#and going to the Specter for help is not *quite* as dumb as it sounds because the Specter used to be the hero Hal Jordan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

datawyrms · 3 years

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Ghostly Mystery Tour

For Phic Fight 2021! dey’s lovely prompt c:

On Ao3

Maddie and Jack had fully prepared for their adventure into the Ghost Zone—or so they thought. The fuel on Specter Speeder had fizzled out about a mile in. They're stuck. At least, until Phantom comes by, offering help.

“I just don’t understand it Maddie, I swear I charged it just this morning!” Jack’s voice managed to be louder than his frantic jabbing at the fuel gauge in the enclosed space, the sickly green glow outside making him look ill instead of agitated.

“I’m sure you did honey, but we need to think of a plan.” Maddie was already trying to think of what they could use. They weren’t too far away from the portal home, with how quickly the Speeder ran out of power. They had plenty of gear and weaponry packed in for their research trip, but the Specter Speeder wasn’t powered with something they could just toss in a gas can and bring along. “Maybe we can hook some of the ropes to the floating land masses and tow it?”

“Oh! Great idea!” Jack brightened, shoving the previous problem aside, hands now occupied with measuring the distance of the nearby rocks. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can get back to work!”

The problem about how safe it actually was to breathe in the air when in the realm of the dead had been accounted for, but if they had to waste the air tanks just to get back- well they wouldn’t get to have nearly the amount of time to actually explore on foot, let alone gathering samples. They could learn so much about the ectoplasmic terrors from the world they clawed out of, weaknesses they didn’t need to fear on Earth even! So to have their expedition, a trip that had been months in the making derailed like this in mere moments hurt. At least Jack could keep his eyes forward, his positive attitude the only thing keeping her from screaming from the absolute unfairness of it all. “Just run the best options past me before you open the hatch, okay darling?”

“You betcha!”

She was still going to enable the Fenton Child Safety Lock as a precaution, he could get a little over eager when he saw an opportunity. It was just a matter of what tools could be repurposed into a makeshift claw or skewer to actually keep hold of the rocks. What would be the smallest loss?

The sound of something hitting the roof of the speeder halted her thoughts, turning to look out of the windows, drawing up her hood in case they’d be fighting so soon. Even Jack had stopped with his mental calculations, pulling a weapon from under the seat. “Company already? Guess we’ll show em what for, eh honey?”

“Well it is the Ghost Zone, they’re probably braver here. Not that it’ll be any problem.” A little boasting could help keep morale up, even if the situation was less than ideal. Stranded with a ghost already trying to take advantage, typical.

“Well one little zap with this baby and it’ll scoot right on back!”

If the ghost could hear them, maybe it would be frightened off just by their voices. Whatever had hit them hadn’t shown itself near the window, or hit their vehicle again. It didn’t feel right. There might be no evidence for whatever it was lurking around, but sometimes you had to follow your intuition. Jack was inquisitive, but didn’t ask out loud as his wife stood to knock the ceiling herself.

“Sooo are we doing knock knock jokes, or do you need a tow?”

She should have known. Of all the ghosts, it would have to be the one that always managed to get her hackles up, pretending to be helpful so people trusted him. A ghost that even tried to have a human name to fit in, not that she’d ever call this thing ‘Danny’. It was an insult to her baby boy, quite frankly. “What are you up to now?”

“Asking you if you need this thing moved. Duh,” the ghost snorted, the metal clanking as he knocked it again. “Talking at you from the roof feels dumb, you gonna shoot if I go to the front?”

“Depends on what you do, ghost scum!” Jack had looked pensive for a moment, but spoke up quickly on spotting Maddie reaching for a notebook. He just had to give her time to think it over, and he was great at distractions.

“Is scum what you call all people who help you out, or am I just your favourite?” A white haired head appeared at the top of their window, looking down with an amused smirk at the pair. Still playing innocent when they were at a disadvantage.

“You’re a ghost ‘claiming’ to want to help.”

That earned a frown, though the ghost stopped half hiding to float in front of their stranded speeder. “Riiiight. Put it that way, whatever,” he paused, as if studying their faces. His green eyes lingered on the weapon, notably so even as he went back to jabbering. “I’ve got some stuff to do, but I can drag the s-that thing back to the portal. So?”

The hunters shared a glance, unsure how to handle it. Phantom liked to claim he liked humans and protecting them, but he was a ghost. There had to be something he wanted out of them in return. Or might get violent if refused in the wrong way. At least he shouldn’t be able to see the quickly scrawled message to Jack. ‘You play the doubtful one, I’ll pretend to trust him- it’ll underestimate us’

“As if, spooky! Jack Fenton doesn’t need any ghost’s help!”

The ghost bought the open hostility without a second thought, eyes rolling to a sky that wasn’t here. “Really? I heard tow trucks were expensive out of state! Can’t imagine the out of dimension costs.”

It was going to be difficult to stay civil when it would be so much easier to just demand the ghost stop playing around. “We’re listening. So what do you want?”

“Awwww Mads, we don’t need this punk’s help! He doesn’t even have toes!”

The passion Jack had put into his moping managed to baffle the ghost. “Wait, what? Of course I do! No, stop, why does that matter? I know tows and toes are different things! I’m not that bad of a student, sheesh.” He seemed quite thrown, which was good. If the ghost forgot what the plan had been he might just get lost.

“Yeah, and you don’t have either Phantom!” Her husband managed to keep from laughing, but the shake in his shoulders showed it was a near thing.

Phantom glanced down at the black wispy tail that made up his legs, muttering something. “Well okay I don’t right now, but I normally do!”

It was a bit fascinating that Jack had distracted the ghost from his goal so completely. They’d have to think about an invention that could replicate the effect. “Can we focus please? I already said I’d listen to what you wanted.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” he coughed, a strangely human expression of embarrassment. “I don’t actually need anything? I just have some stuff to do so you’d need to wait a bit.”

Oh right. Sure, the most dangerous ghost in town wanted to help the ghost hunters that wanted to destroy him ‘just because’. Just wait here while he goes to get some friends to attack them! Honestly, did ghosts think they were stupid? “Then why not tell us when you’re done? We’re not moving very quickly.”

“Cus he wants to make us think we’re safe before WHAM! Outnumbered by cowardly ghosts!” Jack expressed her true feelings effortlessly. “Not that it’d help em!”

“No way, you think I’d leave you guys here where anyone can try something?” The ghost still seemed confused, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. “You guys are here to study or whatever anyway, right? So you can look around while I get my errands done. And you know, you don’t get attacked. Most of the little guys leave me alone.”

As if that was a surprise! A ghost of Phantom’s strength could destroy smaller and weaker entities without effort. Perhaps it was a subtle threat slipping through his mask of ‘helpful child’. The idea of going deeper into the Ghost Zone, completely at his mercy was...well absolutely idiotic. Even if they could probably overcome him...being able to still get some studies done would make it not a complete waste of a trip. “So you think it’s likely we’ll be attacked here, so close to the portal?”

“Yeah, by him!” Jack looked tempted to grab his weapon, but refrained. “So what if we say no, huh?”

“Then I guess you can float here? Up to you, I guess.”

It was strange, to see the cocky ghost a bit hesitant. Even if there was an obvious threat he wasn’t mentioning. “Well if you could pull the Speeder, you could take it even if we don’t want you to.”

“I think that’s called kidnapping.” Phantom’s cocky smirk returned “Which is weird, you’re not kids! Adultnapping? Nah, that sounds dumb.”

“Ah cut the innocent act, we’re not falling for it!”

“Hey, I said it’s up to you! Either you agree to come along and I get you back home, or I just leave you guys to do whatever you plan to do. Even if yes, I could totally just drag the ship anyway. I’m not, because I’m trying to help, remember?” A hint of frustration slid past the confidence at ‘remember’, but the ghost folding his arms behind his head as if kicking back to relax did defang most of the threat. “I don’t have all day here.”

“We don’t have all day either Phantom. We have family to get back to, and no idea how long you plan to be ‘on errands’.” Maddie pointed out, still unsure what they should do. Trusting him was stupid, but he had showed his hand. Refusal might be met with the same result anyway, but ‘agreeing’ might trick the ghost into thinking they fell for his ‘trustworthy’ act.

“Like an hour or two? Not too long.”

“Well I’d use my Fenton Stopwatch! So don’t think you can pretend it’s a shorter time than it is, ghost!”

“Yeah yeah, you do that D-Jack,” he stumbled over the ghost hunter’s name, but otherwise didn’t move from relaxing. “It’s not gonna kill you to trust me for a bit.”

Even though it very much could kill them. He really was a smug bit of ectoplasm, thinking he blended in with humans well enough to be considered one. “So only a few hours, and you won’t stop us from researching or taking samples? Or lead us to a trap?”

“If I wanted people to get threatened by ghosts, I could just take some days off. No trouble, cross my heart. I’d swear to die but I got the jump on that bit,” he snorted at his own joke, but otherwise left the family to consider.

It was just safer to say ‘yes’ so the ghost thought they were fools. It had nothing to do with wanting to salvage something out of this disaster of an expedition. “Yes. We’ll accept your help, this time.”

“And you aren’t getting any thanks until we’re home, got it?” Good, ghost hunter, bad ghost hunter. An easy enough trick. Even if she wished Jack was the ‘trusting’ one. Yelling would feel nice.

“Yeeeah, kinda expected that too. Rude.” The ghost only shrugged before flying up and out of sight. She half expected to hear the ghost grab the Speeder, but they only really noticed when they started moving. Moving very, very quickly.

She couldn’t help it, her curiosity tamped down some of the fear she should be feeling, pointing out interesting landmasses as they passed, Jack just as enthusiastic to discuss what caused them, if the ghost built them or they were simply generated when a ghost squirmed into existence. A great castle that seemed familiar, an island with some sort of skull as a decoration and thousands of doors. Most ghosts they only could get sparing glimpses at, even when carrying an entire vehicle the ghost boy was fast. Ridiculously so. She thought it was his small figure that contributed to how quickly the pest could move- how the ghost could just vanish out of range in moments. That most of the power behind his physical attacks came from the speed they were delivered with instead of raw strength. Clearly that was an incorrect hypothesis, moving this quickly and carrying so much extra weight without any real difficulty. They slowed near what seemed to be another castle, though it was much less foreboding looking then the other one.

That sinking dread returned after they landed. She had some landmarks, but this much distance would be a big ask to get back. That, and this castle seemed more...occupied, judging by some humanoid ghosts loitering near the gates. One even waved. To them, or the ghost carrying them?

“Okayyy so. Ground rules? Don’t shoot anyone. None of these guys even go through the portal, they’re not the fighting type. Other than that? Have fun, I guess?” He’d stopped floating, standing on the ground beside their stalled craft. He didn’t look as if preparing to fight, which is what she’d assumed the ghost meant by ‘errands’. So what was he up to?

“We won’t do anything if they don’t.” A lie, honestly, but the ghost nodded.

“Wait, what’s that stuff for?” White gloves pointed at the masks the ghost hunters were pulling from under the seats. “Like you can hear me, there’s air out here.”

“It might be safe for ghosts, but we aren’t ghosts.”

Phantom opened his mouth as if to protest before shutting it with a frown. Strange, it was hard to get him to shut up most of the time.

“Nice try, we’re not gonna choke on ghost air today, Phantom!” Jack chuckled, adjusting his mask before popping open the hatch.

“I wasn’t expecting you to- oh whatever. Just don’t embarrass me,” he sounded like a sulking kid, only glancing at them for a moment before kicking off the ground to fly closer to the castle. Off to fight whoever ‘owned’ this area, perhaps?

“Well look at that! Regular plants!” Jack shook her from her pondering, crouched over what looked like a tended to flower bed near the walls. “Well, ghost plants that aren’t trying to attack. Think we should sketch em for the kids?”

“Well Jazz has been more interested in ghosts lately, I suppose.” It was interesting, but she was more curious about the ghost meandering past the walls. They seemed docile, almost like people just walking and apparently talking with one another. Not attempting to fight for territory or resources. Perhaps they were just repeating the memories of their lives over and over? Yet none of them had reacted badly to Phantom zipping past either. A different breed of ghost, perhaps? Or ghosts often had ‘kings’ that kept the lesser ones from squabbling. The large brute of a ghost that stole the town had claimed to be a king of sorts, and this was another castle...but she didn’t want to test anything by getting their attention. They might only act savagely towards humans, being jealous of those still alive after all.

“Yeah, she has! Danno might not like em, but that goth chick he’s eyeing might like em too!” He was already sketching away, quickly getting the basics. He’d fill in the details from memory back home. “You want to try seeing if those ones talk? Not sure how the ghost kid thinks we could embarrass him, ha!”

“Oh he was probably just trying to insult us. He likes to pretend to be a teenager,” she waved that question away, double checking her weapon was easy to reach in case of an emergency. No reason to make their predicament worse by being unprepared. While still considering to go near those ghosts instead of safely observing from a distance. Jack’s enthusiasm was too infectious, really, but that’s how they made so many discoveries!

The ghosts didn’t object to her moving closer, but she kept off the busier paths to be safe. So many stalls of what seemed to be goods, clothing and paintings, rugs and nick knacks. Well, the ghosts didn’t need anything to live, so it would make sense for them to prioritize other items first, but the art was strange. What did the dead know of creativity? Were these all recreations of something found in life? No, some of the paintings had the green skies of the Ghost Zone, implying at least some ‘new’ thought. They were strange, very unlike the wild animals that often attacked the town, or the showy inhuman mimics that tried to claim world domination. They just looked like greener, more transparent people. Barely any of them even floated much. They’d need new categories, they broke too many rules that stayed true on Earth.

“Oh that’s a lovely shade of blue! I wish I could make something like it.” The voice echoed, but it wasn’t growling or mocking. In fact, the ghost woman who had paused beside the hunter was smiling warmly, despite the dead red eyes. “Are you just visiting for a bit?”

“We’re mostly stuck going wherever the ghost boy is taking us, our ship broke down,” Maddie struggled not to frown, her natural inclination to get away from the still potentially dangerous ghost strong with so many fights. She could tell it the truth, in a sense. Phantom was far more likely to be dangerous then this waif of a woman. How she could move in so many ruffles was baffling.

“Oh dear! Well if he’s any trouble you can let Dorthea know, she’s a caring ruler. A human helped her get her rightful throne back, so I’m sure she’d be happy to help!” The ghost tittered a little, as if expecting that to be obvious.

So the ghost did know she was human? Far more alarming was the idea some other human had been dragged this far from home, possibly trapped. Maybe this would turn into a rescue mission. Unless it was too late for them, a distinct possibility. “Oh really? How did that happen?”

“Oh I don’t really know the details, but it was a human that inspired our good Queen that she didn’t need to fear that tyrant and she could fight back. I wish I’d seen it!”

It was disquieting how human the ghost sounded, a friendly sort of gossip. If only she had a way to record it. “The human got back home after helping, right?”

“Well I assume so, she had no intentions of staying here very long, that’s for sure!” She laughed easily, apparently blind to Maddie’s confusion and apprehension, or just unable to see it past the mask and goggles. “I’m fairly sure Sir Phantom took her back, you could ask him.”

Sir? That town terrorizing scoundrel was respected around here? And had been taking humans out of the ghost zone? Probably because he made whoever it was get here in the first place, just to rescue them. Was that why he was here? To stage some new act with this ghost queen? “Right, I might do that.” Would she? This morning she hadn’t expected to talk to ghosts, let alone multiple.

“Oh! If you see any of those angry blobs you can just run back towards the guards and they’ll deal with it. It’s their job, and they’re quite good at it. I actually considered doing that job for a bit, but I like looking after the plants more. Maybe I’ll switch in a decade or two!” The ghost kept talking, apparently taking Maddie’s lack of further questions as permission to keep chattering.

“Can’t you deal with them yourself?” Attacking ghost blobs was something she knew about, and if this ghost was strong enough to mimic humans, shouldn’t it be able to deal with the much less sophisticated tactics of blobs?

“Me? Oh no, I’m not not trained. Do you still have lions on the other side? It would be like trying to fight one of those with a stick!” She laughed, but not unkindly.

“You’re both ghosts though, aren’t you?” Perhaps they differentiated themselves by name in the Ghost Zone? It would lend some evidence to the ‘different breeds’ of ghost hypothesis she was rapidly stringing together.

She tapped at her chin for a moment at the question. “I suppose we are, but they’re more like animals. They might have always been animals, or never alive at all! It’s perfectly safe here though, they usually fight more among themselves.”

Well that was fascinating. Some ghosts didn’t instinctively know how to fight and had to be taught? Yet didn’t consider themselves completely separated from the more animalistic ectoplasmic terrors. Perhaps the more ‘domestic’ setting here made the ghosts less feral and more reliant on their previous memories. Well, the ghost could be lying, but she couldn’t see the benefit she’d gain from deception here. “So you’re kind of stuck here then? We saw a lot of those outside of this place.”

“No no, we’ve got safer ways to travel than just flying around! Not all of us are that brave, dear. Though I don’t think I’d want to stay somewhere else very long anyway. Here it’s safe, all my friends are here and we have one of the largest markets in the whole Ghost Zone. Other ghosts come to us!” There was a hint of pride as she spoke about her ‘home’, gesturing over to some of the stalls Maddie hadn't had time to look at before getting interrupted. “I was really hoping to get something from the seven armed bloke over there, but he’s not very interested in my clothing. Maybe next time.”

Said ‘bloke’ had far too many eyes to go with the arms, and a collection of honestly terrifying little statues with strange designs that made her head hurt if she looked at it too long. A clear outsider to the more human ones, but not causing a stir. So much for constantly fighting out groups, but they barely had anything in common either! Not to mention engaging in some kind of simplistic trading. “So this happens often?”

“Pretty much. It’s fun to make new things, but you get bored of just your own stuff after a few centuries you know? So we swap and find new things.”

Well of course, it’s not like the ghosts needed to trade for something vital to existence. Swapping ‘things’ made more sense in that context. So why weren’t any trying to trade strength or favours? Or simply taking what they wanted? Was it related to having a queen? She had so many questions that knowing what ones needed to be asked was next to impossible. “I suppose you would. How can you tell if a ghost that comes is peaceful?”

“Asking!” She laughed again, apparently finding the question funny. So they didn’t deal with constant attacks from spectres like Phantom trying to ‘take over?’ Why?

“Oh geeze, I’m so sorry if she said anything about trying to-” Phantom’s voice interrupted her thoughts, the ghost suddenly floating beside the other ghost and sputtering.

“Sorry? She’s been perfectly lovely! Haven’t you- oh I’m so rude, I didn’t even get your name!” the ghost tisked at herself, once again strangely apologetic.

“Wait, she has?” His doubtful tone made the ghost hunter scowl. As if he had any room to judge them.

“We’re scientists, not uncontrollable monsters.” Like him. She was fairly sure he caught the implication when the boy muttered something she couldn’t hear.

“Cool. Anyway, got another stop, then I’ll get you two back home.” He still hovered, glancing between the two of them a few times. “Oh. Maddie, that’s her name.”

“Lovely speaking with you Maddie! Had a good trip back, I’m Guenivier if you’re ever in the area again,” she smiled and gave another wave before somehow drifting back into the crowd without displacing even a bit of that dress.

“Who said you can give out my name?” Maddie hissed, once certain the other ghost was out of earshot.

He leaned back on teenager mannerisms, scoffing and heading away. “Because she wanted to know and thinks you aren’t a total ghost hater? It’s not gonna hurt anything.”

“How can I know you don’t have a way to locate people by name?”

He was rolling his eyes again as if she was being ridiculous. “You live in a house with a giant glowing sign. Not exactly subtle.”

“That isn’t in the ghost zone.”

“It’s attached to the ghost zone, it totally counts.”

It really was like arguing with a teenager when he bantered on like this. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Yes ma’am. Sheesh.” He hopped on top of the speeder, kicking his heels against the side. “Hey Jack, you coming?”

“Coming!” he bellowed back, jogging over from the patch of plants she’d left him at. However, he wasn’t just carrying his notebook, but a folded glowing bit of cloth. Some sort of tapestry judging by all the stitching? “Just wanted to get a few more lines done-” he broke off after spotting his wife, apparently reminded that he shouldn’t be so chummy with the ghost. “I mean I leave when I want to, you can’t boss Fentons around!”

“Oh come onnn, can you pretend you don’t hate me for like five minutes? I’m not even doing anything!” Phantom complained, flopping backwards onto the Speeder. “You were totally having a good time”.

“How did you get that, dear?” Maddie chose to ignore their sulking captor and instead look at what Jack managed to gather besides sketches.

“Oh, one of the ghosties liked my pictures and asked to trade for one! So I gave em a page for this! We can study how they made it back home, neat huh?”

Apparently he hadn’t been too worried about it being a trap, but a picture he’d just sketched wasn’t a big ask for something that could teach them a lot about the ghosts in here, so it was a good trade nonetheless. “You did great sweetie. Just make sure to store it safely, just in case.”

“Already on it sweet cheeks!” He was indeed, already pulling out a large sample bag to store their find before opening the hatch again.

“Ew. I changed my mind, go back to threatening me. Sappy is worse.”

Well, at least the ghost regretted his actions a bit. He’d be more sorry if he tried anything, but this did just seem to be something to sooth that hero complex it had. So far, anyway. She was tempted to ask the ghost what it had been up to at the castle, but it didn’t really matter. He’d just lie anyway, he clearly wasn’t the same sort of ghost as the weaker ones back there.

“Ha, he crumples in the face of our love Madds!” Jack laughed, hugging his wife and they got comfortable back in the speeder. “You think he’d take us back home if I said how much I love ya?”

“I so don’t need to hear this.” He was muffled, apparently still flopped on the speeder. He didn’t add anything before the Speeder lifted from the ground and resumed speeding through the strange green expanse.

“Clearly he buys his own teenager delusion.” Maddie mused, content to rest against Jack and look through his sketches. “Did they seem strangely lifelike to you too?”

“Oh sure! They just talked and didn’t even seem interested in going to the human world! Even though one was very jealous of how bright my jumpsuit is.” He leaned a bit to flick a few pages forward. “I sketched a couple and got their names, so we can see if we can look em up. See if they’re similar to their old selves according to history and all.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t get a complete name, but apparently they have jobs? Not like the wilder ghosts, and they do have a queen…” she paused, remembering the ‘human’ Phantom apparently ‘helped home. “Hey! You did help someone home from the ghost zone before, did you?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, she’s back safe. Wasn’t even a whole day.” He sounded distracted, or at least surprised by the question.

It could be a valuable lead. That, and the human might need help after such an experience. Who knew how ecto contaminated they might be! “Who was it?”

“How should I know? Just because I’m in town a lot doesn’t mean I know everyone’s name.”

She frowned, glancing at Jack who only shrugged. So he hadn’t heard that story, only her. “You know ours.”

“Because you shout them at me and shoot at me a lot? Pretty easy to remember!”

“Ghost kid’s got a point.” Jack admitted, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll just find who it is ourselves! Just an extra project.”

“What, and just make their life weird again by bringing up ghost stuff? Leave em alone.”

Well now they absolutely had to look into it, if Phantom wasn’t keen on the idea. Better to let him think they agreed though. “True, it could just lead you back to them.”

“Hey! This is all you, not me!”

Jack chuckled. “You’re really good at riling him up. Almost sounds like our Danny like that, getting all touchy about fun family activities!”

“Well he probably copies behaviour from local teenagers,” she didn't like that comparison though. Their children were nothing like life destroying ghosts. It was better to turn her attention to the passing green and how the amount of doors seemed to dwindle as masses of ice started to become the most prominent detail. That made more sense, actually. Phantom had started using ice in addition to ectoblasts, if he came from somewhere with this sort of climate it seemed less out of place with his other abilities. Even if he was otherwise ill suited to snow and ice with how he insisted on looking like a kid.

The next stop felt more like a mistake, with only hills of untouched white powder and ice to see, but the crunch of snow below confirmed they were no longer moving. Good thing they came prepared with heated coats!

“Not a whole lot around here! If it wasn’t for all the green we could pretend we were in Alaska.” Jack chattered as he shrugged a coat on, still apparently too excited to look around to keep his suspicion up. “They don’t all like castles, or maybe it’s a hidden one!”

He better not be thinking Santa had an ice castle. That was probably what he was thinking of, but she didn’t really want to bring up their annual argument at the moment. He could be wrong today, there were more important things to do. “You do realize it’s a frozen wasteland you’ve stranded us on?”

“It’s not that cold.” Phantom objected, circling the Speeder idly.

“Easy for a ghost to say, you’re always cold ghost kid!”

He stopped at that, glancing back at Jack. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“Only because we brought warm clothing. Jumpsuits aren’t enough for the living.” Maddie huffed, looking at the snowfields to find anything worth looking at. The structures of ice were somewhat interesting, but not inherently ghostly.

“Well you guys can stay here, I guess.” The ghost bit at his lip, playing up the concern now that they pointed out a frozen wasteland was cold. Honestly, how did anyone fall for Phantom’s act if he made mistakes like this? “I don’t think Frostbite’s people come out this far…”

“Oh, are they dangerous? We can take any of your little ghostly pals!”

Phantom looked as if Jack suggested exploding a building. “No! Don’t fight any of them! They just look scary, okay? Just ignore them, if any show up.” He didn’t wait for a response before flying off this time, apparently in much more of a hurry this time.

“Sounds like he’s worried about what we can do to his little pals, huh?” Jack elbowed his wife with a grin. “Well, maybe we can find something weird about the ice here!”

It was better to try getting some of the ghost ice instead of doing nothing, though she doubted it would be very different from regular ice, beyond the ectocontamination. Now what would a ghost think is ‘scary looking’? He hadn’t given such a warning when close to all of the other ghosts, after all. It was a bit of a mystery, and none of the ice here had any identifying marks or hints of another odd little ghost ‘civilization’. ‘Frostbite’ wasn’t much of a name either, perhaps they were more like the wild sort that came to Amity?

“Oh hoh! Look at this!” Jack yelled out, pointing to something below him as he waved her over.

A large, clawed footprint left in the snow, and fairly deep. So something monstrous after all, as expected. “Maybe we can get a cast of it?” They had supplies for it, but she wasn’t certain if it would work in the ice correctly. The tracks didn’t go for long, but following them wasn’t a very tantalizing idea. Better to keep a distance and be well armed if they wanted to tangle with whatever left this. It wasn’t as distracting as the previous stop, but the sound of crunches increasing in volume had the couple back on edge and wary.

“Seriously, we should just go-”

It sounded like the ghost boy was near wherever the crunches were coming from, which didn’t improve her mood one iota.

“Nonsense! I have been asking to meet them for how long?” A deep, growling and carrying voice came in response as Maddie readied a weapon.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. You don’t want to, trust me.”

“Seems he doesn’t have a very high opinion of ghost hunters, eh Mads?” Jack was less noticeably readied, still half crouched near the footprint, but his hand hovered where a weapon was concealed. She focused on her breathing as the sound grew louder, eyes narrowed as she spotted a large figure cresting the nearby hill. With the little white haired ghost boy completely at ease near it. Nothing like his regular behaviour, let alone the talking. Why would this huge beast know of them?

“What did I say about not shooting people?” Phantom actually seemed to blush on seeing her holding the weapon, smacking his face. “Okay, you saw them, bye now!”

The large furred creature ignored how the smaller ghost pushed at their shoulder, instead waving with a horrific ice claw, bones gleaming from within as it seemed to rip at the very air. “Well our first meeting was hardly perfect either, I can manage.”

“Yeah but I can’t just pull a ‘won’t shoot a big yeti’ icicle out of their jumpsuits!”

For a human loving ghost, Phantom was certainly very concerned about this giant horned monster being harmed by ‘mere humans’. More proof of his act, at least. Though the large creature did have a cloak of some sort and clothing. He spoke well, if you ignored the fanged mouth and growls. A strange contradiction of appearance and intent. That wasn’t a normal thing for ghosts either, you could gather a decent amount about one by how they looked. So why was this one chatting and apparently interested in seeing two humans? “So, you’re the ‘Frostbite’ he mentioned?” She hazarded a guess, but wasn’t going to put the gun away.

It showed its fangs, maw wide and unnerving. “Yes, I am! It is an honour to meet you�� The furry head bowed slightly, as if trying a sort of nod of respect. “Your work assisted the Great One in vanquishing Pariah Dark, we all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Please don’t call me that. Especially in front of them!” the green eyed ghost practically squawked, somehow flushing even harder when he didn’t even have blood.

Maddie’s mind almost flipped over from the sheer confusion of what this terrifying ghost said. They had ‘helped’ vanquish something? More likely, Phantom had stolen something. So why did this ghost still give them credit? That wasn’t even starting to touch why the ghost boy would be considered great in any aspect. “Assisted him? Do you mean with that ghost who took our town into the Ghost Zone?” She wasn’t sure if that was what the ‘king’ ghost was called, but it made more sense than anything else she could think of.

“Indeed. The King of All Ghosts would have sent the infinite realms into chaos and conflict. Of course we are grateful for your help in preventing that.”

“That’s when you stole the Ecto Skeleton!” Jack spoke up, no longer tense. “You never brought it back.”

“That’s not my fault, that thing almost wasted me! It was gone once I woke up!” The boy objected, but seemed to settle down when the larger ghost ruffled his hair. “I wanted to bring it back.”

“I’m sure now they understand how vitally important that technology was, for your world and ours.” The ghost’s yellow eyes watched them expectantly, the unnerving void of pointed daggers thankfully closed now.

“Well it did get Amity back where it belonged.” Losing the Ecto Skeleton had been a blow, but an acceptable one to get back to normal. The fact that more ghosts seemed to know and care about their part of it was somewhat unnerving. She very much doubted Phantom just ‘lost’ it either. Jack suffered from the demands of the suit, but the ghost was just ectoplasm and electricity. Quite unlikely he could be drained that much, it wasn’t meant for ghosts to use in the first place.

“Your world? Doesn’t the kid live here?” Jack asked, making his wife blink. She hadn’t noticed that odd phrasing.

“No, no. The Great One prefers the human world and his friends. How are they doing?”

He froze up, eyes flicking to the hunters and back to the yeti. “Fine. They’re great.” He darted closer to the two hunters, gesturing at them to move. “Okay let’s go.”

How much interacting was this ghost doing with humans to have ‘friends’ it told other ghosts about? They could be in danger, or used as targets! “No no, we’d love to hear about your friends.”

“Nope, you don’t, gotta get home right? Big hurry, don’t trust me, remember?” He was practically pleading with them.

Frostbite’s ears twitched as he tilted his head. “Don’t trust you? Surely they’re the ones who taught your friends how to drive that craft of yours?”

Phantom had the gall to turn invisible.

“We were unaware anyone other than us was using it, actually.” Maddie didn’t bother to keep the frost from her voice.

“Ah, well at least the good news is I already knew how to make a replacement battery for it when the Great One came asking for help.” His tail twitched, as one of the great claws scratched at his furry chest. “It should be good as new once you can install it.”

So not only was this ghost stealing technology and bringing humans to the ghost zone, it was teaching other ghosts how it worked! The second that ghost was in their grasp, he’d have some serious answering to do. “Do all of you call him that?” It was the only question she could ask without wishing to spit acid, quite frankly.

“All of the Far Frozen recognize him as such, but not all ghosts are the same. He should be proud of the title, a savour of two worlds.”

“Frostbite I’m begging you, stop! It’s embarrassing!” The ghost dropped his invisibility, still looking more like a flustered kid instead of the heroics seeking fame junkie he was.

“Well if it helps your relationship with these ghost hunters, I think it is important that they know.”

“Yeah no. Let’s not.”

It felt like there was something the two ghosts weren’t saying. That, and the fact Phantom didn’t seem to like being hailed as a hero here in the Ghost Zone didn’t make sense. Why all the grandstanding in Amity then?

“Well we’ll be glad for the lift home. You shouldn’t steal from us, kid.” Jack tried a stern approach, and the ghost actually flinched from the rebuke.

“You’re not the only ones who want to map this place out, that’s all,” he didn’t really seem to be answering them, more talking to himself before launching himself at the Speeder again. “You can shoot at me about it back home or whatever.”

“Travel safely! Do try and explore your other half more often, Great one. You’re always welcome here.” His great furry head watched them all easily, seeking out the ghost hunters eyes as well. "I understand you are less interested, but you are welcome to see the realities of my home as well. It may surprise you, in a good way."

She desperately wanted to ask what that monster of a ghost meant by that, but managed to hold her tongue. If all the ghosts here saw Phantom as some sort of godlike hero, chewing him out here wasn’t safe. Jack’s small nod of agreement and warm hug helped, but it couldn’t stop her mind churning. They’d seen and hurt so much, and none of it made any sense! This Frostbite just threw in several more wrenches in the works with only a few sentences, but with how agitated Phantom was getting now wasn’t the time to push their luck. Perhaps when the shoe was on the other foot, and the boy needed their assistance.

He didn’t speak up or grumble this time as they left the frozen land behind. Though that might be them as well,m sitting close together and considering the notes and samples they had taken. That and the huge list of questions Jack had scrawled down in the margins of a sketch of Frostbite. How could a ghost like Phantom truly manage to stay in the human world most of the time? Did it have to do with this ‘other half’ that ghost had mentioned? Would knowing what it was reveal a weakness in the ghost? So many questions, but no answers. Why had Phantom even let them speak to any ghosts, considering how badly he’d reacted to some of the information given? He couldn’t genuinely be wanting to help.

The inviting glow of the portal appeared sooner than either of them could expect, the ghost dropping the ship on the lab floor with a loud clunk.

“See? Home. No ‘evil plan’” he floated into view, and she was fairly sure he only did so to make those air quotes with his hands.

“So you say, ghost kid. Don’t think we won’t be checking for tricks!”

“Yeah sure,” he shrugged, grinning after a moment. “Oh hey, by the way, you do know what the Speeder is powered with, right?”

Maddie didn’t actually know how to take that question. “Of course we do, we built it!”

“Uh huh.” His grin widened as he kicked back, legs vanishing into that strange tail. “All you had to do was take the cover off. It’s the Ghost Zone! There’s ectoplasm everywhere! I just had Frostbite make a backup.”

...Had they really- They had. They’d been dragged around by a ghost for no reason at all! “Why you little-”

He kept laughing before turning and getting out of the way. “Thanks for flying with Phantom Zone Tours! I’m out.” A jaunty wave and he was gone, leaving two baffled ghost hunters behind.

“I think some fudge is in order after that!”

She couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe fudge could make sense of that whole affair. All that for a prank? It didn’t add up. They’d have a lot of work to do.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Maddie Fenton #jack fenton #hey look a fun one!#tho they are kinda mean about poor danny-boy #but hey minimal angst! woo!#Team Ghost

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glowyjellyfish · 3 years

Text

I started writing down an updated collection of thoughts and plans about my Megakingdom project, but they got very rambly and so I am beginning anew.

And no, I have not forgotten about Grimwood Abbey, but for my undiagnosed but likely adhd brain I gotta follow the fixations where they lead. It’s actually quite helpful to have several different Medieval Sims 2 concepts I want to play with while working on the excruciatingly long CC Sorting portion of the project, because I can bounce around from one to the other to find fresh things to think about without abandoning the CC project. I got through all the Teen and Child clothing, and everything in Buy Mode! I am halfway through Walls in Build Mode! I have some broken things to identify, some Star Factory stuff to check on updating (accidentally overwrote my fresh install of all those with some older duplicates and could not actually undo, Mia culpa), and a bunch of empty folders to check and remove. Then comes the real sorting. And a backup.

But today I am here to talk about the Megakingdom. I have realized I can’t just play it as a straight MCC, because I already have a king. And yet the Warwickshire rules are wayyyy too complicated for somebody who has yet to complete an MCC. So I am going to play mostly MCC, with a few Warwickshire rules incorporated early, using the advancements to replace unthematic community lots and make sure the community gets well-rounded. I’ll also be using the social advancement rules to earn sims the right to fill in a few empty class spots (for example, Pleasantview currently has no Gentry). I will probably start using some of the Warwickshire title guidelines once each subhood has a reasonable amount of sims in each class and sims start purchasing titles outside the basic ones. And I am thinking I might roll a THS for babies born in-game, but avoid randomized health hits and pregnancy health concerns until I get used to the system and/or those babies grow into adults.

The big difference I am planning from both rule systems is… frankly, I want to use the colleges and the college sims. The college sims are going to be a flexible marriage pool, but also, three is too many for just a couple of social classes to attend, and it really bugs me that college sims get more lifespan than non-college sims. So each college is open to a different selection of social classes. Academie Le Tour is the upper class university, and only royalty, nobility, and heir/firstborn gentry may attend. La Fiesta Tech is for non-heir gentry and merchants, and Sim State University is the trade school for yeomen and peasants who are sponsored by a noble. I’m not sure yet about the other two colleges, but SSU will for sure have a strong tuition fee, which peasants may request from a noble in exchange for becoming their serf. There will absolutely be many sims who still cannot afford to attend, and for those I’ll get some YA mods, but this plan will ease me into that play method AND will prep up some serfs for the megahood.

(I… will have to reread up on the lower classes and determine exactly how and who I want to set up as serfs, if I feel I need to start with any. For some reasons, I am constantly assuming that the lowest classes in these challenges do not automatically equal serfs and I might also just be wrong on that, and if I am I’ll figure it out.)

Some story plans and concepts:

Faith and Herbert Goodie are going to be church sims, with the Newsons moving in as a collection of orphans being raised by the church. Coral Oldie, meanwhile, is going to be a midwife (probably not the only one, but I haven’t identified anyone else for the role yet); I have set the Oldies as Merchant class, and so I might have Herb run a small business that complements her midwifery, perhaps selling herbs they grow or something.

I’m trying to figure out what’s to be done with Jessica Peterson; without the game lore she’s just an obvious peasant, but with it she’s divorced from Armand DeBateau, a duke, and therefore must be at least Gentry. I feel like the thematic way to handle this would be having her join the church or become an outcast, but I haven’t decided yet. By a similar token, I really want to keep Alexandra Teatherton nee O’Mackey’s “left family to become a pirate” story, but then I’d have to set up pirates and junk. Otherwise, she’s in the same position as Jessica.

Cassandra Goth is betrothed to King Malcolm Landgraab IV. I think that Don Lothario, a yeoman at best, has been trying to seduce her and making all kinds of promises in his efforts to bed her, but he never intended to actually try to marry her and is shocked at how seriously she took all his talk of running away together. That is way too permanent for Don Lothario, he just wanted to WooHoo her.

I did this same basic setup for a Steampunk Strangetown I played a while back, but I think the quickest and most interesting way to set up a kingdom in Strangetown is a. Olive Specter is the ruler, b. Ophelia has been raised as her heir, but c. Nervous is the true heir, kept secret because of his parentage but Olive plans to officially recognize him before she dies, and d. Loki learned the secret a while back and has been holding Nervous hostage in an attempt to either marry Nervous to Loki’s sister Erin or otherwise gain power. So that’s essentially what is happening here, Olive is the Duchess, Nervous is her heir, Loki is a mere Gentry trying some ruthless means of acquiring power and advancing his family’s status. Erin is a viable match for Nervous, but in my experience they usually don’t like one another; I think generally speaking I’m not going to force sims with X attraction to marry just because they’re a good match. Maybe for story purposes or if the pickings are too slim, but not in round one.

Oh, and I have designated a few ladies to be Duchesses of their subhoods, and a Gentry lady heiress here and there, but for the most part I will be sticking to full classic primogeniture. This is mainly for setup; I just picked the best/most interesting choices to rule each subhood. I.E., I’m not gonna make the Roths be the Ducal family of Riverblossom Hills when the Goths are right there ruling over Pleasantview, that is dumb, and Catherine Viejo makes a very interesting setup. Is Betty Goldstein her secret lover and/or lady in waiting? Is Andrew Martin her secret lover and/or gardener/serving man/serf? ...so Cleo Shikibu, heiress to the Duchy of Riverblossom Hills, and Florence Delarosa, Lady of Bluewater Village, will both have to find second sons or college sims to marry in order to preserve their respective inheritances (meaning, basically, they can marry Kent Capp or a college boy, because maxis families are really light on siblings generally). Olive Specter is technically another example, but since she has a male heir in Nervous, Ophelia is not being treated as an heiress and will just get married off wherever. (...not to Johnny, unfortunately for them. Johnny is a merchant. And thanks to Johnny’s heritage, it will be Difficult to cheat discretely. Sounds like Fun!) But I will be avoiding situations like this in the future, and will only allow heiresses if there is no possible male heir, and even then her duty is to marry a hapless guy and produce a male heir as soon as she can to preserve her family line.

I’m also pretty excited about my spreadsheet for the Megakingdom, making pages for simple round info, a full resident census, individual families and family trees, records of deceased sims and events, the neighborhood and treasury, maybe one day including full economic notes on sensible pricing for SMSF goods. And charts on viable marriage prospects for each class, which I am pretty proud of. They’re sorted by rank, red means not allowed, bright green is preferred, and light green is allowed. Generally speaking, sims get bright green within the same age group and light green outside it, making it easy to prioritize same age marriages over, say, adult-teen marriages or teen-child betrothals. Both of those are allowed but not preferred. And these charts will change as sims age, and sims will be removed when they get married and added when new sims are born or rolled.

I am very excited. The spreadsheets also give me something I can work on during down time at work!

#the sims 2 #sims 2 medieval #MCC #the Megakingdom of Simland #god how did I even tag this before #simblr

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snazzy-suit · 4 years

Text

Luigi: Liaison of Ghosts Chapter 7.1 - Fool Me Once, Fool Me Thrice

MP - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5.1 - 5.2 - 5.3 - 5.4 - 6 - (7.1) - 7.2 - 7.3 - 7.4 - 7.5

Part 1 of 5

In which our heroes are gullible enough to accept a mysterious invitation, but not dumb enough to fall for the hotel staff’s disguises.

(Prefer to read on ao3? Click here!)

This is very early in Luigi’s “liaison” career, before he and King Boo have shifted into their odd little frenemy relationship. He doesn’t quite have the confidence that we see later in the series, and still sometimes gets startled/alarmed by ghosts/spirits.

===

The hotel is grander than he imagined.

Luigi finds himself at the base of the steps, gawking at the towering structure while his friends slowly file inside. The plumber has to crane his neck back to even glimpse the very top. Its sheer height was dizzying.

An excited yap snaps Luigi out of his daze. Pepper is waiting patiently for him by the imposing doors that make up the front entrance. With a start, he realizes everyone else is already inside. Luigi quickly hefts up his suitcase and ascends the stairs, quietly embarrassed by his gawking.

The hotel’s interior proves to be just as grand as it is on the outside. Luigi again finds himself pausing to take everything in. The lobby is massive and lavishly decorated in schemes of white, purple, and gold. Sharp angles and geometric shapes make up the patterns and trimmings of the floor and walls—a staple of the Art Deco style. A plush crimson rug cuts across the shimmering floor, making a clear path from the hotel’s front entrance to the front desk. The check-in counter is flanked by a pearlescent double staircase that curves up to the mezzanine. Luigi’s eyes trail upward to find an array of white and purple bunting spread carefully between two support beams, and from it hang four incredibly large framed photographs of himself, Mario, Peach, and Toad. A chandelier at least twice his height hangs delicately above it all, its soft light competing with the warm rays of the setting sun streaming in through the tall expanse of windows.

Confetti abruptly bursts into the air near the bunting and rains down in a colorful arc. For the briefest of moments, Luigi is awed by their incredibly warm welcome. He glances around, spying stacks of presents and bouquets of flowers arranged neatly around tables piled high with pastries and hors d'oeuvres. Beautifully sculpted swans made of ice stand proudly between the platters, their wings spread wide in an open invitation to dine. Mario, to Luigi’s quiet amusement, has already eagerly accepted.

The plumber gives himself a hard shake, realizing he had yet again been gawking—and standing in front of the entrance, no less! There might not be any other guests at the moment, but he still shouldn’t impede traffic.

Luigi swiftly retrieves his suitcase from where he had so carelessly dropped it in his awe and begins walking down the carpet to check-in at the front desk. He barely takes three steps before he’s nearly bowled over by his ghostly canine. The plumber wobbles on his feet, swinging his luggage to counterbalance the change in momentum, just barely keeping himself from tripping and falling flat on his face. When he recovers, he stares after the Polterpup as the latter darts excitedly from table to table, pawing curiously at the presents and hungrily eyeing the spread of food.

Pepper finally pauses at the table Mario has chosen to peruse. The red-clad plumber turns at the sound of the pup’s panting with cake in hand, offering the canine a cheerful greeting. He spots Luigi just as he’s about to turn back to the buffet and waves blithely in acknowledgement. Luigi calls out in a delayed warning as Pepper takes advantage of Mario’s diverted attention and swipes the man’s cake in a single bite. The green-clad plumber sighs, shaking his head fondly as his brother half-heartedly scolds the Polterpup for their thievery. He turns to continue his trek to the front desk—

—and promptly collides with someone.

Luigi’s suitcase flies from his hand as he and the other unfortunate party crash to the floor with flailing limbs and undignified yelps of surprise. The plumber, quite used to clumsy mishaps, is the first to recover. He straightens his askew hat and pushes himself up, immediately spying a hotel staff member—the bellhop, to be specific—clutching at their face and blindly patting the floor in search of their own headwear. The odd behavior goes unnoticed, Luigi being far too mortified by the incident to even register it.

“Oh Stars, I’m so sorry!” Luigi cries, rushing to kneel at the man’s side. “Are you alright?”

“I-it’s okay! I’m fine, I’m fine!” the bellhop replies, still frantically patting at the ground. “I should have gotten out of your way.”

Luigi frowns at the response, perturbed by how the man could simultaneously sound both meek and jovial.

“No, I should have watched where I was going,” he refutes gently. Luigi retrieves the bellman’s cap from the floor and presses it into the man’s searching hand. “Here you go.”

“Ah! Thank you, sir!” The staff member shakily dons the wayward piece of his uniform, back turned to the plumber as they gathered themselves. Luigi glances up to see Peach making her way toward them, face drawn with concern. He gently waves her off, silently assuring the princess that they were alright.

“Here, let me help you up,” Luigi offers, extending a hand to the recovering employee. The man turns and reaches up to accept his offer.

“Oh! Why, thank you!”

Luigi only just keeps himself from recoiling. The bellhop’s face...it isn't a face at all. It’s a mask, and a rather eerie one at that. Bulging, unseeing eyes stare back at him—well, sort of. The pupils are just a tad off, and so small they’re practically pinpricks. A manic grin takes up most of the mask’s lower half, every white, too-perfect tooth in full view—so much so it almost looks like a threat display. To top it all off, the mask is pale blue in color, reminding Luigi of an asphyxiated corpse—a rather fitting description for the dead-eyed expression pulled straight from the uncanny valley.

“No problem,” Luigi answers, struggling to keep composure. He takes the man’s gloved hand (it's cold as ice) and gently hauls them up (they're unnaturally light for their size) to their feet (they don’t have feet. Or legs, for that matter).

Luigi steps back as the bellhop begins brushing off their rumpled uniform. He has to make a conscious effort not to let his eyes trail down the man’s coat to the marginal gap between it and the floor. The red outerwear is far too long for the style, making the man look like a child in ill-fitting clothes, or more morbidly, someone that got chopped in half at the waist. Their attempt to hide their lack of legs drew more attention than it diverted, in Luigi’s opinion. It was so obvious it almost hurt.

Luigi was talking to a ghost.

“Heh, well, that didn’t quite go according to plan,” the ghost laughs nervously. “I came over here to help you, but you ended up helping me.”

A lot goes through the plumber's mind at that moment. How terrible the ghost’s disguise is. How, despite this, Luigi can’t help but be a little impressed that the ghost didn’t instinctively float upward after their collision, and thus, blow their “cover”. How Luigi can’t seem to escape the paranormal for one Star’s forsaken weekend. How, yet again, he finds himself getting tangled in some specter’s scheme.

But none of these thoughts deign to vocalize themselves, and really, it’s for the best. Luigi has to play this smart. Without the Poltergust, they’re all doomed if the ghosts realize the jig is up and decide to forego...whatever this is. If he wants to get everyone out of here safely, he’ll need to feign ignorance—at least until he has a plan.

“Help...me?” Luigi says distantly, still somewhat lost in his thoughts.

“Yes! With your luggage.” The ghost gestures to Luigi’s suitcase, lying forgotten on the pristine floor. “Allow me to ease your burden and place it with the others.”

Luigi quirks a brow at his single piece of luggage. Burden? There was hardly anything in it.

“Oh. Thank you, but that’s not really necessary. I can—”

“Please, I insist!” The bellhop interjects, already drifting (quite literally) toward the aforementioned bag. “You’re on vacation, sir! You should be relaxing. Let me take care of the heavy lifting.”

Luigi starts to object, but then thinks better of it. Best not to create a fuss and draw unnecessary attention.

“Okay, if you insist. Thank you, mister...?”

“Oh! Um, I’m Steward! And it’s no problem, sir.”

Their name...is Steward. As in Hotel Steward?

You have got to be kidding.

Luigi quietly watches the bellman as they (rather awkwardly) carry his suitcase over to the precarious tower of luggage the Toads are desperately trying to stabilize. The plumber sighs, studying the lobby with a carefully concealed wariness. The flowers, the gifts, the ice sculptures—what Luigi once saw as displays of opulence now feel like extravagant stage props, and really, that’s precisely what they are. He strains not to scowl up at the neatly arranged photographs of him and his family; they’re an obnoxiously excessive addition to the decorum in hindsight. These spirits were laying the flattery on thick, weren’t they?

Luigi pauses when his eyes land on one of the other nearby staff members. They, too, are clearly wearing a mask, though it’s not nearly as off-putting as the bellhop’s. The static expression is rather lax—eyes partially lidded and mouth resting in a neutral line, neither a frown nor a grin. A thin, curled mustache is painted neatly above the upper lip, and the equally clean eyebrows are raised in a somewhat haughty manner. As for their attire, Luigi has to admit it’s fairly convincing—professional, even. The spirit is wearing a white button-up shirt beneath a snazzy red vest and matching red bow-tie. A white apron is tied around their waist, and instead of awkwardly hiding their spectral tail under an over-sized coat, the spirit is wearing actual pants—black slacks, to be specific. Well-polished, black and white wingtip shoes rest just beneath the pant legs; the gap between them and the slacks is minute enough that it isn’t blatantly obvious that they don’t appear to be connected to anything.

If Luigi had only glimpsed the staff member in his peripheral, he wouldn’t have spared them a second glance.

The costumed spirit, perhaps sensing the plumber’s scrutiny, turns to regard him. Luigi cringes internally when the movement causes their mask’s pupils to wobble erratically like the googly eyes of some cheap craft project. A distant part of him wonders if these spirits had any idea how mortal eyes worked, or if they were just incredibly lazy with their craftsmanship. Luigi gently waves to the spirit in a greeting, offering what he hopes is a convincing smile. The staff member acknowledges him with a nod. Their neatly combed wig slides askew at the gesture, but they deftly readjust it without so much as a shift in their stance. Luigi quickly shuffles past them in an attempt to hide his grimace.

Good Grambi, he needed something to drink.

Fortunately for Luigi, there appears to be a pitcher of tea at the table Mario is still happily sampling treats from. It’s not what he had in mind, but if it occupies his hands and quenches his thirst, he’ll take it. The plumber approaches the table as nonchalantly as he can, grabbing the rather large jug and pouring himself a steaming cup of tea. His hands shake minutely as he does so, and Luigi tries to convince himself it’s from the strain of hefting the heavy pitcher.

“Hey bro!”

Luigi nearly spills his drink at Mario’s sudden greeting. He turns, shooting his brother a strained smile.

“H-hey bro,” he says back.

Mario grins—oblivious to Luigi’s inner turmoil—as he snatches up a croissant. He takes a hearty bite and looks back to his brother, humming happily as he savors the taste.

“Isn’ thith plathe great?” Mario asks around a mouthful of pastry.

Luigi winces, both at the question and at his brother’s poor table manners.

“Yeah...great...”

Mario nods, taking another bite of the flaky pastry. When he speaks again, Luigi is distantly grateful he remembers to swallow his food this time.

“Good food, good atmosphere, good friends...this vacation is just what I needed. What we all needed, right bro?”

Oh Stars, this is so unfair.

“Right,” he answers honestly. A nice vacation is what they needed, but clearly the universe thought that was too tall an order.

How is he going to break the news to Mario? And how does he keep his brother from reacting badly?

Luigi looks down at his cup, absently swirling the hot liquid inside. He subtly checks his peripheral for any nearby staff. Thankfully, they’re all a fair distance away, so as long as the brothers keep their voices down, there shouldn’t be a risk of being overheard. It’s possible one of the ghosts knows how to read lips, but if they keep their expressions in check, they shouldn’t draw the attention needed to do so. If that doesn’t work...well, Luigi can only hope the masks are as hard to see out of as they are to look at.

The green-clad plumber watches his brother select a soft pretzel from one of the platters, seeing an opportunity as Mario begins to chow down on the salty treat. His brother can’t yell and make a scene if his mouth is full, right? It’s not ideal, but the precariousness of their situation has Luigi feeling too overwhelmed to try and think of anything better. He gently sips from his tea, and when his brother takes another bite from the pretzel, he speaks as casually as he can around the rim of the cup.

“The hotel is a trap.”

Mario promptly chokes.

Luigi nearly drops his cup at his brother’s rather violent reaction. He blindly thrusts his drink onto the table and ducks around Mario’s distressed flailing to deliver several hard slaps to his brother’s back. Just when Luigi thinks he’s going to have to try a first aid maneuver, the food swiftly dislodges itself from Mario’s airway, leaving the red-clad plumber to hack and cough wetly as he recovers from the harrowing ordeal. Luigi looks up to find all eyes are on them.

Well, that was stupid. So much for not drawing attention.

A couple staff members move uncertainly toward them, as does Peach, but Luigi quickly waves them off.

“He’s fine!” he calls, voice slightly strained with panic. “Just got a little too...overzealous, is all!”

The disguised spirits exchange what might be—sans masks—hesitant looks, but none-the-less return to their stations. For one, terrifying moment, it appears that the princess is going to come over anyway, but another wave of assurance manages to placate her. Luigi knows he’ll need to tell Peach about the spirits’ ruse eventually, but he doesn’t think telling both her and his brother at the same time would be very wise. Keeping one person calm is hard enough.

“Sorry, Mario,” Luigi whispers. “That, uh...was poorly thought out on my part.”

“Ya think?” Mario wheezes, straightening from his hunched over position. “Making a bad joke like that while I’m eating—not cool, Luigi.”

Luigi frowns, but quickly recovers by plastering on a fake smile. He feigns a hearty laugh and throws an arm around Mario’s shoulders, much to the latter’s confusion.

“I’m not joking, bro,” he says through gritted teeth, false grin still in place. “The hotel staff are all spirits wearing disguises. Really, really bad disguises.”

Mario stares back at his brother, utterly bewildered.

“If you’re not joking, then why are you smiling like that?”

“Because if they’re watching us, I don’t want them thinking we’re on to them.” Luigi grinds out. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand and retrieves his cell phone. He lifts it up, screen facing the brothers, and turns on the forward-facing camera. “Say: Play Stupid!”

Luigi snaps the picture, capturing his strained smile and his brother’s baffled frown.

“How do you know they’re disguises?” Mario asks.

Luigi makes a victory sign at the camera, and he is relieved when his brother mimics him, donning a false grin of his own.

“Have you seen the staff?” He retorts, making a goofy face at the camera to hide his disbelief.

Mario’s pseudo smile becomes sheepish.

“I haven’t really gotten a good look at them, honestly. I, uh...kinda went straight to the buffet...”

“So I saw,” Luigi thinks wryly.

Mario starts to turn his head to locate the nearest staff member, but Luigi quickly redirects him by giving his shoulder a squeeze in warning.

“Hold on, bro. Let’s be a little more tactful about this.”

Luigi gently pulls away, taking a few steps back and gesturing for his brother to move away from the table. A look of understanding crosses Mario’s face as the green-clad plumber raises their phone up and switches to the rear camera. Mario strikes a pose, angling himself so at least one of the meandering hotel employees will be in the shot. Luigi nods in approval. He takes several photos before calling Mario back over.

“Here,” Luigi says, handing his phone to Mario. “Take a look.”

Mario selects a photo and carefully zooms in on one of the staff members in the background. When the red-clad plumber’s face begins to pinch with unease, Luigi quickly moves so he is shielding their expression from view.

“Careful, Mario. We’re supposed to be happy vacationers, remember? Smiles up!"

Mario’s grimace flips into a fairly convincing grin. He even throws in a thumbs up for good measure, pretending to be satisfied with the photos' turnout.

“Wow. These masks are terrible,” he says through clenched teeth. “Did they really think this would fool us?”

“I’m a little insulted, honestly,” Luigi agrees.

Mario looks down at the phone and begins absently flipping through the pictures.

“Now what?”

Luigi sidles up to his brother and joins him in their feigned browsing.

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he confesses. “We need to find a way to get everyone outside without the spirits noticing. I was thinking about creating a diversion, but I haven’t quite figured out how.”

The red-clad plumber nods, humming thoughtfully.

“Alright, we’ll work on that later. In the meantime, we need to let the others know what’s happening.”

Luigi catches himself before he can grimace.

“I agree...for the most part. We can tell Peach, but I really don’t think it’s wise to tell the Toads. If they find out we’re in a hotel full of ghosts, they’re going to panic, and we can’t risk them blowing our cover.”

“Good point,” Mario concedes. “Now, how do we tell Peach?”

Luigi puts a hand to his chin, looking contemplative. He glances between Mario, his phone, and the entranced princess—she is currently admiring a painting on the wall.

“That depends. Do you think she would be up for a group photo?”

===

And so this awkward game of pretend begins. Join us next time for more fake smiles and internal screaming!

#Luigi's Mansion 3 #Luigi #Mario #Steward #Princess Peach #Polterpup #LM3 Goobs #Luigi's Mansion 3 AU #LLoG Fic #LLoG AU #this originally wasn't going to be part of the LLoG AU #it was going to be an unrelated one-off #but then I realized something #I don't think canon!Luigi would have been able to stay calm #if he realized the staff were ghosts #soooo here we are!#suit speaks

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shadowthrone-ammanas · 4 years

Note

Can we get a sequel to Chat? If possible?

Thank you both for the request!

Something’s Off

Cooking was one of the things Hat Kid just wasn’t interested in. Food was great, she loved eating, but making it was a real pain and not fun at all. But it was Cooking Cat’s thing and she’d gotten Mu into too. So Hat Kid let the two of them to play around in her kitchen while she translated a recipe from her one and only cookbook for them.

Their enthusiasm made it the most fun cooking session Hat Kid had ever had. Not that that was saying much because cooking just wasn’t fun to her. But she was still grateful for the distraction when the sound of the kitchen door flopping open came from behind her.

She placed the cook book on the counter before snapping around to see who it was. … “Snatcher!” She hadn’t expected to see him here ever. Normally when he wanted to talk to her, he went to his spot in her room and waited. He’d had to shrink quite a bit to fit through the kitchen doors too, something she’d never seen him do before.

“Hey kiddo,” she said with his usual cocky grin though.

“You,” Mu said with a huff, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “You’re garbage.”

“Uh… Mu, maybe don’t insult the powerful specter,” Cooking Cat said with a grimace as she put a hand on Mu’s shoulder.

“I’ll do what I want. He’s a bastard and I hate him.”

“Eh, it’s whatever,” he said with a dismissive handwave. There was something off about it though? Like, the movement didn’t seem quite right. Though Hat Kid couldn’t pin down exactly why, maybe she was just imagining things. “Hate me if you wish, I can’t be bothered to care.”

“Please be nice Mu,” Hat Kid said. “He’s my BFF so you guys need to get along.”

“You’re insane, befriending him. But whatever, we all knew that already. Let’s get back to cooking.” Mu turned away to face the stove again.

“You want to help us cook Snatcher?” Hat Kid was pleased by the idea of spending time with multiple of her friends at once, it didn’t happen often.

“I’m a ghost kid, what makes you think I’d have any interest in cooking?” He moved his arms as he spoke, not too unusual but… still it still didn’t seem right.

A tad worried now, Hat Kid jogged over to him. She might be imagining things but more often than not when her instincts told her something was off, it was. “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning to whisper so Cooking Cat and Mu wouldn’t hear. “Is something wrong?”

Snatcher’s grin widened. “You really do care about me, huh? How sweet!”

“Um… yes of course I care about you, you’re my BFF. But you didn’t answer my question. You seem a bit off today so… what’s up with that?”

“Oh, lots of stuff really. I’ve been having a rather bad day, things just keep going wrong.” Okay, yeah, he wasn’t just a bit off, he was super off. He would never be open like that. “It’s about to get better though.”

He snapped forward, wrapping a hand around her throat before she could react. Squeezing, he lifted her, leaving her feet to dangle several feet off the ground as she pawed at his hand.

“Hey!” Mu shouted from the other side of the room followed a second later by the sound of magic blasting.

“Let’s not anger the powerful specter,” Snatcher said. “It’s not a smart idea, especially when I have a hostage.”

Mu growled in frustration, meaning she thankfully probably hadn’t been hit by the blast. Vision starting to grow fuzzy already, Hat Kid pulled out her umbrella and whacked Snatcher with it.

“Nope, can’t hurt me,” he said with a giggle. Not how he normally laughed at all.

He ducked back through the kitchen doors into the central area and tossed her. She hit the glass window with a thump before falling to the floor. Gasping for breath, she struggled to stand up and retrieve her umbrella from where it had fallen. She straightened in time to see Snatcher had jumped down from the balcony and Mu and Cooking Cat and run out of the kitchen to watch what was going on.

“It’s not him,” Hat Kid said. “It’s someone pretending to be him.” Another ghost probably, they could shapeshift after all and change their voices. So, she knew it wasn’t Snatcher.

“Nope, kiddo, I assure you, it’s me. Want some proof?” He shapeshifted to look an awful lot like the pictures she’d seen of the Prince in Vanessa’s mansion. “Let’s have some fun though.” He snapped, forming a magic barrier just in time to block Mu from jumping onto him with her teeth bared, it would’ve been funny under different circumstances.

More barriers popped up, boxing the two of them in. Hat Kid rushed him, smacking him with the umbrella. It did nothing of course, he was a ghost, without the blue potion she couldn’t hurt him. He giggled again as he summoned a pecking sword into his hand.

“You know,” he said with a grin as he lifted it, “I never actually learned how to use one of these. You’d think I would, being a prince and all, but nope, no one ever taught me. I learned to play the cello instead which honestly is more interesting anyway, more useful, less cliché. But that should make this interesting.” He swung at her.

She jumped back, avoiding it quite easily because it was slower that she would’ve thought. “You’re a bastard! Why are you doing this?”

“I’m bored and it’s fun.” He swung again, sloppy and slow, far too easy to dodge. He really didn’t know how to use a melee weapon. So why was he using one? Especially when he had magic.

He insisted on it though, slashing at her some more. If she didn’t know better, she’d said he was purposefully making it easy to dodge his attacks. He wasn’t even using magic other than for the barriers. She attacked back at every opportunity, smacking him with her umbrella, throwing her own exploding cocktails at him with the brewing hat which did nothing. But what else could she do? She was boxed in with him, she was going to fight.

“You know,” he eventually said with a sigh, “I was expecting you to call out to me during this battle. Appeal to the ‘real’ me and all that, normally when one’s loved one attacks them, that’s what they do. But you’re just wailing away at me like it’s no big deal if you hurt your BFF or not.”

“Huh? What are you talking about asshole? You’re not giving me any choice! Stop impersonating Snatcher and trying to hit me with your sword and I’ll stop attacking you.” She ducked in to whack him again, hard as she could in the midsection.

“I told you I’m not impersonating him, I’m the real Snatcher. I even proved it to you.”

“You didn’t prove shit! If I can find out about that, so can other people and ghosts. So stop impersonating him, it’s rude!”

He sighed again and stopped attacking. She came in for another whack but this time he caught the umbrella, dropping the sword to do so. He lifted it, bringing her up with it, kicking as she clung to the umbrella’s handle. “I could kill you but… I have a bit of a soft spot for kids. And you’re an alien, that makes you interesting. I suppose instead, I shall reveal the game, you’re lack of understanding makes it less fun. Though, I suppose I can’t blame you for that, one would not normally think a powerful ghost could be possessed or controlled by another being. It’s unprecedented for sure.”

Before she could ask what the heck that meant, the air above and a bit behind Snatcher shimmered. Another being faded into existence faded into that space. Gray and misshapen hands, face, and head, in dirty once regal clothing. There were red strings coming form his fingers, going into Snatcher’s back. He moved his fingers and Snatcher moved, letting go of the umbrella. Hat Kid somehow managed to land on her feet and not lose balance, barely though.

“I’m Moonjumper. I hail from the horizon.” He bowed slightly. Snatcher, still obviously in his control mimicked the move, a bit slower and stiffer. … That explained the odd slow movements, he was being controlled like a puppet.

“Let him go!” Hat Kid pointed her umbrella at Moonjumper, still ready to do battle. He may be floating too high for her to reach but she’d find a way if she had to.

He giggled, very similar to the way he’d made Snatcher giggle. “I suppose I can. I had my fun and he was vulnerable to your attacks so you gave him quite the beating so at least someone’s hurting. Maybe we’ll play this game some other time and have a real fight. I think I’d win. Bye!” He lifted a hand and waved, making Snatcher do this same.

“It was fun,” he made Snatcher say before vanishing in a puff of fog.

Free of the red strings, Snatcher slumped limply to ground with a groan. He mumbled something that was probably a curse word but Hat Kid wasn’t sure.

“Ha!” Mu shouted. The barriers were gone too, allowing her and Cooking Cat to see what was happening. “You won Hat Kid, good job! Take that you dumb noodle ghost! It’s what you get!”

“Like I told you, it wasn’t him,” Hat Kid said, glaring at her. “You didn’t see, but it wasn’t him. So be nice.” She crouched down beside him as he shifted into his normal shape. “You okay?”

“No,” he said with a groan. “You hit real hard kid. And as a whole, being puppeteered ain’t fun.”

“I thought you were immune to physical attacks most of the time.”

“Most of the time yeah, not all the time.”

“Oof.” Hat Kid grimaced. She’d hit him an awful lot, huh? “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” He vanished, teleporting away like a jerk. He could’ve stayed and explained things more while he rested some. She’d have to track him down later for answers and to make sure he was okay.

“You okay hon?” Cooking Cat asked from across the room with Mu. “You maybe want to explain what just happened?”

With a sigh, Hat Kid stood up. “I’m fine. And uh… basically Snatcher was being controlled by a guy named Moonjumper. He was a real jerk and I hate him.” If he ever showed his face around here again, she’d smack it with an umbrella. He deserved no less.

For this request event.

#My Writing #ahit #A Hat In Time #snatcher & hat kid #Moonjumper #Background Mama Cooking Cat

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pollylynn · 4 years

Photo

Title: Version Control WC: 1200

Jim Beckett sits on a baby bottle ninety seconds after he arrives. It’s wedged between the couch cushions, mostly hidden by the hideous blanket that is, for some reason, still tossed over the back. It has just enough formula left in the floppy plastic insert to soak his soon-to-be-father-in-law’s right butt cheek when the whole thing collapses with a resounding pop.

It is two minutes into Thanksgiving and he is thinking about his soon-to-be-father-in-law’s butt cheeks, because they come in pairs. Sudden, urgent issues related to one immediately raise the specter of the other. He is thinking about the butt cheek, but he is not called upon to address the issue. He is, in fact, banished to the kitchen, with Pi as his basting assistant while the women confer.

Jim is whisked off up the stairs by his mother, and that can’t be good. Jim returns wearing linen drawstring pants. The subtle shimmer of earth-toned stripes clashes absolutely with Jim’s French blue button down, his sober tie, and the tweedy plaid of his sport coat. The pants belong to Pi—they were, for some reason, hanging in Alexis’s closet—so of course they would clash with any clothing native to the not–PI world.

It is eight minutes into Thanksgiving and his soon-to-be-father-in-law is wearing the hideous pants of his please-God-never-son-in-law. That’s where his soon-to-be-father-in-law’s butt cheeks, plural, have taken up residence. So that’s how things are going for him.

The weird thing is—well, one of the weird things—that things are going . . . well.

Jim is joking about the pants as he thanks Pi for the loan. Pi is telling a long, disjointed story about this being the pants’ second rescue mission. Alexis sits with the two of them, providing Pi-to-human translation services. It’s an oddly functional ice breaker when it comes to releasing Pi into Jim’s very staid world, where the rivers do not run with linen drawstring pants.

With the three of them settled and out of the way, he and Kate—with his mother supervising—get the meal on the table. He catches Kate’s eye, bracing for exasperation at best, but there’s nothing worse than an amused twinkle there.

“It’s fine, Castle,” she murmurs as she bumps him out of the way with her hip and executes a a deft turn to excavate serving spoons the drawer he’d been blocking. “Pants are fine. My dad’s fine.” A peal of laughter from the odd trio awaiting their call to the dinner table draws her eye. She puffs out an amused, bemused, slightly confused laugh, and he gets it. He so gets it. “Apparently everything’s fine.”

She’s not wrong. They gather around the table, extended to its maximum capacity with all its leaves dropped in, and everything continues to be . . . better than fine, sartorial mishaps not withstanding.

“I just can’t understand those plastic things, though,” Jim shakes his head as he helps himself to another spoon of mashed potatoes. “With Katie it was glass bottles and that countertop contraption. Martha,” he turns to her. “You must remember.”

“Do I!” his mother exclaims. “Oh, that sterilizer. Horrible. Loud. Always breaking. By the time Alexis came along, all the conveniences! Richard could hardly have screwed it up if he tried!”

He opens his mouth to protest. But she’s already off and running with tall tales. He looks to Kate for sympathy—for an ally—but she’s a strange combination of rapt and . . . something else. She keeps shooting furtive looks across the table at her dad, at his mother. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

“You should have seen me on the subway.” His mother is still talking when he tunes back in, of course. “Richard on one hip and one of those giant hobo bags on the other and those glass bottles shaking and rattling the whole way!”

Jim jumps in with tales of his own—even Martha Rodgers has to breathe some time. There’s a long, involved story about a toy syringe from a pretend play doctor kit and an isolated nipple and neck ring from a three-day-old bottle sitting on top of an important set of contracts, in full view of a room filled with men in high-powered suits.

“I did the only thing I could do,” Jim holds them all in suspense. “Pulled out my wallet and showed them every single picture I had of Katie.”

The table erupts in laughter. Kate laughs along, but there’s that . . . furtiveness again, and he wonders what it means.

He has to wait to find out. There’s the long meal and the protracted desert. There are the arguments about who will and who won’t clean up, and whether it’s worth finding a container for just that little bit of this, that little bit of that. There’s the packing up of leftovers for Alexis and Pi to take back to their place, and Jim’s demurrals—his insistence that they’ll just go to waste, because he’s headed up to his cabin.

There is, at last, Jim’s restoration to his own pants. Kate has worked her emergency-home-dry-cleaning witchery on them, and something more familiar settles over her and her dad as they say their goodnights.

She retreats to the kitchen when he’s gone. She leaves him and his mother to have their own goodnight scrum with Pi and Alexis. His mother makes her way upstairs, blowing kisses to Kate, and Kate waves back.

She’s distracted, though. Her attention is on something he can’t see until he’s pressed up against her with his arms winding around her waist. It’s the remains of Cosmo/Benny’s poor, crushed bottle. In the flurry of activity that had followed the pop, he’d shoved the offending thing out of the way, but it’s caught her attention now.

“What’s up?” he asks quietly, his chin tucked into the hollow of her shoulder.

“Nothing.” She smiles and tries to dismiss it with a shake of her head. “I just . . . it sounds dumb, but I didn’t know all that about my dad. It felt—I don’t know if it did feel or if it’s just how I remember it now, but I’ve always thought of it being my mom with my stuff in her briefcase. I remember spinning around on her chair in her office.” She fiddles with the impossibly disrupted arc of the bottle, trying to fit it back together. “But hearing how he remembers it—that’s just . . . different.”

“Different.” He presses a kiss to her collar bone. “I know. I like to . . . give my mother grief about the chaos when she was raising me, but then I think about her on that subway with a bag full of glass bottles, rushing to a rehearsal.” He laughs at himself—at the stupid thing on the tip of his tongue. “It’s like I forget she was there, too.”

“Right.” She turns in his arms, looking eager. “That’s it. He was there, too, and I just . . . forgot.”

“But you remember now.” He kisses her. “You both remember.” A/N: The object is the bottle. It is not buttcheeks. Or Pi Pants. Hmm.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 6 #Castle: The Good The Bad and the Baby #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Alexis Castle #Martha Rodgers #Jim Beckett #Fic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Fanfic #Hmm

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darkspace7 · 4 years

Text

Northern Nights-Southern Lights

"For all my part I know nothing with any certainty but the sight of stars makes me want to dream." -Vincent Van Gogh [Or alternately: An ancient ghost, his teenaged son, and a pokémon all get stuck on a rooftop and have to wait for the kid's co-guardian to come rescue them.]

Words: 3,200+

Rating: T

A/N: So the general premise of this is an AU where Riley (who is Ash's biological dad) gets custody over over him after Delia passes on when he's a baby and eventually (through a rather convoluted series of events) meets up with a rather ghostly Sir Aaron and the three of them travel together with their pokémon and they have adventures together as a family as they teach their kid the ways of an Aura Guardian.

Oh, and I don't own Pokémon or any of it's affiliates.

Got it? Good.

"For all my part I know nothing with any certainty but the sight of stars makes me want to dream."-Vincent Van Gogh

{-x-}

Ka-thwunk!

"…For the record, I did say that if it wasn't going to work the first time you tried it then it probably wasn't going to work the next fifteen times-"

"..."

"-but maybe if you had just stopped to actually listen to me for once instead of blithely plowing on ahead-"

"..."

"-then perhaps we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place."

A dull thunk reverberated loudly as the rubber-clad sole collided soundly with the sturdy metal frame.

"I actually think it moved a little that time..."

"Urgah!" The teenager threw his hands up and stomped away from the recalcitrant slab in disgust. Pointedly looking away from the specter hovering beside him, dark brown eyes drifted over the darkened horizon before finally shifting back to the entrance of the rooftop observatory. 'Stupid hunk of junk.' He fumed as he plopped himself down with a huff. 'How the heck did we even get into this mess in the first place?' He wondered as his thoughts meandered back a few hours prior.

{-+-}

The morning sun had just poked its head over the far horizon and already did it hold itself with the promise of being an absolutely beautiful day. They had finally reached the city's outskirts and both he and his electric companion had been rather eager to scope out the local gym scene. It was at that moment, however, that the fourth member of their party had declared that there were some things that he had to take care of and was (understandably) reluctant to leave them their own devices. Naturally, this had lead to an inordinate amount of whining before their co-guardian finally relented, much to their utter delight.

But before the duo could even let out a shout of approval he had doubled-back with a list of stipulations: first being that if anything –and he meant anything– happened that they were to contact him immediately, second was that whenever they were done with whatever it is they were going to do they had to rendezvous at the Central Pokémon Center, and lastly –they would only be allowed to go if Aaron agreed to go with them and serve as a chaperone.

Three sets of expectant eyes zeroed-in on the drifting apparition for the verdict. He caved immediately. The gleeful duo cheered, speeding off towards this new adventure without so much as a goodbye.

The now trio meandered through the urban expanse this way and that, periodically stopping to investigate each and every little thing that had managed to catch their fancy. Enjoying every second of it even as they gradually became more and more sidetracked until they realized they had managed to get completely lost.

It had been Aaron's quick thinking to suggest that maybe they should find some place to stop and ask for directions. This had somehow led to them finding this really tall office-type building and the cleaning guy there and seeing that it was that he probably couldn't even see Aaron to begin with and was highly unlikely that he could understand pokémon either the two had wandered away, leaving the task to the last member of their party. It was there where Ash had learned about the rooftop observatory.

He remembered thinking at the time that maybe it would be nice to take a quick look around and have a break from all that walking they (well, namely he) did earlier and the view from that high up could probably help them find their bearings. That had been the plan at least, until the door locked behind them. Various methods had been dedicated to reopening the portal until eventually he just resorting to kicking the damned thing when all else failed.

They were well and truly stuck.

{-x-}

'How was I supposed to know the dumb thing was messed up?!' He glanced down at a piece of paper with a cheerfully stenciled 'out of order' that seemed to have fluttered to the ground and went unnoticed during his assault upon the door. '…I mean, yeah, okay, I guess there's that...but still!'

"And the day was going so well too…" The young man sulked. The soft click-clack of claws meeting tile stopped as their owner made its way over to him. The small being drew up on his haunches with a chirp, resting one of those tiny yellow paws on his trainer's arm, and gave it a sympathetic pat. Huffing slightly, he pulled the mouse onto his lap and allowed the creature to snuggle up to him as he began to rake his fingers through the other's vibrant fur, stroking it in a soothing manner as his gaze returned to the middle distance.

From somewhere behind him there was a sigh. The youth didn't need a set of eyes in the back of his head to see the nigh imperceptible furrowing of his co-guardian's brows and frown that came with.

"Ash."

He said nothing.

There was a slight pause before he forged on, "I'm sorry, I was just trying to draw your attention in order to prevent something like this from occurring." He gestured vaguely to the paper and around them, "Alas, it seems my efforts were in vain." Ash could almost hear the small upturn of the other's lips as he shook his head. "But honestly, I don't see how sulking like a meowth who lost its treasure is going to remedy to this predicament." Despite his best efforts, the man's amusement at the whole thing seemed to have bled through somewhat. "I'd have to say it would probably be as effective as your earlier attempts at becoming a battering ram, which is to say not at all."

"Argh I know, I know!" He ground out exasperatedly. A free hand came up to clutch at his dark hair, the action knocking his hat askew. "There are a billion other things we could be doing right now. Like..." He made a vague grasping gesture as he searched for something off the top of his head and, when unable to do so, simply let out a frustrated noise and flopped back onto the tiles instead. "But instead we're stuck and it just really sucks!"

Pikachu, having been accidentally tossed off with the sudden shift in position, shot the young man a disgruntled look. The yellow rodent chittered agitatedly, having regained his footing, and twisted around to face his friend. After a lengthy stare he gave the boy a soft but reprimanding bap on the cheek.

"Sorry." At least he had the decency to look abashed.

Aaron's hand covered his mouth in a somewhat unsuccessful attempt to mask the laugh that threatened to spill out as he observed the duo's antics. The urge faded a bit but a note of fondness remained steadfast in his voice when he spoke, "Come now, Ash. Instead of growling about the things you cannot change why don't we take this as a chance for a...momentary respite? I don't believe it will prove harmful if we were to do so at any rate." He paused for second, hearing the boy mutter something that sounded suspiciously similar to "speak for yourself" before plowing on, "Besides, if I correctly recall do you not still posses that one particular device?"

Ash tilted his head back to look up at the other man, confusion plainly evident on his face. "Device?"

"The small communication device that you presented to me a while back. That strange…ah, what was it?" The man coloured slightly, (a feat that never ceased to amaze the teen for how did a ghost blush if you didn't have any blood? He hadn't the slightest clue.) Fumbling slightly, he glanced away seemingly embarrassed. "Forgive me but I don't quite recall what it was called." He admitted quietly.

The trainer stared at him for a long second before a look of comprehension dawned upon on his face. "Wait, you mean a phone?"

The elder's gaze flicked back to the other and he quickly nodded. "Ah yes, that was it was called. A phone."

"A phone…That's right!" He sprang back into a sitting position, glancing at the other two before going to rifle through his pockets in an attempt to locate said gadget. "We can just call Riley, tell him where we're at and have him come get us! If I can just find it..." He grimaced comically, patting himself down. "Where is it? Where, where, where-!" When his frantic search came up empty he flopped back down with a huff.

"Pikapi?" The little mouse pokémon squeaked in concern.

The boy's eyes flickered briefly to the mouse. "It's not there." He groaned, "I must've left it back with Riley along with all of our other stuff."

"Well that really is unfortunate." The ghost allowed himself to frown. He heard the other shift and observed as the lad pulled the electric pokémon into his arms and cuddled close to the small being, the other reciprocating in kind. His thoughts began to wander. Soon night would be upon them and the temperature already had begun to dip lower and lower. He looked at his ward's clothing with a critical eye, lips pursing slightly. It seemed like a decent enough overcoat at first glance but would it be thick enough to block out a normal chill and serve as a suitable enough blanket as well? It was getting pretty late after all, his gaze trailed upwards to peer at evening sky. Plus the fact that they were both so very high up and from what he could tell by the gentle swaying of the boy's dark hair there was a muted wind blowing. Sure it wouldn't affect him as much due to his...corporeality issues…but Ash (and by extension Pikachu) on the other hand...His lips pursed slightly.

"Hey Aaron."

The phantom jolted from his musing to see the other staring at him. "Hm?"

"Could you go to the ledge over there for a sec and take a peek over the edge? Tell me if you see anything."

An eyebrow rose faintly but he nodded nonetheless, drifting over to the roof's edge. He looked back to the boy before peering over the edge and…oh wow that was...they really high up weren't they? "No...?" He said once he had regained his wits about him, "It's just the building and the ground far below us…why?" He glanced up to see a peculiar look cross the young man's face. It was a look that when coupled with the youth's penchant for attracting trouble foretold nothing but ridiculous shenanigans and tomfoolery for all parties involved. "Ash."

The teen cringed and scratched at the back of his neck, "Well...okay so, I was thinking that we'd see if there was a fire escape or something and use that to climb down but that idea's pretty much a bust." A slight frown, "Plus just jumping's out of the question. Don't want to wind up falling to your death or anything like that because do you know how badly that'd hurt-"Ash reddened as he remembered just who exactly he was talking to, "Oh..." Brown eyes flickered away from the other with a small wince, "Um...sorry." He murmured as an afterthought.

Long used to the other's rather spectacular lack of tact the ghost just waved him off with a shake of the head, motioning for the other continue.

"Right." A cough, "Okay, seeing as the first plan's a no-go let's move on to number two shall we? I just had an idea which is basically…well...just because I'm stuck here-" He gestured to himself then back at the other, "-doesn't mean you have to be."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"But right now you're the only one who can though!" He protested with a shake of the head. "You could go and just make your way straight down, after all it's not like you can't float and pass through walls and stuff, and you could go and find Riley wherever he is–" The pikachu in his lap nodded along with his master's words as he went on. "–and he can help us and just–"

"Ash."

The boy stopped his tirade and glanced up at the other man.

"I'm not going to leave you here alone." It was spoken with such finality that it bore no argument. The teenager, however, did not seem to get the memo.

"But I won't be alone!" He protested, "Not as long as Pikachu's here with me." The mouse softly chattered in agreement.

"My answer remains the same. You know how you have a penchant for attracting misadventures wherever you go Ash, if I were to leave here and venture off on my own I fear I would not get far without being ill at ease." 'After all, it wouldn't so much be a question of if you were to get in trouble but rather when.' Aaron shook his head wryly, his expression faltering. "Besides, it just wouldn't feel right to abandon you here on your own."

Ash stared at him for a long moment before giving him a reluctant nod. "You're probably right." He sighed, sprawling back with his furry little buddy still clutched tightly in his arms. "'Sides you would probably just wind up getting lost and then we'd have to hunt for you too on top of everything else."

'Well, he isn't exactly wrong.' The ghost thought to himself and allowed the conversation to lapse into silence. They were, as Riley had once put it, "directionally challenged". For Aaron though, this was simply due to the fact that the landscape of the world had changed so drastically since his time on earth that anything that he might have once used for navigation was now nigh unrecognizable. Ash on the other the other hand, just simply could not read a map to save his life.

His thoughts drifted to the pokémon held carefully within young man's grasp. Strong arms kept the lounging creature safely locked in place as deft fingers stroked static-charged fur while their owner's dark eyes stared contemplatively out into the night sky. Apparently having forgiven his companion's earlier theatrics, the pokémon purred happily, lavishing in the affection presented by the other male. Pointed ears perked when the specter shifted from his position, coming over to sit down behind them before relaxing again. The trio fell into an easy silence.

"...Sorry."

"Hm?" Aaron glanced down at him.

"For earlier-" Ash started to say but was cut with a shake of the head.

"It's okay."

The boy reluctantly his eyes trail away to the distant pinpricks that had begun to twinkle in the dusk sky. Only but a few of brightest seemed to cut through the pollution of the city's lights but it was enough he supposed. "I..." Lips tugged down into a vague frown, "I just don't like feeling helpless, ya know? Like there's nothing I can do except sit quietly and wait to be rescued." He shifted slightly, "It just doesn't feel right." Dark eyes traced patterns in the stars. "Plus, I'm kind of worried."

He felt Aaron hesitate slightly behind him before making a small noise, perhaps a signal for him to continue?

"Well...Riley's gonna come back and see that we're still not there right? Neither of us left a note and he can't really call us or anything so he's probably gonna get real worried." His voice quieted as so not to break the calm between them. "I just don't want to see him upset again."

A pause then ethereal fingers began to card gently through his dark locks, the action a soothing one. "It was an accident Ash. You didn't mean to get us stuck up here or be gone so long." The man's tone was a warm one as he spoke, "Both he and I care for you enough that a mishap such as this is nothing compared to the knowledge that you're safe son." Incorporeal lips quirked a bit, "And if he takes fault with it I could always have a word with him."

Ash only response was to snort, his eyes drifting shut as he leaned into the other's ministrations. Thoughts wandering as he slowly slipped further into the dark he couldn't help but muse that for a ghost the man's hands were rather warm. It was nice, he found himself thinking, between both the steady warmth of his father at his head and Pikachu snoozing away on his chest, perhaps he should follow his little buddy's example...

{-+-}

Creak

The sound of metal shifting against tile dragged the man from his thoughts, his gaze flickered to the new arrival as he approached and sat carefully beside them. He leaned over slightly, meeting the other in a quick kiss before pulling away and turning to watch the youngest of their cadre and his pokémon, both clinging to one another as they slept.

"So this is where you were."

Aaron slipped his hand over the other's and gave him a affectionate smile, "Indeed."

"How long have the three of you been up here anyways?"

"Since late afternoon at the very least. We had thought that we could use this building's height a foil to our 'directionally challenged' nature without taking into account our collective talent for getting into peculiar situations."

"But why didn't you call me? Wait, let me guess…" Riley held up a hand as he stifled a soft laugh, "Ash forgot his phone again."

"Yes." Aaron shook his head with an exasperated fondness.

"Well at least you were here him. To keep an eye on him so you all wouldn't get into any more trouble." He teased lightly.

"Hn." His gaze trailed up to the stars when suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Say Riley,"

"Hm?"

"Did you remember to find something to prop the door open so we could make our way back down?"

"..."

Aaron gaze flickered over to his partner then back behind them at the door which he had allowed to fall shut. The utterly flat look that the other guardian gave him caused the man to flush slightly and look up and away from his partner.

"Ah...well...right. At least it's not too bad of a night tonight." Riley remarked.

Aaron sighed, his eyes trailing up to the sky above. It was going to be a long night.

#DS7's Log #-Carefully adds to The Archive-#PKMN Fanfiction #Ash Ketchum #Pikachu #Sir Aaron #Riley Gen #The night shift janitor eventually found them and let them back in but...#Riley and Ash later developed some rather nasty headcolds from being outside all night.

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lovesick-dick · 4 years

Text

happy BIRTHDAAAAY MY DARLIIIIING

So you’ve made a mistake. So what! Mistakes happen to everyone! And yeah, some are worse than others, you muse to yourself as you dash along the rotted, dust-filled aisles of the old pizzeria– you do think this one might be at the top of your personal list, although you can hardly spare the brainpower to consider it in-depth right now, considering the catastrophic crashing sounds that are echoing behind you from a rapidly-shortening distance. “God– fuck, shit–” you wheeze, taking a hard corner around an arcade machine and towards a long stretch of hallway, your muscles aching and your lungs burning. You still can’t quite believe what’s chasing you, but you can definitely hear it, calling out after you in a deceptively smooth voice that doesn’t sound so much as lightly winded. “Come on now, don’t be like that!” you hear out of the darkness behind you, “Can’t a guy just get a look at you?” And, no, you think to yourself, he may not. “Stop it!” you bark back over your shoulder, your senseless panic leaving you with few options– you only glance back for just a second, but that second of faltered concentration is all the thing turns out to need. You hear the horrible squeaking, creaking sound of old mechanical parts being forced to move at speed; and then you’re rugby-tackled to the floor by 200 pounds of velvet-covered steel and you slam into the carpet so hard it knocks the breath completely out of you. You gasp, a weak, painful sound, and as a heavy padded paw comes down on the side of your head, pinning you to the floor, you note distractedly that the carpet is damp and slightly sticky underneath your cheek. Gross. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” the thing breathes above the nape of your neck, “That’d be an awful waste. Do you even know– do you have any idea how long I have been alone in here? Wasting away?” You don’t, naturally, but you’re much too scared to say so. You lie there in silence instead, quivering with fear, your heart thundering in your ears, and wait for your attacker to finish the job it started. Not the way you’d ever wanted to go; mauled to death by a goddamn possessed Chuck E. Cheese mascot. You wait. And wait. And the pain doesn’t come. Death doesn’t come. You can hear the massive rabbit shifting above you, hear the alarming strain of whatever rusted metal parts make up its internal mechanisms, but it doesn’t bite you, or break your neck, or whatever you’d been expecting…and eventually, in fact, that paw on the side of your face pulls back a little. “If you run again,” the rabbit warns you, in a low, cool voice that is almost posh, “Then I really will kill you. I don’t want that. You don’t want that. So let’s make the right choice here, and make nice like civilized folks. So hi! I’m– Springtrap.” “Hi,” you reply breathlessly on autopilot. That seems to please the creature somewhat, as that paw on your head finally withdraws all the way, but that great weight still hovers over you like the specter of Death, and you’re not nearly dumb enough to disregard its very blatant warning. Or, his warning. It sounds like a he, anyway, and thinking of him as such helps to humanize him just a little, so you can cling to the hope that he might still be reasoned with. “What’s your name?” “Ben…” “Lovely. Great! Sit up, Ben, I want to see you.” It’s not as if you have a choice. You push yourself up on shaking arms, moving slowly so you don’t spook– what was his name? Springtrap?– and he helpfully eases off of you enough to give you room to sit up. You rub your stinging cheek and look back at your captor as bravely as you can muster. He’s huge. He was big the first time you’d glimpsed him, and he was big when he’d been chasing you, but now, up close, he seems enormous. He’s more than twice your weight in rusted old metal and broken wires, and although his fur seems to have started out as velvet, some time way back in the past, it has since grown threadbare, matted, and gone somewhat to rot. His steel teeth are huge and blunt in his mouth, and the eyes of his…costume burn hollowly with an empty white light. He’s falling apart. There are gaps and chunks missing out of him, exposed wires that seem thankfully dead, half of one ear gone completely– and underneath the prevailing smell of dust and mildew that pervades this place, you can catch from him the lingering scent of old decay. Suitably Halloween-y, your traumatized brain decides. “Hello there.” he says softly. You don’t know if he even has eyelids, but you wish he would blink. “Hi,” you repeat, meekly. …You don’t know what to say. What can you say, in a situation like this? “–Please don’t hurt me,” you eventually blurt out, holding your hands out to him palms-forward, in a gesture of supplication, “I didn’t know anyone was in here, I’m so sorry, I never would have bothered you if I’d known–” Springtrap rocks forward on his haunches like a kangaroo, and your words turn to ash in your mouth. You cut yourself off and flinch away. “I already said I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, and this time he sounds exasperated, a little miffed. His voice gets rougher and more gravelly as he continues on, and you realize that he had been slinging his voice low and soft on purpose, likely to disarm you. Now he’s sounding more like he looks, “I’m glad you came in! I’ve been so alone…so lonely. Come here– don’t run,” he says, and you flinch again as those massive padded paws come forward to cup your face. He’s surprisingly gentle, for how big he is. Each paw seems big enough to crush your head, but all he does is hold you there, your chin in his hands as he leans forward and wedges his big worn-down snout into the join of your neck and shoulder. You jolt and nearly yelp, but you don’t pull away, and so he doesn’t bite you. Instead, he pushes his button nose against your skin, almost hard enough to be uncomfortable, and…sniffs you. Great, gusty, whuffling sniffs, like a big dog, right at your pulse point. It makes all the hair on your body stand on end, even as it makes your cheeks burn strangely. “What are you– doing?” you whisper, wanting to wriggle away but knowing better than to try. You can feel his plastic whiskers bristling underneath your chin. He doesn’t answer. At least, not with words. Another few snuffles against your skin, his paws squeezing your face, your eyes half-closed in fear; and then he goes and moans, and your eyes snap open in shock as you finally wrench your head away to look at him. You cover your neck where he’d been nuzzling in mortification. He looks back at you with those big dead white eyes and you know you’re in trouble. “What–” He pounces. He snaps into motion so fast it’s frightening, going from a complete standstill to a lion-like lunge– his bulk slams into your chest and sends you sprawling again, skidding out onto your back on the carpet, and then his paws come down on your legs with a steely power behind them where they clutch onto you just above your knees, and he yanks your legs open wide. You don’t have the time for more than an offended yipe before he raises your lower half up completely off the floor and shoves his snout right down between your legs, his nose against the zipper of your jeans. “Get– stop– no! Get off!” you exclaim, writhing and kicking and trying to find a way to get purchase enough to shove his head away, but he ignores you like he’s suddenly gone deaf to the world and takes a few more deep breaths of your scent, his mouth hanging open and those blunt, crushing teeth scarcely an inch from a place you do not want them to be. Your face burns, and you can tell you’re flushing all the way from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. Springtrap nudges his muzzle in against you, rubbing, almost nuzzling with a worrying force, and although it certainly doesn’t hurt, his intentions are still very, very clear. “I need this,” you hear– feel– him mutter. You make a little moaning sound in fright (not all fright, shamefully, but with all the adrenaline pumping through your body, what could you really do?), but you can feel his nose grinding along the clothed length of your slit, bumping against your dick, and a tingle starts to build at the base of your spine until he releases you suddenly and yanks you upright by the collar of your shirt. You spend one dizzy moment just trying to get your balance back, and then his paws come down on the backs of your shoulders and push you down so fast you nearly sprawl again. You catch yourself on your hands and knees, and realize his intentions as soon as something smooth and rubbery brushes against the tip of your nose. He’s got a fucking dick. Or, well, of sorts; you’ve owned enough sex toys to recognize a dildo when you see one, and although it’s attached to his pelvis, jutting out of a little fabric slit in his costume, it’s still definitely silicone, and it’s cool and springy when he nudges it against your lip. “Help me out here, help a fella out,” he urges you, and one of his hands slides over to the back of your head before he starts to push again, the lack of room for argument making something shameful and sticky-hot curl low in your belly. “I need this. Open up.” You open your mouth. Again, it’s not like you have a choice. And yes, while you’re not exactly leaping at the chance to suck this monster off, you’re hardly fighting him as hard as you could be either. …It’s not like anyone has to know. You let him slide his silicone dick past your lips and into your mouth, and then immediately have to fight not to choke as his hips buck on what seems to be reflex and a gusty moan drags itself up out of his throat. You swallow around him and try to pull back a little. “Good boy,” he sighs, his awful eyes rolling in his head as he gives you absolutely no time to adjust before starting to rock his hips, “Good boy, good boy. It’s been so LONG– I’m usually more, mmh, of a gentleman,” he continues, and you get the distinct feeling that that is a lie. It’s not important, anyway, when you’re bracing your hands on his hips and trying to push him back to give you a little room to breathe. It doesn’t work. He doesn’t back off. He moves relatively slowly, grinding his dick back and forth along your tongue, but for what he lacks in pace he makes up for in sheer size, and with each roll of his hips he pushes himself a little farther down into your throat, an insistent nudging that makes your eyes begin to water. It’s only taken seconds, and you’re already in way over your head. You hate that you like it. You like it kind of an awful lot. Inch after inch of silicone presses down your throat, his body creaking as he rocks against you, your heart pounding as you try to steal breaths when you can, and Springtrap musses your hair and tries to pull with big clumsy paws while he pants like he’s running a marathon. Evidently, he wasn’t lying about how long it’s been. It takes some time, and it takes some doing, but eventually he manages to manhandle you all the way down to length of his cock, eight or so inches of him rutting into your throat, and he only stops pushing once your lips are brushing the swell of what can only be some kind of knot. You choke a little and drool down the length of him, tears burning your eyes, and Springtrap makes a satisfied sound in his chest and then lets you slide back a little, giving you a chance to catch a few breaths before he starts to move your head up and down on him again. If you had the breath to manage a moan, you probably would have– it’s mortifying, it’s probably sickening, but the way this creature is treating you like some kind of helpless toy is making you wet in a way that you’re sure is going to soak through your boxers, and you can’t help but wiggle your hips to try and alleviate that pressure a little bit. Springtrap huffs and puffs and picks up speed until he’s finally fucking your throat full-out, and all you can do is make broken little sounds and hope he doesn’t try to wedge that fist-sized knot of his into your mouth too. You’re not sure how long he keeps you like that. There’s no clock, there’s no way to tell the time, and you can’t even look up; all you have is his whining and grunting and the endless thrusting that makes your jaw ache from being held open so wide. Your drool dampens the fur at his crotch, and your own arousal makes your boxers stick to you uncomfortably. When he eventually, finally releases you, he does so with as little warning as he had started with, and all but pulls you off of him to push you back to the floor, leaving you to cough and wipe the tears from your face while he lifts your legs into the air again. “Enough foreplay,” he growls, and this time his voice is scary, a hollow metal roar that makes you want to cover your ears. His expression is an ever-static smile, and you can’t tell how roughly he intends to treat you. You don’t even spare the time to worry or care. Your hands fly down again, but this time, instead of pushing against him to get away, you fumble for your button and zipper and tug your jeans open for him, much to what appears to be his surprise. “Oh, fuck me,” you whine through gritted teeth as you try to kick your pants off, and you watch his one good ear perk straight up into the air like an exclamation point while the ragged half of the other can only wobble to the side. Big, soft paws help to pull your pants away, and Springtrap leers down at you like he’s seeing you in a brand-new light. He looks almost wondering. “Really?” he asks, cocking his enormous head to the side. He sounds like he’s smiling, and as you tug your boxers down and throw the sticky fabric to the side, his pleasure only seems to grow. “Well, Benny boy! I gotta say, you’re not what I expected! Am I not the only one who’s been so lonely? –Oh, look at you. You’re soaked!” he praises you. You’re too wound-up to actively take the time to bask in that praise, but you do mentally file it away for future use. A lot of future use. “Springs– uh, Springtrap,” you mutter, your head feeling a bit fuzzy as you wiggle free of his paws just long enough to shuffle over to him, “Please– fuck, I’m so–” “Needy? Slutty? Desperate?” he teases you, but eagerly helps you along as you clamber up onto him and push him into a sitting position against the wall. You only moan an affirmative, and that makes him laugh, a charmless sound like an old swing set creaking. His paws slide down to cup your ass and dig into your cheeks. “I like you, Ben,” he says roughly, “I like you very much.” To be honest, you think the sentiment might be kind of returned. “Please,” you say again, positioned splay-legged on his lap with his cock jutting up between the two of you, strangely warm and still slick with your drool, “Give it to me hard.” And that’s playing with fire, you think, as he lifts you up like you weigh absolutely nothing and positions you to nudge the head of his cock against your soaking wet pussy– but then he slides his tip along you, finds your entrance and dips in, and then, oh, then all thoughts fly out of your head as his paws shudder where they hold you and he drops you down with a grunt. You distantly hear someone making a sound, a pitiful, broken keening sound, and only realize it’s you once it gets loud enough to make an echo in the empty hall. Just like before, he didn’t waste time or ease into it. He’d literally dropped you down onto him, letting gravity do his work, and so his entire length forces itself into you and stretches you achingly wide all at once as you come down on him with a wet smack against the bulge of his knot (that, at least, remains outside you for now). “Aahh! Ahh, aahh, gghh– fuck!” you gasp, your eyes screwing shut tight and your mouth falling open as you’re forced down on him, your fingers digging into his matted fur and your pussy squeezing down on him as you attempt to adjust to his size. It almost hurts, so suddenly, almost but not quite, and the ache of the stretch is heavenly, makes you arch your back and drop your head against his chest as he moans long and loud in your ear. “Fucking– shit, shit you’re tight!” he exclaims, that posh accent all but lost under the heat in his voice. He bounces you a little, getting used to the feeling of you taking his length like a perfect little sleeve, and each tiny jolt makes you squeak and squeal into his fur with the sensation. “Springtrap!” “Ohh, say it again!” he breathes against your temple, his head craned low. He starts to lift and rock you, careful enough, at least, to work you open a little before he starts to really move, but you can feel the way his cock throbs inside you like he’s something actually alive, and it makes you squirm in his grasp with the need to get railed. There is no breath in his chest, but he makes sounds like he’s panting. “Springtrap, Springtrap,” you repeat, no longer as scared of him as you probably should be as you roll your hips and feel his girth stretch you out in all the right ways, “Don’t tease, I need– please–” Pitiful? Yes, absolutely? Slutty? Indubitably. You’re begging the monster that accosted you to fuck you within an inch of your life, and you don’t feel the least bit sorry about it, not when he bounces you again and his knot pushes smack up against your dick in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s already bigger than any of your toys, and the practical promise of that extra bulge stretching you open even further destroys what little patience you had for adjusting in the first place. “Say it,” you hear him grunt, his legs shifting so he can brace his feet flat against the floor. He trembles slightly with the effort of keeping still, his paws kneading at your ass, but he holds out for the allure of making you beg for it– which, to be honest, you probably would have done anyway. So you beg. You beg him to fuck you, to fuck you hard, to use you like a toy and knot your tight cunt and make you cry from it– and if the ragged, needless inhale he gives in response is any indication, he’s exactly as incensed about it as you are. There’s just no time to gloat before his self-control snaps like a frayed thread and he moves to wrap his arms around you in a crushing hug as he finally starts to thrust up into you, at an instant feverish pace that makes your whole body jolt in his lap. And yes, yes, god, that’s what you’d wanted. That’s what you needed; the furious whack of his hips against yours, rutting his fat cock into you over and over again with zero regard for pacing or care. He treats you like some kind of fucktoy, exactly as you’d asked, and his snarl is a strange, tinny animal sound as he fucks you open on him, your cunt squeezing hard on him in a way that would betray your pleasure even if your bouncing voice didn’t. “You’re such a slut, Benny boy,” you hear him mutter, with transparent glee, “A dripping, needy slut! Do you let– rrrghn– all the monsters fuck you this way? You take it like you do!” And that should mortify you, that should make you angry, but all those crude words actually do is make you whimper into his shoulder and try to push your hips down to meet him, thrust for thrust. That in no way escapes his notice. “Holy shit,” he chuckles, his voice rising up high and giddy, “You like that? Huh? You like it when I’m mean?” He throbs hard inside you, evidently as much into teasing you as you are into taking it, and he slows down to swivel his hips in a circle until he finds a spot that makes you cry out loud, your breath hitching as heat coils tight in your belly. “Go on, say it. Admit that you’re a cockslut,” he demands, grinding hard against that sweet spot until you claw and writhe, and you break down with something like a sob as you obediently beg into his fur. “I’m– I’m a cockslut! I’m a needy cockslut– Springtrap! I need– hah, fuck, fuckfuck please I need your– knot–” “Beautiful,” he moans, low and slow beneath your begging. “Gooood boy, Benny. You’re so– tight– here, take it, take it,” he grunts, releasing you from his crushing embrace to grab your thighs and spread you wider, his eyes heavily lidded as he lifts you up again and drops you hard onto him. He keeps you held open like that as he ruts up into you, his knot an insistent pressure that pushes against your tight pussy, and you squirm, whimpering, as each rough slap of his hips opens you up just a little more, closer and closer to taking it. You’re nearly drooling at this point from the hard, thumping rhythm, fitfully grinding yourself down in an attempt to help him along, and your neglected dick aches to be touched, if you could muster the brainpower to remember how to move your arms. Springtrap keeps up the pace, the mechanisms that make up his body creaking alarmingly, and then he slams you down one final time and holds you there, splayed out on him, as he humps and grinds in harsh little movements, until, with a slow, aaaching stretch– The swell of his knot finally slides into you with a squelch and a pop, and the fat bulge of it forces your cunt open wider than you’ve ever felt in your life, every single inch of you stuffed full of throbbing cock and locked into place around it. Springtrap makes a single, harsh bark of sound, and you wrap your arms around his neck and cling on for dear life as your orgasm hangs on that very edge of breaking. It’s so big, your legs are shaking, tears brimming in your eyes for the second time that night, and you bounce mindlessly against him to no avail, desperately trying to push yourself over. You’re not sure he’s budging so much as an inch. “Springs, Springs, Springs, Springtrap!” you babble, pleading for him to help you cum, and you’re not sure if it’s just reflex or something else that drives him to actually take in your cries and fumble to assist you. One of his paws slides down to your lower back, holding you steady, and the other wedges itself between the two of you to feel for where you’re locked together with clumsy digits, wet velvet prodding your dripping pussy. He manages to find your dick by the way you whimper when he slides over it, and then he makes a sound that’s so satisfied it’s almost a purr as he takes mercy on you and grinds down on it hard, in quick little circles. “Cum on it,” he orders you breathlessly, moving his hips like he wants to thrust even though he can’t– and the addition of his soft paw pad on your dick is all it takes to send you over the edge, with a fire-light building of tension that tenses every muscle in your body as it breaks. You wail when you cum around his knot, so stretched out that your cunt can do little more than twitch around its girth as he pulses inside of you. The silky-soft clench of you around his cock must feel just as good for Springtrap, too, because his foot thumps twice, hard, as you squeeze down on him, yanking at his short fur with your pleasure– and then his cock throbs, once, twice, and he’s chasing you off that edge with a surprisingly weak moan of his own. His cum is cool when it splashes into you, deep into your stuffed pussy with nowhere else to go, and distantly you can feel your body twitching as he spurts into you, your orgasm kindled and further drawn out by the pulsing sensation. You keep on cumming, and cumming, whimpering pathetically with each fitful clench around him… And by the time you’ve continued on over to the edge of overstimulated, by the time he finally stops, you can look down at yourself through teary eyes and see the slight bulge in your belly made by the creampie he’s just given you. Holy…fucking…shit. Buzzing with the pleasure and bone-deep exhaustion of afterglow, you stay slumped against Springtrap for indeterminate minutes, shivering, and listen to him mutter nonsense against the crook of your neck while his knot slowly goes down. It’s only when he finally shifts enough to pull himself out of you that you finally stir again, whimpering as he pops out of you with a wet squelch and a flood of cum gushes out of your over-sensitive pussy. It’s a bizarre, glowing green where it drools out of you and onto Springtrap’s lap and the carpet below, and you blink blearily at it for a few moments before collapsing back against him again, too satisfied and sleepy to bother with anything else. You don’t know if you’d even be able to walk after that. You definitely don’t have the energy to find out. You feel like you’ve actually been fucked stupid. “I…needed that,” you hear Springtrap breathe, his paws rubbing down your back, brushing through your hair, and you muster the energy to sleepily nod and smile against his chest in agreement, dozily petting his fur. This turned out as an excellent Halloween after all.

#BABE HOLY *SHIT*#**JESUS CHRIST HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY TO ME**#AAAAAAAAAAAAH THIS IS SO GOOD #WORDS CANNOT EXPLAIN HOW FUCKING FFLUSTERED I AM RIGHT NOW AAAAAAH #submission

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darks-ink · 5 years

Text

What A Nice Surprise CH.10

Double digits baybeh! And our last major-ish character makes their first appearance, whoo hoo.

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She balled her fists, tension straining her muscles. The ghost scanner on her wrist hummed, its sound muted but the display still active. Still showing the one ghost in the area – the one ghost Valerie was tracking.

Not wearing her armor made her feel vulnerable, but… that was sort of the point. Time after time she had preyed upon Phantom, breaking truces just to get the jump on him while he was vulnerable. Now the tables were turned.

Phantom wouldn’t use the opportunity, anyway. That much had become clear to Valerie.

As much as it pained her to admit it… She had been mistaken.

A quick glance at the scanner revealed that Phantom had slowed down in a quiet area, and Valerie sped up to chase him. On foot, of course, because she couldn’t use her hoverboard without the rest of her suit. Not without putting Phantom on edge, anyway.

She jumped the fence of the park, eyes open to search for Phantom. Valerie could only hope he hadn’t gone invisible, because her wrist-bound scanner wasn’t that precise.

But no, there he was. Sitting on a low branch of a tree, not even looking in her direction. He mustn’t have noticed her, lucky her.

As she was getting closer, she realized that Phantom had his eyes closed. Was he napping? Could ghosts nap? Man, there really was a lot she didn’t know about ghosts. Shame on her. Hunting without ever bothering to learn about her prey.

Either way, she now stood at the bottom of the tree and Phantom still hadn’t noticed her. With a somewhat malicious grin on her face she clambered up, higher and higher, until she was settled on a branch slightly above Phantom. Then, loudly, she cleared her throat and announced her presence.

“Weather’s nice up here, huh?”

The ghost jerked, startled, and rolled off of the branch. One white-gloved hand wrapped around the branch, and he pulled himself back onto it, effortlessly. Likely helped by his ability to float, too.

Then Phantom noticed her and his eyes widened. “Va–” A quick glance around, apparently conscious of the fact that they were in a public area. One that was, luckily, abandoned for the moment. “Valerie?”

“The one and only,” she confirmed, a casual grin on her face to hide her nerves. Her advanced suit hummed in her mind, ready to form at the drop of a hat, but it wouldn’t be quick enough if she needed it.

But she wouldn’t need it.

“What are you– Why are you just… sitting there? Not wearing your armor?” He frowned, apparently confused. He seemed a lot more defensive than she had hoped, despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing her armor. Or maybe because of it. “Is something wrong?”

She snorted. “Besides me? Nah, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk to you.”

Phantom shifted, luminescent green eyes worriedly peering up at her. “Something is wrong with you? Something you need my help with?”

“No, jeez, calm down.” She held up her hands, and the ghost settled down on the branch again. “Nothing is wrong with me, but I was wrong. About… about ghosts.” She paused, glancing away and then back at him. “And about you.”

“Oh,” he said. Then, more strongly, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” She snapped a small branch off of the one she was sitting on, bending the twig to occupy her hands. To distract herself from the conversation. “I mean, there are still some sketchy things in your past, but, I mean, you can say the same for me. As the Red Huntress, too. Nobody’s perfect.”

“I mean, not that I’m not grateful you changed your mind, but…” Phantom frowned, looking down at his hands. “What, um. What brought this on? What made you change your mind now, of all times?”

“Your new alliance with the Fentons, I guess.” The twig in her hands snapped, and she dropped the remnants. “I kept an eye on you, and on them, with my scanners. But you weren’t influencing them at all, like you said. They had genuinely changed their minds about you. And I didn’t understand why. So I started thinking about it, wondering about it.”

She fell silent. After a few moments, Phantom shook his head and looked up again. “And you decided that maybe they were right? To follow their example?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds dumb.” She huffed out a laugh. “But yeah, basically. I already knew, from early on, that ghost hunting wasn’t quite as black and white as I had first imagined it. Ghosts were malicious, yes, and they attacked people. But then there was that freaky circus guy who controlled you? Made you steal, and attack me? That was messed up. And then suddenly it wasn’t the ghost who was the bad guy, but the human.”

Phantom hummed, an acknowledgment that he was still listening, and she continued her tirade, her explanation. “But I didn’t want to acknowledge it, back then. So I ignored that it had happened and kept treating you like the bad guy. Like all ghosts were the same.”

Valerie paused again, and this time Phantom filled up the quiet. “And then Dora happened, right?”

“And then Dora happened,” she agreed with a nod. “The second time I got kidnapped to the Ghost Zone, except this time I didn’t even know the ghost responsible. And I wasn’t kidnapped as the Red Huntress but as Valerie. Not for my skill but because I was pretty.”

She snorted, a grin forming on her face. “Boy did he come to regret that.”

“Oh, definitely.” The calmer atmosphere worked to relax Phantom as well, and he leaned back to sit more casually, one leg hanging off of the branch. “I mean, things didn’t get magically better, but. Dora is doing good now. She’s a really good queen, better than Aragon was for sure, and she’s getting over her centuries of trauma too.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear so.” She sighed, a little forlorn. “I don’t know why it took me so long after that to start realizing that ghosts were so much like humans. I guess I just… pretended that I played along with a dumb specter. That I had tricked a being barely capable of thought into going against its roots. Or something. I dunno.”

Another sigh. “Even after the thing with Nocturne. I mean, you came and woke me up despite how I had treated you before. Despite all the truces I broke up, just to get a jump on you. Still you came and got me, wanting to work together.” A short humorless laugh. “And I just thought you were an idiot for agreeing to another team-up. Didn’t even realize that it wasn’t you being dumb, but you seeing the best in everyone. Including me.”

“I mean, it was a little bit me being an idiot.” Phantom looked up from where he was breaking a twig of his own off of the branch, a lopsided smile on his face. “Because believe me, a smarter person would’ve given up much sooner.”

The smile fell, and he looked back at the piece of wood. “I guess I just… like to see the good in people. I don’t want things to be bad all the time. Everybody deserves a chance to be better, to learn and grow. And besides,” he looked back, a grin on his face, and shrugged, “It’s not like you could’ve killed me.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Valerie rolled her eyes. “But, seriously, Phantom. Would you be open for a more permanent truce?”

“A more permanent truce, or an alliance?” He looked up from the twig, his aura bright and his eyes brighter. “Because a truce is, per definition, only temporary.”

She huffed. “An alliance, then, smartass. Is that alright with you?”

“Well, let me think about it.” Phantom made a faux-thoughtful face, staring skywards and with one finger tapping on his chin. His aura remained bright, though, and steady rather than the flicker Valerie knew meant anger. Then Phantom snapped back to her, a grin on his face. “Val. I would love to be allies with you.”

She nodded. Then paused. Thought for a moment. “So, uh. Do we need to do more than that? Should we shake on it or something?”

Phantom barked out a surprised laugh. So surprised, even, that he toppled off of the branch again, although this time he had a leg wrapped around it to catch himself. When he floated back up, he wiped away a (probably non-existent) tear and said, “Nah, unless you want to. Just agreeing to be allies is good enough.”

“Oh.” She twisted around, her legs now hanging off of the same side of the branch, and rested her left arm on her knees. Her right, she held out to Phantom. “Let’s, then. Make it different from the various truces we’ve had.”

“I can live with that,” Phantom said as he pushed himself upright. Standing on the branch, he took Valerie’s hand in his own. It was cool, but not as cold as most ghosts seemed to be.

“Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but you can’t live with anything.” As they shook hands, she followed it up with, “To healthier conditions between humans and ghosts.”

“And to friendship, no matter the state of living.” Phantom grinned as they shook a second time, then released her hand.

“Well, that’s a little bold, isn’t it.” She quirked a brow at him. “Who said I was interested in making friends?”

He rolled his eyes. “Never said it was about you, did I? For your interest, it’s actually Jazz Fenton who’s been befriending a bunch of ghosts and helping a ton of others with trauma. She already got Ember to quit attacking Amity, and others might be interested as well.”

“Wait, really? That works?”

Phantom shrugged, pacing on the branch. “Apparently. Most ghosts are traumatized, either by their life or their death. Jazz came up with the idea to offer to help them, and apparently it’s been going well. Really, she’s just sitting down with them to listen to them as they talk, but I guess it helps. Plus as a Fenton she has access to plenty of ecto-weaponry, so if any of them lash out she can handle herself.”

“Fair enough,” Valerie acknowledged. “That’s pretty clever, actually. Of course ghosts aren’t happy, that’s why they became ghosts in the first place, right? So taking care of whatever troubles them makes them less prone to lashing out.”

The ghost nodded, stopping in front of her. “Yeah, exactly. And even those who don’t cause trouble deserve a little help. She started with Dora, and with Sidney who haunts Casper High. After that she realized she could be helping other ghosts too, and here we are. I got her a Ghost Zone compatible phone, so most ghosts stick with texting and calling her, I think. You’d have to ask her or her parents if you want to know more.”

“I mean, it’s not really my kind of thing, but I definitely support it, if it works.” She opened her mouth to say more, but her phone beeped and buzzed in her pocket. Frowning, she took it out. On the screen a warning showed – her alarm for work.

“Oh, shoot,” she exclaimed, scrambling further upright. “I gotta get to my work. Thanks for agreeing to the truce – alliance – Phantom, and see you later!”

She pushed herself off of the branch, her armor expanding around her. Her hoverboard caught her before she hit the ground, and she shot off in the direction of the Nasty Burger.

Faintly, she thought she heard Phantom call after her, “Thank you too! And good luck at your work!”

How could she have ever mistaken him for a malicious being?

Danny ducked into his room, happy to be away from the mess of his human life. The door was slammed shut, and the lock clicked closed. With a relieved sigh he leaned his back against it, eyes closed and head resting against the hard surface.

Someone in his room cleared their throat, and his eyes snapped open again.

Sitting on his bed was a girl. Short, young – younger than him – and completely unfamiliar to him. Long black hair bound in a ponytail, crystalline blue eyes.

He didn’t know her. He had never seen her before, he was sure. And yet… yet she seemed very familiar to him. Like he should know her.

“Who are you?” he asked, still pressed against his door.

“I’m Danielle.” She dropped the comic she had been holding back on his bed, pushing herself off of it. “I’m your third cousin once removed.”

“Okay,” he said, reluctantly. “What are you doing in my room? Why have I never seen you before, or heard of you?”

She shrugged. “My parents suck? I ran away from home. Hey, do you have any food?”

“I, personally, don’t.” He took a step forward, remaining close by the door so she couldn’t slip past him. He wanted answers, darnit. “So you’re here because you ran away from home, fine. Why are you in my room, specifically?”

“I dunno, it looked cool?” she tried, playing for casual but missing the mark entirely. “I like your space stuff.”

“Thanks, assuming that that wasn’t a lie like everything else you’ve said.” He crouched a little so he was on her eye level. “Now, Danielle, please tell me why you’re actually here. Why do you look so familiar if I’ve never met you before?”

“I, uh.” She glanced towards the window, then suddenly launched forward, trying to dart past Danny. He caught her by the arm, pulling her back towards the center of the room.

“No, stop, lemme go!” she yelled, trying to pull herself loose and throwing kicks in his direction.

Danny opened his mouth to reply – some smart quip, of course – but her arm suddenly turned transparent and slipped through his fingers. Danielle, now no longer held in place, toppled to the floor with a rough tumble, ending further from the door than she’d started.

He stared at her, baffled. She wasn’t a ghost – his ghost sense would’ve picked up on her. So then… was she a half-ghost? Like him, like Vlad?

Was there someone else out there? Someone who wasn’t, well, Vlad?

And it made sense, now, why she had come here. She must be from Dad’s side of the family, the side that had all grown up hating ghosts. Hiding her halfa-ness from her family, just like him.

Except that, in a strange twist, his family had gone from the least ghost-friendly Fentons to the most ghost-friendly. And Danielle must’ve heard, must’ve hoped it would apply to her too.

But that didn’t explain why she was in his room, specifically. Why she looked so familiar, yet completely unknown to him at the same time.

“It’s not what you think!” she shouted, scrambling to her feet again. “I swear!”

“So you don’t have ghost powers?” he replied, skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t come here because my family are the most ghost-friendly Fentons, the only ones who openly admitted that they were wrong about ghosts?”

Danielle paused, half-way through standing up. Frowned. Then asked, hesitantly, “Did they really?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Now Danny was frowning too, looking at her in confusion. “Why else would you come here? How did you even become half ghost?”

“Um.” She looked away from him, scuffing her sneakers on the floor. “Actually, I, uh. Came here because of you.”

“Me?” he repeated, blinking. “Why me? What’s special about me?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Come on, it’s so obvious. Phantom and Fenton? That’s barely a change. At least you dropped your first name, but still. And your appearance barely changes, too!”

Danny crossed his arms, staring at her for a few long moments. Waited for her to give up, call it a bluff. When she didn’t budge he sighed. “Alright, fine. So you’re here because I’m Phantom. Because you were hoping I could, what? Offer guidance? Support? Help you with a ghost-specific problem?”

“No,” she answered immediately. Then she paused, seemingly thinking it over for a moment. Amended herself with, “Actually, maybe yes. What do you know about destabilization?”

“Destabilization? Like, a ghost falling apart, back into ectoplasm?” He hummed in thought. “I’ve heard about it, but it’s so rare that I haven’t ever seen it. It’s from damage to a core, right? When it’s not formed properly, or damaged by action or by overexertion?”

The girl nodded, then hesitantly rubbed her neck. “I, um. You wouldn’t happen to know a way to solve that, right?”

He stared at her, realization finally striking. The way she had tried to fight him physically, how she had only turned her arm intangible on reflex rather than her whole body. The way she held herself, curled in on herself as if to protect her core.

And he thought of the vial of Ecto-Dejecto he had. Of the effects the concoction had had on the ghosts his parents had tested it on.

“I… might have something, actually.” He stepped away from the door, shooting her a wary glance. “Stay there and I’ll go grab it.”

She nodded energetically, and with an unseen smile, Danny turned to his desk. He ducked underneath it, turned his arm intangible and stuck it into the wall behind his desk.

It was a bit of a search – the vial was small and the wall big – but before long his fingers made contact with the glass. Turning the thing intangible as well, he pulled it out of the wall, looking it over. The slime inside was ecto-green, glowing faintly. The glass was unscathed. Good.

When he crawled out from under his desk, Danielle still stood in the same place. Seeing the vial in his hands, her expression did something complicated, moving somewhere between disgusted and elated.

“I know,” he acknowledged, holding up the vial. “It doesn’t look great, but you should’ve seen the effect it had on regular ghosts. I’m not sure it’ll help with your core, but at the very least it should give you a crazy power boost. And us half-ghosts, we’re resilient, so hopefully that’ll be enough to fix your core. Was it ever formed correctly, or…?”

She shook her head, expression growing more sad. “I don’t think it was, but it wasn’t as bad. As time went on it got worse and worse.” Then she narrowed her eyes, growing more determined. “If you think it’ll work, I want to try it.”

“Alright.” He rummaged through his desk, intangibly pulling a needle from the fake bottom of one of the drawers. “Well, I think it’s best if we inject it while you’re in your ghost form, since it’s ectoplasmic in origin. If you’re okay with it we can inject it close to your core, otherwise we’ll go for your arm.”

Danielle’s eyes darted from the vial to him to her chest. Then she grimaced. “Let’s go for the arm. No offense, but, uh.” She gestured at him, then at herself. “Y’know?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I get it, I get it.” Uncapping the vial, he stuck the needle in and sucked the Ecto-Dejecto in. “I’m ready if you are. Just shift, roll up your sleeve if necessary, and I’ll inject it.”

“Right. Um.” She looked at him again, looking notably more worried. “It’s just… Never mind. You’ll understand when you see it.”

“Okay?” Danny replied, uncertainly. Was something weird about her ghost form, that she was so hesitant to show him?

She nodded, once. Then she clenched her fists, raising them up in the air, and pressed her eyes closed. A ring of white light, so similar to Danny’s, formed around her waist. It split, two halos creeping past her body.

Seeing it like this, he had to admit that it was pretty cool looking. Also pretty bright, since their rings were white as opposed to Vlad’s black, but still. Very neat.

Danielle’s belly was bared. That was, admittedly, a little weird. She was like, 12. Why was she wearing an outfit that didn’t cover her entire body, especially while partaking in an activity that had gotten her half killed?

Then came the baggy black pants, the fabric shiny in a way that reminded him of his own jumpsuit. As did the skintight top, mostly black but with one side white, a diagonal split between the two. The bottom part of her pants was white too, and her boots, tucked into the loose pants, were white as well.

It wasn’t all that spectacular, and he didn’t get why she hadn’t wanted to show him. Not until the ring crossed her chest, revealing…

Revealing, in stark white, his logo. The DP logo he’d created for his own suit, guided by Sidney and his own desire to make his jumpsuit more superhero-y.

Of course, that wasn’t where the transformation ended. The upper ring continued its journey, forming long synthetic sleeves – one black and one white, matching the halves of her top. Her hair turned from black to white, and Danny got the feeling that her eyes would be as green as his own.

Finally, to finish it off, gloves with loose hems formed around her clenched fists. One black and one white, opposite of her sleeves.

She opened her eyes, uncertainty clear in the vivid green. Her aura, already worryingly dim, flickered briefly in anxiety.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted, slowly reaching out with one hand. When she didn’t flinch away, he gently placed it on her shoulder. “But it’s okay. We’re gonna try to stabilize you first, and then we can talk about this. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a nod. Sat down on the floor and peeled off one of her gloves, making a face when it immediately dissolved into ectoplasm. He crouched next to her, and together they rolled up the sleeve, one hand each.

“Why are these so annoyingly skin-tight,” Danny grunted as he shifted the Ecto-Dejecto to his other hand, so he could use the good one for this. “It’s a real pain if you’ve got injuries, too.”

“Seems like a design flaw,” she agreed, her mood apparently lightening a little. “You’re probably not supposed to get injured while wearing them, though. Damaging them kind of defeats the whole protection thing.”

Danny inclined his head, using it to gesture at her bare belly. “And that doesn’t?”

“Hey, I didn’t design this!” she protested, angrily tugging on the sleeve. “I’m not thrilled with it either!”

“So change it. It’s not that hard.” With another yank they got the fabric bunched up enough to reveal the crook of her elbow, and Danny nodded his acceptance. “Eh, good enough. But seriously, Danielle, if you don’t like your suit you can change it. I can help you with it, if you want.”

“That would be… That would be nice.” She smiled, shaky and uncertain but genuine. “Um, thanks.”

“Of course.” He took the needle in his good hand again, placing the empty vial he had used to hold it on the floor. With the now-empty hand he reached out to stabilize Danielle’s arm. “Alright, I’m gonna inject this now, okay? I’m not sure what it’ll feel like, since I haven’t tried it myself, but I’ll inject the whole thing in one go. Are you ready?”

She nodded, expression determined. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He set the needle in the crook of her elbow, right against a vein. Then, as gently as he could, he pushed it in. Satisfied that it had found its place, he pressed down on the plunger. Emptied the whole thing into her veins. Hoped that it would work.

Something strange was going on with Danielle, sure, but that didn’t mean she deserved the destabilization that was happening to her. That would surely kill her, sooner or later, partly human or not.

Danny removed the needle, carefully putting it down on the floor. Then he sat down next to her, laying his own hand on her gloved one. “Now let’s hope it works.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” She huffed out a laugh, then shivered suddenly. “Brr, it feels kind of strange. Cold, but energetic? Energy-giving? I dunno what the word is, but you get what I mean, right?”

“Invigorating?” Danny guessed. “I understand what you mean, sure. How does your core feel?”

She held out her hands in front of her, repeatedly clenching and unclenching them. “I’m… I dunno. Better, I think? It feels like I’ve just drunk like 7 energy drinks and gotten the wildest energy rush known to mankind.”

Her aura brightened, suddenly, and Danny flinched away from the sudden light. Almost as soon as it came it dampened again, remaining significantly brighter than before. It flickered, wildly varying in strength – but never dipping as low as when she had first shifted.

“Your glow looks good, at least. Still settling in. Maybe it just reached your core?”

“Maybe.” Green sparked around Danielle’s hands as she formed an ectoblast, then molded it into a ball. She tossed it between her two hands, growing and shrinking it. “Feels good. Very energized. Kinda really want to burn off some of this energy, actually.”

Danny laughed. “You sound very hyper, yeah. Hang on, I’ll shift too and we can go for a fly. But don’t go overboard, we don’t want to strain your core if it hasn’t fully healed yet.”

“Yes sir,” she said, throwing him a quick salute. Then she rolled to her feet – literally – and started bouncing on her heels. “Come on, come on.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, calm down.” Danny pushed himself upright as well, tapping into his own core to let the cold energy wash over him. “Let’s turn invisible to fly out, alright, and then you can drop your invisibility when we’re higher up. We might want to try to avoid having people see you, or we would get some weird questions about ghosts and family and stuff.”

She nodded rapidly, flickering out of sight. “Alright, I’m invisible, let’s go!” Her hand wrapped around Danny’s lower arm as she started tugging him to the window.

With a laugh he turned himself invisible as well, twisting his arm to lock his hand with hers instead. “Hey Miss Hyper, calm down a little will you? How’s your core feeling anyway?”

“Good, good, good,” she said, quickly, as they phased through the wall. “Very good! Better than I’ve ever felt it!”

“Sounds like it worked, then.” They raised further up in the air, and Danny dropped his invisibility. “Hopefully it’ll stay that way even when the energy boost wears off.”

“Uh huh,” Danielle agreed. Then suddenly she tugged her hand out of Danny’s and became visible as well. “That would be really cool! And very frustrating, because–”

She snapped her mouth shut suddenly, moving her hands to cover it as well.

Danny stopped his flight, turning to face her. “Because what, Danielle? Is this related to the fact that you look exactly like me? That you’re a member of my family that I’ve never even heard of, before?”

“I–” Her legs melted together, spectral tail twitching. “I’m… Yeah. It kinda is, yeah.”

“Explain it to me, then,” Danny pleaded, moving closer. When she jerked away he paused. “I want to help, okay? Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

Her glow flickered, her aura a mess of turbulent energy and even more turbulent emotions. “It’s… It’s not nice. You won’t like it.”

“Just tell me,” Danny begged, reaching out suddenly to grab her arm. Danielle flinched but didn’t try to break free, and calmed when he shifted his grip to hold her hand instead. “Danielle, I promise I’m not mad at you, and I won’t be, either. I just want to know. Please?”

Face crumpled, she nodded, clearly distraught. “I’m not… a real half-ghost. I wasn’t, um, born.”

“You were cloned. From me?” It wasn’t a hard conclusion to make. She looked almost exactly like him, a little younger and, sure, a girl, but it barely made a difference. That’s why she had seemed to familiar – it was like looking in a mirror. “Why? By who?”

“By… By Father. Vlad.” She frowned, her fingers twitching where they were interlinked with Danny’s. “He wanted me as his child. Or so he said. Always very praising, talking a big talk about his perfect daughter, but I never got to meet anyone. Had to hide so no one knew I existed. And when I started destabilizing like the other clones, which I didn’t even know existed before then, suddenly he grew cold. Didn’t care as much anymore.”

She turned away, staring at the ground far below instead of him. “He told me to go here, to search you out. I had to knock you out, or draw you far enough out that he could get to you, and then he could get a good DNA sample from you. He said that he would use it to stabilize me, but…”

“But I doubt that that’s what he would’ve done with it,” Danny finished for her. “And clearly, so do you. He would’ve used it to make a new clone, one more like me, I bet.”

“He didn’t care,” she agreed, frowning at their linked hands. “He never did, clearly. If he had, he would’ve found a way to stabilize me. I mean, your parents did it! And no offense to your parents, but they only have like half the knowledge of ghosts Vlad has, never mind half-ghosts. But they managed it, somehow, and yet Vlad never did!”

Her fingers dug into Danny’s hand, and he used his other to pat it. “Yeah, he’s… Well, he’s a lot of things, and most of them aren’t great.”

This startled a laugh out of her, and she loosened her death grip on Danny’s hand again. “Yeah, you’ve got that right.” Then she groaned, using her free hand to wipe her eyes. “Ugh, I can’t believe I ever saw that man as a father. What a nut.”

“No kidding.” Danny let go of her hand, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulder, comfortingly. “Here, hey, it’s okay. Do you know how long he’s been trying to clone me?”

She sniffed, curling a little further into his side. “Not long, I think. I heard him mutter, sometimes, about how aggravating it was to see you get along with your family. Or your dad, at least. That things were going too well, and now he had no chance to draw you to his side.”

“That makes sense, yeah.” He hummed, listening to how his core hummed along. It was a soothing sound, something that Frostbite had told him about when he admitted that he didn’t actually know all that much about ghost cores. A sign of happiness, of content. Rarely heard by anyone not considered close family.

Really, it was just that final bit of confirmation that Danielle really was his family. And never mind that she was his clone, that she was related to him because she was made from his DNA. She was family. A little sister.

“Do you have somewhere you can go?” he asked her, knowing that she had calmed down. She was pressed against his chest; whether she knew what the core hum meant or not, it had clearly done its job of soothing her. “Somewhere that isn’t Vlad’s place? Preferably somewhere were he can’t find you to hurt you?”

“No.” She sniffled, wiping her hands over her eyes again. “This is the first time I even left Vlad’s house.”

He hummed an acknowledgment. There weren’t a lot of options, honestly. He could bring her to the Ghost Zone, introduce her to his allies, but there was only so much they could do for her. She was part human, and she deserved to live like that, too.

“So… I have an idea. I’m not saying that it’s a great one, but they’ll be happy to take you in, and I promise you that it’ll be a great place.”

“What– What would that even be?” she asked, tone subdued. “How can it be a great place and a bad idea at the same time?”

Danny snorted, patting her back. “Well, I was thinking of my parents. Everybody there is cool with ghosts, obviously, I can keep an eye on you, if you need more Ecto-Dejecto they can make more, and Vlad probably won’t mess with you if you’re close to all of us Fentons. Plus you’re technically already part of the family, anyway.”

“I thought your parents didn’t know about you being Phantom?” She pulled away from him a little, eyes still watery but bright and curious. “Or do you plan to somehow introduce me in human form and have me keep being half-ghost a secret, too?”

“Worst case scenario I’ll tell them about me being Phantom, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary.” He shrugged at her incredulous look. “Look, here’s what I was thinking, right? We go in our ghost forms. I’ll introduce you as my clone, which Plasmius made, except he couldn’t get a stable one. So he decided to mix in some human DNA, from a totally unknown source, and tah-dah! Stable clone, except she’s part ghost and part human!”

Danielle made a face. “What, and we’ll just imply that the human DNA is from Danny Fenton, and not expect them to figure that out?”

“Eh.” He waved a hand, dismissively. “Like I said, if they do figure it out then that’s okay. But I think we can pull it off.”

She shook her head, then nodded. “If you say so. And the reason why Phantom is leaving his clone at the Fentons is because, what, I’m part human so I should live with humans?”

“Well, yeah. All my other allies are ghosts, except the Red Huntress but our alliance is brand new so that doesn’t count. And obviously you, as a human being, should live with people who understand your needs better.” He shrugged. “Seriously, Danielle, don’t worry about it. I promise that it’ll be fine, and they’ll be really encouraging about it. I’m pretty sure that the only reason why they haven’t adopted me yet is because they’re trying to get me to tell my actual parents that I’m Phantom, first.”

Danielle made a complicated face. “Yeah, alright, I guess I can’t argue with that. But if they figure it out it’ll be your own fault.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, lil sis.” He nudged her with his shoulder, playfully. “Come on, let’s start heading back. How does your core feel?”

“Fine. Definitely better.” She floated along, quiet for a moment. Then, “Why’d you call me that? Little sister, I mean. I’m just a clone.”

“You’re family, Danielle.” He turned over so he could look at her properly. “I don’t care that you were made from my DNA instead of my parents’. And I can assure you that my parents will take you in as their kid, too. Even if, heavens forbid, they won’t, that doesn’t change that. You’re family, okay?”

She blinked, quickly, wiping a hand past her suspiciously wet eyes. Then suddenly she shot forward, wrapping her arms around Danny’s chest and burrowing her head in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, barely audible. “Thank you.”

He laid a hand on her back, gently pressing her closer. “Of course. Just because your origin was bad doesn’t mean that you are. You couldn’t help any of that.”

Danielle nodded, a few stray hairs tickling Danny’s cheek as she did so. Then she pulled her head away from him so they could see each other properly, and said, “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he replied with a laugh, gesturing at her with his free hand. “You ready to head home?”

She brightened even further, her glow spread wide. “Absolutely.”

They separated, continuing their flight back to the house. It wasn’t far, and they had barely progressed when Danielle said, suddenly, “And I was thinking… about a nickname? Danielle is kind of a mouthful, y’know, and it’s what Vlad always called me.”

“Did you have one in mind?”

“It might be stupid, but…” She laughed, facing him with a grin. “I was thinking about Dani, maybe? With an I.”

“Ah yes, the Fenton children. Jazz, Danny, Dani, and Phantom.” He chuckled, patting her on the back. “Yeah, sure, why not. If that’s what you like, Dani, you go with it.”

Her face lit up even further, and she nodded. “Yeah, I do like it. That’s what I’m going with. Dani.”

Before he could reply, the bright sign of FentonWorks came into sight. They paused, hovering close to it.

“Ready to meet your family, Dani?” Danny asked, turning to face her.

With an elated smile she nodded. “Born ready.”

#danny phantom #phanfic #dp fanfic #fanfiction #dp fanfiction #phanfiction #danny fenton #valerie gray #dani phantom #dark writes #what a nice surprise #clone fluff! clone fluff! clone fluff!

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

Text

The Great Ex-Aid Rewatch: Ex-Aid & Ghost, part 04

Last time? My ears were grievously injured by way of four transformations running at once. This time?

FIGHT TIME.

The five riders and bugsters stand opposite from each other in the abandoned office, before Hatena – the only proper bugster here – warps the three scientists and legend riders off into game stages, leaving Ex-Aid, Ghost, Zaizen, and Hatena behind.

LETS DO THIS!

–––

At CR, Akari wakes up, and insists on going to see Takeru. To be fair, when she asked where he was, Onari said that ‘he’ll be back soon, don’t worry’, which… well. It’s Takeru. She knows that means he’s gone off to do something reckless. Again.

After a moment, Poppy gives in, and supports Akari as they head out. When the door opens, Makoto and Alain are standing there. How they knew where the CR basement was is beyond me, but whatever. I’m fairly certain that, given how poorly off they were last night, they are not supposed to have left their room.

Also, Makoto needs to wear that jacket less often, because the high collar doesn’t do him any favors. A plain black t-shirt is a much better look for him, if you ask me.

The entire group heads out.

––– –––

MAJI KA? MAJI DE! MAJIDA! SHOWTIME!

Kamen Rider Wizard faces off against a group of Dragon Knight Hunter mooks, cycling through his four base forms – Flame, Water, Hurricane, and Land.

The only form that gets to show off any of its elemental skills is Hurricane, though. Flame is basically just his gun, which he isn’t even using; Water requires the Liquid ring to show it’s power; and Land is a physical offensive/defensive boost. Hurricane, however, gives him cyclone-powered flight, which Haruto briefly uses here.

Once he’s taken out the mooks – albeit with no defeat explosions in sight – Doral steps forward, saying that it’s time they settle this. They trade punches, as the tv-size cut of “Life is SHOW TIME” ends, transitioning to

–––

DON’T SAY NO! JUST LIVE MORE!

Kamen Rider Gaim faces off against a group of Giri Giri Chambara mooks, cycling through his base-level power ups – Orange, Pineapple, Strawberry, and Banana. He gets to show off their special weapons – Orange’s sword, Pineapple’s flail, Strawberry’s kunai projections, and Banana’s spear.

Okay, so Banana is technically supposed to be KAITO’S base form, and Kouta used it literally twice before this – once in the show, and then once in the Gaim summer movie. But since Kouta actually uses the spear like a spear, and his other ‘base level’ form is the Watermelon mecha, I think we can allow this.

Once he’s taken out the mooks – with plenty of defeat explosions in sight – Giril steps forward. He sends out a banana-shaped energy attack (Gaim had very weird attacks) which she slices through while charging, as the tv-size cut of “JUST LIVE MORE” ends, transitioning to

–––

(kickass instrumentals) Ameagari Break Cloud sukima-kara

(Okay, yeah, Surprise Drive doesn’t quite fit the pattern of the openings starting off with strong lyrics, does it?)

Kamen Rider Drive faces off against a group of Gekitotsu Robot mooks, cycling through his first few forms – Type Speed with Max Flare, Type Technic with Rumble Dump, and Type Technic with Road Winter. The Steering Sword makes an appearance before Type Speed gets upgraded to have literal fire powers. Technic gets in a crushing shoulder-check to show off its physical strength before it gets upgraded with a drill. Technic gets to show off the sharpshooting abilities with the Door Gun before… hnnnnn… before he gets bascially a giant fan on his chest that freezes the enemies. Like, okay, Road Winter has a cool ability, but it looks so dumb in use.

Once he’s taken out the mooks – all of whom were frozen and shattered – Robol shows up, falling out of the sky to attack, as the tv-size cut of “SURPRISE DRIVE” ends.

––– –––

Ex-Aid versus Zaizen, and Ghost versus Hatena.

This fight is going to be… tricky to detail, to say the least. It switches between sides quite a bit, so I’m going to divide the details between them. If tumblr still let us use the horizontal divider, I’d have a lot less trouble, because I could have used that between full scenes, and the series of dashes here. But noooo. No, I’m using two sets of dashes between full sections, and single sets for this. (sigh.)

–––

Ex-Aid manages to get a few hits with his Gashacon Hammer, but they don’t really do much, before Zaizen (technically ‘Genomes’ right now, because he’s in full bugster mode, but I don’t really think it matters that much for him) delivers a painful kick that sends Ex-Aid backward.

–––

Ghost is up against Hatena. He is not doing well.

He gets pushed into a concrete wall – denting it – by Hatena using his staff as a blunt object, before getting flung through a corrugated steel wall some distance away. He leaps out of that, transitioning from base ‘Ore’ mode to Musashi, which lets him get a few slashes in. But those are deflected, and he’s sent flying through… hopefully the same concrete wall as before.

I say hopefully, because that would mean it was already weakened from the impact before, and that he didn’t whole-ass crash through an intact wall.

Being knocked out of Musashi, he switches to Edison, firing off an electrically charged attack from his gun… which gets basically deflected via the ‘slice the shot in two’ method, exploding off to either side of Hatena, but leaving the bugster unharmed.

Unharmed, and laughing.

–––

Ex-Aid grapples with Zaizen for a bit, before backflipping away to upgrade to Gekitotsu Robots. Aside from Drago Knight Hunter Z, which he can not use on his own, this is the only upgrade Emu has right now. Fortunately, it gives him a robot-powered fist, and his punches are enough to stagger Zaizen backwards. Using a Flash energy item lets him blind Zaizen long enough to launch a Critical Strike finisher. Since he’s using Gekitotsu Robots, this takes the form of a literal rocket fist.

I may not like the design for the Gekitotsu Robots armor, but damn if it doesn’t have a cool attack.

Zaizen is knocked back, but is far from down. “Now… time to complete the operation of death!” He charges some sort of power, and fires an array of blue lasers.

Ex-Aid is blasted to the ground, and Emu lies there, groaning in pain.

–––

Ghost has managed to switch into Boost, but it doesn’t seem to have helped at all. Not by how his punches and kicks are still being deflected away by the significantly bulkier Hatena, and Ghost doesn’t even get to fire a shot with his second gun.

Takeru has two sword-guns, and this one has sunglasses. Ghost is a trip, weapons-wise.

Hatena shoots first, and the resulting explosion launches Ghost forward, breaking his transformation as he falls. Takeru hits the ground, rolling and clutching his Eyecon Driver G. It’s a struggle for Takeru to push himself to his feet, but he manages, slams the driver to his waist, and transforms into Grateful.

Skipping the direct conflict, Ghost goes straight for the finisher, launching himself up for a ‘Mega Omega Formation’ rider kick. Hatena responds by firing blasts up at him. The main one – shaped like a question mark – collides directly with the kick…

And knocks him out of the air. Ghost’s transformation breaks very high in mid-air, and Takeru has a distance to fall to the ground.

He’s Takeru when he hits the ground, rolling backwards head over feet, and it’s an even greater struggle to push himself upright this time, as he holds the Infinite Eyecon. “Not yet…”

He stumbles as he pushes the button to activate the eyecon. This is a one handed activation, and he’s losing balance.

Every movement sounds like it hurts, with the little grunts of exertion when he activates his driver. When he steps forward as Ghost. When he activates the finisher.

As Hatena says, he is very persistent.

The Enjoyment Strike finisher is met with an attack of Hatena’s own, resulting in a beam-o-war. A very brief one, though. Hatena’s attack pushes through, possibly pushing Ghost’s finisher with it, and Kamen Rider Ghost has his Infinite transformation shattered.

Glaring daggers at the laughing Hatena, Takeru staggers forward, step by painful step. We see quick cuts of his friends as they make their way here while he speaks. “I’ll protect Akari…” (Akari being supported by Poppy) “and the human world…” (wider shot, with Akari and Poppy being joined by Alain with Onari and one of the monk trainees, and Makoto with Kanon and the other monk.) “I’ll fight to protect them all!”

There’s the sound of a heartbeat as Takeru clutches at his chest, in pain and determination.

Hatena fires an attack meant to finish the fight.

Right before it can connect with Takeru – there’s not enough time or distance for him to dodge – the Nobunaga eyecon pulls him inside.

Nobunaga – one of the legends that generally sticks with Makoto, mind you – says that Takerus resolve to keep fighting has inspired him, and it would be an honor to fight alongside him. The Nobunaga spirit sort of… merges with two others that are apparently also in there? Look, Ghost lore is weird, nobody really understands how these powers work, so this might as well happen.

He (they?!) release Takeru back into the wild, where he hurriedly grabs the upgraded eyecon as Hatenas attack connects.

Emu, watching – this has all clearly happened very quickly – yells for Takeru. As far as he can tell, Takeru’s just gone up in flames.

The fire and smoke clears, and Kamen Rider Ghost stands there, in his Tenkatoitsu Damashii form. This one draws power from Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Tokugawa Ieyasu.

As he starts fighting back against Hatena – properly fighting back, finally – B.A.T.T.L.E G.A.M.E starts playing, and I switch to the RTA subtitle track, because that one actually includes the lyrics in the corner.

The first volley of attacks is from his own sword in it’s double-ended form, all of which connect. Then he pulls out Specter and Necroms guns, and it’s just nothing but explosions as far as Hatena can see.

––– –––

Kamen Rider Wizard, in his Flame Dragon form, is doing damn well against Doral. He pulls out the Drago Timer, and goes into All Dragon mode, which lets him dive bomb Doral. Haruto gets wings in that form, in addition to the claws, tail, and fire. Area donut-lover gets to fly.

After landing, he pulls out a silver and diamond ring.

Infinity, Please!

With one Shining Strike axe-blow –

Game Clear!

Doral is defeated.

–––

Kamen Rider Gaim, in his Lemon Energy form, fires a volley of arrows at Giril, before he goes into Kachidoki Arms. After pair of attacks from his battle flags (Gaim had very weird attacks) and the DJ Gun, he pulls out a ‘key’.

Kiwami Arms!

With an attack from the combination of his sword and gun –

Game Clear!

Giril is defeated.

–––

Kamen Rider Drive, in Type Deat Heat, delivers some devastating fire punches to Robol. (I hate Dead Heat’s helmet so much… it’s just bad, guys.) He goes into Type Formula, and zooms past Robol, presumably hitting him as he goes. Not like we can see, we’re lucky to get a blue and yellow motion blur before he fires the Formula Cannon. After firing, he pulls out a minature version of his car – and also summons his actual car.

Type Tridoron!

With a powerful Rider Kick – and I feel the need to point out that Shinnosuke is basically wearing his actual car as armor right now, so there’s no need for majorly flashy effects for this attack –

Game Clear!

Robol is defeated.

–––

B.A.T.T.L.E G.A.M.E comes to an end, and I mourn the ending of such an awesome song as I switch back to the Excite sub track.

––– –––

Back at the warehouse.

Zaizen drags Emu up by the back of his shirt, before punching him in the stomach and holding him up by his hair. “To think that the high schooler from back then would become a Kamen Rider…”

Emu, of course, has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

Ghost – Takeru, now, since I don’t have to worry about form changing anymore – yells at Zaizen to stop, and rushes him. Zaizen responds by hurling Emu bodily away, so that he lands on his back after flying several meters. Takeru goes to fight Zaizen directly, and makes the mistake of grabbing his arm.

Tenkuji Takeru long since gained the ability to see into peoples souls, into their memories.

He did not, however, gain control over this ability.

–––

An operating room.

Zaizen, in medical scrubs, with decidedly non-standard equipment.

The subject of the ‘operation’, unconscious, with a helmet presumably monitoring his brain functions.

We can finally see his face.

Hojo Emu, age 18.

–––

“What – was the one you operated on six years ago – that was-?!”

If Zaizen had expressions in this form, he’d probably be smirking. “Oh, so you could read my memories, eh? That’s right. Hojo Emu was the first in the world to be infected with the bugster virus.” He turns to look at Emu, who’s lying on the ground, making pained noises, before turning back toward Takeru. “He’s Patient Zero for the game disease!”

Hatena knocks Takeru away, re-engaging him in battle, as Zaizen goes towards Emu, who is pushing himself to his feet. I’m not sure Emu even heard that last exchange between Takeru and Zaizen.

“I just don’t understand it… why go so far for one measly patient?” He keeps hitting Emu, tossing him back down to the ground.

“Because I know that when Tougo thinks about games…” Emu tackles Zaizen around the waist, but gets thrown back down again. He stands back up. “He smiles like he’s having the best time of his life!”

…I think Emu’s going to need to replace that coat. I don’t think that the dirt will come out, to say nothing of the bloodstains it keeps picking up whenever he gets thrown somewhere new.

But regardless of how trashed his outfit is, of how incredibly beaten up he is, Emu will do anything to make sure his patient can smile like that again.

Somehow, because who the hell knows how bugvisors are supposed to work, Tougo forces himself to at least semi appear from the one he’s trapped in, saying he’s sorry, he doesn’t deserve this kindness, he’ll do what he’s asked to from here on, but please, save him – he doesn’t want to be a monster!

Emu, who is far too nice, says that of course he will. Its his duty as a doctor, after all. Everything’s going to be fine.

Zaizen calls Tougo a disobedient rat, and pulls him fully back into the bugvisor.

He then proceeds to stalk over to Emu, and kick his legs out from under him, knocking him to the ground.

He stomps one foot onto Emu’s shoulder, and holds the other down with one hand, reaching into Emu’s coat pocket, taking out the Mighty Action X gashat.

“I’ll make you suffer… just as deeply as I have!” He activates the gashat, with Emu trying in vain to reach for it, before slamming it into Emu’s driver.

Then he pulls out the proto-gashat for Mighty Action X, activates it… and, laughing evilly, slams it into Emu’s driver.

A cloud of purple pixels appear from the belt, mostly off screen, but most of what we see is purple lines coursing along Emu’s face. (Wizard fans are not okay right now.) They look like circuitry, almost, flashing along him as he thrashes in pain.

“You can stay banished in the Game World for eternity!”

There’s more crying out in pain and thrashing, before Emu manages to glare at Zaizen, who’s been holding him down throughout this.

Emu’s voice takes on a dual tone – like there are two people speaking at once. One of them is decidedly not Emu… but it’s not who the ‘other option’ should be, either. I don’t think it is, anyway. “I’ll change Tougo’s fate…” The lines change from purple to orange on the right, and blue on the left. His voices take on a deep, growling tone, as his eyes glow. “…with my own hands!”

He blasts Zaizen off of him with a burst of orange and blue light, and sort of… pulls himself upright. Like a puppet, almost.

This is absolutely terrifying!

Knock knock, is there anyone home? BECAUSE EMU SURE ISN’T! Not with how he stares at the camera, his eyes glowing, lines etched into his face.

The two gashats rise up out of his driver, one glowing orange and the other glowing blue, before he snatches them out of the air as they fuse into one large gashat.

He triggers the button.

Mighty Brothers XX!

He smirks a little as the wind blows his hair back, but it’s gone when he actually transforms, just leaving his expression dull and vacant. His voice echos through the warehouse, toneless and ominous. “Transform.”

There’s no flair to the “level two” transformation, and he looks down as the single Pink Ex-Aid divides into two halves, and then reform into two Ex-Aids.

Zaizen’s reaction, “What just happened?!” pretty much matches that of everyone watching this for the first time, whether it be in theaters or even already having seen Mighty Brothers in show! THIS IS TERRIFYING!

“We’ll clear this with no continues.” Both Ex-Aids speak at once, still in an eerie monotone, moving in an exact mirror match to each other.

And I do mean mirror. This isn’t the ‘co-op play’ that Mighty Brothers will use in show. Every motion is one-to-one matched between them.

Takeru, back with Hatena, turns to see this, and basically decides that it must be fine, because at least Doctor Emu’s not screaming in pain anymore, and he’s… er, they’re kicking the bad guys ass. Not that he says that, of course, but you know. It’s the general sentiment.

Going back to his own personal battle, Takeru finally manages to get a proper, full finisher in on Hatena, using his Sunglasseslasher and Deep Specters Deep Slasher.

Game Clear!

The two Ex-Aids launch a finisher of their own, two charged Rider Kicks in their respective colors. Making and landing these kicks is the only time they don’t move simultaneously.

Zaizen is knocked down, finally, having dropped the bugvisor. Orange and blue arcs of electricity spark from him before he is engulfed in flames.

The Ex-Aid’s eyes are glowing as they pose in front of the explosion.

Game Clear!

–––

With Team Ghost (and special guest Poppy), Akari suddenly stops, and the bugster virus leaves her system.

–––

Tougo reforms out of being yellow specks of data (because this might as well happen), and Takeru goes to catch him as he falls, unconscious.

The two Ex-Aids… sort of nod, or make an affirming sound, before dissolving. LITERALLY disintegrating! Completely! Also, something interesting I never noticed before is that the orange one turns into orange dots of light, while the blue turns into squares – like, the border of a square, just the lines. There is no overlap in the shapes – both of them are exclusive. The lights spread out, before rapidly coalescing into pink boxes, that then become regular Ex-Aid.

Regular, pink, very definitely only one person in here Ex-Aid, who is very confused right now.

“Huh? What was I… just doing?”

“You don’t remember…? You just saved Tougo.”

Emu doesn’t remember the last part of this battle at all. I’m pretty sure he barely even remembers Takeru getting his new form. And Takeru’s not saying anything, because nope no nuh-uh, this is not his business, he’s not supposed to really interfere with the new guy, that was terrifying, and if he doesn’t remember, then that’s probably for the best!

–––

Ex-Aid and Ghost – both in their base forms now – set Tougo down outside the building as Drive, Gaim, and Wizard approach. They thank them, and the three Legend Riders say that it’s what they do – they’re all Kamen Riders. If they need help again, they’ll all be willing to fight together.

–––

Emu and Tougo are walking as Poppy catches up to them, and goes to support Tougo’s other side.

Uhhh… Poppy. I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure that Tougo was actually the one helping Emu walk. Any limping there was being kind of tired on Tougo’s part, and Emu being barely able to stand without the armor. Yes, Tougo’s arm was on top of Emu’s shoulders, but he was decidedly more upright than Emu, and it’s not a height thing.

Team Ghost rushes past them to Takeru. Everyone is so glad to see that the others are alright.

The sounds of a heart beating can be heard as Takeru takes a step forward–

and cuts off as he drops in slow motion.

Someone at Toei just loves seeing Takeru suffer. Probably the same one who has them keep putting Emu in situations where he’s grievously injured. This movie has both.

As Emu desperately tries to revive Takeru, the others are stunned into near silence. Akari’s approaching an emotional breakdown, and Onari tries to tell Emu to stop. They can’t do this again, they can’t go through all of this again, it’s not working, so please, that’s enough.

Emu doesn’t stop, refuses to, and Takeru begins breathing again.

Emu says that he couldn’t let Takeru die again, he’s a doctor, after all. Takeru thanks him, saying that he’ll take care of his life.

–––

We enter the ending credits, with “Hikari” playing.

Haruto sits on a rooftop, having one of his trademark plain sugar donuts. (We do not find out if he actually got to finish it for once.)

Shinnosuke gets a surprise baby shower from his coworkers. Literally everything is blue, much to his protests. He and Kiriko haven’t actually found out if they’re having a boy or a girl yet, come on, it’s too soon! One of them points out that he’s already got a name chosen, and he can’t find a response for that.

Kouta and Mai, seen from the back, are enjoying the scenery on their Helheim planet, because keeping the forest around was totally not a mistake. Not like they shouldn’t have, I don’t know, at least tried to eliminate said forest with their god powers? (Gaim was weird and Kouta’s a moron.)

Tougo actually interacts with his classmates for once, showing off his game in action, instead of ignoring them to work on it.

Alain, Makoto, and Kanon head back to the Ganma World, waving goodbye to the rest of team Ghost. Takeru and Akari smile at each other.

Hiiro has a slice of cake – one with oranges on it.

Taiga looks up at the hospital, and walks away. (It was nice while he was able to be back there – no, stop it, Hanaya, you’re done, you don’t need them…)

Kiriya lounges on a random roof, leaning against a wall. He puts on his sunglasses and smirks.

Poppy has apparently installed an emulator on her arcade console, because it’s supposed to be her apartment and she’s currently playing Pac-Man on it.

Emu tries to do his job as a pediatric intern, but the small child he’s with has other ideas, and runs off. Emu tries to pursue him, but trips over his own feet and goes flying.

The credits end…

–––

And we see Dan Kuroto’s desk, the proto-gashats and bugvisor safely back where they belong. He got some very valuable data from Zaizens actions.

Parad, holding a Pac-Man gashat, smiles. They’re getting closer to the day that their puzzle’s finally finished.

They both turn to look at a monitor, which has the start screen for Perfect Puzzle. (Parad’s smile drops once Kuroto has his back to him.)

See you next game.

––– –––

And that’s the Ex-Aid & Ghost film complete!

Most of the analysis stuff I could say, I’m pretty sure I already have said in the previous three segments.

The elephant in the room, of course, with regards to the early appearance of Mighty Brothers XX is ‘Was Parad There?’

In-universe and in real life, when this movie came out, nobody knew who Emu’s Bugster was – this was the first confirmation that he was infected. That there was some sort of foul play at hand in his ability to be Ex-Aid. Before, there had only been suspicions and hints.

But that second voice, right before Emu shoved Zaizen off of him… there was Emu, yes. But I’ve been going back and forth between that scene and the stinger, and I can not, for the life of me, tell if that was just an echo effect or if they actually laid Parad’s voice over Emu’s.

It’s definitely just Emu when he’s transformed – “We’ll clear this with no continues” is two copies of his voice at the same time, with a slight echo in amidst the complete lack of emotion.

Parad might be here to help form the extra body, but… in practice, there’s nobody home right now.

Of course, to this day, we have no idea how Mighty Brothers usually works, since there was a point when Emu was using it against Parad regularly, so it couldn’t have been him forming the second half, but… it can also be used to split Para-DX from Perfect Knockout into two copies of himself, one each in Perfect Puzzle and Knock Out Fighter…

So! This! Is a good movie! I really like it! Raises a few questions, like how does the Mighty Brothers gashat work usually, and how do Eyecons work, but it’s not like those are new!

SEE YOU NEXT GAME!

(Or next Zi-O. Hopefully we get subs for 48 soon, I’d like to be able to actually go on tumblr…)

#kamen rider ex aid #kamen rider ghost #sailorcressy says #i should come up with a liveblog tag #*terrified screeching re mighty brothers*

8 notes · View notes

glitchtrapfan · 5 years

Text

Your still beautiful

Today was special day for Inkwell as we were having another party.

Why do we always have a party every week.

I was writing in my notebook thinking of ideas for a story when T bone came in.

“Hey Specter you going to that party everybody else is going to.”

“No because every party I go to it dose not end well for me.”

“I’m sorry that you can’t get along with the people around here.”

It’s ok I got friends who care about me so I don’t need anymore friends.

“Well if you say so I’m off to bed night Specter.”

“Night dad.”

“Don’t call me dad.”

“Sorry mister conductor.”

Oh so your calling me different names now here’s one,my son.

I turn around to see a smug look on his face.

“Thanks that was a good one.”

“See you tomorrow.” T bone says as he leaves to go sleep.

I continue to write in my notebook.

Now thinking about it I’m thinking about getting a journal.

I was at the party with Nathan who only came because of me.

The party was held outside of Isle 2 their the carnival.

“Then I said that she was crazy for thinking I would help her with here dress like I have no time to help with dress up.” Von bon says holding a wine cup in her right hand.

A fly then lands on her forehead.

“Alright Grim you know what to do hit it with your tail but also not hit me.” She says like the end of the world was going to happen if they don’t do this correctly.

Grim swings it’s tail,the fly leaves right as Von bon gets hit in the face.

“Did you...get it?”

“No sorry Bon.”

“It’s fine just take me home I need a makeover.”

I look for Hilda who was working on one of her invention.

“Hey Hilda.”

“Hey how’s the party going.”

“Fine but not really fun.”

“Yeah I know these party are always not a fun time.”

“Specter seems to not have come.”

“The party’s from last time must have gotten to him so now he hates party’s.”

“Well I’m bored so I’m going to go see Specter.”

“Alright see you tomorrow when I show you my new invention.”

“It looks like a coffee machine.”

“Very funny Cagney,just go already.”

I leave to had to my house to get some playing cards I have to me and him can play together when I see a shadow.

The shadow came from Nathan who was completely drunk.

“Where are.. you going babe.” He says sounding like he’s trying to get me in the mood for so time alone.

“I’m off to go see Specter.”

“Why do you like him so much he’s just some guy who knows no better.”

“Because he’s actually very nice and dose not drink his sorrows away which I’m surprise you have.”

“Listen here bitch your not going to your...friends place will are staying here and that’s final.”

“Leave me alone Nathan I going to Specter and you can’t stop me while your drunk.”

I move past him and had outside but he pulls my left arm and throw’s me back inside.

“So you want to be some big guy now that I’m drunk well I’ll show you who’s the boss around here.” He says as he closes the front door leaving the room in darkness.

I decided to head to Cagney’s place since he might have left the party out of boredom.

I see Nathan outside and I stop and hide behind some bushes.

“Something is not right here.” I say to myself.

He leaves the front door heading to somewhere giving me the chance to head in.

I notice the door was lock but I just phase trough the door.

It was pitch black so I turn on the light and when light filled the room I saw Cagney on the floor facing backwards.

I see that one of his petals were missing.

I went over to him and turn him around to see if he was alive when I saw something that made my body freeze.

Cagney was missing a eye.

You remember when Rocksville removed Cagney’s eyes well the difference between then and now was that Rocksville was some evil guy,Nathan was his god damn boyfriend.

How can you do that to your own boyfriend.

I check his pulse and find it still beating,I side in relief.

I bring him to the hospital where they check if anything else was wrong.

His arm was broken and his eye was gone,that was it.

I stayed there until he started to wake up.

“Cagney you alright.”

“Where am I?”

“Your in the hospital,Nathan mess you up pretty bad.”

He checks his eye to see it was missing.

“I know this might sound like this is coming from nowhere but do you think I’m ugly.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Nathan never said I was pretty like ever and i thought that was suppose to be the main thing about a flower being pretty.”

“Now I look horrible one of my petals are gone,I have a broken arm and I’m missing a eye,I look so great am I right.” He says angry.

I go over to him and lay right next to him,Then I grab his face and look at him.

“Listen I don’t if you were missing all your petals your still the most beautiful person I ment.”

“Who could you say that.”

“Because I’ve been friends with you for the longest time so I know that if you did look completely different I’ll still know it’s you.”

“You sound so dumb when you say it like that.”

“In short if you look different I would still find you beautiful.”

“So If I was cover in guts and blood would you still think I’m beautiful.”

“Sure but that would never happen.”

“Your so stupid sometimes you know.”

“I know,hey you want my eye for that one socket.”

“Sure.”

I put my eye into his eye socket and it gose right in.

“Never thought of having this again.”

“Yeah,I don’t know what will happen to Nathan.”

“He will get away with it since his mother is rich.”

“You want me to sleep with you.”

“Sure I would like that.”

We both sleep together on the hospital bed his petals on my face.

They smell quite nice.

Sorry for the title sounding similar to this other ghostblossom fanfic on tumblr. I hope you all have a spooky day. Specter it’s not that time of year yet. It’s a joke Cagney.

#blind specter #cagney carnation #ghostblossom #hilda berg #nathan nightshade #von bon bon #grim matchstick #story

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ohnoboho · 6 years

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ghosts in the flesh 1 (let’s meet our lovely contestants)

Dear reader, welcome to part one of my newest punk!Sanders multi-part fiction. A few of you voted for it, so here it is! @asofterfan‘s fantastic punk!Sanders Sides boys are going to go ghost hunting, eventually. For now, they are just going to be sassy at lunch (also a little glimpse of what’s to come for poor Virgil). It’s been a struggle to say the least with this, but I hope you will enjoy.

much love, boho

Virgil watched the beam of the flashlight twist and spiral lazily as it fell through the air below him. The light swept over the decrepit walls of the shaft, deceptively slow. Only the deafening rush of air by his ears gave away how fast he was really falling. And something else, a voice hazy between the wind and his own blood pounding noisily in his throat he couldn’t quite make out.

Below him, the flashlight finally made contact with the floor, the beam of light violently flailing as it bounced and rolled around the debris. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and let the terror run swift and frigid through his veins; one raw, guttural shout echoed off the metal walls before the ground rushed to meet him. He knew he was going to regret going that night.

Two weeks prior...

It had started off much the same as any of their other adventures, with a friendly argument.

An offhand comment during lunch hour from a passing student calling Roman a ‘banshee’ for his excessive wailing at the tragedy of dropping his bag of chips sparked it really. After the soda can Virgil had hucked made contact with the back of the offending student’s head and sent the group scurrying off, the punk grumbled something under his breath.

“What was that, Virge?” Patton looked up from his backpack. He tossed Roman a spare bag of cheez-its; the other boy caught it with a thrilled gasp.

“He was just stating that it’s incorrect to call Roman a banshee, because he’s not female. The term banshee translates literally to ‘fairy woman’ and he is neither of those things. Although….” Logan glanced up from the homework he had been working on with a smirk, locking eyes with the other boy. It took only a moment for Roman to catch on to the joke. The two actually laughed together.

“Roman would be a specter or a wraith.” Virgil continued, sliding back into his seat after retrieving the empty can. “I mean really, if he were anything, Roman would be an incubus. A very confused incubus, who’s shit at his job.” Patton and Roman exchanged puzzled glaces as Logan and Virgil elbowed each other cheekily.

“I don’t know what the hell that means, but since you villians seem to find it oh-so amusing, I’m guessing I should be offended.” The steampunk pouted as best he could between fistfulls of cheez-its.

Patton leaned forwards and rested his chin in his hands. “Gosh, Virgil, sounds like you know a lot about spirits and stuff! What would I be?” Virgil had to stop himself from laughing at the juxtaposition of the pastel punk’s very serious expression with his delicate sipping on a juice box.

“I think you’d probably be a brownie.” The punk fiddled with his hoodie string as he spoke, shifting uncomfortably as his stomach let out an audible growl.

“oH MY-”

“He’s not referring to the fuckin’ baked good, Patton.” Logan cut off the boy’s cheery giggles, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Brownie used here refers to a type of house gremlin.”

“Gremlins?” Patton cocked his head with a frown. Without looking, he plunged a hand into his backpack again and fished around. “Aren’t they usually mean?”

“In some cultures, but not brownies.” Virgil explained, absently accepting the orange Patton slid across the table to him. “They are little fae that pick a family they like and live in their house. They help out around the house with chores and shit and the family leaves them treats and toys to say thanks.” The dark boy kept his eyes on the orange as he carefully pulled at the peel and shrugged casually. “Seemed like a good fit to me.”

The pastel boy cooed, clapping his hand together excitedly. “Awwww, I love them!” Tucked under his hood and his bangs, a small smile crept across Virgil’s face.

Roman finished shaking the last crumbs from the cheez-it bag into his mouth, before tossing it aside. “Well, aren’t you just a regular Necro-NERD-icon! I mean, is anyone really surprised that Sabrina the Emo Witch here knows so much about ghosts though?” Virgil only stuck his tongue out in response.

Logan offered an explanation distractedly as he scribbled away at the margins of his notes. “When we were kids, we used to go ‘ghost hunting’ around town quite often. To be honest, it was always less about the ghost hunting and more about creatively trespassing into ruined buildings.” Virgil munched on an orange slice thoughtfully and gave a hint of a smile at the precious memories of the little delinquent children they were.

“Woooow! Didja ever contact any ghosts?” Patton gasped eagerly.

“What? No, of course not!” Logan scoffed, tapping his pen sharply on his glasses frame. “Paranormal and supernatural creatures aren’t real, Patton. Although, it did take me quite a while to convince this idiot of that.” He jostled the boy next to him with his elbow and received a sound smack to his shoulder in return.

“You didn't convince me of anything, ass. I just stopped arguing with you.” Virgil grumbled sarcastically, flicking a pip directly at Logan’s glasses. It bounced off with a ‘plink’ as Logan started to squawk angrily.

“That’s just ridiculous! It's an absolute fact that ghosts aren't real and you know that, because there is no way that my best friend is as fucking dim as Dumb and Dumber over there.” Logan pointed sharply at the two punks across from table who froze in place right in the middle of Patton attempting to spit some juice from his straw into Roman’s open mouth.

“Excuse me!?” The steampunk sputtered, slapping his hands down on the table. “First, Specs, how dare you? Puff and I are creative geniuses.” The smaller boy echoed his assertion with a small 'yeah!’. “And second, Nerd, how dare you? You assume that I believe in the supernatural? Why? Because I have a deep appreciation for fairytales? Because I happen to have an undying love for Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride? Everyone knows the ghosts are projections, Logan! Another fabulously clever way that Disney’s magic comes to life for little princes and princesses and other young royalty! ” Roman gestured about wildly as he ranted. His voice boomed through the courtyard where they sat as his armful of bangles rang noisily. The other students groups perked their heads up at the sounds of a possible fight, but quickly went back to their lunches as they realized it was just Roman.

Logan was taken aback for a moment before he leaned in with a raised eyebrow. “Wait, you don’t-”

He was cut off by a whine from Patton. “Roman?! You don't believe in ghosts? How un-BOO-lievable!” The pastel punk pressed his palms to his chest, miming being shot through the heart.

“I believe in using them as a clever literary device to force a character to confront their baggage from the past.” Roman said with a chuckle, reaching over to ruffle his friend’s colorful curls. “But no, Patton, ghosts and goblins and demons, they’re not real. They’re just fantastic stories!”

Logan blinked rapidly, removing and replacing his glasses a few times. “I’m agreeing with Roman? About ghosts?” His voice was distant and quiet.

“But you can’t know that for sure…” Virgil spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, I don't know if I believe in supernatural shit, but there is always the possibility…”

“What?!” Logan balked, dropping his pen with a clatter. Suddenly his closest friend seemed to sprout another head. Another head that was spouting nonsense.

“Yeah!” Patton jumped in, nodding vigorously. “Virgil’s right! You can’t be so sure they aren't real! What about all the people that have had ghost experiences?”

“Oh, Puff, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but people lie, cutie pie!” Roman laughed loudly, striking a dramatic pose. “It’s all just theater. You know, con people are some of the greatest actors! I can’t say I haven't given it some thought for myself. I could make millions!” The steampunk preened.

“I’m agreeing with Roman….” Logan repeated like he was practicing words from a different language, trying to decipher the meaning. The other boys ignored him, intent on their conversation.

“Not everyone is a big fucking fraud, like you, Roman.” Virgil gruffed. He picked at his nail polish, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “And not everything can be explained away, so, fuck it, maybe it's worth it for people to study ghosts and stuff. Someone could find some evidence that changes everything.”

“That’s right! People thought atoms were made out of pudding before they saw them in microscopes!” Patton asserted proudly, crossing his arms resolutely across his chest. Virgil and Roman shared a bewildered look, while Logan just slowly removed his glasses from his face and took a breath.

“PATTON-” Logan erupted loudly, before he was cut off again.

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have enough time for you to dive into whatever the hell that was, Lo. Let’s make a wager.” Roman leaned in over the table. “I’ll bet that we could go a full night in a ‘haunted’ location and not find a single piece of evidence of any of your ‘ghosty friends’.” He chuckled smugly and bounced his eyebrows at Virgil.

Patton lunged forwards to clasp one of Virgil’s hands in his own. “Ooh! The Boo-lievers (that’s us, Virge) versus The Debbie Doubters (that’s you two)!” The table nearly shook as he wriggled with excitement. Virgil held in a laugh behind his free hand.

“The Debbie Doubters?!” Roman scoffed, feigning great offense. “Logan, you will have to help me come up with a better team name than that if we are to win this. Here, I’ll start a list!”

Mercifully, the bell rang before Logan could full come back to his senses. Virgil, grateful for the distraction, tugged at Patton’s sweater to drag him along to their art class, while Logan waited impatiently for Roman to join him on their way to chemistry.

“This isn’t over, you dastardly Boo-lievers!” The steampunk yelled after the other two boys, giving Logan a hearty slap on his back. “The Science Studs will school you!”

“That is the stupidest fucking name...” Logan grumbled, shoving Roman roughly with his shoulder in the direction of their class.

“How about The Eclectic Skeptics?”

“No.”

“The Para-No-mal Punks?”

“Fuck no.”

to be continued...

Taglist:

@funsizedgremlin

#punk au #punk sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides #ghosts in the flesh #fanders

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crimsxnflxwerz · 6 years

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I would like that [shyan oneshot]

I would like that summary: the third person who knew Ryan was trans was the ghost that haunted his apartment. rating: teen+ fandom: buzzfeed unsolved pairing: ryan bergara/shane madej warnings: mentioned [murder/death/drug use/stalker/abuser] tags: ghost!shane, trans!ryan, ghost boyfriend, lol, weird universe notes: this is just a random little thing that wouldn’t leave my head no matter how hard i tried so I wrote it down to give myself some peace. have fun guys! this makes no sense, so fair warning!

Ryan could count the number of people who knew he was trans on one hand.

The first person that he counted would be himself, of course. He’d known ever since he’d heard the word. Whether it was from some botched argument about gender roles or a fresh criticism of Rocky Horror Picture Show, he couldn’t remember, but ever since that he’d been sure that was what he was.

The second person to find out was his brother, Jake. He’d always had a good relationship with his brother, and that didn’t change when Jake had grabbed Ryan’s laundry for him when he still lived at home and accidentally witnessed Ryan’s binder. Jake actually didn’t even realize what it was at first, thinking it some kind of cheap sports bra, and Ryan figured this accident was as good as any to use to come out to him.

It seems horrible to say, but his parents don’t make this list. Ryan moved out of his parents house after graduating college and getting a job with a company he interned with. When he was safely away with his parents, he legally changed his name, started T shots, and got top surgery. He still spoke to his parents, but it was usually over the phone, and if they noticed a change in his voice, they refused to mention it.

The third person who knew about it wasn’t even really a person at all, but rather it was the ghost that haunted his apartment.

Sounds crazy, and for a while, Ryan thought he was. He went to therapy briefly,not for any depression, just to help him through his transition. He figured maybe the stress was getting to him, or the T affected his brain somehow, but couldn’t find any definitive evidence that linked these things to what he was experiencing.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in ghosts, but rather, now that he was actually the subject of a haunting- he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

There were many things to tip him off that it was a ghost in his house and not just random happenstance that seemed paranormal. The first thing that happened was one night he had been drifting off while watching television on his couch. Behind him, on his kitchen counter, his microwave had randomly turned on. He jumped up and turned it off, before any damage was done, but afterwards just blankly stared at it. He had just gotten the thing, brand new. It shouldn’t have been acting up yet. He figured he’d check it out later.

The second thing happened after he adopted his first dog, a dachshund named Dori. The first few weeks with her were eventful, but more so in the new puppy way than haunting. After he potty trained her, he let her sleep with him at night, making sure to leave the door open in case she got hungry or needed to pee.

One night, he woke to find Dori softly growling, while still curled up next to him. He rubbed his eyes and tried to look over to the door she was facing to see if something was there, but he couldn’t see anything. All of a sudden, however, the door slammed shut, and he was snapped right out of his groggy state. He stared in horror and fear at his bedroom door. He didn’t go to sleep again that night.

The third thing to happen was something that continued to happen regularly after that. Ryan would wake up, go into the bathroom, and take a shower. After coming out, he noticed that there was some form of scribbling on his mirror, as if someone had run their fingers through the steam. It never really spelled anything, at most creating a dumb shape or something. At first, Ryan was scared of it, but then he figured it was harmless, so he took it as just a normal part of his life.

All these things eventually prompted him to do some research on his apartment. At first, he didn’t find anything, but that was just from surface level research. He began to get to know his neighbors, and they were fairly quick to open up. Apparently, a man had lived there before him. He had worked as a freelance website designer, but was also known to frequent the local bar and sing or do stand up comedy. His neighbors were deeply saddened when they found out that he had passed away.

His name had been Shane, and he overdosed on sleeping pills at 35. He had no family or friends close enough to him to confirm anything, but police ruled it a suicide.

After this, Ryan tried communicating with him. He purchased a Ouija board to ask him some questions, but he either must’ve done something wrong or Shane wasn’t too keen to cooperate, because nothing happened.

Ryan forgot about it for a while, forgot about him. After a few weeks of no more activity, something else happened. Ryan came home one day to find Dori cowering near the front door. Everything in his apartment was okay, but in his bathroom, the medicine cabinet looked like it just exploded. The door was handing off it’s hinges, bottles, pills, liquids, band-aids, everything scattered across the floor. Ryan was glad that Dori was too scared to eat anything, but he wondered what had caused the outburst.

He tried reaching out to Shane again, and this time, the Ouija board spelled out “pills” and then stopped working with him.

The interaction basically confirmed that the ghost in his apartment was, in fact, Shane. For whatever reason, he was unwilling to talk to him. Except to tell him his non-explanation as to why he destroyed his medicine cabinet.

He figured that before he left for work that day, he’d taken a pain killer to help his headache- something he did very rarely, since he didn’t normally get headaches.

Maybe it bothered Shane, considering how he died.

Anyways, Ryan knew that Shane knew that he was trans. That was his third person. How did he know this? Well, the scribbles on his mirror after each shower slowly became a dialogue between them. Shane would normally leave something for him to see (like “dog?”), and Ryan would reply with an answer (like “Dori”) and then leave the bathroom.

One day he stepped out of the shower to something quite comical. It was a drawing of him, albeit crude, and there was an arrow pointing to his crotch with a question mark at the end. Ryan rolled his eyes playfully, and wrote “I’m trans” on the mirror. The next thing that happened really spooked him.

Slowly, new words started forming in the condensation, “trans?” Ryan stared in disbelief for a moment, before he recovered and wrote, “female transitioned to male”.

There were no more responses after that, but Shane didn’t go away.

Through his time living there, he began to warm up to Shane. The fact that he was regularly interacting with a spirit was wild enough, but that spirit knew and understood that he was trans as well was even more outlandish. He couldn’t imagine telling anyone about it. This would be his secret- but he was fine with that- he was used to keeping secrets.

Sometimes he would wake up to his coffee already made, or the news on. One time he woke up to find that Shane had literally picked out his clothes for the day.

Ryan began to get more and more curious about the specter living with him. He asked around and found out Shane’s last name, and scoured the web for any information about the man. He even frequented the bar that Shane had gone to in his life to perform stand up. Some people knew Ryan as the guy who moved into Shane’s old apartment, and they were pretty willing to share stories about the dude. Apparently he had lots of friends.

So why did he kill himself? Why did he overdose on those sleeping pills? Was it an accident? Ryan realized that he was being nosy, but he had to know. It was killing him to not know.

Maybe he was being too invasive, since not long after he started researching and compiling information, things started happening in his apartment. He’d get out of the shower to the word “no” written all over the mirror. He’d come back to his apartment, only to find his lights flickering or his fridge door opening and closing. Sometimes, he found Dori growling and barking at empty corners, and random spots in his apartment freezing cold.

Was Shane angry that he was looking?

Ryan set up some candles to try out the Ouija board again, but each time he lit one, he would go on to the next to find the first one had already gone out. He tried several times, the candles getting put out each time, before he gave up. He cursed at the room.

“You don’t want to talk to me? Fine! Fuck you!” he shouted, making Dori whimper next to him.

That night he dreamed of a tall, lanky figure with soft features, and messy hair. He had warm, brown eyes- calloused hands- rough five o-clock shadow. The figure in his dream slipped into bed next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. He felt warm as he slept. When he woke, the space next to him was still warm like someone had slept there. It couldn’t have been Dori, since she always slept at his feet.

So maybe Ryan had developed a little bit of a crush.

Even though it was impossible. How could he have a crush on a ghost? Though, the ghost knew more about him than anyone else in his life. Shane knew how Ryan liked his coffee, he knew that while Ryan found it hard to wake up early, he enjoyed the soft silence before dawn. Shane knew that he sang pop songs in the shower, and that he preferred shampoo that smelled like lilacs, and sometimes when he was cooking he did a little dance while he waited for something from the oven.

And Shane knew that he was trans, and he respected that.

Not that he’s sure what Shane would or could do if he didn’t respect that. He was a ghost after all.

When he came home from work a few days later, he found something tied onto Dori’s collar. It was a little note. He opened it. It read: “talk ?” in a messy scrawl he recognized from the many conversations on his bathroom mirror he had.

He smiled and brought out the candles and Ouija board and got everything ready. He opened a channel and put his hands lightly on the planchette. He moved the object over Hello to welcome Shane, and then let it move freely.

“Sorry,” Shane spelled out. “End like me.”

“Were you afraid I’d end up like you?” Ryan asked. He was sort of confused, because he wasn’t really depressed or anything. Ever since he moved out of his parents house, he felt the stress of hiding his identity wear off. After top surgery, he felt even better. The only thing stressing him out right now was Shane.

The planchette moved to the yes on the board. Ryan shook his head.

“I’m fine, Shane,” he reassured him. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Not depressed.” Shane spelled out. Ryan paused for a moment. He wasn’t really sure what he meant by that. Did he mean to say that he knew Ryan wasn’t depressed- or had he not been depressed? Did that mean that what happened to him wasn’t a suicide?

“Did...Did you...” Ryan started, hesitating. “Did you kill yourself?”

There was along, silent moment where the planchette didn’t move at all. Then it slowly moved to the no in the corner. Ryan felt like his heart had stopped. It had been the usual story, the funny guy with no family killed himself in his apartment alone one night. He hadn’t really found out anything about the cops doing any blood tests or anything- only an empty pill bottle on the bedside table. He figured that kind of thing wouldn’t have been released anyways, but maybe it was never done. Maybe they saw this lonely, dead man and figured it was a suicide.

Was Shane still here because he had been given no justice in death?

“What happened to you?” Ryan asked, even though he knew the ghost wouldn’t be able to give him any long answers. He stayed quiet, however. The planchette remained still for a moment longer, before Ryan’s laptop that had been sitting on the coffee table near the couch flew open and turned on. Things were being typed into the search bar, and eventually a social media account was brought up. It was a dating website profile. Ryan let go of the planchette and moved over to look at it closer.

Shane Madej. Age, 35. Male. Hey, my name is Shane. I’m really just looking for a chill relationship with someone I have some stuff in common with. I love cartoons and video games, so I’m kinda nerdy, but I’m not opposed to a night on the town, or a romantic dinner and movie. I’m obsessed with popcorn, and just a foodie in general. If interested, please hit me up, maybe we could meet.

There were lots of comments and likes on his profile, but they were all from a long time ago- a few years in fact. It looked like the account had been inactive for at least a year before Shane had passed away. The most recent comments, however- just weeks before Shane had died, were the most disturbing. They were from a man named Zach Smith, a white man with dark hair who looked to be in his forties.

Zach Smith Hey babe, want to catch a drink with ol Zach-y sometime? I’ll make it worth your while.

Zach Smith Hey, answer me sweetheart, or you’ll regret it, I promise.

Zach Smith Oh darling, I’m obsessed with you. I know where you live, I saw you park outside your apartment today and I almost just went up and grabbed you.

The comments went on, but Ryan couldn’t stomach them any longer. Ryan looked back at the planchette that started moving on it’s own. It spelled out found me and hurt and drugs. Ryan felt his stomach flip as he glanced between the Ouija board and the dating website. He clicked over to Zach Smith’s profile, and immediately saw that it was a fake account with a false name. He turned back to the board again and saw that Shane was spelling something else out.

“Hate that they think I wanted to die,” he spelled out. “afraid of drugs afraid for you.”

“Why are you afraid for me?” Ryan asked.

“Trans boy,” he spelled out. Ryan felt a little cold at the explanation. He sighed.

“Just because I’m a trans boy?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

“I was gay.” the planchette spelled. Ryan let out a soft ‘oh’ upon realizing the connection. His killer had been preying on gay men looking for relationships online, and that was how he’d found Shane in the first place.

Ryan wondered if he should turn over this information to the police. But, It wasn’t as if Shane’s case was any kind of mystery to them. He knew the dark truth, but no one else did.

“Is there anyone you want me to tell?” he asked Shane. The planchette didn’t move. Nothing moved. Dori started barking, but after Ryan reached out and pulled the puppy into his lap, the candles were blown out. He figured this session was over. Maybe Shane could only speak for so long before he got tired.

Either way, a lot of information had been exchanged today.

That night, when Ryan slipped into bed, he waited for the dip in his mattress and the warm arms around his waist to fall asleep. Peaking over his shoulder, he could just make out the angle of a broad shoulder, and he felt safe.

A week later, he came home to a note on his fridge. it read: nobody. He could tell it was written by Shane. At first, he wasn’t sure what it meant, then he remembered his question from the other night about telling people. Shane was killed, and he didn’t want anyone to know. Ryan wondered if Shane was estranged from his family because he was queer, too. He wondered if Shane just didn’t want to reopen old scars with new information about his death. Whatever the reason, it was Shane’s decision, so he respected it. It wasn’t like the police would believe him if he told him he could talk to Shane from beyond the grave or anything.

“I wish you weren’t dead, though,” Ryan said out loud to himself. “Although, if you never died, we never would have met.”

After the revelations, weeks went by without any communications from Shane. He attempted to talk to him several times, but after still only getting radio silence on his fifth attempt, he decided to stop trying. He knew Shane was still hanging around, he hadn’t moved on or anything yet, he just wasn’t talking to him. Ryan still felt the familiar presence join him for bed at night, and the blanket of security he always associated with Shane meandering about the house moving things around. He wondered why Shane wasn’t talking anymore, but he was okay with it.

He was starting to really settle into the neighborhood- gaining more and more friends- and he’d even invited his brother over to his apartment a few times. His job was the best thing ever, he had fun everyday, and worked with amazing people. Though, no matter how many people he met and became friends with, a little nagging voice in the back of his head would always remind him of Shane. He wondered how different the man would’ve been while he was alive. Ryan had heard plenty of funny or wild stories from everyone who had known Shane, but hearing a story and living one where two different things.

A year went by, and Ryan was finally looking like the kind of male he wanted to look like. He started working out to give his body a more defined shape- lifting, jogging, stuff like that. He wasn’t super obsessed with working out or anything, but he did enjoy it as just a little past time thing to stay in good health. He also loved checking out his own flexing in the mirror sometimes, although he would never admit it.

It was the one year anniversary of the first day Ryan had moved into his new apartment. Dori was bigger, and Ryan was thinking of getting another dachshund to keep her company (and just because he wanted another one). That day, he came home from work and popped himself some fresh popcorn, making more than he usually made just for an extra little treat. He plopped down to watch Netflix on his tv, when he heard something. It sounded like a shifting noise, like someone was shuffling around, and it was coming from his bedroom.

He put his popcorn down on the coffee table and grabbed a skateboard that he had resting up against his hall closet. He carefully approached his bedroom, seeing that the door was ajar. He crept up and paused at the door momentarily, taking a shaky breath in, before slamming the door open. Inside his bedroom, there was a tall, lanky man, back facing him. He was wearing a worn, jean jacket and black pants, but no shoes. His brown hair was shaved on the sides, long on top, and unkempt- some pieces sticking straight up dramatically.

As soon as he saw him, Ryan screamed. The man spun around, the motion almost comical, and he started screaming as well. Ryan, spooked, swung the skateboard at the stranger, hitting him so hard that it cracked. Although, he’d only managed to hit the length of the man’s arm, even though he was aiming for his head. He was too short.

The man started speaking, or rather, shouting.

“Wait! Wait!” he begged. “Wait a second! Ryan, wait a second!”

“How do you know my name?” Ryan demanded, dropping the skateboard, but not relaxing in the slightest. He looked as if he were about to bolt.

“It’s me-” he said. “It’s Shane. I’m Shane. You can see me now.”

“It’s-- It’s uh--” Ryan stuttered, still feeling shell shocked. He looked the man up and down. Now that his brain wasn’t in danger mode, he could tell that the man looked very familiar, similar to the man he’d seen in all the pictures. From the warm, brown eyes, to the worn jean jacket, to the unkempt hair and soft stubble framing his face. He was tall, and awkward, like he heard about.

But-- he was right there- he was standing right there and Ryan had hit him with a skateboard, not passed through him, actually hit him! This person was a solid, real human.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Ryan said bluntly. He didn’t mean to sound so rude, or cold, but he was confused. Wasn’t Shane dead? Hadn’t he been killed? Was his happy life just a dream? Was this a dream?

“Well,” Shane said, patting himself down. “I was dead. I might still be?”

Ryan felt some of the tension in him melt away. Just a tiny trickle, at the smile that pulled Shane’s face, and he sensed himself smiling back- if only just slightly. He shakily reached out a hand for Shane to touch, to see if he was really real- if he was really solid. Shane saw this, and reached out as well.

When their hands touched, Ryan felt it, and he was warm. The calloused pads of Shane’s fingers traced over the lines in Ryan’s hand, sending shivers all through him. He stared for a heartbeat or two at Shane, completely speechless.

“You’re warm...” he said. “You’re alive?”

Shane didn’t move or response to the question- as if this all was some kind of illusion- as if the wrong movement would shatter it all. Ryan payed that no mind, he had one thing in mind that he wanted to do.

He moved forward and wrapped his arms around Shane’s torso before the other man could protest. Ryan pressed his ear hard against the man’s chest and listened. Against his ear, he heard, without a doubt, a heartbeat. After a moment, he felt Shane’s awkward arms come down around him, and it was like all of those night they shared Ryan’s bed, but this time- Shane wasn’t cloaked in darkness. This time, it was real, and Ryan could hug him back.

“H-How?” Ryan asked softly, feeling a weird, overwhelming emotion bubble up in him. Confusion, sadness, happiness, and love.

“I don’t know,” he said. “One moment, I was about to toss around your pillows for something to do, the next moment, I could see my reflection in your mirror.”

“You were gonna mess up my bed?” Ryan laughed, but it sounded a little choked, as a few tears ran down his face.

Shane moved his hand to wipe away the tears.

“Yeah, I’m haunting you after all,” he said, although his voice was softer now, his arms pulling Ryan closer- tighter- “isn’t that what ghosts do?”

“I guess it is.” Ryan said, and closed his eyes. He felt safe. “But you’re not a ghost anymore. What are you gonna do now?”

“Idk,” he muttered. “become a human again?”

Ryan laughed, Shane joining in, too. “You can stay here if you’d like.”

Shane paused for a moment, before running his hand through Ryan’s hair. “I would like that. No- I would love it.”

-the end(?)-

#wow this garbage #amazing #shyan #skeptic believer #buzzfeed unsolved #idk #lol #random shit #my fic #my writing

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merelymedia · 6 years

Text

Back in Town Ch 6

I backtracked a teensy bit into last weeks chapter at the intro because I decided I wanted to extend the conversation we left off and I didn’t want to split it up. Sorry for the repetition.

Catch up with the previous chapter.

Or read from the beginning/leave me some love on AO3.

“Hello Harvey, if this is about last week’s session you asked to reschedule I was just about to call you,” Julie said from the other line.

“What? No, that’s not important,” Harvey’s voice was strained. Julie immediately knew he was distressed but said nothing, knowing he would continue. “Something is wrong with my head. I need you to fix this.”

“Harvey, you know that’s not how this works. Why don’t you tell me what happened just before you called?”

“Mike is here and he… I felt.. He’s…I’m not...” Harvey stuttered. Which is something Harvey Specter never did.

“Ah,” The therapist said lightly as she understood what was happening, “so you’ve come to that conclusion have you?”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” he spurted confused and angry, although he wasn’t sure who he was angry at.

“Harvey, tell me why you called,” she said her voice still calm.

Harvey was pacing across the balcony, feeling more agitated than he ever remembered being before half shouting, “Because I need you to tell me why the fuck I’m attracted to Mike goddamn Ross!”

“It’s obvious that this is upsetting you. Can you take a deep breath and tell me what aspect exactly has you riled up?”

Harvey did take a deep breath, but didn’t sound any less exasperated when he replied, “Because I like women. And because it’s Mike we’re talking about.”

“I appreciate that this is a really confusing thing to be happening, and it’s normal to be upset when something comes out of the blue like this that goes against how you’ve always seen yourself. But I do want to talk about the fact that this is Mike for a moment. We have talked a lot about Mike, and I know how important he always has been to you.

“This is the same Mike that you said was the first person who really understood your humor. The Mike who made your job enjoyable instead of just goals to check off. The Mike that taught you it was okay to care about people. The Mike that you said was the person you felt most yourself around. The Mike you would do anything to protect. The Mike that was the first person you were willing to put above yourself. The Mike that you were willing to quit your entire career for. The Mike that made you realize that it was worth lowering your walls.The Mike who believed you were a good person, and finally got you to believe it too. So yes, it is Mike we are talking about here.

“I know that in this day and age there is so much about sexuality and having names for everything. And for some people those labels are a very important part of their identity so that’s great. But the reality is that most of the time, we are just people who fall for other people; because of who they are. Sometimes gender is a part of that and sometimes it isn’t. It doesn’t say anything about who you are as a person.”

“But I’m..This was a mistake, just forget I said anything,” Harvey said shortly.

“Harvey,” Julie began, but was cut short when Harvey disconnected the call.

Harvey walked back through the apartment and rapped twice on the bathroom door, “Mike, you got pants on?” He got a mumbled response which he took as an affirmative, and went to help Mike out of the shower and into the bed. He wasn’t rough, but the tender gentleness from the shower was gone. Once Mike was under the covers he changed into a clean shirt and trousers and left the apartment with his mouth set in a straight line of determination.

The glow of streetlights lit the night as Harvey came up to the high end bar he hadn’t entered in years. Taking a few glances around the building he found the most attractive woman in the room, a blonde several years younger than him, smiling with a confidence that would intimidate many men. He had almost always preferred brunettes, but he was looking for something different and he wasn’t looking to waste any time. Taking the seat next to her at the bar, Harvey waved down the bartender,

“I’ll have your best Macallan, neat, and another of whatever this beautiful woman is drinking,” he said giving her what he considered to be his most charming one sided smile.

“A little presumptuous you don’t think, to assume I’m alone?” she said in a tone that said she didn’t at all mind.

“Well I don’t see you with anyone, which only leaves a few options. Either you were recently with someone and came to your senses and realized they weren’t good enough, they made the biggest mistake of their lives and let the best they would ever get get away, or you are with someone and he is dumb enough to think he can get here late, leaving a woman as gorgeous as you in a bar all alone. In which case he has no idea what he’s taking for granted.”

“And you think you’re different?”

“What I think, is that before I came in, you were in a room surrounded by men who don’t come close to measuring up to your standards, and they knew it.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s so that you and I are both 10s in a room full of 6s and 7s. Well realistically I’d give myself an 8... if it weren’t for the money. And us meeting here tonight is something I fully intend to take advantage of.”

“Hmm,” she looked him over considering, but only for a moment. Harvey briefly wondered if this had always been so easy, and if so what the point of it really was. “You intend to take advantage of it at your place or mine?” she practically purred. With the mention of returning to his place Harvey couldn’t help but think of Mike passed out in their bed. His bed he corrected to himself. Wanting the image out of his head he replied, “yours.”

Sitting in the back of the car, listening to the woman’s babbling as she placed her hand on his thigh Harvey tried to remember a time when this would have been thrilling. The woman was beautiful, and he was sure if he listened to her she would be charming, or passionate, or intelligent; but he wasn’t listening. Instead, he was wondering if Mike knew where the painkillers were kept, and thinking he should have left some water and tylenol by the bed in case he woke up. Harvey tried to convince himself he wanted to go home with this woman, to bring pleasure to both of them and move on with his life. To remind himself that he is the city’s greatest closer in more ways than one. But the determination that had pushed him to the bar had left him and all that remained was weariness. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He felt both relieved and anxious when he read Mike’s name. If Mike was awake already he must have started drinking much earlier in the day than Harvey had guessed.

“Shit Harvey, I’m not sure what happened, but whatever it was I’ll make up for it.” That was all it took to make up Harvey’s mind.

“He can you pull over at this drugstore?” he said to the driver. As the car pulled to a stop he turned to the woman, “I’m very sorry to do this to you. I honestly shouldn’t have ever been here in the first place, there’s someone very important to me that needs me.” Stepping out of the car he added, “for what it’s worth, I hope you meet someone who appreciates you for who you are.”

Harvey stopped in the drug store to buy a Gatorade, but ended up with several because he couldn’t decide which was Mike’s favorite, before hailing a taxi and texting Mike,

“Everything is fine. Go back to sleep, I’m on my way home.”

By the time Harvey returned Mike was once again knocked out. Harvey placed a Gatorade and pain medication on the bedside table, even though this time he planned to be there when Mike woke up.He felt the need to touch Mike, to reassure himself that he was okay. Moving before he could think better of it Harvey reached out and softly stroked the back of his fingers from his temple, down his cheek, and resting briefly on his lips. Looking down at Mike now he knew that he had always cared for him. If that had morphed into something different, well then he would just have to accept it and ride that out. Because this wasn’t something he could run from; not when running from it meant running from Mike. He would never, could never run from Mike.

#This is becoming longer than expected #I did warn you it would be a slow burn #Marvey #marvey fics #suits #suits usa #mike x harvey #harvey x mike #harvey specter #mike ross #suitsusa #marvey fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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