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#pls I want to see someone write this

omvi-death · 11 months

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Poe is multilingual and he uses that to his advantage.

I don’t know what languages he would speak but let’s say he at least speaks Japanese, English, French and Spanish.(he would probably know more tbh)

Anyways he would use this to his advantage to call Ranpo names like darling or my sunshine. Like just couple names. They are not dating tho.

So like an example would be that Ranpo helps with Poes latest book and Poe would say "thanks, ma parole(my darling)"

Or like “<<starlight>> help me out over here”(<<>> means it’s in English)

And so on.(pls if you have more ideas tell me)

But continuing this idea the agency(who knows at least English) would catch on quickly but really just not say anything. Ranpo would try to ask them what Poe had just said but they would all just make up excuses or say they didn’t know.

Also the reason it would be hard for Ranpo to know what Poe is saying is that Poe constantly switches names and languages.(he has a hidden list of nicknames)

This would get to a point where Ranpo would get a dictionary of every language that Poe knew and when poe hits him with the ma parole and man starts flipping.

But also Poe(when their alone) would use this to confess to Ranpo. Or like go into great detail about Ranpos eyes. Of course Ranpo would get annoyed at Poe just talking to him in a different language for like 10 minutes that he did his best to learn at least the basics of some of the languages.

Which leads us to a scene where Poe is (kinda) confessing and Ranpo instead of shoving him off like he always does or questioning Poe just turns to him and in English “<<yes i accept.>>”

Poe is obviously stunned that Ranpo just replied in English and that he just excepted he confession. And Ranpo ,who is impatient, then kisses him and so on.

I am not done I have a little more for this.

Poe would entirely write about Ranpo but would always do it in another language so Ranpo couldn’t sneak around and read it.

Also Atsushi would entirely ask Poe for nicknames and pet names just to annoy Akutagawa.(this would actually be adorable and Atsushi would entirely use it because he knows that Akutagawa knows what he’s saying)

#pls I want to see someone write this #ignore the fact I’m a writer #Omg y’all Ranpo would literally pick up the words and call Poe them back #bsd #bungou gay dogs #ranpoe headcanons #ranpoe supremacy #ranpoe

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aquaquadrant · 3 months

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Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing.

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind…

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…”

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’.

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.”

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop.

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second.

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it?

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

“... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is.

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #scarian #my writing #listen i am only a casual phasmo enjoyer and idk anything about architecture school pls don't come for me abt any inaccuracies #just here for a good gay spooky time #wanted to see if i'd be any good at writing commissions (ie. solely based off someone else's idea) and i had FUN #but it's always easy to be inspired by mel <3

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cursedzucchini · 1 year

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DC x DP prompt #5

This is so dumb but Danny is Bruce's uncle.

And not in the Danny is old or whatever, no, my dude is 15 looks like he's 13 and when he was running away from home, he met this really really old lady which looked at him, looked at his wounds and went "aight I'm adopting u"

Danny thought she was a ghost and this was her obsession, so imagine his surprise when it turned out that not only this lady was alive, but also supposedly from very influential family??? Danny wasn't sure Abt that one, bc he himself never heard abt these "Waynes" like that just sounds weird, but hey. It made the lady happy so.

Anyway they part ways, bc the lady only wanted to adopt not care, and Danny decides, hey now that I have a new fam, maybe i should get to know them or something?

Well imagine his surprise when he found out some guy in his fifties is supposedly his nephew and has like bazillion kids.

Idk what happens next yada yada sheniganas happen and than Danny ends up in Gotham. And meets Bruce Wayne. Who obviously sees young child w si gns of abuse, black hair, blue eyes and is immidietly like "aight I'm adopting u" (like grandma like grandson huh)

Only this time, Danny is sure he isn't a ghost, and has a counter argument "u can't adopt me I'm ur uncle" and immidietly flees bc dealing w his problems isn't something he does.

Cue confused batfam or stuff idk, I'm so tired and this is just an excuse for crack

#they should maybe work out w Danny #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc writing prompt #danny fenton #bruce wayne #the batkids think this is absolutely fucking hilarious just until he turns his eyes on them and starts agressively taking care of them #bruce theyre sorry they laighed can u pls tell ur uncle to stop grabbing them by their necks and carrying them around like kittens???#bruce does not see until danny does this to him #than it becomes something #danny is feral #also jason gets special treatment bc hes obviously sick and starved >:((( why arent u feeding him bruve >:((((((((#i feel like someone mentions joker killed jason ajd danny goes very still #the discussion stops for a moment before they all try and stop danny from beating joker to death (danny wouldnt kill.him just......#nah he totally would)#anyway personally i dont like children killing anyone bc its traumatizing so i think itd be pretty cool for jason to see this #bc like someone finally wants to kill the joker for him #but its 15 yo abused fetus and killing anyone wont help him get better #i might even argue itd make everything worse #and maybe hed kinda see stuff from bruces perspective?? tho the last few tags r just my personal stuff so feel free to ignore it lol #uncle danny >:)))

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yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt · 10 months

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More Nonsense from My Ambrosius Stan Account Post:

As someone who got on Tumblr a couple years ago not really knowing the culture and rarely posts because I don't think anyone cares about the silly worms in my brain I'd like to give everyone who thought it was funny and left a like or a tag or a reblog a very I Love You and here is some more thoughts about it I had through the day that I thought nobody would care about but am posting now

The account was named @gold_loin_love and gained notoriety for being the only stan account Ambrosius actually followed

During the live stream Ballister answered the questions (that he had his followers submit beforehand) while still in character, despite the fact that he was laughing his ass off and Ambrosius was with him.

Example: "'Do you think Ballister and Ambrosius are going to get divorced?' Absolutely. They're terrible together and honestly not even cute. They probably had some cringy beach wedding with their weird pink child officiating. Ew, next question"

Ambrosius would frequently interject

"Do I think Ambrosius was toxic for cutting off Ballister's arm?"

Ambrosius, stealing the phone: "Yes he needs to be cancelled immediately."

Ballister, taking it back: "Wrong that weird creep deserved it to be honest"

He read a couple questions that were defending him and after giving them his joke answer about how they were wrong, thanked them sincerely

(sad time) The first thing he posted after the events of the movie, during which he obviously wasn't posting although how fucking funny would it have been to be Ambrosius and see Ballister's fake stan account post "lol get his ass I hope he died" over footage of him MAIMING HIM in light of all that was happening was "I'm sorry that I've been gone, the death of the Queen really took a toll on me, she was a real role model and inspiration of mine. I'm especially sorry to Ambrosius. I wish I hadn't run away. I wish I'd been there for you through all this, I know it must have been so hard. I really hope everyone forgives him."

(sad time over, silliness resumed) He'd use the account to make fun of Ambrosius and himself in every capacity imaginable

"Check out what Ambrosius wore to the national conference, I love how it's so shiny you can't tell how busy and incongruent the patterns are 😍 we love a maximalist king!!!"

"Ballister Ballhard surprises nobody wearing armor he got at the emo booth of a Renaissance Fair."

There is so much potential for this and I'd love to see more of Ballister being a silly goofball

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #idk tumblr culture if i do something wrong pls tell me #im always scared to post if i might commit a faux pas #and to the people who said they'd want to draw this or write or read about it #you have my every permission #and i love you #if someone made something inspired by my cringe brain?#id cry so hard i threw up from love #ive stolen so many people's headcanons for the jumbled fic in my google drive that will never see the light of dat

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aetherin21 · 2 years

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And with kindness leads to greatness

Patroclus is a kind man, written in between his words of doubt and low self esteem. The way he treats women he encounters with care and empathy speaks volumes then the words he utters.

His mother, everly so writtenly as meek and homely seemed to shine in his eyes as the sandy beaches of his home. As though, supposedly to dispise her from his father's lament. He remembers her simpleness like the warmth of the fading sky. Drifting and disappearing. But as the strings of her lyre, she is there only existing.

When Deidameia got pregnant with Achilles and learned that he will never ever love her, she was angry, disappointed and thrown away. She was promised of the boy and so she gave. And out of sheer destruction of a heart break, she agonizingly seeked comfort from Patroclus and demanded to lay with her so she could even by a small margin feel the soul of Achilles mending her broken heart. Cause as Patroclus quoted he is half of Achilles soul.

She's a victim in all of this as much as she tries to stand between the two lovers. And Patroclus understands this. Bedding her too but out of sympathy and kindness that she wanted to feel.

He was so human that when Briseis was turned into a prize of war, he urged his lover to take her and save her from being soiled by Agamemnon. He befriended her, clothed her, and taught her the way of the greeks. And as more prizes come, if by means possible, he wished for Achilles to take them from the humiliation to come.

In return for his selflessness, he was loved by the girl. Even offering him a child she could bare, knowing full well that she wont be the apple of his eye. But Patroclus could not dirty her like that. He knew she deserved better.

Thetis, on the other hand, had loathed him since the beginning. Yet she unknowingly seeked comfort from his memories of her lost child. Never to truly knowing the boy she had given birth to but only from the words of his lover. Patroclus was at her mercy, begging to reunite with his lover and yet instead of hating her even until death, he sang her Achilles' song.

And with the last hymns of his memory, she obliged writing his name beside her child's. The only motherly thing she had ever done.

Patroclus was the best of the Myrmidons for his sheer kindness alone. The cowardice that was bestowed by his true father was a lie but the name 'Patroclus' that meant glory of the father was true. Chiron is proud of his child. He honored him, using the knowledge he had bestowed and saved dozens of lives of hardened greek soldiers. Memorizing their names and each of their stories like his father did. Although, unlike them, he did not fight with swords and spears, he fought with his empathy in hand.

And the boy he had accidentally killed as a prince? It was not an act of cowardice of his confession, it was atonement. Acceptance of what he had done. Unlike those other kings and princes, he took the punishment as one should supposed to.

And that is why Achilles loved him. And that's why Achilles died when he did. Because he is the mortal half of his supposed to be godhood.

He is his other half, as the poet say.

#the song of achilles #song of achilles #patroclus #patrochilles #achilles #tsoa #thetis #briseis #writing analysis #idk I pulled this out of my ass but Patroclus treats women really well unlike the other greek characters #when he saved briseis through achilles I just felt so amazed by his actions #as someone who has been assaulted the huge relief I had when he did that #and when he bedded deidameia because she wanted it after her hysteria didnt feel forced or anything in some sense #it was just out of pure sympathy really although #I guess its also cheating but then again it is a diff culture at that time too lol #i just see it as a symbolism of his actions ngl #pls dont fight me hahaha I am too tender #I just want to give Patroclus some credit with how low he sees himself

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museumgiftshoperaser · 1 year

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ok ok so... AU where Gareth is Steve’s younger brother??

Because Steve has ‘only child’ written all over him, but I think it would be fascinating if he had a sibling, especially a younger one. Gareth is the black sheep of the family, likes the wrong sort of music, hangs out with the weird kids, plays that game all the news stations are saying is satanic. He’s three years younger than Steve, just a bit too much for them to ever be close, but really it’s their parents who drive a wedge between them. Steve’s their golden child. Good at sports, dating that Wheeler girl their parents love. He’s the poster boy for the all american teenager. In the eyes of their parents, Steve can do no wrong. Gareth stays out after his curfew? Grounded for two weeks. Steve throws a party when his parents are gone? Just don’t do it again, okay? Needless to say the Harrington boys don’t really get along. Gareth is pissed that Steve gets away with everything. That their parents seem to actually like him, parade him around in front of their friends, keep his sports throphies on a shelf in the living room. When Gareth won a contest in middle school for a short story he wrote his parents didn’t even bat an eye. He keeps the little plaque he got for it in the bottom of his sock drawer, embarrased that he even cares. Within the walls of their house, Gareth doesn’t even get to be himself without feeling judged. Steve on the other hand can’t help but envy his little brother. He’d never mention it of course, if anyone asks he can’t stand the little twerp. But it’s hard to miss that Gareth actually knows who he is. He has an opinion for himself and doesn’t seem to care how their parents feel about that. Steve can barely pick a shirt without worrying if their mother would approve. Gareth has friends who clearly care about him, a group of self proclaimed freaks who all clearly hate Steve. He has hobbies he actually likes and ideals he cares about. So yeah... Steve’s kinda jealous sometimes. Especially after Nancy breaks his heart. When he doesn’t get into college and his parents approval runs dry. When he can’t make it through a family dinner without questions about whatever happened to his potential. All the years of trying to impress their parents weren’t even worth it. And now the little brats he babysits have started high school and they won’t shut up about how cool his little brother is.

When both Steve’s status and his mental health start to slip, Gareth can’t help but feel a little bit bad. People don’t respect his older brother the way they used to and their parents no longer give a fuck about either of them. Good thing Gareth has years worth of experience being an outcast and a friend group that’s more than a little curious to find out whatever happened to the King of Hawkins High...

#stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things gareth #stranger things au #i just feel like there's a lot of potential here hmm...#someone pls write this i have so many wips it's getting out of hand lol #Gareth invites all of hellfire over one weekend when their parents aren't home #and steve just kinda awkwardly sits there #cause the kids are happy to see him and keep trying to involve him #but steve's never felt so out of place #that whole 'rivalry' thing the duffers wanted between steve and eddie #but it's steve and his little brother gareth lol #but eddie's still there #you know...#in case this au needs some romance...

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cerealboxlore · 1 year

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Shazam fanfic idea

I wish to write a silly little slice of life fic that's about Billy Batson and his chosen family and how they navigate their way in the world with their powers while dealing with homelessness as children. Having some good moments together playing in the park and having some not so good moments having to sleep in the same park at night, hiding from the police for various reasons. Dealing with issues with figuring out their identities as people and trans!Billy coming out to his family

Setting up a base in the Rock of Eternity and annoying the Wizard with how much glitter Darla can get into important places (she keeps drawing on the faces of the Seven Deadly Sins). Eventually making the base there their home when the Wizard sees how much they need help (or making them a magical dimension home)

Working with the Justice League from time to time and each and every one of them evades questioning from Batman about their secret identities perfectly!....until Freddy gets to work on a mission with Batman and Robin and accidentally let's slip something important which tumbles into Batman figuring out everything, but ultimately can't prove it. He low-key loses some sleep after learning the truth but will try and help their living situation as best as he can.

I could name the fic

"The Marvelous Misadventures of The Marvel Family"

#Damn I want to write this fic so bad #I want to write fanfiction #So busy with classes #Maybe someone can help me write this one day #billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #freddy freeman #darla dudley #mary bromfield #eugene choi #pedro peña #justice league #dc comics #Fanfic idea #I want to see the shazamily work alongside the Justice League #Pls #They deserve their own show or animated series

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feminurge · 16 days

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istar not looking remotely scary until the wind picks up the sky gets clouded and she becomes the only bright thing in the middle of the storm.

#out.#u think ur fav is scary until u see istar moving around gollum style #I WANT TO WRITE someone force me pls

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nightwanderers12081 · 11 months

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ive seen alot of dp phics about Danny apologing to Valarie, but never any where he apologizes to Damon

I think it would be really interesting to see tbh, since Damon doesn't seem really spiteful towards Phantom ~ Ender/Whisper

#danny phantom #damon gray #valarie gray #pls someone write this #i want to see damon and danny interact more for the funnies

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zinniapetals · 11 months

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I cant stop thinking about skk cultivation au.

Dazai defects from the port mafia sect with odasaku (who survives the mimic incident but his golden core is ruined) and Chuuya knows he joined the ADA sect which whatever fine, good riddance but god why does he have to see his ugly face during conferences all the time?

Dazai calling Chuuya shidi and Chuuya getting irritated because he’s older and it shouldn’t count that Dazai joined the sect earlier since the fucker didn’t even cultivate until he joined anyways so why does he have to call him shixiong

Conferences wrought with tension between their sects and Dazai jokingly calling gege in front of everyone and Chuuya mere seconds away from killing him out of sheer spite

#skk au #skk #soukoku #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #god I’m deep in xianxia novels but like I cannot #I just want to see them in a cultivation world pls someone write it #text #liztalks

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daubigny-stan · 6 months

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there's this fanfiction that I'm super obsessed over that will never be finished. it's Catch Perfect by the (in?)famous George Devalier. yes it's a Hetalia fanfic please shame me, it's probably my subconscious reason for taking geography in college. anyways this fic... god I would give the world to see it finished. many praise Devalier's veraverse fics as his finest works but this one for some reason is so special to me.

I think what's so special about this fic to me is how sincere it feels? how real it feels? the veraverse series was the author's interpretation, their assumption about how gay couples in europe would be like in WW2 - obviously they weren't there for the actual thing. but his modern AU fics feel... tangible. a real "write what you know" situation. the author was probably a young, gay man who was into romcom, you could really feel that he wrote from his own experiences, from people he knew (although he never explicitly said anything about himself, geogre devalier is notoriously mysterious even as one of the most fanous hetalia fandom figures).

and when you read this fic, analogizing it to let's say a half eaten corpse, only part of the body is whole. but you can see the bones of it! every chapter is titled after poker terminology and strategy, and they kind of link to each of the main character's personalities and you could guess that they potentially foreshadow something. you could tell which body part went where! and it kills you even more because you want to see so bad what the whole body looked like. you are able to tell where the arc is going, probably figure out that it'll have a happy, cheesy ending like his other modern AU fics but you want to hear geogre write about it so bad.

it's about human!Sweden, a tapped out poker player who is forced to move into a student sharehouse (with the rest of the Scandinavia gang) because he lost his entire everything on poker (he is also the age of a uni student, but he doesn't go to uni). and it's this fic about 5 gay guys (and 2 other guys) living in one house and hijinks ensue, mostly around their own crazy personalities. i love how gay it is, it isn't just some "they just happened to be gay" or being gay is just not a thing that's just there in the world. there's these hints of homophobia as experienced by these men in the 2000s (presumably), there's the gay culture written out, it's just a real treat to read. if i had the time and energy i would research poker just so i could finish the fic for myself even though that wouldn't be enough because i know anything i write will be leagues below devalier

#pls pls PLS tell me someone else in the year of our lord 2023 also has this fic on their mind #hetalia #george devalier #yes ive read the other modern au fics and i like the too!!#that's why i want to see catch perfect completed so bad #that last line isn't self depricating i just dont write fiction or poetry #im into essays and academic writing

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