, and then he looks up. “I’m not too heavy?”

Obi-Wan would feel guilty about his manipulation while looking into those big, trusting eyes, if not for the fact that the body around him has already grown more relaxed since laying down.

“You’re perfect, dearest.” Their legs tangle together, Anakin’s feet cold against Obi-Wan’s shin. He tugs the duvet tighter around them to warm him up. “Perhaps just…”

“Yeah?”

Anakin still feels like a lingering sandstorm in the Force, just the slightest ripple of unrest.

Obi-Wan kisses the mess of dark curls, feeling cheeky. “Could you do the breathing exercise for me, the one that helps to calm the mind? I find myself too exhausted to concentrate.” He adds a yawn here, for good measure. “It’s easier when we do it together.”

“Of course,” says the man in Obi-Wan’s arms who famously detests all forms of meditation and breathing exercises. “Here, follow me—”

An inhale. One, two, three four.

“Good, dear heart.” Obi-Wan gives a gentle pat. “I feel much better.”

Pause. One, two, three. And then, an exhale.

“Don’t speak, master. Focus on me.”

And he is. The golden warmth that is Anakin ebbs and flows, before settling into a pool of serenity. All the ripples have smoothed out, all the waves trickling into a stream of calmness.

Obi-Wan counts the rhythmic rise and fall of Anakin’s chest, and feels the arms around him loosen, bit by bit. With a few more breaths, both of them are on the edge of sleep.

Anakin is trying to wake himself up to continue the breathing exercise, but all he manages is an incoherent noise.

“No, no. Sleep. It’s okay,” Obi-Wan whispers into Anakin’s curls, settling him with a hand on his back.

“Mm? Did you really…” Anakin slurs, the sleepiness getting the better of him. “Did you really need… me…”

“Hush, now. Just rest. For me.”

Obi-Wan waits for Anakin to completely drift off and begin snoring softly, the dead weight against his chest making him too prideful.

He wonders how many more times he can get away with it, how much he can push for while holding Anakin’s trust and love within the palm of his hand. He fears, at times, for Anakin’s tendency to serve and to protect, his too-trusting eyes and too-big heart.

For now, the night is quiet, and Anakin is dead to the world.

Obi-Wan leaves one last kiss on the messy curls of his love, and lets himself dream.

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass 9 part 3

Masterpost

TW for canon-typical violence under the read more, minor character death

Unfortunately, there was so only so much Danny could stretch out his production process when Brick started hovering over his shoulder. Brick didn’t seem that bright, if Danny was honest. But he was clearly on the lookout for foot-dragging. 

That meant Danny was mostly done with the outer casing on the second cannon when Brick looked up abruptly and cursed. Brick pulled a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Danny.

Danny was still busy soldering metal and it took him a few seconds to parse that he was supposed to be under threat right now. He blinked at Brick. “...Sorry, what?”

“Sack of shit!” Brick cursed, lip curled up. His silly little mustache rotated and stuck out at a weird angle. His eyes were wild. “Who did you tell?”

Danny shrugged awkwardly. Should he like, pretend he was afraid of the gun? Should he defend himself? He looked down at his soldering gun. Um. He probably, uh, shouldn’t… use that on Brick, right? It wasn’t like the guy could do anything to him.

Brick jabbed the gun further into Danny’s personal space. Brick’s head exploded with red mush.

Danny blinked.

Brick slumped to the floor. The gun clattered away. Blood gushed furiously across the floor and immediately ruined Danny’s shoes. Fuck. Brick’s soul sputtered in consideration of evolution. It pulsed, once, twice, and then harmlessly dissolved, passing onto the next life without all the drama of becoming restless dead.

…Lucky.

Danny turned off the soldering gun and pushed up the protective eye mask he had on for work with a disgusted grunt. Between that and the breathing protection, there wasn’t much of Brick on him except in his hair. Oh. No. He made a face and wiped at his forehead with the back of a sleeve before anything could get into his eyes. Brick was dripping down his forehead, nasty!! 

A gun cocked. “Yeah, yeah,” Danny acknowledged. He huffed and leaned over to grab at a shop rag. “Ugh!” He did his best to clean up. “This is gross. Just plain gross,” he bitched.

Footsteps walked down the metal stairs. “You work for me now,” said someone else that Danny had never seen before. Bigger guy. Older, ugly. He was balding and slightly gone to seed. Danny wasn’t exactly charmed.

Danny grunted. “My rate is 70 an hour,” he said. It had been 50 for the last group, but clearly his reputation had gone around enough for him to be recruited.

The gun pressed up against his forehead. “No, it’s not.” 

“Yeah, it fucking is, and I need $14 right now to go to the laundromat.” Danny made a gimme gesture. He ignored the gun to his head and jutted his chin out, ready for an argument. “You’re going to get rid of that, right? I do not do body disposal. I don’t have relevant expertise. That would be a sucky reason to get caught by the cops.”

The thug laughed. He put his gun back in his pocket and casually kicked at the recently emptied body. “I like you, kid,” he said genially. “Sure. I’ll tell the boss your rate. And I can get your laundry done. Don’t want your Mom to see you covered in blood?” He laughed again, like the thought of a teenager having to hide their criminal involvement was somehow funny.

Danny shrugged, not quite willing to lie that the feeling was mutual. This guy seemed like a dick.

“What’s this?” The new guy started nosing through the worktable, getting his grubby hands all over Danny’s beautiful new bazooka. He hefted it up and pointed it at Danny with a mean little smile. “What’s this do?”

Danny tried very hard not to go stiff. For the very first time, it occurred to him that he might be walking a little too close to the fire by making weapons that he could be harmed by. “Matter displacement tech,” he said casually. “Works on shit like doors.”

“Doors, huh.”

“Yupp.” 

At this range, it would displace most of Danny’s torso. He tried not to calculate how many days it would take him to regenerate from a hit like that.

The man lifted his eyebrows, but he put the bazooka back down. “You’re pretty unflappable, kid,” he commented. He rifled through Danny’s odds and ends with a careless hand, messing up the neat organization. “Once you’ve finished that, I’ll come back and pay you for it… How many work days is one of these things?”

“Takes about two days to do one solo, can get two done in three days,” Danny said tonelessly. 

His new contact grunted. “We’re going to need weapons from you next,” he said, as if it was just a fact.

“I don’t do weapons,” Danny said. He shrugged. “Sorry, it’s just not my specialty. I can get you the list of specs for what I can do, though, I–”

“You can do weapons,” he got cut off. The older man gave him a disdainful look. “Your girlfriend’s a co-ed, yeah? Cutie. Gotta work like a big man to keep her paid up.” He clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Be smart. I'll send someone to clean up.” He turned on his heel and left.

Danny stood there, taking a few moments to buffer that bullshit. The penny dropped.

‘Ew. Jazz?! They think I’m dating Jazz? That’s nasty.’

…Wait.

‘Oh, fuck. He knows about Jazz. They’re threatening Jazz.’

[rowretro]

𝕭𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖙

✧taglist✧: @jumigurumino @firstclassjaylee @tya0

✧warnings: angst, blood, violence, makeout sesh, lots of kissing near the end rlly (HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MI LOVES)

♡synopsis: Nishimura Riki, the boy your parents would warn you to never even dare to look at. He's dangerous, he rips the flesh of naive girls and eats them alive, many girls heard such stories, and did not dare to approach him, no matter how handsome he was. He's a beast, but only one girl approached him with an endearing smile. Y/n, the princess.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

4 Days had passed. The princess had been trapped in the basement, she refused to eat anything the maids brought down for her, drinking just water to keep alive, she just wanted to see him one last time. In hopes of a possible change in heart. All the while, Riki spent all his time in his mansion. The place feeling darker, and solder than usual. He felt lonely and it really affected him. Since he was just a child, many children had ran away from him, he'd cry at home, but get over it eventually. His whole life he was used to not having people around him, but this one time it really affected him.

Y/n sat by the door, feeling dizzy as ever... then it hit her. Her blood. The smell of her blood was what had him before her within seconds, so if she just cut herself, he may appear... right? Her eyes then fell on the bruises on her legs, realizing the plan may flop. But there's at least that small chance that Riki will be able to find her right?. Just as y/n was about to go through with the plan, the door swung open.

The princess now clear from any dirt, sat on her bed. She was dressed an a stunning, swan-white dress. the corseted top hugging her top half whilst the skirt flowed loosely, the sleeves were off her shoulders, and were flared out. She was beautiful. Though she didn't have that pretty smile she always had on her lips. Her eye makeup already running as they mixed with her tears. "Hurry up rat. the prince is waiting downstairs." The King seethed through gritted teeth as y/n glared at him.

The girl glared at him, eye makeup smudged, the rose lipstick barely noticeable. "I don't know when. I don't know how... but this prince will not want to accept me. he will leave the palace and never come back." She warned as the King slapped her. "Wash that filth off you face. Look pretty and meet your future husband u burdensome brat." He warned as y/n rolled her eyes.

She washed her face in the restroom, patting away every droplet of water, ensuring that the residue of her makeup was gone. She moisturized before applying a little more. "Pretty face doesn't need something like that" a familiar, soft yet alluringly deep voice called. The princess dropped the brush of her her mascara tube, turning around. The window was wide open, the man pinning her against the wall.

"You thought I was him?" the cocky prince smirked as y/n glared at him. Prince Yeonjun, a well loved, friendly half beast prince. His finger trailed down her jaw, to her neck, to her collarbone, then back up to her lips which he squished between his thumb and finger, annoyed, she smacked his hand away. She was fucked. How could she possibly scare of Prince Yeonjun?. The Prince who always watches as she does basic things like clean the house or hang up laundry.

Smile as he sees how the sweet innocent girl runs around chasing a butterfly, smiling and laughing with others, taking the best care of her plants. He fucking loves watching her. So if he marries her? he can watch her at times he knows other men can't, he can touch her the way no other man would dare to touch her, he could kiss her, keep her, hurt her, and love her. He can have her at his foot, wrapped around his finger.

The news spread like a wildfire, the princess was marrying a charming young prince, the friendly beast, Choi Yeonjun. Heck even Riki heard it, and he was fucking thirsty for blood, he was beyond pissed, god he was ready to go on a murder rampage. That was HIS princess. No other man will ever be allowed to touch her. As well as that... he felt betrayed. How could she? How dare she fool him into her loving embrace, then push him away like he was nothing?

In the dead of night, his answer was at his door. "I thought I told you to never return." Riki coldly said as the princess stared up at him. "And yet you answerred the door knowing it was me." she answerred as the male stared at her. As much as he wanted to slam the door on her pretty face, he couldn't get himself to. So the male let her in. She was dressed in a simple silk night gown, her hair down. She looked ethereal in the candlelit mansion.

The feeling of her hands softly running up his chest, reaching for neck. "One last dance before the king throws me to another beast?..." she asks as Riki pulled her hands off of his neck. "Why must I?... You're marrying him aren't you? don't make things harder and leave now." He warned as she just snickerred. "You think I'd willingly give you up Riki?... the weather changes, the world changes, heck even people change... but my love for you will never change." She said.

Her words were truly sincere, he could see it in her glistening eyes, his arm sliding around her waist, as her chest pressed against his. "What tomorrow holds is out of our hands, but the rest of tonight still remains..." she said with a smile as Riki's fingers intertwined with hers, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly danced with her. She suddenly stopped, her eyes still staring into hers as Riki frowned, also pausing. "Why'd you stop?" he asked as the girl just stared, her chin resting on his chest as she stared up at him.

Not a word was shared she hugged him tightly, his head making its way to her shoulder, finding comfort in her skin. A soft kiss placed on her hand, trailing up her arm, on her shoulder to her neck and jaw and he paused, eyes meeting hers again, she got on her tiptoes, Riki's grip now tightening on her waist. One night. The first and last chance he gets to kiss the woman of his dreams. So he did. His plush. perfect lips dancing romantically against hers, heads tilting as tongues intertwined.

Though it was late night, the 2 didn't sleep, they just couldn't. The girl had taken a quick shower, drying her hair to the best she could with the towel, her head rested against his chest as he traced his thumb across her lips, "that was my first kiss..." he said as the girl smiled. "Mine too..." she said. "I see my world in your eyes... yet I just can't have you" He said, a sad smile making its way on his lips as she snuggled into him. "Don't remind me... it hurts so much" she pouted as Riki pecked her lips softly.

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[catscidr]

Ghost reader with dottore!!?!?

Ilysm

BOO haha gotem. did i get you ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, dottore is tired and maybe a little ooc, established relationship kinda? not proofread. for plot purposes pretend that sign language doesn't exist and or that neither dottore nor reader know it lmaosghfns includes: gn!reader, dottore, pantalone is mentioned at the end wc: 1,5k

Being a ghost had its perks. One, you could phase in and out of tangible objects at your own whim- made it infinitely easier to tease and annoy Dottore. It’s not like he could push you away if you were to poke his face repeatedly, anyways. 

Two, you had freakishly good night-vision. It lined up with the doctor’s schedule- since he always worked late into the hours of the night you could hang around him and, in turn, entertain yourself by wreaking havoc in his lab (havoc meaning knocking over an empty, plastic container when he wasn’t paying attention to you). 

However, being a ghost also utterly sucked ass sometimes. 

For one, you couldn’t speak. Occasionally you’ll let out a quiet, hushed noise of surprise whenever Dottore caught you off guard or threw something at you, but you couldn’t communicate with him properly. Your main mode of communication was, for the most part and for lack of better words, miming and charades. That in it of itself wasn’t too hard to do since you grew to become incredibly expressive during your time as a ghost, but it required Dottore to look at you (thank the Seven he could see you), which he, in petty revenge, would sometimes refuse to do. 

“Sweetheart, I’m busy. I’ve been busy for a while, and I need you to let me focus,” he says in a firm but calm tone, muffled by a dust mask. It would have sent shivers down your spine if you had one, but you don’t, so instead you roll your eyes at him, floating next to him to peek at what he was doing. 

Sparks flew and sharp, stinging sounds irritating your ghostly eardrums echoed through your body, but it wasn’t enough for you to give up on pestering him. 

It’s not like you could do much, anyways. 

Moving objects could take a lot out of you depending on their weight, volume and size. Pushing a pencil was easy enough, throwing one was just as effortless, but moving something like a desk was harder, considerably so. 

Despite his apparent dislike for you, Dottore enjoyed your company, more than others. Being around someone that wasn’t afraid of him, that treated him like a friend made his cold heart thaw. It’s something he would never admit with his words, too prideful and stubborn to voice out loud, but it didn’t mean that there weren’t any other ways for him to portray his love for you. 

You poked the large metal mechanism he was working on, a loud bonk echoing in the pristine lab. It drew him out of his thoughts, gloved fingers stiffening around the soldering iron he held. 

Nothing moved out of place, but the action was enough for him to peel his gaze away from the two pieces of metal he was soldering together to glare at your semitransparent, floating figure. He says your name with a quiet growl, the word rolling off his tongue in a silent threat. 

“If you keep distracting me, I’ll keep the lab’s curtains open and start working during the day.” he huffs, pushing his security goggles up to rest atop his head to rub his eyes. Dark circles decorated his eyes, the urge to go to sleep for hours at a time constantly present in the back of his mind. 

Your face contorts in an expression akin to one of betrayal, brows pinched together as you freeze in place, your pointer finger hovering just inches away from the machine. Quickly, you’re at Dottore’s side once again, a gust of cold air chilling his skin as a result of your proximity. He pays no mind to it, simply unfurling his sleeves to cover the goosebumps on his scarred forearms. 

You want to ask what he’s working on, what exactly this big chunk of iron and copper is doing in his lab. Why he has safety goggles and a dust mask instead of his usual crow mask, why he’s so much less receptive to your shenanigans than usual. While mulling over your questions, the Harbinger walks off, leaving you alone with your thoughts- but not for long. 

He comes back and takes a seat on the stepladder he was previously on, clicking his pen, slouching forward and leaning his chin on his free hand. You snap your attention back at him- your heart would flutter at the sight if you still had one. 

Dottore sat with his legs spread comfortably, crimson eyes unobscured by his mask, hair pulled back loosely with a few rogue strands falling over his face as he looked at you with his chin in his hand, twirling his pen absentmindedly. You wonder if ghosts are able to- 

“Have you ever tried to possess something?” 

The doctor’s question catches you off guard. You shake your head quickly, your attention definitely piqued. 

“...do you remember being able to possess anything?” he adds, his left brow raised. 

You shake your head again, this time after a slight pause as a sheepish expression adorns your features. Being a ghost meant you had a pretty bad memory, considering your lack of a brain and of, well, everything. You weren’t fortunate enough to have a good memory, being an entity made up purely of elemental energy. 

Your answer seemed to please Dottore as he writes down something on his notepad, scribbling quickly. If you remembered one thing, it’s that you knew you couldn’t read his handwriting purely for the fact that it was impossibly messy. Your brain wasn’t at fault, not this time. 

He looks back up at you. “Do you have an idea of how you could possess an object?” 

Again, you shake your head slowly after a short pause to think about his question. However, your face beams into a bright smile as you give him a thumbs up and a nod of your head. You point at yourself with your thumb, expression changing into something more boastful and confident. 

“You think you can do it?” he asks with the ghost of a smile, amused by your antics. His behaviour was definitely strange, but you paid no mind to it, just happy to see him smiling again since he didn’t seem to do it much nowadays. 

You gesture to yourself with both hands, pointing to your lower body that dissipated into nothingness, silently saying I’m a ghost, that’s what we’re supposed to do. 

He understands despite your lack of a voice and chuckles softly. 

Without another second to waste you float closer to the mass of metal Dottore was working on, analyzing and pondering what to do. Were you supposed to, like, chant something before going inside of it? Despite being an undead spirit, you had only used your ghostly powers to annoy Dottore. Possession wasn’t on the list. 

Figuring that you had nothing to lose, you try to phase yourself into the machine. Your ‘body’ felt like it suddenly weighed a ton and you felt cold, incredibly so. You didn’t know what you were seeing, eyesight blurred and blacked out around the corners as if you had glaucoma at the same time. It was dark inside of the lab, dark enough that your eyesight should be relatively normal. Caught up in your thoughts you fail to see Dottore rapidly taking notes as he looked up at his creation. 

Abruptly, you feel yourself getting ‘ejected’ from whatever state you were in. Your head spins and you hear a faint crash, though you don’t register it as being related to what you just experienced. 

Dottore calls out your name, the sound being much more pleasant to your ears than the previous loud noise despite his voice sounding just as rough. You blink repeatedly, focusing your gaze on him as he says your name again. 

“Are you okay?” he asks with furrowed brows, free hand raised up awkwardly in the air as if to hold your shoulder- forgetting that he can’t. You look at him and nod slowly, though your head felt impossibly tight, your body was readjusting to being so small in comparison to what you had just attempted to possess. 

He jots down something else as he observes your state. 

While he writes down whatever you take the opportunity to look around, noticing the hunk of metal now laid horizontally on the crushed tiles of the lab, dust settling in the cracks. You panic, hands flailing and gesturing at high speed, profusely apologizing to Dottore in your own way. 

He ignores your frazzled state and simply shrugs, expression back to being stern again since you seemed to be relatively okay. 

“I don’t care about the floor; you just successfully possessed a ruin guard. The state of my lab is the least of my worries,” he declares without taking his eyes off of his notepad. 

You stop your movements to look at him, then at what he had just called a ruin guard. If it used to be sitting upright and it was now on its side, then... 

“The banker’ll pay for the damages. We’ll have you practicing your ability to possess things. There’s room for improvement,” he says with a curl of his lips, looking up at you with a glint of mischievousness and something else you couldn’t put your transparent finger on. You nod happily, relieved to be able to make him grin again. 

If there’s anything you remembered, it was how much you loved to see the doctor smile. 

[spadecentral]

😘 My Heart is Your Home | Misc. TWST

>> requested: no >> a/n: i got bored aha

>> masterlist: ramshackle (misc.) >> summary: your skin starts to deteriorate from the exposure to magic >> characters: deuce; ruggie; azul; kalim; idia >> warning(s): sad LMAOOOOO

Deuce Spade tries to ignore the fact that your body's breaking down. He doesn't want you to die. He tries so hard to not notice the cracks in your skin. But when you've fallen for the second time in those ten minutes, complaining about your ankle, he could no longer ignore it.

Deuce, now fully aware of your situation, would try and keep you home at all times. Keep you in as little pain as possible. He would go to your classes that he wasn't in and ask for the notes. He would make you food, and buy you a wheelchair to keep your limbs from being stressed.

Anything to ease the pain.

Ruggie Bucchi was not unaware of your decay. He could smell it before he saw it. He knew how your skin cracked and caved. He bought candles and perfumes for you in hopes to mask the smell of your skin breaking.

Ruggie would steal Leona's valuables in hopes to get a doctor that could fix you. But, no one could. No one helped and everyone took his money. Crying was his last option. And he knew you didn't want that. But the end for you was near, and he couldn't help. Like his friends in the streets of Sunset Savanah, death would come slowly for you.

Whether it be starving or exposure to substances you aren't used to, everyone dies in the end.

Contracts. Azul Ashengrotto tried to find a contract that could cure you. Tried to make one that could magically cure you. Something that could help you. It will help you. He denied that you were unhealable for the longest time. Almost until you weren't there to help anymore.

He would stare at you from your doorway, unsure whether to approach. Frail and bedridden, the cracks and blemishes on your skin almost scared him. Scared him of what would happen when you wouldn't be there.

But some things can't be solved with one sliver of magic.

Spending all of his available funds, Kalim Al Asim scoured the world for the best doctor. He tried to find someone who could reverse the damages to your skin. He saw you shake as you lifted your pencil in class, how you tried to hide your blackened veins under long sleeves and a bright smile.

It hurt him to watch you smile through the torment. He hurt when you accepted the outcome. He would spend his entire inheritance if it meant you would be healthy and happy again. But if you can only be happy, then goddamn he would buy you everything in the world to hear you laugh and giggle.

Although laughing is not some almighty medicine, he wanted to believe it was.

Secluded in his room, Idia Shroud only learned of your deterioration after his brother told him so. Immediately, he went to the cameras that he had placed around the school, looking for you. He knew it was you once he found you, aside from the way your nose lifted from your face and how your lips were just the right size, he also noticed the limp that was slowing you down while talking to Grim.

He asked for Ortho to go to you, and assist you as you moved from class to class. While he was out, Idia went to work. Metals would have to be ordered as well as a new soldering kit, but he would get his new project done. Calling Ortho, he asked him to ask you normal things such as your favorite food or color, your shoe size, or what you would prefer to do on a rainy day.

Unfortunately, robots could hardly ever mean the same thing to someone as the real person.

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @booming-spam | @flqyd-is-lost | @queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive | @ruggiethethuggie | @v-anrouge | @oepionie | @ravenlking

[conchiferrous]

sai file cleaning day

[IMAGE ID, IMAGE 1: Digitally drawn doodle page of various One Piece characters in a more cartoony art style where everyone has big heads and noodley limbs. Drawing 1: The first drawing is of Sanji and Bartolomeo. They're drawn waist up and Bartolomeo is grabbing Sanji by the torso and biting his arm with a wall eyed expression. Sanji appears to be only mildly surprised by this. Drawing 2: Waist up drawing of Carrot arc welding with her right arm. She's wearing a standard welding mask, a fire proof jacket, and a leather gauntlet glove on her left hand that she's using to hold her right arm steady as she makes a tee weld in the flat position with small metal plates. Drawing 3: Full body doodle of Luffy wearing a creeper t shirt, a jacket, basketball shorts, a bracelet mostly obscured by the long sleeves, and a chew necklace. He still has the straw hat and flip flops as well. He's looking off to the right with a blank neutral expression. Drawing 4: Franky doing surgery on himself, drawn from the thighs up. He is in the earlier stages of the cyborgification. He's laying on his back, holding himself open with his left hand that's a simple metal clamp, and his arms are bare metal pipes. His right hand is some kind of soldering iron that he's using to install a metal cylinder with a pipe coming out from the bottom in a zigzag pattern, replacing his stomach and intestines. His rib cage is visible as well, though there are no blood or organs shown. He has wheels installed on the sides of his hips. His head is still entirely organic and unchanged, and is looking down at himself, he looks very tense and stressed out. The only color in the drawing is Franky's blue hair and the line art on his torso is a gradient of blue to yellow to magenta. Also there's a little drawing of Sanji in the corner that looks like in was drawn in 20 seconds, he's dumbed down to a lanky black shape with long legs and huge feet, one big eye on a square head, and a long cigarette.

IMAGE 2: Unfinished sketch of Sanji and Luffy from One Piece, drawn digitally. The drawing is a spoof of the scene in the Whole Cake Island arc where Luffy tries to get Sanji to come back with him (the second time) and Sanji refuses. Sanji is turning away from Luffy and towards the viewer dramatically, arms crossed and hands holding his own shoulders, cape flapping in the wind, and a single sparkling tear rolls down his cheek. He is saying: "Get out of here and leave me alone, Luffy! You'll never understand me and my tragic past. Just leave me to die here!" in a cursive font where each capital letter has a little illustration of Cinderella over it like a fairy tale book. Luffy is staring at Sanji, in a much more simplistic style, contrasting against the relatively realistically proportioned Sanji. Luffy's staring at him with big eyes and giant pupils, with a completely blank expression. A couple of swords can be seen in the background, halfway driven into the ground. END ID]

[heatshrinktube]

ROHS Compliant Solder Sleeve Discrete Wire Terminators,including cross-linked polyolefin insulation tubing,prefluxed lead-free solder ring, meltable adhesive ring,used for termination and connection wire s.

[upmheatshrink]

heat shrinkable solder sleeve and HDPE or Surlyn butt splice connector and terminator.

WR-01N Solder sleeve discrete wire terminators,including cross-linked polyolefin insulation tube,prefluxed lead-free solder ring,meltable adhesive ring.Used for terminating wires to component terminals, such as tabs, connector pins, and switch terminals.Wire connection, fusion, insulation and waterproofing all completed in one step.One piece transparent design,easy inspection and convenient installation.

WR-02 Cross-linked polyolefin jacket,adhesive-lined,with built-in crimping connectors or terminals.Easy and fast installation,used to terminate wires safely, or connect one wire to another for fixing and anti-vibration purpose to strengthen durability, stability, and reliability.

WR-01W Solder sleeve wire shielding terminators,including cross-linked polyolefin heat shrinkable insulation tube,a fluxed solder preform,meltable adhesive ring and a preinstalled wire lead.One piece transparent design,easy inspection and convenient installation.The heat shrinkable insulation tube provides encapsulation, stress relief, and insulation protection.The fluxed solder preform securely welding the wire,and the hot melt adhesive ring at both ends can provide excellent sealing and waterproof protection.Mainly used for grounding wire welding of cable shielding layers or connection of coaxial cables and wires.

[pomefioredove]

Heyyyy if you are still open to some more matchups can I request a romantic one? You can pick anyone Students, Staff, or RSA/Noble Bell college people, i don't care either way. I really just want to know who you think fits me personality-wise best lol. 

Ok, so I guess I’ll tell you my appearance first, I’m 169cm so like 5’6, I’ve got very very curly reddish brown hair, and blue eyes that look purple to gray depending on the light. I have a lot of tattoos. Started with a stick and poke piece when I was 13 and have kept getting them even years later. I joke that instead of a sleeve I have a pair of pants, both my legs are covered in tattoos, one side black and the other color. People always tell me I'm incredibly easy to spot in a crowd. Pronouns are She/Her and my voice is kind of low and monotone maybe a bit husky.

As for hobbies... I love Boxing and MMA, I’ve been doing it competitively for a few years so I can comfortably say I can kick most people's ass. food is a bit of a love language for me so I cook pretty often and try a lot of different cuisines (current fav is Georgian, you have to try Khachapuri it's soooo good). I used to sing and play the drums though it's been a while so I'm probably not too great anymore. You know how some people listen to music for the lyrics while other people listen for the beat? I definitely listen more for the sound, I don't care what the song is about just how the sounds flow together... which is why I mostly listen to music in foreign languages, don't need to understand to lyrics to enjoy the beat.

My interests are mostly low key I like to study languages but I don't really try to become fluent just conversational i guess. I'm more inclined to learn about the aspects of a language than the grammar and stuff. Reading horror and what I like to call weird fiction. I love finding books that are a little odd the best example of this that I can think of is "House of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewsk. I really like weird things, normal things that have been a little twisted and made up in new ways if you get what I mean.

As for my personality... ugh I think I'm probably an acquired taste... it sounds bad but like I'm a really difficult person to get close to. I just don't trust easily and I'm not someone who entertains too much small talk without reason. An example is the fact I've known people for five+ years and still don't really consider them friends. Sure we hang out but like they don't know me and I don't know them. I'm just kind of prickly, with a major resting bitch face too. Though to make up for this I'm incredibly loyal. Once we've actually become friends there's nothing I wouldn't do for them. If they need help hiding a body I'm not gonna ask questions just gonna bring a shovel, take out for two, and tickets out of the country.

Oh and a current project of mine is to reverse-engineer a printer so that i can stick it to shitty corporations who think its reasonable to make you pay a subscription to use a printer that I ALREADY PAID FOR!! That last bit was mostly because i need to print out an essay of mine and I had to dust of the printer i haven't used in forever only to be met with a error message saying i had to pay my subscription to use the thing ugghh. So now i need to actually learn how to a soldering gun.

Sorry if my ramblings don't make much sense, I really don't think about myself too much so trying to describe myself was like insanely hard. Thank you!!!!!!!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

I match you with 𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢

The First Impression:

Okay. His honest, true, first thought? You smell good. You smell like spices and warmth, so much so that he forgets what he's doing to turn in your direction.

Why He Fell:

"Prickly" and "hard to get close to" aren't terms in Ruggie's dictionary. He would crawl into a sewer if he thought he'd get something worthwhile out of it, and, hey- to him, you're pretty worthwhile!

He may or may not trail behind you like a lost puppy for a little while, at least until you take pity on him and give the poor thing a good meal. But, like with most stray animals, feeding him only brings him back.

Over time (and a few meals), Ruggie starts to bond with you on a more personal level. He'll ask about each of your tattoos, let you ramble to him about whatever it is you're working on, and take little notes on how sharp and crafty you are in the meantime.

The Relationship:

Ruggie has absolutely no shame. Will gladly eat every single thing you make him without even asking what it is, all while dousing you with compliments about it. If making people food is your love language, then eating food is his.

You're just really nice to have around, right? And hey, your beat-em-up skills definitely don't hurt! He's a scrawny guy, he can appreciate standing behind some muscle. He also finds the way you understand sound, in both music and language, to be fascinating, especially considering how sensitive most beastmen's ears are. He can relate to how you describe it.

He's never one to judge, either, so take your time getting comfortable around him! He'd never admit it, but he's pretty much the same way- it takes a lot to actually get his walls down. You can do it together, huh?

[imaginedreamwrite]

“You look like a dick.” The insult falls from your tongue and yet he doesn’t crack.

If anything he looks amused and gives you this little smirk that matches his amusement and lightly purses his lips. He’s sitting in one of the French armchairs that cost almost as much as a first semester of your tuition and it pisses you off that he can look so smug.

“If you’re trying to insult me, sugar-“

“I told you not to call me that, LLOYD.” You emphasize his name and grit your teeth, wearing clothes he bought for you with no other options available.

He burned everything you had and replaced it with his own choices. This dress in particular is soft, creamy white in colour with black bands on the sleeves, hem and neckline that adds details to the expensive garment.

Its Gucci, its something you wouldn’t pick for yourself but Lloyd had stated that Mrs. Hansen deserves the best. And its the dress that matches the ring on your hand, the Harry Winston pear shaped engagement ring may as well have been soldered onto your flesh.

You almost swore it was deigned with a tracker in the band.

“You don’t like sugar? What would my wife like?”

“To stab you in the chest.” You think if you irritate him enough that he’ll kill you, and you truly almost hope for it. Instead, he gives you that same kind of smirk and tapers down his moustache.

“You look beautiful, Mrs. Hansen. Dressed well for our date.” He rises to his feet and saunters toward you, one hand resting in his pocket and the other down by his side.

“What date?” Your eyes narrow, your lips pursed. You don’t have any expectations for this future marriage, you feel as if you’re just a toy for him to play with.

“Its standard for husbands to treat their wives, isn’t it?”

“If you wanted someone to fuck with, you should’ve gotten yourself a hooker.” You slide your right foot back, preparing yourself to run. “Save yourself the trouble.”

“Who says I can’t?” He shrugs, his eyes boring into yours.

“You’re such a fucking dick.” You feel the first real blow, the first immense dig at your state of being. “You can screw with whoever you want but you still cling to me-“

He grabs you without hesitation, whipping your back to his chest as his lips meet the shell of your ear. He binds you tightly and growls so low against you, its impossible not to feel fear.

“You’re my wife, you’re my soulmate.” He holds you as you struggle. “Don’t ever insult me by insinuating I’d spend my time with some hooker warming my bed when I have you.”

“I’m not having sex with you! I’m not going to give my body to you-“

“You will in time, Pumpkin.” You feel the name sink into your flesh, a settling contentment that renders you pliant. “Oh, I see.”

Lloyd smirks against your lips and groans seductively. “I’ve found your pet name, your sweet little hot spot.”

“Lloyd-“ you speak his name, but its more of a whimper than not.

“You’re my wife, pumpkin. Mine. I protect what’s mine and I treat it well.” He loosens his grip on you before he continues. “Now, get your tight ass ready and let’s go to dinner. I’m starved and I’d like to show off my pretty pumpkin.”

[dailyreverie]

Rose

A/N: Requested by @micheleamidalajedi 🌷 Thank you so much! Today I learned there are autumn roses which I BEG YOU to look at because 1) it is gorgeous, and 2) that's the kind of flower that I had in mind while writing.

Fall prompts 🍂 8. Rose

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader 

Word count: 864 words

[gif by @userpoe (x)]

The rain falling outside all day ushered everyone to stay inside the base. Poe understood, he really did, still, he missed your usual greeting by the tarmac; he missed you being the first thing he saw when he got back, your arms opening to welcome him back, the feeling of being with you that would let him finally be at peace again.

That day more than ever, Poe’s need to see you was more urgent than usual. He didn’t even remove his suit, only tying his sleeves around his waist as he rushed through the corridors, walking past and peeking into meeting rooms and control rooms in hopes to find you there. And he does, at last, and at the sight of you he can think straight again. Poe could stare at you forever like that, speaking softly to a droid while soldering wires to fix whatever problem it had come to you with, a manual long forgotten by your side since, as you just said to the droid on your table: “I think I know what’s wrong with you now, little guy.”

“Hey,” Poe approaches you carefully, not wanting to interrupt your work. It happens anyway at the first hint of his voice, the need you have to see him too almost as big as his.

“Poe!” You turn to look at him with a big, surprised smile, looking at his own smiling face as he walks towards you.

“Is this where you’ve been hiding all day?” He asks, taking in the sight of droid parts scattered around your floor.

“It’s been raining all day, there’s not much I could do about that.” When Poe finally gets to your side your arms reach up to hug him, pulling him to you as you kiss his cheeks with a thousand quick kisses that make Poe laugh, finishing with one last kiss on his lips that makes him sigh, letting all his worries out. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be out there.”

“It’s alright, I found you anyway, didn’t I?” And he’s glad he did. Right there, on your workshop, he found you wearing one of his sweaters to protect you from both the cold, windy rain, and from the feeling of missing him too much, with the sleeves of his sweater rolled up so you could work with the rain as a distant, relaxing sound. You look cozy and you feel like home; with you he can relax again, the mission he just got back from not even playing in his mind anymore. He kisses you, tender but short, a quick welcome before going to more urgent matters. “Do you have a minute? I got you something.” When he asks, his smiling face excites you by itself.

“You did?” You ask surprised, not expecting a gift from him, so you take a step back to be able to look at him again. 

From behind his back he pulls out a small bouquet with a total of 3 flowers, tinted with a mix of orange, red and pink, full of folds and feather-like petals forming an intricate shape. “Oh, Poe,” You sigh, the beautiful flowers brightening up your eyes as they reach your hands. “These are beautiful.”

“Roses, that’s what they’re called.” He adds, not able to look away at the happiness his little gift had brought you and feeling it too himself. They are a little crooked and they lost a few of their leaves, but you look at them with such love that he doesn’t feel like he has to explain all that. “They had fields full of them, and when I asked what they were, I couldn’t help it.”

“Why? What are these for?” You look into his face to find an answer, and on it, you see the reason…

“They mean love.” Poe explains with a soft smile on his lips, one that showed exactly that: love. For you, for that life you had together, for everything that you’ve been through, and for everything to come. “They mean love and… and beauty, and passion, and strength, and all these things that sometimes can be hard to say, especially in the middle of all this mess, but when they told me that, it was like they were describing what I think when I see you.”

When Poe finds your eyes again you are looking up at him with the same love he had given to you. “I don’t even know what to say.” Words may be failing you and you feel choked up with emotion at such a simple and beautiful little gift. He closes the distant again placing a soft kiss on your lips, this time slower, with all the time in the galaxy now that he gave you his gift.

“I’m sorry they’re a bit bent, I had to keep them in the-”

“They’re perfect, Poe..” Cupping his cheek you find each other’s eyes, the delight of being together again teasing your eyes with tears.

Turning his face slightly, he kisses the palm of your hand. “I love you. So, so much.”

“I love you, too.” You kiss him again, forgetting the rain, the thunder and the cold that you had been running away from all day. You had Poe back with you now, you could worry about anything else on any other day.

✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[daimyosprincess]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Thank you @thefact0rygirl @littlemissmanga @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin for the tags!

I thought we'd take this opportunity to revisit Beskar Hearts (Boba Fett x Din Djarin x F!Reader) because what's better than one beskar boyfriend? TWO!!

Enjoy below besties 💖

18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

T&W: poly relationship, stern Boba 🤤, bratty reader hehe

Boba and Din have been elbows deep in the guts of the Firespray for hours past when they said they’d be done when you finally stomp aboard to find your Mandalorians in the late evening. It had been a long day in a long week in which you’d barely seen either of them outside the quick kisses in the morning and before they both went soundly to sleep, leaving you aching for their touch and attention. And by the Maker you are going to get what you want one way or another—you’re not Boba Fett’s princess and spoiled by the Mand’alor for nothing. 

That was your thinking when you put on a scandalous little two piece lingerie set underneath a robe and march onto Boba’s ship with nary a single good intention. “You two almost done? You said you’d be finished hours ago,” you call out as you board, your voice pitched in a whine.

“That was before we knew we would have to rewire the entire power system for this section, mesh’la. We’re almost done,” Din answers patiently when you find them crouched around an access panel. “You know this is important to Boba.”

“Pfft I thought I was important to Boba,” you grumble under your breath as you plop down in the pilot’s chair with a huff and crossing your arms. 

“What was that?” the daimyo snaps, pausing his soldering to glare at you. He’s got grease smeared across his sweaty brow and the look of a man who had very little patience left. 

Lucky me, this’ll be easy then. “Someone’s in a bad mood,” you smirk, leaning forward so the front of your robe falls open to reveal a look at your chest. “Why don’t you forget about all those stupid wires and let me cheer you up.”

“Watch it, princess. You heard Din, we’ll be done soon.”

“What if I don’t want to wait for ‘soon’? What if I want you done now?”

Boba’s eyes flash with danger and thrill shoots through you. “Then I’d remind you that good, patient girls get rewarded, while insolent brats get punished.”

You stick out your bottom lip. “But I want you nowww, sir,” you pout, standing from the seat. In a smooth, swift movement you release the robe’s ties and shrug it to the floor, leaving you in your barely-there undergarments. “My little pussy needs you.”

Din gasps and Boba’s eyes widen a fraction as he beholds the sight of you, but his expression remains firm nonetheless. Swallowing, he glares up at your standing form. “Sit down and be quiet so we can finish. Then I’ll take care of that pussy and that attitude upstairs.”

“Mmm but now would be so much better, don’t you think? Din?” you flick your eyes over to the younger man for a second before refocusing on Boba.

“You really want to do this, little girl? Or are you going to follow the rules and do as you’re told?” the daimyo answers, the unspoken threat thick in his voice.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” you retort and Boba raises his brows with a look of final warning. “Rules are meant to be broken, old man.”

Everyone freezes and you swear the air is sucked out of the room. After three rapid beats of your heart, Boba sets his tools aside slowly and stands, wiping his hands on a spare rag. In a cacophony of silence, he takes the couple of steps between you and stops a breath away from your scantily-clad body. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes hard and dangerous, and you can practically feel your underwear soaking all the way through—you’re fucked and you know it.

“I want you to remember that you chose this,” he starts slowly, bending down to retrieve your discarded robe and sliding your arms through the sleeves firmly, “you chose to run that smart mouth instead of listening… remember that when you’re begging for mercy and crying to come.” He synches the belt around your waist tightly. “Now get your brat ass upstairs before I get any truly creative ideas for your punishment.”

No pressure tags :) @agirlnamejacq @writingwintermoon @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @acatalystrising @saradika @marierg @maybege

Taglist 💖

@agirlnamejacq @burningfieldof-clover @marierg @dukeoftheblackstar @imarvelatthestars @saradika @baufraus @historianwithaheart @andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin @sleepingsun501 @sgt-morgan @rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420 @writingwintermoon @pheo-nixpas-calian @acatalystrising @erinthevampire @xxladysquishyxx @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @kimiheartblade @shinyshayminflower @wings-and-beskar @aethersecho @thirsty-boba-fett-posts

[Divider by @saradika]

[the-sprog]

Here's my holiday truce gift for @constellaj !!! I hope you like it :)

I worried a lot about the length XD it came out a lot longer than I expected!

Dash runs, ducking behind a big enough piece of rubble that got detached from the City Hall when the ghost threw Phantom at it.

He's breathing heavily, catching his breath and catching at his weapon. He takes a look over his hiding place. Red Huntress is physically holding the ghost to the ground –how she can do it and why the ghost isn't phasing through her or the ground itself he doesn't know– while Phantom is nowhere to be found.

The Fenton's aren't on the scene, and neither are the Guys In White luckily –for anyone but him. He's been looking for a functional specific piece of gun for a while now.

"What are you doing?" He hears someone say behind him. Dash turns around. He feels his cheeks heat up as he finds himself face to face with who he would probably consider his favorite person in the whole world.

Phantom stands there, floating a few inches off the ground, with his arms crossed and stern expression printed on his face. Dash had never noticed before now how short the boy-ghost truly is, since the only reason why their eyes are the same level is because of the floating.

"Phantom-!" His enthusiasm is cut short as the ghost in front of him doesn’t let him get another word in.

"Where did you get that weapon?" Phantom asks. His voice carries anger in it, Dash realizes. His brows are furrowed and his jaw seems slightly clenched. "Did you steal equipment from the Fentons?"

"What? No!"

"Where did you get that stuff, then?"

Dash pulls on the safety on the ecto-gun he held carefully in his hand. He usually wouldn't bother, seeing as ecto-based weapons were usually regarded as safe for humans —he tested that theory on himself before bringing the gun to school with him—, but he didn't want to risk hurting Phantom.

He nervously adjusts the baseball cap hiding his hair as well as the tight domino mask glued to his eyes —thank Paulina and her emergency make up pouch— before he decides to respond, "The -ehm- the GWI tend to leave stuff behind, especially of it gets busted by a ghost," he clears his throat before continuing, "so I've been picking them up and –well, turns out this shit is not as complicated as it seems."

For a small moment, Dash could swear Phantom seems impressed by his admission, but as quickly as it came, the look is gone from Phantom's face. "You've been doing that?"

Dash nods. "Yeah. My pop's always making me help him work on his cars so…" he trails off. "I know my way around soldering irons and cables and stuff."

Phantom hummed, but his expression didn’t change. "And you think that's good enough that you can put your life on the line like it's nothing? Like you know what you're doing?"

Dash crosses his arms and squirms under Phantom's scrutinizing gaze.

"As tempting as it is, you shouldn’t steal from the GIW." His eyes trail towards Dash’s ecto-gun. "And you definitely shouldn’t be fighting ghosts with a modified ecto-gun."

"I'm not the only one!"

Phantom sighs and his hands drop to his side. "Red has armor. Heck, even the Fentons have some kind of protection on them!" He takes a breath, calming himself after the involuntary outburst. His face changes, and for a moment Dash truly sees how tired, perhaps even a bit dejected, the other kid is. "I'm already dead, Dash." Their eyes don't meet. Any awe and wonder Dash may have felt when he was first approached were gone.

Dash's eyes widen upon hearing his name. "How did you...?" He doesn't even finish his question that Phantom scoffs.

"If you want to hide behind a cap and a mask, maybe don't wear your letterman jacket," Phantom tells him with a smirk and an eye roll.

Dash looks at his sleeves and curses under his breath. "I'll remember next time," he says.

That sentence seems to bring Phantom back to the core of the issue. "There won't be a 'next time'."

"What? But I can help!"

"You’re going to end up hurting someone, Dash." Panthom’s patience is starting to wear thin, Dash can tell. He’s fidgeting with his gloves and looking around, like he would rather be anywhere else than here talking to Dash.

"I just want to be a hero," Dash pauses and watches Phantom’s eyes widen. "Like you," Dash finishes, blushing slightly.

Phantom scoffs. "You? A hero?"

The color drains from Dash’s face. Unsure how to respond he lets out a weak, "What?"

"I hang around Casper every once in a while. You’re a bully, Dash, and nothing more than a bully." Phantom’s face hardens. "You torment kids weaker than you and for what? Feeling superior to them?" Dash stays quiet. He doesn’t know how to respond- doesn’t know if he even should respond. "I won’t say you’re just as bad as the ghost I fight. But, Dash, you sure as hell aren’t a good person, let alone a hero."

Dash swallows around a lump that has taken residence in his throat. Was this truly how his hero saw him? How can he defend himself? How can he explain that it isn’t as bad as Phantom’s making it sound?

…is it as bad as Phantom’s making it sound?

"I’ll be taking that ecto-gun now." Phantom stretches his hand towards him in silent demand, but Dash doesn’t move. If he gives the gun the conversation will be over and who knows when he’ll have a chance of redeeming himself!

Phantom sighs. "I’m asking as a courtesy. I could just phase it out of you, dude. Have your existential crisis later, please."

Dash lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and silently reaches for his gun. He briefly entertains the thought of pointing it towards Phantom and making a run for it, but he pushes it away. That would make him just like one of the actual villains Phantom has to deal with, be it ghosts or overeager ghost hunters.

Phantom's words haunt him when he goes to school the following day. Dash can't stop thinking about what the ghost told him.

"So..." He gets pulled out of his musing by Kwan resting his elbow on his shoulder. "How did it go out there? I bet Phantom was hella impressed by your bravery and general hotness."

Dash doesn’t respond. He sighs, a dejected expression having long since taken residence on his face.

Kwan’s smile falls. "Hey, man. What’s up?"

Dash closes his locker and leans against it, looking directly at his friend’s face. "Phantom caught me with an ecto-gun and he was not happy about me going into danger with no protection. He took it from me."

"But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?"

"He told me I can’t be a hero." Dash pauses. "Because I’m not even a good person in the first place."

Kwan’s eyes widen in surprise. "What? Why?"

Dash rubs his neck. He doesn’t know when the habit started, but he knows it’s something Phantom had also been caught doing numerous times. "He said he sees how I act in school and doesn’t like how I treat other students."

Kwan groans. "Who knew Phantom was a killjoy?"

"I don’t know, man." Dash tries not to look towards Daniel Fenton, but his eyes wonder as he thinks about Phantom’s words once again. "Maybe he has a point?" If Phantom had talked about one of his… victims –he thinks is probably the most appropriate name for his classmates– in particular, Fenton would have a medal for ‘Most Tormented Kid In Casper High’ so who knows what the ghost would’ve told him. "I did some thinking and –well what fun would he be ruining? The one we have at the expenses of other people?" He crosses his arms. "It wouldn’t make us much different from Youngblood."

Kwan rolls his eyes at Dash’s claims. "C’mon, man. You know it’s not the same! We don’t have superpowers."

"Yeah. But we sure as hell have more muscles than all the geek squad combined."

"Y-yeah, but… well-"

"It's harder to excuse when I put it like that, isn't it?" Kwan doesn't respond and this time Dash doesn't even try to stop himself from darting a look towards Danny. "Maybe it's time we grew up."

And thus begins Dash's However-many-steps-it-takes plan to… become a better person, he supposes.

He thinks about it for a long time, and ultimately decides to not include apologizing to the kids whose lives he made like hell to the list. If he were them, he wouldn't believe himself based on words alone. He'd assume it was all part of a prank or some sort of scheme. A change in attitude and behavior would actually show he wants to do better, and it would be more convincing than simply words.

So, he decides to start by working on his temper. Dash is aware of the fact he's quick to anger in a way that none of the other football players on his team are.

He considers asking Danny's sister for advice.

She's a psychology major in some big name college, right? Yeah, he thinks he remembers something like that. He should still have her number from when she used to tutor him, from before she moved to college.

Dash thinks about it during the rest of the day, writing in his phone’s note ideas on how to redeem himself in Phantom’s eyes. It makes him wonder if wanting to be better to win someone’s affection defeats the purpose of being a better person…

He adds that to the list.

A high-pitched shriek startles him out of thinking about it, almost making him drop his phone.

"You talked to my ghost boy?" Dash turns around and, sure enough, Paulina is uncomfortably close to him. "Did he talk about me? Why didn’t you say anything?! I’m sure he talked about how much he loves me, didn’t he?" she said.

"Uhm," Dash stutters and takes a few steps back. "Not really, no."

Someone next to them chuckles.

"What do you want, Manson?" Paulina crosses her arms and glares at the goth chick, one of Danny’s friends. He never really did pay attention to her, so her name escapes him. He knows her and Paulina used to be forced to hang out when they were kids, and that she used to be a possible A-Lister recruit.

"To know how someone can be so delusional." the girl- Manson, Paulina said– is evidently having a great time antagonizing his friend –ex-girlfriend?... Ex-beard?– with a smirk on her face and leaning on her locker. "There’s no way you still think you have a chance with him," she pauses, watching Paulina fume. "He probably doesn’t even know you exist."

"Sam-" her friends look as uncomfortable as Dash feels witnessing the exchange. Danny has a hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her away to go to their next class. At this pace it’s likely they’ll all be late.

Lancer won’t care, but still.

Tucker is looking towards Dash, never making eye contact for more than a millisecond, clearly waiting for his reaction.

"You’re one to talk, Marilyn Morose," suddenly, Paulina starts responding to the taunt, "making goo-goo eyes at Star whenever she’s close." She’s smiling, apparently satisfied with herself. Sam is bright red in her cheeks. Dash has eyes, so he knows it’s not Star that Sam is looking at, but he doesn’t say.

"Hey," he decides to intervene, deeming this a situation that fits with his goal. "Not cool, Polly."

"But she started it!" Came the response.

"Yes. And you’re not a child. Be the bigger person or whatever." He doesn’t wait to see anyone’s reaction. He just takes Paulina’s arm and pulls her towards their class, but she pulls away from his grip and starts yelling at him.

"What’s your deal?"

Dash sighs. "Just… Some things Phantom said. Put stuff into perspective, is all,"

Paulina plays with a strand of her hair. "He told you to do that?" She asks, contemplative.

"In a way."

She looks him up and down, face scrunched up, before it clears up and she hums, "Alright then. I forgive you."

And that was it? Damn that was easy.

As Dash turns around, he catched a glimpse of Danny’s eyes examining his face and looking at him up and down, but he tries to ignore the anger that comes from the other boy staring at him and judging him. He takes a big breath and clenches his fists and grits his teeth, and he follows after Paulina heading towards Lancer’s English class.

The morning’s encounter sets the example for the rest of the month.

Someone attacks –verbally or physically– another student;

Dash stands up for them;

Dash loses a few friends;

Paulina and Kwan back him up by saying Phantom agrees with Dash;

And then the cycle repeats.

Dash also continues going out with modified ecto-weapons –he understands the danger. He knows what he’s doing when he’s fixing them! Kinda– and a new costume. Over the month he learned more and more about what he needs. He’s pretty sure his dad has some suspicion about his ghost hunting activities, but as long as his dad doesn’t try to stop him that’s good enough for him.

Now the suit is more reminiscent of Red Huntress’, although it’s clearly more homemade. But it has more protection –his hands are wrapped with boxing ropes, he has knee guards, toe-steel boots, and he’s in the process of making an ecto-proof kevlar undershirt, but the materials for that are hard to come by and his sewing skills need some work.

"So you did get better at the secret identity thing."

Dash turns to the beginning of the ally he’s been sitting in to catch his breath. He’d been trying to catch the Box Ghost all evening, but he’s yet to come across a containment device and getting the ghost in a net is surprisingly hard.

Phantom stands –well, floats actually– next to him.

Dash feels his cheeks heat up. He hadn’t been planning on going face to face with Phantom any time soon, going as far as trying to patrol on hours when Phantom doesn’t. He’s unnecessarily nervous, but nervous nonetheless.

"How did you know this time?" Dash thought he did so well. He switched his jacket for a non-descriptive black hoodie with the hood glued to the baseball cap, his eyes are behind a domino mask, and his nose and mouth are covered by a homemade additional mask that Paulina helped him design. It is pastel pink, but so is his cap, so it matches.

Phantom scoffs. "You’re the only dumbass who goes around with old GIW weapons."

Dash looks at his arsenal, then back to Phantom, and a laugh escapes him. "Yeah, I guess you’re right." He pulls at his mask revealing the lower half of his face. "Are you here to take my stuff again?" He asks, as he holds out one of his ecto-weapons to him.

Phantom shakes his head. "No."

"Oh?"

"I’m here to make you an offer."

Dash waits, but Phantom doesn’t elaborate. "Go on?"

Phantom takes a breath. "I need you to promise I can trust you and you won’t say anything about this to anyone."

Dash eagerly nods. "Yes, of course." He gets up, getting on a more even level as the ghost.

Phantom takes a deep breath –a breath? How’s he breathing? Is it a reflex? A muscle memory of his life?– and holds out a hand.

"Want to be part of my team and help me fight ghosts officially?"

"Yes! Of course," Dash immediately responds, "you’re awesome, why would I not want to?" He takes the offered hand, and immediately feels the air kicked from his lungs.

"Sorry." Phantom doesn’t actually sound sorry. Dash thinks he seems sort of amused, actually, but based on previous conversations it’s a fair bit or revenge for how much of a jerk Dash has acted over the years. "Should’ve probably warned about holding your breath when turning intangible. I forget," he admits as he rubs the back of his neck.

Dash definitely got the habit from him, and the confirmation only makes him blush more.

"Reminds me to warn you about invisibility. Your eyes will mess up colors while you’re invisible."

Dash nods and readies himself for the change. It makes him feel slightly nauseous to see so many purples, blues, and greens in the familiar Amity Park scenery.

They don’t fly off, though Dash assumes Phantom is still floating, but they do pass through several buildings.

They don’t talk again –which makes the journey slightly awkward– until Phantom phases them through the ground and Dash makes a strangled cry. Phantom chuckles at that.

Once they’re in front of an underground door, Phantom lets go of both invisibility and intangibility, and then phases through the door on his own, leaving Dash to inspect the door, and then opening it from the inside.

"Ta-da!" Phantom says while doing jazz-hands.

Dash gets pulled inside the room by an additional set of hands that definitely didn’t belong to Phantom, phasing right through him, and finds himself pinned to the wall by a tiny figure.

"Sam," the ghost-boy admonishes, "Play nice."

"His reflexes are terrible," she comments, letting him go. "Are you sure about this?"

Phantom shrugs. "He’s the one that modified that ecto-gun I brought back a few weeks ago."

Sam turns quickly to stare down at him. "You said it was you- the Fentons who got to GIW garbage before us!"

"Yeah, well… I lied."

"You! Ugh!" She grunts and then storms off towards a staircase on the other side of the room. Dash is sure that if she had walked through a door, she would’ve slammed it closed. But the sound of her boots hitting the ground with each one of her steps does convey the same feeling as if she had done just that.

"Dude…" Tucker speaks up from wherever he appeared while Dash wasn’t paying attention. "Why?"

"This explains so much but also nothing at all." Dash’s exclamation gets ignored.

"Oh, heyyy… Dash is here." Well, sorta. There are still no explanations given, so Dash doesn’t think it counts. He slowly waves a hand at Tucker.

"We needed an engineer, Dash is a pretty decent one!" Phantom explains.

"I’m a pretty good engineer!"

"Tuck, you’re good with tech. You’re our tech guy. You don’t know how to fix the speeder and it’s been 3 months now since the last time we’ve been able to use it."

"That’s irrelevant." Tucker crosses his arms.

"No, it is not." Phantom lands on the ground and calls out to him "Dash Baxter," Phantom says, looking towards Dash, "Welcome to Team Phantom!" And he smiles, showing a bit of fangs that have no business making Dash’s cheeks color in red.

"Thank you, it’s an honor!"

"You should already be familiar with the other members of the Team." Phantom gestures to the staircase behind him, "You saw Sam earlier, that’s Tucker."

"Hi."

"Then there’s the Fenton kids." He counts on his fingers, "Red Huntress –leaving it up to her to reveal her identity to you or not–" Dash nods. "And then the ghosts: Frostbite, Specter, Pandora, Clockwork-"

"When it suits their fancy," Tucker interjects, not even looking up from whatever he’s doing on his PDA. Why does he even still have that? Can’t he get a smartphone, like a normal person?

"-right." Phantom nods, "We have some files you’ll need to look at about all the various ghosts and people, and their affiliation to us. Got it?"

"Absolutely, anything for you!" Good way to put your foot in your mouth, Dash. He blushes, as does Phantom, his pink cheeks getting even pinker and brighter coloured.

Tucker clears his throat. "Phantom’s going to teach you how to use the weapons you’re fixing, I’ll fill you in on a bunch of stuff, Sam will teach you to use the thermos, and if you need to talk to someone… go to Jazz."

"Tucker!"

"What? I’m not going to- psychoanalyze him! That’s Jazz’s job!"

"So…" Dash tries to prevent another argument. "The Fenton kids?"

"Where do you think we get all this stuff?"

"Yeah," Phantom says. "We really needed another way to get weapons. Danny is not great at sneaking around."

"Oh, this is great."

Dash turns to see the Red Huntress leaning against the wall next to the stairs, while Sam enters the room from behind her. She goes straight towards Phantoma and punches his arm.

"Red?" Phantom doesn’t phase her out, accepting the punch that Dash doesn’t believe could ever hurt the ghost. "What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet tomorrow," he says, as if nothing else was happening in the meantime.

"A little birdy told me about someone’s character development."

"Whose character development?"

"Yours, Dash."

"Oooh. Yeah, makes sense." Dash nods.

"Well, then," Sam interjects, "since you’re here earlier for no sensible reason, why don’t we go ahead and start Dash’s training right now?" She smirks, her hand resting on an ecto-gun left on the table in front of her.

It’s not the same that Phantom took from Dash in the past, it doesn’t look like a GIW weapon at all. It’s more gray than white, for starters, and there are green and blue accents in the design. There are soldering marks and paint splotches, the color in some of the details doesn’t even look very uniform.

"Heck yeah!" Dash pumps his fist in the air, excited to actually do something.

And also, possibly, maybe, to spend some time standing really close to Phantom, his body behind Dash, his hands over his and helping him hold the weapons correctly, his face so close he can feel his breath on his neck- Oh gosh, he’s definitely red in his cheeks again.

Tucker flips a switch and a section of the floor opens up, while something raises up from the opening.

Suddenly, there are training dummies in front of Dash. They’re scorched and cut and overall ruined. But still usable.

Except one that has a hole in its stomach. That one’s probably not that useful.

"We’ll start with the one of the guns you have with you," Phantom says and gestures with his hand towards his hip, "I like your outfit change, by the way," he adds, "Did you make it yourself?"

"You should see me without it?" Dash can’t help but try to show off, stretching one of his arms in front of him, making the fabric adhere more to his body and accentuating his muscles. He immediately cringes internally at his own attempt at flirting, but it’s too late for him to backtrack so he commits to it and smiles at Phantom’s direction.

Gosh he wants to steal Tucker’s PDA and look up ‘How to flirt like a normal person’. Maybe WikiHow has some advice he can look at. Anything would probably be better than whatever he’s trying to do at the moment.

"Uhm… I like the outfit. I’m a bit confused about the pastel pink, though," Phantom admits.

Dash shrugs and pulls out one of his weapons. "I like pink, and I think it looks good on me. Don’t you?"

"Sure…?"

"I know I love it on you, especially when it colors your cheeks." Dash tries to look smug, even as his own cheeks start gaining pigment.

There’s a beat of silence and then, "Are you flirting with me?" Phantom asks him, voice breaking in the second half of the question.

"Is it working?"

Phantom blushes again.

"See? You’re so cute when you blush," Dash can’t stop himself from saying, smiling smugly with the knowledge he was the one to fluster the hero.

"I- I have to- I’ll just-" Phantom points towards the staircase before flying towards it and disappearing at the top.

No one else in the room says anything for a while. Dash fidgets with the ecto-gun in his hands until the silence gets too unbearable for him and he clears his throat.

"Was I that bad?" He asks, a bit jokingly, just to break the tension that built up in the atmosphere.

"I’m sorry?" Tucker is the first one to respond to him. "I feel like my entire worldview just crumbled."

"What about Paulina?" Sam asks.

Dash shrugs. "She was my beard, I was her skirt. We broke up when we came out in…" he thinks about it for a second, "July after Freshman year, I believe?"

"That was so long ago, how did we not know?" Sam said, almost masking Tucker’s confused "What does that even mean? I’ll just google it."

"We don’t make a big deal out of it."

"Well, at least you and Danny can bond over something." Red walks in Dash’s direction and pulls out an ecto-gun of her own. "Well, since spooky bailed on you, I’ll help you work on your aim a bit."

"Sure." Dash grips his weapon in front of him and desperately attempts to ignore the fact that Sam and Tucker are going to wherever Phantom ran to.

They meet up three times each week, Dash's training sessions with Phantom don't get any less awkward, even though Dash does minimize the amount of flirting attempts. He doesn't stop altogether, he's not strong enough to resist the temptation completely –and Phantom’s just so cute when he blushes! Being able to fluster the town's resident superhero is one hell of a power trip.

"Your hands look heavy- want me to hold them?" Dash says one day.

"I guess you'll just have to kiss it better," he says the next.

And he continues like that until one day–

"I do like my men like I like my coffee. Very strong and able to keep me awake all night."

That… that was something Dash didn't prepare himself for, as is evident by the color that spreads up his ears and down his neck.

The smirk Phantom throws his way after saying it –while he hides his own red cheeks behind the ghost-themed mug he’s drinking from.

Dash does his best to ignore the confused looks Tucker and Sam send each other, too preoccupied by trying to regain his footing and not dropping his weapon.

From that day, Dash starts learning more and more about Phantom. It's like he passed an invisible barrier and now the ghost feels more comfortable letting him in.

He learns that Phantom loves video games, though he doesn't play often and mostly uses Danny's accounts and devices.

He learns that he loves food –hates toast, though. With a passion– and would give a limb for some good Nasty Burger fries drenched in sauce.

He learns he's a huge Astronomy nerd. Phantom Loves to stargaze.

He learns he used to dream of becoming an astronaut. Dash forces himself not to pay attention to the solitary tear that falls on Phantom's cheek and is quickly swept away.

He wishes he was the one to do it. But he's not sure any kind of comfort would be appreciated in such a situation.

Dash wants to kiss him.

It’s something he’s been thinking about increasingly often.

"They’re glaring at me again," Dash says bitterly, putting all his focus on fixing Tucker’s FentonPhone that got damaged during that day’s fight. He’s getting more frustrated as time goes on, between not being able to figure out which of the wires he’s crossing incorrectly and feeling Tucker and Sam’s eyes on the back of his head.

Red Huntress scoffs. "You’re not winning them over that easy."

"Dash shrugs. "Phantom seems to like me enough."

"That boy is both too trusting and too paranoid somehow. Don’t know how he does it."

"So…" he pauses what he’s doing to look her in the eyes –in the… visor mostly. "What do you suggest?"

"I’m not helping you pick up Phantom."

"What!"

"You don’t seem to need my help with that."

Dash blushes. "No, c’mon Red! I meant about the other two!"

She shrugs. "Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything you can do other than… Being nice. Just like you’ve been doing now."

Dash hums. "It doesn't seem to be working though."

"These things take time, Dash." Phantom’s voice comes from behind him. The ghost rests his arms on Dash’s head, even though Dash can tell he’s also floating. He would be too short otherwise.

Dash, despite himself, smiles when he hears Phantom’s echo-y voice.

"They’re just being difficult," says Red.

"Unlike someone else," was the barely audible retort from Tucker followed by hasty apologies.

"Hey." Phantom taps Dash’s shoulder, once again gaining his attention. "Want to patrol with me tonight?"

Dash’s eyes widen. "Really?"

He can feel Phantom nodding on his head. "Yeah. you’ve been doing well with learning about weapons. I can put you on thermos duty so you can practice without subjecting me to that thing."

"It’s going to be awesome!"

Phantom giggles at his enthusiasm, and Dash knows if he spares a look towards the previously mentioned two in the room he’ll see judgment in their eyes.

But he doesn’t let that spoil his mood. He starts packing his backpack, having quickly learned throughout his training that it was always a good idea to have one with him. It isn’t reinforced yet, they don’t have the materials to do it for all of them, but they’re working on it.

Phantom's waiting for him on the staircase. They're yet to let him come and go from what he refuses to call anything other than a hideout. He's always accompanied by the ghost boy and they never leave by foot. He doesn't know what the regular-person entrance of the place is.

As Dash expected, Phantom grabs his arm and shoots up towards the ceiling. During the course of his training Dash also learned to get used to the change of colors and the longing for air.

And patrol begins.

Dash has never patrolled before, getting into the midst of things only in defense, as a response to an attack. He's surprised to discover just how many ghosts get out and about, not even causing trouble, during the wee hours of the night.

But of course 'playfully-mischievous-at-worse' is not the only type of ghost lurking in the shadows.

Phantom appears to know pretty much everyone they come across, be it friend or foe.

There's the biker –who Dash thinks looks weirdly families, and not based on the files he was handed when he joined– and his girlfriend who not even Phantom seems to be sure where they stand.

"Relax, peepsqueak," Johnny says. Dash did study those files, he feels is important to point out. "Zone's a bit stuffy today. Not a lot of privacy."

"We're not causing trouble, so why don't you introduce us to your new recruit?" Kitty –the girlfriend– smiles towards Dash. "He's cute."

"Hey, watch it," both Phantom and Johnny say to her.

She shrugs. "I'm just saying."

Dash steps forward, tired of being passive in a conversation that concerns him. "I'm flattered, but I have eyes on someone else," he says, looking in Phantom's direction. As soon as they make eye contact Dash winks causing Phantom to giggle.

The ghost boy coughs and schools his expression again.

Kitty's eyes widen. "No way." She smiles. "Ember is never letting you live this down, kid."

"I told you two to stop gossiping about my life!"

"There's not much more to do in the Zone," Johnny adds.

Dash lets them bicker for a bit, ready to intervene if it devolved into a fight. Phantom doesn't have the chance to let go like this that often, and seeing the smile tugging at his lips that the ghost boy is not really that desperately trying to suppress… well, it creates butterflies in Dash's stomach.

They move on with a parting warning from the biker.

"Careful. We're not the only ones aware of blondie here."

They're on edge.

The Box Ghost makes himself known and Dash panics. He doesn't even let him finish his usual monologue that he has the thermos pointing in his direction and sucking him in.

"He's not so useless after all."

Both Dash and Phantom turn towards the new voice entering the alley.

"What are you doing here?" Phantom's eyes dart from Dash to Plasmius, never leaving one unchecked for more than a few seconds.

Plasmius smiles. "I just thought I'd come to greet the new kid, Daniel," he says. Phantom flinches at hearing his name. "We should get to know each other. After all, we're bound to meet again." Plasmius pulls out a gun, one that Dash has never seen before, with more purples and pinks in its design.

Why would a ghost need a gun?

Phantom starts charging his ecto-blasts.

Dash grips the thermos.

"Does he know? Or is he the only one in the dark?" Plasmius taunts. "Afraid he won't like you anymore?"

Plasmius shoots towards Dash with no hesitation.

Dash lifts his arms to shield his face from the upcoming blast.

Phantom cries out in pain.

Plasmius clicks his tongue. "So predictable." He starts floating towards Phantom, his eyes focused on the boy.

"It doesn't do you well to keep secrets, my boy."

Phantom grunts and a flicker of light starts emitting from his body at random intervals.

Dash doesn't let him get too close. He lifts the thermos and is fast enough to surprise the ghost, sucking him into the containment device.

Dash crouches next to Phantom. "Oh my God-"

"I can't-" Phantom groans again. There are tears streaming from his eyes. Dash is starting to panic, so before he succumbs to it, he forces himself to pull out a medikit from his bag.

"What- what do I-" he starts to say, but gets interrupted.

"This isn't- FUCK- this isn't how I wanted to tell you," Phantom says.

The light keeps pulsing until it forms a ring around his midsection.

The ring splits, traveling opposite sides –up and down Phantom's body.

Until Phantom is not who's laying in front of Dash anymore.

"What the fuck," he manages to say, once out of his stupor.

"I-" Danny gulps. "I'm sorry."

Dash sighs. "C'mon." He grabs his arms and starts pulling up. "Let's get you against the wall."

Danny hums in agreement.

Once situated, Dash plops down next to him.

"So," he says.

"So." Danny mirrors.

"Are you… hurt?"

Danny shakes his head. "No, mostly tired. A bit disoriented."

"Cool, cool."

They sit in silence for a bit.

"Are you going to ask?" Until Danny breaks it.

"Huh?"

"How it's possible. How- how I… died." Danny fidgets with his fingers, looking anywhere but towards Dash.

"Oh. Uhm… I don't really care."

"Oh."

"I mean- if you wanna talk about-"

"No, no. It's just… refreshing. People are usually curious."

"I'm- honestly I'm mostly confused."

Danny nods. "Yeah I don't… I don't fully understand it either."

"I really like Phantom," Dash admits. He's surprised by how quiet his voice is.

"Yeah- I-" Danny keeps avoiding making eye contact with him. "You must to be so disappointed to discover this-" he gestures to himself. "-is really who you were flirting with."

"I don't know."

"What?"

"Well, I realized- after these weeks. I don't… really know you. Any of you."

"Huh."

"And I really like Phantom."

"You said that, yeah. So?"

"So…" Dash trails off. "I'd like to get to know Fenton, too." Dash smiles and turns towards Danny. "But I doubt they're much different."

Danny doesn't seem reassured. "But what if you don't like Fenton?"

"Do you like me?"

Danny snorts, color spreading to his cheeks and ears. It's a little weird, Dash thinks, to see the familiar sight but feel like it's for the first time all over again. "I've been told I have a think for nice people that can deadlift me, and… well, you did become cool to hang out with lately."

Dash draps one arm across Danny's shoulders, bringing him closer to him, so much so that Danny's laying on Dash's side. "Then you're worrying too much. We'll cross that bridge if we get to it."

Danny snorts and Dash doesn't even have to look down to know the red has spread further on his face –not that Dash's own hasn't started to resemble a tomato. But his mask is doing a good job protecting his dignity, as well as his identity.

"I do have a question though."

"Mmh?"

"Can I kiss you?" Dash asks before he loses his cool.

"What?"

"I mean- you don't have to. I've just… been thinking about it a lot," Dash says, lamely, "so I'd really like to kiss-"

Danny pulls down his mask and kisses him.

His lips are soft. For some reason, Dash wasn't expecting that.

The kiss is chaste, quick, but it shuts him up for a good minute, making Danny laugh and making him blush even more.

"You were taking too long."

Dash gives him a friendly shove when Danny starts laughing again and gets another kiss for his efforts.

'Yeah,' he thinks, 'I don't think I'll find it hard to like Fenton, too.'