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melancholicmelanin · 19 hours

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Compress/Repress | Chapter 1: Sins of The Father

pairing: art donaldson x black!oc x patrick zweig, tashi duncan x black!oc (platonic)

summary: all was quiet at the Duncan household. The boys were safety tucked into bed, mom and dad lay side by side with their last argument buried under the pretense of peace. Meanwhile, Tashi finally had a moment alone—in front of the family computer, the one her parents had strictly forbidden her from using. But tonight, like many, she couldn't resist the pull of her secret Facebook account.

wordcount: 14k

warning(s): minor challengers spoilers (if any?), mild cursing, a non american writing americans, self edited and no beta.

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OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA – September 27, 2005

The dining room radiates with a cosy warmth, emanating from the outdated light fixture that hangs low above the table. The yellowed glow gives the room an intimate feel, as if time has stopped and this moment is frozen in it. The walls are adorned with a collage of memories - photographs capturing moments of love and laughter, alongside colourful drawings etched into the plaster by tiny hands.

A mismatched collection of plates holds steaming dishes of homemade food, each one a gift from a distant family member. The utensils are a mismatched collection of spoons accumulated over the years, contributing to the quaint and disorganised ambiance. As everyone takes their assigned seats, the room hums with lively conversation and constant movement - a true reflection of this close-knit household.

Kevin, the patriarch of the family, sits at the head of the table with his wife, Chrystal, gracefully settled on his right-hand side. Across from her is their eldest son, Demetrius, who may only be thirteen years old but holds himself with a confidence beyond his years in the presence of his father.

Next to Demetrius is Kenan, the youngest of the family and the cause of their current laughter. He eagerly shares a story about an incident at school, causing raucous laughter among his relatives, showcasing the antics of middle schoolers.

Within arm's reach sits Tashi, the only daughter in the family. Her lanky frame slumps slightly over the table as she listens intently to her brother's story, a small smile playing on her lips as she attempts to immerse herself within the present moment.

The table buzzed with excited chatter as the family asked further questions, their voices overlapping in a symphony of confusion and amusement. But tonight, Tashi's mind was elsewhere, drifting between the infectious joy of her family and the alluring pull of Chandler Prescott's end of summer party.

The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the enticing possibility of what could have been. She could almost feel the pulsing beat of the music and see the glittering lights that awaited her at the party, pulling her towards them like a moth to a flame.

Despite the warm atmosphere and company of her family, Tashi couldn't shake off the longing for something more exciting and exhilarating. Tashi's eyes constantly darted around the room, taking in every detail with precision. Her gaze shifted from her brothers to her parents, her brows furrowed in deep thought.

How in the world am I going to make it to that party? She pondered, carefully weighing the consequences of each crazy idea that popped into her head.

‘I could try sneaking out, she contemplated,’ a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

‘My room is conveniently located on the other side of the house,’ Tashi pondered further.

‘Dad just fixed that stubborn window just in time for summer.’

Tashi let the idea simmer in her mind, savouring the thrill of rebellion. But as quickly as the excitement came, a flicker of concern crossed her features as she realised one crucial detail - ‘how the fuck am I gonna get there?’

Tashi's mind raced with possibilities, each one more outlandish than the last. She could bike there, but the party was on the other side of town, and she'd arrive sweaty and dishevelled. Maybe she could convince one of her friends to pick her up, but most of them weren't invited to the exclusive gathering anyways.

As she pondered her limited options, her fingers absently traced the delicate curves of the golden crucifix around her neck, a habit ingrained in her from countless hours spent at bible study. The smooth metal warmed against her skin, offering a sense of comfort and familiarity amidst the chaos of indecision.

The nickname "The Duncanator" echoed in her mind, a reminder of her prowess and her simultaneous struggle to fit in at school. Sure, she could serve an ace that would make even the toughest opponent’s quake in their tennis shoes, but that same intensity that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court seemed to intimidate her classmates.

The few friends she had were mostly fellow athletes who understood the dedication and drive required to excel in sports. But this party was different. It was hosted by Chandler Prescott, the most popular boy in school, and attending could be her chance to finally break into the inner circle of cool kids.

Tashi let out an exasperated sigh, her delicate fingers tracing the intricate details of her crucifix necklace. She glanced at the clock on the microwave, the red digital numbers flashing 7:15 PM. The party was supposed to start at 8 and she still had so much to do.

With her back pressed against the wall, Tashi was left with one last option, an idea that had already been exhausted at this point. Gathering the courage to voice her thoughts, Tashi mustered up the bravery to confront her father once again, maybe the presents of her mother can assist her this time. Her heart raced with adrenaline as she knew time was running out.

"Dad, I know your mind's made up, but this is the last party of—" As Tashi spoke, a loud clattering noise broke the silence. All eyes turned towards Mr. Duncan, whose spoon had slipped from his hand and landed with a loud clang on his plate. Tashi's heart sank in her chest, mirroring the sudden drop of the spoon. The room was now filled with tension and all attention was on Mr. Duncan as he nervously clasped his hands together in what seemed like a prayer.

Kevin's face contorted into a scowl as he fixed his gaze on his daughter. "Do we have to go through this again?" he exclaimed in frustration.

Tashi's voice was insistent, her eyes flashing with excitement. "It's the last party before summer break is over, Dad," she repeated, not wanting him to interrupt her declaration again.

Tashi's heart raced as she imagined all the fun she would have at the party, surrounded by loud music and non-stop dancing. She couldn't let her father spoil it for her. Mr. Duncan's voice was strained, his left hand pressed against his forehead in a futile attempt to ease the mounting frustration.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Tashi?" he asked wearily, as if he had repeated this same request countless times before.

The wrinkles on his brow deepened with each passing moment, a physical manifestation of his exasperation. The tension in the room was palpable, thick like molasses and just as sticky. Tashi sat across from him, head down and shoulders slumped, knowing she had disappointed him once again. She couldn't bear to meet his gaze, unable to shake off the feeling of defeat that washed over her at his words.

Mr. Duncan's voice rose with each word, the tone becoming more urgent as he spoke. "I will not allow my daughter to stumble home in a drunken state from some white kid's party". The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, emphasising the gravity of the situation.

The mood instantly shifted as silence fell over the table and every move made by his family was influenced by his authoritative voice. The clinking of silverware against plates sounded like scratches on a record as Kenan's giggles were drowned out by the tense atmosphere. Frowns appeared on the faces of the boys as they looked to their mother for an explanation.

"Who do you think the cops are going to target when they shut that damn thing down?" He continued, his stern tone silencing any possible objections from his daughter.

Tashi could feel her mind racing, searching for the right words to say. On one hand, she could appease her father with a response that she knew he wanted to hear. “You’re absolutely right, Dad. I should prioritise getting enough sleep for practice tomorrow.”

But deep down, she knew that would be dishonest and not truly reflective of her current state. Taking a deep breath, she made the difficult decision to be honest with her father and give him a piece of her mind. She squared her shoulders and let it out, "I doubt they would even catch me; I don’t think Officer Moores has been to the gym since the fucking—"

She’s cut off mid-sentence again, reminded of where exactly she was. This wasn't another afternoon with Jasmyn and Destiny, gallivanting about Oakland with nothing better to do then shit talk people from school. No, this was her father's house, and she had to abide by his rules. The air felt stifling and suffocating, like a cage closing in on her. She yearned for the carefree days spent with her friends, but she knew she had to play by her father's rules in his domain.

"Watch your language, young lady. How do you expect me to let you out of this house when you talk like that in front of me?" Mr. Duncan's authoritative voice straightens Tashi’s posture by the mere sound of it, further adding to her frustration and resentment. Tashi's eyes flashed with defiance, her grip tightening on the edge of the table.

"But Dad, you don't understand! This isn't just any party. It's the end-of-summer bash, and everyone who's anyone will be there.” Demetrius' brow furrows even deeper as he grasps the meaning behind Tashi's words. He remembers his sister's recent preoccupation with her overflowing wardrobe of not quite cute clothes. As a clueless teenage boy, he had brushed it off as typical big sister behaviour. Little did he realise that Tashi was planning to attend a party, which explained her sudden desire for the perfect outfit.

“I've worked so hard all year, both in school and on the court. Don't I deserve one night of fun?”

Tashi's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a year's worth of hard work and sacrifice. Her mother's eyes filled with pride and understanding, gleaming like polished gems in the soft light of the room. On the other hand, her father's eyes were clouded with ignorance and disappointment, a storm brewing behind them as he sat stoically in his chair.

It was a familiar scene for the family, one that only added to Tashi's growing resentment towards her father's strict rules. She could feel the tension thickening between them, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap at any moment. And yet, despite it all, she continued to prove herself as the strongest player in the state, her name quickly gaining traction in the tennis world. Her mother watched in awe and admiration, wishing her father could see and appreciate their daughter's undeniable talent and determination.

Despite Kevin's attempt to maintain a stoic facade, his clenched jaw and visibly tense muscles betrayed any sign of guilt. Mr. Duncan's expression was one of clear disappointment as he observed Tashi's childish behaviour at the dinner table. Kevin's knuckles turned almost white, a clear difference to his brown skin, as he braced himself to address Tashi's immature inclinations. The once jovial atmosphere now hung heavily with tension, the air thick and charged with unspoken words. It was a stark contrast to the pleasant atmosphere just moments before, a dramatic shift in mood that could not be ignored.

"Fun? You call hanging around a swarm of reckless, intoxicated teenagers, fun? I've seen the destruction and chaos these parties can bring, Tashi.”

The words emphasised dripped from Kevin's tongue with disdain as he raised his hands in exasperation. His gaze shot out the window, towards the direction of the Prescott's upscale neighbourhood. Tashi could see the anger and frustration etched on Kevin's face, his jaw clenched tightly as he spoke. The sound of his words cut through the air like a sharp blade, leaving no room for argument.

"Our family will not become gossip fodder simply because you sought a moment of fun."

His gaze bore into her with unwavering intensity, his protective nature surging forth. Kevin was resolute in ensuring his daughter's reputation remained untarnished, particularly with the scrutiny from giants like Nike and Adidas. After enduring numerous trials, the future seemed promising for the Duncans, and no stupid party would derail their progress.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Chrystal placed a gentle hand on her husband’s shoulder, attempting to soften his hard exterior. Kevin's muscles remained rigid under her touch; his jaw clenched tight as he stared out the window at the setting sun. The fading light cast long shadows across the living room, mirroring his hooded eyes as he laid with his thoughts post outburst.

Chrystal released a deep, shaky breath as she tried to navigate the tumultuous waves of emotions crashing within her in response to her husband's words. She glanced over at her daughter, who sat slumped and defeated, and made the decision. Mrs. Duncan knew that this could be the last summer they would have together before things became chaotic and out of their control. With determination in her heart, she would negotiate with her husband to give their daughter a chance at experiencing joy and freedom before the weight of a full-time athlete settled upon her shoulders.

"Darling," she began, her voice soft and melodious, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

Crystal pleaded, her voice filled with longing and hope. "Perhaps we should reconsider," she said, her eyes focused on Kevin.

"Tashi is growing up so fast, and this party could be a wonderful opportunity for her to socialise with her classmates."

But Kevin's mind was already made up, his stubborn nature once again prevailing over reason. Chrystal could see the determination in his steely gaze and knew that there was no use arguing further. The disappointment weighed heavy on her heart as she resigned herself to another missed opportunity for their daughter.

"My decision is final, Tashi."

Mr. Duncan's voice echoed through the room, reaching every corner and piercing the silence that hung heavy in the air. His stern gaze shifted to Tashi, whose fidgeting hands had now stilled and were gripping tightly onto the hem of her skirt. The table, made of dark mahogany wood, seemed to creak under Mr. Duncan's weight as he leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Tashi's.

"I expect you in bed, getting enough rest for practice tomorrow," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Tashi could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she nodded, understanding his expectations. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders as she realised the gravity of Mr. Duncan's words and the importance of Tashi maintaining her consistency.

Tashi nodded silently, her father's expectations bearing down on her like a heavy weight. In all her years living under the strict rules of Kevin Duncan, Tashi had never felt so suffocated. Her father, who had been her coach for many years, had ingrained in her that following the straight and narrow path both on the court and in real life would lead to success and reward. But as she stood there now, it was clear that this belief was nothing but a facade. Today, with crushing disappointment, Tashi realised that it was all just a load of bullshit.

“Now, you kids need to get ready for bed."

Kevin chimed in, his voice breaking through the tense atmosphere that had settled over the family. The dim lights in the living room cast shadows across his face as he leaned back in his chair, trying to diffuse the tension with a light-hearted tone.

"Kenan, I better hear some vigorous teeth brushing up in that bathroom. And Demetrius, don't forget to floss!"

His words were met with half-hearted groans and eye rolls from the two children, who reluctantly got up from their spots on the couch and headed towards the hallway.

“Yes, sir.”

The voices of the boys strained as they struggled to release the words, unsure if they should speak in that tense moment. This caused Kevin's expression to falter for a brief second, as he realised his impact on the family. Just moments before, they had all been laughing at the youngest member's tales from school, but now not even the most talkative person in the house could utter a single word. The atmosphere had shifted from one of lightness and joy to one of tension and unease.

The sounds of shuffling feet and murmured goodnights filled the air as the boys followed Tashi’s lead and headed upstairs to their rooms. The hallway was dimly lit, casting shadows along the walls as Tashi trudged towards her own room at the end of the hall. As they are about to reach their shared room, Demetrius and Kenan stalk at their door taking one last look at their sister. Tashi closes the door to her bedroom with a heavy sigh, throwing herself onto her bed.

Tashi’s room was a reflection of her disciplined but quietly personal world. The walls were painted a soft lavender, calming but with enough energy to keep her focused. Above her bed hung a large poster of Serena Williams in mid-swing, the fierce determination on her face a daily source of inspiration. Tashi admired Serena—her strength, her focus, her ability to balance success with the weight of expectation. The poster faded at the edges, a sign of how long it had been there, a constant in Tashi’s room and her life.

Her desk, positioned neatly under the window, was cluttered with tennis gear, notebooks, and textbooks, all piled in organised chaos. A calendar hung beside it, every square meticulously filled with her tight schedule—practices, study sessions, and tournaments. Each date was marked in different coloured ink, from practice drills to strategy meetings with her father. She was constantly balancing schoolwork and tennis training, and the calendar was her anchor in the whirlwind of her days.

Across from the desk, her bed was made with precision—crisp white sheets tucked neatly under a soft lilac duvet. Plush pillows were carefully arranged at the head of the bed, though the space wasn’t untouched by the subtle messiness of teenage life—a few clothes tossed on the chair, a pair of sneakers casually kicked off by the door.

Shelves lined the wall, filled with trophies, tennis balls, and framed photos of her with friends, her brothers, and, of course, her father. Her room was functional but still held onto a certain charm, with fairy lights strung along the headboard and a few stuffed animals from childhood tucked neatly into the corner of the bed—small reminders of a softer, less regimented time.

Though every inch of the room was curated to reflect Tashi’s commitment to tennis and her busy life, there were subtle touches of her own personality—the lavender scented candle on her nightstand, a few dog-eared novels she’d never had the time to finish, and the carefully framed picture of her mom, the quiet presence in her life. It was a room that felt like a mix of who she was and who she was becoming—structured yet still searching for balance.

As she stared up at the ceiling, her mind racing with frustration and disappointment, she thought about how she ended up in this predicament.

‘So much for making this the best summer ever.’

Why couldn't her dad just trust her? She was a responsible teenager, always on top of her schoolwork and dedicated to tennis. All Tashi wanted was one night to let loose and get to know some people before senior year next fall. Since freshman year, she had never quite fit in at her school.

With daily tennis practices and matches consuming most of her time on top of the already heavy workload, Tashi didn’t have much time to socialise with her classmates outside of school. And recently, as she watched groups of laughing teenagers splashing in the water and playing beach games on social media, she couldn't help but feel like an outsider once again.

It didn’t help that nobody seemed to care about tennis, except for Jasmyn and Destiny who were eager to learn all they could about the sport - especially when it came to the cute athletes.

Tonight's party held the promise of liberation for Tashi, a chance to shed her reputation as nothing more than 'the girl who fucks herself with a racket all day'. After publicly confronting Chandler Prescott for spreading that disgusting rumour, she had hoped to gain some sort of an apology. But those mindless idiots would blindly follow any order from the muscle-headed jock.

In a perfect world, her parents would have sent her to a prestigious boarding school, preferably one focused on tennis. But no, her father had insisted on being her coach. Tashi had endured years of relentless criticism and harsh training sessions from her father, his words driving her to relentlessly perfect her serve. There was even one night when they had missed dinner entirely, caught up in endless drills and corrections. By the time they returned home, Kenan and Demetrius were already fast asleep. And ‘Father of The Year goes to…’

Knock, knock, knock.

Startled from her thoughts, Tashi whips her head towards her bedroom door. Her initial assumption is that it's her mom, ready to give her a guilt-laden lecture about not being able to sway her father at dinner. But to her surprise, something much better awaits on the other side.

"Come in," She calls out from her bed, still fixated on the ceiling.

The door creaks open and she hears the pitter patter of tiny feet approaching. With a grin spreading across her face, Tashi finally abandons the popcorn-textured surface above and sits upright.

Like a little gremlin, Kenan's head is the first to pop out from behind his sister's door, followed closely by his older and taller brother Demetrius. Their mischievous smiles mirror each other as they enter the room, and Tashi can't help but feel a surge of joy and warmth in their presence.

“Hey, guys!”Tashi's cheerful voice echoed through the room as she greeted her brothers, her body quickly sitting up in bed. She adjusted her collection of stuffed animals and pillows, already anticipating the weight of her brothers collapsing onto the soft surface.

"What's going on?" Tashi asked, a wide smile spreading across her face as she watched her brothers make themselves comfortable on her bed. Kenan reached for her beloved Lilo and Stitch plushie, while Demetrius fluffed up a pillow and prepared to lounge. Their presence filled the room with warmth and comfort, like three puzzle pieces perfectly fitting together.

Demetrius rested his hands behind his head, stretching out his body and crossing his legs on Tashi's bed. His voice was smooth and confident as he spoke, "I know it's nowhere near the cool high school parties you're used to, but I promise this will be worth your while."

Kenan couldn't contain his excitement, bursting into giggles and exclaiming, "It's a super-duper ultra secret party, for Duncan siblings only!"

He playfully tossed a Stitch plushie into the air before it landed straight towards Tashi's head. The siblings erupted in laughter at Kenan's enthusiasm. In that moment, Tashi couldn't help but feel a twinge of warmth in her heart at her siblings' genuine excitement.

"A party, huh? What's the occasion?" Tashi asked with a raised eyebrow.

Kenan's mischievous grin grew wider. "We're celebrating the end of summer and because...um, because you're the best big sister ever!"

Demetrius rolled his eyes at Kenan's words but couldn't hide the small smile that tugged at his lips. Tashi chuckled at her brother's earnestness. Their wide-eyed and energetic natures never failed to bring a smile to her face.

They were her biggest supporters, always finding ways to lift her spirits even in her darkest moments. But tonight was different, the argument with their father had changed something within Tashi and she was determined not to back down. She would not be silenced or dismissed any longer.

Tashi chuckled, a bittersweet sound that held a hint of laughter and sadness. "That's sweet, you guys," she exclaimed, her voice carrying in the quiet night air.

"But I have to be up early for practice tomorrow," she reminded them, raising an eyebrow at Kenan playfully. She made a funny face at him, causing him to burst into laughter.

Demetrius' expression shifted, his face falling slightly as he realised their time together was limited. "It's just for one night," he pleaded, trying to find a solution. "You can sleep over in our room too." His eyes searched hers, silently begging her to just stay up for a little longer.

Tashi rose gracefully from her spot on the bed and lowered herself to the ground, kneeling next to her brothers. She placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders, offering comfort in her touch. "I'm sorry I can't join you tonight," she said softly, her eyes filled with regret. "But I promise, we’ll get ice cream after practice tomorrow instead, okay?

“Just the three of us." Her voice held a hint of excitement at the thought of their special tradition and the bond they shared as siblings.

Kenan's bottom lip jutted out in a pout, but his eyes glimmered with anticipation at the thought of their special outing. Even without words, his eager nod showed his agreement. Demetrius, always one for adventure, grinned widely and eagerly joined in with a nod of his own. Their shared excitement for the promised treat radiated through the space between them and into the world around them, like beams of sunlight bursting through the clouds.

Tashi gently pressed her lips to each of their foreheads before ushering the boys back to their room. She couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia, remembering how her own mother used to tuck her into bed. Kenan was still young enough to be tucked in, his soft face peaceful as he settled under the covers. Demetrius, on the other hand, was growing too old for such gestures, and Tashi couldn't help but wonder if he missed being coddled like this. With the night light casting a warm glow over their shared room, Tashi made sure everything was in place before finally making her way back to her own room down the hall.

As she let out a sigh, Tashi climbed into bed and reached over to switch off the bedside lamp. As she pulled the covers up to her chin, she let out a contented sigh. For a while, she lay there in the darkness, listening intently to the sounds of the house settling for the night. The creaks and groans of old wood echoed through the walls, accompanied by the distant murmur of her parents' voices down the hall. It was a comforting sound, one that had been a constant in her life since childhood.

As time went on, even those familiar noises faded away, leaving behind complete silence. But Tashi couldn't seem to quiet her mind. Restlessness consumed her as her thoughts continued to buzz with everything she was missing out on. The party, the chance to let go and be just another carefree teenager, if only for a few hours. She knew she shouldn't care so much about fitting in, but she did. How could she not when it felt like she was constantly an outsider looking in?

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one weighed down by the oppressive stillness of the house. Tashi couldn't fight the temptation any longer - she had to know what was happening at the party, even if she couldn't be there. With a sense of defeat, she took matters into her own hands and turned to her last resort.

With her bunny slippers on, Tashi tiptoes down the creaky stairs, wincing at every small sound. The house seems to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional snore from her father's room. Moonlight spills through the windows, casting long shadows across the living room as Tashi makes her way to her target tucked away in the corner.

The family computer was strategically placed here for a reason, under the gazes of old photographs of distant family members and her technophobic mother. Tashi had been here a thousand times, but tonight, it felt different—like she was doing something forbidden. Her parents had made it clear that she wasn’t allowed to have a Facebook account, let alone use the computer without permission. But she needed this, needed to feel connected to her friends, even if it was just through a screen.

The ancient machine whirs to life, the fan sputtering like an old car engine. Tashi anxiously drums her fingers on the desk, willing the computer to boot up faster. Finally, the familiar chime of the dial-up connection fills the air, and Tashi quickly mutes the speakers, her heart racing at the thought of waking her parents.

As Tashi logged into Facebook, a flood of images and status updates assaulted her senses, pulling her from the quiet isolation of her room into the buzzing life of the party she was missing. The screen became a kaleidoscope of colour and emotion, each snapshot of the night hitting her like a wave crashing against the shore. Every post, every comment felt like a direct invitation to join in, and yet, she remained on the outside looking in. The party, which had taken on an almost mythic quality in her imagination, was now laid bare in front of her—an explosion of energy captured in still frames and carefully chosen words, all beckoning her to be part of the action she was forbidden to attend.

Tashi’s heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and longing as she scrolled through her newsfeed. There it was, the event she had been eagerly anticipating but couldn't attend—’Chandler Prescott’s party’. The photos filled the screen in a burst of vibrant colour and motion, documenting moments of pure joy and careless abandon. Red solo cups clutched in hands, the neon glow of lights bathing smiling faces in a bright, electric haze. The music, though silent on her screen, seemed to thrum through the images, the rhythm palpable in the dancing bodies and laughing faces.

Her eyes flicked over the photos, recognizing the faces that populated her everyday life but felt so distant tonight. Jessica, draped over her new boyfriend, her heartbreak from last week seemingly erased in the neon glow. Chandler himself, his wide grin as infectious as ever, stood in the centre of it all, arms slung around a group of friends, owning the night as if it were made for him. The photos seemed to pulse with life, and with each scroll, Tashi felt the tug of longing grow stronger, the pull to be there, to belong.

The vibrant colours of the party lit up her screen, the red of the cups and the swirl of light leaving Tashi feeling as though she were standing on the edge of something thrilling and untouchable. Her fingers, adorned with glittering nail polish and delicate rings, hovered over the keyboard, itching to click “like” or leave a comment—just something to remind everyone she was still part of the crowd, even though she wasn’t there.

But as quickly as excitement sparked, hesitation cooled it. What if someone asked why she wasn’t at the party? The unspoken question lurked in the back of her mind, casting a shadow over the bright photos. Tashi could already hear the judgments, the whispers about her absence. She wasn’t like the others—free to come and go as they pleased, slipping in and out of each other’s lives with no consequences. Her father’s strict rules dictated her every move, and the idea of telling anyone that she wasn’t allowed to go felt humiliating.

Her hand paused on the keyboard, the gentle hum of the computer filling the quiet, empty space of her room. The contrast between the quietness of her reality and the explosive energy of the party was stark, the divide almost too much to bear. The loneliness crept in, wrapping around her as she scrolled, trying to feel a part of it all without being there.

And then, amidst the constant stream of content, a new notification popped up on the screen—a friend request. It blinked at her like a neon sign in a dark alley, flashing with the promise of something new, something unexpected. Tashi’s pulse quickened, her fingers trembling slightly as her cursor hovered over the notification, curiosity bubbling up inside her.

Maya Pratt-Duncan.

Tashi's eyelids fluttered, her mind scrambling to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. ‘Duncan?’ The last name was unmistakable. Her heart raced, like it was trying to outrun the sudden reality pressing in on her. Could this be a coincidence, or was there something bigger at play? Her gaze locked onto the profile picture—Maya Pratt-Duncan. A girl, possibly her age, with lustrous dark hair and piercing brown eyes that felt almost unsettlingly familiar, like staring into a mirror warped by time and circumstance.

With a growing sense of unease, Tashi clicked on Maya’s profile, desperate to make sense of it all. The photos revealed a life both familiar and alien, a world that felt connected to hers in ways she didn’t yet understand. Pictures of Maya with an older couple—her grandparents, Tashi guessed—smiling in front of sprawling estates, on beaches, and in sunny parts of California. The girl's life seemed elegant, effortless, almost picturesque.

But one photo in particular made Tashi’s breath hitch and her fingers freeze. It was Maya, standing proudly beside a brand-new Mercedes Benz convertible, a beaming smile lighting up her face as she posed with balloons in hand. Happy Sweet 16, the caption read, the milestone dripping with wealth and privilege. The sight of the sparkling car and the girl’s seemingly perfect life stirred something deep within Tashi—a pang of envy, sure, but also confusion. This wasn’t just some random girl with the same last name.

Tashi’s fingers gripped the sides of her mouse, her mind racing. Who was Maya really? What did she want, reaching out now, in the dead of night? Tashi's instincts told her to log off; to shut the computer and pretend she had never seen the notification. But something deeper—a gnawing curiosity, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place—compelled her to stay. Her finger hesitated for only a moment before she clicked “Accept.”

Friend request accepted!

The quiet of the house pressed in around her, the only sound of the faint hum of her computer and her own shallow breathing. The air felt heavier now, as though the night itself had thickened with anticipation. Every second stretched into an eternity, her chest tightening as the weight of her decision sank in. What now? Was Maya going to say something? Tashi stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her ears, waiting for something to happen.

And then, just as Tashi was about to log off, a notification popped up at the bottom of the screen.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Hi.

One simple word, but it might as well have been a grenade. Tashi stared at it, her breath caught in her throat. Hi? That was it? A single, casual greeting that felt completely at odds with the intensity of what was unfolding inside her. She didn’t know what she had expected—some grand explanation, perhaps, or an answer to the million questions racing through her mind—but instead, it was just hi.

Tashi’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, her thoughts swirling in every direction. What should I say? How did she even begin to respond? Her eyes flicked back to Maya’s profile picture, those familiar brown eyes staring back at her, waiting.

Against her better judgement, Tashi began to type.

Tashi Duncan: Hi... Do I know you?

BEL-AIR CALIFORNIA – Earlier That Evening

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the sprawling Bel-Air mansion, the only sound that could be heard was the soft click of high heels echoing against polished marble. It was a rhythmic heartbeat in a world of opulence, as if the very walls were pulsing with wealth and privilege.

The sound belonged to Maya Pratt-Duncan, heir to this legacy, gingerly making her way through the hallowed interior of her grandparents' walk-in closet. The room itself was a symphony of silence, each piece carefully chosen to exude taste and refinement. The scent of fine leather mingled with aged cedarwood, creating an intoxicating aroma that enveloped her senses.

In the full-length mirror, her reflection stared back at her—dark waves cascading over her shoulders, hazel eyes narrowed in concentration. She wore a sleek black silk dress that whispered against her skin, a perfect embodiment of Bel-Air glamour and sophistication. Yet despite her effortless appearance, there was a restlessness lurking beneath the surface.

Maya's delicate fingers traced the smooth, high-quality fabrics of blouses and tailored suits, each one exuding a faint scent of her grandmother's signature perfume—a blend of rose with a hint of amber. Tabitha and Winston's closet was like an enchanted treasure trove, filled with luxuriously crafted pieces that held stories and memories within their threads. Each item was carefully selected, like a chapter in the grand saga of her family's life of wealth and elegance. Maya's eyes roamed over the shelves, searching for the sleek Chanel purse she had lent Tabitha for last Sunday's church service.

She let out a heavy sigh, knowing it could be hidden anywhere in this labyrinth of a closet. Her mind couldn't help but wonder why she had offered to lend her grandmother the purse in the first place—Tabitha had always admired Maya's impeccable sense of style and would have no doubt appreciated any accessory loaned to her. In fact, during their shopping trip at the Chanel store, after hearing Tabitha gush about the purse, Maya insisted on buying one for herself as well. But her generous grandmother, always wanting to share, suggested that she simply borrow Maya's when she wasn't using it. Well, now none of us can use it, Gam Gam!

"Come on, where are you?" Frustration bubbled up in Maya's chest as she rummaged through hat boxes and garment bags, determined to find what she was looking for. She pulled out each box methodically, scanning its contents before placing it back with a huff. Chloé Fall 1997—nothing, Ralph Lauren Spring 2002—nothing, Saint Laurent Winter 1989—nothing! Each box accumulated to everything but her purse. Maya’s search continued; she couldn't help but feel like she was getting closer to the elusive item.

Finally, her eyes landed on a worn box hidden behind a row of perfectly aligned shoes. She hadn't noticed it before, but the faded logo on top made her heart skip a beat. Fendi. Maybe there would be something even better inside, she thought with a mischievous grin.

With eager anticipation, she lifted the lid.

But the sight that greeted her made her breath catch in her throat.

It wasn't Fendi.

As Maya lifted the lid of the delicate box, she was met with a collection of items that felt intimately personal. Her fingers delicately brushed over yellowed tissue paper, revealing treasures within. One item in particular caught her eye—a small, red Cartier box. She knew what it held before even opening it - an engraved Love bracelet bearing a name she knew all too well—Shayla Pratt. Her mother. A pang of emotion tightened Maya's chest as she slowly pulled out the bracelet and placed it around her wrist, admiring its timeless beauty. Beneath the larger Fendi box laid a stack of photographs that Maya had never seen before.

Each one captured a moment in her mother's life, from her 3rd birthday to her middle school portrait. But it was the photo of her mother at the bottom of a staircase in her prom dress that struck a chord with Maya. She stood next to a young man, presumably her date for the evening, with a wide smile and an air of youthful joy exuding from every inch of the frame. These photos were windows into moments of her mother's past that Maya had never known, and they filled her with a mix of longing for someone she never knew.

Maya had always been curious about her mother, but the stories she heard were always fragmented, like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together. Tabitha and Winston rarely spoke of Shayla, their voices hushed and hesitant as if afraid to awaken old ghosts. But in this moment, as Maya sifted through her mother's belongings, she finally felt a connection to the woman she had never known. The scent of lavender and memories lingered in the air, drawing Maya deeper into the closet where secrets were hidden behind closed doors. She traced her fingers over old photographs and trinkets, trying to piece together the puzzle of her mother's life. Why had her grandparents kept these objects hidden from her? Why had they never shared these precious pieces of her mother’s life?

A loud, sudden knock at the closet door jolted Maya out of her deep thoughts. The sound echoed through the quiet space, causing her heart to skip a beat and her fingers to tremble on the delicate photographs in her hands. She had been completely absorbed in the world of her mother's past, so much so that she had almost forgotten where she was—or rather, where she wasn't supposed to be. A sense of panic washed over her as she realised the danger of getting caught exploring this forbidden part of her mother's life.

As the weight of her actions came crashing down, a wave of guilt washed over Maya. Yes, she had been granted permission to search through her grandparent's closet, but this box was clearly not meant for her eyes. It was carefully packed away and hidden deep within the closet, almost as if it held some dark secret. Maya's heart raced as she quickly and carefully placed the photographs back inside followed by the Cartier box, her hands trembling with both fear and excitement. She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat as she hurriedly closed the lid, the forbidden nature of her exploration sinking in. The weight of her actions weighed heavily on her conscience as she quietly backed out of the closet, promising herself never to cross that line again.

She stood up just as the knock came again, this time followed by a soft voice.

“Miss Maya?”

It was Ettie, the Pratt’s housekeeper, her voice gentle but insistent through the door. Maya’s heart steadied, realising that she was in good company. Her presence offered a sense of comfort in her confused state. Frozen for a moment, Maya wasn't sure what to do with the information she had just discovered. Should I reveal it to Ettie? Would that put her in danger of her grandparents finding out? After all, Ettie was bound by her loyalty to them and Maya wouldn't want to jeopardise her job by keeping secrets.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her posture, Maya cleared her throat and composed herself. Her voice remained steady, portraying no hint of the turmoil going on inside her mind. "Yes, Ettie?" She responded calmly, ready to navigate this delicate situation.

The ancient wooden door creaked open, revealing Ettie's serene features and warm smile. She stood upright before Maya, her posture exuding grace and professionalism, her arms neatly tucked behind her back. With a gentle tone, she conveyed the message from Maya's grandparents. “The driver’s waiting out front.” Ettie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke, she had assisted in Maya’s preparations for dinner tonight, meticulously pressing her dress earlier that day. "Your grandparents are eagerly waiting downstairs."

Maya nodded, flashing her a warm, grateful smile as she replied. “Thank you, Ettie. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Ettie hesitated, her sharp gaze flickering towards the boxes and racks of clothing, sensing that something was amiss. Her dark eyes were filled with a hint of concern. But she didn’t press further, instead offering a small smile of reassurance. “Very well, Miss Maya. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

With that, she gently closed the door behind her, leaving Maya alone once more in the dimly lit closet. The moment the heavy wooden door clicked shut, Maya exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping as the tension in her chest loosened. She turned back to the box, her mind still reeling from the weight of what she had uncovered.

Her gaze lingered on the closed lid for a few seconds longer, tempted to dive back in and uncover more pieces of her mother’s hidden past. But the reminder of the waiting driver—and her grandparents’ inevitable impatience—pulled her back to the present. Not now, she told herself sternly, though every fibre of her being yearned to stay. Later. I’ll figure it out later. Maybe when there’s more time and less pressure. For now, duty called, and she couldn't afford to delay any longer. Giving it a final glance, Maya hastily snatched the nearest purse and made her way to the top of the stairs in a hurry.

In the grand foyer, Tabitha stood on her tiptoes beside Winston, her delicate fingers expertly adjusting his bowtie as he checked his watch. Winston, known for his stoic demeanour, remained unfazed by her ministrations, his determination focused on making it to their dinner reservation on time. Maya descended the spiral staircase with deliberate grace, her heels clicking against the polished marble steps in perfect rhythm. Her grandparents, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, turned towards her with warm smiles of approval. The chandelier above cast a brilliant glow over the scene, highlighting every elegant detail of Maya’s outfit.

Winston's voice softened as he took in the sight of Maya, standing before him in a breathtaking dress. "There's our girl," he said, his eyes shining with pride.

Tabitha let out a soft gasp as she took in her granddaughter 's appearance. "Valentino, of course," she exclaimed with a gleam in her eye, stepping back to admire Maya from head to toe. "You look stunning, my dear. Truly."

Maya's dress was a masterpiece of delicate silk clad in sparkling diamonds against her clavicle, hugging her figure perfectly and cascading down to her knees. The colour was a rich shade of black that complimented her skin tone and brought out the richness of her brown eyes. Not a single imperfection was present, Ettie meticulously had inspected the expensive fabric, ensuring that not a single trace of lint could be found.

Maya looked like a goddess descended from Mount Olympus. Her presence was striking, like a celestial being gracing the mortal world with her ethereal beauty. She exuded confidence and grace, her form draped in a stunning masterpiece that seemed to have been woven by the hands of divine beings. Her aura was radiating and regal, as if she had descended from the heavens above to bless the mundane earth with her divine presence.

Winston's heart swelled with pride and love as he gazed upon his granddaughter . She stood before him, a vision of beauty and grace, radiating an aura of elegance that captivated him. "You are truly remarkable, Maya," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration and awe at her presence. His eyes followed the gentle curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes, feeling grateful for every moment spent in her company.

Despite having heard these words from her grandparents before, Maya's heart swelled with warmth and happiness as she basked in the affirmations from her beloved grandparents. "Thank you, Gam Gam, Papa. I'm glad you like it," she beamed.

Tabitha, ever observant, tilted her head and studied Maya closely. The bag clad against Maya’s shoulder was indeed not Chanel, on the contrary it’s Louis Vuitton! Her piercing gaze made Maya feel as though her thoughts were being read like an open book. "Did you find your purse?" she asked.

For a moment, Maya hesitated, thinking about the box that lay hidden inside her grandparent’s closet—the bracelet, the photographs—and a lump formed in her throat. But ever the lady, Maya bottled everything in, now was not the time to open that door. Not yet.

"Oh, I...found something better," she said with a quiet but firm voice. Tabitha raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Maya's response, but she did not press further. Maya could sense the curiosity behind her grandmother's composed expression.

Winston stepped in, gesturing towards the door.

"Shall we? The driver's waiting," he said politely, breaking the tension in the air with his gentle tone.

The evening air was crisp, the breeze whispered through the door as they stepped outside, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers tickling their noses. Two sleek and shiny black Mercedes-Benz S-Classes waited in the driveway, their engines humming softly.

Tabitha and Winston moved towards the first car with practised ease, their movements coordinated and fluid. Maya, on the other hand, was left to ride alone in the second car. Tabitha had made it clear that a lady must always ride in the back seat unless her suitor is behind the wheel. Maya climbed into the back seat of the luxurious vehicle, sinking into the plush leather seats as the door clicked shut behind her.

As the car glided smoothly down the long driveway, Maya's mind drifted back to the mysterious box she had discovered earlier that day. She couldn't help but wonder about her mother's past and what secrets it held. What kind of life had her mother lived before Maya was born? And why had her story been kept hidden for so many years. More importantly, why was her father's identity still shrouded in secrecy?

The questions swirled through Maya's mind as she gazed out at the passing trees and houses, lost in her own thoughts. The faint scent of leather mixed with a hint of expensive perfume filled the air, aiding in Maya’s thought process as she contemplated her next move within the car. With every mile travelled, Maya felt herself getting closer to unlocking the mysteries of her past.

The soft hum of the Mercedes-Benz came to a halt as the driver opened Maya's door. She stepped out gracefully, the cool evening air brushing against her skin, bringing with it the scent of fine dining and the distant murmur of city life. She stood for a moment, adjusting the folds of her dress, and glanced toward the other car, where her grandparents were already emerging with the practised elegance of people long accustomed to being in the public eye.

Tabitha stepped out first, her movements graceful and precise, as if she were still a young socialite descending a ballroom staircase. She wore a navy-blue floor-length dress accented with a ruffle faux-wrap skirt, tailored to perfection, her hair pinned back in a classic chignon that added to her air of timeless sophistication. Winston followed close behind, straightening the jacket of his black Armani three-piece suit as the driver helped him out of the car. Though age had softened his posture, there was still a commanding presence about him, his jaw set with purpose, his eyes sharp behind wire-rimmed glasses.

They met at the entrance of the restaurant, an upscale establishment known for its exclusivity and clientele that valued privacy as much as they did luxury. The restaurant's facade gleamed in the glow of well-placed lighting; its grand double doors made of rich mahogany with gold-plated handles. A valet rushed to collect the keys, but Winston waved him off with a curt nod, the gesture practised and swift.

Tabitha turned to Maya, her keen eyes sweeping over her granddaughter as if seeing her for the first time that night. A glimmer of pride and mischief danced in her gaze as she spoke, her voice warm but controlled.

"You know, my dear, if you're lucky tonight, you may catch the eye of a suitor," she said in a hushed tone, her gaze lingering on Maya's figure dressed in the stunning gown. "That dress fits you like a glove. I wouldn't be surprised if every boy cracked their necks just to catch a glimpse of you."

Maya let out a polite laugh, hoping her hand would hold back the noise. "Oh my god, grandma! Can we please just enjoy one night without you trying to set me up?" She glanced around nervously, making sure no one had overheard their conversation. The music hummed in the background, punctuated by distant laughter and chatter from patrons. The warm mood lighting and scents of the restaurant surrounded them, adding to the serene atmosphere of the evening.

The family made their way into the restaurant, greeted by the Hostess standing within the entrance. The mere sight of Winston and Tabitha Pratt straightens her posture. Her bright smile widened in recognition as they stepped towards her, extending a hand to greet them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Pratt, it’s wonderful to see you again,” she said with a professional warmth.

“Right this way, your table is ready.”

Winston nodded politely but remained reserved as the Hostess led them inside. The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit, designed to give each table a sense of privacy. The gentle clinking of silverware and murmurs of conversation filled the air, along with the rich aroma of aged wine and freshly prepared dishes. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the dark mahogany tables and velvet chairs. The ambiance was luxurious without being overly opulent, the kind of place where elegance spoke quietly but confidently.

The Hostess's eyes lit up at the sight of Maya, remembering the conversation she had with Mr. Pratt over the phone confirming his reservation. Her smile widened as she led them deeper into the elegant restaurant, weaving through tables and patrons with ease. "And congratulations to Miss Duncan," she said warmly, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.

"I heard a rumour that it’s your senior year next fall, and as always you’re here for your pre-semester celebratory dinner." Maya offered a grateful smile, placing a hand over her heart in appreciation for the Hostess's thoughtfulness. She hadn't expected her to know about the occasion, but then again, their frequent visits to the restaurant made them familiar faces among the staff. "Thank you so much," she replied softly, her elegant voice barely audible above the gentle hum of conversation in the restaurant lounge.

As the Pratt-Duncan family were shown to their seats, the Hostess leaned in towards Maya with a hint of mischief. "Just so you know, we have something special for you in the back," she whispered conspiratorially. "Courtesy of the old man over there." She nodded towards Mr. Pratt, who was currently engaged in a playful dance with his eyebrows, trying to make Maya laugh. And it worked—she couldn't help but let out a giggle at his antics. The Hostess placed a finger over her lips, letting out a soft shushing sound before darting off to attend to other guests.

Winston, ever the gentleman, helped his wife into her seat before he took his own. With precise movements, he unfolded her chair, guided her carefully towards it and smoothly shifted her snugly against the table. Shortly after, Winston did the same for his granddaughter, taking the same amount of care he did for his wife.

He then joined them after, grabbing his spectacles from his hidden jacket pocket preparing to read what the restaurant had to offer. The attentive wait staff appeared almost instantly, presenting the trio with menus and pouring chilled water into their sparkling glasses. The soft clinking of silverware and hushed conversations filled the air as the couple perused the extensive wine list in search of the perfect pairing for their meal.

The first course arrived, heralded by a symphony of smells that wafted from the kitchen. A delicate salad of heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella was presented with a drizzle of bright green basil oil, each ingredient carefully placed like an artist's brushstrokes on a canvas. Maya's grandparents launched into their usual conversation about the restaurant's use of seasonal produce, but her mind was elsewhere.

She picked at the salad, her fork moving absently across the plate, as she tried to ground herself in the familiar conversation around her. But her thoughts were consumed by the events of earlier that evening, causing her to drift in and out of conversation, struggling to maintain a facade of normalcy in her off behaviour.

Winston took a sip of his wine and glanced at his granddaughter over the rim of his glass. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, Maya-Mia.” He remarked, his voice calm but observant. “Is something on your mind?”

Maya looked up, startled by the directness of the question. She set her fork down carefully, the metal clinking softly against the plate. “I’ve just... had a lot on my mind lately.”

Tabitha’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharp and knowing. “What could possibly be weighing so heavily on your mind, darling? You were so excited about tonight.”

Maya hesitated, feeling the tension coil tighter in her chest. She glanced down at her napkin, unsure of how to broach the topic. Her pulse quickened, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out.

“I found something in your closet earlier today,” she said, her voice softer than she intended but laden with unspoken meaning. “Something belonging to my mother.”

Tabitha stiffened, her perfectly composed expression faltering for a split second before hardening into something more controlled. Winston set his glass down slowly, his eyes flicking between his wife and granddaughter , sensing the shift in tone.

“Maya,” Tabitha began, her voice low and measured, “You shouldn’t have been going through my things.”

“I wasn’t snooping,” Maya said, her frustration bubbling up. “I was looking for my purse, but I found... I found a box. A box of Mom’s things.”

The atmosphere at the table became suffocating, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths that hung in the air like a leaden curtain. Maya's heartbeat wildly as she studied her grandmother's face, desperately searching for any sign of vulnerability or explanation. But all she could see was the same carefully crafted mask of control that Tabitha always wore so effortlessly. It was a barrier between them, a fortress built to keep Maya out and the truth hidden within. The tension in the room was palpable, like a storm brewing on the horizon, ready to erupt at any moment.

“And what exactly did you find in that box?” Tabitha asked, her tone sharp, almost daring Maya to continue.

“Photographs,” Maya said, her voice trembling slightly. “Especially the ones of her at prom... with a boy. He seemed to be a big part of her life, judging by how often he showed up in the other photos.”

Tabitha’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if bracing herself for what was to come. The room suddenly felt heavier, the silence between them thick with unspoken truths.

“Why didn’t you ever show me any of this?” Maya asked, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

Winston shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he placed his hands flat on the table. “Maya, we didn’t think it was necessary. Your mother’s past—”

“Her past matters!” Maya interrupted, her emotions flaring now, unable to keep the frustration contained. “She was my mother, and I deserve to know about her. And about my father.”

The word hung in the air, charged with the tension of years of secrets and silence. Tabitha’s jaw tightened; her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Maya, this isn’t the time or place for such discussions,” Winston said, his voice suddenly stern, as if hoping to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “We’re here to celebrate—”

“I’m tired of waiting for the right time,” Maya cut him off, her voice firm. “I’ve waited my whole life to know who he is. And you’ve kept that from me.”

The table fell into a hush once more, the gentle clinking of silverware and murmurs of conversation serving as a backdrop to the tension brewing between them. Winston released a heavy sigh, stealing a quick glance at Tabitha for any sign of approval before daring to speak again. But before he could, Tabitha's voice cut through the quiet like a sharp knife, low but unwavering in its conviction. The air around them felt charged with unspoken words and unrelenting emotions, a storm on the brink of breaking.

“You are going to be a respectful young lady, and you’re going to enjoy this wonderful night your grandfather has prepared for you,” Tabitha said, her voice cold and unwavering, her eyes locked on Maya’s with an intensity that left no room for argument. The tension in the air was palpable, the unspoken command clear as her gaze bore into her granddaughter’s. “That’s all.”

Maya's breath caught in her throat, her hazel eyes darting towards the plate of food in front of her as she struggled to regain her composure. Her grandmother's words still echoed in her mind, sending a surge of emotions through her body. What Tabitha said left her feeling smaller than ever before. She had always been hard on Maya, pushing her to become a refined and sophisticated young woman, but this felt like something deeper, more damaging.

The wait staff appeared with dessert, a rich and indulgent chocolate torte that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Maya hesitated before taking a small bite, not wanting to seem ungrateful for her grandfather's efforts. The sweetness exploded on her tongue, but she couldn't fully savour it amidst the turmoil within her. She forced herself to take a few more bites, trying to push aside the memories and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

The rest of the meal passed in uneasy silence, but the night was far from over. Winston still had one trick up his sleeve, a surprise that would surely make Maya's heart skip a beat. With a sly smile, he waved the waiter over to their table and whispered his instructions. The waiter nodded eagerly and disappeared into the kitchen.

After a few moments, the waiter returned with a silver cloche in hand. He approached the Pratt's table and stood next to Maya, who looked both confused and excited at the same time. With a flourish, he placed the cloche in front of her and lifted the lid to reveal a small red box—a Cartier one, to be exact. Maya gasped in shock, her eyes widening as she took in the luxurious packaging. Without hesitation, she reached for it and eagerly pried open the package.

Inside was exactly what she had anticipated: a gleaming Cartier Love bracelet, the very same one she found in her grandmother’s closet. But this one was different, her name was engraved on it in delicate script—Maya Pratt-Duncan. Her heart swelled with emotion as she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and admired it in awe. Winston truly knew how to make a girl feel special.

A single tear slipped down Maya's cheek, her emotions threatening to burst through her usual composed manner. She cast a grateful glance at her grandparents, who shared a knowing look with her. Her heart overflowed with love and gratitude for their thoughtfulness.

Winston reached out a comforting hand to his granddaughter , his touch gentle, sensing the whirlwind of emotions she must be feeling upon receiving the gift. The delicate bracelet gleamed softly in the dim light, its intricate design mirroring the one they had given her mother on the eve of her senior year—a tradition quietly upheld. It was their way of passing down a piece of history, a symbol of their love and the legacy she carried.

“It’s beautiful, I love it! Thank you,” Maya said, her voice tinged with emotion as she ran her fingers over the cool metal, feeling the weight of the moment.

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” Winston replied, his soft smile warming the air between them. His eyes, filled with pride and tenderness, lingered on her face, knowing the significance of the gift was more than words could convey.

As the evening drew to a close, Winston reached for his wallet and carefully placed his black American Express card. He made sure to add a generous tip for their exceptional service. The family gracefully made their way through the crowded restaurant, exchanging pleasantries with the Hostess before stepping out into the crisp California night air.

The chauffeurs, now donning windbreakers to protect against the chill, stood patiently by their sleek black cars. The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the bustling city streets as they climbed into their luxurious vehicles, bidding farewell to a tension filled, yet wonderful evening.

Tabitha insisted on riding back with Maya, her earlier tension softened only slightly. Winston, silent but composed as always, leaned down to kiss Tabitha and Maya's cheeks before giving his granddaughter a brief but reassuring nod. He then strode towards his own car, the gravel crunching beneath his dress shoes as he jumped into the back seat.

The air was filled with a peaceful stillness, like a calm before the storm. Despite the tension that lingered between them, Maya and Tabitha remained outwardly cordial as they made their way to the car soon after. But beneath the surface, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hung heavily in the air.

Tabitha climbed into the passenger seat beside Maya, her movements sharp and controlled, as though she was holding back more than she let on. The silence between them was thick, oppressive, as if neither wanted to be the first to acknowledge the strain that had settled between them.

The city lights blurred outside the window, casting fleeting shadows across Tabitha’s face, her expression unreadable. Maya’s fingers fidgeted in her lap, but she didn’t dare break the quiet. It was the kind of silence that wrapped around you, uncomfortable and suffocating, where every second felt stretched too long, and every thought felt too loud.

Each mile passed with the tension growing heavier, filling the car until it seemed like the air itself was too thick to breathe. Maya glanced at her grandmother out of the corner of her eye, the tightness in Tabitha’s jaw, the way her hands clenched slightly in her lap—small tells of a woman who rarely let anything show.

Halfway through the drive, Tabitha finally spoke, her voice low and deliberate, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Everything we’ve done, Maya, has been to protect you.”

Maya’s heart pounded, her throat tightening as she waited for more, but Tabitha’s gaze remained fixed on the window, her reflection cold and distant, refusing to meet Maya’s eyes. The city lights flickered in and out of view, and for a brief moment, the shadows danced across Tabitha’s face, hardening her already stern features.

“I hope you understand that, at the very least,” Tabitha added, her tone layered with expectation and finality, as if she were handing down a decree rather than seeking any true understanding.

The estate gates loomed ahead, and as the car slowed, Tabitha finally turned to face Maya, her eyes softening just slightly, though the steel behind them remained.

“Your father, his name is Kevin…Kevin Duncan.” she repeated, as if weighing the words carefully. Her tone was more resigned now, less sharp, but still carrying an unmistakable finality. “He was... someone your mother loved, but he wasn’t right for her. Or for you.”

Maya’s breath hitched. She had always imagined this moment—hearing her father’s name for the first time—but now that it was here, it felt surreal. Kevin Duncan. The name reverberated in her mind, unfamiliar yet suddenly so significant. Who was he? Why had he been hidden from her all these years?

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about him?” Maya asked, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. “All these years... I had no idea.”

Tabitha sighed, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly. “We thought it was best to shield you from him after your mother’s death. Your mother... She made certain choices, Maya. Your father felt the same way.”

Maya frowned, confusion swirling through her. Choices? What choices? The vague hints about her mother’s past only fuelled her frustration. “What do you mean?”

Tabitha’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “It’s not something you need to worry about now.”

Maya opened her mouth to protest, but the car had already come to a smooth stop in front of the estate’s grand entrance. The soft glow of the porch lights illuminated the sweeping driveway, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Tabitha straightened her posture and reached for the door, the conversation seemingly over.

Stepping out of the car, Maya was greeted by a chill in the air that seemed to seep into her bones. Despite the coolness, she couldn't shake off the feeling of suffocation—trapped in a tangled web of secrets spun by her grandparents, a burden she had carried for as long as she could remember. Tabitha's expression softened as she turned towards her granddaughter , though there was still a hint of authority in her voice. "Get some rest, love. I know tonight wasn't what you expected."

Maya nodded, her mind racing with thoughts and questions. She tried to calm herself, but the tension in her body was palpable. "Goodnight, Grandma," she said, her voice betraying her unease.

The night air whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, adding a touch of tranquillity to an otherwise tense situation. But for Maya, sleep would not come easily. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. Tabitha gave her a brief, restrained smile before heading into the house, leaving Maya standing alone in the driveway for a moment. As she gazed up at the stars twinkling above, she couldn't help but feel small and insignificant in comparison.

Finally, she made her way into the house, the heavy door clicking shut behind her, sealing her in with the echoes of the night. The family portrait in the entrance hall seemed to watch her as she passed, the frozen smiles of her grandparents a stark contrast to the tension that had followed her home. The grand staircase loomed before her, its marble steps gleaming under the soft chandelier light, spiralling upward like a pathway to another world. Maya took each step slowly, her fingers trailing along the polished bannister, each movement deliberate, as if she could somehow delay the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Her room waited at the top—her sanctuary, untouched by time, a snapshot of a younger Maya’s dreams and desires. The door creaked open, revealing a world drenched in soft, romantic hues of pink and white, where everything had been meticulously chosen and arranged. The white lace curtains, slightly drawn, fluttered against the open window, a gentle breeze carrying in the scent of night jasmine.

Her vanity stood by the wall, framed by a gilded mirror that reflected the glow of her rose-coloured lampshade, casting the room in a dreamlike haze. The bed, draped in pale satin sheets and pillows edged with delicate ruffles, sat like a throne at the centre of it all—a place that had once brought her comfort, a cocoon of childhood fantasies and carefully curated innocence.

But tonight, the room felt too perfect, too still. It seemed to mock the storm brewing inside her. The soft pink walls, once a reminder of her younger self’s vision of femininity, now felt suffocating, as though they were closing in on her. The plush white rug beneath her feet offered no solace, only a reminder of the distance between the Maya who had carefully decorated this room and the one who now stood lost and uncertain.

She moved mechanically through her nighttime routine, washing her face with cold water that did little to cool the heat of confusion in her chest. Her brush moved rhythmically through her hair, each stroke steady but absent-minded as her thoughts spiralled. Kevin Duncan. The name buzzed in her head like a low hum, impossible to shake, growing louder with every passing second.

Who was he? And why did his name weigh so heavily in her grandmother’s voice, as though it held the power to unravel everything? She tossed the brush onto the vanity, her reflection staring back at her—eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and unease.

The room, with its dreamy, fairy-tale quality, felt distant from the reality pressing down on her. The white vintage vanity, the plush armchair by the window, the shelves filled with trinkets and framed photos of ballet recitals—all of it seemed like a relic from a life she no longer recognized.

Maya sat on the edge of her bed, the cool satin sheets slipping beneath her fingers. The glow of her bedside lamp flickered, casting long shadows across the room, as if even the light couldn’t decide whether to stay or leave. Her heart raced, her mind buzzing with questions she knew wouldn’t let her rest. She glanced toward the window, where the moonlight spilled through, painting the room in silver and soft shadows.

Kevin Duncan.

There would be no sleep tonight—not until she found out who he really was.

Unable to bear the weight of not knowing any longer, Maya rose from her bed and made her way toward the desk tucked into the corner of her room. Her fingers traced the familiar edges of the chair before she sank into it, the leather creaking softly beneath her. The room, cloaked in shadows, felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for her to act.

She powered on her iMac G3, the soft glow of the screen flickering to life, spilling its pale light across the room. The gentle hum of the machine filled the silence, a steady presence in the dark. Her face, bathed in the glow of the screen, looked as though it belonged to someone else, her features drawn and tense, eyes wide with anticipation. The light danced across her skin, deepening the shadows around her, making the room feel even smaller, more claustrophobic.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, trembling slightly as they prepared to unlock the mystery that had haunted her since dinner.

Kevin Duncan.

The name echoed in her mind, filling the room like an unspoken promise. She typed it slowly, deliberately, as if each letter would bring her closer to the answers she sought. The soft click of the keys was the only sound, mingling with the beating of her heart, which pounded faster with every letter.

She hesitated for a brief second before pressing enter, a wave of anticipation washing over her, tightening her chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart raced like an alarm bell, the sound loud in her ears. The screen flickered for a moment before loading, and as the search results began to populate, Maya leaned in closer, her eyes scanning the screen with desperate eagerness.

Kevin Duncan.

The truth—whatever it was—felt closer now, almost within reach, hovering just out of sight, ready to be unearthed.

Instantly, the screen filled with a flurry of results. Articles, profiles, and images, each tied to the name Kevin Duncan. Maya’s pulse quickened as her eyes darted over the links, each one containing pieces of a puzzle she had never even realised existed. Her fingers hovered over the mouse, hesitating for only a second before she clicked on the first link. As the page loaded, her breath hitched.

A photograph appeared, cantered at the top of the page: a middle-aged man with a square jawline, a large head shaved clean, and deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a quiet intensity. Her breath caught in her throat as she studied him more closely. His eyes—they were dark, piercing, and unmistakably familiar. They mirrored her own in a way that sent a shiver through her. The resemblance was undeniable. The shape of his face, the way his brow furrowed slightly, even the confident, guarded expression on his face—it all echoed something she recognized within herself.

Her heart raced, pounding so loudly she could almost hear it. This is him. Her father. The man she had been kept from all her life. The man whose name had lingered like a ghost on her grandmother’s lips.

Maya’s gaze shifted downward to the text beneath the photograph, her eyes widening as she read the words. Kevin Duncan—tennis coach. The air in the room seemed to still, the soft hum of the computer fading into the background as the weight of that revelation sank in. He wasn’t just any coach; he was a self-regulated tennis coach with a reputation that stretched across the sports world.

Maya's fingers twitched as she scrolled down further, her eyes scanning the page in disbelief. And then, one name stood out like a lightning bolt—Tashi Duncan. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she saw the name repeated over and over in articles, captions, interviews. Tashi Duncan, the up-and-coming tennis star he was training. A girl about her own age, a girl who appeared in photo after photo, her poised smile and athletic grace splashed across the page like a rising celebrity.

Her stomach tightened, confusion swirling in her chest. Tashi Duncan—her father's protégé, but... her half-sister? The revelation hit her with the force of a tidal wave. The resemblance between them became clearer with every glance at Tashi's photos, the shared features, the same dark eyes, the high cheekbones.

Her head spun as she leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the screen. The familiar comfort of her room seemed to vanish, replaced by the overwhelming rush of this new truth.

Tashi Duncan.

A sister she never knew she had. A sister who was living a life so closely intertwined with their father’s—while Maya had been left in the dark, her existence a secret, hidden away behind closed doors.

The name buzzed in her mind, louder and louder, a truth too big to ignore. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen. Everything she thought she knew about her family, her identity, crumbled beneath the weight of this discovery. The world she had grown up in, the carefully crafted bubble of her grandparents’ home, now felt miles away, like a distant dream.

And in its place was a reality she was only just beginning to uncover.

Time seemed to slip through Maya’s fingers as she delved deeper into Tashi’s Facebook profile, her eyes tracing every photo, every post, as if they were clues to a life she had been excluded from for so long. Each image offered a new window into a world that felt both connected and impossibly distant—a life that was hers, yet entirely not.

She scrolled through photos of Tashi with her friends, their laughter forever preserved in freeze-frame moments as they clutched Sonic cups, the slushies as vibrant as the carefree smiles on their faces. Tashi’s world seemed so... normal, yet infinitely richer than Maya’s in ways that had nothing to do with wealth.

It was a strange thing, peering into the life of someone who had no idea you even existed. The more she clicked, the more Maya felt like an intruder, an outsider looking in on something private. But she couldn’t stop. Each post drew her in further, the thread of her curiosity pulling tighter with every new image she uncovered.

And then one photo caught her eye—a snapshot that stood out among the rest. Tashi, smiling radiantly beside a man Maya now recognized as Kevin Duncan. Her father. The easy closeness between them was unmistakable, a bond Maya had never known.

Her breath hitched as she took in the rest of the image: a woman with kind eyes and dark hair, standing close to Kevin—Tashi’s mother, no doubt—and two younger boys, their wide grins mirroring their father’s. They looked like a picture-perfect family, the golden sunlight casting a warm glow across their faces, their happiness captured effortlessly by the camera’s lens.

Maya’s chest tightened as she stared at the photo, her heart twisting with emotions she couldn’t quite name. Jealousy, anger, and sadness all churned together, threatening to overwhelm her. This is the life I never had, she thought bitterly. A father who was present, a family who looked whole, unbroken.

Her eyes lingered on Kevin’s face—the same strong features she’d seen in her own reflection, now softened by the love and warmth in his expression as he stood with his other family. His real family, it seemed. The weight of that truth pressed down on her, suffocating in its simplicity. He had been there for Tashi, coaching her, guiding her, sharing moments like this one—moments Maya would never have.

She felt a lump form in her throat, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. They look so happy, she thought, an ache blooming in her chest. The photo radiated warmth, a snapshot of a life that had continued without her, a life that had no space for her existence.

What stung the most was the ease of it all. Tashi had a father, a mother, and brothers who adored her. She had friends, laughter, and the carefree glow of a life lived without the burden of saving face in front of the vulture-like housewives of Bel-Air. Meanwhile, Maya had been raised in a gilded cage, with the expectations to marry wealthy and a family portrait that always felt incomplete.

Maya's fingers trembled as they hovered over her mouse, the cursor hesitantly searching for the "Add Friend" button. Should she take the plunge and click it? Make the first attempt at communicating with her long-lost sister? Her mind raced with questions. Did Tashi know about Maya's existence? Would she even want to be friends?

The pounding of her heart drowned out any rational thoughts as she finally made her decision. With a deep inhale and exhale, Maya clicked her mouse, the sound echoing through the quiet room like a gunshot. It was a small but significant step towards reconnecting with her sister after so many years apart.

Your friend request was successfully sent!

The damage was done.

To her shock, it was accepted almost instantly. Maya’s stomach flipped with nervous excitement. She stared at the screen, unsure of what to do next. But something inside urged her forward, pushed her to make the first move. It was as if a spark had been ignited within her, crackling and sizzling with anticipation. Her heart raced like a wild horse, galloping towards a long-awaited finish line. Every fibre of her being tingled with nervous energy, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the keyboard.

She braced herself to begin typing, the urge to type something, anything, burning inside her. But what would she even say? ‘Hello, Tashi. We have the same father. Surprise!’ It sounded ridiculous in her head, and the thought of disrupting Tashi’s seemingly perfect life with this revelation made her stomach churn.

But she couldn’t go back now. She had seen too much, learned too much. The truth was out there, and it was too big to ignore. As she stared at the screen, Maya felt the familiar surge of curiosity and pain bubbling up inside her. This was her chance to connect with the family she never knew, the life she had been denied. But it would also mean breaking the fragile facade that had kept her world intact.

She clicked on the "Message" button, her heart pounding in her chest. The blank chat window popped up, the cursor blinking at her, waiting for her to make a move. Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed the first words, feeling the weight of what was to come.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Hey, Tashi. I’m not sure if you know who I am, but...

Her mind raced, unsure of how to even begin explaining the connection that tied them together. How could she condense a lifetime of unanswered questions, secrets, and longing into a few simple words? She stared at the screen, biting her lip, her thoughts a chaotic mess. And yet, somehow, it felt like this was the moment she had been waiting for—her chance to finally uncover the truth, no matter how much it might hurt.

With a heavy sigh, she let go of her initial words and instead chose to play it safe, opting for a simple and nondescript message that revealed nothing of her inner turmoil. With a shaky breath, she erased the words, clearing a path for a simpler, safer message.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Hi

Maya sat in the soft glow of her iMac, her fingers trembling slightly as she stared at the chat box. She had never felt this nervous before—like the weight of every move she was about to make had the potential to shatter something fragile. The whole night had led up to this moment, and now that she was here, she wasn’t sure how to begin. Hi. It felt so small, so insignificant for what she was about to reveal, but she didn’t know what else to say.

She waited, her heart pounding in her chest as the seconds stretched on. The screen remained still, the only sound in the room was her uneven breathing. What if she doesn’t reply? The thought gnawed at her, but before she could spiral, the typing indicator appeared.

Tashi Duncan: Hi... Do I know you?

Maya’s stomach flipped. She had been preparing herself for this, but seeing Tashi’s message—those four little words—made it real in a way she wasn’t ready for. Do I know you? Maya’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her pulse quickening. How do you tell someone something that will change their life?

Her mind raced through a thousand different possibilities, a thousand ways to soften the blow, to ease into the conversation. But there was no softening this. No way to sugarcoat the truth she had been holding on to for all of about an hour. Tashi had been living one version of reality, and Maya—Maya had no fucking clue she existed till tonight.

Her chest tightened. This was the moment that would open a door neither of them could close again. She took a deep breath, fingers steadying themselves against the tension coiling in her body. It was time. There was no more hiding.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Tashi, we have the same father.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, her breath catching in her throat as the words disappeared into the void. The truth, now laid bare, hung between them in the quiet of the night. The silence that followed felt oppressive, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for the fallout.

Maya stared at the screen, every muscle in her body tense. What now?

author's note: after three months of brainstorming, plotting and planning, I can finally say that my Challengers fic is officially out! It's been a long time coming, the early versions of this were completely different, but it turned into something I am very proud of. I wanted to write something that was cinematic and told a new kind of story in the sea of thousands of other fics out there. I encourage everyone to flood my inbox with your thoughts, opinions and questions. I am dying to read what you guys think, but before that, I'd like you have your say on this poll.

#challengers x reader #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x you #challengers fanfiction #mike faist x reader #josh o connor x reader #tashi duncan #melanie's fic: compress/repress

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starry-bi-sky · 29 days

Note

Just so you know, I've reread your answer to my ask about how you'd rewrite "Double Cross My Heart" in your Danyal Al Ghul au several times over. And I'll just say, your whole breakdown and revision of that trainwreck of a Sam centered episode is the very reason why when it comes to the phandom, both alone and in dpxdc crossovers I tend to lean more towards fanon Sam instead of canon.

Because the people that like her yet acknowledge her glaring flaws do a far better job of bringing her to task when she's being unreasonable or hypocritical in a way that's fair than the supposedly professional storyboard writers.

Anyway, you mentioned that you don't like amethyst ocean and prefer gray ghost. Same here. (though I also like pink astronaut) Since then, I can't stop imagining Danyal/Danny with the "Damian experiencing his first crush" headcanon applied to him. The idea of him treating Valerie with suspicion under the assumption she somehow poisoned or hit him with some kind of hidden anti ghost tech that affects both his human and ghost side, when in reality it's simply him developing feelings for her is just absolute hilarity. To me if no one else.

FIRST OFF YOU ARE SO SWEET <33 the fact that you've read my post about Double Cross My Heart SEVERAL TIMES means I'm now morally obligated to die for you. I'll admit! I was a bit harsh on Sam a little in my original response, because I was irritated by some depictions of her in fanon painting her as someone who could do no wrong and had the only braincell in the group. So I was kinda picking on her a little bit. Would I change a thing? No, I love her character, I just love dissecting her flaws even more.

AND ALSO YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DANYAL THING. That's so cute and so funny, effective immediately it is now canon🧑‍⚖️ . He fought Red Huntress earlier that day and she got a lucky good hit on him, and it's literally that one Marina reaction image where the first panel she looks shocked, the next she looks into it. At least part of it. That's literally what happened, and the next time Danny runs into Valerie at school his heart flutters.

Danny puts up this whole conspiracy board because Valerie smiled at him and his heart went all flippy-floppy and what is this FEELING. He shows it to Sam and Tucker and they both are doing that hands folded prayer-style pressed against their mouths in concern thing, and they don't know whether they should laugh or cry.

Because on one hand: oh my GOD, Danny. But on the OTHER: on my god, Danny. He's never gonna live this one down but that's because if they don't tease him about it, they're gonna get all mopey and sad about it. Just another reminder of their best friend's tragic, mysterious background.

aaa. There are some headcanons I wanna go over (like how when they go on a date, Danny and Valerie have this cute heart to heart where Danny admits that he's not used to being open with people, but he wants to try to be with Valerie because she makes him really happy. He's so shy and almost flustered, and Valerie is so charmed by this side of Danyal Fenton that she's not used to.) but I REALLY wanna think about this in terms of episodic because it was super fun doing it last time, and I really enjoyed it.

If you remember (and you prolly do since you mentioned you read the last ask you sent me several times) I said in the Gregory post that I deleted a (frankly good chunk) of writing that included how i would change the Valerie episodes leading up to the Gregory one, but I deleted it because it was kinda irrelevant to the ask, and admittedly I was getting myself all twisted in knots about it.

But I kinda wanna do that now.

So. If you don't mind I am. Gonna do that. And luckily for me! I found the website I can do. that for free, and have it pulled up! It's the same one I used for the last post to chart out the gregory episode.

So, Shades of Gray! I lowkey want this episode to be like, subtly hinting at the idea that Valerie might develop a crush on Danny first. But ultimately it gets the two of them properly introduced and established with each other, and Red Huntress going.

The episode starts out with Danny being chased by Dash because he got a bad grade in a spelling, obviously if he tried that with Danyal he's gonna get his shit wiped. So! Change! It's Danny heading to his next class, he's texting Sam and Tucker, expertly maneuvering around people in a combination of teen-texting-habit and assassin training awareness. Kinda aware of what's around him, but also not and just trusting instinct.

We meet Valerie when she's showing off a (frankly unflattering) purple polo shirt that costs, AND I QUOTE: "$579, and worth every one of my dad's pennies." to Paulina and Kwan. Girl, this shirt is a few shades off from that NEON "error, image not found" magenta. It looks incredibly unflattering on her considering it's neon-y-ness and the orange skirt and headband she's wearing. Sweetheart, get your damn money back, or at least pick a different pair of pants.

I'm telling you this because I can't resist changing the design. So instead of. that.

She is INSTEAD wearing like, this cute, ruffled, soft pastel purple crop top and some cute jean shorts. Her hair is in like, passion twist braids with little gold cuffs in them. She looks SO cute guys, so cute.

Of course maybe they made it look ugly on purpose because in the show she gets coffee dumped on her 30 seconds later from Danny crashing into Paulina while running from Dash.

I've thought of three different ways this could go, and can't pick which so I'm just gonna write them out and see which one I'm drawn to more.

Kwan, Paulina, and Valerie are standing in the hallway. Not next to a corner but close to one. Danny turns the corner, does not run into them. He briefly looks up from his phone when he hears, they kinda stare at each other, and Danny idly, disinterestedly looks at Valeria, then compliments her with a single; "Nice shirt." Pretty anticlimatic ngl, but it startles the trio a little bit because Danny doesn't often talk to other people outside his circle unless he's in some kind of group project or has to. So for him to compliment Valerie unprompted is startling. This could or could not end with one of them snarkily saying "thanks its worth more than your entire wardrobe" which Danny would take offense to because, lets not kid ourselves, Danyal and Damian Al Ghul were raised as pseudo-princes in the League. Without missing a beat he shoots back: "at least i have a personality beyond being rich." and then disappears down the hallway.

The trio begin walking down the hallway, crash into Danny. HE gets coffee splattered all over him and he immediately reels back, instinctively reverting back to his mother tongue and hissing out arabian curses as coffee drips down the front of his red hoodie and shirt. It's even in his hair. Thankfully the coffee is not as hot as it started out, but it's still uncomfortably warm. He wipes the drink from his eyes, flicks it onto the ground, and hisses out; "watch where you're going!". The trio? Kinda unsure of how to react at first; Danny is unpopular, but not unpopular enough to be worth bullying -- besides, everyone knows he wouldn't tolerate it. But then I think Paulina finds her tongue and says "what did you say?". Danny turns to her and says; "I said; watch where you're going. Need me to say it in Spanish? Mira por donde vas!" He flicks off his hoodie, grumbling in arabic about how he's going to smell like coffee all day, and stalks off. I'm pretty partial to this idea.

Valerie still gets coffee dumped on her. But instead of sic'ing Kwan on him (because she knows that won't work), she just says a few choice words to Danny and stalks off with Paulina and Kwan to go find somewhere to clean off the coffee. Danny approaches her later and gives her a list of cleaning stuff that can get coffee stains out of her shirt. And when she tells him it's made of like, this super specific fabric that needs this really specific stuff to clean, Danny raises his eyebrow at her and says that he knows, and it is a list of stuff that can clean out the stain without damaging the shirt. He says he's not an idiot, and he knows how to recognize X-Fabric when he sees it. Just because I'm fond of pseudo-prince Al Ghul here being a bit of a snob and has an extensive care and hygiene routine. He uses this moisturizer or cologne that makes him smell faintly like sandalwood and vanilla because that is my favorite scent. Tucker jokingly handed him a 13-in-1 once while they were doing a quick supply run with Sam, and Danny literally dropped it like it burned him.

I'm really partial to two and three. So i'm going to get a second opinion. [...] Second one wins! Thank you, Naviii~ <3.

Danny could just intangible the stuff off him, but that would raise questions and also I want him to go the rest of the day stained with coffee. So it stays, and he's in a sour mood for a good chunk of the day. He runs into Cujo when he disappears down an empty hallway, and gets even more irritated when his ghost sense goes off - but hey! If it's Skulker, he can at least pulverize the dude and let off some steam. But nope! It's a puppy!

And Danyal Al Ghul, local ex-member of the world's most deadliest "we speak for the trees, the trees say fuck you" group of environmentalists ever, immediately feels his troubles melt away, and he croons at Cujo. "Oh hello, habibi. Who do you belong to?" And drops down to the ground to let Cujo sniff his hand. Cujo does so, and then starts vying for his attention, and Danny is grinning very wide and very genuinely and is more than happy to give it. "You are a much better surprise than that wretched poacher. Do you have a name, pretty thing?"

Cujo has a collar on, so Danny touches it, lifts the tag, and sees the Axion labs "A" symbol on it. He hums, narrows his eyes, and murmurs "Where have I seen this before?" But before he can flip it around, Cujo then turns monstrous. We cut to the title screen!

I want to say, the next scene is in Axion labs. The way that Damon (Val's dad), Valerie, those two guards, and his boss reacts, it heavily implies that the existence of ghosts have not reached the whole of Amity Park, and that the city itself is still largely unaware of their existence. Considering that Damon's security system doesn't allocate for ghosts, and when Danny crashes at their feet, Valerie literally asks him; "What are you!?" and she seems surprised when tucker later tells her its ghosts, and is even unaware that Danny's parents are ghost hunters.

When Valerie gets coated in dog ecto-slobber, Danny does grin a little under his little half-face balaclava. Because yes, karma! He is petty, and he can't help but flip to his feet and snarkily, smugly say; "I know what I'm not," and as he says this, he leans forward and plucks some of it out of her hair, "Covered in dog slobber." and then he flicks it away.

Before Valerie can retort, Cujo breaks into the lab, and Danyal mutters curses and bounds after him. The lab gets destroyed as per canon, and Damon gets fired.

The garage sale scene happens pretty normally, when Valerie says her little "oh great, word has already oozed down to the bottom of the social grapevine." Danny's response is snarkier than in canon.

"And here Tucker was just offering some simple help to you, you looked like you needed it." He says icily, and Tucker pipes up and says "we all just want to help!" because I don't fully see Danyal being that generous especially to someone being rude to his friends.

Sam dryly says "I don't." and Danny just stays silent, neither confirming nor denying anything. He just raises an eyebrow and turns his eyes to Tucker, who is laughing nervously.

"Well, Danny hasn't said no. So most of us want to help! That's two thirds." And he gestures awkwardly to Danny, who is wearing a red muscle tee hoodie, showing that he's rather lean. "And Danny's the strongest between the three of us, so he could be a big help! There could get a lot more work done."

Valerie is not convinced, as in canon. Although for my Gray Ghost heart she does check out Danny a little bit -- but quickly shakes it off because she's still very deeply entrenched in the status quo. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

Before Danny's ghost sense goes off, I do want him to wander around the yard sale for a moment just to see what's to offer -- collector of trinkets and pretty things, he is. Projecting, I am. Slightly GNC Danny ftw, it is. There's a table of jewelry up for sale that he's drawn over to -- and almost immediately disappointed by. It's pretty, and extravagant and very obviously expensive, that's for sure, but that's not the problem. Valerie sees him looking and marches over to him, still upset that he and his friends are still there.

"Put that down, that stuff is worth more than your own wardrobe." She snaps at him, and tries to snatch an expensive, luxury sapphire necklace from his hands, and is immediately met with an icy glare from Danny as he yanks it away from her fingers.

"Who says I can't afford it?" He says -- and he can't, not really, not with the allowance he gets from the Fentons and not with their funds. However, despite their limited contact, Danny still does meet with his beloved mother. One word from him to her, and she'd ensure he got a hundred of the very same necklace. "You? You can't either, Gray. Not anymore."

Valerie looks embarrassed and furious, but Danny continues, and tosses the necklace to her. She fumbles, but manages to catch it. "I don't want this junk anyways. It's gaudy and too western. I look better in gold."

Now his ghost sense goes off, and he turns away from Valerie. He doesn't run off immediately, lingers long enough to see who the ghost is and what the danger is. And when the ground begins to shake, he grabs onto the table and reaches out on protective instinct to hold onto Valerie before she can fall over.

As you can tell, this is for my gray ghost heart. Although valerie's clothes do still get destroyed by the street water, unfortunately. And Cujo shrinks down to size by the time Valerie makes it over to her dresser to try and grab it.

Danny audibly mutters, "Its that dog again." and hurries over to scruff the thing before it can wander off. Cujo is wagging his tail and immediately, enthusiastically licks his face once he's got him up to eye level. Danny cracks a little smile, "Hello habibi, you're a little troublemaker, aren't you?"

"you know this dog?" Valerie demands, and stomps over as Danny gets Cujo settled into his arms. Sam and Tucker hurry over as well, looking mildly frazzled.

Danny scoffs at her; "Don't be ridiculous. I met him a few days ago-- wait;" and he pauses to check to see if Cujo is a boy, "--ah, yep. Him. -- I met him a few days ago in the hallway after Sanchez dumped her coffee all over me. He was rather friendly, but he ran off before I could see who he belonged to."

Sam leans over to look at Cujo, and wiggles her finger at him; "He's kinda cute, and he likes you."

Dannny has a moment where he wants to boast, of course he does, I'm fantastic with animals. But instead he keeps mum. His smile just kinda softens proudly, and he hoists Cujo into his arms a little better.

The moment is shattered by Valerie, who points accusingly at Cujo. "Whatever it is, get it out of here before it ruins anymore of my stuff!"

Annnd before Danny can do just that, Cujo begins wiggling to get out of his arms and run around. He manages to, with his ghostly strength drag Danny across the lawn before yanking himself out of his arms and knocking them both onto the sidewalk -- scraping Danny's arm in the process -- and running around.

Rather than his leg, Cujo bites Danny's arm -- and has a strong enough grip on it that he unintentionally pierces flesh and causes him to start bleeding -- and begins dragging him. But before they can reach the moving van, Danny gets his fingers wrapped around Cujo's collar, finds some purchase -- even if it means his bare arm is being dragged against the sidewalk, and yanks hard on Cujo's collar with a harsh; "HEEL."

Cujo immediately stops, and sits. Danny honestly wasn't expecting that to work immediately, but it does! And with Cujo still, he keeps one firm hand on the collar and uses his other arm -- which is now painfully road rash'd and bleeding -- to help sit up.

Sam and tucker and Valerie rush over to help. "Oh my god, Danny, are you okay?" only for Danny to hold his bad arm up to stop them from getting closer, and whirling on Cujo to scold him. He's upset enough that he reverts back to Arabic, but Cujo seems to get the point across and wilts.

Danny feels bad, but can't show Cujo any affection unless he wants to accidentally reinforce the behavior. He points to his side, and Cujo obediently goes to sit but his feet. Now he turns to the other three.

"To answer your question." He looks down to his arm and very gently brushes his fingers against the road rash, brushing out the little pebbles stuck in his skin. it stings like a bitch, and he faintly grimaces. Then he inspects the dog bite on his wrist "I'll be fine."

Even Valerie looks worried; "That looks really bad, Fenton. I think you should go to the hospital--"

"No." Danny immediately cuts her off, "No hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Fenton keep a first aid kit at home, I'll just use that."

"And what about the dog?"

"I'll figure something out."

And then they scoot off.

Cafeteria scene goes as canon, nothing much to change there other than the fact that when Valerie sees Danny, his arm is all bandaged up and he's wearing a batman merch t-shirt rather than a muscle tee, she feels a little guilty. A small part of her kinda wants to ask how he is, but the larger part that's still big on the status quo and is still humiliated by being shunned by her friends, just wants to go eat in peace. So she doesn't say anything.

(although i am thinking that if she runs into him again later after the cafeteria scene, she asks him what he did with the ghost dog, and he lies and says Phantom swooped in and took Cujo from him.)

The park scene goes relatively the same as well, at least in the beginning. But instead of Sam and Phantom being all "he's an untrained dog" they're instead all "let's see what training he does have. Maybe it can be refined."

"You're good with animals Danny, and you're the only ghost in the area. You handle it." and then she tosses the dog obedience book at him and wanders off.

Danny doesn't need the dog obedience book, so he tucks it into a pocket dimension in his cape and whistles for Cujo. There's that whole tumble down the hill, that whole chase scene happens.

I do wanna say, I actually really like how inexperienced Valerie is here. Idk maybe it's because I haven't watched a tv show in a long while, but it's nice to see that she's not immediately good at it. She wobbles on the hoverboard, two out of the three disks she threw at Danny missed, and the third only hit him by chance. She's amateurish, and I really appreciate that.

"Let me guess, first day on the job, isn't it?" and he still gets cut by the third disk like in canon. He's not impressed or convinced when she says she's going to take him down -- it's one quick once over that tells him enough.

Wobbly feet, unsteady balance on the board. -- Her first time using it, she's unconfident and doesn't trust her own tech, as if she didn't even make it herself. She's unused to the board.

Improper trigger discipline, and shaky hands on her gun. She's holding it with one hand and far away from her like she's afraid of it going off, despite the fact that she's the one on the other end of it.

Tense all the way up to her shoulders, her voice is full of false bravado. She has no idea what she's doing. Danny's thoroughly unimpressed. At least the Drs. Fenton and Walker (maddie got her doctorate with her maiden name) trust their tech wholeheartedly and treat them as an extension of themself, just as Danny does with his blades. Just as this new ghost hunter does not.

And, of course, the way she goes flying off her board the moment she fires her bazooka. Although Cujo does still come to the rescue, although like in canon, he grabs Danny by the foot. Danny manages to recollect himself though and hoist himself over Cujo's back like he's riding a horse.

This is the biggest scene change and possibly my favorite change. The fakeout makeout scene. Now, let me preface this by saying that I love the fakeout makeout concept. I think it's hilarious, and I think it's even funnier if Danny is actually rather down with the concept because the assassin-undercover part of his brain thinks it's a simple-in-a-clever way in order to brush off suspicion. I think Sam and Tucker both are very down to kiss their very attractive best friend, and whenever it comes up there have been arguments over whose turn it is to kiss Danny.

BUT. I have an image in mind for this scene, so I want Danny to be alone for this. So Cujo takes him to a cluster of trees and bushes where Sam isn't at, and Danny sends him off with a ball as per canon, but rather than get tackled by Sam, he dives up into a tree and transforms back to Al Ghul before Valerie can reach him.

He is reading the Dog Obedience book, and scares the absolute shit out of Valerie. And it's never a bad day to hurt Danny, so little miss firstie over here fires into the trees, and juuuust about skims Danny's arm. The same one that has the road rash and dog bite on it, that he's forcibly prevented himself from rapidly healing because that would arouse suspicion.

"ماذا بحق الجحيم كان ذلك!؟" ("What the hell was that!?")

Valerie knows that voice, and instantly turns ashen. "Oh no." She flies up the tree and finds Danyal sitting snug amongst the larger limbs, the dog obedience book in his lap, and he's hunched slightly and holding onto his burned arm tightly.

"Oh my god, I-- I am so sorry--" she doesn't have the time to be upset (or snarky or mean) about why he's there, considering she just shot him. Danny snaps his head up and glowers furiously at her.

"Wh- why did you do that!?" He stammers over himself, trying to find his english. Part of it is an act, part of it is genuine anger because she could've killed him with that thing. He loathes incompetence, and she has it in buckets. "Watch where you're aiming that, Trigger Finger, you could've killed me!"

Valerie is all flustered and mortified, can't even find it to get angry back. "i- I am so sorry, Fenton. I thought you were something else--"

"Something else!?" Danny yells, "So you blindly shoot?! What is wrong with you!? Don't you know any trigger discipline!?"

Iiit's. a mess? Valerie offers him a lift to the hospital, or at least out of the tree, and Danny snarls at her not to touch him, and that he's not going anywhere with her on that hunk of sheet metal. He tosses the book at her and says to make herself useful and hold that while he gets down. Valerie feels really guilty -- too guilty to protest or be mad about how angry he is with her.

When he gets down from the tree he takes the book back from her, and then asks her how she even knows his name anyways. They've never met before. "Actually, now that I think about it," he narrows his eyes at her, "you sound like someone I know."

And then he reaches for her mask.

Valerie flies back, stammering over herself and briefly forgets to feel guilty in order to feel panicked and indignant, and then just goes "What are you doing!? You're crazy, we've never met before!" And then flies off.

And, before I continue, I will say right now. Danny, as himself, forever and always from then on refers to Red Huntress (or Scarlett Hunt, as I'm thinking of as an alternative) as "Trigger" or "Trigger Finger" respectively. Whenever they run into each other as Scarlett and Danny, he always calls her Trigger and asks if she's killed anyone yet. Valerie feels really bad from then on about hitting him, because where she hit him ends up scarring.

When she's gone, Danny mutters to himself that that sounded like Valerie, and goes ghost to go find Sam and tell her what happened.

Hallway scene stays the same, and -- actually, I was gonna make fun of the fact that Valerie didn't know the Fentons were ghost hunters when it's the whole reason the family is ostracized. But you know what? I can believe it. Kids will follow the crowds' lead. Witch hunts and all that.

"So, Tucker tells me your parents are ghost hunters!"

"Yeah? What else has he told you?"

Before Cujo shows up, they do actually manage to hold some kind of conversation. However, Danny uses the time to go: "Look, if you're planning on getting into ghost hunting, try not being like the hack I met yesterday."

Valerie laughs nervously, "Ah-hah, no of course not! But uh, hack?"

Danny scowls, and twists towards her with his arms crossed -- he's wearing a red hoodie today, and a band tee. -- "Yeah! I met some chick yesterday while at the park, and Little Miss Trigger Finger shot me." He says, "Your weapon should be like an extension of yourself, not something you just use! Trigger Finger was flailing that gun in her hands like it was a ribbon, and incompetence like that will get someone killed. Your weapon -- whether it be a blade or a firearm or a blunt object -- should be as easy to move as curling your fingers, and just as easy to trust. It should not be a stranger, but a part of you. A weapon must know how to use itself if it wants to be of any use to anyone else."

Sam cuts him off with a high pitched, nervous giggle, and wraps her fingers lightly around his shoulders and tugs him back, sliding her arms around the front of his chest like an anchor. "Danny." she hisses at him quietly, and Danny snaps his jaw shut and looks away.

Tucker also laughs uneasily, "Sorry," he says, leaning around Valerie to get her attention, "Dan here uh, gets really passionate about improper weapon handling. It's one of his quirks."

Danny looks away and mutters something under his breath in arabic.

(You know this already, but Sam and Tucker still don't know about Danny's past. But they've heard him talk about weapon mishandling enough times -- and have seen him fight -- to know that the way he talks is more than just theory. He has personal experience with weapons, and has unintentionally before referred to himself as one. But whenever they ask about it, he clams up and denies any sort of involvement.)

Valerie doesn't really know what to say to that, but Danny seems to know a lot about proper weapon discipline. So she might try her chances with getting to know more about it from him later, if she can catch him. She also silently makes note to get herself acquainted to her own tools like Danny was implying.

And then Cujo shows up, and things happen as canon. Oh but wait Tucker lands on Valerie while she's trying to figure out how to open the thermos, and I want to say that she hears him say "I can help you. valerie!" before he lands on her. So her confronting him after she gets out of the basketball hoop, and practically beegs him not to tell Danny about being the same girl who shot him. She really does think his help could be valuable in the long run because of his knowledge on ghosts and weapons.

Lovestruck Tuck of course, agrees. Not without some tentative hemming and going; "I don't know Val, Danny's really clever. He'll figure it out eventually if you don't do something to hide your voice, it's pretty recognizable."

For this episode, her voice stays the same but in the future she'll be working on a voice mod, and until then refuses to speak around Danny if she knows he's present. If she has to talk, then she forcibly tries deepening it.

Anyways things proceed as canon, Danny overhears the boss with Damon say "I know we should've never gotten rid of those guard dogs."

He mutters to himself "Guard dogs? Wait..." and he holds up Cujo, peering at his collar, and finally realizing where he recognizes the symbol on the tag. Immediately his expression darkens, "Oh fuck no, they did not."

Things go as canon, although Danny sneaks in not only to find what Cujo is looking for, but to hack in and get records of their guard dogs to confirm his theory and to steal them -- plus confirmation of termination of said dogs. So he can blackmail the shit out of Axion Labs later. He stays invisible and uses his league training to sneak around, and actually gets the guard dog records and confirmation before he runs into Valerie and they fight. Danny purposely keeps his distance and focuses more on dodging.

"you're a pretty lousy shot" Valerie says when he blasts above her a metal support beam above her.

Danny retorts sharply, "I could say the same." And although she can't see it, he bares his fangs at her. "Or have you forgotten about what you did to the ghost hunters' boy a few days ago?"

(He can be VERY petty)

Which, of course, infuriates and embarrasses Val. Things remain as is, Danny finds the squeaky toy, he tells Valerie he doesn't own the dog -- although he also says that he belongs to the very same Lab that fired her dad -- she refuses his apology, Tucker pretends to get caught by the Axion security lab. Etc etc.

Danny later reveals that he also stole the records about the guard dogs and how Axion Lab wrongfully euthanized all of them in favor of a security system they didn't even end up using, and was planning on anonymously releasing it online so that Axion could face the consequences for their abuse. Tucker has to beg him not to, because then that would reveal that someone else had gotten into the lab that night and would put Valerie's dad in hot water again.

Danny... reluctantly agrees. For now. But he'll be holding onto it, and keeping his eye on Axion Labs. This sort of cruelty will not go unpunished forever, he'll make sure of it.

ending goes as ending does. They go to the dumpty humpty concert, they speculate where Valerie got her suit. Etc etc. At the lunch table I think Valerie stops by Tucker and co's table to talk to Tucker -- they seemed to end on a good note that night -- and she asks Danny how his arm is.

Danny eyes her quietly, and turns his head away. "It'll heal, so long as Trigger Finger stays away from me." and he does see Valerie wilt a little, and kinda feels bad. But also, she fucking shot him. He's lowkey less angry about that tho and more angry about her total weapon incompetence

-------

When its just Tucker -- and ykw, Sam too, who Valerie would know knows she's Red since she was yk, right there next to Tucker when he fell on Valerie -- and Valerie, he tries to reassure her about Danny's apparently grudge against Scarlett Hunt.

"Aw, chin up Val, I'm sure Danny will come around to your alter ego eventually! He just.. needs some time to heal! Literally, because you... shot him."

and when Valerie realizes Sam knows too, Sam points her pen at her and goes: "The only reason I haven't told Danny is because Tucker is also my best friend," she leans into Valerie's space; "But so help me Moses, if you shoot Danny again, I will not hesitate to tell him. And i will, in a heartbeat."

She leans back, crossing her arms; "So you better learn to control your finger, Trigger."

Danny having beef with Red Huntress in his civilian form was not actually in the original cards for this episode, but it came to me as I was writing and I could not pass it up. I think it'd be hilarious and also like, a real point of idk conflict for Valerie. Just one more reason she wants to be abetter ghost hunter because otherwise she'll hurt people -- shooting Danny left a mark on her, and she feels really really guilty about it. Especially after finding out it scarred.

And also it's like, objectively hilarious? It's like the Love Square from MLB but its more like a Hate Square instead. Granted Val and Danny don't hate each other but my point still stands! It's there if you squint.

Every single time Danny runs into Scarlett he calls her Trigger and asks her how her aim is, and whether she knows how to use that weapon of hers. Valerie is both very frustrated by his unwillingness to forgive her and very ashamed by the fact that she's frustrated by it. He has every right to be mad at her, she could've seriously hurt him -- and she did -- but still, his animosity is grating sometimes.

Danny does eventually get over her shooting him in his civilian form -- considering she shoots him all the time as a ghost. But what he refuses to get over is the fact that it happened at all and her lack of proper discipline before she decided to jump into the fray.

No no no, that he is still burning furious about. Tucker wasn't kidding when he said that Danny was passionate about proper weapon handling. The fact that Valerie didn't even acquaint herself with her weapons and learn how to use them properly before deciding to hunt down Cujo and Phantom is the thing that keeps his burning "hatred" against Scarlett as Fenton going.

Idk if it's ever actually confirmed that Valerie and Tucker are dating, its kinda implied that they started. But I'm gonna say that they were only in a talking stage (one that Valerie only initiated for her own needs) and after this episode it doesn't go anywhere, but they remain kinda friends. That way, Valerie can show up a few more times prior to Flirting With Disaster and lowkey hang with the gang without Tucker and Valerie actually dating.

So i was actually going to share a few more headcanons too with Gray Ghost, and delve into the "Flirting with Disaster" episode, but this got... really long, and took me all evening to write (curse adhd) so I am. not going to go into that jadlfh. Plus I have to think more about them and come up with more cute headcanons.

Like how Danny calls her affectionate petnames when they're dating/sorta-dating the moment he settles into the relationship and becomes comfortable with it. One morning when he walked into a class that they shared, he smiled at her all warm and fondly said "Good morning, beloved."

And normally that might sound too strong in the fledgling beginning of a relationship, but Danny somehow manages to make it sound super natural and not at all too-much-too-soon.

Literally everyone's jaw dropped in that room. They've never seen Danny act that way, and Valerie somehow manages to invent a new shade of maroon on her dark skin. She does this cute little giggle-snort and waves her hand at him bashfully. Danny looks very endeared.

Paulina turns to Dash and angrily demands to know why he doesn't call her any cute petnames that aren't babe.

Oh and before I forget: As Phantom, Danny calls Scarlett Hunt either "Scar" or "Little Red Riding Hood" (or some variant). It pisses her off, which he does really like doing. Also, compared to how he fights ghosts, he goes remarkably easy on her. He doesn't even unsheathe his sword for her -- which she does eventually notice and gets angry about. She thinks he's doing it to look down on her.

When it's not. She is Squishy Fragile Living Human In A Meat Shell. He is Immortal Ghost With Powers. And A Sword. And A Decade Of Assassin Training. He could kill her a dozen different ways if he didn't hold back like he is, and he doesn't want her dead.

okay okay that's all I've got for now BUT, as a bonus, while I was making those three different scenes for the coffee splash scene, I stopped midway because I got art bunnies for danny for the first time in forever, and went ahead and drew him. So!! Things in Threes Danyal doodle be Upon Ye!

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #things in threes au #things in threes danyal #demon brothers #valerie gray #danny fenton #starry ask #dpxdc au #dpxdc ask #i didn't add all of his scars because i am Lazy #gray ghost #gray ghost my beloved. this got SO long but rewriting episodes is honestly SO fun #danny having beef with red huntress is SO fucking funny to me #god its so funny. and also it rings a nice parallel between the two. danny does feel guilty about being unable to stop cujo from destroying #axion labs. like he DOES genuinely feel guilty. but despite his growth he's still pretty prideful and refuses to bend in front of someone #who treats him and his loved ones harshly. he's not going to let that slide. you get what you give and all that #falling in love with Valerie sneaks up on him like a fucking sucker punch. one moment its not there the next it is. he is bewildered #all my digital art is done traditional and then transferred over to my mobile procreate app. I do not own a drawing tablet unfortuantely #secret message in the green text because i dont feel comfortable sharing the website im using to watch DP on ksljhf. just to be safe lmao #okay i dont have a lot of thoughts for the tags so thats enough tag talk for me

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