#tail... my best idea is still get getting a piece of wire and making each tail segment out of clay on it like a giant beed

[lemontartc]

All the current SPOP customs!

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Oh heck, I just noticed requests were open. How do you feel about writing some StarQuake? Something something ‘oh I actually feel things for this prick’ this, ‘this brute maybe isn’t all too bad’ that.

Hellll yeah, let's fucking go, dot bringing in the good shit. Not once have you dropped an ask that wasn't good dot, not ONCE.

Skyquake had a lot in common with his brother, but there were also plenty of differences between them. For one thing, Skyquake was the only one of the two that found Starscream attractive. Yes, there was that murder attempt a long time ago, which made him aim to kill him, but time changes things. As in, Skyquake used to find himself eager to end him, but now? He just wanted a piece of that seeker ass. Issue? It meant Starscream was no longer afraid of him, and merely resented him. As in, whenever Skyquake found himself near him, whenever he so much as spoke to him, Starscream turned his nose up at him, you get the idea.

“Skyquake? Hello? Anyone up there?”

“Hmm? oh sorry, I was in the middle of thought. Are we done here?”

“Almost. I just vaccinated you for energon discharge, so I need you to sit there for a few minutes, case you have any reactions. You were dozing off on me, thought it was a symptom.”

Skyquake was getting his usual check up, upon Dreadwing’s insistence. Skyquake chuckled.

“Still can’t believe Dreadwing MADE you give me a check up.”

“He cares about you, case you haven’t noticed. Not that I mind big blue’s yelling at me. I-”

“KNOCKOUT!!!”

They both knew that screech. Starscream. He walked in, and hoo boy. Was he a sight. Paint chipped and scuffed, and most importantly, his wings torn off. Little wires hung out from where they once were, and energon seeped from him, and onto the floor below. Knockout immediately got to work, setting him down on the medical berth and examining him.

“Geez Starscream, what happened-”

“I don’t want to talk about it! Just fix me! And YOU, stop staring at me!”

Starscream picked up an energon container, and tossed it at him, hitting him on his shoulder. Skyquake held his hands up in defense, before Knockout sighed.

“Why don’t you just go? You’re done, and you being here is just stressing me out.”

Skyquake opened his mouth to complain, only to see Starscream’s optics. He genuinely didn’t want him to be here. So he did just that, and left.

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

Another difference between Skyquake and Dreadwing. Dreadwing could sleep easily throughout the night, while Skyquake was prone to bouts of insomnia. It was why he found himself wandering the halls often, in hopes to settle his processor. He turned a corner, before realizing he was right by the medbay. Well, he might as well just make sure everything was in order. He slowly peered into the medbay. Silence. Then, sniffing. Through the darkness, there was Starscream. He was still in the berth, shaking a bit as the tears started to run down his face. He looked better now, given that Knockout polished and patched him up as best as he could. But his sorrow. Oh his sorrow, it was immeasurable.

“Starscream?”

Starscream snapped his head up to see him, before rapidly rubbing his face free of tears.

“Frags sake-I can’t even be alone for five minutes on this blasted ship!!”

Skyquake held his hands up in defense. He should’ve left Starscream alone, but he couldn’t help himself. He walked up to him, kneeling down to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I just felt as if, since I was awake, I should check up on you. Do you need me to fetch Knockout? Are you in pain?”

“Ugh, no. I’m on more drugs than M-”

He halted. Skyquake then understood what had caused his injuries. Megatron. Skyquake had been a loyal follower for ages now, but even he had to admit, Megatron had lost his temper. Starscream got quiet, and looked away, clearly ashamed of his circumstances. Every seeker was prideful, but Starscream had it the worst. Skyquake hesitated, before scooting over just an inch closer.

"I know it does nothing to heal you. But...I'm sorry. I don't know what you did to invoke his fury, but-"

"ITS ALWAYS HIM, ISN'T IT?!"

Starscream exploded, anger taking the place of shame.

"IT'S ALWAYS HIM. EVERYONE THINKS OF ME AS HIS PUNCHING BAG. AS HIS TOY TO ABUSE! WHEN I WAS ON CYBERTRON, I WAS A SCIENTIST, I WAS ME, I-"

"You weren't lonely."

Skyquake had suddenly held onto one of his hands in his own. They both looked at each other, unsure as to how this happened, or where to proceed. But that didn't matter. Skyquake had to do, SAY something!

"You were you back then. You thought joining would only take you higher. You care a lot for yourself. And amongst those hopelessly devoted to Megatron, myself included...that's something incredible."

Starscream looked him up and down, before scoffing.

"Funny way of trying to get into my panel. I almost believed you."

"Believe me or not. I mean what I say. My physical want for you does not reflect my words. You're a traitor to many, and while the attempts at his life do seem like it...you want the equality that once made the decepticons. Equality in terms of individuality. I'm sorry you can't get that. I'm sorry your home feels like a den of violence. I'm...sorry."

Starscream looked at him from the corner of his optics, hesitant. But when Skyquake continued to hold his hand, when he didn't reveal this as some sick joke...Starscream believed him. He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"Save the pity. I'm just happy you didn't bring up Megatron in that whole speech. I almost don't hate you."

Skyquake chuckled, lightly squeezing his hand.

"I'm not tired. You're not tired. Would you mind my company, just for tonight?"

"Ugh. Of course. I'd tell you to get the hell out, but the medbay IS a free space, I can't tell you to leave. Suppose I'm stuck with you, Skyquake."

"Honor to be a thorn in your side, Starscream~"

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

"Relax, Dreadwing."

"I will not! He's not picking up my comm calls, I didn't see him for our morning tea, he's not in his room- what am I SUPPOSED to do?!"

"Maybe he went for a morning flight. Either way, can you at least QUIETLY panic? I need to finish my coffee before I handle someone yelling at me."

Dreadwing was about to yell some more. Knockout WAS the last one to see him, so he assumed he somehow knew where he was. Like he was his keeper, apparently. Knockout parted the curtain, about to wake up Starscream, when he stopped dead in his tracks. He chuckled, and turned to Dreadwing, servo at his lips.

"I found hiiiim~"

Dreadwing pushed him away, about to scold his brother, when he stopped. There he was. Sitting down, asleep, next to a snoozing Starscream. All while he was holding one of his hands. They looked...comfortable. At peace. Dreading stammered, clearly unable to make heads or tails of this.

"What. What. Why would-"

"Let them sleep, they've had a long night."

"No! How can he be touching MY little brother? My-"

"If you want to wake up your poor, tired baby brother, be my guest."

Dreadwing opened his mouth to speak, but found no words. Knockout shooed Dreadwing out of the room, and Knockout looked at the new couple.

"You owe me, herr comadant~"

[sarah-sandwich]

"I need a hug" please and thank you!

Hi friend! Here it is! Remind me to never commit to a fic a day for an entire week again lmao

Happy last day of National Storyteller Week to everyone who creates or consumes stories! Jump over to my ao3 for 5 ridiculous parkner fics 👌✨💛

Peter, no

He probably should have clued in sooner, a lot sooner.

Him and Peter have been attached at the hip for three years, ever since Peter ran into the lab in the middle of a video call with Tony, shouted something about an arm-wrestling tournament with the Avengers, and begged, “You gotta come trash talk them for me! Please, Mr. Stark! No one roasts as good as you!” Then, after receiving Tony’s resigned agreement, exclaimed, “I’m gonna dislocate Captain America’s shoulder!” turned tail and sprinted back out, ignoring Tony’s, “Peter, no!”

It was over in under a minute but he was bewitched.

“Who was that? And why haven’t I met him?”

“I’ve been avoiding this day,” Tony said in a world-weary tone. “You’re either going to hate each other or get on like a house fire. Either way, I’ll never know peace again.”

In usual Tony Stark fashion, he was right.

He thought he’d seen every side of Peter there is. He’s seen him soft and sleepy under the blue glow of the television. He’s seen him wired and manic as he pursues a project on little to no sleep. He’s seen him broken and bleeding in more ways than he cares to count. He’s seen him laughing until he cries, crying so hard the only thing he can do is cry with him, too exhausted to feed himself, too angry to speak, and he’s been there when he’s on the cusp of dropping dead from embarrassment (usually pointing and laughing but hey, somebody’s gotta keep him humble).

He knows him like he knows his sister, like he knows his mom, like he knows himself.

His point is, it shouldn’t have taken this camping trip to put the pieces together. Realization shouldn’t have hit him like a log to the face when Peter rolled up the sleeves of his borrowed flannel and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for wanting to kiss him stupid.

Well, stupider.

A moment later, Peter picked up the bag of tent poles like they weighed nothing and somehow managed to dump them all over the side of the road like a can of pick-up-sticks.

It’s gonna be a long weekend.

~*~

“What’s this thing for again?” Peter asks, raising his arms high over his head to hold up the long swath of fabric two times his height.

“It’s a rain fly, Peter. It keeps out the rain.”

“It’s not supposed to rain. Trust me, Aunt May checked the weather like 50 times before she would let me leave.”

“We still need it.”

“But why? We could sleep under the stars.”

“It traps in heat.”

“Sounds like another tally in the cons column. It’s hot as fuck, dude.”

“Not tonight it won’t be. Temperature fluctuates a lot in the mountains, especially when the sun goes down.”

“Temperature fluctuates in the mountains,” Peter repeats mockingly.

Harley stops what he’s doing. “If you really wanna sleep under the stars I don’t have to share my tent. Enjoy the skeeters.”

“You love me too much to leave me to sleep with the wildlife,” Peter says, voice muffled from under the rain fly as he attempts to drape it over the erected tent.

His heart skips. Does he know? Has he been that obvious even while oblivious to his own feelings? Did Peter figure it out before he did? Has he been graciously not saying anything about his huge undeniable crush while—

Peter squawks and tumbles forward, the tent collapsing under him with a snap that echoes through the trees. The rain fly flutters over him like a burial shroud.

“Please tell me whatever just broke was a part of you.”

“Uhh, sorry.”

He sighs. He’s in love with an idiot.

~*~

The tent leans a little to the left when they’re done with it but he’s pretty sure it’ll hold up through the night. Just in case, they limit how often they go in and out of it (which, in his opinion, is the way it should be done regardless).

A breeze rustles the trees, scattering pine needles as birds chitter and small unseen wildlife scurries around the underbrush. He breathes in deep, savoring the scent of dirt, pine, and fresh air. He’s been in the city far too long.

Peter stands with his hands on his hips, dirt crusted on the knees of his jeans, his borrowed flannel pulling tight across his chest as he watches a puffy white cloud scoot by with a befuddled expression.

He turns to Harley. “So umm, now what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. You’re the one who’s never done this before?”

Peter stares at him blankly.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” He shakes his head and walks over to the car with a sigh. “This way, city boy. It’s time you learned to fish.”

“Sounds smelly.”

“Mmm.” He pops the trunk and pulls out two fishing rods—one old and dinged up, the other brand-spankin-new—and he passes them to Peter so he can grab the tackle box and a white plastic bucket with a lid on it.

“And slimy,” Peter continues, wrinkling his nose at the bold ‘WORMS’ printed on the side of the white bucket.

“That it is, but there aren’t any rats and no one has pissed on the place you need to sit so it’s automatically better than anything the city has to offer.”

“We’ll see about that,” Peter grumbles.

~*~

“Y’know,” Harley drawls lazily, eyes half-lidded as he watches Peter jump from rock to rock along the shoreline, “usually when people are lookin’ to catch a fish they cast their line into the water rather than leavin’ it on the ground.”

“Oh is that how it’s done? I had no idea,” Peter says, stooping down to peer into a small pool sequestered away from the rest of the body of water. “What do tadpoles look like?”

“Uh, little squirmy guys.”

“Very descriptive, thank you.”

“Mhmm. Anytime, darlin’.”

Peter looks up at him, eyes narrowed and he jolts under the sudden scrutiny.

“What?” he asks. He always calls him darling. It’s just a thing he says—a southern thing. So what if over the years he’s stopped using the name for anyone else? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not weird.

“Are you falling asleep?” Peter asks.

“Pfft, no,” he says. The sun is deliciously warm, seeping into his skin and turning his bones to butter as the katydids buzz and birds sing. A warm breeze ruffs his hair and he finds himself blinking slowly.

“Dude, you’re totally falling asleep.” Peter grins playfully and hopscotches across the rocks back to him as he teases, “You know, usually when someone wants to catch a fish, they do it while they’re awake.”

“I am awake, dummy.”

“Not for much longer.” He comes to a stop at his side and tweaks the brim of his hat. “Look at you. You’re like an old man falling asleep in his recliner in front of the big game.”

“Napping is a perfectly respectable part of fishing,” he argues.

Peter throws back his head and laughs. Backed by blue sky and thickly forested mountain, sunlit from above, he’s never looked better.

Should he tell him? Is now the time? He can’t imagine living like this—knowing how he feels but bottling it up and keeping it a secret from his best friend.

Then again—

His fishing rod dips and he sits up with a start, hands already moving for the reel.

“Woah, is that a fish?” Peter exclaims, peering into the lake.

“Sure hope so. Can’t imagine what else it’d—,”

“Can I pull it in?” Peter asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excitable puppy.

“No, you if wanna get a fish you have to put in the work.”

“What work? Laying around half-asleep?”

“Yeah, exactly. I’ll let you take it off the line, how ‘bout that?”

“Eh, that’s okay. I’m good.”

He wrestles the fish out of the lake, a bass about two hands long, and then holds the flopping fish, hooked through the lip, out to Peter.

“There you go. Just pop that puppy off the hook and toss ‘im back in.”

“Wait, you don’t even keep the fish?”

“What would I do with a fish?”

“…eat it?”

“That’s a whole song and dance I ain’t got the tools or the patience for. Just grab the fish, Pete. Preferably before it suffocates.”

Peter makes an unhappy sound in his throat but reaches for the fish. Just as his fingers brush the scales, the fish gives a mighty wiggle and Peter flinches back towards the lake.

“Eep!” Peter squeaks and goes into the water with a splash.

Harley hunches over, laughing his head off as Peter sits up, water streaming down his face and dripping from his hair.

“I hate you.” Slipping and sliding in the muck, he makes his way through the mid-thigh deep water, back to dry land, and then keeps walking past Harley and up the hill to the trail that will lead him back to camp.

All the while Harley laughs and laughs, taking a moment to free the fish back into the lake before he sits down and tips his face to the sun, chuckling and committing to memory the way Peter’s soaked jeans and flannel clung all over his body.

~*~

“I still don’t see why—,”

“Shush,” Peter snaps, frowning in concentration over the tiny flame he’s been babying to life for the past fifteen minutes.

He sighs. He tried to convince him to wait until supper for a campfire meal but Mr. Eager Beaver insisted on trying his hand at it now. Had they made sandwiches they’d be done by now and could be hiking. But no. Peter wants to play Boy Scout so they’re going to sit here and starve until he gets a fire built just to spend five minutes roasting hot dogs and then have to put it out again.

To make matters worse, Peter’s no longer wearing his shirt since it got soaked in the lake. He’d gotten attached to how he looks in his clothes. Now he’s wearing on one of his standard nerd-pun tees and a wrinkly pair of khaki cargo shorts and he’s going to have to convince him to at least put on long socks before they hike or he’s going to risk getting poison ivy or poison oak all over his calves and ankles.

“There it goes! There it goes!” Peter exclaims, sitting up tall and motioning at him to look at the little flame as it eats up the pile of twigs and tinder.

“Very good, dear,” he says dryly. “Now see if you can keep it going with some real wood.”

Peter cocks his head at him. “Was that a double-entendre?”

“Why on earth would I imply that we should put a part of my human anatomy in the fire, Peter?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, squatting beside the fire as he breaks up a stick. “Dick jokes are funny.”

“You’re a child.”

“And yet you— Shit!” He flinches back from the fire and falls on his backside.

He comes alert with a spike of adrenaline, rushing forward to— to— pat out flames with his bare hands? He doesn’t know. “What happened?” he demands, checking Peter over for damage and finding nothing, not a burn or singe in sight.

Still sprawled on the ground, Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes with an embarrassed grimace. “I don’t want to say.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he sits up cross-legged and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He stares down at him as he looks down in his lap. “You’re really not going to tell me what just happened? I already saw you fall in a lake because you were scared of a fish. It can’t be worse than that.”

Peter looks up, neck crimped and mouth screwed into an unhappy pucker. “I thought something was on me but it was just the grass.”

Harley stares. “So, you thought a bug was on you.”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this place.”

What has he gotten himself into?

~*~

Peter hasn’t stopped chattering about everything under the sun since they left camp. And considering where they are, there’s a lot to chatter about. From bugs to birds to types of trees and identifying clouds, he’s heard it all. It’s why he’s not paying attention to the path like he should, too busy watching the way Peter waves his hands animatedly as he rambles, the way the sun lights his eyes and makes his hair shine, the way his lips shape the words.

He hasn’t taken in a word he’s said for the past twenty minutes but he’s watched him with rapt attention while his mind churns through his options. He’s not one to ignore something once he knows about it. He doesn’t want to keep this a secret. There’s no reason to. It’s nothing shameful and if Peter doesn’t reciprocate then… well, nothing changes, right? He’s fine with that. Best friends is still good. Great, even.

But if Peter does reciprocate…

His breathing quickens at the thought. How did he not notice this ridiculous crush sooner? It’s like something has been awakened inside him and now it refuses to shut up and go back to sleep. He gravitates towards Peter like an orbiting moon. He’s a moth to Peter’s beam of light. Helpless under the thrall.

Peter suddenly looks right at him. “—you know what I mean?”

“Huh?” His foot lands wrong and rolls over a root. His ankle screams out and then he’s dropping as it gives out.

“Woah!” Peter catches him, one arm around his back and the other fisted into his shirt at his shoulder. His brain goes offline, only processing the way Peter is pressed against him, the way his face is angled over him like he’s on the verge of dipping him into a kiss, the way neither of them moves or speaks, staring instead with startled realization.

He thinks he imagines it when Peter’s eyes dilate but then they fix on his lips and there’s no way he’s imagining that.

Lights flash in his head and he forgets to breathe as they hang suspended in time.

Then Peter bites his lip and his cheeks flush dark pink as he yanks Harley upright.

He stumbles, unprepared, and his ankle gives out a second time.

Peter catches him by the elbows babbling, “Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—,”

“I’m fine. I…” The rest of the sentence vanishes from his tongue as he looks into Peter’s eyes. He loves his eyes—warm and affectionate, they always give him away. Whether they’re bright with curiosity, sparkling with delight, wide with embarrassment, or narrowed in anger, he’s an open book. That’s why the look in his eyes now gives him pause. He’s never seen it before—or maybe it’s been there all along but he hasn’t noticed until now.

They’re dark and focused like he’s seeing through him into his soul and likes what he sees so much he wants to eat him alive.

His heart thunders as he lifts a hand to Peter’s cheek. This is it. This is the moment he tells him and finds out where they’re going to go next.

Peter’s eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, but then his gaze shifts beyond him and he freezes except to carefully grab his forearm in a too-tight grip.

“Bear,” Peter breathes.

His awareness of their surrounding returns so suddenly it hurts. Birds sing, bugs buzz and chirp, somewhere nearby a creek burbles, and behind him on the path, something scuffs the ground and then snorts and sniffs harshly.

“No,” he says quietly. No, he refuses to allow this to be his reality. This cannot be happening. He won’t allow this to happen.

“Harley, bear,” Peter repeats, grip tightening.

Oh my God, this is happening.

“Don’t run,” he says in an undertone. “You’re not supposed to run.”

“We gotta run.”

“Peter, no.”

“Harley, there’s a fucking bear.”

“Listen to me—,”

“I’m gonna grab you—,”

“—we gotta stay still and—,”

“I’ll carry you and—,”

“—non-threatening so—,”

“I’m going to get you up a tree and then—,”

“—it won’t chase us.”

“—the bear will chase me.”

“Peter—,”

“It’ll be fine.”

“—no.”

~*~

He waits in the tree for over an hour, ankle throbbing, sick to his stomach with worry, wondering if he’ll ever see the idiot he stupidly fell in love with ever again. Even if he didn’t get eaten by the bear, he’s no good out here in the woods. He could be lost. He could be too hurt to move. He could be—

—covered in what smells like animal shit and standing balefully at the base of the tree.

“I need a hug,” Peter says, voice small.

“Did you—,”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“So that’s—,”

“Don’t say it. Do you need help getting down?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t touch me.”

“That’s fair. I’ll be in the lake. Will you bring me all of the soap and soap-like products we own?”

“Yeah. Gimme a minute.”

“Thanks, Harley.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

I love you. I’m glad you’re not dead. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. You’re everything I want.

“You’re an idiot,” he says.

Peter nods. “Yeah.”

~*~

“Black bears can run 35 miles per hour,” he says conversationally. They’re sprawled on a blanket while the fire crackles nearby (but not too close, they’ve had enough disasters for one day). His foot is propped on the tackle box, elevating his ankle and Peter is beside him, flat on his back staring up at the stars through the trees, close enough that their arms brush.

“Trust me, I know.”

“They can also climb trees,” he continues reading from his phone. “You should never climb a tree to avoid a bear.”

“Harley—,”

“If a bear notices you, stay calm. Most bears don’t want to attack you.”

“Dude, I get it.”

“Move away slowly and sideways. Do not run. Do not climb a tree.”

Peter snatches the phone out of his hands and sits up. “I panicked, okay? I can’t lose you! I had to get you out of there.”

He goes still, the crackling of the fire and the crickets the only sound in the night.

“Say again?”

“Don’t,” Peter says harshly, still holding his phone far out of reach. “Don’t make fun of me about this one. You don’t get it, okay?”

This isn’t how he expected this to happen. Hyper aware of his heart beating in his chest, he asks, “What don’t I get?”

“I was terrified.”

“And you think I wasn’t?”

“Not in the way I was. I was— It was like— It was like if anything happened to you, nothing would be okay ever again. I don’t—,” He pulls in a deep breath, chest heaving as his eyes shine uncommonly bright in the firelight. “I don’t know. You’re— Ever since we met things have just felt right and good in a way they hadn’t before and I’ve already lost so many people and then you were in danger and I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t.”

“Okay,” he says gently, sitting upright and scooting over on the blanket. “Okay.” He takes the phone and sets it aside then takes Peter’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Peter says miserably, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I think I have been for a long time.”

“Well, that’s lucky because I think I’m in love with you too.”

“You— What?”

“Mhmm. Since at least this morning.”

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch. “This morning? For real? Are you teasing me?”

“A hundred percent serious. It hit me right before you dumped my tent poles all over 36th street. Unrelated, you should wear my clothes more often.” He pauses and then says, “I think today was the universe asking me if I was sure I wanted to be tied down to your dumb ass for the rest of forever.”

“And?” Peter asks, eyes wide in the firelight.

“Yeah,” he says, smoothing a curl away from his forehead. “I’m sure.”

Peter leans in and kisses him, soft and quick. “Is that okay?”

Heart in his mouth, he says, “I think you can do better.”

Peter laughs and smooths his thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

[remmushound]

Damage, part 5; the Hogosha

@errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Splinter did his best. Ever since that night he had first gotten the boys, he tried his to do right by them. To feed them. To teach them. To encourage them. To make them happy. He always made an effort to go out of his way for their wants and needs, because that’s what a father does. He made an effort to make them laugh and ask how they were doing. To touch them and to kiss them and to love them and make them know they were loved. It was times like this that made it so difficult.

He didn't care about his own wounds. The pain was nothing compared to the pride he felt for his sons. Raphael, for tossing himself on top of Donatello and protecting the younger shinobi with everything he had. Leonardo for fighting with all he had to protect Michelangelo. Michelangelo for being so strong and so willing and eager to recover. And Donatello, for dragging each and every one of them from their deathbeds and giving them a second chance at life.

The old mutant slowed as he passed by Michelangelo’s room. Drawn on by the sound of voices, the shinobi father couldn’t help but press his ear to the door to listen.

“... telling you, it’ll work!” Leonardo’s voice was heard above all, “Trust me, Raph will love it!”

“A suggestion if I may?”

Donatello’s voice came as a surprise to Splinter and drew the old rat even further into the conversation. Donatello didn't wait for an answer.

“We’re talking about Raph, right? Our Raph? The Raph that regularly busts through walls and ears glass? That Raph?”

“Yep! That’s the one!” Michelangelo’s voice chirped.

“Then foam and cloth just isn’t gonna cut it.”

“Well what do you suggest, big brain?” Leonardo asked.

“Well there have been significant successes with 3D printing bones for transplant, and even an example of a turtle shell being printed successfully! Maybe we do that? Except with the section of shell Raph is missing.”

“Oh oh oh!” Michelangelo chirped his normal ‘I have a question’ noise.

“Yes Michael?”

“Maybe we do both! You do your printy-thing and then we put some foam over it to make it more comfortable and then we add the cloth!”

Donatello hummed. “Hm. Sounds doable. Though we may have to build a framework out of wire to support the foam so it doesn’t shift too much and cause irritation. And several layers of cloth so we can secure it properly to the framework—“

“Yeah yeah yeah, less talky more doey!”

“Hey! Do you have any idea how long it’s gonna take?! I can’t do it snappy-snappy!”

“Why not?!”

It made Splinter’s heart soar to hear the bickering of his sons carrying on in the other room. They sounded happy, and most importantly they were awake, and together. He wiped his beady eyes as he walked away, tail swishing his euphoria as the newfound hope made this day one of the best in months.

When night came, Splinter didn't need alarms or clocks or the chore chart to tell him what to do. He just did what fathers do, like he always had. He knocked on Raphael’s door before entering.

“Oh! Hey pops!” Raphael’s tail wagged at the sight of his father. He was sat at his vanity looking at himself in the mirror like he often did.

“Hello Raphael.” Splinter’s wrinkled face split in a smile as he walked over to Raphael, tisking his tongue along the way as his tail swept through trash and collected it. “Really, Raphael? Four water bottles? You’re turning your room into a pigsty!”

“Goodnight to you too, pops.” Raphael laughed, closing his eye as Splinter heaved himself up the snapping turtle’s arm to kiss him on the cheek.

“Honestly, I don’t think you need this old thing anymore.” Splinter mused as he helped Raphael untie his shell cover and folded it on the nightstand.

“Donnie’s orders.” Raphael laughed.

“Well I say you’re perfectly healed.” Splinter eyed the scars curiously, “And if anything, the scars make you look badass.”

Raphael’s shoulders shook as he bellowed. “Thanks dad.”

Splinter smiled and nosed playfully against his son's cheek a moment before giving the mutant a gentle tap with his tail.

“Now scoot! It’s bedtime!”

“Dad, I’m almost sixteen.” Raphael said, “I think I can choose my own bedtime now.”

Splinter raised his brow.

Raphael started to sweat almost immediately. “Uh— I mean— yes. Right. Bed time.”

“Good boy.” Splinter pat Raphael’s shoulder as the snapper lurched over to his bed. “Remember: I didn't put the fear of God in you, I put the fear of rat!”

Raphael climbed into bed and churred happily as Splinter came over to tuck him in and give him his teddy bear.

“There we are… Good night, little Red.”

*****

“Oh Baby Blue~” Splinter poked his nose into Leonardo’s room, “I’m respecting your privacy by knocking, but asserting my authority as your father by coming in anyway!”

Splinter blinked as he saw the state of his son. Leonardo was on his bed, having tried to remove his day clothes by himself and failed miserably. Somehow, he had managed to get his head stuck in the arm hole and his arm locked at an odd angle in the head hole, his trousers hanging half-off.

“Help me.”

Splinter couldn’t hide his laughter as he helped his son undress the rest of the way and assisted in helping him put on his pajamas.

“There we are, silly boy.” Splinter rubbed Leonardo’s head before putting the turtles nightcap on. “Now, I know you like magic, but you’re not quite Houdini status yet.”

Leonardo snapped. “Darn! I’ll get there one day!”

Splinter hummed his agreement and used his tail to open Leonardo’s bedside drawer and pull out a soft, blue sleeve. He gently slid it over Leonardo’s wounded arm and secured it before giving the nub a kiss, and then kissing Leonardo on the head.

“Thanks dad.”

“Anything for my little one.”

****

“Orange~ why, would you look at that?”

Michelangelo was already snug in his bed, dressed in his sleeping onesie and clutching a story book with a bright smile on his face.

“Someone was ready for me.” Splinter pulled himself onto the bed and took the book from Michelangelo, clearing his throat as he started to read. “In a warm and sultry forest far far away, there lived a mother fruit bat and her new baby. Oh, how Mother Bat loved her soft, tiny baby. “I’ll name you Stellaluna.” she crooned…”

By the end of the story, Michelangelo was snoring softly. Splinter carefully crept from the bed and slid the book back into its place before giving Michelangelo a kiss on the head.

“Love you, my son. Sweet dreams…”

****

Splinter always left Donatello last. Not out of malice, of course! Donatello just needed the most comfort, the most time! And it wouldn’t be fair to make the other brothers wait so long for their fathers affection. But now the rest of his sons were tucked safely away, Splinter crept into the softshell’s room with a gentle knock.

“Donatello? Purple?”

Donatello was laying in his bed with his back turned to the door. Splinter hummed and quickly approached the bed, laying a hand on his son's shoulder.

“I hope you didn't think I forgot about you.”

“No.” Donatello’s voice was soft and somber.

Splinter cleared his throat and shifted himself onto the bed, pulling the blanket over Donatello’s head and starting to hum softly as he traced his paws across his son’s arm and shell bridge in a comforting manner, like he always did when they were turtle tots.

“Mori mo iyagaru, Bon kara saki-nya. Yuki mo chiratsuki-shi. Ko mo naku-shi…”

Donatello grabbed Splinter’s hand and held it while he started to hum along to the lullaby.

“Bon ga kita-tote, nani ureshi-karo… Katabira wa nashi, obi wa nashi…”

Splinter sang the lullaby to its entirety and, though Donatello was still awake by the end of it, neither father nor son made any attempt to leave or interrupt the comfort of each other's presence. They both fell asleep together.

****

“Keep your eyes closed! Keep 'em closed! Closed closed closed closed closed!”

“They’re closed, Mike!” Raphael bellowed his laughter at the eager young mutant that covered both Raphael’s eyes while sitting on his shoulders. “What’s the surprise!”

“Wait for it! Wait for it!”

“The suspense is killing me!”

“NOW!”

Michelangelo pulled his hands away with a happy squeak and Raphael opened his eyes. Raphael blinked a few times to get used to the light again before he processed what was in front of him. Leonardo and Donatello, both smiling as they held a large something between them.

The prosthetic piece was an impossibly bright red color, the cloth some of the most vibrant Raphael had ever seen! There were several ridges on it and Raphael’s eyes widened when he recognized the shapes from his shell. He looked back at his shell, then to the prosthetic, then back at his shell.

“Tadaaa~” Michelangelo jumped from Raphael’s shell, landing with a loud grunt, and did jazz hands.

“It’s made of reinforced acrylic— it’s not as strong as your actual shell, but strong enough to take a solid hit.” Donatello explained, “I wanted to make it a more natural color, but Nardo here insisted it stay red.”

“What? Red is totally his color!” Leonardo scoffed, “the Kanji was Mikey’s idea— figured Bo-su was most suited to you.”

“And Donnie made sure the measurements were right so it could fit over your shell!” Michelangelo squeaked, “Do you like it?”

Raphael didn't answer. He couldn’t answer, not for an uncomfortably long time. And when he did answer, it wasn’t with words. It was with a loud, whimpering squeal as he scooped all three brothers in for a hug and crushed them against his chest.

“I love it…” Raphael nuzzled each brother in turn, “And I love you all so much…”

[secret-engima]

I’ve had a bad day so... anything about any of your rwby aus you wanna share? ❤️

Awwww, I’m sorry to hear that Anon! Would a few snips help? I think I have a few snips around here somewhere *dives into doc* *reemerges* I come bearing snips! I apologize that most of them are angsty! But I have what I have ^^;

Always I Dreamed:

     “You don’t actually have a plan do you?” Raven hissed to Summer as they pressed their backs against the same piece of cover, trying to catch their breath.

     Summer leaned around the corner, snapped off a shot to keep the Grimm from punching Qrow off the cliff, “I do! It’s just a work in progress! And it would have been a lot easier if that pillar hadn’t crumbled the wrong way.”

     Raven knew what was likely to blame for that, but didn’t bother to say, “Pro tip? If you can think of some way for your plan to go really, stupidly wrong, assume it will and have a backup plan.”

     They rolled away from cover and dodged the rock fragments as the Grimm angrily shattered the stone they had been hiding behind, Summer snapped off another shot without looking through her scope and made a face, “Well I don’t see you coming up with any ideas!”

     “I’m not the one who insisted she had a plan.”

     Taiyang slammed his feet down onto the Grimm’s head from where he’d jumped off a high ruin, front flipped off its skull with another hard kick, and rolled under it’s answering fist, “Well you’re one of the people who might die without one, so maybe give it a shot?”

...

Wolfcury (in which Taiyang attempts to tame a smol child large wolfdog:

     “Well,” Taiyang managed once his ears had stopped ringing, “that could have gone a lot better.”

     “It could have gone a lot worse too,” Summer pointed out, “he retreated rather than attacked.” They both shared a solemn look. They knew that if Taiyang had kept pushing, had gotten too close, the wolfdog would have attacked him. Taiyang ran a hand through his hair, he didn’t know if he could fix something that broken. A trust that shattered.

     But the wolfdog had saved Ruby, and Ruby was still asking about him every time Summer went out to check on him. He owed it to the wolfdog to at least try to salvage whatever trust the animal’s previous owner had shattered into feral terror. And if he really, genuinely couldn’t … he wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to Ruby. Or dealing with the tears and fallout that would follow. They kept trying. Summer still checked on the bandages and brought water, but Taiyang was now in charge of the food. They hoped that associating him with food would help take the initial edge off, but while the howling and snapping didn’t make a reappearance after the first time, the wolfdog still strained to stay as far away as possible, and refused to eat while he was in the shed. Taiyang decided he needed to escalate just a bit, because it was quickly becoming clear that no amount of food bribery would help if the wolfdog was too terrified by his mere existence to eat around him and get the positive association.

     Taiyang brought home some supplies, sturdy wire fencing and wood to build a dog house, and soon Summer was gently leading the wolfdog out of the shed and into his new, fenced off area of the yard while Taiyang hid in the house to keep the wolfdog from panicking. Ruby was ecstatic to finally be able to see the wolfdog, even if she wasn’t allowed inside the fenced off area or to stick her fingers through the bars. Taiyang watched from a distance, letting Summer directly monitor the “visits” of their daughters to the wolfdog through the fencing. So long as the animal didn’t know Taiyang was nearby, the change in behavior was obvious. Still skittish and a touch wild, but shyer. Gentler. He even limped up and wagged his tail at Ruby through the fencing. It was just Taiyang that he was so mindlessly terrified of, and it made Taiyang feel angry in the pit of his stomach.

     This animal had been brave enough to try to fight off a Grimm to save Ruby, and while he seemed to have no idea what to do with affection, that shyly wagging tail and ginger acceptance of dog treats through the wire fencing proved the poor thing wasn’t naturally aggressive and hateful. Someone, some man, had beaten that fear into the wolfdog, that wild-eyed hate he could see in big grey eyes whenever Taiyang came too close. People like that could get eaten by Grimm in Taiyang’s opinion, and if he ever had the luck to run into the man who had hurt this dog… He shook that thought away —not for the first time and not for the last— and put the next stage of his plan into action.

     The first time he wandered out and sat down just on the other side of the wire fencing with a lap desk and a stack of school papers to grade, the wolfdog fled to the other side with a brief, swiftly cut off scream of fear. It stayed pressed into the farthest corner of fencing the three hours Taiyang sat with his back to the fence, grading the papers of his students at Signal and listening to his daughters play. Taiyang only looked at the animal to call a soft greeting when he got there, then to call a soft goodbye when he finally got up and went inside to cook dinner.

     He repeated the ritual three more times before the wolfdog finally dared to leave the corner and instead skirt furtively around the far side of his fenced in area, watching him with his grey tail tucked tight to his belly and hackles raised in something akin to anger. Taiyang just kept grading papers and writing up schedules and working on whatever other paperwork he could find. He’d thought about doing weapon maintenance out here, but chances were high the wolfdog would know what weapons were and be even more frightened of them, so he stuck to paper tasks, or just sitting with his back to the fence for three hours watching the girls play. He did his best to keep it to the same time each day, for the same amount of time.

     Day five and he heard it creeping closer before fleeing again several times. Day seven and he briefly felt hot breath against the back of his neck before it retreated. The wolfdog stopped fleeing to the far corner when Taiyang came outside, just hunkered down wherever it happened to already be and watched him with wary eyes. Day eight and he started bringing jerky with him, sliding a piece through the wire right where he usually sat before turning around and going back to his usual routine. It took until day ten before the wolfdog actually crept up close enough to snap up the jerky and flee to a “safe” distance again.

...

Dragon Yang:

     “Yang, wait! It’s me! It’s Qrow!”

     She hesitated. Stared at him, poised to go after him again, eyes flickering red, nostrils flared. She looked like she was on the edge of either a panic attack or trying to kill him again. Her fingers flexed, then her fists lowered. He wasn’t stupid enough to think she had relaxed. Her nostrils flared again, hair rippling almost like fire, which he hadn’t known it could do before now, “…Uncle Qrow?”

     Qrow nodded, tried to pitch his voice into something soothing, “It’s me, kiddo. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But- Brothers, Yang, we’ve been worried sick.”

     Yang’s jaw worked, her face was almost eerily blank —like Raven at that age and older, and he didn’t like that thought or what it implied—, “Prove it.” Qrow faltered and her lips twitched like she wanted to bare her teeth at him, “Prove it. Prove you’re- that you’re my uncle.” Something bleak flickered over her face, hollow and fractured, before it was gone again, “Prove it to me.”

     Qrow dared to let go of Harbinger’s hilt. Yang was … he had no idea what had happened to her, but she looked cold and hard, scraped raw and hiding it for her own safety. Someone had torn his niece apart and molded her into something that could smash right through an experienced Huntsman’s Aura in three strikes and he seethed just thinking about it. But he couldn’t afford to be angry right now, not with Yang sizing him up as a potential enemy. So he spread his hands placatingly and scrambled for decent proof. I need a drink for this-, oh. “When you were eight, you wanted to make me a ‘welcome home’ gift. You decided to make brownies. But the house was out of milk, so instead of using tap water, you got it into your head for some reason to use the bottle of whisky that you weren’t supposed to know was under the sink. Your dad just about skinned me when he got home to find you and Ruby passed out drunk on the floor from ‘testing out’ the brownies.”

     Yang stared at him. Her hands slowly relaxed out of fists, “I was sick for the whole night and most of the day after. I hated it. Ruby kept throwing up. She was afraid to eat brownies for years after that…”

     “Because she thought they were cursed,” Qrow finished gently. Yang kept staring, expression so blank it was almost a cry for help. Qrow dared to take a step forward, “It’s me, Yang. I promise.”

     The tiniest shudder ran through her frame, like she was holding back from some greater response. She inhaled, exhaled slowly as the last of the glow faded from her hair, “I believe you.” Her voice cracked for just a moment before he saw her visibly wrestle it back under control, “I believe you.”

     Qrow dared to take a few more steps toward her, picking his way around the furrow he’d left in the ground, making sure that each movement was slow and obvious. She let him approach, didn’t tense up or turn wary as he came to a stop just in arm’s reach. She stared up at him with a mask of porcelain, fragile and dangerous, and Qrow pushed down both his fury and the urge to get drunk until he wasn’t angry anymore. Instead, he tried to smile, “Hey there, kiddo. We missed you.”

     She closed her eyes, her breath shook before she opened them again, “Missed you too, Uncle Qrow.”

     Qrow held his hands up a little higher, from placation to the offer of a hug, “Can I hug you, kiddo?”

     She swallowed, he caught the glimmer of longing in her eyes, “…Just … don’t touch my shoulders.”

     Qrow nodded and made a point to move slowly. He wanted to pull her close and squeeze her as tightly as he could, but he didn’t need to be a wise, quasi-immortal wizard like Oz to tell that was a bad idea. So instead of that, he very slowly stepped in and rested a hand on the small of her back and the back of her head, tucking her against his chest, head under his chin, like she was something fragile. She tensed in his arms, but didn’t pull away, and when he tentatively ran his fingers through her tangled mane of hair, the tension in her frame unwound so that she was slumped against him. They stood there for a while, Yang trembling faintly in his arms but not crying like he thought she probably needed to, her skin under his hand almost fever hot and worrying as Qrow tried not to hug too tight and ignored the burning in his own eyes.

[argylemnwrites]

Facts, Fibs, and Futures

Pairing: Mal Volari x MC (Raina - f!human)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow (Chapter 4)

Word Count: ~3300

Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)

Summary: A evening of games, cards, and fortune-telling gives Mal a better understanding of Raina.

Author’s Note: Wish I had time to do more for @bladesappreciationweek, but happy to have at least snuck this piece in under the wire for Day 7 - MC/wildcard. It’s a little bit about my MC, a little about the gang in their early days, and a little glimpse at some early Mal/MC flirtation.

“...And so I convinced the Contessa of Ditorilla that I was merely a figment of her imagination, conjured up by her deepest desires.”

Raina couldn’t help but snort as she caught the tail end of the undoubtedly false story Mal was spinning for Nia and Tyril as she walked towards them on the deck. She’d been staring at the horizon, trying to calm her stomach. She didn’t want to admit it and give Mal more of a reason to see her as naive, a kit with no experience, but the truth was that the rocking of Gerhard’s ship on the waves left her fairly nauseous. She hoped she would get used to the sensation soon, but in the meantime, she had to resort to attempting simple solutions. Hopefully, the hour she just spent by herself along the railing would be seen as her just wanting to take in the ocean. Not that that would make her seem any less like a damn kit.

“Based on Raina’s reaction, I am going to go with ‘fib’ on that tale.” Tyril’s voice floated through the air, drawing Raina out of her introspection.

“Come on, Kit. It’s bad enough that you are shockingly skilled at this, but now you have to ruin it for me when you aren’t even playing?” She stopped and glanced over at Mal, tipping back in his chair, one foot braced against the deck, the other resting on the edge of the table where he was sitting with Nia and Tyril. When they made eye contact, he winked at her before placing his hand on his chest in mock pain.

“Raina, you should join us!” Nia called out, twisting around in her chair to flash a bright smile.

“Yes, please do,” added Tyril. “This… ruffian has convinced us to play some sort of game where we have to determine whether a statement is the truth or a lie.”

“Yeah, Fib or Fact,” Raina said as she sat down in the free chair between Nia and Tyril, “but you aren’t really playing unless you are drinking.”

“See! Thank you! I told you guys this was a drinking game!” Mal cried out, gesturing across the table to Raina with a flourish. 

Tyril shook his head briskly. “I do not understand the human fascination with needing to create banal games to drink.”

“I don’t know; I think it’s just a fun way to pass the time.” Raina glanced over to her left and gave Tyril a little shrug.

“But we know Elf Boy here would rather die than have fun.”

Tyril opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Nia cut in. “Please, we can’t be at each other’s throats constantly.”

Tyril glanced between Nia and Mal, the openingly-mocking grin plastered on Mal’s face clearly fueling the fire that Nia was trying to extinguish. After a few tense and silent seconds, he gave a terse little nod. “Fine, but if I have to listen to any more stories of his romantic... conquests, I make no promises.”

Nia let out a little sigh. “Good. Well, maybe we should pick a different game anyway, since Raina is always right at this one.”

“Is that so?”

Raina smiled and tilted her head to the side. “I’m very good at reading people. Particularly his Magnificence over there.” She gestured across the table towards Mal, who plastered a fake shocked expression on his face, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, as he mouthed “Me?” before grinning and shooting Raina a wink.

“They played quite a bit on our journey to Port Parnassus,” Nia added. “I think Mal only got her four or five times.”

“Well, nevermind then. Let’s keep playing,” Tyril said, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he glanced back at Mal.

“Nah, don’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities with my more scandalous accounts,” he responded, waggling his eyebrows.

“Does anyone know any other games we could play? I don’t know if I want to gamble again.” Nia said, clearly trying to move past any sniping between the two males of their little party. 

“Awww, priestess. Didn’t enjoy your first taste of betting?”

Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s for me, Mal.”

"Just you wait. We'll bring out your wild side one of these days," Mal said, winking at Nia before giving her a very genuine looking smile. "Since cards are out, does anyone have any other ideas?"

Tyril didn't move to suggest anything, sitting still, his arms still locked across his armor. Nia kept glancing around the group, a hopeful gleam in her eyes that made it clear that she was counting on someone else to offer up an idea.

Raina found her mind drifting to Kade. He always knew how to entertain a group. He could tell stories, pull out random facts and tidbits of info. He just kept the conversation flowing.

"Maybe we can still use the cards," she said, tilting her head to the side. "My brother would sometimes use the deck to tell fortunes. I think I remember the basics."

"I can do you one better than that, Kit. I happen to be a fortune telling expert." Mal was grinning widely as he shuffled the deck while he stared her down.

"Really." Tyril's deadpan answer conveyed extreme skepticism.

"Yes, really. Are you doubting my skills?”

“As a rule, yes. But doubly so here, seeing as you lack any ability to channel the Light.”

“Don’t need your Light to do this, just pure intuition. So how about it, Elf Boy? Want a chance to glimpse into your future?”

Raina thought Tyril might unsheathe his blade right there, but after a moment he merely shook his head and pushed his chair back as he stood up rapidly. “I’ll pass. Goodnight, Nia. Raina. Vagrant.” And with that he was off, heading below deck without a glance back. Nia looked worried at his rapid departure, but Mal seemed utterly unfazed, leaning forward and letting the front legs of his chair fall to the deck as he spun to face Nia.

“What about you, priestess? Care to see what’s in store for you?”

“Oh! I think I would rather just watch, if you don’t mind.”

“I guess that leaves you, Kit. You up for it, or are you scared of what the cards might hold?”

Raina laughed, leaning across the table and grabbing the cards from his hand. “Oh, I definitely want to see this.”

Mal chuckled in response. “Alright, you’re going to need to pick out seven cards and-”

“Lay them out in a row in front of me; I know.”

“Wow, talk about pushy! You aren’t even giving me the chance to explain how this works to poor Nia.” Mal’s tone was light and carefree, making it clear he had no qualms about letting her get started.

“Seeing how much you love to hear your own voice, I just figured I would actually get to work while you talked her ear off,” Raina replied, throwing Mal a teasing smile as she shuffled the cards and placed one slightly to the left in front of her.

Nia giggled as Mal clutched his shirt and gasped in exaggerated shock. “Raina, you wound me.”

“Something tells me you’ll survive that devastating blow. Nia, have you ever seen this done before?”

She shook her head, watching as Raina placed cards down one by one in a row.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Raina said, shuffling the deck again before selecting her next card. “I’m supposed to select seven cards that ‘speak to me’ and place them face down in front of me. The first two are said to represent elements of my past, the middle three my present, and the final two my future.”

“Does it work?”

“Of course! Don’t you trust me? Would I make something up?”

“Constantly,” said Nia, causing Raina and Mal to both burst out laughing.

“Slowly but surely, we’ll get you out of your Drakna shell, priestess. It’s inevitable,” said Mal before taking the remaining cards back from Raina. “You happy with your seven?”

“Just get started, Mal. Let’s see if you can back up your bragging with some action.”

“What type of action are you interested in, Kit? Cause I can do a lot-”

“-That’ll make Nia feel real uncomfortable. So how about we stick to the fortune telling for now.”

“For now? Oh, I can work with that,” he said with a wink before pointing to the card Raina had set further to the left. “Alright, first card here is the Base Card. It reflects your origins, your roots.” Mal flipped the card over, showing a village burning, humans crying in the streets, causing Raina’s breath to catch in her throat for just a second.

“The Destruction,” she finally said, trying to hide her shock.

“Yeah. Obviously not a very happy card. In this position, it usually means death and tragedy.”

It was a very fitting card for someone orphaned in a bandit massacre. Raina didn’t quite know how to process it. She didn’t put much stock in things like this. In fact, when she’d watched Kade do this before, he’d never had something so… perfect come up. He usually had to spin things with some very nebulous interpretations to make the cards even remotely work for the person in front of him. But Mal had stumbled into an accurate first card for this reading, and he knew nothing about that part of her past.

“Raina, is that-” Nia started, but she stopped abruptly. Raina glanced up from the card to see Mal shaking his head subtly. Given his reluctance to discuss his own history, it made sense that he could recognize a similar desire in her at this moment.

“Keep going.” Raina said after a few seconds of tense silence. Mal only paused for a second more before he kept going.

“Second card is the Core Card. It is still about your past, but it focuses more on the personal, the fundamentals of your personality more than your background.” He turned over the next card and started laughing as what could best be described as two elves in a very intimate embrace was revealed.

“The Passion. Tell me, Kit - you have a lot of heartbroken lovers pining for you back in Riverbend?”

Raina chuckled, glancing up and staring Mal straight in the eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Absolutely,” he said without missing a beat, causing Raina to laugh in earnest and Nia to cough into her Bristlegreen tea.

“Let’s just say I have no objections to your reading so far,” Raina said with a smirk. Mal joined in laughing at that, while Nia’s cheeks flushed very dark.

“I think I might turn in,” she said, placing one of her hands against her cheek, her bracelet catching the moonlight.

“Aww, sorry priestess. I promise this is the most scandalous card in the deck,” Mal said, giving Nia a contrite little nod.

Nia glanced between Mal and Raina before shaking her head. “No, it’s alright. I’m rather tired, and something tells me the innuendo will find a way to come back with you two.”

“Nia, we’re sorry.”

“Yeah, we can keep it clean… or at least mostly clean,” Mal added with a little shrug that was probably meant as an apology.

But Nia just shook her head. “It’s fine. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She gave them both a gentle smile before standing up, waving as she made her way below deck to their shared quarters.

“And then there were two,” said Mal. “You want to keep going, or do-”

“Of course,” said Raina. “You promised me a glimpse at my future. I expect you to deliver.”

Mal grinned before shifting his hand towards the third card positioned in front of Raina. “This position is the Breaking Card. It’s supposed to represent the turning point that takes you from your past to your present.”

“Kade always said the Breaking Card represented the transition from childhood to adulthood when he did this.”

Mal shook his head. “Sometimes that’s the case, but it is more about growing up in the abstract, not literally aging.” He flipped over the card, revealing an unbalanced scale.

“The Unjust? What is that supposed to mean here?”

“It is usually interpreted to mean an imbalance and loss of stability, an upsetting of how life had been. Sometimes it refers to political upheaval or a change in power structure, but it can also be more personal, like a messy break up or the loss of the family business-”

“Or the entrapment of a brother in the Shadow Realm?”

He glanced up at her, wincing a little bit. “Uhh, yeah. That would apply here.” He moved as if to grab her hand, but apparently thought better of it, dropping his fingers to the table and tapping them restlessly a few times instead. “Do you want to stop, Raina?”

She shook her head. “This reading feels shockingly accurate. Who would I be to turn down a chance at knowing my future?”

He nodded, then moved to the middle card. “Alright, so the middle position is considered the Drive Card. It reflects the biggest event of your present.” The card he flipped over showed white light pouring from above colliding in the center with dark smoke from below. It was the Morality, the card that everyone who did readings like this interpreted as a conflict between good and evil forces.

“Well, that’s easy enough to interpret. Battle between light and dark has to represent our taking on the Shadow Court. Keep going.”

“Woah, I thought I was the one doing this reading, Kit.”

Raina smiled and shrugged. “I told you Kade liked to do this around the tavern. Besides, I’m far more interested in the outcome of the Drive Card,” she said, tapping next to the sixth card.

“Ahh, yes. The Reckoning Card. But first we need to see your Key Card to figure out what part of your present is going to be most important for your future. Shape your journey going forward.” He revealed the Twins, a male and female orc with nearly identical features.

“Well I knew the accuracy couldn’t last,” Raina said with a little laugh. “I know for a fact I don’t have a long lost twin waiting for me out there.”

Mal shook his head. “No one interprets this card so literally, Kit. It usually thought to indicate meeting someone with a… similar soul.” He paused before finishing that thought, almost as if trying to find a less emotional phrasing.

“I’m surprised your head didn’t explode from saying something so sentimental.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules! I’m just the messenger.”

“Uh huh. So I’m going to meet someone very like me and they’re going to define the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, that’s a fair interpretation of this card in that position.”

“So, you’re saying I’m going to meet someone else with a drive for adventure and to see as much of the realm as possible and what? Go into business with them?”

Mal took a sip of his ale without breaking eye contact. “Possibly. The key card is usually read in a more passionate light than that, though.”

“Is this considered a romantic card then?” Raina found herself staring at Mal, unable to break his gaze. 

“For humans, yes. The Key Card in general is often considered to be a romantic card. Or at least it usually gets interpreted that way.”

“So I’m going to fall for my fellow adventurer?”

He kept looking right at her as he said, “Well, that would be the most common way the Twins are read in this situation.”

Things suddenly felt tense and loaded, far more expectant than they had any right to be. Not wanting to dwell on the implications of that card, Raina looked to diffuse the moment. “Of course, given that my Core Card was the Lovers, it might just be that I flirt with this adventurer until the next best thing comes along.” Raina knew she was ignoring the fact that the Key Card was supposed to carry the reading from the present to the future, but she didn’t know how to process the depth of such a statement. Not now, when so much was left to do to defeat the Shadow Court and to save Kade. And certainly not when she was staring at the person she felt more similar to than anyone else she’d met in a long time.

Mal seemed to sense her desire to not address the realities and details of such a prediction, instead laughing at her joke. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em your style, too?”

She smirked as she gave him a coy little shrug. “No comment.”

“Fair enough. I want stories later though, Kit.”

Raina waved him off and shook her head. “Just finish my reading, Mal.”

“A valid subject change, I’ll grant you that. So, you already told me that you know that the Reckoning Card represents the eventual outcome of the Drive Card. Ready to see how things go on your mission of doom?”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. With how attuned this whole reading had been, she found herself eager to see the next card, almost believing it might actually represent their future.

Mal pulled the card toward him, drawing out the reveal. “Huh,” was all he said before placing the card face up in front of her.

“The Double-Edged Sword?”

“Yeah.”

“Does that mean we defeat the Shadow Court?”

Mal shrugged. “This card usually reflects either a desired outcome at a high price, or a wish come true that causes a new set of problems.”

“So not exactly the greatest card for the Reckoning Card.”

“But not the worst either. It’s often portrayed as a mixed outcome. Most tellers would interpret this as reflecting success when it comes to the Shadow Court, but either after suffering some steep consequences or having to traipse through all three hells. That sort of thing."

“Well, I guess that’s better than outright defeat.”

“That’s the spirit! Surviving by the skin of your teeth is all you need, anyway! Easy success is overrated.”

“And highly unlikely?”

“Yeah, that too. You ready for your final card?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Alright, so the final position is the Unwinding Card. It’s supposed to represent the overall course of your life once you’ve fully moved out of the present.” Mal flipped the final card over, showing a golden, gleaming, cup, letting out a little whistle as he saw it.

“The Golden Chalice feels like a good card here.”

“It’s a great one, Kit. It represents comfort, pleasure, contentment. In this position, it’s basically saying your life will be filled with all you could want in the future.”

Raina nodded. “Well, at least it seems like no matter what the Shadow Court deals us, we come out of it alright. Unless you are just an awful fortune teller.”

Mal chuckled at that, sliding the seven cards back into his deck. “I make no promises for the accuracy of these predictions.”

“Where did you learn how to do this anyway?”

Raina noticed that he swallowed roughly as he tucked the cards back into his sack. “That’s a story for another time,” he said finally. “You ready to call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not just yet."

"You want any company?"

Raina gave him a smile and nodded. “Sure, that would be nice.”

And so he moved over into the chair next to her, following her gaze as she looked up at the stars. The silence was comfortable and easy and for several moments, she just soaked in the night sky.

“So really, how many jilted lovers are we talking for you?” Mal’s teasing question pulled Raina out of her thoughts. 

She laughed and shook her head. “Let it go, Mal. Some facts are just better left unmentioned.”

“Fair enough, Kit. Fair enough.”

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

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

Blades: @marshmallowsandfire

Mal x MC: @anotherbeingsworld​

[maggyoutthere]

I can't believe I actually fINISHED THIS HOLY SHIT-

The chapters are more than 4000 words long combined. I literally never wrote something this big damn. As much as this is supposed to be satire of bad creepypastas, this little shit found its way into my heart. I'll treasure it as probably the best thing I've written, like, ever XD

‼Tws for blood and body horror

First part here

Second part here

Sonic: Battle of Metal and Blood (Part 3 - Finale)

Synopsis: Local teen faces off against whatever is haunting this game and dies(?)

The game took a while to load again.

I was already making backup plans in my head in the case this didn't work. I could always ask people online if anyone had ever known about this game, even get my brother to help me record some clips of it to post on forums and sites. If that didn't work, maybe try and dump the file on my PC? That could be dangerous; if it was making the console crash and restart, I didn't want to know what it could do to my computer.

I was thrown in the same level. Well that was weird. It was the exact same jungle, or at least it looked like it at first. I could tell it was now supposed to be night time since everything had almost a dark blue filter over it, even Tails, who I was playing as this time. The night filter made the level a bit harder since I couldn't see some things properly, but it was still playable. It looked just like any Sonic game from that time, but I knew something was definitely up with it. I just flew over some badniks and made my way across the level (I missed smashing stuff with Amy's hammer so I just tried to escape that level as quickly as possible)

I entered the same clearing, fearing what would happen to Tails this time. Guy was 8, and I doubted SEGA would let their employees just kill off a kid on screen; but again, as far as I knew this game wasn't even supposed to be here. It could've been some unhappy worker or employee gone rogue making a statement. It wasn't helping to be honest. As I followed the exact same route as Amy, I found Metal Sonic again, still stepping on... something. It was too dark to see what it was. It just made squishy and disgusting noises as he pressed his foot on top of it. For an old game, the audio design was pretty unsettling and well done.

I didn't want to get closer to the guy, so I tried flying over him and getting to a checkpoint or something, anything besides confronting that thing. As soon as I made Tails take off from the ground, Metal came flying at him. I almost shrieked as I tried getting the little guy away from that thing, immediately making him land and sprint out of there as fast as possible. In all that panic, I didn't even notice when he tripped over whatever Metal was stepping on and fell on his face. No matter how many buttons I pressed or how hard I pressed them, Tails wouldn't get up. Metal catched up with him and the screen went black as soon as the two collided.

Those same red eyes were back on screen, staring straight back at me. I was with my face glued to the television from all the anxiety that little chase scene gave me, so I jumped back when the thing looked back at me. It felt like it was looking directly at me.

"I want ears like yours"

There it was again

"I want arms like yours"

"I want a mind to think and a heart to feel like yours"

I wanted to punch the screen; I had no idea what was going on. This was starting to get unsettling. Then, I was back in the main menu, the game's menu. It didn't crash this time, at least that. Tails was gone, like Amy. Now, Sonic was there, facing his metal faker. The two looked like they were about to punch each other in an epic pose. Visually it looked great, but then it hit me. "Battle of Metal and Blood"; did it mean faker versus organic? So the two were going to fight again? Maybe we could still get a happy ending of some sorts.

I didn't even flinch. I pressed continue.

The jungle was gone. I was in some facility  now, playing as the blue hedgehog himself this time. The level layout was much different this time; there were more loops, enemies, spikes and so on. Maybe it was only because I was playing as Sonic this time, so I could just speed my way through the level without having to worry about smashing enemies or flying away from them. I got through the level and ended up reaching an empty room; Metal Sonic was there.

I had never been much of a player myself; I'd rather stand by the sidelines and watch as more experienced people got through all the hard levels. Sure I played a lot when I was a kid but I hadn't carried that with me to adolescence. Now I had to do it myself. Hours of playing Sonic CD as a 12 year old, don't fail me now.

The boss fight music kicked in and a large door slammed shut, covering the way out. It was actually kinda hard landing a hit on the guy; I was supposed to dodge his attacks until he got tired and stopped, then parry on certain parts of the walls and spin dash at Metal Sonic as many times as I could while he was down. The thing was: I was awful at parrying. I sucked at anything that involved aiming, but I was somehow able to pull it off well enough to send the guy to his knees after around 20 minutes of dodging and parrying things.

When I hit him for the last time, it looked like I'd split his face in half or something. There were some pieces of Metal Sonic's shiny blue cover scattered around the arena. He just stood still for a while covering his face. Did I do it? Was he deactivating or something? My fingers were getting sore from holding the control and mashing buttons so hard. He wouldn't move on his own, so I just made Sonic approach him to maybe give the final blown.

As I got closer to him, Metal immediately lashed at Sonic again, trying to hold him down. You could see his face a bit better and… it was kinda red. What was that? Was he changing to another phase or something? The screen went black again.

Staring back at me were no longer those two red beacons; there was only one this time, as Metal Sonic did have half of his face completely torn apart. The uncovered half of his face was a bloodied, pulsating mess of flesh and wires. Coils, staples and stitches kept the mass of muscle and whatever else he had inside of him crudely stuck together. Two different colored eyes were shoved in one eye socket as the whole thing now oozed with blood and oil.

"I need quills like yours"

"I need a body like yours"

Was that… what Amy and Tails…

"I need an organic body like yours

to become the Real Sonic"

What… the fuck… I was too shocked to even move as it cut back to the game. Metal Sonic had successfully tackled Sonic to the ground and had started clawing at his face as if trying to rip it out of his "loathsome copy". As I saw a pool of blood appearing under them, I told myself that was enough and got up to pull the cartridge right out of the console. This was just sickening. As I got closer to the console to pull the memory card out, I realised something that made me start worrying about this in a different way. As I got a good look at my Playstation 2, I realized it wasn't plugged in. It wasn't receiving any power at all. It was only connected to the TV.

How had it been working then?...

I slowly backed away from the console, and when I looked back at the screen, that darned thing was looking back at me. It was looking at me as I was trying to stop it, peeking at the side of the screen as I went to turn off my Playstation. That thing knew I was there. No no no, this couldn't be happening. I started shaking as I realized there was something looking back at me though the screen. Its red eyes pierced into my soul, and I didn't know how to stop it.

"I WANT A SOUL… LIKE YOURS"

I shrieked as I finally pulled the cartridge out of the console, throwing it against the wall to my side in pure fear. The screen immediately went to static and the Playstation opened by itself, the Sonic Gems Collection DVD taunting me. That was NOT just a game. Whatever it was, whoever it was, I was terrified to even pick up the memory card. I put the DVD back in its box and turned off the console. I tried taking deep breaths and getting some sleep; it was late, I'd drank a lot of coffee. Maybe all the coffee I was having had created this fever dream. I begged for that to be the situation. Still, I got no sleep that night. My eyes were focused on the TV right in front of my bed, its bright red ON/OFF button giving me panic attacks each time I thought I saw it moving. If I didn't know better, I'd have believed the thing had been watching me all night.

Would it come for me next?

I ended up passing out around 5AM; I was constantly checking my phone to see the time and messaging my friends. I tried explaining the situation to them but they thought I was either messing with them or that I had somehow dreamed the whole situation. I was dead-sure I hadn’t though. I woke up around 2PM and, according to my brother, I looked like shit. Not even he would believe me when I told him what had happened last night; I couldn’t have dreamed the whole thing up even if I wanted to. There had to be something to prove it was all real… the memory card. If I played the game in front of him, he’d have to believe me. After getting breakfast, I pulled my bro back to my room to show him the game. I hesitantly went to pick up the memory card I had thrown against the wall yesterday, but it was no longer there.

“What are you looking for?”

“The memory card; it was right here! Help me look for it!”

“You mean this one?” he pointed at the Playstation.

The fucking cartridge had plugged itself back on the console. What was that thing, and how was it doing that?! The TV screen lit up with static as me and my bro jumped back; we looked at each other in panic and confusion as no one had even touched the TV. We could feel the electricity flowing through the air, giving us chills and making our hair stand up. My brother grabbed my hand as we saw the darned thing appear in front of the static, its shiny metallic cover still split in half. I froze in fear with my little brother to protect right there; I should’ve done more, I should’ve gotten rid of that cursed thing as soon as I unplugged it from the console last night. That thing placed its hands against his side of the screen, its fingers twitching as the blood made the metal hinges rust and creak. The edges of the screen leaked with blood as if he was trying to break this barrier that separated him from us. It looked at us the same way it looked at me; ready to take what he believed was his.

“I… WANT… SOULS LIKE YOURS… AND I WILL HAVE THEM…"

[myheroacademiashorts]

Heartbreak - Part 1

Prompt: After overhearing your boyfriend admit that he’s cheated on you with another, you try to move on as best as you can; with the help of one of your closest friends, who is also the guy crushing on you without your knowledge.

Pairing: ShinsoxReader, with BakugouxReader (ex-boyfriend, RIP)

Rating: (Attempted?) Angst and Slight Fluff

Words: 3,569 (lololol 69)

Part two? Hahahahaha yeah whatever......... Unless?.....

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

Some days, you’d wish for the sky to fall. Usually you’d want that to happen when small occurrences took place; rain instead of sun, tripped and scraped your knee, forgot about a homework assignment the day it was due. Small problems. Nothing deadly serious.

You never expected to actually want to die. Or at least feel like you did.

“Hey, (Y/N), isn’t that your boyfriend over there?” One of your co-workers nudged your shoulder as you placed an order ticket into the kitchen, snapping it into place on a turntable wire rack. You swiveled your head to the pointed direction, eyes wide and a warm smile growing on your face. You hadn’t told Bakugou you were working today, instead lying and telling him you were going shopping with your mom, because you didn’t want him to notice the extra hours you were putting in… Especially with his birthday right around the corner, and you know that he’s been eyeing a new gaming system. The exact system you planned to buy for him at the end of this week.

He had that familiar scowl on his face as he slumped down into a chair, the face of his companion hidden by one of the many plants placed around the restaurant you worked in. The table was right by a tall window, light streaming in and hitting your lover’s handsome face perfectly. A warm feeling settled in your stomach, and with a cheesy grin you moved towards him, as if pulled by a string. Then, he spoke just as you were about to swing behind a wall to surprise him.

“I can’t keep lying to (Y/N). It’s fucking killing me.” You froze, hand over your mouth as if you were afraid that your breathing would give away your position. You pressed  your back flush against the wall ad continued to listen. “Fuck, I didn’t want this to happen! How the hell do I even tell her?”

“It’s better to tell her straight-forward instead of keeping it a secret. You shouldn’t even have kept it as long as you have. Either way, she’s going to be pretty upset.” You’d recognize Kirishima’s voice anywhere, even when it wasn’t full of his cheerfulness and bubbly nature as usual. Instead, it sounded sad.

“Duh, you idiot! Of course she’s gonna be fucking upset. I didn’t do something small, like forgetting to get her flowers or accidentally blowing up her homework. How the fuck do you tell someone you cheated on them with one of their friends?”

You nearly choked on air in shock. A gentle hand grabbed your arm, and in a panic you wretched away, glancing up to meet a familiar pair of violet eyes. “Shinso.” You breathed your friend’s name out in relief, glad it was him instead of another co-worker of yours. The pair of you had been friends since the Sports Festival your first year, despite your differences; while Shinso was normally very quiet, you were the extrovert of your class, always aiming to talk to everyone you stumbled upon and almost always being able to get along with them. It was probably the one reason that you were able to even come remotely close to Bakugou, let alone close enough to date him. You bit down on your lower lip to stall it from quivering.

“I heard everything. Are you okay?” He placed his hand on yours once more, and this time you didn’t push him away. Slowly, you nodded, and looked up to meet his face with a glassy gaze and fragile smile. With both hands, you rubbed furiously at your eyes, cursing the tears away and looking at Shinso, determination replacing your sadness. As well as a shit-load of anger. A lot. “I’m okay! Hey, is that for table 23? Let me take it for you.” You chirped out in false happiness, spotting one of your fellow employees exiting the kitchen with a tray. You’d recognize Bakugou’s order anywhere; extra-spicy curry, so red that it looked like fresh lava. Your co-worker beamed at you as she handed you the tray in thanks, not noticing the deadly look you shot at the waiting table.

“Let me take that for yo-”

“Really, Shinso, it’s my pleasure. Just watch me.”

You plastered on a smile as you made your way to the table, Bakugou grumbling as he looked out of the window while Kirishima stared at the table’s surface with remorse. You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached. “For the record, Mina was the one who kept coming on to me, so it wasn’t my fault when she kneeled down and-” You practically slammed the plate down in front of Bakugou, cutting him off. Both boys snapped to attention, two pairs of crimson eyes widening at you. “Oh, what a surprise! What are you two doing here? Bakugou, didn’t you tell me you were oh-so-busy training today?” Your voice was sickly sweet, deadly to any diabetic and sugary enough to give cavities.

“(Y/N)? I thought you were with your old hag today?” There was an underlying fear in his voice, which was strange to hear from Bakugou. Although not entirely unpleasant, especially since you knew you were the reason for this emotion.

“No~ope, that was a lie! So, you and Mina, huh? Tell me, was it worth it? How was she on her knees, hm?” You grinned at him, yet there was malice in your (E/C) eyes and poison on your tongue as you spoke. For once, Bakugou was at a loss for words. “Y-you heard?” Kirishima piped up nervously, twiddling his thumbs in his lap as he stared at you. You turned to him. “Oh, yes. Every word!” The happy facade was starting to wear you thin, but you continued to play the part. “Great idea for you two to come gossip at the one restaurant where your girlfriend works, and not at the other dozen down the street. A couple of Einsteins, right here.” You laughed dryly.

“Babe, let me explai-”

You glowered at him darkly, the smile dropping from your lips. “Oh, my mistake. I meant ex-girlfriend. Because you and I? Done, over, no relationship between us. Capiche?” You ran a finger over your throat, as if to bring the words to life. “I don’t want to ever speak to you again, understood? From this day forward, you’re dead to me. I’ll pack whatever belongings I have of yours tonight, and someone will drop them off to you tomorrow.” You spun on your heel, taking a few steps away from the silenced table, before turning back to them. “Thank you once again for stopping at (R/N) Restaurant. A waitress will bring you some to-go plates. Now fuck off.”

You turned away from them once more, hearing Bakugou growl in frustration as he shoved his chair back to reach out for you… Shinso stepped in his path, roughly grabbing the hot-headed boy’s wrist with his usual cool expression still on his face. “I believe that it would be best for you to leave now.” Shinso said. His voice sounded deadly, and at this point multiple other customers had turned their heads to the commotion. Even the manager, a sweet old lady who hated unnecessary drama, had been watching the interaction from the beginning and also stepped forward beside Shinsou, mimicking the same response as him.

Bakugou’s burning gaze met with yours - full of anger, sadness, guilt - before Kirishima finally grabbed his shoulder and steered him to the exit, apologizing the entire time. They even left cash on the table beside their steaming plates of food. As soon as the pair had exited the building, everyone’s shoulders seemed to slump in relief.

You manager hobbled to you, concern etching her features. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” She asked, and you replied with a weak smile. A few other coworkers held the same expression, all-too-familiar with Bakugou’s fiery temperament. As well as the fact that they also heard he cheated on you, after many months of being in a relationship. You hated the weight of their gazes, of their pity.

“I’m fine! If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go borrow the restroom for a moment.” You kept your composure with a smile as you twisted past worried gazes, quietly entering the bathroom. Silence followed you, a few whispers that you couldn’t make out trailing as well. It wasn’t until the bathroom door shut behind you that you took a deep breath, eyes darting to make sure that the two stalls were empty, before sagging to the tile floor with a bubbling sob. You were hurt; of course you were. Your heart felt as if it was breaking to pieces, shattered and unfixable. He was not only your first boyfriend, but also your first love. You loved that temperamental teenager, even if you shouldn’t have. You had planned to tell him so on his birthday, and the thought made another painful cry erupt from your lungs.

God, you felt like shit.

You clung to your knees, chest heaving as you let the tears stream down your face. You couldn’t seem to calm yourself down, which was even worse. Panic began to claw at your throat, and you tighten your hold on yourself, willing for someone to help you. To help ease the pain, if possible.

A knock rang out from the bathroom door, and instinctively you sucked in a breath, ceasing your muffled sobs. “(Y/N)?” You recognized Shinso’s voice, always so even in almost every situation. When you didn’t respond after a moment, he opened the door. Almost immediately he spotted you, huddled in the middle of the room, your usually bright (E/C) gaze filled with a cornucopia of emotions; sadness, frustration, conflict, anger. So much anger, and you had no idea what to do with it. The two of you stared at each other silently, before Shinso finally shut the door behind him to instead sink down to you. You tried to plaster on a smile once more, as if to wear the mask of the girl you usually were; happy, bubbly, always there to lift one’s spirits. The action made Shinso frown. “C’mere. Don’t hold it all in.” He opened his arms to you, and without hesitation you vaulted yourself into his chest, tears resuming as you sobbed once more. You clung to his shirt as if your life depends on it, hands balling into fists and no doubt wrinkling his black button-down. Not that he cared. At that moment, the only thing he cared about was you. He wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders, nose buried in your hair and holding you close. “Fuck that guy. You deserve better, way better than any scum like him. You’re the whole ocean when he’s only a pebble on the shore.” For a moment, Shinso felt cheesy for saying anything. Much of his intelligence on romanticism was from soap operas and rom-com movies (not that he’d ever admit to watching either, mind you), yet he didn’t know how accurate the scenes were to real life. However, when a small laugh bubbled form you, he knew he must’ve done something right.

You lifted your head to look at him, eyes sparkling and a small, genuine smile finally overtaking your lips. There was still evidence of your sadness lingering, yet much less than before. “Shinso…” You hesitated on his name, and he felt his heart jump up for a moment after it passed your lips. “... Was that a quote from Love By The Sea?” His cheeks burned, and you laughed when you realized you were correct. Shinso didn’t even care one bit that you were technically laughing at him; instead, he stared at you in wonder, indigo eyes wide in awe as he took in your tear-streaked cheeks, blinding smile, absolutely everything. And he had the urge to lean down and press his lips to yours… But he knew that wouldn’t be the smartest action. Especially since you just broke up with your boyfriend, oh… five minutes ago, maybe? Ten? Probably less, or maybe even more. He honestly couldn’t keep track of time with you beside him, and he wondered if that was a good thing or not.

“I didn’t peg you for the romantic type.” You continued, leaning back into Shinso’s chest as your sniffles began to fade. He continued to sit in silence, instead rubbing one hand on your back while the other caressed the back of your neck, playing with a few strands of the baby hairs that resided. It was calm between you two, the only sound being the music that played overhead through a small speaker. Finally, Shinso broke the silence. “Okay now?” He asked, looking down at you. At least you weren’t crying anymore. After he asked the question, he felt you stiffen in his arms as you contemplate your emotions. Were you really okay? No. But were you better than before? Much. “For now. Thank you, Shinso. It’s kinda embarrassing that you had to see me so dramatic.” You laughed dully at your own remark. You both leaned back to look at each other, Shinso’s attention jumping all around your face, and the hand that had been by your neck came up to wipe away a stray tear. He was incredibly warm, and it was then that you noticed how close you were to one another. You laughed awkwardly once more, untangling yourself from him and making a move to stand. Shinsou was as quick as lightning, getting up first before offering you a hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He wrapped his hand behind his own neck at this point, a habit that he usually reverted to whenever he felt embarrassed or shy. Another smile graced his lips. “If you ever need anyone, I’m here for you. Don’t forget that.”

You heart warmed at his words, your cheeks following in pursuit. “Jeez, my hero.” You teased, knocking his shoulder lightly with your hand and you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks had a stained trail left behind, ruining what little make-up you had put on before work. Make-up meant for Bakugou, who you were planning to meet up with after. A dark look crossed your face as you thought of the heartbreaker once more, and felt another wave of sadness coming up. Shinso noticed as well, and grabbed ahold of your attention once more by making eye contact with you through the mirror. “Stay here for a second.” He muttered, disappearing out of the door. Less than a minute passed by before he returned, carrying your backpack and his own. “Manager said we could take the rest of the day off and to not worry about it. Let’s go.”

Slightly in a daze, you followed Shinso out of the bathroom and into the main area, noting a messily scrawled OUT OF ORDER sign on the women’s door; no doubt the purple-haired boy’s handwriting. Shinso shot a small wave to your manager, who demanded you to feel better or she’d “really put some spice in that meat head’s curry next time he came in.” The thought made you giggle.

You followed Shinso in dead silence for a bit, who still held on to your backpack as he walked forward with intent. “So… Where are we going?” His only reply was a quick grin behind his shoulder at you, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into a convenience store. You didn’t even notice that Shinso had grabbed a basket until he began to pile things into it - chips, candy, plastic-wrapped pastries - all while still clinging to your hand. He turned to you. “Any requests?” He asked, as if commenting on the weather. You were quiet, pushing the purple-haired boy to squeeze your hand. “It’s on me today. Whatever you want.” Your chest bloomed at his words, and with a goofy grin you dragged him to the frozen aisle, grabbing pints and random bars of ice cream.

It was deliciously comfortable with Shinso beside you, and it didn’t bother you one minute as the two of you continued to hold hands, swinging them playfully as you made your way back to the dorms. You even forgot all about your stupid ex, up until you were standing in front of Alliance’s entrance. Weakly, Shinso attempted to pull his hand away from yours, not wanting to surface bad rumors, but you didn’t let him. You tighten your grip on his hand, enjoying the warmth and confidence that it emitted for you. For a quick moment, he flinched, not used to having such physical contact, before quickly relaxing to your touch. He then remembered how you two were walking earlier hand-in-hand, and he had to fight back a rising blush, especially when he realized just how much he liked the interaction. You looked over at him with a smile. “My room okay?” You asked, earning your friend’s silent nod in return before yanking open the door and tugging him along with you.

The common room of the dorms was mostly empty, with only a familiar tuff of green hair peeking up from behind the couch cushions; and where Izuku went, Ochaco followed close behind. When you entered the building, his head immediately snapped to attention, green eyes darting to you. From his side, a second pair of eyes emerged, and you recognized your friend’s large brown eyes and pink cheeks. “Good afternoon, you two.” You sung out, leading Shinso into the kitchen and to the fridge, where you began to place the ice cream to cease it from melting any further.

“Hi (Y/N), Shinso.” His voice was weak, and Ochaco perked up when she noticed the purple-haired boy beside you. “What are you two up to today?” Her voice was soft yet excited, earning an impish grin from you. 

“Oh, you know. Just hanging out, planning to watch some TV and pig out on carb-filled snacks. And you two?”

“Pretty much the same.”

Shinso kept quiet during the conversation, his calm eyes drifting between you and the couple perched on the couch. You still clung to his hand, noting the clamminess that had arose. From his hand or yours, you couldn’t tell, yet Shinso enjoyed the warmth that came from it, no matter how much he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Izuku’s eyes flitted to your joined hands, hesitation crossing his features as he debated his next words carefully. “So… I heard what happened. With Bakugou. And in case you were wondering, he isn’t here.”

You tried to keep your face as neutral as possible, batting away the annoyed frown that threatened to overtake your features. “Yeah. Unfortunate about how everything went down, but nothing I can do about it now, right? You know what they say; there’s no rest for the wicked.” Izuku nodded at your response, while his girlfriend regarded you with pity-filled eyes. “You’re way too good for him anyways, (Y/N)! What a scumbag.” She muttered, and although Shinso had told you something similar before earlier, her words made you smile. “Thanks, Ochaco. You’re right. Maybe tomorrow night, we can have a sleepover or something? Maybe invite the other girls too?” She nodded her head enthusiastically, and continued to shout you words of encouragement as you made your way up the stairs.

Shinso had never been in your room before, despite the countless times you had been in his to study and hang out. He couldn’t imagine your room; would it be bright and colorful? Dark and moody? Or more plain than his imagination can come up with? He wasn’t able to contemplate it any more as you shoved open your bedroom door, closing it softly behind him.

It was definitely not what he had in mind, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. On the contrary, he automatically fell in love with your bedroom. It was a mix of everything that reminded him of you, from your rock posters to your flowery bed sheets to the multitude of novels that were shoved on your overloaded bookshelf. As soon as you entered the room, you dropped Shinso’s hand, much to his disappointment, and instead went to light a candle that sat on your desk. A flood of cinnamon and apple filled the room after the wick was finally lit, and with a sigh you sagged down onto your floor, patting the spot beside you as you faced the television. “Oh, come now. I don’t bite unless you ask me to.” You flashed Shinso a teasing grin, and with a light chuckle he slid down beside you, one knee pulled up and the other left to stretch out. He set the two bags of goodies in front of you two and began to unpack them as you flipped through the channels. 

“Anything you’d like to watch?”

“Whatever you’d like is fine by me.” 

You hummed in approval, landing on an anime show that you’ve never heard of before as you relax your shoulders and nabbed the closest candy bar. Thank god that Shinso was beside you, and for a while you once again forgot about the hot-headed hedgehog you’d have to deal with later; instead, focusing on the welcoming company of a certain violet-eyed boy, his arm pressed against your own and your head resting on his lean shoulder like it belonged there.

Part 2 can be found [here]!

[yourdeepestfathoms]

teeth

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Aragon and Anne make the best mother duo and you Cannot Change My Mind

(you can read this as Aralyn if you want, but it’s not written in that way and the line is pretty vague tbh)

Word count: 4769

———————

There was a crash.

And then a crack.

And then a crunch.

The girl at the bottom of the stairs had her bottom jaw bent in a horrible position, her tongue lolling out of one side and bloody drool spilled all down her chin. Her eyes are upturned in her skull; she didn’t seem to be all there, though no one was surprised. Those broken bones must be excruciating.

———

Eight weeks of silence. A jaw wired shut. Almost three months of only eating liquidated foods. Black and blue floral bruising bloomed across the sides of her face. An eternity of humiliation.

———

In theory, it was difficult to miss Joan. Nineteen years of age and the workaholic music director stood at roughly 5’4, and it didn’t look like she was going to be growing again anytime soon. However, in practice, the girl was so quiet and self-enclosed that a lot of the time, she practically melted into the theater walls. That made it a slightly unpleasant surprise when Aragon was disturbed from her reading by a quiet tapping at her doorframe—it was most undignified for a queen as regal as herself to startle like that.

An irritable comment jumped to her lips, but it died as she looked up. Joan looked...worried. That wouldn’t normally strike her in any meaningful way, not if it was anyone else at her door—everyone got worried sometimes, although a fair number of people found it more difficult to talk to her than to others. But for all that had happened in her past, Joan had maintained a rarely-changing expression of passivity throughout the time she’d been reincarnated. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, perhaps simply because that was her resting face; the girl just kept her emotions to herself. However, now, it was incredibly visible that she was experiencing the worst kind of gnawing fear if you knew how to look for it. Nails digging into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, eyes darting all over, and her heel pressing against her other shin like she was trying to keep from anxious tapping. The only reason her lip wasn’t chewed raw was because of the wires and rubber bands anchoring her mouth firmly shut.

Immediately, the irritation turned to alarm bells.

The two just looked at each other for a few minutes, neither seemingly willing to break the silence first. Then, slowly, Joan took one step into the dressing room. Now her fingers were digging into her arm more. Aragon felt the strongest urge to get up from her chair and check to make sure she hadn’t broken skin, but at the same time, she feared that if she tried to move too quickly she would spook this very obviously troubled girl back into her usual repression. It would be wiser to wait for her to say whatever it was she was struggling to get out, but that didn’t make the decision any easier as a thousand and one possibilities as to what could have gone wrong raced through her head.

“May I talk to you, Aragon?”

The hesitation in the girl’s sign language only made those alarm bells ringing in her head louder. It was only her many, many years as a queen that allowed Aragon to keep her voice calm.

“Of course, Joan. Come, sit.”

Slowly, painfully so, Joan made her way to the chair opposite her, after closing the door to the dressing room behind her. But she didn’t sit down. Rather, she stood next to it. Ordinarily Aragon might have taken that as one of those little acts of rebellion Kitty liked to partake in from time to time, but not in this case. It felt more like the unwillingness of a confronted animal to lay down, for fear that they might need to flee at a moment's notice. That bad, then. Carefully, the queen put her bookmark in between the pages she was on and then set the book to the side. Whatever this was about, she doubted it would be over quickly.

“Now then, what is it you want to discuss?”

“Well… The director talked to me. He said I should take some time off to heal.” Joan signed.

“That’s good,” Aragon said. However, she noticed the frown set on Joan’s lips and realized that it was most definitely not a good thing.

“Maybe.” Joan let her hands go limp for a movement, then raised them again to continue. “But that got me thinking. Maybe, even after I heal, I should just leave the wires in. Seems like everyone would be happier without me talking.”

“Joan, you can’t seriously be thinking of doing that?”

Through great force of will Aragon managed to keep her tone mostly level, but even the very slight undertone of ice and steel buried under a dozen layers of constraint made Joan flinch.

“I-I just....”

“I don’t see why you think that’s a good idea. Do you know how damaging that could be for your mouth? It can’t remain shut forever.”

“Aragon-”

“Not to mention that you could put so many other factors at risk-”

“Aragon, please!”

Well that cut her off sharply.

For a moment Aragon just blinked at the girl, startled. This was perhaps the first time she had heard Joan raise her voice at anybody, let alone a queen. It was especially shocking because it had come out more as a strangled hiss between firmly clamped teeth, like the freezing whisper of a fanged glacier. But as she got over that element of surprise, she noticed two things about the girl standing before her. Firstly, it was that she was shaking, quite badly, actually. And secondly, that the bruises along her cheeks were ignited in shades of ivory and indigo and violet from the way she had been clenching her jaws through their bindings.

Moving oh-so-carefully, Aragon up her purse and began to rifle through it. Joan stepped back, but what she brought out wasn’t some form of weapon, but rather a small tin box. A box which Aragon opened and turned towards her.

“Have a mint, Joan.”

Joan just looked at her, baffled.

Aragon quickly realized her mistake and grimaced. It gets the smallest, weakest smile from Joan. She takes one, despite knowing she couldn’t eat it, signed a rapid apology, then left.

———

Trudging into the coffee shop during a fire-breathing rainstorm made Joan miserable enough, but it only got worse when the shrewd older woman working the counter wouldn’t take her order when she attempted to sign it to her and then write it out.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to use your words.” She oozed.

Joan gestured for her bruised mouth and then bared her teeth so she could show the woman that they were firmly clamped shut with rubber bands. The worker leaned back slightly in distaste.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” She said. “Mutes aren’t our top priority here. You can just wait your turn while I handle the other customers.”

Joan waved her head around to find the shop completely empty thanks to the storm outside. She turned back to the worker with an “are you kidding me?” look.

“She’s in the bathroom.” The worker said cooly.

Joan glowered, but her anger quickly dissolved and she made the closest thing to a sigh that she could manage. She stepped away from the counter and waited.

Several long moments passed. The rain outside continuously eased up and then fell harder as if Mother Nature couldn’t decide if she wanted to flood the city today or not. The worker behind the counter kept glancing at Joan, hoping that she would just give up and leave. She was now regretting telling her to wait because it meant she had some disabled kid just loitering in her store when the front door suddenly swung open.

Two haughty American tourists came in with a spray of raindrops, closing their umbrellas, but keeping up their giddy chatter as they approached the counter. One of them glanced at Joan with a questioning look. The worker waved a dismissive hand.

“Ignore her,” She said. “She’s waiting her turn until she learns how to speak up.”

Joan glared and, once again, gestured for her mouth.

“What is wrong with you?” One of the two customers said, pacing around Joan while the other placed an order. “Why don’t you speak?” He eyed Joan’s bruised jaw. “Ohhh. I see.”

“My little brother broke his jaw once,” His friend piped up. “He couldn’t talk for two months!”

“What does it feel like?” The one in front of Joan asked. “Does it hurt?”

Then, without warning, he poked her roughly in the jaw, as if he were trying to pry it open himself. Joan swatted his hands away frantically and reared back, rubbing the area that had been touched. Pain spiraled from her mouth all over again.

“Don’t be a brute.” Said a sharp, barbed voice from behind Joan.

“Oh, hey!” The customer at the counter said. “You’re Anne Boleyn, aren’t you?”

Joan turned and was shocked to see that it was, in fact, Anne Boleyn herself standing there. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. She looked like a coiled up snake ready to lunge.

“Yes,” Anne said, casting a dark glare down on the customers, who step away, sensing her anger. She comes up beside Joan and sets a comforting, protective hand on her shoulder. “You will not touch her again.”

The two tourists nodded and awkwardly sidled away to take their drinks and scamper out with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.

“Now,” Anne turned her glower on the worker. “I understand that Joan had wanted something?”

“She can wait. You were here first.” The worker said.

Anne ruffled. “Serve her right now.” She snarled lowly, and even Joan was startled by her sudden tone. It was as deep and rumbling as a big cat’s growl, yet cold and scaly like a King Cobra.

The worker didn’t dare quarrel with the woman, so she plucked up the piece of paper left on the counter with Joan’s order and began to make the drink. The whole time, Joan stood still at Anne’s side, eyes wide.

After the drink was finished, Anne ordered one of her own, paid, and then guided Joan over to the front of the shop. She’s not at all bristled anymore and wore a warm smile on her lips.

“That was fun,” She chuckled lightly. “Say, kiddo, wanna come over for dinner? Sudden, I know-“ She laughed this time, a hearty, real one. “But I want to keep an eye on you. Plus, I know we’re having soup tonight. You can eat soup, can’t you?”

Joan nodded, flustered. Anne’s grin grew wider.

“Wonderful.”

—

“We have company!” Anne chimed loudly as she walked through the front door with a fidgeting Joan in tow.

Several heads popped up from an area in the downstairs area, each wearing a different expression- Cathy at the dining table with a curious look, Kitty and Jane on the couch with matching bitter frowns, Cleves from the downstairs hallway with friendly eyes, and Aragon in the kitchen with a warm grin. All Joan can do is give a tiny wave and a nervous smile.

“Hello, dear,” Aragon greeted as Anne and Joan walked over to the kitchen counter. The smell of basil and tomatoes drifted from the pot she was stirring. Anne’s memory hadn’t failed her- they were eating soup that night.

“Hello, beautiful.” Anne replied and Aragon shot her a look, although Joan could tell it was mock-annoyance. “I found this little rascal,” She set a hand on Joan’s head. “at that coffee shop with really good hot chocolate but really shitty workers.”

Aragon knew exactly what she meant, as she gave a knowing nod.

“Ah. That one.” She shook her head, looking back down at the pot. “I’m not sure what they did, but I’ll make sure to leave a one-star review on Yelp.”

Anne laughed, and even Joan gave a tiny giggle.

“Oh! I should show you my falcon before dinner!”

“It’s raining,” Jane said helpfully from the couch. Anne gave her a snake-like glower.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” She said. “Come on, my darling!”

She grabbed Joan by the hand and led her out to the backyard, missing the blush that dusted her cheeks from the use of the pet name.

The two of them walk out to the backyard, Joan holding an umbrella over their heads, and towards a large wooden structure. It sort of looked like a house with a metal net grating over the sides. Joan could see several perches from inside it.

Anne gave her a wild smile before she slipped on a glove and opened the small door on the front. She held her arm into the pen and then pulled back after a moment, a beautiful brown and grey falcon perched on her wrist. Joan goggles at it with wide eyes.

“This is Baguette.” Anne said. “Just kidding! Her name is Freya. Isn’t she pretty?”

Joan nodded excitedly.

“Watch this.” Anne grinned. “Freya! Hup!”

Anne threw a leather lure as high as she could in the air and Freya shot off of her arm like a rocket. Her wings were primed and they slammed down with more than enough force to send her spiraling into the sky. He darted after the lure, and Anne snapped the cord attached to it, sending the mouse-sized lump off to the side, spinning like a satellite on a line around her. Freya banked, flying up and away a short way before looping around and diving at the lure. It’s clear that she is very good at this game, but Anne had learned just the right moment to change the angle of her swing, switching the direction the lure is sailing and throwing her off just enough that she has to make another pass.

Anne twirled the lure like a lasso, changing the pitch and yaw of the loops, sending it higher, lower, and in sweeping waves. Freya moves like a lightning strike in a hurricane, dive bombing one moment just as she yanks it away, rising back to circle, prepare, and dive again.

They fall into a rhythm, just different enough to keep them on their toes, but solid enough that the rest of the world faded away, until Freya broke off suddenly, catching a glimpse of something else.

“Freya!” Anne shouted as Joan giggled softly beside her. She snapped the lure in an attempt to catch her bird’s attention. “Come on! You’re making a bad first impression!”

Freya wheeled around after a moment and soared back down to the two. She lands dutifully on Anne’s outstretched arm, but is clearly a little crabby about not being able to catch her prey. She eases up when Anne gives her a treat.

“Wanna hold her?” Anne asked Joan, who nodded eagerly. She passed the girl a glove, which she quickly pulled on. “Okay. Be very careful, okay? And don’t freak out.”

Anne took the umbrella and passed Freya over to Joan. The bird stepped onto the younger girl’s arms and flexed her razor sharp talons around the glove, squeezing Joan’s wrist. Joan eyed the claws wryly.

Anne could tell Joan had a million questions, but her wired jaw kept her from verbalizing them. All she could do was stare at the falcon and the falconer with saucer-wide eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” Aragon suddenly called from the back door.

Joan jolted a little and instinctively leaned away, but Freya remained poised on her arm. Anne laughed and put her bird back into her pen.

“Impressed?” She grinned.

Joan nodded.

“Good!” Anne said. “Now, let’s get inside before Catalina starts yelling at us about catching our death out here or something.”

The two of them walked back inside the house, being hit by the wonderful smell of the soup, which Aragon was pouring into seven different colored bowls. She smiled at them.

“Have fun?”

“Yup!” Anne said. “Joan was very impressed.”

Joan gave two thumbs up in agreement. Aragon’s heart melted.

“Why are there seven bowls?” Kitty asked obnoxiously.

“Uhh. Joan.” Aragon answered, blinking. “You should know that, Kat. She’s standing right there.”

“Yeah, but... Can she even eat?”

“Kit, don’t be stupid,” Anne said, slightly defensive. “Come on, stop acting like this. You know damn well that the doctors wouldn’t wire her jaw shut for a long period of time if she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink for that long.”

Kitty is clearly miffed by her cousin not being on her side and shoots a glare at Joan for it. Then, she raised her nose, looked away, and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“How long will the wires be there?” Cathy asked curiously.

Joan held up eight fingers.

“Weeks?”

She nodded.

There was a swell of murmurs- intrigued, pitiful, amused. Aragon was the one who grimaced.

“I couldn’t imagine that,” She said, rubbing her own jaw as if she thought it might spontaneously break. “Not being able to open my mouth for that long.”

“It’s like reverse lockjaw,” Cleves observed. “Just with less seizures.”

“Does it hurt?” Cathy asked.

Joan made a so-so gesture and then set a tentative hand on one of her heavily bruised cheeks, remembering the touch from that rude tourist. Ever since she had been prodded, her jaw had started hurting again. It felt like someone was trying to forcefully pry her mouth open with a crowbar.

She tried to just ignore it and sat down at the dinner table after getting her bowl. The soup was a lot chunkier than she had been expecting; she looked at the slices of potato in dismay, unsure how she would get them past her firm wall of teeth.

“Need a straw?” Kitty teased. She yelped loudly when Anne kicked her underneath the table.

Joan scowled at the pink queen, then brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. She had to awkwardly tip her head back slightly to make sure she didn’t spill anything on her. Sadly, her teeth were too bound together by rubber-bands to keep her jaws from moving from opening just a sliver to allow the bits of meat and potato to pass through, so only the liquids that flow through the random holes between her teeth reach her throat and stomach.

It had been much easier to drink her coffee.

“Sweetheart,” Aragon said, unable to watch the poor girl struggle any longer. “I’ll get the blender.”

Joan hunched her shoulders, embarrassed. Kitty tittered. Anne kicked her again.

“Ow!” Kitty whined. “Stop doing that!”

“Then stop being a brat.” Anne said cooly.

“I’m not a brat!”

“Well, you’re acting like one right now.”

“This is very entertaining.” Cleves commented. Anne flashed her an agreeing grin. Kitty sulked.

The loud sound of the blender stopped the argument from continuing. A few moments later, Aragon set a cup of blended soup with a straw in front of Joan. Joan gawked at it and then looked up at Aragon, one eyebrow raised. Aragon quickly swiped the straw.

“First the mint and now this?” Anne laughed.

“What mint?” Cathy asked.

“Catalina apparently offered Joan a mint earlier.” Anne told her.

Laughter erupted around the table. Aragon rolled her eyes as she sat back down.

“It was a mistake!” She tried to defend herself. “And an accident!”

Joan gave her a small smile before going back to eating. Well- drinking. Although, it wasn’t much easier. She wished she had the syringe she had been using for the past two days or the tube the doctors had used with her.

She quickly licked off the thick caking of soup on her lips, hoping that nobody had noticed it was there, then saw Kitty leering at her. She bristled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What?”

“What’s the name of that Warriors cat with the weird jaw?” Kitty asked the rest of the group, pleasantly pretending like Joan wasn’t sitting just a few feet away from her.

“Crookedjaw?” Cathy answered.

“Yeah!” Kitty turned to Joan with a smile as crooked as the girl’s mouth. “We can call you Crookedjaw! Seems like a fitting nickname.”

Anne gaped in horror at her younger cousin. She was so startled that she couldn’t even kick the queen. Aragon, on the other hand, wasn’t as stricken as she was.

“Katherine, what the fuck?” Aragon seethed.

“What?” Kitty said innocently. “It fits her!”

“Are you fucking nuts?” Aragon said, eyes wide and burning like hot embers. “No, actually- are you stupid?”

“She was just messing around, Catherine.” Jane tried to smooth things over.

“Don’t defend her!” Aragon snapped. “You should tighten the leash on her.”

“She’s not a dog.” Jane hissed.

“And yet she’s as annoying as a chihuahua that never shuts up,” Aragon said. She stood up, grabbed her bowl, and walked over to Joan. “Come on, Joan.”

Joan got up and followed her to the staircase. Anne went with them, but not without rounding on her cousin.

“If you’re going to call her Crookedjaw, then maybe we should start calling you Lostneck or Severedhead.” She said coldly. A mocking smile curled on her lips. “Because it fits.”

Kitty went rigid, but neither Anne or Aragon stuck around for her possible panic attack. They herd Joan upstairs and to Aragon’s room.

“I am so sorry, Joan.” Anne said once they were inside. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“She thinks everything will be handed to her on a silver platter.” Aragon stated as she began to rummage through her pajamas. “Entitled brat. Just like you said.”

Anne nodded in agreement, then looked back at Joan. She carefully cupped one of her cheeks.

“Are you okay, my darling?”

Joan closed her eyes, unconsciously leaned into the touch, and nodded.

“Alright.” Anne said. “So... Movie night?”

“Sounds good to me,” Aragon said. She tossed a pair of pajamas over to Joan. “They might be a little big, but you can wear these.”

Joan nodded and padded off to the bathroom to change. When she returns, she finds Aragon and Anne already situated on the bed in their pajamas. Aragon was clad in a pale yellow nightgown with white rims and a bow near the collar, while Anne was dressed in green cotton sleeping pants and a button-down shirt of the same color. Joan looked a lot less fancy in a grey T-shirt with something about a fishing competition embroidered in white on it, which she had no idea what the origins of it being Catherine of Aragon’s dresser were, and some black gym shorts.

“Come on,” Anne waved her over, rolling out of the bed. “Lay down!”

It takes Joan a moment to realize she was supposed to lay in between them. She swallowed down her flustered feelings and obeyed, clambering up the side of the bed and sitting beside Aragon with her knees huddled close to her chest. She could feel the golden queen’s comforting warmth wavering off of her half-reclined body.

God, she was pathetic. Ever since Anne she touched her shoulder at that coffee shop something had awoken within her and refused to go back to sleep.

That something ranged from a persistently mewing kitten to a starved, roaring lion—she’d tried for a sheep or goat metaphor, because that seemed more fitting for her, but frankly, sheep were a good bit easier to manage than whatever this was.

Joan pointed to the TV as movies were flicked through and then gave each queen a questioning look. She knew she could sign, but she didn’t feel like putting Anne and Aragon through the process of having to translate what she was saying. Plus, just being completely quiet and onto using facial features and occasional gestures like this almost felt...serene.

“We’re watching Hush.” Anne said, smirking slightly. “Which has absolutely nothing to do with you not being able to talk, I promise.”

Joan giggled softly and nodded.

“Only because you lost Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Aragon retorted. She looked at Joan with motherly concern that nearly sent Joan keeling over into her chest crying. “Are you okay to watch it?”

Joan nodded. She could take it, really! She wasn’t a baby!

And yet, when the neighbor character is suddenly slammed against the glass backdoor with a knife in her gut, she still lurched backwards and nearly climbed up the headboard in fear. Anne laughed sympathetically, while Aragon gently touched her hand.

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” She asked softly.

Joan nodded, but still ducked her head away from the screen, wincing.

Aragon watched the poor girl cringe for two more minutes before she wrapped her up in her arms and pulled her securely against her chest. Joan was clearly surprised by this, but didn’t make any move to pull away. In fact, she burrowed deep into her embrace.

“Awww,” Anne cooed, glancing at the two of them. “So cute.”

“Jealous?” Aragon smirked.

Anne stuck her tongue out at her, then resumed watching.

Joan peeked out from where she had her face smothered in Aragon’s soft chest and begrudgingly continued to watch the movie because she was interested in it, she was just a tad bit frightened by it. But, again, it was okay! SHE was okay!

And then they got to the closeup of Maddie’s hand being broken and the memory of falling down the stairs flashed through Joan’s brain- slipping and falling, tumbling down each step, smashing her jaw into the tile at the bottom, the bones in her mouth crunching and cracking and grinding, her teeth cutting into her tongue and feeling like it had been severed completely, blood gargling in her throat, everyone staring at her. It was horrific, it STILL WAS horrific.

“Anne!” Aragon barked when Joan whimpered and hid her face back into her chest.

“I didn’t know that was in it!” Anne said, raising her hands. “This is the first time I’m seeing this!”

Anne paused the movie and turned to Joan, who was shaking in Aragon’s arm. She gently began to rub her back comfortingly, seeing as Aragon was already stroking her hair.

“Joan? My darling?” Anne called. “Are you okay?”

Joan nodded weakly, sniffling. She raised her head and Aragon immediately wiped away the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aragon murmured.

“Does anything hurt?” Anne asked. “Or did you just get scared?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aragon nodded. “What she said! Are you hurting?”

Joan shrugged, looking away. Aragon slapped Anne’s arm frantically.

“Go get painkillers.”

“Catalina, how is she supposed to swallow a PILL?” Anne cried.

“Oh no, you’re right!” Aragon pulled Joan close to her bosom and bright red mixed awkwardly with purple and blue on the girl’s face. “My baby’s going to die!” She said woefully.

“She’s not going to—” Anne had to stop to give Aragon a confused looked. “She’s not going to die, Catalina.” She glanced momentarily at Joan smooshed against her chest. “I mean, not from not taking a pill, but your tits might suffocate her to death.”

Aragon looked down at Joan and quickly pushed her back. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her nightgown.

“Yes. Of course.” She said and Anne and Joan both laughed. She gave them a look. “I was just acting! I am an actor. And you fell for it!”

Anne rolled her eyes in a good natured way. “Yeah, okay.”

After making sure Joan was completely okay, they ended up switching the movie to The Incredibles 2. Joan was still very giddy from the way both queens fussed over her, and yet she still found her eyelids drooping shut...

—

“Catalina, look,” Anne whispered.

Aragon turned her attention away from the movie to look at Joan curled against Anne, soundly asleep. Then, she noticed one of the girl’s hands grasping three of her fingers- apparently she couldn’t find the other two in her tired daze. Her heart absolutely melted.

“Oh my,” She murmured. “What a sweet girl.”

“I know,” Anne grinned. “She’s so cute.” She leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of Joan’s head, causing her to stir with a sleepy noise before settling down. Anne gently began to stroke her hair.

Aragon moved closer until she and Anne were practically sandwiching the girl with their bodies. Joan seemed content, though, as she would constantly nuzzle closer to the warmth and touch.

Perhaps the eight weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all...

[astralis01]

Dick Grayson X Reader: New Year’s Eve

This is loosely based on the comics of Titans, the issue ‘Titans Save The Holidays.’

The Titans wanted to avoid any mask related work on Christmas, but New Year’s Eve, that’s a different story altogether. Donna’s tells everyone that Nightwing’s hunch was right. This whole rampage was to steal some STAR Labs devices.

Nightwing tells everyone, “Hey, not to worry. As fast as they are, these two will never suc-”

And he was pushed out of the way by (Y/n), clad in her (H/n) costume, narrowly saving him from the car run by the two maniacs, Honey Bun and Dingdong Daddy. Dick leaned over and kissed her on the lips and said, “My knight is shining kevlar.” She fires a hook into the car and whispers into his ear, “Well, my damsel in distress needed me.” Then Dick asked mockingly, “Leaving so soon, we just started.”

(Y/n) tells everyone, “Gather up people, we are going to tail them liter--. Ok, not cool. Slow down. Hey, ‘Wing, can’t we put them behind the bars for over speeding?” Nightwing did not answer, holding onto her for his dear life.

As Daddy moves through the street, Roy moves into position. Once Roy is ready, he shouts that he has a clear shot of Honey’s robot wirings underneath the skinsuit and warned them to get ready to hit Daddy.

As Roy fires the arrow, the arrow breaks and Honey Bun tells him, “You think that some cheap shot will work on me twice? My man had me armored up and super-charged.

Daddy rides down the building that he was on towards Roy causing him to jump out of the way. (Y/n), giving the reins to Dick, shot another grapple gun , and swooped in to save Roy. “Consider yourselves lucky. No one offered us any money to kill you , idiots, tonight.” With that Daddy drives away.

The rest of the Titans gather except for Wally. (Y/n) was still holding Roy, princess style and Roy said, “Hey (N/n), you can put me down now. Grayson’s getting jealous.” (Y/n) eyes widened behind the mask and then a lazy smirk appeared on her face as she put down Roy.

Roy ignores the flirty looks that (H/n) and Nightwing were exchanging and said, “There is no way we will be again to catch these two before midnight, now.”

Lilith asks, “Is this why you brought us here so that he can kiss some party girls? I just happen to pass some on her way over.”

Dick then said, “I’m sorry that he wanted to play tourist.” Then Roy stops them and says, “No. But it is great that you think so highly of my intentions.” (Y/n) steps in and says, “Roy, I know that you wanted to mark this year as a new beginning but we have to catch those two idiots.”

Roy smiled gratefully at her and then turned again at the others to shout and said, “You want to know the real reason why I brought you all together here on New Year’s Eve? Well, even though I don’t like talking about my addiction and recovery, I felt how powerful and positive it would be to mark a new beginning. Like starting a new chapter. That is why I’ve always liked New Year’s Eve. It gives me time to reflect on what’s important. Break the bad, focus on the good. I just wanted to celebrate a fresh start with everyone.”

Lilith then apologizes to Roy for her earlier comment and then Roy shrugs off the apology. Then, Dick’s face lightens up and say, “That’s it. We don’t have to capture them, we have to just push their buttons.” (Y/n) then says, “Awesome idea. Let’s do it.” Donna then says, “Before that, Nightwing and (H/n), please stop giving each other flirty glances.” Garth agrees and says, “Yeah, it’s annoying.” Dick and (Y/n) look and each other cheekily and then say in sync, “Who said we were?”

A little while later, Lilith catches up to Daddy and Honey and tells them, “Why are you leaving so early? How about we settle this over a race. If they win, the Titans won’t come after them that is if he’s not too scared.” Daddy spins around and heads back.

Roy tells Dick, “Breaking into a car is not want I meant by a fresh start. I wanted to leave this life behind. (N/n), tell your boyfriend to stop bullying me.” (Y/n) shrugged and said, “If there is any damage, he has his Dad to pay for it.” With that, both of them start crackling and Dick pouts at them.

With that, Roy pulls up next to Daddy and then Honey says, “This is going to be a straight race. If we win, you Titans will leave us.”

Lilith then does the countdown and as she shouts, the two cars beat down the street. Daddy pulls up far ahead of Roy and as Daddy’s car reaches the finish line, Donna and Garth come out in front of them and toss the car. Honey falls out of the car as Daddy and the car goes and falls into the water below.

Just as Donna and Garth were about to celebrate their victory, Honey pulls out her cannon arm. Just as she was about to shoot at them, an arrow and a piece of  metal come whizzing by and sticking into Honey’s arm and shocking her. Roy says, “Even if you have updates, you’re still made out of metal.” (Y/n) shrugs and says, “Physics always has been my favorite subject.”

After putting Daddy and Honey in jail, the Titans stood on top of a building, admiring the view. Garth says, “Sorry Roy, you could not see the fireworks.” Roy shrugs and says, “It isn’t the fireworks, it is the revolutions we make.” Donna looks around and asks, “Where are Dick and (Y/n), I just saw them a few minutes ago.”

Dick and (Y/n) were snogging each other when Roy popped up and said, “Come on guys, suck each other’s face later. Celebrate with us.” (Y/n) laughed and all three of them joined the other Titans on the rooftop. Donna then leans in to kiss Roy on the cheek and his face changes to the color of the costume. (Y/n) jokes and says, “Roy, you would put a Spanish tomato to shame with how much red you are sporting.” Lilith then adds, “Roy finally got the kiss he was hoping for.” 

Roy then smiles and says, “It is mostly on the lips, you know?” Garth then leans over, trying to kiss Roy on the lips and says, “Like this?” All the Titans burst out laughing while Dick’s arms slowly wrap around (Y/n)’s waist and she leans into him, enjoying the new year with her boyfriend and best friends.

[blondeblackwidow]

Poe and the reader getting stranded on a small deserted planet for a few days and they’re all domestic, and everyone back at base is surprised when they get back. Please? Your Poe pieces have been so cute!

Rumors and Lies ( Poe x Reader)

GIF CREDIT: @winterswake

prompt:  Poe and the reader getting stranded on a small deserted planet for a few days and they’re all domestic, and everyone back at base is surprised when they get back. Please? Your Poe pieces have been so cute!

a/n: this was literally so fun to write I got so carried away. Thanks for the request Anon, I hope it was worth the wait!

tw: implied smut

wc: 1749 

“Are you happy now, Dameron?!” You shouted, looking at the flaming rubble of the ship.

“How is this my fault?” He threw his hands in the air. 

“You HAD to try your fancy flying tricks.” 

“We had FOUR TIEs on our tail, what would you like me to do?!” 

“You’re insufferable!”

“You’re ungrateful, we’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for me.”

“OH PLEASE.” You rolled your eyes. Poe grunted, looking around for things to fix the ship, while you tried to hotwire the comm units to send out a beacon. Night came fast, and luckily for you, there was an abandoned farmhouse nearby. It looked as if it’s owners had deserted once the First Order set up a base on the moons orbiting this unfortunate planet.

“This will have to do.” Poe only nodded in agreement, and set down the bags of supplies from the ships. You cleared the house, and eventually settled in what looks like a sitting room. You sat on opposite ends of a couch that seemed untouched by the rest of the dust that settled on the house. You two ate MRE’s in silence. But in true Poe fashion, he broke the silence first.“Who do you think lived here?” He asked, looking around. You were a spy, a damn good one at that, and you had gotten used to using people’s things as clues into their lives.

  “Well by the amount of land out back, probably a farmer, no idea what.” You shrugged. “It was a male farmer though, presumably human by the size and shape of those gloves.” You gestured to the gloves on the small end table, Poe handed them to you, and you examined the left one. “He was married, there’s wear marks for a ring.” You got up and wandered around the room, all personal things like pictures and keepsakes were gone, but there was enough to piece together a life. “They had a young baby.” You picked up small socks, and a bottle that were left on a shelf. Poe watched in awe as you pieced together a life from the smallest of details. 

“You’re pretty good at this.” He smiled. 

“I have to be, bad storytellers in this profession get killed.” You shrugged. 

“So what’s your story, actually?” He put his feet up on a small footrest and leaned back. You could only laugh. Only Poe could be stuck on a deserted planet with no reinforcements and make himself comfortable. 

“My parents were some dignitaries from Alderaan, they were off world when it exploded.” You had always wondered about how different your life would be if the Empire haven’t blown your homeworld into ash and stardust. “They were childhood friends of the General. They did their best to protect me, but eventually, at 16, we were separated. From then on I had to lie, scam, and cheat my way to survive. Alderaan’s survivors wanted to form a New Alderaan on some planet, they wanted my parents to lead them, but they couldn’t find any trace of them. I think the First Order took them out, I’ll never know.” You shrugged. 

“Commander of the Resistance’s covert forces…” Poe snickered. “And Princess of Alderaan.” He laughed, and you threw the farmers glove at him. 

“Oh can it!” You laughed

“Whatever you say, Princess.” You wanted to correct the incorrectness of the nickname, but it sounded so sweet from his lips, your stomach did flips just thinking about it. Before you could even retort, there was a knock at the door. You both froze. 

Glancing out the window, you saw it was First Order patrols. “So much for a scrambled beacon.” You mumbled, you grabbed Poe’s hand, and dragged him to the door. “Act like you love me. And follow my lead.” Poe furrowed his brows and before he could think about it, you swung open the door to meet the visors of stormtroopers. 

“Hello!” You greeted cheerfully. “Is there anything I can do for you, Gentlemen?” You had taken on a different pattern of speech, and Poe wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Oh please, honey, we have guests. Sorry, my husband can get a little handsy. We were just in the middle of a very heated..” 

“No need for details ma’am.” The trooper held up a gloved hand. “We were wondering if you knew anything about the ship crashed about a mile from here.”

“Oh no, I did hear a very large crash though, I hope whoever was flying it is alright.” You smiled, and interlaced your hand in Poe’s free hand, clutching it, as if you were sick with worry. 

“Would you mind if we searched your home?” Your stomach dropped. 

“No matter at all.” You gestured them inside, and as soon as they passed, you pressed a very deep kiss to Poe’s lips. The lead trooper turned around to look at you two for guidance. He cleared his throat and waited for you to separate. “So sorry, like I said, very handsy.” 

  “There’s a closed door at the end of the hall, we can’t get it open and need your help.” He said grimly, all your supplies were in there, it would blow your cover in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, I suppose.” You said, and began to walk down the hall. “You will be quiet though, and leave the light off will you?” The trooper tilted his head. “We welcomed a baby boy last month and I just got him to sleep.” They stood, staring at you, you had your hands folded, to hide the fact they were shaking. 

“That’s alright ma’am.” He went to turn around. “I’ll escort my squad out.” 

“Oh thank you all.” You smiled genuinely. “Have a safe evening gentlemen.” You latched the door behind them, and let out a huge sigh of relief. Poe was leaned up against a wall. 

“That was a risk.” He said, he almost looked like he was frowning. 

“Yes it was, but it paid off.” You giggled. “Husband.” You imitate your voice from before. Poe only half laughed, and you couldn’t understand why, until he walked over to you and shoved you against the latched door, and pressed his lips against yours. You kissed him back eagerly. You always had a thing for him, but you were committed to the resistance, you weren’t there to have a boyfriend. He tugged at your blouse and you let him pull it over your head. You two didn’t speak in words all night. 

-

The next morning, you were half expecting things to go back to normal. You woke up, head buried in his chest, legs tangled in each others embrace. He was sleeping soundly, and you just laid there, watching the sun peak through the blinders.

Eventually, you had to figure out a way of getting a hold of the general. You untangled yourself slowly, and grabbed your bag, making for the kitchen. You started to pull anything with wires apart to rig your comm unit to encrypt for real this time. You were so engrossed in your project that you didn’t even hear Poe come in. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Mornin’ Princess.” He mumbled. 

“Morning Poe.” You smiled, and turned around to face him. He had put his trousers on but not his shirt, and you knew that wasn’t an accident. 

“What are you working on?” He asked. 

“Comm unit.” You shrugged. “Gotta get a message for someone to come get us.” You picked it up. “I’ve almost got it.” Poe took it from your hands. 

“How about we send the message later?” He smirked. “I kinda liked last night.” 

“As much as I would love to stay and have crazy amounts of sex all day, we have jobs Poe.” You shake your head and reached for the comm, and he held it out of your reach.

  “Who said anything about sex?” He stared you down. “I meant I liked us, just being together, pretending we had a life outside of this war.” You blinked. “Okay and yes the sex was great too but outside of that.” You laughed. 

“Fine. But we send that message tonight.” You rolled your eyes and he came in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Thank you, wife.” He winked and you rolled your eyes again. 

“Anytime, husband.” You laughed, and so did he. 

-

  Back on base, you got back to training a group of rookies who had chosen Covert Ops as their specialty. You were currently in the middle of sparring with a tall, fairly muscular man. You lesson for today was about overpowering your odds. You moved through your opponent, and he handed on his flat back on the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

You look up to see Poe, head to toe in orange, he had mentioned earlier that he had a training flight. You offered your trainee your hand, and helped him up. “Everyone go get something to eat, and rest, we’ll meet back here in an hour.” You weren’t even looking at your class, you were lost in a pair of brown eyes. “You’re dismissed.” You walked over to Poe.

“It was pretty impressive to watch ya know. I could’ve waited.” He was smirking. You wanted to punch him and make out with him all at once. 

“What do you want, Dameron?” You tried to maintain your professionalism, you were aware that your students were still listening.

“General needs us in Command.” He smiled, and handed you a holopad.

“Another one?” You grumbled. “Where to this time?”

  “Canto Bight, we need to pose as some rich couple to extract some information from some people at the casino.” He winked. “We leave tomorrow morning, wife.” And with that, you turned around to walk to command for the official briefing. You watched as your training classes jaws hit the ground. 

“Poe Dameron you did not!” You laughed and ran after him, only half mad.

Rumors floated around on base that you two were secretly married on that planet. They were ridiculous, and you told people that you didn’t pay them any mind because you knew the truth, but if you were honest, you just liked the warm feeling you got in your gut when people referred to Poe as yours. 

Even if you got an occasional pointed glance from a new recruit or two.

[raendown]

A gift to @sakxuraz for the @tobiizugiftexchange, I hope you enjoy! 

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 4398 Rated: T+ Summary: Building a village with other clan-packs wasn't a terrible idea in theory. In practice it opened the door for all sorts of miscommunication as they all navigated the difficulties of integrating not only as humans but in their secondary animal forms as well. What does a cat know of birds? More importantly, what is he willing to learn?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

A Word For Home

Coming from a clan more disposed to mammalian second forms, living with a bunch of birds was strange in many ways. Tobirama was more than used to seeing family and close friends groom each other but the ways in which Uchiha showed their affections seemed incredibly odd in his eyes. So odd that in many cases he wasn’t actually aware what the purpose of such gestures were supposed to be until he was informed so later on. 

The first time Izuna brought him a handful of leaves he could only stare, mind racing as he tried to figure out what sort of insult was being offered to him. Each leaf was a different shade and all of them newly shed by autumn trees. After a full minute of silence he looked up to see the other man watching him intently with his dark eyes wide in anticipation, waiting for some sort of reaction, and Tobirama hoped his utter lack of any expression was as disappointing as he was sure his rage was meant to be amusing. 

“I have plenty of leaves in my own front lawn,” he rumbled. Then he had turned to sweep away, missing the dejected slump of Izuna’s shoulders before there came the rushing pull of a change. Even without looking he knew the sound of strong wings hurrying away. When he dared to look back the leaves were arranged carefully on the ground in some unrecognizable pattern. He left them there. 

An isolated incident like that could have easily been forgotten, written off as nothing more than yet another attempt to annoy him over petty grudges, if it hadn’t been the beginning of an utterly strange trend. The second time Izuna approached him the man came bearing an armful of cloth all with different brightly colored patterns. At first glance Tobirama thought it to be a small mountain of clothing but a closer look told him the bundle wasn’t even that much, just scraps of varying sizes all piled on top of each other. They were at least neatly folded. Still, he might have no idea what insult the man was trying to imply but he had more important things to do than to indulge his rival’s pointless games. 

“There is a laundromat just down this street if you were looking for somewhere to clean your rags,” he advised stiffly. 

“Rags?” Somehow Izuna managed to insert such a heavy amount of dejection in to his tone that for a moment Tobirama almost thought him genuinely saddened by the denial. Then he came to his senses. 

“Fly away, little raven, I have things that need to be done today.” 

With that he brushed past and paid no attention to the trill that followed him down the path. His mind was already full of the blueprints he and a team of Nara had been working on for the new hospital. 

After that it seemed as though he ran in to Izuna around every other corner and every time he found something being presented to him as though it were some great treasure. Yet without fail each so-called gift turned out to be nothing more than scrap and chaff, never anything of value but neither could Tobirama make heads or tails of what this game was meant to be. He would have asked if it wouldn't have felt so much like losing. 

In his office Izuna brought him a spool of wire. On his front porch was left a basket of untreated wool. Turning corners in the marketplace he found his hands full of old blankets that had clearly seen their share of use. For the life of him he couldn’t seem to connect any of these offerings together. With every new piece of junk in Izuna’s hands Tobirama only grew more and more confused. The two of them were no longer enemies by any stretch, not since their clans had formed a pact to share the same territory several years before, and although they weren’t exactly the best of friends they had managed to achieve a unique sort of equilibrium that worked for them. Casually sniping each other with pointed - if dull - insults might look to anyone else as though they hated each other but Tobirama had been secretly thrilled to have someone who finally understood his particular brand of communication. 

The more bits and bobs of random materials Izuna attempted to give him, however, the more he began to question whether he had grievously misunderstood something. Jabs and jests he could understand. Pranks, on the other hand, had never been part of their repertoire. Oh he had seen Izuna pull the wool over other people’s eyes before and he’d been woken more than once by the eagle scream of Madara caught in some trap or another by his precious little sibling. Until now Tobirama himself had seemed to be the only person who escaped such treatment. He’d assumed his counterpart understood that he was not the sort of person to trifle with such things. 

Curling under his desk in the brisk morning air, autumn hovering just at the edge of winter, Tobirama was grateful to his second form for both its warmth and smaller stature at the moment. Naturally resistant to the cold and easily capable of hiding under the desk like a child, Tobirama closed his eyes and laid his head down atop crossed paws. Above him Izuna could be heard rustling around. Whatever today’s gift was it apparently required more space than had been left on the desk and clearly the remedy for that was to ruin several hours worth of careful organization rather than just leave it on the floor.

“Bastard probably heard me coming and scarpered.” The tone of irritation was almost more familiar than the sound of his voice. 

From his hiding spot Tobirama cracked one heavy eyelid in agreement. That was exactly what he’d done. Never had it been so convenient to be able to slip away from even the Sharingan’s detection. While there were definite limitations in not having access to chakra in this form, the fact that it left one nigh undetectable by sensors was a clear bonus that he was happy to take advantage of now. 

It took only a minute or two of patience before Tobirama found himself alone in the room once again, celebrating the much needed peace by stretching out his front paws and flexing each toe to watch his claws appear and retract. With a great yawn that curled his tongue he brought his paws back to fold underneath his head once more as though truly contemplating the notion of an early morning nap. He could use it. Even if he knew very well that he would never actually sleep when there was work to be done it was nice to pretend for a bit that he could be just as lazy as any house cat. Only after his sensitive ears heard the sound of another office door closing down the hall did he finally crawl his way out from under the desk, pausing to shake out his body and resettle any displaced fur. 

As he did so the motion of his reflection in the window drew his gaze and Tobirama blinked thoughtfully at the great snow leopard staring back at him from the glass. It had occurred to him, of course, that whatever Izuna was up to might not be a prank but he hadn’t considered before that it might have something to do with the Uchiha propensity for avian forms. Cocking his head to one side and watching his ears flop, he considered it now. How many times had he seen Uchiha flitting about through the forest collecting twigs and leaves and dismissed it without curiosity? So few of their clan had warmed up to him still and he’d returned such lukewarm sentiments with an utter lack of care for learning their ways beyond what tidbits he picked up from interacting with Kagami. Now he sat back on his haunches and wondered if perhaps he shouldn't sacrifice a little of his pride after all. 

Later, though. For now he had work to do. 

With today’s confusing gift already delivered, Tobirama was able to coast through the rest of his work without the tension of waiting for something unknown. By the time his desk was clear and the sun began to set behind him it felt as though he’d been able to get nearly twice as much done as the past week put together. It was amazing what he could accomplish when he was actually able to concentrate. He left the office with a surprising amount of energy left; just enough that he thought he might be able to deal with the humiliation of asking for help from his brother. 

For such a late hour the streets were still quite packed with people running a few evening errands and couples venturing out to meet for dates. Just in the time it took him to reach the Senju compound Tobirama passed three couples holding hands, two making out in places they probably thought were inconspicuous, and one in the midst of a proposal that did not seem to be very well received. Peace, it seemed, was quite the aphrodisiac for many people once they finally settled in to the concept of it. After that first uncertain year had passed and their peoples got used to sharing the same territory it was as though half the population was suddenly caught up in some unseasonal mating frenzy. Strange how priorities changed when one didn’t need to spend every moment of every day fearing for one’s life. 

“Tadaima!” His own voice echoed back to him when he stepped inside, mingling with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. As he kicked off his shoes he frowned and strained his ears. No sound. A quick sweep showed the building empty to his senses as well. Either he was home alone for the evening or Hashirama and Mito were not walking on two legs. 

Since the questions knocking about in his mind weren’t exactly urgent he took the time to stop by his bedroom and change his clothing, shedding the dust and sweat of a long day in favor of well-worn cotton soft on his skin, comfortable loungewear he would never be caught dead in outside the home. Then he wandered through the living room, the kitchen, the green room filled with plants where he often found Hashirama napping when he was meant to be doing so many other things. Nowhere was there any sign of life until he happened to glance out the back window and spotted two massive forms huddled together in the backyard. 

Unobserved, he allowed himself a moment to simply watch with a smile. It had always struck him as particularly funny that when human Hashirama was about as clumsy as they come but in the form of a bear he somehow managed to exude grace and calm. Even as he tore in to the strip of raw meat clearly serving as his dinner he looked more adorable than terrifying. The same could not be said of his wife. An empress in all but title on two legs, it had been a surprise to learn that her secondary form was also that of the bear until the first time Tobirama witnessed her tearing in to an enemy with tooth and claw. Hashirama might be a cute docile little sun bear but his wife was a brown bear ready to rampage the instant she perceived a threat to the ones she saw as her own. It was oddly fitting.

At the moment, however, the two of them were doing nothing more violent than partaking of a meal together and Tobirama was loath to disturb such a domestic scene. He contented himself with a plateful of leftovers from the previous evening’s dinner and ate alone at the kitchen table with fingers and chopsticks while he waited. The sun was barely finished setting and he had only just finished washing his dishes when the other two made it back inside. A whuffing moan greeted him, to which he rolled his eyes. 

“I do not speak bear, Anija. Such uncouth noises.”

“So mean,” Hashirama pouted as he flowed back to humanity with the seamless grace of someone who had made the change countless times before. “We were going to leave some for you but you never came outside so I ate your meat.” 

“Thank you, but I was content with stew.” 

Mito narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him but said nothing, only reached out to bring the tips of her fingers against his shoulder. He accepted the gesture with a nod before looking back to his brother. 

“Can I ask you a few questions? You would know more about the Uchiha than I do.” His should have known better than to be so vague. The words had hardly left his mouth when Hashirama froze in the act of searching out an after dinner snack, turning to look at him with an already exhausted expression. 

“Oh Tobi-” he started to say.

“I didn’t do anything!” Tobirama protested. “Not this time, at least. I just wondered if you could give me a little insight in to some of their habits. If you’re going to be a dick about it I can always find someone else to ask.” 

“No! I’m sorry! Please don’t ask anyone else. What, ah, what did you want to know?” 

Hashirama offered him a cute little smile but it fooled no one. They both knew all he wanted was to make sure Tobirama didn’t go asking the wrong questions to the wrong person and starting a fight with his habitual bluntness. Still, if it got him the answers he wanted right now he was willing to overlook the lack of faith this once. 

Just because his brother had a point didn’t mean he had to be so obvious about it. 

“If I describe a certain behavior that I’ve observed could you tell me if you know the reasoning behind it?” Tobirama waited until he received an attentive nod before going on. “Right. Say one person is bringing things to another and presenting them as if they’re gifts. Except all of these ‘gifts’ are pieces of scrap or garbage or even just leaves off the ground. Does that sound like any sort of Uchiha-specific behavior to you or just some kind of very elaborate prank?”

For several heartbeats his brother stared at him, almost like he was trying to determine whether or not that was a serious question, until finally he pulled off a signature personality flip by sliding straight in to a swoon. 

“Whoever you’ve been watching, they’re so lucky!” he declared. 

“Lucky?”

“Yes! It seems they’ve caught someone’s eye!”

Tobirama scowled. “You know I hate it when you make such poor attempts at humor, Anija.” 

“But it’s not a joke! I’m serious, that sounds just like how an Uchiha behaves when they’re trying to catch the interest of a potential mate!” Hashirama sniffled, wounded to be accused of making jokes. Or perhaps wounded that his terrible sense of humor had been so rightly assessed. It didn’t matter. Tobrama was much more interested in the utterly ridiculous bullshit his sibling was trying to feed him. 

“How does bringing someone litter off the ground or used rags translate as an offer to mate?”

Immediately affecting another swoon, Hashirama sighed like a woman from one of his trashy romance novels. “The gifts aren’t litter, they’re materials! Madara explained it to me once when his secretary kept trying to bring him twigs. When an Uchiha wants to mate with someone they bring them whatever materials they think could be used to make a nice nest for them both. Things like leaves and cloth might be the lining, wood and sticks might be used for the main structure, even pretty little baubles that might just be for decorating! I think it’s really sweet. They build homes together!” 

“Nests. That’s...they were all...nesting materials.” Swallowing felt suddenly three times more difficult than it should have been. “I need to sit down.”

“You’re already sitting down?”

“I need to lay down.”

Hashirama blinked at him, studied him closely. It took several moments but a slow grin began to form that stretched his face with a maniacal sort of joy. “It’s you! You’re the one who’s been getting these mating gifts! Someone is trying to court you!”

“According to you he is asking me to bond with him permanently!” Tobirama had never felt so close to a panic attack in his life. 

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” 

“Because I had thought his opinions of me to be mere tolerance! I had no idea he felt anything like this! What do I even do with this information, Anija!?” 

“Oh I don’t know. You could try accepting a gift or two? Going out on a date? You could tell me who it is! Is it that very pretty lad who works in the mission room? No! It’s that quiet man in the archives! I knew I saw him looking at your bottom that day! This is just so sweet, I am just so happy for you!” Hashirama’s arms struck like a pair of sun-browned cobras to wrap around his neck and squeeze tight. “My little baby brother is all grown up and finding a mate!”

It took squirming, yelling, and a smidgen of violence to extract himself from such an unwarranted embrace. By the time he struggled himself free Hashirama had nearly soaked one shoulder of his previously clean yukata with tears and snot. Delightful. Only years of training in speed and flexibility allowed him to escape the kitchen without being dragged in to another hug, hurrying down the hall to lock himself in to his bedroom where he staunchly ignored the whining coming through his door. Hashirama could be happy for him all he liked. That didn’t make it any easier to process the revelation that had just been dropped on him unexpectedly. 

So Izuna was attempting to court him with the intention of mating. Tobirama knew as well as anyone else who spent any amount of time around their clan that the Uchiha mated for life, unwilling to commit themselves to something of that magnitude unless they were certain it was what they wanted for the rest of their lives. Now that he had finally cottoned on to what was actually happening he needed to figure out how he felt about it before taking any action. 

Did he want this too? 

Waiting for sleep that night was made harder by the familiar chakra creeping up and down the hall to check whether or not his bedroom was still locked several times. His brother never had been able to understand proper boundaries. Either he finally gave up or Mito grew tired of him rustling about and tied him down somewhere but whatever the case Tobirama did eventually fall asleep. By his best estimate, however, when he woke again he had only dreamt for perhaps a little more than three hours. 

He made sure to avoid his brother on his way out of the house the next morning, detouring through the marketplace to pick up something to break his fast. For once in his life he was actually grateful to the swarm of people who mobbed him the moment he stepped inside the administration tower. Any other day he would have been annoyed to have so much extra work shoved in to his hands before he even made it to his own office but today it was nice to have something that demanded his attention, something to occupy his mind without the gnawing guilty feeling of knowing he was only avoiding the inevitable. With his arms full of fresh paperwork he marched his way up the stairs and buried his face in whichever scroll he was able to unroll without upsetting the whole pile. A distraction was only good if he let himself sink in to it. 

Of course, he’d known the moment he left home that he would only have so much time before the very thing he spent all night giving his deepest considerations to would come barging in and demanding even more of his attention. As he watched the door swing open Tobirama supposed that he should at least appreciate that Izuna had allowed him an hour or so of peace to settle in. 

“Morning!” Under the cheer of his tone Izuna’s smile was wan, almost false, though whether he was losing hope or if he’d simply not slept well the night before was unclear. 

“What do you have for me today?” Tobirama asked.

After a moment of startled blinking Izuna was quick to hold out the small bundle of cloth in his arms. “Before you ask, no, none of them have an uchiwa on them.”

Tobirama hummed and bent his neck for a closer look. Clothing, although different from the last similar offering. Before he had been offered well used scraps that - he understood now - would have carried a great deal of  sentimental value and made a very potent addition to any nest. These clothes were much newer looking and yet his sharp nose told him the other man had very carefully worn every item in that pile at least once to coat them with his scent. Not quite as important to avians but to a cat scent was everything.

When he reached out to accept the bundle he got the distinct impression that Izuna only barely stopped himself from fainting. 

“Since I won’t be wearing them,” he mumbled, “I don’t suppose it matters whose mon they have stitched on them.”

“You...took them. You took them? You took them from me. I think I’m asleep.” Izuna reached across himself to pinch his own arm without breaking eye contact. 

“If you had perhaps used your words I might have been inclined to accept your, ah, offers a little sooner.”

Tobirama’s hand twitched with the urge to scrub at the back of his neck with embarrassment, though he managed to keep himself from doing it. He would probably never admit it to the man but he owed Hashirama a great deal for explaining things to him the way he had. As much as he would absolutely be teasing Izuna about this it was a very good thing his old rival had never actually explained what his gifts were meant for. Having someone else clue him in gave Tobirama the chance he needed to panic in private, get past the instinctual need to run, and actually face the emotions he had apparently been repressing for longer than he wished to acknowledge. 

“Does this- you do know what that is, right?” Izuna asked carefully. He visibly held his breath when met with a slow nod. 

“Yes. I do. Well, now I do.” And that was all he hoped he would have to say about that. “You should probably know that snow leopards do not make nests.”

“No?”

“Our dens don’t require much personalization so I will need your guidance on how to go about this. If we’re both to be comfortable then I’ll want to make sure our nest is to your specifications.” Tobirama very much hoped his cheeks were not as red as they were warm. Romance and mates had never been something that took up many of his thoughts, never a subject he felt much of a need to pursue. It was lucky for him, then, that he seemed to have fallen in love with someone willing to pursue him instead. 

If Izuna had been blessed with four legs in his second form he would no doubt have begun purring raucously in the moment it finally hit him that this was real. Since his vocal chords were not shaped for that he instead broke out in to the toothiest, smuggest grin that Tobirama had ever seen. It was a terribly good look on him. 

A low, pleased trill echoed up his throat as he stepped forward until they were pressed together, chest to chest, and lifting his chin to nuzzle against the underside of Tobirama’s jaw. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture from someone whose usual method of showing he cared was a well timed insult aimed straight for the weak points. Even more endearing - and even more surprising - were the hands that brushed their way up the length of Tobirama’s abdomen to rest softly against his chest. Unassuming, unasking, reaching out yet still allowing space. How could a man do anything but pull him in to a loose embrace and close his eyes to bask?

“Mate,” Izuna whispered against the skin of his throat. “I’ve been incredibly patient for the honor of calling you that.”

“You have indeed,” Tobirama admitted. 

“I think I deserve a little something for my troubles.”

A smile lifted the corners of Tobirama’s mouth. “I might be convinced to compensate you if the request isn’t too ridiculous.” 

He was answered by another soft trill that plucked at his heartstrings in ways he never would have been able to admit if Izuna had not made the first move. Though finding a mate had never been a priority in his plans for the future he would have to give up his title of ‘genius’ to turn down an offer of happiness like this one. 

“Would you be willing to share a bit more of your nest building customs? I would hate to offend by accident so early in our bond.” 

“Before we worry about offending anything we should, oh I don’t know, maybe get busy forming the bond,” Izuna suggested. His tone by itself was suggestive enough even before he pulled away a scant inch or two to lock their gazes with a filthy leer. Tobirama tried to resist but it was no good. He smiled helplessly, the first of many capitulations to come. 

“I am eager to learn any part of you that you wish to share,” he said. 

And if perhaps under the suggestiveness of his own words he had cleverly hidden the softest parts of his heart laid bare, well, it was only right of him to share every part of himself with his new mate as well. 

[helluvascribe]

Helluva Hotel/Hazbin Boss (Parody)

HELLUVA HOTEL (PILOT) October 82, 9102

 THE PILOT IS HERE!

 Starring the incredible talents of Wat-is Dis, Irma Imp, Johnny Hazbin and Red Doe 666.

 In HELL, Imps are the lowest of the low in society, but what happens when one starts a hotel and recreation business? This happens!

 Follow Blitzo (the “o” is silent) as he pursues his seemingly impossible goal to help demons peacefully express themselves to reduce the mockery of lower class sinners…plus the exterminations of fellow demons by Exterminators and a rival Heaven group. After a yearly extermination and having his previous office set on fire, Blitzo opens a hotel complete with an office for himself. He hopes that patients will become better individuals, grow to appreciate the imps and support Blitzo’s love of musicals and murder. While most of Hell mocks his goals and dreams, his father and his fellow employee Moxxie mocks it doubly so. Moxxie’s wife, erotic dancer and test subject Millie stick by their sides. When a grumpy Hellhound entity known as “Moonlight Howl” Loona reluctantly reaches out to Blitzo to help in his endeavors, his crazy dream is given a chance to become reality.

    HAZBIN BOSS (PILOT) November 52, 9102

 THE PILOT IS HERE!

 Starring the incredible talents of Blonde Disney Princess In Inferno, SJW Aggressor Moth, Porny Horny Spider Boi, Diabolic Deer Daddy, Gambling Grumpy Cat and Maid of DisHonorly Lust.

 Follow Charlie, the princess of Hell as she attempts to run a hybrid rehabilitation/killing residence in a very competitive market and careless chaotic society. She is the head of D.E.M.O.N. (Denizens End Misery Or Not) in correlation to I.M.P. (Immediate Murder Professionals)

 She has help from her weapons specialist Vaggie, her powerhouse Angel Dust and torturer/receptionist Alastor. With the help of an ancient book obtained by one of the rich Eldritch family members, they manage to make their work possible by killing humans at the requests of their demon clients, sending them to the Magne Hotel to be tortured, redeemed or be stimulated by endless entertainment. They also attempt to survive each other while trying to keep their business afloat.

 But a rival company exists as well in correlation to C.H.E.R.U.B (Cherish Human Existence Revive U Back): A.N.G.E.L. (All Nobody’s Get Extended Life) a.k.a. they reincarnate people so they have a chance to life their human lives, worship God, and not have to endure the forced rehab program.

   The scene opened up with “Red Doe 666 Presents…” as shadow curtains opened…

 Against a white background designed with eyes, a shadowy figure of Blitzo was seen riding a horse with horns and a spiked tail.

 Blitzo was heard singing:

 “Here I am…this is me.

There’s nowhere else in Hell I’d rather be

Here I am…what am I to do?

I hope someday I can make my dreams come true

It’s a new world, it’s a new start

Alive with the screaming and the fresh hearts

It’s a new day, it’s a new plan

And it’s waiting for me

Here I am”

 A shadowy pentagram glowed and the camera moved down, showing shadowy figures of humans being killed by the three imps with weapons.

A shadow figure of Blitzo looked up at the princess and Lucifer, his face downcast. He wished for a better life, but Lucifer looked down on him as common dirt. Blitzo then turned to the right and encountered a silhouette of his father and mother. Blitzo appeared to try and reason with them, but they both pointed in the other direction. Blitzo sadly turned around, his parents not listening to him.

 The city spun within a glowing white pentagram as white angels holding spears surrounded it. Imp City appeared to be burning as shadows of other denizens turned their backs on it.

 “Why have I always been a failure?

What can they reason be?

Why don’t they see they can’t take me?

Why don’t they know I long to be free?”

 Blitzo stood small and downcast under a towering horned silhouette of his imp father, Donner, yellow critical eyes glowing. Black tendrils made the screen go black. A spinning globe appeared with white eyes blinking at it. Silhouettes of Exterminators later posed with swords and bloodstained bodies around them. Each of them had an x over their right eyes and creepy grins on their faces.

 The next scenes showed Imp City in disrepair, weapons and bodies littering the streets. The Pentagram moon stood out in the crimson sky. Homeless demons sat in despair under ripped cardboard boxes, with “Satan Bless,” signs around them. One old store read: “Tricksters and Trades,” another said “Pimp Imps: Strip Club.” The most prominent building was metallic with black and white stripped horns extending out for decoration.

 Blitzo slowly walked out from the building onto a balcony. He leaned on a railing, briefly brushing his hand against his face. He was wearing his usual tattered navy blue work suit with orange pink buttons and a red undershirt with a pink straw pin with a face on it. He was also wearing silver cowboy boots.

 Blitzo picked up a trumpet and blew a bugle sound, the notes echoing throughout the area, signaling that it was safe for the other imps to come out. The imps opened their windows and peered out from behind alleyways. Blitzo stared at his phone and the clock tower in the live video on it read “365 days until next cleanse.”

 The title then appeared: “Welcome to the Helluva Hotel.”

 A car barreled through an open portal and ran over a poor imp before screeching to a stop. A red imp with wild black hair stepped out, a bloodstained knife sheathed at her side.

 “Wow that was some kill, thank for the backup sweetie,” said a male imp, Crosser. Both of them had just finished killing their target via a runaway chase. Crosser had dreamed of crossing over to the human world, and had wanted to run the human man over after the man had killed one of his sinner friends.

 Millie shut the door, wearing her usual black tank top, torn black pants and black collar around her neck. Her horns were shirt and black with small white stripes on them.

 “Yeah, listen, I don’t want to let word out that I’ve been helping random clients with unusual requests for their targets. It was just a quick cash grab, you got it?”

 She smiled with large doe eyes.

 “Whatever you say, slut,” Crosser remarked with a laugh that followed.

 “Wow how rude can you be?” she exclaimed. She leaned in dangerously close. “Let me know who you find something better to call me, you scrawny runty pack of bird shit. Tell the boys at the club I said hi.” She blew him a kiss before stepping back. He grumbled and drove away before his car crashed with a sideways flip.

 Millie strolled along the sidewalk and grabbed someone else’s stick of rotten candy.

 “Hey!” the imp yelled as Millie ran off with a giggle. “You snooze you lose, sucker!”

 She couldn’t wait to tell Blitzo of her successful day.

   Later, Moxxie and Stolas were busy helping Blitzo prepare for his big speech. Moxxie was straightening up his navy blue jacket, while Stolas was massaging his horns. They were in Stolas’ room and the meeting would take place in front of the palace.

 “Do you remember what to say, sir?” Moxxie asked Blitzo.

 Blitzo smiled and stood up straight. “Yes, let’s do this!”

 Stolas smiled as well, wiggling his eyebrows. “Just look at me if you’re nervous.”

 “Come on guys, I know what to say!” Blitzo exclaimed. “I just feel like we need to…I don’t know, make things sound more exciting…”

 He randomly played with bobble-heads of Moxxie and Millie before tossing them aside. Then he gasped, getting an idea.

 “What if I…”

 “Sing a song about it?” Moxxie asked with a huff of annoyance.

 “Exactly Moxxie! Now you’re starting to get the hang of things around here!”

 Stolas playfully poked Blitzo’s face, while Blitzo and Moxxie responded with grimaces.

 “Please don’t sing,” Moxxie chided to his boss. “This is serious.”

 “Well you know…” Blitzo said, climbing on top of Stolas’ dresser, knocking things down, “I do find I’m better at expressing my goals through song!”

 “Blitzy, stop knocking over my belongings!” Stolas puffed up his feathers in anger.

 Moxxie glared at Blitzo as he walked over. “Life isn’t a musical, sir. Even if it were, yours would be so atrocious, not even Vox would allow it on that unwatched channel!”

 “Then I’ll just have to use more of your salaries to release a better jingle,” Blitzo responded with a glare and sneer. He reached over for his plastic cup of iced coffee and downed several gulps of the light brown and white liquid. He sighed in content after he finished. Stolas made a disgusted face as some splashes of the drink spilled onto the floor.

 “I’d be more than happy to watch it,” Stolas replied to him. “In fact, I could watch you all day in any form…”

 “Oh please,” Blitzo scoffed at Stolas. “Get over that one time thing already. My credibility is at risk of being lost here!”

 Moxxie folded his arms and opened his mouth in frustration. “Your credibility? What about I.M.P.? You’re just making it look like a fucking joke!” He took a breath and pinched his nose briefly. “We are still a company, even if…things have changed a bit…”

 None of them could forget when someone “accidentally” set their office on fire, and had to start over with several tasks.

 Blitzo grinned and pulled out a piece of paper. “Oh, I have these other ideas of what to say. The highlighted bits are the best parts.”

 Moxxie took the paper, and scanned it in disbelief. “It’s all highlighted. Are these drawings?”

 “Yep!” Blitzo affirmed, pointing to the paper. On it were several drawings of horses of different sizes, colored in with brown, gray, white and black crayons. The drawings looked like those that a child would do. Beside the horses were several names labeled for each one: Thumbtack, Bottlecap, Stapler, Live Wire and Toothpick. The list read: I.M.P. History, Why Blitz Is The Best, Jingle Suggestions, and Ending Song. At the bottom was a crude drawing of Blitzo on a stage, dancing with Moxxie, Millie, and Loona as dead humans with xs on their eyes and tongues out piled up around them. Nearby, imps and demons tossed them money and flowers.

 Blitzo’s eyes were shining in wonder. “See! That’s the ultimate goal! Everyone’s happy and appreciating us. And we still get to kill to our hearts’ content.”  

 “It’s not that simple, sir!” Moxxie groaned with a face-palm. “Just follow the talking points we went over.” He grabbed hold of Blitzo’s collar. “And Do. Not. Sing.”

 “Whatever,” Blitzo said as he shoved Moxxie off him. “If not that, then I can always do my improv skills.”

 Blitzo saluted and walked out of the room, while the others followed. They were soon outside the palace near a round table where several owls had tea one time. There was a camera crew and several imps taking pictures. Blitzo took his seat in a chair, while Stolas stood regally nearby. Millie grinned and gave Blitzo a thumbs up. Loona slouched in a chair and shot avatars of Moxxie and Husk in an app game on her phone.

 “Hi I’m Blitzo,” said the imp to a wealthy demon with white tentacle hair, gray-green skin and a pink dress with fur and matching heels. Her gray skinned brother wore a green suit and a green top hat decorated with living yellow eyes and teeth around the brim.

 “Helsa Von Eldritch,” she deadpanned. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but that’d be a lie. You can put your hand away. I don’t touch imps and sinners. I have standards.”

 Blitzo withdrew his hand. “How’s that working out for you, Hel?”

 “Be glad that I’m letting you live after you so rudely forgot to address me as Lady Helsa Von Eldritch,” She fluffed her hair. “My time is money and no one really wants you here. You’re only here because Charlie forgot to show up for Hell’s Royal Vogue fashion segment. One that features me as the favorite, obviously.”

 Nearby were magazines that showed Sevaithan, Helsa, Octavia and Charlie wearing fancy clothing while their faces were obscured under wide brimmed hats. Seviathan wore his usual green top hat with eyes on it and fancy green suit. Octavia wore a dress of black, Helsa’s was pink and Charlie’s was apple red in the pictures.

 “But…” Blitzo began, before Helsa cut him off.

  “So don’t get cocky with me clown or I’ll fucking strangle you.” She bared her sharp teeth as Blitzo silently gulped. Helsa sat down in her seat, painting her sharp nails.

 “And I thought that bratty kid was a piece of shit,” Blitzo thought to himself.

 Blitzo spotted Stolas’ daughter Octavia with her mother sitting in high throne-like chairs at an adjacent table.

 “How’s it going, Via?” Blitzo called.

 “Good until you showed up,” she replied in a British accent.

 “Oh!” Stolas added. “We should all go on a family trip to Loo Loo Land sometime! I’ll bring some balloons and popcorn if you want.”

 “That place reeks of corporate shame,” Octavia scoffed in her seat. “It’s just a rip off of Loo Loo World, anyway. Besides, I would much rather hang out with Helsa than die of embarrassment again.”

 “So…you friends with her or not?” Blitzo asked in confusion.

 Octavia rolled her eyes and retorted. “You and my father still a thing?”

 “Blitzo,” warned the white owl queen Melodia, mentioning to the waiting crew.

Blitzo took his seat near Helsa and Seviathan, the two wealthy Eldritch siblings.

 “Right,” Blitzo said, straightening his clothes and looking at the cameras.

 “Hi, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the founder of I.M.P. Are you a piece of…”

 Moxxie shook his head and mouthed, “Not an ad.”

 “…shit.”

 Blitzo took a deep breath, his smile fading a little. “As most of you know, I was born here in Hell, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. Hell is my home and…”

 A stray feather floated in front of Blitzo’s nose, causing the imp to sneeze.

 “…some you are my clients, so I suppose I should try to be more concerned about you. We just went through another Extermination.”

 Millie gave him two thumbs up.

 Blitzo continued. “We’ve lost so many souls, including homeless people, and it breaks my heart to see other imps and hellhounds being slaughtered every year. Same goes for sinners. I mean, they brought it on themselves mostly, but then again, if there were no demons around, then there would be no business for me to run.”

 Sudden anger sparked in his golden eyes. “In our society, imps are not even given a chance!”

 He pounded his fist on the table, spilling his coffee drink all over his jacket. He swore and tried to lick some of it off. Stolas arrived and quickly wiped the stains off as much as he could. Blitzo brushed the owl prince away before continuing.

 “Imps are the lowest of the low? Why is that? Because we’re somehow poorer than sinners? We’re lesser in numbers so imps and hellhounds can be called to service by random strangers anytime they wish? How are imps somehow lower than sinners, who are supposedly lower than the elite hellborn? I mean, imps are born in Hell…shouldn’t we get the proper treatment we deserve? I’m the founder of the most well-known company in Imp City, along with access to the human world, no less! That should definitely count for something! I cannot stand idly by while the place I live is subject to such judgement and death.”

 Blitzo continued… “So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a better way to hinder ignorance, and in my case, hinder the lower ratings for my company? Isn’t there a more alternative way to change clients and souls through…recreation? Well I think yes, and that is what my project aims to achieve! Ladies and gentlemen, I’m expanding on my company and making…a conjoint hotel to encourage self-expression and I.M.P. appreciation!”

 Blitzo spread out his arms at the table. He then muttered nervously at the confused faces. “You know…cause when demons learn to appreciate us more and be somewhat nicer…we won’t have to worry about those blasted Cherubs or the angels coming after us…”

 “Angels?” laughed an imp as he watched Blitzo on TV. “Is that imp for real? Oh he’s nuts!”

 Blitzo went on…”and those who come and cheer for me at my musicals will receive a 15% discount the next time they need my gang to kill people! Yay!”

 “Stupid clown,” mocked an imp before Millie punched the cameraman right in the face, sending him off the stool.

 Blitzo looked around in concern. “Look, I know that each and every one of you has something good inside you. I know you do.”

 Then he smirked, getting an idea. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you…”

 He mentioned to his black haired imp sisters Tilla and Barbie Wire, who suddenly walked in view of the camera, wearing black and pink circus outfits.

 Moxxie face-palmed with an “oh no.”

 Blitzo began his song while standing on the table…

 “I have a dream, I’m here to tell

About a wonderful new I.M.P. hotel

Yes it’s one of a kind

Right here in Hell

Catering to bloodthirsty clientele”

 Blitzo’s sisters provided harmonizing vocals.

 “When you want somebody gone

And you don’t wanna wait too long

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals

Your vengeance gone wrong?

Are you looking for a song?

At my new hotel, we won’t do you wrong

 I.M.P. just wait and see

Embrace you inner demons and live free

But we expect, to treat us with respect

Or we’ll have to break your neck

 Yes it’s hard to learn to be good

But to escape stressful lives, you know you would

Give us some green and don’t be mean

This’ll be greatest show you’ve ever seeeeeen!

 Don’t feel blue

We provide service to you

There’s no room for inner strife

When we could have a better life

 There will be no more loss

And there will be no more schemes

Just horsey-horse nuzzles and iced coffee dreams

And traveling a better way

You’ll be like “Yay!”

Once you check in with meeee

 We do or job so well

Cause we come straight up from Hell

We make your troubles go away

And you can find a place to stay

Via the Immediate Murder Professionals

Kids die for Freeeee!”

 Blitzo and his sisters ended with poses on the table.

 One demon with one eye said “Wow! That was shit!”

 Everyone except Blitzo, Tilla, Barbie Wire, Moxxie, Loona, Millie, and Stolas burst into laughter. Blitzo buried his face in his hands on the table, while Millie fired her gun at the crew. Moxxie booed at Blitzo.

 Helsa Von Eldrich sneered at the imp, her brother next to her.

 “What in the Nine Circles of Hell makes you think people would give two shits about becoming a better person? You have no proof that this experiment even works. You want people to be good and pay attention to your measly company just…because?”

 “Well,” Blitzo argued, “I have an employee already who’s dedicated to my cause.”

 “And who might that be?”

 “Oh just someone named…Millie. Oh and we also have a new guest coming as well…Mimzy!”

 Seviathan glanced over and asked, “The flapper girl?” He had previously dated Charlie but would occasionally mess and flirt with sinner girls to mess with them. Mimzy’s fame had appealed to him.

 “You fucking would, Sevia!” Helsa bared her teeth. “Anyway, I bet that girl wouldn’t bat an eye to your company unless you had a million souls.”

 “Admit it, Blitzo,” added Sevia. “You and your gang of imps are dead to us and to Hell. How does it feel being a total failure?”

 The sibling snobs cackled at a hurt Blitzo.

 “Yeah, well how does it feel that your ex loves a sinner over you, huh? Bastard bitch?!”

 Sevia and Blitzo managed to yell and land a few punches before they were forcefully separated via Stolas’ bird guards. The meeting ended abruptly on the spot. Blitzo and his companions felt dejected on their way back to the office. Stolas had generously given Blitzo some money to add another connecting hotel building with rows of rooms, a stage and a bar.

 The three imps arrived at their building and after filling out some paperwork, they met in a lobby of the separate building. There were pictures along the walls of the I.M.P. members. Blitzo posing with his sisters after performing at a circus. Blitzo holding a puppy Loona lovingly. Moxxie and Millie in wedding attire, the couple gazing lovingly at each other. Millie and Moxxie sitting with a large Apple mascot for Loo Loo Land, Moxxie crying in fear and discomfort.

 Millie walked over to the fridge and pulled out a box of popsicles. She happily sucked and ate a black raspberry one.

 “You know you might as well get more food for this place,” Millie mentioned to Blitzo. “To feed all the wayward souls in this place.” She giggled and added, “I can help organize the car wash while you search the fridge for spoiled butter!”

 Blitzo just sat dejectedly on a wooden crate of booze. Millie considered comforting him, but Moxxie gave her a look and shook his head. Millie sighed and followed her husband to let Blitzo be alone. Blitzo stepped outside and called a familiar person on his hell phone. The label read “Stolas, a.k.a. One Night Stand Bird Dick.”

 “Hey Stolas, it’s me.”

 “Hello Blitzy, how may I entertain you tonight?”

 “No you really don’t have to.”

 “Perhaps a show that can make up for today’s broadcast?”

 “Yeah about that, I…don’t think I’m making a difference. I mean, I’m lucky to be alive after the Extermination but, everyone thought my plan was stupid.”

 “Perhaps unusual,” Stolas mentioned. “Redeeming and trying to change demons is like trying to freeze Hell’s fires. It’s just not possible.”

 “Not that I want to do it completely…but if things keep going wrong, I’ll lose my company and maybe even my families’ lives from those in Heaven.”

 Stolas squawked with laughter. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of those flying cherubs and sheep?”

“Fuck that! Those dancing revivers are annoying pieces of shit trying to interfere with my hard work.”

 “How about this way, C.H.E.R.U.B. or whatever those things are, revive humans so you have more humans to kill later on!”

 “But having to kill the same people again and again? How boring is that! I.M.P. needs more variety, less repetition. Thumbtack, my horse, agrees.”

 “Didn’t you tell me about how you killed that bratty kid twice?”

 “It was Moxxie and then me but that’s not the point. If this company goes out of business, then I’ll never get the chance to live my musical theater dreams.”

 “Don’t be sad, Blitzy,” said Stolas. “You have your associates and you also have me. I’ll make sure no one messes around with you.”

 “I think my dad was…right about me…”

 “You’re no failure Blitzy. He can hardly call himself a father to you. And if he ever tries to make you lonely and bring you down because of your goals…”

 Stolas then ranted on with a series of curses and a lot of cringe-worthy sentences. Blitzo laughed nervously.

 “If this is your way of trying to get into bed then I ain’t having it.”

 “No, not this time.”

 “Okay then. Thanks for the advice.”

 “Anytime.”

 “Good bye.”

 Blitzo hung up by tapping on the phone screen. He wiped tears from his eyes as he headed back inside. He leaned against the door, eyes closed, frustrated and fatigued.  

  Just then, he heard a knock on the door. One loud knock that made it sound like someone had decided to punch the door. A smile grew on Blitzo’s face as he opened the door.

 There stood Loona in her usual gray tank top with a black downward pentagram design below her neck. Her pants with a moon on it wore torn and she wore no shoes. Her eyes flared red, her red tongue just visible among her sharp teeth.

 Blitzo beamed. “Loo…”

 Loona slammed the door hard. Blitzo opened it.

 “…ny!”

 Loona slammed it again.

 Blitzo eagerly turned to Moxxie. “Hey Moxxie!”

“What?!” asked the agitated imp.

 “Loony is at the door!”

 “What?!” Moxxie asked. “Oh?” asked Millie.

 Blitzo was cheered up. “What should I do?”

 “Don’t let her in!” Moxxie spat.

 Blitzo waltzed right to the door and opened it.

 “May I rant now?” asked the hellhound.

 “You may,” Blitzo responded.

 Loona stomped inside. “The nerve of you guys to just leave me behind like that. I mean, did you want me to sit through another segment of royalty bitching about their outfits. When my punk clothing is superior anyway. Man Blitzo, I haven’t seen anything so embarrassing since you decided to give me spiders and sleep with that privileged asshole. Heh, you were kinda pathetic.”

 She had her sharp black claws out, and her breath smelled of alcohol.

 Moxxie pointed a gun at her. “Stop right there! I know that look and I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else here, you lunatic emo meth addicted bitch!”

 Loona just lowered the gun with her fingers. “If I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would’ve done so already.”

 She growled and bared her fangs. “Ya know, I came because…I was thinking of helping.”

 Blitzo looked confused. “Say what?”

 “I wanna help you run this place. Why not, nothing else to do.” She scoffed. “Though Blitzo, your plans are ridiculous as always.”

 “Why do you still have her around?” Moxxie shook his head. “She hardly answers the bone phone and has skipped work too many times to count!”

 “Don’t talk about her like that, she’s fine. Sometimes she has what some people would call…ruff days.”

 Loona flipped the bird before searching the fridge. “Any avocado salads here?”

 “No. I already ate mine early thanks to you eating mine last time.”

 “Nobody claimed it and besides, people like you don’t need lunch.”

 “Hey!”

 “Alright,” said Blitzo. “I’ll be happy to have you help. Just…don’t fly off the handle or get into any trouble.”

 “Fair enough, whatever.”

 The hellhound looked around. “Any hotel visitors around here?”

 Millie mentioned to a chubby short blonde haired woman reading a magazine and humming a tune. “Just Mimzy.”

 “You’re never fully dressed without a smile,” she sang.

 “Meh. Not enough. Hey Millie, any extra things you can do?”

 Millie grinned. I can snuggle you and give you kisses.”

 “Ha! No.”

 “Your loss.”

 Loona sighed. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. I can sniff you a few people who might be helpful.

 About fifteen minutes later, she came holding a squirming blue anglerfish demon in her paw. He was wearing a gray lab coat, yellow goggles and a hanging light from his small top hat.

 “This little amphibian is Baxter,” Lonna said, dropping him.

 “I-I’m Baxter,” the fish stammered. “That mutt over there just tracked me down, right when I was about to gather my ingredients for my next p-project. It’s a top secret formula that I m-must complete.” He raced around to grab more beakers, vials and a burner nearby. “It’s been a w-while since I’ve seen new people. And I don’t want to see any more. No, no, no, stay back! Back off I say!” He pointed a white shrink ray at anyone who came too close.  “If you’ll e-excuse me, I must get back to work!”

 Several moments later, not too far from headquarters, a white and red hellhound was strolling along listening to rock music on 90s headphones.  “Why am I even here?” she thought. “I can’t believe that I’m stuck in this vast scary place.” Music and a tough front hid the insecurity underneath. She received a tap on the shoulder.

 “The hell? The fuck is this?” She turned around and spotted Loona. “You!” she broke into a large toothed grin. She wore black leather, metal rings on her pointed ears and a spiked collar. Her shirt was pink red with a white skull on it. Porn magazines lined her pockets.

 “Crymini,” Loona greeted, hiding a small smile.

 “So glad to see you again, Loona,” Crymini replied. “Anything on your mind? What shall we do? Go for a drink? Vandalize a building after a smoke? Or we could chew on some bones of demons…they’re my favorite snack!”

 “I wish,” Loona rolled her eyes at the more hyper hound. “I feel somewhat obligated to help Blitzo and company recruit more people to help promote I.M.P.”

 “I think I saw commercials of it,” Crymini mentioned. “That imp killing company?”

 Loona nodded.

 “Wait…you work there too?”

“Pretty much. A receptionist. Filled to the brim with paperwork, calling clients and annoying fellow employees.”

 “Your condition still there?” Crymini asked.

 “Syphilis can go fuck itself.”

 “I wish it would for your sake and mine as well.”

 “One wouldn’t say being in a rock band is much easier, but it’s still pretty fun.”

 “I’ve seen you play guitar and sing. Pretty good I must say.”

 “Thanks! I’ll be performing at a concert later this week. Will you be there?”

 “Sure,” she replied with a shrug.

 “Let’s go to your headquarters then!”

 Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Mimzy, Baxter and Crymini were soon together at the building.

 “Anyone want some booze and fresh meat?” Loona asked.

 Everyone nodded in agreement.  

 Not too far away, concealed in bushes, a figure was watching them with orange eyes. Roo, the kangaroo Australian demon. She had white skin, wild aburn hair and wore orange. A large wide brimmed dark hat concealed her face in shadow. A parasitic creature slithered from her mouth, its body covered with white spikes and eyes.

  She bared her sharp teeth, blood and liquid dropping from her mouth. One thought emitted from her head, the parasite in sync with her thoughts.

 “Feast.”

[chemicalmagecraft]

Foresight is 20/20 Chapter 11

I smiled even before we reached the gates. "It looks like we have a welcome party," I noted, then licked my lips.

"How can you tell?" Gai asked.

"Chakra sensing."

As soon as we were inside the gates of the village, I was tackled by a very energetic blonde. "Kouki!" Naruto yelled as he did his level best to crush me like a tin can.

I awkwardly patted him on the back. "Heyyy, bud. Could I please breathe?" I choked out. I gasped for my breath after he released me from his adamantium grasp. "Stupid freakish Uzumaki strength," I grumbled in between breaths.

"What was that?" Tenten angrily asked me.

I rolled my eyes. "Not directed at you."

"Hey Kouki," Naruto said, "why are you all brown?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay first off I think technically it's more 'bronze' than 'brown,'" I said, "and b, it's called a tan."

"How did you get so tan in only a few days?" Dad asked me. "Didn't you have a parasol?"

I sheepishly put my hand behind my head. "Well..."

~~~~ku

I sighed as I lounged on the thankfully clean floor in front of the window.

"Are you sunbathing!?" Temari asked me.

"Soooo waaaarm~" I replied.

"I swear you're a cat or something."

I grinned a catlike grin. "Meow~" She sighed and stormed off.

~~~~ku

"...I guess I get tan really easily?" Okay to be fair I do. And it stays for a while, even if I stay inside most of the time. When my brother, whose complexion is almost exactly the same as mine, got a similarly dark tan from being a lifeguard, my mom noted that it was probably due to our "gypsy blood." I wouldn't put it that way myself, mostly due to the fact that the word "gypsy" is actually kinda offensive what the heck mom, but I guess it's a plausible reason... I was thankful, though, that the sun didn't give me any more freckles. No offense to people with a lot of freckles, but I'm fine with only having like ten freckles on my face that mostly just look like a bunch of beauty marks, thank you very much.

"Welcome back, niisan," Hinata said with a smile. I couldn't help but notice that Kurama didn't at all look like he was annoyed with Hinata carrying him.

"Sup, Hina-chan. Did Kurama-chan tell you guys I'd be here?"

He huffed and turned his head away from me, the tsundere.

"Love you too, bud!"

"So what are you going to do now that you're back?" Neji asked me.

I shrugged. "First I'm going to take a bath, then I'll probably take a nap or something. I'm pooped."

"Surprising to hear that from you," Ai commented.

"Even I have my limits, Ai. Working on the seal was fun, but I'm glad it's over and done with." I yawned. "Now if you guys don't mind, I'd like to go take a nice, long bath now." I waved goodbye. "Thanks for coming to greet me!"

kukukuku~

I yawned, sat up in my bed, licked my lips, and stretched my arms. Then I fell back to sleep.

kukukuku~

"Okay, time to work now," I said after I rolled out of bed. Before doing anything, though, I checked out my window. It was nighttime. I shrugged. "Not that much of a problem to someone with twenty four-plus hour days." I licked my lips. "Right, let's get crackin'." I assumed a meditative position on the floor and reached inward, to my chakra. Mostly the red stuff, but also some of the blue. Just as a human touched by the red (I.E. me or the jinchuriki) has to have over a certain amount of red chakra in them to not die, it seemed that beings made from the red needed at least some blue in them to function. To be honest, I should've figured that out sooner, what with how the Biju Dama uses blue chakra. 'Course, I did figure it out when I sensed not only another biju, but Karura, who was a non-biju red chakra spirit. And with that revelation came some important progress on an idea that I'd had. And over the ride home, I'd honed and perfected that jutsu, one that I was now ready to use. Sure, I'd been wary of potential danger, but I felt a lot better after a message from my future self, or at least a future self... Future vision can get pretty freaky.

And so, I grabbed hold of almost all of my red chakra, just leaving a comfortable yet small amount over the minimum amount I needed to live, as well as enough blue chakra to sustain a demon of that power level. I used yin-yang release and some of the mechanics behind clone jutsus in general to mold that chakra into the proper shape. When I was done, the chakra moved on its own.

I opened my eyes to see my shadow turn pitch-black, then split off into two, one normal and one still a me-shaped abyss. The ebon shadow moved and stretched so that it was across the room from me. The shadow... rose, changing in shape and color to form what felt like an alternate-universe mirror. First off, shadow me looked even more girly than I did. Sure, that wasn't saying much what with how I was still way prepubescent and had girly hair, but she had longer hair and a skirt with leggings, so there's that. Plus she looked a little shorter than me. Second off, she had what appeared to be fox ears and a tail, likely an artifact from Kurama even though they didn't look exactly like his. Third, she was both a pallette swap and mirror image of me. While her complexion was roughly the same as mine, her eye markings were white with black dots instead of black with white dots, her clothes were dark red instead of blue, her hair was a shade of blue so dark it was almost black, and her eyes were red with slit pupils. As for the mirror part, her bangs were parted to the right instead of the left and each of her freckles were situated to be on the opposite side of her face from mine. Though she had fox ears instead of human ears, I could see she still had a rendition of the nubby nub nub thing on her right ear as opposed to my left.

"I am thou, thou art I," she said in almost my voice. Man, that was weird. "Sup, me."

"Sup," I responded, then relaxed my posture. She did the same, though she was mindful of her skirt. I was already kind of sure of the answer, but... "Hey, just to be clear here, you're supposed to be a girl, ja?"

She nodded. "Ja." She blushed. "I have more control over my form than just using the transformation jutsu and I figured I should differentiate myself as much as I can from you, so..." I feel like something could be said about me that "I" felt the need to justify that even to myself...

"I take it you picked out your own name too, right?"

"Yup." She grinned. "To counter your light-light hope-and-fortune name, I picked Chikage."

"Thousand Views?" I asked jokingly.

She facepalmed and groaned. "Okay yes, I guess that that's the traditional reading, but I meant more along the lines of Thousand Shadows. Or even Blood Shadow. Heck, Shadow of the Earth is kinda cool too."

"So does that mean I have your permission to keep 'Kouki?'" I asked.

She gave me a deadpan stare. "Dude, I literally said that I picked a name to balance out yours."

"Yeah, but if you think about it, 'Kouki' is us, not me. The guy that is us combined is Kouki."

She shrugged. "Would be pretty weird if you randomly started to go by another name. You're Kouki Prime and I'm totally at peace with that. Let's stop talking about semantics and see what this jutsu of ours does, exactly."

I nodded and clenched my fist. "I think I got weaker..." I unclenched my fist and did a few small stretches.

"Makes sense," Chikage said. "Even if you aren't using it, your red chakra still enhances you. Still, that also means you should have more control now."

"Right," I said. I held my hand out and tried to make some wind chakra. It felt a little off without my red chakra, but I got the hang of it surprisingly fast. Much faster than I'd managed the last time I'd tried it, wire-thin threads of wind chakra burst from my fingers, curling around my new double/clone/sister maybe? "Sorry, but you understand what I'm doing, right?

She snorted. Curiously, a small puff of smoke came from her nose when she did. "Dude, I'm you. Of course I know. Just make sure to ask future you first to make sure it doesn't screw us both over."

"Right, was going to do that anyway." I activated my eyes for just long enough to get a message coded to a version of myself in the exact situation I was in.

"Yup. Go ahead."

I didn't want to completely spoil every single highly-dangerous-yet-incredibly-interesting experiment I did, but I knew it'd be stupid to actually do them without using the Shoraigan to make sure I didn't end up turning Konoha into a crater. And so in my time of need, I discovered another power of the Shoraigan that was just as good as the ability to tell the future. At least, I'm assuming that's what happened in about a thousand other timelines that I never went down. Or I guess I did go down them, but just not the me that is me? Man, anything involving time travel gives people headaches, doesn't it. I could only time-warp information and yet I still got headaches.

Where was I?

Oh right. Main Shoraigan power number three. Or maybe just another version of the first main power? In addition to being able to download future information directly into my brain, I found out I could send my past self and/or selves information when I randomly got thousands of very similar chronopathic messages saying something roughly along the lines of "Holy crud we can send messages to our past selves!" and some telling me to stop sending messages back to past me, which was very hypocritical of future me, but I complied. I wonder if there's a version of me who found out about the Shoraigan by having that future message sent back by an alternate version of-

"You're getting off track," Chikage said, her eyes now a slit variant of the Shoraigan. Guess that meant she could use it too despite not having my eyes(?). "Stop telling the fans about our cool new power and kill me already."

"Right, sorry." I closed my hand into a fist, causing the Wind Release: Razor Wire to chop her into pieces. Instead of blood going everywhere, though, the cuts became red chakra which reformed back into her body with some loss.

"That hurt," she muttered. "But it seems we won't find out what happens when I die if we use that. Maybe try fire?" She was made from an aggregation of the powers of Kurama (fire/wind) and Shukaku (earth/wind), so while there was some fire in her it wasn't out of the question that fire would hurt her a lot more than wind...

I nodded and we both stood up. I guess maybe it was customary to use fire chakra from the lungs, and yes that was apparently how you got the most power, but I liked the idea of channeling it through my hands better, plus that way I could try to add lightning to it despite not knowing how to do it too well. I knew fire from the hands was possible from the flashback to the time of Ninshu, so theoretically... "Do not try this at home, kids." I made a few hand seals, then held my hand like how Kakashi does with the Chidori. An unfortunately uncoordinated ball of fire and lightning chakra emerged from my palm, as well as the slightest whiff of burning flesh.

Ow.

Chikage waved her arm in front of her torso, creating either a bullseye target or the illusion of a bullseye target. I thrust the ball of plasma right into the center of the target. Her body destabilized almost as soon as the probably-poorly-thought-out concoction of chakra touched her. While some was... ruined, I guess, by the attack, the majority of the chakra Chikage was made from was sucked back into my body. With the chakra came her memories, which was... interesting. I feel like I should note, though, that getting pyrolectrocuted hurts like the dickens.

"Is everything okay?" Uncle asked as he barged in. "I heard crackling sounds."

I casually stuck my hands in my pockets. "Yeah. I tried to use lightning release. Do you think you could ask Dad if I could get official training? That kinda hurt."

He looked concerned. "Are you hurt?"

I gave him a thumbs-up with my unburned hand. "Yeah, just a little stinging. Nothing a little healing factor won't cure. You should see the other guy."

"O...kay..." He thankfully left without much question, allowing me to take the other hand out and assess the damage. The friction from just taking it out of my pocket stung.

"Eeee..." I winced. I mean, it didn't look like it was too bad of a second degree burn, but... it was blackened. I really hoped that was just soot. I applied some red chakra to it and it thankfully just flaked off and didn't scar or anything. "Not doing that again, at least without adult supervision. Hope my pocket isn't ruined..." I tilted my head a bit. "Now before I can forget, I should probably do this." I activated my Shoraigan and sent a message coded to two certain iterations of my past self. Sure, it'd have happened anyway because of diverging timelines, but insert dead Daves joke here. "Right," I said. "Now that that's over. Chikage, out." She didn't do anything. I blinked. I could definitely feel her somewhere in me, but...

Oh.

I was Chikage. Well that was interesting. I concentrated on what I'd done before and felt a small snap in the back of my head.

"I'm back," she said in my head. Red chakra flowed from my body, forming Chikage, arms crossed and leaning back onto thin air. "Is that what it feels like to fuse?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess maybe with Pink Steven it was, just with less nearly dying and womanchildish giants."

She chuckled and picked me up. "C'mon, we gotta do it now."

I smiled and hugged her, laughing. She hugged me back. We started laughing and spinning each other until we just melted back together. "Ah, good times," I said. "Now we should probably get a training ground so I can see what I... you... we... can do..." I sighed. "Man, this is going to be weird..."

[ajoy3fanfics]

Missing Pt. IV

Also found on FF :)

~.~

Regrettably, he let her go; As he released his hold on Kagome, he immediately mourned, feeling uneasy, like she would bolt the second flesh left flesh. He knew her better than that, his judgement told him that she would keep her word; That did little, however, to ease the panic rising in his gut that made him want to grab hold of her and press her tighter. Taking a deep breath and leaning back, she straightened her spine, sitting in the chair by his side, close enough to seem friendly, but far enough that he would be ripping wires to reach her. Not that that would stop him.

“So…” she started, drawing out the word; perhaps an attempt to make the situation less awkward and tense, but it just made Inuyasha feel antsy. He had been adamant that she stick around for a conversation, but now that he was faced with the reality of it, he was running short on ideas. How was he going to make her stay, to make her understand when she clearly had one foot out the door? No, it was worse than that.

She was gone.

She cut her hair, must have a new life. Was she seeing anyone? She certainly wasn’t seeing him. Did she still live in the apartment, or did she move? Come to think of it, where did heeven live?

“Kagome…” He swallowed hard, her name sticking in his throat. “I don’t- I-I cant wrap my head around this.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, choosing instead to fix his gaze on the crisp white sheets of his bed.

“I know.” She replied sadly. “Well, I mean, I can imagine. This must be so confusing for you. From your stand point, I must be coming off as really cold.” She bit her bottom lip before continuing. “I did try to see you. I’m really glad you’re okay. Gods, I must sound like a broken record.” She smiled a bit, not enough, not a true smile.

“Its just good to hear you.” He returned her smile, small and gentle. “I woke up and I couldn’t find you. I kept calling for you but…” Inuyasha shrugged, finally meeting her eyes. “I think they’ve got riot gear ready at the nurses station.” He ran his right hand through his short locks, surprised once again at the choppy buzz cut. “I kind of had a meltdown.”

“You? Lost your temper? That doesn’t sound like you at all.” She teased.

“Heh, well if you ever wake up with Miroku’s face staring you down I think you’d lose it too.” This evoked a laugh from her and he felt pride in that. It was a small victory, but one none the less. “Fair point.” She conceded. He had asked her to stay, and it wasn’t to talk about his perverted best friend. It was weighing on his chest, this unspoken weight. He needed to get through to her.

Inuyasha looked at her, amber eyes burning seriously. “I want to come home, Kagome.”  He could hear her breath hitch, his predator senses caught the way her mouth twitched.

“I-I can’t- You can’t.” She started, clearly startled by his request. “We, we don’t live together anymore.” She managed. “You moved out… I think you might even live with Kikyo, I’m not sure.” Kagome took a deep steadying breath then pouted her lips. “I think this is a conversation you need to have with her.”

Inuyasha sat quietly for a minute, letting the silence settle over them. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, as if trying to piece together the broken pieces in his mind, a jumble of jigsaw pieces he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“You know, the last thing I remember… is apple picking.” He smiled, watching Kagome carefully. Fall must have been quite some time ago. “Christ, how long ago was that? We made the plans like, a month in advance, you were so excited to make a damn pie and get cider. But then it- it rained and- fuck.” The dog demon frowned, his last memory did not have the happiest ending, although according to the rest of the fucking world, there were worst stories he could remember. At least they were together in this one.

“Yeah, I was really disappointed.” She nodded, confirming his story. “But then you got our umbrellas, and dug out our left over ponchos from when we visited Niagra Falls, those really gaudy neon green ones.” She laughed a little, remembering for him. “We went apple picking in the rain, and got like, 3 huge bags of them. The owner thought we were crazy. And when we got back to the car the roads were so bad-“

“That we couldn’t drive.” He finished for her, a cocky smile revealing his sharp fangs. “I thought it would be fine, but you were nervous. Fuck, you went down on me just to make me just to make me pull over and park the car. That was very sneaky, Higurashi.”

Kagome raised her brows, jaw slightly slack. “It was dangerous.” She said.

“Keh, I’m not complaining.” He smiled, and Kagome hated that she felt her stomach flutter, that he still had this effect on her. “The car really amplified your screams when you-“

“Shh!” Kagome jumped up from her seat, covering the hanyous mouth with her hands, nervously looking around to see if any nurses were ease dropping. With lightning speed, he licked her palm, causing her to yelp and move away. She hissed his name, although she wasn’t angry, not really. It felt so natural, to play with her like this, to egg her on.

“I don’t believe we broke up.” He said, each word ruining the spell of their previous moment. Inuyasha shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t.” He swallowed hard. “I love you, so damn much.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say to that.” She said angrily. “I know time went in reverse for you, but Inuyasha, you moved on. You made a new life with Kikyo.”

“My life is with you!” He yelled, causing the machine to beep once more. “Fuck!” He cursed, glancing in its direction, then back at her. He needed to calm down; Kagome was a patient woman, Gods knows more patient than he deserved, but flipping out now would only drive her away, he knew that much. He apologized, feeling embarrassed, torn between wanting to crawl under his bed and rip his hair out “I’ll be leaving in two days if I keep this piece of shit from reacting.” He motioned to the monitor. “I want to come home. Please, let me come home.”

For a moment, she just looked at him, the man who was once so strong that he would lift her up without exerting the slightest bit of effort. He looked so desperate, and small even, wearing the hospital johnny in the railed bed. The last time she had seen him between the sheets he had looked invincible, like a warrior, his body pure sin, chiseled like some Greek statue, almost too good to actually exist. She wished she could go back, like he had, and crawl in with him, drink him in a little longer, love him one more time. But that wasn’t reality, not anymore. It was tempting, Gods knew it was testing her will to not give in; but the man before her was a relic of the past, and as soon as he was caught up to speed, he would be gone.  

And that was something she couldn’t go through, not a second time.

Kagome shook her head, the salt from her tears blurring her vision. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

~.~

“So, how did your meeting with Kagome go?” Mirkoku asked, pulling the arm chair close to the hospital bed. He reached over, handing his best friend a large brown paper bag, a container of hot ramen steaming inside. Inuyasha grunted his thanks, eagerly opening his prize. Hospital food was shit, and Myoga’s Ramen House had no rivals; the smell alone had his stomach rumbling, a deeper hunger than he realized he had.

“Fucking depressing.” He replied between slurps. “And confusing. But, alright, I guess, considering.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I don’t know.”  Miroku raised his brows. “Alright, eh? That must mean there’s some hope. I was surprised she even came at all.”  

“I didn’t even know I needed hope, until you blissfully informed me that my life was over.” He eyed Miroku, like it was somehow his fault that his life was in shambles. “Her just showing up was great.” He swallowed. “The rest…”  Inuyasha waived his hands at a loss for words. How could he sum up this fucked up situation? “I asked her if I could come home.”

“Which, of course, she said no to.” He scoffed, truly making Inuyasha feel like he was crazy for even asking. “You-“

“-Don’t live together. Yeah, I fuckin’ got it.” Inuyasha covered his face with his hand, rubbing his temples as he did so. Miroku always brought a certain element of stress to his life, but this was the first time ramen was losing its flavor because of him.

“Maybe it’s time to let her go.” He said sympathetically. “She has her own life, you know? Since you broke up she-“

Inuyasha spread his fingers, peeking at Miroku as he spoke. “Do you want me to beat the crap out of you?” He asked. Miroku rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

“Such harsh words for the man who is taking you in. Are you sure you want to threaten your care giver, Inuyasha?”

“Its only temporary.” He said, sitting up straighter. “I’ll get her back.”

Miroku laughed in disbelief. “No offense, but you don’t even remember how you lost her. You don’t have her number, or know where she lives or-“

“Feh, I’ll find her.” He tapped his nose. “She won’t be hard to track down. She can’t get away from me that easily.”

Miroku blinked once, twice before he narrowed his eyes. “Are you- Are you openly admitting that you’re going to stalk your ex-girlfriend?”

“Fiancé.” He corrected. “and as far as I’m concerned, there’s no ‘ex’. We’re just… postponing wedding plans right now.”

“You are truly delusional, my friend. But you know- I’ve never seen you more optimistic.” Miroku rested his palm against the hanyous forehead, as if checking his temperature.  “Do they need to check your head again? Are you sure you’re okay to come home with me?” Inuyasha pushed away Miroku’s hand and scoffed.

“I’m not delusional. I love her- welove each other. It’ll work out.”

Miroku squinted at the silver haired dog demon. “Who even are you?”

“Hey, I need you to do me a favor.” Inuyasha stated, more of a demand and less of an request.

“Ah, there’s my pushy best friend. Back to normal.” Miroku leaned back in his chair. “Me taking you into my humble home isn’t enough?”

“I need you to go to Kikyo’s house and get my shit.” He answered.

“Excuse me?” The dark haired man balked. “Hell no. That’s your drama.”

“Listen,” He started, “I’m going to need my stuff. The nurses told me that I don’t even have an outfit to go home in, and as much as I know you admire my ass, I doubt everyone on the street is going be as appreciative.” The hanyou rubbed the back of his neck, feeling more than irritated.

“Fine, I’ll bring you some clothes.” He answered snappily. “Why don’t you just ask Kikyo yourself? Didn’t she say she was coming in today?”

Inuyasha waved him off. “I put her on the no entry list.”

“You what?” He questioned.

“No entry. As in ‘Crazy life ruining ex-girlfriends from high school are not welcome within 50 feet of my hospital room. The last thing I need is Kagome thinking I’m talking to her. Besides, she makes my blood pressure spike.”

“So you had her banned? Without even talking to her? Inuyasha she’s your girlfriend.”

“The last time I can remember having a conversation with her was fucking high school.” Inuyasha grunted. “I don’t need to explain my decisions to her. And shes not my damn girlfriend.”

“Right. You doknow you live with her?” Miroku folded his arms across his chest.

“Which is exactly why I need you to get my shit. I can’t give Kagome the wrong impression.” Miroku leaned back in shock. Inuyasha was so sure of himself that his nonsense almost sounded sane.

“This is an enormously bad idea.” He argued. “You’ve been dating Kikyo for months.”

Inuyasha eyed him cautiously, then leaned forward with a whisper. “But was I happy?” The hanyou asked, his voice low, afraid. “Did I seemhappy?” Even though his gut told him the answer, that there was no possible way that he could have found peace with anyone but his fiancé, he had to ask.

Miroku pressed his lips together in a tight line before answering, blue eyes searching amber. He was cautious when he spoke. “Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t see you much. I figured it was new love bliss.” He shrugged. “But anytime I tried to talk to you about it, you shut down the topic real quick.” He looked down, letting his unconfirmed theories of his best friends unhappiness settle. “You really think you can get her back?” He asked.

“I haveto.” He said seriously. “She’s the most important thing in my life. Its like…” He breathed deeply before finishing. “Its like I was born to be with her.” He looked away at his admission, a slight blush gracing his cheeks.

Miroku screwed up his nose at Inuyasha’s tender confession, a side of him he had never seen before, and honestly, could do without. But maybe it was just that he had never seen his best friend desperate. They had always been a good couple, a great one actually, the right mix of playful and loving, the kind of relationship that seemed steady, too sure to crack. Apparently, the loss of Kagome was enough to make him sink. “Fine,” He said, throwing up his hands in surrender. “I’ll get your things.” Inuyasha gave a quick nod of appreciation.

“This is going to be epically awkward.” Miroku sighed. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I’m basically breaking up with Kikyo for you.” He eyed Inuyasha crossly. “How did I get sucked in to doing your dirty work?”

Inuyasha tapped his head. “Brain damage, remember?” He gave his friend a slick smile.

“Ohhh, that excuse is already getting old.”

~.~

This chapter took foreveeeer for me to write. I wasn’t super happy with how it turned out, but I couldn’t seem to make it better. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks as always for reading! <3

[ladylynse]

I didn’t think I’d have time to write anything else for the Phic Phight, but there was a reveal prompt, and I love reveals....

Prompt by @duckapus: Reveal- Jack starts to question why ghost hunting equipment malfunctions around Danny. Exclusively around Danny. [FF | AO3]

Jack hadn’t questioned it at first. Not more than usual, anyway. Most of his inventions were prototypes, constantly undergoing revisions as preliminary testing revealed potential improvements. He expected problems. Bugs. That was normal.

But somehow, none of those potential improvements ever dealt with a problem he’d had from the beginning: the way all his ghost hunting equipment malfunctioned around Danny.

Exclusively around Danny.

The first time he’d mentioned it to Maddie, the first time he’d really noticed it, she’d simply told him to double check that he had everything in the proper order—no wires crossed, no incorrect balance of internal chemicals, no improperly calibrated sensors, that sort of thing.

The second time he brought it up, she’d suggested ecto-contamination. Danny hadn’t worn his HAZMAT suit in years—they didn’t even know where it was anymore—and Jazz would at least don one of Maddie’s when she thought the situation was desperate enough to warrant it.

But no amount of tweaking had helped, and Danny had started spending as little time in the lab as possible. He shouldn’t have built up enough contamination to be so consistently pinpointed by their weapons—especially when those weapons had no trouble differentiating between their samples of ectoplasm and a semi-sentient ghost blob.

Jack hadn’t bothered bringing it up a third time to Maddie. She was busy, and while this was important, he knew she hadn’t forgotten about it. He suspected that she was looking into it on her own time. He’d decided it was best if he did the same. For Danny’s sake. If they couldn’t solve this problem by putting their heads together, maybe they’d get further if they went at it separately for a while, coming at it from different angles instead of convincing each other of a promising but ultimately wrong viewpoint. As long as they solved the problem in the end, it wouldn’t matter how they got there.

Really, it was a safety issue at this point. Their weapons wouldn’t do any lasting harm to humans if handled properly, but accidents happened, and a blast from an ecto-gun was still a blast from an ecto-gun. It would still hurt, at least in the moment, and a sustained blast would burn.

And, honestly, the fear of one of their weapons accidentally locking on to Danny kept Jack from developing things he was interested in, like missiles keyed to the particular ecto-signatures of ghosts which repeatedly attacked Amity Park. He knew it was possible. He already had the technology in the Fenton Booo-merang. Adding it to an explosive that would go off on contact wouldn’t be terribly difficult.

But he hadn’t yet solved the problem of why the Booo-merang was attracted to Danny, and he’d rather not send explosives meant for ghosts after his son.

It was the Booo-merang that Jack had in pieces in front of him again. The kids were at school and Maddie was out most of the day running errands, so he’d moved from the lab to the kitchen table. Interference from their samples in the lab shouldn’t be a problem, but he’d run out of ideas when it came to what actually could be the problem, so he was trying very hard not to rule anything out, however unlikely.

Unfortunately, the Booo-merang had been built exactly as it should have been. By this point, it had been rebuilt—with both old parts and new—no fewer than six times. He’d done the math again. Had Maddie do the math again. Their calculations weren’t wrong.

He could get the Booo-merang to home in on different ecto-samples, could successfully switch between them, but he had a sinking feeling that the moment he set it to seek out the strongest ghost within range, it would find its way back to Danny again.

Like it always had before.

Jack hadn’t had any success correcting the Fenton Finder, either. It would point to Danny. No matter what he did to it. It would still register other ghosts, however weak, but Danny’s blip invariably showed up stronger than all of them. If the reason for all this had been ecto-contamination—somehow—Danny’s dot shouldn’t be displayed as brightly, not now that Jack had revamped the interface so that the brightest dots represented the strongest ghosts. He’d meant for it to be a way to find the likely leader or the strongest opponent, should they face multiple ghosts at once, but he wasn’t convinced his efforts had paid off. If the Fenton Finder persisted in finding Danny, he should have been barely there.

It never should have marked him as the greatest threat.

The Ghost Gabber was no different. No matter what Jack did to it, it would always ‘translate’ Danny’s words. He’d adjusted its sensitivity to the point that it wouldn’t even register the incoherent garbles of an ectopus, but the moment Danny said something….

Jack sighed, pushed the dismantled mechanics away, and stood to get some water. He was missing something fundamental, something dreadfully important, however small or basic it seemed. The reaction was consistent. Repeatable. As far as his equipment was concerned, there was no mistake. If it reliably sought out Danny, there must be some reason for it.

Trouble was, since it didn’t seem to be a flaw in the equipment, and earlier trials had shown that it wasn’t an oddly high level of ecto-contamination, Jack had no idea what that reason could be. Really, Jack had doused himself in ectoplasm by mistake once and hadn’t even registered as a blip on the Fenton Finder. It knew the difference between the activated ectoplasm ghosts controlled and the ectoplasmic remnants those ghosts left behind.

It would be different if it weren’t only Danny, if it weren’t always Danny, or even if it weren’t every invention.

After all, experiments with repeatable results were more likely to be true. Particularly when the conditions of the experiment varied. When the environment changed. When the parameters were tweaked. Jack’s inventions always pointed to the same thing, no matter the circumstances.

But the result had to be wrong. Danny wasn’t a ghost. How many times had he jumped to that conclusion with Jazz and it had turned out to be nothing? Maddie would have his hide if he kept doing that, and Jazz would give him another lecture about how he was ruining Danny’s childhood, and he only wanted what was best for his family.

But if his inventions weren’t wrong, and if Danny wasn’t a ghost, what was left?

Jack drained his glass of water and made up his mind. He scooped the pieces of the Booo-merang into a box, cleaned the grease-stained newspaper off the table, and dropped the box off in the lab. He’d reassemble the Booo-merang later. Right now, he wanted to go for a walk. To clear his head. And maybe to get some answers.

Maddie had the GAV, but that was just as well. It was harder to sneak up on a ghost in that, even if they were easier to chase when he wasn’t on foot. Still, for what he wanted, the Fenton Finder would do the trick.

Jack checked the weapons supply in his suit one last time before heading out the door, Fenton Finder in hand. There were no ghosts nearby, so he fiddled with the settings and expanded its range. It was less precise the farther it stretched, but it was easy enough to shrink the range and increase its accuracy as he got closer to a ghost.

Following the Fenton Finder’s instructions to a pair of ghosts was easy enough, and Jack wasn’t entirely surprised to find himself spitting distance from Casper High. He caught the tail end of Phantom’s fight with Technus, and while the ghost was gloating to himself over capturing the technology ghost, Jack fired a net-gun at him.

Phantom squawked and tucked to protect the thermos as he dropped. Jack approached cautiously, not remotely surprised by the suspicion in Phantom’s eyes—or by the slight coating of ice that was forming over the net. He’d seen Phantom pull that trick before.

Jack held up the net-gun and an ecto-gun and very visibly put them on the ground where Phantom could see them. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he said. “I just want to talk, and I needed to make sure you stayed here long enough for me to ask if you will.”

Phantom frowned. “Release me, then.”

The net was now completely coated in a thin layer of ice. Phantom could get free on his own with one good ectoblast, but Jack took the offering for what it was and untangled the net. Phantom floated up to his eye level but didn’t leave—or release his hold on his stolen Fenton Thermos. Jack wasn’t overly happy about Phantom’s theft, but it was good advertising for FentonWorks, so he’d long ago decided to let it slide as long as Phantom stopped stealing from them. (The Fenton Ecto-Skeleton might have been used well by Phantom, but he’d also destroyed it, and Jack was only willing to lose so many prototypes.)

“What do you want?” Phantom asked. He was watching Jack’s hands as much as his face, and Jack wondered if Phantom knew he hadn’t surrendered all his weapons.

Jack opened his mouth and found himself hesitating. He knew what he wanted to ask, more or less, but he wasn’t sure how to ask it in a way that made sense—much less in a way that made sense to a ghost. It was just as well that he’d found Phantom. Of all the ghosts that plagued this town, Phantom was the one who was most likely to give him something approximating an honest answer. Jack wasn’t sure what he’d have to promise in return, but the ghost wasn’t above cutting deals—and he tended to honour them, as far as Jack had seen.

“Do you just want to meet me later?” Phantom offered. “I’ve, uh, got someplace I should really be getting back to, and—”

“You know my kids, right?” The question had tumbled from Jack’s mouth without his permission, but at least it was a starting point.

Phantom blinked at him and looked slightly uncomfortable. “Um. Yeah? Jazz and Danny, right? They both go to Casper High. I’m, ah, there a lot. As you can tell.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the school.

Jack nodded. “Yes. They’re often targeted, being our kids.”

“Right.” Phantom nodded, though Jack had no idea if he actually agreed or if he was merely trying to keep Jack happy. “That makes sense.”

“And Maddie and I know they support you,” Jack said slowly, “despite everything we’ve taught them.”

Phantom winced. “I swear I’m not brainwashing them or anything like that,” he muttered. “They just know that not all ghosts are evil.”

“Not all ghosts believe they are evil,” corrected Jack. Phantom’s frown deepened, but he held his tongue this time. “In fact, few truly accept that they are. They’re so caught up in their own beliefs and perceptions of the world that they can’t see how horrible their actions truly are.”

“Right.” Phantom’s voice was flat now, as if he remembered enough of what his life had once been to approximate human emotions. “I promise not to attack your kids. Was that all you wanted to talk about? I can go without you shooting me in the back again?”

“No, I…I want to make you a deal.”

Phantom’s eyebrows shot up. “A deal? After saying that? You just told me you think I’m evil but I can’t recognize my own evilness! What kind of deal do you want to make with someone you think is evil?”

It wasn’t worth correcting Phantom now. He wasn’t in the mood to argue over semantics, and he had never been very good at that, anyway. “I’ll replace that battered Fenton Thermos of yours if you help me with a problem I have.”

Phantom crossed his arms. “How about promising that you won’t keep trying to catch me and tear me apart molecule by molecule?”

He wasn’t jumping at the chance to replace his Fenton weaponry, so either he was comfortable with breaking into their place or Maddie’s suspicions were correct and one or both kids was helping him.

And if the kids were helping him, it was even more likely he’d know the answer to Jack’s question.

“You’d have to help me with more than one thing before I’d agree to that,” Jack said dryly. “I can appreciate your twisted sense of self-preservation, Phantom, but sometimes sacrifices must be made for science.”

Phantom glowered at him. “You’re just making me want to help you way less. You know that, right? My sense of self-preservation isn’t twisted, especially when you’re a ghost hunter. I’m willing to work with you guys on keeping this town safe, but only if we call a truce. I don’t want you to shoot me the moment the opportunity arises.”

He wasn’t going to make any wild promises without consulting Maddie. If they were going to strike up any sort of long-term alliance with Phantom, her input would be invaluable. She was a better negotiator than he. Besides, at this point, he didn’t trust the ghost enough. Trust had to be earned. He knew it went both ways, but Phantom was never defenseless unless they managed to suppress his powers—and he could disarm them more easily than they could do that. “I can give you one week. If you can help me. Beyond that, I’d have to discuss it with my wife.”

To Jack’s surprise, Phantom smiled. “Really?” There was something…hopeful in his voice. “Okay, yeah. I’ll help you if you don’t hunt me for a week. What’s this thing you need help with? Do you want a tour guide for the Ghost Zone?”

The idea wasn’t a terrible one. He’d have to bring it up with Maddie later, maybe when he broke the news that they couldn’t hunt Phantom for a full seven days. He was sure she’d understand once he explained that this was for Danny. She knew how much he was willing to sacrifice for their family. “No. I need to know why my inventions target you.”

Phantom’s smile fell off his face. “What?”

“What exactly is it about you that my inventions find? Why do they work?”

“You…. Why are you asking me that? How should I know? You invented them!”

“My science isn’t perfect.” Jack hated to admit it, hated to admit folly or fault to a ghost. “Until we can break a ghost down to its components, until we can figure out what triggers its cohesion or the composition of its ecto-signature, we’re guessing.”

“And you think I can tell you all that? I’m not a scientist! Go talk to Plasmius.”

Jack frowned. He didn’t like the Wisconsin Ghost, not after he had tried to attack Jack’s family. “I trust him less than I trust you.”

“Yeah, but he knows more about all of that stuff than I do. I’ve never studied it. I can’t tell you anything about that. I still don’t even understand how I exist like this, and he’s tried to explain it to me.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You died, Phantom. There are a number of reasons ghosts form—”

“That’s not what I— You know what? Never mind. If this is what you wanted help with, I can’t actually help you. So why don’t you just let me go this once, and we can go back to normal next time you see me? I should really be going anyway—”

“That’s not the only thing I need help with.”

Phantom sighed. “Are you sure? Because if it’s science-y, and it sounds like it probably will be, you’re better off talking to Plasmius. I mean, believe me, I hate that idea, and he’ll hate that idea, and I can’t guarantee he’ll help, but he’ll at least understand what you’re talking about. I don’t.”

“No.” Jack had known even before he set out that he wouldn’t ask help of Plasmius. Phantom, aggravating though he was, was preferable to Plasmius. He had never seen Phantom directly harm his family, and Plasmius had tried that right in front of him. “I…. This is about my son.”

Phantom froze. “Your…son?”

He looked scared now, which was interesting. Maybe it was Danny who was helping Phantom after all. Maybe Phantom was the reason all their weapons— But Phantom had no reason to lie to him about this when it would mean he wouldn’t have to worry about the town’s best ghost hunters tracking him down. Jack highly doubted he’d tell the whole truth, but if Phantom knew anything, however insignificant, he could have given it to them—even if he knew whatever he told them wouldn’t help.

“There’s something about Danny,” Jack admitted quietly, “that sets off our weapons. I can’t figure out what it is. Maddie can’t figure out what it is. Our weapons are designed for ghosts, not humans, but something that would destroy you could still hurt him.”

Phantom’s eyes were wide. “Comforting,” he squeaked. If it was an attempt at humour, Phantom had no idea of his ill timing. Then again, Jack wouldn’t expect anything else from a ghost.

“This is serious, Phantom. My son’s life is in danger. If something goes wrong with one of our inventions…. Accidents happen, but I want to prevent the ones I can. And finding out why our weapons target him and stopping it will go a long way toward that.”

Phantom stared at the ground and said nothing.

“Help me figure this out. If we’re successful, Maddie and I will discuss the possibility of a long-term truce.”

“I…I don’t think….”

“Please.” It was easier to get the word past his lips than he’d expected. “Please. For my son. You claim to be a hero, to want to protect this town, don’t you? Help me protect my Danny-boy.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Phantom muttered. Louder, he said, “This involves Danny. You should talk to him, too. I’ll, um, come by sometime after school—or at this rate, detention—is over.”

Jack frowned. “Why not help me now? Then, whenever Danny gets home, we’ll be ready for him.” He was tempted to ask why Phantom thought Danny might get detention when he hadn’t all week, but Jack was unfortunately aware that Danny got detention as often as he didn’t, if not more. He shouldn’t condemn the ghost for acknowledging that fact, not when he needed Phantom’s help. Not when he was asking for Phantom’s help.

Phantom gave him a goofy grin. “Because I have someplace to be right now. And you have to tell Maddie she can’t shoot me when I show up.” He offered a mock salute and vanished.

Jack didn’t know if he’d done the right thing. Alliances with ghosts made him…uneasy. Even when they were for his family. Even with a ghost like Phantom, who thought himself good. There was never a guarantee with ghosts, not in matters like this. Phantom could go back on his word. If this venture endangered his family….

He’d make sure it wouldn’t happen. He’d take every precaution he could. When Phantom came, he’d be ready.

And, hopefully, by the end of this, Danny would be safe.

XXXXX

Maddie looked over the lab and bit her lip. “I don’t like this,” she admitted. “Lowering our defenses risks the whole family, and—”

“—and it’s only for a week. We can be extra vigilant for a week,” Jack pointed out. “And if Phantom attacks us, then we get to tear him apart molecule by molecule!”

Maddie smiled. “You’re right. You agreed not to hunt him for a week, but if he attacks first, then it’s self-defence.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Good thinking, sweetums.”

She was still nervous. He could see that in every line of her body. She didn’t like this. But he’d trusted Phantom before, made a deal with Phantom before, and the ghost had kept his word. Jack wanted to believe he’d do so again. “This is for Danny,” he reminded her.

“I know. I’ll abide by your terms. For Danny.” She checked her watch. “I’ll make a fresh batch of cookies. If Phantom is going to be under our roof and unrestrained, we can at least learn what we can from him while he’s here.”

“Double the recipe?” Jack asked hopefully. He loved Maddie’s cookies—the entire family did—and if it turned out Phantom could and would eat, Jack wanted to make sure there were enough.

Maddie leaned closer and whispered, “I’m going to quadruple it,” before pulling back with a laugh. Halfway up the stairs, she added, “They never seem to last long enough anyway. Just don’t anger Phantom before we at least get that data!”

“I’ll do my best, sugar plum,” Jack promised, but Maddie was already back upstairs, and he was left waiting.

XXXXX

Danny came into the lab some time later—late enough that Jack knew he must have gotten detention for one reason or another—and he looked almost as nervous as Jack had ever seen him. “Your mom told you what we want to do, right, Danny-boy?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Kinda. I got the gist from Phantom, too. After school. He’s, uh, gonna be late. The Box Ghost showed up again.”

“The Box Ghost doesn’t usually give him much trouble.”

“He, um, had a lot of boxes.”

Jack nodded slowly. He didn’t know if Phantom hadn’t told Danny the details or if he hadn’t been truthful about any of it, but it didn’t matter in the end. He wasn’t here now, and if he didn’t show up by the end of the day, then that meant he didn’t intend to uphold his end of the deal—and that Jack and Maddie had no reason to keep theirs.

Danny grabbed the rolling desk chair by the computer and sat down. “Do you need me for long? I have homework.”

Jack sighed and leaned against the examination table. “What I need, Danny-boy, is for you to tell me the truth.”

Danny stilled, the fingers drumming on his knee freezing mid-beat. He looked…wary. Tense. Scared. “What do you mean?” Now that Jack was listening and looking for it, he could hear the falsehood in his son’s voice, the forced nonchalance that was betrayed by his body. “What do I have to lie about?”

He was a teenager. Likely as not, he thought he had a lot to lie about, even though he was wrong about that. “Danny,” Jack said instead, “this is important. You need to realize that. Our weapons could still hurt you, and your mom and I don’t want that to happen. That’s why we’re doing this. But we can’t help you if we don’t understand what happened.”

“I never said anything happened!”

“It could have been something small,” Jack said, though he didn’t really believe that. Whatever it had been, the effects were significant. “Something that you didn’t notice right away. Just think. You’ve spent a lot of time in the lab over the years. Has anything unexpected ever happened?”

“No.” The response came quickly. Too quickly. “I mean, you guys take a lot of safety precautions.”

“Mads and I do,” acknowledged Jack, “but when was the last time you or Jazzy-pants wore a HAZMAT suit while you worked down here?”

Danny winced.

Jack just nodded. “Now, your mom and I don’t think this is just a case of contamination. Everything reacts so strongly to you, and the effect just seems to be getting worse over time.”

“Of course it does,” Danny muttered. He’d no doubt been hoping this entire mess would just go away on its own. Truthfully, Jack had, too, but he and Maddie had known better than to do nothing and wait in vain.

Jack handed him the Fenton Finder. “You never stuck around long enough for me to explain my changes, Danny-boy, but if you turn that on, you’ll see how bright your dot is….” Jack trailed off. Danny had obeyed him, but the screen was blank.

“Hey, it doesn’t think I’m a ghost anymore!” Danny looked thrilled. “Awesome, Dad! What did you do?”

Jack just stared at the screen, half-expecting the dot representing his son—which had always appeared so faithfully—to belatedly pop up.

He hadn’t done a thing to the Fenton Finder that should affect Danny.

Wordlessly, he reached for the recently-reassembled Booo-merang, turned it on, and tossed it. Danny ducked, but all it did was crash into the drying rack and shatter half a dozen test tubes, a couple of beakers, and a graduated cylinder. No matter how many times Jack had built and rebuilt it before, it had invariably locked onto Danny. Now, it was like there wasn’t even a ghost in the vicinity.

Danny reached for the Ghost Gabber before he could. “My name is Danny Fenton,” he said into its microphone, and this time—for the first time in Jack’s memory—it didn’t repeat his words.

The next thing Jack knew, Danny had his arms around his middle. “Thanks, Dad!” He sounded so relieved. It was almost painful to hear that, to hear how much of a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a weight his own parents had placed there. “I don’t know what you did, but I don’t care because it worked. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Danny gave him another squeeze before releasing him and bounding for the stairs. “I’m gonna tell Mom and Sam and Tucker and Jazz!”

Jack just stared after him, knowing he should call out to stop him but not knowing what to say.

Danny should still be targeted. He should still be identified as a ghost. Jack hadn’t…. Nothing he’d done would have affected that. Should have affected that.

Jack wasn’t sure how long he sat there, going over everything he’d done in his head, before he began double checking his instruments. He did know that if Phantom hadn’t coughed, very pointedly, Jack would have never noticed him.

That, above all else, told him how much this had shaken him.

“I’m assuming you talked to Danny,” Phantom said from where he floated a foot and a half off the floor, well away from the examination table and any of their weapons that would reach out and grab him at a touch of a button. “So what do you need me to do? How can I help?”

Jack had never turned the Fenton Ghost Gabber off, and despite what he’d done, he now expected it to still repeat Phantom’s words.

It didn’t.

Which meant Jack hadn’t gotten things wrong. Not that way, anyway. He hadn’t…hadn’t…. “The Fenton Finder,” he croaked, making a vague gesture towards it. “Do you still show up?” He had to be sure. He thought he was, but Maddie would want more proof than a gut feeling when he talked to her.

Phantom didn’t ask why, like Jack had expected, though he was appropriately wary as he flew over to pick up the device and turn it on.

Jack wasn’t surprised to find that Phantom knew exactly which one the Fenton Finder was or how it worked.

“No,” Phantom said, turning the screen in Jack’s direction so that he could see it was still blank.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jack whispered. This was the result he had expected, but not after getting the same result for Danny. He shouldn’t have gotten the same result for Danny. Not if…if….

“Why? What’d you do?”

“We have your ecto-signature on file,” Jack said slowly. “It was easy enough to get, and we can get it again if you try to sabotage our data.”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning on breaking into your vault to destroy your precious data. Even if most of it is wrong. Besides, the thing’s phase-proof, isn’t it?”

Jack might have once been surprised that Phantom knew so much, but not anymore.

“I promised not to hunt you for a week,” Jack continued, ignoring Phantom’s remarks for now. “If you were able to help me, I wanted to be sure I could keep my end of the bargain.”

Phantom frowned. “Were? What’s that supposed to mean? I haven’t tried to help yet.”

Jack made sure to look him in the eye. He needed to see Phantom’s reaction, needed to see that he was fitting the pieces together correctly and that he wasn’t still missing something. “I fed your most recent ecto-signature reading into our weapons and taught them to ignore it,” he said.

Phantom looked at him blankly for a long few seconds, and then his eyes widened in panic. “Oh, crud.”

“What happened?” Jack asked gently. He thought Maddie might know how to best address this, how to deal with this sort of thing better than him, but she wasn’t here, and he was, and…. And he just had to let Phantom know he wasn’t going to lunge for any weapons or activate the Fenton Anti-Creep Mode or anything else. He had to let Phantom know he was willing to listen, that he was ready to listen, if Phantom was willing to tell him.

Phantom broke his gaze, guilt and discomfort written all over his features. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t try to fly away, either.

Slowly, he dropped until his feet were planted on the floor. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and crossed his arms, huddling in on himself, but Jack wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to speak first, not unless Phantom tried to run and he had to catch him with the Fenton Fisher.

Phantom was still staring at his boots when he finally spoke, his voice barely audible. “It was an accident,” he breathed, and Jack could no longer be surprised.

All their (extensive) research pointed to the fact that each ghost’s ecto-signature was unique. Not static—ecto-signatures were influenced by a ghost’s experiences after death just as they were in the moment of their formation—but never the same for each ghost. It was impossible. Even ghosts skilled in mimicry wouldn’t be able to fully replicate another’s ecto-signature, as their own would still carry its own tell.

So if he had fed Phantom’s ecto-signature into his inventions and now they didn’t recognize Phantom or Danny?

“I’m sorry,” whispered Phantom. “I didn’t know how to tell you guys. And then I’d waited so long, too long, and I just…. It was easier to keep it a secret, I guess.” He was mumbling now. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t….”

Jack crossed the distance between them and scooped the ghost into his arms. “It’s okay, Danny-boy,” he murmured. “We know now. You just tell us what you need, okay? We want to help you.”

Phantom—Danny—was very still in his grip. “You believe me? You’re not…mad? Or thinking this is some kind of trick?”

Jack had no idea how this was possible, no idea what had happened or what Danny had been through since—the fact that Danny and Phantom were one and the same proved his ignorance on the subject—but he did know that he wasn’t mad. Besides, he didn’t know how a ghost could pull off a trick like this—or what would be gained by doing so, especially when it could be so easily disproven. Maddie might have some ideas on that front, but Jack was already sure that he was hearing the truth.

He just…knew it.

He didn’t even need to weigh Phantom’s actions against those of other ghosts, or scrutinize his verbal slips, or continue to assess his familiarity with their family and their technology.

“Accidents happen,” Jack repeated. He didn’t know how they were going to break the news to Maddie. She might be horrified, might blame herself—for not doing enough, for not noticing, for what she had done, what they had both done, in their ignorance—but he couldn’t let her. They needed to focus on what they still had, not on what had happened in the past—at least beyond preventing it from happening again. But he’d let Danny tell her, maybe over a plate of warm cookies once they were out of the oven. Cookies made everything better.

“Sometimes,” continued Jack quietly, “life’s lessons are expensive, and sometimes the cost can’t be paid with cash, but you’re still here. You’re still you. You’re still my son. You always will be, and I’ll always love you.”

Phantom twisted in Jack’s grip to throw his arms around him and hug him tightly, and then there was a brilliant flash of light and Jack was holding his son, his Danny-boy, and—

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed to hear that,” Danny murmured into his shoulder. “Thank you, Dad. I love you, too.”

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