#Mr. cape town makes an appearance

[capetowncapers]

Being queer and closeted is all about hearing a family member refer unknowingly to your partner and sitting there like >:) you’ve fallen into my trap… they’re a household name now >:)

[baddiewiththebook]

STUFFING AND SAUCE [18+]

-> It's Thanksgiving, and the gang is all together under one roof: the Henderson house. While Mrs. Henderson and Wayne battle the turkey in the kitchen, Eddie fights his own urges with the older Henderson sibling. You're home for the holidays, and Eddie's hungry. . . but, not for turkey.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> hookup to lovers, angst, smut

-> warning - explicit content [18+]

a/n -> This is reuploaded and heavily edited from last year.

-> <-

"You keep looking in that mirror and I'll break it," Dustin warns.

Robin's hair stands on end. "You can't be serious? That bad luck is transferable, you know?"

Dustin rolls his eyes at her superstition because honestly they've all come to an agreement to help set the table for Thanksgiving dinner party that his mother has offered to host this year. And, with Eddie's lack of partaking because he's too busy blotting down his hair in the mirror, Dustin doesn't understand why Eddie's come to his house in the first place.

The older boy fidgets with the end of his shirt, and not long after Robin comes to his ear to tell him that you'll love how he looks tonight. That's right, you're coming. He's totally forgotten that Dustin's sister is in town for Thanksgiving. Eddie's hair dangles over his cheeks, so that hopefully no one sees him blush.

"When does your sister get here?" Max throws herself onto the couch next to Steve, whom scoots a seat over from her. Lately, he realizes, she's been a bit too clingy to him.

"She's late," Dustin checks the clock that hangs high above on the wall ticking the time away. "She should have been here an hour ago- Eddie!"

Eddie abandons his task once again to dash over to the front window facing the street. Frost makes the drying grass and the limp trees appear shiny like glass. Foggy car headlights grow larger as they near. Seeing your Honda pull up the short drive brings back memories from the summertime.

Last summer was a record high in heat, which left you with barely any clothes to wear that didn’t leave your skin sticky and hot. Especially when Eddie was bent over the hood of your car and knuckles deep in your engine. Greased up hands and all, he wiped the sweat from his brow to tell you that your car was fixed. When you offered him cash as payment, he declined to the manor of being friendly not as the professional Eddie Munson - mechanic. You chewed on your bottom lip while batting your lashes in his direction.

Eddie’s unsure how you can make him melt, while simply being you. But, eventually, you worked out a payment that both of you were happy with. And, you continued that payment damn near every week. In his office. In his garage. In his van. In his kitchen. In his shower. In his bed.

No space in his shop or in his apartment are left sacred to either of you. And, when the summer was done, you were off to college. No calls or texts from either of you.

“She’s here!” Max spins in the front hallway. You are her idol. She swears you are the coolest person she’s ever met (aside from El).

Dustin shoves Eddie out of the way to observe for himself that in fact his sister has come home for the holidays. Not long after, their shared mom runs out of the house with her apron around her neck like a cape in her sprint.

“Hi, baby!” Your mom peppers your face with her kisses.

You whine. “Mom!”

“Okay, okay!” She pinches your cheeks until they’re glowing, but she does let you go.

Following her is your little brother, Dustin, who grabs you around the waist and he pulls you in tight. He’s gotten much taller since the last time you’ve seen him, but that can’t be right. You’ve only been gone for a few months!

“Hi, Dusty!” You ruffle his hair.

He grins. “What did you bring me?”

“I barely have enough money for books!” You snort.

Dustin drops his grip and then he fans you away. The little sucker grumbles, and avoids helping you with your suitcase despite your mom’s request. But, Steve and Robin dogpile you with warm greetings and Steve offers to help with your bag.

“I need all the dirt on college,” Robin whispers. “Are there really stains on all the sheets?”

What she means to ask is much raunchier. But, your mother is still picking at your clothes because you haven’t ironed this shirt. She’s got this look upon her face like you’ve been away at sea for years and years, and not like you’ve spent two months away at college.

Steve lugs your suitcase inside with you in tow. The rest of your brother’s little friends have also crowded around to get a piece of you. You’re like a celebrity in your own home. Even Wayne’s got his arm around you, whom you didn’t expect to see (but, you’re not complaining - you love Wayne).

Wayne’s got himself stuck in the kitchen with your mom to help her with the turkey. You’re the top subject right now, but soon he dashes off to make sure the bird isn’t drying out in the oven. Conversation begins to swirl like normal, and you’re on the lookout for the one person you might have missed a little more than you should.

You sit on the living room couch between Nancy and Steve with Robin at your feet, and the kids are running about the home hiding a can of whipped cream from your mom and Wayne (who are the only adults capable of reprimanding them of course).

“Do you have any plans while you’re in town?” Nancy asks.

You hope she doesn’t see your neck crane over her curly head. “None, but I’m here for the weekend and Monday since I don’t have classes.”

“What’s your schedule like?”

Nancy overloads everything she can while you’re around. No offense to the other people in your friend group, but they didn’t invite intellectual conversations like you and she did. She’s got too many questions for you, while you’re overthinking that the mid-length skirt you wore is too much.

“Have either of you seen Eddie?” Wayne poses the eye opening question that has the whole gang bobbing their head back and forth like meerkats.

“I saw his van outside, right? I’ll check there,” you stand away from your spot on the sofa.

Robin wants to make a sly comment about your willingness to brave the cold for this shaggy man, who seems to have taken a full shower, shave and added cologne to his washed outfit for the evening. She bites her tongue.

“Bathroom?” Nancy suggests that she go upstairs, and Robin will check this floor.

Steve hauls himself from the couch. “I’ll check outside.”

Steve secretly wishes that Eddie be there smoking a joint that he could bum off of. Holidays aren’t Steve’s favorite because his family isn’t around either. He’s here because he can’t say ‘no’ to Mrs. Henderson.

To no knowledge of Eddie, however, is anyone looking out for him. He’s snuck out to his van while everyone else stays distracted by your arrival. Watching your chest bounce while you laugh, or your skirt flutter while you twirl - you’re a God damn tease and you know what you’re doing.

Knock, knock.

You wrap your knuckles against the glass of his van’s driver’s side window. This must be Eddie’s lucky day, and you’re thinking the same by the way you twist in front of him.

“What’s up?” Eddie nods.

You pout. “Well, you didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me and you’re already bailing?”

“I’m not bailing,” he assures. “Besides, do you think that the way we greet each other is appropriate to do in public?”

A part of you is quite offended that he hasn’t addressed the elephant in the room. Not only did he neglect to call you in the past few months, nor did he greet you at the door like the rest of your friends had done earlier. But, the other part of you is winning over this tug of war. You haven’t had sex in months, and shining your own shield only goes so far.

During the summer, you got what you wanted. You and Eddie screwed like rabbits. When you left, a nagging itch was left that couldn’t be scratched. Admittedly, you got cozy in his apartment. Your sleepovers became ‘Good Morning’ with a side of eggs and toast. Soon began you washing the dishes after, and Eddie asking about what you’re studying for school.

After a while, his apartment became a second home and you no longer had to ask where the bathroom was. You pretended that this little game was to keep Dustin’s watchful eye out of sight, but sipping your morning brew without asking Eddie to add anymore cream or sugar became a bit more than you bargained for.

You’re leaning forward now to press a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. But, before you have a chance to pull away, Eddie slots his lips to yours like he’s made his way home.

“You want to take advantage that there’s no one parked behind me? Like old times?” Eddie pinches your chin with his index finger and his thumb.

It just so happens that the Beyers family is running a tad behind schedule. Will couldn’t find his Christmas sweater, and Johnathan had to second his shower because according to his mom, he still stunk like a skunk had run through their house. But, as they finally do pull up to the lively home with Christmas lights twinkling on the roof, Joyce Byers spots the eldest Henderson twisted in close conversation with the Munson boy.

Joyce parks their car halfway onto the sidewalk because Johnathan is jolting out of the car murmuring something about the food smelling so good. This leaves Will to juggle the grocery bags full of potatoes and Mac and Cheese into the house. But, Joyce stops to interrupt the conversation you’re having.

“Hi, Miss. Byers,” you pull away from the conversation to greet her warmly.

“Joyce, honey! Joyce!” She corrects. “I didn’t mean to- oh, I’m sorry. Hello, Eddie!”

Eddie waves his hand in her direction. That’s not to be rude, but he would rather not have Joyce see him in a pair of tight denim with his dick as hard as it is right now.

“We’re just going out for a last minute grocery run,” your lie leaves a sour note on your tongue.

Joyce knows very well that the last grocery store to stay open on Thanksgiving has closed about thirty minutes ago. But, she doesn’t tell them that she knows this. She quite fondly looks back to her own memories of when she snuck out of her family ‘s Christmas party with her boyfriend at the time.

“Be safe,” Joyce winks, then turns on her heel to go inside.

You’re quick to hop into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. An old bitter cigarettes scent stains the interior of the vehicle like a thick layer of butter on toast. You buckle up, then kick your feet out in what little room he has under the dash. Eddie’s abused the passenger side of his van for fast food wrappers and travel mugs he hasn’t taken inside for however long.

Aside from a tire whining, Eddie cuts the headlights to sneak out of the drive without anyone noticing from inside.

Eddie places one of his hands across your thigh, “Grocery shopping?”

"What was I supposed to say?" You shake your head

You’re biting at the edge of something wonderful here. Looking on to your left, Eddie’s got his lip tugged between his teeth. His eye on the road. His mind in the gutter. The hand he’s got squeezing against the fat of your inner thigh dances dangerously across your skin. Your spine arches straight back. Eyes shut blissfully as you let a whine escape you.

Then, he dares flick your awaiting clit while driving solo with one hand on the wheel and an eye on the road. Not to be crude, but he’s been here before with you. Tight on time. Sneaking about like high schoolers still. You’re on his mind most of the time these days because he wants to know if what you did with him all summer is what you would do in college with other people. He’s subjected himself to exhausting torturous hours at work just so he doesn’t have to think about you in your back getting railed by a random dude.

Somehow he’s got you here now, and your putty under his fingers. Your eyelashes flutter. Brows furrow. Your chest rises and falls at the lightest touches from him.

Clenching your legs against his large grip he's got on you, Eddie pulls off to the side of the road. He’s waited far too long to revisit this little charade. Pulling in behind a few trees, he doesn’t have to ask because you’re already climbing into the back.

You land on a set of blankets he hasn’t taken out since you left.

Eddie crawls into the back after you. Kisses like he never left. Nostalgia makes your heart skip inside of your chest. He keeps you there under his touch, and squeezing at your sides as you sink deeper into his embrace.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Eddie breathes onto your neck, before attaching himself there and nibbling into your flesh.

Your whines acknowledge that he’s got just the right spot - like he could have forgotten. The embrace is so familiar that your chest burns for him.

“More,” you beg into his hair, while gripping your hands into fists of the fabric on his back.

If there was more time, Eddie would have stayed there all night just to hear your heart beat against his eardrum. Yet, he’s undoing his belt, the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down to match you flipping up that sinful little skirt you wore just to tease him. Wetting his fingers, he then hooks his pinky in your underwear to move them to the side. Rubbing your clit, Eddie hears your moans bounce from each side of the van. You’re on full display. Deliciously beautiful and all for him.

You’re both aware of this, so there’s no need to say anything.

“Eddie,” except you do. “Please. I need you!”

“I’ll never stop needing you,” he finds your lips again, as he pushes himself deep inside of you.

Groaning together, your core aches a familiar feeling. Tightening your grip against him like you’re scared he’ll run away. He’s got his eye not on your eye, but on your soul. Reaching far beneath the depths that anyone could ever fall into, and at its core is you. Your being is the only part he’ll ever need - the only thing he longs for. And so, as he’s fucking you at a punishing rate, he holds on tight for he’s afraid to let go.

You break the eye contact when you toss your head back. Stars form in your vision, as you topple over the edge of bliss. Following soon, you hear Eddie groan one last time and he’s spilling inside of you.

“Shit,” he rolls onto the blankets trying to catch his breath.

You’re doing the same, and with one long exhale, you swing yourself over so that you’re laying across his body. Eddie drowsily opens his eye to see the most beautiful creature he’s laid his eye on. Lipstick smeared. Mascara smudged. Your heart sounds as though it’s going to burst from your chest.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

Eddie chuckles. “Hey, beautiful.”

Beautiful. That’s an unspoken word between you two. Usually, after sex, the two of you either dress in silence or roll over and go to sleep. You miss the feeling of being wanted, and you’ve got your fingers crossed that he’s not just playing his cards.

Eddie’s hand finds the small of your back to bring you closer.

“What are you thinking about?” He touches your forehead with his index finger.

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, before bravely making the leap to ask. “Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“That you’ll never stop needing me,” you swallow thickly.

Eddie’s fingers make patterns along your bare back. Eyes locked onto yours, he studies your face through the shadows of the arriving evening. All this time you’ve been away, you’ve been on his mind. If he knew what dorm you live in, he’d be there in a heart beat to keep you warm during these cooler months.

“I’ll never,” he folds your fingers in with his just so he can bring your hand to his mouth, and so he can kiss every knuckle on your hand, “stop needing you.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you lean in for a kiss.

Someone bashes a fist against the back door to the van, and you know your screwed. Red and blue lights flicker and flash outside the window.

"Shit!" You scramble to pat down your hair, and your skirt.

Eddie tucks himself into his pants, while muttering curses to himself.

“Police!” Jim Hopper’s voice is easily recognizable. “Come on, Munson. Don’t make me come in there.”

With a few run-ins with the law, and making a reputation as the “freak” of Hawkins High School, Eddie’s van became a staple around town. Even the police knew just about where ever he is at any time.

Tumbling over each other, you’re sure the guilt is written all over your faces. Nearly blinded by a flashlight to the face, you shield your eye away from Jim Hopper, who squints at you two. Clearly caught in the act of a wild youthful fantasy, Jim clicks off his flashlight and speaks to you both;

“I was on my way to your mom’s house,” he makes a point to stare you down, before continuing, “when I was radioed that there’s a suspicious van lingering off the side of the road. Care to explain?”

Not like there is much explaining to do. The story is pretty black and white, but that doesn’t discourage Eddie to come up with an aching bumble of lies.

“We were just on our way to the grocery store when we ran out of gas,” he began with your earlier plot. “We ran out of cranberry sauce.”

“Right,” Jim grunts. “I better give you a ride back.”

Walking back into the house to explain why you and Eddie disappeared has been mute to your ears. All of the funny faces from the younger kids, or the suspected glances from the older friends. God, you’d never hear the end of this from Robin. She’s been on your behind about fixing you up with Eddie for a while.

“You okay?” Eddie nudges you.

Jim says with his back turned, “Come on, kids. No use standing around a dead car. I’ll see what I can do about getting you back here with a gas can in the morning.”

“I’m fine,” you're embarrassed, but you're warm knowing where you stand with Eddie.

You’re crammed in the back of Jim’s Chevrolet with Eddie. Also stuffed between you two, is a sizable Tupperware full of mashed potatoes. El twists around in the front seat to let you know that she made them this year.

Bumps in the road weigh heavy against the beating inside your chest. You’re not speaking a language that Eddie totally understands, but he knows where your head is at. He touches your pinky with his sending a few jolts straight to your heart and your stomach flips. You continue to manage the Tupperware from tipping all over the seats.

The Sheriff spins the wheel to turn down your street. That empty spot Eddie left has Jim’s name written all over it.

Somehow the home has become busier than when you left earlier. Sounds of laughter bubble through the chill of the evening. The blinds are drawn, so you can see the Christmas tree in the living room lined with a calamity of decorations that have been collected over the years. Tinsel shines against the living room lamps draped across doorways, and the window frame. Your mom insists on putting the decorations up the day after Halloween.

You can almost hear Wayne’s boyish laughter that he’s never quite grown out of, while he tortures the young kids. He’s cornered Lucas and Max with a fake bushel of mistletoe in his hand. Max squirms when Lucas kisses her on the cheek, but later blushes while no one is looking.

The car tilts as the group climbs out and down onto the driveway. You’ll never understand the love for a lifted truck like this.

Despite wanting to be useful, El takes the mashed potatoes from you.

“I’ll be taking that!” She announces proudly.

With El and Jim both taking the lead, Eddie sneaks in to tug at your hand.

The front door swings open.

“Jim Hopper,” Wayne announces. “And- erm, Eddie?”

You poke your head around Jim’s back, and Wayne’s mouth draws agape.

“Their grocery store run ended on a flat tire, so I brought them back here,” Jim says.

“Thank you for rescuing them,” he replies. “Well, come in. Dinner is just about ready.”

Jim, El and yourself enter the home without too much inquiry from Wayne. But, you hear a thunk and Eddie’s protest, so you can imagine Wayne just knocked some sense into the back of Eddie’s head.

“You must be cold, darling,” Wayne snaps his finger. “I’ll bring you some hot chocolate. Go on and sit by the fire in the living room. Your friends have been waiting for you.”

Pinching Eddie on the ear, Wayne drags him away to the kitchen where you just know he’s getting scolded.

You bite the bullet, and find your friends in the living room surrounding the fireplace. Steve’s fought for and gotten the prime spot, so that his back is to the flame and he’s heating up in the knitted sweater that Nancy made for him.

Johnathan is still unhappy about the exchange by the way, even if she knitted him a pair of socks later. You can’t imagine a world where Johnathan and Steve might get along anyway. Nancy has false hopes.

“There you are!” Nancy worries like a mom who’s lost sight of her kids for more than five minutes. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Really?” You plop down next to Robin on the couch, who’s got this grin that you beg won’t start talking.

“Won’t you enlighten us?” Robin bats her lashes.

Steve clears his throat. “Don’t think she’ll have too.”

“Warm up with this,” Eddie’s come from the kitchen with hot chocolate in hand. He hands it to you, and kisses the top of your head.

“Shut up!” Robin yells. “Really?”

“Really what?” Dustin pokes his head from around the corner before Eddie can snake his hands away from you. “Oh, damn.”

-> <-

tags: @ali-r3n

[beverly-williams]

“There is a lot that happens around the world we cannot control. We cannot stop earthquakes, we cannot prevent droughts, and we cannot prevent all conflict, but when we know where the hungry, the homeless and the sick exist, then we can help.” – Jan Schakowsky

Sunday, March 5th, 2023

“How’s the orange juice?” asked Beverly, pausing for a moment while the man in her chair took a long drink from the bottle of orange juice he held in his trembling hands. He grinned broadly at Beverly, a smile so wide she could count all eight teeth he had left.

This made Bev’s eyes water. It wasn’t the strong body odor or anything having to do with the physical appearance of the man but the joy that was radiating off of him. It was infectious.

“I’ll take that as a good sign, Mr. Lowell,” replied Beverly as she continued her work.

Once a month, Locke Studios opened their doors on Sunday to the homeless community of Los Angeles. The migration started at Locke Studios and continued down the street. First, a small breakfast of bagels, juice, water, or coffee was available as the people waited for their turn for their free haircut, shave or beard maintenance if they preferred.

After, they could migrate down to the gym owned by Dominic Carter. There, the showers and bathrooms were open for them to use. Clean towels, new toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, shampoo and conditioner, ear swabs, lotion, feminine care products, and razors for grooming were all provided for free. A hot lunch was provided at Gianna’s bistro at the corner of the street to finish the day.

It was a day the community looked forward to, a time when all could rally together to help those in need. For Beverly, it was of the upmost importance to make sure all who helped treated the homeless with dignity, kindness, and respect.

Beverly cleaned up the man the best she could, removing all the cut hair from his shoulders before removing the cape so he could stand. "Handsome as always," she told him, a sincere smile greeting her lips as she watched the older man examine himself in the mirror.

"Don't forget what I told you, okay? We'll be setting this up on the other side of town by Elijah's. If you're over there next month or if you know anyone out that way, let them know. It'll be the same day we do it here just in case anyone can't make the trek here," commented Beverly.

She looked around Locke Studios. Every barber chair was filled. Not only had her own barbers volunteered their time for free as they did once a month but the barbers from Elijah's had also joined. August Donovan stood by one of his barbers, observing their work before heading to help hand out breakfast and drinks to the crowd waiting in line outside.

Beverly glanced back at Jonathan Lowell who was still smiling at his own reflection. "Thank you again, beautiful. I'll see you next month," he told her, reaching out to give her arm a gentle squeeze before walking out of the shop so another could get their turn.

Bev had been watching Jonathan head outside, not paying attention to the gentleman who had claimed the chair at her station. She grabbed a clean cape to drape over her client but almost let it slip from her fingers when she looked at the reflection in the mirror. Her brother, Matthew was sitting in her seat, waiting to be noticed with a grin plastered on his face.

"Matt? You're here!" Bev cried out, tears immediately blurring her visage. She held onto the cape but wrapped her arms around him from behind. Tears spilled from her eyes and dripped onto the cape as she held onto her younger brother, kissing his cheek several times.

"I was so worried! You haven't called," she started, lifting her head so she could look at him. She clipped the cape behind his neck so she could wipe away the tears from her eyes.

"I know, I know and I missed your birthday, I'm so sorry, Bev. I was away in rehab," Matt explained, looking at his sister with sincerity. It was then that Beverly could tell he looked different. His eyes were no longer sunken in, his cheeks were more filled out, the color had returned to his face. He looked healthier, more full of life.

Beverly swallowed hard, listening to what he was saying. He went onto explain that he had cleaned himself up and was looking for a job now and though Bev immediately offered a position at Locke Studios to help clean and do odds and ends type tasks, he refused. He wanted to get on his feet on his own. She nodded, seeing the determination in his eyes.

"Okay then, baby brother," she told him, kissing the top of his head before looking into the mirror with a smile. "What will it be today?" she asked, referring to his hair cut.

"Surprise me," Matt replied, grinning into the mirror and staring at his sister's reflection.

Beverly smiled back at him. "You got it."

[mobyfitzwilliam]

GHOSTWRITER - Preparations for the Halloween Ball

Dear Reader,

I sit writing this latest entry before my vanity, still in my suite at the McKittrick Hotel, ensconced in the Village of Gallow Green, as I dress for the Halloween Ball.

I often sit in contemplation here, considering how I appear to the others here. When first I would leave my quarters, I wore the Victorian mourning attire left for me, but my Mistress has since given me the ability to appear in other ways.

I have converted the gown into my own version of a suit, something a bit more androgynous. I am growing a collection of Vampiric capes, although I've heard tell that these make me appear more the Vampire's Wife than the beast, himself.

The Hotel is in the midst of seasonal change, as the preparations for the Halloween Ball come to fruition. Countless bouquets of florals are being carried into the ballroom, where each night I have begun my hauntings. Even the surrounding town has taken on the festivities at the request of my mistress.

Rumor has passed through the hotel and reached me that a Lost Garden has been rediscovered, set to be opened for the evening's festivities. What has gone unspoken is that this celebration has interrupted the normal goings-on of the hotel, seeming to release those under the spell of this place for an evening of phantasmagorical delirium.

I am now quite certain that I am not the only one who is able to see these changes. Recently, I have spent time frequenting the Taxidermist Shop of Mr. Bargarran, a rather mysterious man who I have yet to fully comprehend. Yet, I do have the sense that he is also attempting to discover something of me. Just this afternoon, I visited him in search of feathers for my Ball ensemble but was greeted by a much more intriguing proposal.

When I arrived and made my request, the elusive Mr. Bargarran ushered me into his back office, where he beckoned me to sit at his desk. He placed a pestle and mortar before me, which we used together to concoct a bubbling mixture of powder and water. Then, slipping out the back door of his shop, we traveled out into the hinterland of forest just beyond the King James Sanatorium. There, amidst the trees and debris, stood a taxidermy deer in repose, staring ahead blankly into the wood. To my surprise, Mr. Bargarran then poured the mixture into the mouth of the dead creature, which somehow was able to consume it. He then turned to me, with a sinister grin upon his face, and ushered me back to the shop, which was now adorned with a magnificent, feathered collar for my use, along with a horned headpiece.

Now, I return never flitting. Still, I'm sitting. Still, I'm sitting, patiently awaiting the rap of the summons on my chamber door.

I shall keep you abreast of all developments on the night of All Hallow's Eve.

Yours,

Fitzwilliam, the Ghostwriter

[drgreg]

Dr Greg Hough South Africa

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Indeed, research by Breetzke & Horn5 has proven how offenders in Tshwane are spatially clustered in some areas during which crime itself is comparatively low. Again, this limitation is difficult to counter because crime information usually collected by the SAPS does not report the offender of the crime and certainly not the offender’s tackle. With crime conviction charges perennially low, it appears that this drawback will proceed for the foreseeable future. Our groups supply expert Medicaid consulting and industry-leading insights, solutions, and enterprise practices. The estimation of three separate race models launched a model new dimension to the examine.

The basic secretary, Dr Louis Péringuey , took a leading part in the negotiations. The president right now was Sydney S. Hough, director of the Royal Observatory, Cape of Good Hope, who routinely turned the primary president of the renamed society. Its inaugural meeting was held in Cape Town on 6 April. These tips require a staff strategy to the selection of suitable surgical candidates, pre-operative preparation, peri-operative care and life-long post-operative follow-up to make sure on-going good health. The surgeon, endocrinologist, and different group members as nicely as the hospital are totally accredited and are registered with the CEMMS to perform this process.

We were glad to lastly induct and pray for those who serve in several ministries right here at Kingswood. Our class of 2020, gathered a total of ninety five distinctions amongst themselves. Our Kingswood 1st Girls and Boys Tennis teams played within the Settlers Cup yesterday. Our Squash gamers took half within the Dave Hodgson Festival this previous weekend. This pageant is certainly one of the highlights on the Eastern Cape Squash circuit and has lots of the prime schools in the nation participating in it. At meeting yesterday on the 20th anniversary of reinstituton of the hike since 2005, an award was made to Kingswood pupil, Kirstin Armstrong who is it is the first Kingswood pupil to finish five hikes.

[women-loving-art]

Alice Pike Barney Natalie at Seven, 1883 / Natalie and Missa, 1890 / Natalie Barney in Fur Cape, 1896 / Natalie with Necklace, c. 1900 / Lucifer, 1902

Some of the paintings that Alice Pike Barney (1857-1931) made using her daughter, Natalie Clifford Barney (1876-1972), as a model. 

“As the year [1900] closed, the fallout from Quelques portraits-sonnets de femmes [Natalie Clifford Barney’s lesbian poetry collection] caused a major break in the Barney family. It had taken months for word of the book to develop a strong buzz, but by now many people had read or at least heard about it. 

Natalie had been dropped by a few Washington society matrons, meaning that they refused to receive her in their homes. At least one family friend approached Natalie that summer, begging her to give up, for the sake of her parents, the course on which she was headed.

In response to her critics, Natalie claimed that she didn’t care whether or not Madame so-and-so deigned to greet her on the street. As she once said of Colette’s first husband, Willy, “Not everyone is capable of knowingly creating a bad reputation for themselves.”

There was a certain hypocrisy to the way Natalie was treated. [...] Discretion (or, if you prefer, sexual hypocrisy) was considered a duty. Among Natalie’s past and future conquests were socialites who, though they preferred the embraces of women, led ostensibly “normal” lives. As long as they married, had children, did charitable work, and managed fine homes, nobody much cared what they did behind closet doors. In the end, Natalie’s greatest sin was not that she was a lesbian, but that she refused to be quiet and ashamed about it. 

One day, Albert Barney [her father] picked up the society gossip journal Town Topics and read a small but fatal headline: Sappho sings in Washington. With that single headline, his world exploded. Highly intelligent and far from naive, his suspicions about his beloved daughter had long ago turned to certainty.

The Town Topics piece, entwining his daughter’s name with that of a perverted Greek harlot, fulfilled his worst nightmares of scandal. The fact that his wife had contributed the artwork to Natalie’s book [three of the four women who modelled for her were her daughter's lovers] constituted a double knife thrust to the heart. How, he wondered, would he ever live this down? 

The timing and exact circumstances of what happened next are impossible to pinpoint. The entire episode wasn’t one that anyone in the family wished to  remember, let alone document. It’s telling that Alice, who scissored from the newspapers each mention of her girls for permanent inclusion in her scrapbook, didn’t bother to keep the big Sappho Sings article.

What is true is this: Albert stormed into the editorial offices at Ollendorff in Paris to buy, and then destroy, the remaining copies and all printing plates for Quelques portraits-sonnets de femmes. His action doubtless accounts for the book’s extreme rarity today. 

He then brutally pulled the blinders from Alice’s eyes about the meaning of the poems in Quelques sonnets. He berated her ceaselessly, and would until his death, for having so naively contributed paintings of Natalie’s lovers to the book. 

The revelation about Natalie’s sexuality stunned Alice. The evidence had been there for years, obvious to all, but she had been in complete denial. Now, forced to accept the truth, she was shocked and sickened. For perhaps the first time ever she was unable to apply the laissez-faire philosophy that had defined her approach to life. 

In early January 1901 the Barneys boarded a ship to New York, leaving Natalie behind. Though weakened by illness, he constantly lambasted Alice, enumerating her countless sins, the greatest of which was the evil inherent in Natalie’s character. As usual, she endured the abuse by politely ignoring him. Deep within, however, she was awash in conflicting emotions. She loved and admired her daughter, but was horrified by her lesbianism. Late in January, she made her feelings clear in a letter that must have devastated Natalie:

It has come at last. Your father is quite crushed by this and really very pathetic. How perhaps you, through your disregard for us and your callousness, may remember my disgust when you would speak of this forbidden sin—and realize that every right-minded decent person is condemning you and us—as they would of the greatest evil... I am too sick and ill to write more. I used to feel sorry for Mrs. Hoy when people said things of Mattie—and how small her sin was—if true—compared with yours, which you broadcast about, as if being evil is not bad enough.

But you must in every way, to every person, make yourself a horror and a danger... Your only chance to redeem yourself is to change your life and writings and remember that in no way can you defend yourself—or reply to this [Town Topics] article... For there is not the slightest loophole. You have closed every escape. [...] You have done a bad thing—a sin against law and mankind and I can only hope that your ideas have shocked and horrified instead of converting.

It took months for Alice to accept Natalie’s nature, but eventually the truth brought mother and daughter closer. No longer engaged in subterfuge and lies, Natalie’s new relationship with Alice was easier, friendlier, and more honest. After her initial repugnance, Alice tried to see Natalie’s sexuality as simply part of her nature—a nature similar in many other ways to her own. “How much of myself I’ve passed on to you,” she wrote years later. “You’re cultivated and I—not—but we’ve got the same traits, grabbing here and there, dashing from this to that. So much of the monkey in us.”

There would be many times in the future when Natalie and Alice didn’t get along, but at its heart their relationship remained strong and loving. Each took pleasure in the other’s accomplishments. “I’m terribly proud of you,” Alice would write; or “I can’t express my admiration, my child.” They would collaborate in writing plays, visit each other, and always, no matter where they might be, there were the affectionate letters. 

Only once, many years later, did Alice reveal the pain that Natalie caused her. It happened when Natalie made a casual observation. “Mother,” she remembered saying. “You have so happy a temperament that I cannot imagine anything that has ever been able to cause you more than a passing sorrow.”

Alice drew back as if struck. She appeared embarrassed, and looked away. Natalie laughed, curious to know what could possibly have shaken her mother’s legendary equanimity, but Alice remained stubbornly and uncharacteristically silent. 

Growing uneasy, Natalie pressed for an answer. Alice hesitated, gazing back over the years to a moment of sorrow so great that it obviously pained her to recall it now. And then, slowly, she faced her daughter, staring with profound sadness into those ice-blue eyes. “You,” she muttered, almost as if speaking to herself. “You...’”

— Suzanne Rodríguez, from Wild Heart: A Life, Natalie Clifford Barney and the Decadence of Literary Paris 

[fictionadventurer]

So Strong as Gentleness; Or, Powers and Prejudice

Episode One: Unstoppable Force

No one who had seen Jane Bennet in civilian guise would have supposed her to be a superheroine. Her features were marked by their delicate regularity and her expressions were notably docile and sweet. Her physique tended toward the slender and fragile. Her voice, when heard, was soft, and her movements were gentle to the extreme. If asked, the average bystander would have assumed her a particularly sheltered university student, designed to be a distressed damsel rather than a rescuing hero.

Yet she was, both by nature and heritage, perfectly suited for superheroism. Her mother had spent several years as one of Netherfield City’s most prominent superheroes, and her energy blasts had saved countless innocent bystanders from the machinations of superpowered troublemakers. Her father was a telekinetic, who, it is true, had only a short career in superheroism when he was pursuing the woman he would later wed, after which he had hung up his cape and retreated to his library, but he was a tolerant parent who had no objections to his daughters making use of the extraordinary abilities nature had given them. Jane herself was perhaps the most extraordinary of the five sisters. She had broken concrete with her infant fist, lifted an automobile by the age of three, and had matured into a young woman who could stop a train merely by standing in front of it. With such an upbringing and such abilities as these, how could any young woman avoid becoming a superhero of great renown?

Their mother had high hopes for such. Having retired at an early age when her health made the strain of hero work impossible to endure, her greatest hope now was for her daughters to take up their mother’s heroic crusade. Their quiet life in the country town of Meryton had allowed Jane and her sisters to develop their abilities without drawing attention to  themselves or endangering the populace, but such places offer few opportunities for true heroism. A heroine in hiding is no heroine at all. Something must and will occur to help her bring her abilities to the service of the public.

Thus Mrs. Bennet, after years of cajoling her husband, moved the family to the city of Netherfield, the bounds of which had long been a haven for those with extraordinary abilities. People with superhuman talents were allowed to live without interference so long as they did not interfere with the lives of their neighbors. Those who used their powers for the purposes of crime and villainy were stopped by those who used similar powers for heroic pursuits, and it was these masked heroes who received the greatest dispensation to use their abilities in a public setting without censure. There was, to Mrs. Bennet, no better place for her daughters to become what nature had made them to be.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet told her husband over breakfast one morning. “It seems that Charles Bingley has returned to Netherfield. What a fine thing for our girls!”

Mr. Bennet looked at her over the top of his newspaper before returning his attention to the stock prices. “How can it affect them?”

“You must know that Charles Bingley has connections to the superhero community. His family has funded several superhero teams and that he has personally befriended several of the Defenders. He could help our daughters launch their careers.”

“Was that his design in returning?”

“Design! What nonsense! But he may be persuaded to offer his assistance, if he became aware of what our daughters can do.”

“Do you hear that, Jane?” Mr. Bennet said, as the daughter in question joined her parents at breakfast. “Your mother wishes you to throw an automobile at Mr. Bingley’s head.”

“Mr. Bennet!” his wife replied in vexation. “Jane, I desire you to do no such thing. Your father will make the necessary arrangements.”

"Me? Why should I interfere? Jane is capable of demonstrating astounding feats of strength without my help.”

“She cannot be sent into the city for an open display of power; she’d be like as not to be branded a villain. It is safest to reveal herself to the public only after she has established connections to the superhero community.”

"Then you may go on patrol with her,” Mr. Bennet said. “Your outfit may be snug, but I’ve no doubt the city will welcome the return of one of its finest crime fighters and whichever protégés she brings as assistants.”

“My dear, you flatter me. I may have had my share of successes, but I don’t pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman is my age, she must give over thinking of her own career and allow her daughters to establish themselves on their own merits. My influence and connections are twenty years out of date, while your old university contacts must contain a dozen people who can arrange an interview with Bingley Enterprises.”

“If an interview is all you want,” Mr. Bennet said, “There are more direct ways to arrange it.” He spread his newspaper atop his empty breakfast plate and pointed to a column in the classified ads. “Bingley Enterprises is hosting a hiring event and Mr. Bingley will be in attendance.”

Mrs. Bennet examined the newspaper before her--perhaps the first time in twenty-three years of marriage that she had shared in her husband’s habit. “My dear Mr. Bennet!” she cried in delight. “Jane, how clever your father is!”

Since Mr. Bennet had put forward this solution half in jest and chiefly from a desire to deflect as much possible effort from himself, he was more than a little alarmed to see his wife so sincerely delighted with the suggestion. “It is unlikely that Mr. Bingley will complete any of the interviews personally.”

But Mrs. Bennet had already spun half a dozen delighted theories as to how Jane could turn a chance encounter with Mr. Bingley into an immediate position on Netherfield City’s team of Defenders.

When Mrs. Bennet’s raptures had calmed, Mr. Bennet said more seriously, “Jane, you have not told us what you think of this. Does it please you to become Mr. Bingley’s superpowered secretary?”

Jane was not accustomed to being addressed so directly by her father. Her two most obvious features were that she was beautiful and strong, two traits that were coupled in most people’s minds with a lack of intelligence, and her father's interactions with her were often colored by such assumptions. She had not thought to wonder if she had a choice in the matter; her mother’s hopes for her superhero career had been the primary driving force of her life from her earliest memories. She could see that such an event offered little practical hope of meeting with Mr. Bingley, and in the event that such a meeting was arranged, she did not see how she could turn the conversation to the establishment of her superhero career. But she was also in need of mundane, paycheck-providing work, and Bingley Enterprises was as good a place as any to draw a salary, especially since a position in the company could also perhaps, in future, provide opportunities to bring oneself to the attention of Mr. Bingley’s heroic friends.

“I will go,” Jane said, after a moment of contemplation, “if Lizzie will go with me.”

“Lizzie?” Mrs. Bennet said in surprise. “What can Mr. Bingley want with her? She has nothing like your power, my dear, and scarcely any control. What if the jaguar should appear in the middle of the crowd?”

Jane had experienced several job interviews where her sister’s jaguar form would have provided a much-needed boost of confidence, but it was her sister’s confident human presence that she needed for moral support at such an event.

Lizzie entered the room on the tail-end of her mother’s speech, her eyes bright with laughter. “If the jaguar appears,” she said, “there will be need of her. I never transform anymore unless there’s someone deserving of a few bite marks.”

“Your definitions of deserving,” their mother said, “are looser than most people’s.”

“Then I shall give Jane the handling of my leash,” Lizzie said. “I won’t transform unless she thinks it necessary, and you know she prefers to assume everyone is a fount of human kindness. Is that civilized enough to satisfy you?”

Mr. Bennet replied, “It satisfies me. You have more sense than the rest of your sisters put together, Lizzie, no matter which form you’re in.”

“How can you abuse your own children in such a way?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “They all have excellent control over their abilities, not like Lizzie’s rampaging beast.”

Jane said, “Lizzie hasn’t rampaged in years, Mother.”

Lizzie nodded and said with mock solemnity. “And I have had ample temptation.”

Mrs. Bennet did not find this comforting. She had always been baffled by her second daughter’s quick wit and laughing ways, just as she had always been baffled by her husband, whose personality Lizzie’s most resembled, and the animal form was even worse than the human one. She had never been comfortable with her daughter’s gift of taking on a jaguar form; such unpredictable animalistic displays were far removed from the sleek, Lycra-suited grace that formed her image of a proper Netherfield superhero. Given her choice, she would have kept Lizzie far from the notice of anyone faintly connected with the city’s superhero community, and let them think their family’s next generation of crime fighters consisted only of four sisters. But Jane had the most impressive talents in the family and the potential to become one of the greatest superheroes in Netherfield’s history, and she rarely went anywhere without Lizzie. If Jane was to become Netherfield’s next superhero, Lizzie would have to be by her side.

“Oh, go!” Mrs. Bennet said at last. “But don’t blame me if you’re branded as villains before the day is through.”

[capetowncapers]

I love my boyfriend so much. I saw an orchid clumsily planted outside one of the campus apartment buildings and was like “this poor thing is not made for this climate she won’t make it through the winter here” and he sends me back a video of him bundled up in blankets, recovering from surgery saying “it’s me, I’m the clumsily planted orchid in the cold and rain I’m not built for this” so I said “I am transferring you so carefully to a pot and bringing you to a temperature-controlled greenhouse and gently placing an ice cube on top of your soil.” I love him I love being silly with him.

[mybigboots]

Under the Gum-Gum Tree [Part 1]

Written by Boggy Fryer, The Cape Cod Boot Boy

Part One

Logan froze. He had definitely heard something this time. Sitting up sharply in his tent, letting the sleeping bag fall down his shoulders, he stared around wildly, not daring to breathe lest the sound give away his location. Looking towards the outside world, one might have assumed it was broad daylight from all the light pouring onto the fabric of the tent, but Logan knew better. Deep in these woods through which he had dared to journey, the strange yet bright glow from the waters of the swamp lit up the night air with an eerie greenish light. 

In that light, shining against the sides of the tent, Logan could now clearly see that something was moving in the night. To make matters worse, that something was right outside the tent.

As quietly as possible, while trying to combat the fear making the hairs on the back of his neck rise like weeds, Logan reached for the large flashlight that he had placed beside him just in case of emergency. In a pinch, the long heavy flashlight could definitely be used to batter any intruder, so it also served as a weapon. Clutching it tightly like a bat, Logan, clad only in a pair of sweatpants and a white tank top, remained alert.

For a few very tense minutes, Logan didn’t budge. He stayed absolutely still, the only part of his body moving his eyes. They tracked left, right, staring through the blue tent walls, looking for anything that shouldn’t be out there. He had awoken with a start at the clear tell-tale sound of someone or something approaching: a twig snap. He had remained still, telling himself that it was nothing to worry about. Seconds later, he had heard what sounded like the sound of running feet and the rustle of leaves, and another twig snapping, and he had known then that he wasn’t alone. But all was quiet now. The mysterious stranger had vanished into the-there!

Logan took a sharp breath. A shadow, cast by the glow of the swamp, had just passed the tent. Something large was running past the tent at high speed, fast and swift. Logan barely had time to grasp what had happened before he heard the running feet again over the grassy knoll, and then another shadow rushed past, this time going in the opposite direction. Another shadow appeared, crossing it.

Logan closed his eyes. There was more than one out there. His fingers tightened around the flashlight and without speaking, Logan began to move his lips in a series of desperate prayers. 

His first prayer was more of a question of his own sanity than a plea to God. He wondered just why he had been so stupid to swallow caution and doubt and had marched bravely into the woods to chase down a legend. A legend about monsters in the shape of men, men with dark, shiny skin and dripping with mud. 

*****

About ten days ago, Logan had been in the office of his editor, Mr. Perkins, who ran The Wild Weird World, a fairly reputable tabloid magazine. Although “reputable tabloid magazine” might have been stretching it as it was. Despite working there for at least five months, Logan was still looked upon as the new guy in the office for not landing a story as big as his coworkers. Hell, it looked like no one was ever going to top that suck-up Freddy Letcher’s exposé on the mayor’s plan to convert all the garbage in the city into cheap fast food and sell them at the new Chow Down! restaurant chain. Sure, the mayor had denied it, but TWWW hadn’t let the story get swept under the rug.

Desperate to land a big story for his boss, Logan had boldly offered to take a stab at the deemed dead-end urban legend of the Swampsters (that was, in Logan’s humble opinion, a clever take on swamp-monsters). These strange creatures were rumored to live in the depths of the woods outside a neighboring town, where the swamps were said to shine at night with a strange light. 

Less fact and more fiction was all that was known about the Swampsters, and thanks to the legend that had sprung up about them, people were often too afraid to enter the woods in search of them. However, every once in a while some foolhardy traveler or explorer would vow they would uncover the secret of the Swampsters and venture into the woods, only to vanish and never be seen again. It was said that the swamp was a dangerous place full of sinkholes, dangerous animals and insects, noxious fumes, and of course the Swampsters themselves.

Many years ago, a mining expedition had been launched in these dark woods. Forty-six men had headed into the swamp with tools and machinery in the hopes of draining it and searching for precious minerals that were suspected to be at the bottom of the riverbeds. For several weeks, no one had seen these men until they returned to town, claiming they’d been successful in draining the swamp waters low enough to find a series of underground caves that were certain to hold these precious minerals. All forty-six men had returned to the swamp to take up their task again, but disaster had struck. A few days after the return, a tremendous storm had struck the area, washing away roads, knocking out bridges, and flooding local towns. For days it had rained. When the skies had finally cleared, a search party was sent immediately into the woods to the last reported location of the missing workmen, who, thanks to the deadly storm, had been stranded in the woods and unaware of its approach before it had been too late. However, when the search party reached the mining settlement, all that remained was one lonely shack, beaten in by the winds. Everything else—supplies, tents, and every last miner—was nowhere to be found. Thanks to the rains, the formerly drained swamp was once again overflowing, the caves were filled, and any trace of the expedition was lost. The search party looked in vain for survivors or any sign of their whereabouts, but nothing, not even their bodies, was ever found. 

To top matters off, as numbers of people began to sweep the forest and swamp over the next few weeks, strange things began to happen. According to the reports filed and the accounts of observers, individuals among the search and rescuers had begun to vanish. It was always men for some reason. It seemed like one moment they were there, and then the next they had disappeared, evaporated into thin air. Never more than one or two at a time, and with the exception of a stray shoe, an abandoned hat, and once a pair of crushed bifocals, no evidence of them remained. 

Much more frightening than the disappearances were the fleeting reports of the creatures that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere and were haunting the swamp. Swamp men, swamp monsters, or just Swampsters (as Logan had re-christened them) were reportedly seen in this mysterious place. No one had ever seen them clearly, but all the accounts were relatively the same: from out of the waters of the swamp, which ever since the storm had come and gone now seemed to emit a strange smell, as well as give off an unidentifiable but very creepy glow, these humanoid figures seemed to rise. They would dart from behind trees or out from under rocks. They would melt into the waters of the swamp. If you turned your head for a moment, you would see them watching from the knotholes of trees or under lily pads in the water - and the second you looked upon them, they would quickly vanish. Listening closely, you could hear them whisper and mutter through the trees in a language no one could quite understand. They appeared as strong, muscular men, built big like burly athletes, but ran so quick and fast they couldn’t possibly be human. Their bodies seemed to be covered in a very dark, very glossy material, although it was possible it was merely their skin. They were smooth all over, covered in this glossy skin from toe to neck. Some kind of dark helmet, or maybe shell, was wrapped around each of their heads, making it impossible to tell if they had any hair. From what little could be seen, it was gathered that their faces seemed to be covered in a dark putty, covering their mouths and other facial features, but from under the shiny black shells a pair of almond-shaped yellow eyes would leer out, unblinking. On top of the slick shiny skin would often be moss, dark green and muddy, growing in patches over parts of their bodies, sometimes over an entire arm, other times worn like a pair of swim trunks. They seemed not to have toenails or fingernails. All of them would drip with a slimy black mud. 

They would never approach but would instead merely watch. Of course, that hadn’t stopped everyone from suspecting that they were responsible for the spiriting away of up to twelve men following the storm. Fearing them to be some kind of cannibalistic beasts, the search parties had cleared out and residents of every nearby town had spread the word to stay far, far away from the heart of the forest where the Swampsters dwelt. 

For years the story had been passed around and whispered in fear until a time of skepticism had settled in, having grown stronger with every passing generation. In early 2000, a five-person film crew had foolishly headed into the woods to disprove the myth of the Swampsters. When they had failed to return, their producer had sent a search team in after them to ascertain their whereabouts but had discovered nothing but an empty campsite, partially flooded with all their expensive filming equipment severely damaged. Taking the equipment back to civilization, the producer had been dismayed when he was able to salvage only one reel of film from a dry camera and had seen something horrifying: dark shapes, large and fast, moving too quickly for the cameras to capture, rushing back and forth in the lights of the swamp water and the mounted lights set by the film crew. There were noises of equipment falling over, people shouting in alarm, feet running, and then the camera had been knocked aside and into a box, which had sheltered it through the rains that had fallen the next day. For a while the general consensus had been that these “Swampsters” had NOT carried off the film crew but instead, thanks to the rain, the crew had fallen prey to the rising waters. That was the story until about a week later when the one female member of the original crew had emerged from the woods, bedraggled and muddy, muttering shrilly about strange creatures with shiny skin and glowing eyes. Creatures, she reported, that had suddenly emerged from nowhere and had attacked their campsite. She had cried out in terror as her coworkers were lifted straight up into the air, thrown over the shoulders of these Swampsters, and carried off into the night, screaming for help. The Swampsters, rather than take her, had merely chased her through the dark woods, pelting her with mud until she was lost. Unable to find her way back to the campsite or to the town, she had wandered for days until she had discovered a road where she was picked up by a passing cop and taken at once to the nearest hospital to receive medical attention… and to recall her wild tale.

Just like that, the legend of the Swampsters was alive again. Suddenly realtors had trouble selling anything in the area, businesses closed up and moved out of town, and all but the most imbecilic of explorers refused to set foot in those woods. 

Eleven years later, the legend had once again fallen under the category of “dead” and no one cared. The Swampsters were old news, and once again their existence was called into question. No more research was done, what with people like Freddy Letcher uncovering corruption in city hall and the fast food industry. And it was Logan, in a moment of desperation, who had bravely taken up the lost story again and approached Mr. Perkins with the suggestion of spinning a new angle on the tale of the Swampsters. 

For starters, Perkins had LOVED the title “Swampsters”.  He’d found it endearing, catchy even, and furthermore had loved Logan’s new angle: the Swampsters were actually not monsters, but an all-male secret society out in the woods, living privately off the land. The whole “monster” crap was just their way of staying under the radar. Perkins had at once approved Logan’s proposal for a new story, but Logan’s spirits were dampened when he’d quickly discovered no one was at all eager to go tromping around some godforsaken marsh in search of mud people. And so Logan, refusing to be stopped, had volunteered to go by himself and bring back the true story.

No one had exactly leapt up to stop him, but at once he had received a lot of warnings. While claiming they didn’t really believe in these Swampsters, his coworkers had pointed out that to date more than sixty people had disappeared into that swamp, and that they had been equipped and prepared for wilderness survival while he, Logan, was a city boy with a camera. After four years of college, Logan wasn’t willing to be dissuaded from his big chance to make history and against their advice had packed a backpack and overnight bag, bought a tent and hiking gear, and rounded up his camera and sketch pad. Leaving behind the cozy, if not cramped, office life he had become so accustomed to, Logan had climbed into a rental car and set off for the infamous little town, rapidly emptying of population, which was home to the foreboding woods and their mystifying swamp, the accounts and legends of which he had poured over every day for weeks.

Nothing, Logan had assured himself, would stop him from discovering the truth.

In his motel room (one of the few businesses still open in this town) Logan had prepared for the morning’s swamp stomp by looking over his notes one more time.

Pictures had been taken of the Swampsters now and again, and sketches drawn, but the most reliable images were the stills from the footage recovered by the 2000 film crew’s camera. On a laptop screen, Logan had looked over the images again. 

There they were. The glowing eyes, the bodies shining through the mud. The fact that, despite being terrifying monsters… they were kind of hot. Logan had swallowed that thought as soon as he’d had it, but unsuccessfully. If his time “experimenting” with boys in college had taught him anything, it was to never mix business with pleasure. It never ended up well.  Logan was a typical bookworm, a nerdy looking guy. Twenty-three years old, scrawny, short, a mop of curly blonde hair that could use with a good trim, thick glasses; he made up for it all with a good personality (he hoped). However, staring at these Swampsters through the computer screen, he was more than just scared… Logan had to admit to himself that he was actually a little aroused. If it were possible to scrape off the moss and the mud, then these Swampsters were actually rather sexy. They were big, buff men in what could have been latex suits, stalking around in the forest like wildmen. While knowing that these men were possibly dangerous made them quite formidable, Logan could not help but admit to himself that one of the reasons he wanted to get close to them was to see them up close. If it was true they really were a secret all-male society, then was it possible they made love to one another, their muddy, latex suited bodies sliding all over one another, on the private banks of this secretive swamp? That idea had sent Logan’s imagination straight into overdrive and for a while he had laid back on his bed, enjoying adolescent fantasies of hot rubbermen, stepping from the darkness to capture him, hold him down, have their ways with him. But then after shooting his load to such a fantasy, he had been forced to realize that what he was going into was likely to be nothing of the sort.

This could be dangerous.

In the morning, after calling Mr. Perkins at the office and reporting in before heading off into the swamp, Logan repacked his bags and checked out of the motel. The already nervous-looking man at the front desk practically fainted when Logan casually mentioned that he would be heading out to the swamp. As though worried that Logan’s attitude might infect his establishment in some way, the desk clerk swept Logan’s money into the drawer and shooed him out the front door, looking happy to see the back of him. Undeterred, Logan made his way to a local grocery store where he filled his cooler with the food he would need for his assignment. He was only staying for two nights out in that swamp, anyway.

The fastest way to reach this mystery swamp was to go through the back of an abandoned campground on the outskirts of the forest. Not many people went to it these days, based on the information gathered from the ill-fated film crew’s notes, and the cops didn’t even bother patrolling it to keep people out. Indeed, at a small diner Logan had enjoyed a sub-par breakfast in that very morning, when he had casually mentioned to a highway patrolman his destination, the man had gruffly told Logan that he was “risking his fool neck” and “no good would come of pickin’ around that unholy wasteland.” Logan kept reviewing the facts in his head as he drove—the names of all the vanished miners and the film crew, the descriptions of the Swampsters, the state of the town since the incident… in fact, Logan was so busy running over these tidbits in his mind that by the time he spotted the man, standing in the road, it was almost too late. 

Snapping back to reality just long enough to look through the windshield, Logan swore and nearly put his foot through the floor of the car by slamming on the brake so hard. He was big, tall, threatening, his body filled the windshield almost before Logan could stop the car—but at the last moment, he was suddenly gone. There was an impact on the hood of the car, then the windshield, then the roof, and then Logan was jerking the steering wheel so hard that the car swerved across the road before coming to a halt in the left lane. Logan panted in shock, trying to collect himself. He knew he had not run the man over, but something made him fumble for the release button on the seat belt and scramble out of the car.

The road was empty. Still early in the morning, the sky was clear, if not a tad bit muted. It was as though someone had turned down the color of the surrounded world—green grass was greyer, the blue sky seemed a bit pale. Shaking these irrelevant details off, Logan turned to look at the hood of his car and recoiled in shock, then grabbed his camera.

What was unmistakably a muddy footprint, oozing with black slime, was stamped atop the hood of the car. There was another inches from it, and another planted in the dead center of the car windshield, and when Logan craned his neck, he could plainly see them across the top of the car. The mystery man, instead of being mowed down, had jumped up and run straight over the car. Frantically snapping away at the footprints with his camera, Logan stumbled around to the end of the car, then backtracked a bit to the road from which he just swerved. 

Sure enough, there was a trail of grimy footprints, leading away from the road and into the grass…and from the angle of their path, into the forest. Logan whistled, feeling elated. His fear evaporated in seconds, just as quickly as it had come, and was replaced by pure excitement. He had just witnessed his first Swampster. 

Grabbing a napkin he had stuffed into his pocket at breakfast, Logan carefully wiped away the muddy footprint in the middle of the windshield (after taking a hundred more pictures of them, of course) and then the footprint off the car hood. He was careful, very careful, to not let the strange slimy mud touch his flesh in the fear that it might for some reason be toxic, but a sudden thought occurred to him. Carefully, Logan lowered the wet, muddy napkin into a small plastic bag he had wrapped his snack, an apple, in and sealed it. This, he told himself, would be perfect. He could take it back to a lab and have it analyzed, maybe find some kind of strange compound in it to boast about in the article.  “Mystery Mud Men, or Slimy Sinisters?” That sounded like a good title.

A sensible person would have turned back right then. Perhaps even taken what had just happened as a warning… but Logan was in no mood to listen to the quiet nagging doubts in his head. Proof that the Swampsters existed had just dropped in front of his eyes, and Logan just knew that this was the first step on a life changing journey to who-knew-what.  The Swampsters were real, and all Logan had to do was to find them. 

It was as Logan pulled into the campground that his uneasiness began to return. Despite having heard the tales of terror and the shaken eyewitness’ reports, Logan had never quite let it sink in just how frightening a situation this really was that he was about to willingly walk into. He had been warned to stay away, and he had ignored both the warnings of sensible people and his own conscience. Now, in the abandoned and overgrown parking lot of the campground, face to face with a large wooden hand painted sign that someone had put up against the side of the admissions building, Logan was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea after all.

The sign read:

GO NO FURTHER!!! 

SWAMP MONSTERS ARE WATCHING YOU!

TURN BACK NOW!!!!

The words on this large wooden sign had been hastily painted in yellow paint. Glancing down at the ground just under the sign, a chill ran up Logan’s spine. The same can of yellow paint that had likely painted those words lay on its side, spilling its contents on the pavement around the boarded up admissions building, essentially a small wooden cottage. The paint had long since dried and begun to fade. A paintbrush was on the inside of the can, dried up and useless after being abandoned for so long. Someone had either been in a haste to complete the sign and run away… or they had been interrupted before they could finish.

As Logan parked in front of the admissions building in a paved parking lot, now overrun with weeds poking up through the cracks, he could hear the wind whipping across the abandoned lot. He looked at the grass, uncut and growing high enough to brush his knees. A “For Sale” sign stood lopsided, faded and cracked in the grass, the realtor’s phone number overgrown by weeds. No one had been here in quite some time. A quick glance around the area and Logan took in all he needed to know—the dirt roads to the campsites were almost completely hidden under grass and weeds, the tree branches from the mighty pines and other trees loomed overhead like massive arms, the chains that had been stretched across the dirt road and the entrance to the parking lots were rusted and useless. Logan was most likely the first non-Swampster to set foot in this place for quite some time.

And yet…

On an impulse, Logan carefully walked up the creaking, worn wooden steps of the admissions cabin and tried the door. As expected, it was locked with a heavy padlock, but with a handy rock, Logan was able to smack the weatherworn lock from the door with one strike. Having brought his backpack from the car, Logan quickly fished about for his flashlight and clicked it on as he beheld the dusty interior of the abandoned cabin.

What he saw made his skin crawl.

While the windows had all been boarded up, and all equipment or office materials had long since been taken away, it was obvious that someone had tried to lock themselves inside. A bookcase, which had fallen over, was pressed up against the door, and a table on the other side of it. Someone had tried to barricade themselves inside. A window at the far end of the room was the only source of light (all electricity had evidently been shut off), and the wood covering the window had been torn away, as though someone had tried to smash their way in. There were signs of a struggle; having never been to a crime scene before, Logan could see that the toppled furniture, the half-eaten meal now scattered about and sitting in the dust, the shattered glass, and an abandoned knapsack all spelled that someone had been extracted from the cottage by force.

Again, the warning bells in Logan’s head rang. But with perfect timing, Logan’s cell phone beeped in his pocket, nearly sending him straight into the air in surprise. Recovering quickly, Logan, with clammy hands, pulled the phone from his jeans pocket and stared at the screen. A message had come in from the office, and it wasn’t from Mr. Perkins. Logan recognized the name on the text message at once: It was from that smarmy kiss-ass Freddy Letcher. The message read: HEY SWAMP BOY!!! DON’T FALL IN!!! LOL LOL LOL

Logan fumed, deleting the message and stuffing the phone into his pocket. With determination, he stepped off the porch of the cottage and marched straight for his car. Freddy and the rest of his coworkers were at this moment laughing at him, imagining him knee-deep in mud and frustrated, failing to find a shred of evidence of the Swampsters. Well, to hell with them… Logan made sure everything from his sleeping bag to his tent was strapped firmly to his back, and then stormed off across the forgotten path, aiming straight for the densest clump of trees he could see, the compass on his watch pointing him north. 

I’ll show them, Logan thought, I’ll show them all I’m not just the new boy anymore. When he came back with proof of the Swampsters, they’d all be eating those mocking text messages. 

Armed with an old campground map that Logan had printed up from online, he proceeded through site after site. The fastest way to the swamp was northeast through the back of lot 5B. Logan located the campsite (realizing that it had been a good idea to wear long pants and wear hiking boots) and tread carefully through the unkempt grounds towards the trees at the back of the small man-made clearing. With a deep breath, knowing that he was about to leave the world behind and enter a forbidding world of conspiracy and intrigue, Logan stepped forward.

Whether it was night or just dark in this forest, neither mattered. The woods were very dark. Logan felt like he had been walking for days, but his watch read three hours since his trek had begun. Moving on into the shadows, Logan dodged tree roots and low branches, climbed over rocks, and manned his flashlight when things got too dark. The further he went, the more dense it seemed, with the trees thicker, the ground muddier, the sounds of wildlife quieter. But in the air there had been something else, something he had read about: a whispering noise.

He walked for miles and miles with no sign of the riverbeds when a strange smell came to him. It smelled almost pleasant, like someone baking a pleasant roast, mixed with the faint aroma of some kind of flower (or maybe more than one) and a hint of exotic fruit, and the rustic smell of freshly chopped wood, and underneath all that a pungent odor of something wet and slightly moldy. Mixed in was a thick smell, one that reminded Logan of the dentist’s office for some odd reason, and of auto shops. Enticed by the scent, Logan pressed on, panting and sweating and feeling very tired. 

Wondering just how much longer he was going to wander around in these pitch black woods, batting back insects and stumbling over undergrowth, Logan was very happy to suddenly break through a heavy clump of trees and be at once blinded with light. Logan blinked, throwing up his hand to shield his eyes. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, Logan saw hazy green light coming from what looked like a long shimmering floor. Putting down his hand, Logan let out a gasp, and then hissed “Yes!” He was standing on the bank of what appeared to be a marsh, the ground squishing under his feet, and before him, a wide, green, and eerily shining river. He had found the swamp!

All tiredness forgotten, Logan whipped out his camera and began to move as carefully but as quickly as he could. Moving up the bank, he started clicking away at this hidden river, but found himself admitting as he put the camera to his eye that this had not been at all what he had expected. For one thing, the swamp seemed to be much… well, no other word for it—the swamp just looked pretty, almost tropical, if Logan didn’t know any better. Strange reeds and flowers bloomed along the riverbanks, and the trees did not look old and full of decay but instead handsome, full of life, bursting with leaves and vines, and strange black and white blossoms. The air glittered slightly, as though it were lit with a thousand happy fireflies. The water was green, yes, and obviously the source of that smell, but it wasn’t frightening. It was a bit muddy and goopy, filled with sludge, but it was bubbling merrily like a potion. It reminded Logan of the pictures he’d seen of his uncle at a mud bath on a vacation (ugh). In fact, this entire forbidden swamp seemed like a wonderland. Logan inhaled that strange scent, letting it fill him and making him feel alive (although still thinking of auto shops and the dentist for some reason). 

After walking and snapping pictures for several minutes, Logan soon came to an abrupt end in the riverbank. Another step and he would have toppled headfirst into the mud. Deciding that this was the perfect place to stop for the night and set up camp, Logan moved back towards where the ground was more firm and dry and began to establish his campsite. Whistling to himself, Logan, after laying down a ground tarp, cheerfully set up the tent, stowed his supplies inside, and set up his sleeping bag and a small area for his food, his clothes, and his laptop and paperwork. He had stowed a useful travel table for this occasion and set that up too. He placed mosquito netting around the tent, and outside set up the small camping stove and a little travel chair. Taking further care, Logan also made a small tripod out of some long sticks, lashed them together (thank you, Boy Scout survival training), hung an electric lantern on it, and lit it in the event that he needed to find his way back to the campsite after taking a quick pee. 

Feasting on a bag of trail mix and a bottle of water, Logan felt instantly better about his chances of success. If nothing else, this place was certainly lovely. And that smell…

It was very warm here and insect-free, so warm that he found himself removing his jacket and sweatshirt. Deciding that it might be beneficial to perhaps examine the water a little closer, Logan left his things behind in the tent and carefully made his way towards the riverbank again. What was that strange glow? Surely the water couldn’t be poisonous, for everything around him was flourishing so beautifully. Perhaps he could collect a sample of the water to take back with him? Squatting down over the water’s edge, Logan looked into the goopy water, which continued to burble. He felt a childish impulse to jump in, like a little boy playing in the mud after a rainstorm. Smiling, Logan raised his head and glanced across the water to the other bank.

His smile vanished at once. He stared.

There was someone on the opposite bank, staring back. Logan’s eyes widened at once as he saw what appeared to be a very tall man, built like a wrestler, standing quietly on the muddy shore, looking right at him from under what looked like an oddly shaped helmet, his face was hidden by something dark. He was covered in mud from the waist down, but his upper body was black and shiny, sculpted with incredible muscle tone. Bright eyes, yellow and catlike, were focused right on Logan’s face. 

Logan found his voice at last.

“Who are you?” he called cautiously. The man instantly tilted his head to the side, and from under his helmet a fierce raspy whispering was issued. Was he trying to talk?

“I’m Logan,” he said, trying again, “What’s your name?” Hopefully this man, whoever he was, would be open to a quick chat. Logan could already see an interview working its way into his article. But there was no answer. The head tilted the other way, still whispering. Logan pointed at his own head.

“Logan.” He said. “Lo-gan. I’m Logan. Who are you?”

As though he had not heard a single word, the man walked straight forward, down the bank, and just as quickly waded into the swamp water until it rose over his hips. All the while, his eyes never left Logan’s face. With a last whisper, he sank directly under the muddy water and disappeared from sight.

“What-” Logan breathed. There was the sound of footsteps behind him in the squelching mud. Logan didn’t have time to turn his head before a slime-covered hand reached quickly from behind him, clamping over his mouth. The strange dentist-slash-auto shop smell was wafting off it. Logan let out a surprised “Mmppff!” and reached up at once to grab at the hand, covering his own fingers in slime. Before he could do anything else, a muscular dark arm wearing a long glove wrapped around his waist, and in one rushed movement both Logan and his attacker were propelled forward, directly into the swamp. They hit the water with a loud splat. 

Logan felt the man (it certainly felt like a man, or maybe a bear) hold him tightly as they sank straight through the mud and into the warm, green, glowing water below it.  The mud floated atop the water like clouds, sealing away the tropical swamp from the struggling Logan’s eyes. His glasses flew off his nose and floated away into the water. Logan screamed in fear into the slimy hand. He kicked desperately, flailing with his arms, beating on his opponent’s body, but it was no use—he seemed to be completely covered in some kind of slippery bodysuit. Bubbles flew from Logan’s nose, and he realized that he was drowning. The man’s body clenched Logan tight, holding Logan against him like a lover. They sank lower, the light dimming in front of Logan’s already weak eyes, as he continued to scream, yell, kick, and punch. All in vain.

Logan couldn’t think. He could barely understand what was going on anymore; his mind, absorbed by panic, was beginning to cloud with darkness. Something suddenly came into view, breaking through the haze—another one of those men was swimming directly towards them. The river was deeper than it had appeared. Thanks to his immersion in the water, all the sludgy mud had washed away from his body, and for a minute the only thing Logan could think was Damn, if this is the last thing I ever see… well alright. Logan could see him clearly now. His body was covered in a stunning black rubber bodysuit. Every inch of his glorious studly body was in rubber, clinging perfectly to him, and without the mud anymore, Logan could see a very large cock, floating freely in the water, also wrapped in rubber. His glowing eyes were locked on Logan’s face. Logan could also see his face clearly too—it was as though someone had tattooed every inch of his face with black ink. He was unshaven, his face covered with a thick beard matted with dried earth. A large scar ran across his cheek. He pulled from his head the large helmet and cast it off into the water, freeing a long mane of shaggy dark hair that wafted free in the water. Logan stared, his lungs breathing their last, as this unworldly Adonis swam forward. The rubber clad hand was removed from Logan’s mouth, and he opened it, letting go of the last gulp of air he had managed to hold onto, and in that one moment the lion-haired man took Logan’s head in his gloved hands and kissed him. Well, it wasn’t a kiss per say… his open mouth was forced against Logan’s and Logan felt air streaming into his lungs. Helpless to do anything else, he closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around the broad shoulders of the man. Logan felt the air pressing into his lungs, and he gulped it down greedily, knowing that for the moment he wasn’t going to die.

Surrendering to the “kiss”, Logan let both the rubbermen manhandle his body. He was turned around to the first assailant, the one who had first grabbed him and pulled him underwater. He, too, pulled Logan close and “kissed” him deeply, sending more air into Logan’s desperate lungs. Logan wasn’t sure if this was hell or a strange form of heaven, but the decision wasn’t his to make. Their gloved hands went to work on his body. Logan felt his shirt being pulled up and over his head, while another pair of hands removed his hiking boots and socks from his feet. His pants and underwear followed. Each article of clothing drifted off into the swamp. Logan felt a pair of hands gripping his shoulders, and the other rubberman who still wore his helmet drifted downwards to take hold of Logan’s ankles. The three of them were nearing the muddy bottom of the swamp by this time. Together, both men smoothly guided Logan’s body down into the riverbed. Carefully, they turned Logan’s body until it was level with the ground, and with a firm push they forced him deeply into the mud. Logan cried out, stunned that his kidnappers-turned-saviors were now intending to murder him again. However, all that happened was a large bubble burst from his mouth. Rubber-coated feet came down on his chest and legs, pressing him even more firmly against the riverbed. Logan could feel the mud squelching around him, washing over his naked body. Being buried in the mud was an outstanding feeling, and it would have been most erotic had it not been about to kill him.

He felt something being forced into his mouth, wedged firmly into his jaws. Perhaps one of the rubber beasts was forcing his fat cock down Logan’s gullet? The last thing he’d ever see would be the man’s rubber dick fucking his face as his air ran out and he was entombed in the mud at the bottom of a swamp deep in a lost forest… but it wasn’t a cock that entered his mouth, but some kind of large pod, something big and oval-shaped. Logan’s eyes, straining under the water, showed him what looked like a gigantic brown seed sticking out of his mouth. It began to wiggle, and Logan saw the end of it open. At the same time, he felt something emerging from the other end of the seed deep in his mouth, like a flower. Immediately, air was rushing into his lungs from the strange seed. The other end of the seed opened further and Logan saw vines, thin and green, protruding into the water. It was like watching an octopus stretching its body after being cramped for so long—vines, many more than Logan would have thought could fit in that small seed, began to snake all over his body, growing longer and longer as they wrapped him tightly and securely down in the mud. They dove into the wet earth below Logan and then up again as they held him tight, quickly and effectively mummifying him in dark green slippery coils. When they began to wrap around his eyes, Logan once more remembered the danger of the situation and began to thrash against them, but between the mud and the vines he was held fast. 

Something was happening to the vines. He felt them shuddering slightly here and there, like something was struggling to emerge. A second later, he felt what had to be small buds sprouting from the green vegetation and press against his skin. They seemed to be attaching themselves to his bare flesh! It was not painful at all, but rather felt like a thousand little mouths were kissing him here and there, from his toes to his forehead. However, it was still enough to scare the hell out of the poor boy trapped at the bottom of the riverbed. Logan’s mind went into overdrive and at long last his adrenaline kicked into high gear. Who knew what those plants were doing to him? Injecting some kind of venom, or maybe even digesting him, or… was there anything worse? It didn’t matter. It was time to fight back. Welling up every ounce of strength he could, Logan bit down as hard as he could on the seed in his mouth. There was a loud CRACK and for the briefest of moments he thought that he’d broken his teeth—it was like biting down on a cashew in its shell. But he felt the seed crack, and in that moment the vines circling his body froze, loosening for just a second. 

That was all Logan needed. 

With the vines weakened, Logan had just enough time to force his right arm upwards towards his face, and with the power of luck on his side, he knocked the seed loose from his jaws. Pushing with all his might, Logan spat the large brown pod from his mouth and into the water. The vines shriveled all over his body. Struggling up from the mud, Logan tore away at them. The vines which had seemed so heavy and vice-like broke apart as easy as wet tissue paper and drifted away into the swamp. Planting his feet at the bottom of the riverbed where solid ground lay, Logan pushed off and swam for the surface, kicking and clawing wildly at the water. The two handsome Swampsters were nowhere to be seen, but Logan didn’t waste time looking around to see if they were lurking nearby. All he knew was that now that the seed was gone, his air was escaping and he wasn’t about to let himself be captured a second time. Pushing as hard as he could, Logan made for the surface.

He broke through a layer of mud, gasping like… well, a drowning man gasping for air. Splashing about in the muddy surface of the water, Logan clawed at his face to free it from grime, blinking fiercely as he attempted to see. With his glasses somewhere at the bottom of the river, he would be lucky to see a hand in front of his face. Spitting out great quantities of swamp water, Logan turned frantically around. At any moment, the Swampsters could appear beneath him, pulling him back down into the muck by his legs, where they would once again bind and imprison him. He couldn’t wait for them to find him. With his extremely blurry eyesight, Logan spotted a glowing orb of light. The lantern! Logan paddled as fast as he could towards the light, knowing that was the way to shore. 

After a few frenzied minutes, Logan’s feet hit a muddied bank. The riverbank was close, the water had become shallow. A few more paddles and Logan’s hands sunk into the wet soil of the shore. He scuttled like some weird crab up out of the water and onto the riverbank, where he crawled on all fours until he found himself in the shadow of a large tree, and then he curled up amongst the big roots and burst into loud sobs.

Logan’s body was coated with slime. Blinking it out of his eyes, as well as wiping away the tears of anguish that were flowing, owed entirely to almost being drowned at the bottom of a river by rubber clad madmen, Logan struggled to wipe himself off. This proved to be as futile as using a dirty sponge to wipe up a stain. His body was covered with the strange black mud and his blonde hair was a sodden mess, filled with goo. He felt filthy and was at once visited by the urge to throw himself back into the water, just to wash off the mud. At the same time, it had a strange smell to it, the same one that made him think of auto shops and dentists. Raising a quivering hand to his face, Logan sniffed and finally the answer came to him: Rubber car tires. Latex surgical gloves. The dark shiny bodies of the Swampsters weren’t owed to rubber suits, they were owed to this mud, this very mud that was now coating Logan’s entire body, squishing in between his toes and under his fingernails, trickling from his hair, and dripping over his lips. With something like a hysterical wail, Logan stumbled to his feet and barreled towards the glowing lantern that marked the location of his tent.

It took Logan an hour to wash himself off by pouring two entire bottles of water over his head. Even as he scrubbed his skin with a towel and wiped himself off again and again, he didn’t feel clean. He felt scared for his life, and embarrassed to have been caught off-guard by those awful, though admittedly hunky, Swampsters. But more so, he was embarrassed that he had nearly become the latest victim of this accursed swamp, just like everyone had warned him he would. He had gone off all half-cocked into the woods to find a story, and he had been within seconds of joining the story’s infamous history.

It was as he ran the towel over his head a final time that Logan discovered something strange. His hair, which was already long and always tangled, felt a bit difficult. He reached up with a hand and ran it through his hair. Was he losing his mind? His hair felt smooth, almost silky, and he could swear that it was longer than before. In fact, it was now hanging down into his eyes.

“What?” he whispered, confounded. How could his hair have suddenly grown so long? But as he looked down his body, he was quickly distracted by other pressing matters. Where the black mud had once been, now his pale naked flesh was no longer pale. It was as though someone had gone to work with a bottle of spray tan when he hadn’t been looking. In the light of the swamp water and the lantern Logan could see that he was a good shade darker than before he’d been dragged into the mud. Holding his hand up to his face, Logan could see that even in between his fingers, his flesh was darker, but had a bit of a sheen too. 

“No no no,” Logan hissed, “This is nuts.” He ran a hand over his chest and yelped in surprise again—he felt as though he were running his hand over a freshly laundered sheet of the finest Egyptian cotton. It was smooth and soft, and as he felt his face, he could feel that every dot of the acne he’d struggled with his entire life was gone. No blemishes, not bumps, and even his lips felt as though they’d been dipped in aloe. On an instinct, he sniffed his fingers and found the same rubbery smell lingered over his skin. Not only that, but he was certain that his body had changed. He felt his chest and found muscles growing there, and the beginnings of biceps that had never before appeared on his scrawny little turkey body. Even his waist felt an inch or two thicker than before.

“The mud…” whispered Logan. It had to be. “No, wait, the vines!” 

At the bottom of the river, he’d been wrapped in those flowering vines, and he had felt them attaching themselves to his skin.

“What did they do to me?” He wondered aloud. They had felt like they were kissing him all over—he turned pink at that, and realized that being mummified by those two rubbermen had been a scene from his deepest, darkest fantasies. A helpless boy being mummified by swamp monsters and then dragged away to have hot manly sex with them—yep, sounded like gay nerd fantasizing alright. Logan felt himself grow hot in the face even though there was no one there to see him.

Or was there? A sudden, awful thought occurred to Logan. He had seen a Swampster jump in front of his car out on the road, long before he’d entered the swamp. Was it possible they had been following him ever since? Even more, was it possible that they had been waiting for him here, and had been preparing to spring? If that was true, then it meant that at this very moment…

“Hello?” Logan called in a shaking voice. He squinted into the trees, desperate to see something, anything, but thanks to his bad eyes all he saw were shadows and shapes. Even so, he could hear the whispering in the air. That was the sound of the Swampsters calling to one another across this alien landscape. But this time, Logan’s ears seemed to pick up something different in all the whispering—a single word floating in and out of the trees. Or rather, a single name.

“Loooogaaaaan…”

“Loooogaaaaan…”

They were there.  Logan knew they were there. And they were watching him. There would be no more trips to the edge of the swamp, he wouldn’t make it easy for them next time. His weak eyes on the shadowy world, Logan slowly backed into the tent and quickly zipped it closed. Then he crawled into his sleeping bag and huddled in fear.

[borkthemork]

Are Anne’s parents still around? Also, what’s goin on with Yunan, Olivia, and grime? Sorry for all the qs im just fascinated with this story

Yep, Anne's parents are still around! Anne always visits them, but ever since the divorce it's been getting harder to find time to do just that, although Mrs. and Mr. B do make subsequent appearances in the apartment to give her food (and overall have been helping big-time to make sure she's alright). And with the aftermath of the Amphibia events, the parents have an expanded family so you bet that the Plantars are around to catch up and hang out with them.

For Yunan, Olivia, and Grime, the current reconstruction of the Amphibian continent had been underway for a long time. There isn't a designated head in the form of a monarch, but a council, where these three are a part of a collective that looks over the current progress of the state.

Due to some talks with Hop Pop (a prior member of the council) and the many towns found in the districts, there are some measures to make sure the council is directly involved on the field so that they understand the struggles of each situation.

This also means Grime is living in a house and grumbling over the fact he still needs to pay taxes, but hey. Man loves his job, Sasha is still surprised to see him this happy to be in a dorky diplomacy cape.

[neonponders]

I need a comfort fic so I’m giving myself a sequel to this part 1 (also on ao3).

Originally for @withoneheadlight 💋

based on their post here about hair stylist!Steve  🔥( • spicy ahead • )

• • • • • • •

“Mr. Harrington? He’s ready for you.”

Steve startled a little in the waiting room chair. “Okay, thanks,” he said, reaching for his bag. Unzipping it, he rummaged through his traveler’s cases of shears, combs, disinfecting sprays, brushes, and his travel mirror. Everything was in order, even after the building’s security team when through it.

Steve hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove in a month. Maybe more, he lost track. The salon finished renovations, finally, and he threw himself into his work to forget the sickening anxiety of a police cruiser showing up at any moment to take him in for questioning.

What is your involvement with William Hargrove?

Why do you visit his work?

Why did he visit your home on the night of the seventeenth?

Why are there remnants of his hair and someone else’s blood in your apartment?

But no one came. No one asked questions. Billy’s weekly visits to the salon ground to a halt and Steve only just this morning answered a call from the familiar secretary.

She showed him into Billy’s expansive office. More like a suite. Steve didn’t know if he lived here. He probably could; Steve had washed his hair in a bathroom too luxurious for an office.

The office looked different today. A small conference table had replaced the sitting area in the middle of the room while Billy’s large desk sat on the far end, parallel with the wall of windows. Papers and files littered the table. Billy perked up when Steve appeared in the doorway.

“Steve, good morning.”

“Hi,” he tried to reply with the same balance of neutrality and pleasantry. It wasn’t easy when the apex of his legs ached with a sore spike of pleasure in his muscle memory. The last he’d seen Billy, Steve had just cut a fade around the man’s skull and left the top a chic, loose length for business.

The length had grown long enough for Billy to have a tiny bun on the back of his head. It looked cute. It looked ridiculous. Steve swallowed thickly and held his bag in front of his pelvis.

Billy thanked his secretary and showed Steve into the en suite bathroom. Per usual. A chair had already been placed in front of the pale granite vanity, in which Billy took his customary place. Steve hung his bag on his arm while he opened the tall cupboard off to the side and shook out the cape from it.

“I didn’t mean for it to get this long, but I think I’m inspired.”

Steve threw the cape up and let it drift over Billy’s front as he snapped it behind his nape. “It’s okay. Are you growing all of it out?”

He put his bag on the counter. He set out his customary tools, returning to the cabinet for the spray bottle and electric clippers as Billy replied, “Just a trim and a refresh on the fade.”

“Long on top, short wrap,” Steve reiterated for his own focus. “Do you want a wash first?”

Billy had an elbow on the arm rest, his thumb worrying the stubble on his chin before he waved the offer aside. “I’ll shower after.”

Steve washed his hands and went about carefully removing the tiny rubber band from Billy’s hair. He mussed it loose and informed, “Rubber bands aren’t great for hair. I can get you better options.”

“Scrunchies?” Billy said, but Steve couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious.

He met Billy’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection with lifted brows. “Do you want scrunchies?”

The latter chuckled, closing his eyes for Steve to wield the spray bottle. “Maybe when it’s longer.”

Steve moved the comb mindfully through the strands and the tighter curls on the ends while spraying him down. There wasn’t much to work with since Billy had asked Steve to dock his long mass of hair. It had felt a bit sacrilegious, like shaving a lion.

Except Billy was beautiful either way. He pliantly let Steve tilt his head this way and that, bend his ears down for the clippers, and touching his chin to his chest for Steve to work on cleaning up the V formation on the back of his head. Steve’s palm cradled Billy’s forehead, easing his head back up so he could examine Billy’s hair in the mirror.

He swallowed again when he realized clear blue eyes watched him. Steve reached toward the counter for the buffing brush and swatted away the little pieces of hair on Billy’s neck. Not that it mattered, if Billy intended to take a shower,

But.

Steve had run out of things to do. “I think you’re done.”

“Thank you, Steve,” he said as the cape slithered off his crossed knees.

“Sure.” He went about shaking out a small towel from Billy’s collection, laying out the clipper guards, combs, and shears he’d used so he could spray them with disinfectant. Apart from the one occasion, Billy was an easy client, so it was easy to clean up afterward.

Steve put his things back in his bag while Billy rummaged in the walk-in closet. His secretary handled payment, so...

Steve wavered just outside the bathroom, unsure whether to say goodbye or just leave. He didn’t know where he and Billy stood, after...

After Billy let him into his little criminal underworld. Just a little.

After Billy stayed the night in Steve’s humble little apartment and made Steve feel anything but humble. Had left Steve high as the stars and drifting for a month, heady and sweet until he needed a place to land - 

“Steve, come here.”

He didn’t know if Billy heard him pathetically pacing between the office door and the bathroom or if he needed to talk about canceling this whole personal salon thing after - 

Billy stepped into view in his slacks, but his torso stood bare apart from a towel around his neck. Steve had but a second for his throat to go dry before Billy’s hands caught his nape.

Somehow

Steve had forgotten how soft his lips were. The tingles of fingers pushing through the hair at the base of his skull darted to his groin and ping-ponged back up to Steve’s chest. A clumsy sound escaped him as one kiss easily fell into two, Billy softly, ravenously plundering his mouth. Filling Steve’s head with syrupy clouds of lust. His hands found the towel on Billy’s chest -

“Have you been all right?”

Steve blinked drunkenly between the frame of Billy’s thumbs on his cheeks. “Huh?”

Billy kissed him again, and that was fine by Steve - 

“Safe.” Kiss. “Happy.” Kiss. “Comfortable.”

“Are we kissing or talking?” Steve blurted a little frustratedly.

Billy chuckled, barely separating them as he pulled Steve with him until his rear met the side of the vanity. Steve hummed again into his mouth, wanting, craving, slaking his desire for Billy’s taste, the smell that had tormented brain for a month because Billy soaked his sheets - 

“Take a shower with me.”

“Mhmm,” Steve answered in their kiss, before Billy’s hand gripped him through his khakis. He gasped and spasmed, his swollen lips grimacing through a quiet whine. It melted into a moan as Billy left a trail of kisses across Steve’s cheek to his jaw, cupping and stroking through the fabric.

“Shower,” he swallowed. “Shower, okay.”

“Good boy,” Billy purred into his neck.

Steve thought his eyes might’ve rolled inside his skull if he hadn’t felt inclined to huff, “Don’t say that.”

Billy laughed again, beginning to draw them toward the large shower cubicle. “I know very well obedience isn’t your thing.”

“Why didn’t you visit for a month?” Steve couldn’t stop himself. Even as Billy worked his pants off and the conversation paused for his shirt to get yanked over his head.

“I was busy.”

“Busy,” he grumbled inside the shirt before his hair ballooned out of it.

“Making sure you were safe. I had a lot to clean up. Still do.”

“So I’m still just a spontaneous walk-in?”

Billy looped his towel around Steve’s shoulders to reel him toward the shower until he threw the towel away. “I don’t let just anyone into my shower, Steve.”

“Yeah, because you’re - mhmm...”

Billy pressed him against the wall of the shower, kissing his mouth, his ears, his throat. “I’m what?”

“High maintenance with low standards,” Steve croaked.

“My standards are extremely high,” he purred, satisfaction dripping through his voice as he watched the wanton grimace on Steve’s face as he stroked his cock. “I’m going to take you now, and then we’re going out to dinner, and then I’ll have you again in bed. Mine, this time.”

Steve held onto his work while Billy - potentially the most dangerous man in town - got on his knees.

[minart-was-taken]

Sort of continuation of this, but it also does stand on it’s own!

Title: A small problem Characters: Ravio, Wind, Minish and Legend Includes threats of violence “Tags:” First meetings - No-one is sure what they’re doing but that’s ok - Zelda shows up!

Enjoy!

Ravio was speechless, a little scared, but most powerfully: mesmerized. Two kids, clearly younger than him and both with bright blond locks that rivaled the sun, were engaged in combat.

Although fists were flying, neither had landed a single hit. When the older one, who he had dubbed Mr. Sailor, threw a hit, the younger one, Mr. Small, would live up to his nickname and shrink to a very small size.

He’d then unshrink, throw a hit himself, and miss as the other pulled quite the leap to get away.

Ravio was simply waiting for one of them to land a hit, and for the situation to escalate badly, as he was too afraid to intervene.

Another crack followed then, they were starting to give Ravio a headache.

From it appeared a pink haired boy, tallest of the people present. He blinked in surprise, glancing around.

His appearance seemed to distract the coat wearing boy, who ended up getting decked in the face and fell over shouting “SHIT!” very loudly.

“Oh my.” Signed the newest arrival, looking at the situation before him with wide eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

“I’m glad you are.” Ravio responded, walking over to the seemingly sane one, although staying from stabbing range just in case. “I’ve been trying to get these two to stop fighting for ages!”

“No you haven’t!” Grumbled the kid slowly getting himself back from the ground, while the smaller one stood smugly nearby.

“Do I look like someone who could stop a fist fight with force?” Ravio pointed out. “Neither of you listened to reason, so I simply was waiting for an opening.”

“An opening for what?”

He hadn’t had a proper plan. “Why would I tell that? You might fight again and I don’t want you to know what to expect.” However they did not have to know about that.

“Why were they fighting?” the pink one asked.

“He started it.” Coat boy complained.

“Ah. Uhm.” Ravio scratched the back of his head: “From what I could tell, I was simply talking to Mr. Sailor here, then the small one appeared from the bushes and kicked him in the back of the knee.”

“But why?”

“I’m not quite sure.” Ravio confessed.

The stranger tilted his head, confused, before turning to look at the small smug one. “Could you tell us now?”

The very small one scoffed, but signaled for them to follow.

They were in the yard of a small house, and near the window was a little patch of what looked more like weeds than anything else. The kid pointed at one of the weeds that had been very slightly stood upon.

The pink haired one understood, his fist meeting his palm in understanding. “It’s not nice to trample on other people’s plants, Mr. Sailor.”

Coat boy crossed his arms. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I just appeared right there! I would’ve moved if I knew I was standing on a plant.”

“It’s just a big misunderstanding then.” The pink one nodded, kneeling down to be the smallest one’s height. “Next time try to tell him to move before kicking him, okay?”

Mr. Small looked unimpressed, but nodded.

Ravio was just confused as to why anyone would care about such an useless patch of plants. The only valuable thing lost here was a possible alliance between the two small ones.

Kids, oh so dumb. Ravio smiled to himself.

“When you said you appeared-” the Pink one spoke again, standing up and turning to the sailor. “Was it like how I did?”

Mr. Sailor nodded. “Yeah. One moment I was just hammering some nails and suddenly I’m here. Being kicked in the back of my knee. By the smallest bokoblin I’ve ever seen.”

The small one raised a fist, but the pink one grabbed it mid air, and held it still. The small one seemed shocked that someone could- Or more likely- Would try and stop him.

“Oh sorry, I meant rat.” Said the sailor, sticking his tongue out.

“Please stop antagonizing the small child with a sword.” Ravio said in a hushed voice.

The small one was too entranced by having been stopped to care, simply staring at the pink one with wide eyes.

“Huh. What a strange situation.” The pink one continued, ignoring the general chaos. “Well, I suppose if we’re all in it, we should get to know one another. My name is Link. Spelt L-I-N-K”

The smallest one pointed at himself, all the while Mr. Sailor gasped: “Wait- That’s my name too.”

Ravio felt himself tense up a bit, what he had been suspecting was indeed going on, wasn’t it?

The house that looked eerily like the one Link lived in, then there was the clear fact he was in Hyrule, and that there were people who looked eerily like Link but weren’t him…

Oh great goddess of lorule, take him back home please. This is not ideal.

“Hm…” The pink one pondered. “This seems like it’d mean something significant.”

You think? Ravio raised a brow, before shaking off the questioning look to smile politely like a good salesman. “Link isn’t the most common name, so I have to agree.”

He walked closer to the pink one, mostly certain he wouldn’t stab him. With a hand on his back, he continued. “The only Link I know of is the legendary hero of hyrule! It’d be ridiculous for him to be here, though, wouldn’t it?”

“I am he.” Mr. Sailor said.

The tall one blinked at that. “But.. So am I?”

The smallest one dug through his pockets, and pulled out a small note, handing it to Ravio.

Ravio read it out loud to everyone: “Link is the hero of Hyrule, and is allowed to do what he sees fit in order to keep the country safe. Signed, Princess Zelda.”

“...We can’t all be heroes of Hyrule.” Mr. Sailor complained. “And I know for one that I’m not lying, so.”

“There isn’t just one, though.” Ravio spoke up. “Legends speak of a hero in green who appeared centuries ago, perhaps he too had someone before him, and there was someone after.”

“Centuries, though.” Mr. Sailor pointed out, “Do I look a hundred years old to you?”

The smallest one nodded, but Ravio shook his head.

“I’ve heard of stranger things than time travel, in these lands.” Ravio stated.

“I suppose it is a plausible theory.” The pink one pondered, hand on chin. “I know I’m not lying either.”

“And the small one has a letter from the princess.”

“It could be forged.” The sailor pointed out.

Ravio wanted to point out he could tell a forgery from the real thing pretty easily, and had seen enough of Hilda’s writing to know how the royal family conducts it’s deeds. However, that’d make him seem kind of suspicious. “We could go and find out?” Ravio decided to ask instead.

“How?”

“This is clearly the small one’s home, if these are his plants. So this is his Hyrule.” Ravio explained. “Let’s go to the castle, and if the kid is allowed in, it means it’s not forged.”

“I suppose that’s a fair plan.” The pink replied. “And since neither of us are apparently lying, if the letter is real, then- Er, what’s your name?”

“I’m Ravio.” He responded, “The greatest merchant around.”

“Okay- It’s nice to meet you.” The pink one smiled. “Then if all of us are Link like we claim, Ravio’s theory was right.”

“Or some form of it.” Ravio specified.

The pink one nodded. “Very well, little one, could you take us to the castle?”

The smallest one pouted, but began leading the way.

“Holy fuck!” The sailor gasped, looking at the castle once it appeared in the horizon, standing tall yet- A little smaller than Ravio had expected.

The smallest one grinned smugly, walking at a pace more akin to jogging to stay in front of the taller people.

“It’s quite small.” The pink one commented.

“I do agree.” Ravio nodded. “The one I’ve seen is certainly larger.”

“It looks funny.” The pink one smiled, maybe even a little smug.

Ravio took note of it, but did not comment on it.

“So.” The pink one continued. “Your name is Ravio?”

“Like I said, yes.” He nodded. “Are you interested in my wares? I don’t have much on me due to the sudden departure but-”

“Not Link.” He stopped Ravio. “Yet you look a tad like us.”

Ravio blinked, breathing hitched. He missed his hood, but he had been in lorule- He doesn’t need that in Lorule! In Lorule he’s one of a kind!

“I suppose destiny can have a bit of a slip up here and there?” Ravio suggested. Sorry Link, he’d have to steal your identity for a bit here. “I assure you, however, just because I cannot wield a blade does not make me completely useless.”

The pink one simply kept smiling. “Very well, then.”

He hadn’t bought it, had he? Ravio yelled internally, but tried to keep the relaxed facade up.

The castle town was very cute, the sailor looking around with wide eyes, looking like he was taking many internal notes.

What caught Ravio’s eye however, happened a bit later. The smallest showed the letter to a guard by the castle gates, the guard simply sighed, said: “Follow me,” and started walking further into the castle grounds.

“That’s a lot to process.” The pink one spoke again. Ravio had to agree.

They were led to a room to wait- A waiting room, you could say- For the princess to get ready for guests. It matched all the Hyrule castles Ravio had seen, that being one. Stone brick all about, a polished but a little cold interior, with the triforce ever present in all decor.

There were paintings present as well. They seemed to capture the curiosity of all visitors, much to the delight of the smallest one’s ego.

Ravio focused at first on one depicting the princess, she looked similar to the Zelda of the Hyrule he knew, but clearly another person entirely.

He then chose to take a look at the others in their impromptu party, and found the pink one standing under a portrait of  what was likely another hero of courage, this one standing tall with a flowing white cape, and a small red bird on his shoulder.

The sight awakened a memory in Ravio, and he found himself suddenly plunged into a mystery.

There was a mural in his Link’s hyrule castle, one depicting the hero prior to him. Zelda had joked to him and Hilda about how she had read the hero actually had pink hair, but the artists took creative liberties and made it dark blond instead.

This couldn’t be the man who sealed Ganon away, was it? Certainly there had been more than one pink haired Link.

Then again, they seemed to be in a situation which included traveling through space and time. Guess that might as well be a detail.

A guard soon showed up, expressing that the princess was ready.

They headed to the throne room. It was bold, large and voices echoed within it. The large windows made it feel slightly less like a scary space, but it did still make him grow a bit uneasy.

In Front of the aforementioned throne, stood the princess, with a bright but curious smile.

“Link, I didn’t know you had made friends!”

The small one tried to hide in his cape, but was unsuccessful.

“It’s very nice to meet you all.” Zelda smiled brightly, as the boys bowed. Ravio hadn’t been sure if that was to be expected, but the smallest one did have a blade and seemed to be satisfied with them bowing, so perhaps it was a good choice.

The pink one took charge soon after, explaining the predicament they found themselves in. Or at least, theorized they did.

“Oh my.” Zelda gasped. “The hero’s spirit will reincarnate this much?! That’s quite saddening.”

“Has the legend of the hero not existed for long here?” The pink one asked.

“We only know of one before Link here.” Zelda explained. “The hero who arrived from the skies to seal away the great evil, so that humanity could return to the lands below.” She said, clearly quoting something.

“...I guess the seal didn’t last.” Zelda added sadly.

The small one rushed over to her, and offered his hand to her. She took hold of it, and smiled with thankfulness in her eyes at the kid.

“Well, if any of you are like Link here, Hyrule is in good hands.” She smiled again. “I wish I could help more though. I’m not sure at all what could be going on, or what to do about it.”

“Do you have time travel items, or something? Getting home would be nice.” The sailor asked.

“I can ask for research on the topic to be conducted.” Zelda nodded. “Until then, you may stay at the castle, if you’d like.”

“Thank you very much, your highness.” The pink- Okay, he needed a nickname, Ravio decided. Whether he was the legendary hero or not, calling him Mr. Legend should help butter the guy up for possible sales, anyway.

With that, they were led to a guest room. Ravio was both deeply glad they hadn’t been paired up, as every pairing seemed like a bad idea, but was also absolutely terrified of sharing a room with three swordsmen he barely knew. They were also given instructions on how to get to both the castle library and the town’s library. Information which Ravio decided to make use of the next day.

It was fine really, and the beds were very comfortable! It seemed the spirit of the hero made them all sleepy as hell, as well. So getting stabbed seemed unlikely. However one thing still kept Ravio up that night.

“Bunnies, dark hair…” Mr. Legend had signed to him, when it was just the two of them, the sun having started to settle for the night “It reminds me of a place.”

“Oh, heh. A place, huh?” Ravio chuckled nervously. He didn’t like being put on the spot without a plan.

“It was a dreadful place.” Mr. Legend stated. “I hope you’re not related to it in some way.”

“I sure hope so too?” Ravio stumbled to find the words:“It sounds much worse than Hyrule. Love this place, the grass is very green. Smells great.”

“I hope so too.” Mr. Legend smiled, a strange dead look in his eyes. “I don’t want to take another life.”

Then he just started talking about how he liked apples.

So, it would’ve been stranger if Ravio wasn’t having trouble sleeping!

Oh, goddesses above, help him.

[blaineandsamevanderson]

What's in your WIP folder?

Oh boy, that’s a big ask! I tend to start writing a fic and get distracted. Some of these are super old and I keep meaning to get back to them, but the muses are fickle.

Hawaii Five 0

On the Right Track Babe ~ When a case leads to an undercover assignment, certain things are uncovered (Mcdanno)

Untitled ~ Danny works a detail at Honolulu Pride cuz he figures if there’s gotta be a police presence at Pride that some of the cops should be part of the community (Mcdanno)

9-1-1/9-1-1 LoneStar

The Date ~ Buck gets ready for a date after his shift at the firehouse...and a hot guy show to pick him up. Hot guy is Dylan, the hot EMT played by Nyle DiMarco on a Station 19 episode where they were fighting wildfires in CA. (Buddie)

Chopped ~ Buck competes on a firefighter edition of Chopped (Buddie)

BBQ ~ Carlos takes TK to a family BBQ (Tarlos)

Untitled Buddie Soulmates fic ~ When someone falls in love, they are marked, a signal appearing on their skin to commemorate that their heart was connected to another. Many couples bore marks for one and other, but only in rare occasions, do they wear the same mark. When two people loved each other and were true soulmates, they shared a mark. (Buddie)

Special Report ~ The news runs a story about the Tsunami on the anniversary (Buddie)

Untitled ~ Buck offers to go as Josh’s plus one to a wedding (undecided ship)

Untitled ~ Eddie hurts his hands and is frustrated. Buck is a good friend and lends a hand ;) (Buddie)

Untitled 9-1-1/Prodigal Son Crossover ~ What is says on the tin

Glee (All Blam)

Running Mates ~ When Blaine Anderson becomes the Democratic nominee for the presidency, he has to pick a VP. A Glee/West Wing fusion

Let’s Marvin Gaye ~ So, idea: In Senior year, Artie decides to get some more directorial experience by making music videos of his friends covering songs. One in particular is a hit, Blaine and Brittany’s cover of Charlie Puth/Meghan Trainor’s song Marvin Gaye…but unlike the actual video, they don’t share a kiss. Both Blaine and Britt have their own storylines in the video, Sam and Santana acting as their respective partners, culminating with kisses like in the video…though Artie doesn’t fade to black fast…It quickly goes viral :)

The Smell of Fresh Cut Grass on Sun Soaked Skin ~ Summer before S2, Sam’s family has just moved to Lima and he’s making extra cash by doing yard work. Gets hired by Mrs. Anderson and he and Blaine meet.

The Most Magical Place on Earth ~ Sam is called to a meeting by Blaine's parents. They sit him down and say that of all of Blaine's friends, Sam is the most reliable, the most trustworthy and the nicest. So they have chosen (maybe even hire) him to keep an eye on Blaine because Blaine tends to go crazy when he takes this annual trip. Cooper couldn't handle him. Kurt couldn't take it. But they think Sam can. When Blaine does his annual week-long trip to Disney World, Sam goes with him. Oh what could possibly happen?

Mutual Admiration ~ Famous male model Sam Evans is on Ellen to promote his new GQ magazine spread and when asked about celebrity crushes he reveals he’s crushing on Broadway star Blaine Anderson.

Friends, Love & Homecoming ~ S2 AU ~ Post 2x03 – Sam joined glee in 2x01 and is not dating Quinn. Not dating anyone at McKinley, cuz he’s with Blaine. When Homecoming rolls around, he wants to take him, so he tells the club. I want reactions!

Drunk on A Plane ~ After being left at the altar, Blaine decides to use the Honeymoon tickets himself. AU ~ where Sam never moved to Lima and he and Blaine meet later in life.

Cruise Ship Coincidence ~ Future fic slightly AU (no Klaine engagement or Samcedes stuff or they broke up already). During a cruise, Kurt and Rachel bump into newlywed Blaine and Sam, who are on their honeymoon after haven’t saw them in years

DCTV

Crossovers

Untitled Bake Off AU ~ DCTV characters on Bake Off (Captain Canary, Winnara and others)

Stretch Right Up and Touch the Sky ~ Camp STAR is one of the North East’s most popular science camps. Every year, young minds arrive to learn and explore. Unfortunately, a few weeks before the camp was to open for the season, a large explosion in one of the labs and the ensuing fire made the camp uninhabitable. Not wanting his campers to miss out on their summer, Owner Harrison Wells called up Joe West, Owner of Camp Superflarrow, who he knew was looking to expand the science discovery program at his own camp. (Captain Canary, Winnara and others)

Untitled Beach Town AU ~ Beach Town AU: Sara Lance (16) and her sister Laurel (17) are invited to spend the summer at the summer beach house of Laurel’s friend Oliver (17). There, they meet a variety of people, townies, other vacationers, etc…and one townie in particular, Leonard Snart (17) catches Sara’s interest :) (Captain Canary, Winnara and others)

Untitled Actors AU ~ An AU where the Legends of Superflarrow characters are actors playing heroes (or part of the crew for the tv/movie) and Sara is one of the heroes and Leonard is one of the villains and their chemistry inspires the writers to give his character a redemption arc… (Captain Canary and others)

Captain Cold Comes to National City ~ Based on a thread started by this tumblr post: I’ve got it! Due to the Oculus’s destruction, Len Snart is blown through the time-space continuum. He awakens in a universe not his own, with a girl in a red skirt… not to mention a red cape… standing over him (Captain Canary, Winnara and others)

Legends of Tomorrow

A Tale of Two Snarts ~ A familiar face returns in an unexpected way (Captain Canary)

Land of the Lost ~ The Legends try to figure out how they’re going to fix time and find a lost friend along the way. Spoilers for the Season 2 Finale!!!! (Captain Canary)

Marvel

Rewinding the Clock ~ In the Marvel world, even old age isn't a constant...

We’ve Come A Long Way From Where We Began ~ Picking up where Infinity War ends….

Star Trek

Georgia Time ~ A follow Up the The Journey Home and Beyond set right after Kirk et all graduate but before they ship out. (McKirk maybe?)

Teen Wolf

Finding Home ~ After the Battle of Beacon Hills, life goes on. (Thiam & Mahealahey & Others)

Model Behavior ~ Isaac gets a job as an Abercrombie greeter (before the ban) and Danny's his trainer. (Mahealahey)

The Full Moon Job (Crossover with Leverage) ~ An alternate version of Teen Wolf Season 6. Wet after the pack pretends to leave Beacon Hills, but after that, all timelines are chucked, characters are brought back and fun is had (Thiam & Mahealahey & Others)

Stay All Day in the Sun ~ When Theo isn't around, the pack starts to wonder where he's going off to.... (Thiam & Mahealahey & Others)

Untitled Actors AU ~ Liam and Theo are actors on a hit tv show. Their characters are enemies with crackling chemistry, but no one suspects it cuz they’re together off screen (Thiam)

Untitled Actors AU 2 ~ What if Danny was one of the cast of a popular show about werewolves? Possibly called Teen Wolf, for the fans of the Meta and, in Season 2, they bring in some new characters, including one played by Isaac. Their characters aren’t supposed to have too much interaction initially, but soon everyone sees the chemistry… (Mahealahey)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙3

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (to be warned later in series)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Chapter 3 as I fight with every other fic to co-operate with me but here it is.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The next day, you went through your shift like a zombie. Despite the deepening pit of hunger in your stomach, you ate your meals without tasting them' without enjoying a bite. You were so distracted by this man’s sudden unshakeable presence in your life that you couldn’t think of what you were doing at any given moment. You just did it.

Your phone rang as you swayed with the puttering of the city bus. You frowned at the number you didn’t recognize and answered with a yawn. No closing shift that night. You ignored the call but your phone lit up again before you could drop it back into your bag. You hit the button on the wire of your earbuds and answered.

“Hello?” You said.

“You working?” Andy asked. You knew his voice, it haunted you as it continued to echo in your mind; ‘The hard way or the easy way’.

“On my way home,” You answered hesitantly. “Can’t I have one night to--”

“You’ve had the day to think. You don’t have that much time,” He interrupted. “How far along are you? Three months?”

“Please…”

“Just give me an answer.” He said.

You paused and read the stop across the banner as it flashed and the rope was pulled with a ding. You glanced out the window. Your stop was still another fifteen minutes away. You sighed and shifted in your seat.

“I don’t have one,” You said quietly. “I barely slept and I worked--”

“I’ve been working all day too,” He insisted. “You’ll see I work hard. For myself, for my family.”

“Look, I don’t need the lecture, alright? Maybe you think what I do is easy but--”

“Easy? You shouldn’t be on your feet so much, not in your condition. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He sniffed.

“Alright, well, you’re going to have to wait for your answer,” You said tersely. “I’m tired, I’m going home to take a nap, then I’ll make up my mind.”

You hung up and dropped your phone into the gaping mouth of your purse. Your music began again, the vibrant tunes of 80s pop contrasted the grey Massachusetts sky. The lyrics were a buzz in your ear as you rocked and waited for your stop. You grew more and more anxious as you neared it.

You got off at the corner of your street and the bus chugged on. You dragged your feet along and stopped at the familiar car parked by the curb of your parents’ house. Shit. You sped up and peeked through the tinted windows; empty. You stormed down the driveway and through the door.

You stopped just inside the entryway as you turned to peer into the living room. Andy sat on the sofa, one leg bent over the other as he leaned back casually. He slowly looked at you and smiled. He wore an expensive suit and polished leather shoes. He must have come straight from the courthouse.

“What--” You began.

“Did you want anything in your coffee?” Your mother appeared from the dining room. 

“Just cream,” Andy replied. “Thank you.”

“Not at all. Oh, there she is,” Your mom tweaked a brow as she looked to you. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” You stepped through the archway and crossed your arms.

You glared at Andy and your mother disappeared back through the dining room and the fridge gave a loud suck as it opened.

“Good. Caffeine isn’t healthy for the baby.” He stretched his arm over the back of the couch.

“Shut up.” You hovered in the doorway. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came for my answer.” He sat up and you gulped as your mom entered again. 

“Here you are,” She handed him the mug and he took it with another thank you.

“You mind if I have a few minutes to talk to your daughter?” He set down the coffee on the low table. 

“Of course, Mr. Barber,” She preened.

“Andy, I told you,” He waved away her formality.

“Well, you know, I am so very sorry about what happened to your family… Andy,” She folded her hands together. 

“Thanks,” He looked down dramatically.

“Anyhoo,” Your mother broke the lull, “I will leave you to it.”

She shot you a look as if to say that she wanted no part of whatever trouble this was. She left and you set your bag down as you sat in the armchair. You picked at your nail and grimaced.

“You really couldn’t wait?” You huffed.

“Well, it’s like you said, we don’t really know each other. I can’t trust you. Yet.” He paused and sipped from the coffee. “I hope you make better coffee than your mother.”

“Hmmph,” You grumbled. 

“If I let you have your couple hours, you could just as soon be on your way out of town. Not that you’d get far.” He grinned. “You know, the uniforms always keep a patrol by the bus station? Lotta people think they can make a quick run on a greyhound.”

“I don’t care about the goddamn police.” You sneered.

“You seem pretty indifferent to most things. Not a very admirable trait so far. Especially with a baby on board. How long do you think you can afford to be so oblivious?” He rolled his shoulder and scratched his beard. “I’m not trying to ruin your life, I’m trying to help you fix it.”

“Well, Christ, Andy, you think maybe I need a little more time to think things through? To actually process what the fuck is going on here? You’ve done this before, I haven’t.” You were seething as you gripped the arm of the chair. “I don’t know what to do, okay?”

“It’s not that hard. I’ve--”

“You’re pregnant?” Your mother interjected as she appeared from around the corner, the shadows of the unlit dining room hanging over her shoulders like a cape.

“What the hell? Have you been listening?” You stood.

“Not intentionally but it’s hard not to hear.” She hissed. “What, were you going to wait until you popped it out and I had no choice but to pick up after your kid like I have for you for the last three decades?”

“No, I--”

“With all due respect, we were talking about the very opposite of that,” Andy rose calmly. 

“You fucked a married man?! His wife is on fucking life support!” Your mother shouted. “Fuck’s sake, and you!” She turned on Andy. “You’re both disgusting.”

“Mom,” You warned.

“This isn’t happening in my house.” She scoffed. “None of it. You take your things and go with this… this man.” She raged as she marched towards you. “Get out. You’re done leeching off of us.”

“Leeching? Well, mom, you can see if you can scrape together my half of the rent yourself as you sitting around here watching your goddamn soaps.” You snapped.

“Get the fuck out of my house, you ungrateful bitch!” She shoved you and you barely caught the chair to keep from falling.

She stumbled back herself as Andy grabbed her arm and spun her around. His eyes were lit with fury as he squeezed her shoulders.

“You don’t touch her. She’s carrying your grandchild. My child. You will not touch her, ever again.” He growled.

“You--you--” Your mother wriggled against him and brought her index up to jab in his face. “I bet your son fucking did it.”

“You shut your mouth,” He said slowly, quietly.

“Andy,” You rushed over and clung to his wrist. “Don’t hurt her.”

“I don’t need your help,” Your mother tried to elbow you away.

Andy flung her aside and she caught herself on the ottoman. He turned to block you from her.

“I’ll call the cops,” She threatened as she righted herself.

“Go ahead. They should be here to supervise your forced eviction.” He crossed his arms. “Your daughter pays her portion of the rent, that means she has the right to take her belongings with her and the time it takes to do so. For your own safety as much as hers, I think maybe the police are a good idea.”

Your mother’s face wrinkled, first with anger, then a slight trickle of fear. She stared up at Andy then glanced around him at you. She shook her head and smiled darkly.

“Fine, get your things,” She backed away. “I’ll tell your father you said goodbye.”

She rolled her eyes and shooed you with her hand as she stomped back through to the dining room. You heard her footsteps on the kitchen tile and the groan of the screen door before it clattered. She would hide with your father in the garage until you were gone. You didn’t expect a proper farewell.

You covered your face with your hands and held in the scream that bubbled in your chest.

“What the fuck have you done?” You asked as you dropped your hands.

“It’s fine. I told you, I’ll take care of you.” He turned slowly to face you.

“No, you won’t.” You spat. “There’s my choice.”

You spun as you grabbed your bag and blustered away from him up the stairs. He followed you to your room and you ignored him as you dialed your phone and pulled open the drawers of your dresser. You held the phone to your ear with one hand as you bent to pull out your suitcase from under your bed.

“Felicia? Hey, how are you?” You asked as you started to dump your clothes by the armful into the bag.

“Good,” She sang. “What’s up? Looking for another girls’ night?”

“Not exactly,” You muttered. “Look, I really don’t wanna do this to you but it’ll only be a couple nights. Um…” You stopped and rubbed your forehead as you turned to watch Andy staring at your bookcase. “I got in another fight with my mom and she’s… kicked me out. I need--”

“Ohhh,” She uttered. 

“Ohhh, what?” You stopped as Andy took a book out and opened it.

“Well, you remember Benny? He’s kinda… here for a while.” She said.

“Oh,” You nodded and your heart sank.”

“I’m sorry, if I--”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. I’ll find something. It’s fine.” 

“I really am--”

“Please, don’t be sorry,” You cursed in your head. “Look, go have fun with Benny. I’ll figure it out.”

“Well don’t… Well, just let me know, okay?”

“Right, bye.” You hung up.

You scrolled through your contacts; Shaileen had moved away last month, Deena had roommates, Marcy had kids and a husband, and the rest were just… strangers by now.

“So…” Andy closed the book.

“Don’t, okay?” You opened the second drawer and emptied it. “Just for a little bit.”

As you opened the third drawer he came to help you. You shoved your heavy old laptop into the mesh pocket and as you closed the suitcase he stopped you.

“One condition,” He said.

“One?” You shook your head.

“Call the doctor. Make an appointment.” He stated. “I’ll be going with you.”

“Fine, but I have my own conditions.” You countered.

“I’d love to hear them,” He chuckled.

“I want my space. That means no touching,” You backed away from him, “That means you leave me be. I go to work, I come home, I sleep, I go to your dumb appointments, and you leave me alone.”

“It’s my house, not a motel,” He said.

“Motel? That’s a good idea.” You shrugged.

“Which you could afford for maybe a week, I’m sure.” He pushed back his jacket as he gripped his hips. “I’m offering you a place to live. We’ll get used to each other. We have a whole six months left to do that.”

“Six months?” You rubbed your cheek. “Andy…”

As far as I’ve seen it, you’ve lost all your leverage in this,” He said. “I’m doing you a favour because as it stands, I’m your only option.”

You chewed your lip and narrowed your eyes. You swallowed and nodded.

“I gotta get the rest of my stuff,” You said softly. “That okay with you?”

“Sure,” He finished zipping up your suitcase. “This one ready to go?”

“Yeah,” You threw up your hands. “Sure.”

He walked out with your bag and you grabbed a tote and crossed the hall to the bathroom. You filled it with your shampoo, body wash, lotions, toothbrush, and other toiletries. As you went back into the hallway, he was there, by your bedroom door, waiting. 

You slipped past him into your room to grab your purse and shoved it into the top of the bigger bag. You came back out as you slung the straps over your shoulder.

“I don’t care about the rest,” You said. “She can keep the books.”

He followed you outside and as you approached the driveway, the garage door slid open. You stopped as your father appeared on the other side and Andy caught your shoulders to keep from colliding with you. Your mother scowled from behind your father.

“You goin’?” He asked.

“She wants me out.” You shrugged.

“My house too,” He said. Always a man of few words.

“So… you gonna make her keep me?” You challenged.

“You keepin’ the kid?”

You looked over your shoulder at Andy and sighed. You turned back and nodded.

“Sorry,” He shook his head. 

“Yeah, me too,” You swallowed the bitterness on your tongue. “I figured as much.”

You spun away and continued down the driveway.

“You touch my wife?” You heard your dad ask Andy. You stopped and glanced back.

“I restrained her from harming your daughter.” Andy said evenly. 

Your dad frowned and looked at your mother as she avoided his gaze.

“I can’t abide it in my household, you understand?” Your father said.

“Not my house,” Andy said. “But you’re welcome to see your grandchild when it’s born. Welcome to check in on your daughter.” He started to step away and paused. “This wasn’t my call.”

He nodded towards your mother then made his way to you. He touched your arm gently and turned you away from the garage.

“Let’s go.” He muttered as he ushered you down to the curb.

He took your bag and dropped it in the backseat. You got in as he did, quiet. You buckled in as he started the car and you bent forward to grip your head. You sat back heavily as he began to drive.

“It was your call. I’m not stupid.” You glared at the dashboard. “This is exactly what you wanted.”

He didn’t answer as he turned the corner. He hit a button on the wheel and began to flip through the radio stations. He settled on a classic rock station and hummed along.

‘It’s down to me, yes it is.The way she does just what she’s told, down to me. The change has come. She’s under my thumb. Ah, ah, say it’s alright…’

[hogarthwrites]

the misadventures of nathan and samuel morgan

pairing: none

genre(?): flashback, siblings, coming of age

warnings: none that i can think of

words: 6,244

summary:

"If this whole treasure-hunting thing doesn't work out, maybe we should join the circus." "Not when they have clowns." "Wow. Still not over that?" "No one is."

note:

this is a short story of the drake brothers' time in the orphanage because i think about it a lot. nate was 10, sam was 15.

“It'll be fun,” Sam had said. “I promise there'll be magicians too.”

Nathan Morgan clutched his magician’s hat that Father Duffy gave him in his little hands. He'd just turned ten and he was obsessed with all things magic. The other kids were outside for recess but he'd asked his older brother, Sam, to spectate the new magic tricks he'd learned from a book – another one of Father Duffy’s birthday-slash-Christmas-slash-New Years gifts to him.

Sam was supposed to be in detention, but had snuck out when the elderly nun watching over him had fallen asleep. For once he thanked God for the chance to escape because his hand was starting to cramp from writing “I will not smoke in the chapel” (which was false, he had tried to reason with Sister Catherine--he was smoking behind the chapel) on the blackboard over and over again. At fifteen, he was tall and lanky, a trait he'd inherited from his father. He hated the orphanage and did everything he could to get kicked out somehow.

A week before Nathan’s birthday, Sam found a flyer for a circus coming into town that month. The last time he went to one was before their mother died, but he remembered how fun it was and he knew he just had to take Nathan.

“I don't know,” the younger Morgan brother stared down at the hole in his sock, where his big toe peeked out. He didn't have a magician's cape so he wore his blanket around his shoulders, making him look smaller than he actually was. “Won't you get in trouble for sneaking out again?”

“Who says I'll get in trouble?” Sam shrugged. “They won't know.”

Nathan was still hesitant until Sam sighed and pulled out the tickets from his pocket. The little boy’s eyes lit up at the bright red and blue tickets, wiping his pudgy hands on his pajamas before taking the tickets from Sam. He read the print on it:

Come one! Come all!

Barns and Barney Circus

Wednesday

January 7, 1986

4:00 p.m.

Boston

“I told them you were nine so the other ticket could be free,” Sam grinned.

That was how young Nathan found himself clinging onto Sam’s denim jacket as they stood in line to get into the large blue and white tent, lights illuminating the field it was on. He had told one of the nuns he was feeling sick and faked a fever and a coughing fit so they'd feel sorry for him. They let him stay in bed all day so as soon as he was alone and all the other kids were downstairs saying grace before supper, he stuffed his pillows under his blanket to give the impression he was still in bed, grabbed his magician’s hat and snuck out the window. Sam on the other hand gave no excuses.

“Wow, that's a cool hat you've got there, sport,” the man collecting tickets winked at Nathan. He wore a velveteen suit and had a swirly mustache that reminded Nathan of the villains in the comics he'd read. He shyly hid behind Sam.

“It's his first circus,” Sam handed the man their tickets and took Nathan’s hand to lead them to their seats. “Relax, Nathan. Circuses are so fun.”

Nathan sat next to Sam, looking around as people began to fill up the tent. The lights suddenly dimmed and a spotlight illuminated the middle of the ring. With a poof and lots of smoke, the man in the velveteen suit from earlier appeared. Nathan leaned forward in his seat in awe.

“Is he a magician?” He whispered to Sam.

“Of sorts,” Sam whispered back. “He's the ringleader.”

“Oh,” Nathan turned his attention back to the man.

“Good evening, ladies and gents!” The man’s voice boomed throughout the tent. “Welcome to the Barns and Barney circus here in wonderful Boston to start the new year with a bang!”

Entry of the Gladiators started playing on the speakers as performers came out onto the ring one by one; acrobats, tightrope walkers, dancers, jugglers on unicycles, magicians, a man with a chimpanzee on his shoulder, and many, many clowns.

Nathan was suddenly nervous as he watched the clowns in their colourful wigs and various mismatched outfits entertained the guests. He couldn't understand why, but they unsettled him. He glanced up at Sam, who looked excited at all the acts, but otherwise unphased by the clowns.

The trapeze acts started the show, with spectators ooh-ing and ah-ing at acrobats flying across the room. Then came the jugglers performing comedic acts that made everyone laugh, especially Sam. The show kept going on, and Nathan began to let himself enjoy it, eyes bright at all the acts.

Then came the clowns.

“What was that?” The ringleader leaned towards one of the clowns dressed in a bright blue costume and a large red wig sporting his head. “You want a volunteer?”

Nathan shrunk in his seat as other people raised their hands, yelling “Me! Choose me!” No way did he want to be near any of the clowns.

“You there!” The ringleader pointed in their direction.

Sam pointed at himself in confusion and the ringleader shook his head.

“The little magician sitting in the third row!”

Nathan’s heart began to pound quickly, his hands shaking.

“Go! Go!” Sam egged him on.

His legs felt like jelly as he stood up and hesitantly walked towards the ring, one of the pretty acrobats leading him there. He began to sweat as he was suddenly surrounded by clowns laughing and fooling around.

“And what is your name, young magician?” One of the clowns asked.

“N-Nate,” he stuttered a little too quietly. “N-Nate the Great.”

“Nate the Great!” The clown bellowed, receiving a few giggles from the audience. Nathan wanted to disappear at the very moment.

Suddenly he was surrounded by clowns laughing and dancing, their bright clothes, wigs, and makeup making him uneasy with every passing moment. He looked around for Sam in the audience and saw him giving a reassuring thumbs up, but it didn't help. The world felt like it was spinning around Nathan and the next thing he knew, he felt his jeans get wet.

There were gasps in the crowd, then laughter. Nathan looked down and to his horror, he had wet himself right there. In front of maybe a hundred people. He closed his eyes tightly.

Wake up, wake up, Nate! He wished and prayed it was just a bad nightmare, even muttering the prayers Sister Catherine made him memorise.

Hail Mary, full of grace...

But when Nathan opened his eyes, he was still surrounded by clowns, but they curiously looked at him, no longer laughing.

He closed his eyes again. Reciting the prayer over and over.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

“Nathan! Nathan!” He felt someone tug at his arm and before he knew it, Sam was dragging him out of the tent.

Nathan felt like he couldn't breathe as he sat on the grass, tears streaming down his face. Sam quietly sat next to him on the grass with a grunt.

“You okay?” Sam nudged him.

“No,” Nathan sniffled. “I don't wanna go to another circus ever again.”

“Okay,” Sam shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Nathan. “Here, wrap this around your waist.”

They quietly sat together as Nathan tried to calm himself down. It felt like no matter how much he tried, he couldn't breathe at all. Sam worriedly watched his little brother, a little guilty for letting him go through whatever happened with the clowns. He made a mental note to watch for cues of whenever Nathan felt uneasy about something.

“Uh, excuse me?” A man approached him. He wore the same blue clown costume from earlier, except he didn't have a wig on and no makeup.

“What?” Sam snapped.

“I just wanted to apologise for what happened… In there.”

Nathan kept his head between his knees, too afraid to look up.

“Here,” the man handed Sam a pair of sweatpants. “It might be a little baggy, but it's better than a wet pair of pants.”

“Thanks.”

Sam hesitantly took the pants from the man before he bid them farewell.

“Is he gone?” Nathan mumbled.

“Yeah, he's gone.”

Nathan looked up and was relieved to see just Sam, holding a pair of sweatpants.

“I can't wear that! That's clown clothes!” He protested.

“You'd rather walk around covered in piss?”

Nathan frowned, looking down at his soiled jeans. It did feel very uncomfortable and it wasn't helping that the wetness made him feel colder.

“Fine,” he grumbled, taking the sweatpants from Sam and stomped behind a tree. “Don't look.”

“Ew, no way in hell,” Sam rolled his eyes, turning away to watch the pretty acrobat who stood outside the tent, smoking a cigarette. He considered going up to her to ask for a cigarette, and if he was lucky, her number.

“It's baggy,” Nathan emerged from behind the tree, holding the sweatpants up.

“Just roll the top until it kinda fits.”

Nathan sighed, quietly mocking Sam. “Roll the top until it fits.”

“I look stupid.”

Sam turned back to look at Nathan awkwardly standing by the tree, the sweatpants were baggy and rolled up at his waist and ankles. He suppressed a laugh, instead he awkwardly stood and bit at his nails.

“No, you look fine,” he nodded. “Come on, let's get some ice cream then head back.”

They walked to an old fashioned drug store and ordered two ice cream sodas. The only other people there were the elderly man at the cashier reading a newspaper and a guy probably in his early 20’s who served the ice cream and sodas.

Nathan was still bummed out as he picked at a maraschino cherry. His magician’s hat was on the counter next to him and he pushed it away.

“My career is ruined.”

Sam chuckled. “Come on, no one in there is going to remember that.”

“I'll remember it,” Nathan sighed. “No more Nate the Great.”

“Don't be so dramatic,” Sam picked up the hat. “No one else in the orphanage can pull Mr. Wiggles out of a hat, right?”

Nathan nodded. Mr. Wiggles was a stuffed bunny that one of the younger boys, Ralph, owned. A lot of the younger ones always enjoyed Nathan’s tricks before bed.

“Can't let Ralph down, can we?” Sam nudged him before stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He immediately regretted the instant brain freeze.

“No.”

Nathan took the hat from Sam who was still recovering from the brain freeze and he took a deep breath before hesitantly placing it on his head. The laughter, the wetness, and especially the clowns all came back to him and he tossed the hat on the ground with a yelp.

“Seriously, Nathan?” Sam sighed as he picked up the hat.

“I can't, Sam.”

Sam simply gave him a pat on the back. “No more circuses.”

“No more clowns.”

“No more clowns.”

Nathan crawled into his bed in a fresh pair of pajamas but he couldn't drift off to sleep. He knew he was a lot safer inside the orphanage, surrounded by the other boys who he shared the room with, yet the image of the clowns and the audience laughing was stuck in his mind. He tossed and turned in his bed, wishing Sam wasn't assigned to a different room so he'd have someone to talk to.

Over the next few days, Sam tried to avoid bringing up the circus around Nathan, but he still felt a bit bad about it. Nathan stopped wearing his magician’s hat and cape, opting to sit alone in the library reading comic books instead of performing tricks in front of the other kids. Of course, Father Duffy noticed.

“Samuel, I need to talk to you,” Father Duffy approached Sam as he sat on the bleachers.

Sam instantly put his cigarette out, crushing it under his sneaker and sheepishly turning back to the Father.

“Heyy, Father Duffy, I was just trying out that cigarette that Edward gave me, by the way,” Sam sheepishly said. “It was disgusting. People should never smoke. Did I mention Edward gave it to me?”

“Samuel,” Father Duffy sighed as he sat next to him on the bench. “I wanted to ask about Nate.”

“My brother? What'd he do now?”

“Well, it's what he hasn't been doing that's got me worried. He seems… Quieter than usual?”

Sam stayed silent. He shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Have you noticed it?”

“Well,” Sam stood up and paced. “He hasn't… Been playing with those magic thingies…”

“I'm just worried he might be depressed about something, Sam.” Father Duffy was always worried about either of the brothers getting too depressed after learning about how their mother passed. He reached into his pocket and gave him a ten dollar bill. “Can I trust you to go out and get him a nice magician’s coat?”

“Yeah,” Sam gingerly took the bill and stuffed it in his pocket.

“I'll get Sister Maureen to take you to the market tomorrow morning,” Father Duffy said. “And for the love of God, stop smoking. It's terrible for your lungs.”

“Thank you, Father Duffy,” Sam muttered as he walked away, lighting up another cigarette as soon as the priest was out of sight.

Sister Maureen was a stout Irish woman in her forties who always looked cross, but Sam felt like he got along just fine with her. For one thing, she had Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys loudly playing on the radio as she drove him to downtown Boston. This pleased Sam. He liked the Beastie Boys.

“Now don't you be taking your sweet time in there or I'll throw you in detention,” she said in a monotone voice as she parked the car. “Be back in half an hour. I'll be at the store.”

“You got it, Sister,” Sam winked before he got out of the car.

He still had the Beastie Boys song in his head and despite being in his uniform that consisted of a white button down shirt, a pair of black slacks, and a blue vest that had “St. Francis Academy” on the left chest, he felt cool. He felt the bill in his pocket as he made his way to the closest department store.

“Cool,” Sam smiled into the mirror as he tried on a pair of aviators. He looked at the price. Five dollars. If he was going to get Nathan a nice gift he could use for magic, he wouldn't have enough. He considered his choices; he could do the right thing and just buy what Father Duffy asked, or he could treat himself to a nice pair of sunglasses and still find Nathan a nice gift.

He was about to make up his mind to do the right thing when he looked out the window and saw an open-air market across the street. Maybe he could find something there. There was the usual local produce as Sam strolled around, hoping there would be the odd stall with weird antiquities. Instead, he came across an elderly woman with rabbits in a cage. This gave Sam an idea.

“Hey, lady, how much for a bunny?” He asked her.

“Just four dollars, dear,” she sweetly smiled.

“Sold!” Sam pointed at a fat white bunny munching on a carrot. “I'll take that one.”

“For feck’s sake,” Sister Maureen simply gave Sam a weird look as he climbed back into the car with a little cage in his arms and a shiny new pair of sunglasses. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam nodded. “Let's roll, Sister Maureen.”

He felt even cooler when No Sleep Till Brooklyn played loudly as the nun drove back.

Nathan was lying on the ground, focusing on his drawing of Indiana Jones. He'd finally got to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark when they showed it at the movie night a couple days ago, and he was intrigued. He began imagining himself as a swashbuckling explorer again.

Sam poked his head into the room, scanning the room for his little brother.

“I have something for you,” he walked over to Nathan. “A late present.”

He pushed his sunglasses up and plopped down on the floor and placed the little cage in front of Nathan.

“No way,” Nathan gasped, pushing his sketches away to hold the bunny in his hands. “Is this allowed?”

“Father Duffy paid for it,” Sam gave a nonchalant shrug.

“I'm gonna name him Doc.”

“What's up, Doc?” Sam laughed as Nathan left the bunny to him so he could grab his magician’s hat and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. A crowd of three to four little boys ranging from ages five to nine who were loitering around the room had gathered around, curiously looking at the brothers and whispering to each other.

“And now,” Nathan addressed the crowd. “The return of Nate the Great!”

He gestured for Sam to stand up.

“I shall now introduce the bunny, Doc, who I shall pull out of my hat!”

Ooh!

Sam stood behind Nathan after secretly giving him the bunny and he put the sunglasses on again.

“Abra cadabra!” Nathan quickly popped open the top of the hat and slid Doc inside.

“You don't have a bunny!” One of the smaller boys called out as he picked his nose.

“Then what do you call…” Nathan stuffed his hand into the bottom of the hat and gently pulled Doc out by the ears. “This!”

Aah!

Laughter filled the room as Nathan went through his routine of magic tricks, now improved with an even better assistant, Doc.

“Now, I like the sound laugh–” Father Duffy stood at the doorway and froze when he saw the bunny in Nathan’s hand. “What is that?”

“A bunny!” Sam grinned. “Isn't it just the best present?”

Father Duffy slumped against the doorway and sighed. Oh, Samuel.

“That's very nice,” he muttered. “Sam–can I speak to you in the hall for a second?”

“Sure thing, Father,” Sam followed the priest out into the hall and closed the door to the room where Nathan was showing the boys some card tricks.

“A live animal, Samuel?” Father Duffy crossed his arms. “I asked you to get him a cape .”

“ Oh ,” Sam hummed. “I swear I don't remember you saying anything specific, so I chose the gift I thought would be best for him.”

“You do know you boys aren't allowed to keep pets.”

“Come on, Father Duffy. Don't sweat it. We'll keep Doc out in that old cage near the garden.”

“Samuel, I don't trust you with an animal like that.”

“That's a low blow,” Sam looked up at Father Duffy through his shades. “But fine, it's Nathan’s pet now. He’ll take care of it.”

“Is anything the matter?” Nathan peeped out the door, the bunny still in his hand. “Is Sam in trouble again?”

“I was just telling your brother how it's a lot of hard work to take care of rabbits,” Father Duffy turned his attention to the younger Morgan brother.

“I'm sure there's books on rabbit care in the library,” Nathan held up the bunny. “I named him Doc.”

“That's nice,” Father Duffy sighed. “Fine. As long as you promise to clean up after him and to feed him yourself. Okay?”

“See, that's why you're my favourite priest,” Sam gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Was that a sin?”

“Shades, Samuel.”

Nathan loved Doc. He's never had a pet before so he made it his mission to prove to himself and to Father Duffy and Sister Catherine that he was responsible enough to take care of the bunny. Apart from Sam, Nathan didn't really have any other friends, and he wouldn't really call Ralph-- who was just six -- a friend.  Sam was in the highschool section of the orphanage so when Nathan had no one else to talk to, he'd sneak off to Doc’s cage to talk to the rabbit and to draw. He must've drawn Doc a thousand times that first month. His drawing studies of the rabbit eventually evolved into Super Doc, a series of comics about a superhero rabbit fighting off villains that all looked like clowns.

“Whatcha drawing there, dingbat?” Edward, one of the older boys approached Nathan. He was large and had his black hair slicked back, making him look like a cockroach. He was in the highschool section too and was just a year younger than Sam. Two other boys, Jay and Danny, were close behind, giving Nathan menacing grins.

“Shouldn't you be in algebra? Or did you flunk that again?” Nathan quickly shut his notebook, but Edward grabbed it from him.

“Super Doc?” Edward laughed. “More like Super Dork, am I right?”

“You're just like your brother,” Jay, who was smaller and leaner, poked Nathan’s shoulder. “A friendless loser.”

“At least we aren't stupid,” Nathan tried to reach for his notebook. “Give it back, Edward!”

Edward tossed it to Danny, who stood six-foot-two at the age of fourteen. The taller boy laughed and pushed Nathan away. “Loser.”

Blinded by rage, Nathan kicked Danny in the shin, causing him to drop the notebook as he doubled over. Nathan picked it up and stuffed it into his backpack before landing a punch on Edward’s cheek.

“Scrawny little punk,” Edward pushed him on the ground, making Nathan fall with a grunt. “You're gonna regret this.”

Jay and Danny pinned Nathan down as Edward grabbed a fistful of sand. Nathan kicked and yelled, knocking off Jay’s glasses in the process. He closed his eyes as Edward’s fist neared his face. It happened enough for him to anticipate, and he wasn't looking forward to eating a sand and knuckle sandwich.

He heard Edward grunt and the sound of someone falling on the sand.

“You get away from him, you assholes!” Sam yelled. Nathan opened his eyes and saw Sam throwing punches at Edward and Danny.

Nathan turned to Jay and punched him square on the jaw. The older boy held his jaw in pain.

“What the fuck?”

“That's right, Nathan!” Sam yelled as he dodged a blow from Danny. He almost looked like he was having fun. “Jab, jab, hook!”

Jab, jab, hook . Nathan repeated it in his mind over and over again. He mimicked Sam in his movements, anticipating Jay’s every move. Jab, jab, hook.

“Oof!” Nathan flew back as Jay hit him in the eye.

“Stupid kid,” Jay pushed him and he bumped into Sam, who frowned.

“Come on, Nathan. Fight’s not over.”

When Sam was distracted, Edward threw another punch at Sam’s cheek and threw him down on the ground. Sam groaned as he tried to get up again.

“No one wants either of you,” he kicked sand at them and the other boys followed. “One day you’re going to get kicked out, Morgan, and no one's gonna remember you and no one's gonna want you, you insignificant little freak.”

Nathan’s blood boiled. He wanted to stand up and fight Edward again, but his eye was throbbing.

“This isn't over, Gilbertson,” Sam gritted his teeth. “I'm gonna kick your ass.”

“Loser,” Edward kicked sand at them again before walking off.

Sam sighed as he laid back on the dirt floor and put his shades that were hanging on his vest on. He lit up a cigarette and puffed a few angry smokes.

“Thanks,” Nathan mumbled.

“Yeah. Don't mention it.”

“I hate it here, Sam.”

“Me too.”

Nathan buried his face between his knees and Sam worriedly looked up.

“Hey, none of what he said is true, alright?” Sam said. “That bozo doesn't know what he's talking about.”

The younger Morgan brother said nothing.

“That was badass, though. Did you see Jay?” Sam suddenly laughed. “When have you ever seen a ten year old beat up a thirteen year old?”

“Maybe if the magician thing doesn't fly, I'll try out boxing,” Nathan said.

“Yeah!” Sam grinned as he sat up. “I'll be your boxing coach.”

“I'll beat Edward and all those clowns up myself then.”

“Attaboy, Nathan!”

They laughed and watched the clouds roll by until they fell asleep from exhaustion. Nathan dreamt of Doc saving him from a pack of bully clowns.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Doc was nowhere to be found. It was late in the evening and Nathan had been practicing some tricks in the activity room when the rabbit disappeared. He immediately went to Sam (who was, for some reason, asleep on the bleachers outside still in his uniform) for help.

“Well where did you leave him?” Sam stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips while Nathan rummaged through the pillows on the sofa.

“Here!” The young boy pointed at the sofa. “At least he was here before I went to pee. I didn't think he'd leave.”

“He's a chunky rabbit. He wouldn't have gone too far,” Sam walked towards a bulletin board filled with artworks from the other fifth graders in Nathan’s class. He chuckled at a blob with green eyes. “What the hell did Bobby draw?”

“You could be helping me, you know,” Nathan threw a throw pillow at him.

“Oh no, he's your pet.”

Nathan rolled his eyes as he crawled around looking under the couches.

It was then that a loud yell came from across the hall.

“Nathan!”

Father Duffy barged into the activity room in his pajamas, holding Doc in his arms.

There were little rabbit droppings on the priest’s bedsheets, to Nathan’s horror and to Sam’s amusement. Sam tried to suppress a laugh, but he ran out guffawing.

“Oh crap,” Nathan gulped. “I'll clean it up. I promise, Father Duffy.”

“This is the last straw,” Father Duffy was exasperated. “Nate, you promised you'd keep the rabbit outside in its cage.”

“I just took him in to practice for the talent show tomorrow.”

“One more talent show, Nate,” Father Duffy sighed. “Then the rabbit has to go.”

“What?” Nathan ran after him as he left the room to get a cup of tea. “But he's my rabbit.”

“I know, but it's getting out of hand. Oh, Sister Catherine!” Father Duffy called to the nun who just came out of one of the offices.

“Yes, Father?” Her eyebrows knitted.

“Please help Nathan get new sheets. His pet left a little surprise on my bed. I need some chamomile tea.”

Sister Catherine worriedly looked at the rabbit in Nathan’s arms. “A… Pet?”

“He's nice,” Nathan said quietly.

“Then make sure Nathan and Sam are in their respective rooms after,” Father Duffy yawned and made his way to the pantry. “You’ll know where I'll be.”

The boys had the tip of their ears pinched as Sister Catherine led them to the laundry room and handed them fresh sheets. She stood by the door as she watched them clean the rabbit droppings off with a tiny hand broom.

“Father Duffy wants to get rid of Doc,” Nathan whispered as he tugged the other side of the bedsheet.

“He's just saying that,” Sam scoffed.

“No, I think he's serious.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Can we hide him or maybe set him free?”

“Nathan,” Sam gave him an exasperated look. “He's a rabbit. He's prey to almost everything. He's as good as dead out there.”

“I can't just let him take Doc away.”

“Okay, fine. Let's clean this mess up then I'll think of something.”

Sister Catherine made sure Nathan had put Doc back in his cage before making them go back to their rooms. Sam had said nothing else regarding the rabbit, and it made Nathan anxious. He almost forgot about the talent show.

The next morning, Nathan threw on his uniform and stuffed his makeshift magician's costume in his backpack and ran to Doc’s cage before his first class. The rabbit was still there, munching on vegetables that Mr. O’Reilly, the gardener, probably fed him earlier.

“Big day, Doc,” Nathan took him out of the cage to clean out the droppings and the leakings. He couldn't help but give him a quick kiss on the head, ignoring the strong smell of rabbit. “This is the performance of our lives and hopefully not the last one too.”

He reached into his pocket to grab a handful of pellets and sprinkled it into Doc’s food bowl. “Eat up, big guy. I'll see you in a few.”

Sam trudged to his pre-calculus class, lazily copying down last night’s homework from one of his roommates. He barely slept and all he wanted was to crawl back into bed and sleep the day away. He kept thinking about what he was going to do with the damn rabbit. Sam wouldn't admit, but he was fond of it. He wasn't always around for his little brother and he still felt bad about the whole clown fiasco, but at least the rabbit gave Nathan some comfort.

He thought about giving the rabbit away to a pet store, but what pet store would want a large rabbit like that? He shuddered to think of Doc ending up as rabbit stew somehow. Then he remembered the old woman he bought Doc from at the Haymarket market. He prayed she'd be there after the talent show that evening. He didn't have a Plan B.

“Abra cadabra!” Nathan repeated over and over, trying to decide which one sounded better. Ralph was on stage doing some kind of yodel and he was just waiting to finally be called up on stage.

“Alright, Nathan, here's the plan,” Sam appeared from around the auditorium. “After your performance, you meet me at the roof with the door that'll lead us out the West Gate. We're gonna catch the T to Haymarket and pray to god the old lady selling the rabbits is still at the market. Understand?”

Nathan sadly nodded. He didn't want to think about how he had to part with Doc soon.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “This is the best thing for Doc.”

“I guess so.”

“It'll be fine,” Sam gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “See you later, little brother.”

“Sure,” Nathan sighed as Sam ran off. He kneeled in front of Doc, whose beady red eyes wandered around, his wet nose in the air as he sniffed around. For a second, a wave of sadness hit Nathan and he let himself shed a few tears for his best friend.

“Now for our next performer…” Father Duffy stood on stage, looking at the little faces in the audience. Some were bored, some looked excited to see more performances. “The very magical Nate the Great!”

Nathan took a deep breath before stepping out into the limelight, squinting at the bright, hot light. Ignoring the expecting gazes, he set his table up, making sure Doc was secure near the little trap door he could pull him out of (he spent a few weeks making that table in home improvement class).

For a second, he felt his heart race as he remembered the clowns and the audience at the circus laughing at him. He glanced down at his trousers. Not wet. Good start.

“Go Nathan!” A single voice yelled. It sounded like Sam, but as Nathan peered out into the audience, he couldn't see him.

“Welcome, my fellow schoolmates! My name is Nate the Great and I'm here to amaze you with magic!”

He began his routine: starting off with a floating card trick and bending a spoon. The audience which he now realised was mostly other boys in the grade school, ooh-ed and aah-ed with every trick. Nathan asked Ralph to come up and volunteer to have a coin vanish from his palm and reappear from his ear. The six year old laughed throughout it.

As he went on, Nathan’s confidence went up, and finally it was Doc’s turn to help him amaze the crowd.

“For my last trick I'm going to pull out a very special friend of mine,” Nathan took his hat off and showed the inside of it to the audience. “As you can see, there is nothing in my hat.”

Wow!

Nathan gave a cheeky grin as he strategically placed the hat on the table, opening the secret door quickly. “Abra cadabra!”

He gently pulled the now rather large Doc out of the hat and held him up for the audience to see. The little boys laughed and cheered at the appearance of a live animal. They were reminded of a trip to the petting zoo just a month ago, where they plenty of bunnies like Doc.

“Thank you!” Nathan grinned as he held Doc to his chest, bowing down a few times until Father Duffy ushered him off the stage.

He was still thrilled as he left the auditorium, smiling at himself and the recent memory.

“We did it, Doc,” he whispered at the rabbit, giving it a kiss between its fuzzy ears. He took out a few baby carrots and gave them to him. As much as he tried not to, tears still dripped down his cheeks.

Sam leaned by the door on top of the roof of their rendezvous point. He was getting antsy and Nathan was taking too long to get there. It wasn't Nathan’s intention to get there too slow, though; it was hard to climb the usual route with a fragile creature in his backpack.

“What took you so long?” Sam rolled his eyes as Nathan climbed over the railing.

“Why are you in such a hurry? They're busy with the dumb talent show.”

“Whatever,” Sam opened the door. “Let's go.”

It was quarter past 6 PM when they got to Hanover Street, briskly walking to the open-air market. Most of the vendors have already packed up and some were cleaning up, happy to be done with the day.

Sam was suddenly nervous. The T ran slower than he remembered (the last time he rode the subway was before their father left them in the orphanage), instantly hating all the station transfers and the waiting. At this point, he was praying the old woman would still be there.

Nathan tried to keep up with Sam, but he couldn't keep up. Sam had told him to keep his eyes peeled for an old woman with rabbits, but all he saw were empty stalls and boxes of fresh produce.

“A bunny!” A girl just a few years younger than Nathan ran up to him. She had blonde hair tied up in pigtails and soft brown eyes. “What's his name?”

“Doc,” Nathan smiled.

“He's so cute!” She squealed. “Will he bite?”

“Not at all.” He took out a piece of cabbage from his pocket. “Here, you can feed him.”

The girl giggled in delight as Doc ate from her hand.

“There you are!” An older woman who Nathan assumed was the little girl’s mother ran up to them. “Let's go, I got the strawberries we can snack on tonight.”

“Look, Mom, it's a cute rabbit,” the little girl said.

“That's nice sweetie, but we have to go,” the woman took her hand.

Just then, Sam walked back to Nathan with an annoyed look on her face. “She's gone. Saw her drive away.”

“He needs a home, you know,” Nathan told the woman and the girl. “He's talented and he'll keep you safe and happy.”

The little girl’s eyes went wide. “Mom, please, please, please, please !”

“We already have Peaches, honey.”

“Peaches is a fish . I can't kiss a fish.”

“Lady, this rabbit is one of a kind,” Sam stepped in. “He's magic .”

“Oh, brother,” the woman groaned.

“I swear ever since we got him, good things have just been happening,” Sam shrugged. “If we weren't stuck in an orphanage, we could've kept him.”

“You're orphans?” The lady looked at them, finally noticing their clean cut uniforms.

The brothers gave her their best puppy dog eyes, knowing how well it always worked.

“I promise I'll take care of him!” The little girl tugged at the woman’s coat.

She sighed, a sign the boys knew all too well meant she'd fallen for it.

“Okay, we'll take the rabbit,” she said wearily and the little girl squealed loudly.

Nathan held up Doc and smiled at the rabbit, blinking back tears. He thought of all the times they spent together and cherished this last moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered before gently placing him in the little girl’s arms.

“And here,” the woman handed him coupons. “You can use this at any food store at Quincy Market.”

“Thanks,” Nathan smiled. “Please take care of Doc.”

“We will,” she nodded.

He stood, watching mother and daughter leave with his best friend. He sniffled, finally letting his tears roll down his cheeks. Sam gave him a comforting pat on the back.

“He's found a great home, Nathan.”

“He had a home with me.”

“Well now he has a home where he can just be a happy little rabbit and not worry about getting kicked out at the smallest of sins.”

Nathan nodded. “He'll be okay right, Sam?”

“Sure he will.”

“What's next for us?”

Sam tapped his chin in thought, then the coupons in Nathan’s hand caught his eye.

“We can get coconut macaroons.”

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (13)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 6532

Previously: After a brief team up between Vlad, Valerie, Dani and Danny against Dan, the evil spectre goes after the Fentons. With Danny injured, the others rush off to find his family. Just when Danny starts to think he can recover he remembers the last person involved in the original future - Mr. Lancer.

Now: Fentons and friends v. Dan duplicates. Fights, observant parents enraged Dan and some relevations...maybe.

Please let me know what you think! Feel free to drop a reply or reblog whatever. Next chapter will be out on Sunday (link will be in the replies!)

Jack frowned as he destroyed two more of the shadow ghosts. In the confusion of the attacks and recognition that Danny was finally back in the city, he barely noticed when most of the ghosts disappeared. "I know you're there!" the man yelled angrily. "Show yourself before the might of Jack Fenton!" His frown deepened when nothing jumped out at him. It was too quiet. Jack brought the Fenton Bazooka down to his side and searched the skies for a familiar black and white blur. Even the fighting above the city had stopped. The worried father's left hand turned on the switch on the Fenton Phone. "Tucker, what's happening?"

The line of the Fenton Phone crackled to life. "There's still shadows around the town," his son's best friend told him. "But a lot of them are leaving to go attack the perimeter. Ethelwulf's out there, so they're probably trying to take him out."

Jack's chest tightened slightly. "And Danny?" he asked fearfully.

He heard Tucker sigh worriedly. "Gone - he's not coming up on the scanners," Tucker replied. "It's like he vanished again - but he must still be here somewhere. Clockwork lost sight of him when he, Danielle, Plasmius and the Red Hunter were fighting Dan. I don't think he would leave again without checking in with us."

Jack hummed in agreement, scanning the skies again. "There's something else going on," he said murmured. "It's too quiet."

"Agreed," Tucker confirmed. Jack heard a small beep on the line before the teen spoke again. "Mrs. F - how does your end look?"

"I've got no hostiles," she replied quickly. "Though the Red Hunter's here - they said we're in danger."

Jack frowned as he heard Tucker swore under his breath. "Does Red know where Danny is?" He heard Maddie relay the question to the ghost hunter, getting a muffled reply before she responded.

"The office building off of Third Street," Maddie told them evenly, trying to mask her worry in the face of the hunter. "Jack, how close are you?"

"Very," he replied, holstering the bazooka and taking out the scanner. There was still no sign of Danny on it. "I'll get him, Mads."

He heard some more muffled noises on the other end before his wife spoke again. "Jack, Phantom said Dan is coming after us. Be careful."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled from here Mr. F," Tucker added. "Just get to that building. I don't know why Danny isn't coming up on the scanner, but I have a bad feeling about it."

"Will do," Jack replied, hearing the line of the Fenton Phones go dead. He looked down at the scanner, changing it to scan for ghosts above Danny's ecto-levels. It pinged, showing three entities on the scanner - none of them were at that office building. "Come on Danny," he murmured to himself. "Where are you?"

"Dad?"

:-=-:

Maddie heard the line disconnect, turning to the mysterious Red Hunter with a frown. "What else did Phantom tell you?" she asked, trying to mask any emotion that would give away her concern. Jack will find him. He'll be okay.

"Not much," Red's robotic voice replied. Maddie still couldn't figure out their age nor their gender. "Just that Dan was coming for your family."

Maddie nodded, again pushing aside her worry. She needed to prioritize. "Okay. How stocked are you? I need to reload a couple of my bazookas after the shadow attacks. I think I have a couple extras if you need them." Red nodded, and Maddie led them back to the RV. "I saw you fighting up there," Maddie commented, attempting to make conversation. "Must have been intense."

"You have no idea," Red said darkly. "Dan uses this sonic power - think Phantom called it a wail?"

"Ghostly Wail, yes," Maddie agreed. "Phantom has that too."

Red stopped. "Phantom has that power too? Along with those electric attacks?" they exclaimed.

"Yes," Maddie answered. "Wait - electric attacks?" The mother paled slightly. "He was using his core powers?"

Red cocked their head to the side. "Core powers?" they said weakly. "You know what - I don't think I can handle another surprise today."

Maddie chuckled fondly. "With Phantom involved - I take it there were many." She beckoned Red onward, turning the corner to where the parked Fenton RV waited for them. She opened the trunk, tossed a bazooka to the hunter and rummaged for a Fenton staff.

"Mrs. Fenton," the Red Hunter started apprehensively.

"Yes dear," she replied, still looking for her staff.

"Your truce with Phantom started last summer right?"

Maddie stopped her mission and looked at Red. "That's not the question you want to ask," Maddie retorted, "Is it?"

Red looked at her, startled. Maddie noted that they must be young if her question made them falter. "No," they said. "But honestly Mrs. Fenton, I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

Maddie smiled wryly. "Oh, you'd be surprised." She turned back to the RV with a triumphant cry, reaching inward and grabbed the Fenton Staff. "Phantom is… well he's remarkable. The more I learn about him, the more I realize how wrong Jack and I were about everything. All we needed to do was listen." She grabbed more ammo from a drawer on the left and started to change a couple empty cartridges. Maddie glanced at the Red Hunter as they looked on apprehensively. "So, have you been listening? Or did you go in guns blazing like my husband used to?"

Red shifted guiltily. "More like…observing," they said. "Phantom told us to take a shot if we had it." Red started to reload their weapons also. "And we were going at it - Dan duplicated himself into 4. I was struggling then Phantom… Phantom got hit real bad. Phantom said to take it..."

Maddie swallowed nervously. "Did you?" she asked.

Red shook their head. "There was this light - something that leads me to think… Mrs. Fenton I don't think Pha- "

"Mom!"

:-=-:

Jack's head whipped up at the voice, mouth hanging open as Danny walked towards him. There wasn't a scratch on him; blue eyes looking at him confused and a bit of something else. "Danny!" Jack called out, rushing forward in relief. "We've been looking for you! What happened?"

Danny's head tilted to one side, still confused. "I don't remember," he said. Jack stopped a few feet away, confusion and scepticism growing at the boy's response. "The last thing I remember is going to bed last night."

Patience Jack he reminded himself. "R-really?" Jack asked. He watched 'Danny' closely, realizing that he seemed to have shrunk an inch or so from yesterday. "Nothing at all?" the boy shook his head.

Jack frowned slightly, left hand inching toward his side for a smaller ecto-gun. "We're fighting an evil version of Phantom," Jack said evenly, watching the teen's reactions in front of him. Blue eyes were narrowed at Jack's left hand. He swallowed slowly, more alarm bells ringing in his ears. "From the future; he has most of Phantom's powers. But Phantom will stop him."

The boy's eyes flashed red for a second before settling back to blue. "Will he?" Not-Danny asked darkly. A Ghostly Wail sounded in the distance, a look of annoyance crossing the imposter's face as he faltered slightly. Jack pushed aside any worry from the wail and pointed the ecto-gun toward the teen in front of him.

"He will," Jack told him simply. "Just like how I'll stop you from hurting my family."

Blue eyes widened slightly before he laughed menacingly. Not-Danny's face contorted into one of anger and frustration, full of malice as he stared at Jack. "Your family? Don't you mean our family?"

"You aren't my son," Jack told him darkly. He fired the ecto-gun, hitting the imposter in the chest. The teen faltered slightly, red eyes now glaring back at the man in front of him.

"But I was your son," he replied sinisterly. White rings of light appeared around his waist, transforming him into a much taller figure. Blue skin, flaming white hair, long cape and piercing red eyes stared back at Jack. Dan Phantom had made his reappearance. The ghost frowned at Jack's lack of reaction. "You know... I pictured this going differently." He raised a hand lighting it in green energy before he was knocked to the side by a small white and black blur.

"You stay away from him!" Danielle yelled, sending a large ecto-blast toward the downed ghost. "Jack! You okay?"

Jack smiled in relief. "Better that you're here kiddo! Want to give me a hand?"

Danielle smiled back. "Oh - you have no idea."

:-=-:

Red and Maddie both turned at the exclamation. Danny Fenton was running toward them with a giant grin on his face. "Mom! I'm so glad I found you."

Red started to move toward the boy, but Maddie grabbed the hunter's elbow. "Danny?" she called out. "What are you doing here?" Red noticed how rigid the woman went and how her eyes moved as if she was characterizing a threat.

"It's - wait is that the Red Hunter with you?" Danny asked, looking between the two.

"Didn't know your son was a fan," Red said jokingly.

Maddie frowned. "When you last left Phantom," she whispered urgently. "What condition was he in?"

"Mrs. Fenton?" Red reacted.

"Mom?" Danny asked again, continuing toward them.

Maddie moved quickly, pulling the Red Hunter behind her and drew her ecto-gun, aiming it directly at her son. The boy stopped, putting his hand up fearfully. "What was the last thing I said to you," the mother asked threateningly.

"Mom? You're scaring me a bit," he said.

"Mrs. Fenton! That's your son!" Red yelled, grabbing the woman's arm.

"What was the last thing I said to you Danny?" Maddie repeated, putting her finger on the trigger.

"Wait! Mom, this is crazy!?" Danny yelled out to her. "It's me!" When Maddie didn't budge, he turned desperately to the hunter. "Valerie! Tell her she's crazy!"

Valerie stiffened, turning to Maddie with wide eyes. The elder Fenton nodded, narrowing her eyes at 'Danny.' "Dan, I presume?" Maddie questioned.

'Danny' blinked, before blue eyes became red and a nasty smile came across his face. It looked so alien on her son's face. "How'd you know?" Dan asked menacingly. His eyes drifted toward Valerie. "Oh right, you didn't know I knew. Whoops."

"Among other things," Maddie replied coolly. She turned to the teenage hunter. "Valerie Gray right? 9th degree black belt and a wicked ghost hunter?" Valerie nodded absently. "Valerie - I need you to focus right now okay?"

"He knew?" she whispered in surprise. "All this time?"

Maddie cursed internally as Dan's hands lit up in green energy. "Valerie, that isn't Danny," she told her urgently. "Dan is manipulating Danny's image - I swear to you that isn't him."

"Well - not anymore," Dan drawled, looking at his hands with fake interest. "Then again, not like either of you ever paid attention to me."

Maddie's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare blame us for what happened to you - that was your choice."

Dan chuckled, holding out his hand toward them. "Don't you mean… it was his choice?" He fired an ecto-blast directly towards his mother and Valerie.

:-=-:

The ghost growled at the newcomer, pushing aside his cape as he stood. "You're teaming up with a ghost?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his father.

"Danny and the Fentons have had a truce since last year," Danielle said smugly, launching herself at the ghost again. Dan dodged, only to be blasted by Jack Fenton.

Dan snarled as he got back up. "A truce huh?" He flew at the orange clad man, dodging a few of the attacks and landed forcefully in front of him. "Did he tell you who I am then? How I came into existence?" Dan stood tall, smirking into the man's gaze. "How he destroyed the entire world?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "He'll never become what you are," he told the ghost of his son. "Never. Danny promised us he'd defeat you - just like he did last year."

Dan stood up straighter, cocking his head to the side as red eyes studied the man in front of him. Danielle flew protectively in front of the father, ecto-blast at the ready as they both glared at the evil ghost. Dan's eyes widened finally, taking a few steps back in shock. "You know?" he breathed, looking between the ghost in front of him to his father. "You know my secret?"

Jack's eyes softened slightly as he saw a small glimpse of his son in the evil spectre. Danielle frowned between the two men, her arms still ablaze with green energy aimed toward Dan. A kaleidoscope of emotions came across his face, as if he was having more than one conversation before it disappeared. Dan threw his head back as a deep unsettling laugh erupted from his mouth. Jack and Danielle tensed as his eyes focused on them again.

"He told you," Dan said, his body shifting his stance into one more animalistic. His body was hunched, red eyes looked deranged and hungry for something. "He had the guts to come clean and you and Mom accepted him?" He smiled cruelly. "Oh, this is going to be good."

:-=-:

Jazz dove behind a car, dodging another ecto-blast that came her way. She clutched the bazooka tightly, peering upward to locate Dan. "Where is he?" she murmured, teal eyes scanning the skies.

"Come on out Jazz," Dan drawled. She heard him land as she ducked behind the car. "All I want to do is catch up with my dear older sister… well I guess younger sister now."

Jazz frowned, recognizing something off in Dan's dark tone.

"I know you're listening," Dan continued. Jazz jumped as he made a car explode with an Ecto-blast. "Isn't that what you always told me? 'I'm here for you Danny,' 'Talk to me Danny,'? Well I'm talking!" Another explosion, closer this time made Jazz turn, watching as a flaming car rolled across the road.

She swallowed, mind racing. Why does he want to talk? Why is he so fixated on me listening? Jazz frowned again, ignoring her pounding heart as Dan's footsteps came closer. He's referring to me as his sister… the last time he spoke about us it was in past tense. Jazz's eyes widened. Could it be? Jazz gasped as the car she was hiding behind was lifted into the air. The red-head scrambled upright and away, staring up into the face of the older Phantom.

"Found you," he sneered, throwing the car to the side.

Jazz raised the bazooka and took aim. "You were saying," she said, eyes narrowing.

Dan scoffed. "Really Jazz? The bazooka? I thought the peeler was more your speed."

Jazz put her hand on the trigger. "You said you were talking," Jazz repeated. Her adrenaline and nerves were squashed by her burning curiosity and theories as she looked the ghost over. She felt slightly vindicated to see that he looked injured. Danny must have gotten him. "So talk."

Dan's eyes widened incredulously, tilting his head to the side. "Braver than I thought," he said darkly with a small chuckle. "It won't help you. Don't you want to know where your Danny is? I can see those wheels turning in that big brain of yours."

Jazz's glare faltered for a second before she shook her head. "It's not Danny I'm thinking about," she said evenly. "It's your sudden change of tense." Dan looked at her in confusion. "Your timeline doesn't exist anymore - but you don't belong here. Your friends and family died."

Dan snarled in her direction. "And yet you're right in front of me!"

"But I'm not your Jazz," she said gently. She saw what she was missing now. "I'm his big sister. Not yours."

Dan roared, making Jazz flinch as he released a blast behind him. "He'll lose you too. He doesn't deserve this timeline - what good did he do to deserve this? Not cheat on a test? He should suffer, just like I have!"

"You're different people," Jazz continued. "Danny made his decision a long time ago. He's come a long way from the darkness you caused."

"I caused? I caused!?" Dan shouted. His ghostly aura flared at her words. It took everything in her not to run away. "This was all his fault. Danny Fenton - playing the hero. He's no hero Jazz. All that good you think he's done? He'd throw it away in an instant if it was hard work. Why'd you think he never told Mom and Dad?"

Jazz moved backward slowly, bazooka still aimed at Dan. Come on, use your research and knowledge of the subject, she told herself matter-of-factly. This is still a version of your brother - you know his insecurities, his fears. "You might not have," she told him. "But my brother did."

Red eyes widened at her words. "What?" he whispered. Something shifted in the air around her, making Jazz shiver. "What did you say?"

Jazz swallowed again. "Danny told them last summer," she said, confirming her theory. "We've been fighting as a family ever since."

Dan's wide eyes looked through her, the blue flames on his head flaring dangerously as his temper rose. "Why does he have it so easy?" he roared, ecto-energy exploding around him.

Jazz was thrown back at the display of power, skidding across the road with a yelp. Her ankle twisted beneath her as she fell, bazooka sliding a few feet away. She was right - Dan was jealous of her brother. She reached for the bazooka and finally fired, hitting true. Dan didn't register that he was hit, dark red eyes staring directly at her. She moved to get up, wincing as she felt a twinge of pain in her ankle. Dammit. Her teal eyes widened as Dan smiled cruelly, walking toward her. I'm a sitting target!

"He will pay for what he did to them," Dan vowed menacingly. "He's barely much of a threat now anyway. Once he watches you all die, he'll be too broken to stop me."

"Not today Phantom!"

:-=-:

Maddie pulled Valerie to the ground, dodging it before returning fire. Valerie, finally breaking out of her stupor, summoned her sled and pulled the Fenton onboard. She turned, flying away from Dan.

"Hang on Mrs. Fenton!" Valerie yelled, making the sled go faster. Maddie frowned, turning back to see the now familiar white light come alive around Dan's waist, before transforming him into his true form. The ghost snarled as he took off, giving chase behind them. Maddie fired, watching Dan dodge as he gained.

"Valerie, we need to split up," Maddie said.

"Nope - not happening," the girl retorted. "That thing wants you dead remember?"

"I do," Maddie replied. "But we need to divide his attention. I hit him low, you hit him high?"

Valerie turned; head tilted a little before she understood. "Got it." Valerie dived, coming close to the ground as Dan let out a volley of attacks. The teen dodged them, nodding to Maddie. The elder jumped off the jet sled, skidding across the ground and hit a clean shot at Dan.

"I'm right here!" she yelled, shooting rapidly at the incoming ghost. "Why don't you come at me?"

Dan growled, dodging a few blasts as he landed heavily. Red eyes found violet, an eerie smile forming. "You don't even know half of what Danny's been into, have you?"

Maddie dropped the ecto-gun and took out the Fenton Staff, twirling it in place. "Perhaps - but you're not Danny!"

Dan chuckled, mocking her with a hurt gesture. "Now, that stings a little," he said sarcastically. "Just because I killed my weaker half and destroyed the world, I'm no longer a Fenton? Like I don't have any of my memories?"

Maddie's eyes softened a bit, but her voice still had an edge to it. "No," she said. "It's because you forgot who you are."

Dan faltered, eyes widening at the implication of her words. Maddie took that as an opening, rushing forward with her staff. She used it to jump up into the air, moving it fluidly to strike. Dan was thrown back with a grunt as Maddie continued to attack. Eventually, he managed to hold up his arms to block, growling in annoyance. His hands alighted in green energy as he thrust them outward, pushing Maddie backward.

"You knew?" Dan asked with wide eyes. "You knew whole time?" Maddie pursed her lips, eying Dan warily as he continued to process. The evil ghost shook his head. "No, there's no way… I would have-" he broke off, suddenly looking far away.

Maddie frowned, standing straighter and putting a hand on her ecto-gun. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valerie coming in for an attack; she needed to stall him. "I found out last year," Maddie said. "Danny told us everything."

Dan's eyes glowed red, turning back to the mother with a small smirk. "Oh Mom," he spat menacingly. "Not everyth-"

"Eat this Phantom!" Valerie cried out, shooting one of her blasters and hitting Dan in the back. He disappeared mid-sentence, leaving a trail a smoke from where the blast hit.

Maddie let out a relieved sigh as Dan disappeared, nodding as Valerie flew back toward the ground. "Nice shot."

Retracting her sled, Valerie lifted the tint in her visor, letting the woman see her smile. "I've been waiting to do that." She inclined her head toward Maddie. "You okay? Did he say something to you?"

"Nothing that I didn't know already," Maddie replied quietly. She looked out in the distance with a frown, bringing her hand up to the Fenton Phone in her ear. "Jazz? You there sweetie?" No response. "Jazz?" she tried again, worry starting to creep up for her daughter.

Valerie frowned also. "Phantom was worried about her too," she said. Maddie's head turned quickly at to the girl's face. "He sent Plasmius over to her."

"Why Plasmius?" Maddie murmured to herself, dread creeping up within her.

"He said she was the most in danger I think?" Valerie answered. "Mrs. Fenton - Plasmius and Phantom are probably the only ones that can take that ghost one on one. With Phantom injured - Plasmius in the next best thing. She'll be fine."

Maddie was silent for a few moments. "Think you can track him?" she asked the hunter.

"Plasmius?" Valerie asked. Maddie nodded. "What are you thinking?"

Maddie rubbed her arm absently. "If Phantom's worried about Jazz and sent on his arch-enemy to protect her, then she might be in more danger than we realised."

:-=-:

Dan turned to be blasted by a magenta blast of energy.

Jazz gasped in surprise as Plasmius flew at Dan with such intensity. "Vlad?" she questioned.

Noticing the young girl, Vlad promptly duplicated in two, leaving one to clash with Dan and the other to head in her direction. "Are you alright Jasmine?" he asked.

Jazz attempted to stand again, but faltered as the pain in her ankle flared again. She winced, rubbing it as she looked up at Plasmius. "Think I sprained it," she said.

Dan roared as he traded punches with Plasmius' duplicate, getting both of their attention. Jazz frowned, noticing that Dan didn't use any of his ghost powers.

"He's getting tired," Vlad said, answering her unasked question. "Dan has been duplicating non-stop and clashing with all of us. About damn time too; don't know how much longer any of us can keep him at bay without that shield."

A whine of an ecto-gun made both of them look up as both Valerie flew into the fray, Maddie on the back of her sled with bazooka raised at Dan. She fired, hitting both Plasmius and Dan, making Vlad's duplicate disappear. Valerie continued the onslaught with a barrage of missiles toward the Dark Phantom. Dan looked up at them both, snarling before he stopped, glaring at the four foes.

"To be continued I think," he said snidely, smiling. His eyes met Jazz's, gleaming with malice. "Let's see if your precious Phantom is stronger than me." Dan disappeared, making Jazz frown.

"Jazz!" Maddie called out. Valerie flew over, retracting her sled as both women touched down. "Honey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Jazz confirmed as Maddie ran over to her. "Just twisted my ankle." The mother nodded, letting out a small breath before she glanced at the older hybrid and nodded. Vlad gave her a small smile that she did not return.

"It's not like him to retreat," Valerie said, breaking up the reunion.

"He's not retreating," Plasmius said quietly.

Jazz shook her head. "He's jealous," she corrected. "I thought it was something like human envy but isn't that." She winced as Maddie helped her up. "That evil Phantom was born out of his worst failure and never recovered. Our Phantom managed to overcome that failure to get to where he is today, and has all of the future Phantom's deepest desires - or at least the desires he had when he was 14."

Maddie frowned. "So he wants to destroy Phantom?"

Jazz paled. "Not just destroy," she said. "I think he's trying to punish Phantom." Jazz locked eyes with her mother. "Mom, we need to find him. Dan's unstable and has 10 years on our Danny Phantom."

"Your father's on it," Maddie assured, hugging her daughter tightly. "Phantom will be okay."

Valerie exchanged a worried frown with Plasmius. "I know you all know Phantom a bit better than I do, but I doubt he'll be up for a fight if it comes his way."

"Ms. Gray is right," Plasmius confirmed. Valerie scowled in his direction as he revealed her identity to Jazz. The red head barely blinked at the admission. "Daniel will try to lure him out of the city by himself to try and keep you out of the way. He won't make it."

Maddie bristled at that man's assessment. "And how would you know what he can and can't do?" she snapped.

Vlad's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Really, we're going to do this again?" he retorted. "How many times do I have to tell you, we're the same Maddie."

Maddie pursed her lips. "You are not the same!" she argued. "The choices he made? Miles different than what you chose."

"And yet here we are, fighting a future version of him that embodies everything that you believe me to be," Vlad replied coolly. He sighed tiredly. "Do you even know, truly know, how many times that boy barely makes it out of these fights alive?"

"Plasmius," Jazz warned, frowning in thought as she looked between the two adults. Maddie gestured for Valerie to take Jazz, storming up to Plasmius furiously.

"How dare you," she accused. "Of course I do."

Vlad shook his head. "You've seen the recoveries, Maddie," he said softly. "You've never seen him in mid-battle. You've never seen what he had to go through to make it back."

Maddie stood, fuming silently. "And you have?" she asked at last.

"How do you think he survived Pariah?" The three women stiffened at his words. Vlad sighed again. "You've known the truth for less than a year, my dear. It's not your fault that you didn't know. The only reason he's alive right now is because I created the ecto-enhancers." Maddie frowned in confusion at the name. "Daniel is not going to stop if he believes you all are in danger - and trust me when I say that Dan will kill him without our help."

Maddie swallowed, ignoring Jack's voice in her ear as he called for anyone to respond to him; she could hear it in his voice. "If you cannot figure out how to separate their ecto-signatures, even with Plasmius' help, then you must be prepared to accept what Danny decides to do. Along with the consequences that come with it." Clockwork's warning rang in her mind as she stared at Vlad. She knew Vlad was right; Danny was going to fly into battle regardless of what was best for him.

"I believe in him," Maddie said softly. "I may not have been there for him, but I'm here now Vlad. I know what he'll do, what he thinks he'll need to do. If he's going to lure Dan out of the city, then we're going after him. Jack and I are going after him."

The adults stared at each other in grim understanding before Jazz gasped.

"You know," Jazz said softly. "Mom, you know don't you?"

"Know what?" Valerie asked, questioningly. A second later, she gasped too. She turned to Jazz. "Wait, you both know?"

Jazz furrowed her brow at Valerie's question before her eyes widened.

Vlad turned his attention to the teen hunter. "How'd you figure it out?" he asked quietly.

"What was it? 'For such a smart girl, she's very easily led.'" Valerie quoted angrily.

Plasmius sighed. "I guess there's not much to say about that then." Valerie opened her mouth to retort. "At least for now. If we're going to help Daniel, then we're going to need to get past the shadow ghosts and take out as many as we can so we don't leave the town defenceless.

"And how, are we going to do that?" Valerie asked irately. Her answer came as the ground rumbled beneath her feet and the massive energy of the Fenton Shield took over the town.

:-=-:

Jack's eyes widened, making a move to attack but Dan disappeared with a faint pop, leaving him running into thin air. "Danny," the worried father said, turning to Danielle. "Where's Danny?"

Danielle's eyes widened, realizing what Dan's disappearance meant. "I left him at an office building," she replied, pointing off in the distance to a building a few blocks away. "Follow me!"

Danielle flew, Jack following quickly behind - ignoring the burning in his legs from the amount of running he had to do. Get to Danny. "How was he?" he asked, frowning as ran.

Danielle's mouth grew thin, looking down with familiar green eyes as she answered. "Not up for a fight if one comes his way."

Dread crept up into Jack's stomach again, quickening his pace. "Then we have to find him before Dan does." They turned a corner, Danielle pausing for a second before nodding and heading right. As they came up to the building, Jack stopped, out of breath as he looked at the damage to the downtown core. The amount of debris was only amplified by broken windows, gaping holes in brick buildings and large burns above them. "Some party," he joked, narrowing his eyes as he caught his breath.

Danielle smiled a lop-sided smile - so eerily similar to Danny's that another pang of worry hit him with full force. Danielle continued, oblivious to his turmoil. "You had to be there," she quipped, her smile fading slightly. "Come on - he should be around floor 3 or 4." She flew upward, leaving Jack outside with a small frown.

"Sure - leave me to the stairs," he said bitterly, kicking the door in as he broke into the building and headed up the stairs. "Not like I'd appreciate the lift or anything." By the time he reached the top of the third flight of stairs, he huffed deeply, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. Definitely need to train some more. He rubbed his face tiredly, remembering that he barely slept over the last few nights before adrenaline kicked in again. Danny; he had to find him.

"Danny!?" he yelled into the office. It was bitterly cold - someone had cranked the air conditioner. Odd - there's no one here. "Son! It's me!"

"Jack!" Danielle's alarmed voice made him race over to her. He saw her floating ahead of him, back toward him as she blocked a row of cubicles. As he reached her, he stopped looking at the floor in front of them.

Various bottles of water littered the floor along with an ice bucket that was half melted. Dried ectoplasm smeared the wall and part of the cubicle. A few scorch marks of thin lines were against the wall. He swallowed thickly, trying to hold back his emotions as surveyed the scene.

"He was right here," Danielle whispered softly. "We - we told him to wait here - That we would protect you from Dan."

Jack stepped forward a little bit, looking at the marks on the cubicle as Danielle kept floating in shock. "Danny," he whispered, putting his hand out to touch a bit of ectoplasm. Jack turned his head to Danielle, who stared at him blankly. "He wasn't taken," he told her matter-of-factly. He turned back to the rest of the floor, walking toward another cubicle and seeing a smeared handprint of ectoplasm along the top. "It looks like he moved this way."

"Jack," Danielle whispered, getting the man's attention. "Danny wasn't okay when I left him," she told him thickly. "He… he couldn't... Dan had him by the throat and then his hands lit on fire." Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him worriedly. "Something's wrong with his core - something about it overheating. We need to find him."

Jack's mind raced with the implications of her words. Immediately he brought his hand to the Fenton Phone in his ear. "Does anyone have eyes on Danny?!" he said tersely, moving quickly through the office to retrace his son's steps. He stopped at the giant hole in the wall, finding no other evidence that Danny was still there. When static reached his ears, Jack's frown deepened. "Maddie? Jazz? Tucker?" Danielle flew towards him, mirroring his worry and impatience. "Fenton 2 to base! Do you read me?" Again, static reached his ears, anger getting the best of him. Jack's face darkened as he turned abruptly.

"Jack?" Danielle called nervously, floating behind him.

To hell with being patient. "We were wrong," Jack said with self-loathing. "Danny needs us - now. Where would he go?" He turned to Danielle, the girl flinching under his intense gaze. "What else did he tell you? He told Red that Dan was going after us, where would-" Jack stopped, eyes widening as another thought catching up to him. "Jazz. Who's with Jazz?"

Danielle bit her lip. "Danny told Plasmius to go to her. Said she was the most in danger."

Jack growled. "That has to be it. He must be going to Jazz - Danny doesn't trust Plasmius."

Danielle's brow furrowed in thought. "He doesn't," she agreed slowly. "But this is bigger than them. Plasmius saved Danny back there. If it wasn't for that jerk, I don't know if -" Danielle gasped suddenly, a deep rumbling from beneath them cutting through their conversation. Jack turned to the broken wall in the building to see a deep green shield appear around the town. It flew outward, stretching over the downtown area, past the part and stopped just shy of Elmerton.

Jack's eyes widened, recognizing what the shield meant. He took out the scanner, setting it for a lower level of ghosts and saw quite a few ghosts being pushed out of the town. Small optimism came back to the man as he turned to the confused half-ghost behind him. "Come on - he's must still be in the city. We'll find him."

:-=-:

It was chaos in the Fenton Lab.

Tucker looked up from the control console in a daze, watching Frostibite bandage one of the Far Frozen's ghosts from the battle outside. There was still no sign of Danny's ecto-signature on the scanner, and still no word from Mr. Fenton on if he managed to find him.

Why aren't I out there? He thought angrily as he looked at the shield code again. He sighed, resigned before he looked over to Clockwork. "Any sign?" he asked the Time Master, who still sat on his chair glancing at the screens.

Clockwork shook his wearily.

"Damn," Tucker swore.

"Tucker of Tech - I need your assistance," Frostbite called over.

Tucker sighed, rushing over to Frostbite and another injured Far Frozener. "Can you hold this still?" Frostbite asked, gesturing to a large splint on the furry ghost's arm. Tucker nodded, looking queasy at the small sight of ectoplasm from the broken arm.

The ringing phone of the Fenton's lab made Tucker jump. Shooting a quick apologetic glance to the injured yeti, he turned back to the Master of Time. "Clockwork - can you get that? It might be important."

Frostbite froze the ghost's arm, creating an ice cast as Tucker hastily retracted his hands. The ghost nodded in thanks, and Frostbite gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Now to find some more gauze," the yeti leader said.

Tucker nodded, walking back toward Clockwork. "Who is it?" he asked the Time Master. Clockwork shrugged in respond. "What do you mean you don't know who's on the phone?"

"You asked me to get it," Clockwork replied. "I have it."

Tucker looked at him incredulously. "Did you answer it?" he asked, frustrated.

"I was supposed to it?" Clockwork retorted.

Tucker let out a long sigh. "Clockwork, you're the Master of -" Tucker broke off as he noticed movement at the workbench with unmodified prototypes. "For the love of all things technology Frostbite don't touch that!" Frostbite jumped, dropping the Ghost Gabber and breaking it. "Seriously, the Fentons haven't adjusted all their weapons yet! You're lucky it's just the Gabber. Check the infirmary for more gauze - Mrs. F has them stacked." Tucker sighed, inwardly vowing to never be left alone with so many ghosts without Danny present. He took the phone from Clockwork, who red eyes twinkled as he hovered by his side. "You've reached FentonWorks Base Operations."

"Sound and the Fury - Mr. Foley!" Mr. Lancer's voice exclaimed from the other end. "What are you doing down there?"

"Mr. Lancer?" Tucker asked in disbelief. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and exasperation. "What - you know what, never mind. The Fentons have me manning coms while they're out 'kicking ghost butt.' What's wrong - there's kind of a lot going on at the moment." His eyes drifted across the lab and back to the scanner. Nothing yet. Where are you Danny?

"More than whatever evil ghost we're facing demolishing the entire town? Or rather, the school?" Tucker could hear the sarcasm in the teacher's voice and was willing to bet he had his disappointed teacher face on.

"What!?" Tucker exclaimed. He pulled the phone closer to the chair, rolling himself back to the console. He checked the scanners again. "Damn, he must have duplicated again without us knowing. You okay Mr. Lancer? How did you escape?"

Mr. Lancer started to answer, but a different voice beat him.

"Tuck."

Tucker stiffened, eyes widening. It was quiet, raw but unmistakably his voice. He didn't dare to breathe, worrying that it may his mind playing tricks on him, but he wanted to desperately believe it was him; that he was okay. Eventually a soft whisper escaped Tucker lips.

"Danny!?"