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spacetime1969 · 8 months ago

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Danny Fenton’s Field Trip to the Ghost Zone!

I have had the wonderful opportunity to write a fic inspired by the art of the wonderful @arisu-artnfics as part of @ecto-implosion. I ended up thinking it would be fun to bring in a trope from a completely different fandom, and write a Peter Parker Field Trip fic for Danny Fenton. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Magic, Dragons, and Storms? Oh my!

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Technus’s voice sounded over the speaker. “Welcome to the Time Lost Lands, students! The home of Queen Dorathea and her subjects.”

“Woah is that a castle?” one of Dash’s classmates asked.

Dash looked out the window and sure enough, there was a massive medieval castle right out the window.

“Is that a dragon!” Dash couldn’t help his yell as he spotted a large winged reptile climbing out from behind the castle.

Manson just grinned at him. “Yep.”

The Dragon jumped from the tower and started flying towards them. Dash made a very manly noise of surprise. Definitely not a terrified squeal. (AN: This is a lie. He actually did a very good impression of a baby otter)

The Dragon was getting closer and closer, and everyone, other than the nerds, was getting progressively more freaked out. Fenton and his friends on the other hand didn’t even flinch as the massive mythical creature landed on top of the bus.

“WHO DARES TRESPASS ON MY... Oh, hello Lady Samantha. How are you this fine morning.” Halfway through its booming yell the dragon transformed into a woman with long blond hair who smiled at Manson.

“Hi Dora!” Manson smiled back. “Our class fell through a natural portal and we’re trying to get home. Think you can point us in the direction of the Far Frozen?”

“Well I can certainly give you directions, but I’m afraid they won’t be much help. The next stop on your journey is Box Ghost and Lunch Lady’s lair, which is currently only accessible through The Storm of Doom.” Dash could hear the capital letters in that name. He looked out into the Ghost Zone where the ghost was pointing and saw a patch of dark clouds. It didn’t look like much, but something about it scared him.

“Oh no, are they alright?” Fenton asked. He and his friends actually looked concerned.

Now Dash would admit that he wasn’t the best at math, but if those four were actually scared of something after how relaxed they had been at everything else in this dimension, then Dash should probably be just as scared. (AN: Dash made an error in his calculations, he should have been far more scared than he was)

“Last I heard from them they were preparing their lair for the storm. So I assume they are doing alright, but we won’t know for sure until the storm passes,” the ghost queen said.

“Speaking of which, that storm is heading this way!” Technus’s voice said over the bus speakers.

The other ghost, Dora, nodded. “Yes, I have been working to prepare the castle and move my citizens inside for the storm. You and yours are welcome to shelter with us Lady Sam.”

Manson and her friends share a look. “The last thing we want is to be stuck in The Storm of Doom.” Valarie said.

Fenton and Foley both nodded. “Yeah, the castle is probably one of the safest places to ride it out. I vote we take Dora up on her offer,” Fenton said.

“Hang on just a minute!” Mr. Lancer interrupted. “Since when were the four of you in charge!”

Foley shrugged. “Hey, Technus!” he said, turning to the front of the bus. “What are the odds on us surviving if we try and fly through The Storm of Doom?”

“My current calculations indicate a 5% chance of immediate death.”

Mr Lancer’s eyes widened. “Well that’s not too bad,” he managed to stammer out, but Technus kept going.

“A 30% chance of your classmates' blood boiling in their veins. A 24% chance of their brains freezing solid. A 4% chance of death by electrocution. A 10% chance of death by poisonous gasses. A 7% chance of spaghettification. A 9% chance of death by eldritch madness, 6% chance of Danny, Valarie, and I being the only survivors, 3% chance of you and Sam also surviving, and a 2% chance of more than half of your classmates surviving. The odds of everyone surviving is less than 0.01% and statistically insignificant, so I rounded it out.” Technus sounded way too cheerful to be discussing their, apparently very probable, deaths.

Mr. Lancer’s face had gotten paler and paler as the ghost spoke. He stumbled into his seat, Foley just smirking at him. “So, do you want to do that? Or do you want to spend the night in a very secure castle and not die a horrible death?”

“Besides,” Fenton held up a glowing green post-it note that he had gotten from... Dash had no idea where he had gotten it from, “time is apparently moving at a two to one ratio to earth right now, so every two hours we spend here only one is passing on earth. So we have plenty of time.” No one bothered to ask him how he knew that.

Mr Lancer just nodded and slumped farther into the bus seat.

Manson turned back to the ghost dragon lady floating outside the bus and smiled at her, bowing at the waist. “We humbly accept your offer of shelter, Queen Dorathea of the Time Lost Lands.”

The Ghost, Queen Dorathea, nodded back at Manson. “The Time Lost Lands do not forget those who helped us find our path to the future, you and yours will always be able to find shelter in our walls, Lady Samantha.”

The solemness that had fallen over the group hung for a moment, before Manson straightened and smiled at the ghost. “Thanks Dora, I really appreciate it!”

“Of course Sam! I’m always glad to have you stop by! Have your vehicle land in the field by the stables. It should be safe from the storm there.”

They did as ordered, and the bus came to a stop next to a stable with, were those unicorns? (Star would later inform him that they were actually alicorns.)

They all hopped out of the bus and looked around at the castle. It was even more impressive up close. The walls absolutely towered over them, and they made Dash feel very small.

Off to the side he could see Fenton and his friends talking to Mr. Lancer, but they were too quiet for him to hear what they were saying. He wasn’t gonna have to wait long to find out what they were talking about though, since Mr. Lancer called them all to gather around.

“Alright class. Miss Manson and Mr. Foley are going to go find out how long we will have to wait out the storm. In the meantime, I encourage you all to eat your lunches. If you were planning to buy lunch at the planetarium please raise your hand, Mr. Fenton has offered to hand out Fenton Sustenance Crackers™ to anyone without a pre-packed lunch.”

Dash felt his lunch money in his pocket and winced, he didn’t exactly want to take Fenton’s charity, but he had worked up quite the appetite since they had fallen into the Ghost Zone, so he raised his hand. Next to him, Kwan raised his hand too.

Fenton slowly made his way around the group and passed the crackers out. When he approached the two jocks Dash was surprised to see that they were literal crackers, like a saltine. For some reason he had been expecting more. Fenton smirked at him and split the cracker in half, handing one half to each of them. Dash stared at it.

“Is this really it?” he asked.

Fenton just smiled. “Yep, trust me, that’s all you’re gonna need.”

Dash shared a look with Kwan as Fenton continued onto the rest of the group. Kwan just shrugged at him and the two inspected the crackers they had been handed. It looked like a normal cracker, for the most part. Dash was pretty sure the slightly green hue was just the lighting, but he still hesitated.

Dash’s stomach rumbled and he shrugged. It was better than nothing. He tossed the cracker into his mouth.

It tasted strange, both citrusy and bland, while also tasting like absolutely nothing. The taste was nothing compared to what happened when he swallowed though. He could feel the cracker slide down his throat and into his stomach, and then expand.

“Oh that’s really weird,” Kwan said with a shudder.

“You get used to it!” Fenton yelled from across the field.

Dash shuddered, he really, really hoped he never did. He would give Fenton one thing though, the crackers certainly worked. His stomach felt like he had just eaten an entire 16” pizza by himself.

He joined the other students as they sat in the grass eating and talking. For a moment he forgot that they weren’t just hanging out on the football field back at Casper High. Manson and Foley returning with the green skinned ghost queen broke the illusion though.

The group hurried over to Fenton, and Valarie. Dash didn’t recognize what Valarie and Danny did, that the group were only avoiding breaking into a sprint to not cause a panic.

Dash was just close enough to over hear their whispered conversation.

“Danny we have bad news,” Manson said.

“Really bad news. The storm’s drifted further than expected. The Core is heading straight for us,” Foley sounded scared, and that scared Dash. The look on Fenton’s face pushed him from scared to terrified.

Fenton stood up from where he had been leaning against the bus, straightening and turning to the ghostly queen who had offered them shelter. “Queen Dorathea, how may I be of service to you and your people.”

The Queen bowed her head to Fenton. “Your friends have agreed to assist the royal mage in raising a shield around the castle. But I fear that without your power they will be unable to outlast the storm.” The queen made eye contact with Fenton “I ask for your aid in this, K-”

Fenton interrupted the queen. “Just Danny right now, Dora.” Fenton looked over at the rest of the class, who were obviously trying to listen in to their conversation. He made brief eye contact with Dash before turning back to Queen Dorathea. “But you will have my assistance in any way you require it.”

Fenton turned to Valerie. “Come on, let’s go let Lancer know what’s going on.” He turned back to the Ghost and bowed. “We'll be back soon.”

They hurried over to Mr. Lancer. Dash wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, but he could see the way Lancer tried to argue with Fenton only for him to stand firm. Eventually Lancer slumped and seemed to give permission.

Fenton grabbed his bag and made his way back to his friends and the queen. “Alright, let’s go. Val, you got things covered here?”

She nodded, before pulling Fenton and the others into a quick hug. Then they walked away, leaving the class whispering behind them.

There was no sun in the ghost zone but it certainly felt like it was setting as the green sky grew darker and the howling noise of the storm began to grow louder and louder.

Dash and the other A-Listers watched as the storm rolled over them, the clouds covering the sky completely. The clouds seemed to whisper to him and Dash couldn’t help but be drawn to them. He felt himself stand up and, not hearing his friends call his name, started walking away.

Val smacked him over the back of the head. Hard.

Dash felt dazed and confused. When had he stood up? Where had he been walking to?

“Yeah, don’t look at the storm. It’s not the weather you really have to be worried about.”

Instinctively Dash looked back up at the storm. Val smacked him again.

“Don’t look at it idiot. Got it?” Dash nodded rapidly. “Good. Now get back to your friends. You scared them.”

Dash looked back over his shoulder. They really did look terrified.

He quickly walks back to them. “Sorry guys, I don't know what happened.”

Paulina’s voice shook. “Don’t do that again.”

“You scared us man,” Kwan said. "It was like you couldn’t hear us.”

Dash almost looked back up at the whispering clouds again. But he caught himself, and looked down at the ground instead. “I don’t think I could.” He whispered.

They sat in silence, intentionally not looking at the storm.

There was a deep ring that echoed through the castle, and voices raised in a haunting chant. All around them a glowing green dome raised to block out the storm, the whispers in the storm becoming muffled and drowned out by the chanting.

“Look! up there!” Star said, pointing up to the castle walls. Dash followed her finger to where four figures were standing silhouetted against the bright green of the shield.

Three of the figures were holding their arms up to the sky, green wisps of magic trailing out from their hands and stretching out to the dome above them, pulsing in time with the chanting. The fourth figure had his hands on the shoulders of two of the others, their hair seeming to glow with the lighting.

“Is that Fenton and the others?” Star asked.

“Yep,” Valarie said. Dash jumped. He hadn't seen her walk up behind them. “Them and the royal mage.”

“Since when could they do magic?” Paulina asked.

“Sam and Tucker have been studying for a while. Danny too, but he doesn't have as much talent in it. He’s so powerful though that it doesn't matter much in the long run. He can just brute force a lot of things.”

She turned to look at them, making eye contact with Dash in particular. “You should all be grateful you haven't bothered them since freshman year. Sam could turn you into a frog and Danny could separate your soul from your body with just a word. As for Tucker… let’s just say that we’re all glad he stays focused on technomancy.”

Dash felt queasy. "Did you ever learn anything?” He asked, morbidly curious.

Valarie just shrugged. “It's not my specialty. I know some of the theory, but not much more than that.” She grinned and pulled a very big ray gun out of her purse. “Besides, I'm more of a gun gal anyway.”

Kwan squeaked and Dash barely kept himself from doing the same.

“How’d you get that to fit in your purse like that?” Star asked.

“There are some benefits to having magic friends.” Val grinned at them again, before sobering slightly and gesturing back towards the bus. “Now come on, we fixed up the bus so that people can sleep in it.”

Dash and the others followed her to the bus. The backs of the bench seats had been laid down flat and someone had found blankets and pillows from somewhere, turning the seats into makeshift cots.

“Claim a bed and get some sleep if you can. It's gonna be a long night.”

Dash had a hard time sleeping on the makeshift cot. Not necessarily because it was uncomfortable, but more because his mind was too full. The green glow and unending haunting chanting wasn’t helping either. Though it was definitely preferable to the alternative. The way he had almost walked off into the storm terrified him.

He got up from the bed and quietly made his way out of the bus.

Val was sitting outside on a wooden stool that had been pulled from somewhere. She had her gun balanced on her knees. and was staring up at where her friends were still chanting on the castle wall.

“How are you so calm?" he asked. “All of this is absolutely crazy, and yet you're so calm. How?”

Valarie just sat there for a long moment. “There's not much I can say other than 'you get used to it,'” she finally said. “Danny Sam and Tucker, they've been there since the very beginning, since the portal opened in his parents lab.” She glanced at him. “It's hard to keep up with the rest of them sometimes. They're all so in sync and I joined them so much later, but I'm nothing if not stubborn, so I keep up with them anyway.”

“So this whole time Fenton and the others have been befriending the ghosts and learning magic and and... I don't even know what else.”

Valerie's laugh was humorless. “Yeah you really don't know what else Dash. And I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not!”

“Why would I Dash? Why would I tell you a secret that isn't even mine when you bullied Danny and ostracized me back in freshman year. Why do you think Dash?” Val shook her head. “It's not my place to tell people, and even if it was, you'd never be someone I'd tell anyway.”

Dash had nothing he could say in response.

Valerie turned back to watch the castle walls. “Go back to bed Dash.”

He did as told, but he didn't get much sleep that night.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #ecto implosion #Danny Fenton’s Field Trip to the Ghost Zone!#my writing #my work #fanfic

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hannahmanderr · 1 year ago

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Before we get into the chapter, a HUGE platonic smooch for @duchi-nesten who took the time to draw the Ancients from this story with bribery from me and @scarletsaphire I'm absolutely screaming over them still, they are just UGGHHH SO GOOD

From left to right is Zunje, Babel, Pele, and Kala!

Anyway, onto the chapter! It's an important one! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Everything begins. Everything ends. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jazz flinched as another wayward blast of ectoplasm exploded into the wall of the office building across the street, reducing it to little more than rubble. The battle was becoming more and more destructive as time bled on, and her nerves were really starting to get to her. She needed to get back out there and put a stop to it.

Unfortunately, there was the slight complication of her parents.

She’d tried to play dumb when Frostbite slipped up, but it had been pointless. Frostbite had been all too happy to explain that the Great One was, in fact, the ghost hero known as Danny Phantom.

Perhaps if it had just been her dad there, she would’ve been able to distract him, or figure out how to explain it away, but as luck would have it, her mom had pulled up shortly after the ghost king’s arrival.

It didn’t take them long to put two and two together. At least, that’s what she assumed.

Even more unfortunate was that her concussion had spontaneously decided to rear its ugly head, causing her to lean over and throw up in the middle of the road. Mom and Dad were far less than keen on letting her continue fighting after that. She’d protested of course, pointing out that the all-powerful ghost king was about to raze Amity Park to the ground, but they wouldn’t have any of it.

She had been forced to take shelter behind a large pile of rubble, along with her parents and Frostbite, as the battle intensified. Pariah Dark’s question about Danny had been met with a brutal attack from one of the four-armed Ancients, and the battle had progressed from there. At some point, the little lava-haired Ancient had taken over the direct combat with the ghost king, aided by the gnome and the four-armed ghost with a cloak of clouds. The last Ancient - Pandora, if Jazz remembered correctly - had engaged the black-armored knight. Sam and Tucker were still out there, somewhere, working to keep the thrall army at bay.

And that was just the fighting. Overhead, in the sky, the rip that had heralded Pariah Dark’s appearance still gaped over Amity Park. The air seemed to vibrate with its intensity; Jazz could feel it prickling at her skin, making her feel foreign in her own body. Like reality itself was beginning to fail.

In short, things were Bad-with-a-capital-B.

Jazz leaned over to peer around the rubble protecting them. “We should really be out there,” she muttered, even as her head throbbed worse.

“You’re not going anywhere, young lady,” Mom said. “Not while you’re injured.”

“I told you, I’m fine! I got it out of my system, I’m good to go.”

“I may not know many details about human biology,” Frostbite said, arching an eyebrow at Jazz, “but I have enough experience with the Great One to know that head injuries are serious in humans.”

Jazz didn’t miss how her parents winced hearing about “the Great One” and his injuries.

They hadn’t said a word about Danny - Fenton or Phantom - since Frostbite’s slip-up. It only put her that much more on edge. Sooner or later, Danny would return, and if Mom and Dad were going to flip out and shoot him on sight, she wanted to at least have the chance to warn him.

As it was, she couldn’t tell what they were thinking. Her mother’s poker face was nothing short of perfect, and her father, though he often wore his heart on his sleeve, was strangely stoic about it all. If there was one thing Jazz hated, it was not knowing things, and not knowing their thoughts on Danny was killing her.

She could only hope and pray. The fact that they weren't actively trying to gun down Frostbite was a good sign at least.

But for the time being, she pushed those thoughts away. “Believe me, I know plenty about head injuries. I wouldn’t be wanting to go back out there if I thought it was serious enough.”

“I don't think the person with the concussion should be making that judgment ,” Mom said. “You won't be going anywhere until we know you're safe.”

Jazz frowned. Was that a hint of hysteria in her voice?

Yeah, that couldn't be a good sign.

Still, her words gave Jazz an opening. “Alright, fine! Whatever! It's not like the world is ending or anything, in case you haven't noticed. Why aren't you guys out there, at least?” Maybe if she could convince them to go back to the fight, she’d have a chance to catch Danny before they saw him. Maybe she’d have a chance to warn him.

Her parents didn't answer. They exchanged a glance that Jazz couldn't read, and Dad’s shoulders sagged. He opened his mouth. “We -”

“What's going on here?”

Jazz’s eyes snapped up to see Valerie hovering just behind her parents and Frostbite; Wes clung to Valerie with his eyes screwed tightly shut. Her parents turned at the sound of Valerie’s voice, and though Jazz couldn’t see her mom’s eyes behind the red-tinted goggles, she could only imagine the look on her face.

Her dad, however, beamed widely. “The Huntress!” he exclaimed, grabbing at Mom’s arm like an overexcited child.

To her credit, Valerie avoided wincing too strongly. “Yeah, that’s… me.”

“Did you find him?” Jazz asked. She didn’t bother to hide the anxiety in her voice.

Valerie frowned, but nodded. “Yeah, but he’s… well…”

“Can we maybe have this conversation on the ground?” Wes asked shakily. Valerie responded with a roll of her eyes, practically shoving him off her. He stumbled the short distance to the ground and collapsed spread-eagle on the street. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Dad’s nose crinkled in confusion. “Uh… is this the backup you were talking about, Jazzy-pants?”

Jazz ignored him. “What do you mean? Where is he?” she asked Valerie.

“It’s okay, I’m here!” a voice called out. A moment later, Danny - as Phantom - pulled up beside Valerie. “I’m here.” Jazz’s breath caught in her throat. She had known, of course, that Danny had gone to get the Crown of Fire, but for some reason, it hadn’t crossed her mind that he would have to wear it. Granted, the crown on his head now was most definitely not on fire, but she thought the frosted look complemented him much better than fire. The way it sat on his head, and the way the cloak he wore rippled in the breeze and caught the light…

He looked regal. Like he really was a king.

It made her heart swell with pride. Her baby brother… he had come so far. She’d never doubted his leadership abilities, not really. His common sense could be… debatable at times, but her brother had a good heart. He was still young, of course, and the thought of him being a monarch had never occurred to her, but in that moment, Jazz couldn’t help but think that the role suited him.

She must have shown it on her face, because Danny caught her eye, and his hand flew up to the back of his neck. “It’s a long story…” he muttered sheepishly, his cheeks growing green.

Jazz opened her mouth to respond, but Dad stood up abruptly, cutting her off. Mentally, she kicked herself. She’d gotten so distracted by his arrival, she’d forgotten about their parents.

Danny instantly paled. Whatever he saw in Dad’s face, it couldn’t have been good. Jazz tried to stand, to intercept him, but Frostbite gently held her down. “Easy,” he rumbled quietly. “Do not act prematurely.”

Of course, she wanted to protest that, but she quickly became distracted by her father’s slow approach towards Danny. Her mother wasn’t too far behind.

Danny’s hand twisted into the cloak, and he averted his gaze. “Look,” he began shakily, “I… I get it if you hate me, and - and I… I’ll let you hunt me down or tear me apart or whatever you want, but please, you have to let me stop all this first, or there isn’t gonna be a world for you to tear me apart in. I just need to - mmph!”

Jazz squeaked and clapped her hands to her mouth as Dad lunged forward. She pushed Frostbite’s paw away to stumble to her feet. She had to get there first, had to stop him from hurting Danny -

- but her heart stuttered to a stop as Dad wrapped Danny in a tight embrace.

“Danny,” he said, his voice cracking. “We were so worried… You have no idea…”

A stunned Danny returned the hug as Mom pulled down her hood and glommed on to his other side. “You don’t… hate me?” he asked, his voice muffled by their dad’s burly form.

“Listen to me, Danny,” Mom said, peeling him out of Dad’s arms and holding him by the shoulders. She looked him firm in the eye. “No matter what you do, no matter what you are, we could never, ever hate you. Never, do you hear me?”

Jazz could see the tears glistening in the corners of Danny’s eyes even from where she sat. His lower lip quivered the slightest bit before he threw his arms around Mom’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I should’ve told you forever ago, but I just…”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” their mom said, rubbing circles into his back. “It’s okay. We’ll have time to… to figure it all out.”

“Yeah, assuming the world doesn’t end first,” Wes snarked from his position on the ground. Jazz shot him a heated glare.

Valerie simply looked away and folded her arms across her chest. Jazz frowned. Something clearly wasn’t sitting right with her, but…

“Wait,” Dad said, furrowing his brow, “what’s this about the world ending?”

“It’s okay,” Jazz said. “The world isn’t going to end. Danny’s going to make sure of it.” Maybe she’d have felt more sure of her words if there hadn’t been a gaping hole in the sky threatening to rip reality apart, but someone had to look on the bright side.

Their parents glanced between the two of them. “What do you mean?” Mom asked slowly.

Before either of them could answer, another wayward ectoblast flew overhead, crashing into the roof of the building right above them. Huge chunks of rubble broke off of the building and began to plummet straight towards them.

Valerie reacted quickly, pulling Wes up by his shirt collar and grabbing Jazz to drag them to safety. Danny and Frostbite reacted just as quickly by throwing up ectoplasmic shields. The rubble slammed into them, then slid off the shields and away from the rest of the group.

Valerie whipped her head towards the battle. “I think I’m… gonna go help them,” she said. She flew off before Jazz could say anything, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in her wake.

“I need to go help too,” Danny said thickly. He stared after Valerie. “It’s… that’s what I’m supposed to do. If I can beat him, everything will go back to normal… Mostly, anyway.” His hand twitched up towards his head.

Mom whipped her head in the direction of the battle. “Him?” she asked, nodding to where Pariah Dark and the lava-haired Ancient were still fiercely fighting each other. To Jazz’s horror, the Ancient seemed to be losing ground.

“Precisely,” Frostbite said jovially. How he could manage such a tone in these circumstances was beyond Jazz. “Once the Great One is able to defeat Pariah Dark, he can assume the throne and put the Heart of the Infinite Realms at ease! It’s quite simple, really.”

“Assume the - wait!” Wes shot upright. “You’re telling me that dumb crown isn’t just some weird costume?”

Danny flushed green, and his hand flew up to the back of his neck. “I, ah… like I said, it’s a long story.” He glanced at Mom and Dad. “I’m really sorry, believe me, I wish I could’ve told you differently, and I definitely wish it wasn’t the case, but…”

Jazz watched as Mom’s gaze drifted up to the crown on Danny’s head, as if she were just now noticing it. “What throne?” she asked weakly.

“Um… it kind of maybe sort of might be… the throne of the entire Ghost Zone?” Danny replied with a sheepish grin.

Dad scratched his head. “When did this happen?”

Danny’s face grew sober again. “I don’t know. I only just found out a few hours ago myself.” His eyes flicked away from their parents, down at his feet.

A pang of sympathy struck Jazz’s heart. Sure, Danny looked the part of a king, and somehow, she had no trouble believing he was the king, despite her earlier confusion, but somehow it had escaped her that he had barely had enough time to process everything. That everything was happening so quickly.

And their parents… it had to be equally difficult for them to process. They had only just learned their son’s true identity less than an hour ago, and now they were finding out he was essentially the heir to the throne of a world full of the same beings they had once sworn to annihilate. It would be a lot for anyone.

And so it nearly brought Jazz to tears when she saw Dad fight to plaster a smile onto his face. He placed a gentle hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said in a tone entirely too quiet for Jack Fenton, “it’s okay. Like your mother said, we’ll have time to figure it all out.”

Danny still didn’t look up. “Yeah,” he said, barely audible. “We’ll have time.”

His tone told Jazz he didn’t believe that in the slightest.

An ear-splitting roar shattered the moment. Everyone slapped their hands over their ears. Jazz only just managed to catch a glimpse of Danny gasping and hunching in on himself, clutching at his sternum.

A wave of hot air washed over Jazz. Trembling, she peered around the rubble, only to gasp in horror at the sight of the little girl Ancient bleeding lava all over the four-armed Ancient. She was still alive - as alive as a ghost could be anyway, but it was evident even from a hundred yards away that she was fully incapacitated. Pandora still fought with the knight, but everyone else - Sam, Tucker, Valerie, the other Ancients, even the thrall army - had practically frozen in place.

The most terrifying sight of all was the evil ghost king, looming over the street, staring straight at her.

No, staring straight at Danny.

“Come and meet your fate, little Prince!” he called mockingly. His voice reverberated over the street, causing buildings to rumble ominously. “Or will you take the coward’s way out?”

For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the humming of the rip in the sky. Jazz held her breath as Danny glanced at their parents, then gently pushed Dad’s hand off his shoulder and took to the air.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he called back. “Just… give me the Ring before things get worse.”

Pariah laughed, a menacing sound that sent chills down Jazz’s spine. “Why should I surrender what is rightfully mine?”

Danny's eyes flared. “That power’s not yours. It’s mine.”

Jazz blinked at the sudden shift in Danny’s tone. It was still his voice, yes, but there was something about it…

Pariah roared wordlessly again. “Never!” he snarled. “Kilaris is MINE!”

With a guttural yell, he launched himself at Danny. Jazz could’ve sworn she saw a bright white light flare from the crown on Danny’s head, just momentarily, but when she blinked, it was gone, and Danny too had charged forward. The two collided in a blinding explosion of red and green.

Mom and Dad moved to follow Danny, but Frostbite held a paw up. “No,” he said, his voice somber and heavy. “This is not a fight you can help him with. He must win this by his power alone.”

“Listen here,” Mom snapped. “I don’t care how you do it in your world, but I will not stand by and watch my son fight some impossible battle on his own! I - we are going to help him, whether you like it or not!”

“I understand.” Frostbite flinched and threw up a shield just in time to stop another huge chunk of building from crushing them all. “But though you may not be able to help him in combat, there are other ways you can help him.” He glanced at Jazz. “Keeping your daughter and his friend safe, for one.”

“Pfft. Me? Friends with Fenton? Fat chance,” Wes scoffed.

“He will be able to fight with a sound mind if you help him protect yourselves and the other humans,” Frostbite continued, ignoring Wes. “And I must go and help my colleague.”

Mom turned, watching the battle with helpless eyes. “But… Danny -”

“ - will be just fine. But we must give him a fighting chance by helping elsewhere.”

“He’s right,” Dad said quietly, taking Mom’s hand. “We have to help get Jazz out of here. It’s getting too dangerous.”

“I told you, I’m fine! I can help too!”

Another explosion rang overhead. Jazz yelped and ducked as an enormous bolt of green energy flew over her head. It came close enough that she could feel its cold aura graze the top of her scalp.

“Y-you know, on second thought, I think I’m with Yeti Man over here,” Wes muttered, cowering behind a fallen wall. Jazz had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Her attention, however, quickly turned back to Mom. Again, she found herself wishing she could read minds. She could see the gears turning in her mother’s head after all, but Mom’s stoic face didn’t give her true thoughts away.

Jazz hated not knowing things.

Then Mom’s jaw tightened, and Jazz’s heart fell. She knew that look. “We’re getting you two to safety,” Mom said. Then, giving Frostbite a pointed look, she added, “And then we’re coming back to help Danny.”

Frostbite closed his eyes. “You will only distract him from what he needs to do. It is not wise.”

“That might be what you think,” Mom said as she bent down to help Wes stand, “but he's my son. I've let him struggle alone for too long.” Her voice cracked. “I have to start… making it up to him…”

“I assure you, the Great One does not bear any ill will towards you,” Frostbite said, frowning in sympathy. “This is not the time to begin ‘making amends’, though.”

Mom opened her mouth to retort again, but Dad laid a hand on her shoulder. “C'mon, Mads. We can figure it out later. Right now, we've gotta help these two.”

It was strange seeing her father being the rational, calm one, but Jazz chalked it up to the weirdness of the day. It was the only way she could keep it all straight in her head.

Mom shot Frostbite one last hard glare before leading Wes towards the RV sitting down the road. Dad scooped Jazz up into his arms and began carrying her to the RV, much to her embarrassment.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “Don’t you worry, Jazzy-pants!” he said. His tone was bright as always, but Jazz could tell it was at least somewhat forced. “Soon as you’re safe, we’ll get right back out there and help Danny kick some evil ghost king butt!”

Jazz bit her lip. “What about what Frostbite said? About… interfering?”

Her dad hesitated before answering. “I’m sure he’s wrong. You can’t trust a ghost, after all!” His face froze as soon as the words left his mouth. “I mean, uh, not Danny of course! He’s different.”

She didn’t quite know how to respond to that. That… was a misconception they’d have to clear up sooner or later.

As she peered over Dad’s shoulder, back towards where Danny was fighting tooth and nail against Pariah, she hoped there would actually be a sooner or later.

“Be careful, little brother,” she whispered to herself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The thread flickered.

Clockwork frowned as he allowed it to flow across his hands and in between his fingers. This certainly was the correct timeline, he knew that without a doubt, but its flickering concerned him greatly. It had been so strong when Vlad Plamius made the decision to allow Danny the Crown, but now…

He closed his eyes as he sifted through time. Before, the future had been as clear to him as any other. Now though, he could only see up to a certain point before it was obscured behind what felt like a thick wall of mist. There was still a future there, yes, but not one he could see.

It was, in a word, unusual.

“My dear Kilaris, what are you up to?” he murmured as he let the thread of the timeline slip from his fingers and back into the broader tangle of Time. Its flicker became swallowed up by the combined glow of the cluster of timelines, but Clockwork knew it was still present.

His eyes drifted to one of his time windows. The same image of Danny exiting the portal that he had watched just an hour or so ago played out again, this time in real time. A thin trail of frost followed in his wake as he flew to meet his family. The frost shimmered briefly in the ethereal light of the rip in the sky above, leaving a silky, glowing strand, almost like -

- ah. Of course.

“Must you always be so overdramatic?” Clockwork said aloud, the semblance of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He rested his hands on top of his staff. He knew what needed to happen now.

It was only a matter of time. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Fighting Pariah was nothing like it had been the first time around.

Before, Danny had been fighting in a clunky mech-suit. True, it had helped enhance his powers (until it tried to kill him), but it had made his movements equally clunky and stiff. He’d needed to adapt to the added weight and size quickly, but it still cost him when he took a few crucial hits.

This time he was not bound by any suit. He was free to move as he pleased, using the advantage of his smaller form to move with agility and speed that Pariah did not possess. He could dive in close for a punch or a kick, then turn on a dime and dart away. He wouldn’t have been able to do that in the Ecto-Skeleton.

There was also the fact that he had the help of the Ancients. True, it looked like Pele had taken some nasty hits from Pariah and would be down for the count, but the others were still going strong especially with Zunje now, keeping the Fright Knight and the thrall army at bay. He didn’t like seeing Sam and Tucker down there in the fray, so close to his own battle with Pariah, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

And then there was the Crown. It remained secure on his head, feeding him a power that buzzed through his veins and his core, making him feel like he’d just taken six shots of espresso mixed with pure ectoplasm. It was an exhilarating feeling, one that made him wish he’d actually used the Crown when he’d had the chance, during his first fight with Pariah.

(A wish he immediately scolded himself for.)

Danny gritted his teeth as he threw up another ectoplasmic shield, this one with a thick coating of ice thanks to the power of the Crown. It helped protect him from Pariah’s elemental attacks, which ran much hotter than his own.

Ectoplasmic fire exploded across the shield, and Danny could feel its heat as it curled around the edges towards him. He had to dig his heels into the air to brace himself against the sheer force of the hit.

Pariah didn’t give him a chance to fire back. No sooner had Danny lowered his shield did he see Pariah lunging for him, fangs bared and a fiery, maniacal look in his lone eye. Danny yelped and darted to the side, just barely missing Pariah’s fist.

Danny tried to respond with his own blast of ectoplasm, the Crown’s power coursing through him, but Pariah deflected it easily with his mace. The blast ricocheted off of it and into the street. Danny gasped as it flew right over Jazz’s head, just barely missing her by a foot.

That turned out to be a mistake. He should’ve known better than to let himself get distracted. It gave Pariah the opportunity to take another swing with his mace, catching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing into the ground.

Danny gripped his stomach and swallowed down a cry. The mace’s sharp spikes were not just for decoration, it seemed; they’d dug mercilessly into his torso, leaving him with deep, ragged gashes. The fall into the street hadn’t been too kind on his ribs, either. He could already feel the Crown diverting some of its power to the injuries, trying to heal him as quickly as possible.

Pariah roared as he dove for Danny, fire exploding to life around his fist. Danny managed to roll out of the way, and Pariah’s fist slammed into the street, cracking it even more. In any other fight, Danny probably would’ve tried to make some snarky comment about how the potholes in Amity Park were already bad enough and they didn’t need more, but he was still struggling to get air back in his lungs. Not to mention he found it much harder to crack jokes in the middle of his more serious fights, mostly because he had to concentrate on not getting beaten to a pulp.

As Danny rolled, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father scoop Jazz into his arms. Mom helped Wes up, and they ran towards the RV, which was still parked haphazardly down the road. Miraculously, it was still standing.

He could almost breathe a sigh of relief. He still didn’t know if Sam and Tucker were safe or if they were still out there fighting the skeleton army, but knowing his family (and Wes) were safe offered him a little bit of reassurance.

Focus. Do not lose sight of the goal.

Right. The Ring. He still had to get that. Somehow.

It was going to be much easier said than done. Getting it off of Pariah’s hand seemed impossible, especially with the relentless drive of the king’s attacks. Danny barely had the chance to recover and launch his own attacks, let alone come up with a plan to swipe the Ring.

He forced himself up and into the air. His cloak flared with cold energy as he allowed ice to gather in his hands. That was another advantage he had this time around - the help from his elemental core. His ice attacks were some of his strongest, and he silently thanked whatever unseen force had granted him an ice core as he loosed the energy all at once, freezing Pariah’s entire arm to the street.

You’re welcome, little Prince.

Danny almost stopped in midair. That remark definitely sent a flurry of questions flying through his head, but he had to keep his attention on Pariah. We’re not done with this, he still thought back.

Of course not. You still have much to learn.

He didn’t think the Heart meant it as a dig, but he still mentally stuck his tongue out. Even if he didn’t have time to ask questions, he could still be sassy. No one could take his sass away.

It was strange how much clearer the voice in his head seemed now that he had the Crown on. It had been clear before, but there was a new clarity to it, like when his eye doctor gave him a new prescription for his contacts. He supposed it made sense; now, he had that direct contact.

It still didn’t explain why the voice sounded like his own train of thought sometimes.

Even stranger was the feeling of the power offered to him by Kilaris. It was stronger than the power he’d had while wearing the Ecto-Skeleton, and that had probably been the time when he was the most powerful throughout the past two years. It helped that unlike the Ecto-Skeleton, the Crown did not drain him of his energy as he used it; instead, it continuously fueled him, pouring more and more power into his body, like it could never run out. It was thrilling, this feeling of endless energy. His core practically vibrated from it all.

At the same time though, fear nagged at him. This was how it felt with just the Crown on. How much worse would it be once he got the Ring too? The thought sent a chill down his spine, and he found himself subconsciously beginning to suppress his core. Suppress the ceaseless power flooding into him.

Why stop the power you are meant to have?

Danny swallowed.

That’s exactly what he was afraid of.

It all passed through his mind in the few seconds it took for Pariah to begin trying to melt the ice securing him to the ground. “Why you little -!”

More ice pooled in Danny’s hands. “Sorry,” he said as he re-froze Pariah’s hand to the street. “You just looked like you needed to chill out.”

Pariah bellowed, and the ice cracked and shattered. “Impertinent child!” he sneered. “When I am in control once more -”

“Save it!” Danny fired off a round of concentrated bolts of ice in quick succession, forcing Pariah to retreat a little. “I already told you, the Heart’s not yours anymore! It hasn’t been for a long time!”

“And you dare presume it is yours?” Pariah said. He quickly gained back the ground he had lost by leaping at Danny again.

Of course, Danny easily flew out of the way. “I don’t ‘presume’ anything!” he shouted. “I already know!”

It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say, and he really didn’t like the taste the words left in his mouth, but if he’d learned anything throughout his career as Danny Phantom, it was that his opponents got sloppy when he riled them up. Snarking at them just happened to be the easiest way to do so.

Is it truly “snark” if you speak the truth?

In spite of himself, Danny almost laughed. If you’re gonna be stuck with me, you better get used to the snark, whether it’s true or not. We come as a package deal.

He ducked out of the way of another punch. He didn’t recover quick enough; by the time he managed to turn around to face the king, an entire wall of red energy was surging at him. There wasn’t time to fly around it. It struck him with a force so strong, he was thrown back more than a hundred yards.

His ribs groaned in pain as he slammed into the concrete and skidded back a few more yards for good measure. Nausea churned in his stomach from the blow, and he had to resist the urge to lean over and throw up. All too soon, Pariah was on top of him again, swinging his mace.

Knowing there was no way he could move in time, Danny turned intangible and allowed himself to sink into the ground. He counted to three, just enough time to get his nausea under control, then called ectoplasm to his hands. With the Crown’s power, the energy’s green glow was so bright, it almost seemed white.

It wasn’t difficult to track Pariah’s hot ecto-signature underground. Danny lined himself up underneath him, then sprang from the ground. His blazing fists collided straight with Pariah’s jaw. It didn’t push Pariah back like he had hoped, but it distracted him long enough for Danny to fire his ectoplasm in one long, continuous blast.

Pariah growled under Danny’s onslaught before finally bringing up a red shield. “You truly think this will be enough to stop me?”

Danny didn’t let up. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop a monster like you from hurting the Realms again.”

“Really now?” Pariah twisted his shield into a blast of his own. It pushed against Danny’s, and he once again had to dig his heels into the air behind him to keep from being thrown back again. “Then why don’t you?”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat, and his attack faltered for the briefest of moments. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” Pariah said, laughing. “I have seen you. I have seen your fears, your doubts…”

“You don’t know me at all!” Danny yelled. Frustration distracted him, and he unwillingly drew on the Crown’s power to fuel his blast. “Just ‘cause you got in my head once doesn’t mean anything!”

“Poor little Prince,” Pariah cooed mockingly, as if Danny hadn’t even spoken. “This is why you are weak. This is why you will fail to protect everything you stand for. You are nothing more than a scared child.”

Danny couldn’t stop the anger-fueled energy pouring into him and, subsequently, pouring out of his hands. The Crown was all too happy to supply it. It just responded to him too easily. It responded to his resentment of Pariah, his frustration at the tyrant king’s insinuation that he was a coward, his rage at the fact that Pariah refused to hand over what was rightfully Danny’s -

Danny screwed his eyes shut tightly. That last one, he knew it was the Crown’s influence, but he couldn’t stop it. It was all coming too hard, too fast, too strong, and it was thrilling. The power flooding through the Crown just felt so right, like maybe he really was meant to have it all along.

He wanted to throw up.

The power demanded a release. It thrummed against Danny’s skin, coursing through his core, making his green ectoblast grow brighter and brighter until it was nearly a blinding white. It would not remain bound for much longer.

And so with a guttural yell, he unleashed it.

He wasn’t entirely sure what happened - the rush of energy leaving him all at once had left him overwhelmed and disoriented - but when he opened his eyes, the whole block had a thin layer of ice covering it, sparkling in the ethereal light of the rip above. Large branches of the trees in front of the buildings had frozen and cracked off the trunks, shattering on the ground below. He could see at least one downed power line.

Pariah had fallen to the ground, into a huge crater Danny swore hadn’t been there before. Crystals of frost coated his hair and his cape. He slowly sat up, rubbing his head, clearly just as disoriented as Danny.

Danny stared at his hands in horror. Did I really do that?

The Heart didn’t answer him. He couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

Probably bad. For him, anyway.

And in that moment, he swore to himself he’d never allow the Crown to give him that much power ever again. Never.

(No matter how right it had felt to control it.)

Pariah’s cough caught his attention. “You…” he muttered before stopping abruptly.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat as Pariah’s lone eye fell on the Crown sitting on his head. For just a brief moment, the world seemed to screech to a halt around them, and a silence filled the air, so thick it left a dusty taste in Danny’s mouth. Even the rip in the sky above seemed to pause in its yawning.

Then a fire sparked to life behind that one eye and a wave of heat crashed over Danny, nearly knocking him over. The roar Pariah let loose chilled Danny to the bone and left a whiny ringing in his ears. He didn’t even bother to try and stand his ground against a rage so strong; he simply turned and rocketed off in the other direction.

Just in the nick of time too, it seemed, as Pariah lunged after him. In an instant, a flurry - no, a storm of scarlet ectoblasts surrounded Danny. He twisted and ducked and dived and put all his flying skills to the test trying to dodge them all. It was difficult, since the blasts were all coming from behind him, but strangely enough, he felt as though he could sense them in the air as they flew at him, like he could just tell where they were without looking.

“Is that you?” he asked as he narrowly avoided yet another attack.

On the contrary. It is you, little Prince.

“That makes zero se- agghh!” A blast clipped Danny’s side, sending a flare of white hot pain up his ribcage. The blast was strong enough to send him careening off course, and he couldn’t stop himself from colliding with a building and plummeting to the street below. His head hit hard enough to cause his vision to go black.

He groaned pitifully as he laid on the road. The pain shooting through his side felt as though it was trying to burn straight through him, even in spite of the cloak and Crown’s efforts to heal him. Something sticky and wet pooled underneath the hand gripping his side.

For a minute, he just laid there, fruitlessly trying to will the pain away. Unbidden memories of being in a very similar pain in a very similar fight began to well up. He forced them back down. Not right now.

A blood-curdling scream had his eyes flying back open.

Vision half-blurry from the fall to the ground, Danny pried his head up off the street and looked. In front of him was the elementary school, surrounded by a shimmering green ghost shield. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared, since it was after school hours and the building would normally be empty, but his eyes landed on a small crowd of civilians, hovering near the inner edge of the shield and watching the battle with fear in their eyes. The scream had come from a little girl no older than six, covering her mouth in horror and pointing at him.

No, pointing behind him.

With a grunt of pain and a tremendous effort, Danny took to the sky again, wobbling in midair. Pariah’s boots slammed into the street not a second later, right where he had been laying.

This was bad. This was really getting bad. He was injured, and though the Crown and the cloak kept his energy levels high enough for the most part, he was devoting too much energy to the fight to focus any towards healing himself. Energy didn’t exactly help when it was his physical body that was damaged.

And now there was the fact that he had a slew of people behind him, huddling underneath a ghost shield. True, it would protect them from Pariah, and it would protect them from stray blasts, but rubble could easily go flying in, or someone could step out of the protected radius. It was too dangerous to keep the battle this close to them.

(Not to mention he saw more than one cell phone out and recording, and that definitely set him on edge.)

He tried to dart away from the shield, but Pariah managed to snag his collar as he whizzed by. He gagged and his hands flew up to his throat.

“A coward!” Pariah cackled. “That is who you are! Fleeing from the battle? Fleeing from those under your protection?” He threw Danny into yet another building. “And Kilaris dares deem you worthy?”

“So you admit it,” Danny coughed. His hand gripped his side again. “That the Heart wants me over you.” Not that he was crazy keen on that fact.

Pariah’s face morphed into a dark frown. “The Heart’s opinion is worthless!” he snapped. “It is I who controls Kilaris! Its will bends to me!”

In spite of the pain and every instinct telling him not to, Danny shot Pariah a cocky, albeit weak, grin. “Bet.”

He had to keep from laughing at the stunned look on Pariah’s face. It was clearly not the response he had been expecting to his declaration, and the fact that Danny had been able to catch him off guard that badly was priceless.

The humor didn’t last long, though. In the blink of an eye, Pariah was charging at him again. This time, Danny anticipated it enough to be able to phase back through the building. He emerged at the ground level, underneath Pariah, who was still looking for him.

Danny moved to leap up once more, but his ribs screamed in protest. He hissed as he tried to keep from doubling over.

The cloak’s interior had to be sub-zero at this point, it was working overtime. Another layer of frost was beginning to glaze over it. The Crown too grew colder on his head, feeding pulse after pulse of energy into him.

You have been holding back, little Prince. The power has the capability to heal you and aid you in battle simultaneously, but you must let go of your fears if you are to use its true potential.

Danny didn’t answer. He was too distracted barely dodging Pariah’s mace and firing up a barrage of ice at him to do so.

There was also the little fact that he didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to… couldn’t acknowledge…

Yet he couldn’t deny just how badly his core wanted it. The memory of how that power had felt just those few minutes ago burned through his head, and his core jumped in earnest.

He gritted his teeth and forced his core to quiet. It would be fine.

It had to be.

As soon as the ice left his hands, though, he collapsed in on himself once more, clutching his bleeding side. It was long enough of a distraction for Pariah to slam his feet into the street, causing enough of a quake to knock Danny off his feet and to the ground.

Okay, so maybe it wouldn't be so fine.

Pariah swung his mace down again, and Danny responded with a green shield. It was too hasty, not properly formed, and it shattered underneath the force. Danny yelped and tried to roll away, but the mace still clipped his back, tearing open the skin there.

Yeah, definitely not so fine.

The temptation to give in and let the Crown flood him once more was growing by the minute. Danny didn't know how long he could sustain himself with all these injuries, let alone how he could win the fight and take the Ring. His core ached to be filled by the Heart's power. He knew that if he let it happen, it would almost guarantee his victory.

But his eye caught the ghost shield behind him, where the crowd of civilians stood watching him with horror painted on their faces. He remembered just how badly he had destroyed the block over when he'd let the Crown's power overwhelm him, and his stomach flipped. No way could he put his people in that sort of danger.

You can control it, little Prince. You are more than capable.

Again, Danny didn't respond. The battle consumed too much of his focus. Gasping against the flare of hot pain, he took to the air once more to avoid yet another swing of Pariah’s mace. It missed him by a hair. He raised his hands once more to answer with an attack of his own, and -

“Danny!”

It was instinct. He turned his head at the sound of his mother calling his name.

It was the worst mistake he could’ve made.

He met his mom’s eyes for just a moment, but it was a moment enough for Pariah to make his move. Danny didn’t register the heat moving behind him until it was too late. He turned around just in time to see Pariah’s hand flying towards him.

Reflexively, he turned intangible in the nick of time. Pariah’s hand sailed harmlessly through his head and out the other side. His tangibility returned, and he reached out to return the attack.

It wasn’t until an emptiness unlike any other hit him like a brick wall that he realized it hadn’t been him Pariah had been gunning for.

Danny immediately dropped to his knees and doubled over in pain as his core cried out. Just like at Vlad’s, his core felt like it had been ripped straight from his chest and drained of all its energy. Cold air surrounded him as his cloak flared to life, trying desperately to compensate for the lost energy. The only sound was his frantically pulsing heart in his ears, and he couldn’t catch his breath enough to shout.

It hurt. Ancients, it hurt.

And unlike at Vlad’s, the emptiness pressed on.

Danny managed to look up as panic bubbled to the surface. His stomach only churned worse when he saw Pariah standing in front of him with a wild grin, holding the Crown that had been sitting on Danny’s head.

“You should’ve surrendered when you had the chance, little Prince,” he said.

Danny tried to respond, but couldn’t. It was too much. The void inside him felt like it was about to swallow him whole, just like the void above was threatening to swallow Amity Park.

Please, he begged in a fit of desperation, help me!

The Heart didn’t respond.

“It cannot help you now, child,” Pariah Dark laughed, as if he had read Danny’s mind. “Not when it is finally back in the hands of its true master.”

And as Pariah laughed once more and raised the Crown to put it on his head, Danny lifted a feeble hand towards him, trying to call up his ice, his ectoplasm, his anything, anything that could stop him. He couldn’t feel his power, he couldn’t feel his core, he couldn’t feel his Heart -

Pariah roared in pain. Danny’s head snapped up to see him drop a steaming Crown. It landed on the street with a loud clatter as Pariah held his also-steaming hand close to his chest.

“You!” he bellowed, glaring daggers at the Crown. “You will yield! That power is MINE!”

Danny ignored him. He had zeroed in on the Crown and begun to drag himself toward it. Somewhere in the back of his head, he realized he probably looked absolutely ridiculous right now, and it pained him to think about how badly he wanted - needed to get the Crown back, but he didn’t care.

He couldn’t tell if he was simply imagining it, but he could almost feel a little tendril of power, reaching out to him, trying to hook into his core, trying to pull him closer.

Pariah roared again, and Danny had to retreat back into the cooling comfort of his cloak as a wall of heat crashed into him. “No!” he snarled. “If you will not bow to me, then you will have no one!” With a shout that shook Danny to his bones, Pariah snatched the Ring from his finger and threw it down next to the Crown with such force that it formed a little crater.

Danny’s heart began to pound even faster. This was it. This was his chance. He just had to move -

But he never made it. Pariah unleashed a terrible scream, and then hot, red energy poured from his hands.

Straight onto the Crown and the Ring.

If losing the Crown had hurt, Pariah’s attack on it was excruciating. Danny gripped his head and his core, unsure if he was the one screaming or if it was someone else or if he was just imagining it.

“Stop!” he managed to gasp. “You - hurting…”

But Pariah paid him no mind. Instead, he yelled louder, and another barrage of energy slammed into the Crown and Ring. Danny reacted as though he had been the one to get hit, falling to his stomach and crying out soundlessly.

He could barely see the Crown and Ring through Pariah’s onslaught, but when he finally gathered the strength to lift his head and look, his entire being froze.

A crack appeared in the Crown.

And now he was sure he wasn’t imagining the scream of pain because it definitely had to be him with how his core cracked too, and there was definitely another voice screaming in harmony with his and Ancients, of course it would be screaming, with the way Pariah -

“I am the power of the Realms!” Pariah roared, and another crack appeared in the Crown.

Danny reached out one last time, but he knew it was fruitless. There was no way…

Danny cried out.

The Crown and Ring cried out.

Kilaris cried out.

And then

Kilaris

s h a

t t

e r e

#danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny #fanfic #danny phantom fanfic #hannah writes #supernova #jazz fenton #pariah dark #i have no clue what else to tag this

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mysafehaneul · 2 years ago

Text

II.AQUAMARINE

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 7k+

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

ANGST, (obviously lol), Fluff, Smut (in future chapters not this one).

This is my original work for free comsumption because fuck capitalism but please do not steal it. All characters are orginal except The members of Seventeen, I do not own them. This is purely a work of fiction with no similarity with real life whatsoever, If any incident feel familiar, That is purely a coincedence. Please drop your feedback as it helps me feel motivated and improve. Happy Reading!

Previously On

CHAPTER 1

Here's the Picture that inspired this chapter.

CHAPTER 2: A RELUCTANT AGREEMENT

Ten years ago

Through the corridors of yesteryear, you recall the day when, in that bright classroom, red chairs and whiteboards, your professor's voice echoed through the room. The chirps of the birds could be heard from outside the window. Silent and attentive, like a gust of wind, he burst into the classroom, a whirlwind of energy and presence. Brown hair, tousled like a cascade of autumn leaves, His eyes bore the stories yet to be told; gentle and expressive, his brows arched as if to frame his emotions, a canvas upon which his feelings painted their masterpieces. And that smile, my goodness, that smile, a warm sunbeam peeking through the clouds, a constant presence on his lips, as if kindness itself chose to reside there. He tilted his lean body as he excused himself through the narrow passageway between the tables without knocking over the laptops or catching the professor's eyes.

Professor Stevens spun the pointer in his hand, expounding on the intricacies of change management. ''So as we can see from this point, change is an inherent part of life because the ability to adapt to a new circumstance is a hallmark of human resilience. From personal transformations to shifts within organisations, the psychological aspects of change and adaptation play a pivotal role in our ability to navigate unfamiliar'' His voice drew out and lost its trail when the movement at the back of the class disrupted his lecture. Catching sight of the intruder, voice laced with reprimand and amusement, he said, ''Stop right there, Mr. Mouse. Where are you attempting to sneak into?'' following his line of vision, all twenty pairs of eyes looking back at him. Through the collective attention of the classroom, Joshua could feel the burn of it as its evidence slowly rose to his cheeks. His embarrassment was palpable, an eloquent smile tucked away, and his gaze cast downward as if the most interesting object in the world were now on the floor beneath him. ''The class started twenty minutes ago, young man,'' the professor's voice resonated. With a sheepish grin and the shoulder strap of his backpack clutched tightly over his shoulder, Joshua lifted his head, his fingers finding refuge at the back of his head. ''Sorry, Dr. S,'' a hint of apologetic charm twinkling in his eyes. A swift retort danced in the professor's gaze. ''Party went too long,'' he quipped, and a ripple of chuckles traversed the classroom. ''Come here and sit in your assigned seat'' and went back to the lecture. Reclaiming the reins of the lecture, he went back to highlighting the nuances of adaptation, echoing through the walls. But his words faded into the background as you stood in the midst of that moment, your heart beating in a newfound rhythm. Your gaze was an unwitting lighthouse, locked onto him, and the cadence of his movement to his seat enveloped your senses. Your reverie was broken by a nudge from your best friend. Pulling you back from your daydreams. Her voice, laced with playful jes, reached your ears. ''I get that he's cute, but stop doorling.''

A smile adorned your lips. Rolling your eyes, you forced your eyes back to your professor. Unbeknownst to you, a pair of the same brown eyes got fixated on the person right next to you.

...

Present day

Laughter flowed like a melody, woven into the golden threads of the lamps and chandeliers above the table. Amidst the opulent splendour of the dining hall, the clinking glasses and the delicate harmony of forks and knives became the soundtrack of the evening. Your parents are mainly leading the conversations, engaging in animated conversations about Mr. Hoshimoto, the CEO of Tiger Baby Media, and his inexplicable obsession with tigers. ''I tell you,'' your father declared, his voice filled with mirth and the boost of wine. '' One of these days, he'll start adding 'rawr' at the end of every sentence.'' The collective laughter that followed enveloped the room with shared amusement.

And there, across the expanse of the table, was him. His eyes, as sharp and inquisitive as a fox, a shade of black as deep and enigmatic as the night sky, held stories untold, a universe of thoughts and emotions concealed within their depths. His gaze was both intense and preceptive, as if he possessed an innate ability to see beyond the surface and to delve into the hidden corners of the soul. met yours in a challenge, a dance of determination that played out in unspoken verse. With a lazy smile gracing his lips, he laid down his fork, reaching for his glass in sync with your movement, like a subtle mirroring of your actions. A silent duel of wills, a tug of intentions, unfurled between you both. His words echoing in your head: the information you believed was unbeknownst to the whole world, he is aware of it. You steeled your resolve; no matter what, you would not let him breach your composure. You will not let him have the benefit of doubt that he got under your skin. You gave a subtle cheer to the glass and brought it to your lips.

But the universe had other plans. For your mother's voice, a beacon of redirection cut through the atmosphere, dissolving your silent standoff. A victorious grin danced on her lips, a know-it-all grin that spoke volumes of maternal triumph. ''Mrs.Jeon is asking you something,'' she announced, her words pulling you from the magnetic pull of his gaze. You redirected your attention, a reluctant withdrawal from the battlefield of gazes, only to meet the warm and understanding smile of Mrs. Jeon, who encouraged familiarity with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Call me Sunmi," she insisted, her tone one of amity. "So, Y/n, I've heard you completed your education and now handle your father's business in Switzerland. Any particular reason?" Her inquiry hung in the air, a canvas upon which you painted your aspirations and your reasons for charting your own path beyond the shadows of legacy. "I like the weather over there," you offered, your chuckles echoing like a chorus that surrounded you. "On a serious note," you continued, eyes glinting, determination set like steel. "I wanted to expand my horizons beyond the family's shadow, learn about the world, experience life, and make friends." And then, the audacity in his gaze pierced through, his mocking remark barely veiled, ''who feel like family'' a reminder that he was present in every corner of your world, even here. Your gaze, unwavering and defiant, shifted from Mrs. Jeon to him, a smile that whispered "Fuck off" without uttering a word. And then came the probing question that shifted the air—a playful inquiry about your romantic inclinations.

So, Y/N, do you have any boyfriends or girlfriends? '' "Suni—"

"Honey, it's the 20th century. A girl can have options." Sunmi's voice, cheekily defiant, carried an air of rebellion, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she leaned on her palm and elbows on the table. a posture that didn't sit well with your mother's etiquette-driven sensibilities.

"We're all friends here, aren't we?" she mused, her gaze challenging the boundaries of decorum. With a calculated tilt of your head and your voice a blend of wit and audacity, you responded, "Not sure. I'll have to check my dungeon in Switzerland to see if he's still there." The room held its breath, a suspended moment, a tightrope between jest and earnestness. Then, like a storm breaking, the room erupted in laughter—a deep, soulful laugh that enveloped you, drawing you into its embrace. Among the harmonies of shared amusement, his laughter stood out—a sonorous echo that mirrored the rhythm of your own mirth. He has a nice laugh, you thought to yourself. And amid the laughter, Sunmi's declaration washed over you like a gentle tide. "I like you," she confessed, her words an embrace of shared connection. "I knew I was going to like you." As the conversation flowed seamlessly back to its course, you found yourself excusing your way from the table—a retreat to solitude in the powder room. Yet even as you left, your curious eyes met his, his amused smile leaving a lingering trace on your thoughts.

In the realm where awareness transcends mere information, a deeper truth takes root. Information, like fleeting gusts of wind, is consumed and forgotten, but awareness—ah, awareness—unfurls like petals, revealing what lies beneath the façade presented to the world. It's the art of observation that grants one the privilege of peering beyond the surface, uncovering the hidden layers waiting to be unveiled. Such was the state that Wonwoo found himself in on a Thursday morning, stirred by a curiosity that had lain dormant for far too long. As your graceful figure retreated from the opulent dining hall, a realisation swept over him like a gentle breeze. He became acutely aware that the waters of your persona ran deeper than what shimmered on the surface, and an inexplicable urge surged within him to plunge into those depths. A subtle clearing of the throat snapped his thoughts back to the present, a reminder that it was impolite to let one's gaze linger too long. Such introspective musings were often doubled in embarrassment when witnessed by the lady's father. Caught in an unspoken exchange with your father, their eyes locked briefly, and an unspoken recognition passed between them. Your father then addressed Wonwoo, ''Young man,'' he began. ''I have to tell you, you make your father very proud. He was telling me how you have a keen eye for property.'' ''He flatters me, sir'' "Good work deserves appreciation," your father said, his words carrying the weight of wisdom. "It fuels productivity and fosters competition among peers. Learn to seek what you want, my boy, and when you find it, treasure it." With a tender gesture, he kissed your mother's hand, a symbol of the appreciation he spoke of. The secret smiles exchanged between them held volumes of shared understanding. Wonwoo's father chimed in, ''I agree'' his smile echoing his agreement. Amidst these exchanges, a restlessness began to claw at Wonwoo's insides. He excused himself from the table, his fingers twitching with a subtle anxiety. He needed solace, a moment of respite, and smoke. And so he rose from his seat, excusing himself from the company and the conversation that had entrapped him.

"Would you like someone to show you the way?" Your mother's voice offered assistance, kindness colouring her words.

Politely declining the offer, Wonwoo left the room, his destination veering not towards the washroom but towards the haven of the balcony. The open air beckoned to him, a refuge to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts that spun within him.

...

The tendrils of moonlight that wrapped around you, a heavy ambience of anguish clung to your soul, reminiscent of a night shrouded in sorrow. Your feet, as if drawn by the moon's silver strings, carried you into the night, and with every breath of cool night air, you felt a weight on your chest that hadn't pressed down so heavily since the night you lost a piece of your world. As the moonlight bathed you in its ethereal glow, you found solace in its tranquil embrace, a moment of respite from the tempestuous memories that surged within you.

Two years ago

The echo of heavy footsteps reverberated through the halls of your home, carrying with them a grim aura that painted the scene as it unfolded before you. In the doorway stood police officers, their expressions etched with sombre gravity. A voice, tinged with urgency, pierced the silence as one of them addressed you.

"Do you know Noella Bulavia Hong and Joshua Hong?" The words hung like a haunting melody in the air.

"Yes," you replied, urgency tightening your voice. "She's a very close friend of mine—Noella'' Oh my Ella.

It was the dreaded moment when reality turned into a nightmare. "I am sorry to inform you, Ms. L/N," the officer's voice held the weight of crushing news, "but today at 1:30 am, there was an accident at the Bahnhofstrasse. Two cars collided, and a gas leak ignited a fire that resulted in an explosion. The occupants of both cars lost their lives."

No--- Your world spun in disbelief, and your mind was a maelstrom of chaos. Numbness spread like a winter frost, as if you were detached from the very ground beneath you. Tears flowed involuntarily, and your senses dulled as if robbed of their essence. A heart-wrenching void opened within you, an emptiness so profound that it felt like you were falling endlessly into an abyss. The weight of the night pressed upon you, suffocating your spirit.

'Noella, the girl with the most resplendent eyes,' your thoughts whispered, each memory a fragile touch that warmed your heart. Every laugh, every shared moment, is all fading into the bitter reality of the present. You have heard that when a soulmate departs, a part of oneself fades away with them. Today, you understood that agony.

Why her? Why her? What did she do to deserve this? Your thoughts spiralled into an anguished chorus. "When she finally found the love she always yearned for and the family she deserved,"

Sobs clawed at your throat, but you continued, driven by a desperate need for answers. "Officer, they had a son, Noel Hong. He's five years old; was he... He has blue eyes and

Words faltered, and incomprehensible emotions swirled within you. Officer Batch, a familiar face, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, guiding you inside. The tea cup in your trembling hand was a lifeline, a futile attempt to find solace amidst the storm. But your thoughts slipped back to that dreaded call from Jeonghan, informing you of the accident.

"Fortunately, their son was not with them," he had said. "He was with his babysitter. Right now he is with Ms. Ashley, a child services officer. He's in the car sleeping."

Oh, Noel. Your mind groaned in anguish as you rested your head in your hands, trying to process the pain that gripped you. There was a honk outside, followed by a loud slam of the car door. A few beats later, Jeonghan rushed into the room, gathering you into a tight embrace. Sobs wracked both of you, two souls mourning the loss of the most important people in your lives.

"They're gone, JJ," you choked out, tears a torrent between you. "They're gone."

Victor, Jeonghan's partner, conversed with the officers before heading out to retrieve Noel from the car. "Where's Noel?" Jeonghan's voice trembled, brokenness painted across his face.

"Tante," a small voice roused you both. Noel's sleepy inquiry cut through the air like a blade, his innocence contrasting with the devastating truth. "Why are you crying? Where are Mama and Appa?"

Your heart shattered at the innocence that clung to his voice. You walked over to him, scooping him into your arms. Holding him tightly, you mustered a smile through your tears. "They went somewhere, little one. It's late; why don't Tante and Noel have a sleepover?"

"Without mama?" his voice trembled, mirroring your own.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice catching. "Today, it's just you and me."

You led him to your room, laying him down beneath the covers. He clung to your finger, his tiny hand a lifeline amidst the abyss of grief. In his slumber, he echoed the pain that reverberated within you. ''Tante, when will Mama and Appa come back'' for the first time in a while? You prayed for the first time in a while to know the answer to that question. ...

Descending back downstairs, the scene had changed. Officer Batch remained, as did Jeonghan and Victor. Ashley, the child services officer, stood, straightening her attire. Her condolences were heartfelt, and her sympathy was genuine. As she prepared to leave, her words lingered like a balm on your wounds.

"Firstly, I am extremely sorry for your loss."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the room. You looked around; the officer who had delivered the news had excused himself. It was now just the three of you, the grief englufing the room and the reality setting in.

Ashley's words took a practical turn, discussing procedures, cooperation, and the logistics of what lay ahead. But your thoughts drifted, images of Joshua and Noella surfacing like ghosts. You realised the danger Noel might be in—the very real threat that could have stolen him too.

"Jeonghan," you interjected, your voice calm yet resolved. "Noel's existence should remain hidden from the Bulavia family."

The room went quiet, the implication lingering in the air. ''The Bulavias are his only blood relatives,'' he cried, but you understood the darkness that lurked within their legacy. Victor's words echoed in your mind, urging you to see beyond the façade of their societal stature.

"They are murderers. Are you truly that naive to think their deaths were mere accidents?" The words tumbled from your lips, filled with an understanding forged from the past. "Come to your senses. We know what they are at the core; they may be arms manufactured for the world, but we all know—-'' you drew a deep breath, lowering your voice, '' they never cared for Noel. I am certain you can recall what happened when they learned of her pregnancy'' Jeonghan was now pacing as you sat down on the same chair as the officer Batch was once seated, recalling that horrendous sight when Joshua was beaten to pulp and Noella's brother slapped her to the ground—the horror she lived through till she came to the university. You were certain that if they got their hands on Noel, then one could only imagine the horrendous things they would do to that child. unshaken eyes and a composed voice, ''till the time I am alive, I won't let anyone touch Joshua and Noella's child''."

Jeonghan and Victor exchanged glances, their unspoken agreement cementing an unbreakable pact. A silent oath was shared among the three of you—Noel's protection was is and will be your first priority. Because every child deserves a childhood and no one will deprive him of it.

Present.

Your musings were interrupted by the persistent vibration of your phone against your dress. The moonlight cast a sombre glow, your thoughts mired in the past, and your heart still carried the weight of those memories. You glanced at the caller ID, Rema's name catching your eye.

Your phone stirred in your hand; its vibrations were a stark interruption to the calm. Your heart quickened, for her calls often held weighty matters. You answered, your voice soft yet tinged with an undercurrent of anticipation.

"Rema?"

Her voice carried a mixture of empathy and concern, her words threading a tapestry of news that would unravel your tranquilly. "Y/n, I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's a new development. A notice from the Swiss court has arrived."

Your fingers tightened around the phone, an invisible tension sweeping over you. "What is it?"

A heavy pause danced on the line, a prelude to a storm of emotions yet to come. "They're suing you, Y/N. The Bulavia family is filing a lawsuit against you, claiming that you've kept their grandson away from them."

Your breath caught, a tempest of disbelief swirling within you. Their intentions bore a weight that you couldn't ignore, and the accusation against you was an unwelcome intrusion into the sanctuary of your solitude.

"They're also alleging that you're an unstable person, unfit to care for Noel." Rema's voice carried a note of frustration, mirroring your own feelings.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, a surge of anger and desperation intertwined within your chest. The moonlight seemed to dim, the world tilting on its axis as the weight of their accusations pressed upon you.

As you processed the news, your back remained turned towards the entrance of the balcony. Little did you know that within the shadows, another presence lingered—WWonwoo, a silent observer in your moment of vulnerability.

Amidst the turmoil of emotions, your voice wavered as you spoke, your words a mix of resilience and defeat. "Rema, I... This is... it's unjust."

Her response was a reassuring echo in the night. "We won't let them tarnish your image, Y/N. I've already contacted our legal team, and the evidence is in our favour. We'll fight this with everything we have."

Your grip on the phone eased, and the connection between you and Rema felt like a lifeline in the storm. As you absorbed her words, the door leading to the balcony creaked open, but your attention was so consumed that you remained unaware of the presence that had joined you.

In the shadows, Wonwoo stood, his eyes upon your figure, his heart stirred by the depth of your emotions. Your strength and vulnerability were on display—a portrait of resilience in the face of adversity.

"We'll weather this storm together, Y/N." Rema's voice was a promise, a lifeline to hold onto in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty.

With a small nod, you replied, your voice a blend of determination and gratitude. "Thank you, Rema. I... I don't know what I'd do without you."

As the call ended, you remained standing on the balcony, seeking solace amidst the twinkling stars. The tendrils of cool air wrapped around you like a gentle embrace, a balm for the restless thoughts that stirred within. Unbeknownst to you, a presence approached, a shadow converging with your own.

A soft spark illuminated the darkness as a cigarette was lit, the warm glow revealing the figure that had joined you. Wonwoo's towering form, standing at a commanding 6 feet, casts a silent yet powerful presence. The tendrils of smoke that curled from his lips seemed like ethereal wisps of thought floating into the night.

"You're quite the enigma, aren't you?" His voice was a low rumble, a testament to the depth of his emotions.

Startled by his sudden appearance, you turned to face him, your eyes meeting the soft ember of the cigarette's tip. Your brows furrowed, and a mixture of surprise and accusation laced your voice. "Were you eavesdropping?"

He quirked an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Eavesdropping would imply a certain level of secrecy. I believe the word you're looking for is 'overheard.'"

Your lips curled into a wry smile, and you crossed your arms, meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. "Semantics. What's the difference?"

He took a leisurely drag of his cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours. "The difference, my dear, is that eavesdropping implies a certain degree of intentionality, while overhearing is simply a matter of being in the right place at the right time."

The banter between you was a dance of words, a subtle clash of wills that echoed in the night air. The moon above seemed to glow a little brighter, as if captivated by the exchange unfolding beneath its watchful gaze.

As the cigarette dwindled to a mere stub, his final exhale mingled with the evening breeze, a symbol of conclusion. He flicked the remains away, the glowing ember dissipating into darkness. "Well, my unintentional overhearing has come to an end. Shall we return?"

You nodded, a mix of annoyance and something else settling within you. The two of you turned to leave the balcony, making your way back to the warmth of the dining room. The moment you stepped inside, you were met with the knowing glances of your parents, their exchanged looks laden with unspoken implications.

With an inward sigh, you were about to find your seat when Wonwoo's actions surprised you. He pulled out your chair, a gesture both unexpected and oddly courteous. The corners of your lips twitched, an amused yet sceptical glint in your eyes. "I can sit down on my own, you know."

His lips curled into a faint smile, his gaze meeting yours with an air of playful challenge. "I'm aware. But isn't it polite to assist a lady?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a chuckle, despite yourself. "Chivalry isn't dead, I see."

As you settled into your seat, he took his own place across the table. The room was steeped in the echoes of your exchange, an unspoken understanding threading between you. The dance of words, the spark of banter—iit was a tapestry woven from different threads of emotion.

The clinks of silverware and hushed conversation enveloped the room once more, a symphony of togetherness and shared moments. Amidst it all, you and Wonwoo exchanged a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the dance you'd shared, a dance that had brought you both a little closer, even in the midst of your verbal jousting.

The evening had unfolded like a symphony of shared moments and whispered laughter. As the dinner drew to a close, the air held a blend of both familiarity and anticipation.

Mr. Jeon's eyes held a mixture of admiration and genuine warmth as he leaned forward, his words an echo of sincerity. "Y/N, my dear, your accomplishments are nothing short of remarkable. I sometimes wish I had a daughter like you."

A smile played upon your lips, a mixture of humility and gratitude. Beside him, Mrs. Jeon's gaze was softer yet equally sincere. "Indeed, dear, though we might not have had a daughter, there's always room in our hearts for someone as exceptional as you."

The words lingered in the air, like petals of praise carried by the wind.

And now, the time had come to bid adieu. Outside, the night awaited, and as the group made their way to the grand entrance of the mansion, the atmosphere was charged with the bittersweet awareness of departure.

A soft breeze brushed against your cheeks as you stood beside your parents. One by one, your parents exchanged pleasantries and farewells with the Jeon couple. When it was your turn, a sense of both anticipation and trepidation took hold.

Wonwoo's approach was graceful, his every step resonating with a quiet confidence. He first pressed a tender kiss upon your mother's hand, a gesture steeped in old-world charm. Then he shook your father's hand with the kind of firmness that conveyed respect.

And then, it was your turn. The air seemed to hum with charged energy as his eyes locked onto yours. The anticipation was palpable, and you felt his thumb gently trace the outline of your knuckles, a touch that sent ripples of sensation down your spine.

However, unlike how he bent to kiss your mother's hand, He raised your hand to his lips, but just as the moment seemed poised to unfold into something more profound, you made a choice. With a swift shift of your hand and a mischievous smile, you transformed the kiss into a handshake. His chuckles joined yours, a moment of shared amusement that danced like fireflies in the night.

The sound of his engine roared to life, a powerful crescendo that echoed the energy of the evening. Both cars began to glide down the drive, the mansion's gates awaiting their passage.

...

The road stretched before him, each mile carrying him further away from the evening that had etched itself deeply into his thoughts. The engine's low rumble echoed through the empty streets, a symphony of solitude that seemed to resonate with the weight on his mind.

You. The name seemed to echo in the quiet chambers of his thoughts, a refrain that he couldn't escape. Those eyes, your eyes, had held a certain fire that intrigued him, an ember of challenge that stirred his curiosity. The conversation he had unwittingly overheard in the corridor replayed in his mind like an elusive melody, each word resonating with a melody of its own.

As the penthouse came into view, its sleek lines and imposing presence a beacon in the night, he parked his car with the precision of someone accustomed to control. The lift carried him to his sanctuary, the living room, an oasis of shadows and scattered moonlight. The vast window transformed the cityscape into a tapestry of twinkling stars and luminous hues, a world outside the reach of his contemplations.

A figure graced the couch, legs crossed in a display of elegance that masked the complexity beneath. Eleanor Calder, a name that carried the weight of a past he couldn't quite shed, was a habit he yearned to break. He approached, the tension between them palpable, words unspoken yet hanging in the air like a tempest.

"Good evening, Wonwoo." Her voice was honeyed, a mixture of familiarity and ambiguity that had once ensnared him.

"Evening," he replied curtly, his gaze fixed on her as he took in her features illuminated by the faint glow. Glossy hair framed an alluring countenance, pouty lips, and eyes that held secrets of their own.

"How was the dinner?" Her question cut through the silence like a dagger, a reminder of the evening that refused to relinquish its hold.

"Fine," he replied tersely, the monosyllabic response a shield against the tides of memories.

"Is she as pretty as they say?" Eleanor's question was laden with a blend of curiosity and a hint of insecurity.

He let out a soft breath, the temptation to reveal his thoughts just shy of his lips. "Beauty is subjective," he said with a flicker of a smile.

She leaned closer, a sultry grin playing on her lips as she attempted to close the distance. "What about us, Wonwoo? Aren't we a beauty worth cherishing?"

His hand gently stopped her advance, a silent refusal that hung in the air. Her frustration surfaced, her lips trailing to his neck with a bite of aggression that carried echoes of their past.

"Why don't you like me anymore?" Her voice held a tinge of desperation, a question born from the shadows of uncertainty.

"You made your choice," he replied, his voice a mix of resignation and detachment. "Now you have to live with it."

Her retort was laced with bitterness, a blend of anger and longing. "That's never stopped you before."

The sound of shattering glass punctuated her exit, the remnants of a vase littering the ground as she left his presence. A sigh escaped him, a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Slipping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he loosened his tie and unbuckled his belt, the insignias of formality discarded as he sought solace in his sanctuary. With practised ease, he dialled Chan's number, a weary smile tugging at his lips as he heard the groggy voice on the other end.

"Late night, Chan?" he quipped, his voice tinged with amusement.

"You may think I don't have a life outside of you, but I do have a routine, you know," Chan responded with a hint of mock annoyance.

Without missing a beat, Wonwoo shifted gears. "Get the construction company under a pseudonymous name, the one we'll be using for the Oasis project, to contact me. There's something I want to discuss."

The connection remained for a moment, a silent agreement shared in the darkness. As the call ended, a wistful smile played on his lips, a plan unfolding in his mind.

The path of water droplets on glass mirrored his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the city lights that danced beyond the window. And as he moved towards the sanctuary of his private space, his mind held a singular focus that burned as brightly as the moonlight.

....

The morning embraced you with its crispness, each step propelling you forward along the winding path of the park. The rhythm of your breath is synchronised with the rhythmic beat of your heart. Amidst the rhythmic cadence of your run, your thoughts were momentarily interrupted by the chime of your phone. With a brief pause, you pulled the device from your pocket, and the voice of your assistant, Rachel, filled your ears like a familiar tune.

"Good morning, Rachel. Early morning?"

"Morning, boss. It's about the Vanguard Builders project. They're refusing to work under the current terms of the contract. They want adjustments made to accommodate our engineers, and there seems to be a lack of cooperation between the architects, engineers, and workers. It's turning into quite a mess."

The tinge of irony that life often offers "Weren't they the highest bidders for this project? Why the sudden defiance?"

"Beats me," Rachel replied with a hint of exasperation.

"By the way, who's heading the Oasis department now?" You inquired, a sense of curiosity weaving through your words.

"William Holmes," Rachel promptly answered. "Here's a fun fact about William Holmes: Jeon Wonwoo and he graduated in the same class."

The gears of thought spun in your mind, pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

"Rach," you mused, "who's the owner of Vanguard Builders?"

"Well, the acting head is Roland Thomas," she began.

"And the real owner?" you pressed further.

There was a pause before she answered, the realisation dawning on both of you simultaneously. There were a few clicks on the keyboard. "It's a subsidiary of JJ Group," Rachel replied.

"Jeon Wonwoo." You echoed the name with a mix of astonishment and determination.

"Rach, put the project on hold," you commanded, your tone unyielding yet composed. "And get in touch with his office. I need an appointment as soon as possible."

With a nod that only you could sense through the call, you concluded, "I'll see you at the office."

As you continued your run, the weight of the situation settled on you. What was it about that particular project, that particular place, that had him so resolute in its pursuit? With each stride, you felt the anticipation and tension growing, a prelude to the battle that lay ahead.

Upon returning home, you couldn't shake off the sense that this was going to be a long and intricate day.

....

In the seclusion of his office, Wonwoo perched on the corner of his desk, a solitary figure framed by the expansive window that offered a view into the bustling world beyond. His gaze was drawn downward, watching the city's heartbeat throb in the form of fast-paced cars and the hurried lives of its inhabitants. The city's rhythm was a stark contrast to the moment's stillness, his thoughts a tempest swirling in the calm.

As if sensing the weight of his contemplation, the door creaked open, and Chan, with a sprightly demeanour, stepped into the room. A subtle dance marked his steps, a rhythm of his own that added a touch of buoyancy to the space. With a cordial smile, Chan informed him about the call from your assistant.

"Sir, Ms. L/N's assistant called. They want to arrange a meeting," Chan shared, his words carrying an undertone of intrigue.

Wonwoo turned slightly, his gaze shifting from the window to rest on Chan. "What time did they suggest?"

"Anytime that's convenient for you, sir," Chan replied.

A calculating glint sparked in Wonwoo's eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips. "Tell them this. I don't want to meet her in my office. Arrange for a meeting at the restaurant in my hotel. Inform the staff there that I'll be dining with her. Confirm the details with her, of course."

The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place, and Wonwoo found himself musing about the unbinding knots of destiny. As Chan nodded and left to carry out his instructions, Wonwoo's thoughts continued to wander. The game was afoot. The city continued its rhythm outside the window, and Wonwoo knew that within its cadence, a melody of possibilities was beginning to emerge.

....

A monstera plant stood sentinel by the door, a hint of nature's wildness juxtaposed against the sleek, orderly decor. An aquarium to your left provided a soothing contrast, an aquatic symphony of colours and life.

Rachael's entrance echoed with purpose, her heels punctuating the marble's silence. "Boss," she addressed, her tone threaded with urgency, "Mr. Jeon has agreed to the meeting, but not in his office. He's opted for the hotel's restaurant, Lyden."

You muttered an exasperated "son of a bitch" under your breath. Wonwoo's manoeuvring was a subtle art that kept you on your toes. The enigma surrounding his intentions was matched only by his persistence.

The thought crossed your mind—was he trying to be overly familiar, or was this merely a strategic ploy? His determination to procure the land was palpable, but his methods—oh, his methods—remained enigmatic.

Sighing, you confirmed the dinner for 7. The sooner you navigated this web, the quicker you could retreat to familiar ground. And marriage—well, that was a topic that had lost its novelty.

...

As twilight painted the canvas of the city, you found yourself within the opulent embrace of the Lyden Hotel—a sanctuary of luxury nestled in the heart of urban chaos. The clutches of your office attire remained steadfast, for the effort to change felt extraneous. Lavender notes wafted in the air, a soothing touch to your racing heart, and the art that adorned the lobby resonated with the lively atmosphere. The hotel's colour palette resonated with hues of purple and lavender, a tranquil dominance that contrasted with the usual gold and red. The gleam of lamps and chandeliers, cast in ethereal white instead of conventional gold, danced around you as an attendant, average in height and likely in his mid-40s, approached. His warm smile invited you to navigate this orchestrated rendezvous, his presence a gentle anchor to the surging tides of anticipation. But then a presence sidled up to you, and you met those dark eyes again. Wonwoo, your enigmatic companion, surveyed you with an intensity that mirrored your first encounter. A tinge of humour danced on his lips, shared only with you. He leaned in slightly, his voice laced with a jesting tone.

"You know, Ms.L/N, I've heard rumours that Swiss chocolate is so irresistible that it once convinced a diplomat to give up an entire country just for a taste."

You chuckled, playing along. "Is that so? Well, Mr. Jeon, I've also heard whispers that Swiss watches are so accurate that they can predict the future."

He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Predict the future, you say? I must have missed that feature on my watch."

"It's a hidden setting, only activated when you're running fashionably late," you replied with a grin.

His laughter mingled with the ambient sounds of the restaurant, creating a melody that seemed to synchronise with the beating of your heart. "Ah, so that's the secret! I'll have to try it out sometime."

"Mr. Jeon," the manager began, addressing Wonwoo, "I apologise for the wait. And you must be Ms. L/N. Please, this way, your table is ready."

As the evening unfolded, a tapestry of conversation weaved between you. They served wine, but you abstained, aware of your responsibility on the road. Wonwoo, that audacious man, prodded you "You know, Ms.L/n, I've heard rumours about these smile police," he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes. "Apparently, they're quite strict when it comes to ensuring that everyone's lips are on an upward curve." You saw through his whimsical façade, demanding to know his true intentions.

''What is it that you truly want, Mr. Jeon?''

With a practised lean and a wry grin, he revealed his interest—your Oasis project.

You chuckled.

The weight of his intent hung in the air as he proposed a partnership, a 30-70 arrangement.

You, unperturbed, countered his proposition with grace.

''How about 40%?''His reaction was a study in composure—stillness giving way to a wry smile. He inquired ''What's the catch?'', arching an eyebrow.

The pasta found its way to your mouth, providing you with a moment's reprieve. Washing down with water, you said, "Would you like to marry me, Jeon Wonwoo?"

A few hours ago

"Rach!" you grumbled, rubbing your temples. "Rema's on line two." A quizzical look passed between you as to why she would call the office line, and then realisation dawned—you'd left your phone on the dresser, charging.

Rema's voice trickled through, laced with fatigue and worry. As she detailed the developments, a storm brewed within you. The lawsuit, the custody battle—the magnitude of it all pressed against your chest.

"They're claiming your lifestyle is unstable," Rema informed, her voice tinged with sympathy.

You scoffed. "Define unstable."

"Frequent moving, long absences, and—well, they highlighted the lack of a husband."

"Bullshit," you spat. "I don't recall the law stating that a single woman can't adopt her ward, bestowed upon her by the child's parents."

Rema's understanding tone resonated with the receiver. "I know, Y/n."

The conversation pivoted to the notion of marriage, and your disbelief was palpable. "So, I should get hitched just for a legal battle? That's absurd."

"Y/N, I'm your lawyer," Rema asserted, her voice unwavering. "I can't suggest illegal activities. But I can ponder the 'what ifs.'"

Your mind whirred, emotions settling into resolution. Closing every avenue that the Bulavia family sought to exploit. Even if it means Jeon Wonwoo,

Present

His reaction was a symphony of amusement,his eyes glinting with intrigue. He leaned back, beckoning you to elaborate.

"I don't like owing anyone," you began. "It seems I'm in a bit of a predicament. I find myself in need of a husband. If you agree—"

A grin played on his lips as he interjected, "So, when do you want to get married?"

You spluttered, momentarily caught off-guard. He was swift in his response, crafting a clever solution out of thin air. "You said you wanted a husband, and there's pressure on me to find a wife. Killing two birds with one stone" He shrugged and said, "Do enlighten me, Ms. L/N. I'm curious to hear about these circumstances that demand such a drastic solution." and you did. ...

In the car, As you drove Wonwoo to his place, the air was laden with silence, your thoughts whispering secrets only the wind could hear. The plans for Noel, your mutual benefit—it all tumbled through your mind. The contract, the call, and your parents

"Are you always this persuadable?" you inquired, your words filling the silent car.

"Only when it involves a beautiful lady in distress," he retorted, causing you to roll your eyes.

As you navigated through the city streets once again, you spoke of Noel, his significance, and the impending legalities. Wonwoo remained thoughtful, his demeanour subdued. With his apartment in sight, his voice resounded, seeking answers.

"So, he's not your son?" he queried, a sliver of vulnerability seeping into his tone.

"No," you affirmed. "Your informant was not as efficient as it seems, but he's like a son to me."

His curiosity blossomed further. "Do your parents know about it?"

You chuckled. "About what?"

"About Noel," he reiterated.

"No," you confessed, "they believe he was with Noella and Joshua that night, as they couldn't attend the funeral."

He nodded in understanding, his thoughts churning in the silence. . As he watched your car fade into the distance, a sense of purpose filled him. The evening's discussions had ignited a fire of determination within him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialling his mother's number.

As the line rang, his thoughts swirled like the city lights below. The memories of his grandmother, a regal and wise woman, were as vivid as ever. She had worn a unique ring—a family heirloom—that he had admired since childhood. He could still hear her stories, her voice rich with history and love.

The call connected, and his mother's warm voice flowed through the line. "Wonwoo, dear, how are you?"

He smiled, her voice a comforting balm. "I'm well, Mama. I was actually calling to ask Do you know where Grandma's ring is"?

tbc

A/N: Phew! its was a long chapter, hope you all liked it. Please drop your feedback in the comments or reblogs with tag or in the inbox as it motivates me and help makes the fic better.

msh

#seventeen #kpop fluff #kpop angst #fanfiction #aquamarine #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #kpop smut #jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #hoshi #wonwoo #joshua hong seventeen #jeonghan

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lesmisletters-daily · 6 months ago

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At Bombarda’s

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.3.5

The Russian mountains having been exhausted, they began to think about dinner; and the radiant party of eight, somewhat weary at last, became stranded in Bombarda’s public house, a branch establishment which had been set up in the Champs-Élysées by that famous restaurant-keeper, Bombarda, whose sign could then be seen in the Rue de Rivoli, near Delorme Alley.

A large but ugly room, with an alcove and a bed at the end (they had been obliged to put up with this accommodation in view of the Sunday crowd); two windows whence they could survey beyond the elms, the quay and the river; a magnificent August sunlight lightly touching the panes; two tables; upon one of them a triumphant mountain of bouquets, mingled with the hats of men and women; at the other the four couples seated round a merry confusion of platters, dishes, glasses, and bottles; jugs of beer mingled with flasks of wine; very little order on the table, some disorder beneath it

“They made beneath the table

A noise, a clatter of the feet that was abominable,”

says Molière.

This was the state which the shepherd idyl, begun at five o’clock in the morning, had reached at half-past four in the afternoon. The sun was setting; their appetites were satisfied.

The Champs-Élysées, filled with sunshine and with people, were nothing but light and dust, the two things of which glory is composed. The horses of Marly, those neighing marbles, were prancing in a cloud of gold. Carriages were going and coming. A squadron of magnificent body-guards, with their clarions at their head, were descending the Avenue de Neuilly; the white flag, showing faintly rosy in the setting sun, floated over the dome of the Tuileries. The Place de la Concorde, which had become the Place Louis XV. once more, was choked with happy promenaders. Many wore the silver fleur-de-lys suspended from the white-watered ribbon, which had not yet wholly disappeared from button-holes in the year 1817. Here and there choruses of little girls threw to the winds, amid the passers-by, who formed into circles and applauded, the then celebrated Bourbon air, which was destined to strike the Hundred Days with lightning, and which had for its refrain:—

“Rendez-nous notre père de Gand,

Rendez-nous notre père.”

“Give us back our father from Ghent,

Give us back our father.”

Groups of dwellers in the suburbs, in Sunday array, sometimes even decorated with the fleur-de-lys, like the bourgeois, scattered over the large square and the Marigny square, were playing at rings and revolving on the wooden horses; others were engaged in drinking; some journeyman printers had on paper caps; their laughter was audible. Everything was radiant. It was a time of undisputed peace and profound royalist security; it was the epoch when a special and private report of Chief of Police Anglès to the King, on the subject of the suburbs of Paris, terminated with these lines:—

“Taking all things into consideration, Sire, there is nothing to be feared from these people. They are as heedless and as indolent as cats. The populace is restless in the provinces; it is not in Paris. These are very pretty men, Sire. It would take all of two of them to make one of your grenadiers. There is nothing to be feared on the part of the populace of Paris the capital. It is remarkable that the stature of this population should have diminished in the last fifty years; and the populace of the suburbs is still more puny than at the time of the Revolution. It is not dangerous. In short, it is an amiable rabble.”

Prefects of the police do not deem it possible that a cat can transform itself into a lion; that does happen, however, and in that lies the miracle wrought by the populace of Paris. Moreover, the cat so despised by Count Anglès possessed the esteem of the republics of old. In their eyes it was liberty incarnate; and as though to serve as pendant to the Minerva Aptera of the Piræus, there stood on the public square in Corinth the colossal bronze figure of a cat. The ingenuous police of the Restoration beheld the populace of Paris in too “rose-colored” a light; it is not so much of “an amiable rabble” as it is thought. The Parisian is to the Frenchman what the Athenian was to the Greek: no one sleeps more soundly than he, no one is more frankly frivolous and lazy than he, no one can better assume the air of forgetfulness; let him not be trusted nevertheless; he is ready for any sort of cool deed; but when there is glory at the end of it, he is worthy of admiration in every sort of fury. Give him a pike, he will produce the 10th of August; give him a gun, you will have Austerlitz. He is Napoleon’s stay and Danton’s resource. Is it a question of country, he enlists; is it a question of liberty, he tears up the pavements. Beware! his hair filled with wrath, is epic; his blouse drapes itself like the folds of a chlamys. Take care! he will make of the first Rue Grenétat which comes to hand Caudine Forks. When the hour strikes, this man of the faubourgs will grow in stature; this little man will arise, and his gaze will be terrible, and his breath will become a tempest, and there will issue forth from that slender chest enough wind to disarrange the folds of the Alps. It is, thanks to the suburban man of Paris, that the Revolution, mixed with arms, conquers Europe. He sings; it is his delight. Proportion his song to his nature, and you will see! As long as he has for refrain nothing but <i>la Carmagnole</i>, he only overthrows Louis XVI.; make him sing the <i>Marseillaise</i>, and he will free the world.

This note jotted down on the margin of Anglès’ report, we will return to our four couples. The dinner, as we have said, was drawing to its close.

#lm 1.3.5

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stormkind · 24 days ago

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Child of Akatosh

A snippet from the chapter

Signe looks up from where she’s packing provisions into a backpack. “Enjoy your sparring session?” He only nods. “You’re packing. Where are we going?” “Dawnstar.” Kaidan groans. “Shit, do we have to?” Signe frowns. “What’s wrong with Dawnstar?” “I don’t care much for that place. It’s not very hospitable.” Signe scoffs. “The Horker capital of Skyrim, and you don’t care for it?” Kaidan shrugs. “Don’t mention horker to me right now. You’ll turn my stomach.” She shakes her head. “You’re being weird. And Aunt Fralia invited us for her famous horker stew tonight. I’ll let her know you’re afraid it might upset your delicate tummy.” She closes the backpack and leans it next to the door. “That means you’ll be making dinner instead.”

Kaidan huffs, crossing his arms. “Forget it. Horker stew for dinner it is.” He eyes her. “But why are we going to Dawnstar?” Signe gestures toward a letter on the table. “Time to pay Brynjolf for his information about Esbern.” Kaidan scans the writing. “Why you? Why not send one of his own people?”

“Ravam Verethi knows every Thieves Guild member because his captain buys and sells… goods from them. He tried to kill his captain twice, but without evidence, he can’t be arrested.” She clasps her hands together. “You get to be the mercenary Ravam hired to kill Captain Wayfinder. Once he pays me and puts his request into words, Commander Frorkmar Banner-Torn can arrest him.”

Kaidan raises a brow. “Sounds easy enough.” He pulls her cloak from the hook by the door. “I think I can smell Fralia’s stew.” Signe grins, patting his stomach. “Just be careful it doesn’t upset your tummy.”

The wind howls through their camp, tugging at the tent, making it shudder and ripple like a living thing. Ropes creak under the strain, the fabric snapping sharply with each powerful gust. A sudden gust scatters embers into the air, glowing flecks of orange and red swirling like fireflies against the dark sky. Some fade into the night, while others land on damp earth, hissing softly before vanishing into the cold. The flames flicker and bend, struggling against the wind’s relentless pull.

The wind continues to whistle through the trees, rustling the tent as Kaidan tilts his head back, eyes narrowing at the shifting clouds overhead. “Looks like an early snowfall. Maybe we should kill the fire and find shelter in the tent.” Signe tugs her coat tighter around her shoulders and nods. “I’ll cover the horses with the pelts.”

Kaidan watches her move in the firelight, her silhouette flickering against the darkening woods. In the tent, he lies back on his bedroll, arms folded behind his head, staring at the canvas ceiling as the wind pulls at its edges. A soft rustling of pages catches his attention. He peeks over, finding Signe sitting cross-legged, her eyes scanning the worn parchment in the glow of the lamp.

“What are you reading?” She lifts the book, letting him see the cover. “A Dance in Fire, Book I.” Kaidan hums in curiosity. “What’s it about?” “The exploits of a man named Decumus Scotti during the war between Valenwood and Elsweyr.” “Sounds interesting. Maybe I should read it as well.” He smirks, shifting onto his side and pulling her bedroll closer to his. With a casual stretch, he leans over, reaching for the lamp. “Or you can read it to me.”

Signe doesn’t protest. Without a word, she settles into the crook of his arm, adjusting the book so they both can see. The warmth of her body seeps into his side, a quiet comfort against the cold creeping in from outside. Kaidan turns his head slightly, breathing her in. Vilkas says she smells like sunshine and honey, but to him, it’s the familiar, clean scent of the soap she uses. Tonight, it’s floral and made from the flowers of Elsweyr.

Her voice is steady, a quiet melody weaving through the night, and he slips into sleep. In his dreams, Signe dances in a field overgrown with flowers, her laughter carried by the wind.

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes skyrim #the elder scrolls skyrim #elder scrolls #dragonborn #fanfic #fanfic skyrim #skyrim kaidan #kaidan 2 #kaidan skyrim #ao3 fanfic

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pixeldistractions · 9 months ago

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The work was grueling and gross. These university kids were foul, shameless, and awkward, and he would spare Maria the gritty details. But he felt accomplished, anyway, and a couple thousand dollars richer. The job was done, not just for the day, but for the week. Happy Friday. He finished the day and showered thoroughly. Maria told him to come meet them in town when he finished.

It took him a moment to find them at the center of a small gathering, playing music for a pleased little crowd. Maria played her violin while Johanna danced with a tambourine in her hand. Johanna clashed with the tune, spinning and chiming off-beat, but she was adorable enough to make up for the discord.

He held back and watched from a bench, not wanting to distract her or interrupt. He couldn’t name the song and he didn’t have a musical bone in his body, but it was upbeat and he knew it was impressively played. He couldn’t believe he’d known her for so long and never heard her play until now.

Then his phone rang. It was Colette, so he didn’t answer it.

The boys were fine, he heard from them just an hour ago, so she could leave her complaints in a voice mail. And she would. He waited for it.

Unfortunately, he had to listen to the voicemails for fear that one day it might be something serious.

I had to miss a client meeting for a parent-teacher conference. I had to take them to the dentist, to the doctor, to tai kwon do. How am I supposed to do my job? Because I’m sure you like to think money doesn’t matter, but it does. And you’re where? Utah last week, Arizona this week. Nevada? California? I don’t even know! The phone calls aren’t enough. The child support isn’t enough. They need their dad here. Why do you get to ditch all of your responsibilities and wander around in your wreck of a camper, because what, you hate capitalism or some bullshit? Newsflash, you can’t escape capitalism. You can try, but the rest of us still have to live in it. You’re a selfish sack of shit! You’re a pathetic wreck of a man and my boys deserve so much better!

That woman sure knew how to put a black cloud over his day.

Maria finished her song. It seemed he missed the end of it. She bowed to her enthusiastic crowd, Johanna included. Johanna picked a flower from a roadside planter and presented it to her mother, which made the small crowd coo with awws.

Then she saw him and bounded over to where he stood, throwing her arms around him. He gladly lifted her up off the ground. She was a force of pure happiness strong enough to dispel even the blackest of clouds.

“Wow,” he said. “That was incredible.”

“It’s so funny. I wasn’t even asking for money, but they threw it in my violin case, anyway. I made fifty-five dollars.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time I ever heard you play.”

“Oh, how is that true? But I guess it is. It’s been a while.” Her smile grew timid, but that didn’t diminish its shine. He guessed she must have some experience with performing, even if it was a long time ago. The attention suited her.

“So I’m gonna buy us dinner,” she said. “And you’re going to let me.”

“I can live with that,” he said.

This will transform her. It might take some time, but it will happen. These little flashes of courage, the bursts of inspiration, a walk alone in the forest at sunrise, dipping her bare toes in a river, riding a horse even though she didn’t enjoy it, a tiny concert played for strangers.

She was like a flower once confined to a window sill, finally let out into the wild bright sun. Who ever put her on a windowsill? She didn’t belong there. So he took her outside and the sun shone bright on her face and she bloomed. Oh, how she bloomed.

Jordan felt overwhelming pride to witness it, but also dread. To be a part of it, for as long as she wanted him, before she would soon grow bigger than any need she ever had for him.

Then why would she still want you, you pathetic wreck of a man?

— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (4/10)

^ Just some picspam of JoJo on the playground while they talked.

Next -> // 5.2 start // index

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #sims story #sim stories #jordan #maria #johanna #colette

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ghoulelegy · 2 months ago

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Ghostshire Valley - Chapter 10 - Late Stage Capitalism in a Tracksuit

You just wanted to get kitten food. Instead, you stumble into a rising tide of corporate necromancy, haunt-tech startups, and the soul-marketing menace known as ClosureMart. Read here on on Ao3

Morning in the Hollow was a slow, golden kind of soft. Light filtered down through the trees like spilled tea, birds trilled half-formed sonnets, and the moss yawned under your boots. Everything smelled faintly of toast and transformation.

Clove, your kitten (feline, chaotic goodl), had eaten the last of her food last night with a look that clearly said, This is beneath me, peasant . So you were heading to Haze, whose cottage always smelled like hay and cinnamon and who could identify any pawprint on sight, even emotional ones.

The walk to their place wound through the softer side of Ghostshire, where bees hummed beneath the hedgerows and the trees leaned in protectively. You were halfway to the gates when you heard it.

“Dying just got easier! Try our new Forever™ Plus plan and get access to exclusive afterlife previews, curated grief playlists, and legacy filters to beautify your ghost for social media!”

You stopped.

There, in the middle of the path, Phil stood behind a folding table covered in unsettling brochures. He was wearing a full tracksuit with the ClosureMart logo in glittery vinyl across the back. His nametag now read “Phil (Soul Consultant)” in Comic Sans. The table had a bowl of hard candies and a small speaker playing motivational synth.

A banner behind him read:

“SUBSCRIBE TO DEATH! First Trial Visit is FREE.”

You squinted. One brochure was titled “Eternity in Easy Payments” . Another featured a smiling family of ghosts under the slogan “Leave Life Beautifully™” .

Phil caught your eye and lit up like a sponsored candle . “Hey there! Would you be interested in a fully customizable mortality plan? Includes three haunt styles, eternal cloud storage, and a deluxe haunting starter kit!”

“I’m just trying to buy cat food,” you said, walking faster.

“Cats love our Ancestral Spirit Add-On! Free with code: PHILWASRIGHT.”

You had nearly escaped when—

“ PHIL. ”

Mayor Nihil materialized behind you with the quiet, powerful exhaustion of someone who’s had to file too many cease-and-desist letters in crayon. He looked vaguely like he hadn’t slept since the Moon Festival and was currently held together by spite and lukewarm tea.

Phil perked up. “Mayor! Interested in bundling existential crisis insurance with your ghost tax?”

Nihil didn’t even blink. “Phil, we talked about this. You can’t just sell metaphysical subscriptions in municipal space without a permit.”

Phil beamed. “Oh, but I have a SoulShare™ Vendor License now! Clause 17b says I can operate within any town boundary not actively protected by arcane moss.”

Nihil’s voice dropped an octave. “This is Ghostshire. Everything is protected by arcane moss. We have an entire council of sentient lichen. Their minutes are in iambic pentameter.”

Phil opened his mouth to argue—then sneezed violently as a clump of enchanted pollen flew directly into his face. A squirrel threw a pinecone at him. The speaker shorted out.

You watched him trudge off, brochures trailing like wilted petals.

“Is that going to be a problem?” you asked.

Nihil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Phil’s not the problem. The thing behind Phil is.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Nihil glanced sideways, making sure no trees were eavesdropping too closely. “ClosureMart thinks death is inefficient. That grief should be productive. They’re trying to patent the soul. The real trouble is—they’re getting better at packaging it.”

He paused, his gaze drifting somewhere far-off and hollow.

“I’ve buried people who thought they could outrun mourning. Bargained with ghosts who’d taken out subscriptions to haunt themselves. This—” he gestured at the glittery banner, now sagging—“is just a slicker version of an ancient mistake.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“I just wanted to get cat food.”

Nihil gave a tired smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s the better choice. Trust me. There’s no algorithm for that purring warmth when you get it right.”

He turned to go, then stopped.

“Oh. If ClosureMart offers you a ‘limited-time trial haunting’—don’t. Last time someone signed up, they couldn’t stop crying every time a toaster popped.”

You watched him disappear into the trees with the slow inevitability of someone who’d seen too many weird things before breakfast and expected at least three more by noon.

The air felt heavier now. Not dangerous. Just…like something older had stirred beneath the glossy surface of Phil’s sales pitch.

You shook it off and kept walking. Clove would be hungry.

The walk to Haze’s place took you past the clover field where butterflies held board meetings, past the stone that sometimes hummed when sad people sat on it, and finally up the winding, pet-printed path toward the cottage with a roof made of moss and affection.

You’d barely made it to the gate when a woolly creature bleated at you like a disappointed uncle. A squirrel in a sweater dashed past, carrying what looked suspiciously like a love letter.

Haze’s cottage was where lost animals wandered to find themselves, and sometimes stayed just because the tea was good.

The front sign read:

Haze Animal Keeper | Creature Counselor | Chronic Softie (They/She. Please don’t feed the raccoons poetry.)

You stepped onto the porch and knocked, only to be immediately met with the door swinging open and a ferret trying to hand you a clipboard.

“Hey hey!” Haze called from inside, wiping her hands on a towel that had definitely been used to hold a hedgehog recently. “Did Clove run out again? Or is she just pretending to starve for attention?”

“She’s out of food,” you said, stepping inside and being immediately welcomed by the comforting scent of hay, lavender, and various kinds of fur. “And gently gnawed my shoelace this morning in protest. She’s growing.”

“She’s perfect,” Haze said with conviction, already rummaging through a bin marked Baby Felidae (Sweet Type) . “That little gremlin melted Snip’s heart last week. You know how hard that is? Snip hates everything. Especially feelings.”

She gestured toward Snip, a large tuxedo cat perched lazily on a sun-warmed windowsill, his sharp green eyes half-closed in a look that somehow managed to be both regal and perpetually unimpressed.

She handed you a small, lovingly labeled sack that read:

“Kitten Blend – for small souls with Very Big Paws.”

It had cartoon pawprints and smelled faintly of chamomile and sardine.

“I threw in the calming herbs,” she added. “She gets the zoomies so hard I’m starting to think she’s part meteor.”

You smiled. “She fell asleep in her food dish yesterday. I think it was a protest nap.”

“Excellent. Her rebellion phase is blossoming.”

You were about to thank her and go when something tugged at your memory—Phil, the tracksuit, the cursedly cheerful pitch for postmortem subscriptions.

“Hey, uh,” you said, shifting the bag under your arm. “Do you know anything about ClosureMart?”

Haze’s hands paused mid-sort. Her smile stayed, but something behind her eyes flickered like an instinct bristling its fur.

“Why?”

“I ran into Phil near the square. He was pitching... dying. Like, as a subscription. And Mayor Nihil kind of just sighed and told him to go sell existential dread somewhere else.”

Haze leaned against the counter. One of her many cat companions—a long-legged void with too many toes—leapt gracefully into her arms.

“They’ve been sniffing around for a while now,” she said, voice soft. “Trying to rebrand mortality. Package it. Sell it. ‘Optimize your passing experience.’ That kind of trash.”

The cat in her arms gave a slow, solemn blink.

“They want to turn grief into an app,” she added. “And it’s always the small towns they creep toward first. Quiet places. Magical ones. Where we still let grief be messy. Where we sit with loss instead of swiping past it.”

You felt something cold and familiar settle under your ribs. Not fear. Just… knowing. The kind you don’t want.

“They’re calling it progress,” she said. “But really, it’s just avoidance with better lighting.”

“Phil said something about legacy filters,” you muttered.

“Ugh,” Haze said. “Yeah. AI-generated eulogies. Personalized fade-outs. They want to make dying ‘a vibe.’”

She scratched the cat under its chin. “I’m not saying I want to punch Phil in the aura,” she added. “But I do think he should be legally banned from ghost towns. And maybe forests.”

You both stood in silence for a moment. Even the raccoons had stopped rearranging the spice rack.

Then Haze looked up and smiled again, gentler this time.

“Anyway,” she said, reaching into a drawer. “Here. Some goat milk chews for Clove. She’s growing fast. She’ll be a little goblin queen before you know it.”

You took the treats and nodded.

“Thanks,” you said.

Haze’s expression softened again. “Hey,” she added. “Hold the good stuff tight. The soft things. The messy parts. ClosureMart can’t sell what we refuse to let go of.”

Outside, the sky had turned that buttery shade of morning gold, and the meadow stretched like a sleeping cat in the sun.

You tucked the kitten food into your bag beside the glowing pear and walked home toward Clove, her tiny paws, and her enormous capacity for joy.

The barn still smelled like tea and soft rebellion, but now that you were looking , the ghoulishness shimmered through.

Mist wasn’t just a ghoul. She floated, yes—but beneath the translucent shawl and gentle voice, her horns curled like antique scissors, glinting faintly with every stitch. The shawl she hemmed tonight had your name in it. You hadn’t told her your name.

Alpha’s hoodie was even better up close—grey, oversized, stitched with feathers, and emblazoned with a running goose and the words: “PEACE WAS NEVER AN OPTION.”

Their horns peeked out through careful slits in the fabric, glinting nervously as they muttered to themselves and refused to make eye contact with the spellbound button jar.

Vesper, blind as ever, ran fingers over their embroidery with something deeper than sight. Their horns were elegant, curling like the ends of violin scrolls. They sang under their breath as they worked, and where they stitched, the fabric hummed back. You were starting to think they weren’t embroidering lullabies, but warnings dressed as lullabies.

Then the barn door creaked open.

And Omega arrived.

He stepped inside like fog spilling from a dream—tall, wrapped in velvet, antlered like a monarch of moonlight, his presence too still for comfort.

The stitching paused. Even the self-threading needles dropped gently to the floor.

Omega didn’t speak right away. He stood in the arch of warm candlelight, eyes shadowed, hair mussed like he hadn’t slept since the first grief . His horns were sharp and black, crowned with wax-dripped copper charms.

Then softly, to no one in particular, he whispered:

“He spoke to me again last night.”

Mist’s hands stilled mid-air.

“In the mirror. In the space between dreams and forgetting. He said his name.”

You felt the air grow thick, like mourning steeped in honey.

“My husband. My soul. He said he was trapped .”

Alpha dropped their patch. The thread unraveled on its own.

“He said ClosureMart is eating time sideways. That he’s stuck in a version of a memory that’s been purchased . That his grief has been repackaged. I heard an ad playing over his voice.”

Omega looked at you for the first time.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Then, quieter:

“Do you believe in unghosting someone?”

The silence that followed wasn’t fear. It was recognition. This wasn’t new to them. This had happened before .

Vesper spoke, soft as an old prayer:

“He’s not the only one. ClosureMart’s been—cataloguing. Memory. Spirit. Even love , if it glows hard enough.”

Mist nodded. “They collect people like we collect thread.”

Omega stepped forward, setting a bundle on the table. It unwrapped itself.

Inside: one of ClosureMart’s cursed receipts. But this one pulsed.

“REDEEMED: 1 Promise. No Refunds.”

You stared at it. It stared back.

The candlelight flared. Your patch glowed, and you saw the shape of a doorway stitched in its center. Not metaphorical.

Real.

Vesper’s needle danced. Mist reached for more memory-thread. Omega’s voice returned to its whisper, reverent and dangerous:

“We’re not just a stitching circle anymore.”

#ghost band #the band ghost #band ghost #ghost #ghost the band #ghost fanfiction #ghoulelegy writes #ghostshire valley #haze #haze ghoulette #special ghoul #phil ghoul #ghoul ocs

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manorinthewoods · 2 months ago

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"Welcome to the AI trough of disillusionment"

"When the chief executive of a large tech firm based in San Francisco shares a drink with the bosses of his Fortune 500 clients, he often hears a similar message. “They’re frustrated and disappointed. They say: ‘I don’t know why it’s taking so long. I’ve spent money on this. It’s not happening’”.

"For many companies, excitement over the promise of generative artificial intelligence (AI) has given way to vexation over the difficulty of making productive use of the technology. According to S&P Global, a data provider, the share of companies abandoning most of their generative-AI pilot projects has risen to 42%, up from 17% last year. The boss of Klarna, a Swedish buy-now, pay-later provider, recently admitted that he went too far in using the technology to slash customer-service jobs, and is now rehiring humans for the roles."

"Consumers, for their part, continue to enthusiastically embrace generative AI. [Really?] Sam Altman, the boss of OpenAI, recently said that its ChatGPT bot was being used by some 800m people a week, twice as many as in February. Some already regularly turn to the technology at work. Yet generative AI’s ["]transformative potential["] will be realised only if a broad swathe of companies systematically embed it into their products and operations. Faced with sluggish progress, many bosses are sliding into the “trough of disillusionment”, says John Lovelock of Gartner, referring to the stage in the consultancy’s famed “hype cycle” that comes after the euphoria generated by a new technology.

"This poses a problem for the so-called hyperscalers—Alphabet, Amazon, Microsoft and Meta—that are still pouring vast sums into building the infrastructure underpinning AI. According to Pierre Ferragu of New Street Research, their combined capital expenditures are on course to rise from 12% of revenues a decade ago to 28% this year. Will they be able to generate healthy enough returns to justify the splurge? [I'd guess not.]

"Companies are struggling to make use of generative AI for many reasons. Their data troves are often siloed and trapped in archaic it systems. Many experience difficulties hiring the technical talent needed. And however much potential they see in the technology, bosses know they have brands to protect, which means minimising the risk that a bot will make a damaging mistake or expose them to privacy violations or data breaches.

"Meanwhile, the tech giants continue to preach AI’s potential. [Of course.] Their evangelism was on full display this week during the annual developer conferences of Microsoft and Alphabet’s Google. Satya Nadella and Sundar Pichai, their respective bosses, talked excitedly about a “platform shift” and the emergence of an “agentic web” populated by semi-autonomous AI agents interacting with one another on behalf of their human masters. [Jesus christ. Why? Who benefits from that? Why would anyone want that? What's the point of using the Internet if it's all just AIs pretending to be people? Goddamn billionaires.]

"The two tech bosses highlighted how AI models are getting better, faster, cheaper and more widely available. At one point Elon Musk announced to Microsoft’s crowd via video link that xAI, his AI lab, would be making its Grok models available on the tech giant’s Azure cloud service (shortly after Mr Altman, his nemesis, used the same medium to tout the benefits of OpenAI’s deep relationship with Microsoft). [Nobody wanted Microsoft to pivot to the cloud.] Messrs Nadella and Pichai both talked up a new measure—the number of tokens processed in generative-AI models—to demonstrate booming usage. [So now they're fiddling with the numbers to make them look better.

"Fuddy-duddy measures of business success, such as sales or profit, were not in focus. For now, the meagre cloud revenues Alphabet, Amazon and Microsoft are making from AI, relative to the magnitude of their investments, come mostly from AI labs and startups, some of which are bankrolled by the giants themselves.

"Still, as Mr Lovelock of Gartner argues, much of the benefit of the technology for the hyperscalers will come from applying it to their own products and operations. At its event, Google announced that it will launch a more conversational “AI mode” for its search engine, powered by its Gemini models. It says that the AI summaries that now appear alongside its search results are already used by more than 1.5bn people each month. [I'd imagine this is giving a generous definition of 'used'. The AI overviews spawn on basically every search - that doesn't mean everyone's using them. Although, probably, a lot of people are.] Google has also introduced generative AI into its ad business [so now the ads are even less appealing], to help companies create content and manage their campaigns. Meta, which does not sell cloud computing, has weaved the technology into its ad business using its open-source Llama models. Microsoft has embedded AI into its suite of workplace apps and its coding platform, Github. Amazon has applied the technology in its e-commerce business to improve product recommendations and optimise logistics. AI may also allow the tech giants to cut programming jobs. This month Microsoft laid off 6,000 workers, many of whom were reportedly software engineers. [That's going to come back to bite you. The logistics is a valid application, but not the whole 'replacing programmers with AI' bit. Better get ready for the bugs!]

"These efforts, if successful, may even encourage other companies to keep experimenting with the technology until they, too, can make it work. Troughs, after all, have two sides; next in Gartner’s cycle comes the “slope of enlightenment”, which sounds much more enjoyable. At that point, companies that have underinvested in AI may come to regret it. [I doubt it.] The cost of falling behind is already clear at Apple, which was slower than its fellow tech giants to embrace generative AI. It has flubbed the introduction of a souped-up version of its voice assistant Siri, rebuilt around the technology. The new bot is so bug-ridden its rollout has been postponed.

"Mr Lovelock’s bet is that the trough will last until the end of next year. In the meantime, the hyperscalers have work to do. Kevin Scott, Microsoft’s chief technology officer, said this week that for AI agents to live up to their promise, serious work needs to be done on memory, so that they can recall past interactions. The web also needs new protocols to help agents gain access to various data streams. [What an ominous way to phrase that.] Microsoft has now signed up to an open-source one called Model Context Protocol, launched in November by Anthropic, another AI lab, joining Amazon, Google and OpenAI.

"Many companies say that what they need most is not cleverer AI models, but more ways to make the technology useful. Mr Scott calls this the “capability overhang.” He and Anthropic’s co-founder Dario Amodei used the Microsoft conference to urge users to think big and keep the faith. [Yeah, because there's no actual proof this helps. Except in medicine and science.] “Don’t look away,” said Mr Amodei. “Don’t blink.” ■"

#current events #ai #good news #original content #journalism #the economist

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justgayrevolutionnaries · 1 year ago

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Of snowflakes and revolution

My gift for @fructidors for the @drinkwithme-exchange ! I was more than happy to make another fic for you, this time I wanted to focus on Grantaire an Jehan and I had so much fun writing about them, I hope you enjoy <3

This one takes place in canon era, a few weeks before the Barrière du Maine episode.

Read it below or find it on Ao3 !

February 1832

“You know, my friend, since you forced me to go out, I feel the least you could do is look happy I obliged.”

Jean Prouvaire’s words seemed to be met with an immediate success, as the man facing him, though he didn't assume the happy look expected of him, was effectively snapped back to reality and considered him with an ironic stare.

“I would apologize, but I should have thought you would be more than eager to look out that window yourself - are you not the same one who would rather talk about the shapes of the clouds than listen to Enjolras pestering us with practical matters ? I am curious what you should have to say about the snow out there.”

In Grantaire’s defense, although he was not usually one to admire the landscape, it was not everyday you could find Paris under the snow, and both of them had a feeling they should revel in the occasion, as they did not know when they would come across such a view again - or even if they ever would. In fact, Prouvaire’s face as he called out to his friend was more bemused than actually upset, as he had barely been able to tear his eyes from the window himself since they had sat down at the Corinthe.

The pair would usually meet at Prouvaire’s apartment, although it was so messy these days that there was barely enough room for him to move around, let alone his imposing and exuberant friend. Not that it bothered the poet in the slightest, it seemed almost natural for him to live amidst a mess of worn out-books, pieces of paper filled with fragmented verses and various flowers all around, and since there was always a bottle of good wine to be found somewhere in this mess, Grantaire did not mind either. This time however, upon finding out that his friend had been so absorbed in his readings that he had completely neglected his mortal needs such as buying decent food, Grantaire had positively dragged him out of the building, claiming that “burying yourself in books will make you even more boring than Combeferre” and that he needed to go out immediately to prevent this unfortunate occurrence from happening.

Which was how the two of them had found themselves walking along the quays of Paris under the freezing wind, looking for a decent place to eat. The streets were cold, probably colder than they had been in years, and although this did not affect their enthusiasm in the slightest, all Jehan could think about was that they would not be able to show their faces at the Musain for weeks to come, as they would never hear the end of it if Joly was to catch them with a cold.

Either way, as one could have expected, their wandering had led them to the Corinthe ; the cabaret was not exactly an establishment that could be qualified a “decent place to eat at” but it seemed any other place would have felt wrong - at least that was Courfeyrac’s usual saying to justify their constant going back. Well, that and the fact the waiter here knew Grantaire so well that she immediately brought not one, but two bottles to their table- two bottles that the man had been eyeing with envy since they had sat down.

As he reached for one, however, Jehan immediately slapped his friend’s hand away, blatantly ignoring the offended look he was met with.

“I will remind you - do not give me that wounded look, capital R - I will remind you that I agreed to come only if you did not inebriate yourself before we even got the chance at a meal together.”

Grantaire merely wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought.

“Really, Prouvaire ? You, of all people, are going to tell me I am not allowed a drink today ?”

“Actually, I had expected my winning personality was enough to keep you good company - in fact, I shall take great offense if I find you brought me here only to immediately replace me with a bottle of wine. I should be upset, really. Positively vexed.”

The stern words only earned him a sarcastic look from his friend, who was used to Prouvaire’s theatrical lectures enough to know he did not mean one word of it.

However, though the redhead enjoyed teasing his friend about this subject, the truth was that being around Prouvaire had an unexpected effect on Grantaire. While the man was ever the most likely to grab a drink, and had drunk himself to oblivion more than once after a disdainful look from Enjolras, Jehan’s presence often sufficed to help him sober up. Not that the poet himself did not enjoy a drink, he was never the last to hold a glass of good wine to his lips, but he somehow seemed able to soothe Grantaire’s temperament with his mere words - after sharing a meal with the two of them, even Courfeyrac had marveled at the man’s sober self, effectively assigning Jehan the name of a “miracle worker”.

As if to acknowledge this, Grantaire’s eyes softened as he answered :

“And I am more than grateful for that company, Prouvaire. Although I think you are avoiding my question.”

At this point he took a solemn face and leaned in closer, earning him a puzzled look from Jehan.

“You will have to remind me what question you are talking about, R. I am afraid you were not the only one not paying attention.”

Grantaire leaned in even closer if that was possible and, whispering dramatically, he asked :

“What about the snow ?”

Prouvaire smiled as he understood what his friend meant. He leaned back into his chair, taking a puff of his pipe as he assumed a pensive look.

“The snow, uh ? A white mantle that comes to cover our whole city, petals white and pure, as if they had been sent by the gods themselves. For all we know, Chione could still be the one blowing snowflakes down until they reach us, so small and yet all chiseled by her hand, one by one. ”

“Is that all ? You are letting yourself go, Prouvaire. I expected more of-”

Grantaire burst out laughing as Jehan threw his hat at him, deliberately missing his face.

“Would you just let me think, you heathen !”

He closed his eyes to better concentrate, deciding that his friend’s ironic smile was not helping him at all.

“City asleep in the silence

Footsteps of a ghost in the night-”

“A ghost, really ? It seems to me those appear every time you try and write a verse about anything.”

“And why should we not talk about spirits ?” Jehan countered. “They are all around us. But if you have better inspiration, feel free to share it ; I shall be glad to hear what you have to say.”

Though caught off guard, Grantaire was more than happy to oblige.

“Snow falls from the sky like sparkles in the dark- no, this one doesn’t feel right. Keep going, you are better at this than I am.”

“No, no, wait, you had a good one with this. Snow falls down from the sky, sparkles in the dark / Black and white as far as my eyes can see…”

Here the poet stopped for a moment as he seemed to come back to reality, and he blushed slightly at the pride written on Grantaire’s face.

“I can keep going, if you want me to,” he said almost timidly.

“Of course you could. You seem to have a gift for this, you know. Poetry- your sensitivity seems to come almost naturally in your words.”

“You are not so bad with words yourself, my friend. You should consider coming by to help us write a speech, one of those days.”

Though light-hearted and seemingly nonchalant, the offer was merely met with a disdainful scoff from the man facing him.

“A speech ? So I can stand by and make a fool of myself with nonsense while Enjolras tells me to go home ? I don’t see what use I could be there. You should know by now your speeches mean near nothing to me.”

As Jehan was about to answer, his eyebrows furrowed, he found himself choking on the smoke of his own pipe. His friend seemed used to this occurrence, as he began softly patting the redhead's back with a bemused smile.

“I am a lost cause, Prouvaire. You should go waste your time on someone else. Besides, you should know Enjolras would never allow me in the vicinity if he is writing a speech to rally workers - or whatever it is you are trying to do - I would only spoil his credibility.”

“Grantaire, I have seen you go on for hours about the most beautiful of subjects - do you think I don’t remember that time you made up a limerick in just a few seconds, with only a candle for inspiration ? Your problem is not your style of speech, because you are splendid at it, it is merely your convictions.”

The suddenly serious tone of the poet was not lost on Grantaire, who leaned back in his chair to consider him thoughtfully.

“That is quite the compliment you are giving me here. Where are you going at with this flattery, if I may ask ?”

“I heard Enjolras is looking to make a census a few weeks from now- he believes it could be of use soon. He may be looking for someone to go to the Barrière du Maine, and I believe you are a familiar of Richefeu’s.”

Jehan understood he had got his friend’s interest as he saw, for the first time, a glint of surprise in his eye.

“You really have thought about this, have you not ?”

“What I am trying to say is, if you want to be taken as seriously as you deserve, you have to show what you are capable of. I believe you should try and convince Enjolras to let you go, just this once. You might even find you actually have beliefs- whether you are willing to admit it or not.”

As Grantaire opened his mouth to try a last word of protest, he added :

“And if you still think I was wrong about this then, I promise to buy you a meal to make up for it- and a decent one this time.”

Lost in his thoughts, his friend did not answer him immediately ; and when he did his response was lost in the noise of the conversation surrounding them. However, Jehan’s words seemed to have worked like a charm at reinvigorating Grantaire, as when the two of them finally left the café, he was engaged in one of those soliloquies not even Jehan dared to interrupt.

“Your friends may despise me, but I will have you know I am more than capable of starting a revolution if I put my mind to it. I should like to think I am not an idealist, what good did that ever do to anyone ? I refuse to die for your revolution. Prouvaire says I shall become a mere spirit too one day. I call this nonsense. Men will take a look around, and the snow bothers them no more than the sun ; still they talk of battles and oppression. I am more than happy to say I will leave the guns and the glory to you, my friend - although I shall personally be very disappointed to see a gun in your hands. You are, like me, a man of sentiment, and we shall-”

Grantaire’s grandiloquent speech was cut off abruptly as the wind caught a hold of his hat, causing it to fly off along the boulevard, a few feet before the two men. He swore profusely as he began running after it, followed by the redhead who was laughing heartily, turning his face upwards to feel the snow landing on his skin.

God, Jehan loved snow. He really wished they would get to see it fall again - next year, hopefully.

#i apologize for the late posting i have no time management skills and struggled to find a decent internet connection #hopefully i will succeed at posting this #fair warning i originally had a completely different idea for this #but then it kind of. morphed itself into a serious talk. because i can not write a fun piece to save my life #still i had so much fun writing about those two so i really hope you guys will enjoy !!!#les mis #les miserables #jean prouvaire #grantaire #les amis de l'abc #drinkwithme2024

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noqutam · 22 days ago

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No Qu TAM - Time and Attendance Management System

No Qu TAM (Time and Attendance Management) System is a smart, cloud-based solution designed to simplify how companies manage employee attendance, time tracking, and leaves. Built to meet the needs of both small and large teams.

Traditional attendance systems have become a thing of the past. With No Qu TAM, organizations become super-efficient with very less capital investment and complete digital transformation.

Why Choose No Qu TAM?

SaaS Attendance Platform No Qu TAM is a cloud-based SaaS attendance solution that requires no complex hardware. It’s easy to deploy, access, and scale from anywhere.

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Supports Biometric Devices Integrates with biometric devices for fingerprint or retina-based attendance where needed.

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No Qu TAM is your all-in-one, AI-powered workforce solution - making time tracking smart, simple, and future-ready.

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maxsmith007-blog · 2 months ago

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How Can Legacy Application Support Align with Your Long-Term Business Goals?

Many businesses still rely on legacy applications to run core operations. These systems, although built on older technology, are deeply integrated with workflows, historical data, and critical business logic. Replacing them entirely can be expensive and disruptive. Instead, with the right support strategy, these applications can continue to serve long-term business goals effectively.

1. Ensure Business Continuity

Continuous service delivery is one of the key business objectives of any enterprise. Maintenance of old applications guarantees business continuity, which minimizes chances of business interruption in case of software malfunctions or compatibility errors. These applications can be made to work reliably with modern support strategies such as performance monitoring, frequent patching, system optimization, despite changes in the rest of the system changes in the rest of the systems. This prevents the lost revenue and downtime of unplanned outages.

2. Control IT Costs

A straight replacement of the legacy systems is a capital intensive process. By having support structures, organizations are in a position to prolong the life of such applications and ensure an optimal IT expenditure. The cost saved can be diverted into innovation or into technologies that interact with the customers. An effective support strategy manages the total cost of ownership (TCO), without sacrificing performance or compliance.

3. Stay Compliant and Secure

The observance of industry regulations is not negotiable. Unsupported legacy application usually fall out of compliance with standards changes. This is handled by dedicated legacy application support which incorporates security updates, compliances patching and audit trails maintenance. This minimizes the risks of regulatory fines and reputational loss as well as governance and risk management objectives.

4. Connect with Modern Tools

Legacy support doesn’t mean working in isolation. With the right approach, these systems can connect to cloud platforms, APIs, and data tools. This enables real-time reporting, improved collaboration, and more informed decision-making—without requiring full system replacements.

5. Protect Business Knowledge

The legacy systems often contain years of institutional knowledge built into workflows, decision trees, and data architecture. They should not be abandoned early because vital operational insights may be lost. Maintaining these systems enables enterprises to keep that knowledge and transform it into documentation or reusable code aligned with ongoing digital transformation initiatives.

6. Support Scalable Growth

Well-supported legacy systems can still grow with your business. With performance tuning and capacity planning, they can handle increased demand and user loads. This keeps growth on track without significant disruption to IT systems.

7. Increase Flexibility and Control

Maintaining legacy application—either in-house or through trusted partners—gives businesses more control over their IT roadmap. It avoids being locked into aggressive vendor timelines and allows change to happen on your terms.

Legacy applications don’t have to be a roadblock. With the right support model, they become a stable foundation that supports long-term goals. From cost control and compliance to performance and integration, supported legacy systems can deliver measurable value. Specialized Legacy Application Maintenance Services are provided by service vendors such as Suma Soft, TCS, Infosys, Capgemini, and HCLTech, to enable businesses to get the best out of their current systems, as they prepare to transform in the future. Choosing the appropriate partner will maintain these systems functioning, developing and integrated with wider business strategies.

#BusinessContinuity #DigitalTransformation #ITStrategy #EnterpriseIT #BusinessOptimization #TechLeadership #ScalableSolutions #SmartITInvestments

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demifiendrsa · 2 years ago

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Final Fantasy VII Rebirth details regions, exploration, world intel, mini games, and combat

■ Regions of the World

Join your friends as you journey across a wide, open world. Each region feels unique, boasting different enemies to encounter and different methods of traversing its terrain. Search high and low to unlock new quests and unearth rare treasures.

Let’s take a look at some of these regions:

Grasslands

A vast, verdant expanse of land rich with mako. These plains are dotted with smaller outposts and planetary fonts waiting to be discovered. Adventure lies beyond the swamplands, but you’ll need to rent a chocobo from the local ranch if you want to cross.

Under Junon

Former capital of the eponymous republic, this once-bustling port town fell into decline after its destruction at the hands of Shinra. All that remains now is a desolate fishing village where the displaced citizens have taken refuge.

Junon

Previously a beacon of hope and economic prosperity, the former capital of the republic now slumbers beneath the waves. After its takeover, Shinra repurposed the city into its second-largest outpost, a fortified stronghold replete with an underwater reactor.

Gold Saucer

A “gilded paradise” constructed over the Corel Desert, this Shinra-owned facility uses copious amounts of mako to power its state-of-the-art attractions. The park draws in tourists from around the world and keeps them entertained from dawn to dusk to dawn again.

■ Exploration

Countless quests and other diversions await you on your journey. A brief stop along your adventure could lead you to unearth useful treasures or make other fascinating discoveries.

Chocobo Ranches

Each region boasts ranches where you can exchange golden plumes for new chocobo gear. Customize your bird’s ensemble to create a steed that’s all your own.

Item Transmuter

Collect the materials outlined in transmutation formulae to create items. Transmuting items will improve your craftsmanship and in turn unlock new formulae with which you can obtain rare items.

Odd Jobs

Cloud works as a mercenary, taking on odd jobs from people in need wherever he goes.

Check the noticeboards at major outposts if you’re looking for work.

■ World Intel

Help Chadley deepen his understanding of this world by completing research requests in each region. Gathering intel will unlock new locations to explore, greatly expanding your horizons. Chadley will also develop new materia based on the data you have collected.

Chadley (voiced by Sean-Ryan Petersen in English, Shuuichirou Umeda in Japanese)

Once an employee in Shinra’s Research and Development Division, Chadley has left it and Midgar behind, thanks to Cloud. Now, he aims to reactivate the world’s defunct communications towers to facilitate his understanding of the planet, for which he needs the party’s assistance.

Remnawave Towers

Activating the old republic’s remnawave towers in each region will open up new research opportunities.

When visiting a location for the first time, try seeking out these towers: they will not only help you get your bearings, but also offer a great view of the surrounding area.

Combat Assignments

Seek out rare fiends in their natural habitats and gather intel on special assignments to unlock new challenges in Chadley’s combat simulator.

These missions will test your mental mettle, though, so be sure to fight strategically.

Excavation Sites

When a chocobo smells treasure, a “?” will appear above its head. Following the scent might lead you to unearth a valuable item or a new transmuter formula.

Chocobo Stops

Repair fallen chocobo stop signs to transform them into fast travel spots. If you see a stray chocobo chick, be sure to follow it: not only will it lead you to one of these stops, but it will reward you with a golden plume once your repair work is complete.

Fast Travel

Fast travel allows you to jump instantly to previously visited towns, chocobo stops, and other locations. Use this feature to pick up the pace of your adventures.

■ Mini Games

Not only stories and battles, but all kinds of unique elements of fun await players. Enjoy the numerous mini games available across the game’s world.

Piano Performance

After obtaining a piece of sheet music, head to a piano and try your hands at performing it. These pieces feature music from the game, with some proving to be quite the challenge. If you would rather improvise, however, you can perform original music in the free play mode.

Queen’s Blood

Queen’s Blood is a strategic card game that has skyrocketed to popularity. Players take turns placing cards on the board in an attempt to overpower their opponent by accumulating power in each lane. Collect cards and utilize their abilities to claim the crown as QB royalty.

Moogle Mischief

A minigame to bring mischievous Moogle kids back to their mogstools.

The Moogle kids will attack you in every possible way, so be careful not to be caught off guard by their cute smiles.

■ Combat

Next, let’s take a fresh look at Final Fantasy VII Rebirth‘s intense battle system, and some of the awesome things you can do.

Limit Break

The limit gauge gradually fills as you take damage or stagger foes.

Once the gauge is full, you can unleash devastating limit breaks unique to each party member.

Some synergy abilities can increase your limit level, enabling the usage of even more powerful attacks.

Synergy Ability

Two party members team up to activate useful abilities without consuming ATB. These commands can be executed while blocking, and provide a wide array of beneficial effects. Each pairing has their own unique set of abilities; some deal damage, while others offer support.

Final Fantasy VII Rebirth, the second game in the Final Fantasy VII remake trilogy, will launch for PlayStation 5 on February 29, 2024.

#Final Fantasy VII Rebirth #FFVII Rebirth #Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth #FF7 Rebirth #Final Fantasy VII Remake #FFVIIR #Final Fantasy 7 Remake #FF7R #Final Fantasy VII #FFVII #Final Fantasy 7 #FF7 #Final Fantasy #Square Enix #video game #PS5 #long post #late post #very late post

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dweakbinnie · 11 months ago

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The Royal Game - chapter two

Hyunjin is a prince. Felix is a prince forced to be raised as a princess by his mother's wish for a daughter.

At a ball, the two meet, and Hyunjin falls in love at first sight. Hearing about their encounter, Felix's mother forces him to try and win over the Prince's approval. What will happen when Hyunjin finds out Felix's secret? Will their wedding go ahead?

Genre; romance, royalty au, fluff & angst, slow burn

Warnings; forced feminisation, gender identity issues, sexuality issues, narcissism

Chapter.List

White roses symbolise purity, youthfulness, innocence, young love, and loyalty. It is the day before the ball, Hyunjin’s last day being nineteen, the last day of his youth. I also chose it to show Hyunjin’s relationship with his cousin, Princess Hwang Yeji.

Word Count: 3.5K

Under the early spring’s mid-day sun, Prince Hyunjin sat with his cousin, Princess Yeji, under a gazebo in the royal gardens. The high winds of the past few days had weakened to a slight breeze, it was enough to keep the clouds drifting without giving them goosebumps while sheltered in the shade. A pot of tea and a selection of sweet snacks had been displayed across the glass-top table between them.

Princess Hwang Yeji—like Hyunjin—had yet to find a suitor, however, even though she had a lengthy list of suitors come to her, her father was still choosing which man he would accept her to marry, while also letting her have her own opinion in the matter. Due to Yeji being his only daughter, he had a strong bond with her and didn’t want to risk sending her off to a man he didn’t feel was worthy enough. Yeji agreed, wanting to be able to enjoy the years of her youth without worrying about starting a family.

Yeji had made her debut two months after Hyunjin, in which he waited to start his military service so he could celebrate it with her. Since the cousins only had two months between their birthdays, the two were brought up almost as siblings, spending many of their younger years together. For the civilians living in the Summer Court, the cousins were the celebrities of the royals. They could say, do, or wear something and it would become the next trend, even for the older generations.

As they’ve grown older, their time together became less frequent due to growing responsibilities in their own regions. Yet, their relationship never weakened. When Hyunjin was completing his military enlistment, it was his cousin to whom he sent the most letters. Yeji’s parents ruled a western region of the Summer Court called Dusk for its unforgettable sunsets. While Hyunjin’s parents ruled in the eastern coastal region, the capital of the Summer Court, Dawn.

Growing up, the cousins lived together in the capital and would go visit the Dusk region for holidays. Many holiday nights would be spent on the sandy shores watching as the sunset transformed the way the water glistened. Yeji’s parents saw Hyunjin as a son as did Hyunjin’s parents see Yeji as a daughter. They were a tight-knit duo who promised to always be there for each other.

There was a third cousin, Prince Nishimura Riki. His mother was the younger sister to both their fathers’. Though, due to her marrying a King from overseas, and Riki being six years younger, he wasn’t as close as Hyunjin and Yeji were. He’d come to visit about once or twice a year, more often if there were special family occasions.

“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” Princess Yeji said, looking at Hyunjin over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip.

Hyunjin hummed in agreement, a not-so-excited expression on his face. In a few hours, he would start to get ready for one of the biggest events in his life. Being at the top of the social class, finding a suitor was very important as it could change the relationship between his family and the other parties—especially, as he was the Prince of a Court’s capital.

Yeji looked out over the gazebo’s banister to the nearby bed of jasmines starting to bloom. “Aunty seems a lot more thrilled.” It was a simple observation as Hyunjin’s mother had taken the reigns for most of the ball’s planning.

“I’m not surprised,” Hyunjin said, nonchalantly. Taking a bite from one of the vanilla cupcakes set out for them, he swallowed before continuing; “She’s been planning since I told her I wanted to complete my military service before marriage.”

Yeji chuckled. “You broke so many girl's hearts when the news got out after your debut. I bet many of those girls will be attending tomorrow. Saying that--” Yeji grinned as she outlined Hyunjin’s physique, “I think they’ll be drooling at the mouth when they see how the military changed you.”

“Are you trying to say I wasn’t good-looking two years ago, cousin?” Hyunjin snickered.

“Hah, of course not. It’s just that you look more manly now with all the muscle you’ve gained, whereas before, you still had that young-boy chubbiness to you.”

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped, “chubbiness?” A scoff came from behind the Prince. “Jisung!?”

“Sorry, Your Royal Highness, you were never chubby.” Jisung, Hyunjin’s personal steward, quickly replied.

Yeji raised a hand, wafting it as she spoke. “What I meant was that your face still had its… how do I put it? It’s just that you were still young and finishing going through puberty. You’ve changed a lot more physically in these last two years, though I can’t say the same about your mentality.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, only letting her off because she’s his cousin. “I’m glad to know you love me so much.”

Yeji took another sip of her tea. “Hey, be careful. I’m here to help you find a suitor. As a woman, I understand a lot more about how my gender thinks. You’re going to have a lot of desperate women attempting to throw themselves at you tomorrow.”

“How joyful.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I do wish I could delay this ball for longer. I’m sure you’ve been hearing the same rumours as I have.”

Yeji set her teacup down with a clink, crossing her arms over her lap. “Sadly, as the only children to the most important families in the Summer Court, we have a duty we cannot deny as much as we want to. Once you’re married, and your wife is pregnant, you’ll be able to go back to the military. Until then, it’s smiles and balls.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Right, enough about me, how is finding a suitor going for you? Uncle has been very thorough by the looks of it.”

Yeji’s smile faded slightly at the talk of her suitor. Sighing, she leaned back against the chair. “Honestly, it’s been boring. Father has been having me meet some of the men who were brave enough to come forward at my debut ball, but there has been nothing special to them. I can’t marry a bland man. No, that’s a lie,” Yeji thought, tapping a finger to her lip, “there was one man from the Winter Court, Lord Choi Beomgyu. I did enjoy my time with him, though since he’s from the Winter Court it’s a few weeks travel for him to come down. However, Father did say that if the Lord is willing to travel all the here for me again, then he’ll set up a second meeting.”

Hyunjin leaned forward, his interest piqued. “I don’t think I remember any mentioning of a Lord Choi Beomgyu from the Winter Court. Do I mean nothing to you, to only be hearing about this man now? Enlighten me, cousin.”

“He made his debut after you’d gone to the military. If I remember correctly, he will have had his nineteenth birthday just a few days ago.” Yeji poured herself another cup of tea in an attempt to be too busy to talk more about the Lord who may have made her heart flutter.

“Then, how did you two meet since he wouldn’t have attended your debut ball?”

Only once someone reaches the age of eighteen are they able to attend all social events. Beforehand, they are usually kept out of the public’s eye. Though some like Hyunjin and Yeji would sometimes be more present.

“Well, we had never actually met in person before the first time he travelled down to meet. He did come with a wonderful selection of gifts.”

Hyunjin side-eyed, wanting her to stop wasting time by blabbering. Prince Riki had asked him to practice sword fighting later that day.

“Oi, you,” Yeji bit back, “He saw me when I was attending Prince Yang Jeongin’s debut ball. He wasn’t of age yet but apparently he attended for a while at the beginning because he and the Prince are close friends. Anyway, not long after his debut, he sent a letter to me and Father, asking for permission to court me. Father was going to deny it at first since the Lord is younger, but I managed to convince him to let me meet the Lord since none of the other men I’d met had hit expectations.”

“Prince Yang Jeongin? That’s the capital of the Winter Court’s oldest, isn’t he?” Hyunjin asked, the name sounded familiar.

Yeji nodded. “Yes. He has two younger brothers, only one is biological. The other is a cousin, but due to circumstances, he was raised as another sibling.”

Prince Yang Jeongin was the oldest child in the Moon region, the capital of the Winter Court. His debut was one of the most important on the Starean Isle, holding the same social status as Hyunjin. Prince Jeongin had one biological younger brother, Prince Yang Jungwon who was currently sixteen years of age. The other “brother”, Prince Park Sunghoon, due to make his debut in four months, was one of two cousins.

At seven months old, Prince Sunghoon’s parents died after their carriage fell off a cliff while travelling in a storm. His father was brothers with Jeongins, so he was taken in. It was also not long after Jeongin’s mother had a miscarriage and having the baby helped to ease her mind and body from the stress. Thus, Sunghoon was raised as a brother to Jeongin. Due to the rulers of the Aurora region passing, Jeongin’s father took control for the time being, saying that when Sunghoon came of age, the land was rightfully his to take back. Not many Princes were able to say that they became Kings at eighteen—at least not with a happy story.

The other cousin was Princess Song Yuqi of the Starlight region. Her mother was a sister to the Yang brothers and had one of the most notorious marriages. It was later found out after Princess Yuqi’s parent’s wedding that the two had been secretly courting before their debuts. To some it was seen as very romantic, knowing they married for love. Others found it to be disorderly and wondered what else they had done before marriage as Yuqi’s birth was exactly nine months after.

“I overheard my dad saying something about the second’s oldest debut being soon. I think he wants me to go and attend.” Hyunjin looked down as he thought. “You should go too, cousin. You might be able to see that Lord of yours again.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Yeji sighed. She wouldn’t deny that she wanted to see the Lord again. “Nothing is official between me and Lord Beomgyu. Father hasn’t even agreed to let him court me. We’ve only had one meeting.”

“And a series of letters shared.” Yeji’s handmaiden, Ryujin, added from behind, stood next to Hyunjin’s steward, Jisung. Yeji turned to her, shocked as Ryujin tried to hide a smile.

Hyunjin glanced up with a curious expression, Yeji had also kept that piece of information quiet. “So, cousin, while I was away doing my due diligence in the military, I sent you frequent letters. I told you everything about what I was doing, from when I woke to when I slept. Yet, I sit here to be finding out about this mystery Lord from the Winter Court, now? And that you were sharing letters, from your handmaiden?”

Yeji opened her mouth to defend herself when she spotted a figure walking towards them through the tulip beds, a devilish smirk on her face as she nodded towards them. “It seems that it’s time-up for our gossip with afternoon tea to be over as cousin Riki is here. It’s such a shame I can’t explain more.” Yeji stood up, patting her dress down for any possible crumbs. “I do hope you enjoy showing off your swordsmanship while I go help the Aunties with the ball’s final preparations.”

“Cousin Hyunjin. Cousin Yeji.” Prince Riki bowed as he greeted the two from the front step of the gazebo. “I’m not disturbing you two, am I?” He held a cautious gaze, not wanting to be disliked by his Starean cousins.

“Of course not.” Yeji placed a hand on the younger cousin's shoulder as she walked past. “I believe cousin will enjoy getting some energy out after sitting down with me for a boring conversation over afternoon tea and biscuits.” She winked back at Hyunjin’s glare. “I’ll see you two later then. Ryujin.” Ryujin followed Princess Yeji, making their way back into the castle.

Hyunjin scoffed as he watched the girl’s for a second before turning his attention to Riki. “Let’s see how much you’ve improved since I last saw you two years ago.” Hyunjin patted Riki on the back as they headed towards the training grounds.

“I was twelve then, I’m fourteen now,” Riki said while walking ahead, striking through the air with an invisible sword. Making noises of his sword swishing and clashing.

Hyunjin smiled. In the two years, Riki had already grown a lot, yet he still held the same youthful behaviour from before. Seeing how Riki’s frame was long and thin, he wondered how the boy’s puberty years would treat him. He worried that his cousin could outgrow him.

“Do you want me to try and look into Lord Choi Beomgyu?” Jisung whispered while Riki was in front.

“Not for now,” Hyunjin replied, “I trust cousin Yeji.”

Jisung nodded, falling behind. “As you wish, Your Royal Highness.

Riki spun around with a toothy grin. “Cousin, why can’t I attend this ball? I know I’m not eighteen, but I’m family.”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin ruffled a hand through Riki’s hair, “it’s because you’re not eighteen. This ball will go past your bedtime, and it is about me finding a wife, so it won’t be very interesting for you. Plus, there will be alcohol involved and we don’t want what happened at Christmas to happen again, do we?”

Riki’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not like I’d be drinking it again. I’ll be responsible,” he whined.

“No can do, I’m afraid. You’re growing now, so it’s most important you get a good night's rest.”

Riki groaned, “you sound like Mother.”

“That’s because she’s right. You will have plenty of time for balls and other parties once you’re eighteen. However, right now, I want you to disarm me at least once.”

“Don’t go easy on me then.” Riki smiled, wide and proudly.

Hyunjin jabbed Riki in the rib for the cheeky comment. “Oh, I won’t.”

“Mother,” Prince Hyunjin exclaimed as he walked into her private dining room, joining her for a dinner that he originally planned to enjoy with Princess Yeji, “you look lavish.” His mother had suddenly called for him to see her, which sometimes didn’t mean anything good was to come.

His mother, Queen Hwang Hyosook, paused with her fork hovering in front of her hungry mouth. Setting her fork down, she took no time in getting to business—not even letting Hyunjin get settled in his seat. “Tomorrow is a very important day, not just for you, but also me, and your father. You cannot delay finding a wife any longer. Your mandatory military enlistment is finished, so you have no other excuses. You can spend as long as you want courting these women, I’m sure no parents would reject you, but you have to have marriage in mind. While you were away, some speculated that you do not like women because you went to the military, training with men, before finding a woman. Don’t give me that look, I know it’s not true. However, it only takes one person to say something then it’s passed around, and details get changed. Also, please don’t have a dance with Yeji tomorrow—the same thing, I don’t want people misinterpreting your relationship.”

Hyunjin choked, almost spitting out his wine. “Mother,” he sighed while dapping at the corners of his mouth with a serviette.

“I know, I know, but do you understand what I mean?” Hyunjin nodded. “Good. I will be watching, so try and make sure that the women you dance with are ones you see potential in. Many Princesses and Ladies from across Starean will be here, and a few from overseas too. However, with the rumours you’ll have heard these past few months, me and your father think it may be best you marry someone from Starean. That’s more talk for another time, is there anything else you’d like to discuss about tomorrow?” She said, picking her cutlery back up.

Hyunjin shifted in his seat. “Actually,” he started, “have you heard of Lord Choi Beomgyu from the Winter Court?”

Queen Hyosook threw her head back in a roaring laughter. “I’m guessing Yeji finally told you today,” she said, wiping a tear away from under her eye.

“You know?” Hyunjin asked, half-surprised, half-offended.

“Yes, while you were with Riki, I was hearing everything about him from Yeji and her mother. I was originally told by your father, anyway. After the Lord went to visit Dusk, your uncle wrote a letter to your father about it. The Lord seems like a gentleman. Why? Do you not like him?”

“No,” Hyunjin shook his head, “I was surprised that even though it happened months ago, cousin told me today.”

“Yeji was probably worried about how you would react; marriage is no small matter. At least she seems to have her head screwed on, probably because she hasn’t been knocked off as many horses as you.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I’m only joking, dear.” His mother smirked, whispering under her breath; “I’m not wrong though.”

“Okay, how about this conversation topic, are there any princesses or ladies you have in mind? Like ones you already think I may be interested in?” Hyunjin was willing to hear it then instead of later. It would also give him some extra time to think, and insight when entering the ball.

His mother raised her brows, “I didn’t think you would ask that.”

“Well, is there?” Hyunjin relaxed back into his seat.

She hummed in response, finishing her mouth full. “There is. Lady Hwang Eunbi, she’s almost two years older, which four years after debut for a woman isn’t always a good sign, but she did come forward at your debut. As you will know she’s from this Court, so it is possible she could’ve been waiting for the opportunity.

“Another is Lady Lee Soojin from the Spring Court. A few months she made her debut, though I don’t know much else about her, other than she’s very pretty. However, I was surprised to hear back from the Queen of the Spring Court’s capital that her daughter, Princess Lee Felicia is attending. However, she’s known for often being ill and rarely seen outside of her home, so I don’t see her to be a good fit for you.

“Third is Princess Seo Soojin from the Autumn Court, she is also a few years older but is known for enjoying getting involved in swordfights, and drinking, a lot of drinking. She’s not a very princes-sly princess, nonetheless, I do have her as a high contender as you want to return to the military. I don’t think anyone from the Winter Court caught my eye, which may be a decent thing if Yeji and that Lord works out. Yet, things may change during the ball.”

“You seem to like the name Soojin?” Hyunjin was able to say after his mother’s rambling.

“It does mean excellence so I might as well. Obviously, these are just suggestions, you are free to choose whom you want to marry as me and your father trust you. These names are simply to help you find a starting point.”

Hyunjin hummed, the two falling into silence as they finished their meal. He thought about the women suggested to him. Lady Hwang Eunbi, having tried to be courted by him before, had Hyunjin a little cautious about how she may behave tomorrow. He hoped that no women would get drunk enough—or the courage while sober—to literally throw themselves at him. It wouldn’t look good for either party. His mother did not say much about Lady Lee Soojin so it would be right to try and have a conversation with her, a dance too would look good. The Princess from the Spring Court sounded like she wouldn’t approach him, at least not without her mother. A Court’s capital child would be best as their social status stands highest against other royals, however, with her often being ill, maybe not so. Then Princess Seo Soojin was also someone he would make an effort to approach. It sounded like she had similar hobbies to his own, those would work as a friendly conversation starting. The Princess was also another dance partner contender.

Time would only tell who Hyunjin fell in love with.

Author Note; thank you for making it to the end of chapter 2. please like and comment if you enjoy this fic.

Chapter.List

#hyunlix #straykids #skz #stray kids #hwanghyunjin #hwang hyunjin #leefelix #lee felix #felix #hyunjin

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