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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years

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Where Are The Ghostbusters When You Need Them?

Hi! Thanks for checking out my story!

Despite the title, the story actually does not feature the Ghostbusters, but it does feature the Flash Rogues. That's almost as good, right?

The story can't really fit anywhere canonically since Evan and Sam are alive simultaneously, among other things, but hopefully it'll be an enjoyable story anyhow.

Mirror Master I: You ever seen one of those creepy houses? You know, the ones with broken windows and crumbling spires and ivy growing all over them? The ones that used to belong to super rich people and are now allegedly owned by some mysterious “third cousin once removed” that no one’s ever actually seen? The ones that stupid teenagers dare each other to spend the night in? Well, Central City has one of those creepy houses. Or, more accurately, Central City’s Pine Woods suburb has one of those creepy houses. It’s commonly known as the old Jackson place. It's a three-story mansion, with broken windows, crumbling stone, a creepy staircase, massive spires....the works. It was even used as a set for a horror movie back in the 80s. Even though it technically isn’t in the city proper, it’s close enough that everyone knows about the house-and the stories surrounding it. Allegedly, the old Jackson place was built by Adolphus Jackson in 1792, after he immigrated from somewhere in Ireland with his family. They were Central City’s first settlers (the Rathaways were second). He and his wife, Betty, had sixteen kids (although only ten survived to adulthood). All the dead kids were buried in the backyard of the house, so things are already getting creepy. (Some people say that you can hear crying when you go by the house, and other people have claimed to see ghostly children.) His oldest son, Jared, inherited the house when old man Jackson died in 1846. (He was buried behind the house, and yep, people have claimed to see him, too.) Jared worked alongside Martin Garrick (yes, he IS related to Jay Garrick) and my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Shawn Scudder, in Central City’s Underground Railroad. (Am I shaming my heritage? Yeah, probably. Moving on.) People have claimed to see the ghosts of slaves and such around the old Jackson place, and they’ve also claimed to see the ghosts of Harold and Rufus Jackson, an uncle and nephew who fought on opposite sides of the Civil War. In 1877, Jared died, and his second son, Arnold, inherited the house. (His oldest son was Harold, who died at the Battle of Chancellorsville.) Arnold got married to his second cousin, which is several levels of weird, and he added onto the house, making it a lot bigger and more impressive looking. He died in 1885, after adding to the family’s sizable fortune, and his son, Bernard, inherited the house and made it even fancier. Bernard is also where the really messed up stories about the Jackson place begin, as his oldest son, Robert, fell in love with a girl his father hated (partially because he had planned for his son to marry Lydia Rathaway, Piper’s great-great-great aunt). Their arguments over it got really nasty, and so eventually Robert ran away with his chick and got married to her, only for his father to threaten to cut him off. Sonny boy decided that he wanted the money more than his wife, and he abandoned her and was remarried to Piper’s great-great-great aunt. There was only one snag: his old wife had gotten pregnant and drowned herself in the pond (now dried up) on the back of the property to get revenge a few days after her baby was born. (People claim to see her ghost quite frequently.) Her parents, the Desmonds (and the Rathaways, who were mad that Bernard had had his son marry their daughter when he already had a wife) sued the pants off the Jacksons and the family was reduced to semi-poverty. Robert hung himself a few weeks after the lawsuit was settled (he allegedly haunts the house, too) and Bernard started drinking. A lot. He died in 1910 (probably from alcohol poisoning) and the estate was inherited by his only surviving offspring, a 19-year-old daughter named Alicia, who became a librarian and never married. (Alicia didn’t live in the house after the age of 21, probably because of all the bad memories, but people still see her ghost there.) She died in 1971, and the house, which had sat unused for over three decades, had already gained a reputation as being massively haunted, a reputation that only increased when some stupid 17-year-old broke into the house on a dare, fell down the old stairs in the dark, and broke his neck in 1995. (Since then, people have claimed to see HIS ghost as well.) So you get the point: the old Jackson place is massively haunted, massively creepy, and massively empty, so, of course, Captain Cold decided that we needed to break into the place on Halloween. Now, to be fair, we do something to get our adrenaline up every year on Halloween, but there’s a difference between going to a commercial haunted house, where nothing is real, and going to an old house that might actually be haunted, especially when said old house is falling apart and everyone is wearing ridiculous costumes (as we do every year). Earlier in the month, we had decided to dress up as classic movie monsters. Or at least I thought we had. As it turned out, some people had badly missed the memo….

Mirror Master II: Okay, so maybe the scarecrow costume I had wasnae all that scary, but it wasnae my fault! How was I supposed to ken that all the scary scarecrow costumes would be sold out by October 24? I wasnae PLANNING to be the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz! But I’m off topic. All of us had agreed to meet on the front lawn before we broke into the haunted house, so at 7:00 PM on Halloween night, I got into me costume and went to the lawn. Golden Glider (dressed as a vampire), Scudder (dressed as a zombie), the Trickster (dressed as a bedsheet ghost), Captain Boomerang (dressed as Frankenstein’s monster), and the Pied Piper (dressed as the Phantom of the Opera) were already there, and, of course, as soon as he saw me costume, Scudder started laughing. “They were sold out of the scary costumes, ye eejit,” I said. “Then why didn’t you alter it or something? You don’t look scary at all!” Scudder asked. “Hey, at least I look scarier than the Trickster. And besides, not all of us be seamstresses, Scudder,” I replied. (He’d made his own costume and thought that nobody knew. Eejit.) Scudder flushed and suddenly became very interested in the bushes. At this point, Captain Cold showed up in cat ears. That was his whole costume. Otherwise, he jus’ looked like a hockey fan (which he be). His sister-a bonnie lassie, she-wasnae pleased with that. “Lenny, you were supposed to dress up as something scary!” “I did. I’m a werecat.” I’m nae sure why he thought that would be convincing. “Oh, come on! You didn’t even try!”“I never try. Why are you acting like this is something new?” The Glider threw up her hands. “Because you promised me you would try this year!” “I have a tail. Does that make it better?” The Glider rolled her eyes.“I give up.” She tossed her golden hair over her shoulder-I tell ye, she is a bonnie lass-and went to talk with the Piper. The Weather Wizard showed up a few seconds later, and I saw soomthing I never wanted to see: him in a dress. “What are ye supposed tae be, me gran?” The Wizard scowled.“I’m a witch!” I looked at him oddly. “Ye could have been a werewolf, and ye decided tae be a witch?”“It’s thematic! You know: wizards are magic; witches are magic….” I laughed. “Look, if ye want to dress up like a lassie, ye kin. Just donae expect me tae understand why.” The Wizard stormed off, and the Top arrived on the lawn, dressed as a gigantic top. Scudder laughed so hard that he had tae sit down, and I laughed pretty heartily myself. “What is so amusing?” the Top asked. Naebody bothered to explain that it was because he wasnae cooperating with the theme, because we all knew he wouldnae listen. “They’re just being stupid, sweetie pie. You look amazing,” the Glider said. (I’m nae sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to calm him doon.) Luckily for the Top, Heat Wave decided to show up at this point, and his costume made Captain Boomerang laugh so hard he wet himself and made me laugh so hard that I had to join Scudder on the ground, so everyone forgot about him. “Why are you wearing a tutu?” Captain Cold asked (as soon as he was capable of speech again.)“Well, I was gonna be Frankenstein, but Digger stole my idea, and I didn’t have any other ideas, so I decided that me in a tutu was scarier than any monster,” Heat Wave replied. I looked him over again and immediately wished I had nae doon it. He was right; the sight of a 6’6”, 250 pound man in a frilly pink tutu is more terrifying than any monster. His logic seemed to work on everyone else, too, because Captain Cold quickly changed the subject. “Okay, are we ready?” Scudder raised an eyebrow. “To break into the creepy ghost house? No, but I know I’m doing it anyway,” he replied. (At the time, I thought that he was being a wet blanket, but as it turned out, he was right to be a tad worried.) “As long as we’re bringing flashlights, I suppose so,” the Piper said. (He had been against going to the haunted house, tae, but he had been opposed to it because of some kid who had died there back in the 90s because the house didnae have lights, not because of Scudder’s ghosties, which he didnae believe in. Because of that, he had changed his tune after Cold promised him that he could bring a flashlight if he wanted tae.)“Then let’s go,” Captain Cold ordered. With that, Scudder and I transported everyone to the house via Mirror Realm. Having only lived in Central City for a year, I had never seen it before, and I was a tad freaked out by what I saw. The house itself wasnae too bad, but the creepy dead grass and trees, and the graveyard in the back of the house, were spooky, especially under the huge moon.“‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?’ Really?” Golden Glider said scornfully, pointing at a sign in the yard. Her brother shrugged. “Probably some kid’s idea of a prank.” Piper, meanwhile, was looking nervously at a different sign. “Cold, this sign is from the government. It says the building is condemned. Are you sure we’ll be safe to go in there?” he asked. “Since when do we care what the government thinks?” Captain Cold replied. “When a building might collapse on our heads!” Piper exclaimed. “And when it’s haunted!” Scudder added, sounding happy to have an excuse tae go home. Captain Cold sighed and rolled his eyes. “Piper, if the house seems like it’s gonna collapse on us, we’ll just have Scudder and the Scotsman transport us out. We’ll be fine,” he said. Piper seemed to relax.“Good point,” he said. Sam didn’t look as calm. “But what about the ghosts?” he asked. “Sam, ghosts don’t exist. They’re a product of overactive imagination and too many horror stories,” the Piper replied, only for Captain Boomerang to join the conversation.“They are too real! My second cousin’s ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s dad’s third cousin’s aunt saw one!” he exclaimed, sounding offended. Piper didnae look convinced. “That’s hardly conclusive proof of-” he began, only tae be cut off by Captain Cold. “Enough about ghosts! Let’s go inside already!” he exclaimed. With that, Trickster picked the lock on the door. He pushed it open, producing a loud CREAK, and then we went inside.

Weather Wizard: I’m going to tell you a secret: the witch costume was an accident. I swear, I thought I ordered the Dark Wizard costume, but when I opened up the package a week before Halloween, I found a witch costume instead, and because I didn’t have another two weeks to wait (or any more money) I was stuck with it and just decided to pretend it had been my plan the whole time to save face. (At least it matched the theme, unlike cats, tops, and ballerinas.) But I digress. So, after the Trickster picked the lock, we went inside and Piper and Cold turned on their flashlights. The hallway contained cobwebs and a moth-eaten carpet, but nothing else.

“We'll cover more ground if we divide and conquer, so let’s split up into groups and search this place for valuables. Lisa, you’re with me. Scudder, you’re with McCulloch. Mardon, you’re with Rory. Rathaway, you’re with Jesse. Dillon, you’re with Harkness,” Cold barked.

“WE’RE SPLITTING UP? That’s like the #1 way to die in a haunted house!” Scudder whined. (As it turned out, he was right to be worried, but at the time, I thought he was overreacting.) Hartley sighed.

“Sam, ghosts do not exist,” he said. (He was wrong.) Then he turned to Cold and asked,

“How will the Mirror Masters be able to transport us to safety if we’re not in the same part of the house?” Cold rolled his eyes.

“Piper, unless there’s an earthquake, the Mirror Masters will be able to get to all of us before the house falls. They basically have access to a teleportation system. We’ll be fine,’” Cold replied. Piper didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t keep arguing.

“Why am I with Harkness? He’s an uncultured boor,” Dillon demanded.

“Well, I ain’t too fond of you, either, you wowser!” Harkness yelled.

“Why can’t I be with Roscoe, Lenny?” Lisa asked. Cold sighed wearily.

“Fine. Dillon, you’re with Lisa. Harkness, you’re with me. Sam, stop whining. Now let’s go!” Cold exclaimed. McCulloch saluted, dragged Scudder into a mirror, and vanished, and the rest of us fanned out to search the house. After walking through some more cobwebby hallways, Mick and I reached what I assumed was the living room. The room was filled with decaying furniture and mysterious old knicknacks, everything was covered in cobwebs, and part of the roof had fallen in. Seeing this, I had to wonder if the Piper had been right about the dangers of the building.

“How long do you think it’s been since someone touched any of this?” Mick asked me.

“If I had to guess, I’d say at least forty years,” I replied. I glanced out the window and noticed that a cloud had covered part of the moon and that the rest of it had turned red, and I shuddered. “Mick, there’s a blood moon.” I said quietly.

“So? They talked about that on the news,” Mick replied as he started pawing through the knicknacks laying on the floor.

“Never mind,” I said quickly as I joined him. I didn’t want him to think I was scared or anything. Several minutes later, we were still sorting through things and had found nothing but a broken teacup, a broken porcelain doll, and a dusty beaded shawl.

“I hope the whole house ain’t like this. If it is, Captain Cold’ll be mad,” Mick said. I shrugged.

“That’s his problem, not mine.” I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance, and, a few seconds later, the sobs of a child. Mick looked up from the floor in shock.

“Did you hear that?” he asked me.

“The thunder, or the kid crying?”

“The kid crying!” I nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it too. Why?”

“Because we need to go help that kid!” he replied. I rolled my eyes.

“Mick, we’re here to get rich, not help some kid.” Mick ignored me and pulled me in the direction of the crying sound, despite my attempts to break free from his grasp. We had gotten halfway across the living room when we saw a little girl. Her hair was in...uh, ringlets, I think they’re called?-and her dress came down to the floor. She was crying (of course) and Mick went over to her.

“Hey, there, little one. Are you lost?” he asked gently. I thought about leaving Mick with the girl and continuing to search for loot, but there was something about the little girl that made it impossible for me to pull away, and NOT in a “she’s so small and helpless” way. Mick reached out to put his hand on the girl’s shoulder-and his hand went straight through her! My knees went weak under me, and then the world went black. When I came to, I found myself on a dusty couch. I looked around the room and saw Mick waving good-bye to the vanishing ghost.

“Oh, hey, Mark. Glad to see you up-although there wasn’t really a reason for you to faint like that. Georgia was just worried that we were gonna hurt her doll. When I told her we weren’t, she cheered right up and went away,” he said cheerfully.

“The ghost has a name? And is friendly?” I asked. Mick nodded.

“I don’t even think she knew she was dead. Poor little thing,” he said, and I sighed in relief.

“In that case, let’s get back to work. If she’s the only ghost here, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said. (Famous last words.) With that, the two of us continued our search of the living room.

Trickster: The Piper and I- James Jesse, con artist extraordinaire-decided to investigate the attic. I’m a horror movie junkie, so if I’m breaking into a haunted house, what better place to get that adrenaline rush than the attic? Piper and I climbed three sets of narrow, creaky, cracked, cobwebby stairs to the attic (although Piper got winded halfway up the second flight and I had to drag him up the last one). Then I opened the door to see lots of cobwebs, a shattered mirror, a broken window, an old, rusted bedframe, some old-fashioned cabinets, a sword, an old rocking horse (sadly, it was too small for me), and a bunch of other old stuff. The roof was low, and it was really dark. My heart pounded, but in a good way.

“This is so much better than the fake haunted houses! We should go here every year!” I exclaimed. Piper swept his flashlight from left to right, and then started examining the boring knick knacks that were lying around. I pulled out a yo-yo and some bubble gum and waited eagerly for the walls to start dripping blood. After about two minutes, Piper pulled a stack of old papers out of one of the cabinet drawers.

“James, these are from the Civil War!” he exclaimed excitedly. I yawned.

“So?” I asked. Piper looked shocked.

“James, these are valuable historical documents! If they’re really as old as they look, they could provide priceless information about the role of Central City in the Civil War!”

“Can they summon a ghost?” Piper sighed.

“No. They cannot.” I blew a particularly large bubble.

“Then I’m not interested. Let’s find something that CAN summon a ghost!” Piper rolled his eyes.

“James, you’re not going to find something that can summon a ghost, because ghosts-” Suddenly, the windows rattled and we heard a loud moan.

“Don’t exist?” Piper squeaked. Five seconds later, a transparent man with a noose around his neck appeared and floated towards us. Piper screamed and bolted down the stairs, and I whooped with joy and followed him, narrowly missing the ghost’s clammy hands.

“Catch me if you can, you stupid ghost!” I yelled. I followed the Piper to the second floor and into a spooky old bathroom, complete with dusty mirror, a big tub with clawed feet, a broken toilet, and a sink. Mold was growing in the sink and on the walls, and I grinned. This day just kept getting better and better! Piper slammed the door and locked it behind us.His chest was heaving and he looked exhausted. (Rich kids don’t have much reason to be athletic.)

“You were saying?” I asked ‘sweetly’. Piper gave me a death glare.

“NOT the time!” Piper said. I laughed.

“Do you really think a locked door will keep out a ghost? It can’t even keep us out!” I asked him. Piper’s face went white, and he ran over to the dirty mirror.

“Sam! McCulloch! Get us home now!” he yelled. There was no response.

“Piper, you know the Mirror Realm doesn’t work that way. You can only talk to them through it if they want you to, and if they haven’t had the good luck to run into a ghost, they won’t be able to guess that you might want them to pick us up.” I said as I played with my yo-yo. Piper whimpered and buried his head in his hands, then started muttering incomprehensibly as I whistled merrily.

“How can you be so happy?” Piper demanded after a few minutes.I grinned.

“Kid, we’re being chased by a real, honest-to-goodness ghost! It doesn’t get more awesome than that!” Just then, the ghost drifted through the door, and I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures as Piper screamed.

“We’regoingtodiewe’regoingtodiewe’regoingto die !” He darted to the door, fumbled with the lock, and opened it just as the ghost brushed his clammy fingers against his back. He screamed louder and ran down the hall. I snapped a few more photos, stuck my tongue out at the ghost,and followed Piper. The ghost roared angrily and flew after me. I caught up with Piper after about a minute and lead him into a dumbwaiter, then slammed the door behind us.

“James, how is this closet preferable to hiding in the bathroom? The ghost can still walk through walls!” Piper demanded.

“Piper, YOU’RE the one who had all the servants. Shouldn’t you know what a dumbwaiter is?”

“I know what a dumbwaiter is,I have just never seen one before. I was not allowed to spend time with the servants.You can hardly blame me for mistaking it for a closet. Besides, my point still stands: why would hiding in here keep us safe from the ghost?” I laughed.

“Piper, that ghost is Robert Jackson, who hung himself because he wasn’t rich anymore and gave up the love of his life for money! Entering the dumbwaiter that the servants used would be beneath him. As long as we’re in here, we’re safe. For a guy who’s college educated, you sure are stupid,” I explained. Piper frowned.

“You were taking selfies with the ghost, and I’M stupid?” he yelled. I smiled “innocently”.

“I never said I wasn’t stupid...but I’m not a graduate from Harvard, either. But I knew how to save us from the ghost, and you didn’t,” I replied. Hartley sighed wearily.

“Whatever you say, James...but how did you know what a dumbwaiter is? You thought that the American Civil War started in 1961 until last month, so you cannot have known about them from history, and you were not wealthy, so you cannot have had servants who used one,” he asked.

“My Nonna Gianna was a maid for a wealthy family in Italy when she was a girl, and she used a dumbwaiter when she worked for them,” I explained.

“Wait...you’re Italian?” Hartley asked.

“Sí. Well, Italian-American, anyhow.My paternal grandparents immigrated from Italy in 1935 after Mussolini took over and invaded Ethiopia. When they got to America, they joined the Big Circus because my Nonno Antonio had been an acrobat in Italy. They had a whole lot of kids, and my dad was the youngest. He was born in 1955, and he married my mother, who was a second-generation Italian immigrant herself, in 1980. I was born eight years later,” I explained.

“But your name is James Jesse! That doesn’t sound remotely Italian!” Hartley protested.

“Hel-lo! My nonni were Italian immigrants performing for the American public at the height of World War II! They took stage names: Jesse for the last name, and Rosie and Jared for their first names. By the end of the war, they’d gotten so famous under the Jesse name that they couldn’t really change it back to their real one, so they just kept the stage name. My dad’s real name was Alessandro, but he called himself Jacob. My mother’s name really was Helen, though, because her parents had given her an American name. My real name’s actually Giovanni Giuseppe. How’s that for a mouthful?” I exclaimed.

“Sai parlare italiano?” Piper asked.

“Nonni, nonna, nonno, pizza, spaghetti, Venice, Rome, sí, il Dulche, Mamma Mia, madre, padre, nipote, figlia, figlio,Ti amo, caro, Coinvolgimi, bella noche, Dov'è la birra? That’s all the Italian I know. Well, that and a lot of swear words,” I replied.

“En d’autres termes, tu sais autant d’italien comme vous le français?” Piper asked. I looked at him oddly.

“English?”

“So, in other words, you know as much Italian as you do French?” he replied.

“Yeah, pretty much. Not everyone can afford tutors for twenty languages,” I said.

“I only speak six languages-Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese, and I can only write in the first four. I’m passable in Arabic and Russian, too, but I’d hardly say I can speak twenty languages.” I grinned evilly.

“Let’s go find some more ghosts!” I exclaimed.

“No! I’m staying right here, where it’s safe,” Piper yelled.

“Spoilsport,” I said. I started using my yo-yo again.

Captain Cold: So, as I guess you already know, I ended up partnered with Captain Koala, because he and Roscoe insisted on being stubborn morons. I wanted to look for the safe, but Digger insisted that we go to the kitchen because he was hungry, and, since Digger seems to have an immunity to food poisoning, I figured it would probably be safe to let him eat 85-year-old food, and feeding him would get him to shut his big mouth besides. Digger, who practically has an internal homing device for food, found the kitchen in about a minute flat. The kitchen was dusty, covered in cobwebs, and filled with a lot of rusted-out junk, and it was so dark that, without my flashlight, I don't think I would've been able to see two feet in front of me. It was a little creepy, I’m not gonna lie. But I don’t scare easy, so I started pawing around for valuables while Digger found the world’s oldest box of crackers and started digging in. I found a bunch of silver spoons and shoved them into my bag…and then something weird happened. A really attractive lady appeared out of basically nowhere and walked right through me like she couldn’t even see me. It felt like when I accidentally shot myself with my cold gun, and I frowned. Ghosts weren’t supposed to exist. However, I had business to do, so I ignored the ghost lady and went back to my work. Digger, on the other hand, didn’t take the ghost so well. He let out a string of Australian swear words, yelled something about a “ghost sheila” (knowing him, it was probably the exact opposite of polite), grabbed his crackers, and started to run. I grabbed him by his scarf before he could exit the room.

“Let me go, you bloody loon! You’ve got kangaroos loose in your top paddock if you want to stay here with a ghost, Cold!” Digger yelled.

“Stop freaking out, Digger. She doesn’t have any weapons, she’s not dripping blood, and she’s not bad to look at besides. Just ignore her. We have work to do.” Digger looked closer at the ghost and grinned.

“Bloody oath! She is a beautiful Sheila, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I just said that. Now get to work.” I said. Digger ignored me and walked over to the ghost.

“G’day, Sheila. I’m Captain George Harkness of the Australian Secret Service. Who are you?” he asked. (He tells every girl he takes a fancy to that he worked/works for the Australian Secret Service. It’d be a great pick up line if it wasn’t a total lie.) I rolled my eyes as I helped myself to some fine china plates. Was Digger seriously hitting on a ghost?

“Is Australia a northern state, Master Harkness?” the ghost asked. She sounded terrified, and had an accent I couldn’t quite place. Digger laughed.

“Oz? In the North? Sheila, it’s called the Land Down Under for a reason,” he replied. The ghost looked terrified and started to cry. I tried valiantly to ignore the sound and shoved the remainder of the china into my bag.

“What’re you crying for, Sheila?” Digger asked, sounding annoyed.

“B-b-because if you a Southern soldier, you gonna take me and my baby back to slavery!” I noticed that she was, indeed, carrying a baby and grimaced. I did NOT have time for dealing with this crud. Digger walked back over to me.

“I didn’t notice she had an anklebiter. She’s a lovely sheila, but not enough for me to want to be a daddy. And why’s she wailing about slavery?” he asked.

“How should I know? I dropped out of high school at 14, and I don’t have many dealings with ghosts,” I replied in annoyance as the ghost’s wailings got louder. She moved rapidly toward Digger and fell on her knees.

“Please, don’t take my baby, Master Harkness. Let him be free, please, please!” she begged. Digger shot me a pleading look, and I sighed wearily. How did Digger get himself-and me- into these situations?

“Look, lady, we don’t want you or your baby. Now go on, shoo. You and the kid are free, and “Master Harkness” and I have business to do,” I said. The ghost stared.

“Ain’t you Confederate soldiers?” she asked, obviously confused.. Digger and I looked at each other in equal confusion.

“What’s a Confederate?” Digger asked the ghost.

“They’s the soldiers who be fighting to make their own country,” she replied.

“What’s she talking about?” Digger asked me. I shrugged.

“The Civil War…..I think,” I said, drawing desperately from my memories of 8th grade history.

“You mean the war you Yanks had between each other? What’s that gotta do with this sheila?” I racked my brains for any connection between the two and wished that I hadn’t chosen 8th grade history as the class to sleep through.

“Um...she was talking about slavery…I think the South had slaves...probably….and that was maybe why the war started? Possibly? And-and since you said you were from the South, and she’s probably about as well-educated as we are, she didn’t realize that you meant you were from another continent entirely, and so she thought that you were gonna want to make her a slave again,” I said, feeling pretty proud of myself for figuring all that out.

“Didja hear that, Sheila? I’m not a Confederate, whatever that means! Australia’s an island. It ain’t part of America. Now, it’s London to the brick that I’m dangerous, so you probably wanna steer clear of me, but I’m not gonna be taking you to slavery, neither. And, hey, if you got any single friends without anklebiters,, tell ‘em t’ look up Captain Harkness, will ya?” Digger told her cheerfully.

“I..I’m free?” she asked quietly.

“As a bird. Now get outta here. You’re safe in this city,” I told her flatly.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!” she said. She kissed her baby, and they passed through the kitchen wall and vanished into thin air. As soon as she was gone, I glared at Digger.

“Okay, now that you’re done hitting on a ghost, can we get back to work, please?” I asked.

“If you want to, that’s fair dinkum. I’m gonna go back to my chips,” Digger said. He tried to walk back to the table, but I grabbed him by the scarf before he could and forced him to clear out the rest of the valuables while I took a smoke break. He swore colorfully in Australian the entire time, but I ignored him. He was just packing the last of the chinaware away when another ghost, this one holding a gun, showed up. One look at him told me that we were in trouble, and so I ran out of the room, Digger hot on my heels.

Golden Glider: So, while Mick and Marky-Mark were in the living room, James and Hartley were running around like lunatics, and Lenny and Digger were running away from history as much as they were running away from ghosts, Roscoe and I had decided to investigate the backyard. It contained a rotting porch and a small cemetery, one which was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. It was quite dark, because there were no porch lights, but that just made it all the more romantic. As soon as we left the house, I snuggled up close against Roscoe and we both sat down on the one intact porch step. “Isn’t the darkness so romantic?” I asked him. He looked puzzled, and it was adorable. “I believe that the darkness is the absence of light, my darling,” he said. I tittered. “You’re so funny, Roscoe,” I cooed. He smiled. “I am glad I have pleased you, sweetums,” he said. A cloud moved and revealed the moon, big and red and lovely. I pointed at it in excitement. “Roscoe, look at the moon! Isn’t it beautiful? Doesn’t it remind you of us?” I asked. Roscoe looked concerned. “My darling, the moon is a celestial body that revolves around the Earth. I do not see how it can remind you of us. Did no one teach you about the nature of the moon? It is not a human being,” he said. I sighed; having forgotten how literal Roscoe can be. “Roscoe, dear, I was speaking figuratively. I said it was like us because it’s beautiful, just like we are,” I explained. Roscoe’s eyes lit up in understanding. “I see. Forgive my confusion, my darling,” he said. I kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, honey,” I replied. He kissed me on my cheek, and then I kissed him full on the lips. We were still embracing five minutes later, when a young girl in a white dress appeared. She was completely transparent, and stared at us in silence for a few seconds. “Are you lovers?” she asked quietly. “We are indeed, and my Lisa is a goddess among women,” Roscoe replied. Her face fell, and then twisted into fury. “How dare you flaunt your happiness in front of the grave of a poor rejected woman? Is it not enough that I was rejected by my Robert? Is it not enough that I killed myself of despair? Must I be mocked by your love as well? For your impudence, I will make you suffer as I have suffered!” she screamed. She moved over to Roscoe, kissed him on the lips (please don’t ask me HOW) and then disappeared. Roscoe shoved me off his lap violently and stood up. “Get off of me, you wretch!” he spat. The words felt like a blow. “R-R-Roscoe, what….what’s wrong?” Roscoe had never talked to me like that before, and in that moment I saw Lewis-my “father”-in his face. “You are what is wrong! I am a gentleman, and you-you are common trash. Why I was mad enough to kiss you I’ll never understand!” Roscoe said coldly. “What are you saying?” I asked. “I am saying that I have had enough of dating a welfare queen,” Roscoe replied. Normally, I would have struck back, but I was so bewildered by his behavior that I just stared at him. After a few seconds, he scowled. “What are you staying for, you pathetic wretch? Leave me!” he ordered, and I found my tongue. “No, Roscoe. I am staying right here with you. You may not think you love me anymore, but you will not drive me away. I won’t give you the pleasure of ordering me around like a dog,” I said. “Why not? You are a dog,” Roscoe spat. I moved to slap him, but before I could, we were interrupted by another ghost, this one wielding a old-timey gun, who charged at us. I kicked at the ghost on impulse, but, of course, it went straight through him. While I was distracted, Roscoe abandoned me, but after I regained my balance, I rushed after him and we went into the dining room. “Stop chasing me, you hussy!” he yelled. “I’m not chasing you, I’m running away from the ghost,” I said. As if on cue, the ghost lifted a table and threw it at Roscoe’s head. I pushed him out of the way and narrowly avoided being hit myself. “Why did you save me? It will not make me love a woman like you,” he demanded harshly. This time, I did slap him. “You’re welcome,” I spat. Roscoe frowned. “You dare lay a hand on a gentleman?” he demanded. Before he could continue, however, the ghost levitated all six chairs in the room, and so I grabbed him and pulled him into the hallway. A series of loud crashes followed almost immediately. “I notice that you don’t complain when I touch you in order to save your life,” I said pointedly. Roscoe sniffed haughtily and didn’t reply. Under normal circumstances, I would have led us to the door and left the house, but with Roscoe acting so strangely, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave only for Roscoe to keep treating me like dirt, so I decided to stay and take charge of the situation. “All right, so where do we go from here?” I asked. Roscoe scowled. “‘We’ are not going anywhere. Have I not made my disdain for you utterly clear? I am going to one of the bedrooms to go to sleep, and you-I care not where you go, so long as you stay away from me,” he said. I shook my head firmly. “No, we’re staying together. Even if you really do hate me, from a logical standpoint you’re obviously safer with me around,” I replied. Roscoe pondered this for a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well. We will stick together. However, let me make one thing clear: I do not love you. Our current predicament does not change that,” he said, and I felt my heart break. I slapped him again and said, “Fine! See if I care!” With that, I pulled Roscoe up the stairs to the second floor and into one of the bedrooms, which contained an canopy bed, a broken window, an old armorie, and a painting of a handsome young man. The plaque beneath it read "Robert Jackson, beloved son". It was a picture of the man who had spurned his lover. How appropriate. Roscoe laid down on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately (he is definitely not a night owl) and I started crying. How had this perfectly romantic night gone so badly awry?

Mirror Master II: After a quick trip through the Mirror Realm, Scudder and I arrived in the basement. It was awfy dark doon there, I’m nae gonna lie, but the way Scudder was reacting, you’d have thought it was a torture chamber. He was jumping at every little sound and keeping so close tae me that I was practically tripping over him. After aboot a minute of that, I got fed up with him and decided tae tell him tae grow a spine.

“Stop acting like a wean, will ye? It’s hard eno to move doon here without having tae avoid you,” I told him. He moved about an inch further away.

“If we run into a ghost, I’m feeding you to it,” he muttered. I laughed and started looking for trinkets, while he stayed right next tae the stairs. After a few minutes, I uncovered an emerald ring.

“This is worth something, int it no?” I asked happily. Scudder shrugged.

“Great, you’ve found your prize. Now let’s get out of here!” he said.

“Not yet! I need a bigger haul than this!” I replied. Scudder frowned.

“Look here, you second-rate Mirror Master. I am not about to have my brain turned into soup by a ghost just so that you can sell two rings instead of one. We’re going upstairs now,” he said.

“Who are ye calling a second-rate Mirror Master? I use the Mirror Realm better than ye ever could, ye minger!” I yelled.

“You don’t even know how it works. You just swiped my equipment, you Glaswegian thug!” Scudder replied. Then I punched him, and he punched me, and we got into a fist fight. He was trying tae get oot of my stranglehold when soomthing weird happened: a ghostie showed up. You ken those drawings of fat rich people? It looked like that. I was so surprised that I let Scudder go, and he screamed like a lassie and dove intae the Mirror Realm. Me? I just froze. I didnae have a clue how to fight a ghostie, so I did soomthing pure stupid: I waved at it! The ghostie levitated a lamp and threw it at me head, only narrowly missing me. I dove intae the mirror after Scudder. He was panicking.

“I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die; please don’t let me die please please please don’t let me die!”

“Calmy doony, Scudder. The ghostie canae come intae the Mirror Realm,” I said. Ten seconds later, the ghostie came intae the Mirror Realm.

“You just had to say it!” Scudder wailed.

“Dinae just stand there, run!” I yelled. Both of us took off running, and only stopped when the ghostie vanished. I grinned.

“We did it! We escaped the ghostie!” I yelled. Scudder smiled slightly, but then he looked around and his smile vanished.

“Oh, no. This is bad, this is bad, this is really bad,” he said.

“What do ye mean? We escaped from the ghostie!” I replied.

“Look around you! Do you recognize any of this?” I looked around, and realized that we were in big trouble: I didnae recognize anything around me, and I ken most of the Mirror Realm like the back of my hand.

“We’re lost,” I said.

“No duh, really? I had no idea,” Scudder replied sarcastically. I tried tae punch him for that, but he dodged me swing.

“I don’t see why you’re punching at me. I was against coming to the creepy ghost house from the start, and if we had stayed home and watched A Nightmare on Elm Street like I suggested, we wouldn’t be in this mess! But did you-or anyone-listen to me? Oh, no! “Ghosts don’t exist, Sam.” “Stop being such a wimp, Scudder.” “We’ll be fine.” “Stop being such an idiot, Scudder.” Well, WHO’S THE IDIOT NOW?” he yelled hysterically, and I wished that Captain Cold hadnae put me with him, because he looked downright loony.

“Ah am, all right? Now help me find a way oot of here!” Sam laughed weakly.

“Find a way out of the Mirror Realm? You might as well tell me to beat Superman in a fist fight. It’s impossible. There’s a reason that I never go out of sight of the mirror portals: the Mirror Realm is so vast that if you get lost, you’ll probably never find your way back to them-and they’re our only way out of the Mirror Realm. I can’t get us out without the portals, and, thanks to you, Len, and that ghost, I have no idea where they are. Heck, I don’t even know where WE are!” he exclaimed.

“The Land of Abstract Art, mebbe?” I suggested. We were surrounded by swirls of colors and strange shapes, ye ken? Scudder didnae seem to find that as funny as I’d thought it was.

“Really? We’re lost in a never-ending mirror maze, and you’re cracking jokes?” I shrugged.

“Aye. Beats whining aboot it, ye jerrie.” To tell the truth, I was just as freaked out as Scudder was, but I wasnae about to let him know it.

“You’re a lunatic,” he spat.

“Ah am’nae!” I yelled back. I punched him, he punched me, and we ended up in another fistfight that only ended when both of us collapsed from exhaustion. Apparently, all the running had taken a lot oot of us. Scudder basically ended up falling asleep on my lap, and I was too tired to move him. After aboot a minute of embarrassment, I fell asleep tae.

Heat Wave: Hi, there. I’m Mick Rory, but you can call me Heat Wave. Everyone does. So, uh, while everyone else was running away from angry ghosts, Weather Wizard and I were still searching for valuables, and not finding any. After about an hour of searching, I got bored, pulled out my flamethrower, and lit the sofa on fire. It was beautiful and pretty and warm, and I decided to touch it. Bad idea, because I was still wearing the tutu, and..well...tutus are really flammable. The fire didn’t exactly hurt me (the prison doc tells me my skin’s so badly burned by this point that it doesn’t feel pain anymore), but it did freak out Weather Wizard, who doused me (and the sofa) with what felt like a gallon of water.

“Hey! You put out my beautiful sofa fire!” I complained. The Wiz scowled.

“In case you didn’t notice, YOU were on fire, too!” he said angrily.

“And now I’m sopping wet AND don’t have my precious fire. I don’t see how that’s an improvement,” I replied. In response, the Wiz beaned me over the head with his wand. (He doesn’t have a good swing, so it didn’t really hurt.)

“Being wet doesn’t kill you, you big oaf! You know what does? BEING ON FIRE!” His face was red and his eyes were crackling with electricity, so I knew he was pretty upset. Because he can create tornadoes, I decided to apologize.

“You’re right, Mark, and I’m sorry. Thanks for saving me,” I said. His eyes stopped crackling.

“Just don’t do it again,” he said. I nodded and sat down on what was left of the sofa, and Wiz went over to the window and gazed out of it.

“A storm’s brewing,” he said. I don’t think he was trying to sound spooky, but with his tone of voice and his witch costume, he did. A few seconds later, lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Wiz opened the window and leaned out. The wind whipped his (impossibly spiky) hair, and he stared at something in silence. After a few seconds, it got creepy, and so I went over to him and dragged him away from the window. I closed it as soon as he wasn’t in the way.

“Come on, Mark, let’s go to another room. Captain Cold’ll be mad if we don’t find something valuable,” I said. When he didn’t move, I picked him up, threw him over my shoulder, and took him up the stairs and into a bedroom which looked like it might have belonged to a little kid at some point, since there were a bunch of old toys in it. One of the windows was broken, and everything, including the toys, a rocking chair, and a crib, was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was very spooky, although it was in better shape overall than the living room had been. I started looking for something valuable, and the Wiz made a beeline for the window.

“Hey, knock that off! Just ‘cause you’re the Weather Wizard doesn’t mean that you get to look at the weather and not help me!” I said. Wiz turned around and locked eyes with me.

“The storm...it’s an ill wind that blows no good,” he muttered. It was almost like he was in a trance or something. And then it happened: a ghost appeared. Now, it wasn’t super gory-really, it just looked like a transparent teenager-but let me tell you: it was scarier than anything I’ve ever seen in a horror movie. At almost the same time, it started to rain heavily. The Wiz passed out again, and the ghost advanced on me. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor (what? I saw Shakespeare on TV one time), threw the Wiz over my shoulder, and ran downstairs and out of the house with him. (Question: Why is it that he was WAY heavier when he was unconscious than when he was conscious?) I wanted to make Captain Cold happy, but I wasn’t gonna fight a ghost just for some loot. As soon as we got out the door, the ghost stopped following us, so I dumped the Wiz on the ground and began what proved to be a LONG wait for the Mirror Masters to come pick us up. Wiz woke up about five minutes after we got out of the house and cleared up the rain (thank goodness), then took a look at me and smiled.

“You should see yourself. Your tutu’s unrecognizable and I can see your underwear,” he said. I felt my cheeks heat up. Man, that was embarrassing.

“Yeah, well, you fainted twice, so I think we’re even,” I replied. The Wiz flushed, and looked at the ground. A few seconds later, he yawned, then produced a wind that dried up the ground.

“I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when Scudder shows up,” he said. With that, he curled up on the ground and dozed off. After a couple seconds, I sat down next to him, and, after a few minutes of trying and failing to come up with an excuse for not finding any loot, I dozed off too. (One of the benefits of being….less than legally employed is that you learn to fall asleep anywhere.) I woke up about twenty minutes later when the Wiz poked me in the side with his wand.

“Huh?” I asked drowsily.

“Where are the Mirror Masters at? Surely they’ve gotta be finished by now,” he whined. I shrugged.

“Maybe they’re still looking for stuff. Or maybe they hit the jackpot and are still gathering up all the stuff they found,” I suggested.

“Well, they better hurry up. I’m bored and tired and I want to get back to my nice soft bed,” the Wiz replied.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” I said. Then I fell back to sleep and was dead to the world for another forty minutes.

Pied Piper: After being trapped in the dumbwaiter for about ten minutes, I turned off my hearing aids. Not being able to hear is never a pleasant experience, but it was highly preferable to listening to a bored Trickster sing “This Is the Song That Never Ends” again and again and again. This solution worked reasonably well until I realized that I very much needed to use the powder room and needed advice as to how to do so without attracting the nightmare creature that wanted to devour my internal organs. Therefore, I had to turn my hearing aids back on, because none of the other Rogues have ever bothered to learn sign language and I had no desire to play charades. As soon as my hearing turned back on, I was greeted with what must have been the fortieth rendition of “This is the Song That Never Ends”.

“James. James. JAMES! I, um, need to use the powder room. Do you have any idea as to how I can do that without meeting the ghost?”

“Depends. What’s a powder room?” He batted his eyes and smiled in the most irritating manner imaginable.

“You know full well what a powder room is!” I exclaimed. James’ smile grew wider as he shook his head.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need, Piper,” he said. I sighed and gave in.

“It’s a restroom,” I said, blushing terribly. James laughed and did a particularly impressive trick with his yo-yo.

“Oh, so you need to pee! Why didn’t you say so?” he asked.

“Because my parents did not allow me to discuss bodily functions in public. Ever,” I replied.

“Did your parents allow you to breathe without their say-so?” I frowned. My parents had indeed controlled my days down to the second before they disowned me, but I didn’t want to admit it, so I said,

“Never mind that. Just tell me how to use the powder room without getting killed!”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’ll close my eyes, and you can do your business in here,” James replied. As I did not have access to a mirror, I cannot be sure about this, but I believe that I blushed even harder.

“No!”

“Why not? You can even blindfold me if you want. Believe me, I do NOT want to watch that,” James replied. I scowled.

“Because that is disgusting, James.”

“I don’t see why. It’s what we did in the circus,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.

“This is not the circus!”

“Well, it isn’t exactly Rathaway manor, either. I’m not saying that it isn’t gross, but this place is in bad condition already. You can’t make it much worse,” James replied.

“I think I would rather face the ghost,” I said. James laughed.

“I can’t believe that you’re more scared of breaking your parents’ rules of being “proper” and pretending that you don’t have bodily functions than you are of a literal ghost,” he said.

“This has nothing to do with my parents!”

“Somebody’s in de-ni-al!” James singsonged.

“I’m not in denial. Just because I do not want to be Digger does not mean that this has anything to do with my parents,” I insisted.

“Yep, definitely in denial,” James said. I ignored him and pulled out the mirror that I had brought with me in order to contact the Mirror Masters.

“Sam! McCulloch! If you can hear me, I need you to get me-and James-out of this house!” Nothing happened, and I sighed wearily. There went that idea. About three minutes later, I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the doors nervously and, not seeing anything, bolted down the hall to the powder room, used it, and was on my way back when the ghost reappeared. I screamed like a little girl (which is quite humiliating in hindsight) and just froze up in terror. If I had been alone, I don’t want to know what would have happened next, but, luckily for me, James showed up at exactly this point and yelled,

“Hey, Casper! Over here, you preposterous poltergeist!” The ghost howled and started chasing him, and he whooped with glee and ran down the hall in the direction of the staircase. Thirty seconds later, I heard a loud cry of pain from James. I bolted to the top of the stairs and saw that one of the steps had given way under James, and that he had clearly broken his ankle. Worse, the ghost was floating over top of him, and, for the first time, he looked scared. I stared at the scene for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then pulled out my flute and started playing it in the desperate hope that its hypnotic powers would work on a ghost. I tried to ignore the fact that my knees were shaking under me as I played, and, after a few seconds, the ghost stopped howling and floated away from James. I carefully went down the stairs to my partner, still playing, then knelt down beside him and put the flute away.

“Do NOT do that again! You scared the daylights out of me!” I snapped. James smiled.

“Aww, you do care,” he said. All his fear seemed to be forgotten and I shook my head in amazement. He had almost been killed (possessed?) by a ghost, and he was already making jokes.

“I did owe you. After all, if you had not attracted the ghost’s attention, I might have been killed. How’s your ankle?” I asked.

“It hurts like the dickens,” he replied.

“Can you walk?” James stood up shakily, winced, and quickly sat back down, then smiled and said,

“I can walk on my hands!” He proceeded to demonstrate. In spite of myself, I laughed a little.

“Can you keep that up long enough to get to the front door?” I asked him after I stopped laughing.

“Probably. Why?”

“Because we are leaving. I don’t know how long my hypnosis will last, but it will wear off eventually, and I do not want to be here when it does,” I explained.

“Aww, but I wanted to see some more ghosts!”

“Can you run on your hands?” I asked. James grinned slightly.

“Maybe?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Let’s go. We can watch The Shining when we get home if you want,” I said. (It’s James’ favorite horror movie, and very useful as a bribe.) James’ grin widened.

“You know me well, Piper. Let’s go home,” he said. With that, we left the house-only to find Mick and Mark asleep on the lawn; Mick in little more than his underwear.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” James said.

“What, Mick and Mark sleeping on the lawn or Mick in his underwear?” I asked.

“Both, but mainly Mick in his underwear. That’s an image I’ll never get out of my mind,” he replied.

“Me, neither,” I agreed. After a few seconds, James sat down on the ground and pulled out a pack of bubble gum.

“I swallowed my gum when that step broke under me. Want some gum?” he asked.

“I suppose,” I replied. James handed me a stick of gum and then took out one for himself as well. I sat down next to him, unwrapped the stick of gum, and started chewing it. James blew a huge bubble.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Blow bubbles? Haven’t you ever had bubble gum before?” he asked. I shook my head.

“My parents said that gum was for plebeians,” I replied.

“Well, if they really did cut you off, you are one now, so that shouldn’t be a concern anymore,” he said. I smiled.

“You have a point. So, carnie, how about teaching this ex-patrician how to properly blow bubbles with bubble gum?” I asked.

“You’re on!” James exclaimed.

Captain Boomerang: I hate all the bloody ghosts in that bloody ghost house! (I also hate Cold for making me go into the ghost house, but that’s beside the point.) After Cold and I ran out of the kitchen, the ghost chased us through several rooms and to the basement stairs. We exchanged a brief look and ran down the stairs into the basement.

“If that bloody ghost follows us, I’m gonna be as mad as a cut snake,” I said. I was tired of all the running, tired of risking my life, and even more tired of not getting to eat my chips.

“I think he’s stopped chasing us,” Cold said as he looked around. Then he gasped.

“What is it?” I demanded. Cripes, I need a coolie , I thought.

“The Mirror Masters...at least one of them left their Mirror Gun here. It’s their only way back into our dimension. They’d never leave it here.”

“Well, if they’ve carked it, there’s nothin’ we can do. Let’s take our loot and leave this spooky place before another ghost shows up!” I said. I thought that I’d made a good point, but Cold disagreed and punched me in the face.

“We don’t have any proof that they’re dead, so we’re goin’ in after them. They’re too valuable to lose, and besides, the Rogues don’t abandon their own,” he said. Cold activated the portal to the Mirror Realm and dragged me inside by the scarf. As soon as I got inside, I had a sickie and vomited all over the floor.

“Scudder? McCulloch? It’s Cold. Where are you?” Cold yelled. No answer. I stopped vomiting and looked around, then noticed something shiny. I went over to it and discovered that it was an emerald ring.

“Cold, have a Captain Cook at this! We’re rich!” I exclaimed. Cold looked at it...and went pale.

“Oh, no….one of the Mirror Masters must have been spooked by something and dropped it-and if they ran that way and were so panicked that they didn’t notice that they dropped a valuable thing like that, then they’re lost in the Mirror Realm,” he said.

“Okay. They’ve carked it. Oh, well. Let’s go home,” I replied. Cold shook his head.

“No. We’re gonna find them,” he said.

“Cold, you just said that they were lost in the Mirror Realm. If THEY got lost, we’ll get lost, too,” I protested. Cold didn’t listen.

“We ain’t gonna get lost, because we’re going to make a trail to follow,” he said. He drew one the spoons out of the bag and placed it on the ground next to his feet. Then he moved about ten feet forward and did the same thing, and did it again about seven feet after that. He’s got kangaroos loose in his top paddock for sure, I thought.

“What are you doin’, Cold?” I demanded.

“I’m making a trail,” he said.

“Outta spoons ?” I asked.

“Didn’t you ever hear the story of Hansel and Gretel?”

“I don’t read fairy tales. They’re for wusses,” I said. Cold scowled.

“Look, I have a little sister, okay? Anyway, Hansel and Gretel didn’t want to get lost in the woods, so they used bread crumbs to mark where they’d been. That way, when they turned around, they’d know which way would take them back to their starting point. This is the same idea, only our markers can’t be eaten by anything,” he said. With that, he started dragging me by my scarf towards the direction he thought the Mirror Masters had taken.

“You know, I can walk on my own,” I said.

“ Maybe so, but if I let you go, you’ll probably be walking towards the exit, so I’m keeping ahold of you to be on the safe side,” Cold replied. I stuck my tongue out at him, but he ignored it. After about twenty minutes of walking, we entered the weirdest place I’d ever seen. There were all these bloody weird shapes and colors, and I couldn't tell which way was up. It freaked me out, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to bother Cold at all.

“Cold, this is really freaky. Can we go back now? We’ll never find the Mirror Masters in this crazy place,” I said.

“Shut up, Digger. We are going to find them, and we are not going to stop walking until we either do or run out of silverware,” Cold replied.

“Ace!” I muttered sarcastically.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’,” I lied.

“That’s what I thought.” He dragged me along for about ten more minutes before I opened my big mouth again. (I think that must be some kind of record.)

“Can we stop now ?” My legs were killing me (not to mention my neck)!

“No. Stop acting like a six-year-old,” Cold replied. I really need a coolie, i thought.

“I wouldn’t be actin’ like an anklebiter if you weren’t actin’ like a dictator,” I snapped. Cold punched me in the side and continued to drag me along like a bloody kelpie. After about four more minutes, i decided that I’d had enough of being dragged around and stabbed Cold in the arm with one of my razor-sharp boomerangs. He swore in pain and let me go, and I grabbed the mirror gun and ran towards the exit. Sadly for me, Cold managed to bean me over the head with a plate and knocked me out. When I came to, I awoke to see a pair of unconscious Mirror Masters. Normally, I would’ve been crosser than a frog in a sock that Cold had knocked me out, but at the moment I was too glad that Cold wouldn’t be dragging me through the Mirror Realm anymore to really care.

“You little Ripper! You found them!” I exclaimed happily.

“No thanks to you,” Cold muttered. He shook McCulloch awake.

“Cold? How did ye get in here?” he asked.

“Either you or Sam dropped your Mirror Gun outside of the mirror in the basement, and I used it to get in here,” Cold explained.

“But how did ye find us?”

“Stubbornness, mainly,” Cold replied. I laughed.

“That’d be right!” I exclaimed. Cold looked at McCulloch oddly.

“Why is Sam sleeping in your lap?” Cold asked.

“ WHAT? ” McCulloch yelled. He quickly moved Sam off his lap and stood up. This woke Sam up, for obvious reasons. Once he realized what had happened, he noticed Cold, gave him a huge hug, and then punched him in the face.

“I’m...getting some mixed messages here,” Cold said.

“I’m happy you found us, because I thought we were going to die here, but I’m about equally angry at you, because you wouldn’t have had to rescue us if you hadn’t decided to take us to the creepy ghost house in the first place,” Sam explained. I laughed. It’s always good to see Cold get taken down a peg, the arrogant knocker.

“I do nae see why you being here is a good thing. We do nae ken how to get back to the Mirror Portals from here, we’ll all die here,” McCulloch said.

“Actually, we won’t. I marked the path we took from the portals with our loot, so we’ll able to get back fine,” Cold replied. McCulloch grinned, and my stomach growled.

“Can we go home now? I’m hungry,” I asked.

“Ye and me both, Digger,” McCulloch said. Cold nodded.

“Let’s get back to our reality,” he said. With that, we started the long walkabout back to the Mirror Portals.

Top: My nap lasted precisely twenty-five minutes and fifteen seconds. Then I awoke to see Lisa crying quietly. Normally, I would have felt horrible upon seeing such a sight, but at the time, I simply felt disgusted.

"Stop sniveling, you piece of gutter trash. I will not be moved by your feminine wiles,” I spat. (I have since apologized profusely for this comment, and for all others made under the influence of the ghost, but my darling Lisa is still distrustful of me, and her brother would have beat me to within an inch of my life for them had she not stopped him.)

“All right. I WILL stop crying. I should have known better than to show weakness in front of a man who’s just like my father,” she replied angrily. If I had been myself, I would have been horrified by this accusation, but as I was, I merely sniffed dismissively.

“I am nothing like your father. He was an alcoholic boor who lived off of welfare for most of his life, and I am a gentleman,” I said haughtily.

“And yet you’re calling me names just like he did,” Lisa replied. (In hindsight, her self-confidence was quite admirable, but at the time, I found it irritating.)

“Shut your mouth!” I snapped, unable to refute her argument.

“And let you walk all over me? I don’t think so,” Lisa said. Furious, I raised my hand to slap her, but thankfully, the Civil War-era ghost interrupted us before I could. Lisa grabbed me and pulled me out of the room before the ghost began to levitate anything, thereby saving my life for the third time that night.

“I told you not to touch me!” I said icily. In response, Lisa kissed me on the cheek and I pulled away sharply in utter disgust. (I believe that she was trying to make me uncomfortable in an attempt to snap me back to my senses.)

“I just saved your life again , and you want to complain about me touching you? AGAIN?” she yelled.

“I was aware that we were in danger. There was no need for you to touch me,” I replied coldly. The ghost drifted out of the bedroom we had been in, and the two of us ran to the stairs-only to find that one of the steps had collapsed. Lisa sighed and slid down the banister to the bottom of the stairs, and I reluctantly followed her when the ghost appeared behind me and it became apparent that there was no other means of escape. (We were able to keep our balance because my darling Lisa was a figure skater and I am very resistant to vertigo.) We ran back through the dining room and back into the backyard, and were greeted by a most unusual sight. The ghost who had kissed me was holding hands with another ghost, this one with a noose around his neck.

“Oh, darling, you’re back!” she cooed. The other ghost kissed her.

“Yes, and I’ll never leave you again. I’m so sorry that I abandoned you all those years ago. My father was wrong: you were more important than our money ever could have been,” he said.

‘I forgive you, Robert,” she replied. Lisa started to cry again.

“Oh, shut up, you sniveling hussy! You are too far beneath me to deserve my sympathy,” I said harshly. Lisa frowned and dried her tears rather angrily, then elbowed me in the side.

“Where have you been, Robert?” the female ghost asked.

“I don’t know. All I remember before seeing you tonight was a lot of anger at something,” the other ghost replied. The female ghost embraced him.

“Oh, well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters,” she said. They kissed again, and then the female ghost noticed us and frowned.

“Are you the lovers?” she asked.

“Formerly. I thank you profusely for showing me my folly,” I said. Lisa nodded sadly.

“Why do you want to know? You can’t possibly make me any more miserable,” she said. The ghost smiled.

“Because I am going to show you both mercy. Since my happiness has been restored, I will restore your happiness,” she said. She kissed me once again, and all my love for Lisa came flowing back-as did a crushing sense of guilt.

“My darling, I am so sorry for what I said. I don’t know what came over me, but I swear to you that I do not care how rich you are. You are a goddess, and I adore you. Please, please forgive me,” I pleaded. I felt like an utter cad. Lisa frowned.

“R-Roscoe?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, sweetums,” I said. I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“Don’t , Roscoe. After what you said to me tonight, I just don’t trust you. How can I be sure that you aren’t saying you don’t care that I’m “gutter trash” only because of your hormones? What if two or three years down the line, you don’t find me attractive anymore? Will you still love me, or will I suddenly become a “welfare queen” again? I still love you, but I can’t trust you anymore,” she asked

“You...you are breaking up with me?” I was heartbroken and rather tempted to attack the ghost (if that was even possible), but I could not really blame her.

“I’m not sure. Let’s call it a vacation,” she replied quietly. There was an awkward pause, and then I said,

“In that case, since our date is off, perhaps we should go to the front lawn and wait for the Mirror Masters to take us back to our hideout.” Lisa nodded, and we left the backyard, walked quickly through the house, and made it to the front lawn of the house without issue. Upon arriving, we saw Mark curled up on the lawn, fast asleep, Mick napping in little more than his underwear ( a sight that will haunt me until my dying day), and James and Piper blowing bubble gum. James waved at us.

“Hi there, lovebirds! How was your date?’ If there is one thing that James is the master of, it is saying things at the most inopportune times.

“Badly,” Lisa replied. With that, she left my side and sat down next to Mick. James looked at me quizzically.

“It is a very long story that is frankly none of your business,” I told him. I walked a few feet away from him, sat down, and buried my head in my hands, ashamed of what I had done to the one person in my life I ever cared for. Apparently, I dozed off at some point, because the next thing I remember was the two Mirror Masters arriving alongside Digger and Leonard.

“Look alive, everyone! We’re moving out!” he barked. Five minutes later, we were all back in our hideout (thanks to the Mirror Masters). Lisa immediately ran over to her brother and started sobbing. My stomach twisted with guilt and I looked away.

“Shhh..shh...shhh..Sis, what happened?” In response, Lisa told him the whole story through hiccups and sobs. When she was finished, Leonard marched over to me.

“ Is this true, Dillon?” he demanded.

“Sadly, yes,” I replied awkwardly. In response, Cold punched me so hard he knocked me to the ground.

“Then you’re gonna wish you’d never been born. NO ONE hurts my baby sister,” he snarled. He moved to hit me again, but before he could, Lisa ran over to him and grabbed his arm.

“Lenny, don’ t! He was under the influence of a ghost! It wasn’t all his fault,” she said. Cold scowled, but he walked away anyway as Lisa helped me back to my feet.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Better than I should be after treating you so terribly,” I replied.

“It’s good to to have you back, Roscoe,” she said.

“Does this mean that we’re back on?” I asked eagerly.

“No, Roscoe, I’m afraid not. It’ll probably be awhile before I feel comfortable around you again,” she said. She left me and went upstairs, and I was left to mentally berate myself for my idiocy.

Mirror Master I: And...that was basically it. We managed to get home alive from the creepy ghost house, everyone changed out of their costumes, and most of us, exhausted, went to bed (except James and Piper, who decided to watch The Shining for some reason.) The next morning, Trickster went to the hospital to get his broken ankle treated, and the rest of us decided to never, ever go to any house that was supposed to be haunted again. A week later, the Flash caught Len trying to fence his loot, so he’s in prison again. Lisa still hasn’t forgiven Roscoe, and James’s ankle is still very broken, but otherwise, things are pretty much back to normal for us Rogues. So, with that in mind-we would like to wish you all a Happy Halloween!- What James said.

FIN

#flash rogues #ghosts #dc comics #lisa snart/roscoe dillon #len snart #sam scudder #evan mcculloch #james jesse #hartley rathaway #george digger harknesss #mick rory #mark mardon #fanfic #@gorogues

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touchingoldmagic · 4 years

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Comic Review

Today Issue Two landed! I liked most of this issue more than I liked Issue One, but I'm kinda biased because Ray is my favorite...

Here's my review of the issue. As always, under the cut is all teh spoilers, so venture at your own risk.

With Issue Two, the comic cements its feel of a collection of snippets, rather than one solid storyline. Ray's issue isn't really any sort of continuation of the story we were being told in Winston's issue. (Poe is safe!) It's still following the plot of the guys being interviewed for a book, but the interviews jump around to different subjects.

It makes sense, really. With the new movie opening soon, IDW no doubt wanted a storyline that new readers could jump in without worrying about all the convoluted plots and comic-only characters that make up the IDW canon so far. Year One is a great jumping in point for new readers, since it only concerns itself with the first movie. And in fact, anyone could pick up Issue 2 without having read Issue 1 first, and that will probably be true of #3 and #4 as well.

Just like with Issue One, we begin the story with a page of interviews between movie characters and Rebecca, the writer preparing to write a book about the GB's.

I laughed so hard at Dana here.

I kinda feel, though, that we didn't need more of these interviews? It was a good set-up to start the mini-series off and establish that these are interviews between characters, but if it's going to be the first page or two of all four issues, that's a lot of pages we could have used for actual story.

On the other hand, it sets up for some good jokes. One of Peter's students drops a reference to Animal House, the first movie Harold Ramis ever wrote. That cracked me up.

Even more so than with Winston's issue, Ray's issue feels like a bunch of brief reaction scenes, reflecting on things that were mentioned in the movie. The next page has Ray talking to Rebecca about witnessing a mass sponge migration, which of course is a line from the movie.

It's interesting that the comic writers took a different twist on the line than I think most do. While to me it seems that Ray is implying to Peter in the movie that the sponges had some sort of paranormal reason for moving, here in the comic Ray's explanation to Rebecca is more like he was just using his observation of the sponges to explain how he's fascinated with things in life/nature that have no known explanation.

Rebecca isn't interested and asks him instead how he met Egon and Peter. That leads to the next two pages, which is a flashback to Peter introducing Ray to Egon (again, this is just a reference to a line in the movie, where Peter says he introduced the two of them).

Okay but this is HILARIOUS and it's my favorite part of the issue. Because Egon, Peter, and Ray HAVE 70's HAIR. It's big and has volume and is AMAZING. I'm in love. (Also Egon is wearing a 4th Doctor scarf and I am also in love with that.) Also it's snowing and the art is just so pretty!

To be honest, though, the scene with them meeting felt a little bland to me. But I don't think that's a fault of the comic. I've read a lot of GB fanfics, and many fic authors have done their own version of the "meeting in college" scene. So I've just seen it so many times already, in a way. This one didn't stand out, it felt like any fanfic I've read before. (That's not an insult to the comic, I've read a lot of really awesome GB fanfics.)

Although I do admit I got a chuckle out of the dialog. Egon says he met Peter in a woman's studies class, due to a scheduling mistake, and Peter convinced him to stay in it to learn to be more comfortable with people. (Of course, the joke is that Peter would only take a women's studies class to meet woman.)

Great lines: Rebecca: Though they glossed over where you got the nuclear material for your proton packs... Ray: Uh, we actually had that left over from a previously approved experiment.

So then after the flashback we jump to Ray's recounting of the library situation. There's a few pages of Dan re-drawing screenshots directly from the library scene, including where the ghost transforms. I don't know why, but this recounting didn't bother me as much as it did with Winston's issue, even though there's more of it here than in Issue One. Maybe it's because Ray's my fave character, so I'm enjoying it more, or maybe it's just more obvious that this issue is more of a "clip show" than Winston's was. Either way, I'm still enjoying it.

Ray is about to turn the interview onto another topic, but Rebecca asks him if they ever went back to deal with the librarian ghost. We jump to another flashback, a point where Winston is already with the team. The library administrator shows up at the firehouse and asks for their help, saying the ghost is getting worse. Ray agrees to resolve the issue for free considering their history with the library. Peter: You didn't even negotiate, Ray. Ray: I didn't? Wow. Amazing how annoying that is, isn't it? Winston: Do I even want to know what they're fighting about? Egon: I usually find it's better to not.

The scene that follows is, I think, a loving homage to the GB Video Game, which has a whole level of the guys trying to bust the librarian ghost. We get a lot of references to the game: the ghost runs off and hides, a bunch of books become flying creatures that try to attack the guys, and the ghost's name is Eleanor Twitty.

(Interesting to note, I think there's also an easter egg reference to Afterlife in this scene. Winston asks if they have something like a duck call, that would bring the ghosts to them. Egon says they never needed one before. We know from the Afterlife toys that a similar invention, the Ghost Whistle, will be a part of the new movie.)

So they don't want to just start blasting because the books in the library are irreplaceable. This is like the rare instance where the guys are really concerned with collateral damage. It's refreshing! Especially since it's books, which are near and dear to my own heart.

Ray thinks to hold up a rare one-of-a-kind book and threatens to blast it to bits if the ghost doesn't come forward (though later he tells Rebecca he was just lying and that wasn't what he was holding).

It works and the ghost appears, and they snag and trap her, leaving the library a mess but mostly undamaged.

Peter: -to the trap- All you had to do was make polite conversation a few months back, this whole thing could've gone a whole different way. Winston: I don't think you need to taunt them when they're trapped, man. Peter: Sure you do! Ghosts have ears everywhere. This'll strike fear in their hearts.

The last page wraps up the interview. Ray tells Rebecca he was glad they didn't damage the library books, and that the administrator sold him some of the library's occult collection. He thinks about opening an occult library of his own someday, and Rebecca says he should make it a bookstore instead. This, of course, being another reference, this time to the second movie.

(Btw, Ray wore a bowtie during this interview and it's super adorable.)

So basically everything in this issue was just extrapolating on different scenes from the movie, but I still really liked it. It felt like Issue One covered Winston's feelings a little more than this issue delved into Ray's, but I liked the little interactions between Ray and Peter, and Ray meeting Egon. I wish we had more of that.

Next issue is Peter's issue, and I'm curious how much Dana is going to be a part of it! He has her photo hanging in his locker in this issue, which is really cute but weirdly high-school-ish. Somehow, that fits Peter lol.

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters comics #comic review #ghostbusters idw #idw comics #ghostbusters year one #ray stantz #dan schoening #dan schoening art #erik burnham #luis antonio delgado

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bow-woahh · 5 years

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Spop Fic recs (Catradora)

(finally)

Hello Catradora trash can's today I finally give you what I've been promising for MONTHS - a fanfic rec list. Because, if you didn't already know, I read A LOT of Catradora fanfic, probably too much and although I'm definitely not the best judge of...anything, I really wanted to make this post, so here it is, weeks late.

(it's a long one though)

I’ve written my full opinions n shit on like the first 10 multi chapters and one shots because there’s a lot lol, and some I remember better than others (tbf I've re read all of them at this point), but yeahhh. For the others, I’ll describe it in less detail and a bit more jokily lol.

I'm sorry I haven't just linked all the fics bit I just want this to be out of my drafts loll, and I can assure you most of these are pretty easy to find, I apologise for the laziness though haha

Also I’ve tried to find the all the authors tumblr or other social media, but I couldn’t for all of them which sucks, so if you happen to be the author and I left you out, please comment :)

Anyway, Y'ALL NEED TO GET ON MY LEVEL SOOO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO HERE YOU GO:

(here's a key first)

Key:

(o) = ongoing

(f) = finished

[G]=General

[T] =Teen and up Audiences

[M]=Mature

[E]=Explicit

Multi-chapters:

1. Upper West Side by ceruleanstorm (o) 100,000+ words

@princessofgayskull

[Modern AU] [T]

This fic is so amazing!! It goes so deep into their psychology and past and damn is it hilarious at time. Also, I love the premise of it - Catra is a Uber driver and Adora ends up as her passenger. It's a fairly slowburn as it goes deep into the two girls' lives and really gives time for the relationship to develop naturally and that is honestly really appreciated because it makes the good moments between the two even better and more rewarding if I'm honest. A lot of angst though. All the other characters we know and love are also written amazingly in it too, and are made equally important. All in all, I love this fic and everything about it!

As of writing it has fairly infrequent updates, but each chapter is 10-20k+ words and has 9/12 chapters so...there’s a lot.

2. For my Sake by doublepasse (f) 100,000+ words

@doublepasse-writes

[Canon Compliant][E]

The story and world building is just - WOAH. This one is quite the slowburn but boy is it worth it. It's set a couple months to a year after season one, where Catra finally captures Adora but the tables turn very quickly when capturing her nearly results in her death, which Catra (unsurprisingly) didn’t want. The story has some BIG plot twists and is definitely one of the best canon universe Catradora fics I’ve ever read and the ending was very satisfying, but also open ended, BECAUSE there’s a part 2 coming and I couldn’t be more excited!

(Also, there is one chapter with nsfw content in it, but it has a sfw version)

3. Skinny Love by Maychup (o) 89,000+ words

@maychup

[Canon Compliant][M]

Another amazing fic that takes place in the canon universe that has such great world building, and is very plot heavy. It takes place days after the S1 finale and goes from there basically. The premise of it is similar to many fics and one shots you’ve probably read - sleeping with the enemy. From the first chapter it seemed like it could have easily been a five chapter easy redemption fic but nooooooo, it goes a lot LOT deeper. I feel like this fic did such a great job on character development, Catra’s specifically, she grows so much throughout the fic. She is also such a mother to all her Horde pals in this and I love that haha.

At the time of writing, it’s still ongoing, and boy am I excited to see where it goes. It’s also super angsty and has a fair-ish amount of smut so be warned!

4. The Heiress and The thief by Fuhadeza (f) 58,000+ words

@fuhadeza

[Regency AU][M]

As it says in the fic summary, it is literally the She-Ra regency AU I never knew I wanted likeeee, it’s so good! Premise - Adora is taken by Lady Brightmoon, leaving her boarding school, and her best friend behind, Catra, and everything is fine until her old friend face resurfaces. This one had me screaming at times (most of them did, but this especially). It was a really enjoyable read and I honestly loved the way the author dealt with love and the way Adora dealt with her feelings and just ahhh- read it.

5. Faded with feelings by yesimgay (f) 24,000+ words

[Roomates AU][T]

This fic. I read this a WHILEEE ago but to this day this is one of my favourite fan-fics ever like it’s hilarious, and fluffy and unproblematic and sometimes you need that tbh. Everything you need to know is established in the first chapter but the way it is done feels so natural, as if it’s just Adora‘s or Catra’s thoughts and I love it. Also the premise is GREAT - Catra has ADHD and smokes weed to help with it, and Adora accidentally takes an edible, which is when shenanigans start to ensue.

6. Dream of Me by DBsean (f) 18,000+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

Although it is on the shorter side with only five chapters, this was another fic that was so so good in quality and premise. For whatever reason, Catra and Adora start sharing dreams, enabling them to share moments together that they (unfortunately) can't have in real life, due to them being on opposite sides of the war, and in turn - enemies. The angst in this fic literally KILLED ME, and the characters dialogue is so good as well! I also recommend you check out some of the authors other fics, they're all great!

7. we've been making shades of purple out of red and blue by darklady21(o) 19,000+ words

[Roomates AU][M]

Another Roomates AU, bUT instead of being best friends, the two barely know each other, or interact at all...GREAT RIGHT?!? Honestly though, I think the author did a great job in making it not seem too rushed, especially in the setup and establishing how although they know each other, they DONT know each other, so the first couple chapters are basically that stage where they are learning more about each other and leaving stupid post it notes around the house, and it just feels so natural and great! Updates aren’t super regular, but there’s already nine chapters (as of writing) so definitely check it out, as well as their other works too!

8. Razorback by Starr_Reborn(o) 22,000+ words

[Canon Divergence AU][M]

Apparently, the author wrote this with the intent of it being fluffy. From the title you can tell that is NOT the case. At all. This one HURTS. This is very very angsty, and also has some themes of rape in it, so if that kinda thing triggers you I might wanna skip out on this one. It is a really good fic though and stands out from a lot of the others because of the way it is written. Chapters aren’t usually longer that 1000 words and the writing style is quite disjointed at times, and it a lot of the time a stream of consciousness. At times it can even be a little confusing or hard to follow, but I find it makes it even more interesting, and also means it will probably be a fic I come back to once completed. It is genuinely so unpredictable, I have no clue where it’s going, but I really love it for that!

9. Sunflower by TechnoSkittles (f) 6000+ words

@technoskittles

[High School AU][G]

Oh, BOY. Oh boyyy. This fic - it's 8 chapters and only 6000 words yet the story is just- Ahhh READ IT. It's so good! And like the author in general is so amazing at writing like check out all their works (especially their latest one shot omg I loved it). Anyway, read this, it's not too long, it's cute and also genuinely surprising, the ending was not something I saw coming AT ALL, so YEAH!

10. I like me better when I'm with you by lesbians_harold(f) 22,000+ words

@lesbians-harold

[High School AU][T]

Just a nice, fun, fluffy high school, friends to lovers AU. Catra moves to Adora’s school senior year and the twos friendship is quickly rekindled, after a rocky start albeit. Adora is a big ol’ jock and Catra draws which is a headcanon I LOVE. It’s written so well, and the characters are also written well too! It is a lil angsty at times, but not to worry - but it does pay off, I assure you.

11. I thought we were best friends by vanilla107 (o) 45,000+ words

@vanilla107

[University AU][T]

Breakups. Lots of breakups, and angst. This one will mend your heart then hurt you. BE SCARED. But go read it. I mean it. It's good!

12. Dirty Dancing by LilLegalLoli94 (o) 9000+ words

@lillegalloli94

[Dancing AU][M]

Basically lots of (sexual) tension after years of not seeing each other because Adora moved to Brightmoon Dance Academy. It's good. Real good.

13. Back to Black by eveynull (f) 6000+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Post War) Gays go and visit their past, staring angst, and featuring your favourite co-star - fluff!

14. how things are supposed to be by maggiesbombshell (o) 11,000+ words

@yeunslegacy

[High School AU][M]

A jolly slowburn that will hurt your soul because (internalised) homophobia and gay.

15. Some things you don't see coming by Trashibesensei (o) 20,000+ words

[High School AU][T]

Adora being a big ol' jock, and Catra being a big ol' gay. I’m not even gonna explain it, you have to find that out yourself.

16. A quarter after three by Maychup (o) 11,000+ words

@maychup

[Youtuber AU][M]

Adora's gay panic settles in when she bumps into her childhood bestie, Catra, live streaming in the streets of LA. My favourite part of this fic has to be the YouTube comments she gets. This one will make you laugh. And go AWWW CUTE.

17. A Song to My Heart by DemiRebel (f) 8000+ words

[Neighbors AU][G]

The cute girl next door keeps singing loud, and it sounds BELLE, so what else would you do other than creepily listen?? 10/10 for premise.

18. Occupied by Nny11 4000+ words

@nny11writes

[Modern AU][T]

The most hilarious soulmate AU I've read tbh. One word - bathrooms.

19. Whispering Dreams by dragonesdepapel (f) 7400+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

Adora finds a wounded and sick gay so obviously, she helps her out, much to her protesting. This fic will honestly make you go through the five stages of grief. Big ol' oof.

20. Why you SHOULD bring in your untrained cat to the rebellion by locuas (f) 6800+ words

[Canon Divergence AU][G]

This fic is a literal joke. But it will probably be the best crack you will ever read, so. READ IT.

ALSO HERES A LIL SELF PWOMO OF MY MULTI CHAP:

What drove her insane, 13,000+ words (f)

One shots:

1. hang tight (all you) by TechnoSkittles 9000+ words

@technoskittles

[High School AU][T]

This is a fic that will break your heart and mend it. It's about Adora coming to terms with her sexuality throughout high school in a pretty unsupportive environment, added onto the fact she has a crush on her best friend. It's paced so well, nothing feels rushed and although it's only 9000 words, it manages to flesh out characters that aren't even in the show, and it obviously does a great job with the topic at hand - sexuality and homophobia. Like it honestly touched my heart, reading it I genuinely wanted to cry. I loved everything about it, from the moment it started to the last line. It's just written in a way that is probably relatable to so many people who are or have struggled with coming to terms with themselves, and shows how for some it's really not an easy thing. It's also written beautifully, and I PROMISE you won't regret reading this! Definitely check out some more of their works too, they're all great reads!

2. you're my favorite song (and it's stuck in my head) by artemiswords 16,000+ words

@artemisbye

[High School AU][T]

A belle valentine's day fan fic which I just,, ahhhhh this is some of the best 16k words I've ever read, it's so nice and fluffy! Premise - Catra has to take the bus to school, and ends up sitting next to this cute girl on the bus, Adora, and listening to TayTay (Swift), sharing earphones with this complete stranger. Obviously, Catra develops a crush, but she is sure Adora is straight. It's written so well, and is such an enjoyable read, with so many great moments and dialogue. Music is a very prevalent theme (which you can tell from the name tbh) in it, and the amount of song references in it also make it feel so fleshed out in a way, like their both just teenagers with somewhat questionable music taste. Just all the exchanges they have are great, especially the ones over text and social media, there were so many funny moments too. DEFO, recommend if you wanna read something nice and lighthearted!

3. The Interlude That Never Ends by FMLClexa 2000+ words

Twitter: catrxs

[Historical AU] [M]

Angst. Quite angsty. But also fairly fluffy, it has a good balance. And the writing style is just so - it gets your heart wrenching despite being fairly short, and is also very poetic, and I don't know about you, but I love things like that! The fic is a historical/soulmates AU where they are bound to fall in love, no matter the period they're reincarnated in. It's one of the most creative fic ideas I've ever read, and the concept is executed so well, which makes it even better. And it's, so so damn sweet ahh, read it read it READ IT!

4. is there a knife in your bed or are you just happy to see me? by ceruleanstorm 6000+ words

@princessofgayskull

[Canon Universe][T]

This fic was everythinggg, it is so cute, like it’s basically 6k words of fluff! Also, if you didn’t already notice, the title (and the fic) heavily references the fact Adora keeps a knife under her bed (I DIED when that happened in s2). Set post war, Catra sneaks away from her post to visit an overworked and stressed Adora in Bright Moon and cuteness ensues. I honestly just love everything about this fic, we need more fluffy and funny fics like this! The dynamic the two have in this is perfect and the dialogue and general writing style of it is great! And Adora’s internal dialogue in this honest to god had me dead. Needless to say this is one of my fav Canon Universe one shots.

5.Girl’s Become Lovers (Who Turn Into Mothers) by A_Zap 2000+ words

@azapofinspiration

[Canon Universe][G]

This has to be one of the cutest, well written, fic I’ve read! Catra brings home the only survivors from a tragedy her and Scorpia stumbled upon, but one thing Adora doesn’t expect is for them to be children. The,, emotions in this are so raw and powerful. Even though they obviously have these new little people in their life though, their problems don’t just go away, they still have their own issues, and have to deal with them while looking after these kids. In general they handle mental health so well, and Shadow Weavers lasting effect on Catra SHOWS and it shows hard. Honestly, it made me want to cry at some parts and the ending was EVERYTHING, so reAd IT.

6. baby, i'm a house on fire (and i wanna keep burning) by wittchers 7000+

@huremsultan

[Medival AU]

A really fun fic to read, with a very original premise: after the Horde defeats the kingdom Bright Moon, Hordak is crowned, Queen Angella was killed, and Princess Glimmer is missing, which leaves Lady Adora forced into an arranged marriage with Lord Catra, to keep her people happy. Obviously, being an arranged marriage, with her enemy, she ain’t too happy about it, nor is Catra. But they have to put up with it, and each other. Honestly, like the development of their relationships is sooo good, and there is the perfect balance e of angst and fluff (if you can call it that?) so don’t worry it won’t kill you! Like ahh, the emotions in this - so well described with so little words. And the ending is great, in general it’s great!

7. Adora Casts: Zone of Truth by Hemogobbler 2000+ words

@hemogobbler69

[Canon Universe][T]

Literally just 2000 words of utter cuteness and hilarious dialogue haha. Premise - Catra has just defected recently, and is still warming up to Adora, is still slightly shut off from her. So, to try remedy this, she gets a truth serum from Madame Razz, and slips it into their food, leading to them talking honestly about their feelings for the first time in a while. I just love it so much because I feel like this is genuinely something Adora would do, and also something I’d probably do in her situation - Catra opening up is a rare occurrence! Also, as I said, their are some really funny, laugh out loud moments, which out of context are so weird, yet somehow manage to make a lot of sense. Anyway, if you just had a bad day, I think this fic would definitely lift your spirits.

8. bloom by kimah 4000+ words

Twitter: whitehotmoons

[Modern AU][G]

A post break up fan fic where Catra's therapist suggests Catra write down her feelings, which leads her to write the things she hates about Adora, and their interactions they've had since their break up. The way it's written is so... angsty but like, not? I'm bad at this. Literally, reading this I really felt Catra's pain, and I just wanted to give her a hug at times. Adora too. The small details the author outs into the characters makes the characters all that more realisitic too, and I love it! Seriously though, the angst, will, get, you.

9. I do adore by thankskelley 6000+ words

Twitter: cosmicsporks

[Modern AU][G]

A Catradora fake dating AU. Is there anything more you need in life? Catra and Adora are are roomates, and one day, Adora bursts in, saying she finally came out to her parents, and also that her parent had assumed they are dating... leading her to ask if Catra could pretend to be her girlfriend for while. What could possibly go wrong? Hmm?? I've always loved the whole fake dating premise (to all the boyss) and with characters like Adora and Catra, (especially Catra like she is a TEASE) I always thought it'd be great. Who doesn't love oblivious gays? Their dynamic in this is also great, especially all the flirting and teasing. BUT, of course, it also a bit angsty too. I can promise you you'll love it!

10. Chocolate and Roses vs. Heartache by Trashibesensei 9000+ words

[High School AU][T]

Another high school AU...I know I have a problem leave me alone. This time, if you couldn’t tell by the title, there’s some heartache involved, because: this Valentines Day, Adora doesn’t spend it with her best friend (now ex bestie) Catra. Even despite her popularity that she now has due to being the star player of Bright Moon’s soccer team, she can’t shake of how much she yearns for her old friend. Somehow, even with all the angst, it is still sO fucking FUNNY, the way Mermista was written was great, and she had some of THE best lines. But yeah, it’s so pure and just - Catra needs a hug, Adora needs a hug, they need to hug EACH other tbh! It had a very nice and hopeful message, and also kinda surprised me with the end.

11. someone you like by caela 5000+ words

[High School AU][T]

As a gen z, or x, or whatever the fuck I am, I always appreciate a fic where the characters say stupid shit over Instagram to their crushes which results it getting a date to prom. Although I can assure you that would never happen to me. But this So FUCKING cute and funny so READ.

12. this is what it's like when we collide (this is how you bring me back to life) by azul (7daysoftorture) 5000+ words

@bluelipgloss

[Canon Universe][G]

This galaxy brain fic is amazing and that’s ThE TEA. Catra gets a wish stone from Hordak and we all knowww, WHO she (subconsciously) craves - Adora, which obviously leads to hell breaking loose, because, disaster gays. Anyway read this it’s great and made me feel forget about the cruel world we live in.

13. Five Times Catra was a Cat and One Time the Cat was Catra by sunscreams 2400+ words

@catradoramma

[Canon Universe][T]

A BELLE, well written 5 + 1 which is just pure fluff (some hurt/comfort too) and Catra being Catra (so a loveable pain in the ass) after joining Adora in Bright Moon.

14. Vital Signs by SereneKarma 2000+ words

@serene-karma

[Modern AU][G]

Like a dumbass Catra breaks her leg and gets put in hospital, but hey - it’s okay as long as she’s got a cute nurse to look after her! It’s pretty funny just based on the concept alone so read ThIs BiSh.

15. You put the cracks into my moral code by Littleamethystc 3000+ words

@littleamethystc

[Gang AU][T]

Catra is a hotshot mafia member, Glimmer and Bow are the PoPo, and Adora is underestimated as HELL. It’s also pretty funny, like the whole concept is just perfect, so check it out!

16. The Best Gift I Could Ever Ask For by blueninjasharpshooter 1500+ words

[Modern AU][G]

Just a short n sweet fic of Adora celebrating her birthday which she forgot, and also Adora has a pocket knife in her boot, which is so accurate lmaooo. As well as having the most accurate character portrayals, AWWWWwwwww, was my reaction to the end of this fic, so read it to find out wHY.

17. but i still don’t wish death on ‘em (i just reflect on ‘em) by ayushi_writes 1500+ words

@ayushipop

[Canon Universe][G]

(Post S1) A year after the battle of Bright Moon, Adora and Catra are standing on a cliff, and Catra finally has a chance to end it all. But WilL she?!?! Let’s just say, Catradora are the queens of promises.

18. Whiskey and Eggnog by briony8969 3500+ words

@briony8969

[Modern Christmas AU][G]

A cute Christmas fic where a nervous Adora goes home for the first time in months with her new friends from college, scared of what they’ll think but more scared of a certain SOMEONE she hasn’t spoken to in months. So basically: sexual tension gAlore.

19. She's a Regular by BaronVonChop 1500+ words

@baronvonchop

[Coffee Shop AU][G]

Adora is gay. Catra is gay. Catra works at a coffee shop (badly), and Adora goes to said coffee shop soo much, that it gets on her friends nerves, coz she very obviously likes to flirt with a Catra. It’s funny too. That’s it. That’s the fic and I love it.

20. Hand in Hand, We Make Our Way to The End by thethirdphiladelphiavireo 6500+ words

[Canon Universe - Soulmate AU][T]

Catra and Adora figure out they are soulmates after years of not knowing what it meant, but OBVIOUSLY, cannot communicate like mature humans, because - same.

21. How Do You Tell A Girl You Really Like Her Eyes? by Gay_Panic 1000+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Pre Canon)Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, a very gay, very wholesome, very nice first kiss fic. They are very gay for each other in this one, they don’t even care if KYLE catches them kissing.

22. Tender Moments by yesimgay 1500+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

(Post-war) Catra still feels guilty about everything she did to Adora in the past, so instead of sleeping at the foot of the bed as usual , she decides to sleep next to Adora...So there’s fluff, lots of fluff, and it is very tender.

23. Perfectly intertwined by dragonesdepapel 2000+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

On Catra’s first official day in Bright Moon, Adora drags her to a festival and they do cute things and it’s cute, and you should defo read it.

24. a girl without freckles is like a sky without stars by dear_universe 900+ words

@catralovesgirls

[Canon Universe][G]

More bed sharing because I CANNOT help myself, I love fics like these! Catra can’t sleep without Adora on her first night at the rebellion, so, she knocks on Adora’s door and things go from there.

25. Something to remember you by by DBsean 3000+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

Adora sneaks back into the fright zone in attempt to retrieve something, when Catra catches her. It’s cute af. Despite the circumstances.

26. Skiffs & Ships by mysteryinc 900+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

(Pre-show) Just two gals being pals who missed each other a fuck ton while on separate missions. It’s pretty cute.

27. Starstruck by InvisiblePinkToast 2500+ words

@invisible-pink-toast

[Canon Universe][G]

(Pre-show) A lil bit of angst, and nightmares, and a little bit of fluff, Stargazing and bed sharing - what more could you need?

28. a truth so loud you can't ignore by adverbialstarlight 2500+ words

@adverbialstarlight

[High School AU][T]

Catra ignores the growing feelings she has for her best friend, until the truth is so loud she can’t ignore it (see what I did there?) But for real tho this fic really gave me angst that hurt my soul then fluff that healed it, so we StAN.

29. Horde kids are just Like That by gerti 1500+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Canon Divergence) What would happen if when Adora defected the Horde, her and Catra where still girlfriends? Read this to find out because it’s FUCKING hilarious lmaoooo, like it’s so absurd but somehow still makes perfect sense.

30. The First Step by oldmountainsoul 2900+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Post S1) Apologies which end in getting shoved out off trees are now exclusively for the Catradora fandom only.

31. (You’re My) Haven by giraffewrites 400+ words

@giraffewrites

[Canon Universe - Pre Canon][G]

(Pre-Canon) Adora only kisses Catra when she thinks she’s asleep, but my girl Catra ain’t playing no more so one night she just goes in for the KILL, Aka, cute dorks just being cute dorks.

32. Beyond the Screen by SereneKarma 5000+ words

@serene-karma

[Youtuber AU][G]

If you can't tell I really like YouTuber AU's. Catra being the angsty gal she is starts a YouTube channel to rant about her old best friend who practically vanished when she was 15, and her viewers (who definitely have no life) end up finding her.

33. come on, sugar, don't you leave early by thesqian 1500+ words

Twitter: @crnkgmeplys

[Modern AU][G]

Two gays at a gay wedding, who clearly have some shit going on, but it’s okay because gay weddings always bring gays together. I said gay a lot in that sentence. Read the fic, it’s short n sweet and cute, so you can’t go wrong!

34. but we could never stay away (from each other) by adorassword 1500+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

Catra and Adora have a nice, not so nice chit chat on Adora’s balcony late at night, - these two need LOVE, and I needed a hug after reading this coz damn. Damn.

35. bad ideas by ranpoandpoe 1000+ words

[University AU][T]

How we all wish thinking about your crush at 2am would go. That’s the only context I’m giving, so READ IT.

Also, here are some of my fav one shots I’ve written:

Two Sides Of The Same Coin 1000+ words

[Gang AU][T]

If I was perfect 2500+ words

[Modern AU][T]

And check out my Catradora week series, however my fav is:

damn you, unrequited love 7000+ words

[Modern/Sixth Form AU][T]

Here are some more series packed with fics that I’ve really enjoyed too!

Catradora Oneshots by clicheusername5678 @hey-adora

Catradora Tumblr Prompts BY sunscreams @catradoramma

if I grind my teeth at night, would you hear it? By poetroe

in the bottom of a coffee cup + pieces by inkwelled (their stuff is great)

Twitter: adorascatrq

Anyway, I hope you guys appreciate this, it took quite a while lol. I had a lot of fun making it, and I hope you check out some of the fics on the list (maybe all if you're a crazy mf)

Until next time (:

#micah n spop #spop #she-ra #she ra and the princesses of power #catradora #fic recs #micahs fic recs #micahs recs #adora #catra #spop catra #spop adora #fan fics #she ra netflix #i ship

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tinsley-goldsworth · 5 years

Text

band-aids don’t fix bullet holes (chapter 1)

read chapter 1 on ao3!

summary: from the start, ricky and c.c. were the best of friends but ricky didn’t know c.c. wanted to be more than that and in the end, everything came full circle

Wc: 1633

Tw: Graphic Descriptions of a murder

a/n: this is set in the buzzfeed unsolved universe and i kind of tweaked the canon (even though it hasn’t fully been established) to fit the plot!

From a young age, Ricky Goldsworth and C.C. Tinsley were the best of friends. They grew up together in a small neighborhood and spent the majority of their childhood running around and wreaking havoc, in an innocent, child-like way of course. Ricky was the one who always came up with the ideas and C.C. always tagged along, glad to help out a friend. The adults in the neighborhood found their friendship endearing and never really got mad at the two friends for the troubles they got themselves into.

As they grew up, Ricky and C.C. discovered their interest in mystery books and furthermore, murders. They loved reading Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes books and while C.C. was more invested in the detective work and the forensics behind certain cases, Ricky was more interested in the creativity of the murders. When they graduated elementary school and moved onto middle school, the duo began reading about murder mysteries that occurred in real life and enjoyed watching detective shows.

In 7th grade, Francesca also joined their small friend group because she also loved murder mysteries and detective books and introduced Ricky and C.C. to the world of secret agents and spies. She explained that she wanted to be a spy one day and got Ricky and C.C. hooked on a great spy television show. During Halloween, the trio decided to dress up in loosely related costumes so Francesca dressed up as an FBI agent, Ricky dressed up as Jack the Ripper, and C.C. dressed up as Sherlock. Their costumes captured the true oddball nature of the friends.

Many people would assume that C.C. and Ricky would grow apart and branch off to find new friends in high school but they were still the best of friends in high school. Their love for murder mysteries didn’t die either and C.C. and Ricky took a forensic science class together during sophomore year. One day, when they were doing DNA analysis in class, Ricky had turned to C.C. and mused, “Isn’t ironic that as you’re learning how to solve crimes, you’re also learning how to commit a crime and get away with it? Like with all the stuff we learned this year in forensic science, I could, hypothetically, murder somebody right now and not be caught.”

“If our forensic science teacher heard that, I think she would have a heart attack,” C.C. responded and the two laughed before returning to their work, never addressing that remark again.

It wasn’t until junior year when C.C. realized that he was crushing on his best friend. He never consciously thought about how attractive Ricky and thought that wanting to hold your best friend’s hand was normal which, to his surprise, apparently was not. C.C. found himself constantly admiring Ricky, no matter where he was or what time it was. He thought that Ricky looked beautiful when he was stressed about the chemistry test when he was laughing, and even when he was simply watching television.

Because the town C.C. was in wasn’t very progressive and kind of homophobic, it was difficult for C.C. to accept his feelings. He found it difficult to accept that he liked boys in addition to liking girls and it took him about half a year to finally come out to himself. After moving on from that obstacle, C.C. had to accept that he was crushing on his best friend and that his best friend probably was unaware of this development of feelings. Even if Ricky did know, he probably didn’t feel the same about C.C., which is why C.C. never ever wanted to admit his feelings aloud.

Francesca used her abnormally accurate observational skills to quickly determine that C.C. had a crush on Ricky and C.C. knew that Fran knew, but didn’t want to admit it, partly out of shame. On a sunny afternoon, Ricky, C.C., and Francesca were studying for finals together and Ricky had to bike back to school because he left his notebook in his locker, which left C.C. alone with Francesca. The moment Ricky closed the front door, Francesca took her opportunity and excitedly asked, “So, when are you going to ask him out? You clearly are into Ricky! You need to confess your love!”

“Fran, have you been watching spy dramas that are centered around romance lately? Sorry to break it to you but love in real life is very different from fictional love,” C.C. awkwardly replied, frowning a bit as he returned to studying. Francesca pried the notebook away from his hands and continued on as if she hadn’t heard his words.

“I’m pretty sure Ricky is into you too! I can’t really read him but I think he likes you back. You should totally ask him out!” Fran was speaking a mile a minute, a habit that became evident whenever she was overly enthusiastic. She looked like a little excited puppy, clearly ecstatic about the idea of C.C. and Ricky dating.

“I’ll do it when I’m ready,” C.C. lied, hoping that would make Fran drop the subject and she did, dialing her excitement levels back down to the minimum. Fran didn’t mention C.C.’s crush on the oblivious Ricky Goldsworth but would always raise her eyebrows anytime C.C. began staring at Ricky with lovestruck eyes.

Much to Francesca’s dismay, C.C. wasn’t ready to admit his crush on Ricky even after they finished senior year. He knew that he might not ever get the chance to admit his love for Ricky after graduation but decided to bite his tongue and hold his peace forever, hoping that he would be able to move on and find a girl in college that would help him get over this dumb crush of his.

Regardless of C.C.’s remorse, graduating from high school was a sentimental experience. The three friends were going to different colleges and parting ways so they tried to make the best use of their last few days together. Fran was going to New York to study sociology, C.C. was going to Boston to study forensic science, and Ricky was going to California to study criminal psychology and the three had consulted with each other before choosing majors. They spent the last few days together up all night, going through photos and taking a stroll down memory lane. When they officially had to part ways and move into their college dormitories, Francesca, C.C., and Ricky held a party for themselves, promised to stay in touch, and went off to college.

Unfortunately, C.C. lost contact with Ricky halfway through freshman year but occasionally texted Francesca. C.C. tried contacting Ricky several times but his texts never sent and Francesca couldn’t get a hold of him either. Even Ricky’s parents didn’t know what was going on with Ricky and claimed to not have seen him for weeks. C.C. knew this was a red flag and something was wrong but was too busy with school work to take time to investigate.

It wasn’t until C.C. got a job as a private investigator when he looked into the case of Ricky Goldsworth. He searched all public records and every lead he found led to a dead end. C.C. finally gave up on the case, deciding that Ricky probably moved to a new country to start a new life.

Then, he was assigned to a new, intriguing case at 11 pm on a Monday night. The investigation agency refused to disclose the particular details of the case, insisting that he showed up to the crime scene before looking at the gathered information so C.C. drove to the crime scene. When he arrived at the crime scene, he was greeted with one of the most gruesome sights he would ever see in his entire life.

The victim’s body was sprawled on the body, limbs splayed out and bent in crooked positions. His mouth was agape and his eyes were open and devoid of any emotions. There a giant hole in his chest where the murderer tore out his heart strategically, reminding C.C. of the Jack the Ripper murder. Dried blood had formed a dark pool around the victim’s body and there was no murder weapon around. The murder was so bizarre and unique that it was almost poetic and outlandishly creative.

The victim’s name was Harold, according to the secondary, who was also assigned to this case, at the scene. He was enjoying his Monday night by watching some television when the murderer came in at around 9:30 pm and killed him. Harold was a relatively boring man and didn’t seem to have any reason to be the target of such a horrific murder but here he was, flesh rotting by the minute. The secondary also claimed to have been interviewing witnesses and neighbors to gather a list of suspects. C.C. was thankful that the secondary already did all the heavy duty work and left C.C. the most exciting part of the case.

“Who are the suspects?” C.C. wasted no time getting straight to the point. This case was the first case that had intrigued him in a while and he was itching to catch the suspect and get a confession. Solving this case would certainly look good for his reputation at the investigation agency.

“We don’t have many suspects,” The secondary frowned, glancing at his notes and circled a note. “But we do have one suspect that we should look into.”

“What’s their name?” C.C. glanced over at Harold’s corpse, wondering who could ever have the audacity to perform such a grisly murder.

“Ricky Goldsworth.”

chapter 2 is out!

#fics #ricky goldsworth #bfu #buzzfeed unsolved #c.c. tinsley #tinsworth #francesca norris #buzzfeed unsolved cinematic universe #high school #bfucu #pining #murder #high school au #fanfiction #buzzfeed #mentions of sherlock

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mook-pooltable · 5 years

Text

Uncle Sam AU

Rosie: Okay, the first idea I had is a crossover idea that could result in something similar to my HatID story that partially inspired by an idea I saw on Ao3.

Harry, while still in school, goes to Gringotts and asks for a hereditary test to find out if he has any other living family besides the Dursleys (cause let's face it, he's *desperate* to get away from them). He finds out he had someone who's still around on his mother's side of the family, a cousin of his grandfather, Harold Evans.

The man's name is "Sammy Lawrence". The test shows if the other members are alive, cast out of the family, or other such statuses by showing their names in different colors, and *his* name is written in an unusual color. The color in question means “Alive but Incapacitated” (Or something along those lines)

Mango: OOOOO yes i like this

Rosie: (Maybe "Entrapped" would be better?)

Mango: (ye, that would probably work better)

Rosie: Harry, being desperate for *any chance* of a family member that doesn't hate his existence, decided he wanted to find his Great Uncle Sammy. The goblins say they can run an investigation for him, while he goes through the proper channels to get to the states while underage. (Which also includes finding a place to stay, getting a passport, etcetera.)

Mango: i'd love to read this fanfic.

Rosie: The things get a little, weird.

Mango: no doubt

Poe: question: is sammy mom or dad's side of the family, i’m thinking dad but...

Rosie: Sammy Lawrence had gone missing years ago, along with most of the employees at the Cartoon Studio where he worked. But there was never an investigation by MACUSA since the Grindlewald War was still going on and had finally reached American shores. Sammy was the cousin of Harry's grandfather on his mother's side of the family.

Poe: gotcha gotcha

Rosie: Harry, still wanting to know more, decides he's going to go overseas anyway and maybe find and look around the Studio himself. But the goblins are smart enough (and not willing to lose such a valued customer) to set up a "Back Up" time frame for him. Meaning when he goes, if he doesn't contact them after a certain period of time, they will send people to go looking for him.

Mango: smart

Rosie: This, in turn, keeps Harry from being absolutely terrified while in the studio. He knows help is coming, he just needs to keep calm and safe until they arrive.

Mango: poor naive boy

Rosie: Overall, it's good logic. He needs to keep himself safe, and he needs to not fall into a mindless panic.

Mango: true

Rosie: But then he meets Sammy. Sammy is a lot of things (including crazy), but he knows that his "Lord" was born from a children's cartoon character, and probably wouldn't be happy with him if he tried to sacrifice a child.

Mango: ohhh boy

Rosie: So he tries to catch Harry, and move him to a "safer" place.

Mango: awww

Rosie: But he doesn't know about Harry's fight reflexes. The ones the wizarding world trained into him. Sammy gets a stunner to the face for his efforts.

Mango: oof then he reverts to true salt briefly "listen, kid, i'm trying to keep you safe!"

Rosie: "I'm sorry! You startled me!" Sammy; What are you even doing here? Harry; I-I'm looking for someone.

Mango: "tell me their name, i might know of them"

Rosie: "Sammy, Sammy Lawrence. He-He was my Mum's Uncle. I wanted to find him." Cue silent shock.

Mango: sammy freezes up at that

Lili: I LOVE THIS

Rosie: 'I had a niece?' I think Sammy is going to be an older cousin of Harry's grand-dad. Like, a much older cousin.

Mango: "well, you found me, kid, now what?"

Rosie: (well hello awkward silence, how nice of you to join us.)

Mango: (XD)

Rosie: I dunno what would happen then, but I think it would "end" with the Goblins sending a full rescue team of Curse Breakers after the first few arrive and sense the sheer *volume* of dark magic from the studio, and then Sammy is living a mostly sane ink man with his great-nephew while being treated by the local magical hospital. And all wizards that show up at their door get the full brunt of Sammy Salt.

Mango: i want sammy getting salty at hogwarts

Rosie: I envision lots of shorts that would basically be "The Life and Times of a Wizard and an Ink Man".

Mango: yesssss

Rosie: Harry is very interested in Curse Breaking and Medical Magic now. Sammy is pissed that Hogwarts doesn't offer proper Music and Drama programs. "What do you *mean* you never had a music class there?!"

Mango: he has half a mind to storm up to the school and DEMAND an arts program

Rosie: "Get me an instrument, no one in my family is *not* going to know how to play *something* musical." Hell, he'd probably teach the kids *himself* with how offended he'd be at the concept. "I don't care if it's a bloody *recorder* Harry, you are going to learn to play music."

Trash Ma: he did have that flute hagrid made him in first year

Rosie: Oh, that's perfect!

Trash Ma: The one that sounded like an owl That Harry used to get past fluffy

Rosie: Yes. "My, that's actually quite nice. Now you'll need to hold it like this..." Sammy turns out to be pretty good with kids. Or, at least, he's good with Harry. I like this new idea. "Good Dad" Sammy. It has a nice ring to it.

Mango: sammy? a dad? yes please

Rosie: Or at least "Good Uncle" Sammy. I want to see wizards trying to handle Angry Ink Man Sammy acting in defense of his nephew.

Mango: y e s also, the Dursleys getting tried for child abuse

Rosie: Harder to pull with Sammy still being and ink man. He can't exactly stand up in court. Unless it was a Magical Court. Now then, back to Uncle Sam.

Mango: UNCLE SAM everyone at hogwarts being a little confused about harry's inky american uncle

Rosie: How about after finding out was his great-nephew, he gets super protective of him in the Studio.

Mango: y e s

Rosie: "Oh no, 'My Lord' can go *fuck* himself, I'm not letting him lay a *single finger* on you."

Trash Ma: So is sammu related to lily or james

Mango: and i am 1000000% behind uncle sammy protecting harry in the studio

Rosie: Lily.

Mango: sammy's the cousin of lily's grandpa, right?

Rosie: Lily's dad, Harry's grandpa. He's the older cousin of Lily's dad.

Mango: ah makes sense

Trash Ma: Harry's grandpa's name was also Harry i mean not canonically but i like that

Rosie: I wrote it as Harold. He was named "Harry" in honor of him.

Trash Ma: yaaaaass

Mango: i like this

Rosie: Sammy is now also dead set on getting Harry out of the Studio safely. Even when the Salt is mostly replaced by Crazy, he still wants Harry out of there Safely. He ditches the Bendy mask at some point too.

Mango: he's not letting harry see that

Rosie: As the Curse Breakers extract more people/toons from the studio, they end up being placed under the care of House Potter, since Harry is letting the Goblins fund the clean out with money from the Potter vaults. Since his search was what started it all. So Harry's ending up with a big, messed up, traumatized, and mentally wounded family living under his roof.

Mango: LOTTA TOONS

Rosie: And Sammy ending up the "Boss" of the house since he's the "oldest member" of Harry's family (and is now his guardian thanks to the Goblins) What if Uncle Sam was one of those border-line Hover Parents? He doesn't hover Harry's shoulder, but he *does* repeatedly stuck his head in the room and go "Everything alright in here?" Also, someone starts laughing really hard the first time Sammy gets called "Uncle Sam". Then they start confusing people by quoting the recruiting posters. "Uncle Sam wants YOU!" "Oh, shut up, would you?" Harry is so confused.

Poe: Pfft

Rosie: I want Sammy to start having one of his "Prophet"- Episodes while Dumbledore is trying to talk him into sending Harry back to Dursleys. "No, it's not going to happen. I will not allow it. He WiLl nOt be gOinG BaCk to TheM!" "Uncle Sammy, please calm down! Professor, I think you should leave for now." Dumbledore; "Now Harry, I'm sure we can talk this-" Harry; "No sir, Uncle Sammy has some issues he's still recovering from. I need to stay because I'm the only one that's safe when it kicks in. You should *really* leave Professor." Sammy; "LeAVe uS, Old GOaT. Or YoU'lL be An OfFerEd sHeEP." *Sammy starts singing the Sheep song from the game*

Lili: :D But also D: I love it But poor everyone

Rosie: *Harry pulls Sammy away and shoves Dumbles out the door* And yet the Goblins still had proof that Sammy (even with his Schizophrenia) was a better guardian for Harry than the Dursleys. The Prophet is obsessively protective of Harry. And still does a good job caring for him. Lots of food, hugs- he's actually kind of dotting, to be honest. He just talks crazy while doing it. Harry has gotten very good at cleaning spells. They have this weird balance for who's the Kid and who's the Adult. When Sammy's head is clear, he's the stable adult that makes sure Harry is happy and healthy and doing well with the school stuff he has.

Poe: Oh my god that's so cute and also sad I love it

Lili: PERFECT MIX OF FLUFF AND ANGST

Rosie: When the Prophet is out, Harry is the one keeping track of things and making sure Sammy doesn't hurt himself or others, but still letting him dot. But the ended up being very good at it. And they both end up helping each other heal. Harry with getting Sammy stable mentally and recovering from the damage of being trapped in the studio for so long, and Sammy getting to be more comfortable with himself and with actually having family that cared about him.

Poe: Aww,,

Lili: :')

Rosie: And the Salty Ink Man ends up becoming an honorary Goblin

Poe: I love recovery stories so much okay This is my j a m

Lili: Recovery stories are great

Poe: Like my favorite part about angst and trauma is the recovery it's so good

Rosie: He finds out about the people profiting from the disaster that befell the Potter family, and his nephew. He gets them to put up libel fines for that Boy-Who-Lived crap, and fines for anyone that had taken stuff from the Godric Hollow house after it had fallen. (You *know* there were souvenir hunters that broke in for stuff) Harry is shocked that there are laws about that kind of stuff and why no one told him about them before.

Mango: i love the entire uncle sammy arc

Rosie: I think this would have started before Harry's third year of school. It's the only one I can think of where Harry could have had the time for the test and to gather the stuff for going overseas. I'm gonna say the stuff that leads to Harry going to Diagon happened earlier, so he had more time decided to to go the states instead of waiting until the end of the next school year. Since he did that, he ends up staying in the states of the first half of his third year. So ho doesn't know about Sirius be connected to the Potters until Sammy tries to get a look at the wills of Harry's parents, finds out they were sealed, and that Harry's Godfather had never gotten a trial.

Mango: tRIAL FOR SIRIUS, WOO HOO i just really like sirius, doggone it

Rosie: Abso-freaking-lutely!

Mango: how well would sammy and sirius get along?

Rosie: And Dumbledore getting himself into trouble. Yes, once they got over the initial bumps in the road.

Mango: now i want sammy in prophet mode to call sirius a sheepdog

Rosie: Sammy would be mad at him for putting his need for revenge over his responsibility to care for Harry in his best friend's place.

Mango: rip

Rosie: But he feels like the 12 years in prison for a crime he didn't commit are enough of a punishment. So now he just has to *make it up* to Harry.

Mango: wait, who thinks that, sammy?

Rosie: Sammy thinks that about Sirius.

Mango: ah, okay "i suffered for over tHiRty YeArS in that damned studio before Harry came looking for me"

Rosie: As for Dumbledore, he's in a lot of hot water for sealing the will of an old pure-blood family, and claiming it was to keep Harry's location a secret. And unintentionally blocking the path of justice while he was at it.

Mango: ffs dumbles

Rosie: What was the rest of Sammy's sentence? Was there more after what you wrote?

Mango: i just don't like periods but i was thinking that he’d say something like, "so don’t even SPEAK to me about imprisonment"

Rosie: Oh, it just sounded like he was going to say more. (Well, I don't think Dumbledore was a witness for the will, so he wouldn't have known what was in it. But with his firm belief in second chances, he could have thought that Petunia would have been listed as a safe person for Harry to be left with. I don't like a purely evil Dumbledore, I like him as a misguided person better)

Mango: that makes sense he still gets in trouble tho sammy and sirius head that train

Rosie: "Don't talk to me about imprisonment with me, just work to *make up* for not being there."

Mango: and then sirius DOES

Rosie: Yes.

Mango: and the prankster dad and the salty drama dad become friends

Lili: YES

Rosie: YES

Lili: ALL OF THIS

Rosie: Sirius also gets a good look at angry Prophet Sammy at some point, probably when the Minister ends up sticking his foot in his mouth.

Mango: hoo boy that’s gotta be scary

Poe: Ooo

Rosie: He also sees how well Harry is handling at handling his schizophrenic Uncle's episodes.

Mango: they're all one big happy family :D

Rosie: Yes, flawed families do the best job of filling in each other's gaps.

Mango: i want henry there too but i like henry too much

Rosie: At some point, Harry is dragged back to England because that's where his school is. But Sammy comes with him since they just *can't* leave him unattended. And I mean Sammy. Henry could be there. He and Harry could arrive at the same time.

Mango: :D

Rosie: Henry let's Harry come with him instead of letting the kid wander off on his own.

Mango: yesssss

Rosie: They get separated in the music department which is when Sammy tries to catch Harry, only to find out he was a great uncle and had never known.

Mango: henry finds harry again

Rosie: With Uncle Sam! And Hen is shocked by the state Sammy is in.

Mango: Sammy kind of guards harry from hen, almost not recognizing him

Rosie: And Harry is caught between wanting to tell them help would be coming for them and trying to keep magic a secret. He has to explain that Henry is a friend and not someone he needs to be protected from.

Mango: plot twist: henry's a small time wandmaker and knows about magic

Rosie: (To be honest, I like focusing on the Sammy-Harry relationship better)

Mango: (that’s fine, it’s your au. i just have a weird fixation)

Rosie: (is fine. I can understand it) Second half of Third year is Harry and Sammy continuing to fill in personal holes, fix legal stuff, and get used to their very weird lives. Oh, and Harry is working to catch up with all his missed work in school. He was spending his time in the states filling in the gaps in his general magical knowledge. And he's missing a *lot* of "common" knowledge. He never knew how much he didn't know until people were trying to talk to him about it. (Also, mango, if you want to talk about how Hen would fit in, I don't mind. But I'll be focusing on Sammy shaking things up in the magical world.)

Mango: (maybe later, i don’t really have any ideas atm)

Rosie: I think that Harry ends up with a house (or something) in/near Hogsmead, so that Sammy won't be in the Castle as often as he would be if they were actually staying in the castle. Cause, you know, he's a schizophrenic with homicidal/volatile/violent tendencies Or at least somewhere close enough that Harry could hop on the train to get to school. Since there's no way that train *only* goes to Hogwarts and King's Cross.

Mango: no way in hell

Rosie: Harry kind of likes the new schedule, since he now sits in a small breakfast with his small family, then goes to the station to ride to school, has his school day (with lunch there), rides home, and has dinner with his family. Rinse and repeat. He doesn't have to deal with the fame games and student issues 24/7 anymore. And he loves it.

Poe: Aww How is his relationship with his classmates?

Rosie: I think the place they're all staying in is an old Potter family house, that was in a town that had a Hogwarts Express station. But it didn't see a lot of traffic since so few magicals lived near there. It was getting used again since Harry had sent a request for them to stop there for him to get too and from School. This is also re-implanting the idea of using the express for more than just getting to and from school during the holidays. More students are taking weekend trips on the train to find out where else it goes. People organize train trips to plot out the routes the train travels (they had never thought about it before) Other parents meet ink man Sammy, and while weirded out by his appearance, they approve of his ideas about the school and caring for a magical kid. And dealing with magic in general.

Mango: imagine sammy becoming more famous than lockhart sAMMY WRITING A PARENTING BOOK FOR MAGICALS

Rosie: Sammy, though salty, is actually pretty likable and has lots of good ideas that magical parents like and muggle parents agree with. Yes. Henry is the co-author.

Mango: yesss i think sammy would hate snape tbh

Rosie: Sammy; "They need proper music and arts programs, how do you expect children to learn about those things if you don't teach them?" MugParent; "Exactly! How can they learn about what interests them if you don't expose them to it?" Oh heck yeah. Sammy may be salty, but Snape is just plain *cruel* to his students.

Mango: sammy goes full prophet on his ass

Rosie: Snape would do better dealing with older students who *honestly interested* in the subject than kids who are only there because it was required.

Mango: oh definitely

Rosie: Harry has to jump on his Uncle to keep the Prophet from stabbing Snape with an ingredient knife.

Mango: o o f

Rosie: After Snape was taking pot shots at Harry and Neville.

Mango: Understandable

Rosie: It was a protective rage. From that point on everyone works to keep Sammy and Snape separated. Later on, Sammy makes the statement about Snape not being fit for teaching younger students when Harry tells him more about the man. And he makes it to someone on the Board of Governors.

Mango: oh damn.

Rosie: They agree with him.

Mango: that’s impressive

Rosie: He didn't know the person he was part of the Board. He was just making conversation with someone during a parent weekend.

Mango: ah now i’m just imagining him rant to like 20 different people at different times about snape

Rosie: Of course! He's too salty to keep to himself.

Mango: he’s also ranting about how hogwarts needs an arts and music course

Rosie: Yes. Harry's friends are unsure of ink Uncle.

Mango: sammy is good at ranting

Rosie: Hermione is horrified that Harry would skip out on half a school year to find a relative he'd never met, but Sammy talking about improving the school is lifting her opinion. Ron is amazed by the adventure Harry went on without meaning to, but Sammy scares him a bit.

Poe: This is so beautiful

Mango: ikr

Rosie: I wonder how Mr. Weasley would react to Sammy? Mrs. Weasley would probably not be happy about Harry living with him. She wouldn't think he was a good guardian because of his mental health issues.

Mango: coughablistcough

Rosie: I was working from the idea that she didn't think Sammy made a good guardian because Harry kept having to care for *him* instead of the other way around. Parents were supposed to be caring for their kids, not the other way around. And, you know, she's stifling and kind-of controlling for anyone she thinks of as one of "Her" kids. (I think the reason her oldest sons all picked up jobs that took them away from home was so they could escape her coddling.) But Harry is more capable than she's giving him credit for, and even when being crazy it's clear he cares about Harry. And Sammy doesn't treat Harry like he isn't able to tie his own shoes without help. Also, should there be actual toons in this AU? Or should they all be people that were used/altered by Joey?

Mango: i want to say actual toons

Rosie: It's a bit of a coin toss for me. Hence why I'm asking. Actual toons would be interesting and leaves room for recreating an alternate/new studio, but then I'd have to take time to explain how they could exist. With the people as toons, I can use stuff about Transfiguration how it was possible.

Mango: i vote option 2 then

Rosie: But the possibilities for both are fun too. *I need more than one person voting on this!*

Poe: I go with transfigured people because it functions better in the story and considering the magical world's problems with recognizing anything but wizards and witches as capable beings with rights unless you want to deal with that

Rosie: Okay, thank you. That is good reasoning. They will be transfigured people, and all receiving medical help thanks to Harry and Henry. Now I need to figure who's who in this. "Monster" Characters are: 'Bendy', The Prophet, Boris, Alice, Charley, Barley, Edgar, and the Projectionist. Which Alice theory should I use? Alice = Susie, Alice = Allison, or Alice = Susie Mixed with Allison? And which characters should be the Butchers? (Boris is gonna be Wally, I think. Though it might be fun to use Shawn!Boris...) Bah, I’ll focus more on that later. Harry asks to shuffle around his electives. Because now he's more interested in Curse Breaking and Healing magic than just getting easy grades. Divination is dropped for Arithmancy, Care is kept (because Hagrid is the teacher and he wants to support him) and he adds Ancient Runes as a subject. Henry shares that the best way to show how well you understand something is to try and explain it to someone else. So when Harry gets home he explains what he's learned to Sammy (if he's okay), or Boris. (Harry also got tutors from the Goblins while he was in the states, so he's not that far behind in Testing levels.) (The Goblins don't mention that it's the *international* testing levels.) (Harry is confused when he finds he's *ahead* of his classmates when he gets back to Hogwarts) (Sammy is even more offended by the school standards then)

Poe: Aww Cute thiings

Rosie: Should the people from the studio be able to see the Thestrals, or no? Also, since Joey is 'Bendy', should he be salvageable? Or is he gonna be 6ft under? You know, the more I think about it, the worse I realize the Hogwarts curriculum was. There were no math classes, no language classes, no writing classes, no art classes. Most parents would be frothing at the mouth over how unprepared those kids would be once they got out into the world. *I see so much Sammy Rage in the future of this AU.*

Mango: ***It shall be glorious**

Rosie: ***And we haven't even gotten to the chaos of fourth year yet.** ***Sammy is gonna hecking KILL the Minister if he gets his hands on him.**

Mango: HOO BOY

Rosie: Well, can you blame him? Fudge has shot himself in the foot more times than I dare to count.

Teir: If I can voice my opinion, I think Joey should be salvaged :P. I don't really have a justification, just that he's an interesting character to have around

Poe: I think having him discover functional magic could be interesting,

Rosie: That could work.

Trash Ma: Mom says actual toons

Rosie: So that's 2 for People changed into Toons, and 1 for Actual Toons.

#Uncle Sam AU #batim #Bendy and the Ink Machine #sammy lawrence #batim sammy #crossover #crossover au #harry potter #batim au #Harry Potter au #finally turned that one into text #cut out so much that wasn't needed #am very happy with this #mook writing #mook conversation

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rayonfrozenwings · 6 years

Text

A Present for Solstice

Hey @mehlisssa here is your fic for the KoA Fic Swap! It’s a Chaol and Dorian Fluffy drabble/fic so I hope you like it. :) @faeriequeenofthewest and @rayonfrozenwings AO3 Link Here.

Summary: Winter Solstice is coming up, Chaol has been seeing a new lady called Lithaen. Chaol is smitten and Dorian teases him about it constantly because it is much more fun to be a single man in Rifthold. This Drabble takes place with Dorian and Chaol going on a shopping trip for a solstice gift.

Tags: Brotp: Chaol and Dorian, Fluff, Friendship, Brotp, Pre Tog, Set before Throne of Glass and after The Assassins Blade. references canon, not AU.

Words:1858

A Present for Solstice

Chaol

Chaol stalked up the steps to Dorian’s tower, the day was already getting away from them, he had gone on his run this morning and burned off the extra tarts Lithaen had managed to procure for him the night before. He needed to get Lithaen’s solstice gift so he could give it to her before she left. As she was not needed to attend the royal family while they were at their country estate in Ararat for Solstice, she and a small group of servants would leave the glass castle for the holidays. Last week Dorian was staying with Chaol, “it’s more fun socialising without the courtiers and mother looking over my shoulder” he had said a twinkle in his sapphire eyes. Chaol tried to wipe a smile from his face at the memory finally reaching the landing.

He rapped his knuckles across the door and waited for his friend to open it. A muffled sound came from within and Chaol pushed open the oak door after several minutes of waiting. The room was “cozy” and books covered every surface. Dorian was just emerging from his dressing room, Dark hair perfectly arranged, and wearing dark pants and a blue tunic with silver stitching that brought out the blue in his eyes. “Are you ready to go yet?” Chaol asked. “I’ve been ready for hours, I wasn’t going to go outside to fetch you however, I saw you running in the snow this morning - sometimes I think you are mad.” Dorian said with a grin on his face, the lie flying off his tongue as he quickly grabbed a fur lined coat and gloves. “Really? Sorry I kept you - well then, I guess we don’t need to stop at the kitchens on our way to the carriage.” Chaol replied with a knowing tilt of his head. “Oh, it's never the wrong time for pastries Chaol, whether you’ve had breakfast already or not!” and he quickly rushed down the stairs towards the kitchens, leaving Chaol to catch up.

The carriage rushed along the crowded streets, Dorian was carefully eating a blackberry pastry beside him, trying not to get crumbs on his coat and the streets were full of people getting supplies for the season. The green roofs of Rifthold were peeking out underneath the fresh snow and the streets were turning to a grey slush beneath the carriage wheels, evergreen foliage with red berries was arranged around the outside and inside the fogged up windows to add pops of colour to the otherwise white and grey landscape. The carriage rushed through the slums and into the wealthier part of town, where all the finest establishments were. Lithaen wouldn’t mind a simple gift but Chaol wanted to show her how much she meant to him so had decided to look in the more upmarket stores of Rifthold. Not to mention that Dorian was more suited to the finer things in life. Chaol while the son of a Lord had grown up with what was necessary and had not managed to kick the frugal habit much to Dorian’s horror. “I think we are here,” Chaol said as he noticed the carriage slowing down and the shops becoming clearer through the window. “Perfect! I just finished.” Dorian wiped his hands on a handkerchief and put them inside his ermine gloves, opening the door and stepping outside. Leaving Chaol to follow. Dorian looked at the store and assessed the window display, quickly turning back to Chaol. “What? What’s wrong?” Chaol asked, looking past him, worry lining his features. “This is the shop?” Dorian asked, the exasperation clear in his voice, “I thought you liked this girl!” “I do, and this shop is great, it has some nice items and its reasonable, so Lithaen won’t feel too out of place when she wears it.” he replied. Dorian looked at his friend as if he were a small child. “I don't know if she would care about that? Isn’t the attraction of seeing a Lord, getting the gifts a Lord may give you and then showing them off?” Dorian asked as he raised a knowing eyebrow. “Lithaen isn’t like that, and I’m not a Lord, I'm not even a Lord’s son, I’m just the Captain of the Guard.” Chaol brushed past Dorian into the shop and Dorian reluctantly followed.

Dorian

The Shop was not what he would call “high quality” but not much was these days, it was getting harder and harder for the merchants in Ardarlan to get their hands on reasonably priced goods. Silks from Ellwye and Fenharrow were draped along the back of the shop, an annex off to the side allowed for customers to try things on and have them tailored to fit. The clothes up the back were of simple fabrics and makes, but well made. It was not a shop Dorian would get his own clothes from. But it was better than most out there. Dorian watched as Chaol browsed the fabrics looking for something in particular as his hands quickly brushed over the different silks and satins. “See anything you like?” Dorian asked, trying to be as polite as he could in such a small shop with nothing else to do. He tried looking around, but there were not very many places for a man of his size to stand comfortably amongst the wares that seemed to have been jammed into every corner and alcove, stocking the shop for the gifting season. “Not anything I was looking for... I wanted to get her something with a swan on it, we saw one in the garden once.” Chaol replied quietly as he continued to walk past all the silk scarves. “Well now that I know what we are looking for why not ask?” the words rolled in his mouth like a smooth caramel. “Excuse me sir, do you happen to have any scarves with a swan or swans on them?” and then the corners of his mouth turned up, giving that dazzling Havilliard smile. “I’m afraid I do not sir, but I might have some with other birds on them?” the merchant was trying to remain calm as his eyes lit up knowing who was standing in his shop and then the light fading as he realised he had now likely disappointed him. “Ah Chaol, see - no swans. Would you maybe like a pigeon?” humor coated the words and Chaol stood there as resolute as always, “I am afraid a pigeon just won’t do your highness, perhaps we should leave and try another establishment.” Chaol walked out past Dorian and into the street, completely straight faced, leaving Dorian to say goodbye and follow.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Chaol said moments later. “Did what? They didn’t have what we needed, why waste time in there when we can go to Harold’s and get the scarf you saw last week.” He threw another grin towards Chaol. “How do you know Harold’s has the scarf?” Chaol, stood outside the smaller shop, arms crossed and feet firmly in place. Dorian looked back, the shop behind them didn’t even have a sign, It’s goods probably all counterfeit or stolen Dorian thought, though the merchant seemed to have an honest enough face. “I know Harold’s has that particular scarf because last week when you left on “errands” and wouldn’t let me come I had someone follow you.” Dorian shot back in a forceful whisper. “Who?” he spat out. “Never mind who, am I right? are we going to Harold’s or is there something else you aren’t telling me… are you perhaps into cross-dressing and Harold has made you a dress out of blue taffeta for the season? While the cat's away? Am I right?” said Dorian, mischief coating every word. Chaol’s eyes softened “No. You are not... I am not... Fine. Lets go get this scarf and be done with it.”

Chaol

The two of them walked down the street, snow crunching under their boots. It was only a block and a half until they reached the merchant who usually dealt with the royal family, well Dorian anyway, Georgina would never set foot on the streets of Rifthold with the riff-raff. The ladies in their winter dresses and coats walked past trying to place the two of them, eyebrows of many furrowing in thought. Something familiar, but not quite able to place the two gentlemen. They were both the right age to be eligible bachelors and looking for a potential wife among the gentry, and many of the women fluttered their eyelashes or blew a kiss their way. Dorian seemed oblivious staring straight ahead to their destination, but Chaol knew he loved the attention, it was why they often snuck out to parties in Rifthold. “To meet the lovely ladies the city had to offer” as Dorian would say. Chaol rolled his eyes as another young woman brushed past them, a little closer than was necessary. “Do you think you might head out at all for the solstice?” Chaol asked, trying to lessen the quiet between them and ignore the bright smiles of young ladies as they walked. “I think so, I heard that Ms Bardingale was back in town and planned on throwing another party like the one last spring, that could be fun.” the twinkle in Dorian’s eye, and the smile that lit up his rosey face, let Chaol know he was joking. That party had been a disaster, a party full of assassins and courtesans. Chaol nearly lost it when Dorian danced half the night away with a young girl in a white mask. He was not doing that again. The King would kill him if he ever found out. Dorian started laughing as they reached Harold’s. “Oh you know I’m joking” he slapped Chaol’s arm, “I actually plan on locking myself in my tower and reading some new books that are due to arrive- not having to attend mother’s court daily will mean I have a lot more time on my hands. I might even be able to get out of the religious services if I pretend I went with them.” He winked and his hand grazed across his chin in thought. “Maybe we can have a winter solstice dinner though, I think Philippa said they were still going to make a feast if I stayed, and I’ll need someone to eat it with?” he stopped on the street outside Harold’s and waited for Chaol’s answer. “Of course I’ll have winter Solstice dinner with you, you are my best friend.” A smile spread across Chaol’s face as he said it and he couldn’t help but notice the relief spread across Dorian’s own and his posture relax, “And if I didn’t, who's to say I’d get fed anyway with the rest of the staff leaving with your parents or running off to their own families.” Chaol’s smile traveled right up to warm his golden brown eyes. Dorian started laughing as he opened the door. Chaol patting him on the back as they walked inside, silver bells tinkling announcing their entrance in search of the Blue scarf with swans on it.

#chaol #dorian #brotp #fan fic #reneewritesfanfic #koa fic swap #i haven't written for these two before so hopefully its not too ooc #tog #throne of glass #set before tog #and after the assassins blade #sjm #fan fiction #one shot #fic swap #chaorian

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presumenothing · 6 years

Text

no longing for the sun

Sameen Shaw’s unterrible, pretty okay, not-too-bad week.

(or: my exchange of interest fic for @keita52, also on ao3! post-finale, canon compliant, running in the same vein as my two previous ficlets. and of course – title from that quintessentially shaw song, future starts slow.)

Shaw tells Fusco about the Machine coming back online, of course.

His face as he processes this is priceless, really, and Shaw wishes she’d thought to record it as he asks, “Cocoa Puffs too?”

Shaw’s made sure to get nicely drunk before even starting this conversation, so she only shrugs.

“Hello, Lionel,” says Root, a little tinny from the speaker of Fusco’s handphone. “Miss me?”

“��not particularly,” he says, eyeing the phone like it’s suddenly turned into a venomous spider, before turning it off and wrapping it in the layers of his discarded jacket.

Shaw could point out the dozens of other phones and miscellaneous devices still scattered around the pub, much less the earpiece she has on even now – she really could, but then again she’s hardly one to talk about being logical over the Machine’s and Root’s existence anyway.

Whatever, Shaw decides, and wonders if she should get another plate of chips.

(Much afterwards Shaw chews ponderingly on a lone chip and says, “I guess Root’s the Digital Interface now. Since she’s… in the cloud now, or whatever the hell this is.”

“Sure,” Lionel responds slowly, sliding her drink away before offering to drive her home.

Shaw responds in turn by reacquiring the glass with extreme prejudice, and downing both their drinks before taking him up on that offer. It’s too cold to walk back to the subway at this hour, even for her, and bloody Uber drivers never knew how to shut up anyway.

“I could get you a self-driving car instead.” Root pauses, a crackle of silence over the earpiece. “A literally self-driving one.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Shaw answers aloud, and rolls her eyes at the sideways look Lionel gives her.

Root pouts audibly. “Why, I just thought you’d like a ride, Sameen,” she whispers, and Shaw coughs, choking on thin air.)

ii.

Shaw’s parked across from their latest Number’s office building (or rather, she’s in a car that’s parked there, but details) when there’s a knock on the passenger window.

She glances over to see a familiar face peering through the window.

Her hair’s pulled up in a messy bun that had probably taken much more effort than all appearances would suggest, but that is most definitely Zoe Morgan looking back at her, eyebrows half-raised in an obvious question.

“If this is your way of telling me to get out more, I swear,” Shaw mutters under her breath, reaching over to unlock the door.

Root hums thoughtfully. “I just thought you could do with some company. Well – some other company, I mean,” she adds as Zoe opens the door.

Shaw huffs a breath of profound annoyance, but shakes her head when Zoe looks over in askance. “Not you,” she says shortly, gesturing at her earpiece.

“Ah,” Zoe says, looking almost bemused. “This happen to be the same friend of yours who called me?”

“Probably,” Shaw answers quite honestly – she knows that Zoe was around when Finch and Reese first met Root, but it’s not something she ever had much reason to know about in detail before, and she’s hardly going to ask now.

(She’s also aware that the Machine uses different voices sometimes when the situation calls for it. It’s the only way they’ve been able to upkeep the various identities necessary for the work, since Shaw doesn’t have any near the same level of enthusiasm Finch had for juggling three dozen fake covers like some bizarre nerd circus act.

It’s always Root that talks to her, though.)

Out the corner of her eye Shaw spots someone heading for the building opposite. Too tall to be their Number, but he’s the first one she’s seen with a matching lanyard looped around his neck, and Shaw has seen more than enough trouble to recognise it in the nervous dart of his eyes.

She doesn’t snap a picture. They’d reestablished access to a good half of Harold’s many accounts now, at least, because his contingency plans were the type that could survive even a robot apocalypse, to no one’s surprise. But fancy zoom lenses still rank pretty far below buying more servers in terms of getting back up to some kind of proper operating capacity, so Shaw carries only a compact camera in addition to her handphone, and it’s too far to get a good shot with either one from here.

Root can probably pull up the lobby surveillance feed later if they need it anyway, she decides.

Shaw does make a note of the time, though, as she grabs a bag of pretzels from her backpack and opens it. “I’d have thought you would be in some fancy business brunch at this hour. No fires to put out among the city’s richest today?”

Zoe laughs lightly, and reaches into the bag when she holds it out. “There’s always something to put out, it just scheduled for a late lunch instead. Imagine my surprise when I got a call on my rare morning off.”

Right. Shaw doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s close – if Zoe Morgan does surprise any more than Shaw herself did, she definitely hasn’t seen any evidence of it.

She crunches somewhat viciously on another handful of pretzels instead. “Let me guess, your mysterious caller gave you an equally mysterious address?”

“Happens about as often than you’d expect, in my line of work. So I followed the directions, and…” Zoe shrugs elegantly, slanting a faint smirk at Shaw. “Fancy finding you here at the end of it.”

“Yeah, fancy that,” Shaw grumbles, but it’s unexpectedly hard to maintain a proper grudge in the face of Zoe’s easy grin. “Don’t expect me to pay you for your time though.”

No wonder John had liked her so much, Shaw finds herself thinking, and scowls even harder. Dammit.

“Of course,” Zoe agrees, looking entirely unfazed. “I’m hardly on the job now, am I – unless there’s something I don’t yet know about?”

Shaw blows out a breath, sends a tiny puff of dust flying off the dashboard. Maybe she should leave the card of a decent car washing service pinned to the steering wheel before she goes.

Beside her Zoe is quiet.

“No,” Shaw says finally. “Not on this one.”

Zoe’s a smart lady. There’s no need to mention what else there is – or had recently been, rather – that she might not know about. “Whatever happened… wasn’t pretty, was it.”

Shaw blinks hard, stares out the window. “It’s over, at any rate.”

Zoe’s breath catches, just a touch louder than usual. “Well,” she finally says, “you obviously know how to reach me if you need me. At the usual friends-and-family discount, of course.”

Shaw looks over – Zoe’s eyes are red but dry. Nothing a little makeup can’t cover. “Yeah?”

“Well.” Zoe tilts her head, her smile regaining that edge of sharpness. “Only if you bring the dog.”

Shaw snorts. “Only if you’re off-duty, then. Unless you want to turn up to that lunch covered in dog hair.”

The corner of Zoe’s smile twitches. “Fair enough,” she concedes.

(Another thing you learn in my line of work, says a text later that night. Very few things are ever really over.

Shaw doesn’t reply, only snaps a photo of Bear with his tongue lolling out and sends that back instead. “Stop giving my number to random people,” she mutters aloud.

“Well.” Root’s voice somehow conveys a shrug just from the words alone. “No one asked you to reply.”

Shaw pulls a face at her handphone camera.)

iii.

She’s walking away from the house of their Number’s ex-boss’ former chaffeur-slash-sometimes-chef (long story, don’t ask) when the payphone on the next street corner rings.

Shaw hadn’t even known that they still had payphones in neighbourhoods like this one, posh enough that even Harold might’ve even thought twice before buying a house here – not because of the price, mind, but he’d never been one to like ostentatiousness to match.

Anyway. Shaw spots the surprisingly unremarkable phone booth but doesn’t hurry to it, only lengthens her strides a little.

The phone’s still ringing when she arrives, of course, and habit makes her lean slightly against the side of the booth rather than turn her back on the street, however empty it might be.

Shaw picks up the receiver. “I know I said no to the cochlear implant, but there’s no need to ring me just to make a point, y’know,” she says without hesitation.

“I dunno, I thought it’d be nice. Just like old times, you know?” Root says, but before Shaw can figure out what the hell that means she’s already continuing. “Anyway, I thought you’d want to be standing still for this, at least.”

Her eyes search automatically for the nearest camera, and she raises an eyebrow at it. “What, I win the lottery or something?”

“Well, if that’s something you’re interested in…” Root answers, but even the lilt of teasing sounds slightly distracted. “I finally finished going through the last of the data from when ICE-9 hit.”

“I remember, you said that it’d scrambled all your timestamps or something?” Shaw frowns slightly, before realisation hits like a shot to the gut. “Did you – ”

“Yes.” Root doesn’t even wait for her to finish the question. “Harry’s alive, Sameen.”

Shaw suddenly understands the unevenness in her voice. Feels it herself, even.

“I found footage of him heading to the airport,” Root continues, the words coming out in a rush. “Plus a matching withdrawal on one of his older accounts. Harold Martin’s.”

Of course. Because Harold, for all his brains, could be the most sentimental of idiots sometimes.

“He’s gone to Italy, then.” To be with Grace, Shaw doesn’t need to add. (At least she damn well hopes he has, or she might just go to Rome or whatever specifically to kick his ass. Before dragging him to Grace’s doorstep herself and knocking on the door.)

“Most likely,” Root agrees. “Though seeing as most of the airlines are still floundering over their sudden throwback to the dark ages, further details will have to wait.”

Shaw doesn’t argue. It’s good as confirmed, for her, but she understands why Root – why the Machine would want to be sure. “What about John?” she asks before she can stop herself.

Root’s quiet for twenty whole seconds, which is already an answer in itself, really.

Shaw waits anyway.

“His last transmission was from the same coordinates that the missile was aimed at, minutes before it hit, and I haven’t been able to find any records of him past that point,” Root finally says, voice soft. “I’m sorry, Sameen.”

No news is no news, she’d told Lionel. And that’s still true, except – well.

For all that they’d been opposites she and John had been more alike than anything else. And Shaw already knew what she’d done, what she’d chosen at that bloody Stock Exchange, the same choice she’d make again.

Possibly that’d been their problem all along, Shaw thinks as she looks up, blinking hard into the glare of the afternoon sun. They’d all walked into this ready to die.

They just hadn’t been prepared to lose each other.

(“I bet that last call was to Harold, wasn’t it,” Shaw mutters under her breath, and Root doesn’t answer, which is just as well.)

iv.

Shaw arrives at the principal’s office to find Gen sitting outside, a streak of rusty brown against her white uniform sleeve. Dirt, not blood, Shaw checks with a swift glance.

The mulish expression on Gen’s face still brightens immediately at the sight of her, though she doesn’t call Shaw by name, instead flicking a glance towards the blonde woman sitting behind the desk.

Smart kid.

Shaw gives her a nod, and heads past her to extend a hand to the woman – secretary to the principal, confirms the plaque on her desk, and really, only Finch would be able to find a school where even the principal needed a secretary.

“Samantha Partridge,” she says, manner as brisk as the blazer she’d swapped her usual leather jacket out for. “You called about Gen?”

“Miss Partridge.” The woman’s severe bun is even tighter from this close up, enough to give Shaw a headache just from looking at it. “Indeed. We take disciplinary matters very seriously here at Fitzhugh Quinnell Preparatory, as I’m sure you’re aware, and your ward here was involved in an altercation with several other students earlier.”

Shaw resists the urge to look back at Gen, and only says flatly, “Was she.”

The secretary’s minute frown intensifies, clearly not having gotten the response she expected. “I don’t know what values your family espouses, Miss Partridge, but we will not tolerate such behaviour from our students. Any further incidents would easily be grounds for expulsion.”

Shaw’s voice goes even flatter. “I don’t think so.”

She doesn’t know what strings Finch pulled back then to get Gen in this school midway through the school year, but she’s willing to bet that whatever it was probably involved a metric crapton of money.

From the shift of the secretary’s expression, she’s either aware of this, or just too accustomed to dealing with people with more zeroes in their bank balance than letters in their name. “Be that as it may – ”

Shaw’s almost reluctantly impressed by her persistence nevertheless, but she’s really not in the mood for this right now. “Does Gen need to see the principal or not?”

“She’ll be required to have a meeting with the school counsellor tomorrow,” begins the secretary.

That sounds exactly like no to Shaw’s ears, so she coughs pointedly. “If that’s all, then, I’d like to talk to my ward now,” she says, and hightails it out of there with Gen in tow before there’s any answer.

It turns into Gen tugging at her hand instead quickly enough, turning down a corner until they’re in a corridor of empty classrooms.

Gen watches quietly as she jimmies the lock of the third door on the left, which opens onto an immaculately well-kept music room that’s conveniently soundproofed.

“Shaw! You really came!” Gen says once the door’s closed behind them.

Shaw eyes her expression, excitement mixed with disbelief, and sighs, stretching out an arm. “C’mere,” she mutters, and Gen promptly rushes over.

She’s put on quite a bit of height, Shaw can’t help but notice, and the curls in her hair have straightened out into waves. It looks good on her.

“Let me guess,” Shaw says not quite dryly, when a full minute’s passed and Gen still hasn’t let go. “You picked the fight intentionally just so I’d come, didn’t you.”

“The number you gave me for emergencies wouldn’t connect,” Gen says, half-muffled by her blazer.

“Right, sorry ‘bout that, we had some pretty major issues a while back,” Shaw answers, before the implications register and she reaches for Gen’s shoulders. “Wait. You got into trouble?”

“Not really? But one of the girls in my class had someone blackmailing her parents, I think, and I wondered if you and Harold could help. So I tried calling, and…” Gen peers up at her, a little uncertainly. “You’re not mad, are you?”

Shaw gives in to the urge to ruffle her hair. “Of course not. Wouldn’t have given you that number if I didn’t want you calling me, would I?”

“Okay.” Gen nods, her arms tightening around Shaw’s waist before she finally lets go. “I was really worried. I’m glad you’re alright, Shaw.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Here, I’ll give you the new number to call,” she adds as she reaches for her handphone.

(They’d never given out their actual phone numbers, of course. But unlike the contact details they used for temporary covers, the ones they gave Numbers redirected back to their phones through some overly complex system managed first by Harold and then the Machine – until Samaritan had come along to fuck everything up, of course.

Shaw herself had only passed the one number to Gen. But she knows that John had handed them out like candy, and even Harold had given out a few himself, so she makes a mental note to tell Root to check if those numbers are still connecting.)

Gen’s still tapping deftly at her phone as she asks, “Are you free this weekend?”

“Assuming no one decides to try murdering anyone e–” she manages to say before Root hums meaningfully from her earpiece, and Shaw rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m free. Most probably.”

“Good.” Gen pockets her phone, and grins. “Can we have a sleepover?”

Shaw blinks. “Look, I don’t know what they teach at this posh school of yours but I’m not twelve – ”

“Thirteen!”

“ – not thirteen, I’m a responsible adult. Who doesn’t do sleepovers.”

“Have you ever done a sleepover?”

Shaw sighs deeply, and ignores Root’s laughter in her ear. “…no.”

“Great, we can figure it out together then!” Gen cheers. “And I want to meet your dog, too. I didn’t get to meet him properly the last time.”

“No more getting into fights, then,” Shaw says only half-heartedly. “I hate being called to the principal’s office.”

“Well, you get into fights all the time,” Gen points out.

Shaw can’t really argue with that.

(Heavens only knew how Harold had survived raising a tiny supercomputer terror, she thinks, if this is what semi-older-sistering one child is like. No wonder he’d been so stressed all the time.)

She’s standing there in the afternoon sun, Fusco’s arm slung across her shoulder, staring up into the blindingly bright sky – except that the missile swerves sharply to head towards them – no, past them to a faintly smiling Root, standing just out of reach dressed all in black.

“Shaw,” she says – except that no, her mouth hasn’t moved and the tone’s all wrong, terse instead of smiling and Shaw jerks awake all at once, to the voice echoing just slightly off the subway’s arched roof. “Sameen!”

“Okay,” she mutters, breath drawing up short and shallow, then again, louder. “Okay, I’m awake.”

The wireless speaker beside the bed winks on, a circle of blue light. “You alright, sweetie?”

“I’m fine,” Shaw says, though she grimaces when she feels the cold sweat that’s soaked into her back.

(It still isn’t a lie, either way – if nothing else she’d stopped dreaming of being back the simulations. Reality might have gone to shit, but at least now Shaw remembers what it is most of the time.

Seeing the sorry charred remains of Decima into the ground personally had probably helped with that.)

She seriously considers getting up to change for a moment before flopping back down. Not like she hasn’t slept in far worse places, anyway.

Fifteen minutes later she finally gives up on sleep as a bad job for the night.

Shaw muffles a heartfelt ugh in the sheets – time for a laundry run tomorrow, probably – before pushing herself up.

She grabs a bottle of water and downs half of it in a long gulp. “Hey, Root.”

“Yeah?” Root asks, from the bank of monitors on the desk. Behind her the Machine hums, whirrs on steadily.

The lights flicker on as she walks. It’s – almost nice down here in the quiet of night, now that the worst of the damage has been repaired, but Shaw looks at the shadows cast long across the subway tile and asks, “Ever think about moving house?”

“Get our own place, that kind of thing?” Root laughs. “Why, I never thought you’d be the one asking to move in with me, honey.”

Shaw rolls her eyes. “No, I was just thinking of someplace where the closest delivery isn’t Chinatown.”

Root’s voice curls with amusement. “Well, I’m sure I can manage something. Though I’m afraid Harry never did prioritise the availability of nearby food places when he was buying property.”

Just tea shops, probably, Shaw’s about to say, when there’s a soft whine from behind, and she turns to find Bear whuffling softly at her.

She tosses the empty bottle into the bin and kneels down to scratch behind his ears. “Up for a late night movie, big boy?”

“Should I find something in Dutch, then?”

Shaw glares at the nearest screen, now scrolling through what looks suspiciously like Netflix all on its own. “Do that and you’re not getting any popcorn.”

“You don’t have any popcorn,” Root points out, very correctly. “And you finished the last bag of chips yesterday, so.”

“I could always get some,” Shaw grumbles under her breath as she straightens and goes to gather the blankets and cushions off the bed, piling them on the subway bench across from the largest monitor.

Snacks and laundry run it is tomorrow, then.

Bear jumps up and settles in beside her like a fluffy furnace of warmth, and Shaw waves a hand imperiously before pulling the covers up around them. “Come on already.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Root says, low and close, as the lights fall around them.

(Shaw wakes up the next morning with a vague recollection of Root snarking constantly at the movie’s plot, plus the world’s worst crick in her neck.

It’s still the best sleep she’s had in a long time.)

#poi #person of interest #sameen shaw #root #shoot #the machine #lionel fusco #zoe morgan #genrika zhirova #fanfiction #mine #tHIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE DEAR LORD

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thezeekrecord · 3 years

Text

Secret Admirer

fandom: hlvrai characters: g-man, bubby, dr. coomer, tommy, darnold ships: g-man/bubby/dr. coomer, tommy/darnold (background) word count: 11,235 chapters: 1 other notes: i just love the dynamics that can come from g-man's whole Thing being closer to half life canon so i kept it so that g-man Technically caused the resonance cascade here!

Bubby and Dr. Coomer have lived together on the surface for a while after the resonance cascade when they begin to receive gifts from a secret admirer.

Bubby arrived back to his apartment with Harold that day to find a present, sitting perfectly in the center of their doormat.

With a short sigh, Bubby scooped it up in one hand and opened the door with the other. It wasn’t very big; based on the many finely wrapped presents left behind on their doormat before this one, he had no doubt in his mind what it was. The first one they got, Harold had torn into the wrapping paper, finding it was the kind where the lid and the rest of the box were wrapped separately, so one can just lift the lid without trouble—every single one they got since then was the same. It was a long and thin box, absolutely no trouble to carry inside and drop on the dining table.

“We got another one.” Bubby announced to Harold in the kitchen.

“Ooh!” Harold said eagerly, dropping everything he was doing in the kitchen to head to the table and open it up.

Inside was, as always, an intricate array of fancy chocolates; the types of chocolates was always different, even if the packaging was always the same. Bubby picked up the guide that had stuck to the lid and looked it over carefully as Harold simply picked one up and stuck it in his mouth, almost immediately making a displeased face.

“Did you get another dark chocolate caramel?” Bubby asked.

Harold nodded as he reluctantly chewed the chocolate in his mouth.

“That’s what the guide is for!” Bubby pointed out, holding it out to Harold.

“That takes away from the mystery, dear.” Harold replied once he’d finished his chocolate. He picked out another one, seeming much more pleased with the next one he got.

Bubby, minding the guide carefully, picked one out that seemed interesting and tried it. “One of these days, we’re going to find out the chocolate is poisoned or something.” He muttered.

“That would be a very needlessly long con!” Harold said, returning to the kitchen. “Besides, we’re both very difficult to poison.”

Bubby hummed thoughtfully as he sat down. “Well, regardless, whoever the fuck is doing this has been really dedicated.”

“They certainly have.” Harold agreed as he got back to the dishes. “I wonder if they’ll ever make themself known.”

“I’m getting sick of not knowing.” Bubby declared. “I’m gonna set up a camera outside our door.”

“Well, I can’t imagine whoever it is will want to leave any chocolates behind if they see a camera pointed at them.” Harold said, looking at Bubby as he scrubbed a pan.

“I know that. I’ll hide the camera, you dunce.” Bubby huffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I’ll get one of those doorbell cameras or something.”

“Bubby, we live in an apartment, we don’t have a doorbell.” Harold said. “Now you’re the dunce.”

Bubby scoffed and picked up another chocolate. “Either way, I’m going to figure it out.” He said between bites.

Harold finished washing the remaining dishes and dried his hands off before stepping around the table, kissing Bubby on the cheek. “Chocolate mysteries aside, how was your day?”

Bubby sighed. “I’m sick of teaching. I go from working on society’s greatest scientific advancements to a college professor—it’s so degrading.”

“It’s not that bad!” Harold said as he sat down beside Bubby, leaning his head into his palm. “In fact...as college professors, we do quite a bit of degrading ourselves.”

“No we don’t! I can’t say shit when I’m at work.” Bubby argued.

“No, Bubby—degrading?” Harold repeated, tapping Bubby’s work bag.

Bubby paused for a moment before letting out a deep, exasperated sigh and punching Harold’s shoulder. “You’re the fucking worst, Harold. I’m filing for divorce.”

Harold laughed loudly, punching Bubby back.

“You have an evening class tonight, right?” Bubby asked as Harold cackled.

Harold stopped cackling at that and let out a sigh. “I do.”

“I should go to the store, then.” Bubby muttered thoughtfully, considering what he’d cook for dinner.

Life went on relatively quietly after that, as it always was. Bubby was used to intense deadlines and high-pressure work; teaching felt like absolutely nothing to him but monotonous routines. It paid the bills, though, and at least the upside of it all was plenty of freedom and a life with Harold and all their friends. Even if he missed the research he used to do, he couldn’t possibly imagine going back to Black Mesa, even if somehow the company had managed to remain afloat after the resonance cascade.

As the next week rolled by, Bubby ordered a very small hidden camera he planned to mount high up above their door. Once it arrived, he utilized his floating power to put it up, angling it downward towards the doormat carefully. Once everything was in order, the day the chocolates were always left behind was already coming up—whoever it was, although they always came the same day, they tended to be careful not to be too predictable in the hour they’d leave the chocolates behind; so Bubby set it to record during the evening the day before and sat back, glancing constantly and not-too-subtly at the feed he set up to watch through his laptop.

“Honestly, Bubby, a watched pot never boils.” Harold said as he caught Bubby staring at the feed again, wrapping his arm around him and drawing him in close. “I don’t think they’ll be coming by anytime too soon. Just relax, you’ll get them eventually.”

Bubby sighed impatiently, getting comfortable against Harold and turning his gaze instead at the TV. “I feel like it has to be one of the neighbors.”

Harold nodded in agreement. “Surely, it would be. Or at least, someone who has the code to the front door—maybe a neighbor’s friend?”

“The more degrees removed we get from people we know, the weirder it gets.” Bubby pointed out. “At least if it’s a neighbor, we wouldn’t have to consider how they get in every single time.”

Harold snickered. “Oh, that’s true. I’ll bet it’s...Mr. Berkovich.”

“Who?”

“The guy who lives—oh, I think four doors down from us, across the hall?” Harold replied, running his fingers over his mustache thoughtfully.

“Oh, right. Well, I guess I wouldn’t complain too much if it was him.” Bubby admitted. “I was sort of thinking it would be that guy who lives downstairs. Remember? The one who helped us when we got the couch stuck in the doorway moving in.”

“Oh, yeah! He gave us that snowglobe, too, so I wouldn’t be shocked. I certainly couldn’t complain if it was him.” Harold smiled fondly. “What do we even do once we know, though? I wouldn’t want to push whoever it is into talking to us if they’re not ready.”

“It’s sort of what they get for leaving us chocolates every Tuesday for—what, three months?” Bubby argued, looking back at the feed. “If we go and tell them we know, they’ll just have to suck it up.”

“We could leave them chocolates.” Harold mused, physically turning Bubby’s head away from the laptop screen.

“Ugh, but then that could turn into a whole thing.” Bubby complained. “Imagine how much money they’ve spent at this point! I don’t want to get caught up in that.”

The two of them spent the evening going back and forth on who it could be, and what they’d do once they discovered who it was. All the while, Bubby caught no glimpse of anybody leaving a box behind; so the two went to bed, Harold sure to make Bubby leave the laptop behind in the living room so he wouldn’t be up all night checking.

It wasn’t often they’d wake up to a box—still, Bubby checked eagerly, finding nothing on the doormat. With a sigh, he resigned himself to heading off to work with the mystery still ongoing. He set his students up with group work for class that day, watching the feed carefully as they talked to one another. At the end of class, he had every group present the result of their discussions, he spent an agonizing amount of time correcting them, and finally, he let the class go for the day before heading to his office. That didn’t provide him much more time to pay close attention to the feed; lots of students approached him for his office hours that day, seeing as he had tests scheduled very soon.

One minute, he was looking at a student’s already graded assignment, when he had the gall to tell him that he marked a question wrong incorrectly. The next, when Bubby glanced back at the feed after explaining to him his response was very much wrong, there was a present there.

“There!” Bubby exclaimed, turning to his laptop. “Oh, fuck, I missed it.”

“Uhh...” The student muttered, looking down at the assignment handed back to him. “Wait, I’m still not sure I get it.”

Bubby sighed in exasperation, turning away from the laptop to take his student through the concept one more time. Once he was finally on his way, Bubby glanced at the time, assessed it was close enough to time to head home, and packed up his things. He hurried home and floated up to the camera, taking it down to pull out the SD card, pick up the chocolates, and burst into the apartment.

“I got it!” Bubby shouted into the apartment, startling Harold from his grading work.

“Oh!” Harold abandoned his work to sit down at the table with Bubby. Bubby tossed the chocolates aside, sticking the SD card into the slot on his laptop and pulling up the contents. “Let’s see. It was during my office hours, so...probably about 1:47...”

After a little while spent searching the recording, Bubby got to the approximate time the box would have to be set out. He and Harold stared carefully at the screen, waiting for movement. After a couple minutes, Bubby sped up the recording a little.

“I swear, it was around this time.” Bubby murmured to himself. Then, he blinked, and the box was suddenly in place. “Wait—huh?”

“Maybe you have it playing too fast. Go back.” Harold suggested.

Bubby rewound a little and slowed the recording back down. They both stared at the screen intently. Then, at 1:52, the box was just there. Bubby paused, going between one frame where the box wasn’t there, then the very next one, where the box was in place.

“What the fuck?” Bubby asked. “It’s not like there’s any time missing on the recording, this is all still at 1:52.”

Harold hummed thoughtfully. “So, the mystery continues, then.”

Bubby growled in frustration. “It doesn’t just continue. It gets worse! How the hell did they do that?”

After a few, contemplative moments, Bubby felt Harold’s hand squeezing his shoulder. Bubby turned to him, watching as Harold gave him a very intense look.

“Bubby!” Harold blurted out. “I know who it is!”

“What? Who?”

“Well, how would anyone do this?” Harold asked him. “If there’s nothing wrong with the recording, they would have to have some sort of power, right? Who do we know—other than Tommy, who we already know it isn’t—that has time powers?”

Bubby gave Harold an incredulous look. “What, you think it was Mr. Coolatta?”

“I can’t imagine who else it would be!” Harold replied, looking back at the box. “Who else would have the power to leave a box that way?”

“He doesn’t even talk to us.” Bubby pointed out.

“Exactly! If he talked to us, maybe he wouldn’t be so shy about leaving us gifts.” Harold mused with a smile. “I think that’s pretty cute, actually.”

“Or stalkerish.” Bubby muttered.

“Oh, Bubby, give him a break. I just think he struggles a little bit with human conventions.” Harold continued thoughtfully, clearly getting caught up in this possibility. “Besides, you can’t blame me for sort of hoping it would be him.”

“Can I really not?” Bubby asked him playfully. “I think I could judge you plenty for it.”

“If you do, I’ll be very sad and embarrassed.” Harold replied just as playfully, leaning against Bubby’s shoulder. “Don’t you think he’s cute?”

Bubby hummed thoughtfully. “I think he’s a weird, intimidating alien man. I wouldn’t describe that as cute.”

“Well, I was a little intimidated myself, at first.” Harold admitted. “But do you remember that time he went with us to that fair? We got on that one ride with him and Tommy, and—”

“The minute it started moving, he teleported off.” Bubby finished with a laugh. “That was pretty funny.”

“That whole night was the first time we saw him in a setting he didn’t seem to plan ahead of time.” Harold recalled. “I just thought it was cute, to see him out of his element a little bit. He’s not quite as intimidating as I thought!”

“...Alright, I guess I’ll give you that one.” Bubby relented. “Mostly because I’ll just have to take your word for it. I don’t remember a lot of that night.”

“I remember when you—”

“Oh, don’t say it.”

Harold grinned. “...When you threw up on the ferris wheel.”

Bubby let out a long groan as Harold giggled. “Listen, the way it jolts when people are getting on and off is dangerous when you’re already nauseous. I underestimated that drink I got, sure, but you can’t blame me for anything else after that.”

Harold laughed loudly, nuzzling into Bubby’s shoulder. “At least we didn’t go on the carousel.”

“So, what now, then?” Bubby asked, mostly to change the subject.

“Hmmmm.” Harold put his hand to his chin. “We ought to approach this carefully. I get the feeling he would be very easy to scare off.”

“We’re not hunting deer, Harold, I think he could handle it if we told him we know it’s him leaving us chocolate.”

“Well, if he’s too shy to just give us the chocolate in person, I don’t want to put him in an uncomfortable position.” Harold argued, kissing Bubby’s cheek before standing. “I suppose that’ll have to wait until later, though. I ought to get ready for my class.”

Bubby nodded, closing his laptop. “If I picked you up after, would you want to go out to eat tonight instead? I’m not really in the mood to cook.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Harold replied with a smile.

Bubby dropped Harold off at his class for the evening, then headed back home to change out of his work clothes and clean a little before he’d head back and take Harold out. As he vacuumed their living room floor, he imagined Mr. Coolatta always taking the time every week to leave them gifts, going to great pains to keep his identity hidden. He seemed like a particularly busy man, and yet he’d never missed a week in all these months. Bubby pulled out his phone after some thought, navigating to his text history with Tommy. BUBBY: HI TOMMY TOMMY: hi bubby TOMMY: how are you? BUBBY: FINE BUBBY: TOMMY I THINK YOUR DAD IS FLIRTING WITH US TOMMY: HUH??? BUBBY: YEAH I SET UP A CAMERA OUTSIDE OUR DOOR TO CATCH WHOEVER WAS LEAVING US THOSE CHOCOLATES AND WE COULDNT CATCH THEM. THE BOX JUST APPEARED AND THE TIMESTAPM DIDNT CHANGE BETWEEN FRAMES AT ALL SO WE THINK THE ONLY PERSON WHO COULD DO THAT IS SOMEONE WITH TIME POWERS. SO WE THINK ITS YOUR DAD. TOMMY: oh my god TOMMY: okay BUBBY: WELL HAS HE SAID ANYTHING TO YOU? TOMMY: i mean he doesnt talk about himself that much bubby i dont know BUBBY: OH OKAY TOMMY: do you like him then? BUBBY: WELL HAROLD DOES BUBBY: I DONT KNOW YET BUBBY: I GUESS WED HAVE TO TALK TO HIM FIRST BUT I HAVENT ACTAULLY SEEN HIM IN MONTHS BUBBY: COULD WE HAVE HIS PHONE NUMBER? TOMMY: oh yeah sure just a sec

Bubby waited a few moments, receiving Mr. Coolatta’s phone number shortly after. BUBBY: THANKS TOMMY BUBBY: I HAVE TO GO NOW I HAVE TO GET HAROLD AND HEAD TO PF CHANGS TOMMY: ok TOMMY: good luck with TOMMY: everything i guess lol BUBBY: THANKS BYE

Bubby stuffed his phone in his pocket and headed back to the school, picking up Harold and driving towards the restaurant. Bubby drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the wheel at a red light while Harold fiddled with the radio.

“What if he was only leaving the chocolates for just one of us?” Bubby asked impulsively.

Harold glanced up at Bubby before turning his eyes back to the radio. “Well, I suspect he’d leave a note if he just intended it to be for one of us. Like, to: Harold or to: Bubby.”

“Hmm.” Bubby stared at the road as traffic began moving again, chewing on his lip for a few seconds.

“...I didn’t quite ask you how you felt about it being Mr. Coolatta, did I?” Harold asked suddenly.

Bubby glanced at him with a teasing smile. “Yeah, you just started gushing about him.”

Harold snickered at that. “Well, I’m asking you now, then.”

“...Honestly? I don’t know.” Bubby replied, tightening his grip on the wheel a little. “I know I wouldn’t have an issue if you started dating him. That’s just up to you and him, I guess. I’m just not sure how I feel about him. I barely even know him.”

Harold nodded, finally settling on a station and leaning back. “Yes, I have to admit, although I do think he’s cute, I obviously still need to get to know him a little more. Whether that’s through dates or just friendly meetings, whatever we want to call it.”

“Yeah—I mean, he shows up just a handful of times in our lives to be cryptic, and now this. It’s very sudden.” Bubby commented. “Like, talk to us a few times first before you start mysteriously leaving a box of chocolates on our doorstep every week for three months.”

Harold laughed. “Well, Bubby, I seem to recall you struggling a little yourself, when it came to romance back in the day.”

“Oh, give me a break, that was in—what, my 30’s? 40’s?” Bubby huffed in embarrassment. “I’m sure he can figure it out.”

“I’m sure he will.” Harold replied with a fond smile.

Bubby and Harold arrived at the restaurant not too much longer later. They talked a little more about the implications of a potential third in their relationship—particularly if it was Mr. Coolatta. It felt good to Bubby, getting everything out on the table, but they barely knew much of anything about Mr. Coolatta, so there wasn’t too much they could actually address without speaking to him as well for once.

The restaurant was connected to a mall as well, so once they finished eating, they ended up wandering around for a little while just to enjoy being somewhere other than home, work, or the store for the first time in a little bit. Bubby was starting to lose his energy after about a half hour, though, about to ask Harold to go home when Harold suddenly gripped his upper arm and pointed enthusiastically towards the candy shop.

“Bubby! Bubby!! There he is!” He exclaimed in what was nearly a whisper—he didn’t quite have the ability to be quiet when he was excited, Bubby recalled. Bubby followed his gaze, and just as he said, he found Mr. Coolatta purchasing something at the cashier desk.

“Oh! Oh my god.” Bubby whispered back. “...Should we...talk to him?”

Harold was immediately moving before even replying to Bubby, holding his hand firmly to drag him along with him. Bubby’s heart raced as Harold navigated through the thick crowd towards the shop.

“Mr. Coolatta!” Harold called. “Mr. Coolatta, it’s us! Harold and Bubby!”

Mr. Coolatta perked up at his voice, getting a distinct look of panic on his face. He glanced around at the crowd, grimaced, and scooped up his purchase from the desk, immediately turning to head further into the store.

“I think he’s running away from us.” Bubby pointed out as Harold continued on regardless.

“Well, he’s not teleporting or stopping time, so I think we can catch up.” Harold replied obliviously.

Harold pulled Bubby around to the back corner of the store, and they found Mr. Coolatta there, holding the plastic bag containing his purchase close to his chest and staring at them like they’d just broken into his home. Bubby stood beside Harold, entirely uncertain what to do now as Harold spoke up.

“Mr. Coolatta! It’s been ages since we’ve last seen you.” He greeted with a wide smile. “How are you doing?”

“I am doing...j-just fine.” Mr. Coolatta replied. “Uh—I believe, I, um...must be going now, I have—some very important...business to attend to.”

“We can walk with you back to your car! Or wherever you’re headed.” Harold offered as Mr. Coolatta began walking, following close behind.

“I...suppose...I couldn’t stop you.” Mr. Coolatta said falteringly.

“So...a candy shop.” Harold commented, clearly as though he thought he was being subtle. “Shopping for a special occasion, or just a craving?”

Mr. Coolatta made a slightly strangled noise in his throat, giving him away in an instant. “I—w-well...it’s a...gift.”

A snicker forced its way out of Bubby. Harold nudged him with his elbow, as if he wasn’t putting Mr. Coolatta on the spot himself.

“A gift, you say?” Harold asked knowingly.

Mr. Coolatta paused for a few moments before just nodding. “Yes. A...gift.”

Harold seemed to be growing slightly impatient. Bubby recalled when they met years before, he was very quick to admit his crush—he didn’t seem to like the whole dance around it of just flirting without making his feelings known. Bubby braced himself for Harold to give up on being subtle, and sure enough, he squeezed Bubby’s hand and spoke again.

“Oh—I can’t take this, I’m not good at keeping secrets.” Harold blurted out. “We’re fairly certain you’re the one who’s been leaving boxes of chocolates outside our apartment, Mr. Coolatta.”

Mr. Coolatta froze midstep, looking down at Harold with wide eyes. He sputtered for a few seconds before he got an even halfway coherent sentence out. “You—but...I was...so careful.”

“Too careful.” Bubby said. “I set up a camera. Nobody else but Tommy, that we know of, has time powers.”

Mr. Coolatta let out a flustered sigh, clutching the bag closer to his chest. “...Ah.”

“If you’re not too busy at the moment, why don’t we have coffee?” Harold offered kindly. “We rarely see you! I’d very much like the chance to really talk to you.”

Mr. Coolatta made a very quiet, anxious noise. “O-...okay, then. I, uh...wasn’t actually as, terribly busy, as I led you to believe before. I...apologize for the lie.”

Bubby couldn’t help but snicker again.

Harold led the way to the nearby coffee shop, and the three of them sat down with their drinks, Mr. Coolatta staring firmly at the floor or table any time he didn’t particularly need to be looking at anything else. He drummed his fingers on the lid of his coffee cup, not taking a sip just yet, as Harold pulled the lid off his own to let it cool off first. Bubby just sipped his impatiently, grimacing as he burned his lips and tongue on it.

“So, Mr. Coolatta.” Harold began, leaning his head into his palm and looking at him with a smile. “We don’t actually quite know what you do. We’ve only seen you a few times, and you’ve always been so cryptic about it.”

Mr. Coolatta hummed quietly as he continued drumming his fingers on his coffee lid. “Well...I...am a—politician, essentially.” He replied, not at all confidently. “I used to do more—complex work. The...resonance cascade, didn’t have exactly the result as we anticipated. I had already quite established myself here, though, on Earth. Once I realized the resonance cascade—didn’t actually have the...consequences, I had worked for, I eventually decided to...take that as a blessing, and resign, from my higher position. Leaving me purely as a politician.”

Harold nodded while Bubby paused to consider this.

“You caused that?” He demanded. “What the hell did you expect to happen?”

Mr. Coolatta got a guilty look in his eyes as he sighed. “Well...I can tell you for certain, that—I truly thought my, motivations, were good. There is a very interesting, thought experiment, that describes the dilemma I faced when causing the resonance cascade. The...trolley problem.”

Bubby groaned loudly. “Okay—whatever, I don’t wanna hear it if you’re gonna compare it to the goddamn trolley problem.” He said impatiently. “I’m sick of the trolley problem. I don’t like thought experiments—what’s the point of a question that doesn’t have an answer? Let’s move on.”

Harold laughed lovingly as he nudged Bubby. “Sorry, he’s not much of a philosopher.” He told Mr. Coolatta.

The guilty look dissipated as Mr. Coolatta let out a small, reserved chuckle. “I will certainly, try to remember that.”

Bubby looked at him closely as he smiled. Maybe Harold had been right—watching him in a setting with true, genuine responses, rather than whatever he seemed to have already planned was...nice. He always had a very particular, mysterious air about him while he was acting out something pre-planned, while he seemed much more reserved now. Like he was a very shy man always cast as a very confident character in a play.

“Why did you leave us chocolates for so long in secret?” Bubby asked bluntly. “You could have just talked to us.”

Mr. Coolatta picked up his drink, seeming to attempt to avoid answering by taking a long sip of his coffee. Finally, once he set the cup back down, he sat up a little taller and straightened his tie.

“Adjusting to...life, like this, has been fairly complicated.” He admitted carefully. “I am not quite so adept at living, let’s say...a human’s life. Almost everything I have ever done has been to make a, small nudge, and watch for the effects. I am not...very...direct. I suppose I only intended to give you chocolates anonymously...once, but...found myself unable to—do anything else, that would make my identity known. All I wanted...was to make you two happy.”

“Aww! That’s very cute.” Harold gushed.

Mr. Coolatta’s face flushed at that. Bubby found himself laughing quietly again—not unkindly, just knowing that sort of effect Harold had on himself way back in their Black Mesa days—and still to this day, if Bubby was honest with himself. Just a few well-placed, whole-hearted words like that could leave Bubby weak in the knees, no matter how simple. It was just in the way he said it, Bubby thought, that made it feel particularly special.

Plus, Bubby couldn’t help but note to himself how much he enjoyed seeing Mr. Coolatta so caught off-guard and flustered like that.

“I have enjoyed the chocolate.” Bubby said truthfully. “I would just like the opportunity to talk to you more, rather than being left to wonder what the hell is going on. I didn’t like the aspect of not knowing.”

Mr. Coolatta nodded, brushing out his jacket, seemingly just to give his hands something to do. “Right. I’m...sorry, for the mystery. I truly intended to initiate conversation at some point. I just...wasn’t sure how, after a point. It all began to feel...rather silly, admittedly.”

“It was.” Bubby told him curtly. “But...I liked finding out it was you.”

Mr. Coolatta took another very long sip of his coffee, doing little to conceal the blush on his face. Bubby decided to let him interpret that however he chose, rather than admitting after the fact he just sort of liked the mystery-solving aspect of it. Once he’d drank as much as he could stand, he set his coffee back down again, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“W-well...that is...very nice to hear, from you two.” He said very formally. “Now that, I suppose...my feelings are known—perhaps I could make you two dinner, sometime.”

“I would love that!” Harold replied eagerly, looking to Bubby for confirmation.

Bubby nodded. “That sounds good to me.” He answered carefully.

“Ah—wonderful.” He said with a fuller, genuine smile as he quickly stood, straightening out his suit. “I really must be going now, actually. But...I will contact you two—later, to discuss the details.”

Bubby suddenly felt like they were making an appointment with him as they each stood as well.

“Oh, well—alright, then.” Harold replied, clearly feeling the same way. “It was very nice talking to you tonight! I’m sorry if I put you on the spot.”

Mr. Coolatta shook his head. “Oh, no, I—understand, wanting answers for...my behavior.”

Mr. Coolatta paused, looking as though he didn’t know what to do with himself before he picked up his coffee, gave them a friendly nod, and walked away briskly—fast enough to almost be running. Harold turned to Bubby with a baffled smile.

“He didn’t even give us his phone number or anything.” He commented.

“Oh, I have it.” Bubby said, pulling out his phone. “Tommy gave it to me.”

Harold took Bubby’s free hand, bumping his shoulder a little with his own. “Ah, so you spoke to Tommy about this, then?”

“Only for a minute.” Bubby replied, pulling his hand away and holding it out. “Give me your phone, I’ll put his number in.”

Harold did as Bubby asked. Once he was done, he handed the phone back and took Harold’s hand again.

“He seemed very surprised about it.” Bubby said as they started to head towards the mall exit closest to their car.

Harold hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I can’t blame him. It must be a strange situation to be in—an alien father he didn’t realize he still had appears back into his life after all that time, then starts flirting with his elder friends.”

Bubby waved his free hand dismissively. “Eh, he’ll figure it out.”

Harold took the wheel this time as they arrived back at their car, Bubby settling comfortably in the passenger seat and finding a CD to play.

“So, what’s your impression of him now?” Harold asked him.

“Hmmm.” Bubby flipped through their CDs thoughtfully. “I think you were right about seeing him ‘out of his element’. I’m interested to talk to him more. You?”

“I thought it was all very cute.” Harold answered with a smile as he drove them out of the parking lot. “Don’t you think so?”

A slight heat settled on Bubby’s cheeks as he nodded. “...Yeah. I guess I can’t blame him for not knowing what he should do. I feel a little better about it all now, knowing I can just talk to him, finally.”

“I agree! It was very nice, until he...well, ran off.”

As both of them laughed, Bubby felt...warm. Excited. It was nice—he was flattered for sure; although he wasn’t quite yet sure how much he truly saw Mr. Coolatta as a romantic prospect, he could at least concede with Harold now that he found him cute. Harold may have struggled with the initial dancing around a relationship—he seemed to enjoy feeling rooted down and secure—Bubby didn’t mind this aspect of things so much.

“You look happy.” Harold commented teasingly. “Is someone excited for our date?”

Bubby scoffed. “You can’t make fun of me, you were the one gushing about him before we even got here.”

“I can make fun of you!” Harold insisted with a wide smile. “We’ve been together long enough, I get to tease you about your crushes.”

“It’s hardly a crush.” Bubby said defensively.

“Are you suuure?” Harold pressed.

“Listen, Harold, we just talked one-on-one—or, uhh, two-on-one—for the first time not even ten minutes ago, you have to give me some space to figure out how I feel about him.” Bubby huffed, crossing his arms. “Besides, you’re hardly giving me a minute to make fun of you for your crush.”

“Oh, alright. Go ahead.”

“Whatever happened to ‘approaching this carefully’?” Bubby questioned with a smile. “You said that this morning, but as soon as we saw him, you immediately launched after him and told him everything.”

“I couldn’t help myself!” Harold defended with a laugh. “He was just right there! I didn’t know if we were going to have another chance.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” Bubby relented, putting his hands up in defeat. “But you were absolutely flirting with him back there.”

Harold snickered, sparing Bubby a quick glance before turning back to the road. “Oh, I couldn’t help myself with that, either. You and him both have adorable reactions.”

Despite the years of hearing the same sentiment from him, Bubby’s face still flushed. “It was pretty cute, coming from him.” He murmured. “Even if I don’t end up actually dating him myself, I can at least say you have good taste.”

“I know I do!”

****

G-Man was getting used to routine. When a man lives for centuries, it gets difficult to see weeks as anything but a brief “blip” in time—but G-Man was making an effort, setting up reminders for himself, keeping a calendar, and actually wearing a wristwatch. It was a wonder how quickly 37 years of his son’s life had passed by; now that G-Man was a regular Earth man—or at least, he was trying to be—he wasn’t going to miss any more of it.

At least Tommy was willing to see G-Man put in the effort to be there for him now. They talked, G-Man listened to Tommy’s grievances about his life spent without any parental figure, and G-Man found ways to apologize. Things were smoothing over, he thought; routine helped, at least. Putting aside the time each week to have lunch together seemed to be doing their father-son relationship a lot of good, and G-Man would supplement the rest of the week by stopping by his and Darnold’s apartment in the evenings sometimes, when he wasn’t busy.

It was one of those evenings when G-Man received a message on his phone. He’d ignored it at first, as Tommy was lengthily explaining the plot to an episode of Invitation to Love, and G-Man assumed it must be one of his coworkers. Eventually, though, Tommy finished explaining the plot in a hurry so he could stand and head back into the kitchen to help Darnold with dinner, insisting G-Man’s help wasn’t needed for now. G-Man finally pulled out his phone and flipped it open, finding new messages from an unknown phone number. UNKNOWN: HI MR COOLATTA ITS BUBBY UNKNOWN: I GOT YOUR PHONE NUMBER FROM TOMMY

G-Man’s hearts began to race as he stared down at the messages. Of course, it made sense that Bubby could reach out to Tommy, when G-Man had simply run off without giving them any means of contacting him. He let out a quiet groan, pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. G-Man was never good with romance. He tried, but he was still struggling quite a bit with human norms. He did just fine at work and in any other manner of professional capacities; but there was nothing that made him feel more alien than trying to open himself up emotionally, the way he truly wanted to with Dr. Coomer and Bubby.

“What’s up?” Darnold called from the kitchen.

G-Man glanced up at Tommy and Darnold watching him closely. He sighed a bit, moving on impulse to straighten his tie, then remembering he’d already removed it. He instead fidgeted with his phone.

“Oh, it’s...nothing.” G-Man replied.

“Work related?” Tommy asked as he left the kitchen, setting out some plates on the dining table.

G-Man stood from the couch, still holding his phone out and settling down at the table. He considered lying to save his own dignity, but he decided against it—Tommy and Darnold were dating, plus they knew Dr. Coomer and Bubby better than G-Man did. Surely, they could offer him advice, he mused.

“No, no, not...work related.” G-Man muttered. “It’s...Bubby, actually.”

Tommy’s eyes widened as he sank down in his chair. “Oh! Well...what did he say?” He asked, fiddling with his fork as Darnold stepped out of the kitchen with their dinner.

“He’s only saying hello.” G-Man told him, looking back down at his phone. “But—well, we...bumped into each other, at the, mall—the other day. I asked him and Dr. Coomer to dinner, but...I’m sure I left them quite confused, considering I never gave them a means of contacting me, or a day or time to come visit.”

Darnold snickered as he sat down at the table as well. “Yeah, I bet that’d be a little confusing.” He commented with an amused smile.

“So, just...say hi back?” Tommy suggested. “You could—um, you could work out the details now.”

“But...well...” G-Man tapped the corner of his phone mindlessly against the table as he thought his words over. “I was sort of hoping, that—I could offer them a little, more...excitement, than just...arranging the details over text message.”

“Oh—so, like, you asked them on a date?” Darnold asked.

G-Man nodded. “Precisely.”

“Aww! That’s sweet.” Darnold commented with a smile.

Tommy gave him a smile as well, but it looked much more conflicted than G-Man had expected out of him. He didn’t say anything, though; so G-Man settled to give him a while to voice any sort of concern, maybe bring it up later when they could have a more private moment to talk.

“I mean...if you already—like, I think it’s too late to be cool and mysterious.” Tommy pointed out. “No offense, but...I don’t think you’re, like, as good at that as you thought you were going to be.”

Harsh criticism, but G-Man nodded in understanding with a sigh. “Perhaps not.” He murmured.

“You don’t have to be, either.” Darnold added. “I think, like, Bubby at least hates being left in the dark more than he enjoys mystery. And even if Dr. Coomer seems like...y’know, that sort of guy who likes those types of romantic gestures, you’re kind of at a critical moment right now.”

G-Man stared at Darnold in surprise. “...Am I?”

“Well—I don’t wanna put pressure on you or anything.” Darnold said with a laugh. “I only mean, like, it’s important you just...take it easy and be yourself right now. I know it’s nerve-wracking and all. I got worried with Tommy on our first date.”

Tommy snickered at the memory, finding Darnold’s hand and holding it in his own. G-Man smiled at the two.

“Yeah. I don’t think, like...I mean, you don’t know each other very well, yet.” Tommy continued, resting his head in his free hand. “I think right now, it’s more important to just—be open, than to give them something exciting.”

G-Man nodded again, looking to his phone. “...Alright. Thank you two—very much. I will...simply...talk to him, then.”

“Yeah!” Darnold cheered him on. MR COOLATTA: Oh, good evening, Bubby. I’m sorry, I should have given it to you myself. It slipped my mind when we last spoke. BUBBY: THATS OK BUBBY: I GAVE IT TO HAROLD TOO IF THATS OK MR COOLATTA: That’s perfectly fine. Thank you Bubby. BUBBY: I WOULDNT TRY TEXTING HIM THOGUH HE HAS A HARD TIME WITH THAT MR COOLATTA: Oh, I will keep that in mind then. MR COOLATTA: Of course, I don’t actually have his phone number, myself. Would you mind sending it to me? BUBBY: OH RIGHT OK

A few moments later, as Tommy and Darnold got right to eating their dinner, G-Man received Dr. Coomer’s phone number. He spent a few moments saving him as a contact. MR COOLATTA: Thank you very much, Bubby.

“Um.” G-Man poked at his phone, squinting at the small letters on the screen. “How do I...start a group text?”

Tommy snorted, wordlessly reaching his hand out. G-Man handed his phone over, and in a matter of seconds, Tommy was handing it back, a new page set up ready for him to send a group text to Bubby and Dr. Coomer. MR COOLATTA: Hello, both of you. I’m sorry I left prematurely when we met at the mall. I should have arranged the details of our dinner beforehand. I thought I’d ask you two now when works best for you, if that’s alright. DR COOMER: Hhhffm BUBBY: MR COOLATTA I TOLD YOU HE DOESNT TEXT VERY WELL MR COOLATTA: I figured it just seemed polite to invite him in the group message, if the subject concerned you both. BUBBY: OH OK BUBBY: WERE BOTH FREE ON WEEKENDS WE JUST DONT WANT THE WHOLE DAY TAKEN UP SINCE WE STILL HAVE GRADING AND CLASS PLANNING STUFF TO DO BUBBY: EITHER SATURDAY OR SUNDAY WORKS BUT PROBABLY SATURDAY WOULD BE IDEAL SINCE WE WONT HAVE MORNING CLASSES TO GET TO THE DAY AFTER BUBBY: IS SATURDAY GOOD MR COOLATTA: Saturday sounds perfect to me. Would you two like to come to my house at around 6:00PM? I live on the East side of town, very close to that park that hosts the water fountain shows on Friday evenings. BUBBY: WHAT WHY ARE YOU RICH MR COOLATTA: Oh, my financial situation is complicated. I bought the house before I left my higher employment after the resonance cascade. DR COOMER: Bbbbcd M BUBBY: YEAH WHATEVER BUBBY: WELL ANYWAYS YEAH THAT WORKS 6PM SO I CAN STEAL YOUR VALUABLES THANK YOU MR COOLATTA: That sounds just fine. I look forward to seeing you two. MR COOLATTA: Oh, do either of you have food restrictions? DR COOMER: Eeg BUBBY: HE HAS A MINOR EGG ALLERGY BUBBY: NOT SO SEVERE THAT ITS NOTICEABLE IF THERES ONLY A LITTLE BIT OF EGG BUT DONT GIVE HIM AN OMELETTE OR ANYTHING MR COOLATTA: Alright, then, I will be careful. I’ll see you both on Saturday. BUBBY: OK DR COOMER: :)

G-Man set his phone aside, finding Darnold and Tommy were already mostly finished eating. G-Man quickly picked up his fork and began eating himself.

“So? How’d planning go?” Darnold asked curiously.

“It went very well.” G-Man replied. “They are going to, visit, my house for dinner on Saturday.”

“Cool.” Tommy replied, giving G-Man that sort of half-conflicted smile again. “I hope, umm—I hope it goes well.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it will.” Darnold added encouragingly. “I kinda get the impression you’ll get along really well with them.”

“I certainly hope so.” G-Man sighed. “To be honest, although I’m—fairly certain, Dr. Coomer seems...interested, I find myself nervous at the idea of messing up with—well, each of them, of course. However...I’m not certain, yet, how Bubby feels. I am very enamored by him, and yet...slightly...intimidated.”

Tommy and Darnold both chuckled, exchanging a brief look with each other.

“Yeah, I get that.” Tommy said. “He’s not that bad, though. He’s like—he can be kind of abrasive, but he’s just as capable of being really nice.”

“Yeah, honestly, Bubby can make sort of...snap judgments sometimes, but at the same time, if you’re open with him, he has a tendency to reciprocate.” Darnold told him thoughtfully. “Just don’t worry about it so much! They’re both really sweet, once they settle down.”

Tommy snickered. “Yeah. You gotta give them a minute, sometimes.”

Darnold and Tommy both laughed. G-Man couldn’t help but smile at a few memories of the two of them together, the way they were so loud and rambunctious, always having so much fun with one another and their friends. They didn’t need to settle down for him; life was unpredictable around them— that was what he loved.

Eventually, after they finished dinner, Darnold headed off to shower, giving G-Man privacy with his son. He stood with Tommy in the kitchen, helping him clean up the kitchen as Tommy played some of his music. It wouldn’t be G-Man’s favorite genre by any means, if he’d heard it from anywhere else; but Tommy liked it, so G-Man couldn’t help but enjoy it himself.

“So, Tommy...” G-Man said, looking up at him as he was currently occupied scrubbing one of the pans. “If you’d, rather not...discuss this, I certainly don’t blame you, and we can drop it. However...I can’t help but note...you seem, a little conflicted about my feelings towards Dr. Coomer and Bubby.”

Tommy paused, looking at G-Man in surprise. He hummed thoughtfully, turning his gaze back to the pan as he scrubbed it. “I-I guess so. I mean—it’s not really my place, so...”

“Well, I want to hear...how you feel, Tommy.” G-Man said gently. “Is there...something bothering you?”

Tommy laughed, suddenly, seemingly to himself. “It’s—it’s just...I don’t know. I feel like I’m suddenly living, like—um, all the kid’s movie cliches all of a sudden, so close to my 40’s.” Tommy began, still scrubbing vigorously at the pan. “I-I don’t think I’m actually concerned about anything. It’s just...an adjustment to the group, is all. Dr. Coomer and Bubby have been my friends for a really long time already, before I even knew you were still around. And now you’re here in my life, and you’re gonna date the—uh, my friends that I’ve already known for a while.”

“Ah. I see.” G-Man replied, returning to his task of loading the dishwasher. “That...makes sense.”

“It’s like...it’s fine, though.” Tommy said, glancing up at G-Man before returning to his work. “I wouldn’t ask anything to change. I think they’d be good for you.”

G-Man smiled at Tommy. “Thank you, Tommy. I’m...glad to hear you, think that.”

Tommy spared G-Man a smile before rinsing the pan off in the sink. “Did you already have dinner plans? Dr. Coomer and Bubby—um, they both really like spicy food. I could give you a recipe for a really good chili I made them once. They stole my leftovers from my fridge when I made it.”

Tommy and G-Man both chuckled, G-Man nodding eagerly.

“Yes, that would...be fantastic, Tommy.” G-Man said earnestly. “I am not very great at, cooking by taste, to be honest. I am...still learning.”

Tommy shook off his hands in the sink and dried them off. “What did you do all that time before, then, if you—like, if you never learned how to cook? Before I was born.”

G-Man’s face flushed a little in embarrassment. “Well...I had more money than I knew what to do with, due to my ex-employers’ intervention, and very little time...to myself. I always—ordered food.”

Tommy snickered. “Actually...I get that. It was like that for me when I worked at Black Mesa. I’d always just go to the food court.”

Tommy and G-Man both laughed to themselves as Tommy threw away the paper towel he’d been using to dry his hands. “Just a sec, then. I’ll e-mail you the recipe.”

As Tommy hurried off to do that, G-Man returned to his task with a content smile.

****

“Oh! There’s the park, to the left.” Harold pointed out, referencing the directions he’d printed off from his computer. “So...the intersection after that, turn right.”

“Are you sure? ” Bubby asked. “Positive? Completely certain it’s the intersection after that, and not the next one?”

“Yes, I’m—oh, wait. No, no, you’re right. Keep going.”

Mr. Coolatta had, of course, forgotten to give them the address to his house at first. Earlier that morning, though, Bubby had texted him asking him for it. Not that the directions did them much good; Bubby and Harold had a tendency to get lost. They were running a couple minutes late, now, but very close. Soon, they were in what looked like the right neighborhood. The area itself was wealthier than the apartment Dr. Coomer and Bubby rented, but the houses themselves were a little more modest than Bubby had been expecting—the short, single-story kind with a tiny little yard. Still, it was a step up from Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s apartment, so Bubby thought he could still get away with comments about his wealth.

Bubby wasn’t sure what sort of impression he wanted to make tonight; but, he was meeting with a man who’d expressed romantic interest in him and his husband, so he decided to try and dress nice. Then, he’d decided to cover himself up in a thick coat on his way out the door, which he was sort of intending to keep on inside now that he was embarrassed about trying to look nice for him.

In short, he was still sorting out his feelings.

The thick coat was necessary as they stepped outside the car; Bubby shivered at the freezing breeze as Harold circled around the car to take Bubby’s hand.

“Nervous?” Harold asked.

“No.” Bubby said automatically before pausing, reconsidering it, and sighing. “Okay—I’m just...I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“All you need to do is have fun and be yourself!” Harold said with a smile, straightening out Bubby’s coat for him.

“Okay, yeah, whatever.” Bubby grumbled. “Are you nervous?”

Harold’s disposition didn’t change in the slightest. “Oh, I’m so nervous, I couldn’t even begin to tell you.”

Bubby and Harold both laughed their nerves out, squeezing each other’s hands tightly. Bubby felt a little more relaxed after that, at least, knowing he wasn’t alone. They stepped up to Mr. Coolatta’s front door, Bubby ringing the doorbell, and Harold knocking for good measure.

Mr. Coolatta didn’t take long to answer. He was wearing his same suit, as always; his posture was back to that same, stiff way he always maintained as he looked down at Harold and Bubby with a small, pleasant smile.

“Good evening, you two.” He greeted politely.

“Hello, Mr. Coolatta!” Harold held out his free hand to Mr. Coolatta, clearly intending to shake his hand.

Mr. Coolatta took his hand gingerly in his own, but he turned it, dipped down, and kissed his knuckles. Harold’s tense, nervous smile turned to a pleasantly surprised one instantly.

It was a massive shift from what Bubby had seen from Mr. Coolatta when they met at the mall. Made sense—he was back to something familiar and pre-planned, in his own territory. Bubby could sympathize with that. Bubby also quite liked seeing the effect he had on Harold like this, he thought as Mr. Coolatta released Harold’s hand and turned his attention to Bubby. Bubby didn’t offer his hand; he uncertainly shoved it in his pocket instead, and gave Mr. Coolatta what he hoped would look like a friendly nod.

“It’s good to see you.” Bubby told him.

“Yes, you...as well.” Mr. Coolatta replied with a similar smile he’d given Harold.

Mr. Coolatta let the two of them inside, closing the door behind them and offering his hand. “I can...take your coats, if you’d like.” He said.

Harold shrugged off his coat, handing it over to Mr. Coolatta comfortably. Harold just went for a simple long-sleeved button-up—not too fancy, but nicer than his typical casual wear. Bubby fiddled with his zipper for a contemplative moment before unzipping his coat and handing it off. Bubby’s outfit wasn’t as nice as Mr. Coolatta’s trademark suit, either, but it still quite embarrassed him he’d picked out one of his nicer dresses for this. Mr. Coolatta smiled at the both of them before taking their coats to a closet nearby, hanging them up neatly and shutting the door.

“You two both—look very nice.” Mr. Coolatta complimented as he turned back to them.

“Thanks.” Bubby replied quietly.

“Thank you!” Harold said with a massive grin. “You look very nice yourself, Mr. Coolatta. As always.”

Mr. Coolatta’s face flushed as he cleared his throat and invited them further into the house. Bubby finally had a moment to pause and consider the smell coming in from the kitchen as they walked towards it. He nudged Harold harshly, leaning in to whisper in his ear when Mr. Coolatta was preoccupied “fixing” the centerpiece of the table—a nice potted plant that, upon further inspection, appeared to be fake, and also uncomfortably large for the table.

“Holy shit, I think that’s the chili.” Bubby whispered eagerly.

“I know!” Harold whispered back excitedly. “I’d know that smell anywhere.”

“You two go ahead and make yourselves, comfortable.” Mr. Coolatta said, pulling out two chairs for them, side by side. “I’ll be just a moment.”

Bubby and Harold sat down at the dining table as they watched Mr. Coolatta step back into the kitchen, standing over a pot. He seemed to be double checking it tasted right, looking between the pot itself and what seemed to be the recipe he’d set out neatly on the counter. Bubby took the opportunity to take in this part of the house. It was sort of modest; just spacious enough to not feel cramped, but not too excessive. He could only see a small part of the living room from where he sat, across from the beginning of a hallway that must have led to the rest of the house. Along the walls he could see, though, there were framed photos—some looked like stock photos he’d printed off Google, while others featured Tommy and Sunkist, a mix of candids and professionally done portraits.

Mr. Coolatta returned shortly with two bowls to set out in front of Harold and Bubby. Harold immediately tried to enjoy his, burning his tongue on it with a muffled, surprised noise as Mr. Coolatta turned away to retrieve his own bowl. Once Mr. Coolatta sat down at the table himself, across from Harold and Bubby, he seemed to finally realize the issue with the plant in the center—again, too big to be appropriate for a dining table, obscuring his face from Harold and Bubby. He shamefully picked it up and moved it to the counter before sitting back down.

Once the chili was appropriately cooled, Bubby hardly wanted to spare a moment to make polite conversation—Harold seemed to be on the same page. They talked a little bit about their week between bites, but ultimately, not much got said until Harold and Bubby were already done eating. Mr. Coolatta seemed pleased with himself, at least.

“Why don’t we...get more comfortable?” Mr. Coolatta suggested, nodding them towards the living room.

Harold and Bubby followed him out of the kitchen, finding a couple of nice-looking couches, a shockingly tiny television, and something massive against the back wall: a huge fish tank, spanning most of the length of the living room. Bubby stared at it, both him and Harold immediately approaching it to take a closer look at it.

“I didn’t take you for an aquarium man!” Harold commented, bending over a little to look inside.

Bubby watched fish swim around leisurely inside, between all sorts of plant life and rock structures. He didn’t have any kind of gimmicky fish houses—he seemed to dedicate a lot of time to making it look natural, aside from one singular Minions-themed house off to the side.

“Oh, yes. Tommy suggested I find some—hobby, to keep me busy, while I’m not working.” Mr. Coolatta replied, leaning in close to the tank with them. “I found quite an interest in, aquariums.”

“How much did all this even cost?” Bubby asked in amazement.

Mr. Coolatta didn’t reply to that, only clearing his throat awkwardly. “The great thing I find about—aquariums, as opposed to...any other sort of housepet, is the necessity of creating what essentially becomes almost an entire, ecosystem, within their enclosure.”

“Well, you’re not letting them eat each other, are you?” Harold asked.

“Oh, no. Of course not.” Mr. Coolatta waved his hand dismissively, then indicated broadly to some of the coral inside. “I’m talking more, about...the symbiotic relationships, you see between the fish...the plants...the coral, each other—it’s all carefully cultivated. I’m always—tweaking things, for purposes both aesthetic and practical. Through my intervention, through—feeding them, cleaning the tank, everything—that I do...I am an integral part, of that ecosystem. It is, a symbiotic relationship in itself, how I provide them tank management, food, shelters, medicine...everything, and they provide me a sense of...”

Mr. Coolatta paused, tapping his finger to his chin as he thought about it.

“They provide me...an outlet, for my appreciation—of Earth life. I have a sense of responsibility, and as much as I provide them, enrichment, they are very much—the same for me. Life on Earth can be...tedious, and repetitive, in ways I thought at first I couldn’t handle.” Mr. Coolatta went on. Bubby watched him closely as he spoke, the way the wavering blue lights from inside the tank shifted over his calm, sentimental face. “But...things like—my aquarium, people like my son, people like...you two...show me, every day, that it isn’t entirely repetitive. I watch the fish grow, I watch them live, and learn—and, regrettably, die. Things are always shifting around inside the, tank, even if I don’t actively...change them myself, even though I am still...enacting the same routine, of feeding and caring for them. It’s—Harold, please don’t tap the glass.”

Bubby was snapped out Mr. Coolatta’s long monologue, glancing over at Harold, whose index finger was currently pressed against the glass as he stared down at one of the shrimp.

“Oh! Sorry.” Harold replied sheepishly.

“Uhh...ah, I lost my...train of thought.” Mr. Coolatta murmured.

“It must get tedious as hell to take care of all this.” Bubby commented, looking again at how massive the tank was.

“Oh, a little bit.” Mr. Coolatta admitted. “But I enjoy it, ultimately. As I said, life on Earth itself can be, tedious. But the reward I receive for seeing my aquarium, thrive, is more than enough—compensation for it all. I enjoy being...an integral part of something like this. It’s what I love about—Earth so much, really. Everything is...somewhat comprised of, circles, if you will, that interact with one another in vital ways. I am, a part of this aquarium’s circle—and a part of, Tommy’s, and it goes on. It encompasses the entire planet, to a point, and that—in turn—contributes to the livelihood of, the universe. My tiniest fish in here may seem—insignificant, in the face of the universe, but...his impact on the tank, on me—that all ripples out, eventually, even continuing on...in ways humans, don’t perceive or process.”

Bubby stared at Mr. Coolatta as he continued, something stirring in his chest. They were almost polar opposites, in a sense, Bubby realized—Mr. Coolatta was an alien, a man who spent most of his life off Earth, doing and seeing things Bubby could only dream of; and now, here he was, fixated on the tiny lives of fish, creatures Bubby had barely even given the time of day. On the other hand, Bubby had grown entirely on Earth, and dedicated so much of his life to the study of space, dimensional rifts, and the universe itself. For an alien, Mr. Coolatta felt surprisingly more grounded than Bubby did.

“Time, space, and life, they all have...an impact on one another.” Mr. Coolatta continued passionately. “We all have, an impact, on the universe, even when we think we’re doing absolutely nothing. Our inaction ripples out, the same way action—does. Manipulation of...time and space, life—and the consequences of...existence, it all requires knowing when to stay still, and when to take even the subtlest action. Most of my work, before the resonance cascade, was—centered around, tiny nudges, to ripple out into massive consequences. However, at this time...I—Harold, please don’t open the tank.”

Bubby looked to Harold again, finding one hand having already opened a small part of the lid, another clearly about to reach inside.

“Oh! Of course. Sorry.” Harold laughed sheepishly. “It’s just—that plant there looks like it has a very interesting texture.”

“Which one?” Mr. Coolatta asked, stepping around Bubby to lean in close over Harold’s shoulder. Harold pointed at the one he was looking at helpfully.

“Oh, that is...not a plant, exactly.” Mr. Coolatta said. “That is a...sea fan. A type of coral.”

Bubby watched as Mr. Coolatta explained to him the anatomy and care requirements of a sea fan extensively. Suddenly, Mr. Coolatta was removing his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves carefully and meticulously. Watching the process was almost mesmerizing, Bubby thought, before he invited Harold to roll his sleeves up as well. Harold pushed his own up eagerly, watching as Mr. Coolatta opened the tank.

“Here.” Mr. Coolatta said, holding his hand out with his palm up. “Technically, I cannot invite you, to touch the coral—but, I will show you what’s safe to touch.”

Harold put his hand in Mr. Coolatta’s, and he guided him to what was acceptable to feel. Bubby watched them, bathed in the shifting glow of the aquarium lights, clearly just as much enjoying each others’ touch as they were enjoying the interaction with the tank. Mr. Coolatta pulled Harold’s hand back out once one of the fish approached, though, closing the lid as quickly as he’d opened it.

“Ah, that’s...Orange Fanta.” Mr. Coolatta explained. “He can be—a little...territorial. He doesn’t appreciate my—presence, inside the tank.”

“He’s not even orange.” Bubby criticized.

“Well—no, but he acts...how I feel...Orange Fanta tastes.” Mr. Coolatta replied, as if it was obvious.

“It’s really a beautiful tank!” Harold complimented warmly, now that he’d had an opportunity to touch it. “It must have taken a lot of time and work to set this up! I find that very admirable.”

Mr. Coolatta smiled, somewhat bashfully. “Oh. Thank you—very much. That means quite a lot.”

“All of that you were saying before was beautiful as well—all about...ecosystems, and life and the universe.” Harold went on, taking up Mr. Coolatta’s hand in his own. “Your views on Earth life are wonderful, Mr. Coolatta.”

“Oh, yes, I was—well...hoping to say, on that note...” Mr. Coolatta cleared his throat, returning to that slight anxious, out-of-his-depth disposition he’d had at the mall. “My work, before the resonance cascade, was concerning such—small actions, to turn to massive consequences. I thought, perhaps, by living on Earth—I would...stop concerning myself with, matters of the universe, by remaining rather inactive. But, life, no matter how small, always impacts the universe in an imperceptible way. I don’t wish to be inactive. I would like to concern myself more, with how I could...be a part of something. Impact the lives of, those I care about, and...in turn, let them change me. You two never offer any sort of...predictability. I...have found myself, rather fond of that. If...you’d...l-let me be a part of that, I think...”

Mr. Coolatta trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I-I’d like that. A lot.” He finally finished quietly, staring down at Harold’s hands in his own.

“Oh, Mr. Coolatta, that’s so sweet.” Harold said, placing his dry hand up to the side of Mr. Coolatta’s face. “Personally, I think that sounds wonderful! I’d love to spend more time with you.”

Mr. Coolatta smiled down at him, placing his hand to the back of Harold’s. They both looked so happy, Bubby thought with butterflies in his stomach. Once Mr. Coolatta’s gaze turned curiously to him, Bubby couldn’t help but flap his hands a little bit anxiously before stepping forward. Harold moved a little out of the way, so Bubby could stand properly in front of Mr. Coolatta. Bubby reached for his tie, noting it had been pulled askew a little bit when he’d taken off his jacket. He straightened it out for him before letting his palms rest on his shoulders.

“I’d...like to get to know you better.” He said cautiously, heart racing. “I don’t know what happened with the resonance cascade, I sort of regretted dismissing it at first. I wanted to ask you more, but...I mean, honestly, if it weren’t for that, I probably wouldn’t be up on the surface now. Plus, if you put so much value in the life of a single fish these days, I think it sounds safe to say your stances have changed a little on...cosmic importance or what have you. So...eh.”

Mr. Coolatta nodded in understanding, his hand finding its way to Bubby’s shoulder. His hand was cold—Bubby normally couldn’t stand the cold, but he could learn to live with this, he thought. “Yes, my...stance, on ‘cosmic importance’, has changed rather drastically. To be honest...I simply look forward, now, to living...a simple life. I am eager to get to know you better, as well.”

Bubby grinned as a thought occurred to him. “Plus, if I start dating you, I get to hold that over Tommy’s head whenever anything comes up.”

Harold laughed loudly at that, draping his arm around Bubby’s waist and taking Mr. Coolatta’s free hand. “Oh, yes, that sounds fantastic!”

“Oh, please don’t...use that to, bully my son.” Mr. Coolatta replied, squeezing Bubby’s shoulder.

“Why not? Tommy bullies me all the time.” Bubby commented, feigning a serious tone. “Your son can have a bit of a mean streak, Mr. Coolatta.”

“My son? No, absolutely—not.” Mr. Coolatta said, his tone equally serious. Bubby wondered for a moment if he’d genuinely pushed it too far before Mr. Coolatta spoke again, with the hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ve never...known my son, to hurt even a fly.”

They all shared a laugh at that, despite how dark the joke had gotten.

“So...at this point, I think I’m legally entitled to know your actual fucking name.” Bubby pointed out. “I can’t call you ‘Mr. Coolatta’ forever, you know.”

Mr. Coolatta looked surprised at that, turning his gaze away. “Oh...well...I don’t—actually have one. I only, adopted, the last name...‘Coolatta’, after learning it was...what Tommy chose.”

“Well, surely, you have one for legal reasons, right?” Bubby asked curiously.

“Yes, but...it’s not...anything I feel—connected to.” Mr. Coolatta replied with a frown. “To be honest—I don’t, quite like being referred to by it. I’m sorry.”

“That’s just fine! How about we just drop the ‘Mister’, then?” Harold suggested gently.

He nodded, looking slightly relieved. “Yes, that sounds...acceptable.”

Now that Bubby was more stable in his feelings, he finally felt he could relax a little more and just enjoy the evening with Coolatta and Harold. Coolatta seemed to be feeling the same way; it felt nice, sitting close with him and Harold on the couch. He had to pull up a blanket to do so, and squint to see what was going on on his TV, but adjustments could be made for this to be more comfortable. Otherwise, for now, Bubby was content.

#if u see me constantly projecting my love of aquariums onto different characters...no u don't <3

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