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pathologicalreid · 8 months ago

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prisoner | s.r.

in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a serial killer - Spencer's first since he was released

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: post prison reid, fwb but also mutual pining, serial killers, prison, panic attack, chiromancy word count: 3.66k a/n: i originally came up with this idea in 2023 😭 😭 it's about time i finished it lol. definitely suffers from exposition overload but i don't caaaaare.

Fourteen times.

You had asked him fourteen times if he thought he was going to be okay doing the custodial interview. No one else was available to do it, but you still had your reservations. Sending Spencer to a prison felt wrong, even if he wasn’t on the inside of the bars anymore.

Without telling him the reason, Emily elected to send you with him to the facility, she said it was because you had never done one before, but you knew it was deeper than that. “How many victims?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the road as you drove to the destination.

“Eight,” Spencer answered, looking through the case file. The killer had asked for the interview, hoping to be transferred to a minimum-security facility. The odds weren’t good, but you needed to oblige the request even if it wouldn’t prove successful.

You hummed, turning down the road, you pulled up to the security station. Presenting your credentials to the guard, he lifted the gate for you, and you found your reserved parking. “Do you want to take the lead?” You asked him, trying to gauge how he was doing.

Nodding, Spencer got out of the SUV. You shut off the engine and followed suit. “Unless it doesn’t seem like he’s responding to me, I’d rather not present him with someone who fits in with his victim pool.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you said sardonically, grabbing your bag from the backseat before locking the car and following Spencer inside.

The two of you went through security, locking up your weapons and going through metal detectors. It wasn’t until you went inside the first gate that you noticed it; Spencer was fiddling with the belt loop of his slacks. “I can feel you staring,” he whispered so only you could hear. You watched his posture relax when the gate buzzed and opened in front of him.

You smiled softly, “I can see you fidgeting,” you responded. At work, the two of you were merely coworkers who knew each other really well, so you couldn’t just reach out and take his hand. Not that you’d want to, in a prison full of serial killers.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, implying that he wasn’t right now. The smile fell off your face as the two of you followed the guard into the warden’s office.

At the sight of you, the warden stood and smiled, “You must be Agents Y/L/N and Reid, thank you for making the trip down here.”

Raising your eyebrows, you reach out your hand for the warden to shake, “He’s Dr. Reid, actually.” You corrected, seeing as Spencer didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Ah, my apologies, Dr. Reid,” he responded kindly, gesturing for the two of you to follow him.

Spencer gently brushed your hand as you followed the warden. It was so subtle that someone else could’ve brushed it off as an accident, but Spencer Reid never did anything without purpose.

“Marshal Lukins is the most prolific killer we’ve had in my time here, we aren’t expecting anything to come of this, but you know as well as I do that we have to humor the psychos,” Warden McCall told you, stopping in front of a gate and calling out for it to be opened.

You raised your eyebrows, deciding against telling the warden that Lukins profiled as a sociopath, not a psychopath. “How’s his behavior been here?”

The warden shrugged, “He won’t be winning any merit badges any time soon, that’s for sure. Spends most of his time in solitary, really.”

“His file said he had gotten into an altercation with another prisoner, what was that about?” Spencer asked.

McCall cleared his throat, “turf war. You know, prison gangs can get rowdy. Especially when they find out the feds are coming.”

You raised your eyebrows, grateful you couldn’t see Spencer’s expression. “Oh, yeah,” he said quietly.

Then you were in front of a serial killer, someone who had been put away years ago, but the way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine. “Marshal Lukins?” You confirmed.

“Why hello, pretty lady,” Lukins responded, rising from the chair. His legs were chained to the ground, but his hands were free.

Behind you, Spencer cleared his throat, “Sit down,” he ordered. Taking a tone of authority that you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him.

Taking your seat across from Lukins, you looked him in the eyes, “You may call me Agent Y/L/N.”

Your interviewee shrugged, “I’ll call you whatever I want in my mind later.”

Ignoring the hairs that stood up on the back of your neck, you rolled your eyes at the skeevy pervert. “If you want to be transferred, you’re not making a very good first impression,” Spencer intervened, likely aware of your discomfort.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first criminal to make a pass at you, and in your line of work, it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m not much worried about first impressions, people usually have a first opinion about me before they even hear my voice,” he responded, leaning back in the chair.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from responding, yeah, that happens when you murder eight women. “What would you rather our opinion of you be? That you’re misunderstood? Did you find god in prison, Marshal?” You asked him.

He leaned over the table ever so slightly, yellowed teeth flashing beneath the fluorescent light that hung above the interrogation table, “Would you like me to show him to you?”

Raising your eyebrows, you maintained a bored disposition while flipping open your files, “No.”

With custodials like this, you weren’t allowed to have photos in your files. Lukins was a sexual sadist, and the profile that Aaron Hotchner had put together was damning, describing the man in front of you to a T. He even got the age correct, right down to the receding hairline. Even though Lukins was in prison, you’d never provide him with visual aids to relive his crimes.

“Why did you request this interview if you weren’t interested in playing nice?” Spencer asked, setting his own files on the table in front of him, but he refrained from opening them. He managed to memorize their contents on the drive from Quantico, enabling him to weaponize his memory.

Lukins put his hands up in mock surrender, “I was hoping they’d send me someone nice to look at, make a good conversation with, and boy am I glad I took that chance.”

Spencer clasped his hands together and set them on the steel table, “Thank you,” he responded, keeping himself stone-faced in the presence of the killer.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the criminal in front of you snapped, jutting his chin in your direction.

Bored, your partner spoke up again, “Yes, you are,” he corrected. You were unable to communicate with Spencer without tipping off Lukins, so you let him continue, trusting that he knew where he was going with this. “In your trial, you said all of your victims were your sheep,” Spencer recalled from the file, “Is that why you shaved their heads before gutting them?”

Lukins scoffed, bored easily within the confines of the interview, “My sheep were my friends, but every sheep needs a wolf. Isn’t that right, Bo Peep?” He asked you, meeting your gaze despite the fact that Spencer all but told him not to engage with you.

You narrowed your gaze at him, tilting your head innocently, “Would you have let me be one of your sheep?”

He gave you a look that made you feel like you needed a shower, “You would’ve been a nice addition, could’ve rounded out my numbers.”

He reached out a hand, trying to take a piece of your hair between his grimy fingers, but you stood up quickly, stepping back from the table and almost tripping over your chair in response.

A few prison guards came in at the sudden movement, and Spencer had a vice-like grip on Lukins’ wrist, keeping him away from you. Tossing his arm back at him, Spencer glared at the killer, “No touching,” he instructed, looking back at you to check-in. He opened the door to the room, ushering you out before looking at the guards, “I want him in cuffs.”

With a hand on the small of your back, Spencer herded you to the private space that the two of you were expected to inhabit for the day. “Hey,” you spoke to him once the door was shut behind you.

Spencer was filled to the brim with nervous energy, shaking out his hands in an attempt to expel his nerves, “We should just go back to Quantico.” He shook his head, brown curls fanning out around his face, “There’s no way he can tell us anything that will get us to endorse his transfer.”

Watching him like this made your chest ache, and you had no idea what to do with that emotion. Your relationship with Spencer was strictly horizontal—usually—and you found yourself floundering when it came to how to act outside of bed. You wanted to take his hand, desperate to run your fingers over his knuckles and find the familiar callus from where his pencil rests on his finger, but you just couldn’t get yourself to reach out.

You hadn’t known Spencer before he was arrested in Mexico, but you made your mark on him without ever letting him lay his eyes on you. You sent letters to him along with the rest of the team, refraining from talking about cases and instead choosing to use your letters as a personal diary, chronicling your first three months with the Behavioral Analysis Unit with your prison pen pal. Periodically, you put money in his commissary account, despite the rest of the team telling you that you shouldn’t feel inclined to.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, your eyes tracked his pacing in the conference room before you started to voice your concern, “We have to go back in, Reid.” You grabbed a water bottle from the counter and twisted the cap off before handing it to him.

He took the water begrudgingly, glaring at you as he did so, “Why do we have to go back in, exactly?” After taking a sip of the water, he handed it to you so you could have some. You could’ve grabbed your own, but surely this was quicker.

“Lukins said I would’ve rounded out his numbers,” you told him, nervously fiddling with the cap of the water bottle as you waited for him to get it.

Spencer adjusted his tie, pulling the silk fabric further from his neck, “Yeah, I heard him.” It bothered him, the slightest implication that you were endangered in that interview room put him on edge, but all you could do was sit down and watch him.

You sighed, “We only have a record of eight victims. We don’t know what he’s rounding to, but that’s at least two more bodies that we don’t know about.” Lukins could be rounding up to ten, which would be the closest option, or you were looking at the possibility of a considerably higher body count. Your fear was that he would use those additional kills as a bartering tool to get a transfer.

He stopped in his tracks while he processed what you were telling him. Spencer turned to you, lips parted before he nodded, eventually agreeing with you even if it pained him to do so. “We should call Emily and let her know what’s going on,” he told you, taking a seat across from you and placing his head in his hands. “I’m gonna step outside for a second,” he said, getting up just as quickly as he took a seat and swinging the door open, leaving you alone in the conference room.

Holding your tongue, you stopped yourself from voicing your approval, even though you did think some fresh air would be good for him. Instead, you watched the door click shut before fishing your phone out of your pocket, tapping on Emily’s contact before bringing the phone to your ear.

“How’s it going?” Emily asked you as soon as she answered, and you couldn’t help but picture your unit chief waiting by her phone, hoping to hear from you or Spencer.

You sighed, inadvertently cluing her into how the custodial interview was going, “We might have a problem,” you told her. Continuing on to explain what had happened between you and Marshal Lukins, all the way up through your discovery that he might have a higher victim count.

Prentiss clicked her tongue on the other end of the line, “What does Spencer think?”

The question didn’t come as a surprise to you, neither did the fact that her inflection told you that she was sneakily trying to ask you how Spencer was. Wiping your free palm along the fabric of your pants, you leaned against the table, “Reid thinks Lukins is out for blood.” You opened your mouth to continue but were interrupted by an alarm being tripped, your head snapped up as lights started to flash on the walls.

“What’s going on?” Emily questioned you over the phone, but you could barely hear her over the blare of the alarm, a low-pitched buzzing sound that made your brain feel like it was vibrating within your skull.

Clambering to your feet, you grabbed your water bottle and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you looked aimlessly around the prison for someone who could offer you an explanation. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurted into the receiver, stuffing your phone in your pocket and making your way to the front of the prison, ignoring the men who shouted at you from behind bars.

You looked down the walkway, watching as the failsafe on the doors was triggered and they slowly started to shut, triggering you to try and make a run for it. “Y/N,” Spencer called out your name, picking up his own pace from the opposite direction.

It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t going to make it, skidding to a halt as the bars clicked shut in front of you. You weren’t scared until you watched Spencer pull at the door, frantically trying to slide it open, “Reid,” you said his name, trying to get his attention. “Reid,” you shouted that time, trying to make sure he heard you over the alarm.

He didn’t pause to look at you, he simply continued to pull at the bars.

“Spence,” you said desperately, and that time his eyes snapped to yours. Wide brown eyes bore into yours as you placed one of your hands on his, both of them encircling the bar. “It’s not going to open,” you reminded him. A fact he was well aware of but didn’t want to acknowledge.

Silently, he leaned back into the wall, sliding down the side of it and looking up at the ceiling, pulling at his tie again, this time taking it all the way off. “It’s a lockdown,” he panted helplessly, “They’re in a lockdown.”

You nodded softly, having drawn that conclusion on your own, “It’s okay,” you told him softly, reaching through the bars and taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re alright, Spence,” you continued, your tone bordering on a coo.

He pulled his knees to his chest and slung his free arm over his legs, hugging himself.

It broke your heart to watch him like this. You pointed in the direction he came from, “Look. Hey, you could be free to leave, I’m the one who’s locked in,” you told him, highlighting the fact that the bars were blocking you, but Spencer could make his way back to the entryway.

“Not helping,” he told you, his voice almost a gasp as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Your shoulder’s slumped forward slightly, “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

Spencer just shook his head, squeezing your hand in response when you started sweeping your thumb over his knuckles. You ignored the buzzing of your phone in your pocket as you watched him, completely focused on making sure he was okay before you did anything else.

With your free hand, you grabbed the water bottle that you took from the conference room and slipped it through the bars. “Here, take this,” you murmured, setting it on the ground next to him when he didn’t take the bottle from you.

He visibly relaxed when the alarm stopped going off, but the lights were still flashing, which offered somewhat of an explanation as to why the door hadn’t opened yet.

You fiddled with his hand, opening up his palm and tracing the lines on his hand with your index finger, “Have you ever had your palm read?” You asked him, twisting your head to get a better look at it.

He looked at you, the panicked look in his eyes had subsided, promptly replaced with incredulity, “When have I ever struck you as the kind of person who would get my palm read?”

Shrugging, you slowly traced his love line, “You like Halloween, I thought maybe you’d let your curiosity get the best of you.” Although you supposed if Spencer really wanted to have his palm read, he’d just do it yourself. “When I was in college, my summer job was reading palms in a booth at an amusement park,” you informed him.

Spencer chuckled at your revelation, and the sound made your heart sing, “That is… oddly endearing.”

Nodding, you looked at his hand again, “Chiromancy says men were born with their left hand, and their right is what they accumulate throughout life,” you told him softly, sliding your other hand through the bar.

“Actually, I was born with both of my hands,” Spencer responded, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, studying his left hand intently, “You have water hands,” you said, showing him his own palm as if he’d never seen it before.

Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “Well, now you’re just making things up,” he openly teased you that time, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

Humming, you furrowed your brows and pointed at his hand, “This is your head line,” you explained. “See how it’s long and straight? It sort of tapers off before the end of your palm—that means you tend to think realistically.”

“I could’ve told you that,” he challenged, but his eyes were following along as you pointed at his palm.

You shook your head and sighed, “Here’s your life line,” you said, pointing to a different line and tracing it with your fingertip. “It’s straight and goes down to the edge of your palm, which means you’re cautious about relationships,” you continued softly, leaning your head against one of the bars of the door.

He was silent after that one, briefly taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking down at his hand. You could tell that even though he didn’t quite believe what you were saying, he was perfectly fine with humoring you.

“This is your fate line,” you told him, entirely expecting to lose him the moment you began discussing fate. “It’s broken down the middle and curved in different directions, and that means you’re prone to a lot of changes in life. Changes influenced by external forces.”

Gently, Spencer pulled his hand away from yours, flexing his hand before looking down at it, “You’ve officially lost me.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up, “I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Just long enough apparently, the doors buzzed soon after, and you withdrew your hands from the slots as the bars slid into a hole in the wall.

Spencer got up first, dusting off his hands before he extended a hand to help you up. Your hand lingered in his for just a moment too long, the exchange oddly intimate for the two of you before his arms dropped to his side, “Thank you,” he murmured, a shy smile on his face.

Shrugging, you crossed your arms in front of your stomach, “There’s nothing to thank, Reid.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was disappointment that flashed across his face at your reply.

The warden had rather unceremoniously asked the two of you to leave, citing security concerns and letting you know that he’d be in contact with Emily to reschedule. Emily had called you six times during the lockdown, but you’d texted her once everything was clear.

Which left you heading back to the SUV with Spencer, there were prisoners out in the yard, so he walked on the inside, blocking your body from the view of the inmates. “Are you alright?” You asked him, feeling more free to inquire now that you were in the open air.

He nodded, “I’m fine, I just really wasn’t expecting something like that to happen when I asked Emily to send me on this custodial.”

Your footsteps faltered at his words, “You asked to go on this custodial?”

Spencer frowned, “I was on this case originally ten years ago, so I asked Emily to let me go.”

“And she said yes?” You asked incredulously.

Spencer opened the back door for you to place your bag in, “Not initially, but eventually she realized that I’d be her only option if she wanted to get it done today.” He shut the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, “It’s a lot earlier than I thought we’d be getting back, do you want to stop and get lunch on the way back to Quantico?”

Your eyes went wide and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your expression, “Uh, sure. Why not?”

“Perfect,” he said, “Maybe I can get you to tell me why you avoided reading my love line.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #margotober #angstober

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aggressively-crying · 1 year ago

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Getting caught up on game changer and then watching through old episodes is truly fucking insane bc like

Season 1: tell us some secrets hooked up to our "lie detector." Teehee, it's your partners back there! Make some funny noises! Here, win a whole bunch of really weird and fun prizes!

Season 6: we've designed a purgatory-like nightmare for this one man who gets insanely competitive where winning can only be achieved by reaching second place. Our cast is playing bingo, but we have a second group watching them and playing bingo based on their behaviors, as well as a third group watching them and doing the same thing. There is a time loop and you are never breaking out of it, you must repeat the dance until you get it right, as though trapped in a faerie ring.

#game changer #sam reich is a madman

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aquasoftware · 2 months ago

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 ˳ᐟ

FT | Waitress!Reader ✘ Kento N.

Desc | Kento Nanami prospers in routine—until it starts to feel like a cage. One night out with the help of Satoru turns into a quiet obsession when he meets a pretty waitress that becomes his new exciting adventure.

CW | Fluff, simp!Nanami, wingman!Satoru, love at first sight trope, slight cultural inaccuracy (tipping isn’t a thing in Japan, but roll with it <33)

WC | 1.2K ➜ ML

A/N : This is heavily based on Alicia Key’s song

All Kento knew was his morning coffee with extra vanilla creamer, work, and the occasional stop at the local bakery.

In the late evenings, he’d settle into his cozy home—Laufey crackling on the record player while reading yet another romance novel, his typical routine, which repeated on loop all 365 days of the year.

However, that day-to-day predictability started to bore even someone like Kento—who thrived on the easiness of structure and quietly judged those without it.

Nowadays it felt as suffocating as a tie too tight around his neck.

Lately he’d stare at a paragraph for minutes on the page—realizing that none of the words had stuck in his brain. Often daydreaming about new exciting adventures while the world around him faded to white noise.

And could anything feel more adventurous than Satoru—of all friends he had—inviting him out to a retro diner?

Nope! that’s exactly why he came here with him, at least after some arm-twisting (and the promise of mouth watering garlic bread appetizers), he’d given in.

But the moment he saw you in a pastel-blue mini dress with a crisp white apron and black-and-white roller skates, strolling to table seven, all thoughts of garlic bread, and music humming from the jukebox vanished.

He studied you like a masterpiece come alive—every careful step, each tilt of your wrist as you balanced the menus with ballerina-like grace.

“Hiii!! I’m Y/n—your server for today. Welcome to Aqua’s Diner. How may I take your order?” A bright smile flourished on your lips, almost as flashy as your dangly earrings.

He felt the weight of your dreamy eye contact roaming towards only him as if poor Satoru was a ghost, maybe that was just one of his many daydreams though.

Breaking out of his thoughts, his hands rested on his slacks as you slid the menus across the table, before brushing your hair away from your face using your manicured nails. Then clicking your fancy red pen, you pulled out your notepad ready for orders.

He cleared his throat like it’d help the upcoming voice crack. “I would like…um…uh…”

His gaze darted between you and Satoru, heart thudding like a bass drum beneath his prussian-blue button-up.

“What would you recommend? I’ve never been here, so this is a new experience for me.” Kento asked, gulping as he fixed his collar with his sweaty fingertips.

“Ahh, first timer?” You mused, tapping the pen onto your chin. “Try The Hungry Shark—linguine Alfredo topped with parmesan, fresh basil and crab. It comes with garlic bread on the side.”

Kento gave a small grin “The name seems very misleading..” He half-joked, a soft chuckle escaping after “But I trust your call—I'll have that, please.”

You nodded, took Satoru’s order, and rolled away on your skates.

Satoru leaned in like a detective busting a case, eyebrows wiggling as he spread both hands on the table. “Oooohhhh—‘I trust your call,’ huh? What’s that about?”

“Satoru, calm down—it’s nothing like that,” Kento protested, as heat crept up his neck, blooming into a dusty rose atop his cheeks. He already regretted letting Satoru drag him out tonight.

The truth was unavoidable though, a lie detector would catch him, betraying him on the first question. He’d never been so flustered—or so alive—around anyone else.

Especially the constant stream of sending Satoru’s phone texts desperately asking to come back–seeing the waitress on Lennox street. Over and over, it became Kento’s new routine—and consumed his every thought.

Satoru’s phone would buzz continuously:

“Can we go back please? I need to see her again.”

“Lennox Street, right? Meet me there.”

He squared his shoulders, trying to sound firm, but his fingers shook the entire time. Every memory of the first day he saw you made his heart race at the thought of seeing your face again.

That Thursday evening it would mark their tenth time there, the neon sign of Aqua’s Diner glowed against the gathering dusk as the bell above the door jingled each time new customers sauntered in.

They sat by their usual window booth, the late-daylight softening the diner's edges, but Satoru noticed something.

Kento usually hated small talk—yet with you, he found excuses.

Every time you glided by their table—your skates singing smoothly on the linoleum—he’d throw his friend a pointed look and gear into, “Hey, have you heard Laufey’s Everything I Know About Love album?”

Or “Do you think the protagonist in my book made the right choice?” he’d ask Satoru, hoping you’d swoop into the conversation like a creative fairy godmother.

When your eyes lit up and you launched into your take, it felt like he’d scored the winning goal—and his crush shot straight to the clouds.

Satoru watched you both as you paused mid-discussion to refill his water glass, hair catching the overhead light and gleaming like spun silk.

Tonight, you’d tucked a few loose strands into a delicate colorful clip, and a thin chain of freshwater pearls peeked above your apron pocket—subtle touches, but enough to widen his grin in amused approval.

He shifted in his seat and caught Kento’s eye. He looked impossibly tense, sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, as if he were daring you to notice how the soft lamplight traced every muscle.

He’d left an embarrassingly large tip on the table last time—another unspoken hint—and Kento was even wearing his glasses tonight, almost as if he’d rehearsed looking smarter just to impress you.

“That’s it,” Satoru muttered under his breath, though his tone was all warmth. He pushed back from the table. “I can’t take it anymore.”

You paused mid-pour, eyebrows lifted. “Satoru?”

He held up a hand in apology for what he was about to spill, then turned to Kento.

“Dude, you’ve been mooning over her every night—you roll your sleeves up, you flash her that bored-but-not-really look, you tip like you’re bribing her to personally solve Japan’s declining birth rate, and you barely even remember her name, enough! I’m going to say it.”

Kento’s jaw clenched, but there was no stopping Satoru now. He stood and cleared his throat—loud enough to make both of you look up.

“Maybe… I barely remember her name because I’m too busy admiring her,” he fired back, side eyeing him.

You slightly rolled forward, curiosity pouring in your eyes.

“See, exactly my point! my friend here—Kento—thinks you’re absolutely stunning.”

Your cheeks warmed as you turned to Kento, whose mouth had gone suddenly dry. You caught him fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, then offering you a shy, crooked smile.

“Well,” you said, dipping your head with a playfully fiddling with your pearls, “I think your friend is pretty handsome, too.”

Before he could answer, you pressed the bill toward him—and the back of it read, in careful red-ink:

“If you’d like to see me outside my apron, call me.”

Satoru settled back with a triumphant nod and held up his hand for a high-five—only for Kento to stare so long at the paper that he completely missed it. His pupils widened, goosebumps rippling up his arms, and his heart thundered in his chest, fireworks exploding behind his ribs.

“I appreciate the offer,” he murmured, as if he were signing a contract.

“Kento, you’re so awkward. Oh my god,” Satoru shook his head in disbelief.

“And where’s my thank you? I’m practically a spring cupid.”

Hesitantly he whispered “Thank you.”

“Also I need a dessert to-go for this and all”

“Now you’re pushing it, Satoru.”

You just giggled at their little back-and-forth, then slid away to tend other tables.

Kento clumsily tucked the paper into his pocket, and tried to straighten his shirt—hard to focus on anything else, but thoughts of a wedding with you already rose in his head and you two weren’t even dating yet.

Dividers/Boarders produced by | strangergraphics + kodaswrld.

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware. ©

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <3 | ML

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months ago

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Conspiratorialism as a material phenomenon

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

I think it behooves us to be a little skeptical of stories about AI driving people to believe wrong things and commit ugly actions. Not that I like the AI slop that is filling up our social media, but when we look at the ways that AI is harming us, slop is pretty low on the list.

The real AI harms come from the actual things that AI companies sell AI to do. There's the AI gun-detector gadgets that the credulous Mayor Eric Adams put in NYC subways, which led to 2,749 invasive searches and turned up zero guns:

https://www.cbsnews.com/newyork/news/nycs-subway-weapons-detector-pilot-program-ends/

Any time AI is used to predict crime – predictive policing, bail determinations, Child Protective Services red flags – they magnify the biases already present in these systems, and, even worse, they give this bias the veneer of scientific neutrality. This process is called "empiricism-washing," and you know you're experiencing it when you hear some variation on "it's just math, math can't be racist":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/23/cryptocidal-maniacs/#phrenology

When AI is used to replace customer service representatives, it systematically defrauds customers, while providing an "accountability sink" that allows the company to disclaim responsibility for the thefts:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

When AI is used to perform high-velocity "decision support" that is supposed to inform a "human in the loop," it quickly overwhelms its human overseer, who takes on the role of "moral crumple zone," pressing the "OK" button as fast as they can. This is bad enough when the sacrificial victim is a human overseeing, say, proctoring software that accuses remote students of cheating on their tests:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/16/unauthorized-paper/#cheating-anticheat

But it's potentially lethal when the AI is a transcription engine that doctors have to use to feed notes to a data-hungry electronic health record system that is optimized to commit health insurance fraud by seeking out pretenses to "upcode" a patient's treatment. Those AIs are prone to inventing things the doctor never said, inserting them into the record that the doctor is supposed to review, but remember, the only reason the AI is there at all is that the doctor is being asked to do so much paperwork that they don't have time to treat their patients:

https://apnews.com/article/ai-artificial-intelligence-health-business-90020cdf5fa16c79ca2e5b6c4c9bbb14

My point is that "worrying about AI" is a zero-sum game. When we train our fire on the stuff that isn't important to the AI stock swindlers' business-plans (like creating AI slop), we should remember that the AI companies could halt all of that activity and not lose a dime in revenue. By contrast, when we focus on AI applications that do the most direct harm – policing, health, security, customer service – we also focus on the AI applications that make the most money and drive the most investment.

AI hasn't attracted hundreds of billions in investment capital because investors love AI slop. All the money pouring into the system – from investors, from customers, from easily gulled big-city mayors – is chasing things that AI is objectively very bad at and those things also cause much more harm than AI slop. If you want to be a good AI critic, you should devote the majority of your focus to these applications. Sure, they're not as visually arresting, but discrediting them is financially arresting, and that's what really matters.

All that said: AI slop is real, there is a lot of it, and just because it doesn't warrant priority over the stuff AI companies actually sell, it still has cultural significance and is worth considering.

AI slop has turned Facebook into an anaerobic lagoon of botshit, just the laziest, grossest engagement bait, much of it the product of rise-and-grind spammers who avidly consume get rich quick "courses" and then churn out a torrent of "shrimp Jesus" and fake chainsaw sculptures:

https://www.404media.co/email/1cdf7620-2e2f-4450-9cd9-e041f4f0c27f/

For poor engagement farmers in the global south chasing the fractional pennies that Facebook shells out for successful clickbait, the actual content of the slop is beside the point. These spammers aren't necessarily tuned into the psyche of the wealthy-world Facebook users who represent Meta's top monetization subjects. They're just trying everything and doubling down on anything that moves the needle, A/B splitting their way into weird, hyper-optimized, grotesque crap:

https://www.404media.co/facebook-is-being-overrun-with-stolen-ai-generated-images-that-people-think-are-real/

In other words, Facebook's AI spammers are laying out a banquet of arbitrary possibilities, like the letters on a Ouija board, and the Facebook users' clicks and engagement are a collective ideomotor response, moving the algorithm's planchette to the options that tug hardest at our collective delights (or, more often, disgusts).

So, rather than thinking of AI spammers as creating the ideological and aesthetic trends that drive millions of confused Facebook users into condemning, praising, and arguing about surreal botshit, it's more true to say that spammers are discovering these trends within their subjects' collective yearnings and terrors, and then refining them by exploring endlessly ramified variations in search of unsuspected niches.

(If you know anything about AI, this may remind you of something: a Generative Adversarial Network, in which one bot creates variations on a theme, and another bot ranks how closely the variations approach some ideal. In this case, the spammers are the generators and the Facebook users they evince reactions from are the discriminators)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Generative_adversarial_network

I got to thinking about this today while reading User Mag, Taylor Lorenz's superb newsletter, and her reporting on a new AI slop trend, "My neighbor’s ridiculous reason for egging my car":

https://www.usermag.co/p/my-neighbors-ridiculous-reason-for

The "egging my car" slop consists of endless variations on a story in which the poster (generally a figure of sympathy, canonically a single mother of newborn twins) complains that her awful neighbor threw dozens of eggs at her car to punish her for parking in a way that blocked his elaborate Hallowe'en display. The text is accompanied by an AI-generated image showing a modest family car that has been absolutely plastered with broken eggs, dozens upon dozens of them.

According to Lorenz, variations on this slop are topping very large Facebook discussion forums totalling millions of users, like "Movie Character…,USA Story, Volleyball Women, Top Trends, Love Style, and God Bless." These posts link to SEO sites laden with programmatic advertising.

The funnel goes:

i. Create outrage and hence broad reach;

ii, A small percentage of those who see the post will click through to the SEO site;

iii. A small fraction of those users will click a low-quality ad;

iv. The ad will pay homeopathic sub-pennies to the spammer.

The revenue per user on this kind of scam is next to nothing, so it only works if it can get very broad reach, which is why the spam is so designed for engagement maximization. The more discussion a post generates, the more users Facebook recommends it to.

These are very effective engagement bait. Almost all AI slop gets some free engagement in the form of arguments between users who don't know they're commenting an AI scam and people hectoring them for falling for the scam. This is like the free square in the middle of a bingo card.

Beyond that, there's multivalent outrage: some users are furious about food wastage; others about the poor, victimized "mother" (some users are furious about both). Not only do users get to voice their fury at both of these imaginary sins, they can also argue with one another about whether, say, food wastage even matters when compared to the petty-minded aggression of the "perpetrator." These discussions also offer lots of opportunity for violent fantasies about the bad guy getting a comeuppance, offers to travel to the imaginary AI-generated suburb to dole out a beating, etc. All in all, the spammers behind this tedious fiction have really figured out how to rope in all kinds of users' attention.

Of course, the spammers don't get much from this. There isn't such a thing as an "attention economy." You can't use attention as a unit of account, a medium of exchange or a store of value. Attention – like everything else that you can't build an economy upon, such as cryptocurrency – must be converted to money before it has economic significance. Hence that tooth-achingly trite high-tech neologism, "monetization."

The monetization of attention is very poor, but AI is heavily subsidized or even free (for now), so the largest venture capital and private equity funds in the world are spending billions in public pension money and rich peoples' savings into CO2 plumes, GPUs, and botshit so that a bunch of hustle-culture weirdos in the Pacific Rim can make a few dollars by tricking people into clicking through engagement bait slop – twice.

The slop isn't the point of this, but the slop does have the useful function of making the collective ideomotor response visible and thus providing a peek into our hopes and fears. What does the "egging my car" slop say about the things that we're thinking about?

Lorenz cites Jamie Cohen, a media scholar at CUNY Queens, who points out that subtext of this slop is "fear and distrust in people about their neighbors." Cohen predicts that "the next trend, is going to be stranger and more violent.”

This feels right to me. The corollary of mistrusting your neighbors, of course, is trusting only yourself and your family. Or, as Margaret Thatcher liked to say, "There is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women and there are families."

We are living in the tail end of a 40 year experiment in structuring our world as though "there is no such thing as society." We've gutted our welfare net, shut down or privatized public services, all but abolished solidaristic institutions like unions.

This isn't mere aesthetics: an atomized society is far more hospitable to extreme wealth inequality than one in which we are all in it together. When your power comes from being a "wise consumer" who "votes with your wallet," then all you can do about the climate emergency is buy a different kind of car – you can't build the public transit system that will make cars obsolete.

When you "vote with your wallet" all you can do about animal cruelty and habitat loss is eat less meat. When you "vote with your wallet" all you can do about high drug prices is "shop around for a bargain." When you vote with your wallet, all you can do when your bank forecloses on your home is "choose your next lender more carefully."

Most importantly, when you vote with your wallet, you cast a ballot in an election that the people with the thickest wallets always win. No wonder those people have spent so long teaching us that we can't trust our neighbors, that there is no such thing as society, that we can't have nice things. That there is no alternative.

The commercial surveillance industry really wants you to believe that they're good at convincing people of things, because that's a good way to sell advertising. But claims of mind-control are pretty goddamned improbable – everyone who ever claimed to have managed the trick was lying, from Rasputin to MK-ULTRA:

https://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

Rather than seeing these platforms as convincing people of things, we should understand them as discovering and reinforcing the ideology that people have been driven to by material conditions. Platforms like Facebook show us to one another, let us form groups that can imperfectly fill in for the solidarity we're desperate for after 40 years of "no such thing as society."

The most interesting thing about "egging my car" slop is that it reveals that so many of us are convinced of two contradictory things: first, that everyone else is a monster who will turn on you for the pettiest of reasons; and second, that we're all the kind of people who would stick up for the victims of those monsters.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/29/hobbesian-slop/#cui-bono

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #taylor lorenz #conspiratorialism #conspiracy fantasy #mind control #a paradise built in hell #solnit #ai slop #ai #disinformation #materialism #doppelganger #naomi klein

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gothwineaunts · 3 months ago

Note

Hello this is the anom who asked about “IF you were skipping the focus on Annabel and Lenore”. I want to clear up some misunderstandings because I don’t think people have understood that I asked about this question WITH GENUINE INTENTIONS.

1. I’m not going to disclose where I’ve heard this, I should have been clear on the fact that the source of where I heard about this rumor from, was not sure if it was true themselves. I asked this question on the curiosity about IF IT WAS TRUE OR NOT. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear on that.

2. Yes I have noticed people hating on montresor, I AM ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.

3. I don’t think you are skipping the focus on Lenore nor Annabel. AGAIN I ASKED WITH GENUINE INTENT BECAUSE I WAS NOT SURE WHAT I HEARD WAS TRUE.

4. Thank goodness you’re addressing on how weird those montresor fans are.

5. No it’s not because people are mad about lennabel not kissing each other yet, I asked for the sake of those worried about the rumor.

6. I didn’t mean to offend you at all, I was thinking about how to ask you about this rumor because I wanted you to confirm if it was true or not. I’m really sorry if I was not clear about that.

(And to the person telling me to get my co2 detector to get checked out, what I said was not made up?? God forbid someone wants to ask a genuine question ABOUT SOMETHING THAT THEY GENUINELY LOVE. DID YOU KNOW I’VE BEEN HERE SINCE THE START OF SEASON 1? Did you actually think I had malicious intentions?? You’re the one who needs to get checked out, if you thought that what I asked, was asked with malicious intent. Sleep with both eyes open shortazn97.)

I hope it clears up my intentions.

There's exactly one (1) part of this ask that I care to address and I'm very sorry to all who have been subjected to the rest of the tirade as a result. If I could crop most of it out, believe me I would. Addressing your #4 point. That threw me for such a loop that I had to reread my own post to figure out what you meant by it, and my best guess is that you thought when I said: "I'm sick to death of people being weird about Montresor. Some of you out there really need to learn what a villain is, it's frankly wild how much confusion there seems to be around this concept." that you think that I'm talking about people who like Montresor. Which, I'd like to correct. I thought I was fairly clear but I want to put the finest point possible on this. Villains make the conflict happen. You do not need to agree with what a villain is doing to enjoy them as a character. And of course you're more than welcome to not enjoy villains, but what you don't have is any right to insult and harass people who do. Because, (and please listen to me so carefully because I'm tired of people not understanding the irony of this) that would make you the villain. But like, irl. Not dissimilar to how threatening harm on someone who left a lighthearted comment about checking your CO2 detector would?? Which, like. Hon you're really not doing yourself any favors here. This entire ask reads like it could have been desperately scratched into a wall somewhere in the backrooms. Yeesh. I was not insulted by your initial ask, I was just commenting about how the rumor you mentioned in the ask was insulting in its premise. And I am not going to answer any follow-ups to this one. You can type one up if you want, but it'll be dying in my inbox. I'm glad that it seems like you have been enjoying Nevermore and thank you for your support. Peace and love. ✌️

#red post

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vvifeys · 2 months ago

Note

sleepy & domestic morning with mel....plsplspls....

we burnt it...

modern!au mel. tw: slightly suggestive content, no smut. men dni! a/n: i'm not going to lie to you guys i had a bit of a struggle ending this off so i apologize if it sounds rushed or like... too sudden? i couldn't figure out another direction to take this without it sounding more weird than it does ㅠㅠ

you knew you'd woken up early that morning whenever the first thing that greeted you opening your eyes was the sunlight blinding you. 'damn mel for opening the curtains', you thought, lighthearted. you could never be mad at her- speaking of her.... you smiled, rolling over and reaching your arm out. your smile quickly faded upon realizing she wasn't in bed.

you sat up, seeing she wasn't anywhere in the room with you. well, now you had to get up and go find her. so much for going back to sleep, huh? you sighed, rubbing your eyes for a moment before sitting up. you yawned, readjusting your pajamas before standing up. your feet slid into your slippers, and you shuffled out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

almost as soon as you got out of the door, you could smell breakfast and hear your girlfriend softly singing to herself. you leaned against the entrance to the hallway, watching mel scrub something in the sink while bacon sizzled in the pan on the oven. you started singing with her so you wouldn't startle her, before walking over and wrapping your arms around her waist. you pressed the side of your face against her back, eyes closing as you yawned again.

"well, good morning, darling." mel giggles, turning the water off and turning around in your grasp.

"good morning..." you murmur, eyes opening as you lift your head to look at her. she holds eye contact for a moment before leaning in to kiss you.

just before she got to your lips, the toast popped out of the toaster, causing both of you to jump. you shook your head and let her go as you both laughed at one another. you leaned back against the island in the middle of the kitchen, watching her with adoration as she put the toast on a plate with eggs. she flipped the bacon before walking back over to you.

mel caged you between her and the counter, hands coming down on either side of you. you smiled, bringing your arms to loop around her neck. she leans down to kiss you finally, actually meeting your lips this time. you pull her closer, leaning up into her as your eyes close.

okay, maybe you got a little too into it for how early it was. it took all of ten seconds for mel to have you up on the counter, standing between your legs with one hand rubbing up and down your thigh and the other on your back underneath the pajama top. you had your back arched, pressing your body into her as much as you could.

you pulled back to breathe, forehead resting on her shoulder as you giggled.

"desperate this morning, huh?" mel teases, gently rubbing your back.

you roll your eyes, pulling back and sighing as you stared at her. "i am not- you started it!"

mel opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off by a sharp beep-beep-beep. both of you looked at each other before whipping around to face the oven. smoke was rising out of the pan and up to the smoke detector near the stove. both of you gasped, moving away from the counter as you turned the oven off and mel took the pan to dump the burnt bacon out.

"we burnt it." you look over your shoulder as you reach to turn the smoke detector off.

"you burnt it. you distracted me!" mel argues back, voice light and playful.

"hey! you didn't have to indulge." you cross your arms over your chest, eyebrow raised.

"what am i gonna do? leave my pretty girl hanging?" she teases, giving you the same raised-eyebrow-arms-crossed look you have her.

"i- hm... i suppose not. but what are we gonna do for breakfast? everything is cold now." you quickly switch the topic, feeling your face get hot from her nickname.

"um, well, we could go out for breakfast?" mel shrugged, looking at the cold plates of food on the counter.

"deal. i'll go get ready." you nod, walking over to kiss the top of her nose before heading off into the bedroom.

#apollo's scribbles ✍️#mel medarda #mel arcane #mel medarda x reader #mel x reader #arcane x reader #arcane x you #mel medarda x you #mel x you #lesbian #wlw

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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months ago

Text

Discovered to Soon (part 9)

Previous | Masterpost

Having done almost a full loop of crime alley Danny stopped on the roof of a clinic near the edge of the alley to look over all the data he’d collected again. Sitting on the edge of the roof he swung his feet absently as he zoomed out on his map to see if there were any patterns in the locations that might lend more credence to ley lines as a theory. There did seem to be some sort of pattern in it, he should travel directly between these spots and see if the levels between them was a little higher than average. Maybe the buildings Were at some intersecting points, were humans naturally drawn to such places?

He tensed abruptly when he heard the woosh of a grapple. Hood would not come to him three times in a night, and he was close to the edge of The Alley’s, maybe close enough one of the bats would dare come in. He looked up quickly, kicking himself internally for leaving his com off! He could have gotten a heads up about this, but he didn’t want to be distracted by his family’s chatter while he was working.

Red Robin gave him a personable smile Danny could tell was fake, he knew his brother well enough. “Hi,” Tim said, raising his hand in a little wave. “Rare to see a new masked player in Gotham, who are you?” He asked, he was keeping his posture purposefully nonthreatening to try not and scare Danny away. They could probably tell from his body language and size that he was young, he hadn’t been aware he was being watched!

Of course he knew he wouldn’t’ be able to hide from his family for ever but this was not how he planned to introduce Hafit to the bats. He hadn’t gone over what to say, potential outcomes, how he should change his speech patterns to be less recognizable, Nothing! He had frozen for just a moment before he jumped to his feet, closing the map and holstering his detector.

“Woe, hey, there’s nothing to worry about here, just saying hi,” RR said, holding out his hands imploringly.

“You’re not supposed to be here, this is Hood’s territory and he doesn’t like you. It won’t take him long to find out you’re here,” Danny hissed, so glad he’d put a modulator in his helmet. It sounded creepy, nothing at all like himself.

“So you work for Red Hood? I thought he had some pretty firm policies about children,” Red Robin said, curious and wary.

“When it suits me,” Danny hissed, backing away slightly. “I’m no younger than some of your colleagues,” he added, mostly for Hood’s sake. “Now I suggest you leave,” He said before he turned and ran, grappling to swing deeper into crime alley, already turning on his com and tuning into Red Hood’s channel to tell him what had happened and what he’d said, he would want to know everything.

Danny told Hood what had happened on his way back to his lab where he quickly sent Jason the footage and put away his equipment before rushing home. He was sure there was going to be an emergency meeting Very soon and he needed to be home, in his room, and not out of breath when that happened. Analyzing his data and getting a blood sample from Jason would have to wait for another day.

He was sitting at his desk at home in sweatpants and a sweater when Alfred knocked briskly on his door. “Master Bruce has called an emergency meeting, he requests everyone join him in the Cave in five minutes,” Alfred said and Danny nodded, carefully controlling his breathing as he got up from his desk.

“Thanks Alfred, I’ll be right there. Do I need to change?” He asked frowning down at the pajama pants he’d hastily changed into.

“Only if it would make you feel more comfortable.” Alfred replied, already halfway down the hall.

Danny shrugged and left his room, heading down to the cave in his pajamas. Even if he was wrong about what this meeting was about (which he very much doubted) and there was trouble he’d spend it behind a screen anyway. And if it is what he thought it was, well there was no way that his family would suspect him yet anyway, but being in pajamas like he’d been comfortable at home this entire time, would help defer that even further.

Danny wasn’t the last one there, but he was close to it, Damian and Bruce were both there, as was Tim. Dick and Barbra were both displayed on the bat-computer since it would be too onerous for them to come in person so last minute. Cass must have been patrolling a bit further away because she came screeching in on her bike a couple of minutes after Danny did. There were no words before then, though Dick smiled and waved at Danny warmly. Bruce was a man of few words and Tim looked worried, Damian just seemed annoyed at being pulled back from the streets early for a meeting. Spoiler wasn’t active tonight, she would be filled in when she clocked back in tomorrow.

“Thank you for coming everyone, I’m aware it’s short notice,” Bruce said gruffly, glancing at Dick in particular, who was still keeping his distance from the family for the most part. “But there is a new player in Gotham, not a villain, at least not so far as we know but… not something we expected or anticipated,” And that alone was cause for concern. After all what gave Bruce the ability to keep up with empowered people was always being prepared for every eventuality. Something he didn’t see coming was always cause for concern.

“Oracle, would you mind pulling up the footage from Red Robin’s feed?” Batman requested, and by the time he had turned to face the computer it was already playing.

Danny had to be careful not to react to the footage of himself swinging to the building at the edge of crime alley with practiced grace and plopped himself down on the edge. At least he could see that his suit did look the way he had pictured it from an outside perspective. Though the intimidation of it was somewhat undercut by the childish way he swung his legs while typing away at his wrist computer. He watched as the rest of the interaction play out, frowning uncertainly.

“We have no name,” Bruce said once the clip ended with Danny swinging quickly away. “But we know they are being trained by Red Hood, and I think we can say their uniform confirms both their connections to the League of Shadows. Though they aren’t behaving in any way we would expect members of the league to act, so perhaps they’re defectors, though that is purely speculation for now.

“It’s interesting that they say they work with Red Hood as apposed to for him when asked. We’ll have to do some research to try and find out just what it is he does for Red Hood, and if it has anything to do with the unusual weapons he’s been using recently.

“We have a lot more to learn then what we already know, but I wanted all of you to be aware and keep an eye out for them. They’re clearly very young, though who knows what training he’s undergone before this, or what brought them to this point. If we can help them, we should,” Bruce said firmly, because of course he would. Their father was a good man, he’d never abandon a child if he could help it. “Tim? As the one who was there in person who was there in person, do you have any observations to add?”

“I believe he might have been told to avoid us,” Tim said without looking up from his wrist computer where he was probably multitasking by writing his report as he spoke. “He seemed very surprised to see me, I don’t think he realized how close he’d gotten to the edge of Red Hood’s territory, and he fled back into it. I think the reason we haven’t seen him sooner is because Red Hood is keeping him away from us. Whether that’s for his protection, because we know Red Hood doesn’t think highly of us, or to keep control of them, I don’t know.”

“Thank you, Red Robin,” Bruce said calmly.

Damian raised one hand professionally, and Bruce nodded to him. Damian nodded back and clasped his hands behind his back again before speaking. “Given the connection to the league of assassins do we have any suspicion that they are a defective clone?” He asked, it was a fair guess really.

“We can’t rule it out,” Bruce allowed, glancing back up at the screen. “They are the right size and seem roughly the right age. However, they’re not acting in any ways we would expect from even a failed clone, and he doesn’t seem to have any interest in attacking us, at least directly. We need to know more.”

“Agreed,” Barbra spoke up. “I’ll see what I can find out, and give hacking cameras in crime alley another try, see if we can find out anything more,” She said, her hands already flying across her keyboard as she worked.

“I don’t think there’s much I can do from Bludhaven, but if you need me to come for anything let me know,” Dick said. He saw Bruce’s acknowledgement, nodded back, and then signed off from the call. He had the information Brice needed to share now after all, he had nothing more to add and a city of his own to patrol.

“I don’t think pursuing him too intensely would be a good idea, at least at first,” Danny pointed out. Both because he felt like he had been quiet for a bit too long, and because he might be able to help himself a little bit here. “If Tim is right that he’s been told to avoid the bats by Hood he might thing the pursuit is malicious or threatening. You’ll have to be careful in how you approach if you don’t want to scare him off.”

“Your probably right, we’ll have to be careful how we approach,” Bruce agreed thoughtfully.

Cass raised her hand, and when everyone was looking at her she started to sign; “Red Hood has shown no sign of knowing who I am out of costume. Maybe I can go in under cover to find out more.”

“It would be a risk,” Bruce pointed out, clearly worried. “And just because he hasn’t targeted you doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. We’d have to think of contingencies and extraction strategies before hand.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and he cracked a rare, small smile while in mask. “Allow me to be protective of my only daughter,” He said, reaching out to rest a hand on her head. She allowed it for a moment before ducking away.

“Protect all of us,” She accused him playfully making Danny laugh.

“She’s got you there, old man,” Danny teased as well, coming over to bump his shoulder against Bruce’s arm.

Bruce chuckled roughly and gave Danny a one-armed hug before pushing him away again. “Meeting is adjourned, go back to bed Danny. You too Damian, you both have school tomorrow.”

“Yes father,” Damian said, but he hesitated for a moment.

Danny knew what he wanted, he wanted a hug as well, the same easy affection between Danny and Cass and their father that had never come naturally to Damian. Danny smiled a little and slid up behind Damian, pushing him into their father with a laugh. Damian squawked indignantly, flailing a little until Bruce chuckled and caught Damian, holding him close. Then Damian melted, his arms lifting slowly, hesitantly before hugging back quickly and then pulling away.

“Goodnight!” He said a little too loudly and headed towards the elevator at a speed that was just a little slower than bolting.

Danny and Cass gave each other a knowing smile before Danny followed Damian, and Cass headed towards the locker room to change out of her suit and shower. Damian held the elevator for Danny, he watched Cass go with an odd expression that Danny thought meant he felt silly for getting in without changing first but couldn’t bring himself to get back out and go change. Like a cat falling off a windowsill by mistake.

“That one should probably be washed anyway. Nothing wrong with putting it in the laundry chute, then even if someone brings friends over no one will see it,” Danny told Damian, taking pity on him and giving him an out for his momentary foolishness.

“Of course, that’s what I already intended,” He scoffed.

Danny repressed his smile and cleared his throat as they headed back to the manor. Danny left Damian to get changed and get a snack if he needed one. Danny was tired, it had been a long day, he was going to bed.

Or he intended to, but just as he was falling asleep he heard a knock on his wall. He groaned and rolled over, he wanted to sleep, but if his brother wanted to talk, he wasn’t going to let the distance between them grow any larger for the sake of another hour of sleep. He knocked back.

A minute later his door opened with a whisper and shut with a soft click. Danny lifted his blankets and felt his bed shift as Damian slid in, covering him as well and laying his arm between the two of them. Damian’s hand curled around his wrist.

“I’m sorry about what I said the other day,” Damian said softly. “I know it isn’t wrong to want help, and I know I hurt you.” No excuses, no dodging responsibility. It’s unusual for Damian to apologize at all, but when he does this is just so… him.

“Thank you Ahki,” Danny says with a little smile. “I understand why you were upset, that wasn’t the right way for you to find out about therapy. I’m sorry too.”

“Father apologized as well, for not speaking to me privately,” Damian murmured.

“Good, we’ve all apologized to each other. No harm done now, right?” Danny asked, opening one eye just a crack to watch Damian nod.

“No harm done now,” He echoed softly.

There seemed to be more he wanted to talk about so Danny waited. He wished he could say that he was tired and push off talking to another night. But as far as anyone in the family knew Danny hadn’t done anything particularly tiring tonight, he couldn’t let on that his arms were aching from the unusual activity grappling across Crime Alley. He really needed to come up with a better lie to cover where he was spending his time that he, maybe he should ‘join a fencing club’ or something like that.

“Do you know anything about what’s going on in Crime Alley?” Damian asked softly.

The question shocked a laugh out of Danny, which was honestly a pretty decent reaction because even though it was shock he could pass it off as disbelief. “No, I don’t know anything about it,” He assured softly. Lying as naturally as breathing and ignoring the guilt twisting in his gut. “I know I’ve been keeping secrets, but do you really think I’d ally with Red Hood?” He asked, amused.

“Danyal…” Damian said in a tone that made Danny open his eyes and focus on his brother in the dark. He could see his eyes, glowing slightly greener than usual reflected back in his twins own dark ones. “I think that you would do anything you believed you needed to, to achieve your goals. I just wish I knew why, and what they are.”

Damian’s words took the breath out of Danny’s lungs, and he shrunk in on himself, ashamed of how sure Damian is of this and how correct he is. Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You know me too well,” Danny told him with a dry laugh. “But no, I don’t know anything about it. Now if father starts wondering where a few hundred thousand dollars went from his bank account, that one is me,” Danny said with a crooked smile.

“You know perfectly well he won’t notice that,” Damian chuckled, but he settled down in Danny’s bed. He believed Danny now, admitting to just enough, sandwiching a lie in truth worked very well.

“I know,” Danny said with a crooked smile. “No need to work with anyone else when through a little casual embezzlement I already have everything I need,” He joked, and Damian laughed a little again.

“I do wonder what it is you’re doing Ahki,” Damian murmured, starting to sound sleepy.

“If I tell you a little bit do you think you’ll be able to keep it from father?” Danny asked softly.

“I had nearly the same training as you,” Damian said haughtily.

“And what about Dick?” He asked, and Damian deflated, looking away from Danny.

“Not if he asked me,” Damian admitted with a little sigh.

“Alright then… well I can’t tell you everything. But- but I don’t like keeping secrets from you so I’ll tell you a little okay?” He asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Damian said firmly, looking back up at Danny.

“I’m continuing the research on Lazarus water,” He said softly. “We’re not getting anywhere with father’s methods, but I think it’s because of the way he avoids the supernatural. I’m not doing anything unethical, just working with magic, which you know father would think is too risky.”

“That makes sense,” Damian murmured, mostly to himself. “Have you made any progress?” He asked curiously.

“Some,” Danny admitted, relaxing more then he thought he would after having shared a little with Damian. More at his words having been accepted, he hoped this would fend off Damian’s questions about the rest of Danny’s activities a while longer. “But none that I’m ready to share. I won’t be ready to share for a while, not till I have something substantial enough to share that Bruce might forgive me for going behind his back like this.”

“He’ll forgive you,” Damian promised, with faith that Danny wished he felt. “He might be upset, but he won’t turn his back on either of us. He loves us.”

Danny thought about Jason, how sure he was Bruce would reject him, about the fights he still had with Dick. He thought about the way Bruce continues to use Jason’s death as an example of what not to do. “Of course,” he lied. “We’re family after all. Now let’s sleep Damian, I think my teachers will be mad if I fall asleep in class again.”

“Wake me if you have a nightmare?” Damian requested, a yawn forcing his eyes closed, he didn’t bother to open them again.

“I will,” Danny agreed, but he didn’t think he would have any. Not after such an exhausting, eventful, but… hopeful night.

#dc x dp #fanfiction #danny phantom #jason todd #my writing #tim drake #Socializing the demon twins #demon twins au #damian wayne #danyal al ghul #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #red robin

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inthe-dark-tonight · 2 years ago

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what she wants, anywhere

frankie morales x f!reader

summary: trying to hide the fact that you're horny from frankie while on an international flight leads to unexpectedly joining the mile high club

word count: 4.4k

warnings: E (18+ mdni!!!) dubcon, smut, porn w very little plot, pet names, established relationship, unsafe p in v, airplane sex, slight breeding kink (special just for cami hehe) creampie, reader uses frankie's hand to try and get off, no mention of age gap so read how you’d like :)

notes: this idea has been in my head for a few months but I never really knew how i wanted to write it, then an unreleased harry styles song came on shuffle (complicated freak - iykyk) and that just kinda fed the brainrot even more and…. now here we are. i'm also very aware that this is pretty unrealistic but it's fic so!! also let's pretend that airplane bathrooms aren't super gross i'm sorry. thank you to the loml @javiscigarette for always beta reading and listening to my insane rambling, i don’t know what i would do without you and our single shared braincell ILYSM xo

i also hit a new follower milestone this past week so i just want to say an extra big thank you to everyone that reads, likes, comments, reblogs or follows 🤍 enjoy!! :)

You and Frankie have had this trip planned for almost 6 months now, the two of you needing a vacation from work and day to day life. Now the only thing standing between the two of you and a week long vacation in Italy is an eight and a half hour flight.

From the second you got to the airport you were on edge, worried about your bags, your tickets, your passports, if you had forgotten anything in your carry on, up until you got to security when you finally calmed down. When you got up to the belt, Frankie grabbed a few plastic bins throwing both of your carry ons into one as you removed your jacket and shoes. As you stuffed everything into your bin, you glanced over at him, watching him intently as he started to take his jacket off.

You watched the way his biceps flexed as he slipped his jacket off of his broad shoulders and tossed it into the bin. Next he removed his hat, running his calloused fingers through his tousled curls, pushing them back before preparing to remove his belt. At that point you were noticeably gawking at him, watching the way his thick fingers unfastened his belt buckle before rapidly pulling it out the belt loops of his jeans and tossing it into the bin as well.

He looked over at you, giving you a quick once over before asking, “That everything?”

You weren’t able to conjure up any words, just a quick mhm and a nod of your head as you two moved forward. When he stepped into the metal detector, your eyes were glued to him the whole time. As he lifted his hands above his head, his shirt lifted the slightest bit, causing a small sliver of his soft tummy to peek out. A warmth started to build deep in your core from that moment forward.

Once the two of you were through security, he slipped his belt back on followed by his jacket. You swiped his hat before he could grab it, quickly stuffing it into your carry on.

He laughed, head tilting to the side as the dimple on his cheek deepened. “C’mon” he shot you a look. “Give it.” He held his large hand out towards you.

“We’re inside now, don’t need it.” You smiled at him sweetly, a warmth blooming in your chest as his eyes met yours.

He grunted, grabbing your bags with a small smile still plastered on his face before turning to walk towards your gate. Your eyes are glued to him as you walk, keeping a few steps behind him.

By the time you finally sit down at your gate, the heat in your lower stomach has grown even more and Frankie is painfully unaware of the way you’re watching him, desire growing each second. The terminal was crowded and there weren’t many seats, so you sat across from him a bit upset at the distance while also enjoying the view of your man.

You sit across from him with a book in your hand, legs crossed as you peeked up over the top of your book every now and then to admire him. He was leaning back in the chair, one arm on the armrest and the other casually resting between his legs, right where you want him most. His legs were spread wide, hair perfectly tousled, one leg bouncing from nerves and brows furrowed as he focused on something on his phone. How could you possibly not stare?

He caught you once, eyes lingering on him a little too long, causing heat to rise from for chest up to your cheeks. Your eyes roamed up his body, checking him out, before locking with his own as he shifted in his seat.

Hm? He raised his brows, a smirk growing on his face.

You quickly shook your head, looking back down at your book as a shy smile formed on your face.

Boarding the plane went by quickly. You stood close to him as you waited for your group to be called and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The comforting feeling of his warm body pressed against yours worked you up even more, if that was even possible, and Frankie held your hand the whole time during take off.

Now you're seated on the plane, his thigh resting against yours, fighting the urge to keep your hands off of him and satisfy the throbbing need in your core. He’s surely noticed the way you’ve been squirming in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs a million times and the not so subtle staring.

You turn on the screen in front of you, switching to the live map and checking the time on the screen. It’s only been 45 minutes, this is going to be impossible. You clear your throat and let out a deep sigh as you look out the window at the dark sky, only a small peek of blue light shining over the horizon now.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie’s soft voice in your ear startles you slightly as you turn to see him leaning in close to you. “You nervous?” He moves his hand to rest on your thigh.

You swallow before answering. “No.” You blurt out causing him to raise his brow in curiosity. “I mean, it’s not that.” Your eyes land on his lips after the last word leaves your mouth.

“Then what is it?” He rubs your thigh lightly and you bite the inside of your cheek.

He sounds concerned, but there’s no way you’re telling him that you’re horny with 7 hours left of this flight. All you can do is hope that as the time passes the ache in your core dulls, or better yet goes away.

“Just-“ you try to think of an excuse on the spot. “Excited actually.” You smile up at him and he returns it, the dimple on his cheek growing.

“We’ll be there soon baby, the flight will be over before you know it.” He lifts his hand from your thigh and rests it on your cheek, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb before pecking your lips.

You nod in agreement, closing your eyes as you toss your head back and lean into your seat. If he only knew.

You’ve been looking out the window for who knows how long, the lights in the cabin are low, almost completely off now, and the flight attendants haven’t walked up the aisles in almost half an hour. You look at the time on your phone again, only two hours in, how is that possible? The ache in your core hasn’t subsided.

You look over at Frankie watching a movie on the screen in front of him, Top Gun, before reaching for your carry-on bag under the seat in front of you. You grab the sweater you stuffed into it and throw it across your lap.

“Cold?” Frankie’s voice is soft yet gravely as he leans in close to you, whispering for just the two of you to hear.

You look at him, eyes slightly widening. “Yeah.” You aren’t lying, the cabin is chilly, but that’s only half of the truth.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in your features in the low light. You scoot closer to him, leaning into his side as you get comfortable. Frankie smiles and plants a kiss on your temple before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. You lay your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his bicep as you watch the movie with him.

It’s not long before you’re distracted again, letting go of your grip on his arm and laying back in your seat. Your eyes linger on the way his pants hug his thighs. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore, the way he’s sitting with his arms crossed give you a full view of his strong forearms and biceps.

You’re not sure how much longer you can ignore the heat pooling in your stomach. You decide to test something and reach your right hand over to rub the side of his thigh, resting there for a moment. He doesn’t move, eyes still on the screen, and you take that as a sign to keep going. You slowly inch closer towards where his cock is confined in his pants, resting your hand on the inside of his thigh and keeping it there for a few moments. He doesn’t react, but you hear his breathing picking up.

As you start to rub small circles on the inside of his thigh and inch ever so slightly closer to where his member is hidden, he grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing?” He whispers.

His large hand is still wrapped around your wrist as you lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder as you look up at him. “Nothing.” That’s a lie, and he knows it.

“Querida...” His eyes burn through you as he stares back at you. He knows.

You clear your throat and tilt your head up to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been worked up since we went through security.”

“Hm.” He nods his head, the deep vibration causes goosebumps to raise on your skin.

You pull back and he looks into your eyes again. His hand finds yours on your lap, warm as it wraps around yours and squeezes lightly.

“Once we land and get to the hotel, promise.” He raises his hand to rest on your cheek and plants a feather light kiss on your lips.

You let out a small sigh as his hand moves from yours to rest on his lap and you turn to look out the window, trying to distract yourself from the pool of heat that burns in the pit of your stomach.

You’re not sure how much time has passed now, when you look over at Frankie his eyes are shut, mouth slightly parted as you admire his features. A small smile forms in your face as your eyes roam over him, landing on his hand still resting on his lap.

At that exact moment, an idea comes to your mind. Something that could possibly give you a small amount of relief. For now. It’s not your best idea, but it could work.

You look back up at his face as you reach over to rest your hand over his, he doesn’t open his eyes. You stay still for a moment, making sure you won’t wake him from the movement. When you think the time is right, you lift his hand, quickly resting it on your lap. Your eyes land on where his hand now lays over your sweater on your lap, so close to the dull thrumming at your core. You bite your lip and look back over to be sure he hasn’t woken up, you smile at the way his soft lashes rest on the tops of his cheeks as he rests, a warmth spreading through your chest.

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly move his hand underneath where your sweater lays to rest on your inner thigh. His warm hand burns straight through the fabric of your pants, causing your skin to heat up from the touch, and your stomach to churn. He still hasn’t opened his eyes, so you take that as a safe sign to keep going, slowly moving his hand up your thigh until it rests over your clothed heat.

A low whimper escapes your throat and your eyes widen at the realization, looking back over at where Frankie lays with his eyes shut. You watch him take a deep breath, letting out a sigh as he shifts slightly in his seat, head rolling slightly to the side as he stirs. You stay still for a few seconds, making sure he hasn’t woken from your movements.

You look away from him, back to where his hand is touching you under your sweater, and you begin to press the heel of his hand into your clothed cunt. You let out a long, relieved breath from your nose and your eyes fall shut. The pressure of his large warm hand resting over your sensitive nub is just enough to give you some of the relief you were looking for, but it’s not enough.

You take a deep breath before grinding yourself against the palm of his hand in a slow rocking motion that causes the seam of your pants to rub over your clit. Trying your best to be quiet, you bite into your cheek as your hips buck forward. A low groan escapes your throat and you let out a shaky breath.

You're lost in the moment, relishing in the feeling of his large, warm hand resting over your clothed sex as you grind into it. Suddenly you feel him move and your heart leaps into your throat. His arm tenses up, hand grabbing at your clothed cunt as he applies more pressure than before. Your eyes fly open wide and you turn to look into his own. Heavy lidded as a small smirk forms on his face in the dim lighting, he leans in closer to you.

“Bathroom at the back of the plane. I’ll be there in five.” He says slowly, just above a whisper.

You blink, mouth agape as his words sink in. “W-what?” You watch the way his chest rapidly rises and falls as you wait for his response.

“Now.” He presses harder into your clothed core before pulling his hand away.

You let out a gasp, reaching for your seat buckle as fast as you can before standing up. As you squeeze past him and make your way into the aisle, you take a quick glance around to look for the flight attendants. They're nowhere to be found, and as you walk towards the back of the plane you notice that almost everyone on the plane is asleep, has their nose in a book or eyes glued to something on the screen in front of them. You try not to walk too quickly as you make your way towards the back of the plane where the vacancy sign is glowing brightly.

Your heart is racing and you feel giddy as you approach the door, pulling it open and stepping inside before closing it behind you. As you wait in the small stall for Frankie, you stand there for a moment with your back against the door, eyes falling shut as you take a deep breath in anticipation for what may happen next. Then you hear a light knocking on the door, causing you to flinch as you reach to pull the door open.

Without giving you a second to think, Frankie pushes the door open causing you to step back, closing the door behind him and locking it before guiding you towards the sink. It's a tight fit with the two of you in there but right now you could care less. He presses close to you, causing your lower back to press into the small plastic sink as his hand flies down to grab you where you're wet and aching for him, the other grabbing your wrist.

He leans in, nose grazing your cheek before speaking low in your ear. “This what you wanted?” His voice sends a shock straight to your core as he applies more pressure where he's caressing your clothed core, causing a moan to slip from your mouth.

“Frankie,” you say breathlessly.

“Shhh.” his hand leaves your wrist to lightly cover your mouth. “Gotta be quiet for me baby, don’t want anyone to catch us committing a fucking felony now do we?” A small smirk covers his lips and your chest flutters with excitement at his words.

You look up at him with wide eyes and shake your head, then he removes his hand from your mouth and plants a needy kiss to your lips. Your eyes close and you melt into it, hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue parts your lips to tangle with your own. You press against him, slightly bucking your hips to feel the growing bulge in his pants. He groans before breaking the kiss, pulling away to catch his breath as his eyes roam over you. His large hands grab at your waist as he looks back into your eyes.

“Turn around.” you do as he says, turning your back to him and pressing your hips flush against the tiny sink while your hands grab onto the edge bracing yourself.

Frankie’s large hands land back on your hips, smoothing over the fabric of your jeans to rest on your ass for a moment, squeezing lightly before moving back to your hips. he presses his hardening cock into your ass and lets out a low grunt as your eyes flutter shut, your head falling forward as you sigh.

His hands leave your hips and you hear the sound of his belt buckle. “Gotta make this quick.” his voice is low and gruff, you lift your head to look at him through the mirror in front of you.

You watch him as he looks down between the two of you to unbutton his own jeans, stray curls falling onto his forehead. His muscles flex, the fabric of his shirt stretching as he pulls his jeans down just enough for his cock to spring out. His head snaps back up, dark eyes meeting yours in the mirror. His hands snake around to the front of you, reaching for the button on your pants, his thick fingers moving quickly to undo it before pulling at your zipper.

His eyes never leave yours as he tugs your pants down just enough to expose the soft skin of your ass along with your soaked heat. Your mouth falls open as his hand moves towards your core and you stifle a moan as his fingers start to glide through your slick folds, his other hand resting back on your hip.

“Been thinking about me filling you up this whole time, huh?” You take in a deep breath, pressing your lips together as you try to hold in a moan. “Thinking about me filling you to the fucking brim with my cum?”

You frantically nod your head, unable to form a single word. Frankie watches you through the mirror as your head falls back onto his shoulder and you press yourself back into him. A small gasp leaves your mouth as you feel his stiff cock press against your bare ass. He starts to rub small, slow circles on your clit and you raise your head to look at him through the mirror again. Your eyes immediately meet with his having never left you, and you watch him as he leans in closer to you.

“Wish there was time for me to taste this perfect pussy.” His nose grazes the side of your cheek, his low voice vibrating through your whole body.

You bite your lip trying to keep quiet, squeezing your eyes shut as he applies more pressure to your swollen clit. You also wish there was time. He plants a kiss on your neck, scruff slightly scratching you as his warm lips press against your skin. It’s like he read your mind.

“Once we get to the hotel, I promise.” He lightly squeezes your hip, pulling his other hand away from your sensitive nub causing you to hold your breath. “Bend over for me baby.”

You do as he says, bracing yourself on the sink once again as you slightly lean forward. One of his hands stays on your hip, the other lines his cock up with your soaking wet entrance. Your eyes are still glued to him in the mirror, your beautiful man. He’s focused as you watch him, and when you feel his tip slowly start to press in, you watch the way his face relaxes. You close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of him slowly filling you to the brim.

“Fuck.” You watch as his head falls back, a blissful look on his face. “Feel so good cariño.”

He stays still for a moment, taking in the feeling of your wet cunt pulsing around him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in here, but you know that the two of you should hurry up before someone notices what’s going on. You wiggle your ass back and forth against Frankie to try and get his attention as you bite your bottom lip while looking up at him through the mirror.

He lifts his head up, dark eyes meeting with yours. A deep almost growl comes from deep in his chest as he pulls out and slams his cock back into you. Your body jolts forward, mouth falling open as you brace yourself for his brutal pace. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you bringing you so close to the release you’ve been waiting for.

You watch him in the mirror, transfixed on the way his biceps strain the fabric of his shirt as he holds onto your waist for dear life. The feeling of his cock splitting you open so perfect. He leans down and wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you to stand straight up with your back against him as he continues to fuck you at the same brutal pace.

His hand roams over your body and his eyes follow, finding the hem of your shirt as he slips his large hand beneath it. You press further back into him, a sigh leaving your mouth at the feeling of his warm skin against yours.

“Francisco…” You murmur.

His hand continues to travel up your body, leaving goosebumps in its trail up towards your breasts. You suck in a breath as his hand finds the cup of your bra, slipping underneath to caress the soft skin of your breast. He’s still staring at you in the mirror, tracing over your soft skin and curves with his eyes as he moves his hand to lift your shirt up to your chin.

“So beautiful,” he whispers right beside your ear. “Look at you.”

You’re just looking at him, the way his large hand is splayed over your chest, the light flush on his cheeks from being cramped in this stuffy bathroom, and the way his hair has fallen over his forehead. The coil in your stomach is ready to snap, any second now as he slows down his thrusts. He can feel it, the way your walls flutter around his thick cock. His hand slides back down your chest, stopping to rest on your stomach as he holds you against him.

“Come for me, come on baby.” His deep voice travels straight through you to your core.

“Oh my-” Frankie’s hand flys up to cover your mouth before you can finish.

“Shhh, quiet.” The vibration of his deep voice whispering in your ear sends you over the edge and a white hot feeling spreads through your body, radiating from your core as your orgasm takes over.

“There you go.” He whispers, nose grazing your cheek as he speaks.

Your hand reaches behind you to pull at the curls on the nape of his neck and you squeeze around him as your orgasm comes to an end. He lets out a deep moan as he buries his face into your neck, muffling the sound. He thrust one last time, stopping when he bottoms out, hot cum spurting out and filling you up. His shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath, head still buried in your shoulder and your head lays back on his. Both of his arms are wrapped around your torso and you rest yours over his, squeezing his forearms lightly as he stays there for a moment longer, making sure all of his seed stays put.

He kisses your neck before lifting his head up and looking between the two of you as he pulls out, pulling your underwear back on quickly to make sure his come stays put. His hands rest on your hips as you fix your shirt. You slide your pants back on and spin around to face him as he buttons his pants, watching the way his fingers move. A smile forms on your face as you watch him, a warmth growing in your chest.

“Hm?” He looks up at you through his lashes as he fixes his belt.

You shake your head, reaching to rest your hands on his shoulders as you kiss him. He sucks in a deep breath, making a content sound as he kisses you back and wraps his arms tightly around you. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes roam your features before speaking.

“We should go back.” One of his hands comes up to caress your cheek and he pecks your lips one last time.

“You go first.” You lean into his touch, squeezing his broad shoulders.

His thumb rubs your cheek before pulling away and turning to pull the door open. He slips out, quietly closing the door behind him. Once he’s gone you turn towards the mirror to fix yourself up and wash your hands before going back to your seat. You replay what just happened in your mind as you wait a few minutes to leave.

Once you think it’s safe to leave, you slip back out into the dark cabin. You glance around, still no flight attendants in sight as you make your way back to the aisle where Frankie is sitting and waiting for you. A smirk forms on his face as you squeeze in front of him to take your seat at the window. You get comfortable, resting your head on his shoulder as his hand finds a spot on your lap and you close your eyes. As you start to drift off you feel Frankie shift in his seat.

“Don’t think I forgot about my promise either.” He whispers for just you to hear.

Your chest flutters, a quiet laugh leaves your mouth before you drift to sleep. Only 5 more hours, you’re almost sure you can wait this time.

thank you for reading <3 any feedback is appreciated and my asks are open!! xo

tagging a few moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartsspedro @sapphic-gardn @northernbluess @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pr0ximamidnight @daydreamingmiller @hearteyesforjoel <3

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie triple frontier

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fionayao2008 · 2 years ago

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Tripod Turnstile Overview Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, as well as Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are contemporary control gadgets for pedestrian passages. They are used in position where the entry as well as departure of individuals need to be regulated, such as smart communities, canteens, hotels, galleries, gyms, clubs, trains, stations, docks, and so on place. Using Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile can make the flow of people organized. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, Flap Turnstile are made use of in mix with smart cards, fingerprints, barcodes and also other recognition system equipment to create a smart gain access to control channel control system; they are made use of in combination with computers, accessibility control, presence, billing monitoring, ticket systems and also other software program to form a The intelligent Turnstile Gate detailed management system can recognize functions such as access control, attendance, usage, ticketing, as well as present restricting. This Turnstile Gate monitoring system is part of the "all-in-one card" and is mounted at flows such as communities, manufacturing facilities, smart structures, canteens, etc. It can complete various administration features such as employee card travel control, presence at leave job and also dishes, as well as dining. Tripod Turnstile system attributes Convenient as well as quick: review the card in and out with one swipe. Use the licensed IC card and wave it before the clever Tripod Turnstile visitor to finish the Tripod Turnstile gate opening and charge recording work. The card reading is non-directional as well as the analysis as well as composing time is 0.1 seconds, which is practical and also quick. Safety and security and also confidentiality: Use history or neighborhood confirmation, authorized issuance, and also one-of-a-kind identification, that is, the card can just be utilized in this system, and also it is risk-free and also personal. Dependability: Card radio frequency induction, stable as well as trusted, with the capability to court and also assume. Flexibility: The system can flexibly set access as well as leave control employees consents, period control, cardholder validity and blacklist loss reporting, adding cards as well as various other features. Versatility: Through consent, the user card can be utilized for "one-card" administration such as car parking, presence, accessibility control, patrol, usage, and so on, making it very easy to recognize multiple uses of one card. Simpleness: Easy to mount, easy to link, the software application has a Chinese user interface and is easy to operate. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, as well as Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are modern control devices for pedestrian flows. The use of Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile can make the flow of people orderly. Use the accredited IC card as well as wave it in front of the clever Tripod Turnstile viewers to complete the Tripod Turnstile gate opening and charge recording job.

#3 Arms Turnstile #Strike Lock #Access Control #Loop Coil Cable #Face Recognition #79g Radar Detector #Scan Qr Code Reader #Timmy Access Control #Gate With Face Reader #6 Meters Boom Barrier

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teamfreewilllover · 5 months ago

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Masked Affection ll In-ho/Frontman x OC

Min-Ji stared into the camera in front of her, her head tilted to one side as the command to smile flashed up on the screen. Her expression remained emotionless as her picture was taken. A sharp laugh from behind her had Min-ji pushing on, amazed that anyone could find the situation they found themselves in amusing. She supposed they didn't know that people rarely left the games. Staggering forward toward the steps, she pushed down the urge to groan when she saw how slowly the woman in front of her was walking. Of all the times to get stuck behind someone who—

Was pregnant?

From the way the girl was clutching at her stomach and practically waddling up the staircase, Min-Ji had no doubt that she was knocked up. Gritting her teeth, she tapped on the girl's shoulder, who jumped out of her skin. She whipped around, with a sheepish expression, gulping when she saw Min-Ji looming over her.

"You and your baby are slowing us down," Min-Jin stated, watching the girl's eyes double in size.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," The shorter girl, with the tag of 222, mumbled.

"Uh-huh. What, are you just holding in a fart then?" Min-Ji teased, as 222's cheeks reddened.

Finding now, her lips did twitch into a slight smile, she held her hand out to the shorter girl. She blinked at her a couple times, as Min-Ji gestured for her to take the offered limb. An irritated cough from behind them had Min-Ji taking 222's hand and pulling her up the stairs before the other girl could protest.

"Ah, I'm not an invalid," 222 complained, as Min-Ji looped their arms together, allowing her to take the majority of the others weight.

"No. Just a pregnant invalid," She smirked, noticing 222 gave a tiny smile.

Soon enough, they made it threw large green gates, arriving on a sandy pitch. There was an odd statue on the other side, dressed up like a little girl, that towered over the guards dressed in pink. Min-Ji was biding her time, waiting for the moment to get one of the guards alone and finally get some answers. 222 shrugged her arm away as they crowded into the pitch, finding the blue sky above them, a flock of birds flying past.

"The first game is Red Light, Green Light."

Min-Ji's frowned deepened, wondering what the twist was. If these games got people killed, then how? There were only two guards standing by the doll, surely they couldn't do much? Glancing toward 222, she took an almost protective stance in front of her.

"You should stick with me, 222," Min-Ji suggested.

"Why?" 222 questioned, as Min-Ji held her hand out to her again.

"Because no one else is going to look out for you here," Min-Ji pointed out, and this time, 222 took her hand far quicker.

Before the girls could say another word, a panicked man was racing forward, his hair cut poorly and eyes wide. He held his hands up, breathing heavily.

"Everyone! Everyone, listen up! Pay attention! This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!" The man, who's tag was 456, called out.

The others around them scoffed and laughed but Min-Ji's focused remained on 456. She could tell from the haunted look in his eyes the man truly believed what he was saying. Holding on tightly to 222's hand, she tugged her forward.

"If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere! That doll's eyes are motion detectors!" 456 exclaimed, as Min-Ji's gaze moved to the doll in question, feeling a shiver go down her spine.

"He's just crazy. Right?" 222 whispered, as Min-Ji squeezed her hand.

"Stay behind me," Min-Ji retorted, noticing a countdown flashing up on the side of the arena.

5:00

Immediately realising that meant they only had 5 minutes to make it passed the doll, Min-Ji was rushing forward, with 222 close behind. She had already raced past 456 when the doll announced Red Light and her footsteps came to a sudden halt. 222 gripped her hand tightly, crouched behind Min-Ji, who's free hand was held out to shield her from the motion detector.

On the other side of the arena, In-ho's hand stilled against his drink, eyes narrowed. Player 002 was the first to move, carrying another player behind her. In-ho leaned closer to the screen in front of him, displaying every second of action. The girl seemed familiar to him. Pressing a button beside him, the screen zoomed in on the younger girl's face, as his gaze grew intense.

Now, he remembered.

"Let's go!" 456 shouted, as they all made a desperate race to the finish line.

Min-Ji and 222 made it just in time, as the doll spun around, and more gunshots rang out. They both fell to their knees, exhausted and terrified by what they had just witnessed. Gasps echoed around the group, as Min-Ji twisted around to see 456 racing out to help the man she had staggered past.

"This idiot is going to get himself killed," She mumbled, her eyes widening as another playing sprinted forward to help.

Together, they managed to bring the injured man over the line with quite literally one second to spare. They smiled at each other, as the man thanked them. Suddenly, there was blood spraying onto the sand, as the injured man collapsed, a bullet having whizzed through his skull. Tense silence followed. 456 looked devastated, unable to look away from the dead man by his feet. The pink guards began to usher them back to their bunks then, but 456 made no move to follow. A guard nudged him with their gun, but still 456 didn't even blink. Min-Ji's legs were moving before her mind had caught up, storming over to 456. Grabbing his arm, she managed to haul him onto his feet, finding little resistance.

"He's dead. You want to be too?" Min-Ji insisted, as the man blinked a few times, before nodding.

Everyone was too scared to talk as they wandered back to their beds, crowding around the back of the large room. Screams rang out as soon as the guards entered, as Min-Ji's attention moved to 456, who seemed devoid of fear.

"Clause three of the consent form. The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?" 456 announced, taking a step forward.

"That is correct. Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice," One of the pink guards replied, as a collective sigh rang out across the room. But the guard wasn't finished speaking. "But first, let me announce the prize amount that's been accumulated."

The room was then cast in a golden glow, as the players looked up to find stacks of money being deposited into the see-through glass above them. Everyone stepped forward, their eyes wide with awe and wonder. Everyone but Min-Ji and 456. Their eyes found each other across the room, both wondering what the others reasoning was for not being so easily manipulated. Questions were called out, asking for how much money they could leave with at that very moment, or if they made it to the end. Greed oozed off most of the players.

A small column was brought in shortly after, with two buttons on top of it. 222 stayed closed to Min-Ji's side, having taking heed of her earlier words. Min-Ji had no plans to explain to the other player why she had taken such an immediate interest in her.

"Now, let's begin the vote. If you wish to continue the games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button. The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers. Player 456!" The guard exclaimed, as the man in question, began to march forward.

Min-Ji was a little surprised when he voted to leave. He seemed to know the games well. Perhaps he was too scared to continue? The vote carried on for some time, and eventually 222 was called upon. Min-Ji gave her the best reassuring smile she could muster as she waddled forward.

"Wait a minute!" The voice of 456 cried out, stepping in between the two groups that had formed. His eyes were manic, as 222 came to a stop. "You can't do this. Come to your senses! Don't you see? These aren't just any games. We will all die if we keep playing! We have to get out of here now. With a majority vote, we can! We must stop here!" He pleaded with them.

Angry players started to argue with him, as Min-Ji took a step forward, ready to scold them for shouting at the man who had saved all of their lives, but she stopped herself. She already knew which button she would press and it wasn't what 456 would want. He didn't know the real reason she had entered the games.

"I have played these games before! I have done this before! I played the games here three years ago! And everyone who was with me...died here!" 456 warned, as Min-Ji's jaw clenched.

It made sense, and his panic seemed real enough to believe. But that meant...some people really did make it out of the games? Her mind instantly went to her older sister, as it often did. She had played the game ten years ago. But unlike 456, she had never had the chance to go home. Looking down at her cheap shoes, Min-Ji blinked away the tears that had begun to well in her eyes, knowing better than to show weakness.

"If someone like you can win, so can I! If you really won, it actually works better for us. You can give us some tips on how to beat these games," A player with bright purple hair called out, arrogance in his steps.

"That's right! We have a previous winner with us, so what do we have to worry about? Come on, let's do this!" Player 100, an older man, insisted, as cheers rung out.

Min-Ji couldn't help but scoff. She was amazed at how quick the players were turning one side to the other. She was conflicted when 222 started walking again, and voted to leave the games. It was the right thing for her...but Min-Ji couldn't go. Not yet. The lines dwindled down until there was only a few of them left.

Player 004 marched forward, as the crowd cheered him on. Min-Ji flinched when she felt a hand suddenly touch her shoulder, causing her to whip round. The warm hand remained touching her for a few seconds, before they pulled away, standing far closer to her than she had been expecting. She hadn't even realised he was there. Her eyes flickered down to the tag on his chest.

001.

She regarded him closely for a few moments, finding he was at least a couple decades older than her, his eyes curious and black hair messy. His gaze turned intense as soon as their eyes met.

"Excuse me," He began, his voice deep, and unfamiliar to her. His gaze flickered over her for a second, before he forced his eyes back to hers. "I'm not decided on which way to vote. Do you plan to stay?" He inquired, curiously.

"Yes," Min-Ji replied, as he nodded slowly.

"Do you need money so badly?" He continued, his eyes seeming almost amused to her.

"I'm not doing this for the money," She told him, as they heard another cheer.

She turned to find Player 004 had cast his vote. The majority had voted to leave. By only one vote. With a sigh, Min-Ji stepped forward, keeping her gaze low as the crowds called out for her, begging her to choose their team. As soon as she reached to column, she pressed the O, without a second of hesitation. Turning on her heel, she headed toward the staying group, who reached out for her. She found 222 in the opposite crowd, who was staring back at her with wide eyes. Her attention quickly turned to Player 001 who had been close on her heels, already standing at the podium. After a few seconds, he too chose the O button and sealed their fate.

People started patting her on the back, cheering even louder than before. Player 001 turned around, his gaze landing on the group who decided to leave. She noticed how his lips twitched into a slight smirk for just a second and then realised who exactly he was looking at.

Player 456.

The groups started to disband, some players far happier than others. 222 had disappeared from sight, as Min-Ji felt a slither of guilt, knowing she may have doomed the young mother. But she had to put her family first. The truth about what happened to her sister was more—

"Thank you for your help," Player 001 announced, suddenly standing in front of her.

Min-Ji cocked her head to one side, eyes narrowed as she watched him silently. If he was uncomfortable under her gaze, he certainly didn't show it. Min-Ji looked down to his tag again, a realisation hitting her.

"Our beds are put in number order. I don't remember you being there when I woke up," She pointed out, as his face remained impassive.

"Ah, I suppose I wasn't that memorable," He replied, as slight smile grew on her lips.

"I think I'd remember," She insisted, taking a step closer to him, watching as his eyes narrowed.

"Out of 455 people?" He retorted, as she gave a shrug.

"I'm a people person," She huffed, as his eyes lit up in amusement.

"Young-Il," He exclaimed, suddenly holding his hand out to her, covering the short distance between them. She didn't move, every instinct warning her there was something wrong with the man. "Come. I don't bite," He went on, as she raised an eyebrow.

"Min-Ji," She mumbled, reluctantly reaching out to shake his hand.

His hand clasped tightly around hers, his skin warm against her own. Her eyes darted from their joined hands back up to his cold eyes. It almost seemed like he was challenging her, but she wasn't sure what game they were playing.

"I'm glad to have met you, Min-Ji," He nodded, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand, far more gently than Min-Ji had been anticipating.

She was quick to pull away, not missing the way Young-Il's lips formed into a smirk. For someone playing in a game of life or death, he seemed far too pleased. Min-Ji wasn't sure if she was happy about his sudden interest in her.

"Excuse me," She murmured, nodding to him for a moment, before backing up, planning to search for 222.

She could feel his eyes watching her the entire time.

#hwang inho #squid game imagine #frontman x reader #inho x reader #seong gi hun #front man

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dizzydennis · 9 months ago

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Sonic x Tails - Cover Story

(Translator Note: This was an older translation that seemed to get lost to time, but I found a half finished file I made and decided to punch it up a bit. I am not coming back to tumblr, but wanted to fix this and the Knuckles story just for archiving the Cover Story translations)

“Let’s get moving, Tails!”

Sonic was in a rush, which was nothing new for him.

This time, it was because of a rumor that a bright, rainbow meteor landed in the grassy fields of Green Hill on the other side of the mountain. There didn’t need to waste time thinking about it, so Sonic brought Tails in a hectic dash to see what was going on.

“Whoa! Wait a minute, Sonic…!”

Sonic ran faster than anybody could possibly process as he went through the rising and falling landscape of Green Hill. As well as the towering shuttle loops that they saw before them.

Tails flew behind Sonic with his two tails acting as a helicopter. He flew over cliffs and rivers and managed to keep up with Sonic thanks to using shortcuts.

Two colorful trails, one blue and the other yellow, blasted through the mountain. They were neck-and-neck as they raced towards the other side of the colorful hills.

The two heroes had arrived at a forest outing where the metero supposively crash-landed. But there wasn’t any sort of a crater. As they looked around, Tails pulled out a device and started to scan the area.

“This is my energy detector. If my hypothesis is correct, then we should—“

Suddenly, an alarm in his machine starting beeping. It reacted to a gem that was right under Tails’ feet.

“This is—Sonic!! It’s a Chaos Emerald! But it’s gray right now…”

“What? Why is it back here?”

The Chaos Emeralds are seven miraculous gems that contain unlimited power. They can respond to the wishes of whoever use them and bring about miraculous results.

Once all seven are gathered, there would be an unimaginable level of power, but after their powers have been used, the Chaos Emeralds would warp to different parts of the world.

After they landed with no rhyme or reason somewhere, their cores would slowly build up power again.

Sonic and his friends had used the energy of the Chaos Emeralds just a few days ago to stop the dastardly plans of the mad scientist, Dr. Eggman.

“This is one of the Emeralds! It probably looked like a rainbow because it was refracting sunlight as it fell.”

Sonic listened as Tails as he gave his explanation all at once. Though Tails felt a little embarrassed afterwards, Sonic’s gaze held nothing but the utmost trust in him.

Sonic listened to Tails as he explained everything. Realizing this, Tails felt a little embarrassed, but Sonic’s gaze showed he absolutely trusted his friend.

“Great! I’m with ya! I probably would’ve missed it, myself. Glad you’re here with me!”

“Oh, it’s nothing! Hehehe.”

As the two shared a smile, a large beeping sound came from Tails’ device. Sonic noticed almost instantly.

“Hey! Did it find another Chaos Emerald? It must be that way, right? Let’s do it to it, Tails!”

“T-this is just an energy detector. It doesn’t mean it’ll necessarily be a Chaos Em—“

There was no point in wasting time wondering about it, so Sonic took Tails by the hand and started running.

There was no point in just debating what was going on. Sonic grabbed Tails by the hand and started running off.

“Up over and gone, Tails!”

“Wow! Hold on, Sonic…!”

And so, two trails—one blue and one yellow—streaked through the mountains once more, neck-and-neck as they raced towards the other side of the verdant hills…!

Once again, two colorful trails, one blue and one yellow, blasted through the mountainsides again. They raced across the green landscape once again.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Miles Tails Prower #Sonic Generations #SEGA #Sonic the Hedgehog 2

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duchi-nesten · 7 months ago

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Five names...and Steve.

It's Ecto-Implosion time!!!! This year I actually did writing nO WAY!

I got to work with the amazing @toadstool32! Their art is absolutely wonderful! Go check it out!!

Tiny's Art!

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Summary:

Danny's parents weren't very fond of the ghostly pet living in his console... or 5 times Danny's virtual pet got on his parents' nerves, and 1 time it didn't.

Wordcount: 6744 || AO3

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A lot of things in the Fenton household were out of place.

At this point it was just a given that the Fenton parents would leave some ectoplasmic samples on the kitchen counter or end up testing their newest invention on some poor piece of furniture. Danny was very used to random burn marks on the walls, trying not to trip over ripped carpet or dodging whatever food in their fridge came to life this time. (Though usually it was only the ecto-hot-dogs, who’d pretty much taken over their fridge, and tended to dominate any other sentient meal.)

It’s also hard to forget that one time his parents somehow managed to make everything in the living room invisible. That was a fun afternoon.

The point was, weird stuff always happened in the Fenton household. That’s why Danny wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he stepped into the living room to find his old handheld console glowing green and floating right above the coffee table.

The coffee table, which was covered in a bunch of papers and spilled ectoplasmic samples. That gave him all the information he needed. His parents must have been working on an invention while watching the tv again and his poor console had fallen victim to this week’s case of ectoplasmic infusion.

Danny took a few careful steps towards his floating game. The icy cold breath escaping his throat fogged up his vision for a second, before he caught sight of a smiling little… thing coming from the screen of his console.

He tilted his head slightly to the right in confusion and was amazed when the console attempted to imitate him by tilting the screen the exact same way.

It was cute in a way. Danny couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Suddenly he felt the ghostly presence leave the console to do a little round around him. The spirit’s green light was warm against his skin, before it snuck back into the game.

Danny laughed a little.

“Well, you seem nice,” he said, not expecting the ghost to answer. To his surprise the game landed gently in his hands as he got a soft chirp in response. The black pixels on the screen moved up and down in the shape of a little blob with two antennae.

“Man, you kinda remind me of an old tamagotchi. But like… actually alive.” Danny laughed again. Just for the bit, he pressed some buttons on the console to check his theory and there it was. He could actually feed and take care of the ghostly pet thing!

He gave it some virtual food, grinning as the little creature consumed the pixels on the screen. Its satisfaction could be felt with the growing energy surrounding the console.

“Maybe I should keep you,” Danny said, and the ghost came out of the game again to happily fly one loop around the boy.

That definitely seemed like an agreement.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t blow up in Danny’s face. He always wanted a puppy and this… this was close enough. As long as his parents didn’t find out about this, it should all be fine. Which was totally easy. His parents were extremely unaware when it came to things like this.

Of course, that was the moment his parents decided to come into the living room unannounced.

If Jack Fenton’s deafening yell of “GHOST!” could count as unannounced.

“WHERE’S THE SPOOK?!” the man bellowed while bursting into the room, an ecto-gun ready to blast. He was followed by Danny’s mom, a beeping ghost detector and her own ecto-gun in each hand.

Both of his parents paused at the sight of Danny. He was about to hide the possessed console behind his back, but before he could, the little spirit came out of it to… hiss at his parents.

Danny noted how the ghost seemed to try shielding him from the guns before it got sucked back into the game after a few seconds. It couldn’t keep a physical form for too long. Interesting.

He didn’t get to ponder on it more as he felt the game being ripped out of his hands.

“Don’t worry Danny! We got this ghost!” his mother screamed, throwing the console to the ground.

“No ghost will slip into my house and try to attack my son!” his father added. Both of his parents pointed their weapons at the poor little ghost, ready to shoot it.

In a quick dash, Danny pushed between the two and jumped in front of them to shield the console with his body. “NO, WAIT!”

Full of confusion and not wanting to hurt their child, his parents lowered their guns slightly.

“Danno, get out of the way. We need to get rid of this ghost.”

“But! But! It’s in my game!” he tried.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll get it out of your game without destroying it,” his mother chimed in, putting a hand on his shoulder. She tried to gently move him out of the way, but he persisted.

“But it’s not IN my game!” Danny almost screamed, before trying to collect himself a bit and continuing in a quieter voice. “I think you made my game sentient, like the ecto-dogs.”

That made his parents lower their guns fully.

“Hm. That’s interesting,” his mom said. It was clear she was calculating something in her head. Turning to his dad, they shared a similar look of fascination. “I mean the hot dogs were a biological matter. How is it possible to make a game sentient?”

“We should pick it apart and study it!” his dad answered, voice full of excitement.

“What?” Danny asked, dumbfounded. He couldn’t let them do this. Whatever the creature was, it seemed to be friendly and most important of all, sentient. The sudden thought about his parents dissecting a sentient being caused a shiver to go down his spine. “You didn’t do it to the ecto-dogs! You didn’t even get rid of them; they’re still living in our fridge!”

“They have proved themselves, Danno,” his dad said proudly. “They’re now a part of this family.”

“Unfortunately,” his mom muttered. If it was up to her, those ecto-dogs wouldn’t be here either. “This is more intricate though. I didn’t know ectoplasm could fuse with technology in such a way. If we can figure out how it happened, maybe we can use it to our advantage.”

“Make fancy guns!” his dad excitedly added.

“You can’t do that!” Danny yelled again. In a quick spin, he picked up the console from the floor, carefully showing it off. “Look at it. It’s like a little pet, you can’t hurt it!”

His mother was clearly about to argue, but that’s exactly when Jazz decided to enter the room.

“What’s going on here?” she asked in confusion, eyes trailing from their parents, to Danny, then to the console now safely tucked in her brother's arms.

“Jazz, could you please explain to your brother that he can’t keep this ghostly thing as a pet?” their mom asked tiredly, covering her face with the palm of her hand.

“What?” Jazz asked, even more confused now.

“Mom and Dad left their experiments on the coffee table again, and some of it was infused into my console, so now it’s possessed by a virtual pet thing.” Danny explained, showing the console off to Jazz who came closer as he spoke. The little ghost on the screen blinked at his sister before hissing at her.

“Charming,” Jazz said unamused. She put her hands on her hips as she turned to address their parents. “It looks to me like whatever happened here is your fault. If you didn’t want this pet thing to exist you shouldn’t have left your highly toxic experiments laying around the family room.”

“But Jazzy-pants,” their dad started, however he was cut off by his sister.

“No buts,” she said sternly. “Danny already got attached to this thing. If you take it away now, he’s gonna be so sad and that will definitely reflect badly on his relationship with you two.”

“So what? Are we supposed to let him keep this thing?” their mother asked.

“Yes,” Jazz simply answered, giving their parents a look that clearly stated there was no more room for arguments. Their sour expressions didn’t disappear, but they sagged their shoulders in surrender.

“Alright. But if it gives us even one reason to believe it’s evil, we are getting rid of it,” their mom stated sternly. She was definitely not happy about the entire situation.

“Compared to the ecto-dogs, this thing is gonna be a saint,” Danny muttered under his breath.

Jazz only rolled her eyes with a small smile before addressing him. “So, what are you gonna name it?” she asked.

“Oh, uh. I don’t know?” he shrugged in response. “Steve or something?”

“Steve?” Jazz questioned.

“Steve?” their mother echoed.

“Come on, son. At least call it something cool. Like ecto-Steve.”

Everyone looked at his dad for a second with varying expressions of confusion.

“It’s just a placeholder name, I don’t know!” Danny defended. “I’ll come up with a better one eventually!”

Steve came out of the console and chirped happily at him.

“Awh, it is kind of cute. Why don’t you call it Chirp or something like that?” Jazz said, moving one finger in the direction of the ghost to touch him. She was immediately stopped, when ‘Steve’ turned to her and hissed angrily, making the girl move away quickly and putting her hands up. “Okay, okay, that’s a no I guess.”

“Hah, he clearly only likes me and the names I give him,” Danny smirked watching Steve go back to his console with another chirp.

“Probably only because he can feel you’re one of his kind,” Jazz said unamused. Danny quickly elbowed her and looked pointedly to their parents, who were still standing right there.

“What do you mean one of his kind?” his mom questioned. “Danny’s not a gh-”

“Gamer,” Danny quickly cut in, prompting everyone to look at him in confusion. “I am a Gamer. The pet is a Game. We’re like… so alike,” he continued spilling nonsense in hopes that it would sound believable enough.

His parents looked incredibly confused, but eventually started nodding their heads in thought.

“I guess,” his mom said. She still didn’t look fully convinced, but decided to drop it.

Both Danny and Jazz let out a breath in relief. Steve only chirped from inside the console again.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go now!” Danny said, quickly booking it out of the room with Steve in hand. As he scaled the stairs he could hear his dad whine about ‘still wanting to dissect that ghost’.

So Danny knew that as long as he kept the pet out of trouble, it would be fine.

Of course, Steve had different plans.

Danny didn’t have a choice, but to bring Steve with him anywhere he went. Even though his parents begrudgingly agreed to let the ghost stay, he didn’t really trust them to not try something if he left Steve at home unattended and the poor thing couldn’t really defend itself.

The only attack move Steve seemed to know was hissing. And he hissed at everyone and everything he considered a threat to Danny.

Danny was at the school showing off Steve to Sam and Tucker, who both loved the little guy, but hated the name Steve. Sam insisted that the pet’s name should be more androgynous as they didn’t know its gender, while Tucker kept suggesting some very bad “action-film-from-the-80s” kinda names.

That’s exactly when Danny’s ghost sense went off. He tried to leave Steve with his friends, but the pet kept hissing at them, so Danny had no choice, but to take the console with him.

Luckily for him, it only turned out to be the Box Ghost’s weekly storage room raiding time.

His ghostly enemy was incredibly proud of himself when it turned out Steve was absolutely terrified of his presence. At least for the first 10 seconds before Boxy opened his mouth and started going on and on about bringing boxed up doom upon everyone.

The fight was going by fast as usual, with only a few hiccups due to Danny having to carry not only the Fenton thermos, but also Steve’s console in his jumpsuit pocket. It definitely made the fighting more uncomfortable, yet the Box Ghost was not enough of a threat to make it an actual issue.

Finally, after a few minutes, Danny managed to suck the ghost into the thermos. Cupping the cylinder, he sighed, still a bit annoyed from all the incessant yelling he had just listened to. He was about to leave the storage room, when one of the walls exploded and in came his parents. His father already giving him a second dose of incessant yelling.

“FREEZE GHOSTS!” his dad shouted, shooting out an anti-ecto net that missed its mark by a good 10 feet if not more.

Danny was about to ignore his parents and leave when Steve decided to attack. The little ghost came out of its console and let out a loud hiss in the direction of the two adults. Danny barely got the time to react, covering his pet friend from his parents’ view.

If they ever saw Steve with Phantom, it would definitely be enough to call him evil and get rid of him.

Luckily Steve seemed to feel Danny’s distress and went back into the console. He stayed quietly in there, which left the two Fentons staring at the ghost boy in silence for a few seconds.

“Did you just… hiss at us?” his mom asked, confused.

It would’ve been incredibly funny if Danny wasn’t so stressed in the moment. The witty teenage ghost boy just seemingly hissed at the ghost hunters. Hilarious.

In an attempt to save his reputation, he uttered a simple “No,” before hastily turning invisible and booking it out of there.

“OH, COME ON,” Danny whined as he put down the card he pulled out of Steve’s hand. Not a literal hand of course, since Steve was incorporeal and couldn’t hold anything belonging to the material world.

It took him a while, but he managed to prop up Steve’s cards against some rocks they found in the park in a way that let the ghost see all of its options without Danny knowing what they were.

The only thing Steve had to do was flash a number on the console’s screen and Danny would pull out corresponding card counting from left to right. And this time it just so happened that the corresponding card was a draw +4.

“One day your luck will run out,” Danny threatened as he reached his gloved hand to draw new cards from the deck that was decorated with his father’s face. He often wondered how legal it was for his parents to make a custom FentonWorks Uno card deck.

His face suddenly split into an evil grin when he saw not one, not two, but THREE skip turn cards. (All of them showing Jack Fenton with his hand stretched forward in a halting motion on different colored backgrounds.)

“Looks like that day is coming soon.”

Five minutes and a powerful outplay by Steve later, Danny was grumbling to himself as he shuffled the deck. The word “LOSER” flashing at him from the console.

“It’s not fair, I almost had that one,” he complained, starting to deal the cards out again.

He didn’t get far, when their peaceful time was interrupted by a blast hitting the tree beside the bench they were sitting on. Danny turned to the tree to see one of the branches started burning in the place where it was hit.

“A wide shot,” he muttered. “That could only mean-”

“I’VE GOT YOU NOW, GHOST KID!”

“Of course.”

There was suddenly a huge ecto-blaster pointed right at his face. His father’s angry face staring at him from the other side.

“GIVE BACK MY FENTONWORKS BRANDED UNO CARDS, YOU GHOST PUNK! DO YOU KNOW HOW VALUABLE THEY ARE?! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THEM?!” his dad threatened, pointing to the deck of cards, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Steve laying on the bench beside them.

“What the-? MY SON’S PET GHOST! I KNEW YOU WERE EVIL! YOU STOLE THE CARDS!” his dad yelled, moving the gun to point it at Steve.

“Woah, woah. No, he didn’t!” Danny interjected, waving his hands up in an attempt to get the barrel of the gun directed back at him. Which worked out perfectly, when his dad turned to him.

“ARE YOU SAYING YOU BROKE INTO OUR HOUSE?! AGAIN?!”

“...No?”

Steve chose that moment to come out of the console to hiss at the elder Fenton. His dad only raised his weapon higher, now facing the little ghost again. Finger ready on the trigger.

Danny tried pushing Steve out of the way, surprised when it actually worked. Apparently his pet had no trouble coming in contact with other ghosts. Interesting.

He ignored the thought for now, as he leaned into his father’s shooting field.

“Look, da-I mean… Jack. We were just uhhh…” Danny looked around for a way out of this sticky situation. Seeing no polite solution, he quickly grabbed Steve’s console without any other words and ran away, tripping on the bench’s backside while trying to hop over it. He landed on his face, but quickly gathered himself and continued running.

He could hear his dad cursing and shooting after them. Every shot missing miserably.

It was later that day after Danny got back home that both of his parents interrogated him in the kitchen.

Steve’s console laid on the table in the middle of the room. Its inhabitant was currently out hissing at his dad, who was trying his best to strangle him, but Steve kept phasing through all the attempts as the ghost was incorporeal.

“Danny, your …pet is clearly up to something. Your father saw him casually hanging out with Phantom,” his mom stated, hands on her hips as she looked down at Danny.

“And he stole our FentonWorks branded uno cards!” his dad added, giving up on strangling Steve.

It took a while to calm down his parents and come up with barely passable excuses on why exactly Steve had the cards and was hanging out with his parents biggest enemy.

The elder Fentons finally gave up seeing as they could not convince their son to hand over the ghost. They were still not happy with him at all and were definitely suspicious of the whole thing, so Danny knew he just had to be more careful about what he was gonna be doing with Steve from now on.

The little ghost was still showing his displeasure by hissing at Danny’s parents. The boy sighed, petting Steve in hopes of calming him down enough to make him disappear into the console again, so he could take it to his room and far away from his parents.

He realized what a big mistake that was only once he saw his parents’ curious gazes follow the point where his hand was touching the ghost. The incorporeal ghost that could not be touched by fully material organisms.

Which Danny was not.

Because he had ectoplasm in his bloodstream.

Shit.

“How are you touching that thing?” his mom asked, her face a mix of surprise, concern and fascination.

Danny looked from one parent to the other. “Uh. He likes me?” he asked stupidly.

Before he could get an answer, he picked up Steve’s console running out of the kitchen. He tripped on one of the chairs in the process, falling face flat on the ground, before quickly gathering himself back up again and booking it out of there.

After that, Danny managed to keep Steve out of trouble for a few days. Unfortunately, the peace couldn’t last any longer as Technus finally got a wind of the new technology based ghost in town.

And just like Danny’s parents, he found him incredibly fascinating.

The fascination quickly turned into mischief, as Technus realized just how attached Danny was to the little creature. He managed to snatch the console, while the boy was trying to fight off various appliances from the electronics store Technus just raided.

One of said appliances was a microwave that now held poor Steve hostage. Which Technus threatened to turn on if Danny didn’t let him do his evil taking over the world deeds in peace.

“Let him go, Technus!” bargaining was all Danny had left. He couldn’t risk his friend perishing in a microwave explosion. “Steve didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Steve?” Technus questioned, his voice sounding very disgusted. “Is that the creature’s name? What an absolute lack of creativity.”

“It’s a placeholder name! I’ll come up with a better one eventually!”

“How about microwave food? Get it? ‘Cuz I’m gonna microwave it,” the ghost asked, smirking evilly. Danny’s eyes widened in terror as Technus reached out to the flying prison, which held his friend.

Before anything could happen, Technus was suddenly shot with a blast from the back. It broke his concentration enough to make the ecto energy surrounding the microwave dissipate. It started falling to the ground. Danny quickly took his chance and dived to save Steve.

Just as he was about to reach the falling microwave, the energy around it returned and moved the appliance right from under Danny’s nose.

“NO!” he screamed, turning his trajectory to follow the escaping microwave.

Another blast flew right past his ear and that’s when he finally noted that his parents had made it to the battlefield. Their shots were pointed at both him and Technus. He needed to stop them before they accidentally brought any harm to Steve.

“No, don’t shoot him!” he yelled to the Fentons. “He has a hostage!”

“You’ll be our hostage once I’m done with you ghost kid!” his dad yelled back, aiming his gun and shooting at Danny (absolutely missing in the process).

“Hun, hold on,” his mom, always the more rational one, put a hand on Jack’s arm to make him lower the gun, before addressing Danny. “What hostage?” she demanded in a strong voice.

Danny grimaced a little as he heard Technus laugh in the background, already choosing to rain chaos upon some other electronics store or whatever. “...Steve,” he said to his parents.

“Wha- Steve?” his mother questioned, clearly irritated. “Our son’s ghost pet Steve?”

“Yes.”

“So now that evil ghost is hanging out with other evil ghosts too!” his dad yelled, raising his gun and running off after Technus. “That’s enough, that little ghost scum is gonna regret his existence!”

“Wait no!” Danny screamed after his father. He was about to follow him, but his mother’s voice stopped him.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked accusingly, cocking her gun and getting ready to aim at Danny again.

“Well! Why don’t you care? Your son would be heartbroken if anything happened to his pet, right?” he shot back, eyes nervously trailing in the direction of Technus and his dad.

“Danny will get over it. It’s just a ghost.”

“UGH! Steve hasn’t done anything to make you believe he’s evil!” Danny was ready to rip his hair out in frustration. “It’s your own fault he’s even existing in the first place! Maybe you should take some responsibility instead of accidentally creating ecto abominations left and right!” he yelled before turning away and flying to stop his dad from making everything worse.

Maybe he did say a bit too much, but the irritation he felt took over him. Why couldn’t his parents just stop being so negative towards anything ghost related? Steve may have been a little bit hissy towards them, but that was literally the most threatening thing he could do. Other than that he’s been nothing, but cute and silly.

Danny shook his head, focusing on getting Steve back from the clutches of the actually evil ghost. Luckily it didn’t take long before he managed to retrieve his friend as Technus was being distracted by his father’s incessant screaming.

The ghost was quickly sucked into the thermos after that. Danny, still riding on worry, adrenaline and slight irritation, totally missed a pair of violet eyes curiously observing him while he coddled with Steve, glad the pet was finally safe in his arms.

Maddie was not happy about the ghostly creature that’s been living under her own roof for a few weeks now. She’s had enough of the ecto-dogs taking over their fridge, so she definitely didn’t need another intruder.

She was especially not happy about it being so close to her son though.

This ‘Steve’ was clearly only trouble. He kept aggressively hissing at everyone except her son, and continued getting into shenanigans. Yet for some reason Danny found him fun and endearing. It honestly bothered her how much Danny seemed to love this thing.

Even worse, how that little thing seemed to bond with her son.

But as much as she hated this ghostly nuisance, it fascinated her. If it was up to her, the little creature would be closed off in their lab and examined for any way that could help them improve their weaponry and inventions.

Sadly it seemed like Danny would never let that happen.

She sighed as she went up the stairs, readjusting her grip on the basket full of dirty hazmat suits and lab coats from their basement. They usually just kept a spare laundry basket down in the lab to save a trip upstairs if anything got stained with ectoplasm, which happened often.

Unfortunately that also meant the basket usually laid forgotten down there until it was so full nothing else would fit in it. It wasn’t fully packed yet, but it has been a while since the last wash. It was finally the time to get these clothes clean.

She reached the bathroom, putting the basket down on the floor in front of the washing machine. She started loading up the laundry starting off with the piece of clothing that made her decide to do the lab laundry in the first place.

Her blue jumpsuit was fully stained in ecto-goo. She and Jack had come back from a ghost battle only half an hour prior, the battle taking place only one block down from their house. She got hit by the goo when her husband, as usual, missed his mark while trying to shoot the ghost kid, who was fighting another ghost again.

She grimaced at the thought, squeezing the jumpsuit and stuffing it into the washing machine, suddenly feeling annoyed.

That was another thing that’s been weird recently. The ghost kid’s affiliation with Danny’s stupid pet.

With so many ghost attacks around the town, they quickly noticed that Steve wasn’t very fond of other ghosts. The only ghost he seemed to like for whatever reason was Phantom. Which definitely was a mutual thing, since the ghost kid was awfully protective of the little ghost.

Maddie still remembered his outburst from a while back. It seemed so…genuine. She didn’t understand why he cared so much and it bothered her. Something was definitely going on there, but it felt as if she was missing a big puzzle piece.

She let out another sigh. Her basket was now empty, but there was still some space left in the washing machine. She decided to go ask Danny if he’s got anything else to put in it, since Steve tended to …leak on things sometimes.

While still kind of stuck in her own thoughts, she made her way to Danny’s room. As she approached, she heard her son snickering through the door.

“Steve, come on. Homework can wait. What are you, my mom?”

Looked like her son was slacking on his homework by playing with the annoying thing. Without thinking to knock, she opened the door ready to catch him in the act and to scold him for it.

“He’s not, but I…am…” she stilled at the sight in front of her.

There, on her son’s bed, laid no one other than Phantom himself. Though laid wasn’t the right word. He hovered right above it. Steve’s console held in both of his hands as he stared right back at her, green eyes wide in shock.

Steve took a round around him, before going back into the console.

It was all they needed to snap out of their stupor.

Phantom, in panic, fell atop the bed, before raising himself on all fours and yelling “I CAN EXPLAIN!”

And god if the look on his face didn’t look familiar. It was exactly the kind of look Danny would give her when she caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. She probably wouldn’t have noted the similarity if it wasn’t for the familiar background of Danny’s bedroom and the assumption she already had of finding him in here instead.

A quick look around the room told her he was not present, so the person she heard had to be the ghost in front of her. But that was Danny’s voice for sure.

Have their voices always been so similar?

An unsettling theory was forming in her head, but she tried her best to push the thought aside.

Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and gave Phantom a condescending look. “Well then, explain.”

That seemed to take him by surprise. Maddie assumed he probably expected her to pull out an ecto-blaster and start shooting. To be fair, she probably would, but thanks to the mishap with her jumpsuit getting dirty, she didn’t have any weapon on her. (And the idea of shooting him now left a bitter taste in her mouth.)

Observing her carefully, he slowly stood up from the bed, putting his console down by the pillows. He tried to stutter something out, but it was cut off by a yelp when his legs tangled in the sheets and he fell off the bed.

Maddie cringed a little at his fall. She quickly realized it wasn’t the first time she saw something like this happen. Danny often did the exact same thing, whenever she came in to wake him up after his alarm didn’t seem to do its job.

Phantom quickly got up to his feet. “Well, uh. You see, I was just-” he paused, looking around the room. His eyes landed on Steve’s little face coming from the screen of his home. “Babysitting! Your, uh, your son had to go out, so I’m just… looking out for this little guy.”

And oh how she wanted to believe him, but the way he nervously smiled at her from across the room, rubbing his arm and shuffling his feet on the ground. It was probably the first time she got to properly look at him. No adrenaline from an ongoing battle or distortion of blurry video recordings.

Without thinking she took a few steps forward. Seeing her slowly advance, he took two steps back, but his legs quickly bumped into the nightstand. With no more space to back out he watched her come closer with fearful eyes, as he laughed nervously. “I know you’re probably mad, so let me just… leave-”

His talking ceased when she finally approached him. Without a word she gently reached out to swipe the bangs out of his eyes before her hand landed on his cheek.

She could feel him growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, as she gave him a long look-over. He even tried to talk again, but she just shushed him and continued scanning his features and everything.

She inhaled sharply when she finally saw it.

Before he could react, she pulled him into a hug, wrapping one arm around him while the other gently stroked his hair. “Oh, my baby…”

The boy immediately stiffened in her arms. “Wh-What?” He let out another nervous laugh as he tried to wiggle out of her embrace. “Uh. What are you talking about-hAH. Wha-” he stilled as he got a look at her face, probably noticing the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Danny.” Even though the name left her lips as a whisper, it still held a lot of intensity. The tears streamed down her face as she asked, her voice quiet and uncertain “What happened?”

It made absolutely no sense to her. Danny couldn’t be a ghost, Phantom’s been around for almost two years now and Danny’s has been here all this time. But even though she didn't know how or why, she knew it was her son standing in front of her.

A mother always recognises her child.

(Even though it took her an embarrassingly long time to do that.)

Was it some sort of disguising technique? Can some ghosts still pass as humans? It would definitely explain all the times their inventions seemed to go off around him or how he seemed to be the only human able to actually touch his ghostly pet.

It was because he wasn’t human. He was a ghost. Which meant he must’ve died and neither her or Jack even noticed. The thought brought her tears back full force. She almost choked on a sob as all the possibilities of her child’s death flashed in her head.

She already felt horrible for not noticing all this before now, but what if his death was also somehow her fault?

Instead of providing her with the answers she craved so badly, he just stared at her with an unreadable expression. It took him a while, but his gaze finally moved to the ground, before his entire face broke and he looked up to her again.

“I’m not dead I swear!” he said, voice full of desperation. As if this was the most important thing and he needed her to believe him.

So he was in denial. Maybe that’s what gave him the ability to pass as a human and not turn into an obsessive evil ghost. Holding onto the thought of still being alive, helped him keep his humanity.

Well, she wasn’t going to shatter that and risk him becoming malevolent.

“O-Of course not, honey,” she said, voice at the edge of breaking. She stroked his cheek gently again, feeling how icy cold he was and almost letting out another sob.

“No, I know what you’re thinking,” he said, gently pulling back from her hand, which hurt her only a little bit before she focused back on what he was saying. “You’re creating an entire theory about me being in denial or something!”

Well, he got her spot on.

Before she could respond, he continued in a softer voice.

“I’m still human too, I swear. Or more like… half human?” he offered, shrugging a bit at her. “Half-human, half-ghost?”

What.

She decided to voice her confusion.

“What?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really get it myself, but look!” As he said this a light blue ring appeared at his waist. Maddie took a step back as it split in two and traveled up and down his body.

And there was her Danny, black hair, blue eyes and everything. She already knew it was him, but having it confirmed like this, seeing just how much he always resembled Phantom and she didn’t notice was insane.

“See! Human. I’ve got a heartbeat and everything to prove it!”

She slowly leaned back in and placed her hand back on his cheek. It was warmer now, maybe still slightly colder than a normal temperature, but definitely not icy cold as it was just a minute prior.

He definitely felt two of her fingers slide down under his jaw to check for the mentioned heartbeat, but he didn’t say anything about it.

She sighed in relief when she found it.

“But… how is this possible?” she asked. It would be incredibly fascinating if she wasn’t so worried for her child.

“I don’t know. I kinda uh…” he looked away and shrugged. Maddie caught his gaze locking onto the console still laying on his bed. “I think it’s kinda like Steve? I got infused with ectoplasm or something.”

Well that… that was certainly a better option than him dying. But the comparison brought back the memory of his outburst during the technology ghost fight.

Suddenly she realized he might’ve not been talking only about Steve and the ecto-dogs as she initially assumed.

“Oh, Danny.” she covered her mouth as guilt washed over her. “It’s our fault isn’t it?”

He immediately perked up. “No! No. It’s my own fault, you didn’t do anything. I was just being stupid…” he sat down on his bed looking down at his shoes.

Maddie followed suit, putting a hand on his back and rubbing it softy. She needed to ask, she needed to know how it exactly happened. No matter how terrified she was of the answer. Before she could gather the courage though, he already opened his mouth and spoke so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m sorry.”

His sad tone broke her heart. She wrapped her arms around him again and pulled him into her side. “No, Danny. I’m so sorry we never noticed and then we went ahead and shot at you and said so many horrible things. Oh baby, I love you so much, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said back, reciprocating the hug. They stayed like this for a while, Maddie gently stroking his hair while mumbling out apologies. Danny kept mostly quiet, but he seemed content in her embrace.

They would’ve stayed like this longer if it wasn’t for the little ghostly presence appearing behind them. Maddie felt a shiver when Steve phrased through her arm in an attempt to get Danny’s attention.

She moved her hand away and turned to the creature. Surprisingly he didn’t hiss at her this time, even when Danny raised up from their hug to look at the little ghost.

“Yes, yes. You want attention, I hear you,” her son snickered and reached out to the console as Steve hid back inside it again.

Maddie watched as her son checked the needs of the creature on the screen before giving it some virtual food. Steve gladly consumed the little pixels and did something akin to a little happy dance.

She couldn’t help, but smile.

“I must admit,” she said, catching the attention of both her son and the ghost. “He is kind of cute when he’s not hissing at me all the time.”

Danny chuckled in response. “Yeah, Steve’s really nice, you just gotta get to know him better.”

“I should give him a chance then,” she smiled back.

Steve came out of the console and neared her face, almost as if studying her. After a second of staring he let out a chirp and did a little round around both her and Danny, which made her giggle a little.

“Guess you really aren’t as bad as we thought, Steve,” she said, before pausing a little. “Even though your name is a little silly.”

“It’s a placeholder!” Danny whined, dropping back on his bed. The console was now laying on his stomach as Steve made his way back in.

“Honey, it’s been a placeholder for weeks now. When are you gonna finally come up with a real name?”

“I don’t have any ideas! And everyone’s only criticizing, but their ideas aren’t any better! Like dad’s! Ecto-Steve? For real?”

“Hmm, that was a bit funny,” Maddie said, trying to hold back the laughter. “But maybe he was onto something there?”

“He definitely was not.”

“I mean, if you drop the Steve part and just call him Ecto. It would be fitting.” She looked to her son, catching his gaze. “He did come from ectoplasm after all.”

Danny raised up on his elbows while he contemplated that. “You know what? That’s not bad. I kinda like it,” he smiled and addressed the little ghost. “Ecto, huh? What do you think about that?”

The ghost gave a little chirp as it came out of the console to make a few happy zigzags in the air.

Maddie chuckled a bit. “Well, looks like he likes it.”

“Guess he does.” Danny slumped back onto the bed, a very content smile on his face.

There was a beat of silence before he opened his mouth again.

“I’m too used to Steve, I’m still gonna call him that.”

“I know, honey.”

#kad writes #ectoimplosion2024 #danny phantom #danny fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton

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