#a different phantom rider

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avenger #41: When Ghosts Can Die, Even Gods Must Fear!

February, 1989

Mockingird: "Go away! Haven't you tortured me enough, PHANTOM RIDER?"

Why did West Coast Avengers suddenly decide to have awesome covers?

Ghostly heads? Pentagram? Cover dialogue? This has it all!

This issue is to tie off some loose ends before John Byrne takes over so lets get to it!

Last times on West Coast Avengers: Mockingbird committed some cowboy manslaughter in the past times. Fully justified because it was a sex crime cowboy but when her cowboy manslaughter was revealed by the ghost of the cowboy, it kinda torpedo'd her marriage. Mockingbird and Hawkeye got into a massive argument masquerading as a debate on whether its okay for superheroes to do a manslaughter. And when the dust settled, the two were pre-divorced and Mockingbird took half the team with her, Tigra and Moon Knight.

Hawkeye's side of the team doesn't matter for this issue. But its Hawkeye, Wonder Man, Vision, and Scarlet Witch. Last time they fought a quirky miniboss squad.

This time, the narration is right. It really does seem like someone slapped some Thor inside a West Coast Avengers cover.

There's an invasion of Asgard by Seth, Egyptian god of being a dick, and his army of snakey boys. Leir of the Tuatha de Danaan/the Celtic gods is here helping the Asgardians because the line must be drawn heeeyah. This far, no further.

This stuff isn't really relevant but its not not relevant.

What is relevant is that Mockingbird's Notvengers have gone to the University of Nevada.

Remember that time Mockingbird assaulted and nearly killed Dr. Hamilton Slade, believing him to have something to do with his ancestor's ghost jackassery?

Well, the Notvengers are trying the novel idea of just asking him for help without kicking the shit out of him. And also, they've brought Daimon Hellstrom as a supernatural consultant. But no Patsy Walker though.

Suddenly, this is a bad issue.

Also, plotter and editor-in-chief Tom DeFalco has a cameo of himself in this book.

I like to point out creative team cameos.

Look at that DeFalco, playing some frisbee and being mocked by a friend. Interesting choice for a cameo, I tell ya what.

Anyway, Dr. Hamilton Slade says he has no idea what all this Phantom Rider stuff is about. Sure, his ancestor Lincoln Slade was a Wild West vigilante but what does that have to do with him?

Mockingbird decides to recap her entire experience with Phantom Rider in the past times. How he kidnapped her and drugged her into being his girlfriend. How she came to her senses and fought him at the edge of a cliff and didn't save him when he wound up hanging from the cliff.

Cowboy manslaughter!

Mockingbird: "I watched him fall -- and I was glad. You'd have to be a woman to understand how such violation can traumatize you -- drive you to extreme. And, of course, I was once a secret agent. We're taught to live with death."

But Phantom Rider has no appreciation for what should have been the cathartic end of the story. He came back as a ghost to torment Mockingbird and leaked a biased version of the story to Hawkeye to ruin Mockingbird's marriage.

Granted, Hawkeye and Mockingbird being too stubborn not to yell at each other about it sealed the deal.

Hamilton Slade says he kinda understands why she beat the shit out of him now. He'll do what he can, although he still doesn't know what he can do.

THE ANSWER TO THAT IS SATANISM.

Hellstrom draws a big ol' pentagram on the floor and tridents the ghost out of Hamilton.

Oh, ghost(s) actually.

Handily distinguished. Cape Phantom Rider is ye original Phantom Rider, Carter Slade. Lincoln's older brother. No cape Phantom Rider is Lincoln, the Phantom Rider that's been tormenting Mockingbird.

-slaps Hamilton-

This bad boy can hold so many ghosts.

Cape Phantom yells that Lincoln was always a bad egg. He abandoned his own wife and child to go off and be Phantom Rider when Carter died.

And dammit, Carter told him not to go and be Phantom Rider! It's not a legacy title, shitheel!

After watching some cowboy ghosts lasso each other for a while, Daimon Hellstrom decides that what this situation really needs is to be complicated.

He tridents Moon Knight and Khonshu points out.

Turns out that the occult expert recognizes a possession when he sees it. Even if its divine possession.

But with a god on the board, surely we'll get this ghost cowboy situation cleared up in no time.

Except... remember that thing with Seth and his demonic invasion of Asgard?

Yeah. That didn't open the issue for nothing. We're complicating the resolution of the haunted Mockingbird subplot by adding in a completely different plot.

Seth is an Egyptian god and whoops so is Khonshu. When Khonshu pings the ethereal scanners that Seth's demons are using, Seth's general orders a strikeforce to attack Khonshu before he can join the fight against Seth.

Despite the fact that Khonshu has shown zero knowledge or interest in Seth's plans.

Womp womp.

So back at the pentagram, Khonshu orders the ghost cowboys to stop fucking fighting each other and settle down.

Then because of Hellstrom's prompting, he decides to explain to Moon Knight why he's been possessing him.

Khonshu: "Marc Spector, I have left your body which I have inhabited for several months. As the giver of vengeance, I desired to experience this team called Avengers, and in what more fitting fashion -- than as you. I made you believe it was your destiny to become an Avenger. And so as to arouse no suspicion -- I took control of you by degrees. Slowly, like the waxing moon, I imposed myself upon your essense... and the god became man. But my need for this experience is over and so I withdraw my imprint from you completely. Now arise, Fist of Khonshu. Once again you are but flesh and blood in my service."

So, basically, Khonshu wanted to hang out with the Avengers and took over Marc's body to do it.

Rude.

Also rude: Seth's demons teleport in and start fighting everything.

Tigra: "Does anybody get a break around here?"

Moon Knight gets the worst in the ambush.

He was already dealing with suddenly being back in the drivers seat when suddenly a bunch of demons show up and start punching him and knocking him down the stairs. And the strength of these silly snake demons and maybe tumbling down the stairs breaks Moon Knight's weapons and his bracelets.

Moon Knight: "My weapons being lost -- and shattered! What type of enemies are we facing?"

Hellstrom handles the ambush better. These are demons, he fights demons. He blasts the group accosting him away with BALEFUL SOULFIRE!

Khonshu does not do as well.

Seth's demons were expecting to fight a Khonshu and they were ready to fight a Khonshu.

They incapacitate him with a surprise blast of the "etheromic phase-out cannon."

And the demons definitely didn't reckon on Tigra who goes catserker on them.

They really weren't ready for The Tigra.

Meanwhile, ghost fight.

Phantom Rider punches Phantom Rider through the wall of the building and outside where some college students are chilling.

They, of course, get a frighten and run off.

Other students seeing the ghost fight just assume its holograms from those darn computer graphics majors again.

Bad Phantom Rider clarifies for the audience that ghost guns can hurt ghosts. And then he shoots his brother, the Phantom Rider with the cape.

Good Phantom Rider also clarifies that Lincoln Slade was never supposed to be Phantom Rider.

Carter was chosen based on fate and destiny and spirits and whatever. Lincoln wasn't.

Good Phantom Rider: "My life was saved for a reason -- a purpose! I was destined to be a creature of the night... bringer of swift justice to the lawless! I knew I had been saved for a reason and Flaming Star claimed I was to be the champion his sky-spirits had promised him! But the Phantom Rider identity is not meant to be passed to one who isn't worthy! It's a special gift -- and you never measured up inside, Lincoln! Never!"

Lincoln, the bad Phantom Rider, insists that not only did he deserve to be Phantom Rider, he was better at it than Carter ever was! So, nyeh!

Good Phantom Rider claims that because the fates/spirits didn't intend Lincoln to become Phantom Rider, they probably maybe drove him mad! Yup, possibly, the spirits are responsible for Lincoln obsessing over Mockingbird and kidnapping her. You're maybe dicks, the spirits.

Back at the Seth subplot, Tigra is still going ham on Seth's demons. Just really tearing into them.

Mockingbird realizes that her cat friend is in a real berserk state and that anything that moves might be in for a mauling.

Nevertheless, Mockingbird jumps Tigra from behind and restrains her, saying that Avengers don't murder!

Okay, but what about manslaughter?

Because this feels like its supposed to be the conclusion to Mockingbird's arc? She sees a bunch of superhero murder going on and decides 'wow I don't like that, maybe I was in the wrong'?

Except: different situations. Apples and oranges.

Back at ghost fight, Bad Capeless Lincoln Phantom Rider says he doesn't care about Caped Carter claiming that the spirits drove him mad. He just wants to endlessly torment Mockingbird in revenge for her letting him fall off a cliff.

Nothing saner than that!

Anyway, ghost fight ends with Carter giving Lincoln a real walloping. Because he's fighting to protect Hamilton, who both the ghosts were living in rent free.

Back at the demon fight, Moon Knight has decided it doesn't matter whether he's going mad or not. Doesn't matter who these chumps are or what they want. Because he's very pissed off now and he's going to do violence until he stops being so pissed off.

And Moon Knight jumps into a pile of demons, bringing one of his last weapons over someone's head.

Elsewhere in the demon fight, Hamilton Slade is hiding under a desk wondering if he's going mad.

This day has been nuts for him. Superheroes claiming he was harboring a murder ghost. An Egyptian god popping out of another dude. Extradimensional invasion of demons. Ghost fights!

So when Carter shows back up with an unconscious?? Lincoln and tells Hamilton that he's the chose one of this generation, Hamilton just goes you know what fine.

And he becomes the new Phantom Rider. Possessed by a dead Phantom Rider. But the good one.

BECAUSE WHY NOT.

Does the present need a cowboy with ghost powers to fight crime? Either way, its got one now!

All-New, All-Different Phantom Rider shoots his ghost guns at the Etheric Stasis Generator, freeing Khonshu. Who takes the good measure of destroying the generator so they can't get him again.

Moon Knight gets grappled by the pile of demons he jumped into but he's able to kick himself loose. But loses his fancy belt in the process.

They're really destroying this man's collection of ancient egyptian artifacts.

Also, Hellstrom has been kicking demon ass off-panel this whole time. So between Tigra slashing her way through a small pile of demons, Moon Knight kicking his way out of another pile, Khonshu breaking free, and Hellstrom blasting demons with hellfire this whole time... the general decides 'actually? fuck this' and orders a retreat.

Moon Knight gets to throw a straggler through the portal himself and tells him to tell Seth that "one of those who defeated you was Moon Knight -- the Fist of Khonshu!"

Khonshu appears before Moon Knight and tells him that it's been fun possessing him but he's got to get back to his god responsibilities.

Moon Knight tells his god that he has no idea who his real self is anymore or what he should be doing.

Khonshu tells him to continue to avenge in his name but Khonshu won't be possessing him anymore.

He possessed Moon Knight because he was curious to experience mortal sensations but now he's gotta go punch Seth a lot. He feels somewhat responsible since they're from the same pantheon.

Khonshu: "Perhaps I will not survive the coming conflict. But though I perish -- let the mortal fist outlive the immortal deity. Strike in my name, disciple. Now and forever... strike in my name. Farewell."

And Khonshu fucks off.

Tigra flirts with Moon Knight but he rebuffs her.

Implying, I suppose, their relationship was because Khonshu wanted a catgirl girlfriend.

Valid.

Later on, like this year, Tigra and Moon Knight do have a good relationship. I think they're dating again. Both have grown up a lot since West Coast Avengers.

Hellstrom decides that he should ghostbust both of the Phantom Rider ghosts, just in case. Mockingbird echoes the sentiment because she dislikes all ghost cowboys now.

Cape Carter Phantom Rider agrees to be banished if it banishes his evil, bad fuckup brother Lincoln too. Carter will guard Lincoln for eternity to make sure he never threatens the world with his madness.

Hamilton disagrees though. And he commands Carter to possess him at the last second.

Bad Lincoln gets banished, Carter is safely hidden inside Hamilton.

Hellstrom asks Hamilton if he's going to be okay with hosting a ghost.

Hamilton Slade: "In my mind I can see -- I can feel the glorious future to come! It shall be as it was over one hundred years ago... A caped champion in white astride the great stallion Banshee -- a champion whose blazing guns will see that decent folk rest safe and secure! Rider and horse united in the never-ending pursuit of law and order and the frontier justice that is the legacy of -- THE PHANTOM RIDER!"

So, yeah, like I said. A new, new modern Phantom Rider.

Hellstrom says, well, fine, but he's still going to keep Hamilton on notice for ghost crimes.

Which Phantom Hamilton Rider is fine with.

As the Notvengers leave the university, Tigra asks Moon Knight what's wrong. The two of them have a rapport, he can confide in her.

But what he has to say, he says to the whole group.

He's quitting.

Joining the Avengers was Khonshu's idea and since Khonshu fucked off, Moon Knight is fucking quitting.

Technically, he already quit when he sided with Mockingbird. But semantics.

Also, Moon Knight is implicitly dumping Tigra in doing this.

Tigra suggests that she and Mockingbird go back and rejoin the West Coast Avengers.

Given what note things ended on, I don't know why she thinks it'd be so easy. It definitely feels like there were hurt feelings and bruised pride that has to be navigated.

But either way, Mockingbird rejects the suggestion. She has too much shit to sort out and she can't face Hawkeye.

She's probably definitely not begging him to take her back.

So Mockingbird and Moon Knight sadly walk off in different directions. NOTVENGERS NO MORE!

Tigra cries because this is super-poignant, we swear.

But also because she hitched her wagon to Mockingbird's cause and like the East Coast Avengers team pre-Inferno, the team just dusted away due to indifference.

The Notvengers won the day, fought off some demons, were around when someone else stopped the evil ghost haunting Mockingbird.

But it doesn't feel like a win.

Hellstrom tells her life goes on and Avengers endure. Maybe go rejoin the Avengers, he seems to be suggesting.

Because she seemingly does in the next issue.

And I'm finally at the Byrne run. Lamentations.

Follow @essential-avengers because I'm not an evil ghost possessing an archaeologist. I'm very material. Like, reblog, and comment maybe?

[t-u-i-t-c]

“I’m nothing like you!”

[moonchildstyles]

lily of the valley

oleander final part: y/n never pictured that her night would end like this.

wordcount: 16.2k+

cw: lots of talk ab blood and the consumption of blood! some descriptions of people who have passed away, but thats really it!

—————

(Y/N) stood behind the apothecary counter, chin resting in her palm with her eyes gazing out the window. The rain had returned last night, bringing with it a lingering fog and cloudy sky. Barely anyone was out and about, leaving (Y/N) feeling as if she were the only soul left in the village. The same way she had felt since leaving the castle and ghosting through the world without anyone the wiser to what she had learned that night. 

The last week had been one of wandering thoughts and conflicting dreams. More than once, she had woken in a cold sweat, a flashing nightmare of Harry hovering over her, his mouth full of sharp teeth and blood. She would wake with her heart in her throat and lungs tight, but the only thing that could calm her was the thought of Harry himself comforting her. She would replay a fantasy of him coaxing her down from her fright, those concerned eyes and gentle touch helping draw her in.

Soon enough, as the days packed on, those nightmares were few and far between, leaving (Y/N) with only questions and intrigue replacing her initial fear. Distance and time from him allowed the memories of his care to rise to the surface; his promise of never bringing her any harm and the actions to back it up were at the forefront of her mind. 

He had said they would see one another soon, after enough time had passed to allow her to wrap her head around it all. (Y/N) was beginning to itch for that time to come sooner rather than later. 

As if someone had been listening into her thoughts, a familiar bone white horse emerged through the fog, looking more phantom than animal. The rider had long dark hair and pale features. It was Harry's footman—Mitchell.

He was the one that hadn't learned his self-control yet. (Y/N) stiffened at the thought.

The horse was guided right to the apothecary where Mitchell hopped off the stead and tied the reins to the latch outside of the shop. (Y/N) didn't know how to keep her eyes away now that she knew what he was. 

The similarities to Harry only increased as she looked at him through a different lens. They were both impossibly graceful, lacking any flaw. Mitchell moved with a restrained strength, as if he were holding back with every movement causing him to look almost mechanical. She wondered if Harry was always holding back in the same way, but had mastered the art of blending in. 

There was no hesitancy this time when he came in. Stepping over the floorboards, he still lacked any real show of presence as nothing creaked under him or rattled around his weight. His sharp eyes landed on her immediately. 

"Ms. (Y/N)," he greeted with a nod, his voice low and clipped. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a familiar, opulent envelope. The last time she had seen one of these was when her father had thrown the piece into the furnace, effectively banning her from going to Harry's home. "From Harry," he murmured, passing off the piece. He took great care in ensuring their skin didn't brush. 

"Thank you," she answered, a small smile on her lips, "Mitchell." 

This time, she didn't wait for the footman to leave before she was breaking the wax seal and opening the flap to the letter. Inside was a simple letter, written out in curling letters on elaborate stationary. 

My dearest, (Y/N), 

       I hope I am not asking for too much to see you again so soon. I know we had agreed on coming together so I may offer answers to any and all questions you have, but if you would prefer to no longer see one another, I understand. If that is the case, tell Mitchell as much and I will no longer contact you if that will make you the most comfortable.

       If you are still open to seeing me again, I would like to invite you back to my home. I will arrange for the carriage to ferry you up here, and we will spend the evening discussing whatever you please. If you'll have me. 

       I hope to hear from you again soon. 

      Yours,

      Harry xx

Just as she finished skimming her eyes over the text, she saw Mitchell out of the corner of her eye attempting to flee just as silently as he had before. 

"Wait," she said, stopping him in his tracks before he could push open the door. 

He moved stiffly to face her, his dark eyes clear. "Yes?" 

"Hold on," she floundered, searching the counter for the steel pen and inkwell she had stored under the podium. "If I put my response on here, could you take it back to him, please?" 

Mitchell gave a single nod of agreement. 

This letter had been exactly what she was hoping she would see today. The small correspondence sparked those dimming memories of Harry she had been treasuring every night before bed. She could hear the words in his voice, see his pinched features and worried brow. 

The only problem she found within the lines was his choice of location. She didn't have the confidence to stage another sneak out in the middle of the night, not trusting herself to keep silent and away from prying eyes so soon after the last time. While she had done a well enough job, no one having approached her about anything they could have seen that night, she didn't trust that she could do it as well this next time when she had more nerves working against her. 

He would have to come to her. 

With her writing nowhere near as glamorous as his, she wrote out: 

      I would love to see you again. I can't go back to your home so soon, I'm sorry. Come to me this time. 

      I will leave my window open tonight and tomorrow. I will be on the lookout for you, and I will let you in through the shop door when I see you're here. 

Her letters looked like sloppy black slashes against his own curling script, but (Y/N) couldn't think much about her handwriting before she was folding up the page and replacing it in the gilded envelope. 

"Thank you," she said, handing the correspondence back to Mitchell. 

She expected him to stay in line with his persona, silently taking the page before he would ghost through the shop and disappear in the night. However, when he lingered after removing the letter from her grasp, she flicked her gaze up to find him looking at her with intensity in his earnest eyes. 

"Thank you," he insisted, unwavering in his eye contact. 

(Y/N) didn't have to ask where his gratitude was coming from. He knew that she was now aware of his condition, but there hadn't been even a single whisper of such through the village. 

"Of course," she offered, a quiet smile on her lips. "Hopefully, I will see you again sometime soon." 

For the first time she had seen, the stoic mask Harry's footman always seemed to carry showed its first crack. The very corner of his lips turned upwards in a smile. 

"I am sure we will." 

With that, he took the now altered letter and placed it for safekeeping in his jacket pocket. He left the apothecary as if he were but a phantom passing through. The only trace of his presence was the bone white horse (Y/N) could barely spot disappearing through the fog.

—————

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) pulled in a resigning sigh.

Harry wasn't coming. 

The sun had gone down hours ago, inducing both her father's bedtime and the rest of the village's. Even the pub wasn't garnering the kind of crowd that usually haunted those halls. This was the perfect night for him to visit. No one would even notice him and she could easily sneak him upstairs with the cover of the night and her father's heavy sleeping. 

She had diligently waited just as her response said, with her window cracked open to allow any noise to filter through and her eyes periodically scanning the space. Nothing more than a few bugs fluttering through her herb garden and the bright eyes of a familiar cat could be seen in the dark. 

If he was coming tonight, he would have already been here. (Y/N) sunk heavier into her thin mattress at the thought. 

Another hour—that's what he had left. Then, she would close her window and go to bed. She will try again tomorrow.

Just as her plan came together, she could hear her name being whispered in the night. Much closer than that of a bug skittering through her garden and too vivid to be a dream. 

Her eyes shot open only to see her window shadowed by Harry's broad form. He was lacking a jacket and waistcoat, only clad in fitted black trousers and a billowing top in a matching hue. This late at night, his eyes and hair seemed to be of a coordinating shade, leaving his skin especially pale in comparison. 

"Harry?!" she gasped, startling on her bed, "Wh—How did you—" 

He looked over his shoulder in a quick whip of his head before he turned to her once more. 

"I will explain in a moment, but I think I see one of your neighbours," he murmured, gesturing to her window with a nod of his chin. "May I please come in?" 

(Y/N) scrambled at the thought of one of her neighbours catching Harry perched on the sloping roof of her home, right where her window was open. "Yes, yes," she rushed out, keeping her voice low as she moved towards her window, "Just—Come in before anyone sees you." 

Curling her fingers under the pane, (Y/N) slid it open just enough for him to slip through. Taking a step back, she watched as he fluidly climbed through her window, not even a hair out of place. He landed on her floor without a single sound, turning back to shut the window after him. 

She hadn't realized just how heavy her heart was beating until the vacuum of her bedroom was restored. She settled some though she kept her eyes fixed on the broad of Harry's shoulders. 

"How did you get up there?" she breathed out, trying to picture how he would have made it to the ledge so soundlessly despite her open window. 

Harry's answer came in the form of a sly look shot over his shoulder. 

Oh. 

"Right," she sounded. Another part of his whole existence that she had no idea about. More questions were added to her ongoing mental list.

Harry looked out of place in her tiny bedroom. He was broad and space-filling. He had a presence here among the mishmash of stuff that made up her home, though it was far from suffocating. Standing with his back to her window, his form appearing that much longer with the help of the single flame of candle light casting shadows around him. He looked around her room, a tiny smile sitting on his lips. 

"Do you mind if I look around?" His voice was so pleasant and unrushed, it almost made (Y/N) forget the gravity of their meetup. 

Nonetheless, confined to her spot before the end of her bed, she nodded her head. 

She watched as Harry took in her space the same way she had taken in his: with curious awe. All of her small trinkets, childhood journals, gardening momentos, and memories of her mother were plotted about her room for him to graze his eyes over. His hands were twined behind his back as he wordlessly stepped through the space, eyes lighting up as he looked over the small shelf her father had nailed into the wall when she had finally received her own bedroom. There was a twitch to Harry's lips when he saw the various lengths of twine she had laying over her rickety bedside table; she always forgot she had one waiting before she had pulled another to tie her hair back. 

Her room was nothing at all like his castle. While he lived in rich color, exquisite luxury, and vast amounts of space, she had the opposite. Everything was muted in her room, leave for the dried flowers and tiny splashes here and there amongst her things. Harry could cross the width of her room in three strides with the length being met within four. It was far from the standards he likely had. Despite the obvious differences, (Y/N) could see the shatters of green appearing in his eyes the longer he made himself at home in her room, his features softening and bones relaxing.

She hoped that meant he liked what he found. 

Just when she thought he was planning on spending all night dissecting any and everything he could find in her bedroom, Harry finally turned on his heel, hands still clasped behind his back, to face her with a gentle smile. 

"Thank you for agreeing to see me again," he told her, voice a low rumble, "Have you had time to think?" 

Sitting on the end of her bed, she gave him a small nod. Her bottom lip fit between the blunt ends of her teeth, worrying the sensitive skin. "I have a lot of questions." 

"I figured you would. I am an open book, (Y/N)," he affirmed, coming to stand just before her, "Anything you want to know, I will answer to the best of my ability." 

(Y/N) could feel his eyes on her as she shuffled back on her bed, folding her legs underneath her with her nightgown falling around her form. "You can sit with me if you'd like" she offered, eyeing the empty space on her mattress for him. 

Her heart bubbled in her chest at the realization that she was asking a man to her bed. She had been so occupied on learning her answers and ensuring no one saw them together in the dead of night, that she had completely forgotten the fact that she was alone in her bedroom with Harry. When she had come up with this plan, she hadn't given much thought to the fact that she was supposed to be worried about her reputation (or her safety, if she was considering the non-human aspects of him). The racing of her heartbeat increased that much more when he cautiously took up her offer and crawled onto the bed in front of her. In the back of her mind, she wondered just how terribly her bed stacked up against the velvet covered monstrosities he had in his own home. 

"Thank you," he said, settling himself amongst the folds of her quilt. His observing gaze settled on her with rounded corners to his eyes. "How are you?" he asked, sincerity in his voice, "Have you been well since the last time we met?" 

"I am well, yes," she answered, dropping her eyes to her lap where her hands fumbled with one another, "Just thinking and trying to figure everything out. And yourself?" 

"I've been okay," he answered earnestly, "But, much better now. I'm glad to hear you've been alright; I have been worried I frightened you or been too much that last night." 

(Y/N) canted her head. "I wouldn't say frightened, no, but I've been overwhelmed." She swallowed. "Confused." 

"I understand; I felt the same way once, too," he sympathized, his tone tender, "What has troubled you the most?" 

Peeking at him through her lashes, she swallowed around her suddenly dry throat. 

"The—um—the bodies," she whispered, a pinch appearing by her brows, "You said that you haven't been the one doing... that recently, but you had in the past. What did you mean?" 

Just as troubling as it was for her to ask that question, it appeared Harry had the same issue answering it. 

"I..." he started, cutting himself off before he could get very far with his mouth settling into a grim line. "There was a time right after I had... become what I am now, that I was not myself. I was confused, scared, and unable to think rationally. All I knew was that I was hungry. The food I could find made me terribly ill, and no amount of water, or wine, or anything could quench my thirst. I could only have that." 

While (Y/N) felt as if she already had the answer she was asking for, she couldn't help but to pose her question anyway. 

"What do you mean, that?" 

Harry dropped his gaze from hers when he answered. "Blood."

Her fingers were a nervous bundle in her lap before her body stilled like the dead at his answer. The memory of the corpse she had found, bloodless and pale like snow, reentered her mind. 

"Y-You drink it?" 

"Yes." 

Her heart hammered against her ribs, though the feeling made her think only of the blood rushing through her veins. 

She must have sat there silent for too long, she realized when Harry piped up, feeling the need to mend the shock he had given her. 

"It's not something I want to do, (Y/N)," he started, choosing his words carefully, "It is the only way I can continue living, but please believe me when I say that I have not committed those kinds of atrocities in almost one hundred years. The second I learned that I could survive off of animals, that's what I started doing. I haven't done anything like what has been happening since." 

As uncomfortable as she felt, thinking about Harry drinking any kind of blood or taking any kind of life, she could live with the fact that he was choosing animals over those of her village. She had to eat too, and while she would have loved to keep every animal alive and frolicking around, she had to do what she had to do as well. She couldn't judge him too harshly. 

"But, Mitchell. He doesn't know yet?" she asked, thinking back to the man with the long hair and ghostly demeanor.

Harry sighed, the same kind of sigh her father used to give when her sister was too stubborn for her own good. "He does know, but it is a hard transition. He wants to change, but he cannot always contain himself should an easy opportunity present itself. I am trying to teach him how to work past those urges, but it is taking longer than either of us would like." He dropped his head then. "I am sorry for what you have seen and what he has done when he is not able to think. I live with the guilt just as much as he does, but we are getting better everyday. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive both him and I."

(Y/N) pursed her lips. "I don't like it, but I can understand," she offered on a delicate breath. Truthfully, Mitchell sounded like a child: impulsive and taking steps forward before taking just the same amount back. "We all do things we are not proud of. I hope he can learn from this soon, and give these families peace." 

"He will," Harry cemented, "I am going to make sure of it." 

A beat of silence sat between them as she rifled through her head to decide on her next question. "Pardon me if this is inconsiderate to ask," she prefaced, "But, is your... condition the reason both you and Mitchell are so... pale?" 

A genuine grin stretched across Harry's lips at her words. His laughter was a quiet huff from between his lips. "I would think so, yes," he told her, likely grateful for the easier line of questioning, "Every other vampyr I have met, we all tend to be on the paler side, lacking that life in our skin." 

It was an odd thing, hearing him talk about all of the others he had met. She couldn't help but to wonder if Harry really was the first she had ever encountered without even realizing. "Is that why you are cold, as well?" 

"Am I?" he asked, tipping his head to the side with a crease between his brows, "I suppose I've never really noticed. Though, the few times you have allowed me to touch you, you are so pleasantly warm I should have figured as much." 

"You think I'm warm?" she asked, feeling a small sense of pride hit her chest. It was entirely silly to feel flattered over a comment about the temperature of her skin, but she couldn't help herself. She was a simple girl, at the end of the day. 

"Very much so," Harry affirmed, dimples pressing into his cheeks as she smiled at her, "You are like the sun to me." 

Now she definitely couldn't bite back her smile, dropping her head to watch her fumbling hands pluck at the seams of her nightgown. "The sun?" 

"The very one," Harry teased, "Though I haven't felt the sun since I changed, I imagine the rays feeling like your touch." 

"You haven't felt the sun?" (Y/N) blanched, a set of questions hitting her that she hadn't even considered, "But I've seen you outside?" 

Harry gave her a pointed look, "Only on cloudy days. I learned the hard way a long time ago, but I now burn under the sunlight. It's a rather frightening experience, if I'm honest." 

"You burn?" (Y/N) pressed, suddenly scanning her eyes down his form as if she could pick out any marks or scars upon his skin. 

"As if I have touched fire," Harry grimly detailed, "But, I am lucky enough that because of what I am, my skin mends itself. I can't remember the last time I have had any kind of injury without an instant recovery or even fallen ill." 

A new lens fell over (Y/N)'s gaze as she looked at him. Harry was always strong in her eyes, both physically and in the way carried himself so regally despite the swirling rumor mill. Now, though, the descriptor had an entirely new meaning. No wonder he was so flawless—there was nothing in this world that could even blemish him. 

He was the perfect predator—and protector.

"You don't remember anything about the night you changed?" (Y/N) asked, mimicking the language he had been using himself. 

He didn't even blink at her shift in conversation, instead furrowing his brow and canting his head as he threw his memory back. 

"Not really," he mused, pursing his lips, "There are fuzzy bits and pieces I can recall, but nothing I can be sure of. Most of my life before is just as muddy, but I can remember a few things." 

"So you don't know how you became this?" She couldn't imagine going to bed one way and waking up another, not a single idea as to what happened only knowing that she was not the same. No wonder Mitchell was struggling; how do you cope with something so overwhelmingly monumental? 

"I don't know my story, but I do know how vampyrs can be made." He flicked his gaze to her as if to gauge her reaction, scanning for any minute change in expression. When he didn't see anything more than a curious blink, he cautiously continued. "There are three different things that can happen when we bite"—(Y/N) tried her best not to blanch at the blunt word—"someone. One is the kind that we use solely when we are eating, of course. That kind usually includes the end of a life." His own tone grew solemn at this example, that guilt he spoke of resurfacing, though (Y/N) appreciated his honesty. "We can make another vampyr in a similar way, though before the end, we have to have the control to stop. I do not know how it happens exactly, but there is something that changes humans and makes them like me. It can take time, but it can happen." 

"Have you ever... made someone?" 

Harry shook his head. "I've never considered making someone like that—it's too risky in my eyes." 

(Y/N) slowly nodded her head, taking in all of the information she was learning. It was hard to think she was only in her bedroom, and not in some fantasy world that had violently merged with her own. "You said there's a third kind of... bite?" 

"There is one more," he told her, sounding somewhat hesitant as he started, "It is called a Blood Bond. It is usually something that is shared between people that are intending to devote themselves to one another." 

"How do they do that?" (Y/N) was intrigued now. This whole thing—being a vampyr—sounded so solitary, she didn't even think that there could be something like this within their culture. A union.

"They have to bite one another," Harry answered vaguely, "and share blood. Usually at the neck." 

"And, it's like a marriage?" she pressed, trying to merge the concept with something familiar. Nonetheless, it was hard to picture her sister's wedding ending with she and her husband snapping at each other's throats.

"Something like that," Harry shrugged, "A bit more binding, though." 

A troubling thought struck (Y/N) then. "Have you ever...?" 

Harry all but blanched at her words. He shook his head immediately. "No, never. Mitchell is the only person I've ever kept in my life for longer than a month." 

While she hated the thought of Harry being alone, solitary in his castle overlooking the village, there was a selfish part of her that keened at the thought that he had never devoted himself to anyone. 

"How long have you known Mitchell?" (Y/N) rolled on. She wanted to get a picture of Harry's existence, even if she didn't completely understand the details yet. 

A small smile plucked at the corners of his mouth then. "You really are quite curious, aren't you?" 

Sheepishly dropping her gaze from his, she lifted her own shoulders in a small shrug. "It is alright if you'd rather not answer anymore, I know I can ask a lot at times. I do not wish to bother you or anything." 

"No, no," Harry rushed, impulsively dropping his hand to land on her nightgown-covered knee, "Please, you are not bothering me. I love your curiosity. I told you: I am happy to answer anything you have for me. I want you to know me." 

Matching her gaze to his, (Y/N) couldn't deny the genuine sincerity she found swimming in his irises. Refractions of crystal green had appeared in the pitch black, giving the look of a moonlit forest. There was a warmth to his expression, giving him the illusion of life with the dimples in his cheeks and the dazzling smile on his lips. 

She couldn't imagine being anywhere, but here.

—————

"What happened after that?" 

Harry directed his gaze towards the ceiling, searching the air for the rest of the story that lay in his head. 

"Nothing too eventful, really," he mused, "I suppose that was when I started focusing on blending back in with the world. I felt comfortable in my control and wanted to stop hiding away so profusely—plus, I was beyond bored with my own company. Brooding can only fill so much time." 

(Y/N) let out a tittering laugh at his words, leaning that much closer to Harry. 

As he spoke about his life, telling her of all of the things he had seen, people he had met, and the details that made him up, the space between them had slowly dissipated until Harry was laying at her side. The longer they talked, the easier it was to grow closer and more comfortable sharing space. (Y/N) had even twisted until she was laying beside him, flat on her stomach with him on his back, hands folded over his stomach. 

This close, she could practically count the lashes lining his eyes, the faint set of freckles that dusted his skin. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what he had looked like when he was human. Did he have perpetually flushed cheeks? Were his eyes always green, or just as dark as they were now? When he was cold, did the chill show on the tip of his nose? 

She didn't allow herself long to wonder over those questions. Harry as it he was in front of her was enough—more than enough, really.

"Was that hard?" she asked, her voice a low whisper as if she was conspiring with him in the dead of night, "Trying to be human again?" 

"At times, yes," he mused, his eyes on the ceiling as he found his thoughts, "Humans, without realizing it, will pick up on the things that make me different and avoid me out of survival—even when I mean no harm. It is hard to feel normal when that happens." 

Laying her cheek down on her pillow, admiring him as her head sunk into the down, a frown plucked at her lips. She could imagine him after trips down to the village, shopping and trying to socialize, though it was no secret the townspeople would rather him stay away. More and more she learned, the less Harry was a creature of the night with blood-stained teeth, and more a lonely soul adjusting to something he never asked for. 

"I don't avoid you," she said, a quiet attempt to make him feel less alone. 

She had the perfect view of the smile that stretched over his lips at her words, dimples and all. The bed dipped as he manueavered on her small bed, laying on his side to face her with his own cheek pressed to the same pillow. Her breath caught in her lungs. She'd only been this close to him once before, when he had traced his nose over the column of her throat just when she had seen his lack of reflection. 

This time, she had nothing else to focus on. He was her everything right then, everything around him blurring out of focus. 

"I know you don't," he responded to something she barely remembered saying, "And I feel so lucky every time I remember that. You are one of the few, (Y/N), that hasn't run the other way. But those other times were never like this." 

Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She loved the sound of her name in his voice. "Like us?" 

"Yes, like us," he said, a rewarding smile on his lips for her, "While it concerns me that you seem to lack any real survival instincts, I am grateful that you are not scared of me." His eyes glazed over her features, taking everything about her in as she held onto each word. "I have been drawn to you for longer than I have been able to admit to myself. Every minute we spend together means something that I cannot fully express." 

"Drawn to me?" she peeped, her blood bubbling under her skin. 

Harry looked sheepish now, the way he flicked his eyes to her before letting them fall. She wondered, if he was the same as her, if there would be a flush to his cheeks, and a pounding in his chest. "You've intrigued me for a very long time, before we even started speaking in passing. I have made excuses to come down to the village, shopping with you when I didn't really need anything. Even though you didn't mean it, you made me feel less alone." 

Tentatively, (Y/N) reached out a hand, her fingers holding a small tremor before she placed her palm on his chest. The chill of his skin could be felt through his shirt, leaving goosebumps on her arm. The slight cold was worth it when she saw Harry all but melt at her touch. She really must feel that warm to him. 

"I have always been very interested in you, too," she murmured, unable to meet his gaze should that give away the exact feelings she was trying to say, "I never understood why anyone would try to gossip or say anything about you. I guess they aren't too far off, though—those rumors." 

Peeking through her lashes, (Y/N) held a smile on her lips as she hoped her tease would land. When Harry huffed out a breath of laughter, his hand landing on her own on his chest, holding her fingers snug, her own grin grew three sizes.

"I suppose not," he smiled, pulsing his hand around hers. 

Gazing at him, (Y/N) could nearly count the amount of green shatters floating to the surface of the pools of black. Everything about him was clear and steady, unwavering. "Thank you for coming tonight," she started, "My initial reaction was overwhelming, and I apologize for that. I would never want you to think that I felt the same way as the others or that you frightened me enough to never see you again." 

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, ducking his head until he was directly before her, the tip of his nose just barely missing her own, "I am sorry that I didn't assure you enough that you were safe with me and had nothing to worry about. I was planning on telling you myself, I was only waiting until I knew how to say it without using the wrong words." 

"I think you've done alright," she smiled. If she blinked, would their lashes tangle together, or would she need to be just a bit closer for that? 

"You have such a power over me, (Y/N)," Harry told her earnestly, his eyes swimming in devotion with his tone tinted in worship. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) wondered if anyone had ever felt like she did in her bed right then. Did her mother ever feel this way for her father? Did her blood ever burn for him the way (Y/N)'s seemingly did for Harry? Did her sister ever feel her lungs squeeze and heart batter her ribs when looking at her husband? Did Mr. and Mrs. Wayfield feel their skin crawl with the need to join one another? 

Or was (Y/N) the first? 

Had everyone felt this way before, or had she invented the idea of falling in love right then? 

It was impulsive, reputation-ruining, and entirely unladylike the way she surged forward and pressed her lips to his. If Harry had any inhibitions, he didn't show them with the way he reciprocated the contact in a heartbeat. Molding his lips to hers, he led her through the kiss. It was far from refined, (Y/N)'s lips clumsy and off centered but Harry didn't mind correcting her until his hand was holding her cheek steady and he was pushing and pulling with her moving in tandem.

Drawing away, (Y/N) pulled in a gasp. Her hand on his chest clenched the shirt covering his chest, nails raking along the planes of his muscles. Harry didn't offer her much of a reprieve before he was diving back in, the chill of his mouth feeling nonexistent with the heat that began coursing through her veins. 

While she hadn't noticed it, Harry must have with the way he pulled away, allowing her suddenly aching lungs to take something in. He offered a smattering of kisses along her cheeks instead, affection pouring over every inch he could reach. 

"I adore you, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping like the nectar from a flower deep into the marrow of her bones. "I will never get enough of you." 

(Y/N) could only smile, a dreamy expression as she dipped her head back. A pleasant chill crept up her spine when Harry distributed his kisses down the column and over her thrumming pulse. 

She could stay here forever. Never moving, never changing. Right here with Harry was her home. 

"I wish I could stay," Harry murmured, responding to words she hadn't realized she said aloud, "But the sun will rise soon, and I believe you still need to sleep." 

Drawing away, Harry righted her head with his hand on her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing her cheekbone. She wasn't sure if it was just her eyes or if it was truly there, but she swore there was color to his cheeks, a flush to his lips. 

"I don't need to sleep," she countered, ready to dive back in. 

Harry barely sated her with a single kiss pressed to her pout. "Yes you do," he insisted, "You are caring for your garden tomorrow, right? You need rest for that or you will be exhausted before you can finish." 

For a moment, she hated that he knew anything about her and her routine. She didn't care for the sage or the rosemary or whatever she was meant to be pruning in the morning. She cared for who was in her bed. 

"Don't look like that," he said, unable to keep himself from laying another kiss on her lips, "We will see each other again soon, I promise. I don't think I can wait very long, either." 

"You can't stay any longer?" she asked, slowly releasing her hold on his shirt. From where she could see out her window, the sun was still down with the sky dark, but she figured Harry would know his limits and timings much better than she. 

Glancing out the glass himself, she could see the gears turning in his head. "I can stay a little while longer. Until you fall asleep, yes?" 

That was more than she could have wished for, truly. To fall asleep in his arms was the stuff of dreams. 

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you." 

Harry responded only by bundling her to his chest. While there was no heartbeat to compare to her own, nothing to beat in rhythm against her ribs, (Y/N) had never felt more comforted. 

Sleep didn't take long, even when she had fought her tired eyes. 

—————

(Y/N) shyly peeked through her lashes as she descended the narrow aisle between the church pews. For the third service in a row, her eyes met that of a dark figure seated in the last row. Harry flicked his gaze to hers for a heartbeat before he looked away, a conspiratorial smile on his mouth. She felt her skin warm as she followed her father out the church doors, rolling her lips between her teeth. 

Ever since he had climbed through her window the first time weeks prior, Harry had been more involved in the village than ever. He had told her between breathless kisses in the quiet of her bedroom that he wanted to see more, that he could barely keep himself away—she was on his mind constantly. With going to his estate in the night wasn't always a smart option for her and her bedroom wasn't exactly easy to hide away in, he was going to find another way to see her. Since then, whenever the sun was shaded enough, he was ghosting among the village with a tendency to haunt the apothecary or anywhere else (Y/N) might have been. (She could only imagine the stack of lavender and tobacco bundles he had laying around his home with the amount of times he came in to shop with her). He had even started showing up for Sunday morning service for another chance to see her, despite neither of them particularly caring for the sermons. 

Their moments were made up of subtlety with stolen glances and conspiratorial smiles, near silent conversations when no one was listening or the quiet confirmation that they were thinking of one another. They shared more secrets than she was sure anyone would even know what to do with. 

She was the only one who knew the real him amongst the chatter, and she was the only person in the world who knew what it was like to kiss her. And, no one had any idea. 

No one had seen the way he slipped scraps of notes into her hand when she passed off his herbs. No one else noticed the way they gravitated towards one another during the after church gathering at the pub. No one knew that he slipped in through her window most nights or how a letter on exquisite stationery would appear when he couldn't. 

No one knew (Y/N) was in love.

So caught up in her head, she didn't even register the chilly air filtering around her as she descended the church steps being her father. She had followed mindlessly even when he stopped to make conversation with another parishioner, not noticing his pause until she tripped right into his back.

Turning around, her father steadied her with a gentle hand and concerned eyes. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking over the bridge of her nose that had smacked right into his spine.

"Yes, sorry," she rushed out with a shake of her head, "I wasn't paying attention." 

His worry seemingly settled in permanent lines across his face. "Are you sure? You're not growing ill, are you? You've been off in your head these last few days." 

Unconsciously, her eyes trailed over his shoulder and towards the fringes of the group where Harry stood by himself. She could just barely see the amused curl to his lips. He had definitely seen her misstep.

"No, " she answered, blinking back into the conversation though now she had her own efforts focussing on keeping her features in line. "I'm just tired."

—————

"Harry," (Y/N) murmured against his mouth, "My father..." 

Drawing away from her kiss-puffed mouth, Harry sighed. "I know. I am trying, but you have to understand my struggle, darling." 

She couldn't help the plume of laughter that fanned from her lips at his words. He practically beamed at the sound, his deep green eyes glimmering in the low light of a single lamp. 

(Y/N) loved the way he smiled when they were alone. It was a wonder thinking that there was time before she had even known he had dimples. 

"I'm sorry," she told him, settling into the down pillow under her head. Harry hovered above her with a delicate hand roaming over her cheek, his other propping him up from where he laid at her side. She barely noticed the chill when they were like this, huddled under her quilt with the heat of their breath and curious hands. "I wish we didn't have to worry." 

"Come to me tomorrow," he offered in an instant, a bit breathless as he dropped his hand to boldly skate down her side, "We can be alone then." 

His palm settled over her waist with a pulse, fingers tightening just when he mentioned alone. Shifting in her bedding, he didn't hesitate to pull her closer to him. 

From the heat in his refracted gaze and the exceptional curiosity of his hands tonight, (Y/N) had a blushing idea of what he wanted to be alone for. While it wasn't the first time in the last weeks that there had been the passing possibility of allowing him to push her nightgown up or pull apart her corset, this was the first time Harry had given such a hint to his own intentions. 

For fear of assuming too much, (Y/N) slid her eyes down the slope of his neck. "I don't know." 

Creases appeared between his brows as he gazed down at her. "What are you unsure about, darling?" 

Avoiding his eyes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. "I—We—" she stumbled, tongue lazing around her mouth while she searched for the right words, "I want to be alone with you too, but... We're not married." 

She didn't match his eyes for fear that she had misread the situations and every other before this that she had sworn Harry was worked up on her account. For all she knew, he wanted nothing more than to speak at full volume and have more than a squeaky bed to sit upon.

Ducking his head into her line of sight, he forced her to meet his gaze. "I would never want to do something that you do not want as well, (Y/N). If you would prefer we do nothing more until we begin publicly courting and doing things in order, then that is what we will do." His hand on her side softened. "This is already more than enough for me—I can wait." 

Despite his kind words, (Y/N) didn't feel any of her stress alleviate. She had already known Harry would never rush her into anything thatch was not ready for, just as much as she knew that she did not feel any real inclination to wait until they were betrothed. But, neither of those truths made her decision any easier, not when there was more than just her own wants and desires to take into account. 

"I know, and I want to, really," she said, reaching out to play with the loose fabric of his top, "I just—It's... I don't want you to see or think of me any differently afterwards. I know it is not proper to want anything outside of marriage—I do not want anything to change if I were to... indulge." 

She hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him, specifically the kind of pressures that were placed on her for the simple fact that she was a woman in society. There were enough stories she had heard of women who had taken what they wanted, or fell in love with another and expressed that love, and were later shamed for doing exactly that—oftentimes by their own partners or people she trusted in her life. She didn't want to be cast aside in case he found that he no longer wanted her afterwards, after seeing how willing she was to be with someone that wasn't her husband.

Harry's features twisted with a frown touching his lips and his eyes saddening. "Have I ever made you feel as if my feelings would change should you spend the night with me? If I have, I want you to know—" 

"No, it's not that," (Y/N) rushed out, already feeling guilty, "You've never made me feel anything like that. It's just that... I suppose I've made myself feel this way. I just don't want you to change your mind about me." 

For all she knew, Harry would have sex with her and learn that he was only attracted to her for the fact that he wanted to be with someone after such a long time. It was not his fault she had these doubts, but they were ones that lived in her head.

Harry didn't shy away from her as she spoke. He only listened, patiently waiting for her to finish her thoughts. 

"I will just have to prove it to you then, that I have no doubts about you or anything I feel for you." His words were solid, unyielding. There was no room for argument. "In the meantime," he contented, his tone decidedly softer as he shuffled closer to her, "Would it be enough to tell you that I adore you? That I care for you more than I have for anyone or anything before?" 

(Y/N) suddenly felt shy under his attention. He had murmured as much to her in the heat of the moment before, but never so clearly and earnestly before.

"Harry," she started, settling her palm against his chest as if to contain him. 

"It is true," he smiled, unwavering in the way he spoke ,"You are like no one I have ever known before, and I could spend my entire existence only wishing to learn you. I know we are not married, or even engaged, but I hope it is enough to know that I do love you." 

Refractions of green sparkled in his eyes, brightening his gaze in a way she swore only happened when they were alone. Her heart bubbled and beat heavily in her chest. She could n longer contain the budding grin fighting to pluck at her lips. 

"You truly mean that?" she whispered, selfishly asking if only to hear it again. 

Dimples were thumbed into his cheeks. "Of course, I do. I've come to believe that the reason I was kept alive for so long was so that I might get to meet you." 

Looking up at him with his words ringing in her ears, Harry was like the moon to her. Never had she heard devotion like that. Even in her most romantic of daydreams, she never could have imagined that harry would say something like that to her, his eyes fixed to hers and his touch an anchor. Her chest practically ached as she processed. 

Her hand on his chest curled until she was fisting his top between her fingers. "I love you, too," she peeped out, the sound of her heartbeat sticking in her ears. 

Harry didn't hesitate before he was sealing his lips to hers once more. It was a hurried, excited kiss, leaving their mouths just a bit off center and his nose mushed against her cheek, but (Y/N) couldn't help but to smile into the contact. 

When he pulled away, (Y/N) could have sworn there was a flush of color to his skin. "If not for how badly I want to do this the right way, I would be proposing right now, (Y/N)." 

"You don't have to," she murmured, surging forward and pressing another kiss to his lips, "This is enough for me." While there was still undue shame she was going to undoubtedly feel tied to any decision she made, she didn't want that to come before what she wanted when it came to Harry. "If you were still offering," she started, dropping her eyes to follow the line of his nose and the pillow of his lips, "I would like to see you tomorrow. At your home." 

"Really?" he asked, his voice an octave deeper than she remembered. 

She nodded, a soft smile on her features. 

"Only if you are sure, my love," he murmured, "The door is always open for you."

(Y/N) could only answer him with a kiss.

—————

Pacing around her bedroom, (Y/N) counted, the numbers climbing in her head. Her simple white dress flourished around her ankles with every step, though she took care to avoid the creaky floorboards. 

When she reached two hundred, she took in a deep breath and strained her ears to listen to the rest of the house. All she heard was the sound of her father's snoring, just as she had when she had started readying herself. 

Releasing that breath, she took quiet steps to her slightly ajar window. She had run over this plan enough times in her head for her brain to go quiet as she finally put it all in place. Repeating her steps from the first time she had snuck out, (Y/N) made it out of her home in one piece before starting towards the long winding route leading to Harry's home. 

It wasn't long before a familiar black carriage and bone white horses hit her line of sight. A broad grin took over her features as she pace doubled to reach the coach. 

"Hello, Mitchell," she chirped, catching the familiar head of dark hair and pale features sitting in the coach box. 

"Hello, Ms. (Y/N)," he smiled at her, formality still hitting his tone despite (Y/N) assuring him more than once that he didn't need to offer her any, "He's been eagerly waiting for you." 

"I have been, too," she confessed through her grin, rounding the carriage with less grace than she figured she ought to have. Before she even had a chance to knock on the door or surprise him, Harry was practically jumping out of the box. 

"(Y/N)," he practically sighed, wrapping her in his arms the second his feet landed on the solid ground. 

Her own arms around his neck, she all but melted into his hold. Harry held her snug to his chest, his face buried in her hair. "I've missed you so, darling. I feel as if it has been years since I've held you." 

"You were in my room just last night, Harry," (Y/N) laughed. As if she hadn't been feeling the same way today, though it was much more fun to tease him.

"Exactly," he countered, stiffening his hold on her to lift her feet from the ground. (Y/N) squealed a laugh in his ear as she clung to him. "It has been much too long since I've held you."

She could offer no argument to him as she wrapped her limbs around Harry, allowing him to carry her into the carriage effortlessly. (Y/N) felt breathless by the time he had her settled on the bench beside him, wrapped in velvet and warmth despite his chilled skin. 

As she caught her breath, the horses started off in the direction of the castle, a rhythmic thumping starting with their hooves against the path. Harry looked down at her with amusement on his features. 

"Have you truly not missed me, darling?" he asked, his voice a soft song filling the space between them. His hand was just as gentle as he removed hair from her face, giving him a full view of her eyes. 

"I have," she smiled, shaking her head, "But, Mitchell..." 

Harry waved her off. "He doesn't listen, believe me. He only wishes to see me happy." 

"Are you? Happy, I mean?" 

Dipping his head down until he could press his lips to hers, (Y/N) received her answer in a murmur: "Undoubtedly, so."

—————

"If you're ready, I have somewhere I'd like to show you." 

Looking at Harry from over the rim of her wine glass, (Y/N) brightened. "What is it?" she asked after swallowing her gulp, the center of her lips tinted a berry red. 

"Let me show you," Harry countered, standing from his place at the dining table before offering her a hand. 

(Y/N) placed her palm in his without a second thought, fluidly following after him. 

Her new gown flourished with every step she took with her hand cradled in the crook of his elbow, the white ensemble having been waiting for her when they arrived at the estate. Though it wasn't as grand as the red one that now hung delicately in the wardrobe, it was no less luxurious. 

The fabric was a satiny cream, gliding over her fingertips when she first touched it. The neckline cut straight across her décolletage with the sleeves being nothing more than swathes of material that draped over her arms, leaving the boned corset to keep the bodice upright. The skirt wasn't full like her last garment, leaving the shape slim and sleek around her form. Harry had practically mooned at her when she descended the stairs after dressing, his eyes never leaving her for long. 

With the way the fabric gleamed and shimmered, (Y/N) felt as if she fit in with the moonlight when Harry led her outside. At her side, he blended in with the dark night aside from his pale features, acting as the heavens around the bright moon. 

The ground under their steps was dewy, appearing as if drops of starlight had landed on earth with the reflection of the sky on the droplets. Looking ahead, through the draping wisteria and dark purple blooms, was the greenhouse. The building was in much better shape than the last she had seen, now with a complete roof and frosted glass on every wall. 

"You finished it!" she bubbled, eager to see if he'd had the chance to fill it with any exotic blooms just yet. 

"I did," he smiled, his profile illuminated by the full moon, "I wanted to make sure I could take you here the next time you came." 

Approaching the door, Harry pushed it open for her to enter first. 

Inside, (Y/N) felt that same wondrous glee she did when he had shown her the ballroom for the first time. This small space put her entire apothecary to shame. 

The space was warm and humid, condensation trapped along the windows. Strung along the roof were familiar bundles of all of the herbs Harry had come by to pick up over the last month or so whenever he wanted an excuse to see her, the air tinted with the matching lavender and tobacco fragrances. The greenhouse itself had shelf after shelf, stretching tables, and hanging pots full of different plants. There were still plenty of places to grow, more room to put more and more flowers and herbs, but there was already enough filling that space that (Y/N) couldn't help the joyous gasp she let out. 

Harry allowed her to wander through, looking over every leaf and every shrub, fawning over the blooms, and finding things she had no name for. When she wasn't so lost in her daydreams, romanticizing everything, (Y/N)'s hobby was her plants. She doted on them like pets, and took care of them every chance she could. Being in a place like this, with Harry, in a gorgeous dress, was exactly what her dreams were made of.

Coming up to an unfamiliar plant, (Y/N) gazed at it with wide eyes. The open leaves resembled that of an open jaw, with spines on the very edge of the leaves acting as teeth. It was colored a bright, smooth green, not a single blemish altering the perfection. Curiosity took over as she reached out, attempting to touch the spines to see if they were as sharp as they looked. She jumped back with a yelp when the leaves snapped together upon contact, acting just like the gnashing jaw she had compared them to. 

In an instant, Harry was at her side, cradling her back to him with her hand clasped in his. 

"It didn't get you, did it?" he asked with a concerned furrow to his brow. He cradled her hand in his palm, the pad of his thumb brushing over her fingertips as if he could heal any wound with a touch. 

"No, I am alright," she answered, canting her head as her eyes stayed locked on the biting plant, watching as it reopened its jaws for the next victim, "Does it always do that?" 

Bundling her hand in his own, Harry followed her this time as she approached the trap once more. "Only when it is trying to eat," he shared, watching her with the same fascination she offered to the plant. 

"It eats? What do you mean?" 

"It is called a Venus Fly Trap," Harry explained, "Unlike the others, it eats meat—bugs and the like. When it thinks it's caught any prey, it'll snap closed and take its meal." 

(Y/N) had never heard of a predator plant—had never even imagined something like this could exist. "You feed it?" 

"It does rather well for itself, I choose not to interfere too much."

She tried to picture something that looked so flimsy, a pair of leaves that mechanically moved together, could trap a living being. "Has it ever bitten you before?" 

"Once," Harry admitted, "It was more startling than anything. That is when Mitchell shared that we would most likely benefit from leaving it alone." 

Without much thought, she reached out once more as if to test the theory that the trap was nothing more than a scare. Harry quickly had her hands bundled in his own, twirling her away from the exotic bloom. He shook his head when his eyes met hers, a lopsided smile on his lips. 

"I have said it before, but it always surprises me how much you lack any sense of survival," he laughed, pulling her hands to his chilled chest, "Though I said it did not hurt, does not mean you should try it out yourself." 

"Sorry," she answered, a sheepish smile on her lips, "I just wanted to try for myself." 

"Don't," he teased, bringing her hands to his lips where he gave her a soft smattering of kisses along the fingertips.

A soft laugh plumed from (Y/N)'s lips as she watched him, wiggling her hands out of his to cradle his cheeks in her palms. "This place is wonderful, Harry. I had no idea you wanted to make something like this." 

He leaned into the warmth of her touch. "I made it for you." 

(Y/N) felt her features soften; her eyes rounded out, cheeks softened around the width of her smile, every muscle she hadn't even realized she was tensing now going lax. "Did you really?" she crooned, following the refractions of light that danced over his features from the moonlight streaming through. 

"Of course, I did," he smiled, "I'd do anything for you."

It was a moment like this that she wondered if she could really handle being engaged for a whole two years the way her sister was. She had spent so many years dreaming up someone like Harry, she wasn't sure if she could wait that much longer to have him be hers in every real way. All she could do was hold him tighter.

Harry's smile widened as he gazed down at her. "I wish I knew what was going on in your head." 

"Just you," (Y/N) answered, "Always you." 

Turning his head in between her hands, Harry pressed his lips not puckered kisses against the palms of her hands. She could feel him smiling against her skin. 

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, my love, but I am forever grateful." He pulled her hands from his cheeks only to hold them against his chest once more. His features, though still swimming in adoration, settled into something more somber then. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something out here." 

"Oh?" (Y/N) sounded. 

For the first time since they met, (Y/N) saw a small amount of uncertainty leak into his gaze. "I know we have talked some about our future," he started, gaze traveling over her features to capture any and every reaction, "And, I have been thinking about something that I wanted to share with you." 

"Okay," she nodded, trying not to betray her own nerves on her face, "Something good, I hope." 

A faint dimple was pushed into Harry's cheek as he stretched his smile that much more. "I hope so, as well." Within a breath, he was entirely serious once more. "You know that I wish to marry you, right? Outside of just our talks in your bedroom, I have meant every word I have said about sharing my life with you." 

"I do," she smiled, hoping to lessen his worry, "And I feel the same. I wish we could be married tomorrow, even." 

Small traces of relief had his features loosening up, the cut of his jaw rounding and his brows relaxing. "I do as well, but I want to do that the right way, with a real wedding and everything else you could want. Though, I feel that the both of us are rather impatient." (Y/N) let out a small fan of laughter at his truth. "Because of that, I have been thinking and found some old correspondence with a friend that gave me an idea." He paused before continued, as if gathering his words. "Do you remember the Blood Bond I told you about?" 

(Y/N) gave a silent nod. She could recall the short details he had shared with her and the way her mind had traced back to the binding more than once in her daydreams. 

"I know it is a lot to ask of you, as neither of us really understand what a Blood Bond truly entails outside of theory, but I have wondered if... If you might be willing to complete a Blood Bond with me." He rolled his lips between his teeth wrestling with both his nervousness at presenting the idea as well as his hope for her answer. "I found letters from an old friend, someone who knew someone else who had completed the bond with another, and it sounded promising. There weren't many details, but they sounded happy." 

"Were they—" (Y/N) floundered over her question, unable to find the right terms, "Were they both like you? Or was one of them like me?" 

His mouth formed a grim line. "Both were like me. I can't find anything on any couple like us, unfortunately. I suppose we might be the first," Harry posited, the very corner of his mouth turning upwards. 

While (Y/N) was more than warm to the idea of bonding with Harry—marrying him in the way they could without having the follow the steps of courting and engagement while also easing her father into the idea—she was unsure. The lack of details that even Harry knew tickled a part of her mind she had trouble ignoring. 

"Would it...If we did, would it make me like you?" While she loved Harry for who he was, and understood his story, there was little desire in her to completely forgo her own life in favor of a still heart (and the blood thing was still very much not something she had interest in). 

"I do not think so, but, again, I can't be sure." It appeared as if it pained him to give her so little detail. "But, I would never offer this if I did not think it would be a good option for us, darling. Selfishly, even if we can't share this with anyone, I don't know if I can wait much longer before I know I am yours and you are mine."

He peeked at her through his lashes, reflections of green glimmering in the pale moonlight. (Y/N) understood what he meant. While this would be another secret between them, something she couldn't even share with her father, it was enough to look at him and know that Harry was hers and she was his. It was enough to know that there was a place they belonged: at each other's sides. 

Pinching her bottom lip between her teeth she asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore than I can imagine a regular bite does," he offered, giving a small shrug of his shoulders, "But, I can't be sure. I would do everything I could to make it as painless as possible, darling." 

There was a part of (Y/N) that stayed wary, and urged her to do the same. It poked holes in the logic and filled everything with doubt. There was no easy way to be the first, there was no safe way. There was so much unknown about what could happen should she bare her neck for him and allow Harry to bind them together in whatever way the Blood Bond would do. There was even a chance that she could drop dead immediately after, leaving the rest of her life—including Harry—behind. 

There was no way to be sure that nothing terrible would happen, but the rest of her wasn't certain if that really mattered. She had no way of knowing that Harry was telling the truth when he revealed his nature to her, or if she could be sure that she was truly safe around him. She had no way of knowing that she was doing the right thing by continuing to invite him to her and to fall in love with him on the way. But she did each of those things anyway, because she had felt in her bones that it was right. She had felt that she could trust Harry with everything—every fall down the rabbit hole of love, every time they were alone with her neck at his teeth, everything that her instincts told her was okay because she trusted him. 

That trust in him piped up, flicking (Y/N)'s gaze to match his as he patiently waited for her answer. "Okay." 

Harry perked up at the word. "Okay?" 

The beginnings of an ecstatic grin bubbled over her features. "I want to bond with you. We'll learn all of this together. I don't want to go another day without being yours." 

In the middle of the greenhouse, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest before lifting her off of her feet. (Y/N) giggled, looping her own arms around his neck and clinging to him as he spun her around. Her dress twirled around them, enclosing Harry in lily white fabric as if he were the center of a moonlit bloom. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over, his face burrowed in her neck with his nose skimming the column. 

(Y/N) could only smile, her eyes shuttering closed. She buried her hands in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. This is the kind of joy she pictured when she finally found her one and she agreed to spend her life with him—another assurance that she was doing the right thing. Something so wrong or hasty wouldn't feel so good. 

Positing her down on the edge of a sparsely populated table, Harry stood between her legs as he settled his hands on her thighs over her silken dress. He had a bubbling smile on his face as he looked up at her, his eyes almost entirely green with only his pupil and a few slivers of the familiar coal remaining. 

"I will write to my friend, and see if he has any more answers. Then, when you're ready, we can—" 

A furrow pinched (Y/N) brow as she spoke, "We're not doing it tonight?" 

Harry paused to consider her question. "I thought... I don't want to push you or make you feel as if we have to do this tonight. I figured you would like more time." 

While Harry was erring on the side of caution—once again being the more responsible of the two compared to her impulsiveness—she didn't want to do the same. She had no fear of the Venus Fly Trap despite almost being caught in its clutches, and she had no fear of Harry and the unknown. 

"I don't need any more time," (Y/N) cemented, reaching to settle her hands on his shoulders with her fingertips digging into the luxe velvet, "I trust you, and I don't want to wait anymore. I waited my whole life to find someone like you—I practically dreamt you up. I don't need time to be sure." 

As she spoke, Harry had his eyes fixed on her, watching her mouth wrap around every word and the devotion of which she hoped he felt. His own lips had fallen open in a small gape, eyes glimmering as if he were looking at the sun. HIs hands on her thighs pulsed, tightening his grip as if he could drift away at any moment. 

He didn't have to say it for (Y/N) to know that he loved her. That he knew what it was like to wait and hope there was someone there at the end who understood. 

Reaching to cradle her cheeks in his palms, he brought her in for a slow kiss, his lips slotted between hers with his nose brushing against her own. There was an urgency behind it that she had never felt from him before. 

"I love you," he murmured. 

The delicate curl of her lips had him pulling away just enough to drag his kisses over her cheek. "I love you, too." 

"I'm not certain in what I'm doing, (Y/N), so I need you to tell me if I am hurting you. I do not want this to be ruined because of me, so please stop me if you feel the need." His lips never lifted from her skin as he spoke, his words being painted across in sweeps of his breath and skims of his nose. 

"I trust you," she reiterated, dipping her head back as he descended lower towards her throat, "I love you." 

"I love you, too," he responded simply, before pulling away, "But you must promise me. If there's even a moment where you are no longer sure, do whatever you need to do to make me stop." 

His jaw was set and eyes hard as he spoke, determination settling on his features. "I promise," she said, her hands still firm on his shoulders, "If anything changes, I will tell you." 

A small curl lifted his lips as he took her vow, features softening. "I will tell you before I bite, is that okay?" 

"Please," she responded, relaxing into his arms as he wrapped them around her middle with his hands spanning the planes of her back. As much as she did trust him, the fact that his teeth would be biting into her neck in a few moments was most likely going to be her least favorite part of their bonding. 

When Harry dipped his head down, the chill of his touch grazing her throat, (Y/N) expected to feel the scrape of his teeth, the point of something predatory catching on her skin. Instead, she felt the soft press of his lips and the drag of his nose over the column. He worked slowly, familiarly, kissing his way along until he stopped. He paused on the side of her throat, just under where her pulse thrummed. 

"I'm going to bite here, alright?" he murmured, "Just long enough to forge the bond, darling." 

She clenched her hands on his shoulders. "Okay." 

Against her throat, she could feel his lips moving though there was no sound. She wanted to ask what he was saying, but before she had a chance that searing slice she had been waiting for finally struck. 

The feeling took her breath away, her hands tightening on his shoulders. It didn't hurt like a cut from a knife or a stab from a needle, no—Harry's bite burned. It was a bubbling burn, as if something inside her was melting all within the span of a second. The searing brought tears to her eyes, stealing her breath before she had a chance to understand. 

Just as quickly as the burning started, it was gone. In its place was something pleasantly cool, like a breeze on a warm day. Her vision cleared with her breath restored. She was hyper aware of Harry's shoulders under her hands, the warmth of his velvet jacket and the welcome chill from his skin. She clung to him, conscious of every stretch of fabric on her skin and every anchoring touch he gave her. It was overwhelming, verging on euphoric, urging her to shutter her eyes and absorb every second. 

The moment could have lasted anywhere from two hours long to two seconds, (Y/N) had no way of telling by the time Harry pulled away. He kept his grip on her firm, his arms barred around her back as she came back down to the greenhouse. 

With a fluttering blink of her lashes, (Y/N) saw Harry for what he was, for the very first time.

He looked at her with eyes darker than she had ever seen before, no semblance of any green she was accustomed to. She could clearly see a flush on his cheeks, appearing more human than she had ever realized he wasn't. The most jarring part: the blood dripping down his chin. It was a stark rub against his skin, staining his lips and coating his teeth.

That was her blood rolling down his lips.

For the first time since meeting him, she felt that fear she had lacked. It was nothing more than a zip up her spine, but it was there. If he were any other person, any other version of him in the years past, this would be the last thing she saw before she would be laid to rest on the forest floor with her throat ripped out. 

As much as she was startled at the sight, the feel of her blood dripping down her neck, she also saw the way he was looking at her. Within the depths of his dark eyes, he was seeing her and tasting her and knowing her for the first time. There was no way that she had been the only one to feel that overwhelming euphoria, not when he looked at her like that. 

In a distracted movement, he wiped his sleeve over his chin, intending to clear some of the crimson though most of it only smeared over his skin.

He was breathless as he spoke, "Ar—You're... (Y/N)." 

Tears filled his eyes as he clung to her. 

Though her hand shook, (Y/N) still reached to place her palm on his cheek. She couldn't avoid the blood on his skin, but she didn't have the mind to care as she attempted to comfort him. 

"I'm here," she whispered, hooking her ankle around the back of his leg, "You did it." 

His hands on her back curled until his fingertips were denting her shoulder blades by how tightly he held her. He shook his head as if to clear whatever was going on inside. "We—It's—Your turn." 

In that second, she remembered the small detail she had willfully forgotten. For the Bond to go both ways, she would have to also take his own blood. The prospect of him biting into her didn't seem so bad anymore compared to this. 

Her eyes dropped to his neck, floundering suddenly. "I—But, I can't... I'm not like you, I can't... bite." 

The fact seemed to hit Harry as well, though his brain was still clearly flooded with whatever it was he was experiencing with his end of the bond forged. He blinked to clear his eyes as he dropped his gaze to her neck. 

"I think—I can take care of it," he offered on a stilted tongue. 

(Y/N) didn't have any time to question before he was bringing his arm around to his lips, pushing his sleeve out of the way until his pale wrist was on display. The same way he had sunk his teeth into her neck, he now did to his own arm, opening up a gash with decidedly darker and thicker blood than she had ever seen before. 

She understood what he was doing for her—taking out the work so she could close her end of the bond by taking in his blood—but she still felt repulsed at the prospect of tasting any of the ichor oozing from his arm. She wasn't like him. She couldn't see any way she could enjoy the taste or the feeling of drinking his blood. 

All it took was one glance into his shimmering eyes, the same ones that had pleaded to her to not be scared of him, that prosed over his devotion to her, that had her shakily taking his arm in her grasp. 

"Wh-What do I do?" 

"Jus' drink, darling," he swallowed, "Quickly. Before it heals." 

For the sole fact that she wasn't sure if she could stomach seeing Harry bite into himself once more, she closed her eyes and brought his wrist to her lips. The second the blood filled her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to retch over and spit it out. It was metallic and heavy, coating her mouth in a way she couldn't compare anything to. 

The first gulp was the hardest—the most troubling. Just as soon as she swore her throat was closing, urging her to gag and be rid of everything she was taking down, something changed.

Similar in the way that there was an overwhelming stillness when Harry had bitten her, she was now left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. Before she had been contently in her skin, aware of every motion and touch. This time, she was conscious of everything that wasn't entirely her. 

She swore she could feel her own wrist warming, her own thoughts picturing her bent over Harry's arm, the feel of her dress under her palm. 

These were Harry's thoughts and feelings she was experiencing. She was no longer just her in that moment. 

The Bond was there, allowing her a peek into who it was that was at her side. 

Including the immense amount of love he was feeling just then. 

She had never been aware of a missing piece in her, never been aware that there could be more of her somewhere, until then. This is what Harry had been feeling when he bit her, when he looked at her with tears in his eyes and clung to her as if she were the only one to give him breath, to make him whole. 

Pulling his arm from her mouth, she didn't think twice of the blood staining her lips or coating her chin before she was throwing herself at him. Looping her arms around his neck, she clung to him with tears leaking down her eyes. 

That was the Bond she could feel pulsing through her system. Harry was now a part of her just as much as she was his. 

There was no doubt their clothing was ruined, blood staining the material that they had no chance of removing, with the ends of (Y/N)'s hair caught in the crossfire, but she couldn't find it in herself to care for more than anything but Harry. 

"I love you," she whispered, her voice brittle under the lump in her throat and the tears glazing her eyes. "We did it." 

"We did," Harry sighed, the smile on his face apparent in his tone, "I love you so much, darling."

(Y/N) could only close her eyes, melting into his hold with the greenhouse falling away around them. She clung to him tighter. 

"I've got you, darling," he murmured into her hair, his voice a soothing balm to her wired nerve endings. 

Relaxing into the moment, a quiet smile etched its way onto her lips. 

This was going to be the rest of her life. 

—————

"Harry, be quiet," (Y/N) giggled into his mouth. 

"Why?" he countered, only pulling away just far enough to speak, "It's just us here, remember?" 

Drawing him back to her lips with her hands on his cheeks, (Y/N) could barely keep the smile off of her face long enough to kiss him back. She sunk further into the luxe mattress under her back with every earnest press of his lips to hers, the first swipe of his tongue darting out to run along the seam of her lips.

After stumbling their way out of the greenhouse and through the gardens, Harry had led her to his bedroom with a kind of giddiness she had never seen in him before. Despite the blood on his face, he was almost child-like in his wonder with the way he looked at her. 

His bedroom was just as laden in luxury as the rest of the castle, though it was clear that there was someone actually inhabiting the space. She could see stamps of his presence everywhere; in the stationery on his desk to the unkempt bedding as if he couldn't be bothered to remake his bed everyday despite having nothing but time to fill. A pile of lavender bundles and chamomile blooms were stacked on his bedside, familiar twine holding the herbs together. 

When he offered her the bathroom to clean off, (Y/N) didn't hesitate, wanting to clean herself from the crust that was forming on her chin and the bits of blood that had dried in her hair. By the time she finished, there was a nightgown waiting for her and an invitation on familiar stationery to join Harry in his room when she was ready. 

Under different circumstances, she would have taken her time, luxuriated in the thick towels and scented lotion. There were different creams and oils that she didn't recognize, the kind she would have loved to take her time and learn. But there was someone waiting for her—someone that was as close to her husband as he could be without sending her down the aisle in a white dress. 

She didn't want to leave him waiting. 

(Though, she did notice that the bite he had given to her neck was healed almost completely. The wound that had bled enough to fill his mouth was now reduced to a pair of pin pricks on the side of her neck, just barely visible if someone was looking. She was going to have to ask at some point if that was the effect of the bond mending her skin).

That was how she found herself with Harry hovering above her, damp hair tossed across his pillow and her hands cradling his cheeks.

"I can feel you right here," he murmured to her in wonder, his hand on his chest where his unbeating heart sat. 

Sprinkling her own kisses along his cheek, she smiled against his skin. "I can feel you in my heart, too," she whispered against his skin.

Drawing away, (Y/N) tried to chase him for another kiss before failing and sinking back into her pillow with a breathy laugh. Harry's smile widened at the sound. His gaze slipped over her with enough depth that she could have sworn his hands followed the trail, goosebumps erupting on her skin. 

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," (Y/N) said, stealing the same line he said to her more than once. 

Matching her gaze once more, he looked at her with gleaming green shards in his eyes. "Just you. Always you." 

Creases appeared by her eyes from just how far her smile stretched. She knew that line just as well. "Of course it is," she teased, petting the pad of her thumb along the height of his cheek bone, 

"I mean it, my love" he smiled, sweeping a hand across her forehead to pull any stray hairs out of the way, "I have never felt before the way I do right now. Because of you." 

(Y/N)'s heart surged at his words. She knew exactly what he was feeling. Through something she was beginning to understand as their bond, she felt the ardent truth in Harry's words as much as she could hear it. There wasn't enough vocabulary available to tell him what it meant to her to feel and hear his love. 

Selfishly, she resorted to tugging him down for a kiss instead, hoping he understood just as well. 

He smiled into the kiss, a good sign, just before he settled in with her. 

With her legs spread wide for his hips to sit between, she couldn't help but to cling to him. There was no other way she could tell him how much she loved him, how deeply excited she was to spend the rest of the unknown with him. The feeling brought her back to the night before, when he had invited her here in the first place—when he had told her he loved her. 

Despite the chill of his touch, she had never felt so warm when recalling the memory. 

Her hands on his cheeks slid down from his face, following the line of his neck to his shoulders. The neck of his loosely buttoned shirt gave way under her touch, allowing more of his cold skin to sit on display for her to graze her fingers over. 

With their mouths slotted together, (Y/N) grazed one hand up the column of his throat unsure of if it was her own warmth being reflected back or if he was feeling the same way as she and something had awoken in his body. Without thinking, she dragged her nails lightly down his skin, entranced by the new skin she had never touched and barely seen before. 

Harry let out a low moan into her mouth, the sound rumbling against her own chest. Through the bond, she felt that touch of euphoria she was only familiar with through the bite in the greenhouse. Her stomach tightened at the thought. 

Pulling away from her mouth, he dragged his kisses down the line of her jaw. "What was that for, darling?" he asked, his voice a deep grumble compared to the dulcet tones he typically served her. 

"Did you like it?" she countered, a sheepish tone to her voice. She hadn't meant anything by it, really. 

It was the smile she felt against her skin that had her relaxing. "I did," he answered, dragging his lips down the slope of her neck, "Is that what you wanted?" 

"I always want to make you happy," she simply chirped back. 

Drawing away, Harry hovered over her with a slight curl to his lips and only a sliver of green showing around his dark pupils. "Your job is terribly easy then," he smiled, "As I can't help but feel anything but completely ecstatic around you." 

(Y/N) could only shake her head, suddenly feeling bashful under his gaze. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her with her face buried in his neck. She could feel the plume of laughter he let out as much as she could hear it. 

Pressing his weight into her as he reciprocated her hold, he wrapped his arms around her middle in a snug hug. The length of his body was pressed against hers, including the hard to ignore ridge nudging between her legs. While it wasn't the first time she had felt as much between the sheets in her bedroom, it still took her breath away. 

Harry undoubtedly felt her reaction, causing him to pull away just enough to look down at her. "What's wrong, love?" 

She floundered over her words, unsure of how exactly to phrase what she had caused her gasp and the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. "You—I mean... You're—" 

Pursing his lips, Harry held back his smile. "I know, darling," he smiled, "Don't worry, alright? We've done enough tonight, I don't think we need to add anymore new experiences like we had planned." 

"But—" She unceremoniously dropped her gaze between them as if she could get a peek at what was prodding at her core. "I don't want to... You're not hurting, are you?" 

He couldn't help the laugh that fell from his mouth then. "No, I am not hurting," he smiled, squeezing her to him one last time before relinquishing his hold. 

Meandering out from between her legs, he moved to lay beside her. (Y/N) rolled with him, unwilling to let him go very far before he settled at her side, sharing the same pillow despite the vast amount of negative space available. 

"You don't want me to...?" (Y/N) trailed off, unsure of what exactly she was asking. She knew Harry had asked her over, hoping to take advantage of the time alone without having to worry about the creaks of her own home. Despite the turns that night had taken, she didn't want him to believe she was no longer willing, even if she was a bit exhausted. 

Harry's smile was tender on his lips, adoring just as his eyes were. He took one of her hands that had been clasped behind his neck and brought her palm to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the back in a smattering of kisses, he trailed that line up to her wrist and along her arm until she could no longer contain her giggling. The bright smile he gave in response had to match that of her own. 

"Not tonight, my love," he crooned, "I know we had talked about how we wanted to spend this night by ourselves, but I know my outlook on the night has changed some." His gaze dropped to the pinprick marks on her neck, his features brightening that much more at the sight. "I don't feel any rush to do more. We have all the time in the world to learn each other in that way. I'd rather tonight be about you and I and learning the bond we now have." 

Through that bond, she could feel his sincerity. There was no rush in him, nothing clamoring to take her virginity just to have it. It was more important to him to know his wife—his beloved, his bonded. Through his eyes, she saw the stretch of time they had together and the many nights they could fill between the sheets. There was no rush to be had when he had her for the rest of their lives. 

"You're sure?" she asked, shuffling closer to him over the velvet duvet, "I don't want to disappoint you." 

"How could you disappoint me, my love?" he asked through a dazzling smile, dimples denting his cheeks and perfect teeth on display. He brushed his hand over her cheek, fingertips grazing the fan of her lashes and the height of her cheekbone as if she were the most delicate of flowers in his garden. "You're here," he said in awe, "In my bed, brave enough to bond with me, and looking at me with stars in your eyes. How could I ever be disappointed with you?"

Heart thumping in her chest, (Y/N) looked at him and saw the life he had envisioned.

There were so many nights they were going to spend just like this, laden in velvet and kisses, chilling touches and warm gazes. They had all the time in the world, there was no reason not to savor these quiet moments with him.

All she could do was pull him in for a kiss.

—————

The following morning, (Y/N) was exhausted as she traipsed around the apothecary, though she felt as if she were floating off her feet. She took care to restock each and every cubby, straightening the displays and ensuring only the best of the best were placed out for customers. Her father was manning the register as she did so, leaving her to sit in her rose petal thoughts and appreciate the stiff muscles of her neck and bruises from her early morning climb back into her bedroom.

It was all reminders of the best night of her life, she decided. Her wedding night—even if it wasn't in the traditional sense. 

There was a new piece that now lived inside her, a remnant of Harry's soul that now replaced the piece she had given him last night. It felt easier to breathe, now knowing that he was on the other side. 

More than once since starting her day, her father had asked what had made her so chipper. She had only replied that she had slept well, or simply woke up in a good mood. She couldn't wait for the day that she could tell him that it was Harry that had her heart so full and eyes so bright.

The bell above the door jingled, alerting that a customer was coming in, though that wasn't what had (Y/N) perking up in her spot. There was a fumbling in her chest, as if her heart knew something she didn't.

Looking over her shoulder, her lungs squeezed when she saw who had walked through the door.

Armed with a draping bouquet of wisteria and the tiny bell-shaped blooms of lily of the valley, was Harry. He was dressed immaculately as ever, though she could see a color in his cheeks and his eyes almost glimmering with the amount of green shards that had surfaced. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father stiffen at his presence, though Harry gave her a passing glance with a lopsided smile before even acknowledging his presence.

"Mr. Styles," her father gruffly greeted him, "How can we help you today?" 

"Actually, sir," Harry started, a pleasant voice to match his expression though (Y/N) could see amusement swimming in the depths, "I was hoping I could have a chance to speak with your daughter." 

"She's busy at the moment, but I can help you with anything you need." Her father's voice now held an edge to it.

"Unfortunately," Harry said, skipping his gaze back to her where she stood with her hands knotted behind her back, "I don't think you can help me with this, sir. I was looking to ask for her permission to officially begin courting her—if she is interested, anyway" 

(Y/N) had no hope of wiping the smile from her face, but she did everything she could to keep herself from launching into her husband. Instead, before her father could make any objection of any kind, she piped up with, "I am definitely interested, Mr. Styles. You have all the permission in the world." 

Though she was sure that if she spared her father a glance he would be just as angry as the night he had thrown her invitation into the furnace, but she couldn't draw her eyes from Harry. 

She couldn't wait to marry him. For the second time, technically.

—————

lily of the valley, though delicate, can stop the heart when consumed

ahhhhh that is the end of my little Halloween/fall story! now my break will be starting and ill be back with more writing after the new year!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas for anythign at all!

[stealingyourbones]

Okay so:

1) The ghost zone aka The Infinite Realm is connected to a supposedly infinite different universe's/dimensions/Realms.

2) Ghost portals can take you anywhere and any Time.

3) Amity Park was dragged into the Ghost Zone by Pariah Dark.

So what are the chances of the entirety of Amity Park (secret GIW base inclusion being optional) being dropped into another world/universe/dimension like DC or Marvel?

[if Amity Park could speak I imagine them going: "HELLO NEW WORLD! 🤩 Fate/Destiny/the omniverse has decided that this world shall be our new home *clasps hands together & leans forward* and I'm about to make it everybody's problem" 😈😈😈😈]

Ooooo the ENTIRETY of Amity Park? I enjoy that greatly.

616 Marvel has dealt with space/dimensional refugees like the Asgardians making New Asgard on earth. From my memory of comic history, I’m pretty sure that DC hasn’t had anything similar happen (well no space/dimensional beings that were friendly at least).

Marvel wise, I mean S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to instantly be on their case. Does Amity residents refuse to let S.H.I.E.L.D workers into their town? Do they let them in and mess around with them and scare them shitless?

There’s other questions too like, would Danny get recruited by the Ghost Riders? He IS a soul that was revived. Maybe not for the purpose of revenge, but definitely to protect others. Do ghosts go through the portal still? Can they mess around with magic? How much of a threat are they to THIS universes supers?

For DC we got other questions. Does the Justice League deal with the situation, Captain Marvel, The Green Lanterns? Truly unsure but Amity would be definitely be blocked off from the outside world until they can deem them safe and not a threat.

Would The Spectre instantly fuckin destroy Vlad? Vlad absolutely would be put on The Spectre’s radar and you cannot convince me otherwise that The Spectre is the first Super that arrives in Amity. The Spectre is literally the embodiment of God’s Wrath. If so what would Vlad’s punishment be? The Spectre likes to give ironic punishments. Someone stole a bunch of jewelry? Cool let’s turn them into a necklace and stomp on it until it breaks into a thousand pieces. Someone stole from the poor and became a millionaire from that practice? Cool let’s make their wealth and dollar bills turn into blades and swirl around them until they die. I need The Spectre to have a truce or pact with Phantom so bad y’all you have no idea.

The legal issues they have to go through would be wild. The Fentons finally get put under investigation because their practices are against so so so many scientific research laws. Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark donates a very generous amount to ghost damage repairs.

You could spin this a completely different way as well. There are so many ways to create a fic with this I love it so much.

[ma-du]

God, why would you drag me back to the Phantom.... Oh yeah. It's Little Baby Man's fault Lmao

ANYWAY

DP x DC Au, where Batman somehow dies and – to the delight and horror of the Joker and other villains and the Batfam – returns as the Guardian Ghost of Gotham, practically the Gothamite version – and adult and reasonably scarier, not least because he looks a lot like the Batman Who Laughs – of Danny Phantom. Which, come to think of it, isn't much different than when he was alive lmao

His main obsession is protecting Gotham, of course, and it's obvious that he haunts both the batcave and that poor long-suffering gargoyle where he used to perch to watch over the city and brooding.

He's kind of a spirit of justice and vengeance? Like, sort of like Ghost Rider, but without the whole devil and fallen angel and fire-destroying sinners and chains thing? He scares villains to the point where a good number of them shit themselves once or ten times, and duh, he may be dead after all, but he's still fucking Batman. And he will protect his fucking city, not even if he has to drag himself back from the afterlife to do so.

And of COURSE the city was going to be in chaos after his death, how the hell wouldn't it be? Batman died in front of everyone, there's a video or a billion of them, of what's left of his body being taken to the Justice Tower morgue by Superman on the internet, and apparently Bruce Wayne had a sudden stroke and ended up dying in the Wayne Mansion – not that those things are related, mind you. It turns out that, with the departure of Batman, villains like Joker, Two-Face, Penguin, Riddler, Bane, Scarecrow and etc etc etc take this as permission to start a war for absolute domination over the city. The Robins and Red Hood and Nightwing and Black Bat and Spoiler – even Agent A –and Signal and Oracle and the GPD and Commissioner Gordon can't keep up with demand, and even with the help of the League it's difficult because they can lock one of them back in Arkham, but soon another bad guy takes the place. They are desperate. They need Batman.

So they talk to Constantine and Zathana and every other member of the League and beyond, research until they scrape the bottom of the deep web with everything they don't have. Then they make the summoning circuit, place their sacrifices, perform the the chant and BAM! Batman.

Not entirely Batman, not entirely Bruce.

He comes back Other.

And he comes. By all the Ancients, he comes.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Hunting in the Ghostglade

Beyond the fortress city of Amaranth there is a wondrous and serene landscape where phantom animals wander among their flesh and blood counterparts, dissolving into light at the slightest touch. For generations hunters have ventured to these Ghostglades to sharpen their skills and engage in sport year round, all without fear of damaging the local game populations. Whether the after effect of some long forgotten conjuration or, as many locals believe, the concession of a wild god to protect their beloved beloved children... the sight truly must be seen to be believed.

-A wanderer’s guidebook to the cities of the basilisk coast, 6th edition

Hooks:

While conducting business in the city of Amaranth, the party gives offence to some minor noble who challenges them to a duel.. though local custom differs greatly from what the party might be expecting. The Amaranthine nobles consider themselves to be peerless hunters, and so settle matters of dispute by determining who’s bow arm and spear hand is truest: riding through the ghostglade and its surrounding forest at high speeds while trying to tag as many of the phantom animals as possible. Since their quarry dissolves into light and mist after being struck, these riders are also followed by a pair of neutral judges who keep tally of the competitors’ kills, deducting points for unsportsmanlike behaviour.

A foreign priestess of Corellon has journeyed to the edge of the Ghostglade seeking answers and would gladly pay the party in escorting her further. Many of her order have debated about whether this magical patch of nature might be a working of their god and thus a worthy site of pilgrimage, though they’ve had only the generations old accounts of dead sages to mull over. Seeking the presence of her god, this priestess will have the party follow her as she seeks to find the natural temples of these meadowlands, or atleast places where they might be built. Her divinations do not bode well: no specific god seems to hold claim over these wilds, and reaching out to touch the land’s magic seems to make the phantom animals glitch out and become erratic. 

Not long after their first trip out to the Ghostglades, the party are approached by a fur trader who claims his brother has gone missing. Their family came up as trappers specializing in the mundane beasts that made their home in the strange landscape, and though the two of them have moved on to bigger and better things, his brother still considers himself a prime outdoorsman. At the end of the trail, the party find a very badly wounded merchant’s brother who’s doing his best to not be spotted by an eerily silent pack of phantom humanoids, faceless, but armed with bows and spears and far more resilient than any of the other ghostly creatures they’ve seen.

There is an artifact in the dead centre of the Ghostglades, hidden in a rather out of the way cave, an alien cube of unplacable metal with a surface that shifts imperceptibly like a puzzlebox made of sand.  What this object’s origins are, none can say, but its purpose is to understand, to observe and replicate animal life in real time by projecting hard-light holograms throughout the region in an attempt to build a model of their behaviour. However long the mechanism has been operating, it’s only been a few hundred years since the city of Amaranth was founded and people worked up the courage to start poofing its holograms for fun, disrupting its careful calculations.   It’s taking the intervening years for the device’s un-mind to create a working model of what sort of animal a “hunter” is, having only recently concluded that they are entities that stalk, chase, ambush and kill anything that moves. Over the coming days, more and more of these projections will appear in the ghostglades, searching for interlopers, posing a definite threat to any who make their living off the surrounding meadowlands and forests.

[q-gorgeous]

If Only There Was Someone That Loved You

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1607

Danny decides to try to get Wes to stop trying to out him as Phantom by making Wes fall in love with him, thinking that Wes won't want his boyfriend to be caught and potentially dissected. How well this works is up to the writer @raaorqtpbpdy

hehehoohoo

This wasn’t what he meant to happen.

It had all started out as a simple plan, really. All he had to do was woo Wes, make him fall in love with him. Maybe then he wouldn’t keep trying to out Danny. He’d want to protect his boyfriend. He’d gotten a bit too close lately and Danny was running out of ways to keep Wes at bay. He tried deleting pictures, breaking cameras, playing into the joke. But he could tell that Wes was finally starting to break people. Whenever he walked the hallways people would whisper.

Do you think it’s really true?

How could it be? Fenton, a ghost? That’s not possible.

Who knows what his parents do in that basement. Maybe his parents did something to him.

He had to get Wes to stop telling people he was Phantom. And he was out of options. He had even threatened his life! That didn’t even work. All Wes had said was that Danny didn’t have the guts for it. 

Danny stared at him from across the hallway. He really didn’t want to do this. But he didn’t think he had any other choices anymore. He took a deep breath and strode across the hallway. Leaning his arm high up against the lockers, Danny leaned forward and flashed a smile at Wes. 

“Hi, how you doin’?” Danny smiled at him. 

“What do you want, Fenton?” Wes asked him, not even bothering him a glance. 

“Okay, that’s not your style how about,” Danny paused. Looking down, he said, “you’ve left me no choice, here comes the smolder.” He looked back up at Wes, trying his best to embody Flynn Rider’s persona.

“What are you doing?” Wes finally slammed his locker shut and turned to look at Danny. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Danny asked, fluttering his eyes. “I’m trying my best to woo you. To win you over. You’ve captured my heart and I’ve come to tell you how I really feel.” 

Wes rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, Fenton. Last I heard from Sam is that you hate my guts.”

“That was just the internalized homophobia speaking.” Danny said dramatically. “I’ve changed, I’ve realized that I was masking my feelings for you with anger and hostility, and it made me think, maybe you were too. That we’re just victims of our unaccepting world.”

Wes stared at him. He seemed to be contemplating something. His expression resolved. “Okay, Fenton. If you really like me like you say you do, take me out to the movies.”

Danny’s eyes widened. Did that really work?

“Yeah! The movies.” Danny smiled. “Let’s go to the movies. How about Saturday?”

Wes smiled at him. “It’s a date.”

Danny smiled back. “A date.”

-----

“A date?” Sam stared at Danny in confusion. “You’re going on a date with Wes? Why? I thought you hated him.”

“I do.” Danny held a shirt up to himself as he faced the mirror in his room. He threw it down and picked up another one. “This is just my new plan to get him to stop trying to out me. It’d be bad to want your boyfriend exposed right?”

“If this is just another scheme to get him to stop then why are you getting so worked up over this date? It’s not even real.”

“I’m not getting worked up over it!” Danny frowned at her.

“You’ve looked at eight different shirts and haven’t decided on a single one to wear.”

Danny blushed. “If I’m gonna do this I have to go all in, right?”

“What are you going to do if this doesn’t work out? What if you break up with him later? Wouldn’t that be even more fuel for him to expose you? Wes seems like he’d be the crazy kind of ex.”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead but it’ll be fine.” He held his chin in his hand as he stared at the shirts strewn across his bed. 

“Danny.” Sam stood up and crossed the room towards him. “I want to make sure you know what you’re doing. It’s not nice to lead people on and play with their feelings. What if he actually starts liking you?”

Danny shook his head. “That’s the plan.”

“Okay.” She looked at the shirts on his bed. “What if you start liking him?”

“What?” Danny shot her a look. “That won’t happen. What makes you say that?”

She sighed. Crossing the room, she sat back down in his desk chair. “When something goes wrong, I’ll say I told you so.”

“Fine, but it’ll be fine.”

“Whatever you say.”

-----

Danny stood outside the movie theater fidgeting with his shirt. Sam was wrong, he wasn’t nervous. 

Time ticked ever closer to the start of the movie and he wondered if maybe Wes wasn’t coming. That he had just been messing with him that day at school. That he had called Danny’s bluff, realized what he was trying to do. 

He was just about to turn around and head in to watch the movie by himself when a car pulled into the parking lot. 

It parked and turned off. The door opened and out came Wes. He slammed the door shut and smiled at Danny. 

“Ready for our date?”

Danny flashed him a pair of finger guns. “You bet I am.”

As they walked inside Danny shook his hands out. Why did he do that?

They walked up to the counter and bought their tickets, snacks, and drinks. Once they had everything they headed to their theater. 

They sat down right as the last ad was playing. Soon the sound of the newest Terminatra movie was playing through the speakers. 

He was so engrossed in the film. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the screen. 

As he swallowed another mouthful of popcorn, he felt around for his cup without looking. But instead of his cup, his hand brushed Wes’s. 

He jumped a little and pulled his hand back from Wes’s without taking a drink of his soda. After a few moments he felt as Wes’s hand fumbled around before finding his hand in the dark. Wes gave a little squeeze and butterflies erupted in Danny's stomach. 

Sam’s words repeated themselves in his head and his stomach dropped. 

Oh no. 

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

He couldn’t like Weston. Not for real! How did this even manage to happen? 

The butterflies kept going as Wes rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand.

This was okay. This was fine. If it actually made the plan work, then that was good then right? And this way he wouldn’t be playing with anyone’s feelings. 

No one would get hurt.

-----

Danny and Wes had officially been dating for two months now. Today was their two month anniversary. He wanted to do something special for Wes. 

He took his time setting up the picnic in the secluded part of the park they would meet in. He was setting down the last flickering candle when he heard the approaching footsteps. He looked up and standing on the edge of the clearing was Wes. 

“Hi, Wes!” Danny said excitedly. He stood up and made his way over to Wes and gave him a hug. 

Wes patted him on the back and pulled away. “Wow, you sure went all out. You didn’t have to do this.” 

Danny grabbed Wes’s hand and pulled him over to the blanket. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I wanted to celebrate how far we’ve come and how glad I am to have asked you out.”

“Technically it was me that asked you out, not the other way around.”

Danny chuckled. “Okay, yeah. But still! I couldn’t be happier about the way this had turned out.”

He turned to the cooler he put off to the side and grabbed two cups. He filled them with ice and set them on the ground in front of Wes. He turned back to the cooler and started pulling their food out and found the sparkling juice underneath it all.

“It’s not actual wine, but it’ll do.”

Danny poured the juice into each of their glasses. He set the bottle back down and picked up his cup. 

“To us.” He clinked his glass against Wes’s and took a long drink of his juice. 

Danny passed Wes his bowls of food and they sat eating and talking for a bit. Fifteen minutes had gone by and Danny was mesmerized by the way the candlelight flickered across Wes’s face. He picked his glass back up. 

“I love you.”

Suddenly, something was wrong. 

Danny’s glass slipped from his hand. The juice spilled across the blanket they were sitting on. Danny’s head began to feel heavy. He was becoming drowsy. He fell backwards on the blanket and heard Wes chuckle. 

“Oh, Danny. If only there was someone that loved you.” 

He blinked slowly at Wes. He was leaning over him, a manic smile on his face.

“Wha… what?” Danny slurred. 

“Your little trick didn’t work, ghost boy.” Wes bopped him on the nose. “I’ve won.”

Danny was starting to fade out, the world turning black. 

He could only imagine the whispers people would hear inside the school once everyone found out what happened. 

Did you hear? Wes was right about Danny.

I heard he really was a dangerous ghost. How did we go so long without realizing?

If only we had realized sooner. 

I told you so. 

The last thing Danny heard was the faint rings coming from Wes’s phone and the words he spoke to the person on the other side of the call. 

“Hello, Agent O. I’ve got Phantom.”

[badlydrawnmanic]

[deep breath]

i just spent a significant amount of time putting together (a) timeline(s) for every piece of sonic media i can think of minus the racing games because... idk it doesn't matter that much

points of interest under the cut, follow the image link for full size!

origins shows that cd came before sonic 2

just pretend sonic 4 episodes 1 and 2 are classic games. they're styled like classic games and apparently intended to be direct sequels to sonic 3&K

sonic boom is what happens when they go modern but wrong

alternate "forever classic / young" timeline made by phantom ruby fuckery

sonic advance 2 has to take place before sonic adventure because in sonic x (based on adventure) sonic already knew cream

solaris' flame existing causes sonic 06 to happen but it got deleted when they went back in time in Sonic 06 so therefore that never happened

Sonic 06 time fuckery caused displacement with silver and blaze, making silver really confused and placing blaze in the sol dimension i guess

sonic rush and sonic rivals therefore have to happen before the storybook titles because in alternate modes versions of blaze and silver are available and iirc every alternate character in those worlds are based off of sonic's memories of his friends

at least sonic and the secret rings has to happen before colors because sonic directly references "saving genies in magic books"

sonic generations classic sonic is sonic's younger self (likely from sonic 2 due to the absence of classic knuckles and him being mute)

the chao in space short can just be sonic chilling. let him chill. he never gets to chill

sonic lost world has to happen before forces for zavok to be in the picture

idw sonic starts right after "the eggman war" which i presume is sonic forces

sonic prime has to happen before sonic and his friends are separated in sonic frontiers

knuckles then disappears due to what happens in the prologue short

... sonic frontiers happens

i presume that this has taken place over the course of 2 years at the very least due to sonic canonically having a birthday in sonic generations and sonic's birthday seeming to be a pretty big deal in sonic frontiers with all the cosmetics and attention given to it, but looking at all this this has to have happened over a longer period of time because wow that's a lot of shit

there's gotta be another one between sonic blast and sonic advance because there's a shift in style and it feels appropriate

feel like there'd be a significant amount of time between sonic adventure 2 and sonic heroes

something happens between shadow the hedgehog and sonic rush. feels like a good place to put a divide

probably a gap between sonic unleashed and sonic free riders

sonic lost world and sonic forces are so different plus I think there was an irl big gap there

there had to be enough time between the end of sonic forces and sonic prime for everything to be kinda okay again

so that's… maybe 5 or 6 years for all of this? that feels about right. still hectic but y'know

[zimmer-zupastar]

Introduction!

Music: Tokio Hotel, Blink-182, Deftones, etc

Gender: Male

Hobbies: Drawing, Guitar, Song Writing, Journaling, bracelet making, writing, etc

Favorite Color: Blue

Things I dislike: Vegetables, racists, homophobes, meat, vomit, Kaulitzcest/toll Shippers, Tokio Hotel haters,High-waisted pants,summer time, etc

Race: Latino

Languages: English and Spanish

Things I Like: Tokio Hotel, Candy, winter time, snowing, music, low-waisted pants, makeup, stuffies,hamsters, cats, Rockstar energy, etc

Age: Minor

My name is Tino , but you can call me whatver you like.I'm really nerdy and cringy so please don't be meanies guys, I'm just a pookie. I'm happy to talk with anyone!! I hope to find more friends that like Tokio Hotel and are just as weird as I am.

My favorite music video is definitely Don't Jump. It is very sentimental and still gets me everytime despite being a fan for so long.My favorite Tokio Hotel songs are Unendlichkeit, Phantom Rider, Don't Jump, Gegen Minen Willen, Ich Bin Nicht Ich, and so many more!! I love all songs equally and in their own special way!! I love talking about the different albums and stuff so yeah.

buh bye!!

[unadulteratedpiratepizza]

So, I got the PDF for the newest Power Rangers RPG book

this one is space themed and covers things from In Space, Lost Galaxy, S.P.D. and some other things from the comics. It also adds the ability to play Gold Silver and Phantom Rangers. They also include different aliens from the Ranger universe and the ability to play as them, like Doggie Cruger's species.

This book also has references to Masked Rider of all things.

But one of the most interesting things is this piece of art found in it

Are they just straight up referencing Raptor 283 from Kyuranger!?

HELLO!?

[sonic7ischaos]

The Sonic Mania timeline existing separately from the main timeline has a lot of interesting implications for the series' lore post Sonic 3 & Knuckles.

For example the Sonic Adventure games never happened. Mania Classic Eggman got pulled into main timeline Eggman's scheme with the Time Eater and never found the Echidna tribe tablets and murals about Chaos, so Mania Chaos is still sealed in the Master Emerald with Tikal with all his hatred. Tails hasn't gone through his character arc and grown independent from Sonic, nor has Amy. Knuckles is still ignorant of his people and the mistakes that led to their downfall. And since SA1 didn't happen and Eggman moved onto different plans, that means Shadow is still in stasis on Prison Island, which means he's still got a vendetta against humanity, meaning that he's vulnerable to Black Doom's manipulation when he inevitably shows up, which means he'd probably stay an antagonist. Without Shadow to help fight off the Black Arms, they'd have to find another way to beat them, maybe a team up with Eggman, maybe they rely on the Chaos Emeralds again, maybe both. I imagine part of the story would be uncovering the "mystery" of Project Shadow in the Mania timeline, as no one one know without Eggman being the one to let Shadow loose and things playing out the way they do in SA2.

Without the specific plans failing the way they do, Eggman never gets to the one in Sonic Advance 2, and so he never accidentally puts Vanilla in a capsule, and so they never meet Cream and go on an adventure to save her mom and make her part of the main cast. Without the events of Adventure 2 and Gerald's diary, Eggman never goes looking for the Gizoid, and so they never meet and destroy Emerl, who never influences the design of Gemerl, Battle never happens and without the specific events leading to it, Advance 3 doesn't happen either. Without Cream, Blaze would still come to Sonic's world, but she wouldn't learn to trust in and rely on others, and so likely wouldn't make an ally of Sonic and his friends, so Rush at least plays out differently.

There's nothing specifically preventing the Riders games from playing out mostly as they do in the main timeline, aside from the butterfly effect.

On and on it goes like this. Things get a lot fuzzier around Unleashed, as Eggman's plans would've diverged so much by this point that it's unlikely that he splits the planet and awakens Dark Gaia, so Sonic never meets Chip, never turns into the Werehog, and Unleashed as a whole doesn't happen. After that, there's nothing specifically leading Eggman in search of power off world to find the wisps, and he's already tried and failed to use the Phantom Ruby for his plans in Mania. He probably won't find the Starfall Islands, and The End probably stays trapped.

Already things are diverging as of Sonic Superstars, a plot that doesn't happen at all in the main timeline.

[bloobluebloo]

Can you rank the phantom ganons by design?

ARIGHT

PHANTOM GANON (OCARINA OF TIME) His introduction in the Spirit Temple, where you're first duped into believing it's actually Ganondorf before he dons the mask is so sick for real. I always found it interesting that Ganondorf puts a mask on him and seals his mouth shut, while the Phantom looks like his younger self, to have very interesting implications as to what Ganondorf thinks of himself, not wanting to see or hear this ghost of his past. I always felt so sorry that out of all the monsters under his command, Ganondorf seals him away in the pocket between dimensions instead of letting him die or explode like everyone else. Why do you hate yourself so much Ganondorf do we need to talk? I'm biased he's the definitive Phantom Ganon for me so 10/10.

PHANTOM GANON (WIND WAKER/FOUR SWORD ADVENTURES/HYRULE WARRIORS) I find it interesting that Wind Waker Ganondorf creates a Phantom that is completely different, having a more monstrous and demonic appearance with the horns and the tattered cape. I wonder if this is supposed to be a reflection of his past self, a monster only meant to kill and destroy with similar capabilities to his past self. Is this nostalgia for the past or so much hatred for the past that he wishes to unleash it upon you? Also he is the phantom that reappears the most weirdly enough. Trondorf. 9/10

PHANTOM RIDERS (TWILIGHT PRINCESS) I honestly thought having these riders beside Ganondorf in Twilight Princess was really fucking cool. I think it's the only time Ganondorf fights alongside his phantoms. It kind of gives off the air of Twilight Princess Ganondorf himself being like a ghost of Hyrule's past, a consequence of their actions that continues to haunt Hyrule and its descendants, and will continue to do so. I like how the mask and horse are reminiscent of OoT's Phantom Ganon. 8/10.

PHANTOM GANON (TEARS OF THE KINGDOM) I love this Phantom Ganon. Hell, if TotK Ganondorf decided to throw hands with you while staying like this I would have been extremely okay with it because he is just so fucking creepy and cool in all the right ways. I love how huge he is, that he retains all the abilities Ganondorf himself has, the torn robe, the broken jewelry just holding on by wishes and dreams, the fact that he looks like he is stuck between Ganondorf's regular human form and demon king form, and that he also has a replica secret stone. (Is it a replica? it says in the compendium that Ganondorf created him from his own flesh and blood so-). I like that in TotK Ganondorf seems rather proud of his Phantom, he just loves how his Phantom terrorizes Hyrule while he chills in his gloom spa. 9.5/10. SO my official ranking? 1. OoT 2. TotK 3. WW/FSA/HW 4. TP

[therummesoccupied]

FANG THE HUNTER, ISSUE #2 - THOUGHTS

I once again find myself without TOO terribly much to say beyond, it was good, I liked it. Flynn's doing good writing, Rothlisberger and crew are doing good art, etc.

I, of course, loved the environments. Seeing Sandopolis Zone up close and personal was really cool, especially after we caught a couple tiny glimpses of it over in the Modern stories, but only ever as one small, barely visible part of the entire island.

I also really liked seeing Fang work his way through the tricks and traps of the actual level.

Really, Fang in general here waa really good! It was cool seeing how he operates deprived of his gang and watching him strategize his way around Knuckles on his own home turf!

Also, one weird little note, is Knuckles like... weirdly pale in this issue? Not really a complaint, just a thing I noticed. Maybe it's just me.

Then there's the B Plot of Sonic and Tails chasing down a strange aircraft that MIGHT be run by Eggman?

Again, the upcoming covers have already spoiled who's actually running the thing, but I'm sure there's more story to be had here.

What I find neat is that, when Sonic and Tails get close to the thing, it just... teleports away?

This is a Classic story, so this is, like... WAY before Chaos Control ever gets introduced as a concept.

It's probably not too much of a stretch that Fang's "eighth Chaos Emerald" is probably involved here. My current theory is that it's probably the Phantom Ruby, but I won't get into why for anyone who hasn't seen the upcoming covers and is avoiding those particular spoilers.

Back with Fang and co., I'm really interested to see Bean and Bark start to get truly fed up with Fang.

It all seems like it's building up to some conclusion where Fang learns to actually appreciate his allies and they see he actually cares and they go forward with their friendship renewed, but... I think they might not?

Hear me out, here, Ian Flynn stated on Twitter that this story takes place between Mania and Superstars.

Now, my personal interpretation of the story puts Mania and Superstars in different timelines - that's for another post - but I do find this look at the writer's intent interesting. In Superstars, we see Fang by himself. Bean and Bark aren't there. We've seen Fang alone before, but the three of them have been consistently shown as a group since the later Archie days. Even Modern Sonic still references them as a gang in Issue 3 of the main IDW series. But if the writers intend for this story to take place before Sonic Superstars, that means at some point, Fang has to end up alone.

I have a feeling that this whole arc may end with Bean and Bark, fully done with Fang's nonsense, really, ACTUALLY leaving him, and Fang setting forth by himself. A bit of a downer ending, to be sure, but I kinda like the idea, as it's not something we usually get to see from Sonic stories.

As we come up on the end of the Issue, we get another cool Classic setpiece, which I am told is Newtronic High Zone from Knuckles' Chaotix, a game I have not played much of.

It's neat that it's from that game, though, because...

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this screen from SEGASonic the Hedgehog (the JP exclusive arcade game)? Is the implication here supposed to be that Miracle Island and Eggman Island are the same place? Who knows. I might just be wrong.

Anyway, it was a long wait, but I really did enjoy this one, and am, of course, excited for Issues 3 and 4, as well as the return to the main series with Issue 69 (nice) and the upcoming Riders arc!

[paperanddice]

The powerful witch Baba Yaga fortunately rarely turns her attention upon the world, but where she does her influence is mighty. Her agents herald her arrival, in particular the three horsemen that she has bound to different times of day. The riders tend to change each time she appears, either because the previous ones finished their term of service to the witch, or because of their destruction. In either case, the witch always has new beings she can appoint into her service, taken from one of a hundred worlds she has influence upon.

Each rider is bound to a certain time of day, vanishing when the time ticks over past their appointed hours. Whether they travel to another plane, to another place upon the world where the time is correct for their presence, or even if they cease to exist entirely until brought forth again is unknown, and no one seems keen to answer the question. Bright Day is the rider for the morning, active from dawn to mid-day, Red Sun rules mid-day to sunset, and Black Night rules from sunset to sunrise.

These stats represent the weakest the riders may be; if a creature below this level agrees to become the witch's rider, they are granted these abilities. More powerful creatures may make the agreement, in which case they would gain the rider's Temporal Strike and Peerless Rider abilities, the ability to conjure phantom steeds, and any of a specific rider's traits. Even a PC may theoretically make this deal, though doing so likely removes them from the game unless the rest of the party is fine with working around their temporal restrictions and duties to Baba Yaga.

Originally from the Tome of Beasts 1. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

Pathfinder 2e

Baba Yaga's Horsemen Creature 11 Unique Medium Fey Perception +21 Languages Aklo, Common, Sylvan; telepathy 100 feet Skills Arcana +18, Athletics +23, Intimidation +21, Nature +19, Occultism +18, Society +18 Str +6, Dex +3, Con +5, Int +3, Wis +4, Cha +4 Items +1 striking lance, +1 striking longsword, +1 full plate, composite longbow (20 arrows) AC 33; Fort +22, Ref +18, Will +21; +1 status to all saves vs. magic HP 197; Immunities fatigued, lightning, paralyzed, poison; Weaknesses cold iron 10 Peerless Rider Any attacks directed at the horseman's mount target the horseman instead. Its mount gains the benefits of any resistances and immunities the horseman has, and if the horseman and mount must both save against the same area effect, the mount's save is treated as one better than the horseman's. Speed 25 feet Melee lance +24 (deadly d8, jousting d6, reach 10 feet), Damage 2d8+13 piercing Melee longsword +24 (versatile P), Damage 2d8+13 slashing Ranged composite longbow +20 (deadly d10, propulsive, range increment 100 feet, reload 0, volley 30 feet), Damage 1d8+7 piercing Primal Innate Spells DC 27, attack +19 ; 7th ethereal jaunt, plane shift (horseman and steed only); 6th fire shield, phantom steed (×3); 5th dimension door; 3rd haste, slow; Quick Draw [one action] The horseman draws a weapon and Strikes with it. Temporal Strike [free action] (primal, necromancy) When the horseman hits a target with a melee attack, it can choose to force the target to attempt a Fortitude saving throw. Creatures that don't get weaker with age or don't age are immune (GM's discretion). If a creature becomes clumsy 4, drained 4, and enfeebled 4 due to Temporal Strikes, it dies of old age. The horseman can't use Temporal Strike for 1d4 rounds. Critical Success The creature becomes temporarily immune for 1 hour. Success The creature is unaffected. Failure The creature becomes clumsy 1, drained 1, and enfeebled 1, or increases each of those conditions by 1. These conditions remain for 24 hours. This effect is cumulative to other Temporal Strikes. Critical Failure As failure, but the creature becomes clumsy 2, drained 2, and enfeebled 2, or increases those conditions by 2.

The Three Horsemen Each horseman has unique senses, defenses, and special abilities. Add the appropriate traits to the base horseman for each of the horsemen as follows. Bright Day The horseman gains darkvision, resist 10 cold and fire, and gains the following innate spells: 5th searing light; cantrip (6th) light Red Sun The horseman gains immunity to blinded, fear, fire, and gains the following innate spells: 5th scorching ray; 2nd continual flame (×2) Black Night The horseman gains greater darkvision, immunity to cold, and gains the following innate spells: 4th darkness (×2); cantrip (6th) ray of frost

13th Age

Baba Yaga may not be an Icon in your particular setting, but she's a being with the power to rival and even dwarf many Icons. Her attention is simply spread so far that she may have no presence in your setting, aside from the occasional visit. She simply doesn't spend enough time around to develop the connections and influence that an Icon has, but when she does appear all the Icons respect her power and act accordingly. Some may oppose her, others attempt to placate her, but she has no innate respect for any Icons and so will do as she pleases unless forced to back down. Her agents act the same, as the horsemen will ignore the laws and expectations of the world to fulfill their Mistress' demands, no matter who it puts them at odds with.

Baba Yaga’s Horsemen  Double-strength 6th level troop [humanoid]  Initiative: +10 Lance +12 vs. AC - 30 damage. Charge: This attack instead deals 55 damage and the target pops free from the horseman if the horseman first moves before attacking an enemy it wasn’t engaged with at the start of its turn. Limited Use: Can only be used if the horseman is mounted. Longsword +11 vs. AC (2 attacks) - 22 damage. Natural 18+: The target ages several years, taking a -1 penalty to attacks and all defenses until the end of the battle. This effect is cumulative. If the target reaches a total penalty of -4, it must start making last gasp saves. On the fourth failure, the target dies of old age. Ray of Energy +11 vs. PD (one nearby enemy) - 30 damage (see the three horsemen). Natural Even Hit: Special (see the three horsemen). Peerless Rider: The horseman gains a +6 AC bonus against opportunity attacks while mounted. The horseman’s mount cannot be targeted by attacks while the horseman is mounted, and the horseman cannot be dismounted by any effect. The mount can still take damage from effects that don’t target it with an attack. Phantom Steed: If the horseman doesn’t have a special mount, it rides a phantom steed. The phantom steed has 23 hp, can fly and walk on water, has no attacks or actions it can take besides move, always acts during the horseman’s turn, and vanishes if the horseman is defeated. The Three Horsemen: Each horseman has unique defenses and special abilities. Add the appropriate traits to the base horseman as follows: Bright Day gains resist cold and fire 14+, deals holy damage with ray of energy, and on a natural even hit the target is dazed (save ends). Red Sun gains resist fire 18+, deals fire damage with ray of energy, and on a natural even hit the target takes 10 ongoing fire damage. Black Night gains resist cold 18+, deals cold damage with ray of energy, and on a natural even hit the target is stuck (save ends). AC 21 PD 19 MD 18 HP 182

[sweetdreams-aremade]

On Berserk and Takayuki Yamaguchi.

I'm making this post to vague about a stranger, and also to talk about Takayuki Yamaguchi, who rules.

Someone once said that, in the wake of Miura's untimely death, Takayuki Yamaguchi should take on the mantle of writing and drawing Berserk.

No offense (OK, some offense) to the guy who wrote this, but I can't think of a mangaka with a more diametrically opposed creative voice to Miura's, even if they both had similar root influences (Go Nagai, Fist of the North Star, Phantom of the Paradise and henshin heroes like Ultraman, Kamen Rider and Kikaider) and aesthetic interests (intense gore and violence, muddy textures, weird and often extreme sexual imagery).

For one, Takayuki Yamaguchi is a man who IIRC has directly stated that he's not great at subtle or nuanced emotion and thus excels at creating narratives built off of repressed characters unable to fully express themselves and asking him to illustrate a manga whose identity is partly defined by its creator's mastery of expression and subtle emotion isn't a great idea, really.

He was good at rendering subtle emotions once, during the early chapters of Shigurui, and he then promptly abandoned that skill in favor of intense stoicism for good reason.

One, he makes it look good, two, his work is defined by its detached, clinical tone. He deliberately views characters at a distance, by either using impersonal, novelistic third-person narration, viewing his protagonists through the lens of others within the narrative, or through something as simple as avoiding language and explicit information, valuing weighted silence over exposition. This dovetails *beautifully* with the narratives he handles.

Gekikou Kamen is about a tokusatsu enthusiast's relationship with Imperial Japan as reflected in the art he consumes, Shigurui is a critique of rigid class structures and loyalty to the state, and Exoskull Zero is his version of Casshern Sins I.E a manga about a former superhero in a doomed, fantastical landscape at the end of time out to save people who might not even exist.

They're manga that require an ambivalent approach to function: any kind of emotional scrutability or visceral intimacy would contradict Yamaguchi's novelistic style and frank examinations of flawed social structures and the people they produce.

Shigurui's macroscopic critique of Edo Japan doesn't work as an emotionally intimate narrative, and Gekikou Kamen's critique of the imperialist subtext behind much of tokusatsu doesn't work if you were immediately sympathetic to or understanding of its wannabe imperialist lead, for some examples.

If you asked Miura to draw a Yamaguchi manga, he'd have failed spectacularly because of his love of intense, emotionally intimate storytelling and illustration. He was simply not capable of (or perhaps more accurately simply uninterested in) the kind of emotional ambivalence that Yamaguchi excels at.

Hell, as I'll discuss later, intimacy vs. ambivalence might be the best summation of the differences between Miura and Yamaguchi's respective styles.

I don't think Yamaguchi would be a great choice for Berserk's action scenes either. Yamaguchi displays his mastery of action illustration by dilating time to show every individuated step of the process of movement, making his action feel intensely deliberate and methodical. Every step, and every step within that greater step, matters.

Kentaro Miura, meanwhile, often did the opposite with Guts, depicting the beginning and end of a sword swing and deliberately excising everything in between to generate a sense of speed and kinetic intensity.

[oh-gh0st]

OK SONIC OC TIME (putting as a read more since it'll get long <3)

so as a lot of u know (about 50% of u at least) i have two main sonic ocs that i posted about a lot

Phantom (top) and Ghost (bottom)! these two were (and still are) very special to me especially phantom since she was the first oc i made when getting back into the fandom (plus she's self-shipped with Rouge... the thieves.... my ladies <3) and ghost is the persona i think i would have in the sonic universe ^-^ you can read more about them on their toyhou.se's! (ghost's is outdated tho... need to fix that) https://toyhou.se/12423400.phantom-the-raccoon

https://toyhou.se/14189793.ghost-the-bat onto more non-canon ocs and one-off ocs: phantoms extended family! from left to right: Kurse - Spectra - Shade - Specter (L) and Wraith (R)

again mainly story ocs for the side-story that included phantom in the sonic universe, i kinda dropped the idea once i fell out of the phantom but maybe ill pick it back up. maybe...

these two aren't related BUT im really proud of them regardless Nova is (obviously) based on my birds and the Riders games and my kind-of-hidden obsession over space. she got redesigned twice before i was happy with her design (the one im showing you), and tbh it was probably a good thing that i waited a year to do so LMFAO Roxanne was sort of a "oc im making for funsies but i got too invested" oc, and was meant to be in a trio band with two other bandmates (I've finished one so far, her name's Skylar and that right doodle went crazy on twitter when i first posted it)

these next ones are also other ones i did for funsies, so i wont put much besides little information or just their names: Nebulus the unicorn (Sonic and the Secret Rings inspired)

Nitre the ghost-cat (one i did for funsies, honestly LOVE their design still it SLAPS.) they have a zombie pomeranian friend named Candy that i've yet to design also...)

Coco the lop-eared bunny (one i did for funsies)

Both unnamed (did this as apart of that "give me 3 emojis to make an oc" trend a while back and i still liked how these came out

And lastly the most recent one, Miss Muffy! (sadly the last one i did before i fell out of sonic)

soo yaaaa those were my sonic occs i hope u guys liked theeemmm ^-^ obv it wasn't all of the ocs i made considering i have a lot still as wips and stuff that i don't feel confident in showing but i hope this list was a good way to see all the different designs i did!! ok bye now

( ill drop my AF and toyhou.se for people who want to know more about some of these oc's since they're a bit better at giving lore n stuff: ) https://artfight.net/~oh_gh0st https://toyhou.se/oh_gh0st