#i also wanted to draw more but again. forever jazz hands happened

[selfspinninglies]

@techn0tony I think they'd give fdonnie a heart attack or smth because they just say things like this all the time like it's normal

[softiem]

you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

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“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face. 

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

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tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

[hopelikethemoon]

ardent admiration (ezra x reader)

Title: ardent admiration  Rating: R-ish (allusions to sexual content) Ship: Ezra x Reader Summary: Continuation of ‘next rotation’ reader and Ezra navigate the trials of pregnancy in the face of Ezra’s doubts. Contents: Pregnant!Reader, Angst, Light Sexual Content, Anxious Daddy!Ezra, FLUFF.  Notes: This fic is dedicated to @grapemama​ who has some of the best daddy!Ezra headcanons. I also dedicate this to @rzrcrst​ who is like so sweet and so kind and HAVE YOU READ HER FICS!? forever nervous about my dialogue for our dork Ezra *jazz hands* I’m going to bed now, I have an early call time on set tomorrow so GOODNIGHT ENJOY ILY ALL. 

It wasn’t obvious at first. He was subtle enough about the comments. He let them sit untouched between you for enough time — before picking them back up again with a quiet uncertainty that made something ache deep within you. For all of his cocksure attitude, he’s scared shitless about being a father. 

“You know, I’ve often dwelled upon philosophical matters. Though not my preferred educational endeavor.” He dragged his hand over his face as he rocked from his heels to his toes and back again. “Do you think it’s fair that one who has committed heinous crimes — struck down life in its prime — that one such person should be allowed the joie de vivre of bringing life into this cruel, cruel world?”

“I think it depends.” You answered honestly, because you’re not a fool. This isn’t a grand philosophical debate he’s angling for. He’s thinking of himself. His own past. The future that grows more evident in your stomach with each passing day. 

“What does it depend upon, little bird?”

You offer a soft smile, “If you regret the choices you've made.”

“Ah,” He pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded slowly with a distant look he fixed on you. “What a shame then, that I don’t regret the dishonourable path that led me to you.”

— — — — — — — —

It was days before the subject was broached again. This time, it wasn’t words that brought it into focus once more. It’s revisited in the reverent way he stroked his hand over your swollen stomach when he thought you were sound asleep. The murmured words that are meant for only him and your unborn child. Secrets that they shared in these precious moments between a father and his child. 

You slide your fingers through his perpetually mussed hair, gently brushing your fingertips over his temple. “You deserve this, Ezra. You deserve this and so much more.” He’s a good man. Better than he gave himself credit for. 

“We shall just have to agree to disagree, little birdie.” He drawled out, stirred from his reverie. Ezra shifted to press his face into the crook of your neck, his lips trailing up the column of your throat. “Sleep.” He murmured. 

His hand never strayed from your stomach as he drifted back into the lull of peaceful sleep. 

——

Ezra was insistent that the pair of you visit Cee. She had settled on an interplanetary satellite station high above the planet Arbuta. It was safe there — a good place to consider a temporary home until he found a suitable place to call your permanent residence.

She was thrilled for both of you. For everything that had happened between Cee and Ezra, she was remarkably understanding. You hope, deep down, that her joy is the infectious type. You hope that it’s enough to force Ezra to see past the melancholy that had taken up residence in him. 

It was, for a few weeks. 

“We have to go.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, drowsily coming to. Ezra was frantic as he paced back and forth across your small quarters as he plucked up personal items and shoved them carelessly into your duffle bags. 

“Wake up. We have to leave.” 

“Ezra, what’s wrong?” You questioned as your bare feet touched the ground. You approached him, your fingers curling around his upper arm as you urged him to slow down. 

“I…” For once in his life, he was at a loss for words. He floundered, gaze turned downwards with shame. “I believe I’ve entertained you with tales from just before my life irrevocably changed when I met Cee.”

You frowned. He had. You loved to regale you with stories of us misadventures. He had led a far more exciting existence than you had. “Your old crew?”

“Indeed.” He nodded stiffly. “You see, it was me that caused that little kerfuffle. I was greedy about the harvest. I endeavored to gain quite the profit off that job.” He leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek. “They’re here. Two of them.”

“What does that mean?” You questioned, meeting his gaze. “Why do we have to leave?”

“Because,” Ezra sighed heavily. “I am afraid that they will retaliate. Time may have passed, but men like that hold onto grudges with a vice-like grip.” He looked down between you, his hand trailing over your curved stomach. “I refuse to let anything happen to either of you, on account of my past deeds.”

Your lips parted to answer him, but a faint flutter within your belly caught you off guard. A kick! “Did you feel that?” You whispered, pressing your hand over his as you guided it directly to the spot where the baby was kicking. It was the strangest sensation — a faint flutter, the tiny press of a foot. A new reminder of the life growing within you.

Ezra was beside himself. The worry and the fear that had weighed heavily on his weary expression had vanished. You swore that the joy that washed over his features took ten years off of him. He sank to his knees before you and pressed his lips against the swell of your stomach. “I’m going to take care of you, little one. Your papa is here. I’m going to protect you.” 

You ran your fingers through his hair as you looked down at him. Had you ever been more in love with him, than you were in that moment? His joy warmed every corner of your soul. You just wished he could hold onto that. 

— — — — — — — —

Some nights you couldn’t sleep. You were exhausted, but perpetually unable to find comfort — no matter what you tried. It was a familiar occurrence now. The way he would draw you back against his chest and curl himself around you as you propped a book up against your stomach to idly read through whatever book he had abandoned by your bedside. No matter how exhausted he was, he always stayed awake with you, his chin perched on your shoulder as he read along with you. 

He would always play his restless fingers through your hair, trying to lull you back to sleep. With the occasional success. 

“Do you regret it?” Ezra whispered as he pressed his lips against your shoulder. 

“Regret what?” You questioned, dampening your thumb with the tip of your tongue, before you turned the page. 

“Me.”

You tensed, despite yourself. You closed the book slowly and sat it aside on the bedside table. “Do I seem like I regret you?” You questioned, turning your head enough to look at him with a frown. 

“No, little bird.” He shook his head, before he pressed his forehead against your shoulder with a frustrated groan. “I am sorry for my most frequent caviling.” He murmured. 

“Don’t apologize.” You turned in his arms, as best you could in your current state. You cupped his cheek, tracing your thumb over the scar. “But I want to help you overcome this, Ezra. Wherever your mind goes…” 

Ezra sighed dramatically and turned to kiss your palm. “I should be caring for you, not worrying you with these bouts of melancholia.” 

“I don’t mind.” You promised him, trailing your thumb over his lips. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“We make an odd pair, you and I.” Ezra started, kissing your thumb. “I am a fair few years your senior, little bird. I have seen the way that eyebrows rise when that realization arises.”

“I don’t care what people think.” You snapped. 

“Nor do I.” He chuckled. “I am merely making an observation about our partnership.” Ezra pressed another kiss to the center of your palm. “I often fear that the ghosts of my past might come and take up residence in you. Erode at the future that you will have when I am gone.”

“Ezra.”

“It is the simple truth of our situation.” He drawled out with a shake of his head. He made such a morbid topic sound like a conversation on the weather. “While I triumphantly overcame the effects of the pink, I am certain that it still lurks within my blood. Ready to prey upon me once more.” Ezra dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at a nugacious existence.”

“I don’t know what that means.” You admitted sheepishly. 

Ezra smiled faintly, “An insignificant existence.” He gestured vaguely. “I’ve spent thirty-odd years chasing the next harvest. I never had a chance to get too lost in my own thoughts.”

You tried, rather in vain, to refuse the tears that brimmed in your eyes. He had admitted to the one thing that you had feared all along. “Do you regret it?” You threw the question back at him, an edge of venom in your tone.

He clamped his lips shut tightly, his dark eyes fixed on your face. “Birdie—“

“Do you?” 

Ezra swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing at his throat. “No.”

“You don’t?” You questioned skeptically. 

“I regret that I am not a better man.” He admitted, his lips drawn into a thin line. “I am a worn, one-armed—“

“No.” You shook your head. “You never let me talk down about myself, I won’t let you do the same.” You took ahold of his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I don’t care what came before. Your choices were made because we live in a lawless world. I fell in love with you with my eyes wide open. I know who you are, Ezra. Perhaps better than you even know.”

“What do you mean, little bird?” He questioned, squeezing your hand tightly. 

“When I look at you, I don’t see the faults that you fixate on. Your limitations don’t stand out to me.” You carefully shifted to straddle his hips, keeping your fingers curled around his. “I see a man who radiates unsullied joy when his child kicks beneath his palm. I know that you would do anything for me and our baby — that’s all I could ever ask for.” You leaned down and kissed him softly. “You worry about being a better man, but you fail to realize that you’re already the best version of yourself.”

Ezra sniffed quietly, “I dare say you might rival my own ability to render emotions with mere words.” 

You laughed and shook your head slowly. “I just want these words to stick with you.” You pressed another soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger. 

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

“How dare you quote Pride and Prejudice when I am frustrated with you.” You couldn’t help but grin down at him. 

“Would you like for me to soothe your frustrations?” He questioned with a wicked smirk that made your blood spike hotly. Ezra released his hold on your hand and moved to rest it at your hip. 

Your lashes fluttered and you rocked your hips slowly against him. “Only if you promise me one thing.” You whispered. 

He drew his knees up behind you as he sat up, keeping you seated firmly in his lap. “What’s that, birdie?”

“That you’ll try to remember that I love you.” You brushed your fingers through his tuft of blonde hair. “All of you. No matter what.”

“I can do that.” He promised. “I’ll try to be better, for both of you.” 

“Good.” You whispered, resting your hands on his shoulders for support as you rolled your hips. His cock had stirred to life beneath you, deliciously pressed against your most sensitive parts. 

Throughout your pregnancy, he had been so cognizant of your needs. On Arbuta he’d collected every book available on pregnancy and child-rearing. He’d read them all, forwards and backwards, a dozen times over.  He avoided your sensitive breasts — despite how fond he was of them. He curbed his own desires, in favor of whatever you needed. Selfless acts from a man who believed himself to be only selfish. 

You wished he could see himself through your eyes. 

Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you ground your hips downwards and your clit dragged over the fabric of your panties, caught against his erection. “Ezra.” 

He kissed you roughly, his tongue slipping past your lips. His kisses were always so thorough, he threw everything he had into them. His hand gripped tightly at your hip, guiding your movements against him. 

The closeness helped mend that fissure between you. It built a bridge to cross over your fears — the damage from the past.

— — — — — — — —

Ezra made good on his promise. He worked on expressing himself whenever his self-doubt overtook him. He treated finding a home for you like he treated every harvest. He studied every aspect of the choice. He refused to let the baby be born a floater, drifting somewhere high above it all. He wanted a home for the three of you. 

It wasn’t your forever home, but his research had identified a small mining community on the moon of Veshta2 to be the most sensible place to call home. It had an atmosphere that could sustain life without the need for a breathing apparatus and the miners rarely faced violence.

“I heard rumor that we may be faced with an unseasonably dry summer this year.” Ezra worried over breakfast. “I fear I hadn’t factored in the potential for climatological disaster.”

“I hadn’t realized a dry summer was considered a disaster.” You teased. “Despite your valiant attempts, Ezra, you can’t control everything.”

“I am, unfortunately, painfully aware of that.” He sulked. “But our little one will make their grand appearance during this drought.”

“Then we’ll visit Cee.” You offered him a patient smile. “I’m not worried about a drought.” 

“You should be.” He tutted and shook his head. “I’ll speak with the moisture farmers outside of town. They’ll be more prepared than we are.”

“Ezra.” You arched a brow at him. “I’d rather you stay home with me.”

“Birdie,” He mimicked the tone of your voice. “I would be most obliged to spend my entire day at your side, but I must make necessary preparations that you are not quite suited to at present.”

You sank back in your chair and admitted defeat. He needed a task — that was clear to you. He needed something to harness his obsessive tendencies into. “Why don’t we work on the nursery?” You suggested.

Ezra pitched forward, resting his elbow on the table. “I would like that.” He smiled broadly at you, the sort of smile that made you fall a little bit more in love with him. 

——

“I think the stars were a nice touch.” You whispered as you laid back on the floor, comfortably tucked against him. 

“When I was very young, my mother painted stars on the ceiling of my quarters on our ship.” Ezra mused quietly as his fingers trailing over your side. “She told me to count them when I fell asleep. To make wishes for the future on each one.”

Your heart clenched. Ezra had never really opened up about his childhood. He always listened when you discussed your own — but he had never joined in. “What did you wish for?”

He chuckled and squeezed your shoulder. “The foolish things all little boys wish for, little bird. I wanted to be a successful prospector. I wanted riches beyond reason.” Ezra turned and kissed your temple. “I have had a fair few wishes come true.”

You arched a brow, “Oh?”

“When Cee and I finally escaped that wretched planet, I looked up at the stars above us — quite certain, mind you, that I would not survive my injuries — and I wished for a second chance. Wished on each star that shone above that I could do things over. Fall in love. Have a family.” 

“How long—“

“I met you the very next day.” Ezra recalled with an adoring smile. “I think I knew.” 

You had briefly crossed paths with Ezra during your own recovery for a mild injury. He had entertained you greatly from the start — his verbose tendencies, his accent, that charm-your-pants-off demeanor. It wasn’t until months later that you ran into him halfway across the galaxy on a foolhardy harvest that you realized just how much you fancied him. 

From that point forward, you had hardly left his side. Despite his past, you had seen a future in him. 

“I hope you teach our baby to make those wishes too, Ezra.”

“I plan to.” He murmured as he kissed your lips, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. “I ought to be rather conciliatory for these past few months.” Ezra sighed. “I allowed myself to get lost in my own inadequacies. I hope I haven’t spoiled what should have been our most joyous season.”

“You haven’t,” You assured him, leaning into his touch. “You haven’t spoiled anything, Ezra.” 

“That comes as a much needed source of reassurance to my soul to know that little bird.” He drawled out as a grin spread over his lips. 

Ezra carefully repositioned you, grabbing a pillow from the nearby chair and propping it up beneath your head where his arm had been. “Wait here.” 

You sat up and watched him leave the nursery, your hand smoothing over your stomach as you pondered what he was up to. You were relieved that in these final months of your pregnancy, he had let go of his hesitations. He was still a work in progress, but so were you. 

“I know these things mean little anymore,” Ezra started as he returned to the nursery, with his hand tucked behind his back. “But I believe it is rather apparent that I am a gentleman of more refined, antiquated traditions.” He cleared his throat, before he knelt down before you. 

“Ezra—” 

He cut you off, “Little bird, my love for you knows no bounds. I consorted every novel within my reach, searching for words to describe the depth to which my affections for you run. I came up empty-handed because there are no words to accurately portray it.” Ezra revealed his hand, a small platinum band resting at the center of his palm. “I am afraid this is but a meager offering. You deserve sparkling diamonds and glimmering gold—”

“It’s perfect.” You whispered, swallowing thickly as tears escaped your eyes. “Yes.” 

“Shh. Don’t spoil it for me.” He grinned. “Will you marry me?”

You nodded your head quickly and moved towards him, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Yes. A thousand times yes.” You pulled back enough to offer him your hand. The ring fit comfortably on your finger, like it was made just for you. 

“I love you.” He murmured, cupping your cheek with a tremulous grin. “Both of you.” 

“We love you too.” 

[five-rivers]

Exile

Prompt by @halfaqueen. My goodness, this took forever to write. I have no idea how it got so long.

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Danny hadn't realized that exile was still a thing, but when he and Jazz had gotten expelled, and their parents had been banned or barred from basically all public places, and all of them had gotten restraining orders of one sort or another, and dozens of lawsuits had been filed against Fentonworks... Well... Officially, it wasn't exile, but that was what Amity Park was clearly aiming for with this harassment campaign.

He watched his city, his haunt, disappear over the horizon from the back window of the GAV. It was all he could do not to cry out aloud. Leaving like this felt like tearing part of himself away.

"Don't worry, Danno!" said Jack, leaning over the back seat. He wasn't driving, as he had lost his license early on in the city's war against them. "Just give it a few weeks! They'll be begging for us to come back, what with all the ghost that'll attack!"

This did not make Danny feel better.

"Jack," said Maddie, drawing out her husband's name. As clear as day, her tone said, Don't get their hopes up.

"You betcha! Because nobody can catch a ghost better than the Fentons, that's for sure!"

Jack Fenton hadn't ever been good at reading things as abstract as tones.

"They think they can stop the ghosts by closing the portal? Please! If it was as easy as that, we'd have closed it ages ago!"

Danny cringed, and sunk lower in his seat. No. None of that made Danny feel better.

Amity Park had hired other ghost hunters, blatantly replacing the Fentons, but Danny didn't know how good they were. He didn't know how good he should hope they were, either. On one hand, he wanted them to be bad, so that Amity Park would drop the restraining orders and he could go home. On the other, he wanted them to be good, so that Amity Park would be safe, so that everyone would be safe and no one would be hurt. But, then, if they were good, and everything was fine, that meant that Amity Park didn't need him any more, that he wasn't helpful, and, even though it was selfish, part of him wanted to be needed.

But, worse, what if they were good enough to defeat the more common ghosts, but then someone powerful come through, someone big, and they couldn't handle it? What if the new hunters worked for the GIW and would send the ghosts they caught off to be experimented on?

Danny had warned away as many ghosts as he could about what was happening before they left, but it didn't seem to be enough. And what if that warning got to someone who would see it as an invitation? As an opportunity to strike, now that he, Phantom, was gone.

He'd been so worried, stressed, and paranoid that he'd made himself sick. He was probably going to make himself sick again before the day was out.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he mumbled.

"Didn't we tell you?" asked Maddie. Danny shrugged. "We're visiting some relatives of Jack's. They have an interest in the supernatural, and they offered to let us stay with them while we look for a more permanent solution."

"Yep!" said Jack. "My favorite cousin, Cory! She's not quite a ghost hunter, but she has that Fenton blood for sure!"

"Cordelia Nightingale," said Maddie. "I don't think that her branch of the family has been Fentons since the sixteen-hundreds."

Danny swallowed. He was not a fan of the name 'Nightingale,' all things considered. It reminded him too much of pain and Sam pushed up against a wooden stake.

He decided this, on top of everything else, was a bad omen. He bet that 'cousin Cordelia' was going to turn out to be a ghost or, somehow, something worse. Like a witch. Or she had something like Freakshows staff. Or she grew blood blossoms for fun. Or she was part of a cult.

Ugh, why did that sound like something that might happen? What was his life?

Half gone, that's what.

Jazz patted him on the knee. "Maybe it'll be nice?" she said, hopefully.

"Maybe," said Danny.

He didn't have high hopes.

.

Sam probably would have liked the house. Danny didn't. The Gothic architecture only accentuated his fears. He frowned up at the spikes on the railing and the darkly painted boards. No. He didn't like this house at all.

He wanted to go home.

But, at his mother's prodding, he bent and picked up his suitcase. Most of his things were still at home and, if this lasted longer than a week, would then be put into a storage locker along with the rest of the family's belongings, to await a time when they once again had a house of their own to live in.

Jack bounced up the steps and pressed the doorbell with his thumb. Almost at once, a thin woman with graying brown hair opened the door. She wore a black turtleneck and a dark, straight skirt that ended at her ankles. Somehow, she made the outfit look practically Victorian.

"Cory!" exclaimed Jack, giving her a trademark Jack Fenton hug.

Both Jazz and Danny cringed slightly. That felt a bit too familiar for someone who he hadn't seen for literally their entire lives. Danny just hoped this wouldn't be Vlad all over again.

But, to his surprise, Cordelia gave Jack a thin smile and hugged him back. She extracted herself and stepped away from the door, into the house.

"Please," she said, "come in. You must all be tired. Amity Park is hours away."

One by one, the Fentons passed through the door, Danny bringing up the suspicious and paranoid rear.

"You must be Jasmine and Daniel," said Cordelia, closing the door. It wasn't quite dark inside the house, but it did feel rather dim. It smelled sweet, but dusty. Like flowers. Old, dry flowers.

"Jazz and Danny, please, Ms. Nightingale," said Jazz.

"Call me Cordelia. We're family, after all."

Was that ominous, or was Danny just paranoid? Well, it wasn't paranoia if people really were out to get you, right?

His breath went cold in his mouth, and something moved out of the corner of his eye. He whirled, trying to trace it.

He couldn't see anything. His ghost sense hadn't gone off.

"Danny?" said Maddie. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just thought I saw something."

"Probably my cat," said Cordelia, calmly. "She's a shy little thing, but curious. Don't be surprised if you don't see her again."

"Right," said Danny, doubtful, but not wanting to press the point.

"Now, I've cleaned out rooms for you upstairs," she gestured, and began to lead the way.

Danny started to follow, but another shadow moved at the edge of his sight, this one distinctly humanoid. He turned again, trying to find what cast it. There was nothing. He hurried to catch up with the others.

"Do you live here all alone?" he asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Oh, no," said Cordelia. "This place is much too large for one person. I let out rooms to some nice young ladies who work in town. None of them are here right now, of course, but I'll introduce all of you at dinner."

Well, there went that theory. He glanced back down the stairs. There was definitely a chill in this house.

"You didn't have to give us this much space," said Maddie, snapping Danny's attention back to the conversation. "We should pay you."

"Nonsense. You're family, and those rooms weren't being used anyway. Here, this one has a king mattress, so you two will want this one, even if it is a bit tight, and Daniel, Jasmine, you two take the ones on either side."

Danny and Jazz shared a look. It was a lot easier for Jazz to cover for Danny, or for Danny to sneak into her room for help, when they were next to each other. But there was nothing to be done. They shrugged.

It didn't matter who took which room. Jazz went left. Danny went right.

The room was a lot like the rest of the house. Old-fashioned and dark. It was also meticulously clean and decorated like something out of an old movie. It looked like a set piece. It really did.

Then again, Cordelia did say she had just cleaned the rooms. It wasn't anything to get nervous about, even if it did make Danny feel like he was the main character in a horror film.

He put down his suitcase.

"The bathroom is just down at the end of the hall. The schedule is posted next to it, make sure you write down when you want to shower, so you don't disrupt anyone," said Cordelia, still talking to Jack and Maddie in the hall. "The kitchen is downstairs and in the back. If you take the last of something from the refrigerator, write it down on the shopping list. Otherwise, go ahead and make yourselves at home. Freshen up, take a nap. Dinner is at six."

"Do you want any help with that?" asked Maddie. "You're cooking for an awful lot of people."

"No, no, I'm more than used to it."

"Alright. Did you catch all that, kids?"

"Yes," said Jazz.

"Yeah," said Danny. He wanted to look for whatever was giving him this chill. He didn't like the idea of something supernatural sneaking up on him or his family while he slept.

.

He couldn't find it, and it was driving him crazy.

There was something in this house, even if Danny couldn't see it as anything but a shadow in his peripheral vision. Jazz couldn't see it at all, but she believed him after that whole thing with Youngblood.

Even if they couldn't find the thing, however, they found lots of other... things. Creepy things. Dead-eyed porcelain dolls. Dusty portraits. Bundles of dried herbs. Weird sculpture things. Light fixtures that should have been updated before Danny was born. A stuffed cat. A closet full of brooms.

"You know what I haven't seen?" asked Danny, as it turned five o'clock.

"No," said Jazz. "What? Ghosts?"

"A litter box," said Danny.

"That doesn't really mean anything," said Jazz. "It could be in one of the bedrooms, or there's a cat door and the cat goes outside."

"Maybe," said Danny. "Let's check out the yard."

This far from the nearest town, the yard was big and cut into a forest that loomed darkly over them even in the bright sunlight. The yard itself was full of flowering plants, but...

"I think these are all poisonous," he said. "At least, a lot of them are."

"Isn't that normal for decorative plants?" asked Jazz. "They weren't bred to eat."

"Yeah, I guess," said Danny, frowning. "But would you necessarily want a cat out here with all this?"

"Cats are carnivores. They wouldn't eat the plants. Can you see the neighbors?"

"No. Too many trees."

"How far away are we, I wonder?"

"It can't be that far," said Danny. "Not if her boarders commute to town."

"That's true. We're not in the wilderness." Jazz scanned up and down the height of the trees. "Not really."

"Maybe a little bit," said Danny. He could imagine some of those trees being hundreds of years old. The ground might not have been untrod by human feet, but... "Does everything here just sort of feel... off? Or is that just me?"

"I don't know," said Jazz.

Gravel crunched in the driveway, audible even from the other side of the house. Jazz and Danny walked to the corner of the house so that they could see around the corner and watch what was happening.

A small white car was pulling into the driveway. It stopped next to the GAV. As they watched, three young women stepped out. One of them had long, dark hair and wore a red sweater and skirt, reminiscent of Cordelia's. The second had pale blond, almost white, hair and wore a deep brown shirt and skirt. The third had red hair, and wore white. All of them had wicked looking boots and matching leather purses.

"Okay," whispered Jazz, pulling Danny back around the corner. "I... Maybe they just like to match?"

"I hate this so much," said Danny. "I want to go home."

"Maybe whatever is going on here is friendly?"

"We are literally never that lucky," said Danny. "I hope it's just a ghost. I can deal with ghosts. It's probably a ghost."

"Really?"

"No. Let's go in. We're going to have to meet them eventually."

.

"This is Sofia," said Cordelia, indicating the dark haired woman. "This is Alison." She put her hand on the blonde's shoulder. "And this is Morgan." She nodded at the redhead. "Girls, these are my cousins, Jack, Maddie, Jazz, and Danny."

Three sets of eyes moved sequentially from Jack, to Maddie, to Jazz, to Danny. They stayed on Danny.

"It's nice to meet you," said Sofia, still looking at Danny.

He tried to hide his discomfort. Could they tell he was half-ghost? He hoped not. That was his trump card if everything turned out as badly as he feared and he had to get his family out in a hurry.

What he wouldn't give for a piece of concrete evidence right now. Without it, his parents would never listen to him. They hadn't with Vlad.

They were still looking at him. Jazz slipped in front of him.

"So!" she said, brightly. "Dinner?"

Danny pushed back in front of Jazz. "Yeah! It's six, right?"

"Well, it sounds like the kids have inherited that good old Fenton appetite! Huh, Cory?" added Jack

"Yes, yes, come along. Girls, why don't you go ahead and get the table started. No, Maddie, the girls know how I like it, I'll show you later. You just sit down and relax." Cordelia disappeared into the kitchen.

The three younger women moved smoothly around the room, pulling plates and silverware- real silver silverware- from a china cabinet. They set the long table in the middle of the room with rigorous formality. There were more kinds of forks at each place setting than Danny had seen even when having dinner at Sam's. They topped it off with two candelabras.

Cordelia emerged with a casserole dish. Whatever was in it was thick, roughly cylindrical, and covered with a thick red sauce.

"Wow! Is that a roast?" asked Jack.

"Yes," said Cordelia. "I always make this when new guests arrive. The girls have all had it."

The 'girls' nodded as one, and retreated to the opposite side of the table. They almost moved in sync with one another.

Cordelia put the roast on the table, and went back to get side dishes. This gave the three women more time to stare at Danny.

On occasion, Danny did want attention, acknowledgement, what have you, but this scrutiny would have been a bit much even when he was at the height of his 'look at me' phase. He kept a tight hold on his core to keep himself from flickering invisible.

Cordelia came back with two serving dishes full of green... things. Possibly vegetables, but Danny didn't recognize them. She then started to, with excruciating slowness, carve the roast.

The slow exposure of the meat under all that sauce was enough to make Danny vaguely ill. It was too... wet. Too vibrant and too gray all at once. He swallowed against the smell.

"Wow!" said Jack, as Cordelia dropped a slab of meat on his plate. "This looks great, Cory! What kind of meat is it?" He was already sawing away at the flesh. It was all Danny could do to keep himself from slapping it away from him.

"Beef," said Cordelia, smiling at him as she carved. "Locally grown and harvested. It's an old family recipe, from before our branches split and we were all Nightingales."

"You mean Fentons!" said Jack around a mouthful of meat.

Cordelia's smile turned brittle. "However you would like to put it, Jack." She went around the table, serving herself last.

Danny made no move to pick up his utensils. The women on the other side of the table ate while watching him, barely looking at their food. Jazz was the only one who seemed to notice, and when Danny caught her eye and shook his head, she put down the bite of meat she had picked up, turning her focus to the vegetables.

"So," Jazz said, "what do you three do?"

Sofia's eyes flicked briefly to Jazz. "Graphic design," she said.

"That must be interesting."

"It's a job."

Danny didn't eat that night.

.

"I have some granola bars," said Jazz, grabbing his arm before he entered his guest room. Not that he intended to sleep there. Or anywhere.

"You keep them," he said. "I'm fine. You didn't eat much, either."

"You didn't eat anything," said Jazz.

"I'll be okay." Danny flared his eyes. "I've got an extra reserve, remember?"

"If you say so," said Jazz. She was frowning. "Danny... Let's share a room tonight."

"What?"

"I don't like how those three were looking at you," she said. "I can't believe Mom and Dad didn't notice..."

"They don't notice anything," said Danny. He pulled Jazz into the dubious safety of his room. He didn't want to have this conversation out in the hallway. "Wait," he said, eyes flicking over the room. "Where's my suitcase?"

Jazz shrugged. "Kind of reminds me," she said, not quite whispering. "I was thinking about barricading the door."

Danny hissed through his teeth. "I put my thermos up here when we went to eat. It's gone, too."

"If this were a horror movie, this would be when we yelled at the screen for the characters to leave."

"Think we can convince Mom and Dad?"

"Maybe together?"

Danny shrugged. "Let's give it a try."

They left the bedroom, and knocked on their parents' door. There was no answer.

Jazz frowned. "Maybe they have their earplugs in already," she said. "Can you, you know." She made a gesture where her arms crossed each other.

"Let's see," he said, going back to the bedroom. He waited until Jazz shut the door to turn invisible and phase through the wall.

Passing through the wall felt... odd. Like walking through layers of cobwebs. He shook his head as if to clear it and surveyed the room. Jack and Maddie were already in bed. He made a face and stepped back into the other room, becoming visible and tangible for Jazz.

"They're asleep," he said, shaking his head.

"First thing tomorrow morning, then," Jazz said, wringing her hands. "Maybe- Do you think we should sleep in the GAV? Put up the ghost shield?"

"I'm not even sure that this is a ghost," said Danny. He walked around the bed, part of him still looking for his missing suitcase. "But you have a point, I just..." He glanced at the wall his room shared with his parents'. If he and Jazz slept in the GAV, Jazz would be very safe, but their parents would be vulnerable. If he stayed here, and Jazz slept in the GAV, she'd be safer than sleeping alone in the house, and his parents would be safer, but if something happened to her, he wouldn't be able to react to it, he wouldn't be able to protect her. "I don't know."

"Let's at least go down and look. Maybe you left your suitcase in there, after all?"

"I don't think so," said Danny.

"We can get the weapons locker."

Danny blinked. "I almost forgot about that. Yeah. Let's go."

They were halfway down the stairs when Jazz grabbed his shoulder. "What?" whispered Danny.

"I can't hear anything."

"Huh?"

"This house is old. These stairs creaked when we were walking on it before. Why isn't it now?"

Danny bit his lip. "Let's keep going." He put his hand on Jazz's and made them both invisible.

"I can't see my feet," said Jazz.

"Just be careful," said Danny, continuing down the stairs. "I'm going to phase us through the front door, okay?"

"Fine."

It was still twilight when they stepped outside, the first stars just beginning to show. It wasn't hard for them to navigate, slipping around the white car, but when they did, and finally got a good look at the GAV, they froze.

Jazz said something very un-Jazz-like. Danny let his invisibility fade.

"What happened?" asked Jazz, in shock.

"It looks like someone beat it with a crowbar," said Danny, almost reverently, touching the crumpled metal. "A really big, really fast crowbar."

"Danny, this glass is supposed to be bulletproof."

"And ghost-proof," agreed Danny. "Let's go barricade your room. Think it can get through a dresser?"

.

The thing about being under high levels of stress for long periods of time was that it was tiring. Exhausting, even. So, even though Danny didn't intend to sleep, he did.

He woke up unable to move, something heavy weighing down his chest. His eyes fluttered open. Something huge and dark, the shadow he'd only glimpsed before, loomed over him, pressed down on him. He could see Jazz's bright hair hanging off of the bed above him. He tried to call out, to warn her, to get her to run, but he couldn't speak.

He couldn't breathe-

.

When his eyes opened again, light was weakly streaming through the thick glass of the windows, making the dust in the room sparkle gold. He sat straight up, breathing hard. He was still in Jazz's room, the dresser pulled across the doorway. Why do that and then leave him here? It didn't make sense.

"What's wrong?" asked Jazz, voice deep and crackled with sleep. She yawned.

Danny told her.

"That sounds like sleep paralysis."

"Like what now?"

"Sleep paralysis," said Jazz. She yawned again. "Some people get it. They wake up, but they're still asleep and they can't move. And also they hallucinate."

"That sounds fake."

"You sound fake."

"You know what? That's fair. That's actually fair. This whole situation sounds fake, so why not add sleep paralysis to the whole thing? It's better than an actual literal demon." He took a deep breath. "What do we do now?"

Jazz licked her lips and ran a hand through her hair.

"We tell them that the GAV has been trashed, that those women were staring at you like they wanted to eat you all dinner, and that your clothes were stolen. And then I'll spell it out for them, if I have to."

"What, that this place is probably haunted or possessed and Dad's cousin is a witch?"

"No," said Jazz, making a face. "That'll probably only make them want to stay even more. That those three are probably pedophiles who stole your clothing and wrecked the GAV so we couldn't leave, and that neither of us felt safe sleeping alone. Sorry. Then we'll make them call a cab."

"No, no, that's fine. That's a better explanation than I could come up with. Let's do that. I would honestly rather stay at Vlad's than here."

"Yeah," Jazz dragged her hand through her hair again, and grimaced. "Let me get dressed, first. Do you see my brush over there?"

"No," said Danny.

Jazz looked around the room. "Actually... Where is my suitcase?"

"It was-" Danny stopped. "It was in that corner when we came in, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," said Jazz. "Okay, forget getting dressed. We're talking to Mom and Dad now." She swung out of bed and made her way to the door.

Danny phased through her, so he would reach the dresser first and easily pushed it out of the way. He stuck his head out the door, looking both ways for Cordelia and the borders.

The door to the room next to Jazz's, their parent's room, was open.

"Shoot," said Danny. He walked over. "They're not here."

"Downstairs? Maybe they went to get breakfast." Jazz emerged from the room crossing her arms over her chest.

"Maybe," said Danny. He had a bad feeling about this.

Cautiously, they made their way down the stairs and peered into the kitchen. No one was there.

"Hello, children," said Cordelia, directly behind them.

They jumped, both trying to get away and spin at the same time. Jazz clipped her elbow on the doorway and almost fell. Danny caught her and pulled her back up.

"If you are looking for your parents, you just missed them."

"What do you mean?" asked Jazz, a little more sharply than she usually would.

"I mean, they just left," said Cordelia mildly. "They took that vehicle of yours to town to go shopping. Something about not eating me out of my house. It was very kind of them."

"But the GAV was wrecked..." said Jazz, even as Danny gave a tug on her arm.

"Was it?" asked Cordelia, smiling. "It seemed fine when they left. You should get dressed, though, Jasmine, and, Daniel, are those the clothes you were wearing yesterday?"

"Our clothes are gone," said Jazz.

"You left them in your car? Well, no wonder you're looking for your parents. I think I might have some old clothes that will fit you. Come along, now." She turned.

Possibilities tumbled through Danny's head. A large part of him wanted to just grab Jazz and fly away to find their parents in town, but he estimated that there was a pretty good chance that they weren't in town, but trapped here somewhere. Jazz had apparently made that same calculation, because she was giving him the 'don't you dare use your powers' head shake.

Fine. Okay. Play along it was, then.

Cordelia lead them into a dusty ground floor room full of chests. She opened one, knocking free a number of cobwebs. "These are a little old fashioned, I'm afraid, Daniel, but it has been a while since a boy your age lived here." She handed him a small, neat stack of clothing. "And these are for you, Jasmine. I wore them when I was about your age. I grew a few inches, after that."

"Right," said Jazz, already backing away. "We'll just go... change... then. Right Danny?"

"Yeah," said Danny.

Jazz didn't speak to him until they were back upstairs. "What now?"

"Now," said Danny, "I go ghost and see if Mom and Dad are trapped in a dungeon under the house or something. If not, I take you and get the heck out of here. If they are, I rescue them, we get the heck out of here. We'll steal Cordelia's car or something."

"Not much of a plan."

"Don't kid yourself. We never have a plan. Do you want to get dressed, first, or...?"

"Pass."

"I'll have to bring you with me. I don't want to leave you alone up here while I'm searching," warned Danny.

"I know. I don't want to be alone here, either."

Danny took a breath and-

Did not go ghost. He doubled over, gasping for breath, transformation rings flickering to nothing around him as the shadows pressed inward, suffocating him. The huge fingers around his chest- The almost-human silhouette-

"Danny?" asked Jazz, alarmed, shaking his shoulder. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

"Not," wheezed Danny, "sleep paralysis."

The shadows crept up over his eyes and everything went dark.

.

When he woke up, he was wearing different clothes. Very different clothes. They were all white and loose. He wasn't sure if he should call them robes, but they had that kind of feeling. His shoes were gone. He was in his guest room, on the bed. Jazz was nowhere to be seen.

Danny should have taken his family and run as soon as he saw that not-ghost shadow. He swallowed, shaking, and clenched his fists. It was still here, watching him. He could feel it, even if he couldn't see it.

Okay. First step, get out of here.

He swung his feet off the bed. As soon as they touched the floor, something twined around his ankle and rapidly climbed up his leg. He gasped and yanked himself back, trying to free his knee from the shadow twisted around it. It held fast, firmly squeezing his thigh.

Danny growled. This wasn't the first shadow he had fought. He gathered ectoplasm in his hand and poured energy into it until it burned brighter than magnesium. The shadow retreated, and Danny scrambled to stand on the middle of the bed, ectoblast still in his fist.

"Now, now, no need for any of that."

Cordelia stood in the doorway, not the least bit surprised to see Danny wielding supernatural powers.

"Where's my family?" demanded Danny.

"Safe," said Cordelia, neutrally, "and they will continue to remain so."

Danny shifted, and the bed springs squealed. "What do you want?" he asked.

"My heritage. Come along. I will explain as we go." She turned in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. "Our shadow will not trouble you, should you follow now."

Danny clenched his jaw at the threat but gingerly climbed down from the bed and followed Cordelia across the frigid floor.

"Our last common ancestor was Elizabeth Nightingale," said Cordelia. "She was married to James Fenton. They had two children, John Fenton-Nightingale and Mary Fenton-Nightingale." She paused. "Elizabeth was knowledgeable in what would have been called witchcraft, and she was very, very good at it."

They climbed down the stairs to the first floor. All of the lights were off.

"But, as these things happen, she died. A mistake with a summoning." Cordelia turned into a long hallway Danny had missed in his earlier explorations of the house. "John and Mary were divided on how to handle her legacy. John," the name was said with anger, "decided that Elizabeth's craft, her knowledge, was evil, and decided to destroy it. He burned generations of Nightingale knowledge in a single night. When Mary tried to stop him, to salvage her mother's legacy, he tried to burn her, too. He denounced her as a witch."

"I'm sorry about that," said Danny. "I really am." After all, he knew exactly what that felt like. "But I don't see what that has to do with us. That was hundreds of years ago. A bit late for revenge, don't you think?" A sufficiently disturbed ghost wouldn't, but Cordelia was, as far as Danny could tell, human.

"This isn't about revenge," said Cordelia. "Besides, it has everything to do with you. Of the two of us, you are the one who met the man, Phantom."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's no need for you to play coy with me, young man," said Cordelia. "Why else do you think I put so much time and effort into getting you here? The magics to turn your town against your parents weren't child's play, after all." She bent and seized the corner of a rug, pulling it up and back to reveal a trap door. "Neither was calling the shadow to keep you bound." She lifted the ring handle on the trap door, pulling it open. "After you."

Danny stared down the dark hole below. There was a metal ladder, but he couldn't tell where it ended. A very faint light from somewhere to the right reflected off of some of the rungs.

"Is this where you reveal you're a cannibal?" asked Danny, unimpressed. "Is that what horror movie this is?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Although you and Jasmine refusing to eat with us last night made everything harder than it had to be."

That definitely wasn't Danny's stomach growling at the reminder that he hadn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday. "Drugged, was it?"

They stared at each other over the trap door.

"If you refuse to cooperate, we can always use Jack. Or Jasmine."

Danny's lips twitched as he held back a snarl. "Fine," he snapped, angrily climbing down, into the hole.

It turned out that the ladder wasn't terribly long after all. It descended into a basement of normal height.

That was, however, the only normal thing about the space. Far from simply being unfinished, the floor of the basement seemed to be stone. So were what little he could see of the walls. It was like the basement had been carved from one huge piece of bedrock, but that couldn't be possible. Danny didn't know, well, anything about geology, but he was pretty sure houses usually weren't built on stuff like this.

To the right, there was a small table with a single burning candle on it and two chairs, one on each side. Beyond that, Danny could make out a circle on the ground marked with chalk.

The cold feeling that had been plaguing Danny since yesterday was a hundred times stronger in this room. His core was alert, but the relief that his ghost sense usually brought just never came.

The strain was beginning to ache.

"Sit down," said Cordelia, indicating the chair closest to the chalk circle.

Danny complied, tense, and Cordelia moved the candle to one side, taking out a book and setting it on the table. The book was old and singed, the edges of the leather cover and several of the pages burnt and curled. Cordelia stroked it, reverently.

"This is all that Mary managed to salvage from the flames," she said. "Just this one book, out of so many. All that knowledge lost. Elizabeth was the last one to have it."

Danny heard movement in the dark corners of the room and turned his head to Sofia, Alison, and Morgan emerging, all of them in robes similar to his own, but in their own colors. They came close, and grabbed the back and arms of his chair.

"You asked me what I wanted. I want Elizabeth Nightingale."

A surprised laugh, almost a scoff, forced its way between Danny's lips. "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't exactly have her in my back pocket. Do these pants even have pockets?"

"You might not have her," said Cordelia, annoyance creeping into her otherwise level tone, "but you can get her. Bring her back from beyond."

"Uh, not sure what's in your book, but, contrary to popular belief, not all dead people know each other. She might not even be a ghost. She might have moved on."

"She hasn't," said Cordelia, almost smiling. "Not with the summoning she was doing. We are going to send you to her, and you are going to bring her back." She tilted her head to one side. "We could do this with any blood relative. The original plan was to use Jack, but your condition makes you so much more open to this kind of thing. Your chances of success are much higher."

Danny crossed his arms. "And if I don't succeed, you'll make Dad and Jazz try."

"That's right."

"Why don't you do it?" asked Danny. "You're a blood relative, aren't you?"

"Sadly, the ritual requires four people."

"Yeah, that's the only reason, huh?" said Danny, because he liked to antagonize people he couldn't strike back against in other ways, and also because he was an idiot.

"As I said, we can always use one of the others if you do not cooperate."

"And you'll let us all go if I do?"

"If you bring back Elizabeth, yes."

"Fine," said Danny. "What do I need to do?"

"Very little," said Cordelia. "Give me your hand. Your right hand."

Reluctantly, Danny held out his hand. Cordelia took it and wrapped a thin, white cord around it.

"That will lead you to her."

"I thought you were sending me to her," said Danny.

"You won't be in exactly the same spot," said Cordelia.

Then she whipped a knife out from under the table and sliced deeply into Danny's hand. He pushed back, away, holding his bleeding hand close to his chest. The only reason the chair didn't tip back was because the other three witches were holding on to it.

"Go stand in the circle," ordered Cordelia.

In a fit of pique, Danny phased backwards through the three women holding the chair, not bothering to wait for them to move away to let him go. The shadow pushed uncomfortably against his shoulders, but did not otherwise protest.

The circle was simple, no runes or symbols, just a single line of white chalk on the dark stone. Danny stared at it for a long moment, before stepping over it and standing at the center, his elbow dripping blood as it ran down his arm from his hand.

"Alright, girls, you know what we need to do," said Cordelia.

.

Danny stood in a field of washed-out red grass. Overhead, the sky billowed with rolling, boiling gray clouds. They seemed too close. The air smelled of smoke. The horizon was blurred and warped, as if Danny were looking at it through thick, wavy glass, or as if in a dream.

This wasn't the Ghost Zone.

He took a deep breath, the smoke washing through him. Okay. He was here. Now he needed to find Elizabeth Nightingale.

He looked down at his hand. The white cord had been turned red with his blood, and it had grown longer, reaching back over his shoulder.

"Eat your hear out, Ariadne," muttered Danny. He looked over his shoulder.

A forest was on fire.

The tall, straight, slender trees burned from their tops, like candles. Their trunks were bare, entirely free of leaves, needles, or branches. Danny should have felt the heat, even at this distance. He didn't.

The bloody cord led between the trees.

"Right," muttered Danny, "because nothing can be easy."

Resigned, he started walking towards the trees and discovered that the 'grass' on the ground actually consisted of thin-walled ceramic-like tubes. Fragile ceramic tubes. The ones he stepped on shattered and cut into his bare feet. He hissed, resisting the urge to hop around and get even more shards stuck into him. The bottoms of his feet felt wet and hot. He tried to phase the shards out and couldn't.

"Is this hell?" asked Danny, aloud. "This has to be hell. Ancients."

He couldn't feel the shadow near him anymore, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. Despite the 'grass,' he hesitated to try and go ghost to fly over it. He didn't want to pass out onto the tubes and break them even more. He didn't want those shards in his face or hands.

The squelching of his blood as he shifted his weight decided it for him. He couldn't walk over all of this.

He sent one last look around him for the shadow and summoned his rings. He was relieved when they flowed smoothly over him, transforming him into a ghost, into Phantom.

His normal hazmat suit did not appear, however. Instead, the white robes he had been dressed in turned black. Danny frowned at this. He was not a fan. He wanted his hazmat back.

Whatever. There were more important things to focus on. For example, both his blood and the cord had turned a lurid, ectoplasmic green. Much easier to see against the red-hued backdrop of this world.

He lifted up off the ground and flew on, occasionally pausing to pull shards out of his feet. His accelerated healing made the wounds scab over quickly. The cut on his hand, however, continued to bleed freely. This was beginning to concern him. He didn't have an infinite supply of blood. Or ectoplasm. Whatever.

As he approached the burning forest, he expected to start feeling heat, but even when he was right at the treeline, hovering midway up the impossibly tall, thin tree trunks, he couldn't feel anything. It wasn't hot. It wasn't cold. The smoke didn't smell any stronger.

Even so, he knew fire didn't have to be hot to burn. Fire was a chemical reaction, and Danny had no intention of being one of the reactants.

That was, if this place obeyed anything like normal physical laws. Since the trees hadn't actually burned down at all, the fire staying at the same height, he had to conclude that they didn't.

Still. He was going to stay away from the fire. Briefly, he considered flying over the forest, but the cord angled ever so slightly down, and he didn't know how the cord would fare trailing through the fire. Nothing the witches had said made him think it was indestructible.

He flew under the fires. It was bright underneath the trees, in a sort of inverse of a real forest. Bright, dry, and somehow brittle. Danny flew cautiously. This might nor be the Ghost Zone, but he didn't trust it not to have carnivorous landscape features, and even Earthly forests had their dangers. Lions and tigers and bears.

Oh my.

The angle on the cord began to point down more sharply. Danny was getting closer. The forest was also becoming stranger. The tree trunks bled, and glowing eight-legged flies licked at the ichor. Flowers of sickly fire bloomed from the ground in intricate geometric patterns.

Then, amid the burning brightness, Danny saw a house. A big house. A castle, even, its sides built into the burning trees, its pennants alight with flame, smaller fires moving, no, patrolling the battlements.

Danny quickly went invisible. He had a horrible suspicion that Elizabeth would be in the dungeons of that castle. The cord was going to make him hilariously easy to see, not to mention that he was still dripping blood. This was going to suck so much.

But as Danny approached, the fire creatures did not appear to have noticed the cord at all. Some of them even passed through it without slowing down.

Okay. So, as shocking as it was, Danny had actually caught a break.

Slowly, relying on the fire creatures to open the doors, Danny made his way through the castle and down. Down. Down.

The walls down here glowed, as if with heat, but it was a dull, old, tired glow. A rosy cherry color that burned Danny's eyes and made his head pound. Doors in the walls were made of wood that burned from the inside, veins of embers streaking their surface. The bars set in them glowed white-orange.

The green cord snaked across the floor and wove in between the bars of one of these doors.

Danny stopped. He was quite sure Elizabeth was behind that door. But...

Was freeing her the right thing to do? He had gotten the impression that she was dangerous. At least as dangerous as those witches. Even to save his family, should he set someone like that loose on the world?

But Danny had made this decision and all decisions like it the moment he died in the portal. That was the essence of an Obsession.

Besides. Elizabeth was family, too.

He held out his hands, letting frost form on his fingers and palms and pressed them against the door. Once again, he wondered why he couldn't feel any heat. He should. His ice should at least be registering the pressure, the power drain, of something trying to melt it. It didn't.

Ice spread over the door, extinguishing the light and making the metal creak. Feathery tendrils wound up the bars and encased the hinges. The wood began to fall into ash, as if the fire had been the only thing holding it together, and the bars clattered to the ground.

The inside of the cell was incandescent white. The only dark spot was a huddled, burnt black figure in the corner. The cord let straight to it.

Danny, very emphatically, did not want to go into that room. He hovered at the threshold.

"Elizabeth Nightingale?" he called, softly. If the falling bars hadn't alerted the fire creatures to his presence, he wasn't going to ruin that luck by speaking too loud. "Elizabeth?"

The figure abruptly lurched sideways and fell. Danny flinched. Bit by bit, the figure clawed their way towards the door, dragging itself onward.

Danny could hardly bring himself to watch. Part of him wanted to help. Part of him wanted to run far, far away and never come back.

But, at last, the ruined and horrible body made it to the threshold. It reached up with a claw-like hand and grasped Danny's ankle. He cringed at the feeling of the flaking burnt flesh, but didn't try to shake off the hand. He bent slightly, unsure if he should try to help the figure up.

"You," rasped the figure, ash falling from its jaw, "not from here."

"Um," said Danny. "No. I'm not."

The figure began to pull itself up. As it did so, it sort of began to piece itself back together. Danny had seen similar things before, with ghosts returning to their base form, healing, after an unusually devastating attack. Usually, though, it was slower and usually-

Danny abruptly pulled away. Usually ghosts who were doing that were draining his energy to do it. He glared.

"One of mine?" asked the figure, that was now decidedly feminine. It finally drew itself to its knees. Her knees. "One of my," she coughed, "grandchildren?"

"I'm a descendant of yours, I guess," said Danny, cautiously. He wasn't quite pressed up against the far wall, but he was close.

"You came for me," she said. Her voice was still too rough and dry for Danny to detect any emotion in it.

"I was sent," said Danny, flatly. "If I pick you up, are you going to start draining me again?"

She didn't respond for a long time. "No," she said, finally.

"Great," said Danny. "Let's go."

Elizabeth wasn't hard to carry. She wasn't much larger than Jazz, and he flew her around all the time. The problem was, he couldn't seem to extend his invisibility to her. Any power he sent to cover her was simply absorbed.

"Okay," he said, finally. "We'll just have to be fast, then." Mentally, he began to map out the path he would have to take, and how many doors he would have to blow down. It made for a discouraging picture.

"They can't harm you," croaked Elizabeth.

"What?"

"Pure soul. They can't harm you." She reached up to trace his chin and cheek with her still-charred fingers. "You don't feel the heat. You can't. You can't be harmed."

"Uh. Yeah. I don't think that's how it works. I stepped on some sharp stuff when I first got here, and, let me tell you, it hurt."

"The fires can't burn you. Sending you was clever." Elizabeth seemed to have exhausted herself at that; her hand fell back into her lap.

Right. Well. Whatever. The fires hadn't burnt him yet, but he had stayed well away from them. He was going to continue to do so.

He took a deep breath and flew out of the dungeons as quickly as he could. As expected, the fire creatures spotted him quickly, and they began to shout and shriek in a language Danny couldn't even begin to understand.

They also threw fireballs. And fire spears. And fire chains. Just, a lot of things made out of fire.

It was a good thing Danny had ice powers. Otherwise he would have had a hard time combating all this. A few fireballs passed far too close to his head for comfort. His ice also seemed to be unusually effective on doors.

Finally, Danny was able to get above ground, and, no longer constrained to follow the cord around his wrist, he escaped through a window. He spiraled up, almost high enough to hit the underside of the flames licking at the trees, and then dove away.

"So," he said, "what now?"

"You don't know?" Elizabeth looked a lot better now. Almost human.

"I wasn't given a whole lot of information when they coerced me into doing this. They just said to follow the cord to you, and I did that." Speaking of which, what had happened to the cord? It had just vanished, without Danny even noticing. "I was half-expecting to just get zapped back the moment I found you."

"Coerced?"

"They said they'd make my dad or my sister do this, if I didn't, and they can't fly."

"They're alive."

"Yeah."

There was something like a frown on Elizabeth's face. "They shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah. You don't have to tell me that." More shrieks were approaching from the direction of the castle. "They did this with one of your books. Please tell me you know how to get out of here."

Elizabeth licked her lips. Her tongue was pink. "We go out where you came in," she said.

Danny looked at the trees around him. He only knew where the castle was because of the noises coming from that direction. Otherwise, everything looked the same in every direction. He was pretty sure that even if he went back to the castle, he wouldn't be able to tell which direction he had approached it from, and after that...

They were screwed.

"Follow the blood," said Elizabeth.

It was better than nothing, Danny supposed. His green blood did stand out against the red, but he's been high in the air when he shed it. Following that trail was going to suck, and it still required going back to the castle and avoiding all the fire creatures.

Some of this must have shown on his face, because Elizabeth said, "Not like that, boy, look." She pointed to the small puddle of ectoplasm that had dripped from his hand while they had been talking.

Flowers and vines were growing from it. Ghostly green and blue flowers and vines. As he watched, the vines grew longer, the flowers opened wider.

"Oh," Danny said. "I guess that makes things easier."

.

Easier was, of course, a relative term. Was following the trail left by ghostly plants growing out of Danny's blood easier than stumbling blindly around the burning forest? Yes. Was it easy? No. No it was not. Especially not with the fire creatures hunting them through the trees and how far apart the blood spatters could be.

Still. Danny was able to follow the trail for an hour before the fire creatures caught up to him.

When they did, they seemed almost, confused. They didn't attack. It was like they were waiting for something.

Danny would have run, but he was worried that he'd lose the trail if he tried to do that, and he didn't think he'd be able to find it again. He and the fire creatures stared each other down. Every few seconds, one of them would make a noise and another would answer.

Rapidly, Danny was becoming surrounded. He would have to make his move soon. He really didn't want to lose the trail, but he didn't think he could win this fight.

Too many enemies. Too much fire. Maybe if he flew straight up, he-

The fire creatures attacked. Danny ducked, wove, and conjured shields of ice and ectoenergy, but there was a limit to what he could do against this many attackers, especially while carrying Elizabeth.

He saw a ball of fire coming that he couldn't dodge and instinctively twisted to spare Elizabeth.

It splashed against him harmlessly.

Everything stopped. The fire creatures froze, even their flames going still, as though they were videos that had been paused. One began to wail, and then they all fled, disappearing into the brightness of the forest.

"A pure soul," said Elizabeth again. She patted his shoulder. Her skin was a burnt red, now. Her eyes were as blue as his were when he was human. Her frown was deeper, more obvious. "It was clever to send you... but they shouldn't have."

"Sure," said Danny, a little surprised. He scanned the trees, trying to see if any of the fire creatures were waiting in ambush. Seeing none, he continued.

.

They reached the field of tubes, and Danny followed his blood trail back to where he had lacerated his feet.

"Now what," he said.

"Land," said Elizabeth.

Danny grimaced, remembering what had happened to his feet the last time he had tried to walk here. He landed carefully on what looked like the thickest part of the vine growing from his blood-

-and was abruptly back in the chalk circle in Cordelia's basement.

The shadow pounced on him. Unprepared, Danny dropped Elizabeth and fell. Pain sparkled along his limbs as the shadow pulled at his ghost form. It was too much. The lack of sleep, the hunger, the stress, the energy he had spent finding Elizabeth and bringing her back, the blood loss and pain from the wound in his hand, his inability to protect his family, and now this attack. He curled up, trying to protect his head and hand, and abandoned his ghost form.

"Stop this at once!"

"Grandmother, I-"

"Call off this shadow."

A beat. "Very well." The shadow stopped its assault, and Danny stumbled up and out of the circle, scuffing the lines beyond all recognition. Cordelia and Elizabeth were the only women standing. The boarders were all kneeling, faces hidden.

"Grandmother, many times great grandmother, I greet you. I am Cordelia, the last descendant of your daughter, Mary, and I have labored long to bring you back to this world, so that your works will not be lost."

Elizabeth, Danny noted, was standing very straight, her skin sunburn-pink in all but a few places, her arms crossed over the burnt rags of what might have once been a shirt. She did not look pleased.

"So my works won't be lost," repeated Elizabeth.

"Your son betrayed you," said Cordelia. "He burned all your books, all your magics. This is all that survived." Cordelia held up the singed book.

Elizabeth pressed her eyelids together briefly. "And so, you forced your cousin, a child, into that place after me, rather than coming on your own?"

"There was no choice-"

"There is always a choice," said Elizabeth, cutting her off with a sharp gesture. "Better that book should have burned as well, and I was imprisoned forever. You were lucky in my captors. Others would have delighted in taking a pure soul as an ornament for their court, even if they couldn't have harmed him."

"You can't mean that-"

"I do. Is it true you have imprisoned the other members of this boy's family?"

"He would never have agreed, otherwise. Please, this is all we have left of our heritage. We need you. This was all necessary. I beg of you, teach us."

Danny began to back away, to the ladder. Maybe if he got out fast enough, he could trap them in the basement and look for Jazz and his parents.

"Do you know how I wound up there? In that place?" asked Elizabeth. "I went too far, and I ignored the rules. What's your name?"

"Cordelia."

"Cordelia. Cordelia Nightingale-Fenton?"

"Just Nightingale."

"I begin to see," said Elizabeth.

Danny was almost to the ladder. Maybe he could tap into his ghost powers a little bit and float up, quietly.

"If you had come to get me yourself, if you had even asked him-" Elizabeth gestured to where Danny had been. Both women did a double-take, and then their eyes traced up to where Danny currently was.

"What are you doing?" hissed Cordelia. This was the first time Danny had seen her visibly angry.

"Stop," said Elizabeth, grabbing Cordelia's shoulder. "What is your name, boy?"

"It's Daniel Fenton," said Cordelia, when Danny didn't answer.

Elizabeth considered Danny for a moment. "Go to your family, Daniel. Whatever curses or enchantments Cordelia cast on them should be lifted. Including that hate curse." She ran her fingers down Cordelia's arm. "Why on earth did you cast that?" Her eyes flicked back up. "Expect to receive my correspondence, Daniel Fenton."

.

Danny found Jazz and his parents in the attic. Their luggage was there, too, and Danny and Jazz's missing clothing. Maddie's cell phone was going off. Danny ignored it. He started shaking them. Slowly, they came awake.

"Danny?" said Jazz. She scrubbed at her eyes. "Ugh, what's that sound?"

"Mom's phone is going off."

"What?" said Maddie, groggily. "My phone?" She fumbled at her pocket. "Yes, what is it? Yes, this is Doctor Fenton. What? Well," this last word was a bit snide. "It's about time. We'll be there before the end of the day." She snapped the phone closed. "Jack, sweetheart, wake up, we're going back home. All the charges against us have been dropped, and they want us to look into a ghost attack. Apparently, Phantom didn't show up. As we knew he wouldn't."

"Huh? Ghost? Where?"

"In Amity Park, Jack."

"In Amity Park! Alright!" said Jack, jumping to his feet, and grabbing most of the luggage. "I knew they wouldn't last two days without us! Let's go, kids!"

He ran down the stairs. Maddie took a moment to look around, pursing her lips. "How did we get up here?" she asked. She shook her head, dismissing the question. "Do either of you kids know where Cordelia is?"

"She went out," said Danny. "To town. She won't be back 'til later."

"We'll have to leave a note, then. You two should get dressed before we go, or you'll have to try and do it in the GAV bathroom."

"So what really happened?" asked Jazz, after Maddie went down the stairs.

"Long story," said Danny, throwing on a pair of jeans, "and we really do need to leave. Fast." He took his luggage and rushed down the stairs.

.

Danny watched Cordelia's house shrink in the rear-view mirror of the GAV, right up until it shimmered out of existence like a mirage. He clenched his teeth. He had seen worse.

He turned in his seat and put his hands in his pockets, intending to brood over what had happened, but his hand encountered a stiff piece of paper that had definitely, absolutely, not been there before. Well. Elizabeth had said to expect her correspondence.

He pulled a crisp white envelope out of his pocket. On the front, in spidery cursive, was his name. He turned it over. On the back flap was written the name Elizabeth NF.

She was family. Distantly. He put his thumb under the back flap, and began to open the letter.

[leeknow-bestboy]

If You Close One Eye - Chapter One

Ships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, If you really squint you can notice Lix is into Binnie, Hyunjin was into everyone once

Characters: All the kids, The ex kid isn't here I edited him out, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Trigger warnings: panic attack, ptsd, original character death, homophobia, original character cheating, descriptive imagery.

Word count: 5277

Chapter: 1/?

Next chapter 

Tags: Murder Mystery, amateur detective minho, Soulmates, not your typical soulmate AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Slow Burn, Slow Build, good things take time let it slowburn, minho is singlehandedly responsible for the slow burn so blame him, no soulmates in this universe only they are, criminology student minho, art student jisung, POV Third Person, chan deserves better and he does indeed get better don't worry, art references please look stuff up, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, best sibling bond ever.

"If you close one eye, you can see what your soulmate sees"

Born with one eye an unnatural golden color, Minho and Jisung have been forced to cover them up with colored lenses in order to blend into society.

The magic to their eyes? Even they still didn't know.

This is the story of how criminology major and dance minor Lee Minho found himself hopelessly in love with the serial killer, local artist Han.

[Alternatively, let's see how long I can make these two dumbasses pine without one of them snapping. Edit: they finally did]

[Also WARNING: a HUGE amount of Jeongchan ahead, it's not subtle at all! So much fluff--]

As per usual, the playground was packed; children of all ages ran wild, squalling and laughing like the little menaces they were- all of them avoiding a short kid who couldn't be older than five, seated at the very end of the sandbox and holding back tears of offense and loneliness.

It's not that he got bullied, he wasn't. His mom raised a tough kid who'd bite back when he's bit, but no one would play with him now. Not with how he looks, they'd rather scream and run.

Five year olds shouldn't worry about that.

Rubbing his left eye- the good one, he could see a woman's shoulder and hair. Her smile, bright and comforting, wording out a song with no sound.

"Jisung!" His mother's voice rang aloud, recognizable and warm in the hostile environment.

"Baby," She called again, finding him and wrapping her son in her arms. For the moment, there was no strange woman- only his own mother.

Jisung sniffled. "I hate people." -These words that shouldn't be said by a child flowed so easily from his lips, as if it was the only reasonable conclusion.

"We need to talk about something" his mother's voice, once excited and lively sounded utterly defeated. Little did he know, it was the last time. Years of telling him he's perfect just the way he is, special and unique in a good way, definitely- have ended up making no difference in the end.

That day, he learned to put on contact lenses.

.

"I know you're upset about the divorce, but you have to accept that it happened."

The woman's voice, high pitched and unpleasant, drove Minho ever so slightly closer to the edge. By now he knew no adult in the world would ever take him seriously, so what was the point in sitting here and listening to her talk?

The woman pursed her lips, plump and telling of the many times they went under the scalpel. Tapping her foot, she hazily reminded Minho of his own mother when scolding was due.

"If you don't talk to me, that's fine. Nothing's going to change. I get paid by the hour you know, I can do this all day."

That being said, she was probably stressed- no therapist had ever gotten Minho to talk, he's been changing doctors since his hallucinations began, which adds to a little over three years now.

"Minho, I can't help you like this. Tell your mother I give up."

A sense of dread spread over the eight years old. Again, another adult doesn't get it. Another one giving up on him, leaving, and suddenly he wanted her to stay. Pretty badly he did, at the time.

"I don't care that my parents broke up, I've been seeing monsters all day"

The woman blinked, stunned into silence. At the tinge of tears he rubbed his right eye- and there it was, certain as ever; drawn with a sharpie, people with horns. In a moment, a pair of hands that weren't his took the drawing away and pulled out a new one, drawing harshly a sad smiley face.

Although he was a big boy, he cried right then, scared out of his mind and very confused. He cried so hard it almost slipped off- the contact lens hiding his mother's disgrace.

Looking up, the woman made no effort to comfort or dissolve his fright. Rather, she was scribbling down the whole ordeal. Taking notes, furiously assessing and picking him apart, she finished her analysis smugly and said,

"It's time we get you a prescription, my dear"

And that was definitely not the last of it.

.

"Oppa"

Minho groaned lowly, alerting the speaker to the fact he's been woken from sleep.

"Minho oppa!" the voice persisted. Fully intent on hanging up, Minho side glanced at the caller id to make sure it wasn't important.

"Motherfucker!" the voice on the other end rose. From the corner of the bed Doongie meowed, alarmed.

"Freaking shrimp, what do you think you're calling your oppa?" He blurted. This isn't a call he should skip.

"Egg laying bastard! Answer me when I call you!" His sister's comforting voice trickled out.

"Gremlin twarp!"

"ballerina!"

"Whiny child!"

"Prune old man!"

"spoiled princess!"

"Mean hoe!"

"-!" Wheeze.

"I got you, you horrible gay bitch"

"We're both gay, Ryu" He threw back.

It's been a while since she last called.

"Well, you live alone, so I assume you're doing much gayer things than I can do at home."

Minho started, failing to hold back his horrified gasp. "Ryujin, you're eighteen!" He exclaimed. It seemed like yesterday she was still following him around, like some baby duckling.

"She's being mean Doongie, like you three don't count." He added, Ryujin electing to ignore his comment.

"How's dance going?" her tone changed, turning softer. For all their differences, dance for sure has always been something both loved and loved together. From copying idols on TV, to taking ballet and hiphop together, Jazz too.

"I'm not in college for dance and you know it" He groaned, immediately softening as well.

"I miss it a lot. I wish I could do more than minor in it.." On the other side of the call Ryujin hummed, understanding. She has always known his passion best.

"You're good at what you do too. You'd make a kickass detective." She claimed.

"I'm not taking criminology to be a detective." Why she had to be reminded was beyond him. If anything he aimed to be an officer, someone to tell kids off if they mess with the neighborhood cats.

"I'm just saying you could be!" She defended- which wasn't wrong, if he played job openings right. He did have a knack for picking apart mystery books too, but that was nothing out of the usual.

"How's grad life?" He asked with genuine interest. Nothing could ever matter to him more.

"I asked Chelle out, finally." She said, and Minho couldn't help but notice the edge evident in her voice.

"What happened? Did she let you down? Should I come over?" The questions left his lips before he could consider them, worry clouding over him.

"No, it's nothing like that. She said yes, but.. Yeah, oppa, I really wish you were here. I need to talk to you, face to face. Mom misses you too." She ended lamely. It was so unlike her, Minho couldn't find it in him to correct the fact that it was only Ryu's mom and not his.

"Tell her I'll be visiting tonight then, I'll go get ready." He said, fully intent on making the sudden drive over. It was only a two hour ride over to his father's, where Ryujin and his step mother lived too. If he headed out now, he could make it before dinner.

"Really? You don't have to, I know you hate it here-" Her attempts of taking it back wouldn't work once he set his mind to do something.

"Really really. I miss my stinky troll sister too," He insisted. No way was he leaving her be. The moment something felt off with her, he knew he had to go make sure she's fine; there aren't many things as precious in his life as she is.

"Dumbass," she relented, voice worryingly relieved. "I'll go tell mom."

He smiled, tapping his nail on the headboard, now sitting up at his bed. "Bye"

She huffed, pausing for a moment before giving her last reply. "Goodbye, oppa. I love you."

.

Minho sighed, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

For what little time he spent at his father's place, a surprising amount of bad memories were made. Up until his teen years he wouldn't even enter, and every time after that made for a rich history; first panic attack, first time breaking a leg falling down the stairs, coming out, taking Ryu to junior prom- door shut in his face that time, claiming she was grounded for beating up the neighbor's son. First time stung by a bee, and that weekend when his father's doberman puppy bit him in play, tore open his front lip and got sent to a dog pound despite his protest.

'Come on,' he thought. 'You can do this. Count to three-' and at three he did, opened his car door and walked up through the front gate.

"Minho! How lovely to see you." Smiled his step mom, a warm, if not a tad unnerving woman.

"Nice to so see you too. How have you been?" He asked, clean-cut manners kicking in. Dal and Byul had meanwhile made their way running over to the door, immediately rubbing against him with some level of desperation. He leaned down, rubbing Dal's small head.

"I've been well, your father too- that's right! Honey, come say hi to Minho." The short, lean woman called, still blocking the entrance to the oversized house and keeping Minho at the door. Whether this was on purpose shall forever remain a mystery- she did it every time.

"That brat has nothing to do in this house" His father's voice warmed over.

"Hi dad." He tried still, calling over the woman's shoulder. "Can I come in?"

Said obstacle smiled, moving aside at last. "Of course sweetie, Ryujin will be right over."

Taking that exchange for what it was, he made fast pace towards the kitchen. Avoiding his father has become a praised skill by now, a crucial one by all means.

"Dallie, Byulie, psps" he tried, pleased when both ran on over towards his outstretched hand. Two more allies at the ready.

Light steps cleared the remaining discomfort sullying his mood in short moments. "You!" A pair of arms tightened around his shoulders, prompting Minho to lift his little sister in a piggyback.

"You too!" He answered, relieved at feeling welcomed at last.

"I can't believe you actually came. Did you tell your mother you're over?" She asked, tactless as ever. He loves her a whole lot for that, too.

"She's not the boss of me, I'm twenty one" He announced, eyes closed in a content smile as his sister gently pet his hair like a cat.

"What about me? I'm almost nineteen, I wish I was free like you, Lino!" Exclaimed Ryujin, but really she didn't. There was a certain freedom gained from nobody caring about you that no one should be jealous of.

Letting her hop back onto the ground, Minho kept the smile on his face. She seemed fine, but he could tell better. Still, they couldn't talk before dinner- the pots and pans at the stovetop smelled just about ready, after all.

Instead he turned to face her, petting her head lovingly like she had his. "What's this? This tiny Ryuddaeng's nineteen? No way."

"Almost!" she growled. "Next month I'll be."

"Where have the times gone?" he questioned, shoving her playfully at the comments of "old man".

.

Dinner went as uncomfortably as expected, his father and he had behaved remarkably well- hadn't spoken a word to each other throughout. Minho ate neatly, made sure to compliment his step mother for every dish, and Ryujin helped by washing them after. All in all, it was successful unlike many dinners before.

Making way to the guest bedroom, Minho paused at the sight of his sister's door left slightly open. Right, yes- this would be a good time.

Knocking quietly, he waited for permission before entering and closing the door, waiting for Byul to enter alongside him. "Are you alright?"

Ryujin nodded, glancing up at him and back to the floor. He took that as a sign to take a seat down on her fancy dragon themed carpet.

"Are you really alright? Ryujin, I know we're not great communicators, but I'm still very worried. Is it dad?" At that his sister shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"Don't get mad, but I have a huge favor. You know Chelle, I swore I'll ask her out when I graduate and I did, but she…" Minho crossed and uncrossed his legs, chin finding its place resting on a knee. Byul purred, rubbing against it.

"She's missing. She's been missing for two weeks now, no one knows where she is." She explained, voice stern.

"I don't think she ran away, but her parents keep saying she did. She said nothing to me." She added, hoping he'd fill in the rest on his own.

"They're not filling in for missing person?" He asked, worry making his back stress and ace.

Ryujin nodded. "I know she's the bad girl type, but she wasn't into drugs and her friends seem fine. I keep trying to ask around but I can't, what if something serious happened?"

Minho nodded, realizing where he comes in. "You want me to investigate? See where that takes us?" He asked. For sure, that should be the police's job- but with her parents saying she ran away, would they even bother?

Ryujin kept quiet, eyes burning holes into Minho's. This was her crush, a big one- he's never liked Chelle, but now? If Ryujin cares that much… sure. It's not something he should be messing with legally, and a new project to be added atop his ever growing college work, but he'd do it for her. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ryujin asked back, relieved.

"Yes. I'll do it." He assured.

Ryujin's features softened farther, mouth breaking into a smile. "You're my new favorite person."

Minho smiled lightly, mind running full speed. "I need details. When and where she was last seen, and about her; exes, Instagram, friends and hangouts."

Ryujin's smile faded. Nonetheless she turned, pulling a notebook out of her bedside drawer.

Scribbling away the details he requested, she paused to ask a couple questions before turning back to her chore. "I know less than I thought." She admitted.

"That's fine, but I have a few more. How was her mental state, where did she study, was she on meds and did she mention any places?"

This kept on for a few hours, ending after they let an annoyed Byul out of the room - with Ryujin tiredly announcing that her brain is fried and he can ask the rest over chat when he's back in college. On his end, Minho learned one important thing:

This girl was not who she seemed to be.

.

Back at his apartment, Minho re-read all eleven papers of info they've gathered. On the way he's prepared a list of places to visit, only two of which stemmed from the info Ryujin herself had given him. Other than the school and family bistro down the street, it seemed the two have never gone out together, although Chelle was one to do so.

Good, he thought.

Scrolling through her Instagram, he noted which followers seemed to comment more, and who would show most often on highlights. Her latest post have been boring- it was landscape art of what he assumed to be a tall grass field on the outskirts of seoul. Around three months back he found a picture of some guy at the beach, shirt off and abs in clear view. Seeing as he looked nothing like Chelle, it would seem they weren't related.

Sorting through the packed comment section, someone's request to take it down stood out. Tapping on the person's icon, he realized that was probably the guy in the picture, although the account was made private. An ex? That would make a good trail.

Not having an account himself, by now Minho has used Ryujin's, but to follow guys it would seem he needs his own account.

Setting up all the necessities, he took a nice picture of Dori and made it his profile, sending the guy a follow request right away.

Now we wait.

.

"Oppa, if you have no photos or description and no followers, and he doesn't know you, did you really expect he'd approve your request?" Ryujin's laughter trickled through the speakers, as if it's been obvious. "You're going to have to find him." She pointed, before hesitantly adding, "Or I can-"

"No." Minho said, stern. "This guy could be Chelle's ex, he might be really dangerous! You don't get to follow his Instagram."

Ryujin sighed, and Minho got the sudden mental image of her rubbing the bridge of her nose as she did. "You have friends right? Ask one of them." She advised.

"I need to go, dad said I can't go out unless I finish these applications." She explained, hanging up after a round of goodbyes.

Right. He did! He has friends.

Picking his phone back up, Minho scrolled his contacts looking for either Felix or Hyunjin. The two weren't in his major, but they shared a dance class. Out of the student body, they were closest to his definition of friends.

A couple rings went by before the line picked up. "Hyung? Hello!" Felix's cheerful voice calmed the older's nerves ever so slightly.

"Felix, hi." He answered, trying to seem casual. "How are you?"

Felix took a moment before responding. "I'm great! I'm actually out with Chan hyung, is something up?"

"Who?" Minho asked, confused.

Felix took another moment. "Bang Chan. He's a fourth year in sociology, I don't think you'll know him."

Minho came close to a sob right then. "Can you pass him the phone?"

"Yeah sure." Felix agreed immediately, followed by ruttling sounds.

"Hello?" A voice sounded, accent similar to Felix's own.

"Hi! My name is Minho, I followed you on Instagram a couple days ago."

A short silence. "Oh my god." Chan exclaimed.

"No, never mind that, I need to talk to you." He rephrased.

"I have no idea who you are." Chan replied, confused.

"It's about Chelle." Minho added, hoping to learn anything from the other's reply.

"Oh." Was all he got. "Okay, I guess we should meet sometime then. How is she?"

The question caught Minho off guard.

"I, I'll tell you more when we meet. When are you free?" he asked, quickly seeking out a pen and scribbling the time and date on his wrist, phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, sounds great! See you then." He concluded, getting passed back to Felix and thanking him profoundly before hanging up.

"In my own college." He muttered after the phone found its place back on the table.

"Unbelievable."

.

Not many people occupied the café, despite its convenient location not far off the olympic park. For that reason Minho concluded, the coffee there probably sucked.

It wasn't his intention to show fifteen minutes early, but his nerves got the best of him, taking shape in miserable pacing until he deemed it late enough to leave his apartment already. Worst case scenarios running through his mind, he wasn't expecting it as someone took seat in the chair opposite of his.

"Hello. It's Minho, right?" Asked the stranger, dimples forming in an awkward smile.

"Ah." Minho voiced dumbly before quickly picking himself up adding,

"You're Chan?"

In the short time that passed between first learning of Chan's existence and actually seeing him, Minho's mind managed to fill with expectations and fears, all of which shattered right in that moment.

First of all, the guy in the picture had very defined abs and arm muscles, making it seem as if he'd be your average muscle-head, someone who could pull apart limbs off boys like Minho- a description that apparently had nothing in common with the hesitant and awkward person in front of him. Rather, he found that this Chan was a tad shorter than him, barely filling the light gray sweater he threw on.

Secondly, while the photo showed a man with straight dark brown hair, the man in front of him had soft blond curls that seemed so, so fluffy- invoking a primal urge to pet them in, Minho assumed, not only himself, but also every innocent bystander.

Lastly, by the amount of english in his Instagram description, one would expect an obvious accent, but that had been proven false on the phone call anyway. Regardless, Minho imagined a foreigner, so seeing his face up close had been a surprise on its own, especially considering the smile… he was, how would he put it? Cute.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you. I was worrying I'd be early, but it's good to see you are too." Minho could only half process the words, a glance at his phone telling him they both still had around ten minutes before the planned meetup time.

"Right! Right, I wanted to talk to you." Minho started, forcibly clearing his mind of any strange thoughts.

"You said it was about Chelle? I assume you're her new boyfriend?" Chan asked, voice a bit strained.

"No, It's not like that. I wanted to know if you've heard from her for the last couple weeks." Minho replied, quick to correct him so to not make things needlessly awkward. Right, he thought- Chan still might have had something to do with this girl's disappearance.

"Oh, well, I actually hadn't, I try not to do that anymore. We didn't end things on good terms." Chan confessed, picking Minho's interest.

"What happened?" He asked, worries picking back up.

Chan paused. "Are you her friend? This kind of thing is a little personal, I don't want it to affect your friendship."

Minho blinked, thinking up a smaller scale storm. "I live in her neighborhood. We're not very close, but some things happened that made me look for you."

Chan hesitated, saved by the waiter's interruption asking which drinks the two would have. Still suspicious, Minho only ordered a small iced americano, Chan matching with a small iced tea.

"You probably know we dated for around two months, it ended after I found she was cheating for a long time."

Minho's breath hitched, dangerously close to choking on his coffee. "She cheated on you?"

Chan's expression fluttered before he nodded, sheepish smile back on. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it? I couldn't hold her attention. At least, the others didn't know."

Minho gaped, unsure how to handle the new information. Chelle, the girl Ryujin asked him to look for. Was that her true nature? "What do you mean others?"

Chan's embarrassment grew, yet he didn't look away. "We were around.. five, I think.. that I know of. I followed her for a bit."

The awkwardness settled, leaving both speechless.

"Okay, I'm really sorry but I still need to ask you a couple more things." Minho was the first to break the silence.

"Go ahead." Chan smiled in relief.

"Were you mad? Wait, no- Can you think of anyone who could have held a grudge against her? More than, I guess, this."

Chan shook his head. "She's a really nice girl! She has some serious issues, but I liked her a lot at the time."

Minho bit his lip, ready to push on. "Chan, I'm going to be honest with you.. Chelle's been missing for over two weeks now."

If Chan was drinking at the moment, it would have been his turn to choke. "What?" he asked, voice steady.

"I got in touch with you because right now, nobody knows where she is. Or someone does know, but I don't" Minho explained, hoping his message went through alright.

"Are you sure she's not ghosting you? She might be." Chan offered. Minho stiffened. If Chelle was fine, if she was ghosting his sister- there will be hell to pay.

"I don't think so?" he continued anyway.

"I can't remember a specific person who would want to hurt her, but.. God, I'm worried. Chelle's gone? Like, kidnapped or.." Chan paused, taking deep breaths.

"If you have any information on where she could be, it would help a lot. I don't know her well, I'm not sure who else to ask either." Minho added.

"What do you want to know?" Chan asked, worry clouding his face in an unpleasant way. Minho almost felt, scratch that- he did feel really bad for the guy.

"Hangouts, friends, habits, names of other exes- mental state too, it's a little invasive but I can't find her otherwise." Chan stared, eye contact with Minho intensifying as neither averted their gaze.

"Okay." Chan replied after a while. "I don't really know you, but I guess it suits her. If anything happened, I wouldn't expect an officer anyway."

Slightly disturbed, Minho pulled his notes from his bag, offering Chan a big sheet of paper. Just like that, the two had begun- Just as Minho had with Ryujin before.

"I can't help with other Exes, I don't know any of their names. I do know where she hangs out usually." Chan supplied helpfully.

"Chelle, she's very into art. She thinks her art, only hers, is the best of the best. She considers herself an undiscovered gem, that kind of mentality. She'll do anything for exposure, and she likes compliments a lot." Chan bit his lip, pausing in his writing.

"She's not on good terms with her parents, and sometimes I remember, she said she wanted to run away. She has horrible mood swings, but when she's happy she can be the sweetest, most considerate person in the world. I think she had too much love in her, that's why…" Chan trailed off, sighing before shaking his head and writing down some more details.

"I'm not okay with that, you know? It's the worst kind of betrayal, but I'm still so worried. I never wanted anything to happen to her, I don't wish that for anyone." Minho hummed, recalling back on his previous suspicion, how ridiculous it seemed now to think that of this person.

So it went on, the two of them coming up with important details and question marks to jot down. Before they knew it the sky turned dark, an impatient barista politely asking them to leave.

"You have my number, right?" Chan asked.

"I don't." Minho replied, glad Chan remembered. The two exchanged phones, filling in their details with some hesitation.

"Call me if you need anything, or if you find her." Chan added, eyes glinting under the streetlights.

"You too, call me if you remember anything important." Minho replied, parting with a wave goodbye and heading towards the bus station.

It was only on his way back that he recalled their first exchange through the phone, and how stupid it had been to expect anything else from a friend of Felix's, of all people.

Groaning lowly, Minho moved his bag up, staring at the paper pile stuffed inside it neatly. Ahead was, he expected, a night full of reading- all 38 new pages of details about this girl, who he found himself liking less and less with every passing statement.

.

Over an extended time period Minho had found himself visiting many different places to no avail. He tried asking around, dropping Chelle's name here and there for good measures, but it seemed that the girl had vanished into thin air. Her only legacy had been the outrageous rumors surrounding her name, such as dating kids much younger than herself and having sex to get her way in the art world. Really, Minho should have stopped there- he wanted nothing to do with this girl anymore, was happy even; happy that she didn't get to lay her hands on his sister. Yet he couldn't stop thinking, this girl.. She was missing, it was real, and not one soul other than him have made a single attempt to locate her. How could he give up now?

It had been a long day- visiting a bar from the list in the morning before moving to a café nearby and finishing one of his assignments, Minho decided to follow up on Chelle's tracks. Twelve days have passed since his meeting with Chan, and although his anxiety kept getting worse, the list of things to check kept getting shorter with every lead he crossed out.

This one had honestly been a lame lead, but he wanted to make the most out of it- a short trip out of seoul, to a grass patch stretching a couple miles that was similar to the one he saw on her Instagram. If he couldn't find her with anyone's help, he thought- maybe he should try to think like her more. This girl, where would she go? Who would she meet? What would she do? And for that this practice was important, too.

The land stretched, tall grass for as far as the eye could see. He roamed around, looking at the tall buildings that made his home from afar. From here, definitely- he recognized the scenery as the one she drew that time. Stepping back through the grass, it didn't make much of a difference from how far he's already been, but the moment felt special somehow.

Minho breathed in, a strong breeze blowing from the front and carrying the dust and pollution of the city with it. Bad air, even this far back. At least it was silent, no cars, no birds either- it felt peaceful. Minho stepped back again, pulling out his phone, intending to take a photo. A couple more steps back, and he tripped- landing on his butt in the grass.

It was there that he found her.

.

Jisung stretched, back aching after sleeping in so late.

"Good morning, and good luck falling back asleep at a normal hour." Seungmin commented. True that, Jisung managed to mess his sleep schedule pretty badly. Good thing it was friday.

Standing up, he considered responding before giving up and making his way to the kitchen.

"Ji," Seungmin spoke up once more,

"At least brush your teeth. I'm your roommate, not your mom- I shouldn't have to tell you this!" His voice, although annoyed, remained calm. He did have a point.

"Okay mom." Jisung replied, deadpan. Without another word he turned, entering the bathroom and picking up his toothbrush to do as instructed.

Life as an art major was hard- he had so much work to do in little time, and the pressure made it feel a little like a job. Nowadays his minor in music made for the only stress reliever he could put time into without guilt, and he wondered if maybe he should have chosen it for major instead. Useless thinking about it now, anyway.

Jisung went on brushing, releasing a small whine at the thought of his next assignment. Whatever- he rolled his eyes, raising a hand to rub the remains of sleep away.

Tall grass, the clear view of seoul from afar- blurring, moving, fast as if he was struck by lightning.

The toothbrush clinked loudly against the sink as it dropped, leaving Jisung with the reflection of himself in the mirror, left hand raised. He made quick way, spitting the paste and powerwalking back to their room, brushing against Seungmin on his way there.

"Jisung? Jisung, you can't just leave this here." Seungmin bristled, pausing at the sight of Jisung pulling out his sketchbook with the craze of someone going through a revelation.

He sighed, recognizing the scene in front of him. "Inspiration struck?"

Jisung hummed, wiping his mouth and beginning to sketch. This happened every once in a while, it was one of the things that made Jisung… well, Jisung.

"I'll clean up. Should I order takeout?" Seungmin asked, affection sneaking into his voice. He's a bit weird, but sometimes he was cute too.

"Thank you, please." Jisung replied absentmindedly, focused on the paper.

"I will. Okay." Seungmin concluded, fishing his phone out to call his favorite fast food handler.

To them, after all, it was nothing more than an average friday night.

[lonelypond]

Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

[darks-ink]

Third Time (’s a Charm)

Is the title a reference to the fact that we’re dealing with a trio of half-ghosts, or is it a reference to the fact that this is the third time I’ve written about the Accident for this event? Who knows!

Prompt: An AU where Sam and/or Tucker also gain ghost powers Prompt by: @dalv-co-official Word count: 9,036

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

“Nothing is going to happen,” Danny said, trying for bravado to hide the worry that niggled in his chest. “I’m gonna go in, check it out, and then come out. It will all be perfectly fine.”

“Yeah!” Tucker agreed, nudging Sam playfully. “Chill, dude. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Sam made a face at the two of them. “I don’t know, Danny. I have a bad feeling about this…”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her, softer now. His chest felt like a roaring void, a whirlpool of worry. “Come on, give me that jumpsuit if it’ll make you feel better.”

“You’re gonna look like an idiot.” She smiled a little as she passed it to him, though. “Your parents are a bad influence.”

“Well, it’s gotta do something, right?” Tucker cocked an eyebrow at the suit in Danny’s hands. “I mean, I don’t know about Mr. Fenton, but Mrs. Fenton has to have a reason to wear those things every day.”

“I think my dad is just very convincing.” Danny pressed the jumpsuit against his chest, guessing at the size. It looked about right. A recent creation, then. Lucky him. “I mean, look at me. I’m gonna be wearing the same thing and I don’t even know why.”

Tucker huffed, a smile on his face. “You know why.”

“Don’t give me that,” Danny bit back, unzipping the jumpsuit. “Now look away so I can put this on.”

“Doesn’t it go over your clothes?” Sam asked, before obligingly turning away. “I mean, I’m not an expert, but…”

“Maybe if they’re sized properly, but I grow too quickly for my parents to keep up.” Danny quickly took off his pants, then pulled up his jumpsuit until it rested at his hips. “So it’s tight, and that makes it a pain to wear over regular clothes.”

He stripped off his shirt as well, sticking his arms through the sleeves of his jumpsuit and pulling it up entirely. “Almost ready.”

“Just tell us when you are ready, man.” Tucker shook his head, not turning around. “I don’t want to see your pasty bare chest.”

“Uh, rude.” Danny zipped up the jumpsuit, then ducked down to grab the shoes and gloves. “You can look now. Just gotta put on the last bits.”

Sam turned around, then snorted. “Nice socks.”

“Your support is appreciated as always,” Danny retorted, pulling a black rubbery boot over his space-print socks. “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Yeah, speaking of support…” She reached over to his, then tugged on something on his chest. A sticker peeled off, which she helpfully flipped around to show him. “Bet you don’t want to go walking around with this on your chest.”

‘This’ was, in this case, a logo of Jack Fenton’s face.

Danny made a face. “I definitely do not. Sam, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Alright, alright, enough banter already.” Tucker batted at Sam until the logo stuck to his fingers. “Ugh, now it’s on me. I’m getting rid of this thing.”

“Please do!” Danny called after his retreating back. “Knowing Dad, he’s got another three dozen of those things lying around.”

“Don’t speak such horrors into being.” Sam swatted him in the shoulder, and Danny ducked down to pull on his other boot. “You should know better than that, Fenton.”

“You’re overestimating his intelligence,” Tucker replied, before Danny could. “I’ve thrown the sticker into a trashcan. It’s up to whoever is cleaning the lab from here.”

“Hey!” He stuck out his tongue at his two best friends. “Rude. Also, you’ve just made it my problem again by doing that.”

“Well, I’m not gonna burn it for you, man.” Tucker handed him one of the two gloves. “You can do that yourself if you survive this.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to die, Tucker. I’m just checking out the Portal from up close, and letting Sam take a few photos. Perfectly safe.”

“Nothing in this house is safe,” Sam pointed out, quirking an eyebrow. “Our lives are in peril every moment we spent here.”

“Alright, well.” He shrugged. No arguing with that. “In that case, we’re all gonna die sooner rather than later, and checking out the Portal isn’t gonna expedite that.”

“’Expedite’?” Tucker repeated. “Wow, big word. You learn that from Jazz?”

“You’re all bullying me, and I’m leaving.” Danny tugged on the second glove for effect, then pushed himself off of the table he was perched on. “Gonna walk right into the Portal, and this will be the last thing you’ve said to me before I die.”

“Thought you weren’t going to die?” Sam asked, picking up her camera again, slinging the loop around her neck. “You seemed very confident in that.”

He very much was not. Something about the Portal made his skin crawl, made him feel like he’d swallowed ice.

“Right,” he said, mustering a grin. “Well. It’s the point of it that matters.”

“Like you’re going to die without us anyway, dude.” Tucker huffed, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. “Let’s be real, we’re all in this together. Either that Portal explodes and takes all of us out, or nothing happens and we’re all fine.”

Sam shot him an icy look. “Just so we’re all clear, if something does happen, we’re blaming it on Tucker. Right?”

“Right,” Danny echoed. “You’ve brought this upon us, Tuck.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.” Tucker rolled his eyes, then shoved Danny towards the empty arch of the Portal. “You’ve said it a dozen times yourself. It doesn’t work. As long as you don’t electrocute yourself on a power cable, you’re safe as can be.”

“Yeah, no, double down.” Danny nodded, pausing in the mouth of the Portal. “That’s exactly what’s gonna fix this, Tucker. Double down on the promise of death.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tucker said, flapping a hand. “Sam and I will be right here, yeah?”

Sam nodded, lifting up her camera. “For real, Danny. If you’re dying, you’re taking both of us with you.”

“We have so many issues,” Danny declared, laughing. “Alright, well. I’m going.”

“Don’t die!” Tucker shouted after him. The Portal’s insides lit up with the flash of Sam’s camera.

A click sounded. Danny hadn’t even noticed the button before he pressed it.

“Uh,” was all he managed before everything turned green, then white, then black.

---

“We are so screwed,” Sam murmured in Danny’s ear, and he jerked awake. Huh. When had he passed out?

“I’m saying we blame Tuck,” Danny mumbled back, rubbing his eyes with his white-gloved hand.

Wait.

“Look who’s catching on!” Sam clapped him on the shoulder, and Danny scowled at her.

Uh.

“Are all colors weird for you guys too, or is that just me?” he asked Sam’s bright blue eyes and white hair. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sam wearing this much white.”

“It’s criminal,” she agreed breezily. “But don’t worry, your hair has also gone very white.”

“Aw, you didn’t even mention his ectoplasm green eyes.” Tucker crouched down next to Sam and, hey, his colors were all weird too. His golden yellow eyes crunched. “It matches the Portal behind you. Very nice.”

Danny paused, then turned to look over his shoulder. The Portal’s arch was still the same shiny metal as before, but its entire inside was concealed behind a wall of swirling green ectoplasm.

“So turns out that it just needed some human sacrifice,” Tucker added on, swatting Danny in the leg. “You can tell your parents that, in case they ever want to build another one.”

“Uh, no?” Danny turned to glare at Tucker. “You can tell my parents that, Tuck. You’re the one who tempted fate by saying we would all die together if it turned on.”

“I said it was gonna explode,” Tucker corrected, rolling his eyes. “And clearly it didn’t.”

“Ah, so I just imagined the bright blast of light that spilled out of the Portal?” Sam shoved him lightly. “Just admit it, Tucker, you’ve brought this upon us.”

“Me?” Tucker dramatically clasped a hand to his chest. “You are the one who talked Danny into going into that Portal. Equal blame.”

Danny sighed, pressing his forehead against his hand. “Alright, how about this. We’re all equally screwed. Can we please put some thought into the fact that we all appear to be ghosts?”

“Friends forever?” Tucker tried cheerfully. Sam kicked him in the shin for this suggestion. “Ow, jeez, I thought ghosts couldn’t feel?”

“Let me try.” Sam pinched Danny’s arm.

“Ow, Sam, why?” He swatted her away. “I already died, I don’t need this.”

“Looks like your parents were wrong about the unfeeling part of ghosts,” she decided, nodding to herself. “In both the physical and emotional way.”

“Great, brilliant, fantastic.” Danny clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of both of his friends back to him. “Can we please focus? We’re all ghosts. Now what?”

Sam and Tucker shared a look, then both shrugged.

“Depends,” Tucker decided. “Can we leave this house? Do we have to haunt somewhere specific? What are the rules to ghostly existence?”

“Why are you asking me?” Danny swept a hand around, gesturing at the lab. “Clearly my parents don’t know what they’re about, either!”

“I mean, they made the Portal,” Sam pointed out. “It killed us, yes, but it seems to work just fine now that it’s on.”

“Great.” He rolled his eyes. “Just needed a little blood sacrifice. I’m so glad.”

“Alright, smartass, so what do you suggest?” Sam crossed her arms, the glow around her body brightening in sync with her glare. “Your parents are the most dangerous to us, here!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Danny growled back, flailing his arms. “What I really want is for us to go back to being human, but—”

Something in his chest, in the very core of his being, stirred. His glow brightened into a flash of light, and Danny was forced to shut his eyes to avoid being blinded.

When the light faded away again, and Danny opened his eyes, he saw…

“Wow,” Tucker breathed, tugging on Danny’s white jumpsuit. “Dude, that’s crazy. Us next!”

“I don’t know how I did that!” Danny swatted Tucker’s cold hand away, feeling his heart thump up a storm. “I just felt something weird in my chest! Like I stirred something.”

“Something cold?” Sam asked, eyes wide. “Like…”

“Cold-hot-cold, constantly whirring?” Tucker finished for her, turning to stare at her. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, that was it.” Something buzzed underneath his heartbeat, and Danny paused for a moment to dissect the feeling. “Oh my god, I still feel it. It’s just… quieter.”

“Quieter,” Sam and Tucker chorused, looking at each other again.

Light flashed again.

“I can’t believe that that worked,” Tucker grumbled, straightening his now-red barrette. “I mean, seriously. What on Earth is going on?”

Danny made a face, turning to look behind him. The Portal’s surface still swirled, stirred by an unseen force. “I don’t think it’s anything from Earth, Tuck.”

“So we’re, what, in-betweeners?” He scoffed, and Danny turned back to look at him again. “A little human, a little ghost?”

“I don’t know, but you know what I do know?” Sam pushed herself up onto her feet. “I’m gonna go figure that out somewhere that isn’t here. We can tell Danny’s parents that we’ve been up in his room the whole time, or something.”

“Yeah, that… that sounds like a plan.” Danny scrambled up onto his feet as well, then offered a hand to Tucker to help him up too. “We need to figure out what this is. If it’s just temporary or what, and what the effects of it are.”

“You sound like a scientist,” Tucker complained, stumbling when he stood. “But I guess you’re right.”

“Up we go, then.” Danny grabbed his regular clothes, then paused. Nah. He could redress in his room. “Anyone else feeling like their skin is crawling just from being near the Portal?”

“Yeah,” both of his friends answered. They all stopped to look at each other.

“We are so messed up,” Tucker decided.

“Do you think they have ghost therapists?” Sam ducked to pick up her backpack, and Tucker did the same. “They have to be traumatized as all hell, right?”

“I thought we were, like, part ghosts?” Danny passed by them to head to the stairs first. “Wasn’t that what we just decided?”

“Half-ghost therapists, then,” Sam corrected. “Same difference.”

“I hate every part of this conversation.” Tucker started on the staircase behind Danny, then stopped. Looked at Sam over his shoulder. “Are you coming too, Sam?”

A click and a flash of light. Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah, sorry. Wanted to grab a quick picture.”

“Why, in case we ever need proof of how we got so messed up?” Tucker rolled his eyes before making an impatient gesture at Danny to continue up the stairs. “Seriously, someone’s gonna find that and it’ll disprove all our lies.”

“Chill, I know how to hide photos.” Sam’s heavy boots started clunking up the stairs as well. “It might come in handy later. Who knows?”

“I’m not listening to you two fight again,” Danny told them, stepping into the kitchen and turning around. “Seriously, guys, can we please focus on what’s happening?”

Tucker and Sam also stepped into the kitchen, sharing a look.

“Yeah, alright.” Tucker nodded. “Sam?”

“Uh huh.” She nodded back. “Sorry, Danny.”

“It’s… not fine, but, y’know. I get it.” He shook his head, turning back towards the living room, to the stairs up. “But we’ve got more important things to deal with.”

“You make it sound so ominous,” Tucker griped, his tone light and joking. “I mean, we only sort of died, you know?”

“You’re horrible,” Danny told him. “I’m making the executive decision that we’re gonna be silent until we reach my room. All in favor?”

“Aye,” Sam piped up, slapping a hand in Tucker’s face so he couldn’t reply. “Let’s do it.”

Danny laughed, leading the rest of the way up without another word. Even Tucker remained silent after Sam removed her hand.

Finally, the door to his room clicked shut. He hesitated for a brief moment, then turned the lock as well.

“Okay, so we’re in private. Now what?” Tucker asked, turning to look between Danny and Sam.

“Just so we’re all on one line,” Sam’s purple eyes darted between Danny and Tucker, “All three of us are now, like, half-ghost or something. Right?”

“Is that even possible?” Danny frowned. “Like, I know my parents don’t think ghost and human can be combined, but they obviously don’t know everything.”

“You think either of us have a better source of knowledge?” Tucker scoffed, shaking his head. “I mean, unless Sam just happens to have some kind of goth-guide about this stuff?”

She shook her head as well. “Nope, sorry. Guess we’ll have to figure this out ourselves.”

“Ugh,” Danny groaned, throwing himself backwards onto his bed. “Alright. First things first… What’s first?”

Tucker snorted. “How does this affect our health? How ghostly are we, and how human?”

“Those are two separate things,” Sam pointed out. “But, yeah, those sound like a good start. What are things we need to look out for?”

“We need to start a list,” Danny decided out-loud. He didn’t move to do so.

“Digital or on paper?” Sam asked, grabbing a leaf of paper off of Danny’s desk.

“Digital, duh.” Tucker raised a PDA in the air. “I mean, anyone might come across a sheet of paper with this kinda secret stuff on it.”

“And ghosts typically don’t combine well with electronics,” Danny pointed out, pushing himself up until he was sitting on his bed. “Sorry, Tuck, but I think it might be smarter to stick with paper for now.”

“We can always burn it for safety,” Sam pointed out, stealing a pen from Danny as well. “Okay, so to summarize: figure out health, figure out ghost-human balance, and things we need to look out for. Yeah?”

“Can we start sub lists?” Tucker dragged over a chair to their circle, plopping himself down. “Because I think we should look into those ghostly forms and possible ghost powers as well, but that falls under the ghost-human balance, I think.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. Maybe split ‘things we need to look out for’ into two categories? ‘Things that might be dangerous to us’ and ‘things we need to keep an eye on’?”

“Couldn’t you have suggested that before I wrote it down?” Sam scribbled on the paper, then nodded. “Alright, got it. Anything else?”

“How did we all become half-ghost, or whatever? I mean, I know I was in the Portal when it turned on, but what about you two?” Danny looked between Sam and Tucker.

“Well, I can answer that.” Tucker gestured at Sam and himself. “We were in front of the Portal, remember? When it turned on it pretty much exploded. Blasted all that energy and light outwards. Not sure after that, I think it knocked me out.”

“Same.” Sam frowned at the paper she held. “We definitely got hit in the splashback of the activation. Like, that surface? It kind of… spilled outwards, I guess? Before settling into the frame properly.”

“Hm.” Danny scratched his cheek, thinking. “Do you think that that makes a difference? That I was inside the Portal, and you two outside it?”

“What, like a difference in exposure?” Tucker shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe you’re a little more ghost, and we a little less?”

“I’ll add that to the list.”

Danny leaned back a little, prodding the ball of cold energy in his chest. “We need to do more research on ghosts in general, I think. You two still feeling that power thing?”

“In my chest? Yeah.” Sam tapped her pen on the paper. “It’s kind of quiet, now, but it picked up when I got angry at Tucker earlier.”

“Mine too,” Tucker supplied, kicking his foot against the leg of his chair. “Don’t ghosts have some sort of power center? What did your parents call it again?”

Danny hummed, running through his parents info-dumps about ghosts. “A… something with a C. Core? Yeah, I think that that was it. A ghost core.”

“This is exhausting,” Tucker decided, leaning back in his chair. “Like, both literally and metaphorically.”

“Amen,” Sam and Danny chorused.

They hung out in comfortable silence for a moment, before Danny broke it again. “Okay but like, what was up with that stuff earlier? When we looked like ghosts? Can we do that again? Should we do that again?”

“What do you mean, ‘should’?” Sam looked up from the paper to meet his eyes. “You think it might hurt us if we spend too much time as a human instead of a ghost?”

“I don’t know!” He flailed out his hands. “I don’t know any more about this stuff than you guys! But if we’re, like, half-and-half, that could be a thing, right? Or maybe regular shifting helps with the ghost core, or something.”

“Shouldn’t we figure out if we can keep shifting, first?” Tucker pointed out. “If we can’t shift, there’s no point in discussing its importance, right?”

“Okay, but I don’t think we should all go a the same time.” Sam tapped the pen on the edge of Danny’s desk. “We should use this opportunity to take a good look at each other’s ghost forms.”

“Why?” Danny frowned at her. “What’s the point?”

“There might be some kind of clue hidden in our ghost forms.” She shrugged. “And, even if there’s not, it would be nice to know what, exactly, we look like. Right?”

“Mirrors exist, Sam.”

“Ghosts are very perception-based, Tucker,” she countered. “Maybe there are details that you can’t see yourself.”

“So what if those details only show up to full humans, or full ghosts?”

“Guys,” Danny interrupted them. “Can we please chill on the squabbling? Who’s trying the shift first?”

“You,” they both replied, almost in sync, before sharing a startled look.

“You shifted back to human first,” Sam added, like it was an explanation. “And you were in the Portal, rather than outside it like us.”

“If any of us is more ghostly, or more powerful or whatever, it’s you,” Tucker tacked on.

Danny groaned, but, well. He couldn’t argue with that kind of reasoning.

“Don’t do it while lying down. Stand up,” Sam commanded, kicking him lightly in the shin. “You’ll have to get up when you turn ghostly anyway.”

“I want it to be acknowledged that I hate every part of this.” Danny jiggled his leg. “I’m changing clothes, first. That way we can see if our clothes are the same but inverted or if they were set when we got hit.”

“We’ll turn away.” Sam grabbed Tucker’s arm and turned him around.

“Thanks,” Danny told them dryly, chucking the black gloves onto his bed. He undressed and redressed quickly, then cleared his throat. “Alright, I’m gonna try the ghost thing.”

He prodded the ghost core in his chest. Mentally, of course. It stirred, kicked its whirring up a notch, but nothing else happened.

“Maybe you need to coax it?” Tucker suggested, brow creasing. “You said what you wanted from it last time, right?”

Danny scoffed. “What, so I gotta tell it that I want to go ghost?”

Light flashed. Danny stared down at his white boots.

“I hate this,” he declared. “Just so everyone knows.”

“Duly noted,” Sam told him, before twirling the pen in her hand. “Go turn, ghost-boy. Show us your spooky ghost form.”

“Hate this,” Danny reiterated, before slowly turning in a circle. He thought he could figure most of his appearance out already, since he’d only worn white and black when he went into the Portal. It wasn’t that hard to extrapolate from there, especially since both Sam and Tucker had white hair, and his black gloves and boots had clearly gone white as well. “Oooh, my colors flipped, I get it. What color are my eyes?”

“Green.” Tucker paused, like he was deliberating it. “Pretty much the color of ectoplasm, I guess. Very bright. They glow.”

“They glow?” Danny repeated. He glanced down at the glow around the rest of his body. “What, unlike the rest?”

“Oh, stop being an idiot.” Tucker swatted at him, and Danny caught the warm hand. “Rude. I thought ghosts were intangible?”

Well, that sounded like a challenge. Danny prayed this would work, felt the cold energy pour from his core, and smirked at Tucker.

And then promptly stuck his arm through Tucker’s shoulder.

“Dude,” Tucker swore, jerking away from Danny. “Warn a guy!”

“How’d you do that?” Sam asked, perking up even as Danny’s arm returned to its full opacity. “Can we all do that?”

“Spite, I guess.” He shrugged, prodding Tucker with his now tangible finger. “I just kind of willed it into being, and I felt the energy from my core run through me.”

“So, transparent is intangible…” Sam noted it down, then paused. “What are also basic ghost powers? Flight, right? Or floating, at least?”

“And invisibility, yeah.” Danny stared down at his hands. Invisibility and intangibility he didn’t really care about, but flight? That would be pretty cool.

He felt himself grow lighter, and grinned. His feet lifted off of the ground, and he leaned back. “That’s a yes on flight.”

“Dude, you can keep flight. I want to turn invisible!” Tucker declared, before promptly disappearing from sight. “Hey, why’d I go white?”

“Because you went invisible, moron.” Sam kicked the leg of Tucker’s chair for lack of actual leg, and he startled so badly he became visible again. She kicked him, too, for good measure. “Okay, so powers work in human form as well. What did you say you looked like?”

“Kinda white and transparent, I guess?” Tucker paused just in time for Danny’s flight to falter. He crashed down, thudding into the ground, and light flashed.

“Ugh,” he complained as his core churned loudly in his chest. “I think I ran out of ghost juice.”

“Alright, so we’ve got a limited amount of energy to run through, and if that runs out, we shift back to human.” Sam nodded, her pen scribbling quickly. “So we default back to human, it seems. Tucker, you next? Or did that little invisibility run you out entirely?”

“Uh, I dunno.” Tucker got up, then pulled Danny off of the floor as well. “Maybe if I don’t use any powers after shifting? We just want to look, right?”

Sam nodded, looking up from her paper. “Yeah. Let’s see how far you get. Go for it, Tuck.”

“Alright. Uh.” Tucker looked down at his chest, like he could prod his core better if he looked at it. Not that he could see it, but, y’know. “Going ghost?”

Light flashed once more, then withdrew until just a glow around Tucker remained.

“Please tell me my skin didn’t change color, too,” Tucker begged them, his eyes raising up to meet Danny’s. They were startlingly warm, a golden yellow. “That would kill me.”

“You’re already pretty dead,” Sam pointed out, ignoring the way Tucker’s eyes flared brighter when he glared at her. “And Danny’s skin didn’t change, did it? You’re fine.”

“Very warm, actually,” Danny commented, gesturing at Tucker’s outfit. “It’s all warm purple and orange. Well. Your hat is a little more cool-purple, but your pants are pretty orange.”

Tucker glanced down, as if to confirm, then made a face. “My pants? What about my sweater? What color is this even, magenta?”

He tugged on it, then twirled his hand. “Huh, it does look a little different from up close. Cooler?”

“Might be the ectoplasm underneath your skin.” Danny hummed, considering it. “Since you’ve got green underneath it instead of red?”

“Might be.” Tucker let of his sweater, then paused. Patted down his trousers until he found what he was looking for, pulling out… his PDA. Of course. “I can’t believe my PDA got ghost-ified, too. Look at it, all green and stuff.”

“Does it work?” Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Or has it literally died?”

Tucker blinked his luminous eyes at her, then turned them back to the PDA. He pressed a button, and the screen lit up. “Works,” he stated, somewhat unnecessarily. “But I felt that in my core. I think it might be connected?”

“Good to know.” She scribbled it down on the paper. Must’ve been using shorthand, because Danny was fairly sure she would’ve run out of paper by now. “I was wearing my camera, so that must be the case for me, too.”

“It it helps, I feel no desire to guard it with my very being,” Tucker explained, before pausing again. “Well, no more than usual, I guess.”

“Very comforting.” Sam noted this down, too. “You can shift back, if you want.”

“Going… human?” Tucker tried, and light washed over him. Left him standing in his regular clothes, still holding his PDA. “Hey, that worked!”

“Voice activated ghost-core.” Danny grinned at his friends. “That’s convenient, right? Better than random activation.”

“Might still activate randomly. You can just also force it.” Sam shook her head, then stood up as well. “Alright, here I go. Going ghost!”

Once again light flashed, and once again one of their trio had turned into a ghost. “Well?”

“What do you think? A ton of white.” Tucker dodged Sam’s flailing hands. “What, it’s the truth!”

“I think your colors are pretty easy to figure out too, Sam,” Danny pointed out to distract her. “You were already wearing purple, so you can guess your lipstick and eye color from there. It’s blue, by the way. Cyan-ish.”

“And your hair tie and skirt stripes are nice and red.” Tucker nudged her, playfully. “At least the soles of your boots are darker gray?”

“At least my shirt isn’t eye-searingly pink,” she countered, lifting the camera that hung off of her neck. Its strap had gone white, too, but the camera itself had barely gone any darker. “Say cheese!”

“Cheese,” Danny said. The light flashed, and he tried to blink the spots out of his sight again. “Ugh, I think that that thing is even more blinding than it was before all of this.”

“It might be. I definitely felt it in my core, so it might be running off of my ghost powers.” She sighed, reaching up to tug on her ponytail. “Hey, guys, is my hair doing anything weird?”

Danny looked. Huh. “Yeah, it kind of is? Looks like a flame. Kinda flickering in a non-existent wind, I guess?”

“Yeah, what Danny said.” Tucker reached up past Sam, swatted a hand through her hair. “Feels like hair, though. Might be a ghost thing? Danny’s hair looked kind of wind-swept, too.”

“Hair no longer obeys the laws of gravity, got it.” Sam nodded, and light swept over her, returning her to her human appearance. “I’ll add that to the list.”

“What good will that knowledge do us?” Tucker questioned, before shaking his head. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Sam sat down again, starting to quickly write down everything. “So. Ghost powers, which can be used in both forms, but it might be more exhausting in human form?”

“Definitely more exhausting in human form,” Danny decided, experimentally prodding his core. “My core feels way weaker like this, and ectoplasm is more conductive to those kinda powers, too.”

“That’s good to know. Hunger might be either increased or decreased. I’m feeling kinda hungry myself.”

“Starving,” Tucker declared, tone grim.

“Same. I think we both used a lot of energy by using our powers.” Danny sighed. “At least we have the excuse of being teenagers. I wonder if that’ll decrease over time, the hunger? Maybe we need to settle in.”

“Ghosts usually need time to get to their full power levels, I think.” Sam tapped the back of the pen against her cheek, then noted it down. “Maybe it’s got to do with our cores? They were easily exhausted, and I can’t imagine that all of that comes from the fact that we’re somewhere halfway, instead of full ghosts.”

“Might be linked to ectoplasm exposure as well.” Danny waved a hand around in a vague gesture. “There’s ambient ectoplasm in the air around my house, with my parents being, y’know, my parents. But there’s gotta be way more of that stuff in the Ghost Zone.”

Tucker hummed. “Do you think that eating contaminated food would help?”

“That’s disgusting.” Sam made a face at him. “I hate that you raised that possibility.”

“We can try it out. I’m used to eating that stuff, anyway.” Danny shrugged under their incredulous looks. “Hey, come on, sometimes you’re hungry enough that you can eat anything, yeah? It’s been a long fourteen years. Ask Jazz, it’s not that unreasonable.”

“I hate every part of this,” Tucker declared heartily. “We might want to stay over more, just in case. If ectoplasm is a big deal to developing ghost cores, we’ll pretty much starve them whenever we go home.”

“My parents won’t notice anyway. The moment they see that the Portal is on, they’ll move into the lab and barely leave it.” He leaned back against his bed. “And that way we can keep a close eye on our developing powers, too.”

Tucker groaned, then pushed himself to his feet once more. “I’ll call my parents and ask if I can stay over another day. We’ll see how school goes tomorrow.”

“Yeah, same.” Sam dug a cellphone from her pocket. “Maybe it won’t take that long to settle a core.”

“Or maybe tomorrow will be the worst day of school ever.” Danny laughed at the concept. “Although I guess high school already sucks anyway.”

---

Danny lowered his forehead against his desk. Carefully, so that he didn’t make a sound. Didn’t want to draw Lancer’s attention, after all.

“Same,” Tucker whispered, his voice quiet but clearly audible to Danny. “God, this lesson is so boring.”

“No kidding,” Danny whispered back. Next to him, Valerie Gray jerked.

“Who are you talking to?” she hissed at him. When he opened his mouth, she shushed him. “No, quiet. Don’t draw Lancer’s attention.”

Danny lifted his head to frown at her.

“That was weird,” Sam said, far too loudly to miss in the quiet of the classroom. Valerie didn’t respond.

“Oh my god,” Danny thought, as loud as he could make the thought. “Can we read each other’s minds?”

“What? Oh.” Tucker somehow conveyed the feeling of an awkward shuffle. “That can’t be a normal power for ghosts, right?”

“Maybe it’s because we all got hit by the same thing at the same time?” Sam suggested. She was frowning at her book, not looking at Danny or Tucker. “Or it’s because we’re all so close?”

“Emotionally or physically?” Tucker joked, his lip quivering as he repressed his smile. “I don’t care about the other ghost powers, but this is basically a superpower, right?”

“You don’t count flight as a superpower?” Danny prodded, staring blankly at Lancer. He was explaining… something. Danny didn’t care, the conversation with Sam and Tucker was far more interesting.

“You’re so loud,” Sam complained. “We’re all bored out of our minds, Danny, thank you. Lancer is talking about metaphors in English classics.”

“Oops. Sorry.” He tried beaming the feeling of a sheepish smile at them. “Okay but wait. Is this distance bound, or can we telepathically talk over long distances too?”

“I’ll add that to the list.” Sam shifted her notebook, moving a separate sheet of paper out of it. “So, we’re all basically superpowered half-ghosts now, or something?”

“It makes sense, though.” Tucker flicked his eyes at the windows, then moved them back to Lancer to pretend he was paying attention to the lessons. “We’re basically balanced between human and ghost, yeah? So maybe we’re supposed to protect that balance for the world, too?”

“The Portal acts as a gateway for ghosts to access Earth, and for humans to reach the Ghost Zone.” Danny felt understanding pour in from Tucker and Sam. “But the Portal can’t control that, so we have to do that for it.”

“We’ll need to work on our powers, then,” Sam decided, her pen scribbling more onto the very cluttered paper. “And maybe some kind of costumes. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want anyone finding out about this.”

Tucker scoffed over their link, remaining still and quiet at the same time. “We kind of come with those built in? We just use our ghost forms. Duh. What we really need are names.”

“Well, if we’re using our ghost forms, maybe we should have matching ghostly names?” Danny suggested.

“I don’t know. We’ll need names kind of similar to our actual names.” Sam hummed over their link. “That way we’ll be more inclined to listen to it.”

“What about something based on our last names, then?” Tucker gave an inquisitive prod. “It’ll be familiar enough for us to respond to it, but people won’t be quite as inclined to listen for it. They’ll think of Danny, and Sam, and Tucker, not Fenton, Manson, and Foley.”

Danny pushed some laughter over their link, undoubtedly pouring along some joy with it. “I like Phantom for myself, then. It sounds enough like Fenton that I’ll answer to it automatically, but not similar enough for people to link it immediately.”

“And it’s a ghost joke?” Danny could feel Tucker rolling his eyes. “In that case I want to be Ghouley. Get it? Ghoul-ey?”

“You’re both the worst, and I’m never gonna know a moment of peace ever again,” Sam declared, before immediately following it up with, “I’m gonna be Manes, then.”

“Manes?” Tucker repeated, doubt and hesitation pouring through their link. “You’re not that hairy, Sam.”

“Ha ha,” she replied, humorless and dry. “Manes are a mythology thing, Tucker. They’re benevolent spirits, basically.”

“That lines up pretty well with what we’re gonna be doing, I guess.” Danny hummed, forcing himself to make the sound across their link only. In front of him, Lancer continued to chatter nonsense. “More experimentation with our powers would be a good idea, for sure.”

“Your place after school?” Tucker paused, and Danny caught snippets of thoughts grazing past the link. “No, wait, that’s probably not a good idea with your parents. Uh, my house is probably too small to go unnoticed, too.”

“We can go to my place?” Sam conveyed a shrug. “My parents are rich, so we’ve got a huge mansion. We can hide in my room.”

“You’re rich?” Tucker spilled amazement through their link, but it was promptly washed away by Sam’s disgruntlement. “Oh, sore point, sorry. Yeah, no, that sounds good.”

Danny watched Lancer talk for a moment, not really listening to what he said. “Actually, I might try dropping past my house first. I can ask my parents for some more information about ghosts. Even if it’s not all correct, it’ll give us something to work off of, at least?”

“And we might be able to listen along with the link,” Sam realized. A vicious kind of joy came from her side of the link. “Hell yeah. Be sure to ask them about ghosts and their appearances. Maybe Tucker and I can tweak ours to match you. The jumpsuit isn’t great, but it’s better than a white crop top or a magenta sweater.”

“It’ll make us look more superhero-y, too,” Tucker pointed out. “We can all go for black jumpsuits, but accessorize it our own ways. Plus our eyes kind of match, too, don’t they? And we all have white hair.”

“Our eyes match?” Danny asked, before realizing. “Oh my god, they do. I’ve got green, you have yellow, and Sam has blue.”

“It’ll be a good way to test range, too. Tucker and I can go to my place, and you go to yours. Check in regularly to make sure the link is still working.”

“Sounds good.” Danny made a face when he realized that Lancer had stopped talking. “Oh, we’re supposed to work on an assignment, I think. Did anyone pay attention to what Lancer was talking about?”

“No, but I know enough about metaphors anyway.” Exasperation leaked from Sam. “We can do the work together via the link, I guess. Might be good practice.”

“Hell yeah, teamwork!” Elation from Tucker, so strong that Danny had to work to keep the smile off of his face. “You’re the best, Sam!”

---

“Testing,” Danny cast out over the link, standing in his kitchen. “Link still good?”

“We hear you loud and clear,” Sam replied. Tucker supplied a feeling of agreement. “Try to get the information into the link with as little paraphrasing as possible.”

“You are so demanding,” Danny told her, with absolutely no heat. “Fine. Going down.”

He hopped down the stairs, into the basement lab. It looked… Pretty normal, actually. The Portal had acquired doors since yesterday, when he had last seen it. They were striped yellow and black.

“Mom, Dad?” he asked, raising his voice. They were on the other end of the lab, working with all kinds of metal parts. “Are you busy?”

“Danny-boy!” his dad boomed, dropping everything in his hands with an enormous clatter. “We always have time for you, kiddo!”

“Can I ask you about…” He hesitated for a moment. Support poured in through the link, immediately. “Can I ask you about ghosts?”

“Ghosts?” Maddie looked up from the pile of parts as well, pulling her goggles off of her eyes to shoot him an incredulous look. “Why… Yes, of course, always.”

“It’s just…” Danny gestured at the Portal. “I know I’ve grown kind of skeptical about all that ghost stuff with age, but that’s… that Portal is pretty convincing. Can you… tell me about what ghosts look like? So I’ll know if I ever run into one?”

His parents shared a look, and Maddie hummed thoughtfully. Danny focused on her when she opened her mouth, trying to commit the words he heard straight to the link. “Well, ghosts are very varying in appearance. Even if they were living beings, before, they don’t retain those memories, so they can interpret themselves however they want.”

“So it’s based on their own will?” Sam asked over their link, and Danny repeated it to his parents.

“More or less,” his dad agreed, nodding. “They won’t mess with it much, though, because that’s a waste of their energy. Most of the time, a ghost will stick to the same appearance unless they go through a major change of power.”

“But they could?” Danny prodded. “If they wanted to?”

“I suppose, yes.” Maddie cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. “But ghosts don’t particularly care about such things. They are very basal beings, Danny. It’s all about energy, and changing their appearance usually won’t be worth it. You’ll know a ghost when you see it.”

He guessed so, yeah. The three of them had figured it out pretty quickly. “Yeah, alright. Um. Thanks.”

“Always, Danny!” His dad reached over to clap him on the shoulder. “We love to see our kids pick up an interest in ghosts! Is there anything else you wanted to know, kiddo?”

“More basic stuff, maybe?” Tucker suggested over the link. “Anything more about ghosts. Do they have a ‘ghosts for dummies’ guide?”

“I do, at least,” Sam added with a laugh. “We could try comparing it with the Fenton’s research.”

“Uh, actually.” Danny set a smile on his face. “Do you have some kind of… beginner’s guide, or something? So I can read up on the basics?”

“We’ve told you about the basics a dozen times, Danny,” Maddie chastised. She clucked her tongue, then frowned. “But, yes, I think we have something like that. Jack, honey?”

“Yes, we needed something to lead investors into the whole ghost story.” Jack nodded. “Apparently ghosts weren’t as commonly known as we thought.”

Danny grinned wider. “That would be great! I know you’ve told me all that stuff already, but I would feel better if I can read it, too. Just as a refresher, you know?”

Amusement over the link, from both Sam and Tucker. Danny sent them the feeling of flailing his hands at them in return. The amusement increased, now combined with laughter. Ugh. Jerks.

“Here you go, sweetie.” Maddie held out a stack of stapled paper. “This is the last copy we had left. Is that good enough?”

“Uh…” Danny flipped through the sheets real quick, sharing the basics through the link. “Powers, abilities in general, anatomy, how and why they function?”

“Sounds like a good start,” Sam replied.

“Yeah,” Danny said to Maddie, smiling up at her. “Thanks, Mom, Dad. This is great.”

“If you have any more questions, you know where to find us.” She leaned over to ruffle his hair, and he huffed at her. “Your dad and I would love to talk ghosts with you.”

“I honestly can’t tell whether they love ghosts or hate them,” Tucker stated through the link. It felt like he was frowning. “Like, they constantly talk about how despicable they are, but it’s like their lives are centered around ghosts and only ghosts.”

“I think they love the science behind them, but hate the actual ghosts,” Danny explained, glancing at the stapled paper. “Either way, I don’t want them finding out that we’re defying what they think they know of ghosts. Are we sleeping at your place, Sam?”

“Might as well.” She shrugged across the link. “We can order food, too. My parents won’t care.”

“Mom, Dad?” Danny shot them a hopeful look. “Can I, uh, sleep over at Sam’s tonight? We’re gonna work on homework together.”

They shared a look. Jack shrugged, and Maddie rolled her eyes in response.

“Yes, honey, that’s fine.” She ruffled his hair again. “But we want you back home tomorrow after school, okay?”

He nodded, rolling the paper in his hands. “Of course. See you tomorrow! And good luck with your ghost stuff!”

Danny sped back up the stairs, closing the link back to just his thoughts. “We good?”

“Yeah, that was great.” Approval from Sam. “Bring the paper, we’ll make some copies of it here so we can mark it and stuff.”

“Coming right over.” He picked up his backpack, closing the front door behind him. “Uh. Your address?”

A wave of embarrassment. “…Right. Here you go, it’s—”

---

“Going ghost!” Danny said, and light haloed around him until he was left in his ghost form.

Sam and Tucker hummed, circling around him. Judgment poured from their sides of the link.

“Well?” Danny asked, cocking an eyebrow at them—both in real life and via the link. “Thoughts?”

“So many,” Sam sneered. Disgust and distaste, the link said. “But it’ll do. Better than white. What’d you say at school, Tucker?”

“What? Oh, that. The jumpsuits are kind of superhero-y, right?” A mental shrug. “If we’re gonna be some kind of superhero-protector people, we might as well commit to the look.”

“So black and white jumpsuits, with details in our eye colors? We’re gonna need a mirror, I think.”

A mental eye roll from Sam. “Danny. Trust me, I have full-body mirrors. What we really need is for you to shift back and make a design first, before you’re committing.”

“Hm. Fair point.” He mentally commanded his core to shift him back to human, and surprisingly, it did. “Are we gonna start by scribbling up some designs and then comparing them, or are we all doing our own takes?”

“Tucker can put together some designs,” Sam decided, ignoring any signs of protest they might scour up. “Danny and I are gonna compare those ghost guides.”

Ugh, reading.

“Don’t give me that, Fenton,” Sam bit at him, and, hm. He was definitely gonna work on having thoughts to himself. “It’s your parents’ work, and your parents’ Portal that caused this.”

“Which you convinced us to mess with,” Tucker pointed out, smugly. “But, yeah, sure, I’ll whip up some neat costumes based on the jumpsuits. We want them just different enough that people won’t immediately think of the Fentons, right? What about logos?”

Sam and Danny shared a look.

“No logo, got it,” Tucker decided based on that, and possibly the disgust they were flooding their telepathic link with. “I’ll get on it. Have fun with reading.”

“I won’t,” Danny assured him, waving the stack of papers at Sam. “I’m gonna do this entire thing via the link just to make you suffer along, Tuck.”

“We’ve been talking via the link the whole time.” A flicker of annoyance from Tucker. “Seriously, we haven’t said a word to each other since we discover we could do this, I think. Certainly not since you’ve come here.”

Danny… had not realized that. Whoops.

“Keeping this a secret is gonna be hell,” Sam decided and, yeah. Yeah, it was gonna be.

She thumped him on the head with a book before he could say anything about it. “Read,” she commanded, and Danny wasn’t stupid enough to keep fighting her on this.

The two of them laid down on the floor, the stack on simplified ghost research in front of him, and the book in front of Sam. A clipboard with a pen laid in between them, with a rough list of things to look out for written down already.

“So are we going down the list, or are we reading through these things and noting down anything relevant?”

Sam paused for a moment. “Yes.”

“That was very enlightening, thank you.”

“Just read through the list, then a chapter of your thing,” Tucker interrupted. “Rinse and repeat.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks for your support, Tuck.”

A pleased rumble. “Always, dude.”

“Can we please just read?” Sam grumbled into the link.

Danny reached for the clipboard so he could read through the list. Hm. Just more of the same. Powers, workings of both the anatomical and psychological kind. Strengths and weaknesses.

He reached for the stapled stack of paper, flipping the first page. “Well, here I go. Someone bury me if I die.”

“Too late.”

“Touche.”

They spent the next eternity reading. Or designing suits, in Tucker’s case.

“So we’ve got basically nothing,” Sam concluded, looking at the clipboard. They had divided it up in two sections per point: the scientific Fenton take, and the spiritual goth take. For almost all points, they were completely different.

“Yeah. The few things we know about ourselves directly defy the things the books say.” Danny shrugged. “Besides, we’re hybrids, aren’t we? We probably don’t follow the known stuff anyway.”

“We’ll just have to figure it out ourselves,” Tucker said, a wave of comforting warm coming from him. “It’ll be fine. We’ll manage.”

A brief moment of silence as they all contemplated that.

“Anyway, I’ve put together some potential designs for our suits. Who wants to see?”

“If by see you mean ‘tear into them’ then yes,” Sam decided, already pushing herself off of the floor to go look.

Ah. There was the much needed normalcy.

---

Danny stared at his dad as the man walked to one end of the Portal, then turned around and walked to its other side. Left, right, left, right.

“He’s not even remotely talking about ghosts,” Tucker complained.

“Have you ever met my dad?” Danny asked with a mental eye roll. “He always talks about whatever you’re least interested in hearing about.”

His core stirred up, suddenly, a feeling of anxiety pouring from every side of the link.

“Uh,” was all Sam managed, then the Portal’s surface burst apart. Two ghosts entered the lab through it, violently green octopuses with bright red eyes.

Jack didn’t even turn around. Didn’t seem to notice in the slightest.

“Now what?” Tucker asked, doubtful. “Are we supposed to keep ghosts and humans separate, or…”

The ghostly octopuses flung their ragged tentacles at Sam and Tucker. Both half-ghosts dodged, falling off of their chairs.

“I suggest that we fight these, at least.” Danny shot a look at his dad, but the man had wandered off, and was now talking into a cabinet. “And quick, before Dad notices.”

He tugged on his core, shifting into his ghost form with practiced ease. On the floor, Sam and Tucker did the same.

The ghosts paused. Shared a hesitant look, now that they were faced with three matching ghosts, rather than an assortment of humans.

Sam’s electric blue eyes brightened as she grinned at them. The color returned in the swirling lines of her suit, creeping over her like vines.

Danny lifted up next to her, cracking his fingers. Flared his own green eyes dangerously. He finally knew the exact color of it, having replicated it in the minimalistic linework of his suit.

Tucker took up the last slot in the line, the golden yellow of his eyes reflected in the circuit-like lines of his suit.

“Boo,” they all said, perfectly in sync.

The ghosts warbled and dove back through the Portal.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Sam scoffed. Her side of the link conveyed a mixture of disappointment and challenge. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Look at it from the positive side,” Danny comforted. “Now you’ve got even more time to teach us how to fight as a human before we gotta put it in practice.”

“Nah, man, I’m going crazy if I go through another round of training without actually hitting anyone.” Tucker settled back onto the floor, soundlessly, and shifted back to human.

Danny and Sam followed suit. “Here’s a solution for all of us,” Sam said as they did so. “We can just fight each other.”

“Hooray,” Danny and Tucker both cheered. Sam’s glare was heated, stabbing them right in the link. The flares of vivid cyan didn’t help.

---

“I can’t believe this,” Sam hissed over the link. Agitation, and a lot of it.

“Sam, we still can’t see what you’re looking at,” Danny reported, spacing out of his breakfast. “What’s up?”

“The newspaper finally acknowledged our existence!”

“Uh oh,” Tucker said, groggily. “That’s not excitement.”

“They’re calling us menaces! And dangers to society!” She practically flooded their link with anger.

Danny, in return, shot her some comforting warmth. “It’s fine, Sam. Whatever. When have you ever cared about what people thought of you?”

“But after all the work we’ve put into it!” She was practically shouting, now. Danny was certain that her eyes were, by now, so bright that her entire room was cast in blue light. “They can’t just— ignore every good thing we’ve done!”

“Sure can,” Tucker pointed out. “Look, Sam, chill. People know who—and what—we are. What we do.”

She grumbled wordlessly.

“We’re the protectors of Amity Park, Sam,” Danny soothed. “We are the people who keep this city safe, both the humans and the ghosts. We don’t need the newspaper to know that we’re doing a good job.”

“Ugh. How can you be so optimistic about this with your parents being,” a vague mental gesture, “y’know?”

“Oh, trust me, I know.” He looked up to where his parents were tinkering with some kind of invention. At the kitchen table, no less. He would have to sic Jazz on them again. “It’s just… the right thing to do, you know? Even if we’re the ones with these abilities because we were the only ones stupid enough to mess with the Portal, we can still do something.”

“We’re the protectors of Amity Park,” Tucker agreed. “Whether the people of Amity appreciate it or not.”

“How are you all so sappy this early in the morning?” She scoffed. “I am not awake enough to deal with this. Yeah, sure, fine, whatever. We’re all the great heroes of Amity Park, and the Ghost Zone and whatnot. Forget I ever complained.”

“Sure,” Danny said, throwing sparks of joy into the link. “So, I think my parents are working on some kind of ghost translation device…”

Both of his best friends groaned across the link, and Danny smiled into his breakfast. It had only been a little over a month, but he couldn’t imagine life as a regular human anymore. His core chirped happily in his chest, and his best friends chattered in his head, unheeded by distance.

Life was good.

[miguel-manbemel]

Another song inspired me another animatic that I’ll never be able to make cause I draw awfully. This one, though is also inspired in my fanfic, “Aspects & Fanfics”, in the ending of the 11th episode, “Bitten by Laziness”, which was the first true moment of romantic Prinxiety in the story. I connected it with the song “Suspended in Time” by Olivia Newton-John, from the movie “Xanadu”. To put you into situation, this was that last scene from that episode. After Roman has been rescued from mortal danger, Virgil is attending his wounds in Roman’s room and this dialogue happens:

VIRGIL: You were right, Roman.

ROMAN: About what?

VIRGIL: About how worried I was about you… When Logan said that you could have been gone forever… I pictured a life without you there. Even without your over-dramatic acts and occasional nuisance, and I felt so empty… I don’t ever wanna feel like that again. Please, always stay safe. You’re important to us… You’re important to me. You have no idea how much.

[Roman looks at Virgil with a loving glance]

ROMAN: All of my life I have always been looking for the prince of my dreams, even back when I was young and they told me that I was required to marry a princess to secure an heir to the throne, you know, the royal protocol and all that jazz…

[While he speaks, Roman gently caresses Virgil’s cheek with his hand and passes his finger over Virgil’s eye-shadow, while Virgil holds that hand and looks sweetly at Roman. Roman’s finger gets stained in black from the eye-shadow, as it is wet from Virgil’s earlier tearing]

ROMAN: Who would have thought that the perfect one, the real prince of my dreams I was looking for, was right here under my nose all the time, wearing a hood instead of a crown.

[Roman approaches Virgil to kiss him. Suddenly, Virgil shows a face of fear and walks back, dropping Roman’s hand]

ROMAN: [confused] What? What’s the matter?

VIRGIL: We can’t do this, Roman.

ROMAN: But I thought…

VIRGIL: And what you thought is true, Roman. I… I love you. I love you more than I love myself. But… Precisely for that, we can’t be together. I’ve let myself get carried away, but we can’t do this.

ROMAN: I don’t understand…

VIRGIL: Our relationship would be dangerous, Roman, dangerous for you. I’m a Dark Side, and you’re a Light Side. Remember what happened when you stayed in my room for too long? What could I do to you if we stayed together for a lifetime?

ROMAN: I don’t care about the danger. I just want to be with you…

VIRGIL: Please, try to understand. I don’t want to run the risk of doing the exact same thing that Sprite almost did to you today. I don’t want you to be endangered because of me.  If something happened to you because of me, that would kill me. I must renounce to you, because I love you, and I care about your safety and well being more than I care about my feelings. I’m sure you’ll find someone better than me who will make you happier than I ever could.

ROMAN: But Virgil, I…

VIRGIL: I must go, Roman. This was a mistake. Let’s do as if this had never happened and remain being friends, okay? Please don’t tell anyone about this. And if it serves as a consolation, always remember that my love will always be yours, till our final day. See you later.

[Virgil sinks down, leaving Roman’s room. Roman approaches Virgil’s spot and looks at the purple rose in the forest of thorns]

ROMAN: And what’s the use of a long and safe life if I have to live it without you, Virgil? I don’t want anyone better than you, should that person even exist. I want you, my hooded dark prince. I love you, Virgil…

[Roman looks at the purple rose, then at his finger, still covered in Virgil’s eye-shadow, and starts silently crying]

After this, the animatic would start in Virgil’s room, where he would relive the moment Roman was holding him while he sings this song, refering to how much he would wish to be with Roman, but he can’t.

A child and a fool in one So sure I could need no one My heart always on the run to nowhere Now as you're holding me My heart is reminding me That now I could never be without you

But how can our love succeed? A miracle is what we need And so I appeal to you

To keep me suspended in time with you Don't let this moment die I get a feeling when I'm with you None of the rules apply But I know for certain Goodbye is a crime So love if you need me Suspend me in time

Wasted the time away Holding your love at bay Now i can't last a day without you Your smile is a thrill to see Your eyes hold me tenderly They'll shine in my memory forever

But how can our love succeed? A miracle is what we need And so I appeal to you

To keep me suspended in time with you Don't let this moment die I get a feeling when I'm with you None of the rules apply But I know for certain Goodbye is a crime So love if you need me Suspend me in time

[sometimeswritingsometimesdying]

The Sun and the Moon-Maybe-Bird

A/N: me? projecting onto Logan? pffffft. of course. (Look, i wrote this while sleep-deprived as fuck so idk how good it is)

Warnings: angst, fluff, lots of fluff, overly extended metaphors that make little sense in the end, pat’s parents aren’t really there, kissing, let me know if i miss something!

Pairing: logicality

Summary:  Logan likes to think of himself as the moon. Patton is the sun. They're not supposed to touch, the sun and the moon, but they don't abide by the laws of physics.

AO3

The moon was in love with the sun.

He had been since the beginning, probably.

Well, the moon didn’t remember his beginning. In fact, he often wondered if he ever actually had one. Light and darkness cannot survive without each other. The sun and the moon knew this, very well, and they dared not touch, for whatever balance they had, which often precariously jittered and wobbled but never actually fell, would be broken.

But the moon wondered whether he did ever start being. If he ever did come to be something, someone. Someone with a heart and a soul, someone that was somehow known to others.

And the moon was indeed someone, but he was not someone. He was a boy, with dark hair and dark eyes and everything the moon has. Secrets and dark places and weak gravity that makes people flutter away rather easily, like birds perched on the edge of a tree branch.

To the moon, people were a lot like birds, and he was so far away from them he’d never understand what made them want to be birds. Perhaps, they liked it because they were unaware of being birds, as most people are.

They always think they’re free, but they’ll never see space. And the moon liked that. The moon, had, for the most part, the universe to himself.

The moon had a name, too, but not many used it. To him, the riddle What is yours but others use more? Never would’ve made sense. He said his own name to himself more than others said it to him, or about him.

He never forgot it, however. It was easy to not forget things when it’s one of the few things going on in his head.

Logan. That was his name. He also had a last name, but no one really cared much for it if not the occasional teacher. 

Logan wasn’t the actual moon, of course, but he did feel like it was the right analogy for him. He wasn’t exactly gloomy, but he wasn’t the brightest light either. He liked to be alone, and his voice would echo around his head, twisting and turning, until it sounded like someone else calling him. He used to fall for that trick a lot when he was a kid, but with time he learned to ignore when he heard the echo come back for him.

Then there was the sun. And once Logan didn’t know much about the sun, if anything at all. To him, the sun used to be like other people. He used to be like a bird.

But, when one took a closer look, at the sun’s bright eyes, golden hair, golden skin scattered with freckles, and radiating smile, they realized the sun was very much burned, from the inside out. The sun bursts into flames periodically, eyes gleaming and smile becoming radioactive, infecting everyone around him. The sun was a star, and all Logan was was an old piece of stone created from the sun’s birth.

Maybe the sun had come first.

The sun had a name too, a name that was said more than a thousand times each day, each hour, each minute, each second, until all you could hear was that sound burying itself in your mind, until you could never forget a name such as that of a boy such as him.

Patton. That was it.

The sun and the moon were never meant to touch, but it didn’t stop the two of them

No, instead, Logan and Patton didn’t abide by the laws of physics, or the rules of the universe, or whatever all the science books Logan read said.

Instead, they sat together under the trees, one reading the other drawing. They’d head out and go see a movie. Sometimes, the sun will come up in the middle of the night and ask the moon to come out with him, have some fun at some party the sun had been invited to.

Because everyone wants the sun at their party, but who wants the moon to be there? With its quiet eyes and calm nights.

And sometimes, the moon and the sun would just sit on Patton’s bed, which happened more often than not as his parents happened to rarely be around anymore.

They’d put on a cassette and play their favorite songs.

Sometimes, the sun would stand up, shining his radioactive smile, and Logan would follow him, and holding hands the sun and the moon would dance.

Two celestial objects dancing to jazz music, nonetheless.

And some days, they’d put on music and they’d just talk. About everything. About nothing. About whatever crossed their minds.

And sometimes, Logan would say stupid things. Things he’d only heard echoed in his mind along with his name.

“I think I’m like the moon.” Patton didn’t laugh. He never did. Logan wondered if it was because he was crazy enough to understand the things that slipped his mouth at times.

“How?” Logan shrugged. Patton rolled over to end up with his head in Logan’s lap. Logan smiled at him.

The moon’s smiles weren’t nearly as nice as the sun’s. They were harder to find, harder to notice. Slightly crooked, no matter how much he had tried to change it, slightly too small, slightly too him. People called him a lunatic sometimes. Which only added to his theory of being like the moon.

Patton hummed as Logan’s fingers carded through his hair, a song about summer on in the background. It was summer after all. The moon had a hard time realizing when time passed, when the seasons changed. He only new day and night, the occasional test date, which was very unuseful now that school had ended. His teachers always described him as a daydreamer, even with his high scores on exams, which wasn’t true. 

He wasn’t daydreaming, he was listening to his echo.

“Patton?”

“Yes?” he didn’t ask for him to complete his thought. Logan often forgot his trail of thought or got lost in something else. Sometimes he just forgot that he actually had to talk to explain what he’s thinking. Sometimes he’d just give up on his thoughts completely.

“You’re the sun.” Patton sat up, golden curls flopping back down over his forehead.

“That would make sense. I’m the sun and you’re the moon!” Patton tilted his head curiously. “They’re pretty far away though. And I like having you close.” Patton tilted his head the other way as if considering another side of the problem. “But the moon is very beautiful. And it brings light when it’s dark!”

Logan smiled at the other, wondering how he followed his thought process. “The sun reflects its light of the moon, making it shine, Patton.”

“Still.” Logan laughed quietly, as the music faded and moved onto something more melodic and sad.

“The sun is fundamental to life. Without it, everything else wouldn’t exist.” Patton’s lip quirked, feeling silly and giggly for some reason. Which made Logan feel silly and giggly too. And they made each other silly and giggly until they both started laughing, light and carefree and fun.

Like birds, they laughed.

Once they were done, several moments, or eternities as it seemed to Logan, they both fell down on the bed, facing each other.

They quieted, and the music seemed to do so with them.

Logan observed Patton. His freckles, the small gap between his front teeth that had been persistent through childhood and most of adolescence. His eyes, so alive and free and burning.

Icarus had gotten too close to the sun and died. But Logan wasn’t like Icarus. He was already too close to the sun, but he hadn’t died yet.

They moved together, at the same time, and like the beginning, neither started it. It just happened, as all things do. Some force of gravity at play perhaps.

They met in the middle, mouths fitting together clumsily, noses bumping, but in every way perfect.

Galaxies were created between them, stars burst and stars were born. The whole universe relapsed to the singularity and then back again.

Logan felt Patton’s hand settle on his cheek, and the two pulled apart reluctantly but remained close.

There was something simmering in him. Something that was lighter and lovelier and felt better than he had in a long time.

He felt free, alive. Because he had kissed the sun.

Logan got close enough to the sun to feel alive.

And he realized that he felt like a bird. Was this it? Had he finally learned what most people felt like? Like everything that was being showered in the light of the sun?

Logan thought that couldn’t have been possible. If everyone felt like he did at that moment, there wouldn’t be wars. There’s wouldn’t be blood spilled for stupid causes, people wouldn’t be cruel.

Everyone would feel like birds then.

He opened his eyes, searching for Patton’s blue, so blue ones.

“Do you feel like a bird?”

“I think I always have. Or maybe not. I don’t know Logan.” Patton laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Logan smiled, and this time he didn’t hide it. “I don’t know either.”

They smiled. Only for them.

And then the sun and the moon-maybe-bird fell forward, lips interlocking again, this time with more precision.

Logan decided that if Patton was the sun, he wanted to bask in his light forever.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The baby’s here!!; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay gang here we go. The last chapter I’ve got for you all and it’s probably one of my favorites, here we have the arrival of baby Kline.  So as with all childbirth fics there is child labor, doctors, swearing and all that jazz. There’s also intense FLUFF so viewers discretion is advised lol. There’s also maybe a tiny bit of angst if you squint towards the end but I hope you all enjoy these two fics :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@onebigfangirlworld

@waddles03

@coolcxt

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@mr-badguymercury

@platawnic

@naturalswifty89

@queens-rose-garden

@starswin

@dj-lowkey

@isabella-bby

@labessieisallama

@5sos-wdw

____________________________________________________

*November 20th, 1985*

ARRRRAAAGGGHHHH!!!! That’s it I can’t take it anymore! Someone get me some pliers and help breach this kid out of me! Nine months and one week later, I’m overdue. I’d thought at least by now if not a month early they’d be born but nope! I was lying in my bed permanently on bedrest all because of Jack. There was a knock at my bedroom door and I snapped.

“What!?” Peeking in was Jack.

“Hey babe, the guys are here.” I calmed down and I said.

“Bring them in, and Jack,” he stopped and looked at me. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m anxious too. I’ll bring everyone up.” He then left the room and after a few short moments of silence by myself, my boys along with Freddie’s partner Jim Hutton, and the girls Veronica, Dominique and Chrissie came on in. They all greeted me and I waved to them.

“How are you feeling (y/n)?” Roger asked. I gave him a look before looking to Dominique. She nodded and gave Roger a slap over the head making him cry in pain.

“Don’t worry love, my sister was once overdue by three weeks, you’re on the lucky side.” Chrissie said as she came over to me and rubbed my shoulder.

“Yeah but I want this baby to come out! I’m cranky! I can barely move! I can’t even get my slippers on by myself anymore!” I sobbed out.

“Has the doctor given you anything to help?” asked Deacy.

“Yes and we’ve tried it all. Spicy food, herbal teas, sex, nothing’s helped.” Explained Jack. The boys looked shocked to hear Jack say sex so casually as he just did.

“It was medically proven guys, she told us nine times out of ten that’s always sped up late births.” I explained.

“Well maybe this might help you love,” Jim said as he handed me a box. “It’s an herbal tea recipe my mum took from when she was pregnant with me. I was a week late just like your bearing is, she drank this and next minute out I pop.”

“At this point I’ll try anything. Thanks Jim.” I thanked. I opened the box and gave the stuff to Jack and he said he’d make it, Jim went down to help him prepare it. As I sat there in the bed, I moaned in discomfort and it was at that moment Brian came up and helped me sit up and he gave me a gentle massage. “Oh Brian you are a saint.”

“No problem love, Chrissie had backaches all the time with our kids.”

“And you were always there to help make the pain all the bearable.” Chrissie said as she came up to her husband and kissed his cheek while Brian kept massaging me.

“Tea’s ready.” We heard Jack say. Brian got up and helped me lay back down as Jack handed me my favorite tea mug and I drank it. It took every ounce of me to not spit it out because god did it taste strong, plus I think there might’ve been tar in it or something vile. But I drank another sip before setting the mug down.

“Helping any?” asked Freddie.

“I don’t know, I mean I wish that my water could just magically break right now but that’s impossible. It—oh! Oh my god…..” I suddenly felt something.

“What? What is it are you okay?” Jack immediately came up to me and took my hand. I sat there tensed up feeling the pain continuing and I turned to him and said.

“I think my water just broke.”

“You—you sure?”

“I think….oh yeah that’s a contraction! Ahhh!!” I began to scream in pain and in an instant the girls took control. Veronica was the first to proclaim.

“Okay people this is not a drill! John start the car!” John immediately did as his wife said and raced down to get the car started.

“Jack you packed an overnight bag right?” asked Dominque. Jack nodded and said, “Good boy grab that and put it in the car.” Jack ran off to grab the bag.

“Brian, you and Roger call the hospital tell them the Rock Angel is having her baby and she specifically requires a private room.” Brian nodded then he and Roger ran out of the bedroom.

“Okay (y/n) sweetie, Dominique and I will coach you on your breathing, okay I need you to do your breathing exercises you’ve been learning in your classes, can you do that?” asked Veronica.

“I think so.” I whimpered as another contraction hit and I let out a cry in pain.

“Freddie, Jim help me sit her up.” She said. Soon both Freddie and Jim gently and slowly helped me out of my bed and stood me up. Veronica and Dominque took their places at my sides and they each coached me through my breathing as we walked out of the bedroom and toward John and Veronica’s car.

“That’s it sweetie you’re doing great, okay we’re at the car now.” Dominique said as she opened the door and I was put in the backseat. Veronica then got in on the other side while Dominique closed my door and she raced back towards her car.

“Okay John let’s get going!” John put the car in drive and soon we left our small flat and raced towards the hospital.

Finally we arrived at London’s hospital. My doctor, Dr. Sharon Crabgrass stood there with a wheelchair ready to take me around the back way of the hospital so that way I wouldn’t draw a crowd of people and create more stress than I already was in.

Deacy, Veronica and Jack helped me out of the car and Dr. Crabgrass said.

“Finally ready to become a mother Mrs. Kline?”

“Oh you have no idea doc, although I wish this last week hadn’t happened though.” I said.

“Been a little irritable?”

“You could say that.” I stated sarcastically. I was helped into my wheelchair and she asked me.

“How far are the contractions?”

“The one we counted just now was 15 seconds apart.” I then let out a scream and I yelled out.

“15 SECONDS MY ARSE!!!”

“Okay we’ll take you in and see just how much dilation you have and see if you’re ready to go straight to the delivery room.” She said. I was then wheeled into the private room that we had reserved in advance. Veronica stayed at my side along with Jack and she told me one final time.

“You’re gonna be fine sweetie, soon you’ll hold that beautiful baby in your arms and your whole world will change forever.” I smiled and thanked her as she now stopped and it was just Jack, Dr. Crabgrass and I heading to the delivery room.

Unfortunately I wasn’t ready to go into the delivery room because I was only just 3cm apart in dilation. So now I was in my private room with Jack suffering through contraction after contraction, while every now and then Dr. Crabgrass would come in and check to see if anything’s changed.

10 hours have passed and I still had no baby. It was now pitch black outside at 9:45pm. A knock was heard and peeking in was Freddie and Jim.

“May we come in darling?” asked Freddie.

“Of course my Freddie, you both can come in.” Following behind him was Jim.

“Still no luck?” asked Jim.

“No, apparently I’ve only dilated to only 4cm. for the entire 10 hours I’ve been here!” I snapped. God I can’t believe I’ve only dilated a cm. a fuckin centimeter for this entire day!

“I’m sorry love.” Jim said solemnly.

“What? What are you sorry for? Jim, come here.” He came over to me and I took his hand and told him as I looked him straight in the eye. “Without that tea, I’d still be suffering a late delivery. Your mum’s tea is magic, thank you for giving it to me.” He smiled and said.

“You’re welcome (y/n).” I smiled when suddenly I was hit with another contraction.

“Oh shit not another one!”

“Okay remember just breathe. Breathe.” Jack took my hand and I squeezed it as hard as I could as I breathed rapidly and cried in pure agony.

This time however this was a big one as I threw my head back and cried out. Freddie came over and took my other hand and soon I was squeezing both their hands with an iron grip while Jim came up to me and wiped my sweaty forehead with a wet towel.

“Oh god please tell me I’m at 10 fucking centimeters now!”

“I’ll get the doctor.” Jim said as he raced out of the room and I continued to whimper and scream in agony.

“It’ll be alright my little Rock angel, you’re doing great love.” Freddie tried to assure me but I snapped at him.

“NOT HELPING FRED!!” Soon Jim came in with Dr. Crabgrass and I told her. “Oh please doc you’ve got to give me some drugs I can’t take this anymore! Please tell me I’m ready to go to the delivery room.”

“Unfortunately you’re still not ready. You’re now up to 5cm.” she said. I looked at her like she had two heads as rage boiled inside me.

“You’re joking right?” I stated lowly.

“I’m afraid not Mrs. Kline, but you’re half way there. We’ll keep checking in on you. What you just experienced was the mid-way contraction. It’s usually bigger than the normal contractions you have, telling you that you’re halfway there.”

“Well it sure as hell didn’t feel like I was halfway there.”

“I’ll check on you in another hour, hopefully you’ll be ready to deliver soon.” With that she left. I collapsed back into the bed and wept. Jack kissed my forehead and I said.

“Why don’t they want to come out?” Jack stroked my cheek and kissed my forehead again and he said.

“You know what I think? I think that you’ve made such a good home for them for the past nine months that they….just don’t want to leave you.” I looked at him with a precious smile as I said.

“Aww look at you making up shit to make me feel better.” I patted his cheek before turning towards Freddie and Jim and I told them. “You guys must be so tired of staying in a hospital, why don’t you and the rest of the guys just go home and rest?”

“And leave you behind in a hospital I don’t think so dear.” Freddie sassed.

“Fred it’s been over 10 hours, come on I’d hate for you to stay in a hospital for god knows how long.”

“Hey,” he gently cupped my face with his hand and he said, “We are not leaving you our Rock angel. We all agreed to stay here until that baby is born. We’re with you darling, right till the end. I already missed your wedding, I promised myself to not miss the birth of your first child.” I smiled happily at him and he kissed the top of my head and he turned to Jim and said, “Come on Jim, let’s leave them alone for a bit and give the others the update.” He then turned to us and continued, “try and get some sleep later on. The both of you.”

“We’ll try, thanks Freddie.” Said Jack and with that Jim and Freddie left our room.

For the rest of the night and into the next morning, I was now well-over the 24hr marker of my laboring and I was going stir-crazy. As I lay there in bed with Jack still at my bedside and this time Deacy and Veronica were in with us this morning.

“How long has it really been?”

“We’ve just passed the 30hr mark.” Answered Deacy as he looked down at his watch.

“You’re a hero honey” said Veronica as she rubbed my shoulder.

“I sure as hell don’t feel like one. God I just want this baby out of me I can’t take the pain anymore!” I sobbed out. She leaned her head on top of mine as she continued to rub my shoulder trying to console me. It was then Dr. Crabgrass came in and she said.

“How are we feeling Mrs. Kline?”

“God Doc you’ve got to do whatever it takes get some firewood and smoke it out, get a crane I don’t care just please get it out of me!” She then came up to me and checked me out and that’s when she said.

“Well it seems you no longer have to wait anymore.” I looked at her and thought I was hearing her.

“What now?” I asked.

“10cm at 30 hours later, you’re about to become a mum.” I turned to Jack and he smiled happily at me and I turned to Veronica and she smiled down at me and she kissed my forehead and she said.

“Welcome to the club darling, you’re gonna do great.”

“Come on darling, let’s inform the others.” Deacy said as he took his wife’s hand and soon a couple nurses came in and I was wheeled over to the delivery room.

I was moved onto the metal table that had piles of pillows stacked on top of one another. Dr. Crabgrass got on her blue overcoat and rubber gloves and a nurse assisted her and I was told to push as hard as I could at any time a contraction hit me.

I don’t even know how long it was that I was in the delivery room for but I was currently pushing as Jack was keeping a tight grip on my left knee as I had my legs up while Dr. Crabgrass kept telling me to push. I grunted and panted heavily as sweat poured down my face.

“Push, push. Okay we’re gonna push for 5 more seconds. Five….four….”

“3 2 1! Gah!!” I cried out as I stopped pushing and I lay back exhausted.

“Okay now the next contraction should be in about 20 seconds.” She said as she backed away from my vagina that was trying to push a Saint Bernard out.

“Ohh I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore Jack!” I sobbed to him.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright you’re doing great just a few more big pushes and….” I interrupted him as I felt another contraction hit me as I snarled out.

“AHHH GOD 20 SECONDS MY ARSE!!!”

“Here we go! Okay keep pushing. Push.” All the while Jack held onto me as I tried to push harder.  “Wait, wait, I see something.” She said in a concerned tone.

“What is it what do you see? Oh my god!” Jack proclaimed in shock.

“Don’t say oh my god! Oh my god what?!”

“What is that?” asked Jack.

“It’s the baby’s buttock it’s breached.” Dr. Crabgrass explained.

“Oh thank god I thought it had two heads.”

“Wait, wait…..is the baby gonna be okay?”

“The baby will be fine but it’s in a more difficult position so you’re gonna have to push even harder now, go.” I then began to push as hard as I could. “Mrs. Kline you’re gonna have to push even harder nothing’s happening.”

“I’m sorry I can’t! I can’t!” I sobbed out.

“Hey, hey look at me if you can perform before a sold out Madison Square Garden show four years ago, you can do this.” Jack said as he looked me square in the eye.

“I can’t Jack I can’t, please you do it for me!” I wept. Jack shook his head and said as he adjusted himself and said.

“Come on you can do this just one more big push on three, okay? One….two…three!” I then shot up and pushed as hard as I could. But as I did, I actually headbutt my husband and he fell to the ground.

“Good!” Dr. Crabgrass said.

“Keep pushing!” Jack called out.

“Are you okay love?!” I cried out in pain. He sat up rubbing his forehead as he said.

“You have no idea how much this hurts.” At that comment both Dr. Crabgrass and I turned towards him. I was almost about to strangle him. He had no idea what real pain felt like. “Keep going! Keep going!” He said learning his mistake and came up and held onto me as I kept pushing. I let out a scream as I pushed and the doctor said.

“Here we go!”

“It’s upside down but its coming.” Jack assured me. I let out a cry as I threw my head back and soon I could hear faint whimpering. “Oh my god, it’s here. Our baby’s here.” Jack said in wonder. I opened my eyes and soon Dr. Crabgrass held up a tiny and slightly bloody baby. “Oh my god it’s….it’s a girl.” Jack said.

Both Jack and I were in awe at the sight of our first baby being a girl. She was so beautiful.

“Aww she’s so tiny.” I cooed out. Dr. Crabgrass smiled at us before taking our baby away. I went from laughing to whimpering out sadly, “Where’d she go? Where’d my baby go?”

“It’s okay she’s just wrapping her up.” Jack assured me.

“Okay but be careful with her she’s really tiny.” I said. Jack and I looked at each other happily and that’s when Dr. Crabgrass said as she presented our baby girl.

“Here she is.” Right after that our daughter started to cry. I held her in my arms, all thanks to the practice that Dominque, Veronica and Chrissie gave me as I softly bounced my baby girl in my arms and cooed out.

“Hi, you~ aww thanks for coming out of me when I drank Jim’s tea. Ohhh I know poppet. Yes~” It was then my baby girl opened her eyes up at me. Her eyes the same color as mine. “Ahh she’s looking at me. Hi….I know you.” I sobbed out happily before cooing at her once more smiling widely.

“Do we have a name yet?” asked Dr. Crabgrass.

“No not yet.” I said.

“That’s fine. For now we’ll just call her baby girl Kline.” I looked to Jack and he couldn’t stop fawning over his new born baby girl. He stroked her tiny head and kept kissing it before finally looking up at me. We smiled at each other and he leaned forward and caught my lips with his in a gentle kiss. As we separated he kissed my forehead before getting comfortable by my bedside as we admired our beautiful baby girl.

“Hello baby girl.” I said.

We were now in a recovery room, Jack taking pictures of me and our baby girl together. I can’t believe she’s finally here, our little girl. 6lbs 11oz 21 inches long after over 36hrs in labor she’s finally graced us from heaven. I touched her rosy cheek with my index finger as I looked up at Jack and couldn’t stop smiling.

He kissed my temple and he said.

“God I can’t believe she’s finally here.”

“I know.”

“She looks so much like you.” He said. I looked up at him and that’s when we heard a voice say.

“Can we come in?” We both turned around and there peeking through the door of our room was Brian. We nodded and soon slowly pouring in was the entire Queen family. They all cooed and awed at the sight of my baby girl.

“There she is.” Said Roger.

“Ohh she’s so beautiful.” Veronica cooed. I smiled at her and I said.

“You wanna hold her first?” She nodded enthusiastically and I gently gave Veronica my baby girl.  She almost cried with tears of joy as she said.

“Oh my god, she’s amazing. I’m so glad you guys finally had sex.” Deacy came up to her and she gave him our daughter. Deacy smiled happily and I did see a couple of tears fall down his face as he said.

“No matter how many times I’ve already been through this, I still can never get enough of holding a newborn baby in my arms.” I smiled at Deacy and felt tears form in my eyes.

He then transferred my daughter to Roger and he gingerly held my baby girl in his arms. He was all smiles and in awe, seeing him be so tender towards my daughter.

“She’s so beautiful, just like her mum.” he said as he looked to me while Dominque cooed and awed at my girl in his arms.

“Okay my turn, my turn.” Freddie said as he held out his arms. Since Freddie stood on my right and Roger was to my left, the two of them did a careful exchange just over the foot of the bed as I could hear Roger say.

“There go to your uncle Freddie love,” as Freddie now held my daughter he was all gushy with love as he cooed out.

“Aww you’re as cute as a button darling, ohh I could just stick you in my pocket and take you away.” I gave him my best stank eye already feeling the protective mother instincts take over me.  He looked at me and he said, “I won’t.” I shook my head at him. Then finally Freddie gave my daughter to Brian and he got to have the chance to hold her. Him and Chrissie stood over my baby, Chrissie cooing as she stroked her tiny head.

“Roger is right, she has her mother’s eyes and cute little nose.” I held the tissue up to my eyes as I sniffled.

“Aww honey what’s wrong?” asked Chrissie as she now turned towards me and stroked my head.

“Nothing Chrissie, I’m sorry I just can’t stop crying.”

“It’s completely natural love, with all the hormones plus you’re sleep deprived. We all went through it when we had our kids.” Veronica said.

“So what? I bet you guys are all sleep deprived. I don’t see any of you crying hysterically because you put your slippers on the wrong feet.” I choked out as I dabbed underneath my eyes. My head soon sunk as I began crying and I whimpered out, “Ahh fuck.”

“What’s the matter now?” asked Deacy concerned.

“I was reliving it!” I sobbed. Everyone awed at me and Jack held me close and kissed the top of my head.

“So do you know what you’re gonna call her?” Brian said as he gave me back my baby girl.

“Wait a minute it’s not going to be baby girl? I thought that was so original.” Freddie said. It was then Jack said.

“Well we talked about it and we’ve finally came up with one.”

“And since I’m too emotional right now, why don’t you be the one to announce it to them Jack darling.” I said as I held my baby girl in my arms. Jack smiled beyond thrilled that he was to announce the name of our daughter.

“Wow okay, umm…..everyone.” He leaned down and touched his daughter’s head and said, “We’d like you to meet our daughter, Kelly Michelle Kline.” They all fawned over the name and greeted our daughter with warm smiles and gentle touches.

A few hours later, everyone went to get some food in their stomachs and a nurse had come in with some food for me as well as teaching me how to breastfeed my baby. It took a little bit but Kelly managed to latch on and I got her to drink.

Currently now she was sleeping in her little incubator bed right by my side when I heard the door open and coming in was Roger.

“How you doing (y/n)?”

“Fine, fine come on in honey.” He came in and softly closed the door behind him. He came over Kelly and smiled down at her faintly tickled her.

“God I still can’t get over the fact that she looks so much like you.”

“Yeah.” I said softly. He looked at me concerned and he said.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” I said as I wiped some tears away.

“What is it, hey?”

“Really Roger its nothing just hormonal that’s…..”

“(Y/n) come on, it’s me. Now give me the truth.” I looked up at him with my sad eyes. His entire face showed that he knew something was wrong with me, his “(y/n)” sense he calls it. I looked at him before turning away and I said.

“It’s just that…..I never thought I’d end up raising this baby by myself.”

“What are you talking about? Are you and Jack having problems?”

“No, no Roger that’s not what I meant. I meant that…..if we ever did have a problem we have Jack’s mother and step-father to turn to. Kelly will have one pair of grandparents to look after her, but I….I just wish my parents were still here to see this day. They’ve always talked about being grandparents one day. You know?” I turned to Roger and he looked at me and said.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I just so scared that I’m gonna mess up my daughter’s life, whether being busy with my career or…..being like my aunt. I sound pretty dumb right now huh?”

“No, no you don’t, hey,” Roger said as he came up to me and took my hand in both of his. We stared into each other’s eyes as he continued, “Now you listen to me; You are never ever, ever gonna be like her, okay? You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’ve got a warm heart, and you always support those that you love. You’re not alone, and if you ever need someone to call to help with Kelly. I’m just an ocean away but I can be there, like that.” He quietly snapped at his last statement as he kept a good strong yet gentle grip on my hand.

“Roger Meddows Taylor, what would I ever do without you?” I said as he opened up my hand and kissed the center of my palm, our own personal kiss we give to one another whenever we feel upset or alone.

He brought my hand to my heart as he pulled me close and I leaned against his chest listening to his heartbeat.

“You never have to wonder about that darling.” I sniffled as he kissed the top of my head and kept me in his arms for what felt like forever.

And it was at that moment I felt like it was time to ask him.

“Roger,”

“Mm?” he hummed as he gingerly stroked my back. I separated from him and he sat down in front of me and I said.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” He looked at me concerned and he said.

“What’s wrong you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m perfectly healthy, I just wanted to ask you something, and it’s really, really important.”

“What is it?”

“Well, for the past five years, geez it feels longer than that,” we both laughed softly as I continued, “From day one, you’ve always looked after me. Between you and the guys, you’ve always been the one to be there for me for everything. You’ve seen me at my lowest breaking point, and there to keep me grounded in the spotlight. You’ve been my shoulder to cry on and my confidant. Which is why I wanted to be the one to ask you…..if you’ll be Kelly’s godfather.”

His face turned to pure shock.

He looked toward Kelly before looking back at me and I smiled at him hoping for a yes from him.

“Me?” he stammered out.

“No the other Roger Taylor, of course you yah dolt!”

“But I—I would’ve thought you would’ve chosen Deacy.”

“Well Jack did want him to be the godfather. But I told him that if our baby was a girl, then there’s only one man that I knew who could not only be fiercely protective of her, but give her all the love she needed. Because that’s what he did for her mum.” I cupped his cheek in my hand.

Tears fell down his face and I wiped them away for him and he said.

“I’d be honored.” I smiled happily at him and we both embraced each other tightly crying in pure happiness.

[jbuffyangel]

Bigger Than The Friggin Universe: Arrow 7x22 Review (You Have Saved This City)

This one was hard to write. 

Goodbyes are always difficult, but when it’s goodbye to someone or something you love it’s particularly hard. I love Felicity Smoak. I love Olicity. I know you do as well. They are the reason we watch. Arrow delivered a spectacular season finale that felt like a series finale and it will be for some of you. 

Most importantly, they paid tribute to the character and love story that changed the show forever. Buckle up my friends and bring the tissues. This will be a long one. Felicity Smoak and Emily Bett Rickards deserve no less.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity, Original Team Arrow, Flash Forwards, and the Glorious Felicity Smoak

Changing up the format because this is going be a big smorgasbord of feels. I can’t think in sections because the writers just dropped kicked my heart into oblivion.

It’s all about the last twenty minutes right? Right. So let’s get to it. Honestly, I revved myself up for this episode. I was ready to go.

As if pure commitment to power through could protect me from the painful onslaught of emotions Stephen Amell and Emily Bett Rickards were about to bestow upon my soul. 

I was a fool. Nothing could prepare me for the last twenty minutes.

But then “You Have Saved This City” started moving fast. Like really fast. I blinked and we had blown through 35 minutes. I barely knew what happened! Oliver saved the city... I guess? 

It’s amusing we focused on this single goal for so long and once achieved it felt kind of... perfunctory. 

Saving the Star City was a plot point we were just waiting for the writers to pull the friggin trigger on and we knew they never would until the end. 

Arrow is a lot of things, but there’s never a lack of action in the series finale. It’s often incredibly frustrating because hugely important Olicity scenes are regulated to less than five minutes because ACTION.

“You Have Saved This City” was different. It felt like the writers were rushing through the episode to get to the Olicity scenes. They breezed past Oliver beating Emiko and The Ninth Circle. Those ungrateful twats known as the Star City Police Department and their equally annoying cohorts the citizens of Star City finally figured out Oliver is a good guy. The scene they pieced it all together though took less than three minutes. 

The writers wanted to focus on the emotional beats of the story because this was really their last chance to do so. Go big or go home. Fine with me.

It was great, but I started to panic. REALLY PANIC. The episode was moving waaaaaay too fast. This meant I had to say goodbye soon to a character I adore and a love story I have spent obscene amounts of time writing about. I wasn’t ready, but I was never going to be.

Oliver and Felicity tell the team they are going to leave Star City for a little while. The fact the city is safe and under the team’s protection is the reason they feel like they can leave. 

Source:  littlegirlinvisible

True, but also some nutcase from the Ninth Circle named Beatrice is still gunning for them. Who the fuck is Beatrice? Eh. Forget it. I don’t care.

The team ends the way it began with Oliver, Felicity and Diggle.  

Source: @plotbunnyshipper

Even though Original Team Arrow doesn’t get the focus and screen time we crave, they are and will always be the show. The chemistry between Stephen Amell, Emily Bett Rickards, and David Ramsey was discovered as Season 1 evolved. 

Arrow struggled to find its footing in the first season and it took many episodes for the writers to hit their groove with OTA, but ultimately they found the right path. 

Source: Paige

Original Team Arrow is the gravity which kept the show centered. Diggle talks about the legacy of heroes Oliver launched, but in truth it is the legacy THEY launched.

Source: Paige 

This is the moment I started to lose it because it didn’t feel like Diggle, Oliver and Felicity talking. It felt like David, Stephen and Emily. The lines between real and fiction began to blur as these actors said goodbye to Emily/Felicity and to the team they formed both on and off the camera. 

Source: Paige 

Stephen is wrecked. He giving it his all to hold it together and failing miserably. You aren’t the one leaving man! You still have another ten episodes to do with David! Honestly, though is anyone surprised? No. Stephen is the fuzzy marshmallow of this group. Don’t let the abs fool you. He is powerless against the power of Felicity Smoak and Emily Bett Rickards.

Oliver/Stephen, Diggle/David, Emily/Felicity also say goodbye the way they began. Original Team Arrow officially formed in Season 1 Episode 14 “The Odyssey.” Oliver Queen’s story, particularly in Season 1, was shaped from Homer’s Odyssey and this is the not remotely subtle nod. Moira shoots “The Hood” and Oliver turns to Felicity for help. She brings him home to The Foundry, to Diggle, and they work desperately to save Oliver’s life.

Felicity is overwhelmed by the blood and is deeply concerned she and John are Oliver’s only option for medical assistance. Diggle has seen a lot of war and trauma. He’s trained for this. Well mostly. There’s a moment when he reaches out to grab Felicity’s hand to reassure her. John’s other hand is keeping pressure on Oliver’s wound flat against his chest and close to the heart. I’ve often called Original Team Arrow the heartbeat of the show and this is the moment their perfect circuit formed.

Source: arrowdaily

David Ramsey honors that iconic moment by reaching for Emily’s hand across Stephen’s shoulders and placing his other hand on Stephen’s chest, right against his heart. This is the bond that brought the show together and held it together for the last seven years. Original Team Arrow is front and center in the home and legacy they built. Losing Emily and Felicity’s character means saying goodbye to the entity this trio formed through their wit, love, chemistry and loyalty. Stephen and Emily pretty much lost it then and there and I was right there with them.

I wrote this way back in Season 3:

Each member and relationship is a beat of this heart. Diggle is a beat. Oliver is a beat. Felicity is a beat. Their relationships with one another: Diggle and Oliver, Oliver and Felicity, Felicity and Diggle, and of course the trio, are beats as well. When we remove one of these characters or relationships the rhythm of the show is changed.

It’s unfathomable to imagine the show without all three and yet this is where we’re headed. All I know for certain is next season Arrow’s heartbeat will be irregular. It will be an echo.

Source: arrowdaily 

Felicity/Emily tries to comfort Oliver/Stephen by holding his arm tight and gently nuzzling his shoulder. 

Source: arrowdaily

(Because it’s bad y’all. Number One on the call sheet is going down by the head! MAYDAY MAY DAY!)  Felicity has an entire relationship with Oliver’s shoulder. 

This is incredibly well documented. Whenever she grabs on to his arm and kisses his shoulder it feels like she’s an anchor trying to hold a ship steady. Oliver is home and Felicity will sail with him anywhere. And he will sail steady with her by his side. It always reminds me of a line from Message in a Bottle, “A harbor where I am forever home.”

Source: arrowdaily

Felicity and Diggle disperse and Oliver is left alone in the bunker 

Source: arrowdaily 

just like he began, but worlds away from the person he used to be.  

He came back from Lian Yu broken and completely shut down emotionally, but it was through the unconditional love of these two people that Oliver’s soul was saved and he found his way truly home. The city is finally at peace because Oliver is at peace. Their journeys were always one in the same.

Source: arrowdaily 

I’ve always said Oliver Queen is like the sun Star City revolves around. His light ultimately saved the city. 

But now Oliver is leaving, and unbeknownst to him, it will be for 20 years. Star City will fall again in that time. When Oliver leaves he takes the light with him. The bunker going dark is an ominous foreshadow for the future.

Source: arrowdaily 

Diggle brings Mr. and Mrs. Smoak to the love cabin where they will bring their child into this world. 

Source: legends-of-today

The Ninth Circle is still gunning for them. We receive no other explanation other than Emiko made sure Oliver’s family will die. Oooookay then. Hiding it is! The truly bizarre piece of Season 7 is we knew exactly where Olicity was headed for a long time, but seeing it all play out is no less painful… or wonderful.

John brings them to the safest neighborhood in the world – it’s filled with ex CIA, ex ARGUS and ex. Listen, this ain’t nothin’. I grew up next door to a cop. It was fantastic. 

The Olicity love nest is one big safe house hand chosen by the man who loves and ships them the best. Oliver keeps insisting it’s only temporary despite the Ivy Town like bliss and complete military protection surrounding them. Ugh, my sweet summer child. The more you say “temporary” the more it becomes anything but. Can someone please explain the rules of television to my son? Thanks.

Source: Paige 

Oliver lets it slip they are having a baby girl and Felicity follows up with the name. Olicity bursting with excitement to tell John Diggle about The Princess That Was Promised is so on brand. He practically willed this kid into existence and no one understands that better than Oliver and Felicity. Diggle is appropriately jazzed. Representing the fandom to the bitter end!

But can we talk about this gender reveal though? This means at some point during all the crazy Oliver and Felicity had an ultrasound AND THEY DIDN’T SHOW US.

I accepted no triplets. I think I’m handling it pretty damn well don’t you think? But I draw the line at missing the ultrasound. We had time to listen Dinah bitch about her job 34,234 times this season, but there was no time to show the ultrasound???!!!! 

My head canon is Oliver was late and had to show up to the appointment in the Green Arrow suit.

This also means Felicity is around the 18 – 20 week mark. I don’t know if this actually tracks because I don’t want to do math. I am simply accepting it as fact. I might be dating myself though. It’s been 12 years since I popped out a kid and maybe you can find out gender sooner than 20 weeks. 

Source: Paige 

Felicity isn’t showing too much yet, but every woman is different. That’s probably just lunch. Also have you seen her abs? ANYWAYS IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE THEY ARE HAVING A GIRL, HER NAME IS MIA AND JOHN DIGGLE KNOWS.

The city is saved so John tells these two crazy kids to focus on their family. Can I just say no one has actually qualified why the city is suddenly saved other than for the team declaring it so, but whatever they are giving me an Olicity love cabin. 

I am perfectly content with it because it’s what Oliver and Felicity deserve. Star City can go screw themselves.

We get our Delicity moment. It feels like Marc, Beth and the writers came up with an “Emily Bett Rickards Is Leaving the Show” To Do list to make sure I didn’t riot outside their houses. This was a wise plan. I commend them for it.

The truth is we never get enough Delicity. It’s one of Arrow’s great failings. Hell, we can summarize the whole problem as not enough John Diggle. The ONLY positive I see out of Season 8 is maybe this man will finally get a storyline, but I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Source: Paige 

Anywho, Felicity is preggo, emotional and hiding away with her husband in a love cabin for at least the next four months, so she gushes to John about how much she loves him and how he will always be family. Then Delicity gets their hug on. 

Source: Paige 

STAHP. I JUST REGAINED COMPOSER.

Oliver and Diggle’s brotherhood and friendship has always been more of a focus than John’s relationship with Felicity, but that doesn’t mean he is any less her brother too. He has protected Felicity and offered her wise Yoda advice particularly when it came to Oliver and she needed it most. 

And Felicity has given John the same love and friendship in return. Diggle and Felicity are their own precious beat in this show.

The hardest part of Season 7 was seeing the strain in their friendship. Diggle refusing to help Felicity free Oliver still enrages me and I don’t think the writers gave the characters an adequate amount of screen time to repair that damage. But it doesn’t erase the last seven years between these two. Families disagree, fight and disappoint each other all the time. It doesn’t mean you stop being family. John had Felicity’s back in the end and if she can forgive him then so can I.

This cracked me up. 

Source: Paige 

These dudes still have ten more episodes together. Nobody is getting teary yet.

Olicity is finally alone after John leaves and Oliver is looking at his wife like a snack.

Damn. This blows @callistawolf​’s holiday in Aruba, and my personal head canon, to smithereens. However, we rebound nicely because Oliver Queen aka The Sex God has exactly one thing on his mind. Never change your priorities dude because they are on point.

Source: olicitygifs 

I remember in the early days of Arrow when sex scenes made me want to claw my eyes out because he slept with every female other than Felicity the first two seasons. 

But then the glorious Season 3 happened, we met Celibate Oliver and then THIS HAPPENED:

Oliver channeling all his sexual energy into one woman the last four years is character evolution I am here for. I’m also here for pregnant belated honeymoon sex. HAVE AT IT KIDS. 

Oh man! I don’t get to watch? Arrow continually stomping on my voyeuristic needs is really not cool. What the hell do they think television is for anyways?

They fade out from the kiss and I swear to God I yelled, “DO A MONTAGE!” and y’all THEY DID. Most of the time when I yell things at this show I am ignored, but every once in awhile they do the thing I ask. 

I had very few expectations going into 7x22. I write the occasional fic, but I’m really bad at coming up with things I want Olicity to do (other than sex) or words to say. The best moments on the show for me and the lines I love the most are the ones I can’t come up with. I didn’t have any expectations for a montage and it was everything I could have hoped for and more.

It felt like a truncated Ivy Town only better. 

Oliver and Felicity’s time in Ivy Town was idyllic because they left the insanity of Star City behind and lost themselves in each other. But there were cracks in the relationship even then. Their time in Bloomfield is much different. Oliver and Felicity have been through the good and the bad in their relationship. They’ve seen the worst and the best in each other. They found a way to be heroes and build a family together. Oliver and Felicity choose each other.

If their choice is the tree then this montage is the fruit it bears. My father said in his toast on my wedding day that a marriage is built in the quiet and simple moments. These are Oliver and Felicity’s quiet and simple moments. 

Source:  olicitygifs

They share a peaceful night enjoying being in each other’s company, rocking in chairs on the porch, under the stars, discussing anything and everything.

They take a stroll in the backyard with sweet baby Mia. 

Oliver lifts his baby girl high in the sky and is the picture of perfect happiness. 

Source:  olicitygifs 

This is the life Oliver never thought he’d have. It was the quiet dream he kept to himself alone in that bunker, night after night, resigned to his fate.

Arrow is a story about a man learning how to live again and this is Oliver Queen truly living. 

Source:  olicitygifs 

He falls asleep peacefully with his daughter safely tucked in his arms, happily cooing as he slumbers. (This is a factual representation of parenthood btw). 

When Oliver returned from Lian Yu his home was a stranger to him and the horrors of the five years away followed him into his dreams. Sleep was as evasive as peace.

Bloomfield isn’t the city Oliver grew up in and the Queen mansion dwarfs this cabin, but it doesn’t matter because Felicity is home. She is the reason Oliver faced his nightmares, forgave himself, and stopped merely surviving while he waited for death. Felicity Smoak gave Oliver a reason to live. She pushed her way through all the darkness, so his light could shine through. And their love created more reasons to live.

Source:  olicitygifs 

Oliver returned from Lian Yu to fight a war not just in the city, but within him.  He fought, clawed, bled and sacrificed his way to heroism while losing nearly everyone he ever loved along the way. Oliver has no superpowers. He became a weapon by sheer force of will.  Lian Yu burned everything he was to the ground and from the ashes he rose. Oliver’s pain molded him into someone else… something else.

But being a vigilante wasn’t enough. Two separate personas weren’t enough. Cutting himself off from his humanity wasn’t enough. Oliver needed to be more… so much more. He had to merge the darkness and the light, the man and mask. Sometimes the only way out is through. Oliver fought his battles and won not just by surviving, but by embracing life. And life to Oliver Queen is Felicity Smoak.

Oliver’s catalytic moment is his father’s death, but he was so short sighted about what his father was asking of him. 

This was always about more than Oliver righting Robert’s wrongs. This was always about more than a list or villains or even the city. Before he took his own life to save his son, Robert asked Oliver to be a better man. But the person Robert imagined wasn’t the Green Arrow. The man Robert imagined was this:

Source:  olicitygifs 

This man doesn’t happen without Felicity Smoak. Oliver saved the city, built a legacy, and became everything his father asked of him because of her. Felicity’s love gave Oliver the courage to open up his heart again after everything he suffered. Her compassion helped Oliver forgive himself. Her belief made Oliver believe he could someone he never imagined.

Sometimes even superheroes need to be saved. Felicity is Oliver’s hero. She saw the best in him. She harnessed his light.  Felicity was his path from purgatory to peace.  Love was the way through. And now he’s here. Oliver Queen is every bit the man Robert asked him to be and every bit the man Felicity Smoak deserves.

The road was long, painful, filled with loss and mistakes, but the man I glimpsed when he smiled at beautiful computer tech is here. 

I couldn’t connect with Oliver until he met Felicity Smoak. When he smiled I remember thinking, “Oh there you are Oliver.” And this is the man I saw in that smile. This is who he was meant to become. We’ve waited seven long years, but Oliver Queen is finally home. The dream foreshadowed all those years ago came true.

Source: feilcityqueen

And he’s about to be torn from it again. Even though I know this separation is coming nothing can prepare me for the pain. That said, Arrow isn’t known for their subtle and before they rip my heart out the writers give us hope. The montage began with Oliver and Felicity sitting on the porch with two candles flickering between them 

Source:  olicitygifs 

and it ends with two candles as Oliver and Felicity prepare to sit down to dinner.

Source: Paige 

Twin Flames.

We can have more than one soul mate, but we can only have one twin flame. A twin flame is one soul in two bodies. We are fated to meet this person and when it happens it is like coming home. There’s a ying and yang balance and even though twin flames seem like opposites they are really the same deep down.

Twin flames come in and out of each other’s lives and the relationship can often be tumultuous. However, separation is an illusion because their shared soul will keep them linked forever.  Twin flame energy inevitably leads to reunion and the souls will join together in perfect unconditional love.

SOUND FAMILIAR?!!!!

This isn’t the first time two candles have been used to represent twin flames. Oliver and Felicity declared their love and slept together for the first time just before being separated forever. 

We know Olicity is about to be torn apart again and for a much longer period of time. However, the flicker of the twin flames is light in the dark. It is hope in despair. Oliver and Felicity are one soul in two bodies. There is no separation for any length of time or distance which will ever distinguish their love. Their reunion is inevitable. They are meant to be together. It’s fate.

But first they have to separate. 

Oliver hears a noise, grabs a knife and brandishes it against The Monitor’s throat in a stellar parallel to Mia doing the same to Felicity in “Star City 2040.” 

Source: ebett

The Monitor doesn’t have to say a word. Oliver knows immediately why he’s there. It’s heartbreaking because he thought he had more time.

I think Oliver saw the newspaper heading of The Flash’s disappearance at some point and figured he had at least until 2024. Due to some shenanigans on The Flash which I won’t get into other than IT’S ALL BARRY’S FAULT (well his daughter too, but mostly Barry), “Crisis” is happening sooner. 

It’s bad enough Oliver is sacrificing his happiness to save Barry and Kara, but now that speeding disaster zone of a human being stole an additional five years from him. Five precious years.

Oliver didn’t know the exact terms of the bargain he made with The Monitor at the time, but he’s informed he has to go save the multiverse. Or whatever. Yes, Felicity knew about the deal. He told her. That’s not something I even worried about while watching.

Source: Paige 

The Monitor also tells Oliver he’s going to die while trying to stop the inevitable. Nice. This guy is a real charmer.  The least he could have done is offer another bottle of wine before he obliterates Oliver and Felicity’s entire life.

Now, before anyone freaks, the rules of television explicitly state that when the writers say a character is going to die they are NOT going to die. The more this show talks about Oliver dying the better you should feel. IT AIN’T HAPPENING FAM.

Felicity ain’t having any of this. 

Source: Paige 

She protectively steps in front of her husband and tells The Monitor to go screw himself. THATTA GIRL BABY GIVE HIM HELL! Felicity giving zero fucks about saving Barry, Kara or the universe is such a big mood.

The Monitor assures Felicity he’s not going to harm either her or their daughter. MIA IS TOO IMPORTANT. Hahaha raise that neon spin off sign a little higher executive producers. Mars can’t see it yet.

Source: Paige 

It’s cool and all that The Monitor isn’t going to kill Felicity and Mia (thanks?) but it doesn’t really solve her Oliver problem. Felicity doesn’t give a crap about the spin off because she won’t be in it. The spin off can go screw itself just like Barry, Kara and the universe. NOBODY IS TAKING HER HUSBAND. 

Source: Paige 

He’s Felicity’s twin-flame-superhero-sex-god-father-of-her-children-chef-extraordinaire. Do you know how hard it is to find a man who cooks like Oliver who also looks like Oliver? I guarantee there isn’t another man like him in the multiverse. This poor man’s version of Thanos can fuck off.

Oliver, because he’s superhero Jesus now, gently tries to convince Felicity to back off. 

Source: Paige 

Hahaha, that’s cute. It’s never gonna happen big boy. Your woman is fierce. Remember when she slipped you a Mickey post coital to smuggle you out of Nanda Parbat? I do. It was awesome.  Speaking of, thirsty Oliver?

Source: blakelivey 

OMG YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO MUCH TRUTH!!!!

B*rry causes 99.9999999% of the problems in the DC Universe and suffers about 0. 0000001% of the consequences. In fact, Oliver suffers more from things B*rry does than B*rry ever has. A little death would be good for the kid. Consider it a growing experience. The world will be just FINE. Better even because we won’t have B*rry All*n jerking the timeline around. Diggle might get to keep all the kids he and Lyla have. The Flush deserves every bit of this comeuppance Oliver Queen. STAND ASIDE AND LET IT HAPPEN.

What about Kara?

She’s a lovely person, but I don’t watch her show anymore and my kid likes Hermione better now anyway. I am completely comfortable hanging her out to dry as long as Olicity gets to live their life in peace and happiness- even if it’s for a short period of time.

What about the universe?

Eh. Let the world hang Oliver. It’s cool man.  I’m about 51% sure I’ll go to heaven. Purgatory is for sure, so let’s roll the dice. Go sit down on the porch with your wife, raise your baby for the few months left, and we’ll all go out together in a blaze of glory. If you are taking requests because the world is ending then I would appreciate one more sex scene. Thanks buddy.

Source: blakelivey 

Honestly, the little headshake Oliver does when Felicity asks why it always has to be him says it all. Oliver has no answer for why the world is constantly screwing him over. So he slept with someone’s sister. Yeah, I know that was bad, but the man watched his father blow his brains out, was tortured multiple times, has been nearly killed every day for the last ten years, watched countless people he loves die, suffered a romantic horror show with L*urel, and put up with the Newbies & their bullshit for the last three years. Oliver has suffered enough.

Unfortunately, the Monitor tells Oliver he can save not only the lives of millions, but Felicity, William and Mia’s lives too. Damn it. Of course, he’s gonna go now. Even if he was comfortable letting the world go up in smoke (which I know he’s not) Oliver is not about to let his wife and children die.

Ruelle is playing and Oliver is walking into Mia’s nursery. Shiiiiiiiit.  This is going to rip out my heart. WHY CAN’T I EVER GET OBSESSED WITH A COMEDY?

I don't want to know Who we are without each other It's just too hard I don't want to leave here without you I don't want to lose part of me

Oliver is already crying, which means I am already crying. DID YOU HEAR THAT LYRIC? I think the only thing worse than Ruelle would be Sarah McLachlan at this point. These writers watched Buffy and it shows.

Source: olivergifs

Oliver looks into the crib at his perfect baby girl who is kicking, gurgling and not sleeping (factual representation of babies). He whispers “hey” the same way he’d whisper it to her mother whenever she was scared. 

This voice was how Oliver reassured Felicity. 

For so long it was the way he would tell Felicity he loved her without saying the actual words. Oliver whispers “hey” to tell Mia she’s safe. It’s his “I love you.” He can’t say the words or he’ll never leave. Oliver whispers “hey” because he can’t say goodbye.

Felicity is understandably disillusioned with being able to have a normal life. How can they if a caped alien agathokakological being is going to snatch their happiness away at a moment’s notice? This is a fair and accurate statement given the current state of events.

But what’s normal? It’s a relative term. Nobody is really normal. Sure, on the surface people look like they are living normal, everyday existences and to some extent that is true. But everyone has something they are dealing with. The something I deal with might be on a very different scale than the something you deal with, but nobody escapes this life without suffering. Nobody. And suffering always  obliterates our normal, everyday existence.

Oliver and Felicity want to sit on the porch, drink a glass of wine and be home to put their babies to bed every night. That’s a completely reasonable desire. It should be achievable even though their night gig is masked vigilantes. For a very long time it was achievable.

And yet it’s not because they are masked vigilantes. The needs of the many will always outweigh the needs of the few. This life Oliver and Felicity have chosen comes with a lot of benefits. They have found their true purpose. They help people. Oliver and Felicity even saved a damn city full of ungrateful twats.

But no choice is free of consequence. Life as a hero requires sacrifice.  Heroes put the needs of others before themselves. It’s what makes them heroes. You don’t hear me volunteering to save the universe do you? Hell no. Let it burn man! Make your peace with God everyone! I’m ready to go! I am not Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak.  

Bloomfield was never the permanent plan. Oliver and Felicity always planned to go back to Star City and the bunker to fight another day. Felicity continued her life as Overwatch as she raised Mia. Oliver and Felicity are their best selves as Green Arrow and Overwatch, but it comes with significant downsides like danger anger, pain, loss and sacrifice. Their selflessness is what makes them heroes, but it costs them the very happiness they desire and deserve. Heroism is a bitch.

Of course, Oliver and Felicity have suffered enough. Of course, they deserve a happily ever after without any additional pain. Of course, they deserve to raise their family together for the next twenty years. But that’s not really the story Arrow is telling.

I mean… name one horrible thing that happened to Oliver that he truly deserved? He cheated on his girlfriend with her sister. So he deserved to watch his father commit suicide? Oliver was a drunken, whoring, layabout in his twenties. So he deserved to spend five years in hell tortured, beaten, fighting for survival and separated from everyone he loves? A lunatic forces him to pick between Sara and Shado and as punishment for that choice another lunatic murders his mother and lays waste to his city? Uh sure that’s balanced. These punishments don’t fit the crime. There’s nothing about Oliver’s story that is fair. It was never about fair.

Oliver Queen is an imperfect person. He tries and fails so many times, again and again. He is the perfect example of the disaster zone human beings can be while also representing the best of who we can be. He’s a murderer and a hero. Oliver is a sinner and a saint. He is light and dark like all of us.

But what I love most about him is his resiliency. He keeps fighting no matter what life throws at him. As does Felicity.  The truth is my friends; suffering is rarely “deserved.” There seldom seems to be a balance in the cosmic scale. I’ve witnessed terrible things happen to extremely good people. The fact they are good did not serve as a protective bubble from pain, although I naively at times thought it would.

If we’re all just doomed to suffer then what’s the point of being good? Why do bad things happen to good people? I believe we have to ask the right questions first and it’s never why. If the Lord Jesus Christ came down from heaven and explained to me in detail why the twins I miscarried had to be with him and not here on Earth with me, I’d still believe his decision was crap. There is no explanation God can give me which will make me understand why I had to lose two precious children. They belong here with me. Full stop. The Lord and I will just have to agree to disagree.

Why seldom leads to any answers. The question we should ask in the face of suffering is how. How do we survive this? How do I mold my body around this pain, become someone different, but not lose my soul in the process? More often than not suffering’s intent is to bring us to our knees. We aren’t supposed to be Pollyanna, although all the power to those who can. I believe we suffer so we understand we cannot survive alone. We need love. We need to reach out and for others to reach back. We need God. That’s how we survive.

I suppose that’s why I love hero stories. They are heightened and exaggerated reflections of suffering and survival. 

We watch these characters rise above loss, pain and darkness again and again. 

Not only do they survive, 

but they become a defining example of what selflessness, sacrifice 

and compassion look like.  

It doesn’t take a psychology major to understand why a girl, who has been in and out of hospitals her whole life, loves a character who has super strength, never gets sick and slays vampires. But Buffy’s story was not without pain. It was more often than not a story about pain.

I wish I could love selfish characters. I wish I could love stories where the biggest problem is solved in twenty minutes or less. I wish I could love relationships that are smooth sailing from start to finish and live happily ever after. I wish I could love stories like that, but I can’t. 

Those stories don’t resonate with me the way stories like Oliver and Felicity Smoak do because they aren’t a reflection of life. Pain and loss are as much a part of it as joy. I want to escape from life inside a story, but I also want it to give me hope. If these characters can survive their pain then maybe I can to. But that’s just me.

All I have wanted for Oliver and Felicity is for them to be happy, but that’s a fairly broad spectrum. I truly didn’t expect the suffering to stop until the final moments of this show and we aren’t there yet. Just look back on the ebb and flow of their relationship:

Oliver tells Felicity he loves her for the first time, but she’s kidnapped by Slade as a result of the confession. 

Oliver and Felicity go out on a date and the restaurant explodes.

They have sex for the first time and are separated forever (seemingly).

Oliver and Felicity get engaged and she is shot.

They get married after nearly being killed by Nazis.

Oliver is betrayed by his team 10 minutes after their wedding reception.

William is part of their lives, but his mother is dead and he’s kidnapped on a regular basis.

Felicity is pregnant, but Oliver’s psycho sister is trying to kill them with her wacko cult.

It’s a constant carrot, stick, carrot, stick, carrot, stick process. This is Arrow and it always will be. Oliver has finally saved the city. He’s more than earned a happy life with Felicity, their daughter and son. And now he has to sacrifice it all. This is the last thing Oliver and Felicity deserve, but this is why they are heroes. This wheel will keep turning until the final minutes of the show and only then it will stop. And we aren’t at the end yet.  

All Oliver has ever wanted is to keep the people he loves safe. It’s why he wore the mask to begin with. The idea of leaving Felicity alone with their infant daughter, knowing the Ninth Circle is out there and a hundred other dangers known and unknown to them, is crushing to Oliver. Their separation while Oliver was in Slabside did serve as a trial for what was to come. They had to discover who they were without each other. Oliver didn’t lose himself in the darkness once separated from Felicity. And she did whatever was necessary to keep her and William safe.

Source: feilcityqueen 

This is why Oliver is asking Felicity to make him this promise. There is nothing more precious to him than their children. The only way he can fight for the world is because he knows Felicity will fight for William and Mia every day. She will keep them safe. Oliver questioned the decisions Felicity made while he was in prison, but now he has her back completely. He knows she is strong enough to keep this promise. 

The promise is for Felicity too. If the worst happens and Oliver dies then their children, and the promise she made him, will give Felicity the strength to keep going… to keep fighting… to keep living.

Felicity makes Oliver a promise too. 

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

There is no amount of time or distance which will ever separate her love for him. They are one soul in two bodies. 

In the movie of The Count of Monte Cristo, Edmund is unable to buy his love Mercedes an engagement ring, so she wraps a string around her finger and promises to never take it off. When they come face to face again twenty years later, and even though she is married to the man who sent him to prison, the string is still on her finger. Felicity is making the same declaration. No matter where Oliver goes she will always be his wife and her devotion will never end.

Source: @olicitygifs​

I love that Felicity tells Oliver they are the best parts of each other. We’ve focused a lot on the impact Felicity had in Oliver’s life, and it was monumental, but he changed her too. Oliver opened up Felicity’s world. She found a strength she never knew existed, a purpose worth fighting for and a love worth living for.

Love wasn’t the finish line for Oliver and Felicity. Their relationship wasn’t the reward after all the struggle and hardship. Their love was the evolution. Oliver and Felicity inspired, challenged, changed and supported each other. They became heroes together. They are unique and interesting characters separately, but together they are magic.  Olicity brings out the very best in each other, which means they are living life to the fullest. This love makes life worth living… just as Diggle promised Oliver not so long ago.

And then the mic drop.

Source: @olicitygifs​

OLICITY IS BIGGER THAN THE FRIGGIN’ UNIVERSE. 

Oliver and Felicity are the OTPs of OTPs, the ship of ships and the story of stories. Olicity set the standard at infinity. No other love story will ever come close. At least not for me.

All the sorrow, sacrifice, joy and triumphs make Oliver and Felicity’s love story EPIC. In the immortal words of Logan Echol, “Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined and bloodshed. Epic.” Maybe their life isn’t normal, but it is extraordinary. This love will conquer all no matter how long it takes.

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

Whoa. I can do twelve pages just on this statement alone. WOW. These writers love shining a beautiful bright light on Olicity while simultaneously taking a crap on L*uriver. It’s truly a gift.

I am going to take some time to discuss this because this line is incredibly important. The writers are drawing a comparison to Felicity and Oliver’s past relationships for a reason. This is a deeply profound statement as Oliver reflects on the person he used to be and the person he is today.

Oliver shut down his emotions and became The Machine to survive those five years in hell. 

He told Felicity on their first date how he wasn’t able to see the humanity in other people when he returned home. 

He had shut off everything that made him human. 

Until he walked into Felicity’s cube and she sparked the light inside him. Then everything began to change.

But it was a very slow process. When we look back at Season 1 and Oliver’s behavior, his fear of being unable to love is quite prevalent. His inability to connect is crippling to his relationships with Thea, Moira and Tommy.

It’s even worse with the women he “dated.” Oliver was going through the motions in his relationships before Felicity. It was like he was playing a part. He mimicked what a relationship was supposed to look like without ever risking real vulnerability. There’s a wall inside Oliver and nobody knows that better than him. He had sex with these women, but Oliver wasn’t truly connecting with them and he knew it. No wonder Oliver believe he’d lost the ability to love.

Yes, even with Sara. The Original Canary will always be Oliver’s “perfect on paper” love interest. She was missing everything Oliver feared about a relationship with Felicity. I’m not just talking about the danger, even though Oliver’s fear for Felicity’s safety was high on his list of concerns. 

However, Oliver’s love for Felicity was like a raw nerve. It exposed all the vulnerabilities he worked so hard to protect. It took Oliver a long time to be ready for Felicity and he fought it nearly every step of the way. Loving Felicity reopened Oliver’s humanity, but that humanity came with the flood of pain he’d been trying to keep out.

Sara was a perfect path of avoidance because she was even more screwed up than Oliver, which says A LOT. The entire focus of their relationship was Oliver saving Sara. It was all about fixing her sins and brokenness. Saving Sara meant saving himself without having to bother with all the messy, uncomfortable and painful parts of his trauma. It was like putting a Sara shaped band aid over the gushing wound of his past. Not gonna work Handsome! Oliver also believed Sara was broken because of him. She was a manifestation of all his sins.

Oliver used these relationships like a mirror to reflect all the awful things he believed about himself. He failed Helena.  He wasn’t good enough for McKenna. He destroyed Sara. And L*urel was self hatred.

Din*h L*urel L*nce. Holy hell where do we begin? Every time Oliver talks about feeling undeserving of love he is referencing his relationship with L&urel. 

Hell, he told her that in the alien dream world. Real and sustaining love brings out our best selves, so it is impossible to feel undeserving of it. If anything it feels like the love you were always meant to find.

L*urel was the person Oliver believed he should love. He felt like something was wrong with him because he didn’t. Oliver decided to blow up his life rather than have an honest conversation with L*urel about it. This was a mistake he paid for and then some, but it didn’t mean Oliver’s feelings were wrong.

When he returned from the island his pursuit of L*urel was pursuit of self hatred. It was a continual cycle of chasing after her, trying to be worthy and failing. 

L*urel never missed an opportunity to tell Oliver he is a complete waste of a human being. And then the next week she’d be batting her eyes, panting and mauling him. 

I think Oliver became addicted to the cycle. When L*urel unleashed her vitriol and rage it confirmed every awful thing Oliver believed about himself. But redemption felt possible when L*urel showered him with affection and it was almost euphoric. He was stuck in this toxic cycle with her for a very long time.

Oliver’s pursuit of L*urel in Season 1 is much like his pursuit of his mission. He is chasing an illusion of love just like crossing off names on a list gave Oliver the illusion he’s saving a city. 

The reason he always talks about feeling undeserving of love when it comes to L*urel is because Oliver knew, deep down, she was chasing an illusion too. 

He knew the man L*urel loved didn’t exist. She loved who Oliver should be and not who he was. Oliver is L*urel’s “perfect on paper” love interest, but she never looked beyond the page.

L*urel: We decided to look for apartments together. I know it’s a big step but we’re ready. I think we’ll live together for a year, engaged for another and then –

Sara: Mrs. L*urel Queen.

L*urel: Maybe one day.

When love is unconditional we feel it. When love is conditional we feel it too. The illusion L*urel loved made Oliver feel like crap. He knew he’d never measure up.

If he let L*urel see who he really was then she would see him as less than. Which is worse – someone loving you for who you’re not or someone not loving you because of who you are?  It’s a tough call. No wonder Oliver got on the boat.

Not only was Oliver feeling undeserving of love, but he also felt incapable of love. This tells you everything you need to know about L*uriver. It was never about love. 

He was going through the motions with L*urel just like every other love interest. Oliver mimicked love, but he didn’t feel it. Not the way he should and, even back then, I think he knew that on some level. He was addicted to the toxic cycle with L*urel and what he wanted, more than anything, was to fix things with her. If he fixed everything with L*urel, if she forgave him and took him back, then it was like Lian Yu never happened. Oliver earns his redemption without having to look deep inside the pain. 

And none of that has anything to do with really being in love with L*urel L*nce. Furthermore, he’d be with a person who doesn’t really love who he truly is, which is exactly the kind of love Oliver Queen believed he deserved.

Felicity Megan Smoak is the antithesis of all of this. She is the first mirror to reflect all the good things in Oliver and slowly, bit by bit, he began to believe that reflection was true. The sheer force of her goodness was like a battering ram against the wall Oliver built inside himself. She cracked him wide open and all his light began spilling out. 

All the pain came with all that humanity and it hurt a lot, but Oliver was never alone. Felicity was always by his side. Her compassion made the pain bearable. It gave Oliver the courage to show Felicity who he truly was, the good, bad and awful, and he received unconditional love in return.

She was the first person to tell Oliver he deserved more. There was one inescapable truth Oliver couldn’t ignore. Oliver believes in Felicity Smoak. She is beyond reproach. Felicity is the best of humanity in Oliver’s eyes (and he’s right).  If that is true, and Felicity loves him, then maybe Oliver isn’t as bad as he thought. Even more importantly, she loves Oliver for who he is and not in spite of who he is. This is the difference between feeling deserving and undeserving of love.

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

This is what Oliver means when he says Felicity opened up his heart in ways he never thought possible. He repeats the words Felicity said the night she told Oliver she loved him for the first time. 

Felicity didn’t tell Oliver she loved him because it was her last chance. I mean… yeah it was, but that ignores the massive shift in Oliver’s behavior in 3x20.

Thea was near death and the pain brings Oliver to his knees. Thea was all he had left of his family. She was everything Oliver worked so hard to protect and he failed. 

Instead of pushing Felicity away like he has for most of Season 3, Oliver reaches out to her. He allows Felicity to take care of him. Oliver lets Felicity love him, truly love him, in all the ways he deserves and yet so adamantly refused to accept. And of course, Felicity reaches back. She tells Oliver not only how much she loves him but the profound impact he had on her life.

And that’s the point. Somehow amidst all the pain and suffering in life there is love. We must reach for it, particularly when our world seems darkest and the pain is too much to bear. If we can have a profound impact on one person, inspire his/her best self and make his/her life better by simply being part of it then our life will resonate long after we are gone.  We all deserve unconditional love. If we have to fall to our knees to find it then so be it because it makes life survivable. It’s why life is worth living.

This is gift of Olicity. This is the lesson their story teaches us. Unconditional love seems like such a simple idea, but it isn’t. It gets lost in all the noise of anger, blame, retribution, self hatred, selfishness and indifference. This is why we need hero stories. They serve as a reminder of who we should try to be. Maybe we can’t shoot a bow and arrow like Oliver Queen or hack computers like Felicity Smoak, but we all are capable of loving like they do. Arrow may be a little television show on an almost network, but Olicity’s love is a powerful example to us all.

It’s important to note Stephen is really starting to lose it here. We’re almost at Sarah Michelle Gellar “It’s not enough time!” level hysterics. 

For the love of God someone convince Emily to stay for another 10 episodes. Amell isn’t going to make it! Me neither fam. I honestly missed 95% of this speech the first time because I was sobbing so hard. 

And then he delivers the humdinger. 

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

There are three levels to an Oliver Queen line:

1. Swoon

2. Panty Dropper

3. Cardiac Arrest

This is a hardcore Level 3. It’s been nice knowing everyone! Cause of death: My Only Regret Is Not Telling You I loved You Sooner. Damn Oliver.

Felicity Smoak may be leaving, but lines like this can keep a fandom going for twenty years. Hell we could go fifty on this one. Think of the fics, gifs, artwork, metas and fan vids we can create from this line alone!

SO WHEN WAS SOONER OLIVER? Quite frankly, we could make a strong case for 1x03. Hell, I’m willing to argue for the 3x14 flashback too. One of the first metas I ever wrote was “When Did Oliver Fall in Love with Felicity?” and to this day it’s probably the most popular article I’ve written. It is my firm belief Oliver’s journey towards realization was slow and then it happened all at once. 

This line perfectly dovetails with all those moments because the truth is there is no right answer. Felicity Smoak evolved as Oliver’s true love as the show evolved and yet it was also destiny. Talent and chemistry met opportunity. The unexpected became the plan. That’s the magic of television.

This line reminds me of one from How I Met Your Mother.

“Hi. I'm Ted Mosby. In exactly 45 days from now you and I are going to meet and we're going to fall in love and we're going to get married and we're going to have 2 kids and we're going to love them and each other so much. ... I'm always gonna love you, til the end of my days and beyond. You’ll see.”

Oliver wants those extra 45 days or six months or two years or INSERT PERSONAL TIME FRAME HEAD CANON HERE. All he wants is more time with Felicity.

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

This is tooooo muuuuuuuch! 

Stephen and Emily are shattering my soul. By the way, Oliver finally said Felicity was beautiful! This has been in the fandom’s craw for a loooooong time and IT HAPPENED. (Marc and Beth check off #232).

As much as I love this line it is extremely painful because Oliver is acknowledging he won’t be around to watch Mia grow up. He’s accepted he’s going to die. 

But Felicity hasn’t. She makes her husband another promise and instills some hope in Oliver.  

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

Felicity Smoak is never wrong. If she refuses to accept Oliver’s fate then so should we.

One last I love you.

One last kiss. 

One last hug.

One last look. Memorizing every detail. This memory will have to last 20 years.

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

And then he’s gone. 

Felicity holds on for as long as she can until the distance breaks their hands apart.

And she is alone.

Life will always bring us to our knees my friends. 

Source: @olicitygifs​ 

It’s why our moments of joy are so precious. If you can glean one lesson from this love story I hope it is that.

Arrow did their very best to convince us Oliver is dead. Look guys! A grave!  

Source: olivergifs

Nothing short of a body, autopsy report and dental records will convince me of it. A headstone ain’t gonna cut it!

Felicity says goodbye to her children at his gravesite. 

Source: felicitysmoakgifs 

They’ve saved Star City in the future, but now Felicity & Co. is going on the run. She is putting the city in Mia, William, Connor and Zoe’s hands because they are ready. It’s time for the old guard to fade away and the new guard to step up.  

I don’t believe for one second Oliver Queen is dead, but I realized in this scene why Felicity has not gone out in search of him even though it’s been 20 years. Felicity couldn’t keep her promise to find Oliver until she kept the other promise she made him – to keep William and Mia safe.

All season we’ve watched Felicity struggle with letting go of her children and allowing them to be the heroes they are meant to be. 

Source: feilcityqueen

She knew it would be goodbye once William and Mia could protect themselves. Felicity has devoted her entire life to these children and sacrificed nearly everything – including finding their father. Felicity has been living the last twenty years torn in half as she faithfully kept all the promises she made to Oliver.

This is an impossible choice. If she stays with the children then she’ll never find Oliver. If she leaves to find Oliver then she can’t be with the children. And yet, Felicity made those decisions the last twenty years with grace and love.

I’ve always identified with Felicity in some way, but I probably feel the most connected to her in this scene than I ever have before. We’re supposed to raise our kids to be independent and contributing members of society, but they leave home when they become everything we’ve asked them to be. We spend our children’s entire childhood preparing them to leave us. It’s unbelievably difficult because all we want is to keep them close and hold on even tighter. The hardest part of being a parent is letting go.

And that’s what Felicity has done all season in the flash forwards. She’s held on as tightly as she could to William and Mia, trying to keep them out of the action and safe, but that’s not who they are. It’s not in their blood to stand on the sidelines. William and Mia are the children of heroes and now it’s their turn to carry on their parent’s legacy.  It’s time for Felicity to let go.

William and Mia are ready and the goodbye she’s been dreading the last twenty years is here. 

Source: smoakmonster 

As Felicity says goodbye she brushes the hair from Mia’s face just like Oliver brushed the hair from hers the last time they spoke. Oliver’s dream of Mia growing up to be as smart and as beautiful as her mom came true. She is everything Oliver could ever hope for and more just like William.  These children are his legacy.

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

Mia is heartbroken she never knew their father, which means she will get the chance in Season 8.  THESE ARE THE RULES OF TELEVISION OKAY?!

Source: felicitysmoakgifs 

Felicity solidifies Mia and William’s Season 8 arc by asking them to take care of each other (that neon spin off sign is flashing again too).

Source: felicitysmoakgifs 

 And now is the time we must say goodbye to Felicity Smoak and Emily Bett Rickards. 

Source: blakelivey

She was telling the truth when she told William and Mia she was going on a journey of her own, but it’s not as a fugitive on the run. 

Felicity waits in the middle of the road, the light of the moon streaming behind her like a flashlight guiding her on her journey, and The Monitor arrives. He is taking Felicity to Oliver.

Where she is going there is no return, which is why saying goodbye to Mia and William was so difficult. However, Felicity promised she would watch over them, so I’m thinking wherever she’s going isn’t completely cut off. The minute they “point of no return” then it automatically means the characters will return. Rules of television.

Felicity’s favorite story is The Wizard of Oz and this journey with The Monitor is like Dorothy leaving home for Oz. However, I prefer to think of it as Felicity leaving Oz for home because home is wherever Oliver is. There’s been sadness in Felicity’s eyes in the flash forwards because a piece of her is missing, but now her eyes are shining with light and joy. 

Source: felicitysmoakgifs 

The reunion she’s waited twenty years for is finally here. They are soul in two bodies and these twin flames will finally be together again.

I WAS SCREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I couldn’t believe what just happened. I never expected Beth and Marc to give us Oliver and Felicity’s happy ending NOW. Yes, I know it happened off screen, but they are together. 

Hopefully, this multidimensional zone Oliver has been chilling in for the last twenty years looks a lot like Aruba and are having hot-we-waited-20-years-for-each-other sex.

Most of the time when an actor leaves a televisions show there are tons of loose ends and it’s vitally important he or she comes back for the series finale if there’s any chance of resolving the storyline happily. It is incredibly stressful as a viewer. 

But we don’t have to worry about Emily Bett Rickards coming back for the final season. I fully expect her to in the series final at least, but if it doesn’t happen for some reason then it’s okay. The writers planned for the worst case scenario and protected Olicity’s happy ending. 

This is a spectacular gift particularly for those who are saying goodbye to the series now.

I don't want to know what it's like to live without you

Don't want to know the other side of a world without you

Felicity twists her wedding ring, the symbol of her unending love and devotion to Oliver, and steps into the other side of the world to find her husband and fulfill her promise. 

She’s lived the last twenty years without him and she doesn’t want to spend another day without him. Felicity is going home to Oliver.

It’s the home we all found when Oliver brought a bullet ridden computer to the hacker with a ponytail and glasses chewing on a red pen. 

Source: felicitysmoakgifs 

Felicity Smoak and Emily Bett Rickards drifts out of our world with the same light and hope she drifted in with. Oliver may be my favorite character, but Felicity Smoak is the most important. 

There is no other actor or character who had more impact on the story and the trajectory of the show. Emily Bett Rickards came in as a day player, turned the show on its head, became the female lead and anchored the love story Arrow revolved around. THIS IS UNHEARD OF. IT DOESN’T HAPPEN. 

THAT IS PURE TALENT.

Even more importantly, the writers and Emily crafted a strong female character by embracing her humanity. Felicity Smoak is intelligent, witty, compassionate, brave, resilient, optimistic and honest. She makes mistakes (occasionally), but she always learns from them and it makes her a stronger person. 

This was never just Oliver’s story. It was Felicity’s too. She helped Oliver become a hero by being a hero in her own right.  She is a fictional character my daughter can look up to. She made me laugh, cry and ponder life as she wow’d me with her genius, heroism and open heart. That’s more than I could ever ask for.

Emily and Felicity Smoak brought the light to Arrow. 

She saved the show by becoming the show. It gave me a character and love story I will love for the rest of my life and for that I will always be grateful.

As for the future, Felicity essentially disappears inside a black star. The path home to Oliver is a black star. 

Source:  ebett 

No universe can disconnect the souls of this family. They will find each other again. We just have to wait and hope. 

Stray Thoughts

I care very little about anything else going on in the other 30 minutes, so I’ll just catalog my other rando thoughts here rather than create additional sections. Cool? Cool.

It really boils down to Emiko being ticked she didn’t get Queen Consolidated. Wow. My buddy Chris King really nailed it.

“He's trying to save you dumbass.” BEN TURNER GETS TO STAY. I’d exchange Ben Turner for Curtis Holt, Dinah and Rene in a heartbeat. IN. A. HEARTBEAT

Speaking of  Curtis. Keep it. Completely unnecessary having him in Emily’s last episode. 

Nobody really buys that Rene and Dinah should be part of the Mark of Four right? Good. Just checking. 

“Been there before." Never change Roy Harper. I love you just the way you are

“I wanted to be a Queen.” I didn’t really care about Emiko, but that line got me.

“Overwatch?” Annnnd Curtis answers. This is why he had to go. I HATE HIM.

Oliver saved the city and stopped Emiko by using over a decade of loss, pain and PTSD to therapy his sister out of her crazy. That’s kind of awesome.

The parallel of Mia and Oliver fighting was flawless. Probably one of the coolest stunts the show has ever done.

I’m here for Father/Daughter selfless crime fighting duo. I’m going to keep saying I need a spin off until I get it.  Source:  ghxstfoxgoddxs

Mia gets her Daddy’s bow, so the bird fans really need to stop with all the Canary nonsense. How they don’t understand she’s the Oliver in the future/new show is beyond me.

QUEEN SIBLINGS FOREVER! Source:  blackstargifs

The “let’s talk custody with William’s grandparents” line was weird. William’s whole storyline present and future was weird. Keeping William with his grandparents was meant to solely facilitate the Mia shocker and it will always be the piece of this storyline that does not work for me.

I seriously thought the fade out from Oliver’s grave would be the last of the flash forwards and I was going to be ticked because I didn’t want to do yet another season of “Is Oliver Dead?” Or “Is Felicity dead?” for that matter. SO OVER IT. I was completely overjoyed it was not the end of the flash forwards.

Can we all just finally agree the writers would rather chew their hands off than kill Felicity Smoak? Because it’s true.

L*urel isn't part of the Mark of Four. She gets a handshake because that's the same. This show is so savage with any version of her character. YIKES.

Rene lived! Shocker.

Felicity instructing John how to take care of the bunker is my level of OCD.

“I have to find a way to atone for that.” Sooo… you park it on a deserted island?

William asks how Roy ended up on the island and he pretty much says it’s a great story, but then doesn’t tell him. HILARIOUS.

Stephen dropped the bag on the stairs and looked like he was trying not to laugh as David finished his lines. The fact this is the best shot they had is further evidence of all the shots Stephen probably blew with all his feelings. Source:  legends-of-today

No Diggle in the flash forwards, so that’s something to look forward to for Season 8.

I have absolutely no idea how Season 8 is going to work. Is it going to be like the prison storyline and Oliver is just off on his own universe show while Diggle holds down the fort in Star City? Oooookay.

So much Outlander it ain’t even funny.

Are you alive? You just read a term paper on Olicity and Felicity Smoak. 

Thank you for your patience as I finished this review and thank you for reading it! 

To all those who are moving on thank you for visiting this blog, reading what I write, and helping me create a space for us all to enjoy a television show we love. I appreciate all the support and can never thank you enough. Feel free to visit any time because I’m not going anywhere! I have some fun things planned for this summer and of course there’s still 10 more episodes of Arrow in the fall. 

To those sticking around thanks for hanging with me until the bitter end.

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 7x22 gifs credited.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

[huntershowl]

drabble 001: rotting city

 some people find refuge in the embrace of another. a parent, a brother, a lover. some people find refuge in courage. some find it in habits, healthy or unhealthy or somewhere in that sloshy gray area in between. some people don’t find refuge at all.

PERSEPHONE AISA used to believe she found her refuge in family. not a complete one by any means. a voidblooded child on the streets of a city corrupted by the clawing hands of moral decay would not be safe on her own. but she wasn’t on her own. she had her twin: LETO AISA, quiet and sensitive with a creative soul. they took new names when they left home. new names to symbolize new lives. new names for a fresh start, away from their barbed-wire parents, their gilded-cage life. leto was not good at standing up for himself. he was empathetic, his words falling flat when he tried to sound tough. he didn’t want tofight – he wanted to draw, paint, create beauty out of duskwall’s dust and grime, make something within its crackling lightning wall that was beautiful rather than bloody… but the two needed to eat. they needed somewhere to sleep when it rained. they needed to stay alive in the midst of gang wars and hungry eyes searching for voidblooded children like them to traffic who-knows-where. so persephone picked up the slack. they’d shared a womb, but they didn’t share everything: she had all the fire. quick to temper and slow to forgive, persephone did whatever she had to in order to keep her and leto safe: steal, con, hurt people, a spirited little anklebiter with a cunning mind and fast hands. she was the first to pick up a knife. she was the first to draw blood. but that didn’t mean she was ruthless. persephone did her best to solve problems nonviolently. she wasn’t good at words, but like leto, she was empathetic; it was easy to see when hurting someone wasn’t an appropriate solution, when they were more hurt than she was already. an exchange of money or information was a better use of both her and the antagonist’s time. logic, already primitive in a child’s mind, was frequently overruled by the pair’s emotions. and when the two hit aroadblock, they chose an option that would change their lives for the worse, forever. duskwall was already ruled by a handful of factions: gangs, mostly, peppered with a few secret societies and larger crime syndicates. none of these were more insidious than THE UNSEEN. if the name didn’t reveal enough, the unseen was of a debatable size – no one knew how many people were in it, who was and who wasn’t on their side, in their pocket, on their payroll. they were rumored to have people in the government, influencing the lord governorship; people in ironhook prison, controlling who was and wasn’t put away; people in the bluecoat police force, the imperial military, the goddamn factories. despite its apparently insidious size, there had never been an information leak. now, that wasn’t to say everyone in the unseen was – well – unseen. its leader, SANYA TRISKEL, was comparatively very fucking seen. they lived in the largest mansion in the city. bigger than the lord governor’s, bigger than the suite the emperor stayed in when he came to visit duskwall. they were a public figure who wined and dined with duskwall’s finest, attended nearly every opera, and installed gramophones in their most frequented establishments so that they could listen to jazz whenever they wanted to. they weren’t from duskwall’s mother continent, the imperialist country akoros. they had been born in iruvia, a continent southwest of akoros whom the imperial military had not gotten their colonizer fingers on yet. sanya immigrated to duskwall at an unknown time and somehow managed to become the most powerful person in the world. one arm was made from an unfamiliar white metal, something light and strong that glowed with yellow light. their eyes, an amber-gold hue, split into two irises when they were angry ( so the rumors went. only an unlucky few had ever seen them angry and lived to tell the tale. ) they ruled the unseen from the public eye, their fingers wrapped around puppet strings attached to every continent in the known world. duskwall was certainly under the unseen’s heel. knowing all of that, persephone and leto decided to try and ask for the unseen’s help when they finally ran out of scraps of luck. no more benevolent bakers. no more unguarded awnings to sleep under. no more money, no more water. there was only one direction to turn. the contracts were short and uninvolved, at first. eavesdrop on this conversation. report to this messenger. pickpocket this man’s mailbox key. run this message to that client. their orders came from different people every time, as that was how the unseen worked; no one knew each other’s names or faces, only the right thing to say. as time went on, though, their jobs became increasingly more precarious. persephone broke her arm trying to escape a client angry with the news she brought him. leto was reduced to tears over and over again, and they had no one to tell that it was too much. they couldn’t ask for help from colleagues whose names, faces, and locations they didn’t know. nobody talked to sanya, of course – such a huge organization meant that very few members of the unseen interacted with them directly. the twins were teenagers – thirteen or fourteen, she couldn’t remember anymore – when they finally decided to escape. the unseen had proved too dangerous to stay in while planning a future for themselves. persephone spent days charming the booth worker at the floating city’s airship docks enough to get herself and leto tickets off of the continent altogether. no more duskwall, no more akoros, no more unseen. besides, other people had left the gang before. some had retired, some had quit, all without much fuss from the gang at large. the twins had no belongings other than a few keepsakes from home: a small framed painting for leto; a mostly-empty bottle of cologne for persephone that smelled like a pine forest; the clothes on their backs; each other. leto, with his nubby black horns, persephone with her smoking hair. the night before their departure, they sat in their assigned room in an unseen safehouse and drank clean water from a shared pitcher. ❛ where d’you think we’ll end up? ❜ leto asked, scratching at the base of one of his horns. his skin was drying out now that it was getting colder, and the horns area itched like crazy. one of his paintings sat drying next to them, its corners weighed down by rocks. duskwall, but with a sky lit by brighter colors than the shattered sun would normally allow. ❛ i don’t know. ❜ persephone was still having trouble hiding her ritzy brightstone accent. it was the quickest way to peg someone for a runaway kid, the quickest way to get yourself kidnapped for ransom and thrown back home. she had to speak slowly, if she talked at all. ❛ maybe … mm. severos? ❜ ❛ you just want to pet the horses, seph. ❜ ❛ i also wanna eat all the fruit. ❜ ❛ all of it? ❜ ❛ well – i mean – yes. but they can grow more after that. ❜ leto smiled, covering his mouth with a hand to hide the grin. persephone hated that the world had made her brother so self-conscious. she cracked a smile back with an involuntary little chuckle. this … this was the happiest she’d felt since before they’d joined the unseen. it was her and leto. nothing could stop them. the last thing persephone remembered from that morning was the cool breeze of a hopeful dawn, before she and her brother were dragged away with sacks pulled tightly over their heads.

––––––––––– HELLHOUND, THE HUNTER doesn’t find refuge in much of anything. once persephone became a sleeper, anger and grief arose in her place to form the shape of a woman fed by liquor and fury and unhealthy loyalty. she and leto haven’t talked in almost three years. it’s better that way, to hellhound; if leto hates her, he won’t share the cloud of shit-hits-the-fan bad luck that seems to follow her everywhere she goes like a hungry stray. he does not know what has happened to turn persephone into hellhound. if he knew, he would be killed. it’s as simple as that.  attachment is weakness, as far as hellhound is concerned. the deeper a bond becomes, the more vulnerable both parties become to demons and prying eyes; if you care about no one and no one cares about you, then the only person your enemies can go after is yourself. yes, hellhound has a brother. i heard she doesn’t give a damn about him, though. they haven’t even spoken once in three years.  better that way, she repeats when the longing threatens to eat her alive. better that way, better that way.

[shipppersrus]

The Kids Are Alright- Chapter 1, part 1

Contains spoilers from Take Us Back.

Clementine’s POV

Clem’s POV~

I was ready to say goodbye, though I wasn’t ready to leave him. I prepared myself to finally be with Lee again, to see my mother and father, Sandra, Omid, Duck, Kenny… at least that’s what I hoped happened when I got to the other side. I took one last deep breath and closed my eyes, this was it, this would be my last moment with Aj; at least for awhile. As I prepared to die a surge of pain raged through my body, I screamed; he didn’t aim for the head Aj chopped off my leg. The walkers roar matched mine as tears ran down my face, my leg was gone in two strikes. Aj was fuzzy through my tears I tried to mumble words the pain was agonizing, it was too much, I blacked out. Aj? Black out. Louis? Black out. Ruby? Black out. Blood? Black out.

I kept fading in and out, I could barely hold onto any consciousness. I just remember a pain like no other, and how I still wasn’t dead, yet. My eyes felt heavy with sleep, and there was a tingling pain coming from my left leg. The sound of classical music played lightly in the background, my eyes slowly split apart as I stared at the top of the bunk bed. I started to wiggle my fingers just a bit as my body felt stiff. As I moved my leg I felt a pain like no other coming from my left leg, I yelped with pain, what happened? “She’s up! Ruby she’s awake!” I heard Aj’s voice as he ran out the room.  I tried to get up but as I sat up the pounding in my head played on repeat, I fought through it. Next, I flipped the covers and saw one leg but not the other. The door busted open before I had a moment to react. “Clementine! Whoa, take it easy. Come on lay back down.” Though I couldn’t take my eyes off the stump that was now my leg, I recognized his voice: It was Louis. He lightly touched my arm and helped me back down. My head was banging and my body was sore, it was easier not to move. “My leg!” I started to panic a little bit. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, breathe.” I looked at him and started to breathe. “I was bit…” “Shh, Clem, you made it. Aj saved your life, you lived.” He caressed my face. The door busted open as Aj busted in with Ruby. “Clem!” Aj ran to me as I accepted his embrace. It caused me pain but every second was worth it being with my goofball again. “How long have I been out?” I asked. “4 days.” Ruby held onto the ladder of the bed. “We kept you medicated and watered, but I bet your starving.” “That’s an understatement.” I felt my stomach. “I’ll get you something to eat, so I can give you something for the pain.” Ruby smiled. “It’s good to have you back with us Clementine.” “It’s really good to be back.” I shared her smile. “Aj why don’t you come help me get some things for Clem.” As reluctant as Aj was to leave my side, he still willingly left to help Ruby.

I sat up off my elbows as I supported my weight against the back of the bed. Louis helped me adjust then took my hand in his. “I thought I lost you.” He held my fingers close to his lips. “Me too.” I closed my eyes, not trying to think about how heartbroken I would of left him. “Clem, I know we haven’t been… well… a thing for long, but I care so much about you and ever since I met you a month or so back, you’ve been the best thing to walk into my life since forever and the thought of losing you-“ he choked on his words as I saw him wipe a quick tear away. His words slightly took my breath away. I didn’t have words to comfort his pain, so I kissed him. It was something I didn’t know I needed till now. He lightly touched my face, I could tell he was being as gentle as he could, but I held onto him with as much strength as I can offer. The kiss lingered between us for a few minutes before my hands fell on top of his.  I still don’t understand how I cheated death, I was bit, I was gone, how did I live? “Louis.” His eyes slowly met mine. “Hmm.” I loved the affect my kiss had on him. “What happened?” His face dropped with mine following his. “I just remember we were all searching for you guys, when we heard a scream. We followed it, then heard another one. It led us to the barn. We all fought so we could get you guys out. I just remember seeing your leg and all the blood… Aj told us you were bit but he cut it off and that you need a doctor. I picked you up and him and I ran the whole way back, I didn’t stop for a second until you were in Ruby’s care. Luckily she had just finished helping Violet and was able to help before you lost too much blood. When Minnie cut your leg, ironically she saved your life. She got you patched up, and a fever set in. We all thought you weren’t going to make it, well all of us except Aj. You ended up pulling through and let me tell you, he never left your side. I came and stayed for as long as I could, but the other kids needed me and I knew you were in good hands.” I took my time taking in all the information. Aj made a call and he saved my life. “I’m just glad you’re still with us, with me.” I smiled as he kissed my forehead. The door slowly opened and Aj entered. “Are you guys going to be doing that all the time now?” He said as he brought me some food. “Yup pretty much.” Louis smirked while Aj rolled his eyes.

“How do you feel Clem?” Aj asked as he sat the bowl of soup beside me.

“I’m in a lot of pain, but I’m happy to still be alive.” I looked at the stump that was now my leg.

“I knew you’d live, you’re still the toughest person I know.” I moved over so Aj could take a spot next to me.

“I don’t know Aj, I think you’re becoming more tough than me. What you did was very brave.” I smiled as the soups flavor overtook my senses.

“ No ones as tough as you Clem.” seeing Aj’s face was everything in this moment. I started to eat the delightful soup, I could tell it was getting cold, probably from sitting outside for awhile. I wanted to eat slow but I was starving and couldn’t help myself.

“I think you’re going to need a little more, i’ll be back.” Louis stood from my bedside.

“No it’s okay, the others need to eat.” I grabbed his arm.

“Clem it’s okay, we have enough. What Willy stole from the raiders will keep us going for at least a month or so, we’ll make due.” He touched my hand then left the room with my bowl, he’s amazing.

I turned around to see Aj staring at me. I took him into my arms and held my little goofball.

“I love you Aj.” A tear slipped out of my eye.

“ I love you back Clem.” He held onto me.

The door opened and Ruby came in with some medicine and what looked like supplies to clean my fo- I mean stump.

“Hey Aj would you mind giving us a moment.” Ruby started setting things up on our dresser.

“But-” I Immediately cut Aj off.

“It’s okay Aj, as soon as she’s done you can come back in the room.” I squeezed his hand.

“Okay.” Aj left the room, but not without a fit.

“Alright let’s get you cleaned up.” Ruby said.

First she cleaned my stump and replaced my bandages, it hurt like hell. Next I had to take my shirt off. The bruises on my ribs and arms were ferocious, those hurt like hell. She sponged the hurt parts of me and gave me some medicine for the pain, then wrapped up. I could tell she wanted to ask about my brand, but refrained from doing so. Once she left Aj and Louis both entered in all at once with food and Aj with a new drawing of me. I happily took the bowl and beautiful artwork and watched the two change the music to jazz. Louis and Aj danced and were jolly, I laid there and watched the two before drifting to sleep.

I was swinging in my treehouse tire swing, I could see my house 5240 S Grover St., the pool covered up and the high fence behind me. It was quiet, no walkers, only the sound of nature. I took in the fresh air, it felt nice to be back.

“You did it Clementine, I knew you could.” Lee gave me a push on my swing.

“I almost died, but Aj saved me.” my head dropped, understanding the pain I put him through.

“Yeah sweetpea, but you’re still here.” He continued to push.

“Still not Bitten.” I repeated those words as both my legs were high in the air.

“Still not bitten.” He repeated after me.

“I found a home Lee. I really like it here.” I thought about Louis, mine and Aj’s room, our friends.

“I’m glad Clementine, I’m glad you found people to love you and look out for you. You found gold in this hard life, that’s all I ever hoped for you.” He stopped pushing and I got out my treehouse.

“Thank you Lee, thank you for saving me and teaching me how to survive.” I hugged him as tears poured down my eyes.

“It was you that saved me Clementine.” He hugged me back. “Now go Clem, we’ll see each other again soon.” He stood at my level.

“You can count on it.” I smiled as i wiped the tears from my eyes.

I turned around and climbed up my treehouse. I have a new home now.

Part 1        Part 2         Part 3        Part 4      Part 5

Thank you guys for reading and all the other talented fic writers for inspiring me to write! I hope you guys enjoyed as I plan to come out with many more parts to this. Before I continue I just wanted to ask if you guys prefer James to be in this story or not depending on how you felt towards him after the last episode, please let me know! Also check out “ Don’t be Afraid” by @sweetsimblr28

Also still searching for some lovely artist! Let me know if you’re interested!

[got7-markjinson]

Be With You - JB

Def. 1/? vol.3 : Song Fic Series

A Song Fic series collaboration with @katdefbeom and @ijustwantacue! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Reader X Jaebum Genre: Co-worker!AU, Fluff Word Count: 1.7k+

JB didn’t know when it started. He remembers there was a time when he was just dragging himself to work every day without much motivation except to get a complete paycheck every month. It’s been a year since he got hired as a tech support in this company. Every day’s the usual. Getting a few calls from the senior employees about something acting up from their desktop and would usually be solved by “turning the PC off and on”. His team mates are funny in their own way, but even though he tries not to, sometimes he just feels he’d rather be by himself. Which is probably why apart from company activities, he wouldn’t want to hang out with them.

And then you came and suddenly you became the reason why he wakes up every morning and come here in the workplace. You were a new hire in the admin department. The usual fresh face, a little plain to some but something just draws him into you. Maybe it started when he saw you using a Bart Simpson notebook. Or when your phone suddenly started blasting Ryo Fukui’s jazz music. It was just as if everything about you was just made up of what he likes.

It is one of the usual day at the office, he and a few of his team mates are on a coffee break in the pantry when he saw you sitting on the couch just beside the glass window of the building. You are so engrossed on a book. JB peeked and saw it’s a photography book, an edition he was quite familiar with since he has one of his own. He smiled to himself as he took a sip of his hot coffee.

“I am just so hyped up for tonight”, Jackson giddied.

“Me too! All girls from the admin team are coming, right?”, Bambam confirmed.

Just then, JB couldn’t stop himself and asked. “Admin team?”

“Yeah, bro. They confirmed everyone’s going.”, Bambam answered.

“Yeah, and if it wasn’t for you, our team would’ve been in complete attendance too.”, Jackson teased and tapped JB’s broad shoulder as he and Bambam snickered walking back to their desks.

Earlier that same day, somebody just started asking for a drink out after work. It is Friday night and it is the last day of work before everyone will get time of for the holidays. Naturally, the invite just spread around like wildfire. Some might see it as a celebration for the whole work that was done this year. Some might see it as just a farewell party until they see each other again next year.

You however weren’t really given a chance to say no for this event when your boss confirmed that everyone from your team will be coming. You confided to one of your team mates that you’re not really ‘dressed’ for the night out, what with you wearing your running shoes on. She let you borrow a dress she has kept from her lockers and a pair of high heel shoes, just like she’s always prepared for this kind of emergency. Now, you don’t have any reason not to go.

You put on the outfit and entered the bar awkwardly, getting uncomfortable with high heels on, you sat on one of the empty seat.

Looking around for something to busy yourself with, you were surprised by Jackson yelling, “Is it the end of the world???”, and everyone’s attention turned to him.

He walked towards JB, who just entered the bar. “Guys! JB came! Let’s all cheer!”

JB was too embarrassed at his co-worker/friend’s ruckus that he just laughed as everyone cheers. His time in the spotlight was brief however, and as everyone went about their usual thing, his eyes started to get busy scanning the faces to look for you.

He walked about, going further into the bar until finally he found you. You walked out of the restroom and he noticed something awkward with the way you walk. Scanning further down your legs to your toes, he finally figured it out. The heels broke on one side of your shoe.

You wouldn’t want to make it too obvious, so you decided to just stand in the corner leaning to the wall while bobbing your head, acting like you enjoy the blasting music and silently cursing yourself for leaving your running shoes in your office locker.

“Y/N, hi.” You turned to see JB approaching you.

Yes, the cute IT guy from work. You remind yourself and tried your best to calm down.

“Hi.” You say.

“Are you alright?”, he asked.

You blinked in surprise. Does it look like you’re not? You panicked, “Yeah, I... I’m fine.”, you nodded.

Just then, he grabbed your hand and dragged you towards him, “Come with me.”, he leads you out of the bar and you’re now walking on the paved street outside. His hand still held tightly to yours, and you can’t help but lean to his side to balance your walk wearing un-even shoes.

“Where are we going?”, you asked.

He doesn’t answer and instead stopped and entered a shoe store. He leads you to an empty couch and sat you down. He turned his focus on the display of lady slippers and picked a silver one with a shorter heel.

“I think you’ll look better with this on.”, he says bending one of his knee in front of you, and your face flushed in response to his action.

He tried to reach for your feet to take off the shoe you were wearing but you pulled it away.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, looking up to your face.

You don’t even know what’s going on right now and struggled to say something, “Uhm… I left my purse at the bar.”

He chuckled at this, “It’s okay. Let’s just say it’s a gift from me. Okay?”, he asked and waited for you to respond.

Still confused by what’s happening, you nodded and took the shoe from him to try it on.

“Just as I pictured, it really does suit you.” he says and gives you that smile that makes his eyes disappear.

Walking out of the store, you muttered a quick, “Thank you” to JB and he was all grin walking beside you. And he knows it’s not necessary anymore and he prays you don’t notice it, but he’s still holding your hand. He’s also secretly praying the time stops at this moment while he’s still with you or that the bar was still further down the road, but he must let you go now as you both went back to the party.

Going back to your place with your team mates, acting like everything’s normal, you sat down. They didn’t even notice you were gone. You tried to mingle with everyone and not to read more into what just happened, but your mind was still in the cloud over the fact that JB just held your hand and walked with you and bought you shoes. You kept asking yourself why. You were never really close. You see him at the office but aside from the usual nod that acknowledges each other’s presence, there really wasn’t much interaction between you two. Maybe you were just overthinking it, maybe he’s just that nice. And that he’ll do it for anyone on the same situation.

You were glancing his direction all night thinking about it that you lost track of how many shots you already did. All you remember was that your vision got cloudy and your head felt like it was in the clouds. And then everything went dark.

You woke up in an unfamiliar room, covered in unfamiliar blanket over an unfamiliar bed. You looked around. The room was painted gray, and the window is covered in dark blue curtains. You saw a few lights streaking out from the corners that made you realized it’s already morning.

On the other side of the wall, you saw pictures lined up on display. They were beautifully taken sceneries just like the ones you always like to see from the photography books you collect.

As you are busy admiring each piece of prints, you heard the bedroom door opened and you quickly turned to see JB.

Seeing your surprised face, “Are you already awake?” he asked.

“Yeah… I’m sorry. Uhm… where am I?”

“Oh, ugh, this is my house.”, he walked closer “You got drunk last night, and nobody seems to know where you live, so I took you here. “, he paused and panicked,” Don’t worry! Nothing happened. I didn’t do anything. I promise!”

You giggled at his panicked expression but quickly cleared your throat to compose yourself. “Uhm…”, you pointed to the pictures hoping to change the conversation and also satisfy your curiosity, “Are these taken by you?”

“Yup!”, he answered proudly looking over the pictures as well. “I love taking sceneries like this.”

How can you be so perfect? was the words you thought of in your head and instead the words that you said was, “You’re very talented.”

“...They’re beautiful.”, you added.

“And so are you.” he answered, and you turned to his direction finding him looking deep in your eyes. So deep that it made you held your breath.

Looking closer at you, he can’t deny his feelings anymore. And the way you look this morning doesn’t help at all. Your hair that was always cleanly tied up away from your face was now flowing messily down the sides of your cheeks and chin, framing your features perfectly. Your eyes that were always behind glasses are now open. And it was beautiful and clear, clear enough that he sees his reflection through it. It was just too beautiful that JB couldn’t stop himself from reaching his hand and hug you.

Having you enclosed in his arms he whispered, “Please be with me.” He pulled away and went back to looking at you. You were speechless.

“I know you don’t know much about me, but I wanted you to know that I have always wanted to be with you. I’ve been feeling this way for so long. All I know is I love you. And I can show it to you and prove it to you every day. Will you stay with me?”

You grinned, and instead of answering right away, you leaned your face close to his and gave him eskimo kisses in between smiles.

“It’s the same for me. I’ve wanted you for a while now. And my answer is yes, I’ll stay beside you forever. Yes, I’ll be with you.”, you replied back and this time he pressed his lips against yours, sealing your vow to each other.

** A/N: Yes, I also think they are both weird people. 

[darks-ink]

Electricity - Ectoberweek 2019

A short one today, because I forgot that I’m really bad at writing pointless fluff. I just don’t get through my words if there isn’t at least a tiny bit of plot to support all the banter. But I also didn’t want to throw out my idea and write angst, so...

Rating: General Audiences / K+ Warnings: none! Genre: Humor, Fluff Words: 1,961 Additional Tags: Banter, Light-hearted, Puns & word play

[AO3] [FFN]

---

Lightning ran over Danny’s skin, simultaneously hot and cold, branching to cover every inch of his flesh. Its currents ran under his skin, electrifying and sharp.

He let out a breath laugh, twisting his arm to watch the play of energy and light where it danced over his skin.

“Okay, that’s pretty cool,” Sam said, leaning in closer. The light of the electricity, ecto-green in color, reflected in her eyes. “And it doesn’t hurt?”

“Not at all,” he assured her. Her, and Tucker, who maintained a careful distance. “It’s a little… electrifying, but it’s no more painful than any of my other powers.”

“Ha ha.” Tucker rolled his eyes, pushing his PDA a little further away. “You keep that power away from me, Fenton, until you can assure me that you won’t fry my electronics.”

“Aw, Tuck,” Danny whined, pouting at his friend, “but what if that never happens? How am I supposed to hug my bestest bro if he won’t let me come close?”

Danny shifted like he was about to stand up, and Tucker hissed at him like a cat. “Don’t you dare! You hear me, Fenton? Don’t!”

He laughed, but sat down again. “Alright, alright. Settle down already, Tuck, I’m just joking.”

Tucker huffed, disgruntled. “Yeah, uh huh. I’ll believe that when you stop having live electricity running down your arms.”

“Technically,” Danny said, lips twitching into a smirk, “it’s dead electricity.”

Both of his friends groaned, loudly, and Danny laughed. “Sorry! I couldn’t resist it!”

“You never can.” Sam shook her head. “It’s Tucker’s fault for giving you the set-up.”

“Hey! Don’t blame me!”

“Can and will!”

Danny rolled his eyes, cutting off the stream of lightning that was pouring down his arm. “Alright, that’s enough. Here, is that better, Tucker?”

The boy hummed. “Well, I suppose that it’ll have to do.”

---

The ever-constant buzz of electricity hummed under Danny’s skin. He felt restless, the energy crackling and demanding a release he couldn’t give it. Large displays of power were bound to set off all kinds of radars his parents had set up, never mind the damage that he would undoubtedly do to all the electronics in the house.

Really, he didn’t know what he would do if he fried the microwave. Rely exclusively on his parents’ cooking? Absolutely not. Not only would he rather die, he probably really would die if he tried.

Jazz looked up from her book, fixing him with a speculative gaze, and he stilled. Hadn’t even really realized that he’d been moving, jittering restlessly.

Although… now there was an idea.

“Danny?” Jazz asked, cautiously, when he stood up from his chair. “What’re you-- Hey!”

He quickly ducked away to avoid her swatting hand, his core quickly replenishing the little charge he had lost shocking Jazz. He’d been careful to restrict it; the zap had been little more than what she might get from static.

“You little brat,” she said, grumpily, but with an undeniable fond undertone. “Keep your static to yourself, will you?”

Danny hummed, pretending to think about it. Then, lightning-fast, he tapped her, zapping her again.

“Hey!” She glared at him, putting down her book entirely. “The first time I was willing to pass off as regular static, but there’s no way you could’ve recharged it that quickly. Are you going to tell me, or am I supposed to guess?”

“Eh.” He glanced over at the door, making sure it was closed, and that his parents were staying downstairs. “It’s a new ghost power. I can generate electricity, I think? But I’m having some trouble controlling it still.”

He tugged on his core, the electricity running through his flesh sparking through it, forming visible branches of lightning. The release didn’t last long, however, because he heard footsteps on the stairs and was forced to cut it out quickly.

“Huh,” Jazz said, briefly looking towards the stairs. Had clearly heard their parents coming up, too. “That’s pretty neat. Definitely something you would need to learn to control, though. Lightning is--”

“I know,” he interrupted her, rolling his eyes. “Believe me, Jazz. I, of all people, understand how dangerous electricity can be, especially when charged with ectoplasm.”

She made a face, clearly disgruntled by his interrupted, but nodded. She opened her mouth as if to add more, but the door to the lab slammed open, their parents entering.

Jazz shot him a look that clearly said that they would be talking about this more later, but…

Well, he might’ve pretended not to see.

He could handle it just fine without her, he was sure of it.

---

Danny yawned, idly twisting his locker open. Despite all the energy he could feel coursing in his body, he was still exhausted.

Well, he supposed that he might be tired because of the electricity. Generating so much charge so constantly was probably something he should be compensating with more food and sleep.

Ah, if only he could afford such luxuries. He could barely get enough sleep to support his body normally.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and turned his around forcibly, and he startled back to awareness. Dash loomed over him, face twisted into a snarl.

“Fenton!” he growled at Danny, hands balled into fists. “You ready for a bit of fun, huh?”

“I don’t know, Dash, what do you have to offer?” Danny taunted back, not feeling particularly threatened. He saw Sam push her way through the crowd already, Tucker right behind her. And even without them, well… Dash wasn’t all that scary if you fought ghosts on a daily basis, was he?

“You feeling smart, huh?” Dash reached forward, grasping onto Danny’s shirt, lifting him up slightly.

Then the boy suddenly let go, yelping.

Danny landed roughly, caught off-guard by the sudden drop. Blinked confused at Dash. Why had he…?

“What the hell, Fenton!” Dash flapped his hand a little, like he was shaking off a small hurt. “You think you can save yourself with a little static, huh? Well, too bad.”

He reached for Danny again, taking hold of Danny’s collar once more. And again, he was forced to let go, hissing between his teeth.

“Oy, what the--?”

“Leave him alone, Dash.” Sam shouldered her way past Dash, stopping right next to Danny. Crossed her arms and glared at him with her full goth fury. “Or are you bull-headed enough to try that again?”

Dash shot her a sharp look back, then shifted it to Danny when Sam failed to falter. Seeing that neither of them were responsive, he huffed loudly. “Ah, what do I care. I’ll see you, Fenton,” he narrowed his eyes at Danny, “some other time when your girlfriend’s not around to save you.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Sure, Dash, whatever.” As Tucker sidled in next to them, he called after Dash, “And she’s not my girlfriend, by the way!”

The three of them watched Dash walk a little further away, the boy digging a hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Then, suddenly, he shouted in anger.

His phone had died.

Danny winked at his friends, who both grinned back, knowingly.

Ah, it felt good to get a little petty revenge sometimes.

---

Danny walked into the kitchen, arms stretched out over his head. His spine crackled with the movement, his spine noisy as its vertebrae shifted into their proper alignment. He yawned, idly scratching his left arm.

The electricity under his skin was still present, strongest in the arm that had taken the initial charge of the Portal. In his ghost form, he could see the sparks shift along the scar it had left. In his human form, he had no scar, no monument to the accident.

Not until now, at least. The metaphysical scar formed by the constant currents of lightning, forever trapped in his skin, and ever-shifting.

He forcibly took his right hand away from his arm again. No scratching. He didn’t want to risk breaking the skin, releasing the power that laid underneath it. Baring the scar that laid underneath it.

Still, his core hummed in discontent. It continued to produce electricity, energy that Danny couldn’t release.

Licking his lips, he eyes up Jazz sitting at the kitchen table, breakfast in front of her. Maybe he could…

He snuck over to her. Not the stealthiest, perhaps, but stealthy enough thanks to the book distracting her. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders, making sure to draw back enough power that it would be little stronger than static.

“Danny!” she yelped, jumping in her seat. “What--”

“Again?” his mom asked, her eyes narrowed as she looked away from the pan with eggs. “Danny, stop shocking your sister.”

“Sorry,” he said, pulling up his shoulders, feeling chastised.

“How do you keep getting so much static, anyway?” His mom shook her head, turning back to the pan, thus missing Danny’s panicked glance at Jazz. “It’s almost unnatural, how much charge you keep accumulating.”

“Unnatural?” his dad echoed, suddenly drawn into the conversation. “Why, it must be--”

“It’s not ghosts, Jack!” Maddie snapped at him, shooting him a sharp look. “Honey, not everything is the fault of ghosts.”

As his dad pouted, Danny shot Jazz a half-panicked, half-relieved look. She returned one much the same, although somehow much more comforting. Also somehow chastising at the same time.

Yeah, he was pretty sure he was gonna stop with the zapping other people.

At home, at least. No promises on using it against Dash.

---

Danny rose up, higher and higher in the air, arms flat against his sides and legs merged into a spectral tail. Even with the wind buffeting him, he could feel the electricity coiling underneath his skin, his jumpsuit.

Suddenly he stopped, the ghost chasing him not realizing until it hit him. He grabbed it, hands fisting the longer fur on its neck, and he grinned down at it.

Then, for the first time since he’d gained his new power, he let go of his grip on the electricity his core was generating.

Lightning crackled out of him immediately, lancing through his ectoplasmic flesh. Cleaved through the air with a booming crack like thunder.

But it didn’t hurt.

If anything, it was elation that Danny felt. Pure bliss, like an increasingly heavy weight was finally taken off of his chest.

The ghost he held yelped, and he released it, watched as it fled. He felt certain that it had been properly chastised, that it wouldn’t risk bothering him again.

Still, he yelled after it, “Shocking, right?”, grinning to himself.

He let the lightning crackle over him a little longer, branching over his arm and his chest and through the air around him. Then, after a long moment, and with a heavy sigh, he pulled back on his power again.

Well, he got to use his new power in a fight, at least?

Danny flew back down to the ground, made sure no one was watching him, and shifted back to human form. He stuck a hand into his jeans to pull out his phone, going to call Tucker and Sam so they could reunite. He’d lost them sometime during the fight.

He pressed the on button on his phone. Pressed it again, frowning as it didn’t turn on. Disgruntled, he held it down a little longer, waiting for it to turn on.

When he finally realized that it wasn’t turning, he sighed.

“Of course,” he grumbled to himself, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “Of course the stupid thing got fried. Should’ve known.”

And he slumped off, hoping to find Sam and Tucker on foot.

(He was relieved to find, when he returned home and plugged his phone into the charger, that he had just drained its battery, and that the phone was otherwise fine)

[lewiseb]

Steve Rogers: Through The Years

Steve Rogers in 1925 is a small kid with small fists and eyes as big as the moon at night when Bucky looks up at the sky and tries to cover it with his thumb but never fully succeeds. He is pure trouble but in a good way and Bucky likes that very much. He is crooked smiles because his first tooth just fell out two weeks ago and a sweet mouth if their parents have a few cents to spare and they can run down the five blocks just to get some ice cream after school. He is fatherless, and sisterless, so Bucky throws his arm around his small shoulders and vows to himself to be his honorary brother forever.

Steve Rogers in 1930 is soft jazz on the radio and dirty hands from drawing with charcoal again. He is hunching over in a corner at lunch reading his textbooks with a concentrated frown on his face. He is swinging fists when someone does wrong by absolutely anybody and a sprained wrist later when Bucky saves him from a punch that would have made him lose at least two teeth. He is twisted humour that is way too dark for a 12 year old and drawings of the peaches Bucky sometimes steals from the market when it's been a rough week and he wants to see him smile.

Steve Rogers in 1934 is a constantly split lip and very, very serious eyes. He is Coney Island and hotdogs and talking about the future. He is sneaking down to the docks to watch the ships sail in and curses muttered under his breath when he messes up the line work on his latest drawing. He is the laugh that bubbles up in Bucky's stomach even when he is not in the mood to laugh at all. He is heavy coughing and heaving and the helpless feeling of watching a loved one suffer. He is the apologetic grin he wears after a fight when Bucky curses and patches him up and tries to talk some sense into him, knowing that whatever happens, Steve Rogers is going to keep on fighting and keep on doing what is right. Bucky sometimes, secretly, wishes he could be a bit more like Steve.

Steve Rogers in 1939 is an orphan. He is also 90 pounds of pure rage and fight and, hell, it's been so many years that Bucky has long gotten used to Steve not backing down ever and so he just does whatever he can to keep him safe. He is their sunshine apartment in the morning and the memory of apple pie and the peace that floods Bucky's stomach when he thinks of this place that they have carved for themselves, here, in the world. He is, also, the second too long that he looks at Bucky as if for some reason, he can't tear his eyes away from him. He is the protesting noise he makes when Bucky comes home from his work at the docks dirty and sweaty and catches him in a strong hug. He is their foreheads pressed together in the middle of winter when his lungs are rattling and his fever won't go down and Bucky fears, in the heart of his hearts, that this is the end. History, however, is not quite done with him yet.

Steve Rogers in 1943 is too tall. He is tall and strong and has no trouble breathing and it shakes up Bucky's insides in a way that he doesn't quite understand. He is that worrying look he shoots Bucky even weeks after scooping him up from a table in Azzano that holds all his nightmares. He is the way his big shoulders press up to Bucky's when they sit next to each other and dirty boots after thumping through the mud for days on end. He is loud curses in french, with shining eyes, and the look on his face that he gets when looking at Agent Carter, the one that Bucky can't help but hate with a passion. He is also a commanding voice and steel blue eyes and a uniform in red white blue, a shield with the target already painted on. He is Steve Rogers, but he is Captain America, too, and it is driving him insane.

Steve Rogers in 1945 is a dead man. Or at least he should be, all things considered. History, however, is not quite done with him yet.

Steve Rogers in 2012 is blinking his eyes open in a room in New York, instantly suspicious. He is alive. He does not know how to feel about it. He is raised eyebrows and an unsure posture and a cold facade. He is the feeling of utter and deep loneliness, and he is the rage that builds up inside of him because of the things he has lost and because out of all these things, his life is not one of them. He is the glares he throws at Tony whenever they fight and the tightness in his jaw that he can't shake away. He is nights spend at the gym and bloodied knuckles until he feels something, at least. He is, sometimes, trembling hands when he considers just picking up a gun and at least trying to make right by his fate; to do what a plane and the arctic didn't manage to do. Then, he is Bucky's voice in his head, telling him not to be fucking stupid. He listens. He fights. He doesn't sleep.

Steve Rogers in 2014 is in DC because he can't go back to Brooklyn without the memories flooding his brain and pushing him underwater. He is the wind in his ears when he's throwing himself out of a plane and a morning run at 3 am. He is the man who seeks war so war doesn't seek him. He is an old sketchbook and Peggy's thin, papery hands steady in his own and the feeling of just-getting-by until- Bucky? who the hell is Bucky even when I had nothing I had Bucky he doesn't know you he will your name is James Buchanan Barnes you're my friend you're my mission then finish it cause I'm with you til the end of the line- Steve Rogers in 2014 is hurt. He's hurt badly and when he's standing in front of a war memorial staring at a name that shouldn't be there, it hurts more than any punch ever could. Afterwards, he is the dream of Bucky's dull eyes haunting him at night. But he is, also, a burning flicker of hope in his chest.

Steve Rogers in 2016 is, all of a sudden, a 16 year old kid in Brooklyn again as soon as Rumlow mentions Bucky's name. He is his mouth set in a grim line and balled fists ready to start swinging. He is the stubborn expression on his face and the soft touch in his eyes whenever he looks at Bucky. He is a broken shield and a cocky grin and the calm behavior of a man who knows his strength and knows he is damn well stronger than you. He is fury and pain and the fear he sees in Tony's eyes when he's bringing the shield down, down, down. He is coffee that's way too dark and stolen cars. He is dirty hotel rooms and a pencil stroking over paper when he takes on drawing again to keep his fingers busy on the run and he has nothing else to do than to wait. He is water dripping down his face when he stands under the shower with closed eyes and lets himself think of Bucky, frozen in Wakanda. He is more himself than he has been since the war though he hasn't slept a night through since then either. He is trying. He is mending. He is, in fits of childlike irrational hope, sometimes even thinking that maybe the fighting will be over soon.

Steve Rogers in 2018 is tired. He is two years worth of running and hiding and laying low and it shows, in his face and his calloused hands and the edge in his smile. He is a ripped uniform with a missing star and gloves stiff with dried blood. He is a beard and a baseball cap and sunglasses to hide his face and his name from the world. He is the foreign feeling of Russian on his tongue when Nat tries to teach him one evening and the letters fall together weirdly in his mouth. He is Bucky's eyes in black and white staring up at him from a quick sketch and a phone call on a burn phone that he never receives. He is stale oatmeal and soft leather and two hours of sleep per night. He is, then, a mixed feeling in his stomach when they get back to Wakanda and the feeling means war. He knows. He is the glint in his eyes and the soft smile on his face when he sees Bucky. He is the way his voice sounds when they are sharing a bed the same way they did 75 years ago and the way he tilts their foreheads together and grabs his shoulder and whispers: "Buck, I am sick of fighting. I just want it to stop. I just want to go home." Steve Rogers in 2018 is tired. History, however, is not quite done with him yet.