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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

#secret life smp #a bee fic #not tagging everyone in this because it's. everyone #anyway i have wanted to write this for like TWO WEEKS so i figured that now's as good a time as any #anyway this is probably as thinly disguised as my character meta gets #we talk a LOT in this fandom about curses #we talk about whether we like them as fanon we talk about whether we dislike them we talk about who has them we talk about why #we talk about if they're here or broken or anything else #so i'd like to think the characters have an opinion on curses too after how much talking about them we've been doing #...at least the characters around to tell us their opinions do.#(anyway for all I claim this is thinly disguised character meta it IS actually of note that this isn’t actually about if they believe)#(but instead about how they’d respond if they were asked)#(hence why half of them don’t even answer the right question)#(this is why I’m not good at character meta btw)

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mh2o29 · 28 days

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aight pack it up guys

#is this my first time posting them...#methinks yes #this is just the beginning I have so many drawings of them #originally billy was smiling but I said nah #anyways normal tags #scream 1996 #scream fanart #scream #billy loomis #stu macher #stuilly #billy x stu #stu x billy #my art #if you read the tags this far here is a secret message #soon (idk when) I will finish AND POST a comic of a scene from a certain stuilly fic..... iykyk #shoutout debaser discord they know whatsup

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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Part 2

Robin Buckley was unfortunately well-aware of Steve Harrington, long before they started working together. He had been the worst kind of popular in high school, the completely effortless kind. And Robin was not looking forward to working with him.

Sure, he had been better than the other jock dickheads Robin was forced to share space with, but that probably had more to do with his weird Eddie Munson friendship than anything else. Being friends with the town freak kind of forced you to be more accepting. Or in Steve’s case, force you to punch anyone who insulted him in the face.

And while that was all nice and chivlirous or whatever it didn’t stop the fact that Steve Harringinton was a complete ass who slept with dozens of girls and threw them away immmeidtly after. There was no way that a guy like that wasn’t a dick.

And after their first shift working together, Robin was convinced that she had been absolutely right. He was a total slouch at work, spending most of his time failing at flirting with girls or yapping to his friends on the phone in the back. He was a complete diva about his hair, and their manager had given him three reprimands in the span of four hours for not wearing the dumb hat. And he was always trying to get out of work early.

After their first week together Robin was ready to strangle him. The only thing she’d give him is that he accepted being assigned indefinite bathroom cleaning duty with grace, otherwise she probably would have killed him and hid the body in the freezer by now.

Though he was really trying to expedite the process over here.

It was another annoying, Harrington filled day, only for him to once again try and leave early.

But before he could get to the door, Robin was dragging him back behind the counter, hissing, “Where the hell do you think you’re going? We have inventory tonight.”

She had expected him to whine in response or maybe say something dickish that she could kick him in the shin for, but he just looked horrified.

“Tonight? B-But it won’t take that long right? Like just a few minutes?”

“Try a few hours. They’re making us count the spoons man. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

His eyes got wider with each word, and for a split second Robin was actually worried that he was about to have a panic attack. That was until he opened his mouth again, “I-okay. Look dude, I really can’t do this tonight. I have a thing that I need to go to. But I can make it up to you! Or I can come in tomorrow morning-”

“The manager is going to look at it tomorrow morning,” Robin interrupted, arms crossed and brow twitching, “What is so damn important that it can’t wait till tomorrowow?”

“Does that matter?” Steve asked, oddly defensive for someone who was literally begging, “I just need to leave. But I can make it up to you! I’ll even pay you. You can have all the tips for the week and if that’s not enough then I’ll do the trash for three-no four days. I’ll do anything. Please?”

He actually looked like he was on the edge of tears and Robin had to begrudgingly admit that the puppy eyes were working on her. Christ, she was too good of a person.

She sighed, “Trash duty for two weeks, and for the week I get the tips I expect you to be extra charming. We clear?”

“Yes! Totally fair!” Steve was already speed walking backwards to the door, and those misty eyes had suddenly completely disappeared. Robin was started to think that she just got played and big time, “Best co-worker ever! Really couldn’t ask for better-”

“Just fucking go.” Robin said as she shooed him off, near snorting when Steve actually started running out of the mall.

She looked back behind the counter, groaning when she realized that his trash promise apparently started tomorrow. Fucking dick. She’d take out the trash, do inventroy alone, and then curse the Harrington name.

She started to lug the disgusting trash bags full of soupy ice cream through the backdoor, shivering a little in the cold. The dumpster was right next to the almost empty parking lot, everyone gone except one long running van.

Robin stopped, realziing that two people were making out infront of it, and one of them just so happened to still be wearing his cutsy uniform while he shoved his tongue down the stranger’s throat. Robin stared at them, barely concealed by the dumpster as her blood boiled.

Steve ditched her to make-out with some chick in the parking lot? Oh hell no. He was not getting away with this. She was just about to come out of her hiding spot to start tearing into him when she heard Steve giggle. Honest to god giggle.

He was standing in front of the girl, obscuring her face while he played with a lock of her hair, “Aw, don’t pout. I didn’t make the schedule. Besides, I already said I’d make it up to you in any way you want.”

Robin rolled her eyes, wondering if she should include warning the poor girl that whatever two week anniversary they were celebrating would definitely be their last when she called him out.

“I just didn’t expect to spend most of our four year anniversary eating cake in bed alone,” The stranger answered, their voice instantly recongnizble, “I was supposed to be eating you.”

That wasn’t a chick, that was Eddie.

Robin gasped, a hand going over her mouth. She had heard that voice many times, usually yelling about comforimity while standing on a lunch table. But that didn’t make sense! It couldn’t be-

But then Eddie was spinning them around, crowding Steve against the hood of his car, his signature DIO vest on full display while he ploundered Steve’s mouth, Steve laughing into it all the while.

Robin felt like her brain was short-circuiting as she watched them. She was actually witnessing Steve Harrington happily shoving his tongue down Eddie Munson’s throat.

Steve pulled away first, holding Eddie back with a hand to his chest, still giggling, “God, that was so lame. Even for you.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” Steve easily agreed, “And I’ll love it even more when we’re home and in bed. Then we can really start celebrating.”

That was more than enough for Eddie. He dragged Steve off of the hood before opening the passenger side door for him, stealing one more kiss before running over to the driver’s side.

Robin watched as they settled into the van, hands immediately clasped back together over the centerconsole. But it didn’t stop there. No, Steve was licking his lips and looking down muttering something to Eddie that she couldn’t hear. But she could guess, especially when his head suddenly dissapeared right before they drove off.

Robin stayed hidden behind the dumpster, still trying to comprehend what she’d just seen. She just watched King Steve make out with the resident freak, and maybe start the beginnings of road head, all while giggling and laughing about their fucking anniversy.

What. The. Fuck.

From an unpublished chapter of this fic

#secret relationship steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #the universe trapped in your skin #this is straight from my childhood au fic for 85 #might do a part 2 here though #because the fic is NOWHERE near this part but it's technically written #stranger things

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aquaquadrant · 6 months

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Title: poor language

Warnings: Shipping (Ethubs, past Impdubs, kissing), session 4 spoilers, references to past seasons

~*~

“You know, Impulse came with me to kill the dragon.”

Bdubs says it casually as he slides off his horse. They’ve officially ended the session, but a few players are still hanging around, catching up on the session’s chaotic events before heading back to their respective worlds. So naturally, he had to stop by Etho’s place to gloat some more about his legendary accomplishment.

Etho, doing some last minute work on his chicken farm, doesn’t look over at Bdubs’s arrival. “Oh, yeah?”

(‘You know, our old thing- if things come down to it, we don’t betray each other.’)

“Yeah.” Bdubs ties his horse to one of the fence posts of Etho’s sheep pen. “Yes, he did, he- it was me, him, and Pearl first before those other- those sneak- snipers, freaking kill-stealers came in after, of course. But Impulse, he- you know, he couldn’t actually kill anything this session so he was just helpin’ out, shooting th- the uh… end crystals… moral support…”

Etho nods, his back still turned to Bdubs. “Good, good.”

“Yes…” Bdubs clears his throat. He puts as much admiration into his voice as humanly possible. “He did amazing.”

(‘Guess what? Impulse and I are in love.’)

“I’m sure he did,” Etho replies, his tone perfectly, infuriatingly neutral.

Irritation flickers through Bdubs. He pauses for a second, working his jaw. “Eeugh- you know it was my task, right?” he presses. “I ha- my hard task, most impossible task in’a world, kill the ender dragon in the life series…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Finally, Etho climbs out of the chicken hole, dusting his hands off. “I- I kinda figured, ‘cause you know, you were pushing real hard for it…”

“Uh huh.” Scowling, Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “Well- thanks a lot, then, for the help!”

(‘You could’ve went for me, and you chose not to.’)

Etho’s grinning behind his mask. “What, you expect me to fight a dragon just to help you out?” he asks teasingly.

(‘You clearly don’t know how Etho works.’)

Bdubs’s voice dies in his throat. He swallows, glancing alway. “No,” he lies. “No, I don’t…”

“Gotta play smart in these games, you know?” Etho puts his hands in his pockets, walking over. “Going to the end, uh, it just doesn’t make logical sense. Like, especially if it’s not even my task.”

(‘Etho, I feel like if this whole thing falls apart, alliances and stuff- it’ll still be you and me. We’ll still stick together.’)

“Right,” Bdubs murmurs sullenly. He folds his arms. “Right, right, right, of course.”

Etho comes to a stop in front of him. “So like, why else would I go?”

“Why else, right…” Bdubs echoes. His chest feels tight all of a sudden.

(‘He’s a survivor, that’s all he does.’)

Etho sighs. “What- what’re you doing, Bdubs? Why are you here?”

Bdubs’s heart jolts. “Uh- jeeze, can’t I just stop by to chat?” he demands, throwing his arms up. “Goodness sakes!”

Etho tilts his head. “Well yeah, sure, but you’re always here,” he points out. “Like, since day one you’ve just been finding reasons to come over here…”

(‘Where’s your boyfriend, Bdubs?’)

Bdubs feels his face heat up. “Oh, would you- maybe I come over to see Cleo, did- did you think of that?”

“Cleo’s not here right now,” Etho says evenly.

“Ah hah…” Bdubs rubs the back of his neck. “Well, that’s- yes, yes, okay, you’re right. So what?”

“So, if you wanna be around me so bad, why didn’t you team with me at the start?” Etho asks, taking a step forward. “Why’d you go join up with the Mounders?”

(‘The first thing I wanted to do was… well, yes, of course! Of course, team up with you, yes.’)

“Uh…” Bdubs takes a step back. “I mean, I didn’t- things happen, you know, organically, and- and I didn’t really… I had to build a- a house, upside-down house, other people started buildin’ around me while you- you ran off into the middle’a nowhere!”

(‘Etho has no loyalty to you. He’s just immediately teamed up with the next guy that’s come along.’)

“I think we both know why.” Etho starts walking forward again, forcing Bdubs to take equivalent steps back. “We’ve known each other a long time, Bdubs. We’ve got other worlds outside of these games, where we can spend time together without all the uh, the manipulation and deception and killing.”

Bdubs’s back suddenly hits a tree- he has nowhere else to go. His heartbeat pounds in his ears. “Uh, yeah? And…?”

Etho shrugs, looming over Bdubs. “But that’s just part of the game. So like, we can make all the promises we want, but uh, we both know that sometimes… things don’t end well. So maybe it’s better to keep our distance this time. That way it’ll hurt less, when it happens, and we won’t ruin what we have outside of the game.”

(‘I have a strong feeling we’re not gonna be friends at the end of this.’)

“So that’s it?” Bdubs challenges, indignation rising inside him. “Just- just avoid me, so you don’t feel bad if you turn ‘round and stab me in the back, huh?”

(‘You know I would never kill you, Bdubs.’)

Etho’s eyes flash. “You wanna know why I didn’t go to the end for you, Bdubs?” He leans in. “Cause I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” Bdubs breathes incredulously, staring back up at Etho. “You know what I think? I think you’re just scared. Not of the dragon, sure enough, but of what it’d mean t’go fight it for me.”

(‘I gave him the courage! He was scared.’)

Etho’s expression betrays nothing. “You think so, huh?”

“Yeah!” Bdubs puffs out his chest, a fierce grin spreading across his face. “Impulse didn’t care, as a matter of fact he was happy to do it!”

(‘Now, is this a happy marriage?’)

“Yeah?” Etho’s voice is dangerously soft, almost playful. “Then why aren’t you at his base right now?”

Bdubs deflates again. He should’ve known better than to try and make Etho feel threatened by his history with Impulse. They both know their connection goes deeper than that, than a single season of bound hearts and souls.

(‘Um… I want Etho.’)

“Okay, okay,” he says sheepishly, face burning, “you got me. In fact, I think Impulse- he was already planning on goin’ before I was, not even to help me out specifically.” He shakes his head. “Sheesh! I was just- is it too much to ask for a- a little attention?”

(‘Why can’t you be normal about Etho?’)

Etho hums noncommittally. He braces a forearm against the tree above Bdubs’s head, leaning in so their faces are mere inches apart. “You’ve got my attention now.”

Despite the tension, Bdubs huffs a laugh. “So much for- for keepin’ your distance, huh?” he jokes, reaching a hand up to tug Etho’s mask down.

This time, he can see Etho smile. “Well, we’re not technically playing the game right now. Session’s over.”

“Good point,” Bdubs chuckles, tilting his head up to meet Etho’s lips.

He knows this doesn’t come easy to Etho. He doesn’t have the same boldness as Bdubs when it comes to love, doesn’t throw his entire self into it with reckless abandon. He’s more cautious than that- always has been. He shelters his heart behind his aloof nature, his uninvested ‘easy-going’ attitude, and he wraps his words up in clever metaphors and the guise of amusement- lest anything he say be taken seriously as a weapon to wound him. So words aren’t always enough to convey what he really feels.

But they don’t need words for this.

Bdubs is well-versed in the dialect of Etho’s hands, the way they grip his waist to pull him closer. He’s memorized the divots that Etho’s scar has left in his lips, the way it feels against his own. He knows the slant of Etho’s jaw beneath his fingertips, the way his head tilts and shoulders bow to accommodate their difference in height. Every movement, every touch, every breath between them is part of their own unspoken language, communicating everything Etho’s left unsaid in his own unique way- and Bdubs remembers why he never should’ve doubted.

(‘He loves me. He cares. He does.’)

~*~

#secret life smp #life series smp #ethubs #hermitshipping #my writing #this is meant to be a little stand-alone thing #not related to any other fics i’ve written #the power of ethubs compelled me #me throwing as many canon lines in here as i can bc it’s not just me right???#y’all are seeing this?????

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

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Ghostlights as college roommates and maybe some identity shenanigans thrown in would be so fun! Maybe dannys doing a little vigilante work on the side as well to up the secret identity mayhem

Danny would like to say his college career is going well. Gotham isn’t where he was expecting to pursue higher education, but the engineering scholarship he got through the Wayne Educational Foundation was just too good to turn down. It even covered the cost of an apartment! Although, the apartment is shared with another student who got a Wayne scholarship.

Even with that, Danny lucked out and got a great roommate. Duke Thomas is chill, kind, respects Danny’s space and doesn’t throw wild parties or invite random people in at all hours of the day. He even joins Danny twice a week for study sessions!

Really, it would be the perfect college experience except for one thing: the ghosts.

Danny thought they’d stay in Amity Park. They had no reason to stray from the city where the portal was, and his parents are more than enough to keep most ghosts away. It took his friends, Jazz, and even Vlad to convince Danny that he wasn’t abandoning Amity Park and that the city wouldn’t fall while he took a few years to focus on himself.

He worried right up until he got to GCU and walked the campus for the first time. Then he decided to enjoy the four years he had on the scholarship to get his degree and live his own life like a normal person.

To say he’s pissed about the ghosts is an understatement.

The one thing he was looking forward to most is not being Phantom. Gotham is home to the Bats and they’re more than capable of handling everything in the city. It means there’s no need for him here and he can focus on school and enjoy going on invisible flights without worrying about being hunted down or having to fight a ghost.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as he feels the familiar chill race up his throat, A cold mist wafts out of his mouth, curling around his words, and Danny quickly ducks his head and hides it from sight.

“Did you say something?” Duke asks, looking up from where he leans against the kitchen counter, squinting at a recipe on his phone.

“Nah,” Danny lies. “Just stressing.” He gestures to the papers he has spread out on the dining table, then stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Maybe that’ll get my brain to work correctly tonight.”

“Got your phone on you?”

Danny reflexively drops a hand to his pocket, checking that his phone is where it’s supposed to be. It’s what Duke asks every single time Danny mentions going out, worried about Danny being unprepared for Gotham. It’s nice of him, though Danny does wish he can say that he’s survived a lot worse than a few muggers.

“Got it.”

“Alright. I’ll try to work on dinner while you’re out.”

Danny nods and offers Duke a small wave before pulling his shoes on at the door. He grabs his keys and heads out, double checking that the door is locked behind him.

Then he glances around the hallway, checking that the coast is clear, and pulls up the chill of awareness in his chest. Slowly, he breathes out, watching the blue mist waft out and lead towards the stairwell.

“Wonder who it is this time,” he mutters to himself, going into the cold, concrete stairwell. It always feels a little off in there, as if he’s been removed from the rest of the world when the door closes behind him. His footsteps echo oddly in the space, so Danny chooses to fly instead, keeping his feet off the floor.

A few flights down is when he sees her: pale and translucent, a faint blue glow around her. She’s a familiar face. Emilia is one of the first of Gotham’s ghosts he’s met, leading to the rather unpleasant realization that ghosts don’t only come from the Infinite Realms. There’s a strange sort of magic in the very foundations of Gotham that makes it the way it is, creating ghosts that are different enough from what he’s used to that it leaves him off balance.

Gotham keeps her dead. Few get to pass on peacefully, and most have to wait until they grow weak and wither away, a second death, before they can be released from the living realm. The ghosts of Gotham are pale and weak, for the most part, and try to cling to him so grow stronger from his ectoplasm.

Most want him to help them pass on, or give them a way into the Infinite Realms. Some want him to bring justice to their killers. Others want to kill him and take his ectoplasm for their own so they can continue their reign of terror in Gotham, unable to be stopped even in death.

Emilia gives him warnings. It’s not always her, but she tends to be the one to draw him out of his apartment, pulling him into a vigilante lifestyle because he can’t bring himself to refuse anyone who asks for his help, and the dead in Gotham have no one else to ask.

“Danny,” she greets. “Nueve is out again. He’s going after the ghosts near Chantilly Street.”

“The sun isn’t even down yet,” Danny grumbles. Nueve, an old gang enforcer who died a few decades ago, cannibalizes other ghosts. It doesn’t destroy the other ghosts, not really, but it makes them feel pain when they shouldn’t be able to feel much at all. Taking their limited reserves of ectoplasm makes him momentarily stronger, and he uses that stolen strength to try to harm the living.

He’s been successful a few times. Danny makes sure to rip him apart as much as possible these days; he won’t be here forever, but he’s hoping that within his four years at GCU, he’ll be able to permanently stop Nueve.

Times like these, he misses having a Fenton Thermos with him. Though he’s not entirely sure it would work on Gotham’s ghosts with how different they are.

Emilia follows him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Once there, Danny shoves his hand into the floor, taking out the backpack he’s hidden in it. He’s done this change of clothes so often he can do it in just a minute now, hiding his face and pulling on gloves beneath a large hoodie with old ectoplasm stains along the sleeves and hem. A gas mask is pulled on as well, covering the bottom half of his face, a necessary addition to his Ghost Work Outfit™ after he almost got caught in some Fear Gas during Scarecrow’s last attack.

“Alright,” he says, “Lead the way.”

Emilia takes off through the wall and Danny hurries to follow, going invisible as he hits the streets.

It’s still early evening, the sun not yet fully set. Plenty of people walk along the sidewalks and cars pass by endlessly, honking at each other as they try to go twenty above the speed limit. Danny does his best to avoid running into everyone, deftly dodging the reaching hands of a few ghosts who spot him as he sprints by.

They only go a few blocks away from his apartment building, turning into a dead end alley where a group of teens (living, for once) are stuck with their backs to the wall, clinging to each other as they warily watch the man in front of them carelessly twirl a gun around his finger.

The man makes a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat, and it takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s trying to talk.

Still invisible, Danny sneaks around to stand in front of the teens, ready to bodily protect them. The man looks alive, and Danny see any ghosts around save for Emilia, standing at the mouth of the alley. There’s something strange about him; his movements seem just a little off, not quite as fluid as they should be. It’s not the movement of someone on drugs. It’s something that screams uncanny valley.

The gun’s handle drops solidly into the man’s palm. He makes another few clicks, then raising the gun to point at the teens.

“Bad idea, pal,” Danny says dropping his invisibility. The teens behind him startle, gasping and trying to press themselves further into the wall.

The man’s eyes flash weakly and the pieces click into place in Danny’s mind. Nueve must have gotten strong enough to possess someone. That is… alarming, to say the least.

He rips the gun out of the man’s hand and tosses it aside. Then he pushes away the man’s arm when Nueve makes a clumsy attempt to punch him. With his chest left wide open and undefended, Danny takes the chance to shove his hand into the man’s chest, feeling for the familiar chill of a ghost.

And then he wraps his fingers tight around it and pulls out Nueve, leaving the man to collapse.

The teens behind him scream and Danny winces.

Pulling out a faintly glowing human figure from someone’s physical body does not look good. It’s the best way to end a possession, but it does look alarmingly like he’s just ripped someone’s soul out of their body.

Keeping hold of Nueve’s ghost, Danny steps to the side. “You guys should go now. Take care.”

The teens don’t need any more prompting. They take off in a run, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

Danny spares a glance to the man unconscious on the ground, but there’s nothing he can do with an angry ghost in his hands, so he has no choice but to leave him there as he flies up to a rooftop farther down the street.

“How many times do we need to do this, Nueve?” he asks tiredly, shaking the ghost.

“These streets should be mine!” Nueve howls, trying to break free of Danny’s grasp. But he’s quickly growing weak, his energy fading, and Danny’s holding back his own ectoplasm as tightly as he can. “They may have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take what I’m owed!”

“Dude, you’re dead. There’s nothing here for you. Move on.”

“You don’t get to speak on this, outsider. You think a freak like you has an say over us? You can’t stop us. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Danny squints at him. “What, are you planning a heist or something? With your gang of dead people too weak to lift a piece of paper?”

“We’re not all dead. We’ve got living folk helping us and we’ll be taking you out first when we hit the streets.”

“Good luck with that,” Danny says flatly, “Begone with you.”

Without giving Nueve a chance to say another word, he rips Nueve’s head off his body. His ghost wavers, then dissipates like smoke, fading away.

Another side effect of whatever it is Gotham does to her dead: their ghost forms are remarkably fragile and it takes only a bit of strength to tear them to shreds, giving him some peace before they reform again. It won’t stop Nueve from striking out again, gathering enough strength until he’s able to possess some other unfortunate soul, but Danny’s bought himself some time to figure out what the hell was he talking about?

There are living folk involved with whatever he’s planning. It’s probably another gang, maybe someone with magic who is able to see ghosts? Which is not great. Danny doesn’t know much about magic; even when facing ghosts who used magic or magical artifacts, his go to method of dealing with them is to start throwing hands like there’s no tomorrow.

Well.

It’s a problem for later.

For now, Danny needs to get back to his apartment and work on his calculus homework. Hopefully he can finish it before he gets frustrated enough that he gives up and lies face down on the floor until Duke manhandles him onto the couch, where he’s less of a tripping hazard.

He’s just about to get back to street level when his Fenton Luck strikes again and he hears someone land on the roof, just a few feet behind him.

“Hey there, stranger,” the Signal says. “You know, we run into each other so often it feels rude not to introduce ourselves. Why don’t you go first?”

Danny turns to face the daylight vigilante, standing with his arms crossed as if that would make him look any more approachable. He’s been popping up wherever Danny’s out dealing with ghosts, which is very not great for Danny’s plans to have a peaceful, normal college life.

Biting his tongue, Danny gives the Signal a quick two fingered salute, then goes intangible and drops down through the building. His invisibility sweeps over him and then he’s running through the streets, hoping it’s enough to keep the Signal from following him to his apartment.

He skids to a stop in the stairwell, dropping his intangibility just in time to crash into the wall. Panting, Danny waits for a tense minute to see if he’s been followed.

When the door to the stairwell remains closed, he lets out a slow breath, then pulls off all the pieces of his Ghost Work Outfit, shoving it back into his bag. He takes a moment to fix his hair, messy from the hood, then shoves the bag back into the floor, safely hidden from curious eyes.

Then he very casually walks up the stairs to the fifth floor and walks down the hallway to his apartment. His keys clang together when he opens the door, and Duke usually hears it when it does, but just in case, Danny calls out, “I’m back!”

He’s learned to announce himself after a few late night walks almost ended with him tackled to the floor when Duke thought someone was breaking in.

Duke doesn’t respond as he toes off his shoes. The stillness in the apartment feels off, as if the world is holding its breath. Cautiously, Danny walks in, trying to find his roommate.

He’s not in the kitchen. The living room is empty. Duke’s bedroom door is open and he’s not in there either.

Something cold lodges itself in his chest.

“Duke?” he tries again, looking over their apartment again for any sign of struggle, or something terrible happening, or even a mess that Duke needed more supplies to clean up.

There’s nothing. The apartment is as it’s always been, just with an empty space where Duke should be.

Worried, Danny stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out what he should do next. It’s because he’s standing so still, surrounded by silence, that he hears it: a light thud outside the window.

Danny turns and he can swear he sees something large moving outside the window, disappearing from sight just as Danny takes a step into Duke’s room to check on it. He rushes to the window and pushes it open, looking down at the street, then side to side, and finally up to the last three floors of the building.

Nothing’s there.

Slowly, Danny pulls his head back inside, closing and locking the window. “Must be my imagination,” he says, trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal.

He leaves Duke’s room and begins pacing down the hall, anxiety building steadily in him.

His phones in his hand before he can think his actions through, Duke’s contact pulled up on the screen. He should call. He should make sure Duke is okay, but Danny hesitates. Is this something to be freaked out over? Would Duke thing he’s clingy and nervous and a bothersome roommate? He doesn’t want to risk Duke asking for a new roommate next year when the lease renews.

But he’s worried. It’s Gotham and Danny just dealt with a violent, murderous ghost threatening him. Duke can deal with a stressed out, worried Danny if it means he’s alive.

He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings on and on and on until Danny starts to panic about having to find Duke’s ghost to avenge his murder.

The front door is thrown open so suddenly and so loudly, Danny jumps and his phone clatters to the floor.

“Danny! Hey!” Duke says with a bright smile, trying to catch his breath. He’s still holding onto the doorknob, slightly hunched over as he pants for breath. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

“Where were you?”

Duke straightens up and closes the door, kicking off his shoes. “Oh, just… out. Shopping. For dinner.”

Danny looks over his empty hands doubtfully. “No luck finding what you needed?”

“Nope!”

“What did you need? Maybe I can go to a different store and get it for you.”

“You don’t need to!” Duke says. “I just needed… tomatoes?”

Danny blinks at him. “We have tomatoes. Did you not know we had tomatoes in the fridge?”

“Oh, do we? Good to know.”

There’s something very weird about this conversation, but Danny doesn’t pry. Duke is weird sometimes, but it’s fine because he kindly ignores some of Danny’s oddities that come from being a halfa and a semi-retired hero.

“Do you… maybe wanna sit down? Catch your breath? I can make dinner tonight if you want.”

Duke waves a hand in the air. “No, no, it’s fine. I got this. Anyways, how was your walk?”

He definitely shouldn’t talk about the cannibal ghost and his threats to take out Danny with his gang. “It was nice. Very quiet. You know, for Gotham.” He punctuates this with an awkward thumbs up and immediately regrets it, but it’s already done so he commits to it.

“Cool! Great. Just wondering, did you see anything weird?”

“Depends on what you’re asking about?”

“Just some guy wearing black with a hood covering his face. He’s been active in this neighborhood and I saw some people talk about him online. Apparently he just appears out of thin air.”

Danny tries not to wince. That’s him, alright. Gotham’s newest neighborhood menace. “I don’t think so, but there’s a lot of people in Gotham that were all black and walk around with their hood up.”

“True,” Duke concedes. “Well, just be careful when you go out, alright?”

“I always am.” He gives Duke the same two fingered salute he gave the Signal. Duke stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and almost dangerous, then he smiles and walks into the kitchen.

“Wanna make dinner with me? I think we can figure out this recipe together. Unless you need to do your homework.”

“It can wait!” Danny hurries to join Duke, grateful for an excuse to push off calculus a little longer. He understands what he’s doing in the class, there’s just… so much work. He doesn’t even want to think about the tests. The tests make everyone cry.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then!”

“You’re in charge, chef,” Danny says, laughingly, and bumps against Duke’s side. He expects a light shove in return, something Sam and Tucker always did, but Duke goes tense instead, letting out a sharp breath that Danny is all too familiar with. “Wait, why are you hurt? What happened?!”

He goes to lift up Duke’s shirt to inspect his shirt, see the damage for himself, but Duke smoothly moves out of the way, grabbing Danny’s wrists and stopping him in his tracks. “I’m fine, Danny. I just got hit. Lightly. Minor bruising, really.”

Danny looks at him doubtfully, then wrenches a wrist free to lift up his shirt before he can move again.

Minor bruising is not how Danny would describe the blues and purples that decorate Duke’s entire side. He can see the outline of Duke’s ribs through the bruising. “How is this being lightly bruised? What hit you?”

“A car?”

“A car?!”

Duke winces, then pulls his shirt down. “I’m fine, Danny, really. It was just from a car that didn’t want to stop at a red light. I stopped another person from being hit, but the car got me pretty solidly. You know how bad Gotham drivers are.”

“Sit down!” Danny says, pulling Duke out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you’re still standing. I’ll get some ice, and I’ll handle dinner. You just stay there and stop pushing yourself for no reason.”

“Playing nurse for me now?”

“If I have to.”

“Would you wear a nurse costume for me, too?” Duke jokes.

Danny looks him dead in the eye and says, “If I have to. Would that make you follow my instructions? A tight little nurse dress?”

Duke sputters, cheeks darkening, and looks away. Danny grins, victorious, and darts back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the fridge.

“Maybe I’ll wear one for you anyways, once you’re all healed up. Only if you’re good, though.”

“Danny, you’re killing me here.”

“Better me than a car.”

Duke laughs and takes the ice pack, pressing it against his side carefully. “Oh, for sure. Thanks, Danny.”

“Hey, what are roommates for?” Danny shares a warm smile with Duke, then pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen to start making a simple pasta dinner.

Life in Gotham is weird and stressful and full of ghosts and heroes who won’t leave him alone. But it’s not all that bad, really. He’s happy with how he’s doing in college, and he’s beyond lucky to have Duke as a roommate. So long as Duke never finds out about his halfa status, then he’s sure they’ll be able to last all four years rooming together.

He just needs to keep a secret.

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #my writing #prompt fill #3.6k.... still counting this as short. i have not failed yet at my goal of keeping these fics below 5k!!#i love this prompt so much it even got me making ocs... i love making ocs this is such a treat for me #will 100% be revisiting this prompt in the future to turn into a longer fic bc i have SO MUCH to write for this #had to cut it off here to have just one scene that shows them as roommates w secrets #truly a struggle to keep this short. this could easily be 30k. the amount of identity shenanigans i can write....#also playing around with the cursed gotham thing by making it affect ghosts :) perfect excuse to make my own gotham lore :)#btw duke 100% got injured chasing down criminals and thats how he got hit by a car. he wasnt fully lying abt it #he also tried to come in through the window of his bedroom. saw danny. quickly left and went up the stairs like a normal person #duke has his suspicions. danny is trying so hard to mind his business when duke acts strange and secretive #disaster in the making :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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geddyqueer · 3 months

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Big wheel keep on turning

E | Steddie | 27500 words | One-shot

A few months after Starcourt, Steve moves out of his parents' house and into a friend of a friend's empty RV. What follows is a long six months of unintentional minimalism, scraping by on two bucks an hour, and staring at the specter that haunts the other side of the trailer park. Meanwhile, Robin gets a song stuck in her head.

A season four rewrite.

#here it is! the secret fic #steddie fic #my fic #stranger things fic

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luzho · 1 year

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(based on this post by @waterfire1848) what if: sokka and zuko befriend each other in ba sing se!! after the initial shock, they eventually trust each other and even get matching earrings! besties!!

[ID: This is a three panel comic of a conversation between Sokka in his regular outfit, and Zuko as the Blue Spirit, both drawn in warm colors during a sunset. The first panel is a panoramic view of the two sitting on top of a roof in the Ba Sing Se skyline, surrounded by artificial lights. In the second panel, Sokka attentively watches a serious Zuko saying: “Halloween is so stupid. Dressing up, pretending to be someone you’re not...”. In the third panel, Sokka grabs at Zuko’s shoulder with one hand and gestures wildly with another, telling him: “You are the Blue Spirit!”; to which, he only looks away embarrassed and softly responds: “I know...”. End ID]

#my art #zukka #i love how dramatic they both are... they're so silly when together #i also adore those fics in which they meet in ba sing se and try to keep their friendship a secret only to be later discovered by toph:)#this is my love letter to those aus..... thank you so much #also: i once again posed for this thing... i know EXACTLY how sokka would move his hands... we understand each other #ANYWAY back to the tags #zukka nation #zukka fanart #sokka #zuko #sokka fanart #zuko fanart #later i found out this is a friends quote... huh #the colors here were kinda challenging! but i liked it!!!

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ashshmee · 2 months

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my jegulily fic is nearly one hundred thousand words and regulus and lily STILL hate james

#regulily is thriving though #well #actually not that much #they are doing their best <3 #jegulily #regulily #regulus black #lily evans #james potter #marauders #marauders era #harry potter #hims #fic: here is my secret

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m1d-45 · 1 year

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Okay last little idea and I'll leave you be for a bit

Xiao actually responding to the names the creator gives him. Little Friend, Pretty Bird, ect. No matter how far away you are, if you call those names, he has to stop himself from turning into a bird and flying away at that very moment. Those pet names are as much his name as any other he's kept.

-sibling anon

me when xiao

in his time with you in his adeptal form, xiao has never told you his name.

and yet, he still hears you.

if he’s in the area and the wind brings him the softest call of “you here, little friend?” he morphs in an instant, instinct taking over as he flies to your summons. he ducks through the trees, landing gracefully in your outstretched hand, meeting your wide smile with a chirp.

“there you are,” you mumble, and he ruffles his wings in an approximation of standing straighter. he is here. for you.

he’s commonly perched on your index finger, or your thumb if he’s eating from your palm. you only feed him simple almonds, yet it tastes of a delightful meal, energy coursing through his body. he’s careful not to nick your skin in his eagerness, but nobody could blame his enthusiasm if they knew what he felt.

by sitting in your hand, he is rested. by staying at your side, he is healed. he still upkeeps his duties, ever vigilant, but he’s quicker now, spurred on by something—someone—to return to. his place is at your side, and he hates keeping you waiting.

even when he has to.

xiao crossed his arms over his chest, staring off at liyue’s plains while he waited for the traveller to finish talking with… whoever. he honestly wasn’t paying attention. all he was there for was the lost adeptal artifact that the commissioner had promised he had, and then he would be on his way.

the man said something with a tilt to his tone. the traveller laughed. xiao grit his teeth.

“friend? little buddy? where are you?”

the call pulled at his soul as every other name he held, and he itched to answer.

paimon made a comment, an ooh! tossed somewhere in the middle, and xiao snapped.

“can we wrap it up? this is not a proper use of an adeptus’ time.”

the man swiftly apologized, handing over the totem, and xiao all but snatched it from his hand. a ‘farewell’ may or may not have slipped from him in time for the traveller to hear, he wasn’t sure. all he knew was that one moment he was dropping the totem off at his room at the inn, and the next he was leaping off the balcony, shifting mid-air to fly towards you.

he let out a loud cry when he spotted you, tucking in his wings to dive. you saw him and held out your hand, a motion so familiar that the actions to land were muscle memory.

he flared his wings, slowing his fall, flapping once, twice, before settling on your index finger. your thumb reached up, as it always did, and he leaned into it, repressing a coo at the feeling of it smoothing over his back.

“there you are, my pretty bird. where were you?”

a shiver rolls down his small body at your words, and he hides behind your thumb. you had many names for him—little friend, blue bird, simply blue—but pretty bird?

your pretty bird?

he’s hot in a way he can’t identify, a melting mix of emotions filling his chest. pride, admiration, adoration, even, all blurring into a messy film that covered his mind.

you turned towards your camp, keeping the hand with him perched close to you. “doesn’t matter. you’re here now, pretty bird. i missed you, you know.”

and you missed him?

xiao’s known for a while that the one on the throne wasn’t truly his god, but now he’s wondering if you were. the swell of confusing feelings was proof enough; were you anybody else, mortal or immortal, god or adepti, he’d have surely struck you down for your behavior long ago. cooing over him as if he were a mere household pet, feeding him scraps of crushed fruit, calling him such names as ‘pretty bird’- he’d have morphed back the second he was strong enough, held his blade to your throat and called you insolent and ungrateful. he’d leave you with a scar, and yet here he was, apologizing for the one he did leave in any way he could.

you carefully poured some almonds pieces in your palm, and he shifted to your thumb as you sat. were you anybody else, you would be dead. but your eyes are still open, carefully watching him, and your heart still beats blood. he can feel your pulse through his claws, sometimes, and often finds his own slowing down to match it.

you had an adeptus eating from the palm of your hand, and yet you were none the wiser. you simply propped your head in your free hand, a gentle smile on your face.

“my pretty bird,” you said quietly, and xiao’s eyes closed of their own volition.

yours.

#m1d : [chats]#m1d : [secrets]#sibling anon #bird!xiao shenanigans #< sorry for high jacking your post for this king #to stew anon: i saw your ask regarding bird xiao but the topic makes me uncomfortable. while i agree with your last point everything prior #is off the table. not your fault btw i never gave anything to suggest otherwise #anyway here’s another 800 words abt bird xiao in hopefully ‘good enough’ compensation #hey FUCK tumblr for continuing to delete the last paragraph of my fics #wholeheartedly #GOD fuck this fuck everything lesson learned NEVER DO JACK SHIT IN THE DRAFTS #tumblr is hell and i’m not good enough at navigating to get our #i’m fuckin sobbing- on my hands and knees disoriented and confused

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lunarharp · 8 months

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things.. uh... Gentry era au

#witch hat tag #orufrey #i wanted to leave the first images separate but it means they're not looking at each other any more......This aint right #i was reading pride & prejudice and what if oru was like a Mr darcy type figure. yeah. sure #is miss qifrey going to kidnap the 4 poor orphan children whom he is governess to. We can all live in mr oru's estate <3 #There will always be four there will never end up just being 3 i will make it be 4 i will rescue coco in every lifetime.#have thought how qifrey is a bit like mr rochester (jane eyre) though what with keeping secrets and going blind. anyway #maybe that's just because i wrote my fic and the idea of a combination of betrayal of trust & increased disability sits heavy here #& the sadness about how fictional disability often exists alongside narrative punishment and how i fear for qifrey every day and i love him #one good thing about posting art online again is that i really had little drive to bother scribbling little comic type things just for me #then there are things i feel less inclined to draw now that im in Posting mode again. oh life is very mysterious is it not

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thebiggestfuckgiven · 4 months

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Lore i

(for How I DIDN’T Become a Villain)

Note: This is based on fanon that is used and accepted by most of the phandom, with the addition of my own ideas on how the supernatural aspect of the DP universe came to be. I.e, the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms, the title of Ghost King, the origin of Pariah Dark, and much more.

• The Infinite Realms •

The Universe once began. We know how that story goes. The Big Bang, nebulas and planets and stars and light forming everywhere all at once. But there was something else. The Universe was alive, and everything living has something that gives it life. A mind, an engine, a (sub)conscious.

In this, the Universe had a void. An apparent one, at least. This void didn’t have tangible matter the way the Universe did, but it did have something. This void was nearly overflowing with it. Life Energy. It was no void at all, but a Source for all living beings in the Universe. In all Universes.

It had a different name, at first, but once Belief Systems started making their home in its center, thousands upon millions of them, it became the Infinite Realms. A kaleidoscope of energy, of life and death and everything in between. It is that which holds infinite ideas and infinite consciousnesses and infinite concepts and infinite infinities. It is that which holds everything together.

Something this large and this primordial to creation needed something else to take care of it.

• The Linkeepers •

That which is now known as the High King of the Infinite Realms has a true name: Linkeeper. Like all things, there is an origin. The First Linkeeper. They were born of the connection between the Universe and the Source, with the inherent purpose to look after their parents and to assure that neither took or gave too much of the other. They embodied the careful balance between Matter and Energy. That which lived and that which was Life.

The role of Linkeeper changed, the tiniest bit, with each chosen inheritor. However, it was when it landed in Pariah Dark’s greedy, bloody hands that the role was betrayed, cracked to its foundation. No longer signifying balance and caregiver and protecter, the Ghost King took the helm and brought on a role of control, power, and conquest. The balance was thrown off its axis, and war prevailed.

Linkeeper was lost to the dredges of unspoken stories (as there was no one to hear them anymore), and all that could be done to try and retain it was to lock Pariah Dark away and wait. To wait for a chosen inheritor to bring back the balance that had been so carelessly disregarded for nearly three thousand years.

P.S,

this is a shallow, tried-to-keep-it-short explanation of the lore that WILL make an appearance in the fic. I avoided going into certain details of the Linkeeper (like the inheritors/predecessors, their names, and their stories) because i’m reserving that for the fic.

There will be around two more Lore-dumps, and after that maybe a sneak peek at the first chapter (if i have it nice and tidy by then). The actual, full chapters will take me a WHILE to upload (to my ao3 account), because i want to at least have five to seven chapters fully written out before i start posting. That said, hope you like what I have so far!

#danny phantom #dpxdc #How I DIDN’T Become a Villain #HIDBV #lore dump #Lore i #i have many ideas you see #i held myself back from dumping too much because i didn’t want to give too much away #gotta keep my secrets close for plot reasons #i have a very clear and vague idea on the infinimap for this particular fic cuz it’s lowkey part of the lore for the infinite realms but #i’ve been avoiding writing it down cuz i have no idea how to put it into words djdj #anyways here’s to future lore dumps :)

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plusultraetc · 2 months

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I saw a post about this a hot minute ago and I'm so mad I can't find it BUT. While I LOVE Present Mic as a popular radio personality, there isn't really that much concrete evidence to support that idea. (Which, to be fair, there isn't a lot of concrete evidence about the careers/public perception of a lot of pros outside of All Might, Endeavor, sorta Hawks, etc., so you can pry that headcanon out of my grasp with a crowbar and so on.) That being said, I think a really fun angle to explore re: Present Mic as a radio host-pro hero-UA teacher (that I may or may not have the bare bones of a fic about👀) is the idea that Mic debuted as a very successful hero and entertainer, and experienced pretty steady growth in both aspects of his career for a few years before he took a teaching position at UA.

Hero rankings are based on incidents resolved, and can be damaged by taking any amount of time off (such as when the Wild Wild Pussycats took, what? A couple of months off from hero-ing? and their ranking plummeted by several hundred places). Teaching is time consuming; it's the kind of job that often necessitates 'bringing work home' with you in the form of grading, lesson planning, etc. Obviously it would cut into Mic's focus on his hero work and his radio show, and obviously that would affect not only his actual ranking but how much attention his career/persona garnered. After all, there is an influx of new heroes every single year when hero courses across the country graduate. It takes work to stay relevant in this universe.

So now I'm thinking of like. Present Mic but with the level of fame/popularity of a celebrity who was big a handful of years ago, but you don't hear so much about anymore. Like, yeah, they're still active, and still have a (often very dedicated) fanbase, but they've kind of been shuffled out of the spotlight a little bit. This also makes his lackluster reception at the entrance exam so much funnier imo, because those students would have been like 8-9 when he stopped just doing hero/radio stuff and started teaching, but they're teenagers now and Present Mic is sooo not in anymore.

#i think maybe students 3-A's age and older would have clearer memories of present mic in his heyday #so maybe he seems a little more like a celebrity to them #anyway! picking away at this fic set ~4 years pre canon like a magpie picking at shiny things for a nest #featuring a surprise guest in such a literal way you have no idea #yamada hizashi #i have THOUGHTS (i have present mic obsessive disorder)#liza blather #q #i'm going to say something a little out there but. present mic is to 3-A's age bracket #as kelly clarkson was to me specifically in high school #i don't know how to elaborate on that so i won't and it'll be like a little insane secret take for anyone who reads tags #last week kicked my butt here's wonderwall

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slashmagpie · 6 months

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“Here’s what happened, okay. We were on a date with Clebert—”

“It’s not a date.”

“—and, and Etho walks by and she, she looks at him, she’s like whoa.”

“She just catcalls him, like woohoo!”

“Woo!”

“I’m out, yeah!”

“You got it wrong, me and Etho are besties! We’re not—we’re not—it’s not romantic.”

They’re not sure why it feels so important.

It’s not that Cleo has ever really—well, that’s not quite—they’ve never argued about it before, is the thing. Like—with Bdubs. With Bdubs, right, people had—they’d assumed. It’s what people do. Even Scott, and Scott is—Scott is Scott. He knows about these sorts of things. And even he…

“Bdubs is your ride or die, Jimmy’s mine, he’s my husband, and he’s with them, so I’m kind of—but I don’t ever want to fight you.”

“If Bdubs betrays me—if our husbands die, yeah?”

Husband. Because that was the word Scott had been using, for Jimmy, and Bdubs had been Cleo’s Jimmy, in a way, so it had—it had made sense. Use the same words for the same thing. And then—being married is kind of a funny bit, isn’t it? So later, when Bdubs and Impulse had been lying to them—

“Bdubs, I know we’re divorced and you’re with Impulse now, but did you really think you could lie to me?”

And whilst Cleo’s not sure they put too much stock in Ren’s claims as to what he’d caught Bdubs and Impulse doing in the woods, they know that whatever those two had going on wasn’t quite the same. They’d said it was, but they hadn’t really meant it. Not really. Marriage—marriage is a funny bit, really, is all it is.

After all, last season, with Etho—being divorced is also a funny bit.

“I’m not calling you wife.”

“You can call me Cleo!”

He still doesn’t call them wife. Still calls them Cleo. Calls them bestie, now, too, ironic grin beneath his mask. Etho’s not too big on PDA, either, which is—nice. Not that Cleo doesn’t like it, it’s just—

“It’s platonic,” they insist to Tango, to Skizz, and see their eyes sparkle. They don’t get it. They don’t get it, and it makes Cleo’s skin crawl, because—

Cleo’s loyal, is the thing. When they say ride or die, when they say allies, when they say husband or soulmate or my boys—they mean it. If you’re theirs, you’re theirs, and that means everything.

But it doesn’t mean—

Romance is a funny bit. It’s a like a costume, really. Pull it on, pull it off, kiss and hold hands and sleep in the same bed and say your vows for the fun of it. Then shrug it off at the end of the day and go back to being friends. There’s no—they don’t feel any of those sappy things, really. It’s not them. Sure, Cleo loves people, loves their friends, but not—like that. They don’t want anything to do with any of that. The aesthetic of it, the performance of it, the drama of it? They’ll take it. But they’ll leave the rest. The mushy, goopy, complicated feelings soup part of it—that’s not theirs. Other people can deal with that. Cleo will be off dealing with better things.

It’s—it’s like being a woman, really, in that Cleo doesn’t really mind that people see them that way—plays into it, really, loves the aesthetic, has fun with the performance—but they don’t really feel it. And they don’t mind that other people don’t exactly understand—

Until they step too close, say something Cleo really doesn’t like the sound of, and then they’re snapping, “I’m not a woman,” with such force it makes the perpetrator flinch.

It’s the same thing, this, Tango and Skizz stepping too close to their toes, getting in their personal space, and it bubbles up out of them before they can stop it. It’s platonic. We’re platonic. And the fact that other people aren’t seeing that—

It itches. Prickles. Stifles. Hugs their bones like an ill-fitting coat.

It’s one thing to wear a costume, to put on a show—but Cleo will not be stuffed into a suit without their permission and put up on a stage to read a script they never had any intention of performing.

“We’re just besties, we’re not in a romantic relationship,” they tell Tango. He blinks at them, and they can see that the words don’t quite go in—

It itches.

Maybe if Cleo makes being besties the new bit, the itch will stop bothering them quite so much.

#secret life #spoilers #fanfiction #trafficshipping #hi! have a fic!#i have thoughts about traffic!cleo and aromanticism #and i have thoughts about death games and alliances and amatonormativity #and i have thoughts about gender. and assumptions. and other applications of the word 'dysphoria.'#these are my thoughts they're all here #i cannot tell how much of this is characterisation and how much is projection but y'know what take it #i feel like this is the first time i've really nailed cleo's character voice i'm proud of this one #and now to go finish their episode #magpie feather quill

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