#training a teenager who looks exactly like your previous buddy... watching him go down the same path you and he went down...

[storekn1fe]

fujimoto when will they interact again.

[promptis-imagines]

How about Promptis go on their first ever date at an arcade or a fair and they're both nervous at first. They relax after a nice chat and some junk food and Noct notices a giant chocobo plush at a stall/prize counter and tries to win it for Prompto

nananasonatra: Noctis taking Prom on a summer carnival date. They both act like teenagers in love and at the end of the night they ride the Ferris wheel .Noctis bribes the operator to make them stop ontop .Sorry my heads fried in this heat lol 

yes this is exactly what I need. You two have galaxy brains. So I will combine them: first date to the fair complete with shitty carnival games and a ferris wheel extravaganza

They are both very obnoxiously awkward. Prompto can’t stop talking even when he desperately wants to shut up. Noctis is having a hard time speaking at all. They went to the fair because hey, it’s in town! Surely that’s gotta be cheesy and fun. Thing is, both of them are too shy to admit that they love cheesy things (even tho they literally...are going on a date there. They’re doing their best). It’s the way there and the getting tickets where they’re still acting the nervous couple bit, but once they feel the adrenaline of a rollercoaster and stock up on junk food (a horrible choice before going on more rides), they start to loosen up and laugh off the nerves. 

Also I can just...picture that scene. So vividly.

The sky was growing darker by the minute, which was only accentuated by the carnival lights dotting the view. Most of the rickety rides had been conquered, though not without a fair share of screaming on the couple’s part, so the tired boys decided to take a break for snacks before taking on the rest of the event. 

Okay, maybe calling them “snacks” was a bit of an understatement. Two orders of fried oreos, an entire funnel cake, some wildly-oversized corndogs, and a large lemonade. They might have forgotten to grab dinner before the fair in their nervous endeavors, and nothing was healthy at the fair.

Sitting on that bench, laughing and munching on their food, any hint of awkwardness or fear was left behind in some gross seat of a rollercoaster car. Well and truly, this was a real date.

There was only a bit left of the funnel cake in the end. Prompto heaved a sigh, shoving the plate onto Noctis’ lap while his head flopped onto his shoulder. “You eat it,” he murmured.

Noctis pouted. “No, you.” The plate was passed back.

“Noooo, I’m so done, dude,” Prompto whined. “Just take one for the team.”

That earned a snort from Noctis. “What team? And why do we have to finish it?” he questioned.

Prompto paused, then sat up straight again. “I dunno. Feels wrong to just throw it away?” he reasoned. Especially considering that Noctis was the one who paid for all of it. He would feel bad, prince or not.

Noctis lightly bumped him with his shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s the last thing we have, and I’d rather toss it than have either one of us get sick before our date is over.”

He couldn’t lie, Prompto’s stomach still erupted with butterflies at legitimately hearing Noctis say they were on a date. He’d been dreaming of this for so long that he’d chalked up his hopes to wishful thinking. But no, they were here, and they were having a good time. It was enough to make him grin. “Fine, fine. Throw it away, and we can walk around for a while before hitting something that could make us lose all that food we just ate,” he conceded.

“Right.”

The two of them hauled their trash to the nearest trash can, and Prompto had to laugh at just how much powdered sugar had attached itself to Noctis’ all-black clothing. “Y’know, I applaud your choices to start wearing white,” he teased, making Noctis look down at his shirt.

“Oh, come on,” Noctis grumbled. 

Prompto ran his hands along the worst parts. “No worries, I got you.” It only took a few seconds more for him to note how low the powder had gotten. “Um...”

Noctis huffed a laugh, getting the rest off. “You’ve got some on you, too.”

“I do?” Prompto asked with a confused expression. “Could’ve sworn I dusted myself off, already. Where’s it at?” he rambled, hoping he didn’t look like a mess.

“Hm, right here.” Suddenly, Noctis’ hand was on his cheek, his warm lips pressed gently to Prompto’s in a kiss that lasted all of three seconds. Nonetheless, his cheeks were absolutely burning afterwards.

When they parted, it appeared that he wasn’t the only one. Noctis’ cheeks were dusted a soft shade of pink, though it was hard to see under the harsh lighting around them. 

It took a moment for either of them to say anything. “Did...you get it off?”

Noctis’ lips turned up in a faint smile. “Think so.”

Now it was Prompto’s turn to smile. “Cool. Thanks. What would I do without you?” he joked.

“Dunno. Have powdered sugar all over your face?” Noctis returned teasingly.

“All over? You saying I’ve got more on me?”

Noctis hummed in thought, once again brushing his fingers along Prompto’s cheek. “Nope, got it all,” he confirmed.

An eye-roll from Prompto. “Dork. Let’s move away from the trash can, yeah?”

The two headed back into the bustle of the fair, hand in hand without Prompto even realizing they'd reached for each other. It made him giddy all over again.

Before long, they stopped. A long row of carnie games sprawled out before them, vendors shouting for patrons to step up and take their chances. Stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes were presented along every surface, and it was a safe bet to assume they’d been waiting to be claimed for far longer than necessary.

Prompto looked over to his date. “Got something in your sights?” he questioned.

That got Noctis tugging him towards a nearby stall. “Does a giant chocobo sound good? I’ll try to win it for you,” he stated, all the determination in the world lighting up his eyes. It was rare to see Noctis this enthusiastic about something. Gods, it was cute.

Still, Prompto couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. The thing Noctis had pointed out was giant, which also meant that it was going to be near impossible to get. “I mean, it sounds great, Noct,” he started, leaning against Noctis’ shoulder. “But I’m not gonna get my hopes up.”

Noctis knocked his head against Prompto’s. “What, don’t believe in me?” he returned in mock-offense.

“Oh, c’mon, you know these things are rigged,” Prompto reasoned. “Plus, this is a shooting game. One, that’s even more rigged. Two, we should both know by now that I'm the better marksman out of the two of us."

His boasting earned him a scoff from Noctis. "While I might cave and admit that, it doesn't mean that I'm bad at it. Have a little faith," he requested, giving Prompto's hand a light squeeze. Without waiting for a response, he was off towards the unattainable holy grail of stuffed animals. Oh, to be the carnie that got to proctor this little event in history.

Watching with an air of amusement, Prompto leaned on his elbows over the counter. "Heya! What's the requirements for getting that Behemoth up there?" he asked, gesturing to the comically large bird in question.

The carnie's polished grin focused on him. "Well, buddy, it's fairly simple!" he chirped. "All you've gotta do is shoot at those little targets that are moving across the planks." He made a grand gesture towards the back wall, which sported plenty of painted wooden ducks with red and white targets on their sides meandering in a single file. "Each duckie has a different number on the back. Shoot as many as you can before the time runs out, and your score will be tallied afterwards. Get over fifty points, and the chocobo is all yours. But watch out! Some of the ducks are hiding negative numbers that will reduce your score. So, care to test your skills?"

His speech had sounded so trained and NPC-like, Prompto had to laugh. "No, not me. But this guy wants to give it a go." He tugged on Noctis' sleeve, a grin of pride bright on his face. Noctis, on the other hand, had lost some of that brazen confidence in his expression.

 It was always funny to watch people's eyes go wide. "O-Oh, Prince Noctis! Er, that is you, isn't it?"

"Nah, but I get that a lot," Noctis replied nonchalantly, rolling his shoulders in preparation. "Just a guy trying to win a chocobo for his boyfriend. Can I start?"

The man, seemingly recovered, nodded with his previous vigor. "Of course! Here is your weapon, good sir." After ducking down to grab one of the dingy guns from under the counter, he handed it over. "The timer starts when you first shoot."

Prompto cast a smirk at his boyfriend. "Let's see what you got, sharpshooter," he teased.

Noctis took aim. "Oh, hush. I'm doing this for you."

After a quick "Good luck!" from the man behind the counter, Noctis started the timer with a pop from the toy gun. One duck down, who knew how many more to go.

"Wohoo, got one!" Prompto exclaimed, beaming at a smug-looking Noctis. "Think you can keep it up?"

Still keeping his eyes on the targets, Noctis gave a little nod. "You bet I will. I've got someone to impress," he replied before knocking another off of the shelf.

Prompto snorted, slumping more over the counter. "You say that like you're on a date," he continued.

Another duck toppled. "And what if I am?"

That earned a dramatized gasp from Prompto. "Are you, now? Didn't know you had it in you to snatch a date. Always thought you were too shy." The mocking edge to his words were light, and he couldn't hide the slight giggling that followed. The next few shots hit the wall. He poked Noctis in the shoulder before wrapping an arm around his middle. "Trying to win him something?"

Noctis gave him a knowing glance. "I would be, if he wasn't doing stuff to distract me. Don't be disappointed when I can't get the prize for you," he warned, getting another target down.

Prompto leaned in to press a kiss to Noctis' cheek. "A good marksman should be able to work well under pressure." Still, deciding that he'd messed with him enough, Prompto let go and returned to being an encouraging spectator.

As the timer drew nearer to zero and the little duckies came crashing down, Prompto did have to admit that he was impressed. Especially considering the hindrance that was a rickety carnival gun, the sizeable amount of targets Noctis had managed to hit was most likely more than the average. Though he hadn't expected much of a reward from this mess, part of him was thinking he might be going home with a giant stuffed chocobo.

When the timer sounded, the carnie bounced back to life. "Aaalrighty, let's see how you did!" he said in his merry speech. He collected the last few fallen ducks, then laid them face up on the counter in front of them.

"Sweet, let's count 'em up!" Prompto was grinning as he began to turn over the targets. "Noct, count with me. This one's five," he stated, "and then eight, and…damn, negative six." Oh well, there were plenty more to bring the score up.

Noctis continued flipping over the next few. "Hey, got a fifteen," he boasted, shoving it over to the counted pile.

"Aw, so proud."

The scores varied for the rest of the ducks, some on the smaller or negative sides, presumably to keep the prizes from all being taken. Still, Noctis had gotten a few of the higher numbered ones. With one left to check, he had reached a whopping forty-five. Prompto was tingling with excitement; that chocobo was as good as won.

The last one stared them down with its chipped paint and bright, ducky smile. "You want to do the last one?" Noctis offered.

With a nod and bated breath, Prompto turned over the last one to add the number….

"Negative twenty?" he cried. "Why is that even in here!" Noctis groaned as well, and the two boys slumped against each other in defeat.

The man behind the counter drew up an apologetic smile. "Sorry, fellas, luck of the duck. But you still get to choose from one of the smaller prizes!"

He gestured to the side wall that sported the rest of this booth's treasures. They were way smaller than the grand prizes, more hug-to-your-chest size, but they were still something.

Noctis nudged Prompto's shoulder. "Go ahead and pick one."

"Mh-hm." Prompto's eyes flitted over the options: stuffed dogs and coeurls, moogles, various fruits for some reason, and a mini version of that giant chocobo above their heads. "Not to be predictable, but I do want the chocobo," he decided. So what if he consistently chose them? They were his favorites!

As it was being retrieved, Prompto turned to Noctis with a bright smile. "By the way, good job, dude."

Noctis shrugged, a light mix of embarrassment and pride in his face. "I would've won if it had just been about knocking them over," he reasoned.

Prompto chuckled. "Sure would've. They weren't ready for you," he teased.

"Here you are, sir." Holding it in his hands, Prompto decided that this was officially the best first date ever. How cool was it that his boyfriend won him something at a shitty carnival game?

They ventured back into the crowds, a bit dissuaded from trying any of the other booths for now. The chocobo plush was held securely with one arm while his other hand held fast to Noctis'. Now there was just the matter of deciding what else to do before calling it a night.

"Got any ideas what to do next?" Prompto questioned.

Noctis pursed his lips, doing a quick glance around. "Well, I think we already went on all of the rollercoasters, and you're not putting me back on that drop thing," he said definitively.

That drew a laugh from Prompto. "I half expected you to warp right off of that thing, by the way," he commented. "But fine, something else. How about…." He trailed off, rubbing his thumb along Noctis' hand. "Oh! We haven't done the ferris wheel yet."

What other way was there to end a night at the fair than being sappy while overlooking part of the city from the top of a rickety ferris wheel? Prompto hoped he wasn't coming across as too sappy, though; it was embarrassing, but he really did enjoy those dumb romantic fantasies. Even after being asked out, he was still worried that Noctis might laugh at him for wanting to do cheesy romantic things. Noctis just didn't seem like the type to enjoy that. He knew he was probably being ridiculous, but that didn't dispel the doubt in the back of his mind.

Thankfully, Noctis gave a casual shrug and nodded. "Sounds good to me. We can hit the ferris wheel and then head out for the night," he said.

Relief flooded back into Prompto's lungs, and before long, they were speeding up towards bright lights of the their last ride. Giggling, the two kept it up until they were running and dodging people in the crowd to get there first. Nevermind that they were still holding hands.

The pair stumbled to a breathless halt at the entrance gates, turning to each other with a full-out laugh. Prompto still had his chocobo clasped tightly between his arm and chest.

"After you," Noctis said, finally letting go of his hand to gesture to the open gate.

Prompto landed a playful punch to Noctis' shoulder as he walked past. "Really acting like a prince today, huh?"

"What, I don't normally?"

"Gonna have to give a no to that one, bud."

"Rude."

The worker got them situated in the seat, Prompto first. Noctis lagged behind slightly, turning to the lady in charge before climbing in next to his boyfriend.

Once they were snugly hip to hip, Noctis sighed. "How old do you think this ride even is?" he asked.

Prompto looked up. "Proooobably pretty old," he reasoned. "But I'm sure it's fine. They have, like, inspections and stuff, right?"

Noctis huffed a little laugh. "Hope so. If something does happen, I'll just grab you and warp off of this thing."

"My hero," Prompto teased. Though, as they began their ascent up and around the ferris wheel, the idea that it might break down did start to creep into his mind. A jarring bump halfway there didn't help one bit.

He pressed closer to Noctis' side just as he did the same. Prompto took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the feeling of being close to him soothe him. The warmth they shared was a nice defense against the cold winds, too.

A tiny smile formed on his face when he felt Noctis nuzzle slightly into his hair. "Sorry I couldn't get you the giant chocobo," he heard him murmur.

Prompto gave a slight shake of his head. "Nah, don't worry about it. This one's just as cute. And it's travel sized." He gave the toy a squeeze. Honestly, he was thrilled to have a gift from him in the first place. It was a silly little thing, but it made his heart swell in a way he thought he'd never feel.

As they completed the first rotation of the wheel, Prompto decided to look around more at the fair below. By now the sky was completely dark, making the colorful lights shine brighter. Laughter and shrieks of children reached even where they were up high. He even saw someone drop their cotton candy in a puddle, which he pointed out to Noctis so they could both grimace at the sight.

All of a sudden, they were stuttered to a halt at the top of the wheel. Prompto swung his leg a bit and laughed. "Welp, looks like we're up here forever," he joked.

Noctis snorted. "We'd better not be. I'm not sleeping on a ferris wheel."

"That's your problem with it?" Prompto laughed, making the seat sway slightly.

"There's other issues with living on a ferris wheel for the rest of my life. That one just came to mind first," Noctis said in his defense.

Prompto's laughter continued while he squeezed the stuffed chocobo to keep from dropping it. "Yeah, okay. Sleep is always your first thought."

"Don't judge."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Being stuck at the top really wasn't so bad. They could see everything, and it was just the two of them, despite there being hundreds of people around. It was as if they'd been brought up just to be alone for a few minutes.

A hand rested atop his thigh, and Prompto turned to face his date. And gods, did he look so good with the lights of the city behind him. Noctis' dark hair made him a silhouette, though his features were close enough to make out. His cool gray eyes had a soft shine to them, and he was looking at Prompto in a way that stole his breath. He had to be the luckiest guy in Eos right now.

Noctis quirked a small smile. "Is it…too cheesy if I ask for a kiss right now?"

Prompto paused, then cracked a smile as well. "Very cheesy. Do it," he replied.

"Then can I kiss you at the top of the ferris wheel?"

Without speaking, Prompto slid a hand along the side of Noctis' neck and pulled him in. His lips were tinged with slight cold, but they felt soft as they touched Prompto's. And just like that, they were sharing one of those dumb movie kisses on their first date at the fair. The thought made Prompto's smile grow as he leaned in more.

Once they pulled away, there were a few moments of silence between them. Then the ride began to move again, starting through one more loop before they would be let off.

Prompto couldn't hold back another little laugh. "Good way to end that?"

"Definitely," Noctis said, looking equally relieved and happy. "Now we can't say anything else for the rest of the time so we don't ruin it."

That earned a shoulder punch from Prompto. "Oh, shut up."

"See, like that."

Prompto grinned, taking Noctis' hand in his. "Too bad you're stuck with me, then," he retorted.

Noctis smiled back. "What a shame."

[dibleopard-writes]

Training Montage

Ao3 (recommended)

Description: Anakin was the Chosen One and therefore the best padawan anyone could ask for, especially Master Obi-Wan. He was so good, in fact, that he had plenty of time for shenanigans or, as he privately referred to them, Shenanakins. Force, he was clever. Several snippets from the training of Anakin Skywalker. Author’s Note: Fanfiction, in 2020? It's more likely than you think. I'm working on several Star Wars projects right now, and here's one that is far less structured with far less need for in depth planning. Original Upload Date: 2020-08-27 Fandom: Star Wars Prequels (post TPM, pre AotC) Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, various side characters Rating: Gen (or T for language) Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical Violence Word Count: 6490

Chapter 1 of ??

Chapter 1: Moles? In My Mine? It's More Likely Than You Think.

At the age of five, Anakin resolved to never be the kind of moody teenager spacers complained about. At the age of twelve, he decided that not only was that naive of him, but that he would get a head start and be moody right that second.

This change of heart was mostly due to Obi-Wan, who was refusing to take any missions offworld with him even though Anakin got his own lightsaber a whole three weeks ago and was therefore completely qualified.

“Having a lightsaber doesn’t help diplomacy, Padawan,” said Obi-Wan, completely missing the point.

“So don’t choose diplomatic missions! I bet there are hundreds of pirates hanging around… I don’t know, Batuu.”

“Batuu has smugglers, not pirates, Anakin–”

“– And?! We can arrest smugglers–”

“– And anyway, it would be irresponsible of me to take a padawan as young as yourself into a confrontation like that.”

“I’m not nine anymore! I’m not some dumb initiate, I can handle pirates.” If he was the first in his classes to fight pirates, he’d be able to hold it over them for ages. Even Iepa would have to respect him, smug son of a–

“I was still an initiate when I was your age.”

“Well I’m sorry you sucked, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go on missions.”

By this point, Master Obi-Wan had his head in his hands, almost hiding the beard he was trying to grow in order to look more authoritative. Anakin didn’t think he’d respect him any more with a beard than without, but it did make him look less like a clueless teenager so maybe he could fool the senior padawans.

“Look, if I took you offworld, not only could you get hurt or cause a diplomatic incident, but Master Windu would be on my back about it.”

Anakin muttered, “I could take him.”

“What was that?”

“I said you wouldn’t be able to shake him.” Anakin believed both statements emphatically. Sure, Mace Windu was the Master of the Order and invented an entire lightsaber form, but Anakin was the Chosen One, which basically made him the best. That being said, if Master Windu put his mind to it, he could be annoyingly stubborn in his pursuit of wrong-doers.

“My point exactly, and if he decided I was irresponsible – which I would be – we’d both be Temple-bound for months.”

“Oh, so you get to leave and I don’t?”

“Yes, but I’m sure you noticed I haven’t left because I’ve been too busy looking after you.”

“And what an amazing job you’ve been doing.”

“Watch your tone, young one.”

“Tell me, Master, do you remember any of my allergies?”

“Allergies?” Obi-Wan stopped for a second, with a look of genuine concern and guilt working its way over his face as he failed to recall information that Anakin had never given him.

“Yeah, I’m allergic to you and your banthashit!”

“Language, Padawan!” There was something resembling anger in Obi-Wan’s glare, but to acknowledge that would be sacrilege and also a suggestion that Anakin cared, which he didn’t. To prove this, he stormed into his room and used the Force to slam the pneumatic door as pneumatic doors rarely do.

Force, Obi-Wan could be insufferable sometimes.

...

After an hour of staring at the ceiling, Anakin came to the decision that the only real resolution to this conflict was running away and being a Jedi without Obi-Wan to bring him down. 

Fortunately, he had spent the last two years building his very own ship and had already put it through an entire test run without anything breaking. Between his technical expertise and thorough testing, the ship was probably the best in the entire Temple hangar.

First though, putting his stealth skills through their paces in order to get there. One doesn’t survive nine years of slavery without knowing how to move silently. The swoosh of the door may have been a bad start, but his slow navigation of the common room more than made up for it. Sure, Obi-Wan was in his own room, probably, like, crying over getting owned so hard, but if Anakin had made even the slightest mistake, he would have come running and demanded a ridiculous amount of meditation on respecting others. The stakes could not have been higher.

He crept out of their rooms and into the corridor, shushing the mouse droid that seemed to regard him judgmentally despite its lack of eyes. From there, it was a simple matter of carrying himself with unquestionable confidence along a convoluted path to the hangar. He passed a few senior padawans with dead eyes and piles of holopads in their arms without raising suspicion. Man, was he good at this.

The hangar was probably the best place in the Temple. Warm Temple stone met flame retarding durasteel in a way that shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Several decade-old speeders lined up against one wall next to a small fleet of cargo ships and fighters. All of them were horrendously out of date and well worn in the way that a lot of the Temple’s technology was. When Anakin asked why the Jedi insisted on having such terrible tech, Obi-Wan had said something vague about budget and not being materialistic. It was unconvincing at best and Anakin had really shown the whole Order up with his latest project.

After his no-doubt legendary podracer was left on Tatooine, Anakin had taken all of six months to set his sights on building a starfighter that could take him to every system in the galaxy. Obi-Wan, relieved to find a hobby that would promote focus, had pulled some strings and Anakin had aimed akk-dog eyes at the Temple mechanics that he had been tailing for months until they let him at the skeleton of an old Delta-7. Aethersprites never came with their own hyperspace engines, but he could work with that. Annoyingly, the sublight engines in the hangar were nothing like the ones on a podracer so he had to spend a humiliating few weeks with an old mechanic to get them installed and working. On the positive side, there was an astromech droid fitted directly into the ship that could give him diagnostics and occasionally a mechanically-themed joke. The jokes were hit-or-miss but the droid was good.

Two years of sterling work had made the Delta the best ship in the Temple, and it could far outpace any of the speeders in Coruscant’s skylanes. Now, as he made his way ever-so-innocently towards it, he couldn’t help but admire the way the smooth paint looked among the chipped facades of the rest.

R4-P3 chirped a greeting as he hopped in and prepped the starter engines.

“Hi, P3, fancy going on a trip?”

“THERE WERE TWENTY-SEVEN TRAFFIC CODE VIOLATIONS DURING THE PREVIOUS FLIGHT.”

“Me too, buddy. See if you can find one of those hyperspace rings lying around here.” Ignition was smooth. Vertical repulsors engaged. Landing gear retracted. So far, his plan was flawless. A blip appeared on his screen, indicating the nearest hyperspace ring. Latching onto the ring was not something he had ever practiced before, so he assumed the strange rattling noise was normal.

As he ascended, chatter buzzed into the comm system.

“What’s that P3?”

The chatter cleared into actual sentences as P3 adjusted the frequency.

“-ing is not fitted properly. Repeat, Aethersprite Delta-7 please identify yourself-” Anakin flicked it off. Trust traffic control to kill his flow.

“PLEASE KEEP TO DESIGNATED SKYLANES,” bleated P3, taking up the burden instead. Anakin dodged a passing CorSec speeder.

“Will do,” he lied, “While I find one, you wanna do the hyperspace calculations?”

“DESTINATION?”

“Uh…” He hadn’t thought that far. Tatooine was probably weeks away, Naboo had way too much water just lying about– Where else had he been? Oh, that’s right: nowhere, because Obi-Wan didn’t care about him. “Batuu?” He could probably beat up a few smugglers in the name of justice before the Jedi caught wind of it. Talk about selfless heroism.

He hit the upper flight levels and powered through into the mesosphere. Considering the thin air at this altitude, there was a lot of turbulence. The shaking was beginning to make his arm buzz and it became a disproportionate effort to keep the control-stick level.

“LIGHTSPEED CALCULATIONS COMPLETE,” announced P3.

“Great, just in time,” replied Anakin, flicking some switches, at least three of which were relevant, “I’ll just make the jump now.”

As he pulled the jump ignition, P3 began screaming and the rattling grew louder. The pinprick stars became needle-thin lines became the whirl of blue and white he hadn’t seen since the last journey from Naboo. On that trip, the pilots hadn’t let him in the cockpit during the initial jump, so this would probably have been way better if not for the awful clatter of the hyperdrive and the eventual tear of engines sputtering out of commission. Maybe that was why he had never seen anyone make jumps in-atmosphere. Or perhaps the issue was related to the ring’s latching mechanism. Really, it was anyone’s guess.

P3’s wails had become spluttering, staticky sobs, which was honestly a poor display in a droid with no fear subprogram. The ring flew off the Aethersprite, plunging it back into normal space with a roar.

“Well that sucked,” Anakin said indignantly. His flying had been flawless, too!

P3, between choked bleeps, lit up the speedometer – the hyperspace ring was no longer pushing them beyond the light limit but neither had any reverse-thrusters been engaged, leaving them at a healthy constant speed of only-just-slower-than-light, which was probably fine – and the scanner – there was a planet about thirty light-seconds in front of them, which was probably less fine at their current speed.

“Okay, so it still sucks,” Anakin amended.

He slammed on the brakes and almost blacked out as G-force slammed on him in return. Rude. His old pod-racer never had this issue. He tried easing their deceleration more slowly, which involved less blacking out but also made slowing to pedestrian speeds before hitting the planet somewhat less feasible.

No matter; Anakin was an expert pilot and even more skilled at having incredible luck. This would be easy.

Within twenty seconds, they hit nature’s drag chute: the atmosphere. P3 tried to draw Anakin’s attention to their steep angle and high speed as if these weren’t things that Anakin already knew. They did seem more relevant when the entire ship’s hull flew alight, however, so he attempted to shallow out their descent. 

The control-stick was uncooperative and everything began to shake as he tugged it as far back as he could. How was he supposed to pilot if the ship refused to do what he wanted it to do? 

After five long seconds, the heat died and they plunged into a cloud bank. Everything past the tips of the Aethersprite’s wings was obscured by a white thicker than Obi-Wan’s skull, which was impressive if disorienting. He felt the control-stick hit full lock and a few of the many warning indicators seemed appeased.

Another five seconds, and P3 stopped screaming about their speed and started screaming about their altitude. The clouds remained steadfast.

“I’ve made an executive decision,” declared Anakin, “As captain of this ship, I say we attempt what we in the industry call a ‘terrain-assisted braking maneuver’.”

P3 did not respond particularly coherently, which Anakin chose to interpret as a vote of confidence. It did wonders for his self-esteem.

In a blink, the clouds vanished and a deep green forest appeared. P3 squeaked. Anakin grimaced. His hand was losing all sensation from gripping the control-stick so tightly, still in full lock, but their downwards momentum still overpowered the thrusters even as the Delta’s nose finally rose above the horizon. He gunned the accelerator away from the surface and his body felt heavier than the ship itself.

The ship jolted as it made contact with the treetops. Anakin switched to reverse-thrusters as the nose once again pitched downwards. Slugshot snaps crackled around them as trees snapped against the ship. He scrunched his eyes closed and braced.

Soil and splinters erupted as they collided with the ground. Anakin lurched painfully into his safety straps. P3’s voice cut off. The grinding of earth against hull slowed them to a stop and Anakin fell back against his seat.

Smoldering wiring filled the cockpit with an awful acidic smell so he tugged his straps off and pushed his way out after only a second of shaky breathing. Anakin was nothing if not practical.

“Do you think it’s gonna blow up?” he asked P3 from a safe distance. P3 seemed not to appreciate the thought but ran cursory diagnostics anyway.

As he waited, Anakin looked behind the ship and saw the gaping furrow they had left in the ground. Further away, a clumsy cut ran through the trees and a couple of wisps of smoke trailed lazily into the milk-blue sky.

All in all, an impeccable landing. The forest had looked well dull before anyway, and now it had a sick scar. You’re welcome, forest.

P3 decided that nothing was about to explode, but that the ship was fully inoperational, even if Anakin just wanted to take it on a spin to the nearest mountain range. He acquiesced that the assessment seemed about right, but also loudly proclaimed that P3 was a killjoy and a coward. P3 didn’t seem to care. Anakin kicked a clod of earth in defiance.

The ground was covered in small, stiff leaves from the pointy-looking trees around them. They were waxy little spits that more resembled star stripes than anything useful for photosynthesis.  As he knelt to pick some up, he realised that the entire forest smelt like them – a fresh, emerald sort of smell. They were pretty incredible, for leaves; Anakin had certainly never seen anything like them. He shoved some in a belt pouch.

Now that he was looking at the ground, he noticed wooden, grenade-like things peppered amongst the leaf litter. This forest kept on getting more and more curious. Unfortunately, none of them would fit in his pouches. Jedi really needed some good pockets that could fit any important scientific discoveries in them. It was a severe oversight, in Anakin’s humble opinion.

Something rustled abruptly, snapping Anakin out of his Jedi-like contemplations, seed-pod still in hand. He scanned the surrounding thickets. Plants, plants, leaves, plants, thorny plants…

Claws!

A blur of red flew at his face and he stumbled backwards, tripping over a bush. Batting the wild beast away from his face, he felt himself fall further than anticipated through the undergrowth into empty air. For a suspended moment, all he could see was blue sky and grey rockface. Then his back collided with something that promptly gave way and let him fall onto solid stone.

Perfect.

...

Obi-Wan Kenobi was walking at an unpanicked pace through the halls of the Jedi Temple and casually inspecting child-sized nooks and crannies in a manner completely befitting of a master who knew exactly where his padawan was. He had been doing this for half an hour and wasn’t shaking in the slightest.

He was just doing a routine inspection of the gap between a bronzium statue and a wall when Master Windu walked past, stopped, watched Obi-Wan innocently test the screws on a ventilation covering, and said, “Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan sprang upright. “Master Windu.”

“Have you lost your padawan?” Was he really that obvious? No, that couldn’t be it; Master Windu was just unusually perceptive. Perhaps shatter-points were giving him away – nowhere was it written that they didn’t highlight underperforming masters. Even so, it was probably wise not to confirm anything. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was a council member judging his guardianship skills.

“Oh no, not at all. I know exactly where he is.”

Master Windu’s expression was as flat as Anakin’s heart rate would be once this was over. Shatter-points were dirty snitches.

“Thank you for your concern, Master,” added Obi-Wan, respectfully.

Master Windu looked at him dead in the eye for a solid five seconds. Obi-Wan had seen him level a similar look at Qui-Gon several times in the past, and found it unnerving to now be the target. However, Qui-Gon’s experiences taught him that it was best to ride these looks out like a bad spice trip, i.e. with as little motion as possible. How either of them knew what a bad spice trip felt like was irrelevant.

The five seconds were up, only having been slightly uncomfortably stretched, and Master Windu blinked.

“Well,” he said, dryly, “Good luck with your endeavours, Knight Kenobi, whatever they may be.” With one spare glance to the ventilation covering, he continued down the corridor.

Obi-Wan was not naive enough to think himself completely free of suspicion but he was hopeful that nothing would come of it until he could thrust Anakin by the shoulders into Master Windu’s personal space and say ‘See? I have him right here!’ in a serene and Jedi-like manner as if he had nothing to prove. Of course, he would like to prove his capabilities anyway. Just as soon as Anakin was present…

He closed his eyes and fumbled for the Master-Padawan bond that connected him to Anakin. It wasn’t usually strong enough to get much other than vague impressions from, but now it seemed to be stretched thinner than usual, only telling him that Anakin was alive. That was a relief to know, to an extent, but also concerning since there was so little to point him in the right direction. He poked the bond and felt nothing.

Why had he taken on a padawan? Padawans get into fights and then run off and make you worry and then the Council finds out and then you have to try and justify it all and – 

Obi-Wan sighed. Running a hand over his beard, he peered down the hallway that Master Windu had taken. Empty. He could probably make it to the comms centre without any more councilmembers calling him out.

Probably. He was hopeful.

...

“Hilari? Is that you?” 

Anakin looked up from what appeared to be a now-dismantled porch tarp and saw an old man opening the door to its attached house, carved into rock. A tooka was watching him from behind the man’s legs. It meowed indignantly.

“I’ve told you, the awning isn’t designed for tookas.”

“Myaeeh,” complained Hilari.

Anakin, frazzled from both of his unplanned descents and shocked out of his irritation, opened his mouth to apologise because yes, Obi-Wan he is capable of apologising when a middle-aged twi’lek woman materialised.

“Wohrin, what– Oh! Who’s your young friend?”

“You’ve met Hilari before, Mahj–”

“No, the young man covered in your porch. Blond?” 

The man, Wohrin, gave Mahj’s left lek an exasperated look. His eyes were pale the same way Blind Man Mikah’s had been in the bookmaker’s in Mos Espa.

“Mahj,” he said slowly, “I don’t know what colour your hair is, let alone that of whoever it is you’re referring to.”

Mahj shook her head. “I don’t have hair, Wohrin.”

“What?!”

Another twi’lek, who could have been anywhere between fifteen and thirty years old by Anakin’s poor judgement, appeared in order to chip in:

“Yeah, she lost all of her hair when the sky turned red!”

Anakin squinted at the sky… no, it was definitely still blue. Wohrin looked equally confused, which was somewhat reassuring. Somewhat.

“Keht!” snapped Mahj, “Stop lying to people! And no, Wohrin, you know I’m twi’lek; of course I don’t have hair.”

“Twi’leks don’t… Why am I only just learning this? Was no one going to tell me–”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Anakin effectively drew the growing crowd’s attention back to himself. That felt better. Wohrin blinked, only now registering that the crash hadn’t been his tooka after all. “I was in the woods and something jumped out at me and I fell through your… thing.”

“Oh, well,” huffed Wohrin, “Easily done I suppose.”

Anakin clambered to his feet and hopped away from the mess, feeling only slightly guilty.

“Hey what’s with the weird rat-tail, kid?” came a voice from the crowd.

Anakin fixed the human who had asked with a patronising look. He found such looks were incredibly effective when used by children – especially those younglings he was stuck in aurebesh lessons with three years ago. Kriffing infuriating.

“It’s not a rat-tail, it’s a braid. And it shows that I’m a padawan.”

“A what-a-wan?”

“Oh, I know what they are,” chimed another bystander, “One of them beat up my cousin on Alsakan. They’re like really small Jedi.”

“You mean an apprentice?”

“Yeah, only I don’t think they do carving work.”

“Not all apprentices learn stonemasonry, genius.”

Another crowd member interrupted: “Hey, cadaban, have you come to help with the beast?”

That triggered a fervour in the onlookers, all snapping their attention back to him with loud expectation.

“... The what?” Anakin wasn’t sure he liked the way this conversation was going.

“The beast!” exclaimed the crowd.

“It’s massive–”

“–Taller than me–”

“–Big claws–”

“–In the quarry–”

“–The mine–”

“–Tentacles–”

“–Blue–”

“–Hang on, I thought it was red–”

“–It’s invisible–!”

“–No, it’s not, it’s–”

“–Firebreathing!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” shouted Anakin over the clamour, “Has anyone here actually seen it?” Everyone turned to a tall ovissian, who flinched. “What does it look like?”

“Uh, I didn’t see much of it, just– um, mostly heard crashes and saw– saw rocks falling from the ceiling in the mines. But when I caught a glimpse, it sort of looked all–” He made a vague and thoroughly unhelpful gesture which may have indicated size. Or maybe temperament. “–Y’know?”

Anakin definitely did not know, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the congregation. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said instead. The ovissian sighed with relief. “And what exactly do you need me to do about it?”

One exasperated person shouted from the back. “Kill it of course!” 

“Or at least move it out of the mines,” offered Mahj.

“Yeah, we need the mines or our economy will go to chisk!”

“The entire economy?” Anakin couldn’t imagine mines being quite that important when there was a massive forest right… Huh, it was higher up than he remembered. Right up a stone cliff, the one Wohrin’s home was carved out of.

“The entire economy! We’re a mining town, stone-masons and blacksmiths. Why else would build our houses in a quarry?”

This was the first Anakin had heard of ‘quarries’. Really, the whole trip so far had been quite the broadening of his horizons. He didn’t know why Obi-Wan didn’t take him off-world sooner, he was always promoting this kind of thing. Peculiar. 

That being said, this whole beast business was not what he had been anticipating and the idea of facing an invisible, firebreathing, tentacled monster on his own was suddenly way more terrifying than the plan of facing a horde of smugglers had been. What if it was like the krayt dragons of Tatooine, wild with impersonal ferocity and an appetite for small humans? That would be an incredibly anticlimactic end for the Chosen One; he was fully anticipating his death to be in a great ball of flame, Obi-Wan watching heartbroken as his awesome and flawless apprentice fulfils his destiny. That would be cool. Dying alone in a mine in the middle of nowhere would not be.

“Um… You know, beasts aren’t really my department. And… I don’t have my beast-removal equipment with me right now.” Airtight excuse. Foolproof.

“You’re just scared!” exclaimed someone who nobody asked.

“He’s not even a proper Jedi yet,” added someone else, “There’s no way he could take that thing on by himself, I bet he doesn’t even have a laser-sword!”

“Now, hold on–” All thoughts of avoiding the beast flew out of the metaphorical window. “I never said I wouldn’t do it! I have my lightsaber right here:”

The crowd stepped back as it ignited in his hand. Yeah, that’s right, he wasn’t some dumb initiate and this was his chance to prove it.

...

The comms centre had several private rooms for important calls and conferences. It also had better hardware than the commlinks Jedi took into the field.

Obi-Wan had plugged his own commlink into a rarely-used port in the console and tried to call Anakin. As he had expected, there was no answer. With the right tinkering of the console’s receiver, however, the target signal had been traced to a sparsely populated planet barely a minute up the Corellian Run. Kaidestal.

He fought the urge to slam his head against the console. If there was a licence for padawan ownership, his would be revoked any time now. Truly, he was having a fantastic day.

He wondered how Anakin had even got offplanet and then wondered why he was wondering. At this point, it was suffice to say, ‘Shit’s fucked’ and move on.

After a few moments of meditative breathing, he straightened up, unplugged his commlink, and whisked out of the comms centre. Knowing Anakin, there was little time before something disproportionately drastic happened. Force, what did he do to end up in this position?

Master Plo Koon was easy enough to locate, happening to be beside the bronzium statue Obi-Wan had been inspecting earlier. He watched as Obi-Wan covered the awkwardly long stretch of corridor in order to get within civil conversation range.

“Master Koon, I am taking a short trip to Kaidestal. I shall be back by nightfall.” He gave no reasons, the man of mystery that he was, and Plo didn’t seem to mind. Plo was one of the gentlest councilmembers and therefore the best one to inform of unannounced, unauthorised trips to obscure planets. Perhaps that was exploitative of him. Perhaps his padawan shouldn’t run away.

(Plo was one of the first to hear Mace’s gossip regarding Skywalker’s potential disappearance and therefore knew damn well what Obi-Wan was doing. Plo was not, however, a snitch. Besides, he liked Kenobi – the man had an excellent taste in drinks.)

Master Koon nodded slowly, “That seems reasonable. I’ve heard they do good stone carvings there.”

“Quite,” said Obi-Wan, impatiently – no, Jedi weren’t impatient. He was merely preoccupied.

“There’s a G8 light freighter in the hangar that you can use.” Plo shifted as if to move, but it was really more of an invitation to leave.

“Thank you, Master Koon.” Not at all in the headspace to overstay his welcome, Obi-Wan began to head towards the hangar.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, young one!” Plo called after him.

“Me too,” muttered Obi-Wan under his breath. He wasn’t that young; he was twenty-eight. He was, however, too young to be dealing with feral padawans that made him feel twice his age. Why did he ever pick up Anakin, anyway?

...

The mouth of the mine was carved into the wall at the bottom of the quarry. It was darker than a Tatooinian night and he was being pushed into it by a gaggle of villagers who didn’t seem to notice his apprehension. While this was ideal for the maintenance of his reputation, it also made things move far more quickly than he had wanted.

No matter. He was a Jedi and Jedi faced terrifying monsters head on.

“This beast is gonna wish he never saw me,” he said, bravely, “Coward. Absolute… kriffin’…  clown.”

“What are you doing?”

“Old Jedi trick, it’s called psychological warfare. That beast is no match for Anakin kriffing Skywalker.”

“Is the swearing necessary for psychological warfare?” asked one of the group. “It’s just I brought my daughter along…”

A roar emanated from the mine ahead, echoing terribly. The tall ovissian, now wearing his head miner’s helmet, was shaking more than the nine-year-old behind him. She was delighted by the mine monster and had spent much of the walk loudly exclaiming that she wanted it to eat the entire goddamn quarry. No one else appeared to share her enthusiasm.

“Well,” said the head miner, sounding awfully authoritative, “I think you’ll be able to find your way from here. We need to go. For… health and safety reasons. Yeah, this crowd, in this passageway? Major fire hazard. Need to clear it. I’ll take care of that, you take care of–” Another roar erupted, punctuated by a thud and the sound of rocks falling. “– That.”

Anakin was unimpressed. “Ugh, do you have to have such an aversion to being cool?” He turned to see the group’s response but found the passageway empty. He rolled his eyes. Teenagehood would suit him well, he decided.

Slowly, he took his new lightsaber off his belt. It kind of sucked that his excellent craftsmanship was impossible to see in the gloom. Alone, in the dark, with no eyes on him, he could admit that quite a few things were looking decidedly uncool right now, but Force if he didn’t want to prove Obi-Wan wrong.

He tracked the sporadic tremors to their source, which was conveniently down the single, unbranching passageway in this section of mine. Still, it required a great amount of skill and a lesser man would have walked into five support beams, which was way more than Anakin’s three. He was a credit to the Jedi Order, really, even if they couldn’t see it.

Speaking of, the mine had grown far darker the further he walked until he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. The Force was being unhelpful, merely suggesting ‘forward’, which was a no-brainer. His issue was all of the obstacles involved with ‘forwards’. If only he had packed a light.

Hang on.

Oh, Anakin Skywalker was a genius. Lateral thinking and creative problem-solving had always been his strong point, as currently being demonstrated.

His lightsaber ignited with a kzhhh. Its electric-blue glow lit his maniacal grin in harsh clarity. It also revealed the glinting eyes of something big. The grin dropped from his face as he took five steps backwards.

The passageway had opened into a small cavern without him noticing and the beast barely fit into it. Colours were difficult to make out in eerie saber-light, but its fur appeared as black as the mines, matte with dust. Large tentacles stretched out from its nose, blindly groping the walls and ceiling of the cavern as if trying to judge the environment. Massive, shovelling paws held claws almost as long as Anakin was tall. In short, it resembled a mole.

This meant that, theoretically, Anakin was at an advantage since he was decidedly not blind and had only been known to resemble a mole some of the time.

The beast was also more clumsy than Anakin, knocking support beams left and right. Luckily, none had completely shattered but, judging by their splintering fractures, it was only a matter of time. Time limits were very dramatic; this would be a worthy first mission.

Anakin waved his lightsaber in the vague direction of the mole. It was unbothered. He frowned, put out, and then poked one of its claws. Suddenly, the beast was very bothered. Its nose went from snuffling around to being thrust in Anakin’s face. Apparently it had his scent. Obi-Wan would have blamed it on Anakin’s infrequent use of the shower. Anakin would have responded that he grew up in the desert and then accused him of not caring about wasting water on trivial matters. This would put a glint of annoyance in Obi-Wan’s eyes and Anakin would count it as a victory.

The mole exploited his distraction, dishonourable as it was, yanking him off the ground with a thick face-tentacle and shaking him irritably. He tried hitting the disgustingly writhing mass with the hilt of his lightsaber – ineffective. Then he slashed it with the blade and got catapulted into a wall. His vision failed and the back of his head killed, but he was quickly grabbed by the ankle and dragged across the floor. Massive, sharp claws came swinging at him. This was not good.

Quick, what would Obi-Wan do?

“Hey, you suck!” he shouted, voice wobbling as he dove out of the way of another slash, “No one likes you! You should just stop and go away!”

The mole monster may also have been deaf since it only continued its previous level of violence despite the scathing insults. He dodged a claw, jumping into a swinging tentacle which smashed him into a support beam. Splinters pierced his robes, digging into his right arm as it collided with the beam. His lightsaber flew from his hand and he fell to the ground, spinning to narrowly avoid landing on the hurt arm. All light in the cavern vanished as his saber-blade extinguished.

All of a sudden, the lightsaber argument from that morning felt like a moot point. A lot of things were looking very moot now, in the dark. 

He could hear the shuffle of tentacles searching the floor and the scratching of claws against stone. The mole was snuffling loudly around for him. His arm hurt.

Fighting the urge to curl up by the wall, he slowly climbed to his feet and looked the monster dead where he thought its eye could be. Warm air huffed in his face, blowing his braid back. Everything was still for a moment and then a tentacle whipped around his knees and flipped him upside down into the air. He definitely did not yelp.

The sound of a lightsaber igniting came from the tunnel, then pounding footsteps and then Obi-Wan ran in, illuminating the cavern walls around him. Something intangible yanked Anakin out of the mole’s grasp and into Obi-Wan’s arms. 

Anakin struggled to escape the strong left arm that wrapped across his torso, efficiently immobilising him. “Hey, I had it under control, you know.” He gave up, reaching his good hand out and calling his lightsaber back to it. “Still do, actually.”

“Sure,” replied Obi-Wan, not letting go even as a tentacle lunged at him. He jumped backwards, slashing the support beam that Anakin had dented. They dove into the tunnel as the cavern rumbled. The mole roared back. There was a terrible creaking of splintering wood and then the cavern ceiling fell in. Dust and rock made the air thick.

Quiet.

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan from where he was pressed against his chest and saw a strangled sort of sorrow.

“Poor thing,” croaked Obi-Wan. Then he looked at Anakin with a clenched jaw. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those. I could have studied it.”

It was almost enough to make Anakin apologise.

...

Obi-Wan dragged his padawan by his collar until they reached the mine’s entrance. The villagers who had pointed him inside were crowded around and erupted into cheers as soon as they stepped into the light.

One elbowed the head miner playfully. “Told you he was the madawan’s Jedi.”

“Shut up,” said the ovissian, who then raised his voice above the chattering. “Thank you, Master Jedi, for your assistance. Uh, what exactly is the status of the, uh…”

“It’s dead,” Obi-Wan replied, bluntly, “And I’m afraid you may also need to reinforce the tunnel’s structural integrity. I apologise on behalf of my padawan –”

“Hey!”

“Of course, he will also apologise himself.”

Their eyes met in a match of wills. Anakin sighed, just loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear, and acquiesced.

“My sincere apologies,” he muttered, bowing shallowly. Obi-Wan had definitely taught him better manners than this; the child was just showing him up. Ungrateful womp-rat.

Fortunately, the villagers weren’t versed in bows and didn’t seem invested in apologies. Most were preoccupied by the mine and the new lack of angry mole. Small blessings, perhaps.

...

After manhandling the still-hot wreck of Anakin’s Aethersprite into the freighter Obi-Wan had brought and flying the brief trip back to the Temple, Obi-Wan was reaching the end of his patience. He left the ships with the hangar’s mechanics and dragged Anakin away from any chance of helping them. Their trip to the Halls of Healing were brief – the healers were efficient in removing the splinters and wrapping Anakin’s arm in bacta-soaked bandages. He only complained about half as much as he usually did.

They marched double-time to their rooms and Obi-Wan locked the door behind him; he could not cope with Anakin sneaking out at night.

“Master?” The voice was small. Obi-Wan tried not to let his ire show in his look. Perhaps if Anakin was squinting it would work. He was not. Instead he was holding out a hand full of pine needles and another with several small pinecones. “While I was on that planet, I found these for you to study. I’ve never seen them before; they could be revolutionary.”

Obi-Wan sighed, not having the heart to tell him that pine trees were fairly common throughout the galaxy. Anakin dropped his revolutionary finds into his hands, having to scrape off some of the pine needles that stuck.

“Thank you, Padawan. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“There were some bigger ones of these,” he added, pointing to the pinecones, “but I couldn’t fit them in my belt and some of the wildlife tried to fight me for them.”

“A squirrel?”

“I dunno, I didn’t see it very well. It was kinda fast. Reminded me of you, a bit.”

“How so?”

“Red,” said Anakin, nodding to Obi-Wan’s head, “And it didn’t like me picking up things off the floor.”

Obi-Wan huffed. “As long as you weren’t trying to eat pinecones.”

“Is that what they’re called?”

“Yes. Although I suppose I’d have to… study them. To make sure.”

Anakin’s face lit up. “Wizard.”

Obi-Wan’s annoyance was almost forgotten. Not quite. He was still a responsible Jedi master, no matter what the Council speculated.

There was a knock on the door. Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, who grimaced back. He opened it with very little hesitation.

“Knight Kenobi.” Speak of a Sith…

“Master Windu,” said Obi-Wan, far more brightly than he was feeling.

“Have you located your padawan?”

“Of course; he’s right here, Master.” He pulled Anakin out from behind his legs. Anakin attempted a winning smile, but nerves appeared to crumple it slightly. He had always been intimidated by Master Windu – first impressions were a force to be reckoned with. “I knew exactly where he was.” It was technically true, if you were selective about your timeframe.

Master Windu gave Anakin one of his signature piercing gazes, the kind that seems to expose one’s every weakness and warn against them. Anakin seemed to get the message. Hopefully he would keep it for at least a week before he inevitably threw it out.

“If that’s the case, I won’t need to launch a search party. Good night, Kenobi.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Windu.”

After Master Windu had left and Anakin had gone to bed still shaken from the encounter, Obi-Wan contemplated ditching the Temple and his wayward padawan for Bail Organa’s whiskey collection. Alderaan always made the best whiskey…

...

Art by me, @dib-leo-pard​

[scorchviox]

Your Touch [ShigarakixOC]: Chapter 4

Chapter Index

Every nerve ending in Souseiki’s body screamed for relief. The amount of pain she felt even after a day was immense and merciless. Her thoughts frequently visited that moment when Shigaraki appeared out of the soot and debris. Her blood boiled at the thought; he should have just left her there if he and his buddy didn’t have anyone that could properly heal her wounds. The only remedy she had here for her muscles were sweltering, soul-sucking baths. “Shit, fuck, ow ow ow…ah,” Souseiki whined before giving a satisfied sigh. Her body was now submerged in the burning water as she reminisced on the previous day’s events.

Their presence surprised her, to say the least. Souseiki wasn’t exactly waiting for a villainous duo to barge into an already chaotic situation and become her heroes. This guy in particular, who she thought she would never cross paths with again, but despite it all Souseiki let out a sigh of relief she didn't even know she was holding in. “Look at me,” Shigaraki stated wanting her attention. “We’re moving fast, so I need you to haul ass too,” he demanded. “Kurogiri!”

With the simple shout of his name, the man has used his quirk and dropped the female assailant next to Souseiki. The brunette’s eyes widened in fear as she saw the unconscious body sprawl at her side. “What are you going to do?” Souseiki gulped. Her arms were finally moving again and attempted to push her up into her feet. With trembling legs, she took shaky steps towards her newfound hero. Without warning, Shigaraki ripped a good amount of her top and painfully jerked at her hair stripping a fair amount of strands out.

Despite the harrowing protests being shouted by the brunette he left her side and brought the items beside the girl, “This should work,” he uttered to himself, but before any more actions could be taken he turned due to an odd feeling in his gut telling him to do so. His eyes met brown ones. They watched him intently as if in doing so they would learn a new trade or something of value. “Send her home,” He said without breaking eye contact. A black fog slowly enveloped her body and pulled her back into it until she was out of sight.

Kurogiri stood with arms akimbo as he stood behind Shigaraki staring at the “I could drop some stone and debris on top-”

Shigaraki shook his head and began running his nails against the flesh of his neck, “DNA..that would be no good,” he muttered, If I decay the body enough,” His verbal thoughts ceased as he squatted down and placed his hand on the girl’s face with a vice-like grip. “Piece of shit- causing an entire scene,” he said with each word coated in venom.

The second man stood behind and watched as the body slowly deteriorated before his very eyes. The stench of decaying skin assaulted his nostrils, but it was evident that such an atrocious fetter did not bother the teenager one bit. The two watched as the body slowly decayed to the point of being a simple, unrecognizable lump. Shigaraki released his grip and stepped on the tatter of cloth he had ripped off Souseiki’s top. He ground it into the dirt before stepping back and looking at Kurogiri. A dark, menacing fog formed above the decayed body, debris and stone came raining down on top of the body as they disappeared as well.

Hours after Shigaraki had stepped in with a misty figure and fished her out of the area the media swarmed in like flies to shit and started questioning the few witnesses. Souseiki watched all the commotion go down via television. The reporter’s brows were knitted in concern as she told the story of the Pro-Hero Flux’s daughter bravely standing up against the villain that had a vendetta against her father. “No one knew who she was at first until the assailant spoke up. The villain relentlessly attacked her even after seeing she was a defenseless, quirkiness, teenager.” On the screen, detectives, her father, and two brothers could be seen looking through the rumble for any kind of clue as to her whereabouts. Nothing was found until her father shifted the terrain and under a pile of stones were tatters of her clothes and a few strands of hair.

With the planted evidence and lack of actual eyewitnesses near the end of the bout, forensic analyst, along with side detectives, determined Yabe Souseiki to be deceased. This message sent the media into a larger frenzy. From noon until midnight all news outlets were about, “The young and quirkiness violently murdered.”

Souseiki lowered herself into the bath and blew bubbles into the water out of frustration. “Hello? Have you actually died in there, Yabe Souseiki?” Drawled a smooth voice after a knock boomed through the bathroom. The young girl stayed quiet and glared at the end of the bathtub. “Shigaraki Tomura, I fear-”

The addressed teenager glanced at the mist man from down the hall. “Leave her alone,” he said before eyeing the old television set that was adjacent to him on the counter. “Everyone thinks she’s dead. But I don’t know if she’ll go along with it.”

A deep voice came from the television set and spoke, “Yabe Souseiki. She’s the repressed daughter of Flux. On social media, she attempted to hide she openly expresses distaste for her home life, especially her parents who would insist she trains her physical strengths to become a Pro. Mere conflicting viewpoints separated this family, but if anything Souseiki is still young with a malleable conscience. This will work out perfectly if she is given the right incentive. It is now your duty to bring Yabe Souseiki to the conclusion that staying with us is in her best interest.” With that being said the television went dark and the two men sat in utter silence.

Shigaraki’s head lulled back. His red eyes squinting up at the dim lights. “We should have just let her be,” Kurogiri said calmly as he stood at the end of the bar’s counter.

Hearing such verbiage caused the teenager’s gaze to snap in his direction. “I need her alive,” he spoke as his hand reached for his neck and began scratching, “You don’t understand, we need her alive,” his voice slowly been to rise, “She’s an essential part to this game. Without her, we’ll get a game over before we even meet the first boss. Shut up if you don’t understand the necessity,” he spewed out as the scratching became more intense and left behind deep angry marks.

“My apologies Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri apologized. He quickly turned and stopped at the restroom door once again and knocked.

Irritated Shigaraki stood up and shouted, “I said leave her alone!”

“I really need to go-” he said meekly as he dropped his arm.

Next

[stevie-steven-stevington]

Febuwhump Day 2: Peer Pressure

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark Category: Gen Relationships: Peter Parker/Ned Leeds (mentioned) Rating: T Warnings: discussions of sex Words 2k

read on ao3

first | previous | next (febuwhump series)

first | previous | next (ace!peter series)

this is a direct sequel to this fic

this is really loosely interpreted lmAO but also loosely based off my own struggles with my sexuality so. take it i guess

“What was your first time like?”

Tony looks over at the kid, hands stilling and eyebrows automatically creeping up his forehead. This is…not what he expected, to say the least. Peter’s been quiet all evening, disconcertingly so - it was clear from the moment he stepped into the building that something was off, but Tony couldn’t quite figure out what is was.

He still has no idea where the hell this is going.

Eh. One way to find out.

“My...first time,” Tony repeats, slowly. Just to be sure he heard it right.

Peter won’t look at him, eyes trained on the table in front of him. His voice is small when he says, “Yeah. Like - like the first time you -”

“No, I know, kid.” Tony squints at him, as if that will make this any clearer. He wants to ask - why on Earth do you want to know? - but he gets the feeling that the question wouldn’t be appreciated right now. “I, uh - my first time was…short. Awkward. It kind of sucked, to be honest.”

The kid nods slightly, absently chewing on the fingernail of his left thumb. There’s something...sad, in his demeanor, in his posture, in the way he holds himself, and Tony wants nothing more than to put an end to whatever or whoever put it there.

It’s quiet for a moment. Tony can practically feel Peter thinking, and he turns back to his work, giving Peter space to work out whatever it is he needs to work out.

Eventually, gaze still downcast, muffled around the finger in his mouth, Peter says, “So did it…it got better, right? After the - the first time, I mean, it got better?” Something is so wrong here.

This is such a loaded question, it’s clear in Peter’s tone. Though loaded with what, he doesn’t know. There’s layers to this whole conversation, really, like there’s something he’s supposed to say but no one bothered to tell him what it is. This wasn’t exactly in the Mentoring a Teenage Spiderling handbook.

(He wonders if this was in the Parenting a Teenage Spiderling handbook, and then he reminds himself that neither of those actually exist.)

This feels like a test of some sorts. Like this, rather than anything Spider-Man related, is the big test of whether or not he’s actually good at this whole mentor thing.

Okay.

Alright, Tones, you can do this. It’s just a kid. It’s just Peter.

Except there is no “just Peter”. Don’t fuck this kid up, Tony.

Is it really going to fuck up the kid if I mess up this one conversation? Seems like it might.

…Shit. It kind of does.

“Yeah,” Tony replies, jaw tight with something like nerves. Peter stiffens, almost imperceptibly, and Tony feels like his words are already wrong. Turns out, his words are wrong a lot of the time, so he’s not surprised. But now he’s stuck in his answer. “Yeah, I mean, it - yes, it took a while to figure things out. To figure out what worked and what didn’t and all that.” It’s the truth. What else is he supposed to say?

Peter doesn’t say anything, one foot kicking back and forth against the floor. He looks so small, so young, sitting at his work station (the one Tony set up specifically for him, because he’s like that, he’s always been like that).

Tony forgets, sometimes, that Peter’s just a kid. That the actual superhero sitting in his lab is just sixteen years old. A high school junior. A child.

An impressionable kid who’s currently asking him, Tony fucking Stark, playboy extraordinaire, about sex.

Well, it’s not like he has many other people to go to, Tony supposes. The list of trusted adults in Peter’s life is a rousing two, and maybe he just thought it’d be less awkward with him than with his aunt. Or maybe he just knows that Tony has more...experience in this department. The kid is still silent. Which is not only concerning, but also sort of disturbing.

Peter doesn’t do quiet. Peter always talks, always has something or other to say, always aims to fill the silence even when he seems like he hates the sheer act of taking up space.

The roles are reversed now, it seems. Tony doesn’t like it.

“Pete -” Hearing his name jolts Peter out of whatever stupor he’s in and he interrupts, finger dropping from his mouth, as if Tony hadn’t even spoken. “So you made it better. You - you found the things that f-felt good and you worked with those, yeah?” “I...I guess,” Tony says, and his voice sounds strange even to his own ears. Peter hasn’t stuttered around him in ages. The hero worship hasn’t quite worn off, exactly, but the stuttering hasn’t been an issue in forever. “But listen, kid -” “So you didn’t just...automatically like it. It wasn’t s-something that just - just clicked?” Peter barrels on, head finally jerking up to look at Tony. There’s desperation in his eyes. A sharp, hysterical type of desperation that Tony hates, hates more than anything else he’s ever seen on Peter’s face. He’s seen fear, he’s seen pain, and he’s seen anger in Peter, more times than he’d like to say, but none of that compares to the distress he sees now. “Everyone always says that it just clicks, that - that - that you’re just supposed to know what to do and how to do it and what feels good and what you want and -”

“Peter.”

“What?” The kid is practically panting, what with all his words coming out in one breath. And it’s hard to tell from across the lab, but he thinks Peter is shaking.

“Look, Underoos, if you - if you have questions, I’m more than willing to give you the answers. If you want to know what’s what, I’m here for you, okay? But Pete, you came out to me like two months ago.” Tony scrubs a hand across his face, left wrist twinging in that way that it does, every so often. “I mean, if you’re telling me now that you’re actually not asexual, if you’re not sex...averse, was it? Then okay. That’s okay, Pete, if your label has changed, that’s fine, buddy. But if that’s it, then you have to tell me, because right now, you’re kind of scaring me.”

For a second, Peter just stares at him. Then he shakes his head, slowly, like he wishes he didn’t have to. “It’s - it’s not. I’m…still asexual.” “Okay. Okay.” Tony stands and walks over to Peter, kneeling next to the stool he’s sat on. Because he was right. Something is so wrong. “Then why are you asking about sex as if you’re thinking about having it, Pete?”

Peter looks down again, staring at his hands. Tony has to lean down and tilt his head a little to see Peter’s face, and he watches in vague horror as the kid’s eyes fill with tears. “I just…if everyone else has to work at it for them to like sex, why - why can’t I?” Shit. Shit.

That’s what this is.

He’d thought, when Peter came out to him two months ago, that he was comfortable in it. Relatively so, at least. That he done all the soul-searching, that he had accepted himself, that he didn’t need any help with all of it. And he was wrong, clearly.

Fuck.

He’s been trying so damn hard not to be like his father. And yet, here he is, with no idea what the hell his kid needs.

His kid.

Peter’s not his kid. Not biologically, at least.

But who is he kidding? In some way, somehow, whatever that way may be, Peter’s his kid. And his kid needs him to say the right thing here.

“Peter…Peter, look at me.” When he doesn’t, Tony lifts his head up with two gentle fingers. Peter’s eyes dart around for a moment before settling on Tony’s nose. Not quite what he was going for, but he’ll take it. “Peter, the reason my first time sucked was because I was fifteen, stupid, and immature. I didn’t know what I was doing and neither did the girl I was with. God, we were in a car, Peter. I had sex for the first time in the back of a car, at fifteen years old, and it sucked. “But it still felt good, Peter. Emotionally, at least. Because I wanted it. Because my partner wanted it. Even if it was reckless and dumb and I wish, in retrospect, that I’d waited, we still both wanted it. Sex is never going to feel good if you don’t want it to begin with.”

“But - but -” Tony pushes a few wayward strands of hair off of Peter’s forehead. “Peter, what’s going on?” Tears run down Peter’s cheeks, and he makes no move to wipe them away. He just sits there, hands trembling on the table in front of him, and cries.

And then he’s sobbing, full-on sobbing, and saying, “T-there’s just so much pressure, Mr. Stark. I - everyone is h-having sex and then everyone is talking about it. Everything’s about sex and I - I know that sex isn’t everything, but god, it’s hard to believe that when virgin is the latest insult that p-people toss around at school. I - I just, I feel like I’m m-missing something, like I’m - I’m -”

“Like you’re what, Peter?”

“Like I’m broken,” Peter chokes out, and Tony actually feels his heart break.

Fuck, he doesn’t know how to deal with this. The first time he’d even heard the word asexual outside of high school biology class was from Peter. He’s never had to deal with peer pressure, or general societal pressure, when it comes to sex, because he’s never not wanted to have sex.

What do you say to a kid who doesn’t want the one thing everyone else seems to be obsessed with?

Tony rests a hand on Peter’s knee, takes a breath, and gives it his best damn shot. “Kid, you - you’re not broken, okay? Not wanting sex doesn’t make you broken. Does it make you different? Sure, in a way. But so does being Spider-Man. So does being a sixteen-year-old who can lift a car. Is that a bad thing?”

Peter sniffles. “No.” “And neither is being asexual. Just because something makes you different does not mean it makes you broken. Not everyone wants sex. Not every couple has sex. I - I know it feels like the whole damn world revolves around sex, but that doesn’t mean your world has to. That doesn’t mean that you’re wrong for not wanting it.” “But - but what if...someone I’m dating wants -” “Ned’s not pressuring you, is he?”

Peter blinks in surprise at him. “What? No. Jesus, no, of course not. He - he’d never. Just - I mean, we’re sixteen, I know there’s - there’s no guarantee that I’ll be with Ned forever. What if someone else, somewhere down the line, wants...something that I can’t give them?”

Tony sighs. “I don’t - Pete, look, I don’t have all the answers. I can’t tell you what will happen somewhere down the line or - or how to handle some hypothetical future relationship. But what I will say is just…don’t hurt yourself to help someone else. Don’t - don’t force yourself to do something you don’t want to do to please another person, whether they’re your boyfriend or girlfriend or husband or wife or whatever. You take care of yourself first, alright?”

A pause, then Peter nods. “I - okay. I will.”

“Good. And kid, I know I can’t just fix all of this with one little pep talk. I know that…accepting yourself, your sexuality, it takes a lot more than someone telling you that it’s okay. But it is. It is okay - it’s more than okay, it’s perfect. Because it’s you. And you are perfect just the way you are, Peter.”

Finally, finally, a smile. A watery, shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless. Take that, Howard.

“It might -” Peter swipes a hand across his cheeks, sniffs, starts again. “It might take a while for me to…to believe that. To really, actually believe it. But it’s really nice to hear, Mr. Stark.”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need me to, kiddo.”

“I know. Thank you...Tony,” Peter says, and the smile widens.

And it’s not okay. Not now, not yet.

But it’s better.

[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 13

“Count Your Blessings”

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Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

Jack couldn’t stop staring.

Honestly though...could anybody blame him?

Mark had settled into a chair near the couch, slouched down with Tim resting comfortably on his chest. Sam was there too, sometimes curled up near his friend, occasionally flying close by, all the while watching the unconscious little box with clear worry. Jack couldn’t hear what Mark was saying to him from his spot at the entrance to the kitchen. He knew it was something gentle and kind and reassuring though. Sam didn’t look as panicked as he had been before and Mark’s tone sounded soft from where Jack was standing.

Jack was wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt now, something that wouldn’t be too restricting against the fresh bruises on his shoulder and around his neck. He had grabbed it at the same time that he had fetched the first aid kit and now he was just...watching. Staring. Leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with his arms folded over his chest, worrying his lip between his teeth, waiting for his kettle to whistle and just...staring.

Who wouldn’t? He was staring at himself. Two of himself, technically.

They were both seated on the couch at the moment. Henrik had taken the first aid kit from him the moment he had reappeared with it in hand, and he had basically forced Chase to sit down, strip his jeans off, and let ze good doctor patch up the knife wound on his leg. As if that wasn’t surreal enough, Chase’s Nerf gun was sitting on the coffee table now...the Nerf gun that could do far more than a plastic toy should be able to...and Jack kept finding his eyes being drawn to the colorful weapon. Not even an hour ago, that “toy” had been used to fight off a demon made of pixels and glitches, one who dressed like an edgy teenager and also happened to look almost exactly like him. He couldn’t decide what part of this was more unbelievable.

A sharp whistle came to life in the kitchen behind him, and Jack let out a slow breath as he turned to go pour his tea.

Insane. This was all utterly insane. Complete madness. Fucking nuts.

Steam rose from his mug on the counter and he set the kettle aside, gripping the counter’s edge and leaning forward a little to let the steam ghost across his face. Jack closed his eyes, took a breath, and enjoyed the gentle warmth for a moment or two.

When had this become his life? Sam...that was one thing. Sam’s existence, he was used to that. It was small. It was simple. It wasn’t that insane of a change really, in comparison, and he’d had a few years to get used to it at this point. But now...well. First the explosion of the #SamLives excitement and the stress that accompanied it, then tiny glitches and paranoia, then the livestream...his jaw tensed and his brow furrowed at that thought. Then Mark. His best friend, showing up unannounced but far from unwelcome, and then Tim and Anti again and now Chase and Schneep–

Well. In all honesty he should be more freaked out by this than he was. Perhaps he would have been, if he hadn’t already been considering the possibility of other egos coming to life ever since Mark had brought up his Theory Of Belief. At this point, not much else could surprise him. Chase Brody saving his life with a Nerf gun? Sure. Doctor Scheeplestien tending his wounds in the living room? Why not. Next it would be Jackieboy Man flying in through his bedroom window, and Marvin the Magnificent appearing in the kitchen in a puff of magic smoke.

As if to check this theory, Jack opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at the empty kitchen.

Maybe later then.

A huff of quiet laughter escaped him and he smiled to himself, shaking his head and shoving away from the kitchen counter. He’d keep an eye out for cat masks, he supposed.

Jack dragged the chair from the corner closer to the coffee table where the others were gathered. He settled back into it with his hands wrapped around his warm mug and tossed a tired smile in Mark’s direction.

“How’s Tim?” he asked on a hoarse whisper, glancing toward the tiny box still cradled against the other YouTuber’s chest.

Mark returned Jack’s smile with a weak one of his own.

“Still out like a light,” he murmured. “I think he’ll be okay. I’m just…” He glanced from Jack to Sam and back. “...a little worried.”

“He’ll be okay though...won’t he?”

Sam sounded so concerned, hovering closer to Tim and gently tapping the little box with his tail. He looked up to Jack with pleading hope in his eye.

“Of course he will, buddy!” Chase chimed in with a grin before Jack could even open his mouth.

Henrik was fastening a bandage wrap on his leg, almost finished with whatever he was doing.

“I’ve heard Tim’s a pretty tough kid,” Chase went on, all gentle smiles and warm eyes. Sam looked to be hanging on his every word. “He just faced a Big Bad Monster today, and I think he needs a little bit of a nap. Don’t sweat it, bud. When he wakes up you can tell him all about the big adventure you had too! Okay?”

Sam giggled softly, some of his worry visibly washing away. Jack could feel some of the strain lighten in the back of his mind.

“Okay.” Sam curled up close to Tim, and Mark adjusted a little so they both were comfortable. “I’m gonna keep him super-duper safe ‘till he wakes up.”

It was amazing to watch, and a little surreal. Jack knew that Chase was a father – he had created him that way, afterall – but it was entirely different to see the proof in person. It was so evident that Chase was good with kids. The way he talked to Sam, like everything from today had just been a fun and exciting adventure...the way he was smiling, conveying with everything he had that it’s gonna be okay, buddy. His demeanor was so patient and friendly with Sam, and he had been so protective of the little eyeball earlier when Anti had been in the room. He was made to be a dad - literally - and when Jack caught Chase’s eye from across the table, he mouthed a silent “Thank you” to him. Thank you for helping keep Sam happy.

Chase only nodded in response.

“Not to be ze one to bring up bad memories,” Henrik looked at everyone over his glasses, “but ve really need to speak about vhat just happened. Ja?”

Right. Jack winced. He really didn’t feel like talking about Anti right now. Mark made a face that made it clear he was equally reluctant to bring up the subject of Dark.

But all the same...Jack sighed and nodded.

“D’you–” Jack coughed and cleared his throat with a pained grimace, reverting back to whispering. “You wanna go first, or...or should I?”

“Nono, you go ahead, by all means,” Mark insisted with raised eyebrows. “Please, go on.”

Jack snorted into his tea, taking a sip. He let the warm liquid soothe his throat a little before speaking.

“Ya big baby.” He muttered the quiet false-insult under his breath with a roll of his eyes. “Fine. Me first, I guess.”

It was hard to tell a story with his throat so sore, but he was managing. It meant he didn’t need to go into too much detail, which Jack was more than grateful for. Living through the details once was enough. The beginning of it Mark was familiar with, and Chase and Henrik knew the end, but he was the only one who had been there for the middle.

A call from Robin. A smoothie. A glitch in his phone and static in the air...and Anti showing up again. Seeing Sam locked up, and being held at knifepoint, and stalling for time…

“You know,” he said on a whisper, the faintest of smirks gracing his features. “I was gettin’ so fed up with you and that fuckin�� Nerf gun, Mark...but if you hadn’t found it I dunno if Chase would’ve shown up in time. I held Anti back fer a few minutes wit’ nothin’ but a plastic toy and a couple o’ foam discs.”

“You’re joking.”

A grin slowly spread across Mark’s face.

“Nah, I’m serious!” Jack insisted, setting his half-finished tea aside on the coffee table. He leaned forward in his seat and grinned right back. “I was tryin’ to stall until you showed up and I found the Nerf gun in the kitchen. It didn’t actually do much, but I managed to drag out a bit o’ banter an’ foolin’ around. It bought me some time.”

“I totally saved your life!” Mark proclaimed, jabbing a pointed finger toward Jack from his reclined position in his chair. “I saved your life, so you owe me!”

“What??” Jack was huffing out soft laughter now. His expression was brighter than it had been in hours. “What th’ hell do I owe you?”

Mark’s mouth opened, then shut, and he appeared to be thinking for a long moment before he pointed at Jack again in apparent victory.

“Smoothie.”

“...a smoothie?”

“You owe me a smoothie.”

“What about the one from the car?”

“Well Dark kind of scared the shit out of me and I dropped it.”

“Oh my god–”

"Dudes. Focus."

Something flew over the coffee table and glanced off the side of Mark's head, something grey and red and semi-soft. Chase's hat.

"What the hell–"

"Quit it with the fuckin' smoothie," Chase interrupted Mark's spluttered protest with an eye roll. "Let's get through this shit."

He slouched lower in his seat to get more comfortable and carefully propped his injured leg up on the coffee table. With one hand he ruffled his hair a bit, smirking, and Mark realized he would have instantly known it wasn't Jack out in the driveway if Chase hadn't been wearing his hat.

The dude's hair was a faded bright green.

Jack's wasn't. Not anymore.

"Let Jack finish what he was saying," Chase went on, "then I'll take over the part where me an' Henrik dropped in. Save your vocal cords Jackaboy." Jack smiled weakly. Chase gestured toward Mark. "Then you can tell your dramatic and sordid tale about the Evil Lawyer and Robocop. And make it quick, will ya? We've still gotta have some kind of discussion about this bullshit, and I don't know about you but I'm fuckin' exhausted, man. Let's get this over with so we can go the fuck to sleep."

"I hear ya," Mark agreed, sparing another brief glance toward Tim. "I'm totally on board the sleep train."

"Sweet." Chase let his head fall back against the couch and closed his eyes. "...besides, we all know I was the one who saved Jack's life, so if anyone earned a smoothie, it's this badass right here."

Mark immediately started a noisy protest, Chase flipped him off with a shit-eating grin, and Jack drained the rest of his tea amidst the raised voices in the living room around him.

“Children!” Henrik was snapping now, looking more annoyed than angry. “Absolute children, all of you! Vhy do I even try to get you to be serious about anysing?!”

Chase was right though, Jack supposed, even as he chuckled under his breath at the chaos. If they didn’t get through this quicker than they were, nothing would get resolved until the sun started to come up.

“Strings?” Mark asked. “Like...thread? Yarn?”

“Nah, these were all green and glowing. Like - I dunno. Reminded me a bit of Tron somehow.”

By the time everything had settled down again, Jack had already made himself a second cup of tea. He had offered to grab a couple drinks for the others so Mark and Chase were each making their way through a bottle of beer. (Non-alcoholic, in Mark's case.) Henrik hadn’t asked for anything….but Jack didn’t fail to see the cold look the doctor shot him over his glasses when he handed Chase his drink.

What was that about?

A thought to ponder later. Too tired. Other stuff to deal with first.

“Puppet strings.”

Jack and Mark both looked over to Henrik when he spoke. There was a dark look on his face, a slightly distant and pained look. Puppet strings. Jack furrowed his brow. Puppet. He remembered that. Anti had said it, when he was here...and before that, Jack had used that same word in the Silent Movie video he put up on Halloween last year.

“...like Jameson Jackson?” Jack asked, puzzling over the connection.

Henrik winced.

“Ah…he…yes, like zat too. But before JJ, he…zat is–” The good doctor trailed off. He looked as though he didn't want to say what was one his mind.

Chase was watching him carefully, and Jack could swear the man’s expression was a knowing and sympathetic one. It was as though Chase knew full well what Henrik was trying to tell them and he felt...almost sorry about it. But why would he…?

Wait.

Wait.

Cold realization dawned and his heart dropped.

“...oh, fuck …Schneep...”

“What?” Mark asked, looking between the other three men in the room, clearly not fully in the loop.

“Kill Jacksepticeye.”

Chase and Jack said it at the exact same time, the only difference in the way they said it being the slight difference in their accents...and the slightly different tones. Chase sounded understanding. Jack sounded regretful.

“Kill Jacksepticeye–?”

“My video,” Jack muttered, looking to Mark briefly in response before fixing his gaze back on Henrik. “The one I was tellin’ you about, wit’ Schneep playin’ Bio Inc Redemption. The one where... he ...showed up.”

Nobody had to ask who ‘he’ was. Mark’s brow furrowed.

“Oh...I remember you mentioning it, yeah. But I never saw it.” He looked from Jack to Henrik and back again. “...why? What happened in it?”

Jack took a slow breath and finally dragged his eyes away from the doctor, who had taken off his glasses and was fiddling with them in his lap, his jaw tense.

“Well, Schneep–”

“Hen got possessed by that glitch bastard.” Chase cut off what Jack was going to say, his eyes hard and his words sharp as glass.

Mark’s eyes went wide and Jack flinched, dropping his gaze to the steam slowly rising from his mug of tea. He didn’t see anyone else’s expressions, but he could hear the worry in Mark’s voice...could hear the anger in Chase’s. He heard the clink of a beer bottle, the sound of someone finishing off a drink. Glass thudded against wood on Chase’s end of the coffee table.

“What did he do…?”

There were a few seconds of silence. Jack cast the briefest of glances upward to see Chase and Henrik exchange a look. Henrik nodded, and Chase took a breath to speak. Jack diverted his gaze.

“The Doc was trying to save Jack’s life, performing a surgery. Thought it was some deadly disease or someshit, I don’t know. But as the game went on–” He shot Jack a look, one that Jack only caught because he had glanced up at the right time. “–and I say game because apparently the surgery wasn’t even fuckin’ real –”

“Chase. Please.”

Chase’s climbing temper fizzled out a bit at Henrik’s low words. He cleared his throat and sighed, shaking his head. Took a breath.

“Anyway.” Chase grabbed a new bottle of beer from the table - topping off the lid - and sank back into the couch again. Jack hadn’t even realized he had been on the verge of standing. “Anyway...the further into it Hen got, the weirder shit got. Kept hearing stuff in his head, kept feeling his hands moving on their own. Weird laughter. Headaches.” He gritted his teeth. “That pixelated son of a bitch tried to make him strangle himself with his headphone cord.”

Jack knew all of this. He had acted it out. He had recorded it. He was more than aware of what “Anti” did.

His grip tightened on his mug.

“It vas a trap,” Henrik muttered into his lap. “A trick, one meant to get me out of ze vay, or perhaps just under his control. Und if Chase and Jackie had not realized somesing vas wrong and tried to find me, I suppose I vould not have gotten away so easily...if at all.”

A tense quiet settled over the room, broken only by the sound of Chase knocking back some more of his beer.

“...shit.”

“You said it, dude.” Chase raised his bottle in Mark’s direction in response.

“...so…” Jack cleared his throat, winced at its soreness, and continued in a whisper. “...so they’re puppet strings?”

“Ja,” Henrik nodded. The doctor took a deep breath and shifted on the couch, getting more comfortable. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, the tips of his fingers steepled together in front of him. “Yes, zey are. Anti uses zem to get into ze mind of vhatever person he uses zem on. Vhatever zey’re made of, he can utilize zem to manipulate people’s thoughts und emotions, can make people feel things, see things, zat aren’t really zhere.” He winced. “He made me believe I vas really helping a friend in need...but zere vasn’t anybody on my operating table. Just an illusion. Trickery. A mirage, to get into my head.”

“That’s what I was feeling, then,” Jack nodded, understanding. A crease of worry had settled across his forehead, a little wrinkle of stress and concern between his brows. “He was tryin’ to convince me I was tired, and tryin’ to make me think it was a good idea to jus’ let him take over.”

“...ja, essentially.”

“Why would he even want to do that?” Mark butted in. “What would he gain?”

“Payback?” Jack shrugged, looking a little confused and uncertain himself. “Maybe just...my channel? Though I dunno why the hell he’d want it.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Mark shook his head slowly. “There’s...something I’m missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but...there’s...something else…”

He trailed off, bringing up his free hand to drag it across his mouth. Thinking. Puzzling.

“We can have a kickass brainstorm session later,” Chase shrugged, running a hand through his hair a few times. “But - fuck, man, can we just get through the storytelling? I’m about ready to tap the hell out.”

“...right, yeah, sorry.” Mark dragged himself from his thoughts to smile apologetically at Chase, keeping a gentle hold on the sleeping Tim all the while. “Go ahead. Finish up, and I can tell my side of things. Not much to tell really, so I shouldn’t take long.”

“Great. Awesome. Fan-fuckin-tastic. Let’s do this shit.”

It didn’t take long, just like Mark had said. Chase’s rendition of the night’s events made it out to be some kind of grand and thrilling adventure, perhaps portrayed as such for Sam’s benefit. Whether or not that was true Jack found it easier to listen to that way anyhow. And afterwards, it turned out Mark’s side of things was far less action-packed, but no less terrifying, than what Jack had gone through. Dark had shown up, fully formed for the first time, in front of Mark in the driveway. He had messed with Mark’s head, had made him see some absolutely horrible things...all as some sort of distraction to keep him away from Jack and Anti. Anti, who Dark was apparently working with .

That wasn’t fear-inducing at all.

And Google had shown up too. Googleplier, the search-engine-based android, who seemed to be acting as Darkiplier’s right hand man. It was a terrifying concept lifted straight out of Tony Stark’sworst nightmares. An android who had no qualms about acting as a villain and “destroying mankind”, working under the power of a dark and influential manipulator.

Ultron, eat your heart out.

The appearances of Dark, Google, and Anti, along with the thought that they still hadn’t a goddamn clue what Anti’s end goal even was, made for a very stressful way to end the evening. At the very least Tim had woken up at some point amidst their retellings and discussions, much to the relief of Mark and Sam alike. Aside from being confused and a little sleepy, nothing seemed wrong with the tiny box, and perhaps - Jack thought to himself as he started clearing away empty beer bottles and glasses and mugs - they should just count their blessings for the time being. Everyone was exhausted, but everyone had lived. With Chase and Henrik here, Anti was now outnumbered again, and Jack had high hopes that more of his Egos were waiting in the wings to make appearances of their own.

Jack scratched at the back of his head as he left the kitchen, watching Chase interacting with Sam and Tim from the doorway. It was kind of cute, honestly. He was telling some kind of made-up story, complete with over-the-top hand gestures and funny faces, and both of the little familiars were giggling and enjoying every word. A soft and sleepy smile graced his features and he let out a quiet chuckle, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Hey...Jack? Can I talk to you for a sec?”

He blinked away from the scene to see that Mark had gotten up, probably while he was dealing with the mess from the table.

“What’s up?”

Mark opened his mouth, glanced over his shoulder toward the others in the living room, then huffed and grabbed Jack by the elbow. He dragged him down the hall and out of earshot, stopping once they were almost to the recording room.

“...Jack, two more of your egos showed up tonight. And I know - I know they’re the “Good Guys” but–” Mark glanced down the hall, back the way they had come, and a flash of distress ghosted across his face. “–what the hell are we gonna do?”

“Uh–” Jack blinked, his mind a little slow, a little tired, and he shrugged back at his friend. “I was thinking maybe the guest room.”

Mark blinked owlishly at him.

“What?”

“Well, alright–” Jack put up his hands to placate the other man, smiling sheepishly. “I know that’s kind of me assuming that Schneep and Chase won’t mind bunkin’ together. If they don’t wanna, then one of ‘em can take the couch.”

“One of them–” Mark shook his head slowly, looking baffled and confused. “No, I meant – Jack. What if more show up? Two of your dopplegangärs are sitting on your living room couch, and you’re not even–” He dragged a hand over his face, knocking his glasses ever-so-slightly askew. “Who knows when more might pop into existence. I appreciate your confidence and optimism, but we’re not even remotely ready for that.”

Jack furrowed his brow, seriously considering what Mark was saying. They couldn’t really do anything right now – it was the middle of the night, after all – but Mark was right. They had no idea when Jackie or Marvin might show up, or even JJ.

"...you're right,” Jack agreed, nodding and running a hand through his hair. He looked serious. “You’re absolutely right. We need more food."

"....wait, what?”

"And maybe an air mattress, so nobody has to sleep on the floor,” he added.

Ignoring Mark’s gobsmacked expression, Jack slipped past him and back the way they had come, calling out toward the living room so he could be heard.

“Hey Chase!” He winced slightly against the flare of pain in his throat, but went on. “Or Schneep. Whoever. Remind me tomorrow that we need to go to the store, yeah? I don’t want us ta starve just because we have more mouths to feed and not enough snacks.”

“You’re planning on purchasing real food too, I hope?” Henrik countered from where he had been perusing the bookshelf. “Ve cannot possibly survive on junk food alone, mein friend.”

“Yeah, o’ course!” Jack nodded, coming into view. He smirked. “Lemme know what you guys want, and Mark an’ I can go shopping tomorrow. Maybe sort out a meal plan, I dunno. I’m too tired to make choices right now, and anyway–”

“Jack, that’s not what I was talking about!” Mark cut him off, grabbing the Irishman’s shoulder and turning him around. “I meant – what if we get some surprise visitors that aren’t so friendly? What then? We got lucky this time, man. What if–”

“Mark.”

Mark trailed off, and it was then that he noticed just how exhausted and worn out Jack looked. He had dark shadows under his eyes to match Mark’s, and his hair was probably just as unruly as his own. Jack was bruised and beaten and tired as hell, but all the while he had still been managing to find the time to smile.

Just like now.

Jack was smiling, weak but genuine, and he dropped his hands on Mark’s shoulders.

“I know. I know, we’re up against some scary shit right now, and I know that we don’t have any sort of a plan yet. But it’s two in the fuckin’ morning and we’re all gonna be able to think better after we get some sleep. Alright? Anti’s not comin’ back tonight. Tim’s awake, he’s fine. Sam is fine. With Chase and Henrik, we’ve got ‘em outnumbered right now. Nobody died tonight, and the worst I got was some badass bruises.” Mark made a face, a sort of a cross between a smile and a wince. “There’s no point worryin’ over “What If’s” and “If Only’s” right now, yeah?” Mark huffed out a breath and Jack raised his eyebrows. “ Yeah? ”

“Yeah, alright, yes, ” Mark conceded, chuckling and rolling his eyes, the full weight of his exhaustion finally catching up with him. “Okay.”

“That’s better!” Jack clapped him on the shoulders and stepped away, strolling over to where Sam was just beginning to doze off next to Chase on the couch. “Gotta keep up that Positive Mental Attitude! That good ol’ PMA!”

Chase was grinning now, and Henrik chuckled softly from across the room.

“PM-fuckin-A!” Chase agreed, shooting matching finger guns at Jack, who snickered a little as he leaned over to scoop up a very sleepy Sam.

“I should tell you,” Henrik pushed away from the bookshelf. “Your whole ‘Positive Mental Attitude’ movement...it really does wonders. Medically speaking, it does so much to help improve mental help...and beyond zat, it is part of vhat has kept us all togezer und strong zese past few months. It is still so new, but I encourage you to keep it going through ze rest of ze year. Vell done, Jack.”

“Ah, hell, I wasn’t tryin’ to make it into anythin’ big.” Jack smiled sheepishly.

“I’m vell avare,” Henrik chuckled. “But it is somesing big, and many people are becoming appreciative of it. Keep it up.” He reached out and patted Jack twice on the shoulder.

It was a little odd, Jack mused, to be receiving praise from somebody who was, essentially, himself – did this count as a self-confidence boost? – but hearing that vote of confidence warmed his heart all the same.

 “…so…” Mark fetched Tim up from the couch too, glancing between the almost-creepily-identical egos. “...you two don’t mind sharing a bed, do you?”

“Ohhh, kinky~”

“Chase, I svear to Gott –!”

The familiar sound of the Skype dial tone filled the room, sunlight filtering in between the shades and casting odd, striped shadows across Jack’s laptop keyboard. Normally, he would be using his regular computer for this, but the room still gave him the creeps. So...laptop it was.

Other quiet sounds filtered through the space: a quiet, rhythmic squeaking of a sneaker against linoleum, Jack’s knee bouncing rapidly in his frazzled state of nervousness...and the almost imperceptible click-clacking of the zipper toggle that he hadn’t stopped fidgeting with since he sat down. Jack fussed with his hair for the umpteenth time, running his fingers through the strands in a nervous fashion, and Sam automatically plopped into his lap and made little squeaking sounds of concern and affection. Jack chuckled and let his hand fall, palm-up, into his lap. Sam was quick to hop onto it...and Jack forced himself to stop bouncing his knee. It lasted for about five seconds before he was at it again.

Mark bumped shoulders with him then, the American seated right beside him at the kitchen table, smiling reassuringly and trying to pretend he wasn’t tense himself.

“C’mon, calm down. You’ve been fidgeting for the past ten minutes.”

“Can’t help it,” Jack shrugged, chuckling weakly, his voice just barely beginning to recover from the night before. “...sorry.”

All the while, the Skype dial tone kept pinging away in the background.

This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

One of the people on the other end of the call finally answered, his image coming to life on the screen.

“Hey guys!”

“Matt,” Jack grinned, waving a little with his free hand. “Thanks for makin’ time to talk. I know it’s super late on your end.”

Eleven AM here in Brighton. Three in the morning over in California. ‘Super late’ was an understatement.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Matt shrugged it off with a tired smile. “I’ve been up late almost every night this week anyway. Little Ollie’s a night owl and Steph’s still exhausted, so I’ve kind of taken up Parent Duty for the time being. We only got home from the hospital yesterday.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right!” Mark brightened at the mention of the newest addition to the Patrick family, and Jack couldn’t help but smile along with him. “I haven’t even seen pictures yet! Is he adorable? Tell me he’s adorable.”

“He’s handsome, just like his old man,” Matt joked, posing semi-dramatically for the camera and stroking his chin.

The group fell into light laughter, and some of Jack’s stress fell away. Just a little.

“I’d expect nothin’ less,” he replied with a grin. “We’d better see pictures ‘fore we’re done talkin’.”

“I promise.” Matt’s smile was nothing but genuine as he reached out for something off-screen, pulling an unopened bottle of Diet Coke into view. He click ’d it open and gulped it down, clearly keeping himself awake solely via the carbonated caffeine concoction in the bottle.

“We might wait a few minutes before we start gettin’ into the serious shit,” Jack carried on, scratching the back of his head with the hand that wasn’t holding Sam. “We’re waitin’ on Robin and Amy to join us, and I don’t wanna go over anythin’ more ‘n once if I can help it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Matt agreed, screwing the lid back onto his Diet Coke. He quirked an eyebrow. “Can I at least get some idea as to what the ‘serious shit’ is gonna be? Or–”

“Serious Shit™,” Mark corrected with a nod and a pointed look.

“Yeah, that,” Jack amended, snickering. “Serious Shit™.”

“Serious shit T-M?” Matt smirked, humor alighting his tired eyes. “The trademark is verbal?”

“Fuck yeah it is!” Mark insisted. “Why wouldn’t it be?!”

He said it in a voice that was falsely astonished and offended, as though suggesting otherwise was blasphemous.

“You’re right,” Matt grinned, eyes sparkling with mirth, barely restraining a laugh. “You’re absolutely right. It has to be verbal. It wouldn’t be official enough otherwise.”

“Damn right I’m right.”

“There’s–” Jack snorted out a half-laugh, barely noticing when Sam hovered up to sit on his shoulder, waving his little tail at Matt in greeting. Matt’s grin widened and he waved back, eager to say hello to the little eyeball. “–there’s a story behind it. Sort ‘f an inside joke, but not really.”

“Jack! Jack, you’re out of fuckin’ Dorito’s, bro,” Chase’s voice called in from the other room.

Jack could hear him getting closer, and he tensed, Mark going a little wide-eyed beside him. They exchanged a look. There was no time to turn the laptop away before Chase came strolling into view in the kitchen. He was wearing only one of Jack’s t-shirts - an old one with a faded band logo on the front - and his boxers, ruffling his faded green hair with one hand as he strolled into the kitchen. Chase had clearly woken up fairly recently, or if not, then at the very least he hadn’t opted to leave his bed until now.

“Can we put it on the shopping list? Dorito’s are important as shit, dude.”

Chase came to a slow stop behind the pair, and when he caught sight of the Skype call, he grinned. He strolled over and leaned forward to get into the video frame, propping his elbows on the back of Jack and Mark’s chairs and smiling between their tense faces, oblivious to it all.

“Sup bro! You’re MatPat, yeah?”

Matt had gone very still, his eyes wide as saucers and his mouth hanging open in a search for words that, Jack had a feeling, would never come. His expression was familiar to the Irishman...in that it was very, very similar to the one he had worn when he had accidentally seen Sam for the first time.

“W-What–”

Jack sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair, slouching back in his seat.

“Chase,” he mumbled, almost apologetically for Matt’s sake, “this is Matt. Matt...this is...part of that ‘Serious Shit’ we need to talk about.”

Matt dropped his Diet Coke.

[A/N] - HAH! Told you I was working on updating these! :D So all of the old chapters have been edited and updated, and - as I’m sure you can now see - I’ve set up a Tumblr blog specifically for the #SamLives Story! All the chapters have been posted and organized there, and that’s where I’ll be updating the story from now on!

Don’t worry, I’m still going to reblog it to my main with every update too, so if you don’t want to follow another blog that’s alright. :3 @pixie-mage will always share the chapters too.

This chapter was a little less action-packed than the last two, and with good reason. Finally a little break from the chaos...a little bit of a reprieve.

Oh! And finally! MatPat!

I'm rather excited to get into the conversation they'll have in that call. :3c Since it hasn't been touched on yet, we'll get into Henrik and Chase's side of how this whole "Belief" thing really works...plus we'll see Robin's input, Matt's thoughts, and something that's been bothering Mark about this since the night before. Plus Amy's gonna be more than a little concerned with an entire ocean separating her and her boyf...

And Chase and Henrik also brought up the "Kill Jacksepticeye" chaos which...is clearly a very, very different experience when you're not just acting it out for a video. This isn't the last time it will be discussed either, nor will Jack forget it so easily. There's guilt there that hasn't been addressed yet.

(And if you're very very good, perhaps I'll try and toss in some Dark-Ego interactions since those have been few and far between up until this point...we'll see. ;3)

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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[Chapter List]

[isolavirtuosa]

Unlikely Office Romances 7-8

[fanfiction] Gundam Wing, 1x2x1, probably PG-13ish though there are some mildly sexy times and the usual trashmouth

Basically Duo is a jerk and Heero is an awkward nerd.

Previous Parts

7-8 under the cut

- 7 -

             I snapped awake, sitting up in the unfamiliar bed.  I had probably slept for about two hours, enough to recharge my battery.  I could have kept on sleeping, but something wasn’t right.

           Heero’s blue eyes stared into mine blearily.

           “Have you not slept?” I asked, pushing my bangs out of my eyes.

           “Can’t,” he said.

           I sighed, rolling my feet over the side of the bed.  “I gotta piss.”

           Heero shrugged.

           I went and did my business, splashing some water on my face and peeling off my sweaty uniform shirt.  The hotel staff had kindly moved our bags to the new room, so I dug through mine for some nice lounge clothes.  I changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, noting how Heero averted his eyes as I did so.

           “So what’s up, Heero?” I asked, leaning against the headboard of my bed.  “You kinda lost it after shooting that guy.”

           Heero looked down at the bed, running the comforter through his fingers anxiously.

           “I know conversation isn’t exactly your forte, but I wanna go back to sleep, and I feel like in order to do that I need you to go to sleep first.”

           “I can leave…”

           “Oh my god, Heero, I’m not kicking you out,” I said, throwing my hands in the air.  “I’m… worried, okay?”

           Heero smiled a little, still not looking at me.

           It was such an awkward expression on his face, and it made me feel weird.

           “You don’t have to worry,” he said quietly. “I just… I didn’t expect all that to happen.  I didn’t expect that I’d have to confront… that part of me.  I’m fine now.”

           “Then go the fuck to sleep.”

           “Yeah,” he said, sliding down into the bed and closing his eyes.

           “You’re not sleeping,” I announced after five minutes of waiting.

           He cracked an eye open at me.

           “I have to say, I don’t have a clue what’s going on in your head,” I said.  “But I know you’re upset.”

           “Why do you care?” Heero asked, and it was a genuine question.

           “Because I can’t sleep with you staring at me.”

           Heero huffed out a puff of air and turned his back to me.

           “Also, we’re… I don’t know… it’s not like I hate you or anything.  I… you know, care and stuff.”

           Heero snorted.

           “What?” I protested.  “I’m being sincere.”

           Heero finally turned back to me, sitting up. “Are we supposed to have some kind of heart-to-heart that makes you feel better?”

           “Er, I thought you were the one who was supposed to feel better.”

           “I’m fine.”

           “Christ, you are as annoying as ever,” I said, getting up.  “I’m going to take a shower.  Go buy us some beer.”

           “You want to drink?  It’s not even noon.  And you’re on the job.”

           “I can’t fucking stand you!” I groaned. “Buy us some damn hot chocolate then. And get snacks.  Good snacks.  Not carrot sticks or whatever healthy shit you think are snacks, but are clearly not.”

           “Is that all?” Heero asked, arching his eyebrow at me.

           “Yes, Heero, that will be all.  Now chop, chop.”

           Heero shrugged, getting out of his own bed.

           I went into the bathroom and took a quick shower. It felt nice to be clean.  I braided my hair again and pulled back on my sweatpants.

           I returned to the room and grabbed my pillow, tossing it on Heero’s bed.  I shifted the TV so that it was pointing in that direction, then sat down and made sure the angle was right.

           “What are you doing?” Heero asked when he came in, looking uncomfortable.

           “We’re gonna rent a movie,” I said.

           “Don’t pick something awful,” Heero cautioned, sitting on the end of the bed.  He started carefully removing the items he’d purchased from a reusable shopping bag.

           “I have great taste,” I said, frowning at him.  I really wanted to ask if he had brought that shopping bag with him.  It just seemed too ridiculous to bring a reusable shopping bag from L1 to earth on the off chance that he might go grocery shopping.

           Heero’s eyes followed mine to the bag.  “I’m always prepared.”

           I snorted.  “What did you get?” I asked, eyeing the growing pile.  “Oh, my, double chocolate cookies?  Greasy potato chips?  Cream-filled mystery pastry?”

           “All junk food, guaranteed to ruin your health,” Heero said, handing me a package of fried ice cream.  “Eat this before it melts.”

           “Heero, I didn’t know you had it in you,” I said, tearing open the package and taking a bite.

           Heero smiled that creepy little shy smile of his.

           I turned my attention to the TV, flipping through the movie rentals.  “Oh, god…” I groaned.

           “I’ve already seen it,” Heero said, frowning at me.

           “Excellent,” I said, skipping past the Gundam 00 movie.

           Heero glared at me.

           I grinned.  “Oh, I gotta call Une,” I said, pulling out my phone.  “You pick a movie,” I added, tossing him the remote.

           Heero looked very confused.

           “Maxwell,” Une greeted me brusquely from behind her desk.

           “Hey, just checking in,” I said.

           “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

           “Heero couldn’t sleep.”

           Heero glared at me.

           “Put Yuy on,” Une said sharply.

           “Sorry, buddy,” I said, passing him the phone.

           Heero looked like a sullen teenager.  It was pretty funny, to be honest.

           “Yuy, do you know how much damn paperwork I have to fill out because you decided to become an agent for a night?”

           “The situation-” Heero started.

           “Do I look like I care?” Une interrupted him. “What did you get from the body?”

           Heero started doing all his geek babbling, so I took the remote back and on a very strange whim chose the movie.

           “Maxwell!”

           I turned to find the phone aimed in my direction, the screen filled-up with Une’s stern face.  “Yes?”

           “You’re back on at six, wrapping up the loose ends, so get some sleep soon,” she ordered.  “And take care of Yuy!” she snapped, hanging up the phone.

           “Yes, ma’am,” I said, saluting the blank screen.

           Heero frowned at me.

           “Let’s just watch your stupid movie.”

           A confused little wrinkle formed between Heero’s eyebrows.

           I started the movie.

           “I thought…”

           “I’m just gonna sleep through it anyway,” I said, fluffing my pillow and finishing off the fried ice cream.

           Heero looked at me uncertainly, then faced forward where he was still sitting at the edge of the bed.

           “Get comfortable, dork,” I said.

           Heero could not have looked any more uncomfortable.

           “Why do you always have to be so damn awkward around me?” I complained, kicking him lightly in the arm.

           “Don’t touch me with your nasty socks,” Heero said, giving me a withering look.

           “That’s better,” I said with a grin.

           Heero finally came to sit against the headboard with me, holding a warm can of hot cocoa in his hands.  He opened it and took a sip.

           “Now let’s watch a terrible movie about how not to pilot a gundam,” I said, opening the potato chips.

           “Why are you so judgmental?” Heero retorted. “The whole series is a historically accurate depiction of the lives of the first gundam pilots.”

           “Our great predecessors,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Why they all so damn pretty? Gundam pilots aren’t that pretty. Except for me, obviously.”

           Heero shifted.

           I eyed him for a moment, then decided to be nice. “Thanks for buying such great snacks.”

           Heero shrugged, sipping his cocoa.

           We watched the movie.

           The main character was basically Heero, which made me laugh almost the whole time.  While Heero was clearly annoyed at first, he slowly started to smile.  I kept up my ongoing commentary, and he seemed to relax.

           I somehow got him under the covers towards the end of the movie, eyes blinking slower and slower.

           When I was sure he was asleep, I gathered up the leftover snacks from the bed and put them on the nightstand.  I transferred my pillow to my bed and crawled back in.  I found myself watching the movie to the end, despite how incredibly stupid I found it, then turned off the TV and easily fell asleep.

           Heero was typing away on his computer when I woke up again.

           I stumbled off to the bathroom, then stumbled back.

           “Whacha doin’?” I asked, tiredly leaning over his shoulder.

           Heero tensed up.

           “Wow, that’s a dead body,” I said, slightly more awake.

           “I’m working,” Heero said, shooing me away.

           I snorted, going over to my bag for a change of clothes.

           Hilde came over with bagels, and we sprawled out on my bed, watching the news and stuffing our faces.

           “Heero, stop with your weird fetishist hobbies and eat with us,” I said.

           Heero turned and glared at me.

           I grinned at him.

           Hilde smacked me in the head.

           “Hey, what was that for?” I complained.

           “Be nice to the nerd,” she reprimanded me.

           “You just called him a nerd.”

           “Oh,” Hilde said, flushing.  “Well, uh…”

           Heero took a bagel from the bag, then went to sit back at his computer.

           “Don’t be like that, Heero,” I complained.

           “I have work to do,” Heero replied.

           Hilde caught my eye and rolled hers.

           I shook my head, adding more cream cheese to my bagel.  “The time-honored Heero Yuy tradition of work before work.”

           We all got into a car after that and set off in our separate directions.  While we’d been sleeping, Une had run a raid on the Black Freedom base on L2.  It looked like everything was tying up neatly.

           Fucking amateurs.

           Hilde and I finished up around midnight again, and headed down to the lab to collect Heero.

           “What are you even investigating?” I asked, leaning over his shoulder.  “The case is pretty much over.”

           “I think it’s far from over,” Heero replied, continuing to poke at the bullet fragment with his tweezers.

           “Why do you always have to be so overdramatic?”

           Heero shooed me away from him.

           “Come on, time to call it quits,” I urged, resting my hand on his shoulder.

           Heero tensed.

           “We’re tired…” I said.

           “Then you go,” Heero said.

           “Yeah, but you’ll be all noisy when you come back.”

           Heero shifted uncomfortably.  “W-when am I noisy?”

           I think it was supposed to be a jab, but now he was looking all nervous.  I moved my hand, and he visibly relaxed.  “Well, my finely trained reflexes would wake me up the moment someone came in the room,” I said.

           “I could murder you in your sleep and you wouldn’t notice,” Heero countered, looking at his bullet fragment very intently.

           Hilde burst out laughing.

           “That is a really weird thing to say,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.  Then I rethought it and put my hand on his shoulder instead.

           Heero tensed.

           “So can we go back to the hotel already?” I requested, leaning in close as I spoke.

           Heero was completely red.

           Oh my god, this was hilarious.

           Hilde smacked me in the head.

           “Woman, why are you so violent?!” I demanded, letting go of Heero to rub the back of my head.

           “Because you’re an asshole,” Hilde responded easily.

           “Trowa is definitely being promoted to Best Friend Number One…”

           “Good, who would want to be best friends with a loser like you?  Anyway, Yuy, come on.  The Commander said you’re not allowed to work overtime.”

           “I’m not-” Heero tried to protest, but Hilde took his bullet fragment away.

           “Let’s go.”

           Heero clearly wanted to protest, but Hilde wasn’t having any of it.

           We ended up back at the hotel.

           “Good night, boys,” Hilde chirped, disappearing into her room across the hall.

           “I’m not tired at all,” I complained, flopping on my bed.

           Heero shrugged and booted up his laptop.

           “Don’t tell me you’re going to keep on working…”

           “I’m going to keep on working.”

           “Christ, Heero, are you married to the job?”

           “Aren’t you?”

           “Nope,” I said.  “Thinking about quitting, anyway.”

           “Oh,” Heero said in a very quiet voice.

           “What, are you sad about it?” I needled him, sitting up and poking his chair with my foot.

           “It wouldn’t affect me,” Heero said blandly.

           “But you would miss me,” I said, grinning.  I didn’t really have a good reason to be teasing Heero, other than the fact that the case was basically closed and I was bored. But it was so damn fun to watch him turn red and stuttery.

           “I-I…”

           “You-you what?”

           “I have w-work to do.”

           “You’re off the clock,” I said.  “Let’s get a drink.”

           “I’m working on a theory and-”

           “It can wait until tomorrow.”

           “It’s pretty urgent-”

           “I’ll go get us some drinks and we can drink here then.”

           “I don’t-”

           “Be right back,” I said, disappearing out the door.

           Seeing Heero completely wasted was suddenly my new life goal.

 - 8 -

             I couldn’t concentrate on the computer screen in front of me.  Why did Duo have to be so damn infuriating?  He was supposed to make a few snide comments, and then ignore me like he usually did.  He certainly wasn’t supposed to be out buying alcoholic beverages for us to consume together. That just didn’t seem like it could possibly end well.

           I imagined myself drunkenly confessing to Duo that I had kept a creepy stalker scrapbook about him since the war.

           I called Quatre.  “Help me.”

           “Heero, it’s the middle of the night…” Quatre complained, looking at me with bleary blue eyes.

           L1 and the Americas were in the same time zone, so of course I already knew that.  Like I would ever not be aware of what time it was in every time zone on earth and in space.

           “Duo’s out buying alcohol,” I hissed at him.

           Quatre immediately got interested.  “Oh?”

           “What should I do?” I asked.  “I should escape.  Yeah, that’s it, if I go out over the balcony-”

           “Relax,” Quatre said, giving me a soothing smile.

           It made me tenser.  “No, but if I climb to the next balcony, there’s a fire escape-”

           “Heero,” Quatre said, giving me a stern look. “It’s time to be a man.”

           “I am a man, always have been,” I said, staring back at him.  It was true, I had both an X and a Y chromosome.

           “Well you’re acting like a pansy.”

           “I’m not a flower.”

           “Then shut up and have a damn drink with the man you’ve been crushing on since you hit puberty.”

           “I have work to do,” I said, hanging up. “And no one says ‘crushing’ after the age of twelve,” I muttered to myself.

           “I have returned!” Duo declared, kicking the door open as he walked in laden with booze.

           I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him.

           “Quit being a creep,” Duo said, dumping everything on the desk.

           “Careful!” I said, pulling my laptop away from his mess. “And where did you buy all this in the middle of the night?”

           “Twenty-four hour convenience store next door,” Duo said, opening a can and taking a long drink.

           “Oh,” I said, turning to face my laptop.

           “No, enough with the damn laptop,” Duo said, slamming it shut.

           “What the hell, Maxwell?!” I snapped, yanking my fingers away before they got crushed.

           “Oh, did I make you mad?” Duo asked, grinning at me in a way that made me very uncomfortable.

           “Yes,” I ground out.  “Yes, you did.”

           “Good, now shut up and have a damn drink,” he said, shoving a can into my hand.

           I didn’t know how to react.

           That was Duo Maxwell, always confusing me and keeping me on my toes.  It was probably what attracted me to him, but it also infuriated me.

           “This is an expens-”

           “Drink,” Duo said, fingers wrapping around mine as he pressed the can more firmly into my hand.

           I froze.

           Duo smirked.

           I yanked my hand away, the unopened can clattering to the floor.

           “You need to learn to relax,” Duo said, picking it up and setting it on the desk.

           “Why are you doing this?” I said, turning my back to him.

           “Doing what?” Duo asked with a laugh.  “Making you have fun?”

           “This isn’t fun,” I said quietly.

           “You haven’t even had anything to drink yet.”

           “I have work to do.”

           “Oh my god, you are such a nerd, I can’t even take it,” Duo said, going to sit on his bed.  “Fine, do your work.”

           I was so uncomfortable.  I was also annoyed.  I didn’t want to give into Duo.  I turned around to face him, ready to be angry again.

           He had the saddest look on his face as he sat on the bed, staring into his drink.

           I chewed on my bottom lip.  I reached over, grabbing an unopened can and cracking it open. “Cheers,” I grumbled, holding it up towards him.

           Duo turned his grin back on, holding his own can towards me.  “Cheers.”

           We drank and ate the leftover snacks from the morning.  Duo put some music on and sang along.

           “You don’t look drunk at all,” Duo complained.

           “I have a high metabolism.”

           “Yeah, but the whole point of this was to see you drunk.”

           I raised an eyebrow at him, but I could feel my cheeks flushing.

           “You never relax around me,” Duo said.  “I just want you to relax.”

           “We have work tomorrow…”

           “Can you give the goody two-shoes bit a rest already?”

           “One of us has to be responsible.”

           “Fine, then I’ll be the responsible one.”

           I snorted.

           “I can be responsible,” Duo said, waving his beer at me.

           “Sure you can.”

           “You used to trust me with your life.”

           My breath caught in my throat.

           Duo was suddenly much closer, staring into my eyes from only a foot away.  “Quatre was right, ya know?” he finally said.

           “A-about what?” I stammered.

           “Shit, you’re really cute when you’re nervous,” Duo said.  “Anyway, I wish the five of us were closer.”

           I was going to die of embarrassment.  What grown man wanted to be called ‘cute’?  I ripped myself from his gaze and downed the rest of my drink.

           “That’s the spirit!” Duo said cheerfully, bouncing up to get me another one.

           I took it, not meeting his eyes.

           “Hey, Heero?” Duo said, still looming over me.

           “What?” I mumbled.

           Duo flicked me in the forehead, and I looked up at him in annoyance.  “I know my overwhelming sexiness is distracting, but you should try actually making eye contact every once and a while.”

           “I don’t have to look at you,” I said, looking away again.

           “Oh?” Duo said, catching my cheek in his hand and tilting my face up.

           I caught his wrist, ready to break it.

           Duo let his arm go slack, and I realized what I’d been about to do.

           “Shit,” I muttered, letting go.  Coming on this assignment had been a horrible idea, and I just wanted to go home.

           “Looks like you’ve still got some reflexes,” Duo said, sitting on the desk and staring down at me.

           “I think I’ll go to bed,” I said, standing up.

           “Do you actually like me, or is that some kind of delusion of Quatre’s?”

           I froze.

           Duo grinned victoriously, like that had been his plan all along.

           I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

           “It’s so weird to watch you go from machine to human,” Duo said, tipping his can back to finish it off.  “If you told me all those years ago that Heero Yuy was a shy boy with a stuttering problem…”

           “Stop being cruel,” I finally said, stalking off to the bathroom.

           “How am I being cruel?” Duo asked with a snort, hopping down from the desk.  He was suddenly standing between me and the bathroom door.  “I was thinking about being quite the opposite, actually.”

           “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, even though I knew I shouldn��t.

           Duo was backing me into the wall.  “I thought I’d throw you a bone.”

           I did not like this at all.

           “You ever been kissed, Heero?”

           Oh, no, no, no, I did not like this.  I was being played with, and it twisted in my gut like a knife.

           “Well?”

           “Yes,” I said, longing to push Duo away.  He was so close now, his arm draped lazily over my head as he leaned in.

           “Shit, really?” he asked, his grin widening.

           “Y-yeah…” I stuttered, looking away from those blue eyes.

           “Too bad,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against my mouth.

           “Stop,” I said, glad that my voice came out steady. I knew he was just teasing me, but it made me feel anxious and uncomfortable.

           “Stop what?”

           “You’re being cruel,” I reasserted.

           “Come on, Heero, everyone knows I’m a nice guy,” he said, leaning into my line of vision.

           I took a deep breath and pushed him aside. “No, actually, you’re not.”

           “Oh ho, there’s the old Heero.”

           “There’s not an ‘old Heero’ and a ‘new Heero’, there’s just me,” I informed him.

           “You’ve tried so hard to run away from the past,” Duo said, suddenly yanking me close.  One arm settled around my waist, while his free hand caught my chin. “Guess what, Heero?  You’re just as shitty as the rest of us.”

           “You’re drunk,” I said, squirming around but not making a significant effort to escape.  It felt good to be touched by Duo, and I was a complete idiot.

           “I probably am,” Duo agreed.  “That doesn’t change anything.  Your hands are just as dirty as mine, so stop prancing around all high and mighty, getting the shakes when someone puts a damn gun in your hand. You’re not better than me, Heero. You’ll drop a man to save lives, just the same as me.”

           Now I was starting to feel annoyed.  “I never said I was better than anyone.  It’s not my fault if you take the way I live my life as a censure on the way you live yours.”

           “Who talks like that?” Duo complained, suddenly letting me go and going over to flop on his bed.  “God, and I was thinking of giving you a pity fuck.”

           I was mortified.

           “Ugh, what is wrong with me?” Duo groaned into his pillow.  “I’m so desperate, I’d do anyone.”

           “I’m standing right here,” I said quietly.

           “Perfectly aware.”

           I didn’t know what I was feeling, but my stomach hurt and I just wanted to not be there anymore.

           “Shit, I’m sorry,” Duo said, his eyes suddenly staring into mine.  “I didn’t mean…  Just forget everything I’ve said and done in the last hour, okay?”

           I turned my head to the side.

           “Heeeeero, come on,” Duo protested.  “I know I was being a dick, okay?  Duo Maxwell, the ESUN’s biggest dick.  Well… yeah, okay, well yes, it’s big, but…”

           “Please just leave me alone.”

           “I don’t want you to be mad.”

           “I’m not mad.”

           “You clearly are.”

           “I’m not.”

           “You’re something.”

           “I’m f-fine.”

           “You look like a wounded baby animal or something, you are clearly not fine.”

           I paused at that, giving Duo the look that statement deserved.

           He grinned.

           “I’ll forget everything you said.”

           Duo looked pleased, then frowned.  “No, you won’t.  You never let me live anything down.”

           “Is there anything I can possibly say right now to make you leave me alone?”

           “You could forgive me for being an asshole.”

           “I forgive you for being an asshole.”

           “You’re just saying that, you don’t actually mean it.”

           I wanted to scream.  I turned, pulled up the covers of my bed, and hid under them instead.

           Duo was quiet, and I thought maybe it was finally over.  He shuffled around the room for a bit before turning off the lights.  Then he sat on my bed, the mattress dipping down towards him.

           I did not emerge from my cocoon.

           “I’m sorry for saying shitty things,” Duo said quietly.  “You just… you’re so different now and I don’t know how to deal with you.  You’re so goddamn weird, and then this morning you were kinda vulnerable, and I find it all very confusing.”

           I pushed the covers out of my face, staring at Duo in the dark.  He was a blur, because I wasn’t wearing my glasses and my night vision was terrible. “What exactly do you find confusing?”

           “You in general.”

           “Oh, I see.”

           “No, no, but it’s like… you used to be quiet before, but it was…  You were quiet because you didn’t need to say anything.  But now I feel like you’re quiet around me because you don’t know what to say?  And you’re nervous?  And that’s weird, Heero, it’s fucking weird.”

           “I’m so sorry for being weird.”

           “Apology accepted,” Duo said.  “So start acting normal.”

           “Good night,” I said, pulling the blankets back over my head.

           “No, hey, wait,” Duo protested, grabbing the blankets and peeling them back.

           “Duo, it’s been a long day and I want to go to sleep.”

           “Yes, but...”

           He was staring at me with big, puppy dog eyes that even my blind self could read clearly in the dark.

           I didn’t know what he wanted from me. “What?” I finally asked.

           “I… I don’t know.  Good night, Heero.”

           “Good night, Duo.”

           His weight disappeared from the mattress.

           I fell into an uneasy sleep.

           In the morning, Duo just prattled on like usual.

           It was a relief to get back to the lab and continue my line of investigation from the previous day.

           It was, however, not a relief to realize that my line of reasoning had been correct.

[clownn-townn]

Alright, so one of my friends had posted on facebook asking for people’s paranormal experiences and I thought, hey, maybe I should share mine on Tumblr and do something similar. So, here are mine. Feel free to reblog with your paranormal experiences! I’d love to read them. I’ll be keeping up with the notes.

Alright, so I’m going to start with the most recent one and go in no chronological order, just this one happened in my freshman year of college and the rest happened in high school. 

Freshman year of college. I'd already had plenty of experience with the paranormal. Done my own ghost hunts, used oujia boards on a regular basis, lived in haunted houses, avid fan of Ghost Adventures and Ghost Hunters, nothing surprised me. Next to our tiny college town is an even tinier town called Gurdon where there's a tiny deserted cemetary next to some railroad tracks. Down those railroad tracks at night you can see a mysterious light called the Gurdon Light (that had long since been debunked as the train light reflecting off of swamp gas, yet remains a strong part of that towns folklore). Some idiot fellow freshmen decided that they we're going to go see the Gurdon Light on the night of a full moon. No way was I going to let these inexperienced idiots go alone, especially after asking "What are you going to do if you piss off a spirit?" And they answered with "There's a baseball bat in the trunk". Like... Friend... Buddy... Pal... The fuck? So I went with. After watching them freak out over every firefly and rustling leaf, I turned toward the car to get a better look around and off in the clearing just past the cemetary I saw a solid black crouched figure. It didn't seem friendly. I turned back toward the three idiots and saw that one of them, let's call him Justin, was staring straight towards that crouched figure. "You see it too, huh?" I asked him and he just nodded. "Look at it..." He said and I turned back towards and the crouched figure was slowly standing up. It was probably about 6' tall, taller than any of us there. "Car, now." I said and Justin immediately started heading to the car. The other two didn't seem to hear me so I repeated myself louder and we all hauled ass to the car. The other two who hadn't seen it saw it as we were leaving toward the dirt road that lead to the main road. They asked me what it was and honestly I have no idea what it was, whatever it was didn't want us in that graveyard.

There was another time, I had just moved into a new house and my best friend since 7th grade, let's call her Ashley, and I had a tradition every time we moved into a new house. We would draw our own Ouija board and we would figure out exactly what's in that house and what we need to watch out for or what we need to expect ect. Because we've both always been pretty sensitive to paranormal stuff. So as we sat in my room with the door open doing this Ouija board we finally contacted a spirit. It was a young girl, native American if the name and year was anything to go off of, and as we we're being led in circles in the answers to the questions, my bedroom door slowly started to close. We both look up at it. I explain to Ashley that my door doesn't do that. The door was heavy enough to where it didn't close because of gravity or anything and it took more than just the house settling to move it. The air conditioner was also off and no windows were open so it's very unlikely that there would've been any draft strong enough to move the door. So we decide to get up and look around. We were home alone because my siblings were visiting my grandparents and my mother was out doing grocery shopping, so the house was eerily quiet. The first room we go to is my siblings room, right across the hallway from my room. We stand in there and listen for a minute cause we're both getting weird vibes from the room and then suddenly the air conditioner bangs loudly, it never is that loud kicking on, and Ashley screams and shoves past me and runs out of the room and out the front door. I quickly follow after to make sure she's okay. I ask her what happened because I figured the air conditioner scared her and she took a moment to catch her breath before responding with "I saw a girl. She had two long, dark braids and a white dress". Very characteristic of a native American girl from the time era of integration, which was the time era that the spirit we were contacting was from. We go back inside, say goodbye on the Ouija board, and apologize for bothering her.

A rather funny one happened in that same house. This ones pretty short. I was practicing for a choir competition, if you're familiar with a competition called All Region then cool if not then really there's not much to know other than it's an audition for a special choir that can get you all sorts of bragging rights and scholarships. So to practice it, I would sing into my crappy laptop microphone, play it back, and see what parts exactly that I needed to work on and what I was good at ect. After a few rounds of singing a particularly difficult part, playing it back, then repeating, something strange popped up on the audio. I listened to that part a couple of times and determined that it wasn't the TV in the living room (my bedroom was the closest to the living room and it was a trailer so the walls weren't the most sound proof) because, well, after going through all the previous recordings, there was not even a hint of sound from the living room on any of them. So I went back to the strange recording and listened to it to try to determine exactly what it sounded like. Upon closer inspection, it was a male voice saying "You're really bad at that". Thanks, Mr. Ghost.

This one is really sad, and comes with a trigger warning of possible child abuse, the ghost being the victim of it. So, as with the past story involving Ashley, this story begins with her moving into a new house. This new house had a strange layout. The first floor was fairly normal; small kitchen, big open living room, and a hallway with the kids bathroom and the three bedrooms, there being a smaller bathroom in the master bedroom. Though, the height of the living room was two floors because above the kitchen there was a large loft type area, the stairs to it by the front door in the living room. That loft area was made into a video game room and basically the kids room, as much of a kids room as you can have for a 13 year old and a 16 year old. In it was a small closet where we stored the Rockstar guitars and drumset along with a ton of board games, the tiny closet had no door, it was just a tiny closet in a very inconvenient space in the middle of the part of the loft that overlooked the living room. Then on the other side where there was the actual wall, there was another door leading to a small room. Was it intended to be an extra bedroom? Strangely placed for that. It had a window on each of the three walls without the main door, one overlooking the driveway and two overlooking the surrounding woods. There was also a ceiling fan in it. The family used it as a storage room for just a bunch of random junk. Everyone dreaded going into that room, even Ashley's younger brother who was a bit too stupid to fear anything. This kid would rather jump off the loft onto the couch (about a 10-15 foot drop) than go into that room and he actually proved it. So, me and Ashley sat outside that room after taking a few months to gather up the courage and debate whether we should or not and we did the Ouija board. Every time you went into that room or even near the door, there was a heavy sense of dread. Dread, fear, nausea, migraines, all of it came from that room. So, we kind of assumed there was a demon in there. We braced ourselves as we started with the 'hello' and waited before I asked the first question. What we had gathered was that this was a kid from when the house was first built sometime in the mid 1900's, his name was Zach and he had died when he was just 15. He spent most, if not all of his time literally locked in the room. His father, maybe step father, we couldn't get a clear answer on that one, was a very not nice man who seemed to hate the boy, very little about his mother was found out because he was very vague and dodgy about questions about his mother. His father basically locked him in that room and barely let him leave, it was questionable as to whether he even went to school or not. His father beat him, starved him, and eventually he ended up dying due to the abuse and neglect. By then the emotions in that room were becoming too much for me and Ashley to bear and I said goodbye suddenly before going into the room, Ashley going to stop me but being too slow (she was still wary of it possibly being a demon who was lying to trick us because, well, us edgy teenagers thought everything was a demon), and I locked the door from the inside to keep her from getting in to stop me. She sighed and waited patiently outside the room. I sat in the middle of the room, cross legged, and honestly felt like I was going to either burst into tears or puke my guts up. I braved through it. I told the boy about my own abuse and neglect when I was not much younger than him, I told him that I understood and that it was okay to let go because the past couldn't keep you dragged down like this. He didn't have to spend his entire life in that room and that his father was no longer there to keep him in there. I told him that the events were in the past, and even if it still hurt, it was okay, because he wasn't alone. After that talk, it took about 15 minutes at the most, there was a metaphorical sigh of relief from the room. All the heaviness, all the dread, all the fear, it just...disappeared. The room was no longer painful, the room was now genuinely empty. I actually helped a spirit move on... Even Ashley felt it because as soon as he was gone, she asked very quietly if it was over and I unlocked the door and came out of the room and started crying. Even though the lighting hadn't changed at all, the room still seemed to glow a bit brighter from the sunlight. That's probably one of my favorite ghost stories to tell.

There was the time that I had a dream that I was by the school and saw a plane go down in the distance, shortly followed by a giant splash of water from where the plain would've landed in the distance. A few days later I watched the news and found out about Flight 370 going down. A similar premonition I had was less of a dream and more of a Final Destination sort of thing. I was sitting in the back seat, my boyfriend at the time (let's call him Gabe) was in the front passenger seat, and his best friend (let's call him Mark) was driving. Next thing I know my forehead was bloody, half of it mine and half of it not quite mine, and Mark was freaking the hell out. Then, just like in the FD movies, I was standing outside the car and we hadn't even left yet. I begged Gabe to sit in the back with me because I didn't wanna be lonely and he said only if the aux cord reached. Luckily it did. So he sat in the middle and I sat behind the passenger seat. We were going about 10 above the speed limit and a truck suddenly stopped in front of us. Mark slammed on his brakes about 30 feet behind the truck and, unfortunately, due to balding tires we skidding right into the back of the truck, causing the front end of Mark's brand new car to go under the back of the truck, push the engine into the car, and the passenger side airbag to deploy. After realizing what happened, we all exited the car. The only injury was Mark breaking his hand because he got so pissed about his brand new car that he punched a nearby stop sign. After taking the car to the mechanic to get it inspected for insurance purposes, it was revealed that I had saved Gabe's life. In the front passenger seat there was a ton of shrapnel that had shredded the front of that seat that would have definitely been at the right angle and height to shred Gabe's vital and vulnerably placed blood vessels.

[elliotgoodtiger]

Chapter 6 “Royal Typewriter”

Giles came back today. Oh wait, you don’t know who Giles is, do you? Giles is the man we hired to take photo and video content during our recording session here at Middle Farm Studios. He stands 6ft 7in and runs a 6min mile with ease. I’ve only ran the 3 mile farm course twice, and both times with him. It’s the hardest course I’ve ever ran in my life. Before I get into that though, let me tell you how I became a runner, and why it’s important to me.

My dad was always in fairly good shape, but when I got to around 13 years old, he told himself “If I have any chance of still being able compete against him in basketball when he’s a teenager, I better start training now”. Right there and then he started running. Buying running books, subscribing to running magazines, buying running watches, all of it. He was obsessed. 5k races soon turned to 10k, which soon turned to half marathons, which soon turned to marathons. Hell he even did a triathlon and nearly drowned in the Chesapeake bay. When I turned 15, my dad forced me to run cross country at my High School. I wasn’t exactly thrilled. Actually, I was pretty fucking annoyed. At 15, my hobbies were basketball (poorly), playing guitar (poorly), playing video games (successfully), and, er, doing other things a young teenager does when his parents are at work (successfully). The thought of having to interact with classmates, and spend my Saturdays traveling to races that I would always finish in last, was not appealing. And thats exactly what happened. I finished last every. single. race. ‘Cause I didn’t try. Had no interest. My dad would take off from work early to watch me not try. He wasn’t too happy about that. I don’t blame him. Anyways, that would be the first and only school activity I would ever be eligible for as I continued to fail my classes. Sorry pop. I worked a near full time job all though my senior year of high school, so while he wasn’t exactly thrilled that I was on course to NOT graduating, he saw I wasn’t just sitting around doing nothing.

Anyways, years go by, I’m living on my own, blah blah blah blah blah. He’s still running, and still trying to get me into it. I still have no real interest of doing anything but going to work, coming home, drinking beer, and playing guitar. But he still tells me how great it is. I mean, he REALLY loves the sport. By the time I’m 25, I join my first band, ‘Sky Eats Airplane’. Going from working at Guitar Center, having never played in a serious band before, to suddenly touring the country and playing shows every single night, was pretty nuts. I appreciated the opportunity and experience, but I always kept the mindset of “this could literally end tomorrow”. I was sorta right. Sky Eats eventually fell apart, but as soon as it did, Of Legends was right there behind it, keeping the dream alive. After that, TesseracT was there. The TesseracT situation was a bit different though. I knew that wasn’t going to last long right after my first tour with them. When we agreed to an amicable split, I figured, “hey, I’m sure there’s probably another band right around the corner”. At this point I was 28 and felt too old to just start something new. Plus, I didn’t know the first thing about starting a new band. My buddy Zack and I had ‘Zelliack’, but him and I had no real idea how to bring our bedroom project onto an actual stage. A month after TesseracT and I split, I took a job tour managing a band over in Europe. By the time I got back to the states, I felt lost. I took a job working overnights in a warehouse because I figured I could work on music during the day while working all though the night. I never really minded the hours. 9PM to 6AM. Full time. I could dig it. It’ was supposed to be temporary, but soon the days turned to weeks, turned to months, till I was there for an entire year. Slowly withdrawing from my normal social groups.

When you work the night shift, even on your days off you still keep that schedule. So on days off during the weekday I’d be awake at 3am with nothing to do. Now THATS boring. At first I thought it was kinda nice that I could watch ’The Larry Sanders Show’ uninterrupted, but by the time winter came around I decided I needed to do something other than drink myself to sleep at 11am (Side note, when you’re buying beer at 9am, the person selling you beer has no idea that you just worked a nine hour shift. When you do this three/four times a week, they look at you like you have a serious problem. Hey man, I just want to get a little buzz while Jake and I play Grand Theft Auto, buzz off). There was a gym downstairs in my building, that had a treadmill. “Sure, why not, I’m out of beer, so I need something to do till the store opens up”. I got into full Rocky mode and put on sweats (I’m a dumb-ass) and went downstairs. My first run in close to a decade was by myself, at 3am. I ran a slow mile. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. Actually, I kind of enjoyed it. “Alright, I’ll try it again tomorrow.”. I did it the next day and went a little further. Honestly, I was hooked by my third run. I decided to run every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Each time going a little further till I was doing 4 miles regularly. It was still very wintery outside, and I had NO interest in freezing my balls off, but I figured if I could get to 4 miles at a decent pace on the treadmill I’d be good to go by spring. Once spring came around and I started going outside I realized this was something I wanted to do forever. There was a park/trail right next to my house that I had basically been ignoring the previous 7 years. I realized that at 5am, I would be the only person out there. Imagine having your very own park to run in. Thats what it felt like. As the running days turned to weeks, turned to months, I would ask myself, “Why do I run? For my sanity?”. Yes, that was a big part of it. But, always in the back of my mind, I kept telling myself, “If at any chance I’m going to someday get back onstage, I need to be ready. I need to be in shape”. I was turning into my dad. I was running with purpose, with a goal. Once I felt ready enough, I told him I wanted to run together. He was floored. Excited that there was a new father-son activity in his life. He’s passed on all his running knowledge to me. Thank’s pop. Last winter when Periphery were recording their new album, Jake came and stayed with me for two months. He’d been out of exercise for awhile, and told me he wanted to give running a try. I took him to a track right down the road and watched the man take 15 minutes to run 1 mile. There was a look of intense pain on his face. I figured there was no way in hell he was gonna want to do that again. Later on, over a couple of beers, he told me how he couldn’t wait to get back out there to do it again. So I put him through the ringer. We’d be out in the park and I’d say “don’t worry, the next hill is just a little one”, when really we were going over something that even I would struggle with. By the end of his two months, he was able to do 2 ½ miles without stopping. I figured he’d lose interest in it once he went back home, but he didn’t. He kept up with it, and when he came back to visit that summer we would do four and five milers side by side. Proud of you, bud. When Dez contacted me about wanting to start a new band and asked how would I feel about playing shows again, I didn’t hesitate. I felt ready to get back out there, mentally and physically.

Well, I’ve probably bored you enough. But quickly, let me tell you about this fucking farm course I’ve been running at the recording studio. It sucks. Shit, a goddamn marine would complain about this. The first thing that happens is you run straight up a hill for about half a mile. And it’s steep. Remember when Rocky ran up the mountain in Rocky VI? Well…. it’s not that bad. But to me it feels like I’m preparing to fight Ivan Drago. Around mile 2 you start having to suck in air that is 90% cow manure. So now you’re gagging when you’re already out of breath. Mile 2 ½ is down hill. You’d think that’d be easier. NOPE. It’s just at irritating as running UP hill, just not as tiring. Also, the road is AS wide as a single car. If a car needs to pass by, you have to stop running, and sink yourself into the stalk. Nice, just what I wanted. An itchy ass back. Mile 3 is the real “fuck you”. You’re completely exhausted at this point, all you want is a little straight road to run. Not gonna happen. Have fun running your ass up one more hill. Finally once you reach the end, you’re so cold and caked in mud that all you want to do is take a hot shower. Gotta be honest, I don’t think I’m gonna be missing this run too much once I get back to New York City. The first time we went out, it was me, Giles, and Joa. I came in dead last. I didn’t even know Joa fucking ran. Bah, whatever, now I’m droning. Thanks for listening!

I’ll finish this book later

[lurkingdorkness]

A Fresh Start Chapter 2

Zack couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face as he came back from his training session with Cloud. As he let himself into Angeal’s apartment, it was clear his mood was noticed by the older man.

“Well, you look happy. Did something go well today?” Angeal asked as he left the dishes he had been washing.

“Yeah, remember that cadet I told you I was going to train tonight?” At his fellow SOLDIER’s nod, Zack continued, trying not to bounce around like the excited puppy Angeal always claimed he was. “Well, I sparred with him, and he’s really good. He’s so quick he nearly got a few hits on me. He’s going to be amazing once he’s enhanced.”

Angeal chuckled, happy to see his boyfriend in such a good mood. “Are you hoping to mentor him?”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure how much I can help him honestly. He uses Nibel martial arts natively, and I don’t think I’m quite good enough to figure out how to help him use that to his advantage. I did my best in coaching him on how to pass his classes, but getting him past that point might be beyond me right now. I don’t think teaching is one of my talents.” Zack said, shucking off his boots and belts to flop on the couch next to Genesis. The redhead leaned against him as he barely glanced up from his book. Sephiroth was staring at him now, his head having shot up the moment Zack mentioned anything about Nibel.

His former mentor nodded and settled down in one of the chairs. “Well, if you need pointers, I’ll do my best to help you out. I can’t do much without seeing his skills for myself, but I should be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. He’s a good kid and I want to help him out.”

Sephiroth finally spoke up, “You said he knew Nibel martial arts?”

Zack nodded. “Yup, he’s from a priest family I think, so he was taught it from birth. Apparently, the priests for different gods all had their own combat styles. Cloud uses the style for the god of war.” He thought over everything Cloud had told him during their match, and hoped he got it right. Cloud wasn’t the most talkative person, to begin with, but it seemed like if you got him onto the right topic, he could turn into a chatterbox.

Sephiroth hummed to himself, “If I have the chance, I’d like to observe a match. I’ve always wanted to see Nibel martial arts in person. Those videos I found were interesting, but they were incomplete from everything I’ve read.”

“I thought you might feel that way given how obsessed you’ve been with Nibelheim since you found that old file confirming that you were there as a child,” Zack stated, teasing him a little.

Sephiroth huffed, “Given that I know little else about my childhood, can you blame me?” He had his arms crossed over his chest defensively, staring at the movie playing on the television.

“Aw, don’t worry babe, I’m just teasing you,” Zack said, standing and giving his boyfriend a peck on the forehead. Sephiroth just huffed louder and ducked his head, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment.

Genesis finally looked up from his book at that. “Sephiroth, you’re acting as if you’ve never dated anyone before. How long have we been together?” The redhead chuckled as he took in the red brightening on the man’s face.

“Since we were teenagers, but Zack is newer. Besides, it’s embarrassing when he does this with others around.” He was still looking away, determined not to let them see him being weak in any way.

Genesis covered his mouth, trying not to laugh, “It’s just us here, you’re dating everyone in this room.”

“It doesn’t matter, it still bothers me.” The curt tone and glower accompanying the remark made the other three flinch, clearly, they had crossed a line.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.” Zack apologized, trying to see if the general was upset enough to refuse a hug. He wasn’t, so Zack hadn’t pushed him too far again. Sephiroth wasn’t very good at telling people to back up. It wasn’t surprising given who had raised him, but it was still something they were working on. At least he felt comfortable enough with them to enforce his boundaries in a way that didn’t involve clamming up and storming off.

“I’m sorry love. I need to watch what I say.” Genesis apologized, reaching over Zack to rest a hand on his.

“You do, but I don’t wish to discuss this anymore. Zack, would I be able to observe a spar with that cadet friend of yours?”

“I’m not sure honestly. He’d be nervous if I told him who exactly was watching. I’m not sure he’d be okay with anyone watching. He’s pretty shy.” Zack frowned, thinking of how reserved his new friend was proving to be.

“Just ask him without giving a name. Perhaps he’d accept Angeal watching as well to give some help.”

Zack shook his head. “I really doubt he’d be okay with that. He looks up to Angeal for sure and he’d get anxious. I’m going to be sparring with him when I have time, I’ll float the idea when I think he’s more comfortable with me.”

“That’s fair, let me know once you’ve discussed it with him.” Zack grinned, and right as he opened his mouth Sephiroth snapped out, “Don’t you dare make some stupid joke about your last name.”

“Fine, no name puns, I get it. That wouldn’t be Fair after all.”

The others groaned, and Sephiroth said nothing, his face blank as he picked Zack up and deposited him outside, shutting the door in his face. “Aw, Seph, isn’t this a bit harsh?” The only response was the lock clicking. “I still have a key you know!”

The door opened to show Sephiroth giving him the most unimpressed glare he could manage. “I will not listen to your terrible attempts at wordplay, Zackary.”

“Ouch, I won’t do it again. Just don’t make me sleep alone. I need my cuddles at night.” Zack pulled out his best puppy eyes.

Sephiroth heaved a heavy sigh and stepped aside to let him back in. The rest of the night was spent discussing their days and plans before they all retired to the big bed Angeal kept so they could all sleep together. Zack had a bit of difficulty falling asleep, thinking over his plans for the next day and getting excited. He had always loved making new friends and he had a good feeling about his new little blond buddy.

Cloud and Zack quickly found a routine for their sparring sessions. If Zack wasn’t on a mission, they met up in the mornings on Saturday and on Wednesday evenings. A few months in and Cloud was improving in leaps and bounds. Zack was really worried that he was getting to the point that he couldn’t help him any further, and if that was the case, then maybe Cloud wouldn’t want to hang out with him. The thought bothered the SOLDIER enough for him to finally address what he had discussed with his partners.

“Hey Cloud, let’s take a breather. I needed to ask you something anyway.”

Cloud froze, breathing picking up and eyes widening as he fiddled with the practice sword he had been using. “Uh, what is it?”

Zack quickly waved his hands, trying to reassure the blond. “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” He couldn’t believe he had forgotten Cloud’s anxiety, given how they had met. “I was just talking with my mentor since I’m worried you’re getting beyond where I can help you. He can help, but he’d need to watch us spar to offer any real advice. My friend who’s into Nibel martial arts also wants to watch if you don’t mind.”

Cloud didn’t look any more relaxed. “Isn’t your mentor Commander Hewley? I really doubt he has time for some little cadet.”

“He was the one who offered, so don’t worry about taking up his time. He can watch from the observation room if you’d prefer.”

“I really don’t want to waste his time. He doesn’t need to deal with weird fans on top of everything else.” Cloud was trying hard not to fidget, just thinking about the strongest men on the Planet made him anxious. They were far too important to deal with him.

“You’re not a weird fan, you’re my friend. I know you won’t get creepy on him, besides, you don’t need to talk to him if you’re not comfortable. If you don’t want to know that they’re there, I can just not tell you.”

Cloud frowned, thinking it over. “Well, fine. I guess that isn’t any different from the training I get in class. Just don’t tell me until after it’s over, or I’m going to embarrass myself.”

Zack beamed, he knew his boyfriends would be pleased to hear the news. “Okay, no problem. It might be a while until they have enough time to watch.”

“That’s fine, gives me time to forget. Now, can we get back to training? I want to work on that parry, I keep stepping out of range and the instructor is getting on my case.”

Zack nodded, and they spent the rest of their evening doing the same parry until Cloud was too tired to lift his sword again. Zack let his partners know and settled down to wait until they were free to watch.

It took a few weeks before both Angeal and Sephiroth had time to observe, and in that time it seemed like Cloud had forgotten about the possibility of watchers. He had been wary for the first week, but eventually, he calmed down. Now that it was finally the day, Zack just hoped he didn’t give away their presence and upset Cloud.

Zack carefully avoided looking at the window as he worked Cloud through their usual routines. He was having a lot of trouble with one movement and was getting frustrated since he kept switching over to his previous training. “Okay, let’s take a break from this. Why don’t we just have a full spar? Just try to beat me, don’t worry about using the style from your classes.” He really hoped that wasn’t suspicious. He just wanted to show off what his little buddy could do.

Cloud thought for a moment, “Sure, maybe a change of pace for a bit will help. I don’t think getting frustrated is helping me at all.” Zack was relieved, he seemed to accept his excuse at face value.

Zack held his practice sword in front of him and watched as Cloud switched his grip on his own sword and sunk into the distinctive stance Zack had learned was the standard for his fighting style. Cloud quickly came in with a low sweep of his blade to his legs. Zack blocked it and was forced to step back when Cloud quickly turned his momentum into an attack at his now unguarded left side. Zack found himself grateful he was enhanced, there was no way he could have matched Cloud’s natural speed when he was still a cadet.

Zack moved in with a lunge, slowing himself down in fear he would hurt his friend. Not that it mattered, since Cloud had sidestepped and came back with a stab. Zack dodged it easily, keeping himself out of the way of each of Cloud’s strikes. He watched the boy get more frustrated with each dodge and block, causing him to try more and more difficult maneuvers to try to even touch the other man. It was times like this that really showed off how different of a blade Cloud usually fought with. He was proficient with the standard broadsword that was taught to the cadets first, but it was obvious his training had been with a shorter blade.

He really hoped that the others were as impressed with Cloud as he was.

Angeal had been watching closely, taking notes on what he saw. The boy certainly had potential, but he was mainly impressed with how seriously his former student was taking his apparent mentorship of the cadet. He wasn’t giving himself enough credit. He was clearly a great teacher and it was obvious he had a great rapport with his student.

Since they were still going over basics, Sephiroth was paying more attention to the paperwork he had brought with him. Genesis, who had invited himself along, was watching, but his focus was obviously on something else. “Is it just me, or does the puppy have a crush on his little bird?”

Angeal sighed, of course, Genesis was focused on that. “I doubt it, you know how he gets when he finds a new friend.”

“He makes friends with everyone, this is different.”

“No it isn’t, you’re just jealous because someone new is taking up his time. I’ve seen him do this plenty of times when he really hits it off with someone. He was the same way with his flower girl, but even you have to admit by now that those two are just friends.”

Genesis huffed, “Fine, you’re right. I’m still convinced that if he hadn’t been with us already, he would be dating her.”

Angeal sighed, and noticing that Zack had finally started the spar, he elbowed Sephiroth to get his attention. “Looks like Zack was right about him being from the Nibel area.” That stance was very similar to the videos Sephiroth had memorized not long after he had happened across an unedited version of his early files in Hojo’s office a few years ago.

Sephiroth snapped his head up from the reports he had been reviewing and focused on the match. His eyes darted, following the fight with an enraptured expression. “He is fast, I just wish he had proper weapons. That style of broadsword isn’t used in the Nibel area, at least not commonly.”

Angeal watched closer, noting points the boy was clearly using moves meant for a different weapon. “You’re right, what sort of weapon do you think he would have used?”

“Well, according to my research, likely a lance or two shorter swords depending on his training. There were other kinds, but the family that uses them is apparently secretive and refused to speak to any of the authors I’ve read. I’d like to ask him about it.”

Genesis snorted, “You’d give him a heart attack, you get intense when it comes to Nibelheim.”

“I’m certain he wouldn’t mind talking to me. I’ll need to convince Zack to introduce us.”

Angeal tuned the others out as he focused back on the match. Cloud was tiring but clearly hadn’t given up yet. He had good stamina as well as speed. Angeal made a mental note to check his files to see what his scores were. It was hard to judge strength from a match with a SOLDIER, not to mention their opinions could bring up areas to improve on that Zack wouldn’t see easily.

The match finally ended after Zack knocked Cloud back and the boy didn’t have the energy to get himself back on his feet before Zack had his sword at his throat. He watched as his boyfriend helped the boy to his feet and sent him on his way with a promise to see him again the next Saturday. As soon as the cadet had stumbled off towards his barracks, Zack came through the door to the observation room they were in, looking hopeful. “So, what do you guys think?”

Angeal thought for a moment, “He certainly has promise, but he needs to work on his patience. He also lets his temper get the better of him, and that could get him killed.”

Zack sighed, face dropping. “I know, he’s getting better at least. What about his sword work? That’s what I’m really worried about since that’s where I feel like I’m just not helping him enough.”

Angeal rested a hand on his shoulder, “Relax, you’re a better teacher than you think you are. I’ll think about what might help him. Perhaps Sephiroth has some ideas?” He looked over at his other boyfriend, knowing that he likely had plenty.

“Yes, but I’d really like to see if I couldn’t help him more directly. That would likely be easier for everyone. I’d like to ask him a few questions to clarify his skills.”

Zack frowned immediately, “I don’t think he’ll go for that. I can try asking, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Please try, I doubt I’ll ever get a chance to ask someone with his knowledge, given what the books say about how Nibelheimers feel about outsiders.”

“Fine, but I doubt he’d do well in a one-on-one situation. It would need to be something with a lot less pressure than that. I mean, I do want you guys to get to know him since he’s my friend, but I don’t want to scare him.”

Angeal thought for a moment, “What about movie night? It’s low pressure, and he doesn’t need to talk if he doesn’t want to.”

Genesis instantly piped up, “No, that’s our night. I don’t want to share it with your latest crush Zack.”

“Hey, I don’t have a crush on him! He’s just my buddy. I just hang out with him so much because we have similar interests, not because I want him or anything. Seriously, you do this every time I make a good friend.”

“Right, I believe you,” Genesis said, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I know you two would get along if you gave him a chance. Just one movie night, that’s all I’m asking for. Oh, and that’s figuring he even agrees to meet you.”

“Fine, but only because I love you. I don’t promise to be nice either.”

“I love you too, just don’t be a dick to him for no good reason. He doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.” Zack scolded.

“Fine, now can we focus on something else?”

“You know, you weren’t even supposed to be here, so I don’t know why you’re copping attitude.”

Angeal kneaded his forehead as he listened to his boyfriends bicker like children and hoped that this movie night wasn’t an unmitigated disaster.