#i might be able to make her close to accurate height

[ssspringroll]

Saddens me greatly that even with my giant/tiny slider, i will never be able to make my favorite ocs height-accurate. The tallest one is 20ft (6m). That's like a 2 story building. Game just can't handle dudes that huge ;-;

[renee-mariposa]

Nothing in my day-to-day job shows me the limits of modern medicine like vancomycin does. And it makes me insane.

(extremely long, somewhat incoherent nerd rant below the cut)

See, vanc is really good at, like, three things: treating MRSA (when given IV), treating ampicillin-resistant enterococcus (when given IV), and treating c diff (when administered orally ONLY). Most every use outside of that, like when it’s used to treat methicillin-susceptible staph aureus for “penicillin allergic patients” (don’t get me started on PCN allergies), actually has data that it increases risk of morbidity and mortality (i.e. harm and DEATH).

Unfortunately, due to the prevalence of multi-drug resistant organisms, vancomycin is empiric therapy for a lot of presumed infections. And it's a lot more difficult to actually tell if someone has an infection than you'd think. A lot of medical conditions imitate each other and when time is of the essence to identify what's going on, the most ethical thing is to start an antibiotic and rule out infection as the hospitalization continues. Lab techniques have gotten a lot quicker: I can remember 8 years ago, it would take 3 days just to identify what microbe the patient had in their presumed infection. These days, anno domini 2023, PCR comes back in a matter of hours, identifying gram positive/gram negative staph/strep/bacilli/etc, and it's the sensitivities that take 2-3 days. (Don't get me started on contaminated cultures.) But even with improvements in lab technique, we might not culture any microbe at all or the provider might keep vancomycin on "just in case" because we don't know IF the patient is infected, WHAT they're infected with, or if the infection will get better with a different drug.

And vancomycin is terrible on kidneys. Extremely nephrotoxic. It isn’t as bad as the 80s when the drug first came out and was called Mississippi Mud colloquially, but it will fuck the patient up if not monitored closely.

But finding the correct dose for each patient in a timely manner is nigh impossible. This is because vancomycin is renally eliminated. We have to mathematically estimate how well the kidneys are working. Unfortunately, our mathematic equation is next to useless if you are:

-Less than 50 kg

-Shorter than 5 foot tall

-Have a BMI of more than 40

-Are an adult younger than 45 (twenty-year-olds get astronomical doses that would be destructive in an older patient)

-Are older than 65 (the official definition of 'geriatric', i'm relatively sure)

-Are female (this is really only applicable if the patient is less than 50 kg or older than 65 - think: little old frail lady - we have absolutely no fucking idea how their kidneys are doing until we order the serum drug level. It is next to impossible to accurately dose vancomycin in little old ladies on the first try.)

-Are missing limbs (lots of leg amputations in the older and impoverished diabetic population!!)

-Have a lot of muscle mass (think bodybuilder or really tall guys)

Fun fact: we estimate renal function by looking at height, weight, age, birth gender (few, if any, studies on trans patients taking HRT), and a lab value called serum creatinine. Creatinine is a byproduct of muscle metabolism, I don't know the fine details, but we can generally estimate how well kidneys are working by seeing how much creatinine is in the blood: low creatinine usually means kidneys are excreting it as they 'should' be. High creatinine means there's something wrong, the kidneys aren't able to excrete it as efficiently as they 'should' be. But the effect of low muscle mass and high muscle mass haven't been studied enough to be able to adjust our mathematical equation to compensate for them. And with high BMI: we often overestimate their renal function because we don't know how to estimate their muscle mass vs their body fat.

(I work out in the boonies. ~70% of our patients have diabetes. ~80% of our patients have a BMI of greater than 35. So what I'm trying to say here is: we are shooting in the fucking dark when we're estimating the renal function of the vast majority of our patients.)

Complicating this: vancomycin is useless until it reaches steady-state concentration in therapeutic range. On one side of this problem: a lot, if not most, medical providers assume that vancomycin starts working its magic from the first dose. So we sometimes get orders for "vancomycin 1 gram now and see how the patient is doing in the morning". That isn't going to solve jack shit! That's just going to increase the incidence of microbial resistance!!

OR, like in the multiple situations I dealt with this afternoon, you make an educated guess on what regimen is going to work for the patient. You get a level 48 hours after the dose starts. And you find out that you fucking guessed wrong and the patient is subtherapeutic. It has been two fucking days and the patient hasn't started being treated for their (presumed) infection yet!! And we've increased the possibility of microbial resistance! *muffled screaming in frustration*

So what I'm trying to say here is: on almost every presumed infection that comes into the hospital (which we're guessing like 30%? 50%? of the time), we're starting an extremely toxic drug, oftentimes 100% guessing what regimen will be therapeutic, only finding out in 2 days that it is not therapeutic, and it can sometimes take days and days to titrate the dose sufficiently to find a therapeutic regimen. And sometimes we're really fucking unlucky and we destroy the patient's kidneys temporarily (or permanently! but kidneys can be very resilient so that's thankfully rare) because we guessed a regimen that's too high!! This is a fucking nightmare!!!!!!!!

And if all of this wasn't bad enough, we don't really have any drugs that do what vancomycin does therapeutically. We have things that can be used to cover some of what vancomycin does, but nothing that's equivalent AND less toxic.

Like, to fix this situation, we need:

-Better education to providers on what drugs are appropriate empiric therapy for different presumed infections (we're working on it, we are working on it)

-Better ways to estimate kidney function (there needs to be more research on kidney function in patients with BMI greater than 35!! And little old ladies!! And patients with low body weight and high body weight and amputations and...)

-Better prognostic tools to tell 1. when the patient is infected (looking at you, sepsis!!!) 2. what they're infected with

-Less-toxic antibiotics AND/OR better ways to treat infection (this would be the evolution of medicine as we know it)

And I want to be clear: vancomycin isn't bad. It's an extremely effective tool when used correctly but we often either don't have enough data to use it correctly or the provider doesn't understand that this tool is fucking useless for the job they're trying to perform.

[caffedrine]

Keith Howell - Chapter 22 Romantic - Summary

I pretty much have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t either. This summary is not guaranteed to be accurate, it’s mostly written for myself to follow along with the route.

Emma has been taken hostage by Keith’s Evil Uncle Fernand and locked away in a mansion on what must be the top floor. If she stripped the bed and tied every linen, she could find in the room end to end, she would never be able to make a rope that would bring her even close to the ground.

But she could make a rope that reached her to the window of the room below hers.

Emma looks down at the dizzying height, looking at the river rushing by directly beneath her. She grabs the fireplace poker and lowers herself to the next floor and breaks open the window.

Her rope-burned hands smarting, Emma tries and then successfully opens the new room’s door to a wide hallway. There is no one around, almost suspiciously so, and although Emma is afraid, she continues forward. She rushes towards the stairs she can see at the end of the corridor.

A soldier appears out of a blind corner and upon noticing her, yells at her to stop. Emma runs faster, knowing that if she was caught, she would not be able to escape. Even though she runs with all her might, she can hear the soldier’s footsteps come closer and closer.

When she passes another nook in the corridor, there are several more soldiers waiting. This is when Emma slips and falls on the carpet. She got so far, but now she’s going to be caught for sure.

A new voice shouts out for everyone to stay back, that they’re frightening Emma. Emma realizes it was coming from the stairway she was heading for and sees someone knocking down soldiers with his bare fists, cloak fluttering with movement. Emma stands up, trying to comprehend what she’s seeing.

He looks like Keith; his voice sounds like Keith’s, but his demeanor is completely different.

Keith calls out to her and embraces Emma, his body as hot as if he had a fever. She is enveloped by the smell of forest and trees. She realizes that this is Nice!Keith with her, and the fear and tension in her chest seem to fade away.

Emma tells Keith that she missed him, and Keith notes that she didn’t seem surprised to see him. Emma replies that she never doubted that he would come and rescue her. Keith thanks her for believing in him.

Keith breaks their embrace to look over Emma, asking if she is okay. Emma lets his kindness permeate her heart. She admits to being shoved around a little bit but assures him that she is fine. Her voice fades as she gets a good look at Keith’s clothes, and how much blood was on them. She asks Keith where he is injured, and if he’s okay to go onward.

Very awkwardly, Keith admits that this is not his blood. He apologizes for frightening her and then apologizes for not taking her into consideration when he barged into the hallway.

(Only Keith would apologize for rescuing someone)

Thanks to the books she read, Emma has envisioned the heroic prince rescuing the captive maiden plenty of times. However, she never imagined that he would be so bloody and obviously violent.

However, Emma is pleased to know that Keith isn’t wounded. If he had gotten seriously hurt, especially on her behalf, that would have been far worse than anything he would have done to rescue her. Keith tells her not to worry about him, and just focus on herself. But he’s thankful to her for being happy to see him.

Keith soothes Emma’s hair, arranging it out of its disheveled state. Emma thinks that his face looks very troubled, and she thinks about how easily he puts off concern about himself.

Keith asks Emma if she recognized anyone in the mansion. Emma tells him about his uncle Fernand, and the other man whom she recognized from Sonia’s party, but she doesn’t know his name. Keith muses that the other person would probably be the owner of the mansion, a Duke who was a fervent supporter of his younger brother.

Keith knows that the Duke hates him, but it is difficult to accept that he joined Fernand’s supporters. Emma thinks back to the look of hatred on the Duke’s face back at Sonia’s party. Keith looks bitter and resigned to the circumstances.

Emma asks Keith how he came into the mansion, and Keith tells her that he can’t tell Emma about it. He glances at the sword at his waist, and Emma looks too, seeing how it was especially bloody, saturating the clothes at his waist. It occurs to Emma that Keith came to this mansion alone, and wonders what he went through to reach her. Without thinking, Emma reaches out to hold Keith’s hand, and her hand is held back.

It’s so strange. This fight was not at all quiet, but neither Fernand nor the Duke appeared to investigate. In addition, there are no other soldiers coming their way. It’s like the calm before the storm.

Keith suggests they take advantage of this and just leave. They walk swiftly but alertly through the remainder of the hallway, with no sign of anyone coming. Emma wonders if they’ll just be lucky and escape the mansion without running into anyone else.

A voice from a closed room calls out, begging for help.

Emma and Keith both come to a stop, and check in with each other that they definitely heard the voice. They approach the door and can hear a plaintive voice definitely calling out for help out of a door that was held shut with a chain.

Without hesitating, Keith unwraps the chain. Even though he doesn’t know what is inside, he doesn’t hesitate to help, something Emma admires about him. It suits him, as the future King of Jade, to not even consider ignoring the voice.

Keith tells Emma to stay out of the room and in the hallway. There’s a good chance this is a trap, and if he’s right, she needs to run to the stairway and escape the mansion. There are people outside who can help her, as long as she escapes.

Emma tells Keith that she understands, she will escape, find these helpful people, and bring them back. Keith tells her that she’s mistaken, he wants her to run away, but Emma refuses. When they run away from the mansion, they’ll run away together. She refuses to leave Keith alone if he needs help. Reluctantly agreeing, Keith finishes unwinding the chain and drops it to the floor, and then opens the doors.

Inside the room is a man lying on the floor, wearing the uniform of a Rhodolite servant. He is bound by both hands and feet, completely unable to move. Keith recognizes him as the missing messenger, the one who kidnapped Emma.

The messenger pleads with them, they have his daughter and were threatening her if he didn’t obey. Keith asks if he means Fernand, and the messenger nods with tears in his eyes. Keith asks if he’s willing to testify in front of the king, and the messenger agrees, as long as Keith saves him before Fernand kills him.

Looking dubious, Keith unsheathes his sword and cuts the rope. Emma considers the situation, wondering why Fernand didn’t kill this messenger. To put it bluntly, he has no value alive to Fernand, and is a loose end.

Once he could move, the messenger rushed to the entrance at full speed, nearly barreling over Emma just beyond the entrance. He slams the doors shut, wrapping the handles in the discarded chain. Emma yells out for him to stop; Keith is still in the room. She grabs the messenger’s hand, but he shoves her away strongly, apologizing all the while.

Behind her, a familiar voice praises the messenger.

From the beginning, they had known that there was a chance that this was a trap. So the praise and the applause from behind her do not surprise Emma. She turns to face Fernand and the Duke. From behind the door, Keith shouts at Emma to run away, before coughing.

Fernand tells Emma that it’s fine if she leaves, her only purpose was to lure Keith here, to this very room. Emma asks what Fernand is doing to Keith.

Poison.  Right now, there is poison slowly being pumped into the room through the air vents. He imagines that Keith has about 10 minutes left. Emma goes cold and quickly turns to unwrap the chains from the doorknob, ignoring the messenger’s broken apologies.

Neither Fernand nor the Duke do anything to stop her. If anything, they’ve backed away from her.

Once Emma gets the doors opened, Keith slowly exits, warning Emma to stay back. He collapses to the floor, the poison already circulating through his system. Even though Emma tries to get closer to him, he holds up a hand to stop her.

Fernand is amazed, to be able to move that much despite the poison showing how monstrously big and healthy Keith truly is. Keith agrees that being big and healthy is something he’s good at.

With a flat voice, Fernand laments that his nephew is going to die now. He is sad, even though Keith did try to assassinate the king, no one deserves the agony of prolonged death via poison. He turns to the Duke beside him and asks if he would like to do the honors as revenge for the death of Keith’s younger brother.

Emma shouts for them to stop, and Fernand tells her to stay out of this. Behind her, Keith stumbles back to his feet, his fighting spirit not yet gone. Speaking of which, shouldn’t Alter!Keith have taken control by now? A glance tells her Nice!Keith is still in control.

Keith proclaims his innocence, announcing that he refuses to die here. He calls out to Emma, asking if she remembers what they discussed earlier. Emma recalls their discussion about finding help outside the mansion and assures him that she does remember. However, it is a bad plan, she’s not going to be able to get help in enough time to save him.

Besides, if she leaves, Keith will have to handle two – no – three people. Instead, Emma turns to Fernand; she knows he’s the type who would already have the antidote prepared. The method of delivery for the poison was haphazard, with a high chance of accidents. Even if he didn’t care for the servants, she has no doubt that Fernand would preserve his own safety at the very least.

Well, Emma is right. Is this what she wants? Fernand holds out a vial from his pocket, laughing. Emma is a little surprised, she hadn’t realized that he would carry it on her.

Fernand will give it to her, but only if Emma becomes his mistress. Right here, and right now. Before she can say anything, Keith tells Emma to reject it.

Pulling out his sword, Keith hurls himself towards Fernand, who parries Keith with his own sword at the last minute. Even though his life is at stake, even though he is weak with poison, Keith is evenly matched with Fernand. However, his complexion was pale, and Emma wonders if he will collapse at any moment.

While fighting, Keith calls out to Emma and repeats that she cannot accept Fernand’s offer. He would die if he saw Emma forcing herself to endure Fernand’s attentions for his sake. Besides, Fernand is a liar and wouldn’t save Keith and would instead just toy with Emma.

Still fighting, Fernand praises Keith. Even though he is stupid and a failure, he does understand Fernand’s plans.

For the first time in Emma’s life, a strong anger wells up from within.

Fernand has one last lesson for his stupid nephew. He breaks away from Keith and opens a window in the hallway as the Duke engages Keith. Emma realizes too late what Fernand is intending, and her mind goes blank as her body moves on its own.

Fernand has no need for the antidote any longer.

The vial is thrown out the window like trash. Emma recalls the river she saw beneath the mansion – the vial won’t just hit the ground, but it will be washed away. Desperate to save Keith, Emma reaches and jumps out the window.

From behind, she can hear Keith shout at her to stop.

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[plus-size-reader]

Why

Cato Hadley x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2108 words

Warnings: none

Summary:  Reader is a tribute for the Hunger Games, no one thinks she’s going to make it until Cato steps in. The one thing you don’t understand is, Why does he care? 

Updated version of “Why Does He Care” an old fan favorite. 

—————————————————————————————————

They knew you wouldn’t win. 

It hadn’t even registered as a possibility in most of their minds, but that didn’t matter all that much. 

All the game makers cared about was that you made a show of it, and if you could, got stabbed in view of one of the thousands of cameras surrounding the arena.

That was all you had to do. 

You weren’t the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest that your district had to offer and everyone seemed to have already come to terms with the fact that you would be leaving the arena in a body bag.

They just didn’t see how a woman of your status and stature could ever hope to compete with others in the games. Against the Careers, a group of highly trained young people whose lives revolved around being able to win, you would surely meet your end. 

However, you weren’t going to just accept defeat right off the bat. 

Even if you didn’t win, you were going to put up one hell of a fight once that canon went off. You owed that to your family, and your district, and yourself. 

No one in their right mind wanted to participate in the Hunger Games,and you certainly didn’t want to either, but you had been chosen to represent your district and you weren’t going to shy away from the responsibility. 

At the very least, you had to try. 

If nothing else, the fact that no one believed in you could serve as an extra push, the push you would need to take down as many other tributes as possible in the process. 

You knew that you could do that. 

Though, that fire did sort of dull as soon as you walked into the large training room, surrounded by all the other tributes from all the other districts. Once you got a look at them up close, you were less sure of yourself than you had ever been. 

How quickly it had all changed.

From the moment you walked into that room, which was more of a cell of brushed aluminum and cool steel, you were forced to recon with the reality of the situation. 

This was happening. 

You were going to die. 

The way in which you would die wasn’t something you were all that fond of considering, but as best you could tell, the Career pack would be to blame. 

Stories of what they were capable of, training tirelessly to volunteer for their games and slaughter the competition were widespread all over Panem but you couldn’t have imagined how intimidating they were in real life. 

Each one of them was a skilled, and accurate, death machine and you had no chance of surviving an altercation with even the weakest among them, who you had ultimately decided was Glimmer. 

She was talented and smart but lacked the determination that the others had. 

Even in her case though, you could see what they always said about the Careers. They were raised to believe there was no other point to their lives other than to win the Hunger Games. 

If they didn’t win, they weren’t worth anything, not that it would matter. If they didn’t win, they would end up just the same as all the rest of you, in a shallow grave somewhere. 

That was just how it was. 

You did your best to keep to yourself at first, not wanting to elicit any more violence than absolutely necessary right off the bad. It was no secret to you that the other tributes didn’t take you seriously. 

The last thing you wanted was for them to try and prove themselves at your expense before you were out in that arena. 

Unfortunately, the other tributes, namely the Careers, had already made up their minds. In the few days that you had been training, they had been making fun of you the entire time.

For them, it was one big joke.

When they looked at you, it was clear that all they saw was the first person they were going to stick their swords into. They didn’t take you seriously at all and at this point, you weren’t even sure if you blamed them. 

Each time you threw a punch or swung your axe at a target, they hooted and hollered from their place on the sidelines and called you out for each imperfection they saw in your maneuvers, and they weren’t wrong. 

You had no idea what you were doing. 

This was all new for you, because where you were from, hand to hand combat just wasn’t something you would have ever come across. Before now, you hadn’t even seen most of the things in front of you here. 

You were out of your element.

By the end of the first week, you hadn’t even begun to make any progress. However, there was one thing that had changed and you couldn’t even pinpoint when or why it had happened. 

At some point, Cato had stopped criticizing you in the same way his compatriots were.

You weren’t sure why he would even bother, but seeing as you didn’t really talk to him, you couldn’t ask. It was much easier to just be silently grateful for the break, and try to focus on what you were doing. 

While it wasn’t looking good to start, you didn’t want to sabotage your chances of survival with any more wasted time.  

The other Careers had noticed the change in him too, but not one of them dared to comment on it, even if it didn’t make any sense to them. The anger that they would risk in doing so just wouldn’t be worth getting answers. 

Instead, they let him do whatever it was he was doing, waving it off as some kind of tactical maneuver. He knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t their place to ask too many questions and get him off his game. 

When Cato first headed in your direction, closing the vast distance between you on the training floor, you assumed that he was intent on proving to you just how out of place you were here. 

...But that couldn't have been farther from the truth. 

In truth, what Cato was doing was far from a tactical measure. More than anything, he just couldn’t bring himself to make fun of you anymore. 

He didn’t think that your weight alone was enough to warrant the constant abuse you were suffering. 

Besides, It was clear that you were putting in a lot of work to get better, which was more than most of the other tributes were doing. You weren’t going to take this lying down, which he could respect. 

From the looks of it, your technique just needed some polishing, and you would be just as good a fighter as anyone here, with the exception of himself.

“You need to strike higher” he prompted, coming out of nowhere and nearly shocking you out of your fighting stance. You had been so focused that you didn’t even hear him approach. 

Still, it didn’t occur to you that he might have been trying to help at first. After all this time, he didn’t strike you as the friendly, just trying to help type. He was much more of the scowl and stab sort of person. 

You couldn’t be blamed for feeling that way. 

“Strike higher” he repeated, closing the space between you to wrap his arm around your frame, moving your axe in the exact way he had been telling you to do. 

There was nothing snide or rude in his tone, but you couldn’t focus on that.

All you could think about were his strong hands on your body, and the clear concern he had for whatever in the world he could have wanted from you. 

You tensed under his touch, desperately trying to decipher how you had gotten to this point or what you were supposed to do now that you were here. 

There was nothing particularly romantic about his touch, which you understood, but it was still foreign to be on the receiving end of. No one had ever held you like this, under any circumstances.

“Hit here, not here” he muttered, his voice far too close to your ear this time, forcing a breath from your lungs you weren’t aware you’d trapped there. He moved the axe, and your arm attached to it, to demonstrate what he meant. 

...And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. 

When he moved his arms, in succession with his words, he hit the target at jugular height, instead of in the trunk where you had been aiming.

It was a much better hit than you had been landing all day, showing how much more experience he had with this than you. 

“Thanks” you muttered, glancing at him quickly, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t look at you but you wouldn’t have been so lucky.

Cato looked down just at the same moment as you turned your head to take in his profile. 

You expected him to say something about it but he offered nothing, content to just stare back down at you with a slight smirk on his face. 

“Somebody bigger than you is going to be able to push back if you aim here” he explained finally, lightly resting the palm of his right hand against your abdomen where you’d been aiming before. 

It made sense, of course. 

“If you aim at the weakest part, it doesn’t matter how much stronger an opponent is” he hummed, this time bringing that same hand up to where your throat was, not missing the way you gulped under his touch. 

“And you can’t kill anyone aiming at their ankles” he laughed, shrugging at that, as if he shouldn’t have to explain that part to you. Even someone who knew nothing about this wasn’t going to be shocked at that. 

Cato just didn’t want you to think that he was playing some sort of sick game with you. He was really trying to help, even if that wasn’t really in his nature. 

Never in his life had Cato cared about anyone, or been drawn to another person like he was with you. 

His entire life was all about winning the games, and there was nothing more than that. 

That was all he’d ever cared about. 

...But for some reason, making sure that you survived this whole thing was becoming really important to him. 

There was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on, but whatever it was, he didn’t have all that much time to figure it out. This whole thing was happening, whether he wanted it to or not. 

The best thing he could do for you was prepare you to survive, with or without him. 

“Oh, I couldn’t kill anyone” you hummed, doing your very best to be as nonchalant about it as you could. You were doing your best to figure out how to protect yourself out there but you had already made you mind up on that front. 

You weren’t going to kill anyone. 

It was something you had decided on before you even knew your name had been drawn the day of the reaping, but this was new information for Cato. 

New information that almost shocked him into silence. 

Cato had always known that he would need to kill someone, at some point. It was never a question in his mind, or something that even had any effect on him. It was part of his life, and to hear that someone else had never even considered it was new for him. 

If you didn’t kill anyone the entire time you were in the arena, you would die. 

You had to know that. 

Surely you knew that. 

“If you don’t, you’re going to die” he spoke, the words leaving his lips before he even had time to react. There was a finality to it, something you hadn’t seen coming, and at first, you thought it may have been a joke. 

The two of you really didn’t know each other all that well, or at all, so making jokes seemed sort of strange but it wasn’t necessarily something that upset you. 

You were just shocked at his urgency. 

This really was something that was bothering him, but there was one thing that was still bothering you. This was the first time you had ever spoken to him in your life, and as flattered as you were that he cared about what happened to you, it didn’t make any sense. 

Why did he care about someone like you? 

[mischiefandspirits]

Bernard Figures It Out

Was reading through all the comments on @frostbittenbucky's post and all I could think of was that it was Bernard talking to Tim. Then I got to thinking...

"I've connected the two dots."

"You didn't connect shit."

"I've connected them."

Bernard figures out Tim's a superhero... sort of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim fidgetted nervously as he waited on the front porch of his boyfriend’s house. Bernard had sounded so serious when he’d called during Tim’s lunch to ask him to come over after work so they could talk about something.

Which Tim had done, after spending an entire board meeting just going over the past week trying to figure out what he’d done.

The only thing he could think of was that he’d ducked out halfway through their lunch date on Wednesday to give Duke some backup, but Bernard had seemed understanding when Tim explained there was an emergency at GRC Labs. It couldn’t have been a tipping point, either, since Tim had managed to only flake on three other dates over the past few months they’d been dating. Kate had been happy to cover for him as often as she could “out of queer solidarity” when she found out Tim was dating a boy for the first time and Tim had managed to trick Bruce into covering a few actual Wayne Enterprises emergencies for him when they came up.

There had to be a reason Bernard was breaking up with him, though. Had he missed something? He definitely wasn’t forgetting an important day. He was good with days and Tam was even better, so she would have reminded him on the off chance that he had forgotten.

What was he missing?

Bernard was smiling when he opened the door, but there was a nervous energy to it that had Tim’s stomach sinking. “Hey, Tim.”

“Hey.” Tim gave his own nervous smile then slipped inside.

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Tim frowned when Bernard grabbed a manila folder off the coffee table. Crud, had he screwed up enough that Bernard had had to make a list? He knew he was new to dating a guy, but he hadn’t thought he’d done that bad. He’d really been trying, especially with how his and Stephanie’s relationship had fallen apart at the end. “What -”

“Just let me speak, Tim,” Bernard said, waiting for Tim’s nod. “Okay, so you know Clark Kent, right?”

Tim blinked as Bernard opened the folder to show a picture of Clark. It looked like one of the employee pictures from the Planet’s website, with his dorky “I’m just a humble country boy” smile and the golden globe from their roof photoshopped in as the background. “Uh, yeah? I think so. He works for the Daily Planet, right? I think he’s worked at a few of Bruce’s events. Not a lot of outside reporters are willing to come to Gotham.”

“Exactly!” Bernard said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tim.

“What?”

He pulled out the picture to show the next page was an article titled, “DAILY PLANET REPORTER… BATMAN!?”

A wave of relief washed over Tim and he placed his face in his hands. “Were you up all night on the hero conspiracy boards again?”

“No. I mean, I found this on a board and was up all night thinking about it, but I found it reasonably early.”

“One in the morning isn’t reasonable, Bernard.”

“Says the guy who’s always wide awake when I call to infodump.”

“Touché.” Tim leaned against Bernard and gave him a smile. “So tell me, why is some reporter from Metropolis from all places Batman.”

“First of all, living in Metropolis is the perfect cover. Everyone assumes Batman would live in Gotham, no one would consider he could be from anywhere else. Metropolis is outside the GMA, but close enough that the commute is still possible.”

“But it’s Metropolis.”

“And who would think Gotham’s Dark Knight lives in the sunshine capital? Plus, I hear he disappears a lot on the job. There’s gotta be a reason for it!”

Tim made a note to let Clark know he needs to cut back on the disappearing act some since people are catching on.

“And have you seen the guy? He is swol AF, babe.”

“Please don’t call me babe while you’re talking about how hot another guy is.” Especially Tim’s honorary uncle.

“You know I prefer twinks.”

“BERNARD!”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring Tim’s shout. “The guy is definitely hiding something! Besides, Kent is an investigative reporter. He’s gotta know a lot about cases and the underground and detective work.”

Not as much as he likes people to think, but more than he likes people to know Superman does, Tim mused. “But what about the other vigilantes?”

“Well, Kent has a cousin…” Bernard flipped through a folder and pulled out a picture of Kara. It looked like a screenshot of her interviewing Lena for CatCo. “She’s obviously the latest Batgirl. Look at her hair. And the first Batgirl and the current Batwoman were obviously Lois Lane, the red hair is just a wig. Did you see how she kicked butt at that last event she went to? She’s not as subtle as Kent. That means their son is the latest Robin. He’s exactly the right size.”

Oh, Damian better not hear about this, Tim cackled internally. His youngest brother hated being reminded that Jon was the same height as him despite their two years age difference. Damian definitely took after Talia when it came to body type, no matter what he said.

“And Kent also has a brother.” This time he pulled out a picture of Kon. The clone must have been caught by a reporter out shopping with Ma since he was carrying some paper bags and glaring at whoever was behind the camera. “At least, he’s supposedly Kent’s brother, but he was a teenager when he first showed up with the Kents. A lot of people think he’s actually Kent’s son, that Kent got a girl pregnant when they were teenagers and something happened to the mom so Kent had to take him in. Now the Kents are trying to hide it by saying the two are brothers.”

That was… scarily accurate actually. Especially given Luthor and Clark were close friends at the time that Kon would have theoretically been born.

“And that beef would explain why the younger Kent brother went all crime lord on Gotham for a while before reconnecting with the family.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Kent Jr.’s got the perfect build for Red Hood.”

Tim bit back a comment on how Kon was shorter than Jason by a good foot. Timothy Drake-Wayne should not know that. Add Jason to the list of people who can’t hear this theory.

“And then there’s this girl,” Bernard picked up a picture of Lois, Jon, and Natasha Irons walking down the street together. “No one’s sure exactly who she is, but she’s been spotted with the Kents a few times. I think the cover story is that she’s Jon’s babysitter.”

“And the actual story?”

“She’s Black Bat, obviously. That’s why she wears a mask that fully covers her face. She doesn’t want to stand out as the only African American Bat.”

“Isn’t Signal also Black?”

“Yeah, but he works in the daytime so he’s already a standout.”

“And who is Signal in this? And what about Nightwing and Red Robin?”

“Well, Nightwing’s just a Blüd who came to Gotham. He doesn’t count.”

Ouch. Sorry, Dick.

“And Red Robin is obviously an older Robin, the one who was Robin when we were kids. Kent wanted to keep him on, and I don’t blame him. As for Signal, he’s got the same backstory as all the other Robins Kent picked up, he just went the Signal route because he didn’t fit the usual Robin mold.”

“Because the female Robin fit the mold,” Tim snorted. Robin Mold, as if he and his brothers were even the same ethnicity. Or even had the same hair color. Jason dyes his hair, Dick’s is brown-black, Tim’s is pure black, and Damian’s is more a dark brown and it’s only getting lighter as he gets older.

“She didn’t, that’s the point. Kent tried to give breaking the Robin mold a chance by letting his cousin have a go at it, but he realized it just didn’t work so she went back to being Spoiler and he got a new Robin.”

Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Right, and where does he get the usual Robins? Please tell me you’re not back on the secret government orphanages theory.”

“No, no, no. Kent travels sometimes for his job, right? And a lot of the time he’s going to places that have been hit by disasters or major crimes. So he’ll take in some of the displaced children to train as his robins.”

Tim pressed his face back into his hands.

“You see it, right?”

Honestly, Tim was just wondering how his boyfriend could be so close, and yet so far off. “How would Kent even afford taking care of a bunch of secret -- possibly illegally acquired -- children without anyone noticing?”

“Simple. Bruce Wayne is funding him.”

“Bernard, I love you, but what the heck?” Tim blushed and looked up as he realized what he’d said, but Bernard didn’t seem to notice as he steamrolled ahead.

“It’d also explain how he can afford all the gear and how he’d be able to travel to Gotham or anywhere else Batman goes without anyone noticing. He probably has a secret Batplane or something.”

“Why would Bruce do that?”

“Because Wayne cares about Gotham, everyone knows that, and this way he can make sure someone’s taking care of the city without anyone putting two and two together.”

“And two plus two is?”

Bernard gave him a hard look. “I’m not stupid, Tim. Bruce Wayne is obviously Superman. His face is right there.”

Oh, the others are going to love this! Too bad I can’t tell Damian or Jason. Jason especially would have loved this. “Right. Bruce is Superman.”

“He is. Superman is known for being nice and Bruce Wayne’s basically all that’s keeping the city running at this point. That’s nice as hell.”

Oh my god.

“And Wayne does charity for the victims of cataclysms, doesn't he? I bet he first saves people from them as Superman and then builds them new homes for free.”

Oh my god! Why am I not recording this!?

“And the Wayne’s were rich enough to hide the fact they adopted an alien baby.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to tell me this is why Bruce’s parents got killed, you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”

“It’d make sense. There’re all sorts of unanswered questions about their deaths,” Bernard muttered under his breath, flipping through the folder. He pulled out another picture of Kara. This time she was in full Supergirl attire with a bus held overhead. “So if Wayne is Superman, then that’d mean your ex-girlfriend could be Supergirl. They look a lot alike and it’d explain how she got involved with you all.”

“Bernard, she has a human dad. You know, Cluemaster. The supervillain.”

“Yeah, her dad. But we don’t know anything about her mom!”

“Let me guess…”

Bernard pulled out a picture of Karen. She and Helena were suited up and talking to a group of cops, two goons held over each of Karen’s shoulders. “Her mom could be Power Girl! Some makeup and a wig and she could look just like Crystal Brown! And Damian Wayne is obviously the new Superboy! That’s why his background is such a mystery, right? He had to stay a secret until he could control his alien superpowers. That’s why he’s always so mean. It’s a cover since everyone knows Superboy is super sweet!”

Sure, when he’s not helping Damian pull pranks or using his adorable powers to put the blame on Kon and I. “No, Bernard. Damian and Steph are just very human hellspawn. And Bruce and Crystal are human too. I can’t believe you called me over here just to tell me you think Superman is both Batman’s sugar daddy and my adoptive dad.”

“Well, that’s not exactly why I called you over,” Bernard admitted, the nervous energy coming back. He grabbed Tim’s hands. “Tim -”

Tim’s stomach sank. “You are breaking up with me!”

“What? No! I don’t want to break up!”

“Why are you acting all nervous and serious then!?” Tim asked, pulling his hands away to throw them up in the air.

Bernard shook the folder. “Because I’m trying to tell you I figured out you’re Superboy!”

Tim’s brain blue-screened and his hands slowly dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know you’re Superboy. The older one, obviously. By the way, you and Damian really need to figure out separate names.”

Forget Jason and Damian, Kon can never find out about this. He’d never let me live it down. “Bernard, you called me a twink five minutes ago. Su-” Shoot, I can not risk getting Kon’s attention! “The older one might not be as big as Superman, but he’s not a twink.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the shapeshifting at work.”

“The what?”

“Obviously you Kryptonians can shapeshift. Why else would you look so much like humans?”

… Why do Kryptonians look so much like humans? Was there some - Wait, no! Break into the Fortress of Solitude for research later! Reassure your boyfriend that you’re not an alien now! “Bernard -”

“And that explains why your step-mom was so hot.”

“Gross.”

“She and your dad were actors hired by Luthor so you could have a normal life! But now Bruce has custody so he adopted you.”

“No.”

“That’s why you and your dad were so weird with each other when I met him.”

“We were weird because he’d just gotten out of a coma not long before to find that his wife was dead so he decided to actually be a dad for once in his life, but overcompensated and became a helicopter parent to a kid who was mostly on his own for his entire life!” Tim blurted out. “I am not an alien, Bernard!”

“Well, not technically since you were cloned from Superman on Earth.”

“Oh my god! You were just talking about Steph being Supergirl! Why would I date my dad’s cousin?”

Bernard blinked. “Supergirl and Superman are cousins?”

Right, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know that. “I thought they’d said something like that before, yeah. Are people seriously saying I’m Superboy on the internet?”

“NO! No, I swear I would have led with that if I thought your identity was compromised. A few people have mentioned Wayne and Damian, but not you or Steph or Jason.”

“Wh-Jason!? You think Jason was an alien too!”

“No, not exactly, but a few times when I’ve visited I swear I’ve seen a guy in the manor who looks like Jason. It’s just been out of the corner of my eye and he’s gone whenever I look so I’ve always thought it was just Dick or Bruce or some picture of Jason that my mind was playing tricks with, but it makes sense now that I know Wayne is Superman. He must have been able to heal Jason with alien tech, but couldn’t say anything because that would give away that he’s Superman.”

Damn it Jason! And damn it Bernard! I’m dating the smartest moron in the world! “Bruce did not bring Jason back with alien technology and none of us are aliens!”

“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anyone.”

Tim grabbed Bernard by the jacket and pulled him into a kiss. When he started to feel lightheaded, he pulled back, “Could someone whose skin is as solid as stone kiss like that?”

Bernard blinked dazedly at him for a moment. “How do you know what Superboy’s skin feels like?”

Tim screamed internally. “He’s saved me from a kidnapping before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can get you the police report if you want.”

“Huh… And the others?”

“Not Supers. I can stab Damian the next time we’re at the manor if that’ll prove none of us are aliens.” He’d rather stab Jason, but that would probably only confirm to Bernard that Bruce used alien technology to bring him back.

“You probably shouldn’t stab your brother if he isn’t an alien.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I won’t stab him anywhere deadly.”

“That’s not the point,” Bernard said slowly.

“He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“So do you believe I’m not an alien now?” Tim huffed, letting go of Bernard’s jacket.

The blond’s eyes dipped down to Tim’s lips. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tim said, but he kissed him anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, but I still say Clark Kent is definitely Batman.”

“Sure, Bernard.”

[demonsandmischief]

Keep Me Safe

A Bucky Barnes Story

Bucky Barnes x OC Character

2K Words

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, Mention of Body Weight, Past Abuse/Trauma

General disclaimers before you read: This is not an imagine. Also, I'm not a doctor, but I do my best to make things as accurate as possible. Please take into account the trigger warnings. I imagine this after TFATWS events just because I feel like that Bucky has finally found himself enough to actually have a relationship. It doesn't contain any spoilers, but it may later on.

----

Bucky already has enough to deal with, but adding Mia to the mix might not be so bad.

----

"You're the only one who hasn't tried," Sam Wilson whispered adamantly.

"No," Bucky Barnes shook his head. "That's a bad idea, Sam, and you know it."

"Listen, you're the only one who could possibly understand what she's been through. At least try."

Bucky sighed. Damn Wilson for being so convincing and good with words. He glanced into the hospital room, seeing the pale girl hooked helplessly to the chirpy machinery. He cringed. He hated it all.

There was no telling what the girl had been through. She had been found while Sam was on a mission, and she continued to panic every single time someone entered the room. Nurses had to give her a mild sedative just to tend to her injuries.

Bucky had avoided the place like the plague. He wanted no part, but Sam was his friend, his only one at that, and he asked for his help, hoping he could relate to the girl in some way.

He entered the room, glancing back at Sam skeptically as nothing happened, but just like with the others, the frail girl woke up with a terrified gasp. Her chest heaved as she pulled at the wires, desperate to free herself, until she saw him.

She stilled at the sight of him, and Bucky couldn't help but approach curiously. She had the most stunning eyes, wide and painful. He couldn't imagine what they had seen.

"Easy," he murmured, holding his gloves hands out in front of him in a calming gesture. He was sure he could hear her heartheat with how frightened she was. "My name is Bucky. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

He glanced back towards the door at Sam who was just out of view.

He eased himself in the chair by the girl's bed. She calmed significantly when his height wasn't as threatening.

She glanced at the glass of water, and at Bucky cautiously. He could tell she was in pain. He didn't know the extent of her injuries, but she had definitely exerted herself when she panicked.

He shifted to pick up the glass and she tensed. "I'm just helping," he whispered. "Here."

She attempted to take it from his grasp, but her shaking hands didn't have the grip, so he held the straw to her lips.

There was something about this girl. Something he couldn't put his finger on.

"I'm Mia," she said after a moment.

Bucky couldn't control the soft smile that pulled at his lips at the sound of her voice. The reaction was odd, something he had never felt.

At that moment, two nurses and a doctor knocked on the door, and entered without saying anything. Mia immediately began to freak out and he was not having it. For some reason, it pissed him off that they barged in on their moment.

"Bucky," she whimpered helplessly, reaching for him.

She wanted him? There was no way. He had just met her.

Either way, he stood to his feet, addressing the group. "There's too many of you. You need to leave. Can't you see you're causing her distress?"

"We saw she was awake. We just need to run some tests," the doctor said.

He felt the feather-like touch on his leather jacket, and a quiet, fearful whimper that sent lightning bolts of red, hot anger throughout his body. Why would they cause her more fear?

"You need to leave. I'll call you when it's time for you to come in," he said sternly, his gaze dark and protective. It was a strange feeling that surged through his chest. He felt something similar when he was fighting alongside Sam, but this felt more intimate.

"You don't have any authority to tell me what to do. What is your relationship to this girl?" the doctor inquired.

Bucky clenched his fists. He wanted to break the shit out of this man's nose.

Lucky for the arrogant doctor, Sam was able to diffuse the situation. He stayed in the entry of the door.

"Woah, what's going on in here? Dr. Smith, Bucky has been the only one to calm her. He's with me, and I have the authority. You need to do what he tells you, or we will just find a different person for the job."

Dr. Smith gave a huff, giving a glare to the angry man.

Sam gave a Buck a tense nod when the room was finally empty.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked Mia, who looked scared out of her mind, huddled in the corner of the bed closest to him.

A tear fell onto her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly.

"I'm okay," she finally said.

"No, you're not, and that's alright." Bucky sank back into his seat, watching her closely.

"You act like you understand," she relaxed slightly, and he noticed her palms were cut from where her fingernails had been digging into the skin.

He reached for her hand, and she accepted his touch, which was very surprising. He reached for a tissue to wipe away the blood.

"I do understand," he said it simply, wondering if there would be more questions, but it was quiet.

Mia's whole body ached. She could feel it now that she didn't feel defensive. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. Everything pulsed with pressure, and burned like fire.

"Thank you for getting them to leave," she whispered, laying back in the bed with a wince.

"You should see a doctor soon, but I'll make sure it isn't that one."

She hated doctors, especially that one that was just in there. They reminded her too much of the one's at - .

Mia shut down the thought, squeezing her eyes closed to stop the flow of painful, horrid memories.

"You should sleep," Bucky said, distracting her from her internal struggle.

She nodded, "Will you come back tomorrow?"

He came back everyday for the next few days. The pair didn't talk much, but they were comfortable with each other's company.

Mia even decided the doctor could finally come in. This one was a woman, and she had a warm personality, almost like a mother.

"You have some breaks that have healed improperly. We might have to reset those if possible. You're also covered in cuts and stab wounds of all kinds. You're dangerously underweight. We need to do a CT scan to know exactly what's going on." The doctor smiled gently, looking up from her clipboard. "Maybe you could tell Mr. Barnes what happened so we can get you proper help."

Mia gripped Bucky's gloved hand tightly, watching the doctor's every move.

The smile never faded from her kind face, "I'll have a nurse come in and prep you for that scan."

As soon as she was gone, Mia panicked once more. "No, no, Bucky. I don't want to go. I don't want to be scanned," she whimpered.

"Shh," he soothed, wiping away the tears with the pads of his covered thumb. "It doesn't hurt. I wouldn't let them hurt you."

A nurse knocked on the door. She set a cup on the table near the bed. "This is contrast so the doctor can see on the scan. Once you drink that, we should be good to go in about an hour. Do you have questions I can answer for you?"

Mia managed just the slightest shake of your head.

"Okay, call me when you finish that, or if you need me."

Whatever was in the cup was chalky and bitter, and hard to get down.

Bucky couldn't contain a chuckle at the adorable, disgusted faces Mia made.

"Don't laugh," Mia pouted, a twitch of a smile threatening to form. It was the first smile she had in a very long time. "You'll go with me, won't you?"

"Of course I will," he said. "I won't be able to go in the room with the scan, but I will be watching. I won't let anything happen to you."

Except, Mia didn't know that, and as soon as she was seperated from Bucky, she could feel the pressure in her chest. Her heart pounded viciously as she tried to force herself upright. Her ears were ringing so much that she couldn't hear or see what was going on around her. All she could see was the fleeting image of the metal table she had been forced to lay on, day in and day out. All the pain and screaming.

The memories that were trapping her began to disappear when she heard her name, the ringing becoming pesky background noise as Bucky's blurry image focused.

"Hey now," he said, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. He was no stranger to panic attacks. "You're okay, Mia."

She wasn't okay. The only time she was ever okay was when he was around, and that scared her too.

"If you do this, they'll know what's wrong and you can get out of here quicker."

"I hate this table," she cried, gripping his hands. "It's just like the one-"

"I know," Bucky whispered. He didn't know, but he would eventually. He needed to make sure the problem was taken care of. "I know it is, but you can do it. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Sam had been watching the exchange. He had been bringing Bucky some food when he had caught the scene.

"What's all this about?" Sam asked curiously. He had never seen the serious man so soft before. Normally, this would be a cause for some teasing, but this was a bit too sensitive for that.

"Don't ask," Bucky huffed, taking the bag of food from him. "Thank you. They only serve garbage here. She's not going to be able to put on any weight with that shit."

Sam eyed him curiously. "You've been with her for almost a week, so it is something, and I'll get it out of you eventually. You have me to thank for this."

"Yeah, whatever," he rolled his eyes. "I do need something from you. I need to know where she came from. I plan on taking a trip."

----

"Do you have to go?" Mia whispered sleepily. The hospital room was dark aside from a lamp. Usually, she was asleep when he left, but she had been extra clingy after the severe anxiety from the day. "I hate it when you leave."

That pulled at Bucky's heartstrings. He had developed strong feelings for the sweet brown haired girl.

"I'll even give you my bed," she said, her doe-like eyes catching the light.

He smiled, bending down closer, "You need to get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

"Please." She squished herself to oneside and patted the empty space.

Bucky sighed, "I can't. I have nightmares. I don't want to wake you. Plus, the bed is small. You're going to get hurt."

"I have nightmares, too. We can wake each other." She bit her lip and his resolve was slipping.

The fact was, he didn't want to leave. Not one bit. He wanted to be by her side all of the time.

"Alright, but if you need me to move or if I hurt you, you let me know." He laid beside of her, his ribs pressing harshly against the arms of the bed. It was not comfortable, not until Mia moved close.

He helped her adjust so she was half on top of him, giving him enough room to move over. She pressed her cheek to his chest with a content sigh.He felt content, too, like he finally belonged somewhere.

"Take the gloves off, Bucky. You can't sleep in those," she mumbled.

He hesitated. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. He didn't know what she knew of him, or what she had seen.

"You're the only person I'm not scared of," she continued gently.

He pulled off the flesh one first, and then slowly the vibranium one.

She smiled up at him, reaching for his metal fingers, "I knew this one felt different."

Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating and tickling Mia. He pulled the scratchy blanket over her tiny frame.

"Get some rest."

----

🥺🥺🥺 This was a long one but it's been circling in my head for a while. Part 2? Thoughts?

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Wilfords Demands: Simple As That

Summary- 7.3k Curtis Everett x You. Realization of your predicament really sinks in, but Curtis wont simply let that happen. Wilford seems happy to extend the deal, after all Curtis is his favorite fighter, always has been. Confident that things wont be as bad as they could be, you and Curtis settle into preparing for the new child. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- talks of pregnancy, hint of possible abortion (a sentence), smut. 18+ Only. 

A/N- I can’t claim to know anything about pregnancy except what research has informed me. So descriptions will be vague and probably not accurate. 

Chapter 4 / Wilfords Demands Masterlist

“Then my Dear, you better encourage Curtis to win.” 

Those words sunk deep as you looked into Wilfords cold ice-sharp eyes, the way he was grinning as if this was a game. But it wasn't a game, this was your life, Curtis's life and ultimately the new life growing inside of you right now.

And right now it was better to stay with the devil you knew. Your hands flew to your still flat stomach, pressing it lightly while gasping out. 

“But I'm pregnant, with Curtis’s child. You can’t give me to another while raising his child.” You pointed out, hoping that the facts would be on your side in this. 

Wilford pulled back with a hearty laugh that made you feel sick, wanting to vomit hearing it. Claude to snickered at you as if you were to stupid to understand. Your confused look clouded your face. 

“Girl, you think you get to keep that baby? No woman like you gets to keep them.” Wilford wiped under his eyes to clear the tears. You could feel the blood ringing in your ears now as panic settled in your chest. 

“You are going to take away my baby?” 

“Of course you stupid bitch, you all are not fit to be mothers. Other more capable women will take them, raise them.” Claude snapped out gleefully at your distress. Wilford leaned forward giving you what was supposed to be a comforting pat on the hand, which you pulled back to your chest out of his reach. 

“Girl, you will birth that child and give him up to us. I might even keep this one for myself. If Curtis wins. I only keep winners. I expect you to be good to whoever gets to claim you after the tournament.” He shifted to a stand, putting his chair back. You were in too much shock to even comprehend what Claude and Wilford were saying to one another. 

“Ah, Claude, you better take her back to Curtis. The pretty thing seems to be in shock.” Wilford sighed a bit. “If she wasn't a tail ender, I would keep her for myself. She is a lovely thing. I'm sure Curtis will do his best to keep her.” 

You just stared ahead now while Claude pulled you to a stand with a mutter. “It is a shame Sir. But you don't really want to lower yourself to that.” 

All of this was just mumbled nonsense to you, still rolling over what they said earlier, neither you nor Curtis were going to get to keep the baby. 

Heading back towards the rooms, Claude paused you at the door and gave a nod to have it unlocked. 

Curtis had been pacing the room. To watch him was like the large cats in the zoo, coiled muscles back and forth pacing, snarls of frustration escaping at his predicament. The creak of the door made him pause though and you stepped through, your arms wrapped around your midsection and a blank look on your face. That scared him. And when the door slammed shut behind you, you flinched and blinked suddenly realizing where you were. 

“Y/N? Say something.” Curtis finally broke the silence, crossing the room to grasp your forearms, looking for another reaction from you. Anything to snap you out of the silence. 

You blinked a few more times and opened your mouth to say something but the words seem to be stuck somewhere. 

Curtis drew you to sit on the edge of the bed and lowered next to you waiting. Finally you looked at him, drawing in a breath. 

“There's a tournament? And I'm the prize?” You asked it like a question, still disbelieving. Curtis’s face darkened with a nod. 

“Yes. It's a gladiator style tournament once a year. I swear Y/N, I'm not going to lose and let anyone else have you. It’s why I have been training so hard.” He shifted in closer and let his hand rest on your thigh, squeezing lightly. “I have been training for these tournaments for years.” 

You looked down at his hand and studied it a moment, his knuckles were thick with scar tissue, some still busted from use. Fingers dug slightly into your thigh, as if holding you to him in case anyone tried to take you. 

Hands of someone who lived a hard life, but managed to be gentle on you most the time. You knew you would have to tell him the next part. This you didn't know how to deal with. It should have been joyful news, but it was so tainted by the situation. “I'm also pregnant, several weeks now. Did you know… when you got me pregnant that I wouldn't be keeping the child?” You cleared your throat a bit. 

Curtis withdrew his hold on you, flexing his hand. “Y/N… I never was sure but I suspected. The other women I had with me, I never saw them again. I don't know what happened to them or if they were allowed to keep their children.” His shoulders hunched. “But you… Wilford told me you were going to stay. He told you specifically that he would be taking it away?” 

You swallowed and pulled back into the bed, to use the wall as support, your legs stretched out before you and your hands resting on your stomach. 

“He did, he plans on taking it as soon as I give birth.“ You say darkly, already feeling protective and deep sadness that you wouldn't be able to prevent this. 

Unless… the idea was so dark, it made your stomach churn. 

Curtis was quiet for that moment watching you, worried at how quiet you had turned. He made a move to touch you and you withdrew from him. 

“Please don’t… just this once.” You asked and Curtis for the first time withdrew from you and moved to the chair at the table, rubbing a hand over his head. 

Any other time this happened, it didn't mean much to him except that his current charge was leaving. But to hear that you had his baby growing inside you made conflicting feelings. Part of him was thrilled, for whatever reason he wanted to see you grow and need him. To cradle his child to your chest and whisper sweet nothings. Warming his bed and filling his life. 

The dread followed close on that feeling, because nothing good ever happened on the train. Even if he won, you were still going to lose the child. And Curtis didn't think he could handle that pain, but more importantly, that you couldn't handle it. Pushing to a stand, he pounded on the locked door. Hard enough for you to jump “Curtis, what are you doing?” The door opened once more. 

“I need to see Wilford.” 

The guard shook his head. “Not till your appointed time.” Curtis surged forward, pushing the man back into the hallway wall and fisted his hand in his gear to lift him off his feet, snarling out. 

“I need to see Wilford now.” 

Let him come. Came a cackle in a walkie and Curtis let him go.

He didn’t look back as your panicked voice called to him once again. “CURTIS! What are you doing?” You were trying to untangle from the bed when the door slammed shut, the last view Curtis had of you was your look of confusion and panic. 

Without a word, Curtis was escorted back to Wilford’s. Being let in, Curtis didn't even hesitate as he brushed past Claude, who huffed in annoyance. “Asshole.” 

“You can’t take her child.” 

Wilford was standing up in the engine. “Isn't she just beautiful Curtis? Every part of her has a function that keeps us alive and moving. I’ve worked so hard to keep her running so smoothly” Curtis went up the steps into the hellish thing, not finding the beauty that Wilford seemed to be admiring. 

“Let her keep the baby.” He started again, clenching his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing Wilford. He knew if he did Claude would shoot him in two seconds, but the urge not to snap the man's neck burned through him.  

Wilford finally broke from whatever he was admiring and turned sharply to ascend down the steps, leaving Curtis standing there. “You two can just make more Curtis. Why this time? You never cared before what happened to the women or children.” 

“Because Y/N is staying with me, you take away that child and you will destroy a part of her.” 

“Make her easier to handle then wouldn't it? No fight left.” 

Curtis growled a bit. “She isn't a problem now Wilford.” 

“Listen, I’m not an unreasonable man. You win, you keep it all. The girl, the baby. We will change the terms of your contract. You Curtis were always one of my favorites. If it makes you happy, then I can give you this.” Wilford finally said, acting as if he was doing Curtis a favor by the way he spoke to him.

“What's the catch? If I lose?” Curtis asked knowing there would be more and Wilford shrugged. 

“Then you lose it all Curtis, just like always.” Wilford stated, snapping his fingers to have the guard come back in waiting for Curtis. “She belongs to the champion, she will lose the child and the terms of her contract with you will pass to whomever gets to claim her. Like I told your little Sweetheart, don’t mess up if you want to keep her with you that badly.” 

Curtis glowered at him, straightening to his full height. “I don't plan on it.” 

Wilford looked nothing but joyful and calculating. “Just what I wanted to hear.” 

After that Curtis was directed to leave the engine, the steel door slamming in his face. 

There is no other choice, not that there was much of one before going into the ring ever. If Curtis was to keep you safe, he was going to have to win. With that resolve, he went back to find you curled up on the bed, knees pulled up, arms hugging around yourself. As if you were trying to fold in on yourself and escape. Lifting your head when you heard the door open, Curtis could see the relieved sigh that escaped you. Your tension loosening in your hold as you shifted to sit at the edge of the bed. “What happened?” 

“I just talked to Wilford.” He made his way to the chair at the table, easing down in it for a minute while the silence stretched between you two. 

When Curtis leaned down to untie his boots, you ventured with your next question. Playing with your fingers. “About the child? Curtis if they take me away…” Your voice drifted, cracking a bit at the thought even passing your mind, let alone saying it. “Maybe it's just better that this baby doesn't come, you know? Maybe it's best to just-” 

Curtis immediately snapped his head up, eyes blazing in anger as he barked out sharply. “Don’t even go there Y/N. You and that baby are not going anywhere.” 

You quieted for a moment, looking down at your hands after his raise of his voice and you heard Curtis curse from his seat, moving to grasp your chin and make you look up at him. “Trust me okay Y/N. I'm not going to lose.” 

You wanted to, you could see the resolve in his gaze as he made you look at him. 

This sadness that was all over your face pained Curtis and he wanted nothing more than to take it away. His grasp loosened slightly on your chin, your eyes still uplifted to bore into his, but you made no move to pull away from him. He did what he could only think of to do, lowering his head, his rough lips pressed gently against yours and his hands sliding to cup your face. You were so soft in his hard life. 

This time Curtis didn't demand you to open for him, he waited, the top of his tongue tracing the seam to be allowed in. The action spun your head, and immediately the tickle enticed your lips apart, allowing him to tangle his tongue with yours. Pressing you back as Curtis continued forward, you fell back into the mess of the bed, Curtis moving over you while never breaking the kiss till you had to pull away to draw in a breath. But he didn't stall, bringing his mouth down to your jawline and the curve of your neck, pressing his knee in between your thighs so he could slot his hips there to press his weight over you. 

A while ago you learned how pointless it was to fight against him and now at this point maybe you no longer wanted to. He could give you mindless pleasure, let you forget the mess of your existence for just a few moments if you just let him. Curtis’s fingers expertly plucking away at the ties of your pants and drawing them down, muttering for you to lift yourself which you listened to, raising your hips under him while dragging your palms to brace against his back, digging in your fingers through the layers of his clothing to hold onto him. 

“Do you promise Curtis? I don't care what happens to me anymore. But this baby, Wilford cant have. Please promise me.” You gasped slightly under him as you felt his fingers start to stroke you, seeking for you to open once more for him. Arousal pooling with each expert touch heated you to a warmth that couldn't be found any other way. He dragged your shirt over your head, kissing against the top of your breasts and drawing a nipple into his mouth to suck between his teeth while you started to wither at the sensations he was drawing out of you. 

“I promise Y/N, you just focus on growing our baby, m’kay?” He grunted as his hand covered your fluttering belly, not yet round or even showing. But knowing it was in there and for once he was going to get to see it all happen stirred something in Curtis. Something he never wanted or cared for before. Flicks of his tongue traced around your nipples, the warmth of his mouth was such a contrast to the coolness in the air, it drew out these soft little gasps that delighted the man. 

Your hips started to rock into his hand while he started to finger you, stroking velvet walls while he lifted his head to watch your reactions. Always so expressive, you fisted your hands in his shirt while your head tilted into the pillows with a soft whimper, knowing that you were close. Curtis was rewarded when your eyes glazed over and warmth flooded his hand while you clamped around him. “Good Girl, don't hold back.” He praised you while tilting down to kiss you slowly, swallowing the aftermath of your orgasm, the tiny whimpers of his name and your pleas for him to finish. 

How badly you wanted him to finish in you now. 

Curtis pulled back to yank his shirt off and shove his pants down enough to release his cock, stroking himself over you. Your eyes lowered to watch him and for the first time ever, you reached to wrap your hand around his length. “Oh shit Y/N.” His voice stuttered when you squeezed slightly. He hunched over you, falling to his elbow while you pressed him between your swollen folds, looking up at him with a bite to your lip. 

“Promise me Curtis.” 

Blue eyes that were once so damn harsh and cold towards you simmered heatedly. You didn't know how you could ever think of them as cold as they sharpened with desire. Curtis pressed his forehead to yours for a moment, whispering. “On my life Y/N.”  

You gave a slight nod at his answer and his mouth pressed against yours as he started to press into you. The stretch had you gasping though, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to press your mouth back to his, his hands held onto the side of your head as he started rocking his hips, dragging himself in deep to the place only he has ever been. Dragging against your sensitive walls, you wrapped yourself around him while placing kisses against his mouth, gasping whenever he dropped his weight on you and speared back into your heat. 

With everything going on, you let yourself enjoy being with him. The push and pull, the feel of his heavier body pressing yours into the bedding beneath. His heavy length filling you till you were clamping around him to keep him there. 

Your fingers curled into his neck, twisting into the short hairs at the back of his head, and Curtis continued pressing harder grunting kisses against your shoulder, his hands curling around under your arms and grasping your shoulders to hold you close as his hips ground into you, his pelvis pressing against your clit. 

The rush of it all, the feeling of him kissing you so passionately while he kept claiming you to spiral under him was so much. A cold fire in your belly and the flutters in you turned to clamping, trying to hold him to you while you came. 

“That's right sweet girl, just let it happen.” He grunted once more when your body under him locked, twitching as you dug into the back of his neck and your knees gripped his hips to rock with him. His hand loosened on your shoulder and pressed between your bodies, his palm slightly pressing against your stomach to feel how full you were from him and then fell between your bodies to rub your clit to bring you to arousal again. 

“Curtis-” You whined and he nudged your head back, sucking on your neck, pressing faster. 

“One more, that's it. I know it feels good.” He hissed feeling you buck underneath him. “Feel s’good, right?” 

You nodded your head hurriedly while he played you so expertly, all those other times he had grown to learn what made you wither and whine for him, the only man to ever make you feel like this. Which after the stress of the day, you needed to go mindless. “So-so good.” 

Nip of teeth with a touch of his tongue, had you arching, the room filled with the harsh sounds of his body colliding with yours and the squeak of the mattress underneath you. Your toes curled and you sobbed out, dropping your hand to cover your mouth to keep your orgasm from bouncing off the metal walls, but he jerked your hand down, filling your mouth with his tongue. Harsh thrusts turned to grind out his own release, warmth flooding you in an all to familiar pleasure. 

You dug fingers into his shoulders and dragged him over you, quivering underneath him while pressing your face into his chest, willing your heart to start to slow while his rat-a-tat-tat rapidly in his own chest, deep inhales expanding his chest and pushing you into the mattress while he gasped for air. Curtis went to move, but you clutched tighter. “Dont, please not yet.” 

Reaching underneath him, he pushed to an elbow and fisted his hand in your hair gently to pull your head away to look up at him. “I'm not, just be patient Y/N.” 

Curtis eased down enough so he wasn't smothering you, but could lay his head on your chest, his arms looped around your midsection. His hips kept your thighs pinned underneath him and his belly pressed against your waist, keeping you under him. 

“Soon I won't be able to lay like this on you, you know.” He pointed out after a few minutes and you slipped your hand tentative over his scalp and along the back of his neck. Another first he thought to himself while he closed his eyes to enjoy the way you were willingly touching him. 

“I know… I actually never knew I liked the way it felt.” You admitted, having always pulled away from him before after they finished. 

Curtis didn’t either, sex had always been a means to an end, there was no intimacy really in it for him. It was a necessity to survive, so he never allowed himself to enjoy it like this, it was simply good in the moment and when it was over, it was over. It never really occurred to him that it could be this simple moment of bliss. But feeling the softness of your body just cradle him so easily, your warmth envelops him into a lull of relaxation. Well, maybe he could get used to feeling this way. 

Feeling this way with you. 

“Curtis… I have to get up.” You said after a while with what he hoped was regret in your voice. Planting his hands against the mattress, he pulled himself off to lay at the side while you shifted out from under him to sit on the edge of the bed and reach down to grab something to cover yourself with. 

“Why do you do that? Cover yourself?” He asked, while you slipped the shirt over your head so that it pooled down around your thighs. You glanced over your shoulder, where he laid stretched out, comfortable in his own skin. 

“Why wouldn't I? It's not like I'm anything special Curtis. Also it's safer in the tail end to not get noticed.” You said while pulling to a stand and disappearing in the bathroom. Curtis frowned to himself, he could understand not getting noticed, but the other he couldn't agree with. He was still genuinely surprised that you were a virgin when you were brought to him. 

When you came back out, running your hands over your shirt and moving to crawl back in the bed, Curtis reached over and grasped your chin in his forefinger and thumb. “That's not true Y/N.” 

You blinked at him wide eyed, confused in such an innocent way. The corners of his mouth tugged a bit seeing you blink at him owlishly. “What's not true?” You wriggled into the dip in the mattress you had left earlier. 

“You claim you're not anything special. You are beautiful Sweetheart. Especially now that your health is returning. I'm not the only one to notice.” His fingers loosened and trailed along your cheeks that were filling out and were always so warm against his fingertips. 

You huffed a bit and your eyes went downcast while settling back in the bedding. “I don't know if that is a good thing.” You wrinkled your nose and Curtis reached over to let his hand settle on your stomach. 

“You are not going anywhere.”

First Trimester

Changes started so subtly. One morning your stomach turned at the sight of eggs Curtis brought that had you sprinting to the bathroom and over the toilet. You grasped the sides as you gagged over it, and Curtis cussed while placing the tray down, following you in to stand behind you, pulling hair back and rubbing your back. Once you stopped gasping and fell back to sit on your ankles, he let go of you and went to the bathroom sink to fill a cup with some water for you to clear your mouth with. Taking it, you swished some water and spat it out before handing it back to Curtis. “Thank you.” 

“What was it?” He questioned while giving the cup a rinse and reached down to help you to stand. 

“Uhh, the eggs maybe?” You took a deep breath just thinking about it and felt your stomach roll again while moving to the sink and grabbed the tooth brush. 

“Want me to get rid of them?” 

“Can you Curtis?” 

He gave a smile and rubbed your back once before exiting the bathroom, giving you some privacy. Going back out, you saw the offending pile of eggs was gone. Alot of it was trial and error. You soon learned that you had a constant craving for milk as well, which Curtis was sure to start adding to all the meals he brought you. 

You craved back rubs and shoulder rubs, which Curtis was good at you found out. As well as being so tired. All the time. You took several naps throughout the day, which at first you apologized for. Curling up in bed to sit whenever Curtis caught you dozing off. One day with a sketch pad stretched out before him, making lazy swipes with his pencil, he gave a shake of his head. “Sleep. You have to listen to your body and right now you are growing a person, no wonder you are tired.” When you started to protest by throwing the blankets off you, Curtis gave you a hard stare till you sunk back down, blinking back at him. 

“You are being serious.” 

“Aren't I always Y/N? Finish your nap.” He said curtly and went back to his sketch. The sun heated through the glass and the beams fell over you, lulling you back to sleep. When you woke up later, Curtis was gone. But his notepad was left, which when you got up, you leaned over it to see what he had been working on. 

A sketch of you stretched out in bed, your hair falling around your sleeping face. You could tell he had been practicing his shading as he did it from several angles, and one where you had rolled to your hip, sure to focus on your hand pressing against the slight bump you had.

When he came back, Curtis would offer to take you around the train as long as you weren't tired. At first you declined, worried about further run-ins with people like Grey, New Years Eve not far from your mind. But the more times he offered and you grew restless, you took him up on the offer. 

The greenhouse car was one you always looked forward to, the natural lighting in it for the vegetation soaking into your body, the air felt fresh from the plants and you would wander the aisles to attempt to learn from the greenhouse workers what they were growing. Curtis simply watched as you started to get braver, ask questions and help with the weeding, just wanting to feel the dirt. 

One day you two were sitting under the trees, Curtis nodding off in the warmth, and you were reading a new book out loud to him when you eased the book shut. 

“Curtis? I need some water.” You mentioned and his eyes snapped open, pulling himself up to sit. You would have just gone yourself to get it, but you knew he wouldn't allow that. So you stayed there while he pushed to a stand. 

“How about a snack to? You haven't eaten much today and I saw them picking the cherry tomatoes when we first came in.” He inquired. 

Giving a nod, he soon dipped out of the aisle to get what you asked for and you tilted your head back to relax against the tree trunk. But your peaceful moment was short lived. A shadow passed over you and a snickering voice taunted you to spring your eyes open and pull your legs back. “Well well well, Curtis left his little pet to wander around all alone?” Grey moved to a squat in front of you, a few of his friends crowding around behind him, all leering down at you while you tried to shrink away. Your tongue swelled up, unable to speak. When Grey reached a hand out to touch you, you pulled further away. 

“Don’t.” You finally were able to say, causing him to jerk his head back and laugh deeply at your attempt to put space between you two. 

“Oh you shouldn't be scared of me, I was your friend on New Years remember? Curtis is the one who beat you, not me.” 

You folded your arms around your legs to hold yourself away from him, but Grey wasn't allowing you to shrink away too much, his hand moving to touch your knee, grinning at the way you jerked. “Don't touch me.” 

Grey shuffled closer, the men behind him closing in further till the space of the greenhouse seemed to no longer exist. 

“You're like a little unsoiled dove, so innocent in all this. I promise you though once I take you, you won't be able to play this act anymore.” Grey said coldly, his gaze glinting with promise as it raked over your face. He was close enough to feel his hot sour breath washing over your face. 

The tension stretched between you two and you felt like you were going to snap when a low deep voice came from behind. “Step the fuck back from her.” The group parted enough to show Curtis striding closer the handful of cherry tomatoes in his palm crushed to drip the juices and seeds from between his fingers and the tin cup of water sloshing over the edge as he sped up, pushing past the others to grasp the back of Grey's collar and fling him back. Grey easily straightened, pulling an innocent look as Curtis moved to block you from them. You scrambled to get up, using the back of his shirt to pull yourself to a stand and stay behind him. A barrier between you and Grey. 

“I thought I told you not to go near her again?” Curtis’s rage was laced in his tone and Grey shrugged a bit. 

“Just saying hello Curtis, I missed seeing your girl since the party.” You eased around Curtis a bit and Grey caught sight of you, aiming a wink towards you. “Till next time Y/N.” 

You pressed in behind Curtis, your gaze looking down the aisle to see members of the greenhouse take interest. From afar it would appear to be just a passing of words, and the tremors going through Curtis told you how he was holding back from attacking Grey. If he did, it would all seem unprovoked, Curtis words and yours against Grey and his crowd. It wouldn't end good for Curtis. 

Curtis watched long enough to make sure they were out of sight and turned swiftly towards you, wiping his hand against his jacket till the tomato residue was off his palms and touched your face afterwards, tilting you to look up at him. “He didn’t touch you did he?” 

A firm shake no answered him and he offered the mug of water which you tilted back to calm your nerves and moisten your mouth. “No Curtis, not really.” 

“Son of a bitch.” He clenched his hand at his side, looking over his shoulder again and you reached to press your hand to his chest, bringing his focus back on you. 

“Let’s just leave here, please?” Last thing you wanted was Curtis’s anger to sit with him the rest of the day. 

He took a deep breath to let it settle in his chest before turning to you blinking up at him and part of him softened. “Come on… Got somewhere else you might like to see.” Wrapping an arm around you, you followed along with him as you two made your way out of the gardens aisle. Your fingers played at his sleeve nervously as you glanced behind once more, but Grey was nowhere to be seen. The silver train door whooshed and crossed into another threshold. Once it closed behind you, you turned your focus to the area Curtis had taken you. 

It was filled with wild greenery, and the echoes of songbird calls bounced off the towering glass of the train's ceiling. Your lips split into a grin when you stepped from Curtis hold, your gaze lifted to see brilliant colored birds darting around one another. “I remember coming through here when I was brought to the front, what is its purpose?” 

“An aviary, the last birds on earth that we know of.” Curtis informed you, his head tilting back to look up in the treetops crowding against the glass of the train, straining for freedom that would forever be denied them from growing to their full size.

Curtis watched your child like wonder as birds filtered down to land on you, tiny trills and warbles inquiring as they inspected you. You stretched out your arms for other curious birds, hoping down to peck at your palm looking for food. You happened to giggle with the ticklish feeling and to Curtis it was far better then all the songbirds in the aviary. 

You were such a light in Curtis’s life now. These kinds of moments where you seemed to forget that you were held against your will but found a reason to laugh, your eyes bright when they looked at him and you danced into a small circle, the birds lifting off of you in a flurry of cries and wings, so you could come back to him excitedly. Curtis couldn't believe that he once saw you as a job, something he had to tolerate. 

Now he didn't want anyone else sharing his space with him. 

“There were so many Curtis! I didn't know there could be that many on the train…” Your hands fluttered back and forth with your words, rambling about how much you loved the moment, thanking Curtis for bringing you when he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks and his eyes bright while looking at you. It paused you in surprise as his head lowered against yours and pressed his mouth against yours. This was a different kiss then any he's given you before. 

But this was a gentleness that was asking permission, his hold cradling and gentled, slightly rough lips easily pressing against yours and the tip of his tongue just swiping as in a way of saying ‘Please?’ 

Your hands braced against his chest and slid around behind him, allowing him to swipe in and roll his tongue with yours, pulling you in closer to him till your body was flushed with his own, his hold sliding from your cheeks and sliding down your back. When the two of you parted, foreheads leading against one another, panting slightly. 

That kiss simply took the air from your lungs and you could feel it meant something more this time. 

More than being forced together or trying to comfort. This one had something behind it. Part of it scared you that maybe this man meant more to you then he had before. 

Second Trimester

You sat on the edge of the bed, a hand braced against the curve of your stomach, waiting. Curtis was nearby, nose in a book but he noticed that you had moved up to sit. A curious glance looked over the spine of the book. “Whats going on?” He questioned as you sighed a bit, sliding your hand to another spot, scrunching your nose. 

“He was just moving, I swear he was getting ready to kick.” you looked down at your now protruding belly, rolling your shirt up enough to slide your palm against it. “But feels like he has settled down.” Curtis chuckled softly and set the book aside on the table, moving to kneel on the floor before you and ease his hand around the sides, exploring for himself. 

“That's because he's decided to treat his mama well.” 

You snort a bit and roll your eyes. “More like he's saving it for tonight when I'm trying to sleep.” 

Curtis smirked a bit, and rested his hands against your thighs, winking at you. “Well he does take after his dad.” 

You shoved at his shoulder with a scoff, leaving Curtis laughing heartily while falling back to rest on his ankles looking up at you. Moments like these he seemed so boyish, his laugh was genuine and rare. But the longer you two lived together, the more you got to hear it. It was a pleasant sound, one that seemed to make you forget for a moment that you two were stuck together in a glorified prison. “We keep calling him he, do you think he is a he?” 

Curtis shrugged a bit. “Honestly, boy or girl doesn't matter to me. But yea...I think it's a boy. Just feels right when I think of seeing him for the first time.” He admitted admiring the glimpse of skin showing where your shirt had ridden up. 

It was also easier letting him see more of you. It probably helps that during your pregnancy, you had cravings. Serious cravings. 

Which even now started to curl in your lower belly and clench your thighs slightly under his hands that still rested against them. He felt it and arched a curious brow as you shyly looked away as if distracted. But he knew, he shuffled in closer and slid his palms warmly back up to your belly. “You know you just have to ask.” 

Caught. You knew you were caught and you shifted slightly, twisting your fingers together. “I don't wanna ask though. I mean it's not like your job to have to anymore.” 

“Y/N- will you just lay back? You want it and I don't mind giving it.” He instructed, pressing you to lay back on the bed, leaving your legs dangling over the edge of the bed. His hands grasped in the band of your shorts and started to draw them down to leave your lower half naked and you folded your hands together to rest on your stomach, looking down your body to watch Curtis. 

“You may not mind, but I still don't want you to feel like you gotta.” You rambled on as he brushed his chin against the top of your thighs to nudge them apart and drew one leg up over his shoulder, brushing a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Your damn kid is making me horny, but I have other ways to handle it whenever-” 

Curtis rolled his eyes in amusement to your rambling. Honestly he would be happy taking care of you like this, seeing you pregnant was driving him crazy with want. Knowing he made you need him so much, be able to take care of you and see you satisfied in his bed. Right now nothing was better than seeing you post orgasm bliss. You were still going on above him, but he stopped listening, his goal now to make you forget about feeling guilty for wanting him. Flushing kisses up your thigh and he brought the other one over his shoulder, he heard his name while he dragged the tip of his nose through your curls and to your folds that were starting to glisten with arousal. 

“Are you listening, Curtis?” you voiced above him and he snickered a bit while spreading your folds apart and lapping along your quivering cunt, hearing your question turn into a gentle moan. 

“I was, but now I'm not Darling, because honestly eating you out is my main priority right now.” He lapped again, sucking on your outer folds and was rewarded with another gasp above him and your hand falling to his head, curling your fingers against his scalp. 

“Do that again?” You breathed out and you felt his tongue curl through you once more, just making you pulse and arousal seep from you that he was quick to collect with a growl as he sucked on you. You let your eyes close and mind clear to just the sensations he was creating in you. His fingers massaged the tense muscles inside your thighs as he looped his arms over the top of your thighs and spread them just a bit wider, burying his face in between your legs. He found your clit and proceeded to tease it in just that way that had you arching your hips for him and whimpering into your shoulder till you couldn't keep quiet anymore. 

“Oh god Curtis… Curtis…” You started chanting his name while he played with you, continued pressing his tongue in all those places that made your core clench and thighs quiver and strain in his hold trying to clasp around his ears. 

“Just let it happen Y/N, why are you holding back?” He teased you, the graze of his cheeks scratching along the inside of your thighs that he released so they clasped around his head and your hands started to press his face into your center. He plunged his tongue into you, teasing your fluttering walls till they were driving you blissed out, rocking into his face till you finally did as he said, letting go and letting your orgasm wash over you till you were floating happily in pleasure, a sigh escaping you as your toes curled into his shoulders then they collapsed over his back, humming out your bliss. 

Curtis rolled his shoulders to let your legs fall off, one last lap through your core and a kiss to the top of your mound before he sat back and massaged your thighs till the tension seeped through them. Planting his hands on the mattress to pull to a stand, looming over you as he pushed your shirt up to kiss the curve of your belly. 

“Better?” He asked as he fell to the other side of the bed, his hand massaging your hip, the other hand running through his beard and you slid an eye open to see him watching you for an answer. 

“Thank you, he's settled down.” Your hand slid over your curve and he mimicked your touch, feeling for himself. 

“Perhaps he decided taking a nap was better than being aware of his parents intimate time.” He teased and you covered your face in embarrassment, sighing. 

“You are terrible Curtis.” 

He snorted with a grin while pushing up to a stand. “That I am. Alright, time for me to go to the gym. Do you need anything before I go Y/N?” 

You shook your head while pushing up to a stand yourself and brushing past Curtis to reach into the little fridge to grab an apple. “Nah, I'm good. Afterwards do you think we could go walking somewhere? My back has been killing me and the baths are not helping so much anymore. Walking around seems to help though.” 

He gathered what he needed while nodding. “Sure, we will do that when I get back.” Curtis promised before heading out, and you plopped down in the seat he occupied earlier, easing back a bit and picking up the book he had been engrossed with earlier, looking to see where he was. Taking bites of the apple, you suddenly felt the baby start to wriggle again, and this time he gave the kicks you were expecting earlier. 

“Oh now you wanna be a wriggler. Apparently your father was wrong, you have been awake.” You chuckled a bit while settling back. 

A whoosh of doors announced Wilford as he stepped into the enclosed space off the engine. Humming to himself as his eyes glanced over the screens to different sections of the train. Everyone was right where they needed to be, his eyes glinted gleefully appreciating the order of Snowpiercer. Everything so wonderfully balanced, just as it always has been. He was there god, giving them life. Each one he looked at was absolutely perfect, all constructed by him. Wilford viewed them as stories, each one he could maneuver in the way he wanted. Settling down in his seat, he twisted his chair towards his prize tv screen, the biggest and clearest one. 

On the screen was a black and white version of Curtis’s room. So far Wilford had let you and Curtis have moments of domesticity. Let you two get comfortable, sure that your lives were going to continue being peaceful.

Wilford grinned coldly while leaning forward to trace a finger over your form sitting in the chair, singing to your belly. 

“That's right Dear… you keep on taking care of my baby so sweetly. You will be the perfect mother to my son.”

[peachscribe]

peach’s summer book list

i had a lot of fun compiling the list of books i read during the 20-21 winter, so i decided i would do a summer one as well! i still have a lot of books i own but haven’t read, so im definitely not lacking in material

if you didn’t see my winter list, how my book list works is basically like this: i read a book that i own but have not previously read, write a short summary immediately after finishing the book, write down my thoughts on the book, and then provide a rating for the book. i also might include background info on why i read this particular book/feelings about the author, but that depends on the book. that’s how each entry works

without further ado, let’s get started!

1. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

okay so i absolutely adore another book by andrew smith (written after grasshopper jungle) called the alex crow. it’s one of my favorite books of all time, so naturally i wanted to see if grasshopper jungle would make me feel similarly. just like the alex crow, grasshopper jungle’s plot is. so fucking weird. it stars austin szerba, a teenage polish kid who lives in ealing, iowa, and is often sexually confused regarding his girlfriend shann and his best friend robby. and in ealing, iowa, austin and robby accidentally and unknowingly unleash an unstoppable army of huge six-foot-tall praying mantis bugs that only want to do two things: fuck and eat. and i just have to say: andrew smith’s got an absolutely dynamo writing style. alex crow is similar, where it’s a book about kind of everything all at once, framed in a moment centering around teenage boys. it’s fantastic, and it’s more than a little gross, and i love it. this book made me feel so many things, and i thought austin was such an amazing narrator and main character to identify with. this book has it all: shitty teenage boy humor, fucked up science experiments, and poetic imagery that will make you want to cry. and explicit lgbt characters.

412/10 andrew smith what do you put in your water i just want to know

2. Burn by Patrick Ness

patrick ness has written a plethora of some of my favorite books (such as a monster calls, the chaos walking trilogy, and the rest of us just live here) so when i saw this one in the store i knew it would be a great one. burn is an alternate history fantasy that takes place in 1957 frome, washington, during the height of the cold war, and it begins with a girl named sarah and her father hiring a dragon to help out on their farm. but there’s not just dragons, farm living, and cold war tensions; there’s also a really shitty small town cop, a cult of dragon worshippers and their deadly teenage assassin, a pair of fbi agents, and a prophecy that sarah’s newly hired dragon claims she’s a part of. i think eoin colfer’s highfire was on my winter list, which also featured a story that included dragons and shitty cops, so when i first began burn i thought it was funny to have two books that had both things. you know, if you had a nickel etc etc. but that’s really where the similarities end because burn is entirely it’s own monster (dragon). burn is entirely invested in its world, and its fascinating. not only that, i had no clue where the book would take me next. there were so many surprises and amazing twists that honestly just blew me away. this book also includes beautifully written complicated discussions on family, race, and love - it features interracial and queer romances as the two most prominent romance plots which was such a nice surprise from a book i wasn’t expecting to have that kind of representation. this book is witty, fast-paced, and a very heartening read - i absolutely adored it.

9/10 dragons and becoming motivated by the power of love and friendship are so fucking cool

3. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

i hate this book! as meat loves salt is a historical fiction novel which takes place in seventeenth century england, which is going through a grisly civil war. the protagonist, jacob cullen, is a servant for a wealthy household and is engaged to another servant in the house. but due to certain events that are almost entirely jacob’s fault, he flees the house and is separated from his wife. from there, he joins the royal army and meets a kind soldier, ferris, and the two become fast friends. jacob and ferris’s relationship begins to bridge past friendly, and jacob struggles with his homoerotic feelings as well as the growing obsession and violence inside him. also, they try to start a colony. listen, i don’t know how to describe the book because so much happens, but it basically just follows jacob and all the terrible decisions he makes because he is, truly, a terrible person. ferris is kind and good, and jacob is scum of the earth. he sucks so bad. the entire time i was reading this book (which took absolutely so long), all i wanted was for jacob to just get his ass handed to him. i wanted to see him suffer. and it’s not like i just personally don’t like him - i believe the book purposefully depicts him as unsympathetic even though he is the narrator. i did enjoy the very in depth and accurate portrayal of what life would’ve been like in seventeenth century england, and i think it was interesting to read a character that is just the absolute worst person you’ve ever encountered and see him try and justify his actions, so if you enjoy that kind of thorough writing, then this book would be perfect for you. however, i did not see that bitch ass motherfucker jacob cullen suffer enough. i’d kill him with my bare hands.

2/10 diversity win! the worst man on earth is mlm!

4. This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab

i know ive had a friend tell me how great one of schwab’s other book series is, but truthfully i bought this book because the cover is sick as hell and it was on a table in the store that advertised for buy two get one free, i think. something like that. anyway, this savage song takes place in a future in which monsters, for whatever reason, suddenly became real and out for blood in a mysterious event nicknamed the phenomenon. august flynn is one of these monsters, but he takes no pride in that fact and only wants to feel human. kate harker is the daughter of a ruthless man and is trying her hardest to be ruthless, too, but deep down she knows it’s just an act. their city, verity, stands divided, and kate and august stand on either side - but when august is sent on a mission to befriend kate in the hopes of stopping an all out war, the lines begin to blur. this book rules. august and kate are such interesting and dynamic characters, and the narrative is familiar while still being capable of twisting the story around and taking the feet out from under you in really compelling ways. this savage song is part of the monsters of verity duology, and i can’t wait to dive into how the story continues and finishes.

11/10 sometimes you can judge a book by it’s cover

4a. Our Dark Duet by Victorian Schwab

this is the sequel and finale for this savage song and i’d figure i’d update everyone: fantastic ending, beautiful, showstopping, painful.

12/10 loved it and will definitely be keeping an eye out for schwab’s other books

5. White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

oh boy. okay. white is for witching is about a house, and it is about the women who have lived inside of it. when her mother dies abroad, miranda silver begins to act strangely, and there’s nothing her father or her twin brother seem to be able to do about it. she develops an eating disorder and begins to hear voices in the silver family house, converted to a bed and breakfast by miranda’s dad; and she begins to lose herself in the house and the persistent presence of her family legacy. white is for witching switches perspective dizzingly and disorientingly between miranda, her twin eliot, miranda’s friend from school named ore, and the house itself. this story is a horror story as much as it as a tragedy as much as it is a romance as much as it is a bunch of other things. oyeyemi brings race, sexuality, nationality, and family into this story and forces you not to look away. this book is poetry.

(like i mentioned briefly, this book heavily deals with topics of race and closely follows miranda’s eating disorder. read responsibly, and take care of yourselves)

15/10 this book consumed me and i think i’ll have to read it another 10 more times to feel it properly

6. These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

okay. okay. strap in for a ride. these violent delights is a romeo and juliet style story, taking place in glittering 1920’s shanghai. the city stands divided - not only between the foreign powers encroaching on chinese land, but also between the scarlet gang and the white flowers, who are at the height of a generations-long blood feud. juliette cai, heir to the scarlets, has recently returned from four years abroad and is determined to prove herself ruthless enough to lead. roma montagov, heir to the white flowers, is standing strenuously on his place as next in line due to a slip up four years prior and is desperate to keep hold of his title. and in the midst of juliette and roma’s burning history with each other threatening to combust, an unnatural monster lurks in the waters of shanghai, loosing a madness on scarlets and white flowers alike. this book has it all - scorned ex lovers, political intrigue, deadly monsters, and all set on a glamorous backdrop of the roaring twenties. i absolutely was enraptured by this book and the way it plays around the story of romeo and juliet so well that it easily became it’s own monster, but with the punches and embraces of something classically shakespearan. gong does just an absolutely breathtaking job of fitting this fantastical story amid the larger world of shanghai and the real life historical events that had shaken the city to its core. completely immersive and outstandingly heart racing.

17/10 i was chewing on my fingernails for the last thirty pages and will continue to do so until the sequel is released (our violent ends, 16 nov 21)

7. The Antiques by Kris D’Agostino

you ever heard of the american dysfunctional family story? this is most definitely that. at the same time george westfall’s cancer takes a turn for the worse, a hurricane hits the east coast, and suddenly all at once the issues of his health, the hurricane, and all three of his children’s achingly dysfunctional adult lives are crashing into each other. reunited by george’s death, the westfall siblings have to face their grief, each other, and the problems in their own lives they attempted to put on hold while planning their father’s memorial. this is a nice story about grief and loss and love and somehow finding the humor amidst it all.

(this book does include a depiction of an autistic child who does experience several pretty bad meltdowns due to ignorant people around him not understanding how to cater to his needs. im not an authority on what depictions are or are not harmful, but i do believe this depiction is ultimately loving and well-intended.)

7/10 it made me laugh and cry and was generally one of those books that somehow hit you close to home

8. Fierce Fairytales by Nikita Gill

fierce fairytales is a poetry anthology that reimagines classic fairytales from a modern, feminist viewpoint, acknowledging that the line between hero and villain, monster and damsel, are not as clear cut as the classics try to make you believe. this book also includes illustrations done by the author herself, which i think is really cool. my personal favorite story reimagining was the story of peter pan and captain hook, called ‘boy lost’ which looked at how peter and hook’s relationship began and rotted. all in all, i think this collection of stories had a lot of important things to say and said them in frank, easy to understand poetry and prose.

7/10 beautiful message and pretty prose, but at times a little cliche

and that’s all from the summer! my fall semester starts tomorrow, and overall i feel very good about all the reading i did this summer. i even read four other books not on this list for work! so i definitely feel like i made the most out of my time, and im really glad i was able to read so many stories that made me feel a variety of different things

thanks so much for reading this list, and let me know if you read or have read any of these books and tell me what you think of them!

happy reading<3

[theskywaslookingback]

[AO3]

“Why do you even have that?”

Sasha looks up from her laptop to give Jon a quizzical look. They’ve been deep in a research hole for hours now, Jon with his files spread out before him like a buffet and Sasha picking her way through line after line of code to access things that she really shouldn’t be able to access - although, the government should have better security if it didn’t want to get hacked so she tried not to feel too badly about it. Jon’s not looking at his files now though, his gaze appears to be drawn to her shoe-box sized kitchen.

“Why do I have what?” She asks, “A kitchen?”

“No, the--” He flicks his fingers in a vague gesture to the counter, and his eyebrows pull together in a fetching little wrinkle that Sasha desperately wants to smooth away with her thumb, “the absolutely massive thing you have taking up half your kitchen.”

“Oh!” Sasha says, and then starts to laugh.

The stand mixer is large, honestly, too big to store in the meagre storage space of her cabinets and taking up half the countertop next to the stove. It’s also a garish bright red, loud against the backdrop of beige walls and a white lino countertop. She wonders why on earth Jon’s bringing this up now, they’ve been working for hours now and this certainly isn’t the first time he’s visited her flat, and decides the answer to simply be that ‘it’s Jon, he’s probably just never noticed.’

He’s fully scowling at her now, in a way she knows is defensive. He probably thinks she’s making fun of him. He can be so sensitive. “Sorry,” She says when she stops laughing long enough to speak, “I think you just caught me off guard. It was cute.”

“Cute?” Jon starts to sputter, the tips of his ears darkening and his nose wrinkling.

He is cute, Sasha thinks.

She waves it off. “It was a wedding present. That’s one of the big ones, I think, for most people. First thing I added to the registry.”

Jon couldn’t look more blind-sided if he’d been hit by a lorry. He even drops his pen, staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re married?”

Sasha snorts. “Don’t be daft. Does it look like I’m living with someone?”

Jon looks around anyway like he’s looking for evidence. “Divorced?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ with extra emphasis and grinning at the helpless confusion radiating from her friend.

“Then--” Jon trails off. He looks at the stand mixer again, like maybe it holds the answers he’s seeking. He looks back at her, and then down at his files. Suddenly his head jerks up and he says, “Wait, have you ever even been engaged?” He says this so seriously it tugs at Sasha’s heart. His eyes narrow like he’s caught her in some kind of trap, as though that wasn’t what she was expecting.

Sasha grins. “No.”

Jon looks at her incredulously, like he’s fitting together a bunch of puzzle pieces in his mind. It’s fun. Jon is so fun. “Sasha, did you fake an engagement just to get a stand mixer?”

“Yes!” Sasha slams her laptop shut and points at Jon, “But do not tell my great aunt that, do you understand? It took me years of work to get that stand mixer, Jon!”

Jon stares at her silently for just a moment, absolutely bewildered, before he dissolves into laughter, curling in on himself and digging his fingers into his sides. It shakes his shoulders and Sasha swears there’s tears in his eyes and before she knows it she’s laughing too, hard enough it hurts her chest and blurs her vision. To an outside viewer they must look positively loony. It takes ages for them to stop and gather themselves back together. Jon takes off his glasses to wipe tears away from his eyes while Sasha rubs at her face and tries to stop the giggles that keep bubbling up when she looks at Jon.

“God,” Jon says at last, “I haven’t laughed like that in--” he clears his throat, “anyway.”

“Yes,” Sasha agrees, “anyway.”

She looks at the clock and is both shocked and completely unsurprised that it’s after midnight.

Jon must follow her gaze because she hears him utter a quiet, “good lord.”

She’s dangerously close to laughing again.

Jon starts to shuffle his files away back into their folders. “Later than I thought.” He says.

Sasha hums in agreement, putting her laptop away and sorting her notes into neat piles. “No use trying to get home this late, you might as well just stay the night.”

“Ah,” Jon’s nose does that cute wrinkle thing again, and Sasha’s lips twitch, “that’s quite alright. I’m sure I can just find a cab.”

“Could do,” Sasha agrees, “but it’d be easier if you stayed. I’ve got an extra toothbrush and everything. Plus, tomorrow is Saturday so it’s not like we have to rush back to work or anything.”

Jon’s got all his things put back in his messenger bag, a solid olive green canvas affair that Sasha privately thinks is dreadful looking. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your weekend. I’m sure you have plans.” He’s stalling, looking for a reason not to go. Sasha wishes he’d just tell her what he wants.

She smiles, because Jon isn’t easy but she knows him and she likes him anyway, “Well, I was going to put that stand mixer to work and make myself some bread. But other than that--” She shrugs.

Jon’s eyes go once more to that bright red piece of kitchen equipment. “You make your own bread?”

“Sure. It’s cheaper and it tastes better.”

Jon makes a thoughtful noise. “Well, I suppose… that is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Lovely,” Sasha beams, and then adds slyly, “I’ve even got some of Tim’s things you can sleep in.”

Jon goes properly red at that and buries his face in his hands with a groan.

-

Sasha busies herself with getting her ingredients together while Jon wakes up. Before they’d become friends she’d always just kind of assumed he’d be a morning person. He had that air about him at work, sharp and alert even when she was still trying to get her head on. The truth is that while Jon has difficulties getting to sleep, he would happily sleep until mid-afternoon if she let him, so she makes sure to wake him at a decent hour and then goes back to check and make sure he hasn’t fallen back asleep. Since her flat is basically a glorified closet, and Jon sleeps on the sofa, this is not a hard task to keep an eye on.

It takes a good twenty minutes before Jon comes and sits himself down at what she generously calls a kitchen table. His hair hangs in curls around his shoulders and he impatiently pushes a hand through it where it covers his face. He’s still sleepy-eyed, the sleeves of Tim’s jumper she’d let him borrow pooling around his hands.

“Good morning.” She says with amusement.

He grunts, flopping into a rickety chair. “Coffee?” He asks.

“All out. Tea alright?”

He nods.

“Great. Kettle is over there.” She gestures vaguely to the area next to the fridge, “Tea is top cabinet.”

Jon sighs, like it’s a great effort for him to make his own tea, but offers no further complaint as he retrieves the kettle and fills it with water.

With Jon out of the way Sasha appropriates the table for more space to set out her scale and bowls. She won’t need anything too fancy today so it doesn’t take long to get set up. She hears the kettle and turns around just in time to see Jon half-way climbing onto the counter. “Jon!” She scolds, similar to the way she would her cat when she was a child.

He freezes and gives her a sheepish grin. “You said top cabinet.”

She did, and she hadn’t thought about the almost foot of height she had on Jon. She snorts and waves him down. “Grab the mugs, I’ll get the tea then.”

He grumbles something about doing it himself but obliges, plucking two mugs from the drying rack.

“Green tea alright?”

Jon makes a dismissive noise. “Black?”

“Out.”

“I’m taking you shopping after this, Sasha James, this is downright unacceptable.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands him the box of tea bags and he rolls his eyes at her, muttering as he fills their mugs with water.

“Do you at least have milk?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

Sasha rolls her eyes and gets back to her scale, weighing out her dry ingredients.

“Why are you doing it like that?”

“By weight?”

Jon hums.

“It’s more accurate by weight than by volume, typically.”

“You can’t just, I don’t know, eye-ball it?”

“Jonathan Sims have you ever baked anything in your entire life?”

She takes the jerky shrug he gives in response as a no. She shakes her head and dumps her flour and yeast into the mixing bowl of her stand mixer. Jon hovers there at her shoulder, watching, so close she can almost feel his breath.

It gives her a wicked idea.

She reaches a hand up, like she’s checking something, and then flicks the mixer on high.

Flour explodes from the mixing bowl in a cloud of white, covering her and Jon and the countertop.

The little shriek Jon gives will stay with her for a very long time.

“Why?” He asks, mouth agape and positively covered in flour.

“Because I knew it would be funny.” Sasha says, laughing. There’s flour in her hair, and she’ll definitely need to wash her clothes, but the look in Jon’s wide eyes and the slowly blooming smile on his face is worth it.

It takes less time than she thinks to get everything clean again, and the second time she even allows Jon to help her measure ingredients and start the mixer. He’s very serious about the whole thing, watching the scale with a grim kind of determination like it would mean death if he added just a bit too much yeast to the dough, but it’s the most fun Sasha’s had in forever. By the end of the day she has enough bread to wrap a loaf up for Jon to take home, and he looks at her like she’s just given him the greatest gift he’s ever received.

“Same time next week?” She asks as she wraps his scarf around his neck.

“I suppose.” He says, ducking his head to avoid the kiss she tries to plant on his cheek. “If you’re amenable.”

“I’m amenable.” She says, and kisses the top of his head anyway.

Sasha watches him leave and Jon turns back at the end of the hallway to wave, before disappearing into the stairwell. She laughs, bright and happy, and closes the door.

[unicronian]

a bunch of powers/hybrid smp character design hcs based around their powers in the mod:

(small warning for slight body horror in tubbo and wilbur’s sections, and horror themes in wilbur’s section)

this got long so here’s a snapshot of my fav bits above the read more:

tubbo can open his stomach up like a shulker, and just reach in there and put stuff in and get it out again

wilbur’s physical appearance is dependent on how well rested the person looking at him is

tommy glides by t-posing because his arms are his wings

ranboo can open unhinge his jaw and open his mouth like an enderman, and he has like an extra layer of mouth skin like a snake that you can only see when his mouth is unhinged

Phil hates places with low ceilings cause his wings are super long and he can’t stretch them out

Niki’s got gills on her neck to help filter water, so when she wants to talk to people above water she has to stick just her head out of the water and leave her neck beneath it

You know su!peridot’s augments she had at her intro, jack can like do that with his clawed fingers. Just like detach them at will and control them but they can’t go very far from him so it isnt very useful

Shulk!Tubbo:

tubbo has pretty thick skin with a slightly sickly pallor even though he’s perfectly healthy

he also has a carapace that’s similar in color and texture to a shulker’s shell covering the parts of his body that don’t bend(arms, legs, top of his head, upper chest) he can use these to block sword blows but if the sword is sharp enough it’ll stick cut into his skin

the carapace itself doesnt bleed, but it does heal and tubbo feels pain if it gets cut

like a lobster or turtle the carapace is a part of tubbo’s skin and can’t be removed(without extreme pain)

his hands are also reinforced by his carapace, giving him sharp claws at the tips of his fingers, and this is why he can punch through stone easily and without breaking his hand

he’s also pretty heavy underneath this extra armor and as a result he’s got a lot of intense muscle mass

tubbo can open his stomach up like a shulker, and just reach in there and put stuff in and get it out again, but it has limited storage

it kind of makes his stomach look like a shulker, with interlocking squares

the stuff inside his stomach exists in a type of hammerspace(we’ll just call it shulkerspace) so if you were to cut him open the stuff wouldnt be there

you do NOT want to stick your hand into tubbo’s shulkerspace, he can do it with no ill effects but if someone else did they might as well wave goodbye to that hand even if tubbo doesnt close his shulker mouth on your hand

Phantom!Wilbur:

wilbur can do like... ghost things like turning invisible and walking through walls in phantom state

particularly astute(or anxious) people can sense when wilbur’s nearby in phantom state, but not accurately guess where he is

wilbur oftentimes goes in and out of phantom state without even realizing it, sometimes just vanishing in the middle of the conversation because he let his mind wander

he also burns in the daylight which is sadge but not when in phantom state so he sometimes goes into the phantom state on reflex when entering a very bright room

wilbur can sense how tired people are, and if they are tired enough to summon phantoms wilbur can sense whose insomnia the phantoms are targeting on sight

wilbur looks like how you’d expect a ghost to look: see through, human, or at least... that’s what he looks like when you wake up in the morning

his physical appearance is dependent on how well rested the person looking at him is, but he is always corporeal when out of the phantom state

by nighttime, when you’re getting ready for bed wilbur’s eyes are green and if you look closely they glow in the dark, and if you look closer a skeleton makes itself clear beneath wilbur’s skin. it is not a human skeleton

by morning the next day without sleep transparent membrane stretches between wilbur’s claws and you can clearly see the skeleton. fangs protrude from its mouth and its rib cage stretches grotesquely outwards with every breath wilbur takes

by the second night wilbur’s transparent skin is blue and phantom membrane has escaped the confines of his hand and run down the length of his arm, extra bones begin to grow from the skeleton to accommodate the growing wing. it is harder to see through him.

by dawn of the third morning you can see a tail, more bone than blue, leathery skin, lashing behind wilbur, it seems to always whip itself in your direction. it stings when it touches you, but not for long. his frayed wings are fully formed.

night falls and wilbur’s glowing green eyes are sunken in, practically floating in black eye sockets. his skin looks vacuum sealed, giving you a perfect map of the meatless bones inside. he is entirely opaque, you cannot see through him but his stark white skeleton, expanding, stretching, and clawing at you, is clearly visible

you sleep, and wilbur looks human once again

this version of wilbur doesn’t only exist in the minds of the sleep deprived. if you let him stay in the edges of your vision too long, no matter how rested you are, you can see this form

by the time you focus your vision on him wilbur will be back to his normal state. you can’t see what your brain desperately tries to refuse. it is only when your mental walls have been broken down that you can witness wilbur’s form. for better or for worse.

Avian!Tommy:

instead of having an extra set of limbs like phil tommy’s wings and arms are the same limbs, like a harpy(and like wilbur)

where the wing’s wrist is(essentially where it bends, if you’re unfamiliar with bird anatomy) Tommy has some extra human-like clawed fingers that he uses as hands

tommy isnt strong enough to fly with them, even if he is very light thanks to hollow bones. he can glide, though

yes, this does mean that tommy glides by t-posing

tommy also has talons for feet, which sort of assist him in being slightly faster than everyone

his feathers are the same colors as a red parrot’s, and he keeps them very well maintained so they keep their lustrous color

he’s also got a lot of feathers dotting his body, like around his ears and stomach and they protect him from the cold in the high up areas he likes sleeping in

ok i dont really have anything to say abt his veganism he’s just Like That because parrot(cause god knows chickens are omnivores)

he has a beak that he uses for nuts and seeds and he can make bird noises!

And he’s got a small feathery tail that isnt useful for much but does look cool

Even though he can’t fly Tommy does have a third eyelid like a bird, it goes side to side and is transparent, he mostly just uses it while gliding or swimming

Enderian!Ranboo

Very tall boy with very long arms

Honestly very similar to dsmp!ranboo

Water burns him like acid and leaves behind very distinctive burn scars but he heals pretty easily from water burns

He is Constantly bamboozled by people wearing pumpkins and he’s Not a fan

Ranboo can open unhinge his jaw and open his mouth like an enderman, and he has like an extra layer of mouth skin like a snake that you can only see when his mouth is unhinged

He’ll avoid eye contact at all cost because it agitates him and gets him unreasonably angry at whoever he’s talking to, the others have gotten very good at avoiding eye contact with him, though

Teleporting is a lot of fun to him and he’ll sometimes just teleport around just for the sake of it, because he can sense the change in location when teleporting in a way humans with ender pearls cant

Enderians are the results of people trying to fuse together with end-based magic and so all of them have the half and half texture of their skin, but most of them all have the same powers

Speaking of skin, Ranboo’s ender skin is strangely smooth and he doesn’t have a protruding nose, just slits in his face he smells through

He also doesn’t have any body hair at all, but his long ears generally distract from that

Elytrian!Phil

Phil is an incredibly light person, compared to a human he’d be dangerously underweight

He’s essentially skin, hollow bones, and elytra because if he was anything else he wouldn’t be able to fly especially with armor on

However this and his hollow bones means he’s pretty weak in all areas, especially underground

Thanks to his Brain he gets slow and weak under low ceilings and also sadge

Aside from the kind of unearthly tint to his skin Phil looks pretty human, aside from the elytra of course

He’s got insect wings protected by an elytra. So, elytra on beetles and things are kind of like a half circle protecting the wings and pressing them to the body of the beetle, and this works because beetles are wing shaped- phil is not

So, phil has very unique elytra that completely encase his wings, and the top part moves out of the way to let his wings fold out so they’re like twice his height- and that partially adds to his dislike of low ceilings, he can barely stretch his wings

Phil’s got fragile beetle wings so they look pretty fragile but they can withstand a beating and carry Phil a ways(though it’s partially phil’s innate magic that lets him shoot into the sky)

Phil has a transparent third eyelid just like Tommy

And, he has antennae that he uses to feel the wind while flying

Merling!Niki

Niki essentially has two types of skin: a human-looking thick layer of skin that covers the upper portion of her body and an even thicker scale-like layer that covers the lower half

Her human-like skin is very rough and it doesn’t absorb water like human skin does, the scales are smooth but also don’t absorb water

She has two legs and a long, thick tail she uses to propel herself through the water, the tail is entirely covered in her blue scales

Her hands and feet are webbed so when she swims she spreads her hands out to help push herself through the water

Niki also has decorative fins on various places on her body like her ears, legs, arms and stomach, they’re all blue and can’t be controlled in anyway

She’s got gills on her neck to help filter water, so when she wants to talk to people above water she has to stick just her head out of the water and leave her neck beneath it

Breathing in air and rain at the same time is extremely uncomfortable and leaves her constantly feeling short of breath but she considers it well worth it to walk on land for a period of time

She also has sharp teeth because: yes

She doesn’t have eyelids, though, her eyes are built like a fish’s

Blazeborn!Jack

Jack constantly gives off heat, he wont burn anyone but you’ll get very hot if you stand too close to him for too long

He has metallic blaze skin that glows like molten metal if he was recently on fire or in lava

You know su!peridot’s augments she had at her intro, jack can like do that with his clawed fingers. Just like detach them at will and control them but they can’t go very far from him so it isnt very useful

And, of course, he’s immune to poison and hunger because he’s basically an android, he’s like a gold material and metal cant get poisoned or hungry

Jack will, however, become fatigued if he’s away from intense heat like fire or lava for too long, like a week

He gets hurt in water because the water basically sucks the heat away from him and that actually hurts him

Staying in a cold biome too long would do the same thing if jack didnt go prepared with warm clothing and probably a flint and steel but tbf to jack humans also die in cold biomes if they’re unprepared

I’ve got nothing for fragranceman right now as i’m not sure if schlatt’s going to be on the server a lot

But i might make skins for these!

[oakleaf--bearer]

@jonmartinweek day two - injury!

also on ao3

When dealing with matters of the heart, Jon was about the furthest from a natural that there could be. 

He was... rusty to say the least. Awkward was a generous way to put it. Completely and utterly useless was far more accurate. 

So when Georgie had laughed and asked when he and Martin had started dating, he had been understandably taken aback and politely asked her what she meant by that. ("Georgie, what the fuck?" had been his exact wording). She'd shrugged and patted his knee, telling him that he should probably talk to Martin as soon as he got back to the Institute. 

He stared down at the ring sat on the table, a frown creasing his forehead. It had been something of a whim purchase. He had bought it several years ago after reading about the concept online, and he'd just....not taken it off. Every time it left his hand, he'd itched to put it back on as soon as possible. 

And now, a blistering burn mark on his hand was stopping him from putting it back on. A small, mostly insignificant piece of his identity stripped back and taken away from him. 

A gentle knock at the door startled him out of his quiet contemplation. 

"Hello." Martin poked his head around the door. "Tea?"

"Thank you, Martin."

Martin smiled, and Jon remembered Georgie's assumption. Would he? It wasn't the most unimaginable thing in the world. Martin was friendly. Charming, comfortable, welcoming. But dating? Maybe... But Jon had done dating before. He'd explained what the ring in the table meant to enough people that he was tired. Tired of the assumptions, the questions, the idea that there was one person out there who would change his mind, all he needed was a good- 

Martin wasn't that person. When Jon ran through the mental 'relationship checklist', he could imagine so many different aspects with Martin. Holding hands, going on dates, even waking up next to each other, but that particular facet of a relationship was completely unimaginable. It wasn't that Martin was unattractive, simply that Jon just didn't see the attractiveness like that. 

"What's that?" Martin gestured to the ring. 

"Oh, uh, nothing." Jon covered it with his good hand. "Just a- nothing."

"Riiight." Martin placed the tea on his desk, in easy reach. "Keep your secrets then."

"Hmm." Jon hummed, still examining Martin's face. 

"Jon? You alright?" 

"Oh!" Jon realised he was staring and quickly looked away. "Sorry." 

"It's okay." Martin said with an audible smile that made Jon's heart do something ridiculous. 

"Martin..." Jon didn't really know what he was going to say. "Are you- I- Hmm." 

"Take your time."

"Have lunch with me. That is, if you want to, please don't feel like I'm pressuring you, you can say no if you-"

"Jon." Martin put a hand on his desk, gentle, a calming reminder of a calming man. "I'd love to." 

Jon stared at the hand. It was larger than his own. When he'd arrived back in the archives, trailing blood and exhaustion behind him, Martin had sat and re-wrapped the clumsy bandages he had put on it, patiently telling him off for not going to a doctor and getting it checked. Jon hadn't been able to look away from his hands then either, just gazing at them with sleepy eyes, his mind fixed on the image of Martin taking care of him. Carefully picking up the pieces he had left flung about the place and putting them back together, gently slotting them back into place.

Martin took him to a sandwich place around the corner from the institute. Jon stared at the menu, trying to decipher the swirling font. The letters swam slightly as he read them, the words jumbling together. 

“Jon?” Martin bumped their shoulders together lightly, bending down to Jon's height to compensate for the difference. “What are you going to order?”

 “I-  What do you recommend?” 

Martin smiled. “Hmm. How about the tuna and sweetcorn? It’s a classic, you know?”

“Sure.” 

Martin ordered for them and nudged Jon towards a table in the corner. Jon went willingly, content to listen to Martin chatter away about the wait times and the various bouts of  people-watching he had gotten up to in this cafe. Despite Jon’s lack of contributions, Martin seemed to be fine carrying the conversation on his own. A couple of people gave them odd glances, no doubt wondering what Martin, kind, gentle-looking Martin, was doing with a grumpy sack of exhaustion. Externally, they didn't match. They were diametrically opposed, two entities that shouldn't exist in the same space without causing some kind of epoch changing event. 

But the more Jon pondered it, the more he realised that he wanted to be here, sat opposite Martin, listening to him talk, letting him order his sandwiches and hold his hand-

Jon’s brain skipped a beat. 

Martin had placed his hand over Jon’s where it rested on the table and was staring at him, concern across his face. “Jon? You okay?”

‘I care about him’, Jon realised with a start. ‘This is my friend.’

Martin nudged his hand around so that he could properly take it in his own. The motion dislodged the ring that Jon still held clutched in his bandaged fingers. It clattered out, its black outline stark against the faded beige of the tabletop. 

“Oh, sorry.” Martin picked it up to hand it back to Jon. “You might want to be a bit more careful. You don't want to lose this.”

“What?” Jon stared down at Martin’s hand. It felt ridiculous to see Martin holding out his ring and for Jon to feel this weightless. The gentle curl of Martin’s fingers around the band set Jon’s mind whirling down avenues lined with graffiti reading ‘Just tell him’ and ‘Maybe it will go well’. 

Jon took a deep breath and took the plunge. 

“I’m sorry, Martin.”

Martin blinked. “R-right? What for?”

“All of it.” Jon reached out and covered Martin’s, still holding Jon’s ace ring up in front of them. “You were always- I’m glad you're here. With me.” He carefully took the ring and let go of Martin’s hand. It looked shockingly sad sitting in the palm of Jon’s bandaged hand. Another piece of who he was now associated with pain. An uncomfortably familiar reality that Jon was steadily becoming used to. 

Martin reached across the table and gave Jon’s hand a quick squeeze. Jon hissed at the jolt of pain lacing up his arm. 

“Oh god, Jon, I’m so sorry, I didnt- I didnt think, that was stupid of me-” Martin’s hands fluttered in the air around Jon’s. “God, that was awful of me, I’m really sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Jon said, grabbing at Martin with his uninjured hand. “It’s fine, it's already passed.” 

Martin gave him an apologetic smile, but didn’t argue. “That’s important to you, huh?”

“Hmm?”

“The ring. I’ve seen you wear it a lot. Does it mean something?”

“Oh.” Jon hadn't considered the possibility that Martin might be aware of the ring's existence. In his head, it existed in a bubble, separate from work and his colleagues. It made sense, he supposed, that Martin was able to see into that bubble, since its edges had been bumping against Jon’s perception of Martin for a little while now. “It, ah, its a- Its a sexuality thing.”

To Martin’s credit, he didn’t even blink at the idea that Jon might not be straight, just nodded and smiled encouragingly. “I thought so. Asexuality, right?” 

“Wha- Yes.” Jon had been gearing up to explain the intricacies of asexuality, not for Martin to already have that knowledge. 

“It came up when I was doing research trying to figure out my own sexuality.”

That caught Jon off guard. For some reason, throughout all of his deliberations trying to figure out where on Jon’s internal spectrum Martin sat, he had failed to consider the actual real life possibility of Martin’s queerness. “You’re-”

“Oh, I’m not ace.” Martin shook his head. “At least, I don't think so. Labels,” he chuckled. “Confusing stuff. I usually just go with gay and trans to sum me up.” 

A small, overlooked lightbulb in the back of Jon’s mind flickered to life as a couple of pieces of information fell into place with a quiet ‘oh!’

“I saw the ring but I didn't want to ask in case it was just a style thing. A lot of people don't know about this stuff and it's sometimes hard to tell, you know?”

“Right.”

“I guess the bandages stop you wearing it, right?” It was a non-sentence, a piece of idle observation that Martin was making. But it still stung. 

“It feels somewhat ridiculous to say but- I think I’m going to miss it. It’s just a ring, it's not my entire sexuality, I’ll still be ace without wearing it, but I’m still- It feels like I’m missing a piece of something that I was trying to hold onto, you know?”

Martin nodded. “I understand. Here-” he reached up and unclasped a thin chain that had been hanging around his neck. “You can borrow this. I’ll take these off for now.” He slipped off a couple of charms that had been hanging on it. Smiling, he held out the chain.

“You- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Martin wiggled the chain in the air between them slightly. “You can give it back when your hand is better.”

Wordlessly, Jon took the chain and looped the ring onto it. He lifted to try and fix the clasp around his neck, but he couldn't get the clasp open. Martin pushed his chair back, coming to stand behind Jon, taking the chain out of his hands and closing the clasp for Jon. 

“There.” Martin smoothed Jon’s collar down. “That looks nice!”

“Thank you.” Jon whispered, then louder, “Thank you, Martin. This- This means a lot.” 

Martin shrugged a little awkwardly, cheeks turning red. “No trouble. It means a lot to you, so, you know, you should be able to carry it with you.”

He smiled down at Jon, and once again Jon felt the small jolt of recognition, of comfort. The bubble in his mind fully merged with Martin, creating something new that, at least for a few more long, exhausting months, Jon didn't know to call love.

[arvinsescape]

The Princess and the Guard.

A/N: I have finally started my series and I am so excited to share it with you all! I hope you enjoy and any feedback would be appreciated, I accept constructive criticism!

This series is not historically accurate and is not intended to be so please bare that in mind when you are reading, I am no real expert on how royalty works (even if I am from England). 

This series will contain misogynistic language and views, violence, death and nsfw content. I will always put the relevant warnings into each chapter!

Warnings: None in this chapter (one mention of death but it isn’t bad or descriptive).

W/C: 2.8K (The rest of the chapters will be longer but as this is a starting chapter it is smaller).

Teaser, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter Three, Chapter four

Chapter One:

You sighed as you watched Annie pin up your hair through the mirror. You knew you should be more excited about tonight’s ball but you weren’t, you knew your mother and father would expect you to find a suitor by the end of the night. Although it was your brother’s engagement ball your parents were growing concerned about your status, you were yet to find anyone who you would want to be tied with for the rest of your life.

“If you don’t mind my saying Princess, you seem upset.” Annie said as she gave you a small smile through the mirror.

“Annie.” You sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you, it is Y/N behind closed doors.” You smiled wide at her and she blushed slightly.

“My apologies it just feels improper.” She said, she was correct, if your parents were to find out that she called you anything other than ‘Princess’ or ‘your highness’ she’d lose her job in an instant, if not worse. You on the other hand, couldn’t care less, you hated the way people treated you differently because of the status you were born into.

“I do not mind.” You said and she smiled again as she put the final pin into your hair, moving to find the butterfly hairgrip your grandmother had given you so that she could finish off your look. “I just do not have the energy to entertain tonight.” You sighed and she smiled sadly at you through the mirror again.

“You never know, you might meet someone you like tonight.” She said hopefully and you scoffed.

“I doubt that very much. They are all too old or too arrogant, I do not know why mother insists I marry so quickly, I will never be queen.” You said.

“I suppose, if you don’t mind my saying, for a Princess you are quite old to not be engaged or married.” She said shyly.

“I am 23.” You laughed and she smiled. Annie was like a best friend to you, you’d grown up with her, her mother had worked for your own before her untimely death and Annie had started working as your personal maid not long after.

You heard a knock as Annie finished pinning your hair up and you sighed, it was time. Annie rushed to answer the door as you stood and removed the creases from your dress, the corset you had on tighter than usual, you couldn’t wait to remove it. She curtsied straight away, your brother coming into view.

“Little sister, if I may?” He said as he held his arm out and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Harrison, I am 23, I am hardly little anymore.” You said and he laughed as he stood closer to you.

“I am still taller and still older, therefore you will always be my little sister.”

 “You are two years older than me.” You stated and he laughed as he held his arm out for you again, this time you took it. He started to walk with you, heading towards the ballroom. Your eyes fell on the figure stood just outside your door, Thomas. Harrison’s personal guard, he was the same age as Harrison, 25 and you found him extremely attractive, you wished at times that things would be different that you’d be able to marry a man like him.

“Thomas.” You greeted with a smile which he instantly returned.

“Princess.” He bowed and your heart fluttered, he was just about the only person you knew who called you princess and it had a positive effect on you. You bit your lip to contain your smile as you walked towards the ballroom, Thomas falling into step behind you both, you walked for a while before Harrison spoke.

“Mother wants you to find a husband tonight.” Harrison said and you sighed.

“I know. I really wish she would leave it alone.” You sighed.

“Y/N, you cannot keep rejecting people, you know it is only a matter of time before mother and father decide on a suitor for you. Pick someone you can somewhat stand.” He said as you came to the doors of the ballroom, Thomas moving in front of you as he opened the doors, your names being announced as you walked into the room. It all seemed so unnecessary, as if people didn’t know who you were before you yourself did.

“You look beautiful by the way.” Harrison smiled at you and you returned it, you were thankful for your brother, you were both close, he was by far your most trusted friend and relative.

You walked gracefully towards your mother and father, curtsying before you fell into place beside your mother.

“Now Y/N, I want you to behave tonight, there is a new suitor I would like you to meet, a Duke. He is the same age as you, so not too old.” She almost mocked and you had to bite back a scoff.

“Let us hope he is not as arrogant as the rest.” You said as the music began to play, drowning out your mother’s next words. You watched as people started to dance, chatter exploding throughout the room, Harrison was placed next to his bride to be, Ellie. You envied Harrison for finding someone so lovely in this society of people you were a part of.

Ellie was beautiful, a true lady and she was perfect for Harrison, perfect to be the future Queen. She was like a sister to you already, you had a close bond and you were glad that she would be a part of your life for the rest of it. Your eyes found Thomas as he stood close to Harrison, eyes scanning the ballroom before they landed on you, he smiled and you returned it.

“Your royal highness.” A voice pulled your attention from the man. You looked to see a man you’d not seen before, probably the same height as Thomas, much skinnier but good looking none the less. His green eyes raked your figure and you almost gagged, blonde hair slicked back in the same way all men of his status had. He held out his hand and you placed yours in his as he kissed the back of your hand. It was almost sloppy, you wanted to pull your hand from his immediately but forced yourself to be polite.

“I am Oliver, Duke of Oxford.” He said and you smiled down at him.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You said as politely as you could.

“I hope to see you around my Princess.” He tried to charm and you wished you could have rolled your eyes but fought back the urge.

“See, he is lovely, very polite.” Your mother gushed and you hummed in response as he disappeared. You both watched Harrison make his way onto the ballroom floor with Ellie. A figure stood in front of you and your heart dropped to your stomach. Henry. You’d met him a few times and he was by far one of the worse suitors you’d met, arrogant, rude, you could go on.

“A dance your highness?” He asked as he held his hand out.

“Go on my dear.” Your mother urged and you huffed quietly before placing your hand in his as you made your way to the ballroom floor. He placed his hand too far down onto your waist for it to be appropriate. You moved his hand further up, to the appropriate level when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You looked over Henry’s shoulder and saw Thomas, jaw clenched as he watched the two of you interact.

You started the dance, you found it boring, you’d danced this dance many times over the years. Henry’s hand continued to wander and you continued to move it, eyes finding Thomas every so often, you watched as Harrison approached him before saying something to him. Thomas’ eyes never left you as you watched him nod at Harrison’s words, you got so lost in his eyes that you forgot about Henry and his wandering hand until it fell almost on your backside. You gasped slightly before stepping away from him.

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, need I remind you who I am?” You snapped angrily and Henry smirked.

“Who would believe you? Honestly Princess.” He spat and you huffed before moving towards Ellie, who was now sat at one of the elegantly set up tables.

“Your highness.” She said and you waved her off slightly.

“Y/N, please, we are to be sisters after all.” You said and she grinned.

“Are you okay?” She asked and you huffed as you sat down, not very “princessly” like you were aware, if your mother was too see she wouldn’t have been happy.

“Men.” You uttered and Ellie laughed slightly.

“I feel like I met a true gentleman the night I met your brother.” She swooned and you smiled, they really did love each other, it was warming too see.

“Unfortunately he is a rarity it would seem.” You sighed.

“They cannot all be bad.” She said and you laughed.

“They are not good. I just wish one man would be interested in me and not the title that would come with marrying me.” You spoke your annoyance, it had become an insecurity over the years. “You know I have rejected Henry more times than I can count and he still insists on asking for my hand.”

“I am sorry.” Ellie said clearly not knowing how to respond, she’d been luckier than you.

“No,” you sighed, “I am sorry, this is your engagement party and I am being negative, I apologise.” You said and she smiled.

“We need to stick together, this is a man’s world and if us women need anything, it is each other.” She spoke and you smiled.

**

You quickly grew bored of the party, too many men had heard, wrongly you might add, that you were looking for a partner tonight. You’d had numerous dances at this point, you’d spent the last half an hour avoiding Henry and his advances. You’d spoken to Oliver a few times and although he seemed nice enough there was something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, he seemed a little off.

“I am so happy for your engagement, but I am tired and need to retire to bed.” You said as you hugged Ellie.

“Goodnight little sister.” Harrison spoke as he hugged you. You playfully curtsied to him and he laughed.

You made your way out of the ballroom and headed in the direction of your bedroom, it was quite a walk but the halls were quiet, all the guards who were usually stationed were in the ballroom, seeing to your father’s and the King’s safety. You turned the corner and were instantly grabbed from behind before being shoved against the wall, you gasped out in shock.

“Leaving so soon Princess.” Henry.

“How dare you.” You almost screamed at him. “When I tell my father, the King, about this, he will have your head.” You spat and Henry laughed.

“How could you prove it?” He sneered as his hands trailed down your waist, you slapped his hands and he laughed. “You are going to have to marry eventually princess, why not pick a man who could give you a good time?” He smirked.

“Get your hands off of me.” You said as you slapped at his chest, trying to push him away from you, your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, fear setting in.

“You heard her royal highness.” You heard and you were instantly filled with relief. Thomas.

“This is none of your business. I hear you are Harrisons guard, you are not doing a very good job if you are abandoning him.” Henry spat as he turned to look at him, puffing his chest out in an attempt to look intimidating.

“The Prince is in good hands, I can assure you. The Princess however, does not seem to be enjoying her current company.” Thomas spoke and it was cool and calm, as if there was no fear there at all. It reassured you, made you feel safe.

“Stay out of this.” Henry tried again and Thomas stepped towards Henry and you almost laughed as Henry cowered back in response.

“Unless you would like me to personally tell the Prince what I have witnessed here tonight I suggest you leave and not bother the Princess again.” He spoke and you were impressed, most men would be intimidated by Henry’s status, it was like he didn’t care.

“You have no evidence.”

“I do not need evidence. I have worked for the Prince long enough for him to know I am not a liar and I am sure he will believe his sister over the man who has not so subtly been groping her all evening.”

Henry huffed as he took in his words, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you realised you were safe. Henry made his way down the corridor almost stomping like a child as he headed back towards the ballroom leaving you and Thomas alone.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He asked as he turned his attention towards you.

“I am okay, thank you Thomas.”

“Tom.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s Tom.” He said as he cleared his throat. “I was never the biggest lover of my birth name.”

“My apologies, Tom.” It almost felt intimate to call him by a nickname, in a very strange and new way to you, you liked it.

“I will walk you back to your room.” Tom said and you nodded as you fell into step beside each other.

“You know, I have known you since we were both children and I don’t think I have ever been alone with you.” You spoke.

“That would be improper Princess.”

“Y/N.” You corrected and Tom smiled.

“That would also be improper.”

“I am allowed to call you Tom.”

“I am not royalty, I do not have a title.” He said and you laughed.

“I will not tell if you do not.” You smiled and he returned it, you liked his smile, it was warming, comforting.

“I cannot afford to lose this position.” Tom spoke again.

“Should you not be with Harrison?”

“The Prince is well protected at the moment, I will return once I make sure you are back to your room and safe.” It made your heart flutter. “Besides, the Prince personally asked me to make sure you would be alright tonight, he did not like the way Henry was ogling you.”

“So you saved me because you were asked to.”

“Just because I was asked to doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.” He spoke and you smiled, he’d dropped the proper speech and it made you smile. It made you feel something in your chest that he wanted to make sure you were safe.

Tom had worked for the palace for a long time, he was similar to Annie, Harrison had grown up with him and asked him to be his guard once he was old enough, you’d always somewhat admired the brown eyed, brown haired man from afar. You came to a stop as you reached your bedroom, you turned to face Tom and he you.

“Well, I am here and I am safe.” You said.

“You are here and you are safe.” He repeated.

“Thank you, Tom.” You said as you looked him deep in those beautiful brown eyes.

“No need to thank me.” He said and you smiled as you reached up and cupped his cheek. He looked confused for a second before he composed himself, you were looking at each other and it was intimate in a way you’d never felt before. You smiled as you reached up, standing on your tip toes as his hand lightly grasped the elbow that was holding his cheek. You placed a soft kiss onto his cheek, a way of saying thank you.

You pulled back blushing slightly to see he was already smiling, you moved away from him and smiled.

“Good night Tom.” You said and he gripped your hand gently in his own, it was soft, warm, and comforting. He placed a soft kiss to the back of it before letting go and bowing. You wished he hadn’t let go and where thankful that none of the guards were there to witness what had just happened.

“Good night princess.”

**

Taglist: @allthisfortommy

If you want to be added to this series taglist please let me know 💞

[yoshibb]

Hi! Little something different from usual. I saw the @shepherds-of-haven summer prompt list and I decided to give it a try. Shepherds of Haven is a WIP interactive fiction and it has been such a huge comfort read for me, I highly recommend it! While I'm in love with all the characters, my favorite RO is Chase, so this story is for the prompt sleep with my F!MCAerynXChase. I did my best to keep everything as accurate as possible character and lore wise >.< Thanks for reading! Blinding Light Chase can't sleep. The concept itself isn't disturbing. He's gone plenty a night without a wink of shut-eye. But to not be able to, to have his thoughts jumbled, his leg bouncing, it's unusual. He stretches his fingers in front of him, flexing them soundlessly in the dark like he can find the answer in the lines of his palms.

Something is wrong.

He sits up, not bothering to find a light, his eyes long adjusted to the dark. There are still sounds coming from the Shepherds' Compound, but it's clear that the majority of the occupants have turned in. He doesn't always stay on grounds, but he's been making more exceptions recently for whatever reason.

There's no point in trying to join them in their well deserved rest. He rolls out of bed, slipping into an outfit suitable for traversing the city's rooftops. If his mind refuses to be silent then he might as well occupy it before it decides to turn to more... uncomfortable subjects.

He climbs out onto the rooftop and pauses. An irresistible urge to check on Aeryn tugs at him. For a moment he considers ignoring it. It's late, she needs her rest more than anyone and despite his stealth there is always the small chance he could wake her. But like most forces involving Aeryn, it's less of a tug and more of a compulsion. He spins around, lightly stepping to her bedroom window. He starts to undo the lock but finds it already open. He smiles to himself, forgetting that she'd stopped bothering to latch it after he'd picked it so many times.

She never asks him 'why he never uses the door' like a normal person would or scolds him for invading her privacy outside a brief huff of annoyance. It is strangely difficult to get under her skin, but a challenge he's taken to whole-heartedly.

However, though the space inside is dark, the bed is empty. His heart trembles with an ominous thump. He shakes his head, scolding himself. There are plenty of explanations for this. His eyes drift about the room to take in what's missing. Most notably her sword that usually rests against her nightstand. She normally leaves it close enough to grab in case of danger. The bed is made and her uniform is gone.

He should check the patrol schedule.

What are you doing?

He stutter steps when he reaches the low lights of the hallway. What is he doing? He should be picking the lock on some unsuspecting noble's balcony by now. And yet nothing stopped him from progressing towards the large board downstairs.

The lamps provide just enough light for him to read. Letters which were once incomprehensible now make perfect sense thanks to Aeryn's tutoring. His smile lengthens as her name jumps out at him. He even knows the route she's covering. Not the best part of Haven, but not the worst. He has nothing to worry about.

He blinks and looks down. He plants his hand on his disobedient limb, physically stopping his right leg from bouncing. He studies it like it's a mystical object rather than a part of his body. His eyes slide up to Aeryn's name again, the discontent tug now like a rope around his wrist, dragging him to where she should be.

He was going to do a little sightseeing anyway, what would the harm be in 'bumping' into her?

Soon enough he is outside, climbing the walls and out into the streets of Haven. Darting into the first alley, he bounces off the wall and uses his momentum to reach the ledge, pulling himself up onto the roof without any trouble. The air is cool, comfortably so. The wind barely provides any resistance as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop.

Normally, he'd take in the sights, watch for a potential target, enjoy the rush of adrenaline. It's the perfect night for a sprint, but his mind is clouded by the hunt. He scans the streets below, empty besides the rare drunkard or overworked laborer.

Until he finally sees her, long golden honey hair that somehow still shimmers under insufficient light. A presence that always seems to blind him the minute she catches his gaze.

His heart beats against its cage, his smile stretching until his cheeks hurt. His sunshine, his Aeryn.

He catches himself, pressing a hand against his mouth as a cold shiver courses through him. No, not his. Free to come and go as she pleased. In and out of his bed, to be with whoever she wanted. Just as he is.

Regaining control of himself he looks down again, studying the sway of her hips and the grace of her walk. It's enough to ignite a flame inside his core that he's eager to chase. A smirk smooths its way across his lips. It would be a matter of convincing her to abandon her post, but she's never turned him down before.

He skips over one more roof and leaps down silently, a building's distance between them. The first time he'd snuck up on her like this, she'd nearly taken his head from his shoulders. He had the reflexes to dodge her if he needed to, but she stopped her stroke before it nicked his throat. She'd sighed and asked him not to do it again. He'd simply smiled and stepped closer to her, promising nothing.

He'd repeated his stunt again with similar results but never in the dead of night. A thrill weaves through him as he approaches her, his tongue dancing out over his lower lip.

And then she turns.

Sharply, west, down a dark alley. The move startles him and unlike his normal marks, he trails her blindly.

An arm shoots out and cuts off his progress, causing him to stumble to a stop. Her other arm grazes against his back, effectively caging him in.

"Chase," Aeryn says in a scolding yet fond manner.

"It appears you've caught me, Captain," he reclines against the brick wall between the barrier of her arms, a lazy smile painting his lips. "So what do you plan to do with me?" Aeryn shakes her head.

"That's it? No tricks? You're just giving up? I don't believe it." Her eyes dance across his form and he's more than happy to allow it.

"I'm finding this position more than agreeable at the moment, but we'll see how things play out, sunshine." He propels himself forward from his lounging position. He pauses, their similar heights allowing him to nearly brush his lips against hers. To her credit she doesn't flinch, keeping her arms fixed on either side of him. He tilts his head in playful innocence. "I can offer a bribe, but I've heard you are an honest sort."

Aeryn hums unable to stop her own smile from echoing his, "I may be open to a different sort of bribe."

He chuckles low in his throat, the flicker of heat growing into a furnace. He nearly closes the distance, but he manages to draw back. He wants to see the thirst in her eyes first. The inescapable longing he's felt all night.

Instead, he's met with her concern. It catches him off guard, and he struggles to keep his nonchalant grin in place. "Aeryn?"

She catches his chin in her fingers and ignites a magelight with her other hand. He swallows tightly as she examines his face like a healer would.

"Your skin is pale," she says.

"Just a trick of the light. Nothing worth worrying yourself over." He gently tries to push her hand away. But she's insistent, thumb tracing his bottom lip, faintly cracked beneath her touch.

"You have dark circles under your eyes. Have you been sleeping?" She chides him. He tries to defend himself, but he's too distracted by the way her fingers glide across his cheek and lightly stroking his eyelashes. His eyelids flutter, and his body shivers under her featherlight caresses. Soft and caring and so completely foreign. He leans into her palm, lowering his guard for just a moment.

And she doesn't waste it.

She leans in and presses a tender kiss to the curve of his jaw. Wrapping her arms around him, she folds their bodies together until the two of them become intimately one. He turns his head into the crook of her neck, deeply inhaling the heady scent of sage. He cards his fingers into her long hair, enjoying the feel of it as it slides through the gaps of his fingers.

And it's enough. He allows himself to sink further until he's drowning in her embrace. Where no one can touch him, nothing can ever hurt him again, as long as she has him. She lays butterfly kisses on his forehead and each of his eyelids before releasing him. He very nearly clings to her but forces himself to let go, knees weak as he falls against the wall. She holds his hand for a moment longer, squeezing it tightly.

"Go to bed, please. For me? I'll be back soon." She promises, her grip slipping from his.

Instead of letting him disagree, she kisses him softly good night, her lips offering no more than a caress. He stands frozen for a moment, watching her disappear around the corner. As if leaving is so simple.

Confusion muddles his mind as he slides down the wall, hitting the ground with a thud. He stares at his hand, still tingling from her touch. Her scent still lingering on his clothes.  

He starts to get up, ready to continue on with his plans for the night only for his limbs to betray him. He stumbles against the tidal wave of exhaustion. It suddenly feels as if he could sleep for days. He searches for the cure for his insomnia and finds her further down the road. His heart soars to life again. And then a deep fear creeps up his spine.

What's come over me?

[awkwardspontaneity]

We Jumped off a Waterfall

Part 6 of Memories of You

BOTW Link x GN!Sheikah!Reader

Prev | Next

Summary: Fighting monsters in search of an important treasure leads to realizations and some embarrassment

regular= present   italic= memory

It was a bright and sunny day in Faron. It would have been the perfect day to relax or maybe take Epona for a ride to the springs. Unfortunately even the warmth of the sun couldn’t improve the day, only highlighting the shadow of the largest Hinox Link had ever seen. And it was right on his tail. Or, more accurately, Epona's tail. Link urged Epone faster with his knees, nocking two bomb arrows on Revali’s bow. Directing Epona to curve her path around the Hinox, he loosed the arrows directly at the beast's giant eye. The hinox fell to the ground with a thunderous roar, its arms coming up to hold its eye. Familiar with their routine, Epona raced towards the wailing creature. Link readied himself with his feet on Epona’s saddle and, when she curved in front of the Hinox, he threw himself into the air. Flipping, Link slashed through the Hinox’s gut, landing in front of it as it exploded in a cloud of dark dust. 

Link was starting to feel like a glorified errand boy with all the tasks he kept being given. He loved to help people, he really did. Still… Robbie could have at least warned him about the three Hinox’s guarding the shrine he had to find. 

Using stasis on the metallic ball, Link and Epona rode up the hill to the hidden shrine for the third time. It was a short trip and the moment the ball hit its place, the ground began shaking. Robbie had informed him that the item he was searching for would be hidden at the end of the shrine trial. The Sheikah had placed it there during Link’s hundred year's rest when the Yiga clan had begun attacking in hopes of finding it. The shrine and its hidden treasure were tucked beneath the earth for safekeeping. 

Until now.

------

It turned out that the trial of the shrine was getting the orbs from the Hinox brothers. Link had been quick to collect Robbie’s treasure, some kind of guardian power source that seemed familiar to Link, and a spirit orb from the monk. Once he stepped off the shrine platform Link mounted Epone and began his trip back to the stables. He didn’t get much farther than the area the largest Hinox had been when he heard the rushing water. He supposed he had been too focused on the battles to pay much attention to nature around him. It was nice.

Apparently Epona felt the same as him, because as she trotted to the bottom of the hill she headed to the pond at the bottom of the waterfall. They spent a few moments taking in the beauty of the waterfall, the soft crash soothing as it brought forth memories of his first time at this waterfall.

Link stood panting in ankle deep water. He would have been irritated with the water that would no doubt soak its way through his boots had it not been for the intense battle taking place. Y/n was currently running towards him, closely followed by a giant Hinox. 

Robbie had sent them in search of an important treasure his teacher had hidden away in the area. Unfortunately his teacher’s notes had failed to mention the trio of Hinox’s guarding the location. Thoroughly underprepared, the two champions were pressed to take on one Hinox each while dodging the thirds reaching fists. They had managed to find a rhythm of tricking them into hitting each other then rushing the third. The plan worked fairly well, especially with Y/n loosing bomb arrows into their eyes frequently enough to keep them at bay.

Link had finished off the second while Y/n distracted the largest one. Now they would take it down together. It was no doubt low on health after so much slashing, all they had to do was find an opening for the finishing blows. And Link had just found his opening. He rushed out in front of the Hinox, passing Y/n and sliding through the wet grass between the beast's legs. Popping up behind it, Link slashed its legs as hard as he could. 

With a roar, the Hinox turned towards Link only to fall  to its knees as they gave out beneath it. From behind the wounded creature, Y/n shot up using its shoulders as a springboard. Twisting in the air, Y/n loosed two quick volleys of bomb arrows, each one sticking to its chest. Y/n landed with a roll, shooting one more volley before they grabbed Link by the hand.

They raced into the swirling water and, with a shock, Link realized right towards the waterfall. Even this small waterfall still required jumping from a large enough height and falling. Link tugged on their wrist, urging them to stop and find another way. He didn’t care if he had to shield them himself so long as it meant they wouldn’t have to face their fears again.

“With how many bomb arrows I shot into that beast, it’s gonna be a big blast. We have to get out of range.”

They sounded so confident. They were always confident in their plans even when their body betrayed them. Even now, the tremble in their jaw paired with how tightly they were holding his hand. 

Y/n was afraid. 

The duo reached the edge and Link squeezed Y/n’s hand. He would be by their side no matter what they faced. 

They would never be alone.

They jumped over the edge right as the Hinox lit up in an explosion of malice and guts. As they fell towards the water below Y/n pulled Link closer. They hit the water with a crash. Link popped up from beneath the waterfall, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes. He let out a breathless laugh, sliding his eyes over to Y/n. “We did it Y/n.”

“Y/n?” Where were they? He splashed around frantically trying to see below the rippled water. They hadn’t come up yet. He had let go and now he had lost them. “Y/N!”

The water bubbled next to him and suddenly Y/n popped up. “Link I fou- oh!?”

Link grabbed Y/n as tightly as he could, pulling them into himself. Whatever it was didn’t matter to him. Y/n was safe. “Thank Hylia you’re alright. You didn’t come up, I thought…”

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to let go of your hand.” Y/n wrapped themselves closer to him, their fingers running through his wet hair. “But, I came up beneath the waterfall and found a treasure chest. Might be what we’re looking for.”

Link hummed softly, leaning into their touch. If it didn’t feel so good to have them combing his hair so softly Link would’ve been embarrassed by the soft snort that escaped them. Y/n brought their other hand up to rest lightly on his face and he opened his eyes. This time he did blush. The way Y/n looked at him, the reflection of the water making their eyes glitter like rubies. He reached op, linking their fingers together. Y/n smiled lightly, their face leaning ever so slightly forward.

Splash!

Both champions shot away from each other, scrambling for their weapons. They were met with the sight of their horses standing in the water. Link sheathed his sword with a sigh. He was about to turn to Y/n when his face burned up. Had that really happened? There was a light splash as Y/n dunked their whole head under the surface. Link took the moment to pat his own cheeks with the cool water. Part of him cursed their horses for their timing.

Y/n popped up from the water facing the waterfall. “We should go see if that’s the right chest.”

“Right.”

With a quick dive, the duo found the chest sitting on a single rock behind the waterfall. Link was the first to approach, reaching out to grab hold of the lid. He gave it a firm shake, then another. And then a third to be sure.

“It’s locked.”

“What!?” Y/n reached out giving the chest a shake. When it didn’t budge they groaned.

Link took over, finding a sharp rock and trying to pry it open as he grumbled. “You’d think Robbie would mention their being a key. Or I don’t know. Maybe give us one?”

“Oh!” Y/n snapped their fingers. “I know what to do!”

What Link was not expecting was for them to pull the stick from their hair. It was a thin needle with a red bead strung to the end of it. Y/n always used it to hold back their hair just like the rest of the Sheikah warriors. Strands of wet hair fell around their face. Their brow furrowed as they carefully stuck the needle into the lock. Link was barely watching what they were doing, far too distracted by the way they looked with their hair down.

An audible click echoed in the small cave as Y/n successfully picked the lock. They gave a laugh in victory as they grabbed the glowing power source from the chest. Y/n turned to look at him again only for their breath to catch in their throat at the way he was staring “What?”

“You’re beautiful”

A squeak escaped Y/n as Link choked on his breath. Had he really said that out loud!? “Uh, you’re really beautiful too! Ah wait, I meant handsome? Oh shoot.”

He laughed. Really laughed as Y/n stumbled over their words. They gave a sheepish grin. Both champions laughed, letting loose after how busy they had been. Even if it meant embarrassing themselves, it was nice to be able to let loose and laugh.

“We should get dried off before we catch a cold.” Link nudged Y/n, floating closer to the waterfall with a smirk. “I’ll race you to the horses!”

And he dove under the waterfall. 

“What!?”

Y/n dove quickly, racing after their partner. “That’s not fair! You are such a cheater!”

“You’re just too slow!” 

"That's my line!" The champions laughed. Once they could stand they raced through the water, pushing and splashing as they ran.

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 9 -- Answers

Word Count: 17199

READ ON AO3

When Danny first visitedーor, more accurately, when he first crashed intoーthe Far Frozen, he shared the same first impression as Tucker; it was ball-freezing cold. 

Frostbite and his people’s homeland was a frozen paradise where blinding white snow went as far as reached the eye. What at first glance appeared to be a rather rudimentary village made out of small houses carved into mounds of ice and frost was infinitely more complex than that. The Realm of the Far Frozen was one of the most technologically advanced territories in all the Infinite Realms; even Technus coveted access to their facilities. A stark contrast to its inhabitants' simple clothing, for instance.

The ice huts were in truth the entrance to a far more elaborate citadel built underground and connected by countless tunnels and caverns, for it provided better shelter. Some shacks did indeed lead to the citizens’ homes, not unlike a rabbit’s den, but the vast majority of them worked as the gates to the tunnels leading to the metropolis beneath the snow. 

In fact, the only cavern that truly was a mere cave, despite its importance among Frostbite’s people, was the cave where Danny’s battle against Pariah Dark was recorded. In reality, everything about Far Frozen was proof that one should never judge a book by its cover. The ice-wielding ghosts had the fearsome looks of canine yetis; their claws alone the size of Danny’s head, their snouts filled to the brim with razor-sharp fangs; even now, standing at 5’9 feet tall, Frostbite’s colossal height and build dwarfed the halfa’s own developed physique, and the number of ghosts who shared the yeti-like species’ proficiency at cryokinesis could be counted with one handーaside from Danny himself, the only other ghost that came to mind was Klemper, and even he relied mostly on brute strength and freezing breath. 

And yet, despite everything that should’ve turned Frostbite and his people into some of his most formidable foes, they in turn were some of the biggest supporters of his rule. If you looked for the definition of ‘gentle giant’ in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of them. Frostbite’s people were noble, kind, and loyal. So long their way of living wasn’t threatened, should a crisis arise, they were always the first ones volunteering themselves to help Danny in any way they could. 

Not to mention Frostbite himself had more than once filled the role of the young Ghost King’s mentor. A role he had no choice but to exploit now. 

Landing gracefully on top of the snow, Danny waited patiently until the leader of the Far Frozeners came flying by on his hoverboard in the midst of his patrolling his land. Soon enough, taking notice of a shadow being cast on him, he looked up to see the ghost’s familiar face grinning down at him, by his side one of his subjects looked on with interest. 

“Great One!” he exclaimed before hopping off the vehicle and coming to stand beside his king, followed by a respectful bow. “To what do we owe the honour of this visit?”

Danny smiled appreciatively at him. “Hello, Frostbite. I know this is probably too sudden, but I could really use your help right now.”

“Nonsense.” The bigger ghost assured him with the raise of a dismissive paw. “My people will be forever indebted to you for freeing the Ghost Zone once and for all from the tyrannical influence of Pariah Dark.” He placed his large paw on his ruler’s shoulder, staring him down with a warmth that shouldn’t belong with a race of tundra dwellers. “Now, do tell, what can we possibly help with?”

Feeling uncomfortable, the halfa looked down on his feet and scratched the back of his head. He really didn’t want to go to Frostbite for help, knowing how cautious he was around the mere mention of them. Unfortunately, he didn’t know who else to go to. “I need your help with…the witches.”

He mumbled that part so low for a moment he worried his old friend might not have heard him, but the sudden look of urgency in his red eyes said otherwise. “Come, we must make haste.” With a nod of his head, Frostbite signalled to the hoverboard’s pilot to lower the vehicle, getting aboard right after Danny. “We will continue where we left off tomorrow at dawn, for now let us head back home.” He instructed the pilot as he ushered Danny to take a seat. 

“As you wish, sir.” The other Far Frozen replied as he changed course. 

“Thank you.” Danny said truthfully. “I’m sorry for bringing them up, but I think you might be the only one able to help me.”

Frostbite shook his head. “Fear not, Great One. My people and I understand you are doing everything in your power to protect us from their harmful ways. Even if we do not wish to come in contact of any kind with them, we will not hesitate to aid you in your quest.”

Even if on the outside Danny was smiling, his words made his insides churn. He felt like he was lying to his mentor. After his last encounter with Lady Arcana a part of him, probably the same part of him who originally told him this was a good idea, resented the way ghosts referred to witches. 

Jazz would probably say that was the result of personal growth. Since the Witch Queen went out of her way to make sure he was safe despite their mutual animosity, his mind had been opened to new horizons, meaning he now understood he’d been unfair to them based on prejudice and naysay, rather than first hand experience. 

At least, that’s what Psychologist Jazz would say. Overprotective, Older Sister Jazz would say something more along the lines of, “Snap out of it, little brother! You’re not fourteen and hormonal anymore; don’t let a pretty face fool you!”

Even so, here he was. Asking Frostbite for help even though it felt like he was just desperately looking for something, anything, that would debunk the reasons behind his people’s grudge against witches, if only to assure himself that his current, improved, opinion of their leader wasn’t unfounded. 

Come on, man, that’s not the only reason you’re doing this and you know it. He tried to reason. How much do you know about witches other than what you’ve been told? Nothing, that’s how much he knew about them. Exactly. You’re the one taking risks by working with Lady Arcana. What if your previous hunch was wrong and they really can’t help? Wouldn’t that mean you’ve been wasting your time? Okay, that’d be bad. Really bad. He only asked for their help because he was sure they were the only ones who could do anything about the portals, but if not even them had the solution to the portals opening, what was he going to do?! Right? And how are you going to figure that out if you don’t know what they’re truly capable of? Really, this is for the best. 

Danny didn’t want to sound conceited, but his inner monologue brought up incredibly good points to the conversation. He was doing this for the sake of Earth and the Ghost Zone alike. His personal opinion on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park was irrelevant. 

A sudden jerk that almost sent him flying brought him out of his reverie. Looking around he noticed they’d finally arrived back at the village, and Frostbite was smirking down at him in amusement. “I have yet to see you use the powers that come with your position to their full potential,” he started between chuckles, “but I believe not even the Great One is exempt from having to use the seatbelt when travelling.”

Registering the way the leader of the Far Frozen moved his ice-encased arm to his lap, Danny realised he was the only person aboard who didn’t have his seatbelt on. When Frostbite unbuttoned his seatbelt with a pointed look, the green-eyed ghost could only flush in embarrassment. “Uh…oops?”

A low chuckle rumbled through the yeti-like ghost’s chest. “Come, Great One.” Resting his large paw on Danny’s back, Frostbite ushered him out of the hoverboard and began guiding him through his home’s numerous underground passages. They walked in silence, the sound of ice and snow being stepped on was the only thing that could be heard. Even though several detours were carved into the walls, his mentor kept directing him to go straight until he instructed they took a turn. 

Danny was sure his jaw was inches away from touching the ground as his eyes surveyed the colossal ice gates in front of him. Judging by their icy blue hue, they were thick enough to withstand practically anything. He doubted even one of his most charged up ecto-rays would be enough to crash into them. Many intricate designs ran alongside them, and they definitely had to protect something of great value to explain the two guards at each side. 

As if reading his mind, Frostbite supplied an answer for his unspoken queries, “The library, oh, Great One.” With a snap of his fingers, the two guards bowed down before they simultaneously turned the doorknobs and opened the doors for them, granting them access. 

“Wait, the library?” Danny frowned in confusion, which only doubled at Frostbite’s hearty laugh.

“Yes, Great One.” He smiled down at him as he led him inside. “If what you’re looking for is answers, I cannot think of a better place to find them than a library.”

Looking now at his mentor’s furry back, for he was surveying the different shelves most likely in search of a book that might have the information he was looking for, the young monarch blurted out, “How do you know I’m here for answers?”

Frostbite grabbed a book from the shelf he was currently facing, only to think better of it and return it in exchange for another one. “Usually, when you come all the way over here it is because you have questions you need answers to.”

Danny winced at the pang of guilt that pierced through his core. Was he always so self-interested he only ever came when he needed something?

“Worry not, Great One.” The yeti-like spirit said, not looking up from the book in his large paws. “My people will always be at your service. It is an honour to be able to help you, for we know you will always aid us in return.” He closed the book with a low thud, flashing him a friendly smile. 

Danny could only gape at the ghost before him, his mouth opening and closing in a fashion akin to a fish’s. Seriously, did the Far Frozeners have telepathy too?!

“No, we do not possess the ability to read minds.” Looking down at the certainly flabbergasted expression on the half-ghost’s face, Frostbite roared with laughter, the sound echoing throughout the walls. “I jest, Great One. I just know you too well. Also, your expressions speak volumes.” He commented offhandedly before returning his focus to another section of the library. 

And to think he’d managed to fool his parents all these years…Sliding a hand through his mess of shock-white locks, the Ghost King came to stand beside his old friend, scanning over the different titles as well. After a  while, he realised something. “Um, Frostbite?” He called out to his mentor. 

“Yes, Great One?”

“Are we perhaps looking for information to answer my questions about the witches?”

Never tearing his eyes away from the sacred manuscripts in full display in his people’s library, Frostbite nodded. “Precisely, your Majesty.”

“Just one question, though?”

“What is it?”

“How are we going to find a book that’ll help me, if I still haven’t told you what I need help with?” Danny pointed out, tilting his head to his side as he awaited an answer. 

The larger ghost’s red eyes widened in realisation. Indeed, that would prove difficult. “My apologies, Great One. In my haste to be of help I got ahead of myself.” Turning to his king, he bowed his head solemnly, unknowingly making Danny uncomfortable. Back in the day the halfa would’ve tried deterring him in his use of honorifics when talking to him, but it was a lost cause and getting him to stop bowing would be as well. In the end he simply chose to go with the flow. Raising his body, Frostbite used his ice-encased arm to gesture to a corner of the room, where a few chairs were arranged around a table. “Please, allow me to rectify my mistake by listening to your queries and answering them to the best of my ability.”

As soon as he got comfortable in his chair, which wasn’t difficult as the hair serving as upholstery was very fluffy and warm, Danny tried to voice his thoughts. “Well...um...you see…” Key word being ‘tried,’ in the end he blurted out, “How does their magic work?”

As Frostbite met his question with stunned silence, his head tilted to the side and a bushy eyebrow raised in confusion, the green-eyed half-ghost couldn’t blame him. How was it he always ended up asking the exact same thing to every person relatively knowledgeable about witches he talked to?

Before his old friend could ask for some much needed clarification, Danny hurried to deliver it himself. “I’m sorry, that was too random.” He pushed his bangs out of his face, trying to organise his thoughts. Better be straightforward with this one. “Why is it that their magic can touch us while we’re intangible?”

The question had been eating him alive for the last few days. Now matter how long he wracked his brain for answers, he came up empty-handed. Admittedly, most of the times he was hit by an opponent’s attack it was usually because, in the heat of the moment, he all but forgot he could turn intangible at will and effortlessly pass through whatever projectile was thrown his way. It was an embarrassing mistake that haunted himーhow ironic, huh?ーsince he first started gaining control over his powers. 

And yet, when he did remember to turn intangible at the sight of upcoming ecto-rays or laser beams, he could come out unscathed of anythingーother ghost’s using their powers against him, the Guys in White and their tax-money equipment, even his parents’ own inventions. 

Well, almost everything…

Valerie’s own arsenal of ecto-weapons was the only thing that could touch (or, more accurately, hurt) him when he was intangible. He could only guess what Vlad and subsequently Technus had used to create her suit and weaponry. Until now. Now he’d accidentally found out witches could nonchalantly wrap their magical, tendril-like thingy around his ankleーlast time in a successful attempt to help him, which was very much appreciatedーand it actually came as a surprise to them they were even able to do it! 

If only he could figure out why that was…

“Great One,” Frostbite sighed from his own chair, snapping him out of his reverie, “I fear I might not be of help to you. I know nothing of what you speak.” 

At that, the halfa jumped to his feet, almost pleadingly. “What do you mean, Frostbite? How come you don’t know, you know practically everything!”

A mirthless chuckle escaped the Far Frozener’s throat. “You flatter me, my King. But I really am as lost as you are on the matter. I could tell you many other things, but not that.”

“Then, what can you tell me?”

Rising to his feet, the yeti-like creature beckoned his hero and leader to follow him to another part of the library. Once they were in front of a particular shelf, Frostbite slid his finger over the different volumes until he found the one he was looking for. With a triumphant sound, he picked it up and started leafing through it as he handed the book to Danny. 

When the halfa took the heavy book in his hands he almost dropped it when he saw the intricate drawing between its pages. Pictured inside the book were very realistic, if slightly worn out by time, drawings of the Amulets of Aragon and portrayals of people Danny could only assume were Dorothea and her brother while they were alive. 

Frostbite’s booming voice forced him to look up to his direction. “Whatever knowledge on the sorceress’ nature beyond their affinity to magic and ability to free us from the chains that bind us to our world without the use of portals is long gone.” He delicately traced an invisible circle around the image of the amulet with one of his sharp claws as he explained, “After our people's separation, only remnants of their activity were left. 

“It is thanks to their prolonged presence in our lives, and the intertwining of energies resulting from our past interactions, that those with magic-based abilities can still survive today. Without the witches’ previous impact on our society, Princess Dorothea and her brother would have long lost the power to wield their amulets. And, as you know, it is thanks to them that magical items even exist in our world.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me…” He muttered under his breath, resentment coming back at full force. 

“On the contrary, my King. I am enlightening you.” Frostbite corrected, earning himself a confused look from Danny that encouraged him to go on. Instead of answering with words, however, Frostbite merely turned his head with a faraway look in his eyes, prompting the halfa to do the same. The moment his eyes laid on a particular object on the other side of the room, Danny could feel himself go jawslacked. 

With wide eyes, he turned his head so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. “The Infi-map is here because of the witches?” He asked with a strangled voice. 

Frostbite simply nodded. “It was a gift from them, to be precise. Legend has it, eons ago the Infinite Realms were desperately looking for ways to anticipate when the next ghost portal would open when an ancient witch queen from the Old World offered the enchanted Infi-map as the solution.

“She was especially close to my people, thus how we came to guard it. It is also why the Far Frozen is so wary of them now; how a race of beings we once shared such a close bond with could doom our very existence like they did was too much for even our benevolent nature to forgive.” He lowered his head in mourning. Maybe they only had stories of how things used to be, but it was clear the women’s betrayal was a deeply pierced wound that would forever be opening and closing at the very core of the Far Frozeners’ hearts. 

Seeing his friend’s dejected expression, Danny regretted even bringing them up almost instantly. “So there’s no way of possibly knowing how they can touch us while intangible?”

“As I said, only remnants of their presence remain.” Right after he said that, however, his downhearted expression turned thoughtful, his paw stroking his snout in thought. “Although, perchance, there is one ghost that might be able to shed some light on the matter...”

...........

Clockwork. 

He had to go and say Clockwork. 

Of fucking course. Why not? Couldn’t he have said Pandora? Despite her fierce and fearsome demeanour, underneath all that anger and aggression laid a very helpful gal! And besides, she was a spirit that had been roaming the Ghost Zone since the times of Ancient Greece! What could be more ancient than Ancient Greece? 

Okay, fine...maybe the very ghost who’d borne witness to the rise and fall of the Greek civilisation alongside countless others before and after. But his point still stands. 

At least this time he wouldn’t be visiting the all-knowing Ghost of Time by himself; Frostbite had offered to go with him seeing as it was per his suggestion he’d be visiting in the first place. Proof of it was the yeti-like ghost flying right beside him towards the Ghost of Time’s tower. And Clockwork always treated Frostbite with respect. 

Danny would admit he was being a bit harsh. In all fairness going to Clockwork was the most logical thing to doーif there was someone who’d have all the answers he needed, it was the very ghost who knew absolutely everything. The problem would be getting the answers out of him. 

Deep down, the halfa knew he should’ve gone to him from the beginning, it was just dealing with him could really take its toll on Danny, no matter how much he respected and appreciated his guidance. Was Clockwork a good mentor to Danny? Absolutely, he was sure he’d never made it as far as he had without his and Frostbite’s help. In the end, was the greater good Clockwork’s priority? Was it ever! The shape-shifting ghost would never hesitate to go against orders from the Observants (all too gleefully, might he add) if he believed it’d led them to the better timeline. Did his cryptic nature and that frustratingly annoying, knowing smirk he always wore when he needed his help with something sometimes encourage Danny to jump off a cliff in his human form? 

Maybe. 

He just hoped Frostbite’s presence would help matters, if only a bit. 

And speaking of Frostbite…“We approach the Master of Time’s lair, Great one.” Soon enough, the immense clock tower standing proud in the middle of the Infinite Realms could be sighted not far away from them. 

Danny sighed dejectedly. “Let’s get this over with…” he grumbled as he changed course in the direction the ghostly lair resided. 

Once they arrived at Clockwork’s tower, Danny reached a hand out to push the door open and let themselves in. It wasn’t like they were going to catch its owner off-guard, after all. As they ventured inside, their eyes scanning for the ever-changing form of the master of time, the constant tick-tock coming from the numerous clocks scattered around the place reached their ears. Like the ticking crocodile Captain Hook dreaded so much, the tower was a constant reminder of the passage of time. Even if the Ghost of Time had long ago explained to him the essence of his power was never as linear as most beings made it out to be, all Danny could think of whenever that incessant sound registered in his mind was one thing:

Time was running out and the end was nigh.

Shaking those thoughts away, for now wasn’t the moment to get lost in them, Danny cupped a hand around his mouth. “Clockwork?” He called. “Anybody home?”

In the blink of an eye, the child-like form of the ghost in question materialised in front of them with an amused grin on his childish face. When he opened his mouth to speak, instead of an appropriately high-pitched voice came a deep, baritone one, “I’ve been expecting you.” The fact it came from a kid’s mouth made it all the more jarring, but Danny was used to it by now. 

Whereas Frostbite respectfully bowed down in greeting, Danny just stared blankly at the ghost before him, his arms folding over his chest. “‘I’ve been expecting you?’ Really? What are you, a fortune teller?”

Changing to his adult form, a more fitting low chuckle escaped his throat. “We both know I’m one of the very few creatures in existence within his right to call himself that.” Then he added, almost like an afterthought. “Also, I felt like it.”

“Figures,” he muttered. Despite himself, the halfa couldn’t stop the lopsided smile from forming on his face. 

Clockwork then turned to the leader of the Far Frozen. “It’s good to see you again, Frostbite. What business brings you here?”

Standing up from his bowed position, Frostbite returned the greeting. “Greetings, Lord Clockwork. It is good to see you as well. Do forgive my impertinence, but I believe you must already know why I am here.”

The master of time nodded, now taking the form of an old man, the grip on his scepter just a little bit tighter for support. “Indeed, you’re here to support our young king. How noble of you.”

“I am merely doing what it is expected of me.” 

“That you do.” Clockwork agreed, nodding wisely. As the larger ghost had accurately pointed out, when one addressed the Ghost of Time, everything they did became expected. “That you do, my friend.”

“Um, could we please speed things up?” Danny suggested, growing frustrated with the pointless introductions. “As Frostbite said, you already know why we’re here, so why don’t you tell us if you can help us or not?”

“I said I know why Frostbite’s here, seeing as that is a staple in almost every timeline. That doesn’t mean I necessarily know the actual reason why you’re here since it’s more subject to change.” The Ghost of Time countered, but that devilishly knowing smirk of his was back on his face, all but screaming he did know exactly why they were here. “So, what are you here for, boy?”

Resisting the very strong urge to yank at his hair in despair, Danny managed to at least reply calmly. Sarcastically, but calmly. “As if you don’t know the answer already.”

Clockwork’s smirk widened. “Then humour me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing through it, the Ghost King thought the best way to formulate his question. Just because the master of time was, well, the master of time that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try to at least make sense. “I need answers.” He finally admitted. “There’s a lot going on with Lady Arcana that I can’t understand. I originally asked for Frostbite’s help but, unfortunately, he didn’t have what I’m looking for. And honestly?” He sent the shapeshifting ghost a meaningful glance, hoping it’d be enough to express how serious he was. “I don’t think she has the answers, either.”

Clockwork arched an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. 

“She can touch me when I go intangible!” Danny threw his arms up. Really, knowing how she could do that was all he needed. If he found out more about her people, wonderful! But as long as he got to know why one of his core powers seemingly meant nothing to her, he was golden. “Well, not her, her magic can.” He amended. “Just the other day, I was intangible and she wrapped one of her wispy tendrils around my ankle, yanking me down. How is that possible?”

For a moment, the Ghost of Time remained silent. With his head resting on his staff, his body kept changing its physical appearance as his deep, red eyes stayed fixated upon the young king. And Danny couldn’t honestly be sure if Clockwork was really thinking his next words carefully or just toying with him. He was an adult again by the time he finally spoke. “Danny, have you ever considered why ghosts can go intangible at all?” 

The unexpected question took him aback. “I...I always assumed it was a natural ghost ability.” He admitted as he scratched the back of his head in thought. 

Changing to his elderly form, the hooded ghost nodded. “And it is, but not without reason.” Next he floated over one of the many portals he used to oversee the passage of time. With a snap of his fingers, the portal began broadcasting many different instances where Danny or some other ghost had turned intangible. “You see, when we ghosts become intangible, what we do is tap into the Ghost Zone while we’re away from it. That is to say our bodies travel through dimensions.” With a movement of his staff, the image changed to show the times he, Tucker, and, surprisingly, Lady Arcana had phased through the walls. “That’s also why humans can phase through things in our world; even if their bodies are here, their essence never left Earth…”

As his mind connected the dots, the halfa’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “...making them lose their physical mass when in touch with things from our world!” He finished, amazed, and from beside the portal Clockwork nodded sagely. “But what about witches?”

The portal abruptly stopped its broadcast. It was almost as if Clockwork didn’t want to show him anything related to Lady Arcana’s people. With that in mind, Danny feared for a second the master of time would choose that moment to close himself off and say nothing more, but luckily, he proved him wrong. “In terms of physical form, witches are still human, but their magic is something completely different.

“As the only human beings capable of tapping into their own essence, their animas are multidimensional, which is why the Witch Queen’s magic affected youーits’ capable of surpassing the laws of physics because it’s not bound to any particular dimension…”

“...just its holder!” Danny gasped out as understanding dawned on him, things were finally starting to make sense. “So you’re saying witches are akin to electricity generators? They depend on no one but themselves to do magic?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow.” He breathed out, a hand outstretched and blindly looking for support until it met the wall. Noticing his king’s dazed estate, Frostbite hurried to his side to steady him as Danny slowly sat down on the floor. “This...this is a lot.”

“And it’s only the beginning.” The Ghost of Time let out cryptically. Danny would have to remember to think about the meaning of that later on, for now he’d already absorbed too much information in too little time. When his brain finally processed enough information for him to properly function, the green-eyed ghost stood to his feet on his own, thanking Frostbite for his help. “Thank you, Clockwork. You were a huge help today. I know how hard it is for you to reveal anything due to the nature of your job.”

“Don’t get used to it, boy.” The hooded ghost warned, the knowing smirk back on his face. “I’m only doing what I consider best for this timeline. Don’t think spelling things out for you will be the answer to all your problems from now on.” 

Despite his words, the smile on Danny’s face didn’t fall. It’d have been foolish to expect anything else from Clockwork, after all. “Well, thanks anyways. See you, Clockwork.” He waved him goodbye as he took off in the opposite direction, this time heading for the Fenton Ghost Portal; today was far from over. 

Having been left alone with the Ghost of Time, Frostbite approached him. “Lord Clockwork, are we certain we are on the right path for salvation?”

“Trust me, old friend,” a child Clockwork said as he ventured further inside his lair, a different portal opening before his deceivingly innocent, round face, the events being displayed in it pleasing him greatly, “everything is as it should be.”

...........

The FentonWorks sign loomed over her like a bad omen. Looking up to the enormous metallic construction welded to the more average-looking, brick building where Danny and his family lived, Sam couldn’t help but subconsciously grip the straps of her spider backpack tighter. Her stomach churning in nervousness, she lifted one hand up to knock on the door…

And, unable to bring herself to do so, let it hang in mid-air for a good ten minutes. 

Dear God, if anyone saw her lurking around the Fentons’ door they’d think she was some weird stalker who was crazier than they claimed the family to be, or a potential client who needed help hunting a ghost. So basically they’d think she was crazier than they claimed the family to be either way. 

One would think the only family of ghost hunters in town would be held in much higher regard after seven years of consistent ghost attacks, but rumour has it their equipment tended to malfunction or make things more difficult for everyone. Sam remembered one particularly funny, but understandably embarrassing, story Danny had told her about his parents’ accidentally humiliating his English teacher on more than one occasion. And since Mr. Lancer couldn’t punish two adults, he took his frustrations out on their innocent son who had repeatedly stated he wanted nothing to do with the family business.

Add to that the presence of an all-around more powerful and more competent town hero with actual ghost powers, and it was safe to say their credibility had taken a few major blows over the years. 

At first she’d worried about their financial situation. Who wouldn’t? They were professional ghost hunters but nobody took them seriously and any possible job they might have had was immediately handled by a far more efficient superhero who, to top it all, worked for free. With that in mind you’d expect them to have been evicted years ago! But Danny had been quick to reassure her and explain things to her. Yes, his parents’ passion was ectology and ghost-hunting, but they were primarily inventors and, even if their ecto-weapons could sometimes use some work, their more mundane inventions were typically sold like pancakes. So they were fine. 

She sighed at the memory. Oh, Danny…

Hard as she tried, she still hadn’t managed to shake the flutter in her chest off whenever she thought of him or something happened between them. No. Scratch that. She didn’t get that feeling when ‘something’ happened between them, because nothing ever happened between them! All those weird, little instances where her heart would malfunction after twenty-one years in peak condition were perfectly normal occurrences that shouldn’t send her heart running. 

They would simultaneously reach for the same thing, causing their hands to brush against each other. Their eyes would meet and she’d spend seconds that could have perfectly stretched into hours over-analysing every little thing she thought was going on behind them because she suddenly wanted to know everything about Danny. When that happened it’d usually be followed by the both of them hurriedly looking away and Sam feeling bashful for some reason, heat rising to her cheeks. 

And none of those reactions made sense because that was not the way one would react to their friend!

Those were all completely normal occurrences between friends. It was normal to want the same thing at the same time. It was only natural to look your friend in the eyes. And it made sense that you’d want to look away if you think you’ve been staring a little too long because anyone would feel uncomfortable by that. 

What didn’t make sense was the gnawing feeling at the back of her head telling her those little, insignificant moments meant so much more than that!

And now that she was beginning to think she’d misjudged Phantom? Now that she looked at him in a different light and noticed some of his...let’s say...more appealing features, both in terms of physique and personality? Now that her heart was beginning to malfunction at the thought of him too?

Now Sam was seriously contemplating putting an end to her misery and burning herself at the stake. 

Either that or go see a doctor in case she had some sort of untreatable heart disease. 

Regardless of the very strange position she now found herself in, Sam’s resolve in finding more about ghosts was genuine. Her and Phantom’s reactions to her magic being able to reach him even when intangible was proof enough that far too much knowledge on their people’s old friendship had been regrettably forgotten. 

The black hole incident demonstrated there probably was more to their partnership and combined abilities than what had been passed down to the younger generations. If Sam could find solid evidence on an unexplained synchrony between magic and ghostly attributes, then maybe her current alliance with the Ghost King wouldn’t be futile after all.

Maybe it even held the key to solving the portal crisis they faced off against…

The witch was abruptly broken out of her trail of thought when the door she’d been standing in front of for fifteen minutes suddenly opened, Danny’s head curiously poking around and eyes darting from one side to the other, clearly looking for something…

...or someone. 

As soon as their eyes met, the two of them let out startled sounds and subconsciously took a step back in surprise. Unfortunately for Sam, seeing as she was standing on the steps leading up to the door, her foot slipped when it found nowhere to stand on. Losing her balance, she was sure she was going to fall when Danny immediately rushed in to help her, his strong arms swiftly coming to grab her by her waist, their faces mere inches apart. 

Against her better judgement, the hazel-eyed girl couldn’t do anything to prevent losing herself in Danny’s baby blue depths. Certainly, nobody would blame her, not when their breaths mingled from the close proximity, or when his eyes reflected a worry she’d rarely seen beforeーhe was worried for her, she realised with a little too much gleeー, or when they were so, so close all she had to do was inch her head forward just a little to close the distance and feel those hypnotising lips of his onー.

“Uh...what’s going on here?”

Slowly, very slowly, even comically so, the two turned their heads to the direction of the voice. Only to find Jazz propped against the doorframe behind her brother and flashing them a very interested look, a smile dancing along her lips. 

The effect was instantaneous. The two scrambled to get away from each other, almost as if they’d suddenly realised the other was made out of hot lava and they were burning their hands, muttering excuses and such other nonsense Jazz chose to ignore completely. 

Oh, denial. Simultaneously one of the most entertaining and frustrating stages of admitting you like someone. 

Clearing his throat, Danny was the first one to find his voice, even though his cheeks still burned. “S-Sam! It’s great to see you! I was starting to believe you couldn’t make it in the end.”

“Oh! No, no.” She shook her head slightly with a hand raised up. “I’m sorry I made you wait, I, uh, I just had a little trouble finding the place. That’s all.” Fine, so saying she had trouble finding the one house in town with a humongous Ops Centre on its roof was a terrible lie, but no way in Hell was she going to say she found the place just fine but she took a few extra minutes with her hand raised about to knock on the door but finding herself unable to. 

That was just pathetic.

The slightly irritating grin never leaving her face, Jazz ushered their guest in. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.” She let herself be guided through the doorstep to the kitchen, which, judging by the outline of some furniture she could vaguely make out, Sam guessed led to the living room. The space was a large and bright-coloured room that combined a somewhat retro 50’s style with far newer appliances and...was that a toxic-waste container?

“That’s our version of tupperware with leftovers.” Danny came to stand beside her and now Sam was wondering if she’d just said that aloud or if he could read minds. When he looked down at her, though, his expression was dead serious. “If you value your life, don’t open it.”

“Duly noted.” 

She was about to ask where she could sit down when the younger sibling moved a chair for her, gesturing at it with a flourish and flashing her a charming smile. “M’lady, this way, please.”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Sam took his hand and allowed him to help her sit, setting her spider backpack on top of the kitchen table. Once he was comfortably sitting on his own chair by her side, she swatted his arm in mock warning. “Just so you know, I’m only letting you treat me like ‘a lady,’” she air-quoted, “because, as your guest, is the right thing to do.” 

“I’m much obliged, Miss Manson.” Danny countered with a fake posh accent. 

Before the girl could so much as flick him on the nose, Jazz came inside carrying a plate full of cookies. “Care for one, Sam?”

Eying the plate carefully, she had to decline the offer. “Thank you, but I’m good.” In truth she couldn’t be sure the cookies were vegan, but saying she wasn’t hungry was much more polite than imposing her dietary choices on them. 

Sensing her discomfort, Danny smacked his forehead as realisation washed over him. “Duh, that’s right!” Startled by his outburst the two girls turned to look at him, exchanging confused glances. “You’re ultra-recyclo-vegetarian! I’m sorry, Sam. I forgot. I don’t think we have anything for you.”

Bringing one hand to her mouth, Jazz gasped. “Darn! That’s right. I’m so sorry, Sam; it totally slipped my mind.”

Her mind still reeling from Danny, once again, remembering something about her, she didn’t have the heart to say anything. “It’s okay, really. As I said, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Danny insisted. “Because I’m sure we have something around here you might be able to eat…” He trailed off, clearly thinking about what they had that Sam could possibly consume without breaking her moral code. Biting down his lip, he tried, “How about water?”

The Goth girl couldn’t help but snort. “ A tempting offer. I might take you up on it.”

“I’ll get you a glass.” As he got up to do just that, his older sister finally took notice of the purple spider resting on the table. 

“Wow.” She breathed out, clearly impressed. “You have quite a collection of badges on your bag!”

“Oh, this?” Sam pointed at the assortment of metallic, glinting badges adorning her faithful spider’s fur. “They’re mostly from charities and previous protests I’ve been in.” She explained. “You could say when something matters a lot to me, I make sure to give it a place of honour.”

“Cool, just make sure my father doesn’t see or he’ll shove a handful of Fenton badges your way.”

“‘Fenton badges’?”

“They’re regular badges with the word ‘Fenton’ on them.” Danny explained quickly, setting down a glass of water before Sam just as he regained his seat. 

After her brother helped himself to some cookies, Jazz left the plate on the counter before picking a seat for herself. She propped her elbows on the kitchen table, her fingers intertwined and her eyes staring at the Goth seriously from behind her hands. The image reminded Sam of the principals from high school based sitcoms whenever the protagonists got in trouble.

The mental image only made her feel like she’d got in trouble. 

“Uh...is everything okay?” She asked carefully.

“Everything’s fine, Sam.” Danny assured her with a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. That only worried the girl further. “We’re just morally obligated to warn you about a few things first.”

“Such as…?” Sam eyed the Fenton siblings suspiciously, her skin prickling at their uncharacteristically odd behaviour. 

“Such as our parents' eccentricities.” Jazz finished, her voice completely serious. “Don’t get us wrong, Sam; our parents are talented inventors and passionate ghost hunters...” She trailed off, having trouble explaining things to an outsider. They never really had to explain their family’s antics to anybody else, they all knew; the difference lay in how they processed the information. So far, the entire town bar Tucker thought of them as kooks.

“But they’re so passionate they tend to overlook things.” Danny added. 

“Especially if they don’t fit their agenda...” Jazz muttered darkly, probably thinking nobody heard. But she was mistaken.

Sam was legitimately taken aback by the unexpected venom laced in Jazz’s statement. Even though this was only the second time she got to meet the eldest Fenton sibling, their last encounter seemed to indicate Jazz was the type of person who always measured her words. Straight-laced, careful, mature...Maybe even calculating under the right circumstances. She seemed to place great importance on not letting her emotions show, for some reason. But, seemingly, their parents’ job was a sore spot for her. 

As her mind went back to their conversation at Verde Que Te Quiero Verde, Sam found herself thinking she couldn’t blame Jazz for her low opinion on their parents’ chosen career. Who wouldn’t grow resentful of a career path that, judging by Danny’s stories, not only had it brought shame and embarrassment onto their children their whole lives, but also led them to being neglected in favour of something most people didn’t even know existed until recently?

As much as she’d personally wished her mother would leave her alone growing up, Sam knew what emotional neglect felt like all too well. 

“I see.” She said finally, taking extra care in not letting her thoughts shine through. She needed to appear nonchalant, willing to listen. “So, what should I know?”

Danny and Jazz exchanged a look, silently discussing how to approach the topic. Understandably, Danny had been taken by surprise when Sam asked if she could come over and talk about ghosts. After all, who in their right mind wanted to talk about ghosts? Most citizens would just watch him fight them, sneer at him once the battle was over, and exclaim ‘good riddance!’ before turning on their heels to go back to their monotonous lives. 

The only exceptions to the norm were Team Phantom  (and even they’d only started showing interest begrudgingly, since they had no other choice), Danny Phantom’s fan club, and Valerie in her early days as a ghost hunterーnow that she thought she knew everything about mischievous spirits she could possibly need, she’d become more of an ‘attack first, questions never’ kinda gal. 

Luckily for Danny, the moment she noticed his blank expression, she was quick to explain it was her Gothic nature talking. Her passion for the paranormal and occult just couldn’t miss the opportunity of getting to know more from the town’s resident experts. 

Now, if only said experts weren’t almost as single-minded as a certain Red Huntress…

He wasn’t sure why, but a part of Danny just couldn’t bear the thought of Sam disliking ghostsーdisliking your ghost half, you meanーthe same way Valerie or his parents did. She was one of the most accepting people he’d met in a long time, he wouldn’t know what to do if Danny Phantom jeopardised that like it jeopardised his relationship with Valerie. 

That was why it was so important she understood! If he and Jazz could get through to her before their parents started feeding her their very anti-ghost ideas, then maybe he wouldn’t lose another person to Amity Park’s almost unanimous anti-ghost sentiment. He wouldn’t have to pretend to be somebody he was not in front of somebody else he cared about. 

With a nod of his head, Danny allowed Jazz to take the floor. “First and foremost, you should know our parents are far better in practice than in theory.”

Sam blinked, not following. “I don’t think I understand…”

“It’s just,” Jazz started, biting her lip, her hands fidgeting as she tried to find the right words to say, “they know the basics, you see? They know everything on how to take down a ghost and apply that knowledge to their inventions...with varying results,” she muttered that last part to herself. “But we don’t think they really understand what makes a ghost tick, you know what I mean?”

The Goth could only stare blankly at her, her brow furrowed in confusion. “But you just said they know how to take down ghosts...Doesn’t that mean they know what makes them tick?”

“What Jazz means is they don’t understand their motivations.” Danny corrected. “To our parents, all ghosts care about is causing mayhem and destruction, but not all ghosts can possibly be like that, can they?”

Although it was phrased like a question, there was something about the way he said it that made Sam see it as anything but. The certainty in his voice, the almost manic glint in his eyes askingーno, beggingーher to understand. It wasn’t mere, hopeful speculation. As much as Danny liked seeing the good in people, he wasn’t just giving ghosts the benefit of the doubt; it was like he knew they were far more than just ectoplasmic remnants of human conscience. 

Still, despite everything, her mouth started talking before her brain had time to catch up. “But do they even have any motivation at all?” She didn’t know why, but she felt like wincing when Danny’s hopeful expression turned dejected. Like a kicked puppy. “I mean, all ghosts do whenever they come to Amity Park is cause some sort of trouble or even go as far as plotting world domination.” 

Why did she say that? Wasn’t she trying to give the spectres the benefit of the doubt as well? She explicitly came here for answers that’d justify her sudden belief, her sudden need to believe, ghosts weren’t as evil as she’d been told. She was looking for that same reason that led her ancestors to trusting and forming a solid alliance with them all those centuries ago. 

Why was her mind trying to sabotage that?

Sensing his brother’s discomfort, Jazz was quick to step in. For reasons he wasn’t ready to admit, it was important Sam was on their side. “Take Danny Phantom, for instance,” she said, seemingly unaware of the way Sam’s breath hitched at the mention of his name. “Nobody knows what he’s up to, but for all intents and purposes, he seems to only care about protecting Amity Park.”

“That 's...true.” The Goth admitted, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she thought of the town’s controversial hero. “Except for a few incidents, he only ever appears if the town’s in danger.”

Sam didn’t say much, she was just stating the obvious. But hearing her admit he was trying to save Amity Park rather than destroy or rule it brought a grin to Danny’s face. “Our parents don’t get that. For them, it’s more like, ‘you’ve seen one ghost, you’ve seen them all’”, as he explained their parents’ mindset, Danny’s voice took on a deeper tone, causing Sam to guess he was making an imitation of his dad’s voice. “They don’t think Phantom, or any ghost for that matter, can be anything other than trouble.”

A dark, heavy cloud seemed to settle over the raven haired boy’s shoulders. His ocean blue eyes lost their shine, the corners of his lips turned upside down, and he suddenly looked much older than he really was. He seemed so...tired. As if he were carrying a huge weight over his shoulders and were exhausted from it. 

“They…” he began to say before he had to swallow the bitter lump in his throat. It was so difficult to get the words out, knowing what they entailed, without getting emotional. But Sam couldn’t possibly know just how much it all affected him. She just couldn’t. “They dehumanise them.”

Sam could only stand looking at Danny for a few more seconds before she had to avert her gaze, focusing on the kitchen counter instead as she bit down her lip guiltily. He looked so...un-Danny. She began picking at her nails as she realised his parents weren’t all that different from her; not even a week prior she’d also been convinced ghosts were nothing more than ectoplasmic scum. Cold, unfeeling, wicked. Even now, even as she came to understand she should give them a chance, she found herself having trouble trying to move on from that mindset her people had spent a good chunk of her life getting into her head. 

Hating ghosts was second nature at this point. 

“I…” Sam started weakly, clearing her throat to give herself a few more seconds to compose herself. This was going to be hard. “I think I understand. It’s like all those movies, isn’t it?” She said, her voice tinged with a lightness she didn’t quite feel. “Like...like those stories with over-complicated plots that can, ultimately, be summarised by ‘don’t judge a book by its cover,’ right?”

Actually getting the words out was proving itself to be a Herculean task. She didn’t even know what she was saying. Referencing one of the oldest tropes to ever exist? Really? No matter how hard she was trying for the sake of her alliance with Phantomーand not because, for whatever reason, she now wanted to believe he couldn’t possibly be as bad as she initially thought. No wayー, literally all ghosts that’d ever visited Amity Park except for the Ghost King had questionable morals, at best, or were downright diabolical, at worst. 

Just trying to get the words out made her stomach tighten! 

But then she looked over to Danny from underneath her eyelashes, feeling too shy and unsure for her comfort, and her breath hitched. 

Danny was positively glowing. For reasons Sam couldn’t understand, having someone try to see things eye to eye with him meant the world to Danny. The way his expression softened when he looked at her was almost too much to bearーher cheeks felt like they were on fire, but Sam still had half the mind to understand suddenly splashing her face with her, mostly untouched, glass of water would make some eyebrows raise in bewilderment. 

Her heart pounding in her ears and her mind screaming at her not to do anything weird or out-of-place (in a disturbingly similar voice to her mother), the hazel-eyed girl reached a hand across the table and rested it on top of Danny’s, who jolted in his seat upon making contact. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to keep an open mind.” She said softly, smiling at him. 

His mind reeling from the feeling of Sam’s warm hand over his cold palm, Danny let out an almost inaudible gasp, his eyebrows shooting up to the ceiling. But as he registered her promise, he couldn’t help himself from giving her hand a gentle squeeze, his face morphing itself into an adoring expression as his heart did somersaults in his chest cavity. 

Where have you been all my life?

Startled by his own thought process, Danny roughly snatched his hand away from Sam’s, under her slightly hurt gazeーwhich she immediately tried to cover upーand Jazz’s questioning eyes. Before he could try and dwell on his thoughts, however, a booming voice came from down the lab and progressively made its way upstairs.

“Sorry we’re late!” Jack’s jovial voice came from the staircase. “We were finishing up some last minute adjustments.”

“Our latest invention promises to be our greatest one yet!” A feminine voice said excitedly. Sam could only guess that was Mrs. Fenton.

“There’s still much to be done, of course. But as soon as we work out a few twerks and we’re done designing the general outline, everything else will go smoothly.” Coming in before her husband, Maddie moved easily around her kitchen, going over to the fridge to grab some fudge for Jack before reaching up for some plates from the cupboard. She kept waltzing around the kitchen table and her children, so engrossed in her retelling she failed to notice the ebony haired girl sitting down beside them. “You kids haven’t touched the container unit with the ecto-weenies, haveー?” She trailed off abruptly, something far more interesting than her home’s ecto-induced food catching her eye the moment she turned around to finally face her kids. 

There, sitting around her kitchen table, right next to her son, was both the most unique and beautiful girl she’d ever seen him with. Any other mother would be taken aback to see her son with a girl with a side of her head shaved off and dyed purple and green (albeit only the little ponytail sticking out), wearing enough dark clothes to be confused with a mortician or someone in mourning, and heavy, dark make-up coating her face. 

But not Maddie Fenton. 

Oh no. 

Aside from being a ghost hunterーa career path that was, regrettably, not held in high regard by her entourageー, meaning she wasn’t one to judge others’ live choices, Maddie was just shocked to see her son with a girl. Period. 

The last time she’d ever even heard him gush about how pretty a girl was was in his Freshman year of high school. First over that Paulina Sanchez who, going by what Jazz told her, was Casper High’s beauty queenーit was only natural her teenage son would have a phase where he was after the head cheerleader; just like Jazz had a phase where she was into that motorcycle-riding bad boy with greasy hair. 

Whatever happened to that boy?

And a few months after that he seemed smitten with Valerie Gray, the daughter of Damon Gray; a former security expert at Axion Labs that’d helped them during the whole ordeal with the Ghost King. A pleasant man, but even he didn’t seem to hold them in high esteem. 

They went out several times all throughout the extent of two weeks, but just as she was about ready to squeal and tackle his little man for getting his first girlfriend and growing up, one day he dejectedly told them Valerie thought it best to remain friends. 

Ever since then, romance all but became a taboo topic around Danny. 

Aside from a few times he’d tell them he had a date (which never seemed to lead anywhere), not a peep could be heard out of him when it came to girls. Ever since he was well into his Freshman year, at the tender age of fourteen bordering fifteen, girl-talk became nonexistent. 

And, Maddie had to admit, there was a time she came to believe her son never brought girls up because he just wasn’t interested in them. Seeing as the only other person he ever spent time with was Tucker, Maddie once thought Danny was gay but too afraid to come out, fearing they might disown him or something. 

Only for that little theory to burn up in flames when she tried letting him know she knew and fully supported himーto which Danny almost choked to death on his breakfast, before fervently denying any sort of romantic relationship with his best friend. 

He swore up and down the reason he never brought up the topic of romance was because there wasn’t anyone he was interested in. Something he religiously followed, never even talking about a girl (or boy, Maddie still kept that possibility open) who he’d simply come to think was pretty in passing.

Until now. 

Now there was a lovely young lady in her kitchen. Sitting right beside her baby, who looked as embarrassed as if he were a teenager again and was being bombarded with a thousand photos of him and his date for Homecoming. Now, Maddie wasn’t quite knowledgeable on street fashion and subcultures as she’d been back in college, but just by looking at this girl (who was staring, wide-eyed, right back at her) she could tell she used her clothes to express herself and her individuality.

She knew who she was or, at least, who she wanted to be. Good. 

Straightening her back slightly, Maddie tried to put the girl at ease using her most motherly tone. “Oh, hello there!” She walked over to her and reached out her hand for her to shake. She noted with pleasure she had a firm yet gentle grip. Oh, dear God, please let this girl be the one for Danny! “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Maddie, Danny and Jazz’s mother.”

“Oh! Uh…” With a start, she smiled back at the kind woman in front of her, albeit feeling a little awkward. “I’m Sam. I’m friends with Dannyーnice to meet you.”

“Believe me, Sam,” Maddie’s grin widened, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, probably from the countless hours of etiquette classes her mother had drilled into her head, Sam jumped to her feet to greet the woman before her properly. 

The Goth was in awe at the sight before her. Mrs Fenton had to be a woman in her late-forties to early-fifties, given she’d given birth to two kids who were now in their early twenties, and yet she didn’t look a year over thirty. She had to be one of the most beautiful women she’d ever met, with her auburn bob cut that had only the tiniest hints of a grey hair or two; her smooth, wrinkle-free face that’d make Pamela sick with envyーshe’d spent a fortune on skincare products and even then she didn’t look nearly as young as Danny’s mother; and she had to have the best figure she’d ever seen, even after given birth twice! As unorthodox a piece of clothing as it was, her blue hazmat suit hugged her body perfectly, accentuating all her curves. Mrs Fenton was probably only second to Delilah in terms of voluptuousness, but seriously, that woman was basically a goddess walking on Earth. And her deep, purple eyes hid a mixture of motherly warmth and care as well as an intelligence and sharpness rivaled only by Grandma Ida. 

It was funny, Sam noted. Had Mrs Fenton been born a witch, and she probably would be ruling the coven now, not her. 

“And I’m Jack Fenton, nice to meet you kiddo!” Danny’s father exclaimed, trapping Sam’s hand in a deadly grip. He was shaking her hand so enthusiastically Sam was genuinely surprised he wasn’t shaking her up and down like a rag doll. 

“Nice to meet you too, Mr Fenton.” She said, taking a good look at the man who’d raised Danny. 

Mr Fenton was...how could she put this gently? The opposite of his wife. He wasn’t ugly by any means! But while Maddie looked like she could be on the cover of a fashion magazine, he was a rather plain-looking fellow. Jack was a man of great girth, although not necessarily overweight; he certainly had enough energy to get an electric plant running with nothing but his personality. Clad in a large, orange hazmat suit that somehow both matched and clashed horribly with his wife’s more classy blue, his age was far more apparent. Perhaps he didn’t look like he had a foot on the other door, but the years hadn’t been as kind to him as they’d been to Mrs Fenton. He still had a full head of hair, but his sideburns and his nape were already stark white, while the hair on his head kept some colourーa dark grey. The little bit of skin Sam could see (mostly his face, really), with his strong, squared jaw, was mostly unblemished, except for crow’s feet around his round eyes. He definitely didn’t look too old, just...older than his wife.

Even then, Sam could still make out enough details that showed this was Danny’s dad. 

At first glance it seemed both Fenton kids took mostly after their mother (a never-ending source of comfort for them, she was sure), but there was enough of Jack’s genes in their appearance to tell the kinship. 

Judging from his mop of grey hair, Sam figured he used to have black hair, not unlike his son’s messy locks. If she looked closely, the girl could make out Mr Fenton’s eyes; a dark shade of greyish blue, similar to Danny’s icy stare and Jazz’s inquisitive, aqua eyes. And last but not least, there was the issue with their height. Mr Fenton was huge! Probably the tallest member of the family, and that was saying something. Even Danny, standing at an impressive 5’9, was towered over by his dad. Jazz took after her mum in that regard, thank Goodness.

So, summing up.

A lovely, genius daughter working on her PhD; a charming, witty, hot-as-Hell (who said that?!) son about to work with NASA; a mother who was both gorgeous and another genius, and a huge father who might not be George Clooney but seemed to be a very decent human being (and, considering he was an expert ectologist and inventor, another genius to boot). 

What was this, the over-achieving family? A family specifically designed to excel in everything her own family already didn’t hold a candle to anyone to?! And did she really have to be so short in comparison!?

As much as the stereotypically girly part of herself she worked so hard to push down squealed over a healthy height difference between a possible boyfriend and her, the number of inches Danny had on her was just ridiculous. And now it turns out his entire family is better than hers one way or another. Unless she performed magic in their very kitchen, Sam had no idea how she could possibly impress her in-laws. Ever. 

And, she realised with a start, her mind was veering into insane territory again… She rationalised she was just thinking it’d be very difficult for her to impress the Fentons if she were to date Danny. Which she wasn’t going to do. Ever. They were just friends and her life was too complicated to even be thinking about romance right now. Besides, she’d never be able to live with herself knowing she’d have to keep her partner (be it Danny or someone else entirely) in the dark about a huge aspect of her life. 

Danny deserved way better than the kind of life her dad was stuck with. 

Almost as if sensing her inner monologue, Jack almost gave her a heart attack when he spoke next. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Sam. We thought it’d be Tucker who Danno would bring over.” He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder and brought her closer to him. “So imagine our surprise when we see you here! We might’ve been a little too overzealous about it.”

“A little?” Sam heard Jazz whisper to her brother, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“That’s right,” Maddie agreed, her smile so wide her cheeks hurt and a sense of impending doom gripped her son’s heart. “It’s just been so long since Danny last brought a girlfriend home, and so beautiful too!”

His cheeks practically on fire, Danny was quick to shout, panicking, “She’s not my girlfriend!”, at the same time as Sam, equally embarrassed, exclaimed, “I’m not his girlfriend!”

The Fenton matriarch’s good mood deflated a little at that. “You’re not?”

“No, Mum. She’s not.” Danny confirmed as he scrubbed his face with one hand. Why was it that every time he brought home someone other than Tucker they immediately assumed he must’ve found the womanーor man, Tucker never let him live that one downーhe was going to marry? It wasn’t like he was such a recluse, was it? ...on second thought, better not answer that. “I already told you a friend was interested in meeting you, you told me you were okay with it and, well,” he said with some sarcasm in his voice as he extended his arms to his sides, making a flourish, “here she is.”

“Well, yeah. But when you said ‘friend’ we thought you meant Tucker, son.” His dad admitted, scratching the back of his head. 

“I have more friends aside from Tuck, you know?”

If his parents immediately assuming Sam was his girlfriend and openly addressing her as such right in front of her hadn’t been mortifying enough, the deafening silence that settled in the kitchen then certainly was. 

Was he really that much of a loser his parents didn’t seriously believe him capable of making friends with people outside of Tucker? Granted, most of his friendsーDora, Wulf, Frostbite, Cujo…ーwere the very same creatures from another dimension they’d sworn to hunt down, strap to a lab table, and dissect ‘molecule by molecule’, so they couldn’t possibly know about them. But come on!

Grimacing at the uncomfortable, and a little humiliating, atmosphere, Jazz cleared her throat to catch their parents’ attention. “I think what Danny means is that, if he’d really wanted to invite Tucker over, he wouldn’t have even asked your permission for it.” The moment her mum and dad crossed their arms over their chests and sent her a disapproving look due to the way she’d just disregarded their authority she was quick to backpedal. “A-after all, he practically spends more time here than in his own house! And he’s ever really been into ghosts to begin with, so…”

Jazz had a point. Maddie sighed through her nose, a little disappointed. “I guess you’re right.” Her expression turned cheery again almost instantaneously, clapping her hands before her face as she redirected her focus on the hazel-eyed girl still standing awkwardly near her kitchen table. “So! Sam, Danny’s told us you wanted to meet us, why’s that?”

“It’s not to place another restraining order on us, is it?” Her husband asked dubiously, his eyes narrowing on the young lady in suspicion. 

Jazz facepalmed herself while Danny was too busy all but slamming his head against the table. 

“Whaー? No, of course not.” Sam assured him, shaking her head and hands in front of her as it to emphasise her point. “I, uh, I asked Danny if I could come meet you because I’m really interested in the paranormal and such. I’m a Goth; you see,” she gestured vaguely at her form, “it sort of comes with the aesthetic. So when he told me you guys were ghost hunters I couldn’t help myself; I just had to meet you.”

Before the Goth knew it, the enormous man she’d been talking to grabbed her around the shoulders with just one arm and, with impressive strength, lifted her up off the floor, a broad smile playing along his lips. “Don’t tell me you want to get in the business?” He asked with the same excitement of a kid on Christmas.

“N-not r-really…” she gasped out, the force behind Mr. Fenton’s grasp knocking the air out of her lungs. “I-I’m just...really c-curious...t-that’s all…”

Panicking at the sight of Sam’s face turning blue, Danny jumped to his feet, followed closely by Jazz. “Dad, put her down!” In the blink of an eye he was by his dad’s side, gently coaching the raven haired girl out of his bone-crushing grip. The moment her feet touched the floor, Sam began taking greedy gulps of air, her hand in Danny’s firm but gentle ones and Jazz patting her back comfortingly. 

“Careful, honey.” Mrs Fenton scolded her husband lightheartedly, “You know you tend to get carried away.”

“Right. Sorry about that, Sam.”

Too breathless to dignify that with a verbal answer, Sam limited herself to giving him a thumbs-up. 

“How about we cut to the chase and you guys show Sam what you’re working on, huh?” Jazz suggested, one hand still rubbing her guest’s back soothingly. If after today Sam insisted on being friends with her brother, he would have a lifetime of making it up to her. 

“Great idea, Jazzypants!” Jack exclaimed excitedly. He and his wife then proceeded to usher their kids and guest out of the kitchen and down to the lab. 

Sam miraculously caught herself before she could snort. ‘Danno’? ‘Jazzypants’? She would’ve laughed at the ridiculous nicknames hadn’t she remembered her mother’s horrendous habit of calling her ‘Sammy-kins.’

Did everything that woman do have to bring nothing but pain and misery to her daughter?

Walking down the stairs to what the witch could only assume was the lab Jazz mentioned earlier, Maddie turned her head around slightly so she could look at Sam as she asked over her shoulder. “I don’t think we’ve asked you about your family, dear; not even about your full name.”

“It’s Manson, Sam Manson. My parents…”she trailed off, making a grimace. “Let’s just say in twenty-one years of existence I’ve never been able to understand what they do for a living.” That wasn’t technically a lie. Even if Sam was perfectly aware of her mother’s double life as a witch (mostly because she was destined to follow in her footsteps), the financial side of things always eluded her. For all she knew her dad could be a smuggler. 

“Wait, ‘Manson’?” It was Jack’s turn to turn his head to face her, an bushy eyebrow raised in surprise. “You mean like that stinking rich family living in the uptown part of town?”

Now it was Maddie’s face that lit up in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! Danny and Jazz did mention something like that when they came back from their night out.”

Sam shot Danny and Jazz a dirty look, to which they responded by smiling awkwardly in return and whistling a happy tune while averting all sorts of eye contact, respectively; “You know, before I knew you my family’s wealth was one of my best-kept secrets. Now it’s got to a point where I’ll be walking down the street and some random kid will point out at me and say, ‘Look, mummy! Look! It’s that rich girl!’”

“Come on, Sam,” a devilish smirk made its way to Danny’s face. “You’re making things up.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually happened.”

Stepping down the last step to the basement, Jack extended his arms high in the air as he announced, “Here we are! The Fenton Lab!”

The moment she descended to the basement and was able to see the family lab for the first time, Sam’s jaw all but touched the floor. Strolling down inside the spacious laboratory, she couldn’t help but spin around, trying to find every single nook and secret laying right before her, marvelling at the sight. 

The Fenton Lab was a greyish room with metal-covered walls and a tiled floor that occupied the entirety of the basement. Various machines whose workings Sam could only guess littered around the room, alongside several lab tables filled to the brim with test tubes, trays, notes, and neon-green liquids pulled up to the walls, as well as different beeping monitors. 

But what had to be, by far, the most impressive device in the entire lab was the large, octogonal gates standing in the far corner of the room. They were currently closed, their yellow and black striped doors in full display, and the big, red lightbulb Sam suspected would blink when used was turned off resting on top of it. 

Taking a step closer, one hand pointing at the machine, she breathed out in awe, “Whoa...What’s that?”

“You have a good eye!” Maddie complimented as she came to stand right beside her guest. One hand directed at their most prized invention and the other on her hip, it was obvious she was about to give a lecture worthy of any college professor. “This is the Fenton Ghost Portal. Our greatest invention yet.”

The Goth’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. “The Fenton Ghost Portal…?” She echoed, astonished. 

The hazmat clad lady hummed in response. “That’s right. This baby is our pride and joy; a little pipe dream we’ve had since college. Isn’t that right, Jack?”

“You got it, baby!” Mr Fenton agreed, crossing his arms with a proud smile on his face. “Except there’s nothing impossible about this beauty. Dreams do come true!”

“Although,” Maddie added, a grim look on her face, “we almost indefinitely put the project on hold after...an unfortunate accident back in our Sophomore year in Wisconsin University.”

Taking advantage of the distance between them, Sam, and their parents, Danny leaned in closer to Jazz to whisper in her ear, “Unfortunate in more ways than one.” If only his parents knew that day they created a monster...Although the time he travelled through time to their college days proved nothing could’ve prevented Vlad from turning into the frootloop he was today. The monster inside him had nothing to do with his ghost half.

Unaware of the exchange taking place between the siblings, the Goth girl asked, “An accident? What happened?”

“The prototype malfunctioned and ended up blasting good ol’ Vladdie in the face.” Jack explained, a distant look in his eyes. 

“Maybe if he hadn’t stuck his face right in front of the working portal, none of that would’ve happened…” Danny muttered darkly for Jazz’s ears only. 

“Or at least worn safety goggles.” His sister whispered back.

Their father went on, not having heard a word that was said between his children. “The exposure to the ecto-chemicals gave him a nasty case of ecto-acne that had him hospitalised for years. It took him over twenty years to forgive me.” He said sadly, only to immediately brighten up the next second. As someone who came from a family that usually only emoted silent judgement, fake cheer, or total apathy, Sam was having a bit of a hard time trying to catch up to all of Mr Fenton’s many emotions. “But we finally patched things up seven years ago and now we’re all buddies again!”

Danny smiled in satisfaction at the way his mum’s posture stiffened up, her arms crossed defensively in front of her, and her forehead creased in aggravation. “‘Buddies’ might be a bit of a stretch…” she mumbled angrily, before taking on a more neutral tone, “I don’t know Jack. I still think the years have turned Vlad into a bit of a freak.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, baby!” Her husband whined. “You’d be a little eccentric too if you spent all of your time alone inside a big, lonely mansion like he does!”

“I can attest to that…” Sam muttered to herself as she hugged herself, her eyes on the floor, years of lonely memories coming back in full force. Then she realised, “Wait, did you just say your friend lives in a big mansion all by himself?”

“I wouldn’t say all by himself,” Danny chimed in. “He has a cat keeping him company.”

Ignoring him, she pressed on, “And you said his name was Vlad?”

“That we did! Our good ol’ friend Vlad Masters!” Jack confirmed with a huge grin on his face. His was the only smiling face amongst his family. Something told Sam Mr. Masters hadn’t exactly won the crowd over…

The raven haired girl turned her head to face the Fenton siblings so fast she almost gave herself whiplash as she sent them a pointed look. “You guys are friends with Vlad freaking Masters and you think me having a little money is a big deal?!”

“Actually, you’re filthy, stinking rich yourself.” Jack corrected matter-of-factly and, for a moment, Sam wished she could just forgo her grandmother’s insistence on treating those older than you with respect and glower at the Fenton patriarch.

The only answer she got to her incredulous outburst were a pair of twin nervous laughs and shrugs.

The hazel-eyed girl took a deep breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration before turning back to their dad. “Um...and what exactly does it do?” She asked dubiously, redirecting everyone’s attention back to the portal with a jerk of her thumb. She just hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was. 

“It’s a portal to the Ghost Zone, where ghosts live and all that.” Danny’s voice confirmed her suspicions. 

With his hands sticking inside his pockets he, too, approached the enormous machine, coming to stand right beside Sam in the process. Turning her head to him, her brow furrowed in worry when she noticed the way his forehead creased as he beheld the portal. 

His face was bare of any telltale signs that would usually expose his true feelings on the matter; no creased forehead, no furrowed brow, no narrowed eyes, his lips were sealed in a thin, neutral line, and his hands in his pockets stopped him from clenching his fists. At first glance Danny was the perfect picture of calmness and indifference but something told Sam a very different storyーcall it sixth sense, call it her witchy instincts, or just plain care for her friend. There was something...dark hidden behind his eyelids. As well as something else. Something oh-so sad it made her heart squeeze in sympathy. Danny’s otherwise baby blue pools had turned the same colour of a troubled sea in a stormy night. Deep, and cold, and suffocating.

Lost in memories of times and misadventures caused by the eerie green hidden behind the portal’s doors, Danny started at the feeling of something warm sliding through his hands. Looking down, he saw Sam grabbing his hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He didn’t realise he’d been smiling until his father spoke up again. 

“Well, Sam. What would you like to know?”

“Um...as much as you can tell me about ghosts?”

“Well,” Maddie took the floor, pulling her hoodie up and her goggles down. “That’s quite a lot, and I don’t think you’d feel comfortable staying at a house whose owners’ you’ve just met. So why don’t we start with the basics for now and you come back here anytime you want to continue this conversation?”

“I’d like that.” 

“Great. Now, come Sam. There’s so much to say and so little time.” With a motion of her hand, the ectologist gestured to the girl to follow her. Rolling his eyes and fearing what was to come, Danny pulled a chair out for his guest around a conference table standing in the middle of the room before taking a seat around it himself, Jazz following suit. Instead of sitting down like the youths present did, Maddie stood in front of them beside a blackboard Jack had dragged from the other side of the lab. 

Picking a chalk up, she began to scribble down on the board. “You see, Sam, the first thing you must know about ghosts is that they’re spiritual beings from another dimension, unlike pop-culture and legends where they’re described as the lost souls of the deceased.”

“That is not to say some of those spooks weren’t alive once.” Jack conceded. Unlike his wife, he’d ultimately sat down and was now tweaking with some strange-looking gun. “The thing is, whatever humanity or sense of morals they might have had once is long gone. Now they’re nothing more than ectoplasmic remains of human conscience.”

“Exactly.” Maddie agreed. “They think they’re intelligent, rational creatures capable of free will, but really those are just delusions caused by memories they no longer possess.”

Danny had to hold back a growl at that, otherwise Sam or, even worse, his parents might pick it up and ask him about it. With a furrowed brow he slumped down on the table and propped his head over his crossed arms. They really knew nothing, didn’t they? As excellent inventors as his parents might be, the way they approached ectology was closer to a pseudoscience than the discipline they claimed to have dedicated most of their lives to. As he and Jazz told Sam before, they were experts at everything one needed to know about a ghost’s innerworkings and how to exploit that to their benefitーand by extension his benefit, since he’d been borrowing their inventions for yearsー, but they were absolutely hopeless when it came to their motivations, their ambitions; what made them tick!

Listening to them going on and on about the same old, misguided story was just painful at this point.

Or course they had free will! It was precisely because of that he was constantly fighting ghosts, because they chose to fight him! Nobody said it was a smart choice but, hey, it was theirs. Just like many other ghosts chose to stay in the Ghost Zone and live their afterlives rather than cause trouble. The Far Frozeners, Clockwork, Wulf, Dora once she was free from her brother's abuse...Those were all examples of very powerful ghosts that chose to live peacefully!

But did their parents care? Noooooo! At this point he was sure they just wanted a lab rat. 

“The one thing that truly motivates a ghost to do the things it does,”ーit; could they be any more dehumanising?ー, “is its obsession.”

Okay. So offensive pronouns aside, that was accurate.

“Their obsession?” Sam echoed. She didn’t remember ever hearing about such a thing. 

“Indeed.” Maddie nodded, still scribbling furiously down on the board. “A ghost’s obsession is what ties them down to our world.” She explained as she made a diagram of a human head with the word ‘memories’ written on it and an arrow pointing at the silhouette of a ghost with the word ‘obsession’ scribbled down. “Remember when we said ghosts think they have free will due to memories they no longer possess?” Sam nodded. “Their obsession is those memories. It usually manifests in the form of something they used to hold dearー.”

“Or something that eventually consumed them.” Jack added, not once looking up from the strange device in his hands. 

“That’s right, hon. Something dear or that eventually consumed them that was so important to them it became all they cared about when they passed on. Fulfilling that obsession is what motivates them in the afterlife.”

“So, for example,” Sam started, a finger tapping her chin in contemplation, “if a person was so overworked when they were alive they ended up hating said job with a passion or even lost their minds over it, then anything related to it is their obsession?”

“Very well, Sam.” Maddie nodded appreciatively. 

As Mrs Fenton droned on, her voice became background noise. Sam was a mess. She didn’t know what to make of things so far. On the one hand, not only were the Fentons answering her questions and expanding on the knowledge she’d been brought up with, it confirmed everything she already knew! Ghosts were dangerous and unpredictable; they couldn’t be trusted because they’d turn on you on a whim. It’d happened before and that directly resulted in her people living in the shadows, terrified of being discovered, for centuries. 

Ghosts were immoral monsters.

And yet...she found she couldn’t fully believe anything they were saying. She didn’t want to believe what they were saying. If ghosts were truly that bad, then why did Phantom try to put her to safety? Why was he always fighting other ghosts for the sake of the town? Could it be that Amity Park was his obsession and he was just trying to defend his turf rather than the innocent? But that didn’t explain why he’d go out of his way to try and save her! Her, the Witch Queen, of all people!

Everything she once believed in and the questions that’d been plaguing her mind collided against each other. She didn’t know what to think anymore. But she did know one thing:

She’d promised Danny she’d try to keep an open mind. 

“Then what about Phantom?” She heard herself asking. When the Fentons’ questioning glances rested on her, she had to fight the urge to shrink under their gaze. Come on, Sam. You’re the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park and you’re doing this for your people, and nothing gets in between you and the sake of your people. She cleared her throat. “I mean, what’s his obsession?”

“Fudge if I know.” Mr Fenton mumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“Jack!” Mrs Fenton gasped. “Don’t cuss in front of the children!”

“I said ‘fudge’!” He defended himself. 

“And we’re not children anymore!” Danny and Jazz protested in unison. 

Rubbing her temple, Maddie let out a loud sigh. “What my husband means, Sam, is that Phantom is a bit of an anomaly.”

“An anomaly?” She raised her eyebrow in confusion. “An anomaly how?”

Once again, the Fenton matriarch turned around to write on her board, only this time she began a list. “For starters, the only sightings there’s ever been of him only date back to seven years ago, and even then he was already surprisingly powerful. Then, there’s the fact he’s constantly changing.”

“What do you mean?”

“For one, just when you think you got all his spectral abilities down, he surprises you with some new trick.” Jack explained, ignoring the way what he said next had his son scowling and his daughter giggling behind her palm. “He’s almost like a pageant dog. And then there’s his appearance; when he first appeared he looked like some prepubescent kidー.”

Must every ghost hunter assume I hadn’t already gone through puberty when I got my powers? Danny thought bitterly to himself. 

“ーand now he looks like he could be your age.” He finished. 

“His actions around here are both mysterious and suspicious, too.” Maddie added. 

“We’ve been trying to catch him since he first appeared, but the spook’s been managing to give us the slip every time.” Jack admitted.

His wife patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Aw, don’t you worry, honey. Sooner or later he’ll be all ours. It’s just a matter of time.”

“But by the time we finally catch him he might already be protected by the law or something!” He sulked. “Have you seen the sign when you enter the town? ‘Welcome to Amity Park; home of Danny Phantom!’” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes in disgust. “Might as well just call it, ‘The hauntedest place on Earth’, it’d be more accurate…”

“Uh, I think that’s already taken by some place called ‘Crystal Cove’, Dad.” Jazz pointed out. 

“Even if I do agree his increasing popularity is a cause for concern in terms of the town’s general sanity, there’s still many people who see him for what he is; a menace to society.” Mrs Fenton reasoned.

Just a week before, Sam would’ve agreed wholeheartedly with everything the Fentons said, but now she found herself squirming at the sound of their vile words. Had a few meetings with Phantom really warped her perspective on things that much? Looking down at her fidgeting hands resting on her lap, she had to deliberately stop herself from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her earーbecause she intended to push hair from the shaved side of her head away. When was she going to get used to that spell?

Unbeknownst to her, Danny was watching her every move. He wasn’t sure why, but the prospect of Sam siding with his parents and their misguided theories terrified him more than half the ghost fights he’d had in the last year. She was just so great...Even if they’d only hung out a few times, he already couldn’t believe there’d been a time where it’d just been him and Tuckerーand occasionally Jazz. 

She fit so well in their group it was like she was always meant to be one of them. Luckily she seemed to have taken their advice to heart and was indeed trying to keep an open mind; she even asked about his ghost-half. The halfa guessed it was probably an attempt to convince his parents (or maybe even herself) that not all ghosts could possibly be bad. And for that, pointless as it might be when it came to the Fentons, he was grateful. He just hoped she wouldn’t decide she was better off without him in her life.

It’d taken him twenty-one years to find her, he couldn’t lose her now.

Again, where did that come from?! 

He had to go back to trying to have a somewhat balanced sleep schedule. Sleep deprivation was doing a number on him. 

Just as he observed Sam, Jazz was keeping her eye on him. He looked so glum and tired...It was one thing having to hide who you are from your parents, but having to listen to them talk about how much they hate that thing you were hiding from them time and time again? It was enough to drive someone over the edge. 

Just by following his line of sight it became obvious this time he was far more worried about what Sam may think of this, may think of him. And if there was one thing her baby brother didn’t need, it was more things to worry about. 

Thinking quickly, the redhead scanned around the room, looking for something to divert everyone’s attention away from the topic at hand. As her eyes surveyed the dreaded Fenton Toaster (was that thing ever going to perish once and for all?), she took notice of an arrangement of pieces, wires, and circuit boards laying scattered on the floor. 

How could she have possibly missed that?

Her voice breaking everyone out of their own daze, she jerked a finger in the direction the pile of metal was, “Um, what is that?”

Following her pointing finger, her parents' expression brightened up. “That, Jazzyrincess, is our latest project; the Fenton Fermoir!”

“Dad knows French?” Danny asked, absolutely flabbergasted at the revelation. 

“I’ve known for weeks now and I’m still as surprised as you.” Jazz leaned back to whisper to him. Then she remembered something. “Wait, I thought you guys were going to make a special keychain for Danny; that is not a keychain.”

Squinting her eyes at the assortment of scrap metal on the floor, propelled by her arms, Sam leaned forward to the boy in front of her to join in on the conversation. “At least not one that fits inside a pocket.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, girls.” Maddie waved them off as she made her way to the yet-to-be-built Fenton Fermoir. “We finished Danny’s keychain weeks ago!”

“Which reminds me…” Jack rummaged inside his suit’s pockets until he fished out a simple set of keys with a badge with the company’s logo on it and handed it to his son. 

Bringing it to his face, Danny tried to appear enthusiastic. “Gee, thanks.” He stuffed his new keys inside his own jean pocket. “So. What does the Fenton Fermoir do?”

“Remember the portable ghost portal devices we created a few years ago?” Jack asked his kids, who nodded in response, then he noticed Sam’s blank stare. “Oh, that’s right. You weren’t there, Sam. The thing is, those gadgets could open up medium-sized ghost portals anywhere, so we thought we should perhaps try to create an opposite invention.”

“Wait, are you saying this thing’s supposed to be able to close ghost portals anywhere?” Danny asked. This was great news! If his parents finished the Fenton Fermoir and it worked, then he’d only need to power it up with his ecto-energy and the portal crisis would be over! He wouldn’t need to meet or rely on Lady Arcana anymore!

Somehow, the thought of not seeing the violet-eyed witch made his insides twist and his heart feel hollow. 

Man, sleep deprivation was getting worse each time!

“If we can get it to work.” Maddie lamented, kicking a cylindrical-looking piece around. “Whenever we try something happens and shuts it off! It’s almost as if our regular energy source isn’t the right one...or at least not enough.”

Well, there went his solution.

“So for now we’re stuck redesigning and rebuilding this baby until we find the right one.” Jack said optimistically. 

“It’s getting late, though, so why don’t we go upstairs and have dinner, hm?” Maddie suggested. “Sam, would you like to stay?”

The Goth was hesitant to reply. “Uh, I’d love to. But what are we having? It’s just...I, uh, I don’t eat meat.”

“Don’t worry. I always buy plenty of vegetables Danny and his dad barely even look at. You can have that.”

“Hey!” Both men cried out, offended. 

Giggling, the three women went back upstairs, followed closely by the still outraged men. 

During dinner, the weirdest thing happened. 

Nothing bad, really. But it was something Sam wasn’t used to at all. Most of the time, she only ever felt comfortable with her family when Grandma Ida was present, since she always acted like the understanding voice of reason she was beloved for back in the clan. And ever since she passed away, the atmosphere in her house was so tense you could cut it with a knife. The otherwise deathly quiet family dinners were only ever interrupted by her parents discussing how the business was doing, Mother’s next big, exclusive eventーsometimes they were true, sometimes they weren’tー, or to bring up her inadequacy as their daughter and, hence, heiress to then Manson name. 

The tension only melted away, even if just a little, when it was just her dad and her. 

But the Fentons…

Everything was so different. Animated chatter never left the table. Food was being passed around; conversations took place and questions about everyone’s day were asked; every once in a while someone would make a joke that would either elicit laughter or pained groans from everyone present...even herself. 

Their families really were very different. 

Despite everything, Sam loved her parents and knew, deep down, they loved her back. Her mother in particular just had a very selfish way of showing it. But the Fentons...They weren’t perfect. The way Danny and Jazz learned to rely on each other as well as their parents’ single-minded focus on their career were proof enough of that. But everyone sitting around that kitchen table, eating steak with a serving of mashed potatoes and peas, clearly loved each other very much.

When it came to family, life was a lottery. 

Sometimes you got heartless monsters, and other times you got loving people who were only humans and occasionally made mistakes. 

Maddie stopped mid-sentence, her fork with a piece of steak hanging in mid-air, because she noticed her husband doing something he shouldn’t. “Jack, are you still tweaking with that, even now?”

Stiffening up, for he’d been caught, he tried to play it cool. “Uh, no?” His wife’s arched eyebrow spoke volumes, making him give in. “Yes. But you can’t honestly expect me to stop now, babycakes! Not when I’m about to have a breakthrough!”

“I know I'm going to regret this” Jazz muttered, rolling her eyes, “but what’re you working on, Dad?”

The orange clad man replied by holding out his creation for all to see. It was a funny-looking, double-cannoned gun that had what seemed to be a compartment filled with goo in its back. “Behold, the new and improved Fenton Foamer!” He announced loudly before adding, almost as an afterthought. “Now in pocket size.”

Not understanding a word that was being said, Sam let the family talk, her focus directed at her stir-fried vegetables. 

“Is there something wrong with the old Fenton Foamer?” Danny asked. 

“No, but it never hurts to revisit your old work and try to improve it, son.” He replied, patting the device with one gloved hand. “Not only is this beauty more appropriate for travelling, but I’ve also been tinkering with a new formula for the foam. Trust me, nothing could possiblyー.”

All of a sudden, when the patting became too much for the prototype to handle, a ‘splurt’ sound could be heard at the same time as a bright, green goop flew across the table. Everyone’s jaws dropped in mortification. 

“ーgo wrong.” Jack finished lamely, earning himself the disapproving looks of everyone present but Sam. 

But that might as well be because her eyes weren’t visible. The goop had landed on her, covering her petite form from head to toe in the mysterious substance Danny prayed to anyone who might be listening wasn’t toxic. 

Panicking, he was by her side in the blink of an eye. He was trying to wipe the foam away with a napkin as he apologised profusely. “Oh, my God! I am so, so sorry, Sam. I promise, I’ll clean you up. Or, even better, I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning. Sorry. I’m sorry. I promise, my dad’s inventions aren’t usually harmful to humans; a little electric shock at most. I’m so sorry, Sam. Please, forgive me.”

Under the Fentons’ concerned gaze, Sam lowered her face slightly, enough so they could make even less of her expression. Then she began to shake, Danny was sure from rage, and make indistinguishable sounds. Just as everyone braced themselves for the worst, the Goth threw her head back and laughed so loudly she caught them all off guard for a second. She kept on cackling almost maniacally to the point she had to hug herself, holding her sides that were, most definitely, going to split open if she kept this up. 

A little unnerved by her behaviour, Danny could only ask, “Uh, Sam? Are you alright?”

“W-why...why w-wouldn’t...I-I be?” She replied with a question of her own as her laughter calmed down to giggles. 

“Um, not to be Captain Obvious here, but you just got covered from head to toe in goop…” Jazz pointed out uncertainly. 

“Oh, I know. Trust me, it’s fine.” The Goth said as she used her hands to wipe said goop from her eyes and face. She furrowed her brow in confusion when she finally noticed the family’s worried looks. “Uh...are you guys okay?”

“Oh! Yes, yes we are. It’s just...” Maddie began, unsure on how to address the subject herself, “ not many people react so positively to one of our inventions going awry.”

“Normally you’d have issued a restraining order against us already.” Jack explained so matter-of-factly it made the Goth girl wonder just how much time this family spent at court. 

“Yeah.” Danny agreed, still trying to help Sam clean up with his napkin. “Not even Tucker would’ve taken it so well.”

“I see. Well, what can I say?” She shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I guess I just can’t get mad when I find this so awesome.”

“You find this awesome?” Jazz parroted, incredulous. 

“Um, yeah. I told you; I love everything paranormal and, you gotta admit, this is the sorta thing that would go viral on YouTube.” 

“I...can’t argue with that logic.” Danny conceded. He still couldn’t believe it; Sam just got bathed in slime and her first reaction was laughing it off? Could this girl get any more incredible?

When she finally got to cleaning her hair free of foam, Sam had to do a double take as she slid her fingers through her hair. “Have you guys ever thought about selling this as a hair conditioner? Because, I kid you not, my hair’s never been this silky! I have a friend who would kill for something like this.”

“You have other friends besides Tucker and me?” The question left his mouth before he could even register it. Sam’s murderous glare made it obvious she didn’t appreciate the jab. 

Then, as if on cue, everyone broke down laughing. They all spend the rest of dinner chatting amicably and sharing storiesーJack and Maddie even began to ponder on the benefits of selling the new Fenton Foam as a conditioner, like Sam suggested! By the time they were done eating, the whole family gathered around their doorstep to bid their guest goodbye. Danny, Maddie, and Jazz hugged her (Sam still wasn’t used to physical contact due to her Goth indifference but this was nice), while Jack patted her in the back with such force it almost sent her falling down the stairs. 

The moment the door to FentonWorks was closed, his parents were already asking Danny when was the next time Sam would come visit, prompting him to groan in exasperation and Jazz to giggle at her brother’s embarrassment.