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phoenixcatch7 · 6 months

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Because my brain has three fanfic ideas on rotation, I have of course gotten struck by the idea of reincarnating Ichigo Kurosaki into someone from ff7. But I'm torn - I can't decide which character to choose!

Obviously, I can't have him overwrite someone too different from him; it'll take out all the tension and character relationships. No one around him would believe it's the same person as before, and no one would trust him nor could he 'continue' to fill the original role. There'd be an intervention of some type, he'd lose his job, and be pretty quickly shunted out of the story, thematically (and literally). The dissonance would be too great. On the other hand, anyone too similar might lead to negligible differences to their original role in the story, bar the new overwhelming power, which again doesn't make for very good stakes.

You've got to achieve a good blend of before and after, to achieve that perfect sweet spot of believable assumptions and explanations for the change. 'We think he had amnesia' or 'we don't really know what happened, but trauma changes everyone' or even 'I wonder what happened when he was gone?'. You want to achieve that down but not gone energy, unintentional on the arriving character's side or not. So:

Options and explanations under the cut! (kinda long lol)

Aerith: Unconventional but huge potential!! Would be very cool indeed! Good parallels, good plot relevance to enter the final fight - there'd be some snags, mostly with the flowers and turks, and she's way more smiley than Ichigo lol. But the determination to help the community and (most of) the individuals in it remains, either through his help at the clinic or stubbornly maintaining and defending memorials to the dead. He's used flowers before, heck it's his opening scene. It's easy to imagine him seeing the affect greenery has in this new world and throwing his all into working with it like aerith did. Her connection to the lifestream, which is basically the reiatsu/afterlife of the world, would translate seamlessly to his sensory abilities. Heck, his full bring has green light effects!! It's perfect! And even if he followed canon and got killed he's got his shinigami form and copious amounts of bloodlust.

But fr imagine, it's cloud v sephiroth, the fate of the world hangs in the balance, sephiroth is obsessed with cloud - but what's this! It's aerith with a steel chair and a giant glowing sword!

(also I really don't care about the gender difference lol, so here Ichigo wouldn't either!)

Sephiroth: visually their ideal/true designs are very similar (long statement colour hair, very long thin sword, inhuman eyes, big billowing black coat/trousers) and it'd be annoying to have two people with such similar designs and bloodline selling points, but on the other..... I can't NOT have an Ichigo vs sephiroth, come on! If I went this route I wouldn't even bother changing the hair colour lmao, and it'd combine with his hollow characteristics perfectly! Wings AND horns!!! Strong 'I can be your angel or your devil' energy, new sword combos, his job is basically being the biggest scariest threat out there, which Ichigo excels at. But as an equivalent captain role, he'd also get stuck with the paperwork LMAO. Sucks to suck, pretty boy. And of course the jenova issue would just result in Ichigo and Co (zangetsu and ossan) eating her for breakfast, let's be real. He finds those papers he's burning the mansion to the ground himself, not nibleheim. Of course that means no world ending threat to kick-start the story, but hey, shrinras still around, which is basically the same thing.

They've got so many parallels; hybrid entities specially engineered to be (in)human weapons, raised oblivious to their true heritage, mothers purposely infected with monsters that got passed on to them, weapon and fighting prodigies of insane proportions rapidly out classing everyone around the despite their young age, a human shaped mf of a villain who claimed they did this on purpose to forge them into what they are today... Falling to their monstrous forms in rage and pain, voices whispering cruelty in their heads... But where sephiroth fell to madness and cruelty Ichigo responded with unexpected maturity, determination and was able to accept his demons as his own, and not be consumed. He came out the other side a better person. The potential is IMMENSE.

But.... Ichigo vs sephiroth. And the personality change would basically be an inversion XD.

Angeal: he was who I originally considered - a side character enough to be interesting, honour bound like Ichigo, big black special broadsword with special origins, down to adopt small children (like teenage (?) super soldiers) and would actually take very good care of them (if with a... Unique training style XD). Perfectly positioned to massively affect the story through small changes or be an amazing wildcard. The story would be able to be SOLDIER 1st domesticity too, which I love, and there'd be a wonderfully interesting dynamic with the other two as his massive new strength and skills become known, throwing off the long established power balance and getting the attention of Science. His own storyline in crisis core is ripe for aus. I had the idea of his old orange bleeding into his black hair and making it look like tiger stripes, but genesis has bright orange hair already and it'd be too similar lmao.

You could do so much with the similar codes of honour and how that plays into fighting people so much weaker than you and just comporting yourself when you're capable of that much damage. Angel's loyalty and honour being bound to shinra and SOLDIER vs Ichigos notorious and categoric refusal to bend the knee to authority and his history of stubbornly toppling similarly injust regimes. Not to mention the modern general loathing for... The very foundation of shinra, really lol. And the circumstances when that honour falls apart. Angel dropped it like a hot potato when his degradation started setting in (which, under the circumstances understandable if not to that degree) vs Ichigo who will go down with this ship UNTIL you touch a hair on his protected's heads and even then you'll get a proper burial.

But... I just can't make him work thematically. Out of everyone in the list, he's got the weakest connection to the world's fate. What satisfying ending could I use?? What would it be working towards? Curing the degradation, perhaps?

Genesis: I just... Don't like him as a character, I confess. His bull headed 'rivalry' and lack of care for collateral (even before the degradation) and constant sniping never endeared himself to me. It reminds me more of grimmjow or noitra than anything else. But I couldn't consider the other two and not also him, and he does come with the orange hair already! And the love of theatre! Ichigo loves Shakespeare especially, so I can definitely see him giving loveless a go and loving it (pun intended). He'd for sure be compelled by the lack of ending, especially given his own thoughts on fate. His ability with materia would differ greatly from Ichigo's norm, he who is horrendous at kido but fantastic at breaking it, so that'd be a problem. And again he suffers from lack of narrative weight on the world scale, but maybe something could be done with the G cells?? Them and S cells were both very similar after all. But nothing that wouldn't already be happening with sephiroth.

Taking this role would probably be the hardest for Ichigo of the three, but it'd be very interesting to see him stretch his literary analysis muscles (which, again - this is a Japanese teenage boy reading Shakespeare in the original middle English in his own time who then occasionally gives hard hitting monologues on the nature of fate and humanity and his hollow sure didn't that verbose and metaphorical from nowhere lol). The amnesia plot line would be very interesting indeed to work with, as long as he got a hair cut.

Zack: Zack is a Shiba through and through. He's fiercely loyal, capable, goofy and hardworking, a shooting star in the ranks and friends with the most unlikely people. He would and does endure the worst torture and saves Cloud. He leaves an enormous legacy, and dies a hero. If it weren't for his chill, happy go lucky golden retriever energy I'd have chosen him over the rest, but it's not a good match for Ichigo, it'd be a crying shame to lose that and have zack go unmourned. I think Ichigo and zack would get on EXCELLENTLY.

If Ichigo did reincarnate into him, I'd have to put it either right when he enters shinra, or surviving hojos lab with cloud. But Ichigo would probably just turn and leave if he wasn't solidly integrated, but by that point zack would have made too many friends XD! Surviving the lab would be the perfect cover for the new super insane strength/abilities and his new reticence, and he'd pretty quickly adopt Cloud so that'd be all well. He'd still be stuck with the effects of heavy mako poisoning like cloud, but hey. I feel he'd overshadow Cloud a LOT though in every way, which is a huge part of the story and the cloud-sephiroth thing isn't something I'm too happy to replace? Idk. It'd be very cool to see, admittedly. He could have tiger hair too!

Cloud finding out Zack isn't who he used to be would be heartwrenching though, possibly replacing a good chunk of the sephiroth gaslighting subplot that would be dropped. An identity reveal in these kinds of fics are rare, but it'd have so much payoff here.

Vincent: ok listen listen listen. Vincent gets a fresh start in a way very very few other characters do. With him Ichigos original personality could shine through the strongest, without any pre conceived notions from the people around him. However! His past and connections make him very well rooted in the grand scheme, should we use it right. He's already used to one feral op monster living rent free in his head (and the interplay of Chaos and Zangetsu, the hollow one especially, would be hilarious lol) and he wouldn't have to explain ANYTHING to anyone lmao. And his hair could do the tiger thing, he could do pretty much anything he wanted in regards to his powers! Hollow bits like horns and eyes? Sure! Quincy stuff with his gun? Why not! And he'd certainly join avalanche, given they woke him up. Ichigo already knowing of ff7 would work fantastically too, but it'd work great even if he went in blind. Vincent's main gun weapon and his solitary ways could remain or go, but it'd also be a good opportunity for Ichigo to flex his meagre quincy abilities, with old man zangetsu as his teacher. And he'd be a good choice (along with sephiroth) to portray Ichigo's feelings of being an outsider in this new and crazy world. Vincent's pretty out of place normally.

But either way you play sephiroths father he'd be so ready to try and save sephiroth once he finds out about lucrecia. Whether sephiroth would be willing to be saved, however... Also he could probably kill jenova lbr. I mean the hardest thing would be getting her head back from sephiroth. Also he'd love that tattered cape coat thing.

Cloud: and of course the most obvious for last - protagonist to protagonist! Letting his new friends assume his 'amnesia' isn't for the reason it actually is, a grouchy but loyal underdog beloved and trusted by the eclectic friends he leads, trying to uncover the truth of this body's past simultaneously before it comes back round to bite him and to discover who it is he's replaced to mourn, guessing at what he can't intuit, clueless as to basic world mechanics. Traumatised by the death of his mother. Struggling with identity issues and something in his head and so so so ready to kill g-d OR BECOME HIM. Spikey hair.

But it's just too obvious and it makes me unhappy. I like unconventional or weirdly fitting options, and well, is it weird I don't want to deprive Cloud of his growth and life in general? Ichigo's had his time as protagonist, I just feel it wouldn't be the best we could do. Ichigo would be such a guiding light for Cloud, an equal in ways so few others can be. They'd be able to connect on so many levels. There's great potential, yes, but I feel it'd almost be too easy. Ichigo would be swept along by the plot rather than being able to change it from the outside. What do you think?

Guest mentions:

Tifa: probably the best match for Ichigo personality wise, and I love the martial arts stuff, but too much of her story revolves around cloud. If she forgets, even with the best intentions, how is anyone going to help restore cloud's memory??

Tseng: it'd be so cool to have a spy Ichigo, admittedly, and also the 'I have super powers that put me on par with sephiroth' reveal would be insane, but Ichigo would probably be sacked if he took over Tseng XD. He is NOT cut out for that sort of subtlety.

Nanaki: I'm a sucker for people turned into creatures when they enter a new time/dimension, and Nanaki being another hojo victim would give him the thematic right to also fight sephiroth with cloud. Also with Ichigo's hollow form we could get a giant monster transformation!! Come on! He'd also be a good fit for Ichigo's sensory skills with reiatsu (listen I know Ichigo is renowned for being kinda bad if it's not intent or people he knows well but it's miles above what normal people have).

Rufus: this would be hilarious. Poor, poor Ichigo. He'd stage a coup. Finding and cleaning up deep ground too would be a very entertaining story lol.

Jenova: okay I know this is bizarre but this is the closest ff7 has to the soul king and Ichigo's soul is pure concentrated reiatsu, which is a pretty one to one equivalent of mako. Like, the life stream as the afterlife instead of a place would freak him out, but come on. Alien King Ichigo. 2000 yo or arriving during sephiroths meltdown or even just before hojo gets hold of her, it'd be so cool to explore. He'd be so not ready to parent a grown mass murderer traumatised lab experiment but man would he be willing to try.

Also, this would be one of the only timelines where sephiroth is saved/talked down. Ichigo being of equal strength already would get even stronger, he'd be able to handle sephiroth, probably take the attention off Cloud at least. You could take any point on the sephiroth spectrum from 'totally unwilling and mind controlled' to 'very eager to continue killing everything and will throw hands with whatever dares get in his way including jenova herself' and it'd work so well! Also I could finally give Ichigo wings. Him vs the WEAPONS would also be super cool. Maybe he could bargain with the planet? And the idea of her and sephiroths hair suddenly flushing neon orange for no discernable reason would be funny lmao.

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starry-bi-sky · 6 months

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I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

#dpxdc #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny phantom au #dpdc danny fenton #i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh #this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast #This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au #also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english #no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league #iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve #getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol #danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi #little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck #i love clone aus and clone aus love me #clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS #i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours

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literallyjusttoa · 23 days

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"Sunny!" you cry, "Why did you draw the entire Trojan royal family from oldest to youngest in two days? That seems wildly unhealthy!"

"hurghhhhhhhh" I reply.

Anyways here's the full family portrait

(Only four of these people survive the Trojan war btw :D)

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 year

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Why would you—That's not—I just wanted to ask for help, why did you have to go and make it awkward???

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #xue yang #Its such a relief to not have to draw so many characters once again.#Redrawing the specific font from the English translated mdzs books was surprisingly fun!#Maybe I'm alone in this...but I think characters switching to a different font of speech for *emphasis* is peak comedy #you can't communicate voice changes of sound very well in non audio forms so this is the best I can do.#Anyways...rip Xue Yang. You finally meet your idol and he brushes you off #Rather— he doesn't live up to the expectations you built in your head #Kind of an on going issue there Jester (I refuse to call him king or sir)#XY is constantly making people out to be the versions he needed them to be to feel justified in his actions #but struggles to pivot when confronted with the fact that these ppl are *more* than just one surface reading!#wwx doesn't actually think xy is flirting. He's just tired of all the fake fans + wants to get out of this convo.#button mashing the A button to skip the unskippable cutscene #Lan Wangji is in the next comic btw. I've missed him dearly. I'm sorry he's been gone so long </3 #edit: poorly spelt MDZS strikes again. This is why I need more time to write my comics. So I can actually proofread B*(#edit2: I cast 'Power of Technology' and fixed my error. Everyone reblog this version instead please

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revvethasmythh · 2 months

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I don't really understand the idea some people have that being a hater somehow precludes you from thinking a character is complex. like, yes, absolutely, [insert character here] is complex, but I am a hater first and foremost and if I can write a post that dresses them head to toe in clown gear, that is my gods given right. *bangs gavel* you are sentenced to life at the circus, motherfucker. go juggle while i point and laugh. this is what true joy looks like

#liliana they could never make me like you #but no really did you know you don't have to discuss EVERY facet of a character in EVERY post to prove you understand them?#sometimes you can just write simple hate posts about villains and enjoy your life #this is about all of the vanguard leaders btw not just liliana #if they're going to act like clowns i'm going to talk about them like they're at the circus!#this does not mean I think they're (all) flatly villainous with nothing going on in their brains #in my posts they are clowns dancing for my entertainment because this is fandom and that is FUN

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thevoidstaredback · 2 months

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Be Thou For The People

A contradictory void of suffocating black and empty white was the last thing Edward wanted to see at any given time. Sure, there was the exception of when he was going to get his and Al's bodies back, but that wasn't now. He was sure he hadn't done anything against explicitly against any Alchemical Laws, nor had he stumbled into any Human Transmutation arrays, so why was he here?

The familiar not-presence of a not-being filled his mind when it spoke to him. "Using your own soul as a Philosopher's Stone to save your life? What a cheat."

"Hey!" Ed protested, barely keeping himself from moving from his spot. Fighting this not-being would only be a waste of the infinitely miniscule amount of time in the void. "It's not cheating. I didn't break any rules. Besides, Alkahestry works kind of like that."

The Truth laughed heartily. "You must take the time to understand that which you do not. Using Alchemy on yourself is a form of Human Transmutation. You're molding your life to go against the flow, however small the alteration might have been. Unless you are not human?"

"Of course I'm human!" Ed shrunk in on himself slightly. Of course he didn't understand Alkahestry, the research for it hadn't been readily accessible to him like his Alchemy resources! And, yes, maybe he knew, in the back of his mind, that transmuting himself was still technically an Alchemical Taboo, but he had thought The Truth would have let him off because he was using his own life as the price! Evidently, that wasn't the case. In his defense, it was either shave off a few years or die via impalement. Neither was a good case, but he'd rather live to keep his promise to his brother than to die in a mineshaft because of a bastard like Kimblee.

"What am I even doing here?" he asked with a huff. It couldn't be anything good.

The Truth's ever present grin fell ever so slightly. "I'd like to cash in a favor with you."

"Excuse me?" he blinked.

The not-being continued, "A favor. You do something for me, I'll do something for you. That kind of deal."

"Hold on," Ed said, uncrossing his arms, "Why do You want me for this? Why not pull some other poor bastard to do Your dirty work?" For that's what this had to be, dirty work. There was nothing else it could be.

This time, The Truth's smile fell noticeably. "Because very few have survived coming into my realm once, let alone several times thereafter."

Another huff. "What's the parameters of this 'favor'?"

It grinned again. "Someone has decided to go and try to cheat Death. I want you to go get him and bring him to face the Gate."

"What do I get out of this?"

"A free pass. You'll be able to recover your brother's body with no repercussions on your end, though I would still like an answer."

Speechless for a moment, Ed recovered soon enough to ask, "What answer?"

"Nothing you need to worry about right now, little alchemist." The Truth's grin split It's face unnaturally in a smile, "What do you say, poor bastard?"

With a long, drawn out, resigned sigh, Edward sat down in front of his Gate. Honestly, he'd brought that taunt upon himself. Also, could he even refuse this? "Alright, fine. What do I gotta do?" It was too good to be true, but he might as well take the chance.

"That's the spirit, little alchemist!" The Truth relaxed, outstretching the leg It'd stolen from Ed and resting Ed's arm on It's other knee, leaving the hand and wrist limp. "I'll be sending you to the other side of the Gate. A world where technology thrived and alchemy died. A world of hidden societies. It is within one of those hidden societies that I want you to be. The man who has tried to defy Death runs as the 'villain', you could say."

When The Truth paused, Edward took that moment to think before speaking. "So, You want me to find this guy on the other side of the Gate and bring him to You?" It was a miracle he wasn't freaking out. Then again, that wouldn't get him anywhere. There's a time and a place, but this was not it. "How long do I have?"

"As long as it takes you. When you're done, you'll end up right where and when I pulled you from."

'Right where...' The sudden realisation of what had happened before he found himself in The Truth's realm was near painful. Quickly, he placed his flesh hand over where he knew he'd been impaled. The last thing he was doing before coming here was healing the wound and trying to stay alive. Pulling his hand away, he found no blood and only a slight numbness in place of pain. "What?"

"Pain doesn't exist here, little alchemist, I thought you would have remembered this fact?" It was true. When he had committed the Taboo, he'd not felt any pain until he was back in his father's study with one less leg. Though, the screaming was mostly shock and panic.

"If I do this," Ed started, "What rules do I have to follow?"

"I'm not sure I quite know what you mean?" It's grin and tone said otherwise.

"I'm not gonna let you throw me into a world knowing jack shit about it or the Laws in place." He knew all too well that he wouldn't actually be able to stop The Truth from doing anything. It was actually pretty generous of it to ask him instead of just dumping him somewhere in the first place. "Knowing my luck, I'd end up breaking one and end up right back here."

The Truth chuckled. "Knowing your luck, little alchemist, you'd knowingly break them even if you did know them." Ed resisted the urge to launch at the not-being. "However, I will tell you. The world follows the same basic Laws of yours. The society you'll be in have some additional ones. All the information you need will be given to you when you go Through." It put It's chin on Edwards right palm, the elbow resting on Its knee. "I would advise you keep your alchemy hidden from a very specific certain people. I'd also advise you to trust very few."

That's not good. The Truth is actually telling him to avoid people? "I don't suppose You'll tell me who to avoid." The grin he was given was answer enough.

"You will know who you can trust," It said.

After a few more moments, Ed nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll do this stupid favor for You, but You have to hold up Your end!"

The Truth's grin was more frightening than it had been before, matching up perfectly with the one It had showed him when he was a child. "Of course I will, poor bastard." The Gate behind Ed opened swiftly and the black arms of the Gatekeepers pulled him back, "Good luck, little alchemist."

Edward knew better than to struggle. Unlike in The Truth's realm, he could feel pain in here. The pain of the Knowledge of another world was unbearable and certainly would have killed him if he hadn't been Through the Gate before. Though, the Knowledge pouring into him was significantly more than the Knowledge that he had paid for before. He couldn't stop the scream that ripped from his throat.

***

The Truth watched as Edward Elric's Gate closed. It had presented the deal as though it were Equivalent, but It knew that wasn't the case. In order for Its end of this little deal to measure up with what the Little Alchemist was doing for it, The Truth would have to give him more knowledge as well as his little brother's body and his arm and leg. The knowledge and memories Edward would acquire on the other side of the Gate would fill out the rest of the Equivalence. If Edward answered The Truth's question correctly then it might be so inclined to add something to the growing stack of Equivalence.

The Truth smiled again. "I wonder how this will play out."

***

Edward didn't know how to feel when he opened his eyes again. On one hand, he was no longer in pain from the Gate, nor was he bleeding out from his most recent injury. He still felt a small twinge of pain when he moved wrong, though. On the other hand, he wasn't in the mineshaft, so that meant his meeting with The Truth hadn't been a dream and he really did have the complete Knowledge of another world in his head. Of course, now was the time to freak out about the entire situation.

Taking deep breaths, he kept his eyes open and focused on what was in front of him. It was a red cushioned bench. Was he on a train? Maybe. "Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron," he muttered slowly, "Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine," It was slow going, but he was calming down. "Neon, Sodium, Magnesium," He tapped the middle finger and thumb on his right hand together. "Aluminum, Silicon," Breath in through the nose, "Phosphorus," He coughed a bit, "Why the hell does it smell like cider? Better question, why the hell does it taste like cider?"

Now calmer, Edward took a better look around the compartment. And wasn't that weird. Trains didn't usually have compartments unless you got first class seating. And, judging on the muffled noise outside the door, he was in common class seating. Odd, but not overly so. On the rack above his head, he found a trunk with his name on it. Pulling it down, setting it on the seat next to him, and opening it it, he found a note on top of a black cloth.

"How nice of It." Ed folded the note and tucked it away. Then, he ripped it open to re-read it. "The hell does it mean 'school supplies?!" Ed hadn't been to a proper school since before his mom died, so why the hell did The Truth think it was a good idea to send him to one? On top of that, why is he with the thirteen year olds?! He takes it back. The Truth isn't nice at all. Not in the slightest. "If this is You calling me short..." he threatened loosely.

Little Alchemist,

Along with the Knowledge you got when you went Through, I've also given you everything you'll need while there. Money is in the leather pouch, your wand is in your pocket with your watch, and your books and other school supplies are all in your trunk with extra clothes and robes. Anything else, you'll have to buy yourself.

Have fun as a third year, poor bastard, you'll be surrounded by thirteen year olds.

Unfortunately, Ed knew there wasn't really anything he could do aside from take it in stride. He was good at that. So, putting the note away for good, he searched his pockets for his watch and wand. He didn't get far, though, because he finally realised what he was wearing. He still had on his black leather pants, his black elevator boots, and his cropped black jacket, but he was now wearing a white undershirt, a yellow tie, and black dress thing - a robe, his mind supplied - with gold trimming. What the hell? A look into his trunk confirmed the existence of more of these robes, one of which had been directly under the note. At least they were black. Quickly, Ed took off the robe he was wearing, but left the tie. A glance at the emblem - a UK badger - had his mind telling him that it was for the Hufflepuff House, whatever that was.

In his left pocket, he found his State Alchemist watch and his wand with a leather holster and another note. He fastened the holster under his sleeve and to his left forearm and stowed the wand there. Next, he read the note.

'Great,' he scowled, shoving the note into his trunk with the other one, 'Another constant reminder of my mistakes.' Even in a completely different world, his greatest mistake haunts him.

Little Alchemist,

Your wand is 13 inches, yew wood, with a core of Thestral Hair.

Yew wands are said to give their wielder more power over life and death than other wand woods and is more attracted to the Dark Arts. The Thestral Hair core is unstable at best and will only work for those who have accepted death.

Accepting it with a huff, he shoved the robes he'd woken up in into the trunk and pulled out a book - quickly checking for his own journal and sighing when he found it in the inner pocket of his cropped jacket - and opened it to read. He stopped short at the new language that was registering in his brain. "What the fuck?" The new language - English - had probably been forced into his mind while coming Through. Making a conscious effort, Edward spoke in Amestiran, "Was soll der Scheiß?" Again, the passing Knowledge that this world's equivalent to his home language was called German jumped to the front of his mind. "That's going to take some getting used to." Pushing everything else aside, he opened the book and began to read Spellman's Syllabary.

***

Three books later, Edward forced himself pulled back into reality. The textbooks he read were strange. The first was a study of this worlds Runes, some of which he had studied as a kid in alchemy books. The next was about Potions, he had a feeling that he was going to like that class; The third was about the Wizarding World's history, it was interesting to compare the Knowledge he'd gotten coming Through to what was being taught; The last was about Transfiguration, and he decided then and there that he would not be attending that class at all, no matter the consequences.

Blinking as he closed the book, he found he was no longer alone in the compartment. "Who the hell are you?" were the first words he said to anyone since his arrival.

The boy across from him shifted nervously in his seat, not meeting Ed's eye as he seemed to shrink in on himself. "I-I'm sorry. It's just, everywhere else was-was full, and-and-" he stopped only to restart a different sentence, "I asked if-if I could sit here- Everywhere else is full and the train started moving and- I'm really sorry!"

"Hold on," Edward cut the kid off from speaking anymore, "It's fine. I get caught up in my own little world when I'm reading."

The brown haired boy took a deep breath, still not looking away from his hands, and pressing himself as far away from Ed as he could. His robes were crimson and ruby red where Ed's were yellow and gold. "I'm sorry." he squeaked again.

"You have nothing to apologise for."

"Yes I do. We-we don't know each other. Why would you ever let me sit here?" He stood and reached for his own trunk, "I-I'll just go sit somewhere else-"

"Stop." Ed ordered, his tone leaving no room for discussion, "Sit your ass back down. I'm fine with you being in here. I really don't care."

"But-but, I'm a Gryffindor and you're a Hufflepuff."

"So?"

"'So'?"

"Yeah, 'So?'. Why should I care about that? You're just sitting here."

"But-!"

"I'm Edward. Call me Ed."

The boy seemed like he wanted to say something, but he allowed the conversation to turn were Ed led it. "Neville Longbottom, though you probably already knew that." He did know that, but not for any reason Neville could come up with. "You're really okay with me staying?"

"Yes."

He slowly sat back down. "I don't remember seeing you around school before. Are you new?"

This question made Ed pause for a second. Nothing was telling him this kid was untrustworthy, but that didn't mean he'd tell him anything. Though, an ally would do him good. "Yeah, I'm new." Now, he was relying on what the Gate had given him. "I was sorted only a bit ago, so I don't really care about the Houses or whatever. I'm thinking about not telling anyone I'm new, though, see if I can trick everyone, y'know?"

Neville gave a small smile. Maybe there was a chance of befriending this kid? "That'd be funny."

Edward smiled, too, "You'll help me?"

"Of course!" He didn't know why, but Neville found this kid - Edward - easy to be around. He hadn't stuttered much this whole conversation and Ed was even asking him to help prank the whole school! But, that wouldn't last long. Once Ed found out how terrible at everything he is, he'll leave like everyone else.

"Hey," Ed asked, "What's wrong?"

"I just don't want to get my hopes up," Neville said shyly, "Once you realise how stupid I am, you'll not want to be around me."

Ed frowned. "Don't talk like that."

"Huh?"

"Self deprecation will get you nowhere. We're friends now, so I'm gonna help you work on that, okay?" Having a friend sounded nice. Besides, this kid is really easy to relax around. He was only ever able to relax like this around Al, but this kid was so similar to his brother that it was honestly a little scary.

"Friends? Are we really..?" A look from the blond made the brunet smile again. He didn't have friends. Acquaintances, sure, but not friends. "What're you reading?"

"The textbooks." Was the answer, "I didn't have time to read them over the summer, so I figured I'd read them now."

Neville nodded, agreeing to the logic, "Have you read the Herbology one yet?"

"No, but I can?" he offered.

A grin. "I want you're thoughts on this year's course when you're done." he sat back, "I'll wait."

Chuckling, Edward muttered, "Yes, sir," with a two fingered salute and a smirk as he began reading. It wasn't going to take him long to finish it, he knew, but his interest in whatever Neville had to say on the subject made him read slightly faster than normal.

***

The discussion on Herbology lasted from the third hour of the train ride - two o'clock in the afternoon - up until an hour before the sunset at seven o'clock. The train had come to a screeching and quick halt, cutting off any and all cheerful conversations and replacing them with collective confusion. The stop had also jolted everyone on the train, throwing most from or against their seats.

"What do you think is going on?" Neville asked his blond friend.

"I don't know," Edward stood from his seat, "But I'm going to-"

A sudden chill made itself known to the two boys. Their warm breaths became visible in the cold air and the glass of the windows quickly frosted over. Edward was thankful that he had winter automail on because he did not want to deal with frostbite, thank you. All sounds, muffled or otherwise, were muted over by a loud silence. Even their own breathing made little to no noise. Then, Neville started to tremble.

"Neville?" The boy in question had his hands loosely covering his ears and his eyes were wide and unfocused, seeing something Ed could not. He fell to his knees as tears started to fall from his eyes "Neville!" Edward recognised a flashback when he saw one. He'd seen some of the older soldiers have flashbacks to the Ishvalan War and was glad the fighting and war efforts hadn't reached Resembol outside of Winry's parents leaving and refugees joining the town.

A boney, charred black hand made itself known on the glass window of the door with a quiet tap, the window around the hand turning white with the cold, but the handprint stayed clear with an illusion of warmth. Slowly, the door opened and the owner of the hand was in full visibility, despite the cold seeming to fog everything else over with a thick mist. It was covered in a black cloak that hung so far and so loose that Ed couldn't tell if the thing was floating or standing. The hood covered where it's face should be and the sleeves seemed to be it's arms, falling over the things hands.

'A Dementor.' The Knowledge the Gate had forced into his head supplied, 'You're wand is protecting you.' Yew wood had power over life and death, so it was therefore able to protect against beings such as this one. The thestral hair core only seemed to amplify this. The words Expecto Patronum entered his mind.

Ed hadn't ever seen anything like this before, let alone faced something like it, so he was having a hard time overcoming his shock. When he did, though, he pulled Neville into a hug without turning his back on the creature. His wand fell from it's holster and into his left hand and he whispered the spell he was told. "Expecto Patronum!" His given Knowledge about the spell let him know that it was incredibly difficult to produce. It uses the castor's happiest memory as fuel to fend off Dementors, who feed off of misery. The happier the memory, the stronger the spell. The surprise Ed felt when a fully corporeal Patronus came into existence to push the Dementor out and away was immense. When the dark creature was gone, Ed watched as the glowing tiger made of silvery light approached and laid itself around him and Neville. A sense of calm overtook the train compartment and Ed found he could breathe easier. The room started to warm up with the Dementor now gone.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked Neville quietly once the boy had stopped trembling.

"I-I" he gulped, "I think so." He pulled away from Edward slightly, not noticing the tiger wrapped around him yet. "What was that thing?"

"A Dementor." Ed found a small bit of amusement that his companion hadn't noticed the silver magic yet.

Confused at why the blond was smiling, Neville started to ask why, but stopped short when he noticed the glowing tiger that he was somehow leaning against. It had wrapped itself around the two, it's tail going behind Edward and its head beside Neville. "What-"

"My Patronus, apparently," The tiger acknowledged the two with a nod - as if satisfied that they were now alright - before disappearing.

"You can cast the Patronus Charm?!" Neville had seen it mentioned in passing in a few books he's read, but, as far as he knew, it was a NEWT level spell! They wouldn't be learning that until Sixth Year!

"Apparently. That was my first time doing it." And using magic. Edward patted himself on the back for a job well done on the first try. Neville didn't need to know that part, though.

"You know what the tiger means, right?"

"It means something?"

"Of course it does!" Neville shook Ed by the shoulders, "The tiger means strength and cunning and majesty and independance and immortality. How did you not know that?"

Ed's brain short circuited. There was several things to unpack there, but the one he was focused on was the whole 'immortality' thing. What the fuck?

"You good?" Neville's voice pulled him back from his mind.

"Am I alright? I should be asking you that!" He lowered his voice. "You had a flashback."

Neville shook his head. "I don't really wanna talk about it." That made sense. He wasn't going to push. "Well, should we go see what's going on?" Edward smiled and nodded, helping the brunet up after standing himself.

There was a knock on the door. "Everything okay in here?" a man's voice called from the other side of the door.

Ed opened it, "Yeah, we're good."

"Who're you?" Neville asked from over Ed's shoulder. He was a whole four inches taller than the blond, much to the latter's irritation.

The man pulled chocolate out of his jacket pocket and handed a bar to the boys. "That was a Dementor." Then, he paused for a second and looked around the compartment. "Did either of you cast the Patronus Charm?"

Edward crossed his arms. "Who are you?"

The man seemed to size the two up for a second. "I'm Remus Lupin, your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year."

"Cool. Never heard of you." Neville gasped and backed up a few steps, obviously surprised at Ed's gall.

Remus laughed, "No, I suppose you haven't. Now, did you two cast a Patronus?"

"Yeah?" Ed raised an eyebrow, "How did you know?"

"Good job," he sent a quick glance to Ed's tie, "Ten points to Hufflepuff. The Patronus Charm leaves a kind of residue in the air. Lingering happiness, you could say."

"Huh. Cool."

"Anyway, I need to go check on the rest of the students. Be sure to change into your robes before we get to the school." Then, he walked away.

Ed closed the door and snickered.

"What're you laughing at?" Neville asked, a weak glare in his eyes. Edward had some audacity talking to a teacher like that! Though, Neville supposed it was a nice change. He wasn't gonna admit that out loud, though.

"His name." Ed moved away from the door and sat back in his seat.

Neville sat across from him again. "What about his name?"

"It means," he started to laugh again. "It means 'Wolf Wolf'." The Knowledge he'd gotten had included the myths of this world. The one he was thinking of was of Remus and Romulus of Rome. They had been raised by the wolf Lupa. "If that man has nothing to do with wolves, I'll eat my boots."

Neville giggled, "I'd pay ten galleons to see that."

"Oh, you're on!" The two shook hands as the train began moving again.

***

When Edward read 'school' on the note The Truth had left for him, he was expecting something closer to the ones back home, like a building no taller than three floors. Not a whole ass village. When he expressed this to Neville, the boy told him the the village - Hogsmeade - was not the school, before leading him over to the carriages. Most students, Ed noticed, were ignoring the horses altogether. The few that saw them gave them a wide berth. He wasn't about that. He walked right up to one, dragging Neville with him, and patted it's side.

"What is it?" Neville asked.

"A thestral." he answered.

Tentatively, Neville reached out to pet the horse as well. "It's beautiful." The two soon had to leave the thestrals and jumped into the carriage. They didn't say much as they waited to arrive at the school, though they were joined by a blond in royal and sapphire blue robes before they started moving.

Again, Edward's first image of a school was maybe three floors in a very rectangular building. Not a damn castle. He barely refrained from expressing his excitement in front of his extra companion. Though, he did have the information Given to him come to the forefront of his mind for a moment, just long enough to skim through the history of the building. It was a lot and it would be sorted through later.

"You don't have to hold back," the girl said, "I know you're new here."

"Are you sure I'm new?" Edward asked her, "There's a lot of kids here, you could have just overlooked me before."

"Quite sure." she nodded, "The wrackspurts that like to stay at the school haven't gotten to you yet." Her ice blue eyes gleamed for a moment. "My name's Luna Lovegood."

"Edward, but you can call me Ed."

"Nice to meet you, Ed. Neville."

The brunet squeaked. "Um, hi."

Luna giggled, "We haven't met before, but your reputation proceeds you, as does mine."

Neville blink dumbly before saying, "Loony?"

She smiled, "Yes,"

"Oh, my god!" Neville covered his mouth in mild horror, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay." She didn't seem to mind.

While the two students who weren't on their first day of school conversed, Edward had let himself openly - but quietly - gawk at the castle that was apparently a school. At first, he had to do a double take. Why would they be going to a bunch old ruins? But then the focus of the world seemed to shift and he couldn't help himself. He'd never seen a castle in person but this was a fantastic first impression on him. Now he could hold bragging rights over Mustang! Though, he wasn't sure if the tingling in his ports was natural. He couldn't very well ask the two because they obviously had all their limbs. The closer he got to the castle, he noticed, the more alarm bells started to go off in his head. Then, the tingling got worse.

"Ed?" Neville called, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah.." was his distracted answer. He rubbed his right shoulder port with his left hand, "..yeah."

"Are you sure?" Luna asked, her eyes on his right hand.

Before he could answer, his head erupted into a splitting headache and he doubled over, gripping his head in his left hand. 'What the hell is happening?!' He wondered. There was a quiet voice screaming at him to get out and leave, trying to force excuses into his head. The tingling in his ports turned to a stabbing pain, rendering his right arm and left leg useless

"This is a violent reaction to the wards," Luna said, though Ed couldn't be sure he really heard her.

Neville was chewing on his bottom lip, "Why, though? He was perfectly fine on the train."

"Is he a muggle or a squib?"

"No. He performed magic on the train when the Dementor entered the cart."

"Hmm. This is a problem."

Ed came back into focus about then, the pain in his head down to a tolerable hum and his automail ports only feeling slightly heavier than normal. He methodically moved all the joints in his automail that he could, just ot make sure everything was in working order, not that he could actually move them again. "What...the hell was that?"

Luna sat back in her seat, though she was no less concerned than before. "The wards. I don't think the castle likes you very much."

"Why wouldn't the castle like him?" Neville was wondering several things she could have ment, but he was going to try and stay on track for now. He could ask more questions later.

She humed. "Hogwarts doesn't like muggles. Squibs like Mr. Filch are tolerable, though. She must really dislike you for some reason."

"I'm sorry," Ed said, "'She'?"

"The castle."

"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, okay." Maybe he has lost it. He got hit in the head and he's lost his mind. That's the only explanation for whatever was going on. Apparently sentient castles were a thing now? Great. Fantastic.

"Either way," Neville chimed in, leaving the matter of the Hogwarts' apparent sentience for a later date, "Do you think you'll be okay for the Welcome Feast?" Then, he backtracked to when his first conversation with the blond. "Actually, what year are you?"

Ed's eyebrow twitched. He's fifteen years old, damn it, so why is he being but with people two years younger?! He huffed quietly. "Third year."

Neville brightened up. "That's my year!" Then, he deflated, "But we're not in the same House."

"So?" he still couldn't wrap his mind around the whole 'House Rivalry' thing going on despite the reasons having been shoved straight into his head. "What House we're in shouldn't matter."

"You want to make the whole school thing you're on your third year here, yes?" Luna asked, though neither boy was sure how she found out about that little plan, "Then just play into that. Don't go out of your way to interact with each other, and no one will suspect a thing."

"Nah," Ed turned down. He didn't like the idea of shoving Neville aside to keep up appearances. "I'll just play into the Hufflepuff House Traits." Yes, he knew enough about those to recite them in his sleep. "Justice, loyalty, patience, and propensity for hard word. We're friends now. I don't leave people behind."

Luna smiled, "Well, I don't know how much help I'll be, but-"

Ed cut her off. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, we're friends now, too. Besides, you seem interesting."

"Thank you. You're interesting as well."

Neville was going to stop questioning anything now. Though, he had to admit that they made a pretty fun group, despite only having just met each other. Friends. What a weird concept.

"Now," Ed said as the carriage came to a stop near the castle, "let's go back to the reputation thing. You both have proceeding reputations? I'll have to step up my game. I've been here for two years and people are only just noticing me?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head, "A damn shame."

The two laughed, fully intent on playing along with this endeavor of tricking the whole school. Luna still hadn't told them how she found out about that. "Anther time, Ed. You know which table you're going to?"

"The yellow one, right?"

"That's the one!"

"Okay. I'll see you two later?"

"Of course."

Now alone, Ed took a second to look around at the flood of students heading up to the castle. They'd pretty much all sectioned themselves off into four main groups. Red, yellow, blue, and green. The red and green groups were all sneering at each other and were being separated by the yellow and blue kids. And, based on everything he'd been Given when he came Through the Gate, he was going to have to tread carefully. Politics. Ew. Despite all reservations, he joined the yellow group and followed them into the castle.

The Entry Hall was just has grand as the rest of the castle, and very sparsely decorated. The doors in front of him were tall and opened on their own to let the flood of students into the Grand Hall. It was beautifully decorated, but Ed wasn't quite sure he liked the ceiling. It was amazing, nonetheless. The five tables were arranged in a way that basically promoted against Inter-House relationships. The teacher's table was fine, but the four House Tables were all separated quite obviously, and the banners above them only amplified this. With a huff, Ed sat down at the end of the yellow table. The Hufflepuffs around him didn't seem to take notice of him. Good. All the better for gaslighting the staff and student body.

A few minutes after everyone had sat down, a stool was placed in front of the teacher's table. An old pile of cloth sat on top of it. Then, the doors to the Great Hall opened once again and a stern looking teacher - Professor McGonagall, Ed's mind supplied - walked in, a gaggle of obviously nervous kids following after her. That was how the Sorting Ceremony started.

***

It took an hour, but every single one of the first years had been sorted between the four Houses. It was off-putting for Ed to see the absolute disgust or rage or other negative emotions on the students' faces when someone was sorted into a House that wasn't their own. Seriously, why are they all getting so upset about a kid being placed where they'd fit in best? He didn't outtwordly react, though.

All the House tables had ranging reactions to each placement, but Hufflepuff had the least negative out of all of them. The Slytherins sneered at everyone who wasn't with them, especially if they were sorted into Gryffindor. The Gryffindors returned the favor. The Ravenclaws weren't nearly as bad as the other two, but they did avoid watching anyone walk to their table. They didn't make a sound when anyone was sorted into Hufflepuff, though. The Hufflepuffs, clapped politely for everyone, but there were a few that they didn't clap for. They were mostly Ravenclaws.

According to the Gate, it was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws got along, while the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs got along. None of them actually went out of their way to interact, but classes styled like that were normally more productive than a Gryffindor and Slytherin class.

Ed was gonna change that. Maybe. It was on his list now that he'd met Luna and Neville, but it wasn't a priority. More of, if it happens, it happens.

"I welcome you all, whether you are returning for another year or you are only just coming in, to Hogwarts for another year or learning." the old man in the middle of the staff table said. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, he knew from the Gate, was wearing obnoxious pink robes with his beard tucked into the blue belt. "I only have one thing to say to you all, now that you've been seated: Tuck in!"

Upon his command, dishes and food and drink appeared on all the tables, covering the wood to the point it could hardly be seen. Everyone started to serve themselves as conversation erupted throughout the room, engulfing it into a cacophony of sound and movement that was, in all honesty, overwhelming Ed.

"Hey," someone said from next to him, their voice quiet against everything else, making it stand out ot his ear more, "Are you okay? You look a bit pale."

Ed pushed an answer out of his throat in a voice equally as quiet. "Yeah," he lied, "This is my third year and I'm still not used to this much noise."

The kid, Cedric, he recognised from the Gate, nodded, "Yeah, I get that. When we get back to the dorms, we can put a silencing charm over your bed curtains."

"Isn't there already a silencing charm on them?"

"Yeah, but that's just to muffle the sound going in or out. I'll put one on that'll completely silence the noise going in."

That didn't sound to bad. "Edward Elric," he introduced himself as he finally began to get himself food. Despite what Mustang believed, he did have manners. He just doesn't use them around the bastard because he sees no reason to.

Cedric also began eating. "Cedric Diggory." They let the conversation sit for a second, the fifth year student was making sure to be quiet. It didn't to a lot in the grand scheme of the room, but the sentiment was appreciated. "Forgive me, but I don't recognise you. Are you a visiting student?"

Ed shook his head, the lie coming easy to him, "No, I've been here, since year one. I just don't like to draw attention usually."

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Really? You don't seem the type."

"Huh?"

"You're," he gestured vaguely at Ed, "vibe, I guess. It basically screams for attention." Ed didn't say anything. Cedric flinched. "Right, sorry, that was rude of me." he cleared his throat, "Are you going to hide yourself in the background again this year, or are you going to try and make friends?"

Ed pretended to think for a moment before answering, "I made some friends on the train earlier."

"Oh? That's good."

"Yeah. If we ever want to spend time outside of classes, though, it's inevitable we'll draw attention to ourselves."

"Oh?" he said again, "And why's that?"

"We're all in different Houses."

"Ah. Yeah, I can see where the problem lies."

Before their conversation could continue, the food and drinks and dishes were taken from the table. "House elves." Ed muttered under his breath.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood from his seat again and cleared his throat, calling everyone's attention to him. Once every student was looking at the old man, he smiled with a twinkle in his eye as his gaze moved from student to student. Ed made sure to not meet the man's eyes. "As always, a wonderful feast." he began, "Before I send you off to your beds, there a a few things to be announced and reminded. The Forbidden Forest is, to those who do not wish to die a most gruesome death, forbidden. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that a list of prohibited objects ha been posted to his office door on the second floor." He turned slightly to the left side of the staff table. "I would like to introduce you all to this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Remus Lupin." Ed was giggling behind his hand while everyone clapped. The man stood, waved a bit, then sat back down. Dumbledore continued, "Classes begin tomorrow at eight in the morning. I wish you all a good night."

Again, the room became very loud very quickly. Cedric shot Ed an apologizing look. "I'll met you in the common room, okay?" Ed nodded as the brunet stood and called for the first years to follow him.

Ed Knew where he was going, but he didn't really know. So, he followed everyone else as they left the Great Hall. He made sure to make himself seem small - because he was not small - as he walked in the middle of the crowd. Cedric and someone else had taken the first years on a different route, so he resigned himself to being surrounded by people he's never met before in his life. Which ones are his dorm-mates, he wonders. He doesn't really care to know at the moment.

The group of students wearing yellow accented robes wandered down to the basement - a floor above the dungeons - and to the kitchens. At least, near the kitchens. One of the boys at the head of the group tapped the barrel two from the bottom of the stack twice, then thrice, muttering 'Helga Hufflepuff' as he did so. The passage opened up and the Hufflepuffs all filed into the common room.

The room was very cozy and smelled like freshly cut grass and rain and burning firewood and freshly baked bread. Overall, it felt like home did. The earthy tones to the room only amplified this fact. The ceiling was white marble, the floor was off-white tile with a dark green mosaic in the middle, and the walls were off-white and light grey bricks. Wooden supports pillared up in a few places, even scattered about, and were connected at the top by arches. The room itself was round and very big. There were two wooden staircases leading up to the second floor landings, separating the male and female dorms. Alcloves took up the walls of the room, filled with bookshelves and couches and matching chairs and darker area rugs. A large fireplace took up the wall directly opposite the door, the space in front occupied by several more armchairs and couches. There was an area with only bean-bag chairs and Ed decided that he needed to get one of those in his own world. Aside from pictures that had been hung up, the bulletin board by the door, and the furniture, plants took up every available space. Round windows lining the top of the walls and warm lanterns hanging from the rafters completed the room.

Everyone settled into the common room nicely. No one went to their rooms yet, so it was a bit crowded. Not overly so, though. For Hogwarts being the only magic school in Britain, there weren't a lot of students.

About ten minutes later, the two House Prefects for Hufflepuff brought the First Years in. Everyone was very friendly to them, and they all quickly warmed up to each other and their Housemates. Eventually, though, the older years started to taper off into their rooms. Ed followed Cedric into the Third Year boys' dorms.

"So," Cedric said, "I see the common room wasn't too loud for you?"

Ed shook his head "Nope. It was a manageable level. Besides, it feels like I've come home after a long trip." Well, the common room felt like how he imagines it would be like when he and Al went back to Resembool after they get their bodies back.

Cedric frowned slightly, but ultimately didn't say anything. He quickly finished the charms on Ed's bed curtains before turning back to the blond with a smile. "Well, if you need anything, feel free to ask me or your roommates or anyone else in the House. Professor Sprout is also more than happy to talk to her students."

Ed smiled softly at the older boy, "You act like it's my first day," It was, but he wasn't going to tell Cedric that. Not now, at least. Maybe a different time.

"Of course," the brunet smiled back, "Right." he went to the door, "Well, I'll let ya get some sleep. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah," the blond nodded, "See ya then."

The door closed and Ed found himself alone in the room. It was hexagonal in shape, the floor was off-white tile, the walls off-white and light grey bricks, and the ceiling was white brick. The wall trim was carved wood, matching the rafters and corner beams and door, and climbed two feet up the wall. The beds were all four-posted with soft yellow blankets, white sheets and pillowcases, and had black and gold bed curtains. To the right of each bed was a wooden nightstand with three drawers. On the left was a dresser with five drawers. Trunks sat at the end of each bed, and a yellow rug with the Hufflepuff coat of arms on it covered most of the floor.

Ed easily found his trunk and bed, closing the curtains around him before he let himself get comfortable. It was weird, laying in this bed. It seemed to solidify the fact in his mind that this was real. He's in a new world, far away from anything familiar and safe. Magic is everywhere, and all laws of Equivalence are ignored! He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, so he grabbed a book from his trunk and started to read, mumbling to himself the whole while.

***

He must've fallen asleep at some point because his pocket watch was now telling him that it was now five in the morning. Ed sighed and dragged a hand down his face before taking his hair from the braid he'd slept in. It was still early, so he'd have the bathroom to himself for a while. Good, because he hadn't had a shower in days and he was feeling dirty. His hair was also getting oily and it was not a pleasant feeling.

Storyboard

#fma #harry potter #fanfiction #crossover #fma x hp #I started this on WattPad #now I write on Ao3 and haven't posted this anywhere #I'm very proud of this one and it will be going on Ao3 at some point #just not right now #this is all you're getting btw #have fun #hope you like it #There is an audience for this #I swear

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sentientsky · 5 months

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When she first Fell, the sky had been all embers, all vicious touch. They’d felt nothing but the bite of flames and gore and the sulphuric acid of a mother’s love turned corrosive. Crowley had burned—heavenly bone, muscle, flesh, the chemical antiseptic of the ether stripping away to bare nerve tissue.

In the eternities since, they’d held their breath, kept herself small. They’d learned to amputate the desire that settled in the tips of her fingertips and in the scarlet ends of their hair. She—alone, ever alone—had dragged herself from the brimstone and out of the bonfire. She’d taught herself to exist in the jaws of an unmuzzled universe, under stars that no longer called their name. Now the sky is blue, and the bookshop burns. The bookshop burns and Crowley’s heart is in her throat, eating its way out of their body. The bookshop burns and yet their angel must be fine. (He has to be fine because the world still spins on its axis and the sea hasn’t swallowed her whole. And if breath still lives in her body, and the universe has yet to collapse in on itself, then their angel has to be fine). But something coils deep in her belly: an oil-slick, a poisonous berry. They bite their lip a brackish silver, the taste of ichor rotten in her mouth.

As though in a trance, she presses forward, and the frantic thrash of panic in her chest forces the double doors wide without so much as a thought. The interior of the shop is all orange-red teeth and flaming claws, tearing into bookshelves and loveseats and oh. Oh, the two of them had just been sitting there not three days ago. (Crowley had tried so hard to stay on her side of the room, to keep her fingertips from brushing the edge of Aziraphale’s as they passed silver-stemmed goblets between them. Skin to skin, breath to body—the indirect touch of their mouths. The passive desperation of six thousand years of want left fermenting under their skin).

They call for him, heat searing her lungs. It comes out ragged and desperate and too late (always too late).

Heat knifes clean through her now—a gutting sensation, a disembowelment in the middle of an already-burning funeral pyre. For as long as they had been on Earth together, she’d always been able to sense their angel from anywhere in the world—a steady, beating heart of a presence. An inevitable gravity that wrapped itself around her arms and tugged her forward. It had been axiomatic, a fundamental truth of how the universe functioned: a hand extended always finds purchase. A heart in motion remains in motion.

So, in a room choked with smoke and two hundred years of memories, she reaches out, expanding the edges of her consciousness, pressing her mind into the outer reaches of the bookshop and Soho and the whole, cluttered universe. She searches for a pulse. And then something within her is breaking. Something is shaking apart in the depths of Crowley’s being—a star turned supernova turned withering, all-consuming black hole. No heartbeat, no flickering warmth, no pull in the periphery of her awareness. The corpse of gravity turns to dust in the corner of the room.

And she knows—knows with the unflinching inevitability of too many questions, of an ink-winged angel falling from grace—that Aziraphale is gone. Outside, the sky remains blue. The world stays upright. And the bookshop still burns.

(thank u to the incredibly talented @actual-changeling for helping me fix the first part of the fourth paragraph)

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kazbiter · 11 months

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kavinsky's death is actually the closing arc in a great tragedy to me bc his actions throughout the story are mostly just him practically begging for someone to be on his side, to care about him, to even just look at him. his father tried to kill him, his mother is completely uninterested. he can dream himself as many people as he wants, but they will only ever think of him because he made them to do so. the dream pack are just physical manifestations of his desire to not be alone in the world, to have someone, anyone, connected to him. he so desperately tries to draw some sort of emotion out of ronan, good bad or ugly, because the intense similarities they share mean that he's the only person who might be willing to look long enough to see him. and when it doesn't work, when he realizes it can't, that this world is not for him and he is not going to be a part of it in a way that involves anyone else, he decides that everyone is going to look at least this once. they will all see the finale if nothing else. genuinely doomed from the start. and how truly devastating that is in comparison to the core group the story focuses on, characters that even at their lowest and darkest and meanest and absolute worst have others there with them. characters that always have someone looking for them. dying is a boring side of a life that has nothing inside of it.

#4th of July got me this year girls (gender neutral)#also I'm contractually obligated to mention that he was so so funny #a few of his strengths:#1. hilarious #2. leader of ronsey nation #3. thrower of parties that involve fun for the whole family (minus the dream battle and suicide that one time)#but actually tho why do I feel like they mentioned like. families going to those parties.#anyways I'm getting SOOOOOO off track #did someone say trc famous adjective lonesome #and when u think abt the fact one of his worst acts was taking Matthew.... someone he KNEW ronan cared about above all #ohhhhh OWWWWW #like yeah obviously that was terrible and evil of him I'm not saying he's innocent or even nessecarily good #I'm just saying that he's fucking tragic #like so desperate for someone to look that he doesn't even care what he has to do to make it happen #this took me like 1.5 hrs to write btw I had so many things I wanted to say but it's almost midnight and I want to post it on His Day #the raven cycle #joseph kavinsky #the dream theives #kavinsky #trc kavinsky

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imikhailo · 8 months

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(first time doing something like this 🙈)

prompt: you never asked @galladrabbles @arrowflier

——————————

mickey groans getting up off the floor to open the door.

when he opens the door he's faced with the most gorgeous redhead he has ever seen.

he rolls his eyes.

the redhead smirks. "Hey, Mick."

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I came to pay you a visit."

"A visit uh?

"A visit means that you just passing by. and also means you gonna leave'." again, mickey thinks

"Are you going to invite me in or not?"

a sigh. mickey gives up. "Do you want to come in and have a beer?"

"I Thought you’d never ask." the redhead responds with a big dork smile

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#HEY 106 WORDS??? I almost got it #please let me know what you think #this could perhaps be part of a story that I want to create but I don't have that much courage to write it bc you know don't have the skill #but I'm going to try my hand at galladrables from time to time to see if I can improve little by little at least #this was super fun btw ☺#galladrabbles #gallavich #mag writes #<- ???? idk #fic rec

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quatregats · 2 months

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Okay hear me out. What if Hornblower and Lady Barbara but they're high school math olympians and also have a crazy psychosexual rivalry with each other

#the vibes here are mean girls btw #high school academic competitions bring out insane behaviors and olympiads are even worse. and i want them to have that #lady barbara 'comes from a dynasty of math olympians and has 50x harvard legacy' wellesley #vs. horatia 'public school kid whose school has never even won a math competition but she's gonna win the fields medal' hornblower #(yeah she's trans. she's always trans she has to be trans in that book i'm sorry)#the rivalry never actually comes to anything. or they have like A Single Kiss and then are like what if we never talked about that again #it needs to be extremely early 00s teen girl movie coded. everything is subtext but they're both insane #anyways if anyone wants to write this go wild i have like 60 pages of final papers to get through first :(#perce rambles #percy yells at cecil scott #disclaimer: i did not do any olympiads. i know a couple of people who know people who did #i did however do trivia which does bring out similar behaviors i think #also sorry for making them american i just knew i'd make a hash of the british school system ://#tbh i think this would also just make a fun movie in general i think it's what the general public needs

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hum--hallelujah · 10 months

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don't want to kill time like it doesn't matter - 3.5k words, (platonic) funkobra hurt/comfort

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Ghoul is actually younger than Kobra. They always forget it though.

At least, they usually do.

Kobra's stopped shooting upright and reaching for his blaster whenever someone wakes him up at night. Stopped two years ago, honestly, when him and Ghoul started sharing a room. That was a collective decision that is very much not discussed. It left the old office as a perfect room for the Girl, in the end. Between Ghoulie and Girlie, the former of whom has wild, sleepless tendencies and the latter liking to scramble her way into bed with somebody else every other night of the week, Kobra's knee-jerk reaction has become more of a lack of reaction.

"Yo," hisses a pitchy voice. It's dead daylight, the heat of the day. This is the time of the year when you sleep while the sun's up, wait until the darkness falls to do anything or else it's too miserable or too dangerous. "Kobes."

Kobra utters a verbose "Hrrmngg?" and rolls over. He cracks an eye open to see Ghoul standing at the end of his bed. If it hadn't been light out, he'd be doing a good job of living up to his name. His hands are shaking, but when aren't they?

"You good, man?" Kobra asks groggily. He's half awake, half asleep, drifting in between the two states of being. Ghoul is shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. It makes the floor creak. It makes him look even smaller than he is. "Ghoulie?" He mumbles again when he gets no reply.

Ghoul makes a noncommittal half-whispered sound. "Wanna go for a joyride?" He asks instead of an answer.

Kobra blinks himself more fully awake and pushes up on one elbow. "Mirage or the 'Am?"

Ghoulie shrugs. Won't meet his eyes. Oh shit, that's not good. Something's got him worked up. It's too late for this. This is why they share a room now. They didn't used to, but Kobra refuses to let him sleep alone anymore. Kobra knows how he got that wicked scar that runs from the corner of his mouth nearly to his eye.

"Either," Ghoul says. "Doesn't matter much to me."

"Mirage," Kobra decides. He'll never say no to a late-night joyride. Not this kind. Party'll have his neck for sneaking out on the bike without letting anyone know, but the 'Am is too conspicuous when strange crews are out and from the look of him, riding double on the motorcycle will be good for Ghoul.

It's still too hot to be out. But going for a spin won't take too much exertion, getting to someplace with shade, so long as it's away from here, won't take too long. Ghoul's gonna get sunscorched. Maybe that's the point. While Kobra covers up with his jacket, Ghoul is still in the loose, half-covering clothes he sleeps in.

The sun glints painfully off the sand when they climb quietly out the window. No reason trying to get past Party when they've got an exit right here. Ghoul clambers out first with a probably accidental but surprisingly graceful roll and then flinches, violently, when Kobra jacket catches on what's left of the glass in the window and he tumbles haphazardly to the ground. They both hold still for a long dozen seconds, Kobra staring at the diner wall and straining to tell if anyone heard them, and Ghoul staring at Kobra and shaking.

When Party doesn't come along, eyes glinting with annoyed amusement, and yell at them for sneaking out, Kobra sits up and checks the hem of his jacket where it caught on the sharp edge. "Great," he mutters when he sees the tear in the lining. He'll have to sew that back together later. "Ghoul, you good?"

Ghoul shrugs and stands up. "Aren't I always?"

"No."

They stare at each other for a few seconds while Kobra rubs his palms together to clear the sand off them and reaches into his pocket for his gloves. "You're wearing a helmet," he says flatly.

Ghoul rolls his eyes and sneers. It crinkles the scar running up his face. "No way."

"Fine." Kobra doesn't push. Half the time he doesn't even wear his helmet. He's the driver. He'll keep them safe. It was worth a try, though. "Come on."

The heavy bay door of the garage makes too much noise to open without being caught. They slip in the side door and Kobra brings Mirage carefully back through it. He wears a helmet this time. Ghoul stands and waits, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet, while Kobra starts the bike and, out of habit, does a couple checks.

"You ready?" Kobra says, with the visor of his helmet flipped up.

Ghoul grins, but it's lacking in heart. So often, Kobra thinks he's not all there. So often, Kobra thinks this is his best friend. "Born that way," he replies.

"Come on then," Kobra says and nods for Ghoul to get on the bike with him. "Hey, hey. Hey, Ghoulie-" he says, when Ghoul is standing right at his shoulder, about to throw a leg over Mirage and climb on. "You okay?" He asks again, because he needs to know how safe any of this is.

Ghoul doesn't respond. Just settles himself behind Kobra and wraps his arms, tight, around Kobra's middle. Kobra stays there a second, until he's sure Ghoul's grip is solid, so that he can feel Ghoul breathing against his back, before he kicks off. He doesn't care if Party and Jet wake up now, they won't catch them. The bike's tires kick up a fountain of sand as he spins a loop, leaning into the turn until Mirage tilts close enough to the ground that Kobra could touch the sand if he reached out. Ghoul asked for a joyride. This is that.

"What the hell, man?!" Ghoul yells over Kobra's shoulder, muffled by the engine noise and his helmet. Kobra feels Ghoul's hands grab at the fabric of his shirt as he pulls around the first turn, bringing them around the back of a sand dune at full speed.

"Trust me?" Kobra shouts back. He's getting into it now, relaxing into each wide, showy swerve and fishtail. He slows down just a bit when he can feel Ghoul's fingernails start to bite into his skin. It makes him edgy when Ghoul is like this.

Ghoul sniffs sharply. "Well, yeah, but I've seen you crash out enough times at the track-"

"Aw, shut up," Kobra snaps back, without venom. Ghoul's his mechanic. He's seen his best wins and worst losses. "Where you wanna go?" He asks, after a few random turns, just drifting around in the sand. Ghoul is quiet. Kobra reaches back with one hand and smacks him on the leg after awhile. "Ghoulie, where we goin'?"

"I'm thinki-" Ghoul cuts himself off and when he speaks again his voice is flat and so quiet Kobra has to strain to hear him. "Turn right up here."

There's the remains of a road cutting across their path and Kobra hops Mirage up onto it, swings right and follows the pavement. Ghoul's grip around his chest has loosened, but Kobra can feel the fast, shallow rhythm of his breathing and the shaking of his hands even still. The road goes on for ages, long enough that it starts to feel infinite. This must have been a highway, back before the wars and BL/ind. At some point, Ghoul leans forward and puts his forehead against the back of Kobra's neck. Kobra can feel him pressed just below where his helmet sits.

"Get off at this turn," Ghoul mumbles suddenly, but not soon enough because Kobra completely overshoots the exit. He flips around the empty lanes of the highway, admittedly showing off mostly just to make himself feel better.

The group of buildings along the former highway off-ramp isn't really a ghost town. It's a cluster of old stores and restaurants, like the diner but mass produced, and down at the end is an ancient truck stop and gas station. Kobra slows the bike to a crawl as they drive down the street, struck with an eerie sense of deja vu. He's been here before. They both have.

He pulls over and stops in the middle of the road, beside what used to be a coffee store. Coffee is usually made in the form of compressed, dried out shots now, called Motor Juice in the Zones when rehydrated. They don't have coffeeshops in the City. They have prescriptions.

Ghoul is off the bike and Kobra's back suddenly cold even under the heat of the sun before Mirage even comes to a full stop. "Ghoul-" Kobra snaps, angry for reasons he can't even say and unsettled in ways he doesn't want to. This is a ghost town. Just not in the normal way. "Ghoul. What are you-"

But Ghoul is walking away, his back to Kobra and the bike as he moves toward the gas station as if it's a magnet and he's the blade of a knife, trembling so hard with the pull that it might break. Kobra hesitates, then swings his leg over Mirage and bumps out the kickstand. Ghoul is standing stock still, or as still as he can, on the faded pavement of the gas station parking lot. Kobra's glad it's faded. He doesn't want to see the bloodstains.

Ghoul looks small as he approaches, absolutely miniscule. He's got his arms wrapped tight around himself and Kobra can hear the harshness of his breathing even from several strides away. He doesn't want to get too close too fast. Ghoul's enough like a wild animal that it could turn out badly, and Kobra for once really doesn't want to fight him today. Not out here, at least.

They're within two years of each other, Kobra and Ghoul. They usually forget they're not the same age. But right now Ghoul looks so small and so, so young and Kobra doesn't know what to do.

"Gh- Ghoul. Ghoulie." Kobra calls carefully, stumbling over his tongue. He clamps his teeth together, takes a deep breath. "Ghoul."

Ghoul doesn't turn, doesn't look away from the door into the gas station he'd been found in, back when Kobra and Poison and Jet were a crew of three and Ghoul'd been even more feral than he is now. The gas station where Ghoul watched his entire family die and he was helpless to do anything about it. He still thinks he hadn't done enough. Kobra knows that. Ghoul always thinks he didn't do enough. That one kid with a blaster and wild eyes could take down a full squad of Dracs and two Crows.

Kobra doesn't know how to tell him that if he'd tried, he would be dead too. Kobra doesn't know how to tell him he's glad he didn't. When it comes down to it most, Kobra finds he can't speak.

"Ghoulie," he says again. "Hey. Hey." He moves closer, pulls off the helmet he'd almost forgotten he still has on. "Ghoul," he tries, one more time, as gently as he knows how even though it's not that gentle. He's never been good at this. Some of the scars scattered across Ghoul's body are from him. But Kobra had stitched up Ghoul's face and he's not going to give up now.

Ghoul finally turns and Kobra breathes a sigh of relief. Just a response. Proof of life even though he's still standing. And then Ghoul steps toward him and suddenly he's right there, shaking but otherwise just as eerily still as this entire place, like he's trapped in frozen time just like the rest of it, and he collides with Kobra's chest in a way that's both surprising and yet entirely expected.

"Oh." Kobra drops his helmet, dangling from one hand, and his arms hover uncertainly in the air for a moment before he carefully closes them around Ghoul. "Oh. Okay. Okay." He says quietly, startled, but not really. He'd felt the way Ghoul was holding onto him as they rode Mirage all the way out here.

Ghoul unfolds his arms from around himself and grabs onto the unzipped sides of Kobra's jacket. He doesn't cry, not out loud at least. He's just shaking, so much, and so, so small. Kobra's not good with words. He's even worse with them under pressure. Anything Jet or Party could say to make it better, that kind of stuff gets stuck on his tongue when Kobra tries to say it. So he doesn't. He just holds on.

"You plan on coming here?" Kobra asks eventually, even though he has a feeling the answer is no. Unless it's an engine or a bomb, Ghoul never really plans on much. Ghoul shakes his head, hair scrubbing against Kobra's shoulder and neck where his head's pressed. "You wanna... y'wanna go inside?" He asks then, against his better judgment. But then again, he's never been known for that, has he.

Ghoul tenses, but it momentarily stops the shaking. "Can we?"

Kobra huffs. "Nobody stoppin' us, and even if there were, we'd do it anyway, wouldn't we?"

Ghoul pries his fingers from their hold on Kobra's jacket and turns back toward the station. "Should we?"

"Dunno." Part of him thinks it might help. Part of him remembers exactly what happened the last time they were here. It's the Killjoy way to call death ghosting. It means some part of you lives on even when you're gone. There's a lot of ghosts in this pavement. "It's your-"

He can't think of what word goes there. Choice. Past. Grief. Place. So he stops talking. He shrugs, bends to pick up his helmet. "I can." He sucks a breath through his teeth. He's going to say it again. "I can... I can go with you. If you," he shrugs one shoulder again. "If you, uh, want to. I'm not- I'm not trying to force you," he adds, like it needs to be said. "It's your... yours."

Because that's all that really can be said. This place, the place that made Fun Ghoul what he is. The journey, however brief, that brought them here. Even, kinda, Kobra himself. It's all for Ghoul, here and now. Kobra drove, but he's just along for the ride. Weird how that happens.

Ghoul steps toward the station. Magnetism, again. And Kobra follows, because how could he not. He feels sick at the though of letting his friend go in that place alone.

The doors are gone. Shot out years ago. It looks to Kobra exactly as it did back then, but Ghoul probably remembers better. There are shelves toppled and glass and plastic broken all over the floor. Whatever hasn't been scavenged is broken and shattered. Ghoul walks toward the back of the store, the corner that's not so much a mess. Kobra stays back a bit, trying to give his friend space.

It's where they found Ghoul. Or, where Pois had found him. Ghoul was half in shock, terrified and scarred and fighting, and Party was the first one of their then three-strong group to notice the dark shape watching them hopelessly trawl the carnage for any survivors. It took Pois physically restraining the much smaller kid to keep Ghoul from going for all of their throats.

Kobra has a lot of bad memories of Ghoul. None are as bad as remembering the way he'd screamed when they first met.

"Y'okay?" Kobra asks after a while.

Ghoul has his moments. They all do. Sometimes, you wake up bad in the night and it's hard to pick yourself up. Sometimes you just gotta hit the bottom before you even can. But Ghoul's a fighter. "Yeah," he says, walking back and forth between fallen shelves once stocked with food and stupid trinkets. He crouches to pick up the shattered remnants of something once made of colorful glass and when he looks back over his shoulder at Kobra, he doesn't seem quite as small.

"'M sorry," Kobra mumbles, not knowing what to say now. Somehow, the shaking and the touch are so much easier than having to talk about it. He's never been the talker. That's Party. And he knows his brother regrets not getting there — here — sooner that day, but there's a sick, selfish part of Kobra that's too glad to have Ghoul to want anything different. But really, it's all he can say. If there's remnants of bones that haven't been carried away by carrion-eaters, he doesn't want to see it.

Ghoul slowly stands up from his spot on the floor, staring intently at the broken knick-knack in his palm. It might have been a glass teddy bear, once, something a parent might grab up for a child waiting at home. It's partially shattered, though. Half of its cartoonish smiling face is gone. The heart shape it once held in its paws is cracked down the middle. Kobra isn't great with metaphors, but this is pretty fucking obvious.

"I didn't save them," Ghoul says quietly, his voice grating through the charged, silent air. "I didn't save her."

Something clicks into place. They all know that the crew he lost was Ghoul's real actual biological family. He's a sandpup. He was born and raised in the Zones. He doesn't talk about it much. Kobra's shocked he even came back here, let alone with anyone else. Ghoul doesn't talk about his family, but they've all figured for a while that he had a sibling. You can see it in how he treats the Girl.

"Your sister," Kobra says. It doesn't sound like so much of a question when he says it out loud, but he knows Ghoul will understand it as one.

Ghoul nods. "Yeah." He steps over some toppled displays, sun-bleached ads that used to be bright colored, and slips the shiny piece of broken glass into one of Kobra's pockets since he doesn't have any of his own. Kobra can already see the sunburn forming on his friend's shoulders and the tops of his knees. "She was like, eight."

That's all the more he says about it, but Kobra slips his hand into the pocket and runs his fingers over the broken glass toy still warm from Ghoul's hands, and hears the years of grief and bitterness in the few words. Ghoul's more talky than he is, but he's cagey, too. Kobra can hear him, though. He gets it. Doesn't mean he knows what to say, though.

"Shit," he spits. He wants to say I'm sorry again, but that feels fuckin cheap. He wants to say stop beating yourself up about it, but that sounds even stupider. "Fuck." Sometimes that's all he can say.

"Yeah," Ghoul replies. "Fuckin shit."

"Exactly," Kobra agrees, fiercely relieved that Ghoul gets all the shit he's trying to say. "Hey, uh. Y'know I'm-" He stumbles over the words, cringes at himself for the inability to get past a stupid two-letter word. "I'm glad I know you." He manages, as selfish as it sounds standing here in the ghosted wreckage where Ghoul's family was killed. But if that hadn't happened, they wouldn't be here now. They wouldn't be friends. And Kobra needs Ghoul to know he's glad that any suicide run to save his family failed. The pain sucks, but he's grateful for the outcome. He hopes Ghoul can understand that.

Ghoul doesn't reply. His acid green eyes bore straight into Kobra's for a few seconds while Kobra's heart hammers in his chest. Then he kicks at some dust and looks at the floor and shrugs. "Let's go, man. I don't wanna stay here."

"M'kay."

Kobra's almost tempted to reach out as they walk back out into the glaring sun, grab onto Ghoul like he's a ghost, too, and the light might evaporate him. But he doesn't. He can't.

He thinks the feeling of Ghoul hanging onto him as he steers Mirage away, back up the ramp to the road they came down in the first place, will make him feel better. It doesn't. Ghoul holds on much looser than he had on the way here, and it makes Kobra nervous. He wonders if he should have made him wear a helmet, and steers more carefully around the turns.

And then Ghoul adjusts his seat and throws one arm up over Kobra's shoulder, loosely hooking around his neck. He leans up forward and shouts, "C'mon, Kobes, let's play with it!" Like he's itching for the risk that a couple hours ago had had him holding on for dear life. Kobra's used to thinking his best friend isn't all there. But he's also familiar with the times he is. Sometimes, he forgets they're not the same age because Ghoul is so larger than life.

He tips his head to the side in acknowledgement, and punches the throttle. He even pulls a couple of tight, quick loops. He can't slide on the pavement the way he would on sand, but he can catch a little air when there's a thermal bump in the highway. Ghoul clutches onto him, but it's not scared. Something's cleared up in the gas station. Maybe it was closure. Hell if Kobra knows.

When they pull Mirage off the highway and the diner finally comes back into view, just a small glint of signage, Kobra slows his pace and can feel Ghoul sigh more than he can hear it. His friend's arms stay firmly around him. "Hey, Kobes?" Ghoul says, just barely loud enough to be heard over the engine.

"Yeah?" Kobra says, a bit louder to be heard past his helmet.

Ghoul hesitates, then says in a rush, "I'm glad I know you too. Like, really glad." And then he squeezes Kobra a little tighter for just a second and Kobra can't even say anything in reply. It's been a long night at the wrong time of day. And they're almost home.

#yes I know kobra is doing that annoying ''r u ok'' thing very repetitively he's like me he repeats himself A LOT it's ok. we still love him #I cannot express this enough. kobra has a stutter. literally sometimes the only word that will come out is just. F bomb.#the others have gotten very good at translating him skskskddkfj #btw wrt kobra's speech patterns just know I'm cutting WAY back on the amount of repeating I do irl #like I'm giving him my (mild) stutter but cutting down the repetitions by a lot bc it looks weird on paper #so whenever he's repeating himself and stammering? yeah it's a lot more like a scratched CD than how I typed it out #in my head it's like SUPER noticeable. like everyone knows this happens and that sometimes he has to stop and be quiet #and take a minute before he can get on with what he's saying. it's just a thing #ok now that I'm done rambling about kobra kid having a stutter- :)#btw they're like 16 and 17 here. they are children trying to navigate these very big emotions and I love them so so dearly #next time I need to emotionally or physically hurt kobra skfjfnskdn I keep going after poor ghoul #ok I think that's all I have to say for now #she speaks!#she writes!#danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlotfk #kobra kid #fun ghoul #this isn't really funkobra just bc I don't actually ship ANYONE here skskfjdghkdjgfkd #I'm much more compelled by platonic relationships that are kinda the Secret Third Thing than I am by romance. so. yeah

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