#like. the casting is definitely an improvement since the last time they tried a live action but it feels like the writing falls flat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seasonofthewicth · 3 years

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nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.��

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

#rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #nobody does it like you do #ndilyd #im so nervous to post this lol #hope you all enjoy #cw: past drug abuse #cw: minor character death #cw: violence

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enjeolmii · 3 years

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coffee - s.jy

genre: mostly angst, a little fluff towards the end

word count: 1.7k

warnings: overdose on caffeine, passing out, i think that’s all :))

"Y/n, you should stop drinking coffee. You have to watch out for yourself, too," Jake says slowly, sitting his hand on your shoulder with the other one on the heavy cup you are holding. "Four is enough."

Your eyes shift to his expression, one that conveyed clear emotions of concern. This was supposed to be your fifth cup of the day.

Studying for the exams has never been so stressful. The amount of pressure dangling on your shoulders is much unbearable than how you expected it to be. Having parents who never supported your dream certainly took a toll on you, and living with a flawless sister all your life was never any help for your self-esteem. Being the low-grade sister between you two gave you comparisons aplenty. Everywhere you look, no matter where you go, you always find taunts and mockery preying on you. All your life, you got discredited by most of your relatives in light of your sister.

And you want to prove them wrong.

Getting higher grades is what it is. All she's ever good at is cheating off of her friends' answer sheets. It's a secret she threatened you to keep. Ever since she saw you and Jake hanging out alone in the swimming room, a picture she'd taken is all it would take for your parents to wash their hands of you.

And then, there's also getting the favor of all your family. She's prettier, sweeter, hard-working, and smarter. Everyone is biased on her nonexistent efforts, yet you - who has tried everything she can do to show her utmost best to be acknowledged by the people around her - were forsaken and left overlooked.

But it wasn't until Jake happened.

Only he saw the struggles you faced and outweighed. He conceded how far down the road you'd made it yourself and never forgot to make you feel worthy of his praises. He is the only one who understood the motive behind your desperation, and he is the only one who supported your dream.

So you wanted to make him proud. This exam will serve as the last movement to get into the performing arts school you long sought to join. To lose this opportunity means losing all you endear, and you wouldn't be sure how well you will hold up if you let this chance slip away.

That is all you can say for five cups of coffee.

"As much as I would love to stop, I'm not yet done studying. I need to ace this test." You peel his grip off of your cup, squeezing it as you offer a hesitant smile of reassurance, and he lets out a sigh.

"You aced all your activities and went home bringing the highest grades in your class," His palms find purchase on your shoulders. "You are doing so well now. Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?" A short silence follows your sigh.

"Jake, I have only been compared to my sister all my life. This is the only time I can prove them wrong. I want to feel incomparable, too. I want them to know that I am not a punching bag that they can just play around with," You clarify through clenched teeth, a recollection of all the memories flashing past your eyes. "You know that better than anyone."

Your boyfriend couldn't help but feel bad for you. He understood. All those times you leaned on him when you felt like giving up, every moment you called him and texted him asking for motivation, he knows how much you went through, and it casts him down that you never acknowledged how much progress and improvement you have shown.

You became more assertive and bolder, and he is happy that you are finally standing up for yourself. However, he couldn't learn to accept seeing you lose long hours of sleep over studying. For days, you ran on caffeine to help you stay awake and scan through your textbooks as long as you were satisfied. You pushed yourself to the limits, bypassing the pleasure of taking a rest and instead etching all significant terms on the topic of your exam in your mind. You disregarded the accomplishments you made for yourself and went on thinking that you never achieved enough to get a compliment from your loved ones, which is what Jake could not understand.

"Yes, I know that. But drinking more coffee isn't going to help you, is it?" He signifies, and you let a dry laugh through your nose.

"Give me one reason caffeine doesn't help." You smirk at him. Sure, your method is trash, and everything about it is not entirely definitive. But, can you really do anything about it? No, well, not that you know of. Your sister is studying in the same field, and it is only a matter of skill to win against her. If you gain a point or two higher, it is more than enough to crush her pride and bring yours up. The hidden thirst you have for acceptance is slowly showing, and you all but feel determined to see how far you can take it to get the better of her.

"Too much of it doesn't bring you to the top. It brings you to a hospital bed."

Your smile vanishes at his answer. What he said is true, but to hear an accurate response to your insincere quest only irritates you. You set the mug down on the countertop before crossing your arms, feeling the weight of his hands on your shoulders disappear, and you poke your tongue to the side of your cheek. "So what do you want me to do?" You assert, voice laced with irritation and disinterest.

"Take a break. Continue studying when your mind's not exhausted."

"My mind is not exhausted."

"Babe, you've been in front of your books since early sunrise. It's already two in the morning." He protests, and you look at him with a tinge of bitterness.

He shoots you worried gazes as his hands travel to yours, squeezing and swaying them side to side, and you sigh. "I don't care what time it is. I can take a rest tomorrow after the exam." You retract his grip from yours, taking the coffee cup back in your hands before stepping back into your room. "I need to study."

"Y/n... Please!" Jake follows close behind you, continuously begging. Suddenly, your head becomes heavy. Pain strikes your upper nape every time he calls for your name, ears abruptly ringing at the volume he whines. Black spots appear in your vision, along with the feeling of getting lightheaded. Your eyes shut tight in discomfort. As though your head will fall off the moment you move it around, you lose all senses, the sound of him calling you blurring away.

One moment, you groan with a hand rubbing slow circles at your temple. And another moment, the shattering sound of your mug against the floor reaches your ears, legs giving out as you feel your boyfriend's arms supporting your fall.

Panic replaces the distress in Jake's expression. Frantically, he lightly shakes your body in an attempt to wake you up, and when all taps and raps decline, he locks his arms around your arms and knees, hastily lifting you towards your bedroom.

Through the piles of answer sheets sprawled on the floor, he tiptoes his way to gently lay you on your bed, snatching the pillows under your head to pile them beneath your feet.

A heavier sigh escapes. He moves to sit by your side against the headboard, looking down at your vulnerable form as he sweeps strands of hair away from your face.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He utters through whispers. "You just never learn to give up, even when you know it's going to be hard on you."

Running his fingers gently through your hair, he frowns. He admires it of you - how you always manage to get what you want.

It's how he fell in love with you. It's how you caught his heart. The confidence that inclined his interest when you represented the class's agitated thoughts towards your unqualified professor, not a single fear of the consequences ahead.

Then, having made known that you were never able to use that confidence in front of your family hit a soft spot in his heart. So he wanted to help you get the recognition you desired, stayed with you in your highest and lowest, up until now.

"Why can't you see the significance behind everything you have outdone? You've fulfilled enough to show your family that you are incomparable, yet you're never satisfied with yourself," The air grows silent. "I guess you want to hear it directly from them. Is that how you're going to be? Thinking of yourself the way others think of you... Do you know why I love you? Because you are a kind, persevering, and confident person. I didn't love you because you are smarter than your sister. Hearing confirmation from others isn't everything, love, there are still other people who think you are flawless."

A few more minutes of stroking your head and one good look at your subtle breathing are all it takes for Jake to get up from the bed before bitterly watching the spilled coffee wither onto the corridor floor across the open door. "Now, look at the mess I'll have to clean," He stressfully stretches his neck, eyes closed. Just as he takes a step away to tidy up the mess, a hand reaches to grab his arm.

"I'm sorry," You mumble, eyes still closed. "I was getting too competitive I didn't realize you were here for me. I didn't mean to get mad at you," You tug at him. "Stay here, I'll clean that later when we wake up. For now, let's go to sleep." You make space for him on your bed, a small smile pulling at his lips as he gladly lays down beside you, setting his arm under your head while you wrap an arm around his body. "Thank you, love."

Jake looks at you, smile growing wider before placing a long kiss on your forehead. "I'll always love you no matter what."

You mirror his expression, snuggling closer to him as you say, "I love you, too."

a/n: i saw that there are lots of you who are preparing for exams right now... if you are one of them, then thank you for reading this and procrastinating a lil bit :D i wish you all the best!! drink your water and stay healthy always!!! 💖🥰

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mobagehelllocal · 3 years

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“lucky ending” extra notes i & iii

Hi, I said I would do it but then I released ver i so long ago that I felt I shouldn't do this unless I had another version out at least so yay! finally! ... I'll add ver ii here when I get around to writing it... *shifty eyes* So as usual, this is just my thought process and ideas while writing lol.

*please do not read if you haven’t read “lucky ending” ver i (dorm leaders) & ver iii (rook & lilia).

It was inspired by an anon ask and the button tradition from Japanese schools.

The anon ask went like this: First at all, I like do much your writing and I hope you are doing well. Second, I was wondering what would happen if the MC (Fem!s/o I guess) decided to not go back to her world, like she decide stay with her villain? Can you do make headcanons of this for the dorm leaders? Thank you very much. – from Anonymous

The button tradition, as narrated by the first years, is done when one person confesses and the other responds by giving them the button closest to their heart. In most Japanese uniforms it’s the second uniform, but in Twisted Wonderland--I looked at the ceremonial robes and the closest button should be the fifth. Maybe. I could be wrong.

The songs I listened to while writing this!

The original dorm leaders (and Rook) was written while listening to “Lucky Ending”, the ending theme of Fruits Basket. The English lyrics (translated by otenkiame!) are:

“Change is important. I want to do it well,/ but I wanna cry. It's still bad. I wanna cry”

“The word "goodbye" has disappeared completely from this world/ All that remains is me fooling around next to you/A day you don't laugh won't come anymore”

“I've understood it since being here/ These feelings of wanting to protect you aren't a misunderstanding/ If we can call what connects us bonds,/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Even if in a different world, it'll never be different/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Don't change, ever/ Stay here, stay here”

I think it’s obvious why I chose to use this as the title of the series. It’s a story about change but it’s also a story about the things you don’t want to change... And I think it’s not wrong to want to hold onto things.

I also listened to the same playlist that I listened to while writing “wendy?” “hello peter pan”:

“Can’t help falling in love” cover by Annapantsu, “If you’re not the one” by David Beddingfield, “Who Knew” by P!nk and “All Too Well” by Taylor Swift.

For Lilia in particular, I was listening to three Beauty and the Beast songs on loop. “Evermore” by Josh Groban, “Days in the Sun” by the live action cast and, of course--”How does a moment last forever” by Celine Dion.

“How does a moment last forever?/ How can a story never die?/ It is love we must hold onto/ Never easy, but we try/ Sometimes our happiness is captured/ Somehow, our time and place stand still/ Love lives on inside our hearts and always will”

Also for Lilia, Tolerate It by Taylor Swift.

“You're so much older and wiser and I/ I wait by the door like I'm just a kid”

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky/Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life”

Malleus was definitely the first piece finished. Closely followed by Vil’s. I believe there was a gap inbetween them before I did the others? I wrote bits and pieces of Leona, Idia, Kalim and Azul’s. I think I finished Leona, Idia, Kalim then Riddle because I distinctly remember saving Azul for last.

One of the most important things for me, is that each story stands distinct of each other. So I gave myself a really hard time trying to figure out how each one uniquely belonged to each of the characters.

For the Prologue... I think because it’s set at the graduation of certain characters, I used that to my advantage and implied the stronger bonds between the Yuu!Reader and the entirety of the cast. Because a lot of time has passed and I feel like--regardless of what other people believe, bonds will be made and relationships will have strengthened enough for it to happen.

Riddle is honestly another really difficult character for me to write. I generally do love him and I enjoy his story, but something about him is difficult and I’m not sure why.

I think a part of me is also really miffed because from Heartslabyul-Savanaclaw, you could feel that Riddle really cared for Yuu on some level but then he just straight up disappears come Octavinelle chapter. I feel like there was potential to develop their relationship even more.

He WENT UP AND TIED YOUR RIBBON I REMEMBER I WENT DOKI DOKI OVER THAT.

I feel like because I’ve established that it’s a Yuu!Reader, it’s impossible for this story to not include both Ace and Deuce. So of course they featured in really big roles for this one, being responsible for telling Riddle the story.

I have to thank my friend, Mes, for bouncing ideas with me. They were the one who suggested what I could do with Riddle’s story by having ADeuce play such a big part!

I also tried my hardest to include Trey and Cater, and I’m pretty happy with their cameo. In a way, they definitely helped Riddle figure out his own feelings for you.

My favourite lines are: “I think you earned that much. I don’t believe anyone’s ever been in your situation before so—there’s no right or wrong about what you’re doing. It’s all about what you want to do.”

I wish someone would tell this to Yuu in general though. They’re the only one who has ever been in their situation (to our knowledge at least) and like... they’re definitely allowed to be even more selfish.

Leona is someone who I used to dislike a lot. I never hid that. It’s primarily because of how disappointed I am in the story of Savanaclaw probably. But like, I was always concerned about writing him properly because I thought that it was only right that I did right by him, because there would be people reading these stories who loved him. And I felt like I had to do right by that love.

I think... it’s wrong to believe that characters... villains... cannot fall in love or “won’t fall in love.” I think it’s wrong also to think that “people don’t change for love.”

In fact, people do change. You definitely shouldn’t change yourself to be loved, but... people change all the time to be their “better” selves. So whose to say that a good person, who you love, will not make you want to improve yourself? Isn’t that what we want when we meet people? To fall in love with someone who will ultimately make you better and never worse.

Or so that’s how I try to write the Twisted characters when they fall in love... With an understanding that “morally” the person they are falling for is “kind” and “good” and how a part of them might just want to be better just for that person. (Especially Leona and Azul). They don’t necessarily have to be nice to everyone, but if they can be better for one person... We stan healthy character growth.

But yeah, Leona is driven by understanding that he’s a very selfish person. But that he’s also very unfortunate and he doesn’t want tie you with someone who, he thinks, is actually worthless. He probably, deeply, thinks you deserve more.

Though his selfishness eventually wins out and well... Won’t you forgive him for it? :) For tying you down to this worthless second prince?

I think his own self-awareness does make him try harder. Not for everyone or everything... but for you. Just for you. I think that would be Leona’s love language--spending time with you, trying for you.

He’d appreciate if you didn’t call him out on it though, that would be very embarrassing.

Looking back, I’m surprised that it was the only version where none of the other boys from his dorm showed up lol. Which means Ruggie is the sole character who has yet to appear in the “lucky ending” series, huh.

My favourite lines from his story that still leaves me breathless and patting my past self in the back: ““I’m home—” you said—even if a part of you felt that home should have been two green eyes, a cocky smirk, and a warm patch of sunlight on the grassy ground.”

Like honestly, what was I on? Who was she?

Azul is, like Leona, someone who is so keenly aware of the things he’s lacking. In fact, he’s someone who thinks he’s lacking when he’s probably perfect in some aspects. He might act proud but a part of him--I think--thinks its not enough. It’s never enough. He can certainly do better still.

In that light, it’s why he thinks he’s undeserving of a partner. Especially one who is “kind” and “understanding.” While ultimately, Azul deserves people in his life who are that and “accepting” of him--I think he still thinks he doesn’t.

And thats why he lets go of the Yuu!Reader. It’s why he doesn’t “chase” after her like Leona did.

It’s because he’s selfish, because he wants her--that he forces himself to let go.

Azul needs someone who’ll tell him that he is worth something and that he’s definitely worth the effort. So please praise him a lot until he’s crying in happiness. I’m sure it’s the one thing he’s always wanted to hear from people around him.

Also my Poly!Octavinelle Agenda has never died and I am pleased Past!Ai got away with so much Poly!Octa hints in this story lol. But honestly, regardless of wht Octavinelle says... god, you can tell they genuinely care about each other.

I recently rewatched Octavinelle’s chapter and... by god, the amount of things I missed out on first watch. Jade’s concern when he realized Azul wanted to get rid of that photo... The fact Floyd was so willing to drop the fight to return to Azul too... Anyways, Poly!Octa Agenda for life.

Favourite lines: “Azul’s pathetic whimpers turned into guttural sobs. His fingers spread to cover his eyes—and his glasses slid off his face, down to his lap and then to the ground—at his actions. His whole body shook as he cried his heart out.”

It’s not as poetic as a lot of my other favourites, but for some reason these lines always get me when I reread them. There’s something so visceral about it.

Azul’s piece is probably the least visually stimulating out of all these stories? His was so emotionally driven compared to the others and I worried a lot about that.

I think I remember I was crying so badly as I was writing this.

Kalim is really hard for me because I feel like I struggle a lot with finding conflict in his character? He’s such a genuinely nice person, I find it hard to believe that the Yuu!Reader would feel alienated from him or something. So I brought in “environment” to get in the way.

My use of celestial imagery for Kalim is because of the Scarabia trailer! I really loved how it put Kalim as the sun and Jamil as the moon. I definitely will take advantage of that when I get around to writing for Jamil.

So because I wanted to use the sun, I chose to use the idea of comets for Kalim? I think I remember something about how meteors are drawn to the gravitation pull of the sun and can “escape” it or “be destroyed” by it. Haha, hot.

Jamil is someone who ultimately cares about Kalim too and I had fun writing his banter with the Yuu!Reader. I think I wanted to decribe the shadows licking his face reminscent to the marks from his Overblot but... I felt like doing that would give Jamil too much focus so I ultimately decided against it.

It would’ve been hot though.

Oh yes, one thing I wanted to talk about is Kalim’s rushed proposal. I remember people talking about it in the tags, comments... even in asks at that time. The reason he does it is because he’s someone who didn’t realize his feelings until you spelled out your own. It was a sort of: “Oh. Right. That is the word I’d use to describe my feelings.”

My favourite lines from his story is: “How does one bid goodbye to the sun?” and “No one ever willingly bids goodbye to the sun.They spend the rest of their lives trying to find the right way back to it.”

My god, who was this genius.

Vil is probably the most visually stunning out of all these stories. I feel like my stories go from super vivid imagery and setting to just complete emotional disasters lol. (Vil being the former and Azul’s being the latter... not that it’s bad, it actually suits the characters).

Oh man, I remember thinking that Vil is such a hard character to write because we don’t know what his motivation for perfection is. All we knows is that he wants to be the best but, why?

It’s like, for example, Idia. His motivations could be otaku-related. He doesn’t want to go to class because he’d rather go play or something. That sounds in character--but Vil was so hard because he wanted perfection.

But we already see him as such a perfect character, so what else did he need to be even more perfect? In that light, Chapter 5 did a really good job on presenting Vil’s motivations.

But honestly, I think I can comfortably say that the Vil I’ve written so far is pretty accurate? To his character. I’m really grateful I read his chat lines because his comment about intelligence really got me thinking about his possible motivations. It made it really easy to understand that Vil wasn’t like majority of the real world’s influencers.

One other thing that I was really happy about with his story is the use of the flower language. It’s something I hope I can use more because it’s so beautiful.

Oh! And the roses the Yuu!Reader talks about are double delight roses. They are specifically bred to have two colors--yellow in the center and pink on the outside. I thought it fitting that the Yuu!Reader breed special roses for Vil.

They can be called... err... Vil Roses?

My favourite lines from his story is: ““My happiness will not be dictated by others—no, Vil Schoenheit is a person who will grasp happiness with his own hands.” [...] “I’m giving you this button because I’ve already found happiness by your side.””

This line was actually inspired by Zelda C.W.’s MYth series. Specifically Hera’s story, Will.

Idia ...for him, I somehow had a very hard time imagining him trying to tell the reader to stay. Like that didn’t compute for me? I felt like his version was better approached in a more comedic light somehow.

I also felt that it would be cuter if the Yuu!Reader had already chosen to stay and Idia would need to hastily retrack his confession... Unfortunately, Yuu!Reader won’t let him.

Honestly looking back on it, I wonder how much of Chapter 6 is going to make me scream and want to rewrite Idia’s part?

My favourite lines from his story is: “He was never particularly good at lying—nor was he good at keeping secrets from you. You were a person he considered a dear friend—and he was always the type of person who ended up spilling everything to you. He liked being able to talk about the things he enjoyed—he liked that he had found someone who wanted to hear him out.”

A lot of my interpretation for Idia is closely linked to personal experience as an anime, manga and gaming fan. It was just a couple of years ago where people would actually be bullied for liking these things--but nowadays its become a norm. It’s... stunning actually but it makes me happy to know that maybe nobody will be judged for loving anime.

That being said, Idia’s longing to find someone he can talk to is something I really relate too--back then, it was so difficult to find someone to talk to about my interests... So I interpreted Idia as much the same. That what he enjoys about the Yuu!Reader is their ability to simply sit and listen to him talk.

Malleus... man, recently I’ve been starting to fall in love with him all over again. He was my first oshi ever... Anyways, moving on. You think I’ve talked enough about immortal x mortal but nope, we are not done. I love this theme in general, romantic or platonic.

I will never shut up about it you can’t make me.

Sebek having a good enough friendship with Yuu!Reader is such a delicious concept. Like mutual respect and Sebek understanding that Yuu!Reader gives Malleus a different type of companionship that Sebek, Silver or Lilia couldn’t...

And also, ultimately, Sebek and Yuu!Reader do love Malleus. In different ways, but I like the thought of Sebek respecting that and respecting the Yuu!Reader.

Me realizing just now that Silver joins Ruggie in the: “has never appeared in a lucky ending fic club.”... Sorry Silver, I swear soon. Once we get more content on you.

Celestial themes for Malleus are primarily, again, because he only ever seemed to meet you at night. And I thought it would be wonderful, if you were a bright spark to him.

Favourite lines are definitely: “Oh, bright light… I would prefer to live the rest of your life by your side… rather than spend centuries contemplating what it could have felt… to hold you in my arms.”

I am, always, going to be such a big sucker for the idea of immortals constantly remembering and loving mortals. Always holding them close in their memories, because in that way--their lovers have become immortal with them.

I also like to imagine that he eventually figures out a way to connect your worlds together so you can still talk to your friends and family from that world. He is one of the most powerful magicians around, I’m sure its possible.

Rook was honestly the most difficult piece for me to write because he’s so hard(?) for me to understand. He’s a mess of contradictions honestly and I... guess I’m excited to see what he’ll do come Chapter 6.

I actually rewrote his story so much. I got about 500 words with a different idea/plot in mind before deleting that completely and restarting from scratch.

I feel like Rook is someone who talks big and talks about love without actually knowing what it truly might feel like. He’s someone who doesn’t understand it and ends up mistaking it for his fascination.

Aside from me enjoying inserting other characters from the same dorm as much as possible, I felt that Vil was the perfect person to snap some sense into Rook.

Epel’s appearance there is basically to reflect how much I really hope the first year kids get really close to one another.

Rook is also someone who I think, doesn’t try to explain himself too much. He’s someone who I think talks a lot, but if people don’t understand him then he doesn’t need to be understood? That’s my impression. Lol, when “lucky ending” became a character study.

I also really loved the idea that Rook was fine with people running from him--to him that makes it all the more thrilling. But then you start running away from him and that just ends up making dread pool in his stomach.

My favourite lines from his story: “‘When something ends, it must be sad. So, tell me then, how an ending could be so beautiful?’ [...] .‘But there was one ending that was beautiful, non?’ [...] ‘That’s right. ‘They lived happily ever after’—are those not the words that define a beautiful ending?’”

I used the dusk metaphor for Rook. My idea is that he starts seeing dusk as an ending and how he can’t fathom how any “ending” is beautiful. When a story ends, it’s not beautiful to him, humu. But when that ending is the happily ever after then... That makes all the difference.

Lilia was actually easier than Rook’s but also fairly difficult. I had written the middle of Lilia’s piece while stumped on Rook’s actually. Lilia’s was probably easier because I love the idea of immortals and mortals.

I don’t really like the idea of mortals becoming immortals. Like, yes, it’s certainly sweet and spending eternity with a one true love is definitely the best possible ending but... I think there’s so much weight in an immortal choosing to love a mortal while knowing that they will ultimately lose them.

The biggest theme for Lilia is definitely time.

Thinking about it now... There’s been a lot of things in real life that’s just... Made me think about how we have less time than we actually think we have. And I think I ended up channeling that through Lilia... Though I feel like it is ultimately things Lilia would think about though.

The most important imagery would probably be the stars.

I honestly wanted to avoid it because I used celestial imagery for both Kalim and Malleus but the words just flowed out in a way that I felt that I couldn’t replace. So I went with it.

Lilia is no stranger to loneliness. One of the reasons he feels less alone is because he has family now and he doesn’t want to rob you of that. Family is so important to him because they are people who are meant to be with you--they are people who will make you less lonely--or so thats how I think? he thinks.

My favourite lines from his story: “He would relish in the way—You made the world pause. You made a moment extend into an eternity. You made an immortal crave just a little more time.”

I’m so immensely proud of this one? I don’t really have much else to say. There’s something so raw about it that I love. Also the part where it continues on to say that “Because there is never enough time.”

Me realizing my extra notes is just half me simping over these characters, half sharing headcanons, have actually giving good advice? perspective?, half song lyrics, half character study/analysis?

“lucky ending” is about change. Whether we want them to happen or not it’s... the human condition to change. For better or worse, we change--day by day. I think we all operate under a small panic about how everyday things are changing...

But “lucky ending” is also about the things that don’t change. Won’t change. Will never change. The things worth holding onto, the thing worth fighting for... or so I’d like to think.

#aimuses #ainotes #ai lucky series #twst #twisted wonderland #its 6 AM HEEHOOO

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honeytae · 4 years

Text

I love every part of you.

this is just some very soft body praise when the reader isn’t feeling very good about herself. namjoon is obviously an angel about it and uh...yeah basically he’s the sweetest man and i’m just in love with him.

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

warnings: reader speaks negatively about her body in detail. please do not read this if it could possibly trigger you. i love you all and would never want to make you upset :( word count: 2.5k

You groaned as you slid the dress off of your head, tossing it onto your bed and biting your lip in frustration. Nothing seemed to look even near decent on you today, that was for sure.

You’d tried on at least five different outfits in the last half hour, concluding that you should burn all of them - or, more rationally speaking, donate the clothing - because they sure as hell weren’t doing you any favors.

It was safe to say that you hadn’t been feeling confident in yourself recently, your own self doubts plaguing your mind during even the simplest of tasks throughout your day. It was mostly your body, affecting your overall confidence level and making you feel incapable of anything. Everything just seemed to be in a vicious cycle at the moment, and it seemed there was nothing you could do to help it.

Today you thought you might try to break out of that negative state of mind, deciding to make an effort to wear something other than the hoodies and over-sized shirts you’d been living in over the past week.

That was obviously a horrible idea, though, because what you saw in the mirror was definitely not the reflection you were hoping for.

You sighed as you put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side as you examined your curves. When had your hips expanded so much? When did your thighs start jiggling like that? And god, when did you start feeling so horrible about yourself?

“Well, this is a surprise.” Namjoon suddenly said from the doorway, making you snap your head up as you met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Joonie. I was just getting dressed.” You forced a smile, crossing your arms over your stomach to hide the area from him as you inhaled shakily.

He watched with a confused scrunch of his face as you tried to shield your half naked body from him, thoughts swirling around his brain as he tried to decipher the cause of the undeniable tension in the room.

You trust Namjoon and love him dearly, but you don’t want him seeing you like this. You felt weak, vulnerable; all the wrong things. You wanted him to see you as strong and confident, like you always were in his mind, but you just couldn’t find it in you to put on that front today.

“Why are you apologizing, baby?” He chuckled in confusion, eyebrows pinching together as he watched you shrug in response. He leaned his back against the doorframe, resting the back of his head against the wall behind him.

“I don’t have clothes on.” You bit down on your bottom lip, watching through the reflection in front of you as he nodded slowly, trying to make sense of what you were trying to say.

“And that’s..something new, is that it?” He joked, eyes studying yours through the mirror as you shook your head with a crack of a smile.

Despite the slight improvement, something still wasn’t right, and he had detected that when he first walked in. Everything implied something was off, from the disheveled state of the bedroom to the forced upcurve of your lips, the kind that told him you were attempting to hide your feelings despite your knowledge of him being able to read you like a book.

“You okay?” He asked softly, watching you nod quickly in dismissal before dropping your eyes to the ground. He felt uneasy as he watched you shut down in front of him, wheels desperately turning in his head to try to figure out what was wrong.

Namjoon hesitantly pushed himself off of the wall with his palms, walking toward you and reaching his arms out to pull your back into his chest. He rested his forearms over your torso, crossing them over the exposed skin and making you feel secure in his hold.

He dropped his chin to your shoulder, pouting at you through the mirror as your eyes refused to meet his, but feeling the slightest bit of ease when you relaxed into his touch.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Your head quickly picked up to meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, your heart dropping as you saw the guilty expression on your boyfriend's face.

“No, no, Joonie. You’re good, I’m good, we’re good.” You rushed, wanting to reassure the man of any harsh feeling you’d unintentionally given him.

You turned around in his grasp, leaning up to kiss his lips in an attempt to relay that your current bout of emotions wasn't about him.

“Okay.” He nodded, exhaling in slight relief. His eyes looked into your own, scanning them for any clue of your emotions. What he found was a slight glassiness, indicating that you were either crying or close to it before he came in.The sight made his chest feel heavy, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he worked up the nerve to confront you.

“But why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” Namjoon spoke up, his eyes knowing as they peered into your own.

You sighed, casting your eyes down to his chest as your fingers came up to play with the strings of his hoodie. The fabric between your fingers gave you a momentary distraction as you internally debated what to do.

You could lie, say that he was wrong and everything was fine. Or you could be honest, and open up about how you’re truly feeling. You may as well go with the second option. With Namjoon’s keen insight to your emotions, it would only be a matter of time before he called you out on it, anyway.

“I’m not totally good.” You admitted, Namjoon nodding slowly as he waited for you to open up to him. The answer was not a surprise to him, but he eagerly awaited your elaboration.

“I just- I’m not,” You trailed off, struggling to express yourself as Namjoon patiently waited for you, his head cocked to the side as he hung onto your every word.

“I’m not feeling very good about myself right now. And everything I put on makes me feel impossibly worse.” You sighed, Namjoon frowning as he turned his head to the heap of clothing on the mattress, sighing at the explanation for the mess. How on earth could you doubt your beauty for a single second?

“It’s stupid, I know. I don’t even know why I’m getting so upset over something so small, I’m sorry. I’ll get over it.” You shook your head at yourself, Namjoon quickly hugging you tighter to him and pressing a kiss to your temple to soothe you.

“No, baby, don’t apologize for your feelings. You’re entitled to feel whatever you’re feeling, I just - I happen to really disagree with you on this.”

His words made you frown, already knowing this would be the response you’d get from your precious boyfriend. You knew he’d get defensive over your body when you talked about it in a negative light, the sweet man never being able to see it the way you did.

“You look beautiful in all of these, baby. You are beautiful.” He emphasized, reaching out hesitantly to place his hands on your hips. He seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief when you allowed him to do so, making you feel horrible as you leaned your head back against his clothed chest.

“Well, that’s your opinion. And frankly, you’re biased.” You huffed, staring at yourself in the mirror and sighing at the reflecting before turning your head to the side.

“I love you. I love every part of you.” He spoke as he kissed the side of your head, craning his neck down over your shoulder to catch your eyes with his.

“I don’t love every part of me.” Your voice shook with emotion, Namjoon immediately pulling you into his chest, wrapping you up in a comforting hug.

“What can I do to help you see yourself the way I see you?” He asked sadly, kissing the side of your head as he lightly swayed your body with his.

“Nothing.” You shook your head against his chest, pulling away from him and turning back to the mirror. Your eyes locked on his, heart squeezing at the hurt look on his face.

“Look at my hips, Joon.” You said, exasperated as you gestured in disgust at your seemingly always widening hips. It was an attempt to get him to see what you saw, as well, but you could see that it didn’t work when Namjoon furrowed his brows in hurt.

“I love your hips, baby.” Namjoon spoke softly, his eyes flashing with pain at your negative thoughts about the body and person he cherished so much.

His eyes widened when you scoffed at his words, gawking in disbelief at you as you shook your head adamantly.

“Be serious, Joon.” You said dismissively, making him reach out for your hand to pull you back into him.

“I am being serious. I love everything about you.” He said firmly, eyes imploring your own to believe him,

You only shook your head again to negate his words, gaze shifting back to his serious face as he grabbed ahold of your hand.

“Come here.” He ordered, pulling you along with him to your bed before sitting you down on the edge of it.

“Since you seem to not believe me, I’m going to tell you exactly what I love about you.” He informed you, features hardened into a strict glare that pinned you silently to the mattress.

You looked up at him with your arms crossed defiantly, pouting as your brows furrowed stubbornly.

If it weren’t for the situation, Namjoon would probably tease you about how much you reminded him of a small child. But now was not a time for teasing or poking fun at you.

Namjoon kneeled down in front of you, holding his hands out for you to hold before placing them on the tops of your knees.

“I love your hands. They’re so tiny.” He smiled as he placed his palm up against yours, making you crack a smile as well as his long fingers way surpassed yours in length.

“I love the way your eyes shine when you smile, and the way your cheeks turn pink whenever I compliment you.” At that, he reached a hand up to your cheek, confirming the pink hue on your skin as he felt the heat radiating from the flushed area.

“You’re so cute.” He laughed fondly, hand moving down from your cheeks to stroke his fingers through your hair, pushing it back to expose your ear. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to the shell of your ear, making you shiver at the sheer intimacy of the action.

“Ah, that. I love that.” He said proudly, giving one last kiss to the skin underneath your ear before retreating from your neck. You allowed him to grab your palms off of where they were resting on your thighs, swiping his thumbs against the pulse points on the inside of your wrist.

“I love your arms,” he said as he trailed his fingers up your forearm, making you squirm as he lightly tickled the skin by doing so, “because even though you say you’re not ticklish there, you totally are.” He smiled, making you chuckle as he repeated the action.

“I love your precious tummy, because it serves as the perfect pillow for when I get tired.” He leaned forward to kiss the skin just above your navel, butterflies erupting from your stomach at the affection as his hands slid down your torso, settling on your hip bone as he looked up at you.

“I love your hips because they have curves,” He emphasized his point by giving them a squeeze, “they’re sexy. You make the simplest shit like walking seductive. Do you know how much power these hold?” He smiled as you laughed beneath a scoff, happy to see your frown fading with each genuine praise coming out of his mouth.

“You also have that freckle I adore so much,” His eyes pointed to the spot on the bottom of your abdomen, “right here.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to the spot, making you shiver as his mouth hovered right above your pantie line.

He pulled back and smiled softly at your reaction, trailing his hands down to your thighs and gripping them in his hold as he swiped his thumbs against the skin.

“I love your soft thighs. They’re strong though, baby. I know that.” He laughed as you flexed them to show off your muscles, sprinkling kisses down the length of them and nuzzling his nose against the inside of your knee.

“And most importantly, I love you. I love you and your body so much and it hurts to know that you might not feel exactly the same as I do.” He said sadly, allowing you to pull him up onto the bed beside you as you stood to straddle his waist.

He welcomed the change of positions, encircling his arms around your hips and resting them on the bottom of your spine. You leaned in to press an appreciative kiss to his lips, Namjoon returning the action with a languid push of his lips to yours.

“You helped, Joonie. You always help.” You mumbled, Namjoon smiling as he pressed another kiss to your slightly swollen lips.

“Good. Now, as much as I love this on you,” His eyes traveled appreciatively down your nearly nude body, covered only by your bra and underwear.

He leaned back from you, gripping the bottom of his sweatshirt and pulling it up over his head, opening up the bottom for you in a gesture to put it on. You raised your arms and smiled as the warm fabric was slipped over your head, the oversized clothing making you feel at ease as Namjoon was left in his long sleeve shirt.

“Better?” He asked adorably, eyes wide as he surveyed your features for any remaining sadness. He was relieved when he found none, smiling back at you as you shot him a wide one of your own.

“I’m better.” You nodded in confirmation, leaning into his touch when his lips found the shell of your ear, kissing the spot gently and making your heart burst at the tender action.

“Thank you.” You pouted, hugging him to you again as you buried your face in his neck.

“For what?” He asked, squeezing your waist to shift you up his thighs, the action pulling you in closer to him. You sighed as his hand came up to the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair and away from your face.

“For loving me.” You kissed the mole on his jawline in appreciation, Namjoon humming in return as his hand stroked your torso over the fabric of his hoodie.

“It’s an honor to be able to love you, baby.” He spoke honestly, wrapping his arms around your torso in a hug as he rested his temple on your shoulder.

Maybe you still had to work on the self love thing. But you were lucky enough to have Namjoon, someone who would always love you unconditionally. You really couldn’t ask for more.

538 notes · View notes

comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Present [Part 4] (Obsession)

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////��////////////////~

1943 ~ 6th year

“What would be the purpose of a wizard or witch to prepare a Polyjuice potion?” Slughorn asks. “Yes, Mr. Riddle?”

Tom drops his hand from the air, “The potion grants the drinker to take the form of another.”

“Yes! And what would happen if said drinker tried to transform into an animal?”

I know this one so I lift my hand.

“Go ahead.”

I clear my throat, “When the human drinker tries to transform into an animal they would not take its complete form. Only sections of said animal.”

Slughorn nods his head, “Can they reverse after a bit of time like normally?”

“No,” I answered. “It takes an extremely long time to wear off, and you might even have to go to the hospital wing.”

He grins and continues to write on the chalkboard. Even though he can enchant the writer's tool to note down itself, I’m guessing he prefers the old-fashioned way.

Tom and I are even on points. When he answers correctly, I also do right after him. I can see him noting down both our points on the corner of his parchment. The black tally marks standing out. Our points are on my paper as well, just in case he decides to cheat. No chances are being taken today, or tomorrow.

“How long does the potion wear off if made correctly?”

Riddle and I both shoot our hands up. His demeanor is calm and collected while I'm sitting on my feet to have my arm raised higher than his. It’s not very fair that his arms are the length of mine to the third power.

“Mr. Nott, what do you know?”

“A single dose could last from 10 minutes to 12 hours.”

Another question wasted by not getting called on. I don’t mind that much since it doesn't keep me behind. Riddle seems to care a little bit too much. His competitive side is showing and I guess his pal is ruining the race.

Professor stole our textbooks for this pop quiz. The rapid-fire questions should “already be memorized and known,” down to the molecular detail. My knowledge only goes so far.

I trust myself, to a point. There’s definitely going to be a question I get wrong and I’m already dreading it. Every answer that falls out of my mouth is examined and thought over ten times before the action of answering arises.

“For something a little different, Mr. Riddle come to the front of the classroom and write four ingredients that are needed for the potion.”

He stands up and pushes his chair in. His eyes as cold as The Black Lake. While he makes his way toward the board I cross my fingers, hoping he forgets one. I know that’s not the kindest, but nothing with him is necessarily “kind.”

There he goes, writing all four ingredients with ease. His handwriting is beautiful. How does he honestly do that? Does he practice every single day to get it that precise?

Maybe I should practice to improve as well. Honestly embarrassing how bad my handwriting seems next to his. We compared essays once, never again. That was the most embarrassing moment of my life. He just laughed at me and kept pointing out how weird my f’s looked.

I swear my letters weren’t that bad. It’s just that he overachieves everything. Now I rewrite every “f” letter that appears on my homework. Thank you for the new insecurity, Riddle.

“Very good! Very good, your turn,” he points towards me. “Three more ingredients this time.”

While I stand in front of the board, I check out what he has already put down. Lacewig flies, leeches, okay not bad. Knotgrass and the hair of the person the drinker will transform into.

He numbered them so I continued on from that.

5) Boomslang skin

6) Fluxweed

Last one, let's see. We already put Lacewig flies, Knotgrass, hair, the skin, and Fluxweed. I hesitate for a little bit, my brain working at high speed. Anxiety levels are higher than Mount Everest.

7) Powdered Bicorn Horn

There we go, I smile to myself proudly. When I turn back around my eyes meet his. He smirks and nods while he writes down a point for both of us. I’m not sure that it counts for four points, just one.

The questions go on for quite a bit. Our tally marks are piling higher and higher. Each of our count's neck and neck for the top spot.

“What is the brewing time?”

“About a month.”

“How does the potion look before the addition of the final ingredient?”

“Thick like the mud after it pours.”

“It also is bubbling.”

“How does it look after adding the final ingredient?”

“Depends on who the witch or wizard made the potion to look like.”

“Varies in taste and color.”

He seems to be done with questions so Tom and I start counting the marks. On my paper, I seem to be .5 points ahead of him. I quickly look his way to see him come to the same conclusion. He takes a deep breath and casts his eyes to the side. Tom then tilts his quill my way signaling that I did indeed win.

I’m about to squeal quite highly but then I recollect I’m in a classroom. Full of people who are terrified to be anywhere in this castle. That would be quite inappropriate of me so I keep my excitement to myself.

Professor Slughorn wipes the whole board away. Clearing all the information we were learning and reviewing about.

“When I pair you up, each of you will grab the right ingredients for this potion and lay it near the front of your desk,” he says. “It should be laid in the order you would normally use when making the concoction.”

“First up, Miss Horn and Miss Yellowbo.”

The classroom starts to move with life as students pair with one another. Some cheerful noises and annoyed ones from who they ended up with. Most of us here know each other. I don’t think I would mind having anyone in this room as my partner.

“Mr. Riddle and-”

Of course, it’s me. Starting to think the pairings’ on purpose. His face shines too brightly for it not to be well planned out. I make my way to the shelves to start out picking the ingredients.

There’s always a moment where my mind decides to give up on me. Most of the elements are obtained. A few are missing.

I’m going over the variety of bottles containing different substances when I feel a looming pressure on my back. An arm slightly grazes past my ear and picks up Fluxweed.

“How do you manage to forget the very ingredient you wrote down on the board?” Toms whispers right by my ear.

I shift my eyesight to the side to see him already looking at me, “Sorry, I blanked out a little.”

He starts seizing half of the ingredients into his hold. I don’t really mind carrying a couple, but I’m just left with one bottle after he takes most of my possessions.

“Taking all the credit now I see,” I tilt my head as I raise my chin to meet his tall build.

“You were about to spill everything. I’m saving you from embarrassment,” he responds cockily.

I started to argue but he already made his way back to the desk, “Everything was perfectly stable in my arms.”

He continues to ignore me and sets down everything. Including the one bottled ingredient in my hand that he snatched just a few moments ago.

“Nothing is ever perfectly stable with you.”

I’m about to whisper a word no children should hear before Slughorn makes his way to our table. Saving Riddle from my rising annoyance.

“Wonderful! You too got all of them perfectly,” he starts. “I would expect no less from my star students.”

All I do is smile brightly in respect. Trying not to drive any more attention to the outburst of pride he has for us.

“Thank you, professor,” Tom says. He starts picking the ingredients off of the table, still barely letting me take any.

Riddle just walks off while our proffesor continues around the room. When he comes back I just about finish wiping the desk of any accidental spills.

“I won our little game this time,” I nudged his shoulder with my own.

Tom slightly rolls his eyes with a small smile, “I see that you have. Just this one though.”

“And many more to come,” I exclaim.

Our attention seeks back to our teacher, “You’ll all be writing an essay about an imaginary way this potion could go wrong. I expect it to be turned in before class tomorrow.”

I hurry to get my textbook off of my area and head towards the back of the classroom near the doorway.

“Everyone split into two groups. This half will go with Riddle while the other is with me.”

I turn my head once more to look at Tom, he’s reassuring one of the students that they are going to be okay.

I only look for a couple of seconds before leading my half of the group out first. A few stops along the way to make sure perfects are keeping order. Most of my group of students have been dropped off. A couple still lures behind me, I picked them up as I worked my way through the castle halls.

They were also dropped off and now I scatter along the hallway to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. Like every other period, the routine stays the same mostly.

My robes have a few wet spots on them still from the tears of younger students attending this school. I fully believe it won’t be too long until the headmaster and the ministry deal with whoever is making our lives miserable here. The murders will surely not go unjustly.

As I am turning a new hallway I happen to meet up with Riddle.

“All good?”

“Of course,” he responds. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He seems to look around quite a bit. Like he’s searching for something.

“Head back to your class, I will look around once more.”

That’s the last thing he says before moving around me with his hand on my shoulder. Quickly slipping past me.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“No, no no,” I whisper to myself as I crumple yet another paper in my hand. I throw it on the ground next to me and huff out a breath.

Writing this bloody essay is taking more time than I predicted. It usually comes naturally to me but I can’t seem to write correctly. Every time I make a mistake I have to start over again. My handwriting failing to write neatly for once.

My whole structure and information is already figured out. Writing is what’s taking me the longest. No matter how hard I try, the letters never seem to come out correctly from my quill.

Especially the f’s.

Infuriating really. I only have an hour left until the library closes. It already technically shut down but the librarian gave me an extra three hours as long as I lock up.

Perks of being Head Girl I suppose.

My head is in my hands as I compose myself. It’s late and I’m tired, it’s not even safe to be out at this time. At least if I happen to die I wouldn’t have to write this essay.

“How long have you been trying at this-” a low voice asks behind me.

I jump in my seat, “Oh it’s just you. Well, it’s been-”

“And failing?” Tom finishes as he takes the seat next to me. The chair turned slightly to me.

I roll my eyes and fall further back into my seat. My head turned upwards, admiring the flying books in the ceiling. Finding their place, their way home.

“Probably an hour and a half,” I sigh. “You’re completely right about how bad my calligraphy is.”

He just nods his head and takes a fresh new sheet from the middle of the table. His quill magically appears from inside his robe. All the papers that have the plans for my essay start to float around his head and workspace. Occasionally glancing up at them from time to time and then going back to writing.

His lips are pursed in concentration, “I write my F’s like this. It’s easier that way and extremely easy to practice and write quickly.”

My head peers over his shoulder as I watch him effortlessly indite.

“You try,” he opens up my fingers that were closing my hand and places a quill in them.

I furrow my eyebrows and start to practice my letters on a separate piece of paper that I originally scrapped. I don’t want to waste paper and there’s no reason to get a fresh new one.

We both work quietly in the night until the last few minutes of opening time. Before I left the room I saw him quickly go far back into the library. I never got to ask him why he arrived here so late.

Never saw the need to.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~ Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

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mrs-cavill-wife · 3 years

Text

Forbidden Witch (1/?)

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Female Reader (Cassandra of Boudicca)

Warning: Fantasy. Language. Forbidden Love. Tell me if I miss something.

Author's Note: Here I go again writing inspired on a dream I had. I can say, besides "The Tudors", there's a little of "The Witcher" too because there's familiar monsters and characters. Most of the name of places on this fanfic is all my creation but some I searched on Google or asked help from my friends. Hope you guys enjoy it, reblog if you do and I'm all ears to feedback! My tag List this time is for my last followers, THANK YOU SO MUCH! Part 2 coming soon!!

Tag List: @lexyvaldez26 @thereisa8ella @natura1phenomenon @mrsavery @number1chonie @themanfromu @littlefreya @legendarywizarddetective @lovingbearherringhairdo @zealoushound @deangal-101 @everydaymultifandom @summersong69 @jgtfvhsg @tellingyouastory @sillyrabbit81 @nuggsmum @pussyverson @oh-for-fic-sake @foodieforthoughts @fanficlover91 @r-t-doll @its--fandom--darling @poledancingdinos @hlkwrites @rmtndew

Riding under the moonlight, this is definitely one of the things that brings me peace. I love to run aimlessly with my horse, Atlas.

Was having a little party in the village, my village, the place where I was born. Boudicca. In fact, I spent more time at Aretuza, a school for witches, sorceress. I was "discovered" when I was about eight years old. My parents were simple traders, workers, but the income was never enough for the three of us.

I remember the day when I was playing with the pigs, few of which had not yet been sold and that woman appeared. Skinny, with a beautiful gray dress, perfectly neat hair, looked like a queen at the time. Tissaia. I saw her watch me for a long moment, before the question that would change my life.

"How much do you want for the girl?"

Yes. She wanted to buy me. I was in shock for the moment. She and my parents argued for a long time and I just wondered what would a rich woman want with a muddy little girl? A new servant, perhaps? No, she must surely have millions.

Today I know, Tissaia is tricky, smart, knows the words to use. Like a snake observing the prey, taking notes of the moves, the weakness and the best moment to the first attack. She had been watching me and my family. I had called her attention when she was passing through Boudicca, she saw a lot of potential in me, despite my young age, I would be her apprentice.

And so it was done. She made a deal with my parents. She would pay them a kind of penance, a new house, enough to live in safe and happy, but they would have to forget me. I could hate them but I know they didn't have much of a choice. I knew that they loved me and did it to save me, they had in mind that I would have a good life and become something bigger than any opportunity I would have there.

And technically, that's what happened. Aretuza was difficult, the other students were much older than me, more sure of themselves, some came from noble families. I was scared but over time I became determined. I became one of the best and youngest witches in Aretuza, Tissaia said that my power was pure chaos and more. I could destroy an entire kingdom if I wanted to. So good, Tissaia said that I could become a dean just like her, or maybe something like an assistant, she would love to have me by her side but it was never my will and unfortunately for her, I went down my own path when she had nothing more to teach me anymore. It was the first time that I saw a small hint of sadness in her strong image on the day I left.

She is the one who gave me the Atlas. She said it was an albino horse, rare, just like me. I hugged her. Tissaia of Vries is a tough woman, obviously she didn't return my action, but she watched me as I rode away. Until my image disappears from her field of vision.

It was a long journey but I returned to Boudicca. A few years had passed and unfortunately, when I arrived, the city lived in poverty and my parents.. had died of an illness. I blamed myself for a few days. I could have helped them but I couldn't have known they were succumbing.

I remember visiting our old house, or what was left of it. I felt something so strong inside me, I think it was the first time that I lost control, when I realized, my hands were red, bleeding from my nose and fire was mirrored. After that, with the help of the surrounding residents, I built a new home.

And since then, I decided to stay. I help people. With their illnesses, attacks by monsters, thieves, disappearances and every kind of problem you can imagine. I even once helped a poor gentleman who was "unable to fulfill his duty as a husband" with his young wife.

There is a bit of everything here and I venture to say, since I stayed things improved a lot, I was known, at least here. "The famous Cassandra of Boudicca, our savior".

My thoughts of my story went away, a noise in the water caught my attention. It was night, everything was dark, except for the moonlight. I left Atlas eating grass and went looking for the sound. I passed through a bush and saw. A little blonde boy. Swimming. All by himself. What a dumb idea.

I was determined to leave but something in the water caught my eye. A pair of eyes? Oh no. At least, six pair of eyes. Getting closer and closer to the little boy. FUCKING NEKKERS.

"BOY, GET OUT OF HERE"

My scream was enough to make the Boy look at me and stop. Of course, an opportunity for those monsters to attack, and so they did. FAT FUCKING SHIT.

I ran towards the boy, held out my hand and he grabbed it. I pulled him out of the lake and behind me, casting a spell towards the group of Nekkers. It was enough to push them away, but not enough to make them give up.

Now, I was the first option. They tried to attack me but they are nothing to me. I lures them out of the lake, with the boy behind me, and as soon as they are all on dry land, I cast a fire spell, turning them into a "beautiful" barbecue in a few seconds.

Seeing their dead bodies, I took a deep breath and looked at the boy, crossing my arms. He signed, it seemed like something part of his everyday because he knew what my first question would be and answered me.

"I know it is late and dangerous. I ran away. I was to swim a little and knew that my father would not let me. But don't worry, the royal guard must already be behind me, it's not the first time."

Dear lord, what's up with those kids those days?

"Do you know your way back home?"

He nodded and I huffed. I grabbed his hand walking on my way back to Atlas.

"Where are we going?"

I put him on my horse's back, climbing immediately afterwards and starting to ride.

"Back home, little troublemaker"

It wasn't a long journey, but that boy talked a lot. I learned that his name was Eric, son and heir to the kingdom of Aluma, his father was Alexander, and his mother, Queen Madeline. I also learned that he loves to escape. Poor parents.

#henrycavill rp #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #charles brandon #charles brandon x reader #charles brandon x you #the witcher #the tudors

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fresh-bag-of-ham · 3 years

Text

ok let’s talk SUNSCREEN

SO the UV filters available in the US can at this point be considered truly terrible. One of the main reasons you’re supposed to reapply sunscreen every two hours is that many of the filters we use are destroyed by the very UV radiation they are designed to block. Killed in the line of duty, thank you for your sacrifice, etc. Counterpoint: sunscreen is gross and reapplying it every two hours is the worst. I am not doing that. Fortunately, Europe and Japan/Korea have been much quicker to approve newly developed more stable UV filters for use and at this point they have some really good ones. They also have much better UVA protection, both because of the better filters available and better labeling regulations.

A quick simplified summary: UVB causes sunburns, is directly absorbed by DNA strands which causes the mutations that lead to skin cancer, SPF measures protection against this only. UVA does more generic damage, creates free radicals associated with aging, wrinkles, collagen loss, pigmentation, etc. etc., but can also contribute to immunosuppression and therefore skin cancer. It’s more complex than this obviously but that’s not really the point of this post.

My sunscreen criteria: I hate wearing sunscreen. However, Accutane + sun = an extremely bad time. My ideal sunscreen is something that doesn’t feel disgusting to wear so I will wear it regularly in the first place (i.e. dry-touch), something I ideally don’t have to reapply super often under normal daily use (i.e. photostable UV filters, water-resistant when necessary), and has maximum protection. As long as I’m wearing it, I also want as much UVA protection as I can find, without compromising the former criteria.

Note: The sunscreens I tried are almost all chemical UV filters and several are loaded with alcohol, so if that upsets your skin then proceed with caution/ask me for a specific rec!

Note 2: All of these are SPF50+ (the highest rating allowed in the EU (meaning they tested at at least SPF60) unless otherwise specified *cough*Supergoop*cough*)

Best Face: Kao Biore UV Aqua Rich Watery Essence (x)

Best feel, best protection, best price point. This gets recommended everywhere for a reason. Bit of a silicone feel on the face. No white cast. Smells like alcohol at first. Really, really quality daily face sunscreen. Water resistant. Caveat that because of the alcohol I would make sure to throw a layer of moisturizer on beforehand to make sure I’m not totally drying myself out.

Also make sure you get the name exactly right, there’s a blah blah Watery Gel that’s totally different consistency, totally different filters, etc. etc. It has to be Watery Essence.

Best Body: Eucerin Sun Sensitive Protect Dry Touch Sun Gel-Cream (x)

This was a sleeper hit, so shout-out to Eucerin for the greatest body sunscreen I’ve ever tried. This stuff is SO protective and dries SO. DAMN. DRY. Zero grease somehow, feels like nothing. It’s even water resistant. I tried a couple LRP body sunscreens but they honestly aren’t worth mentioning. Eucerin or bust babey!

More Face Sunscreens:

I’ve also tried all top five sunscreens from this Stylevana listicle of Asian face SPF (x). The thing about face sunscreens that they’ve started doing is loading them up with silicones and acrylate polymers, which leaves a silicone-y feel on your skin like a makeup primer. As far as I can tell from poking through various patents, these polymers are doing a few things in the formula: a) emulsifying/stabilizing the newer/bigger UV filter molecules, and creating an occlusive layer over the UV filter molecules on the skin to a) improve water resistance and b) reduce eye stingy-ness. At first I thought I wanted to avoid these seemingly unnecessary additives but considering their function, these are all features I want/need in a face sunscreen so we’re living with them.

1. Shiseido - Anessa Perfect UV Sunscreen Skincare Milk: really good, sliiight white cast but absolutely no streaks, more like a foundation just a hair too light for my skin tone. However I can’t imagine buying this because #2 on the list is better and 1/3 the price. Medium silicone feel. Something I’d probably only break out for when I went to an outdoor summer wedding.

2. Kao - Biore UV Aqua Rich Watery Essence: I have already sung its praises.

3. MISSHA - All Around Safe Block Essence Sun Milk: closest to a US milky/greasy sunscreen experience here, though very fluid and still absorbs nicely. No silicone feel. Not a bad choice but nothing special.

4. Canmake - Mermaid Skin Gel UV: probably second favorite after Biore. Similar, bit less of a silicone feel. I’ve gotten red a couple times using this though, possibly because less silicone feel = no layer of protection against sweat/physically rubbing off? I bet this would be perfect under makeup though, it’s super light.

5. COSRX - Aloe Soothing Sun Cream: SO moisturizing, almost a dewy feel that sits on your skin and never dries. I wanted to love her, but unfortunately she is so loaded with the aforementioned polymers that when you reapply/put the appropriate amount on to begin with, it completely gums up and pills and you lose all protection. Also definitely not water resistant. Probably my top pick for a winter daily face sunscreen that I wouldn’t ever be worrying about reapplying though.

Other Contenders:

La Roche-Posay Anthelios Invisible Fluid (x) and Bioderma Photoderm Max Milk (x)

These two bad boys have the highest rated UVA protection currently on the market, 46 PPD for La Roche-Posay and 42 PPD for Bioderma. The LRP is extremely watery (technically alcohol-y) and comes in a teeny bottle(though same size as a lot of these I guess) but it is The Best UVA protection money can buy. The texture is really nice too, and feels super water resistant. If I’m outside sweating or on the water in the summer, this is going on my face. I've also seen it on sale multiple times since I’ve started researching sunscreens (because it’s extremely popular) so you can definitely find it in the $0.30/mL-or-less tier if you keep an eye out.

This Bioderma is cheaper and also extremely protective (thanks Helena @bronyraurmp3 for the rec!) but unfortunately it stung both my and Mr T’s eyes like a BITCH. Extremely unpleasant experiences for both of us. TBH if I’m out in midday sun, swimming or kayaking or something, I’m gonna be wearing a long-sleeved UPF rashguard to protect my arms and upper body and not worrying too much about whatever cheap greasy sunscreen I put on my legs. This Bioderma stuff would be going on my neck, ears, and hands though bc it’s super water resistant.

Eucerin Sun Sensitive Protect Mattifying Fluid : bit of a white cast, really slippy texture going on and nice dry touch texture when it dried down, but drying down took foreeever. Probably really nice if you’re sensitive and pale.

Eucerin Sun Oil Control Gel-Cream Dry Touch : VERY matte and dry-touch, would have loved it if I hadn’t gotten burned using it (doesn’t have all the newest most stable UV filters). Approaching the expensive end of things too, but would be a lovely option if you really prioritize non-greasiness and don’t need the premium protection? Mr T really liked using it on his bald head lol.

Supergoop Unseen Sunscreen SPF40 (US): This is recommended many places but it has to be a joke that people are actually paying Shiseido Anessa prices for old American UV filter selection, only SPF 40, and no UVA rating to speak of, right??? (ok they do have a PA+++ rating meaning a PPD of 8-16, so. this is acceptable.) I did not test this one but damn wtf. The texture is probably nice though and it looks perfectly sheer in the photos on their website, so maybe as a last resort for darker skintones that show a white cast with everything else? At that price tho... you do you but damn.

Jigott Snail UV Sun Block : This had good reviews on Yesstyle but it sucked. White streaks, bad.

La Roche-Posay Anthelios Ultra-Light Tinted Mineral Sunscreen SPF60 (US): Another in the outdoor-wedding only price range. There’s a tinted and a non-tinted mineral version and I ended up mixing them together to get a shade that looked pretty good on me, but needing two bottles for that puts it in the extremely ridiculous price category. Really slippy nice texture that takes a bit to dry but dries down perfectly matte. I guess the person who wants to shell out for a high end all-mineral tinted sunscreen exists somewhere out there but I would bet there are many nice cheaper mineral options out there that I haven’t tried.

And that’s it! For EU sunscreens, I was able to order them on caretobeauty.com, and Japanese/Korean ones from yesstyle.com or stylevana.com, though I had to go to eBay for the Biore and Anessa. I ordered some Biore from a seller on Amazon but they shipped from Japan and I think they got taken by customs because the last known location on the tracking info is Chicago, so finding a seller in the US that has already imported them seems like a good idea (vendor lullabellabeauty on eBay worked great for me, fwiw, I will definitely order my Biore from there in the future).

If you have specific questions about any of these, or if you have any recs you think I should try, hmu! You will be shocked I’m sure to hear I have a whole sunscreen database at this point.

#skincare

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primrose-path-of-dalliance · 3 years

Text

on bren and feeblemind.

(cw: lots of caleb backstory. self-explanatory, i think?)

this isn’t something i’ve talked about on my blog yet, but since the campaign has begun drawing to a close, i want to make sure i say my piece on the popular theory that bren/caleb was institutionalized because trent ikithon feebleminded him to disable him.

my piece being that it’s exceptionally unlikely he did—at least as a premeditated plan. this kind of theory also falls prey to the exact beliefs ikithon has tried to exploit in caleb.

for our mutual reference, i’ll quote the spell description of feeblemind.

FEEBLEMIND (PHB) 8th level enchantment

Casting time: 1 action Range: 150 feet Components: VSM (a handful of clay, crystal, glass, or mineral spheres) Duration: Instantaneous

You blast the mind of a creature that you can see within range, attempting to shatter its intellect and personality. The target takes 4d6 psychic damage and must make an Intelligence saving throw.

On a failed save, the creature’s Intelligence and Charisma scores become 1. The creature can’t cast spells, activate magic items, understand language, or communicate in any intelligible way. The creature can, however, identify its friends, follow them, and even protect them.

At the end of every 30 days, the creature can repeat its saving throw against this spell. If it succeeds on its saving throw, the spell ends. The spell can also be ended by Greater Restoration, Heal, or Wish.

considering the characteristics described and implied by actors other than ikithon—caleb and astrid prominently—who are not motivated to deceive on ikithon’s behalf, feeblemind is not consistent with caleb’s mental break.

fact the first: when bren broke, he became violent and spellcasted.

when astrid describes the circumstances in which he was taken to the vergessen sanatorium (e89, 1:49:30), she refers to his lashing out as “creat[ing] a lot of sparks everywhere else” and rubs at burn scars across her neck. she says that they had to subdue him because he was too dangerous. all of these statements add up to a bren who was viciously spellcasting at his friends and mentor when he broke down.

this wouldn’t have been possible if he’d been feebleminded. feeblemind explicitly prevents the affected creature from casting spells or activating magic items. in that scenario, the only thing bren would’ve been capable of is throwing hands. from him? not very dangerous at all.

how do we know astrid wasn’t lying or intentionally deceptive? because she (and eadwulf) still cares so much for caleb that she risked her life multiple times to aid him. no one who would give caleb a map to a secret volstrucker vault with her own handwriting on it (e127, 29:29; and 30:57)—or intentionally fail to counterspell him when ikithon could’ve seen her do so—would lie to caleb about ikithon attempting to permanently feeblemind him if she knew.

to preempt the idea that astrid had set the m9 up: it’s very obvious she didn’t, since trent ikithon had clearly had no forewarning of a break-in. he would’ve at least been waiting in the vault, already prepared to subdue them quickly, if he’d known.

so it’s fair to determine that astrid would either be honest to the extent of her knowledge to caleb or make it clear that she couldn’t answer him. since she didn’t imply the latter, we can assume she was being honest. and because of astrid’s competence, it’s highly probable she would’ve noticed if his behavior was symptomatic of feeblemind over the years.

fact the second: bren’s mental condition repeatedly improved and regressed while he was institutionalized.

astrid states this in the same conversation about their subduing him after his breakdown (e89, 1:50:50). considering this with the context of their romantic relationship prior to his breakdown, her genuine care for him, and her rise to power that included accompanying ikithon frequently to the sanatorium (e127, 31:07)—astrid would’ve had the motivation and the opportunities to visit bren in person. she could’ve also kept well-abreast of his condition.

actual times of improvement and decline in the mental state that astrid first observed during his breakdown wouldn’t be consistent with feeblemind. although it reduces the victim’s intelligence score to 1, they still retain thought and their sense of identity without problems.

this is a maintenance of consistency and (relative) reason. feeblemind does not actually damage a person’s basic perception of reality. but the health of bren’s behavior throughout the years was instead very unstable.

fact the third: caleb doesn’t remember anything from the burning of his home up to his healing by the unknown cleric.

in the conversation with astrid in e89, he asks her what happened when he broke and explicitly says, “the last thing i remember is my home” (1:46:58). when he first tells beau and nott about his past, he explains that he doesn’t remember much of what happened to him there (e18, 2:51:54).

beyond the reduction to their intelligence, feeblemind doesn’t affect the victim’s ability to form memories. caleb’s keen mind feat and established narrative element of his eidetic memory would’ve still been present as well. therefore, feeblemind alone can’t explain such a significant, near-empty gap in his memory. he would still remember something.

even the possibility of trent ikithon altering them directly is precluded by the fact that the cleric’s healing removed the alterations to caleb’s memory. if all those years had been magically blocked away, they’d have returned when he was healed of everything else.

fact the fourth: sometimes, people really do just break.

nothing about caleb’s backstory is inconsistent with just... being a person living their life, even a terrible one. he was a young man that believed so zealously in his country and his purpose, abused by a powerful older man, that he did many horrible things and believed they were right. until finally he did something that he couldn’t process and broke down.

there’s two reoccurring, underlying assumptions i’ve noticed behind why this theory seems to be so compelling and popular:

caleb just seems so remorseful and traumatized by his double patricide. there’s no way he would’ve willingly murdered his parents. ikithon must have known and decided to preempt his inevitable betrayal.

everything we know about bren, especially from the horse’s own mouth, suggests that he had been willing (at least up until his mental break) to murder his parents. he was literally an extreme nationalist—a fascist, if you will. he was lawful evil (twitter source). he gratefully executed many “criminals” put in front of him, more than likely by burning them to death based on his ptsd. victims whom we now understand may not have been guilty of anything at all.

he was glad to do what he thought was best for the dwendalian empire, and he truly thought being volstrucker was the correct path. trent ikithon, his abuser, treated him as his favorite (e110, 3:30:58). because he believed.

that fervent faith, in fact, is the key to something like his breakdown in the first place. hearing the dying screams of his parents, bren was forced to confront a violent dissonance between his radical beliefs that condemned traitors (as he believed until the cleric’s healing) and the intuitive horror of murdering his parents that he couldn’t reconcile. this fathomless sense of betrayal is why caleb so deeply despised ikithon and himself.

a young evocation wizard who didn’t want his parents dead would’ve run into that burning house, feebleminded or not. someone magically compelled to set that fire would’ve understood what happened as soon as the charm left him and would definitely remember every detail once the cleric healed him.

caleb is remorseful and traumatized because he willingly murdered his parents. as well as many others.

it can’t be that simple. caleb was institutionalized for eleven years just because his abuser pushed him too far? there must be a more nefarious reason. ikithon even said he basically stored him for later.

putting aside the fact that bren having a breakdown in the way he did makes complete sense for his situation, ikithon’s “claim” that he orchestrated all of caleb’s subsequent years is not only something he never actually says (e110, 3:16:34)—it is a claim that’s patently absurd.

i’ve written meta that discusses this in the past (link here). essentially though, the number of moving pieces and assumptions that would be needed for such a series of events is ridiculously improbable. even assuming that ikithon feebleminded him—so that caleb’s mind would be intact when he ‘woke up’—even assuming that ikithon somehow procured the service of a cleric of the archeart—a banned deity in the empire that would oppose ikithon...

why in the world would he ever reasonably believe that caleb widogast, the man he viciously betrayed and lied to and abused, would do anything to benefit ikithon?

trent ikithon is a mortal man. he has power, yes; enchantment magic, authority, and a history of abuse and manipulation over caleb’s head, yes. but ikithon is a mortal man. not a puppeteer in the sky piloting people’s bodies.

he certainly wouldn’t have led caleb to a whole new family that would change everything about his life for the better. a family that would love him, truly—a family that would help him heal, bear the weight of his guilt, and find a real future waiting for him again instead of a self-destructive end. a family that would fight tooth and nail for caleb’s sake against ikithon.

abusers lie. their biggest lie, the one they always circle back to in the end, is that their victim is unique: that there is something which makes them deserving of abuse, and that their abuser is both right and inescapable.

ikithon is read as honest because he chooses his words carefully and has the self-confidence to believe it. everything he’s claimed about caleb and his past have either been implications that he encouraged others to reach for him or platitudes empty of everything except gaslighting intent.

caleb has escaped. and everything ikithon wants is to convince caleb and his friends that he continues to control caleb’s life, that caleb is special, so he can regain some influence over a man who’s come to command so much power.

the idea that caleb must’ve been feebleminded—that he couldn’t have just had a mental breakdown like so many other prospective volstrucker before miraculously, then strenuously, recovering to create a hopeful future for himself—falls into the trap of validating ikithon’s lies.

trent ikithon didn’t see and believe in caleb’s ‘full potential’ before anyone else did. he didn’t foresee a single ounce of the man’s struggle to put himself back together after what he suffered. caleb was not institutionalized to serve as a toy to one day pull back out of the closet. there was no feeblemind or other secretive plan that could only serve to obfuscate the brutal truth:

ikithon abused a boy until he shattered, and tried to hide the evidence. a crime that he’s committed against countless other children. plain and simple.

so that’s my piece.

caleb widogast—bren ermendrud—was not the victim of a premeditated feeblemind from ikithon, based on the mechanics of the spell. even more importantly, the narrative of his and ikithon’s stories would suffer if he was.

now,

A LOGICAL POSSIBILITY I WON’T DENY.

what if ikithon feebleminded him as a method to subdue him after the breakdown?

this is more or less an alternate theory that’s irrelevant to the points i actually wanted to make. but i want to talk about it anyway because it’s kind of fun.

fact the bonus: bren spent eleven years in the sanatorium.

eleven years is a long time. he would’ve been able to save every 30 days after the initial failed save. the exandrian calendar has about eleven 30-day periods every year. assuming a feeblemind spell cast on him just prior to his institutionalization, that’s somewhere around 121 possible save attempts, give or take a few.

what’s the likelihood of him actually saving? to go through the mechanics:

normally, feeblemind reduces a person’s intelligence score to 1, modifier -5. caleb, as a variant human, possessed the feat keen mind from the beginning both mechanically and story-wise. this would make his intelligence score 2, modifier -4, even after feeblemind.

as a level 1-2 wizard, he would’ve had proficiency in intelligence saves. this would be +2 to his save.

in total, the modifier to bren’s intelligence saves would be -2.

in order to cast feeblemind, trent ikithon would have to have been a minimum level 15 wizard. this leaves two possible proficiency bonuses to determine his spell save dc: +5 or +6.

it’s probably safe to assume that his intelligence score is at least 18–20, likely 20. this would be a modifier of +4 or +5. (his intelligence could be 22+ if matt wanted to be a real dick, but let’s assume otherwise.)

spell save dc = 8 + spellcasting score mod (for wizards, this is intelligence) + proficiency bonus.

this means trent ikithon’s possible spell save dc is somewhere from 17–19.

therefore:

at minimum—17 being ikithon as a level 15–16 wizard with an intelligence score of 18–19 at the time of casting—bren would have to roll a 19 or nat 20 to make the save with his -2 save modifier.

at a dc of 18—ikithon either being level 17–20 or having an intelligence score of 20, but not both—bren would have to roll a nat 20.

at a dc of 19(+), it would be impossible for bren to save without additional bonuses such as bless.

i don’t have the brainpower to calculate some real statistical probabilities, but depending on your opinion of trent ikithon’s probable capabilities at the time of bren’s mental break, he may have been able to save against feeblemind sometime during the eleven years he spent at the sanatorium.

naturally, this has the earlier-mentioned conundrum of remembering that return of clarity once he was healed by the cleric, should ikithon have been retrieved to recast the feeblemind and altered his memories. nevertheless, it may or may not be a fun thought to play around with.

#caleb widogast #trent ikithon #blumendrei #cr #cr meta #critical role #critical role meta #critrole #bren aldric ermendrud #bren ermendrud #abuse cw #mental institution cw #prim post #prim says some things #long post

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nicknellie · 3 years

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Anonymous requested: Carrie and Flynn play love interests on TV, and viewers ship them together hard core, not knowing that off camera there is some MAJOR pining (hidden by fake “hatred” for each other) happening. featuring background willex being exasperated by their lesbian friends not knowing how to function around each other?

I’m sorry you sent such an amazing request and then I effectively left you on read for literally months. Seriously anon, this is glorious, I had so much fun writing it. I got like 1.5k words in and realised I had not yet got to anything even close to your request, so there’s quite a bit of background, but I’m still happy with how it turned out (even if it is a lot angstier than you were probably expecting). I really hope you like it, thank you for being so patient!

She Was a Goddamn Dream

Despite the way she acted, there weren’t actually that many things that Carrie Wilson was completely and utterly certain that she was good at. There was her singing and dancing, but every time she watched back recordings of her performances she would pick out a dozen things she could have improved upon; there was her acting, but every time it got to the tenth take of a scene she began to feel like she was messing up time and time again, tripping over her words, delivering her lines flatly with no emotion; there was her frequent attempts to connect with her fanbase, but every now and then a fan would take it too far and she would feel like the one who had ruined it all. People could tell her those things didn’t matter or that they weren’t her fault as many times as they liked, but it never stopped them gnawing away at Carrie’s self-esteem, making her feel like sometimes she didn’t deserve the fame or renown she had built for herself over the years.

But there was one thing she knew for a fact that she was good at: being in love with Flynn Taylor and hiding it.

Carrie had first met Flynn in elementary school. She had been playing with her long-time best friends Alex and Julie when little Flynn, a new student, had walked up to them and asked if she could join in because their game (something about aliens and cowboys if Carrie remembered correctly) looked really fun. Carrie could still recall how Flynn had looked that day, even if it was going on twenty years ago – her hair hung down by her shoulders in cute twists, she had worn a bright pink t-shirt and blindingly yellow dungarees, and she wore sneakers that lit up when she stamped her feet.

Carrie remembered thinking how cool Flynn looked (for a six-year-old) and something inside her had turned defensive. She had advocated for leaving Flynn out of the game, claiming they already had enough players and it would ruin it if they had any more, but Julie had pointed out that if Flynn joined, they would have an equal number of aliens and cowboys so Alex wouldn’t be so outnumbered by the two of them anymore. Carrie had quickly been outvoted, Flynn had been allowed to play with them, she and Julie had clicked in an instant, and Carrie decided that day that she didn’t like Flynn Taylor, not one bit.

For a few years, things had been a little rough. Carrie wasn’t shy about how much she disliked Flynn, but in return Flynn didn’t mind telling anyone who would listen about how much she hated Carrie. The two of them would bicker and squabble and argue over the tiniest of things, and Carrie only realised how bad it was getting when Julie blew up at them.

It was sometime in their freshman year of high school and their feud had been going on for years without showing any signs of letting up. Julie had been going through the worst time of her life; her mother (Rose, who was the closest thing Carrie had to a mother as well, but she knew it wasn’t the same thing) had passed away, she was facing getting kicked out of the music programme for lack of participation, her family was considering moving house, and every day it seemed like more and more things got added to her list of things that were going wrong in her life. Carrie and Flynn had made a silent agreement to put their arguing on hold for Julie’s sake, knowing their friend didn’t need that extra stress in her life right then. And for a while, it had been going well.

Until suddenly it was going badly again.

The three of them were having a movie night at Carrie’s house and everything was great. They were watching their favourite films, eating copious amounts of junk food, talking and laughing and having fun, and Carrie couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Julie smile so much. It had all been going so well.

But then Flynn suggested a movie, but Carrie had wanted to watch something else, and one thing had led to another until they were yelling at each other in the middle of Carrie’s living room, the whole world dropped away around them to the point that all they could focus on was each other. They were so enraptured in their argument that neither of them heard Julie’s phone chime, neither of them watched her open a text from her dad, neither of them saw the tears slide down her cheeks as she read it. Neither of them noticed anything was wrong until Julie tried to suppress a sob but instead just made it come out louder than it would have. Flynn and Carrie had turned to face her, argument forgotten in an instant, and rushed to comfort their friend.

Julie had kind of lost it that night. She had told them everything on her mind from the text she’d just received from her dad telling her they’d officially found a buyer for the house to the fact that she had been exhausted for years from all their arguing. She explained that she thought recently the two of them were finally getting better, finally working on having a civil relationship, and maybe something was finally going right for her because they wouldn’t be at each other’s throats all the time anymore.

“I guess not,” she had said defeatedly, fiercely scrubbing at her face in an attempt to dispel any of her tears, “because you two were just faking it for me. I told you I didn’t want anyone to tiptoe around me like I’ll break if I’m dropped, but you still did. I thought you guys would understand that I just want things to be normal again.”

“We were only trying to make things easy on you,” Carrie explained, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeah,” Flynn agreed, “we never meant to upset you, Jules.”

Julie had scoffed. “Yeah, well, you’ve done a great job of that.”

Julie had apologised for it all in the morning, but Carrie didn’t blame her for anything she’d said the night before. She had clearly got a lot off her chest that she really needed to, and everything she had said to Carrie and Flynn had been deserved in a way. Carrie knew that her and Flynn’s intentions had only been good, but Julie had asked for reality, and they hadn’t given her that.

Which had got Carrie thinking – in this situation, what was her reality?

For years and years, she would have said she hated Flynn. She would have believed it, too. She would have said that from the moment they’d met on that playground, Flynn had been her worst nightmare. But when she thought back on everything, how she saw Flynn even when they were fighting, she couldn’t call Flynn a nightmare.

She was a goddamn dream.

Carrie had spent night and day thinking about what Flynn really meant to her, why she made her so angry, whether it was really anger at all, and she had come to a revelation that really wasn’t as surprising to her as it should have been. It turned out that it wasn’t anger at all, it was a severe case of repression and Carrie Wilson was very much a lesbian.

That was another thing she knew she was good at – repressing things.

Though she was kind of underwhelmed by her epiphany (really, she thought, she should have worked it out a lot sooner), it did make things harder. Now she knew that she didn’t want to argue with Flynn, she wanted to kiss her, and that was very inconvenient. They didn’t argue as much anymore anyway, making a genuine effort to like each other rather than pretending for Julie’s sake, but that just meant that Flynn smiled at her more often and laughed at Carrie’s snarky jokes and it was nearly impossible not to fall at her feet in worship every time she so much as breathed.

So Carrie got very good at pretending she wasn’t in love with Flynn. By the time they were halfway through freshman year, they were friends and nobody ever pointed out that Carrie felt much more than friendship. Things in all their lives began to improve – Carrie and Flynn were no longer feuding, Julie ended up not moving house and got back into the music programme when she started a band, and she got herself a boyfriend – Luke – who made her the happiest Carrie had ever seen her.

(It had prompted many a discussion about whether or not Carrie and Flynn had anyone in mind they wanted to date. Carrie had panicked and said Nick, the school’s star lacrosse player who she had spoken to maybe three times and was definitely not her type. Flynn had given a suspicious hum and said she was still figuring out what it was she wanted; Carrie had excused herself and had a ten-minute panic in the bathroom over the implications of that.)

By the time university rolled around, Julie entered the big leagues with Julie and the Phantoms, deciding not to pursue further education but instead focus on her career, while Carrie and Flynn had gone to the same performing arts school. The same performing arts school where they’d been hired by the same agent. The same agent who kept getting them roles on the same shows together. It was a ticking time bomb, Carrie knew, and it went off a few days after her twenty-fourth birthday.

Carrie had been hired to play Flynn’s love interest in the third season of a show that Flynn had been cast in two years previously.

The truth was, it was both a dream come true and a living nightmare all at the same time. For one thing, Carrie adored the show and had been aching for a role on it since it came out. But on the other hand, she would be Flynn’s love interest, and according to the scripts they would have their first on-screen kiss at the end of the season – Carrie always made sure to separate her work from reality, but in her mind, kissing Flynn was kissing Flynn, no matter what disguise it was hidden by, and it was what she would have to do if she wanted the job.

She tried not to panic, she really did, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to not be panicked by, which was where everything started to fall apart.

It was the day of the kiss scene and Carrie was a wreck (which was putting it kindly). She had been pacing back and forth in her trailer in front of Alex for more than half an hour, trying not to mess up her hair every time she ran her hands through it, saying words but not making any sense.

“Carrie,” Alex said, equal parts firm and amused. Carrie stopped her pacing and turned to face him so fast she was surprised she didn’t get whiplash. “Will you please stop moving? You’re making me travel sick.”

“Very funny,” she deadpanned, but nonetheless she crashed down next to him on the little couch, flopping against him and resting her head on his shoulder. He easily threw an arm around her and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the stress she was under, but the pounding of her heart made it very difficult.

“Talk to me,” Alex said. “What exactly is it that’s getting you so worked up here?”

“I have to kiss Flynn,” Carrie grumbled.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Alex asked.

“No,” Carrie groaned. “Don’t ask stupid questions. It’s a good thing, which is why I’m mad about it. Keep up, Alex.”

She felt him shake with a badly hidden laugh and scowled. “There’s no point asking me to keep up when you’re at least a hundred steps ahead of me. Explain it to me, get it off your chest.”

Carrie groaned dramatically but nonetheless she lifted her head and turned to face Alex, looking him in the eye.

“Fine,” she said heavily. “I’m in love with Flynn.”

Alex nodded. “Yep.”

“We have been acting like we’re in love with each other for the entirety of this season.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s been longer than that–”

Carrie smacked his arm and he grinned devilishly. “Don’t interrupt me. We’ve been acting like we’re in love with each other for the entirety of this season, and now I have to kiss her.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Helpful,” Alex said with an expression that suggested it was anything but helpful.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Carrie asked. She was almost certain that Alex was messing with her now, forcing her to admit what he already knew because he probably thought it would do her some good, and she didn’t know if she was grateful for that or not.

Alex just nodded once.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I don’t want to kiss Flynn because I want to kiss Flynn. If I kiss her on the show, it won’t be real, but I won’t be able to stop thinking about it anyway. I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting to do it again, but not as our characters – as us. I already want to kiss her half the time and I know that’ll only get worse once I’ve done it for real. But I won’t be able to do it again unless it’s scripted because Flynn doesn’t love me back. Do you see my problem now?”

Alex was silent for a beat, his face working through a thousand different emotions in one go. He opened his mouth to reply, closed it again, and whipped out his phone, opening up a message.

“Oh, this is how it is?” Carrie said indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I spill my secrets to you and your response is to text someone instead of reacting at all?”

“I’m texting Willie,” he explained. “I’m asking him something.”

“What?”

That moment, Alex’s phone pinged with a text from Willie. He opened it up, smirked, and showed Carrie the screen.

Alex’s text read: hey, Flynn is in love with Carrie right?

Willie’s reply said: only for like ten years, yeah

Carrie read the messages. Then she read them again. Then she read them a third time, refreshed the chat, and read it again. Then she swiped Alex’s phone from his hand and turned it off, chucking it across the trailer so it landed in a pile of clothes she’d been meaning to get washed.

“Okay,” Alex said. “What was that for?”

“That’s not helpful,” Carrie whined. “How do you expect me to focus now that’s in my head?”

Alex blinked bewilderedly. “Because now you know Flynn loves you back. Which means you two can get together. You’d be able to kiss off-screen, and you were literally saying that’s what you wanted about two minutes ago.”

“But she doesn’t love me back,” Carrie said like Alex was being particularly dense.

“Were we reading the same messages?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yes,” Carrie stressed, “but you’re wrong. She’s never flirted with me or said anything that might sound even a little bit like she thinks of me that way or anything like that. There’s no way she likes me.”

Alex opened his mouth, presumably to argue with her, but at that moment the door of the trailer opened and someone popped their head in to call Carrie to set. She thanked them and they closed the door as she got up to get ready. Alex heaved an exasperated sigh and said, “It’ll be fine, okay? If it helps in any way, just focus on the fact that it’s not you and Flynn – it’s Monica and Kai. It’s your character, not you. Got it?”

“Yes,” Carrie lied, leaving the trailer. “I’ve got it.”

Walking to set felt like walking to her death. Carrie was certain that nothing good would come out of this scene. The kiss would look realistic, yes, but she couldn’t truthfully claim that was because she was a good actress – it would only look real because it was real for her.

She arrived on set and steeled herself, going over her lines in her head and trying to ground herself. She’d been on this set so many times throughout the season; it was Kai’s apartment (Flynn’s character, a charming DJ with a rebellious streak and secret penchant for art and literature), utterly trashed after it had been broken into the previous episode. According to the script, Monica – Carrie’s character – would be helping Kai clean things up when Kai got upset about the whole situation, and it would fall to Monica to help her calm down and search through all her feelings. It would end with a big revelation as they admitted their love for one another, and their kiss would fade to black, ending the episode and the series.

On paper, it looked good. In Carrie’s mind, it was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her, but all she could do was go with it.

All thoughts of calming herself down bled out of her mind the moment Flynn walked onto set. She was in costume, a bright red tracksuit and minimal makeup, and she was smiling from ear to ear. The look was nothing special, but it was beauty if Carrie had ever seen it. Comparing herself to Flynn, she felt underdressed, even though her costume of a floral summer dress and cream-coloured cardigan was much less casual than Flynn’s.

When Flynn turned and met Carrie’s eye, she smiled that wonderous smile of hers, the one that made Carrie feel like they were the only two people in existence, everything else dropping away from them. She tried to smile back, but it was weak and close to a grimace, so she turned away to save herself the embarrassment.

And five minutes later, they began the scene.

To begin with, it went well. Carrie immersed herself in the role of Monica, playing up her concern for Kai, making sure to watch her with the most obvious heart-eyes she could manage (which wasn’t difficult). When Kai broke down crying, Monica rushed to her side, wrapped her in the tightest embrace possible, and tried not to cry herself. She leaned in close and whispered the words she had so painstakingly memorised into her ear.

“This wasn’t your fault,” she breathed. “You could never have known this would happen.”

“But it did happen,” Kai sobbed, her breath rattling heart-wrenchingly. “They targeted me. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said softly, holding Kai tighter. “I can’t imagine how anyone would ever want to hurt you like this. Or hurt you at all. You don’t… you’ve been through so much, Kai, and you don’t deserve any of it. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I wish I had those magic words that would somehow fix all this, but I don’t. All I can do is be here for you because that’s what you deserve. You deserve someone who’ll pick you up when you’re down, someone who will go out of their way to make you happy in life, someone who would love you forever and not think about stopping that for a second.”

Kai drew back a little but remained close enough to look Monica in the eye. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I… Kai, I…” The words died in Monica’s throat.

“I love you,” Kai finished, the start of an incredulous half-smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Monica whispered. “I love you, Kai.”

“God, I love you too.”

And then when they surged together, meeting in a fierce kiss, it suddenly wasn’t Monica and Kai anymore. This was Carrie and Flynn, kissing each other like they meant it, hard and fast and unrestrained and everything Carrie had ever imagined. More than Carrie had ever imagined. Flynn’s intensity hit her like a truck, but for once she wasn’t one to complain. She gave as good as she got, all that built up longing releasing itself in one fell swoop. Carrie Wilson was kissing Flynn Taylor and it was the most incredible thing she’d ever felt.

The call of, “Cut!” broke them apart. For a moment, Carrie looked into Flynn’s eyes, trying to read what was written in them, but it was useless. Her hands were still on Flynn’s waist, but she let go, and a moment later felt Flynn’s hands untangle from her hair.

They did the scene again and Carrie cursed herself for not foreseeing this massive issue. They never did one-take scenes, everything was gone over time and time again. She wasn’t kissing Flynn just once that day; she was reliving it over and over, and every kiss was better than the last as they got more acquainted with each other, figured things out, became less messy but kept all of the passion. It was a change of pace, but Carrie was handling it.

Until she messed up her lines in the worst possible way.

It was supposed to be, “Yeah. I love you, Kai.”

Carrie said, “I love you, Flynn.”

The director picked up on her mistake immediately and was good-natured about it as he made them take the scene from the top. Flynn said nothing, just laughed it off, mentioned that Carrie must be getting a little tired, all that kissing really taking it out of her. Everyone was fine with it and it didn’t happen again, but Carrie was mortified. She knew that those words had held all the sincerity it was impossible to fake, even with years of acting experience under her belt. She knew she had sounded honest in a way she never could have pretended to be. She knew that it was probably the take they would use, editing her use of Flynn’s name to Kai. And it felt like the biggest mistake of her life.

As soon as she was cleared to leave set, she all but legged it out of the room and back to her trailer where Alex was still waiting for her. She sat down beside him, head on his shoulder, and she cried.

The worst part was that she was no longer certain whether she was any good at pretending not to be in love with Flynn.

Promos and trailers for the show gradually released over the next few weeks. Carrie avoided social media as often as she could – it hadn’t taken people long to figure out that she would be Flynn’s love interest, and she simply couldn’t handle their reactions.

Some comments she had seen were harmless, related only to the show. ‘Monikai for life’ seemed to be a common one, as well as ‘she better treat my girl Kai with the respect she deserves’ or some form of ‘I swear they look literally perfect for each other’. Those comments were the kind Carrie could get along with. She liked a few posts, teasing just enough to get speculation up, but not enough to confirm anything.

Then there were different comments. Comments that weren’t about Monica and Kai, but instead about Carrie and Flynn. ‘Oh my god, I have been waiting for these two to play girlfriends forever’ seemed to crop up a lot. If it wasn’t that it was ‘we are finally going to see Carrie and Flynn kiss!’ and sometimes it was the worst comments like ‘they should date in real life’.

Everything about it made Carrie feel bad. For one thing, she hated people saying things like that about her private life – she might have been famous, but she was still a human being, and these people didn’t know her, so nothing gave them the right to talk about her and Flynn like that. But also, it was a constant painful reminder of what she didn’t have, and that was too much for her to process.

She had hardly spoken to Flynn since the wrap party despite Flynn messaging her every day. She was ashamed of her slip up and terrified that if she spoke to Flynn the same thing would happen again. Now that those words were out there, she didn’t think she’d be able to rein them back in ever again.

So Carrie was scared. Scared that she had ruined everything with Flynn, scared people would figure out how she really felt, scared that this was something she couldn’t bounce back from.

And she lashed out.

Admittedly, she knew could have handled the situation better. She could have ignored all the rumours and comments, stuck to one side of the fanbase, been proud of what she and Flynn had created. But she didn’t do any of that. There was one thing she knew she was still good at, and that was acting as if she hated Flynn Taylor. It had seemed like a good idea at the time – reveal to everyone that she hated Flynn to get them off her back. If she had thought it through for more than a second, she wouldn’t have done it, but one night something inside her broke and she let it all out.

She had reverted back to old habits and written a load of unsavoury tweets about Flynn, saying she hated her and couldn’t imagine anything worse than dating her, telling everyone that the idea of them being in a relationship was really creeping her out and she wanted nothing to do with it. She had posted them all before she could think any more about it, but the regret had been instant, as had the furious messages from her PR team and agent, the thousands of unfollows, the way people immediately tried to cancel her, and the way all of Flynn’s attempts to contact her stopped after those hateful words had been said. She deleted the tweets, but they’d already been screenshotted many a time, so it didn’t do much good.

The only surprise that came from it was a follow-up tweet from Flynn reading: You guys don’t need to cancel Carrie. It’s not as if I’m upset. I’d only be upset if I liked her, which I never have done.

Somehow, she had managed to ruin everything, just with a slip of the tongue.

The night of the season premier, Carrie got a knock on her door. That in itself was weird – she hadn’t invited anyone over, planning on spending the night alone, not even necessarily watching the show she’d worked so hard on, and none of her friends were really the type to just show up unannounced.

Well, none of them except–

“Willie,” she greeted with a smile when she opened the door. He stood on the threshold with his skateboard tucked under his arm, helmet lopsided on his head, and a smile on his face that looked half genuine and half like he was up to something. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come and watch the premier with you,” he said, inviting himself in and removing his helmet, hanging it on a coat hook as he propped his skateboard up against the wall. “Wouldn’t want you to be lonely for something as huge as this, right?”

“Okay,” she said, unconvinced, “and what’s your ulterior motive?”

Willie knew better than to argue. He frowned slightly and said, “Flynn told me what you said and that you’re not talking to her now, Alex told me that you totally freaked out – like freaked out, freaked out – and then went all despondent and sad, and I wanted to see if I could help. Maybe, you know, talk some sense into you.”

She rolled her eyes, leading Willie into the living room and sitting on the couch with him. “I’m not ignoring Flynn, I didn’t freak out, and I’ve got plenty of sense in me, thank you very much.”

Willie raised an eyebrow. “Sense? Or denial?”

She didn’t reply.

“Carrie,” he said, shuffling closer, “listen to me, okay? That day, when you said to Flynn that you love her, you ran to Alex while she ran to me. She was a total mess, telling me she had no idea if you had meant it or if you’d really just messed up. She said she wanted to talk to you, and after that day she said she kept trying but you wouldn’t pick up and she thought she had done something wrong. And then all those tweets… Carrie, what’s going on?”

She sighed, threw her head back to try and tip the tears welling in her eyes back into her skull, and then turned back to Willie.

“I meant it,” she breathed. “When I told Flynn I love her, I meant it. But she doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Yes she–”

“No,” Carrie said firmly. “She doesn’t. I shouldn’t have said it, I shouldn’t have lost myself like that. I should have had some freaking restraint. And now that I’ve told her, she’s going to hate me because I will have made her uncomfortable and she won’t want to be around me anymore. I’ve ruined it, Willie. And the tweets were a stupid idea, even I know that. I was scared, which is a terrible excuse, I know. I thought people were figuring out how I really felt so I… god, I’m such an idiot. I never should have done it. And now I know she hates me, she said so herself.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Willie said softly, shaking his head.

Carrie just raised an eyebrow.

“Look, I’m… I’m not going to make you talk about it tonight if you really don’t want to,” Willie said. Carrie breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing a little. “But you’ve got to promise me you’ll talk to Flynn. Just to explain yourself. No matter which way your conversation goes, I really don’t think you’ll regret it.”

Carrie just hummed, not willing to provide an actual answer, and flicked the TV on, putting on the season premier of their show. She and Willie settled down together and watched. If Carrie teared up a little watching her first interaction with Flynn, Willie was kind enough not to mention it.

Eventually, Carrie took Willie’s advice, more because she missed Flynn than anything else. And in any case, she felt she owed Flynn an apology and an explanation. She had been awful to her in a way she hadn’t since they were teenagers, and she was ashamed and guilty and just wanted things to go back to some semblance of normal. On the night the season finale aired, Carrie drove to Flynn’s house and knocked on the door before she could change her mind.

“Oh,” Flynn said when she opened the door. Carrie couldn’t read her expression but fought down the panic that arose. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” she asked, hating how cliché it sounded, but that didn’t matter when Flynn nodded and opened the door wider, letting her in.

They settled together on the couch in front of Flynn’s television. It was set to the channel their show aired on, but it hadn’t started yet. When Flynn didn’t say a word, Carrie took that as her cue to start the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Go on,” Flynn encouraged, sounding unimpressed.

“I’m sorry for everything I said about you online,” she continued, doing her best to look Flynn in the eye when all she wanted to do was look away. “I didn’t mean any of it. You’re such an amazing person and one of my best friends and I can’t believe I let myself do things that would jeopardise that. None of it was true, anyway. I just… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” Flynn pressed, voice slightly softer than it had been a moment before. Carrie hoped she hadn’t imagined Flynn scooting ever so slightly closer to her on the couch.

She took a deep rattling breath. She had come there that night having promised herself that she would be completely honest with Flynn because she owed her that much. Well, now was the point when she needed to be honest and it was the most terrifying prospect she’d ever faced.

“Scared of people working out how right they are about me,” she admitted. “I saw people saying that we… that we would be good together as a couple in real life. And it hit too close to home because I’ve always thought that exact same thing, but I’ve never been able to do anything about it.”

“What are you saying?” Flynn breathed.

“I’m saying… I meant what I said on set. It wasn’t me slipping up, it was genuine. I couldn’t hold it back that day.”

“You mean when you said ‘I love you’?” Flynn asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Carrie said. “I meant it when I said that I love you. I love you, Flynn, I really do.”

Flynn was silent for far too long. Carrie felt her heart sinking, knowing she had made a mess of this, that they would never be able to return from this, that Flynn probably wanted nothing to do with her now, despite what Alex and Willie seemed to think about the whole thing. She prepared herself for the shouting, the accusations, the breaking off of their friendship.

But then Flynn said, “You shouldn’t have run out of set that day.”

“I know, I know, I should have explained myself and apologised there and th–”

“No,” Flynn interrupted. “You should have stayed so that I had the chance to say it back.”

“So you… what?”

Flynn’s hands, soft and gentle, came up to cradle Carrie’s face. She felt Flynn run the pad of her thumbs deftly over Carrie’s cheeks, looked deep into her gorgeous brown eyes and lost herself in them. When Flynn said, “I want to say it back,” Carrie was so up in her own thoughts that she almost forgot what they were even talking about.

“Then say it,” she returned, leaning into Flynn’s touch.

“I love you, Carrie.”

“God, I love you too.”

They kissed again, leaning forward to meet each other, and it was like their first kiss all over again. This one wasn’t tinged with the bittersweet sting that their on-screen ones had been, but rather peppered with the joy they shared having finally revealed their truth to one another. It was a ‘thank you’, a ‘sorry’, an ‘I love you’, a ‘you are it for me’ all in one go, made of love and care and everything good in the world. Carrie lost herself in Flynn – she thought that would never stop happening – and it made her feel free.

Here was another thing she was good at: loving Flynn and showing it to her.

At some point, long after they had broken their kiss, instead curling up together on the couch to watch their show, Flynn snickered and said, “You know, our agent told me that our little spat online had done wonders for the show’s publicity.”

“Where are you going with this?” Carrie asked, smirking, knowing that Flynn wasn’t just dropping that out of nowhere.

She shrugged. “I think we could do our bit to help out with ratings. For a while it might be a good idea to keep the act up, you know? Act like we hate each other and watch everyone freak out over it. And if it’s super funny for us then that’s just a bonus.”

“Fine, on one condition,” Carrie said. Flynn nodded. “We don’t tell Alex and Willie what we’re doing. They’ve been laughing at our stupidity for years, I think we deserve a little revenge.”

“I love the way you think,” Flynn laughed, leaning up to kiss Carrie again. “I love you. But as far as anyone else is concerned, no I don’t.”

Pressing another kiss to the side of Flynn’s head, Carrie said teasingly, “I don’t either.”

(Alex and Willie were not best pleased when they found out three months later that Carrie and Flynn were not in fact mortal enemies but girlfriends when the girls asked them for help moving all of Flynn’s stuff into Carrie’s house because they’d decided they wanted to live together. They’d been given the silent treatment the entire time, but it was worth it.)

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @ghostlydahlia @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

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twstdreams · 4 years

Note

HC for enemies--friends--lovers please! With Epel, Ace, Floyd💛

Everyone is a sucker for enemies to friends to lovers, including me, but that is quite a long process so I changed it to enemies to friends to crush! I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Floyd’s section contains bullying and not respecting personal boundaries, long post

Includes spoilers for episode 1

Epel Felmier

Enemies

You two start off on the wrong foot when Epel thinks you’ve misgendered him. You were pointing towards him and giggled with your friend, saying, “She’s so cute!”

Epel immediately shuts you down and tells you that he’s a man

Being called out so publicly shocks you, especially since you were referring to the familiar beside him. But eyes are starting to linger your way, so you decide to stay silent. Besides, why was he even listening in to your conversation?

Epel is annoyed because he takes your silence for shame. You feel uncomfortable because of both the unwanted attention and the fact that Epel confronted you so publicly instead of approaching you personally, preferably without the class staring.

Friends

Neither of you make an effort to approach the other, perfectly content staying in your own circles until you’re forced to be lab partners. It’s a little awkward but you both know Crewel doesn’t give easy assignments, so you put aside memories of your first impressions of each other.

Here and there little bits of conversation sneak in. Discussing the latest assignment while waiting for something to reduce, complaining about the mess the ghost wedding made while distilling this or that, talking about favourite foods in the cafeteria while sharing notebooks to write down qualitative and quantitative observations

The two of you find out your common interests and take turns letting each other gush. Your relationship with Epel improves and your feelings towards him morph into something more pleasant

At the end of the experiment, you get the courage to sincerely apologize and clear air. From there, the two of you become friends.

You encourage him to go for a manly aesthetic if that’s what makes him happiest while providing your opinions to help him widen his viewpoint. He appreciates the support and discovers more sides to you as your friendship continues

Crush

He loves the way your eyes sparkle when he carves all sorts of creations out of apples but crinkles his nose when you suggest he make one that looks like a Nashi pear

You two sneak out and have yakiniku to celebrate the end of exams!

Epel feels like he can be himself without reservation around you. He’s never been one for romance or flowery gestures, but as much as he’s nervous to admit it, the feelings he has for you have bloomed into something beyond friendship. And the nervous butterflies that erupt in his stomach every so often aren’t from some botched potion either

You admire Epel’s persistence and hardworking spirit, but even more than that you crave his attention and affection in a unique way. You see Epel’s apparent distaste for romance when topics like true love’s kiss or love poems come up, so you hide your feelings. Unfortunately, even in the darkness, they continue to grow

Ace Trappola

Enemies

When you first meet Ace Trappola, you are not impressed. He radiates little sibling energy in the worst way. You can just feel that he was the youngest that tried to get away with everything with sweet words and a cheeky smile

His lack of filter is annoying but more importantly he seems to be on Riddle’s hit list. With hopes of avoiding getting collared by the dorm leader, you swiftly avoid the troublemaker. Someone who nearly got expelled and subsequently punished by Riddle on the same day was not someone you wanted to hang out with.

Unfortunately, luck is not on your side. You were minding your own business while tending to the flamingoes only to find yourself suddenly embroiled in his harebrained scheme to skip chores.

Ace pretends to help you out but Riddle catches him in the act and now the two of you are in trouble! You, for hiding Ace, and him for trying to avoid his responsibilities. The hundreds of rules you have to copy by hand are enough to fuel your hatred for the redhead

Friends

You actively avoid Ace until he stands up to the dorm leader. Quite frankly, since he needed to punch Riddle to get the message through, his communication skills definitely leave something to be desired. However, his action, as clumsy as they were, bring about good change for the dorm and Riddle

You’re still a little weary, Riddle isn’t that lenient even after relaxing and Ace is as blunt as ever, but you have a newfound understanding of Ace

The two of you get closer bit by bit. One day, you’re partners to paint roses, having fun practicing casting spells and perhaps keeping quiet about a hedgehog that turned lilac for a bit.

The next day, you’re casually chatting while playing croquet at an Unbirthday party

Another day, you let Ace have the last slice of cherry pie in exchange for him teaching you a cool card trick he showed you the day before. Little things keep adding up, intertwining your lives closer together

Crush

Eventually, you watch Ace play basketball. He describes it as a casual practice but you can’t help but be drawn in by his playing style. Ace looks so cool during the scrimmage, interrupting his opponent’s offence with ease and changing the tide of the game in an instant!

His spatial awareness shines through when all it takes is a quick glance at the hoop for him to take a shot. Your heart may have skipped one too many beats when the basketball flew into the net.

As the days pass, you find yourself looking forward to his teasing. Sometimes he actually manages to fluster you! Otherwise, you two enjoy a casual banter. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you ignore the butterflies in your stomach

Floyd Leech

Enemies

Are you scared of Floyd? Why yes you are, which is why you go out of your way to avoid him. The way Savanaclaw students quake in fear when they accidentally bump into Floyd is enough to confirm that you should steer clear of the belligerent eel

Unfortunately, this sentiment is one sided. Floyd has taken to calling you glass catfish because you’re both horribly skittish around him and your terror is clear! He thinks it’s cute how you assume crowds will keep you safe and you do your best to not be alone.

Quite frankly, it’s a one-sided animosity. Floyd thinks you’re funny while your torment is his pleasure. You try to keep your calm but his relaxed comments of breaking bones and the looming threat of being squeezed keeps you on your toes

Honestly, you’re a little miffed. First of all, why is he so fast? Secondly, there must be others to scare. You’re sure Azul gives him enough work in that aspect. And finally, how are you supposed to memorize all these mushroom species and history facts when Floyd has deemed you his current favourite squeaky toy?

Friends

You always assumed Floyd’s squeeze would be a horrible experience of organs being rearranged and the nasty sound of something snapping. So when the first time he embraces you and it’s the feeling of warm, strong arms curling around you protectively, your brain short circuits

You had been fuming and more than a little annoyed so when you crossed paths with some rowdy students, instead of spitting out some standard apology and being on your merry way, you snapped back! And, like most students at NRC, they didn’t take kindly to it.

It feels ironic that you had avoided Floyd so fervently but in the end, you only had yourself to blame for stirring up trouble. Magic battles were most definitely against the rules but you didn’t have any intentions on letting some fireballs scorch you either

Yet your opponents quickly withdraw when Floyd chimes, “Let me join in!~” And for once, you’re happy that Floyd is around. It must show on your face because in the midst of drawling about how boring it is now that the tension is gone, he breaks out into a smile

“You’re grinning glass catfish!” It’s the first time Floyd ever makes you smile and it’s far from the last

Your friendship is very much a give and take affair. You learn to go with the flow, but you put your foot down as necessary. More than you expect, Floyd can be amendable to your demands. He’s still as chaotic as ever though, hedonistic almost to a fault

Crush

You two have a takoyaki adventure! Cooking with Floyd is nothing short of chaotic. For the first half, he’s bored and pacing around. You chop up ingredients and he not so secretly snacks on them. Then when it’s time to fry the takoyaki in the molds, he’s suddenly over-pouring batter and eating them almost as fast as you make them! By the end, you didn’t even get to take a picture of the takoyaki you two made but his goofy grin and lips covered in sauce engrain themselves into your memory

“I could eat you up too!” he comments with his signature laugh and it does dangerous things to your heart.

“Please don’t!” you squeak out hastily but you can’t help the flush of heat that comes with embarrassment nor the hasty hand gestures as you avoid his gaze. Your pulse starts to increase rapidly, but you know it’s not out of fear

You won’t complain of boring days anymore. For now, you let the current take you where it will. And if that destination happens to be romantic, well you’re not one to fight the waves

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst headcanons #twstdreams #twisted dreams #here I am writing 1.6K about enemies to lovers instead of working on essays #whoops don't be like me

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azucanela · 4 years

Text

HOME PT. 1 | ZUKO

HOME MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In which Zuko has a chance to go home.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: blood, weapons, fights, death threats

A/N: we love zuko in this house, also send stuff into my ask box im bored and need ideas to write kashdkfkjasdhlf

When Zuko was banished, it seemed that Ozai was more upset that Y/N intended to go with him, than at the pain he had caused his son. She was a talented firebender, capable of defeating even Azula, his prodigal daughter, in an Agni Kai. Her tactics and strategies, despite her young age, proved effective time and time again. She had the makings of a great General for the Fire Nation Army, and Ozai saw it as a waste for her to search for someone who would likely never be found. Not when Y/N L/N had so much potential.

Y/N just saw it as proof that Ozai never truly cared for his son. His recognition of the impossible task he had bestowed upon his own child.

At the end of the day, her loyalty lied with the prince, so she set sail alongside him and his Uncle, in search of an avatar that had been gone for a century. They had known each other since they were children, when Ozai had taken interest in her natural talent for firebending. She had been raised alongside Zuko and Azula, training with them. But as most knew, Azula had an affinity for inflicting pain to those around her in her free time, so when the time came for a sparring match between Y/N and Azula, the results were deadly.

Ozai decided Y/N would stick around a little longer when she managed to beat Azula that day.

Zuko had never been competitive, not like Azula was. Though he’d asked her for tips on how to improve, and she’d graciously assisted him. And so, a friendship blossomed in the fire of their youth. She became his sparring partner, and as they grew older, his right hand.

She never regretted stepping onto the boat with Zuko the first day of his banishment. But she was beginning to regret ever speaking with him in the first place. He had no goal other than finding the Avatar, it was his sole purpose at this point, even after nearly three years of searching. But there were moments in which she found him rather… peaceful. He was almost the same boy who Y/N had played tag with as a child all those years ago. And in these moments, when she caught a glimpse of the real Zuko, she couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in her chest each time they had an actual conversation.

One that wasn’t about his never ending quest to find the Avatar.

The conversations they had in the middle of the night, when sleep failed to reach them. The ones they never mentioned when the night was over. Because what happened in Zukos’ room at night, stayed there.

Y/N had only ever needed to knock once and Zuko was opening the door to his room on the ship. She gave him a tight lipped smile as she slipped inside, hoping no one noticed because they both knew what it would look like from an outside perspective. Not that she cared what others thought. What happened between her and Zuko was their business, though nothing ever really happened. He would try to make tea, they would dump the tea because of how bad it tasted, Y/N would remake the tea, and then they would talk.

Sometimes she wished it was more than that though.

It was a foolish dream to have, she recognized that as she took the teapot before he could even make an attempt to boil the water. “You couldn’t sleep either?” She asked as she began to heat the water with her firebending, holding the pot above her free hand.

Zuko scoffed, sitting back on the mat he referred to as a bed, “no, I just knew you’d be awake.”

Y/N frowned, “you should’ve gone to bed.” She places the tea leaves into the steaming pot, moving to sit with her legs crossed, across from him on the floor.

“And put the entire ship at risk?” Came his response, his brow raised.

Y/N laughed lightly, “what are you talking about?” Her head tilts as she looks at him in confusion, grabbing the two solitary teacups on his desk.

“Last time you were left unattended you nearly blew up our only means of transportation.” He deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes, looking to him as she spoke, “that was one time-”

Zuko was smiling now, “remember the time you nearly killed that man with a cabbage cart because he-”

“Okay! I get it, you can stop now.” Y/N exclaimed, cheeks warming as she recalled the event. She handed him his cup of tea, and for a moment she could even forget that the only reason that they were on the ship in the first place was to find the Avatar, for a moment she could forget that Zuko had changed

His hand grazed hers as he took the cup, mumbling a small, “thank you,” before he took a sip. Looking out the small window of the ship, he realized he would never forget his banishment. His home. He quickly brought his attention back to Y/N, only to realize she was already looking at him.

She brought herself closer to him on the floor, “what are you thinking about?” She recognized the look on his face, the nostalgia, the pain.

If he was honest, he was now thinking about the small amount of space between them since she’d moved to be seated beside him on the mat. Though he responded, “home.”

Y/N hummed in response, taking a sip of her tea, “you miss it?” She asked.

Zuko scoffed, “that’s a dumb question. Of course I miss it. Why wouldn’t I?” Y/N was tempted to tell him that he shouldn’t miss the home that cast him aside for thinking of the best interest of the people. The home that was ruled by the man who scarred him for life. The man he still seeked validation from.

Instead she shrugged, placing her tea onto the floor of his room, “well I don’t.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers, he looks to her incredulously, “what do you mean you don’t? We’ve been away for so long!” He exclaims, his temper beginning to show. It was rare for him to explode at her like he tended to with other crew members, Iroh had pointed it out to him, and though Zuko shut him down quickly, nobody could deny the accuracy of the statement. But they had grown up there, together. All of his happy memories, all of his dreams, his past and hopefully his future, were all there. Had that all meant nothing to her?

“The Fire Nation was never my home, Prince Zuko.”

He almost flinches when she uses his title. And she quickly changes the subject, though she can feel it lingering in his mind as they have their tea.

She ended up falling asleep in his cabin after they talked for the rest of the night, awakening in the room she internally groaned, knowing what it would look like when she set foot outside of his room. Being on this ship for so long, she knew her fellow crewmates were looking for some gossip to spice up their lives a bit. Looking around, Y/N realized he wasn’t there. She brought a hand up to rub her temple she sighed when she sat up, deciding she’d go back to her room and get dressed before heading up to the deck.

They’d been coasting around Earth Kingdom waters that recently been put in Fire Nation control, and as she entered the deck of the ship, Y/N realized they had docked on one of the piers. The sea of people around the market made her wonder what the area could have to offer as she turned to look back on the deck, where Iroh had been seated with his Pai Sho board, along with several other crew members loitering in the area. “Good morning Iroh,” she said with a smile as she made her way towards him, “do you happen to know what we’ll be doing today?”

He smiled up at her, gesturing for her to take a seat as he responded, “well Prince Zuko was not very pleasant this morning, so perhaps something more violent.” He took the teapot on his side, “you should probably go look for him before my nephew does something unwise.” Iroh explained with a sigh, refilling his cup.

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, suddenly grateful she hadn’t gotten comfortable and taken a seat when he’d offered it, “of course. He likely intends to do something irrational and stupid.” She cracked her knuckles, aggressively securing her dagger at her side as annoyance bubbled up inside her, “I’ll see you later Iroh.”

She decided that if thugs hadn’t attacked him yet, she would, stepping off the ship and into the crowd. She slipped between the people with ease, making her way to some of the stands, shopkeepers yelling out deals as they tried to sell some of their products.

And then Y/N got distracted. It started out with a new dagger for her growing collection, then a new holster for said dagger which was now strapped to her leg along with the weapon. Would you look at that, with all this new stuff she was getting she’d definitely need a bag to carry it. Right? Right. Then it was some rare tea leaves for Iroh and new cookbook for the chef that lived on the ship, though it only served as a reminder that she was yet to eat.

Making her way towards the part of the market that specialized in foods, the aroma filled her nose. Holding the strap of the bag tighter as she maneuvered through the busy market as she’d spotted a stand with a variety of foods. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smell as she reached the stand before picking out what she wanted to purchase. In the corner of her eye she saw cabbages and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto her face. Bringing out her small pouch of money, she went to hand the shopkeeper some coins, but the old woman shook her head.

“The young man over there paid for your things already Miss.” She explained, “scary guy. Just shoved this bag of money at me and told me to keep the change while you were on the other end of the stand shopping.” Though she ended up pointing in the direction of this elusive ‘young man,’ Y/N already knew who it was as she turned around and saw Zuko brooding against a wall in one of the emptier parts of the market.

She sighed, “thank you ma’am. Have a nice day.”

The old woman nodded, and Y/N put the foods into her bag as well, grateful for the variety of pockets within it as she made her way to where Zuko stood. “She had cabbages. I’m shocked you didn’t attack her.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “where have you been all morning?” She pulled two of the bite-sized pastries she’d bought from the old woman, handing one to Zuko that he begrudgingly accepted as they began to walk down the empty street before taking a bite out of her pastry.

“Around.” Came Zuko’s response as he ate the small pastry. “I just wanted to browse the marketplace.” Y/N took another bite of her pastry as she listened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

She scoffed, “Zuko, I swear.” They were entering a plaza, with a fountain in the center, “it’s my job to know where you are. I’m here to make sure you don’t die during your search for the Avatar, because I’m your right hand, remember?” She exclaimed, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she got side tracked in her search for him,

“You were my right hand. At home. Not that it was your home.” He corrected her pointedly. It was quickly becoming clear that her statement had bothered him, and he wasn’t going to let this go.

She looked at him incredulously, throwing what was left of her pastry at his chest, causing him to roll his eyes and throw what was left of his own at her face, though she dodged it. Y/N raised her brows, taken aback by this statement and action. He continued to walk as she stopped, dead in her tracks, “oh, is that what this is about? Because if you wanna talk about that we can-” A deep exhale escaped her, followed by silence.

Zuko’s brows furrowed, “what? Don’t wanna finish the sentence?” He asked as he turned around, only to find that she had a knife pressed to neck, and was surrounded by a group of men.

Of course it had been thugs.

One of them reached to the pouch on her side, yanking it from its place on her belt while the other looked up to Zuko, “you’re going to give us your money, or your little girlfriend is gonna die.” He threatened, pressing the knife harder onto her neck, drawing blood.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N managed to let a bitter laugh escape her despite the situation, “in case you didn’t notice, we had just been arguing. I doubt he has a problem with my death at this point.”

Zuko glared at her, “could you shut up for one minute?” He exclaimed.

“Oh, I think I’m about to be shut up permanently but okay Zuko.” She replied, a sarcastic smile on her face as he narrowed his eyes at her.

He quickly returned his attention to the thugs, who had exchanged looks due to the strangeness of the exchange they were witnessing. “Here’s what’s actually going to happen. You are going to let her go, and if you don’t, you’re going to die.”

The man with a knife against her throat laughed, “and how are you gonna manage that?” He asked, his four companions moving forward to form a circle around Zuko, weapons in hand. “We’ve got the upper hand.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill you. My little girlfriend will. And,” Zuko paused, eyeing the men surrounding him as he cracked his neck, “you don’t have the upper hand. Not while I have Y/N.”

The man was about to speak when a dagger suddenly pierced his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, dropping the knife he’d held into Y/N’s free hand. She threw the blade in Zuko’s direction and he caught it with ease as he dodged one of the men that lunged at him.

Y/N kicked her captor’s injured leg, causing him to fall to the ground and allowing her to slip her bag off of her shoulder, wrapping the strap around his neck as she rammed the hilt of the dagger onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious. Turning around to assist Zuko, she had a deadly realization.

One of the men was missing.

Everything happened rather quickly after that, she extended her hand, preparing to begin firebending at the man that was attempting to sneak up behind Zuko, except no fire came out. Instead, a whip of water extended from the fountain, slamming him into a nearby building.

The other three men exchanged looks, stopping their movements momentarily, then taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction.

Y/N was still staring at her hand in shock, though her eyes soon rose to find Zuko staring at her as well, the look in his eyes unreadable. A shaky breath escaped her, “guess that conclude your search.” She swallowed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued, “you can go back home now.”

“We should get back to the ship.” Came his response. “You need medical attention.” Moving towards her, she took a step back.

“Zuko-”

“You aren’t the Avatar, Y/N.” He stated firmly.

“Really?” She exclaimed, disbelief clear in her voice, “because it sure does look like I am. No one else is capable of bending more than one element!” She pointed out.

Zuko shook his head, “the Avatar is an Airbender. You were born and raised in the Fire Nation.” He rationalized. “It’s not possible for you to be the Avatar, even if the Airbender is dead, the next Avatar would be from one of the Water Tribes.” Zuko opened his mouth to continue speaking but Y/N cut him off.

“Zuko.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “What are you doing?”

In that moment he is silent, and she wonders if he’s reconsidering his choice. In actuality, a million thoughts are running through his mind, maybe he could fake her death? Tell them that she died in this town, let her live out her life in peace while he continued a false search for the Avatar. Maybe this was a fluke, or there was a Waterbender hiding in the shadows that saved their lives. Or maybe he was in denial.

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N wasn’t going back to the Fire Nation a prisoner.

“Protecting the only home I have left.”

Because sometimes home isn’t a place. It’s a person.

You can imagine their shock when they discovered the last Airbender.

a/n: are there two avatars? maybe. is the reader a dual bender? maybe. will we ever find out? idk

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko #zuko atla #avatar the last airbender #atla #lok #legend of korra #prince zuko #prince zuko atla #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #iroh makes an appearance #zuko atla x reader

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

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.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #frostbite #clockwork #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king! danny #ghost king! au #witch queen! sam #witch queen au #enemies to friends to lovers

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