#also also they live in a duplex i guess that’s what it’s called

[leporinelou]

50’s au where best friends billy and robin, who are very much in a lavender marriage, come into some money and move to a fancier neighbourhood meanwhile heather and steve, who are unhappily married and live in said neighbourhood find out there’s a couple moving in next door

so the day after billy and robin move in, heather goes over with a plate of cookies while steve’s at work and her, robin and billy just click straight away - billy meets steve later on when he gets home and billy’s sitting out on the porch with a drink but it’s them so obviously they immediately get off on the wrong foot

robin tells billy to sort his shit out because they can’t be making enemies when they’ve only just got here and they’ve got an act to keep up and heather tells steve to take the stick out his ass so billy and steve go out a few times for drinks to call a truce and become friends

in the meantime, robin and heather have been spending more and more time together and eventually robin sits billy down and is like ok i’ve gotta be honest, me and heather have been sleeping together and i think i’m in love with her - because robin and billy always agreed to be honest with one another and to not stay together if it was going to make them sad or if they found someone they really wanted to be with - and billy just stares at her and is like hey that’s really funny actually because i’ve been meaning to tell you that steve and i have been doing the exact same thing also i really like him .. yeah on second thought it might be love too, actually

and steve and heather talk to each other and they argue and cry and eventually they’re both like ok so what do we do now and they get billy and robin over and it’s super awkward for a moment before billy says something stupid and robin makes a joke and pulls heather to her for a hug

and billy smiles at them before turning to steve who’s looking stressed as hell and chewing on his thumb so he goes over and pulls steve’s hand away and tucks his hair behind his ear and it’s all very sad and gay

and then billy sort of pulls everyone out of their funk by spinning around and snapping his fingers and being like you know, we could all just .. stay as we are .. nothing has to change for us to get what we want and heather’s like ok how so billy walks over to the wall between their houses and knocks on it a few times before kicking it and steve’s like please don’t kick my wall but billy’s like no this wall could have a door built into it .. i could put a door between our houses

and that’s what they do, the end, happily ever after

[alex51324]

Beach Report! Part 1

OK, so this was a trip to Wildwood & Cape May, New Jersey, in late October of 2024.

We drove down on Friday, arriving at the shore about two-ish. We stopped at a place called Hereford Inlet for our first look at the ocean!

Here it is!

We walked over to the Hereford Lighthouse where they have these old lifeboats for kids to climb on:

And confirmed that, as I suspected, Sophie would not be participating in any boat-based excursions:

This was as far as she would come into the boat that was sitting on completely dry land and had the side cut down to be easy to get into.

The little lighthouse/museum was closed, but we walked around a bit:

The we walked on the beach! I found this mysterious object:

Which it turns out is a whelk egg casing.

It was low tide so the beach was very broad and had huge tidepools; here we are standing with our back to the ocean looking at a big tidepool:

This is where Sophie made the discovery that sometimes water here is salty.

Onward!

Here's where I walked out onto a jetty and got splashed with water:

Then the motel! It's a very old-school boardwalk-adjacent motel, which the proprietors were trying to make look fancier than it is.

The ramp there leads up to the boardwalk, and you can walk under it to get to the beach.

We were in the cheapest rooms they have, which are in a little building in the back:

They originally gave us one on the top floor, but Sophie thought the stairs were scary, so I asked to switch to a ground-floor one.

The room was pretty nice--very clean, some nice details--but tiny. We're standing in the doorway here; that's what the blue vertical lines on either side are.

You get a microwave and minifridge there in the unit under the TV, though.

But the bathroom...

I guess they picked that sink thinking it would be an updated, modern look, but it does not fit in this space--I am not a large person, and I had to turn sideways to fit through this gap. A normal pedestal sink would work a lot better.

Anyway, I see why people who are paying high-season prices for this place are a little less-than-completely satisfied. But for an off-season bargain at one of the few boardwalk hotels that takes dogs, I thought it was pretty good.

Anyway, let's go under the boardwalk and to the beach!

The ocean is very big:

Other boardwalk hotels, most of them shut for the season:

To one side of the hotel there is a roller coaster and go-kart track--also shut:

To the other side is a place called Seaport Pier, which is a restaurant and nightclub with live music, and under the motel is a video arcade--fortunately, all shut. I don't think I'd have much fancied this location in the season, but it was peaceful in October--not to mention unseasonably warm--and I kind of liked getting the retro-kitsch vibe without the noise. (I took a bunch of vaguely arty shots of the roller coaster; you'll be seeing it again.)

We left the beach through a different boardwalk underpass and went back to the motel on the surface streets; here we saw some giraffes at a (shut) mini-golf place:

Most of the neighborhood around the motel was these townhouse/duplex things, that were all almost identical, and weirdly massive. I guess they probably had four units in each, I don't know. That's one of them behind the little yellow hut there. For several blocks, everything that wasn't a tourist-oriented business was one of those.

We left the motel to go to a place called Sunset Beach, where you can watch the sunset over the Delaware Bay. It's not everywhere that you can see the sunset over the waters of the Atlantic Ocean on the US side, so that's neat!

The object out there is the concrete ship Atlantus, which has been gradually falling apart out there for almost a hundred years.

This was one of my favorite activities of the weekend; the weather was absolutely gorgeous, and there were just enough people--a few dozen, spread out over the whole beach--to make it feel like a communal experience.

Sophie liked the beach and meeting people, but she was a little wary of the ocean itself. Here is photo evidence of her being very brave:

The sun continues to set:

There it goes!

The colors were even better than this in person; my phone camera is not great for this sort of thing.

After the sunset I poked around a couple of little gift shops near there, and then took advantage of certain ways in which the laws of New Jersey differ from those of my home state:

Luckily, I had the motel's rooftop deck to myself:

Coming back down from the deck, I spent a while trying to decide if this splotch of paint is intentionally supposed to look like a jellyfish-or-something:

Never quite came to a conclusion. There was another splotch that looked like it was maybe supposed to be a seashell but had mostly worn away, and then two others that were clearly just splotches. It's a mystery!

So that wrapped up the first night of Beach Vacation 2024.

[purplesurveys]

1676

Do you own a pocketknife, or any other kind of multi-tool? No I don’t.

What did your mother study at university? I won’t give it away but it’s 100% the first university that’ll come to Filipinos’ mind if I say it’s in Manila haha.

When was the last time your living situation changed in any way? 2008 when we moved into this current house. We used to live in a duplex with extended family on my mom’s side.

What was the last thing you took a video of? It’s a video of Tajiri from the wrestling program I went to two weeks ago. I don’t always keep videos from the shows, but Tajiri used to be in WWE and is very near and dear to the Filipino wrestling scene so I had to capture the moment.

Has anyone ever tried to convert you to their religion? Considering I live in a country where nearly everyone is Roman Catholic, no.

Are there any ways in which your childhood was highly atypical? Well yeah I guess the alcoholism and occasional violence and shouting matches can speak for themselves.

What’s something that used to really stress you out, but doesn’t anymore? Leading work calls. Used to scare the shit out of me, especially as an associate who merely followed my manager; but after more than a year of actually being the manager and holding the responsibility for being the main point person for every campaign, it’s nearly nothing to me now. I still kinda get stressed every now and then especially when the people in the call are unfamiliar, but I mean I haven’t ever panicked yet LOL so that’s a win.

Do you prefer to be around introverted or extroverted people? Extroverts.

Have you ever stayed in a hostel? Yeah but it depends on their facilities and location – I wouldn’t stay anywhere sketchy. I stayed at a hostel the last couple of times I went to Zambales and that place wasn’t bad at all.

Have you ever been somewhere where you didn’t fluently speak the local language? Yes – China, Japan, Korea. The last two were manageable as people we encountered understood basic English; but I’m pretty sure I only ever spoke with my parents the whole time I was in China.

What’s an interesting fact about the last person you hugged? She’s a cheerleader.

Have you ever dated someone from a very different socioeconomic background? No.

Do you own a disco ball? Nope, never had a need for one.

Were you born before or after the collapse of the Soviet Union? After.

What is your least favorite kind of weather? Pits of hell levels of hot. Which is what the Philippines is currently experiencing – welcome to the land where the heat index reaches 48º–50ºC everyday lol.

What was the last housework you did? Mopped the floor.

What was the amount of the last check you wrote? I’ve never written a check.

Do you have any home exercise equipment? My mom has a rowing thingy and a couple of dumbbells.

What mountain range is closest to your house? Sierra Madre.

Have you ever had famous neighbors? Yes, two houses away from ours is a well-known local film director. A number of celebrities also live in the village but I wouldn’t say they’re neighbors.

Describe the ‘look’ you did the last time you wore makeup? Barely there. It was just foundation, concealer, and very subtle lipstick.

If you got pregnant the 1st time you had sex, how old would the kid be now? 7.

Have you ever polished and waxed your car? Nope.

As a kid, did you have any friends with parents who yelled a lot? I’m sure I did.

If so, did you avoid going to their house because of it? I wasn’t allowed to visit friends’ houses for the most part.

Are you competitive? To a fault.

What’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken? Give life a chance.

What was your last received text message about? It was just a notification confirming that I paid for a data promo. Extremely interesting stuff in my inbox hahahaha

Have you ever lived in a small community where everyone knew each other? Yes, my childhood street was pretty close-knit and my grandma knew nearly every household.

What are some of your least favorite foods? Fruits, raisins, pickles.

Do you give your pets gifts and treats for their birthday/adoption day? Not always, but yes some years we’d splurge on a cake or something.

Has anyone ever set you up on a blind date? If so, how did it go? No, I’m not the type to go on one. Are you a procrastinator? I can be.

What was the last thing you said out loud? “Sleep now, night!” after playing with the dogs as soon as I got home.

[fecundaratis]

i just need to type out everything i remember about being 4 right now. sorry.

tw for csa, csem, sex trafficking? (unsure if i could call it this, but it seems pretty clear i guess), gross things about human waste

i was around 4 years old when the abuse began.

im not entirely sure how it started. i suppose it just started with the baby sitter my parents found.

it was an at-home day care, lots of children in someones home, with a space specifically for the kids to be, a woman watched us.

i dont recall if the man lived there, or if he just came by every day. i remember we would get excited when he came. he could push us all on the swing set.

at some point, the adults started blaming me for every misbehavior of the other children. i think they encouraged the other children to do so as well.

its not like they would beat me. but at a certain point, i started being in time out more often than i was playing with the other kids.

the first instance of abuse i remember, i had some kind of rash. i couldnt be around the other children. chickenpox or a reaction to penicillin. so i was in some tiny bedroom. i think it was meant to be a small office or something, but theyd put a twin sized bed in there. and thats where i was, all day. alone in the dark. the man came in and put itch cream on me. thats the first instance of molestation i can recall.

from there things escalated. a lot of it is a blur, as should be expected maybe, since it was so long ago.

i dont know how frequently i was abused. my parents would ask me about what had happened at daycare, but i would start hysterically crying, or completely shut down. either way, i told them nothing. they assumed it was just because i was in trouble all the time. i was ashamed of being so bad for the baby sitter.

i remember at some point, i started being taken to the main bedroom in the back of the house. there was a camera set up in there. i know they took pictures of me. maybe videos. i dont really know. i almost recall seeing some of the pictures.

he didnt just take photos of me being abused. he also regularly took pictures around the day care, of us kids playing, for the parents. my expressions range from dead-eyed to exuberant.

at some point, i was taken somewhere. a duplex in what i believe was the city. for a long time, all i remembered was walking up to the door, and being let inside. then, i remembered coming out, seeing myself in a 3rd person perspective as i watched my body being walked to the car id been brought in. recently, i remembered the inside of the house. the living room, and the short hallway i entered. a few days ago, i remembered the rest.

i was brought into a sickly green room. i cant tell if the walls are painted that shade of pastel green, or if theres a mercury light bulb in the overhead light. it lends the whole room a sort of eerie, uncanny effect. its obvious no children lived in this room. there was a twin sized bed in the far left corner, no side table, no lamp, some scant wall decorations to make it appear as if it were a genuine bedroom. there was a mirror in the other far corner. some toys placed on the floor in a small radius, what seems to be an attempt to appear messy in a childish way, without actually being in the way.

i was told to lay down on the bed, and not move until someone came in. i did as i was told, laying down on the thin mattress without even taking my shoes off. at this age, i wore "pretty dresses" exclusively, if i had a say in it. i always wanted to wear a pretty dress. that day, i was wearing one of my favorites. it was red and had lace on it. i was wearing socks with lace trim, and i think some mary jane-like play shoes.

when the first man came in, he knelt down next to me. he told me that my baby sitters had told him i was a very good girl. he asked me if i was going to be a good girl for him. i dont know if i responded.

when he took off my clothes, starting with my shoes, i started thinking about my favorite fairy tales. this was something i had gotten really good at, going away in my brain and thinking about other things. imagining other things. i was so good at it, it was like my eyes turned off, and i could only see what i imagined, could only feel what i imagined.

i was replaying the story of the little match girl, a very sad fairy tale where a little girl selling matches lights each and every one of her last 3 before she freezes to death. she imagines a beautiful christmas tree, a delicious meal, and, most enticingly, her kindly grandma that beckons her toward the afterlife. the little girl dies, and her body is discovered the next day, frozen solid, but with a peaceful smile.

this fairy tale was a fixation of mine at this age. i was always asking my mom to read me the little match girl. we had a compendium of fairy tales by hans christian andersen, but i always wanted to hear the little match girl.

i remember several other men coming in, but i remember less about what happened with them. i remember my baby sitters re-entering the room, dressing me, and taking me to the car, where the memory continues in 3rd person.

i was really shocked when i remembered this the other day. i was trying desperately to go to sleep, when the memory started playing again, as it had been for several weeks at that point. but it continued. my mind started screaming "stop! dont touch that!" like i was a child about to put my hand on a hot stove. but i couldnt stop the memory. i woke my partner up in a panic, and recounted the memory as it played out before my eyes.

i have no idea how frequently this happened. if it ever happened again. i dont know how my parents didnt realize something awful had happened to me. i dont understand how they could justify the reaction i was having as only being because i had gotten in trouble.

all of the children at this daycare had some level of incontinence. i think thats easy enough to write off if the children are young enough. one girl there was impossible to potty train. she only ever wanted to use diapers. after going there, i started regressing as well. i started hiding wads of toilet paper in my dresser so i could stuff it in my underwear, so i could still pee in them. hard to remember if this was happening during potty training, or if i got worse at it.

there was another little girl there that had nervous accidents all the time. there was another little boy who would take poop out of his pull ups, and smear it on the walls, or hide it in the mega bloks. somehow i got in trouble for both of those things, it was supposed that i goaded both into doing such repugnant behaviors.

the nervous little girl had a twin brother. one day he tripped her, and she fell on a carpet stable, cutting her nose and making her face bleed. all the children blamed me for it, of course.

some of these things i had forgotten. some of them i didnt forget, but i made such a habit of not thinking about them that thinking about them was shocking. some of these things i had remembered, and assimilated perfectly into my life, to explain why i am the way i am. upon examining a more complete picture, i feel... i dont know. sometimes i want to scream. sometimes, i feel completely numb. sometimes, i dont even believe it. like i said, i had an extremely vivid imagination as a child. it could be that i imagined it then, or now, and i have completely blown this out of proportion.

i dont know what to do with myself now. i find myself asking my partner several times a day if it makes sense to them, or if they really think it could have happened, and they say yes, every time. they believe me unquestioningly, tell me that based on our lives together and knowing me for as long as they have, it all makes perfect sense. its a relief, but part of me cant help thinking theyre just trying to humor me, because telling me the truth--that i imagined it all, theres no way such a thing could have happened to me, theres too many inconsistencies, and also if such a terrible thing had happened it would have been noticed, and the perpetrators would have been caught, and i would have physical evidence--would destroy my ego beyond repair. i guess i dont really know what they would get out of dating someone whos ego depends entirely on having been abused as a child.

anyway. i want to tell everyone. i want to keep it a secret forever. i want to burn that house to the ground and everyone inside. i want to take this secret to the grave. i dont know what to do

[cryptidsurveys]

Friday, July 12th, 2024.

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? Saturdays are pretty lowkey. All I do is clean my bedroom and make art.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? Yeah. Like, sometimes I'll resist taking a nap because they tend to make me feel worse. I'd rather just stick it out for a regular night of sleep. Past reasons may have included waiting for a phone call or reply from someone.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? I think I've only seen a few episodes, a long time ago. I don't have a favorite.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? Possibly. The experiences were so subtle that it's hard to determine if they were "real" or just my mind playing tricks on me.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? Not that long. I used to have appointments in Denver for my eating disorder, and depending on what time we headed home, traffic could get a bit backed up there + in Springs; but I don't recall experiencing anything too terrible.

Best field trip experience? The overnight trip to Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in 5th grade.

Have you ever been to New York City? No.

If so, is it all it’s cracked up to be? Even if it was exactly what it was cracked up to be, it's just not a destination that interests me. I'm just not a big city person. However, oddly enough, I do feel like I would enjoy a trip to Tokyo.

What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? I'm not sure.

What museums have you visited, if any? The natural history museum in Denver, plus one other…although I forget the name of it. It was for an eating disorder inpatient group field trip. I don't remember much about it, but the first floor was mainly Native American art/artifacts, the top floor was dedicated to Chinese art/artifacts, and there was one room somewhere along the way that was filled with various styles of chairs. It was actually kind of trippy. Oh, and I've been to the Sangre de Cristo art center here in town, but I guess that's more of a gallery than a museum…? Come to think of it, I've never really considered the difference before this moment…

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? I'm not sure.

What’s your worst traveling experience? The trip out to Georgia to see Nick wasn't all that fun. Like, seeing Nick was alright, but I just haaate road trips.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Yeah, while living in a duplex with my mom as a teen. The people next to us were college kids and one of them would stay up really late and play the same few chords on his guitar, over and over and over again.

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? Mrs. Garcia.

Best muffin you’ve ever had? Idk about the absolute best, but I do enjoy blueberry, cranberry/orange, banana nut, and double chocolate chip.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? Yeah.

If so, was it required? I don't recall whether it was required or not.

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? I haven't used Facebook for about a decade now.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I was okay at geometry and algebra I, but rather confounded by algebra II/trig/calc.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? I've never met such a person.

What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? A group of teens/young adults from a party down the street, standing on the corner outside our house, about to get into what seemed to be a pretty nasty fight. Also, on a different night - a vehicle drove by and fired a gun (at someone…? possibly not intending to hit them, but to scare them…?); I didn't see that, but I heard a brief exchange, the gunshot, etc.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? In a sense. Sometimes you're just in the right place at the right time, or "the stars align." But as a force, not really.

How often do you “half-ass” things (put little effort in)? Eh. Here and there. It just depends.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Occasionally/slightly.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? No.

How reliable is your internet connection? It's pretty reliable.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? Yeah.

What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? It's not nearly as bad as it was in the beginning, but driving can still make me a little nervous.

What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? I'm not sure.

If you don’t have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? I do have glasses, but I only wear them when I'm driving.

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn’t need them anymore? That would be nice.

How many vegetarians do you know? One of the people I work with at the animal shelter is a vegetarian. Idk about anyone else I know.

Have you ever considered going to art school? No.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? Not really. Sometimes I'll feel annoyed, disappointed, sad, or whatever, but I try not to blame other people for my emotional response. Instead, I'll look inward and wonder what's going on with me that's making me react in such a way. (Ofc, it depends on the situation; like, if someone was being truly terrible, I probably wouldn't try to make it a "me thing," but you know!)

What is the worst thunderstorm you’ve experienced? We had some pretty bad storms last summer.

How quickly can you write an essay? That depends.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? No.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? I don't even think there was a barrier. It was a relatively small concert for a 4th of July celebration up at the university.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager? I don't think I have a least favorite…or a favorite, for that matter. I tend to get along with pretty much everyone.

Favorite episode of Spongebob? Idk.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? Oh, sure.

What bug frightens you most? I'm not really all that frightened by bugs.

Are your parents supportive of you? Yeah. My dad is extremely supportive. i just got back in touch with my mom last summer after years of estrangement, but she's fairly supportive as well. I don't tend to share too much with her, though.

How often do you take the train to go places? I've never taken a train before.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? Not really.

Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? No.

[shithowdy]

#but also they are proftting off you#ensuring you will never have a home#always their whim away from homelessness#any landlord is wrong and shouldn’t exist

this is kind of what i mean when i say that the two have become so conflated that the entire notion of property/building ownership has been reduced down to this cartoonish example of power imbalances of evil landlords vs. starving masses. unless you personally plan to lead the charge on the glorious revolution that restructures the government into being a fair land and property steward that ensures all people within its borders are securely housed, people are going to continue to need to rent because systems don't dismantle overnight. So,

1- not all renters have housing insecurity. impermanence is a thing. students like to rent apartments/rooms for school, people have to relocate for jobs for a few months/years, the list of reasons could go on. a wealthy college student on their family's dime and a single mother working two jobs could rent from the same duplex and have the same rights as tenants. but they would absolutely not have the same power balance with the owner when it came to exercising those rights or bending the rules.

2- back to my original point, eliminating property investment companies and implementing tighter rent control would open up more affordable housing opportunities in communities overall (and keep the money within the community), making ownership a more attainable goal. renting SHOULD be mostly reserved for people who don't intend to live somewhere for very long, not something in which they are stuck endlessly. being a whim away from homelessness is the fault of a greater systemic failure than someone leasing out their third bedroom.

3- the political ads i mentioned love to use these private owners as shields against rent control specifically; i remember the litany of prop 10/21 ads showing Distressed Homeowners crying over paperwork to dramatic music as their kids looked on in worry and a disembodied voice explained that property values would drop 20% and this would hurt families and my god people ate that shit up thanks to this very thing. renters, too, get used as shields in this way-- the honest to god argument against rent control was "it won't allow investment companies to make as much profit and use it to build more homes, do you want the homeless problem to be worse? :("

sorry if i forget to shed a tear.

should the concept of a "landlord" not exist? sure, i guess. the concept of "money" and "ownership" is ultimately a fake little monkey game we play to grasp at fulfillment until we die and it stops mattering, but that's why it's called a mortgage.

lying in bed thinking about the insane propaganda and lexicon manipulation that has made "landlord" into a generic term for anyone renting out any property, leaving no distinction on a public policy discussion level between "guy renting out his inherited family house" and "real estate investment firms that own 2500 units in the bay area". everything from online discussion to political ads immediately pivots to evoking sympathy for the former when discussing issues like evictions/squatting, effectively turning these small-fry local property owners into (often willful) political shields as they feel compelled to defend their assets against intentionally shittily-worded policy that doesn't make distinctions between Some Guy with 2 houses and a megafirm. i know the "middle class" is disappearing but the class line doesn't just happen solidly somewhere between "renter" and "rentee" and i genuinely hate seeing discussion constantly pivot away from the actual cause of the housing crisis to either sneer "eat the rich" at someone with 500k net worth or console their crying about said sneering.

idk where i was going with this. end property investment companies.

[teenageread]

Review: The Good Son

Synopsis:

Who can you trust if you can't trust yourself?

Early one morning, twenty-six-year-old Yu-jin wakes up to a strange metallic smell, and a phone call from his brother asking if everything's all right at home - he missed a call from their mother in the middle of the night. Yu-jin soon discovers her murdered body, lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs of their stylish Seoul duplex. He can't remember much about the night before; having suffered from seizures for most of his life, Yu-jin often has trouble with his memory. All he has is a faint impression of his mother calling his name. But was she calling for help? Or begging for her life?

Thus begins Yu-jin's frantic three-day search to uncover what happened that night, and to finally learn the truth about himself and his family. A shocking and addictive psychological thriller, The Good Son explores the mysteries of mind and memory, and the twisted relationship between a mother and son, with incredible urgency.

Plot:

Yu-jin woke up after a late night to wake up covered in blood. He was out drinking with some friends the night before and missed his mother’s harsh 9pm curfew. Why at age twenty-six did Yu-jin still live with his mother to which having a 9pm curfew led him to have no social life. Yu-jin has epilepsy, and his mother worries about him having a seizure in the middle of the street with no one there to help him. Thus, since his diagnosed him, Yu-jin's mother has kept a tight leash on her son, no matter his age. Going downstairs, the blood, muddy running shoes, his mother's shoes wet,  lead YU-jin to discover her body, which was placed carefully on the floor. How did she die? Who killed her? Was it him? These are the questions Yu-jin thought as he held his mother’s body close to him. Having her scream echoing in his ear, Yu-jin’s mind was left blank of last night's events. Digging back into his mind, Yu-jin has to find out what happened to his mother, while keeping his brother and aunt from finding her body. A physiological thriller like no other, You-Jeong Jeong takes readers into family secrets between a mother and her beloved son, whom she swore to protect, no matter what he is. 

Thoughts:

This book was not what you would expect. The Good Son was the number one bestseller in Korea, and was You-Jeong Jeong first book translated into English, and you’ll be glad it was. First the setting was in Seoul, South Korea, in which Jeong described it as an American author would describe a location in America: giving you the location as bare as it can be. When North American authors write about locations that are not in North America, they always try to play it up, viva the beauty, the culture, or the things to do. Jeong wrote about Seoul casually, really making it just the setting to the story and not the culture of the book. This book was written as a physiological thriller with a bit (well more like a lot) of crime in it. As my first physiological thriller, I can not say too much about how this was written, only that for me, it was a good starting point in getting into the genre. From the point of view of Yu-jin, together you’ll be with him as he remembers the contents of the night his mother was killed, discovering who killed her and the reason why. With Yu-jin's past also coming into play, like how his father and older brother died, there is also current drama with his aunt and brother who keep questioning where mother is. The writing, even translated, was easy to follow and compelling to read more to see where the plot was going. Where current day events and memories were not as clearly distinguished as in other books, Jeong put a lot of effort into how the flashbacks are laid out, so you can guess ahead and still be surprised. Read this because you like psychological thrillers, read this if you want to get into them, read it if you want a book that was not originally written in English, no matter what the reason is, this book is worth taking a lot at.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

[thislovintime]

Performing in Houston on October 27, 1979; photo via RockinHouston dot com.

“The Great American Food and Beverage Company is an institution in [Santa Monica, Calif.]. […] A waiter in his ‘30s, older than the others, made his way to the podium, banjo in hand. He seemed strangely familiar in an unusual outfit whose suspenders gave him a whimsical air. He was very thin, with an angular, almost bony face and straight, mid-ear length dirty blond hair that was parted in the middle. That was all fine. But he also had a mustache and bags under his eyes that somehow didn’t seem quite right. […] Then came the memory of who he was. His name was Peter Tork, and more than a decade ago he was one of the four Monkees […]. And now Tork was a singing waiter. I assumed that few would recognize him — and that he’d probably rather not be recognized. So I decided to respect his privacy. But then, on the way out, he overheard me mention to someone that I was a writer visiting California to do some celebrity interviews, and he said to me, just a trace of bitterness in his voice, ‘Hey, how’d you like to do a story on a former great?’ Peter Tork now lives with his wife and two small children in Venice, Calif., […]. His home is a ramshackle duplex with badly chipped white paint on the outside and a gate that’s locked by a clothes hanger. Inside, the apartment has second-hand furniture with wobbly legs and sports bare wood floors of the kind it’s not fashionable to leave uncovered. An old sheepdog with a very doggy smell lies under an even older piano. In 1965, Peter Tork was washing dishes in Huntingon Beach, Calif., for $50 a week when he was recommend for the Monkees by a musician friend named Stephen Stills […|. ‘In those days we were both folksingers, and we were known as the two cats who looked alike,’ Tork said. ‘He turned me on to the situation.’ […] Today Peter Tork is 36. In his three years as a Monkee, he guesses he made a million dollars. Except for a trust he can’t touch until 1985, it’s all gone. ‘It just poured through,’ he recalled, without being at all maudlin. ‘It was like a tidal wave after a drought. The amount was so grotesque that I didn’t know what to do with it. I spent hundred-dollar bills like quarters.’ He calls himself a socialist now and says he’d be ‘philosophically and religiously prone to give that kind of money away anyway. But I dribbled it away.’ And that bothers him. ‘
I lived in Studio City in a big house that cost too much. I didn’t know how good I had it. I had no basis of comparison. I never got competent professional advice (from his producers, on how to invest his money). I’m bitter about that. They didn’t know how to handle a flash rather than someone who’d clawed his way to the top. Now I’ve been on the fringes. Now I know what it’s like to claw.’ Among other things, the fringes found him busted for alleged dope dealing. ‘It was ‘72. I was caught coming across the border from Mexico with some hash in my pocket,’ he said. ‘For a while, they thought they’d get me for a big smuggling rap. I ended up spending just three-and-a-half months in custody. I recommend it to all my good friends.’ After that experience, he worked for three years as a teacher. Then the school closed in the midst of a strange embezzlement scandal. So Tork decided to take another stab at show business. He has reactivated some old contacts and recently tried out at Paramount for comedy spots on ‘Happy Days,’ ‘Laverne and Shirley’ and ‘Mork and Mindy.’ ‘
I’m trying comedy because I know I’m glib, and I know I’m good at it,’ he said. ‘And I’m taking acting lessons. I’ll be glib one day in drama too. ‘Maybe first I can get a walk-on, then some solid comedic roles, then maybe in time a feature role in another series, then films, then maybe I can make enough to finance my music, which is really what I want to do,’ he said, the bounds of his quite sincere fantasy mushrooming in a minute. […] In the meantime, while he waits for a casting call, his show-business career still consists of The Great American Food and Beverage Company, where he has worked since last summer. ‘It’s something to do with my hands while I’m waiting,’ he said. ‘It’s a place where you’re allowed to sing, and everybody uses it to keep their chin up while waiting for their big break — like “The Gong Show” or something.’ A touch of bitterness there, again. ‘It’s just that the people don’t shut up (at the restaurant). I wish they would. You basically have to drown them out. But… it is a chance.’ With that, Peter Tork picked himself up to go to work. It was his turn to wash dishes.” - article by Steve Sonsky, The Miami Herald, February 18, 1979

“Well, what I thought was great was that [Peter] always seemed to be humble and very, very gracious in his actions and his attitude. He always treated everybody with respect. He stayed low-key until we would kick up with a group number and then he would join in. […] Everybody else has been joking about how he wasn’t Pete, he was Peter. You can tell a lot about a person when they do whatever they need to do for their family. And the only thing else that I would add is that the fact that he stayed so humble and so gracious after a lot of us had grown up with him as an icon means a lot.” - D J Barker, Tales of the Road Warriors, 2019 (x)

“I worked with Peter in the mid seventies. A kinder, gentler, gracious and giving human being you could never find. His sense of humor and positivity was a gift to all of those lucky enough to be around him. He loved his life, (in spite of it sometimes!)[.]” - D J Barker, Facebook, February 13, 2023 (x)

“There was a period where I was broke. And I called home, I said, ‘Send money.’ ‘No, sorry, kiddo, you’re on your own.’ So there was a restaurant, a two-restaurant chain, there were two restaurants — a short chain, a very small chain, two links — in L.A. called The Great American Food and Beverage Company. And the trick to this establishment was that you had to be a musician, you had to audition to work at this restaurant. And I really, really, really, really, really didn’t want to work there, but I really, really, really needed the money. Anyway, so I’m standing in the kitchen, it’s my first day, and I’m dressed in this ridiculous outfit, and a bunch of us are lined up. And the coked up manager was marching up and down in front of us like a drill sergeant. And as we’re standing there listening to this madman, the kitchen door swings open, and who should walk in but none other than Peter Tork from The Monkees. And I watch Peter Tork walk by me, take a time card and punch in the time clock and get in line right next to me. And my mouth dropped open. And it became evident at that point that he was working as a waiter at the restaurant. And this is Peter Tork from the fucking Monkees. This man was, you know, as big, if not bigger, than The Beatles in the U.S. at one point in his career. And I watched my whole life pass before my eyes.” - Matthew Wilder, Speaking of Music with Jason Faber

More about Peter's time at the Great American Food and Beverage Company in a second post.

[fanboo]

Ranboo X Reader : Neighbors

Your next door neighbor was a streamer. It was surprisingly easy to deal with. The two of you lived in a duplex, and he told you when he moved in. He wanted you to be okay with his possibility of yelling and generally being loud. You didn’t mind. You grew up with quite a few siblings, and they were loud.

For the past four months he’d been gone, so you had silence. It was actually quite unnerving. You were used to noise. So when he texted you that he’d be back, you couldn’t help but smile. He also asked for a ride home from the airport, which you gladly supplied.

As soon as you saw your neighbor and his four bags waiting for you, you laughed. “Hello neighbor,” you said, getting out to help him put his bags in your car. “How was the UK?” He smiled. “It was nice. I hung out with friends and had a lot of fun. How was having peace and quiet for once?”

“Terrible. Never go away again.” Ranboo laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m serious! It was so bad! I could hear way too much! I’m too used to having you make noise,” you told him. “Well, I guess silence begone, because I’m streaming later.”

“You can’t be serious. Are you not jet lagged?” He shook his head. “I slept on the plane. How have you been?”

The two of you talked the whole way home, and you hung out with him while he set up his computer to stream. It was nice hearing constant noise again. “I’m glad you’re back. I missed you,” you said. “I missed you too. You can join my stream if you like. I’m just gonna unpack and chat,” he offered. “No thanks. I’m tired. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He hugged you, and you let yourself lean into him for a few seconds. You could feel him do the same. For a moment, it was just the two of you there, and it felt like nothing else existed. Just two friends who missed each other finally getting to enjoy the other’s presence. Then you pulled away to leave.

“Night, Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. I should have called more.” You nodded and hugged him again, faster this time. “Goodnight, Ran,” you said, and smiled when he placed a friendly kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

When you left, and we’re comfortable in bed, you listened to your neighbor through the wall. He was telling chat all of what he told you. It was relaxing to finally hear him as background noise while you slept again. You felt yourself drifting off, so you placed your forehead on the wall and let his voice lull you to sleep.

[donnerpartyofone]

When I was a kid, I desperately craved contact with the other world. I was naturally interested in all things spooky and mysterious, but more importantly, I found the world I lived in drab, suffocating, painful, and embarrassing. I certainly had serious problems with depression from a very early age, but it's fair to suggest that maybe my childhood obsession with suicide was partially inspired by the idea that if I died, I would go somewhere better, somewhere more beautiful and interesting. Because I was so disposed, I collected an unfortunate roster of destructive friends who were happy to exploit my eagerness to believe in such things. From grade school all the way through high school (by which time I really should have been savvier but OH WELL), I always seemed to know someone who dominated my life by claiming that they had some kind of connection to the other world--typically in the form of channeling paranormal entities who, oftener than not, got me to do all sorts of things I didn't want to do, that were really bad for me, just because my happiness seemed so dependent on my faith that these things could be real.

I don't like to talk about that stuff in detail (so don't ask), but it did something to my worldview beyond just making me distrust other people. I guess I'd call myself a skeptic now, but not in the sense of being atheistic; it's more that I feel a need to separate the chaff from the wheat, to conscientiously reject everything that justifies suspicion, so that only true mysteries remain, untainted by bad company. Now that I'm more or less writing full time, I find that all of my projects have to do with the madness of faith, the ineffable quality of subjective reality, and predators who exploit the virtue of open-mindedness.

I do believe that a lot of what we call "hauntings" come from people. I find it relatively easy to swallow the proposal that poltergeitic activity and psychokinesis are one and the same symptom of, say, a troubled child full of energy with nowhere to put it; in fact, I saw evidence of this once, around an especially disturbed "friend". But speaking less literally, I also think that a haunted atmosphere grows up around convergences of troubled people. Even if a team of professionals from the Rhine Research Center wouldn't be able to detect anything untoward, the sense of being haunted would be no less real for the people involved.

For several years between college and my marriage, I lived in a little new fab Brooklyn duplex with two old classmates. Yet somehow, it was only several years later, after I moved out, that I started to hear that our apartment was haunted. I don't know how I could have missed this, and I strongly suspected that some new, shared perception of theirs had been retrofitted onto our past. I couldn't imagine how anyone could perceive any form of subtle energy in that place, with our landlords downstairs having raging parties three days a week, their roosters crowing four or five hours a day, and the mice noisily chewing up the insides of the building every night. I basically rolled my eyes at the idea, especially because of the person who first told me.

One of my ex-roommates, T, who still lived in the place, met my fiance and I out one night to introduce his new boyfriend. The boyfriend was too young, acted even younger, and when he wasn't telling exaggerated-sounding stories about himself, he cued T to tell stories about him instead. He particularly insisted that T explain that the apartment was haunted. What followed were elaborate stories of appliances turning on and off on their own, objects flying across rooms, locked doors swinging open, and footprints appearing in the protective salt circle around their bed. The boyfriend insisted that T show a photo of the salt, in which strange sigils supposedly manifested overnight. The photo displayed what looked like the word "FAG" rising to the top of a bowl of alphabet soup. My fiance and I were utterly mortified.

At least two other people who lived in that place substantiated the claim that it was wildly, spectacularly haunted, although it bothered me that this had never come up during any of the years we all cohabitated. However, that's not to say that it wasn't an exceedingly dark environment. During that time, T had two long term boyfriends who were delusional, controlling and violent; I brought in my own psychotic abuser, who made all of our lives hell; another roommate brought a woman with whom he would share a doomed marriage, who loudly criticized him in front of us for embarrassing symptoms of severe depression; we briefly housed a couple we almost never saw, but who we could hear shouting and throwing things; and, in truth, we were all functioning alcoholics at that time. Those were not good days, and whatever you think "energy" is, together we created and bathed in quite a lot of bad energy. I barely got out with my sanity intact, after which T picked an incredibly nasty and protracted fight with me over a litany of things I had supposedly done and said throughout the last 15 years. To me, it was meaningful that this only happened after I escaped, even though I had tried repeatedly to have a constructive conversation with him while I was still there; it was like being in the grip of the Amityville house or the Overlook, a possessing entity that doesn't want to let you leave.

There's only one incident that sticks in my mind as evidence of something more than psychological disturbance. One night I brought home a copy of the great french exploitation movie DON'T DELIVER US FROM EVIL, about a pair of sociopathic teens who go on a satanic, ultimately suicidal rampage. As I gazed on the final image of the two girls burning, I said, my god, B really needs to see this, and made a note of it. B was a friend of a friend with whom I had grown enormously close, a dark, turbulent person, highly cultured, and a certified genius. A few hours after T and I went to sleep, we were awoken by a frantic pounding on the front door; B's best friend was there to report that she had committed suicide. We stayed up all night talking. In the morning, I perversely chose to go all the way to work in order to tell my boss that I couldn't come in that day; I just didn't think I could do it over the phone. But, as T and I stepped outside, we were shocked by the sight of a huge, rusted black hearse parked in front of our house. It seemed to belong to the derelict car lot across the street, but for us, it may as well have fallen out of the sky. Later that day, B's friends gathered at our apartment to talk and plan. And, as we were sitting there, the building behind ours suddenly exploded into a raging inferno.

None of those things have to be more than coincidences, but together, they hold such meaning for me that I don't think it's worth arguing about their true identity. Above all else, they are defined by what I feel I experienced: something from the other world. I don't need to worry about the collective madness of my friends, or my own vulnerability to certain unfalsifiable notions. I know where I was, at least in those 24 hours. I was in a haunted house.

[spnae]

Chapter 15 Love a Handyman

The next day they decided to repeat the training/cleaning activities for the girls since it went so well the first time. It also made sense to keep the girls out of the castle as much as possible since Callum and Angus would be there to fix the elevator. Faith was nervously pacing around the entryway waiting for them to show up when Giles rang his bell from the living room.

She sighed as she walked towards the living room. “What’s up?”

“Could I trouble you for another glass of water? Perhaps you should just bring a pitcher.”

“A pitcher of water, yeah alright.”

While Faith was searching for a water pitcher to use, the front doorbell rang. Faith banged her head on the underside of the cabinet as she pulled out the pitcher and set it down before running to get the door. It was Angus heavily laden with work equipment.

“Oh, hey Angus.”

“Hey yourself.”

“Where’s Callum?”

“Driving separately, said something about having a hot date tonight,” Angus winked, “If you haven’t been drummin’ up so much business for us lately I might have something to say about you keepin’ him up too late.”

“Why’s that, I thought he didn’t have to work until later tomorrow.”

“Oh aye, at the hardware store. He was supposed to help me with a little job in the morning, canceled on me, he did.”

Oh geez, look man, he didn’t say anything about it—“

“No worries it’s just that bloody door at the pub, I’m just giving you a hard time. I can do it myself and it’s for Family anyway so it’s not like it’s a big gig, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to see him getting back into it. Been a while since he’s had a woman in his life.”

“Really?”

“Oh aye.”

“So yeah the elevator is right over here. Also my cousin wanted you to look at another bigger project she’s itching to start.”

“Bigger than that bathroom we did for you a while back?”

“Oh yeah, much bigger. Her and her boyfriend are planning on moving here permanently and their new digs are in need a serious overhaul.”

“Where is this place?”

“About a hundred yards from here.”

“Heavens, you don’t mean that building across the garden, do you?” he asked sceptically.

“That would be the one. It’s actually a duplex.”

“Blimey sounds like a tall order. I don’t know if Callum and I can handle all that on our own.”

“We have a guy that’s good with construction. He can lend a hand and we know you guys probably won’t be able to do all of the work but we want to give you the first crack at it. The girls and I can help out too.”

“Now I know Callum thinks highly of you and I hear you can handle your own. I don’t doubt you. But you mind me asking, what exactly do you know about renovation and construction?”

“I know we’re damn good at demolition.”

Angus chuckled “Yeah alright, I’ll let you know if I can use you.”

Faith shrugged, the truth was, she really didn’t know much about home renovation and she wasn’t sure if Buffy did either. Otherwise she might have been offended. “We can take orders as well as we give them, we’d get the job done.”

“I got a wife like that, Lass can do anything she puts her mind to,” he smiled, “We’ll take a look later. What can you tell me about this lift?”

“Not much, just that it’s busted. Who knows when that thing was added.”

“Speak for yourself!” Giles called from the living room.

“Oh shit, I forgot his water,” she held up a finger and dashed back into the kitchen to fill the water pitcher while Angus went into the living room. The large ground floor room had been converted into a very large living room. Whatever it had been before, it was unrecognizable now with a TV, cozy furniture, a foosball table, and lots of throw pillows.

“Good heavens, Mr. Giles, what happened to you?”

“Slipped.”

“Guess I needn’t ask what the rush is on this.”

“Sorry, eh Uncle Rupe ,” Faith stressed the honeriffic as she walked into the living room, “Funny thing is he did this after we already had Callum take a look.”

“Mysterious ways, all I got to say on that.”

The doorbell rang again, this time it was Callum. Faith smiled as she opened the door for him.

“Hey, Beautiful,” he smiled.

“Keep your ‘hey’, get in here. You got work to do.”

“Sounds like you want this done in a hurry.”

“You bet I do,” she said with a grin, “I’ll go get Spike, and then I have to check on the girls. You get to work,” she winked.

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned as he eyed her hungrily, watching her go.

“Alright Boy’o, help me get the rest of the stuff out of the van.”

Minutes later they got to work on the elevator. “Does the Lass know what she’s getting into?” Angus asked a moment after they’d started working.

“Oh shut your gob Angus, I should’ve never told you about that,” he grunted as he loosened a rusty bolt, he paused a second, “I get the feeling Faith can give as good as she gets.”

“She’s such a tiny thing, hate for you to break her.”

“Oh hey now that’s enough out of you boy’o. That was one time and it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.”

“Still scared the girl off, didn't it?”

“Did at that,” Callum grunted.

“I’m just saying, you should be upfront with the girl before it gets too far and ya scare her off.”

“Don’t think it’ll come to that.”

Just then Spike cleared his throat, “If there’s something Faith should know… I think you better spill,” he menaced.

“Bloody hell. You know Angus, I’m starting to think the reason I can’t get a good woman to stick around just might be the family!” He grumbled. Callum strained his neck to look at Spike from the awkward position he was in, “Morning Spike, don’t mind us. Angus, Spike, he works here with Faith and her cousin. Spike, my pain in the ass older cousin Angus.”

Spike crossed his arms over his chest, “I dunno, Cal, seeing as Faith is as good as family perhaps I should mind.”

Callum groaned and set his wrench down with a huff. He picked up another tool and kept working, “Go on Angus, since you’re so intent on talking about stuff ya got no right goin on about. You know, I’ll remember this with your wife’s cousins at Christmas and have a chat about your sex life.”

“Shut it Callum, my wife’s had three kids already and we got a fourth on the way. Fairly certain her family knows what we get up to.”

“What’s this got to do with Faith?”

Angus turned to Spike, “Our unassuming handyman here likes a bit of rough with his tumble. Broke the bed once and nearly scared the girl half to death.”

Spike laughed, “Bloody hell, is that all? A broken bed?” Spike continued laughing, “Call me when you have to replace the rest of the furniture after one go. Now that’s a night to remember,” he grinned, “I think Faith will be more than up for that challenge. Girl certainly won't scare that easy.”

“You been there then?” Angus asked in surprise.

Spike noticed as Callum tensed up and stopped what he was doing but didn’t respond or even look up. “What, me and Faith? Bloody hell. Sure there’s chemistry, but no, we never took that trip. The girl's just not shy is all, likes to talk. Buffy is it for me,” Spike clapped his hands loudly, “Anyway, this is me being all helpful like. Where ya need me?”

“I’m done with this bit. Angus, you get the other side. I’ll show Spike what we need to do up top.”

“Make sure he’s got his climbing gear” he said as he went into the elevator and got to work.

“Taken care of,” Spike said.

Spike and Callum gathered up the parts and tools they would need. Callum looked at Spike questionably when he picked up the box with the new pulley and cable system parts. It had taken both he and Angus to get it out of the van. And here was Spike picking it up like a basket of laundry. Callum caught up to him as Spike started up to the top floor where the elevator stopped.

Spike spoke, “That was the truth back there, you know. Faith and I… we never…”

Callum shook his head, “Even if you did, I see the way you look at Buffy. I doubt you’d want to bungle that up.”

“Got that right. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“A lot, I take it.”

“And then some. End of the world and back.”

Callum nodded then stopped as he realized he might mean that literally. He cleared his throat, “So what’s it like being in a relationship with a Slayer?”

Spike nodded once and took a deep breath for show, “Buffy said Faith clued you in, that’s why you wanted me on my own,” he nodded again, “I get it. Look, I can only tell you what I know about Slayers in general. Buffy is one thing, and most of what I know there is strictly private. Faith is a different story altogether. Girl’s had a seriously rough go, she’s just trying to do what’s right now,” he adjusted his grip as he made a turn on the stairs, “The first thing you gotta understand is this: Slayers exist to fight evil in the world. Their lives are filled with death and the mission will always come first. Before you, before family, before anything. The second thing is, they are still human. They have human problems and they have to deal with those on top of the mission. It’s not the other way round. You get what I’m saying?”

“I think I’m starting to. How’s that working for you?”

“Yeah well, that’s a little different. I got my own redemption arc going on; so I work alongside her, fighting the good fight. It’s harder for mortals,” he gestured towards the heavy box he held and raised an eyebrow. “That’s why you’ve got to be there for her, whatever she needs. She needs a sword, you toss her a sword. She needs a quiet space and a hand to hold, you give it to her. She needs some complex text translated in a dead language or spell work done, you stand back and let the geeks handle it.”

Callum chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind. So what are you anyway? You look human enough.”

“Didn’t tell you that bit huh?”

“Said it wasn’t her story to tell.”

“Give the girl a prize,” he adjusted the box in his hands again as they continued up the stairs, “Demon. Vampire actually. I look human because I used to be one, look real good for my age.”

Callum stared at him, “Well now the ‘Slayer’ kink thing makes sense.”

“What?”

“Nothing… How’s that work, living with a bunch of Slayers? I thought you were all evil and what all.”

“You mean how does Buffy stand me and why don’t they all stake me in my sleep?” he laughed.

“Is that what Faith meant when she said you were one of a matching set like her and Buffy before… all this. Something special about you?”

“Bloody hell, makes me and soddingAngel sound like a set of bloody collectible salt and pepper shakers. You know, I’m one of only two ensouled-vampires in all the world and she boils it down to that?”

“Don’t know anything about any angel.”

“That’s the bloody git’s name; Angel. That PI you were asking about the other night.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yup. Faith’s life coach and BFF, Buffy’s soddingex, my grand-sire and a general goodie-goodie pain in the ass.”

“Tight group.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“You don’t seem to like him much.”

“Pftt- Angel is… We go way back. Some people have daddy issues— not important. Did I mention grand-sire? He’s soddingfamily. Only part of the problem is that he still thinks Buffy should be his. Lucky for me she’s moved on. Even still, bloody git thinks everything should be his. Like he’s so damn special…”

Callum raised an eyebrow, “Ahhh… Anything else I should know?”

“‘Bout Angel?”

“I ment Faith so no, not unless he’s got a claim on her too.”

“Bugger if I know… doubt it. Known Angel for over a hundred and thirty years and he’s always had a preference for blonds. Last I knew he was shagging some werewolf chick, blonde of course.”

“Anything else about being involved with a Slayer or, your little group?”

“The Scoobies. Look man, if you’re going to stick around you’re just going to have to roll with it, weird shit happens weekly, sometimes daily.”

“How do you do it?”

“Simple, I’m with her.”

“I should know better than to ask a poet for love advice.”

“You asked, Superman. Lois Lane, Faith ain’t.”

Callum glared at the use of ‘Superman’, but let it go. Listening intently.

Spike continued, “But seriously, I’ve got an unlife of my own to live. I do things, I come back. Didn’t really get the whole ‘Soulmate’ thing until after I got mine back. Now we got this… well won’t go into that now.”

“Sounds like you got a good thing going.”

“We do.”

“So ahh, where is your climbing gear or don’t you need it?”

“I have some up there. I can climb with the best of ‘em but I’m still going to have to use my hands, you git.”

“Smart ass ain’t you?”

“What ever gave you that idea?”

Later, after they had finished fixing the elevator, Buffy pulled Callum and Angus aside. She was getting ready to take them to look at the duplex while the girls got ready for dinner. They were just heading out when Spike made his way into the kitchen. He made a B-line for the refrigerator and some blood. Instead of putting some in a cup like he normally did, he just grabbed the whole container and popped it in the microwave.

Buffy noticed him and held her index finger up, “I’ll be with you guys in a minute. I just need to talk to Spike and then I’ll show you around in there.”

Angus looked at his watch, “That’s alright, it’s thanks to Spike we got done early. I did tell the wife I’d stop at the market on the way home though so I don’t have long.”

“I’ll be quick!” Buffy shot over her shoulder as she followed Spike out while he tried his best to sneak out of the kitchen.

She caught up to him in the entryway, “Hey, you. How’d it go with the elevator?”

“Ehh it’s alright. Think I might have a lie down.”

Buffy nodded, “What’s with the mini feast?”

“This?” He held up the container of blood and took a drink, “Got a little banged up on that damn maintenance ladder,” he lifted up his forearm to show her several very nasty, very deep cuts. If he wasn’t a vampire she would have been worried about nerve and tendon damage.

“Ouch! Did you get shafted?”

“That was weak, Slayer.”

“I thought it was funny,” she shrugged, “Are we still on for the morning?”

“Field trip? Course we are. I’ll be alright. Little blood, little rest, maybe a little nursing?” He grinned.

“Maybe later. Try that stuff Willow made for me. No idea if it works on vampires but it’s worth a shot. Do you need help wrapping it?”

He shrugged, “I can manage. I’ll give that stuff a try. Speaking of little Red, you got whatever you need for tomorrow?”

“Willow was able to dig up some maps of the area. She emailed them to me last night. They aren’t complete but that’s kind of the point. The important part is that now thanks to some fancy computer tinkering Wil was able to do on the girls' phones now she can track them underground as well as on the surface. At least in theory she should be able to. They are also magically enhanced so that gives them a boost. That’s part of what we will be testing out. Oh by the way, even if the tunnels do go clear into Edinburgh, I’m not counting this as our trip. Got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Pet. You know, it seems to me like Red is really taking on this techno-witch stuff a lot more.”

“What do you mean, she’s always been great at this stuff, she's just combining it more now.”

“Still seems complicated, even for her.”

Buffy shrugged, “At least she’s not getting into trouble with it.”

“For now. Alright, Pet, I’m going to disappear for a bit. I'll see you later,” He gave her a quick kiss.

“Probably sooner than you think. I’m taking the guys to look at our place now and then I think I’m having the girls rip out the old nasty carpeting. After that I’m calling it. They got way more done today than I thought they would. They’ll need some sleep if we’re taking them out before the crack of dawn.”

It was about an hour later when Angus pulled away from the castle in the work van. The elevator was in full working order now. Buffy was still discussing her plans for the duplex with Callum when Faith came in from outside. “Hey you two, I’m about to call it a day,” she said almost triumphantly, “My girls are finishing up and then hitting the showers. I’m heading there myself.”

Callum flashed her a wicked grin, “I’ll just gather up the rest of my things then shall I?”

Faith walked up to him “I won’t be long,” she went up onto her toes to kiss him, “A lot more where that came from.”

“Promise?”

Without answering Faith turned and headed for the stairs. Buffy shook her head “And the weird just keeps getting weirder.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He chuckled as he took some things out to his car. Buffy followed him.

“Just that I never thought I’d see Faith like… well that. She really only ever had the one real ‘boyfriend’ that I know of and I don’t remember her ever getting the cartoon heart eyes over him,” Buffy watched him as his eyes lit up. “Yup, looks like the mutual crazies in full bloom to me.”

He closed the back door to the car, “The what now?”

“Mutual crazies, I think Faith might have coined the term… or maybe not, I don’t remember. It’s what we call the head-over-heels kind of love.”

“Like you and Spike?”

“Definitely.”

They went back inside while Callum gathered up the last few tools and tucked them away in his toolbox, “I wouldn't mind being crazy for a girl like that.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Buffy said, “Do you need help with anything?”

“I only have my things here. You can take that out if you like,” he indicated towards a set of heavy bolt cutters that didn’t fit into the toolbox, “Angus took the rest and Spike was a big help. Except for taking stuff outside, I guess the sun thing is true.”

Buffy looked at him curiously, “You talked to Spike?” she asked as she followed him back outside with the bolt cutters.

“Ahh yeah… gave me a bit to think about. Made it clear that getting in it with a slayer isn’t something to take lightly.”

“He knows better than anyone. He was around enough to see all my other relationships do a Hindenburg and stood there commenting on what they were doing wrong. Even when we hated each other, he knew me better than anyone. He knows Slayers, especially me.”

“Yeah he kinda mentioned that. So what, he like studded Slayers or was a Watcher before he was turned or something?”

Buffy actually laughed at that idea, “Oh he studied alright! Spike is the only vampire in history to kill more than one of us. He hunted Slayers, that’s how we met actually. He came to town to kill me.”

Callum raised an eyebrow as they went back into the castle, “How exactly—“

“Super long story. It was a seriously freaky mess for way too long.”

“And somehow you ended up together?”

“Seriously long story…” she paused a moment, hesitating, “Callum?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Spike mention the nightmares?”

“What nightmares?”

“I’ll take that as a big N-O,” Buffy nodded, “All Slayers get prophetic dreams, sometimes they can be pretty freaky. Then there’s me and Faith; we’ve been around longer, seen a lot more crazy. So some serious nightmares are part of the perky-package. Some can be pretty brutal. Mix that with super strength… not always the friendliest cuddle buddy. I don’t know how she deals with hers but I know she gets them too. I’m better when Spike is there but then again he can handle it without getting beat to a pulp.”

“Do you mean like PTSD or something like that?”

“Humm sort of, yeah, I guess so.”

“Nope, he didn’t mention that bit. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Yeah well I’m not surprised he didn’t bring it up, he gets them more than I do, so consider the source. When you hold the record for the most brutal vampire in history second only to the one who taught you and then suddenly decide to go get a soul and go all good guy… it tends to leave a mark,” she laughed darkly.

“He was… that’s…”

“That’s the glamorous life we lead.”

“But he has a soul. I mean he seems like a pretty good guy.”

“Sounds like you two got chummy.”

“We had a pretty good chat.”

“Huhh… he must like you. He doesn’t usually play well with others.”

“Sounds like a dog I had once, he was fine with the family; didn’t do well with strangers.”

Buffy laughed, “Was your dog named Spike too?”

“Nah, it was Merlin, actually,” he laughed.

“Good name.”

“Yeah well I had a bit of an obsession as a kid. Probably how I ended up getting into fighting to begin with.”

“You fight?”

“I used to fight. Used to compete.”

“Seriously? Sort of explains you and Faith.”

“Don’t think it’s actually come up to be honest. Most of our conversations have consisted of home improvement and Slaying.”

“Lots of territory to cover then.”

“Little afraid she’s going to want to spar, could be interest—“ Callum cut off as Faith came down the stairs.

For the second time she had foregone her usual jeans in favor of something more feminine. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple knit dress in a muted red. It was one of three dresses that she had let Buffy talk her into on their shopping trip. She had paired it with a pair of low slip-on shoes Buffy recognized as her own. She also carried a small book-bag style purse Buffy was sure she must have borrowed from one of the girls. It was such a comfy casual outfit she barely looked like she was going on a date at all, in fact she looked like she could be taking a walk in the park rather than planning her first overnight with her new guy. And yet Callum looked at her like she was Cinderella at the ball.

“Wow, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks, I don’t really do dresses much but this one is super comfortable.”

W

“Are you ready to go? I’m going to have to hit the shower myself when we get to my place, hadn't thought that one through.”

“That’s ok, it’ll give me a chance to get nosie,” she winked.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Roommates (K.NJ)

Warnings : mentions of drinking, partying, swearing, mentions of sex

Synopsis : unable to afford rent alone, she looks for a roommate. he’s perfect on paper, but seems to avoid her in person. after their friend groups mix for a night out, she finds out he finds her beautiful. she never expected to befriend him, nor did she expect to fall for her handsome roommate.

Word Count : 3281

After graduating university, I moved into a 3-bedroom duplex, sure with my new job I could afford it by myself. But after a few months, I found myself struggling to keep up with bills and rent and soon put out an ad for a roommate. I’d prefer to live with another girl, but after meeting all the girls that applied, I decided to expand my search to include guys as well.

           Kim Namjoon seemed like the perfect applicant on paper and seemed fairly decent when he came to check out the place. He didn’t ask any questions, calmed all the concerns I had about living with a stranger, and met all my expectations for a roommate. He seemed to be the obvious choice, so he moved in a couple days later.

           I didn’t expect to become friends with the guy as the two of us were quite different, but I didn’t expect him to completely avoid me either. He kept to himself, either leaving the place for days at a time, or staying in his room, only leaving to get food and use the washroom. At first it was nice; I was worried about him making any unwanted advances and it really calmed all my anxieties. But after a while, it seemed like he was avoiding me like the plague. I tried to talk to him a few times, but he would shrug it off and ignore my existence.

           “How’s living with a stranger?” My best friend, Jimin, asked when he came for a visit a couple months after Namjoon moved in. “Have you guys hooked up yet?” I choked on my drink, completely taken back by his question.

           “God no! I’ve tried being friendly, but the man avoids me like I don’t even exist!” I said after I caught my breath from my coughing fit. “I guess I don’t mind it though. It’s almost like I still live alone, just with extra money.” The front door slammed open soon after I said that and Namjoon came stomping in with the angriest look on his face. He paused when he entered the living room and saw Jimin sitting beside me on the couch.

           “If you two are going to fuck later, keep it down. I’m going to bed.” Before either of us could say anything, Namjoon stormed up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

           “Who pissed in his cornflakes?” Jimin asked, his eyes wide as he looked in the direction of the stairs Namjoon just stormed up.

           “Who goes to bed at 3 in the afternoon?” I stared at the time on my phone with my brows furrowed together, wondering if something happened while he was gone.

           “You’re sure he isn’t some criminal?” Jimin jokingly asked and I playfully slapped his arm and giggled. But I really didn’t know what he did for a living. He pays rent on time and helps with the bills, so I never really questioned anything. “Jin is wondering if you’re coming out with us tonight.” Jimin was typing away at his phone, most likely texting Jin, asking what the plan was.

           “Yeah, I have tomorrow off so why not.” Jimin nodded and continued to text Jin. “Who’s all going?”

           “All I know for sure is me, you, Jin and Taehyung. Jin said he invited someone from his work who might come and bring his friends too, so I’m not too sure.” I nodded.

           “I hope the guy he invited from work is Hoseok. I met him a couple times and he’s super fun! And really hot.” Jimin laughed and shook his head at me. “What? I can appreciate his beauty!”

           “I never said you couldn’t. You just haven’t shown interest in anyone since Jackson.” I rolled my eyes.

           “First, we promised never to bring him up. Second, I’m not interested in Hoseok, I just think he’s attractive.” Jimin held his hands up in surrender before getting up to leave.

           “I’m going to go meet up with Jin for a while. I’ll see you tonight.”

           After Jimin left, I decided to get ready so whenever they decided to show up, I wouldn’t be holding us back from our night out. Jin always complained about how long it took me to get ready, as if he didn’t also take forever.

           After showering and doing my hair and makeup, I was left with deciding what to wear. I had a couple outfit choices laid out on my bed. I kept picking them up and holding them up to myself while looking in the mirror, but I just couldn’t decide. I was just about to call Jimin when I heard a knock at my bedroom door. I threw the two dresses I had in my hands onto my bed and went to open my door, expecting either Jimin or Taehyung to be on the other side, but was surprised to see Namjoon standing there, holding two coffees.

           “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I had a bad day and took it out on you and your boyfriend.” He handed one of the coffees to me. I looked down at the drink and then up at him. “Oh uh, they messed up my drink and gave me one for free. Figured you’d like it.” He quickly said, and I didn’t let it slip that the two coffees were obviously very different. The one in his hand was hot, whereas the one he handed me was iced. I just smiled and thanked him. “The long-sleeved black dress would look good on you. Go with that one.” He said before I could shut my door and then quickly walked away before I could ask what he meant. I looked at the different dresses on my bed and smiled to myself when it put it together. And he wasn’t wrong.

           “Hey, you sexy motherfucker, worldwide handsome has arrived!” I heard from downstairs as I was putting the final touches on my outfit. I rolled my eyes at the dumb nickname Jin gave himself and quickly opened my bedroom door to head out. Namjoon was heading back to his room from the bathroom, and I asked if he wanted to come with.

           “My friends and I already have plans.” I nodded and told him to have a good night and rushed down the stairs.

           “Damn girl, where have you been hiding this!” Jin gushed when he saw me. I playfully slapped him as I slid on a pair of strappy black heels to go with my dress. It was really a thin strapped crop top and a skirt, with a long-sleeved sparkly mesh dress on top that really showed off all my curves, and my legs. Just as we were about to leave and get in the car, Hoseok came barging in.

           “I thought we were meeting you there?” Jin asked. Hoseok looked between the two of us, confusion written on his face.

           “Does Namjoon live here?” He asked after a minute of silence. I smiled to myself at how small a world we live in and nodded. “Namjoon, let’s go!” Hoseok yelled, and I took that moment to check him out without him noticing. Jin elbowed me in the side and told me we should get going before Taehyung thinks we’re hooking up.

           “He really won’t ever let us live that down, hey.” Jin and I shared a laugh as we told Hoseok we’d meet them at the club. “Hey thots, we ready to get lit?!” I exclaimed as I got into the car. Taehyung rolled his eyes at me, but I could see the smile he was trying to hide.

           “That was fast for the two of you. Just a quicky this time?” I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to playfully slap him as he was driving.

           “It was one time! And it was years ago.”

           “Still weird.” I shook my head and leaned back in my seat.

           We got a booth before Hoseok and his friends arrived and joined us. Namjoon’s eyes widened when he saw me, and Jimin glared at him, obviously still upset about what happened earlier. “Hey, I uh, already apologized to Y/N, but I guess I should apologize to you too. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” Hoseok’s two other friends looked between Jimin and Namjoon, wondering what happened. “It was Y/N’s place first, and you two are dating so I should be nicer.” I was so caught up in him giving me a coffee that I completely forgot to correct him on that fact, but it still made me laugh. Jin and Taehyung burst out laughing while Jimin just sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

           “Oh my god, Y/N and Jimin dating.” Jin laughed.

           “That’s the best joke I’ve ever heard!” Taehyung added, bent at the waist as tears streamed down his face from how hard he was laughing. I felt bad for Namjoon as he stood there, confused as to what was so funny. His friends eventually put two and two together and shook their heads.

           “Y/N and I aren’t dating.” Jimin finally said. Namjoon went completely red in the face and I found myself smiling at how cute it was. For the first time since he moved in, I actually got a good look at him and honestly I couldn’t stop myself from staring. I’m not sure if it was the dim lighting, or the way he was dressed, but he was really handsome.

           “Oh, sorry.” He quickly said. “I’m going to go get a drink.” I quickly stood from the booth and followed him as Hoseok introduced his two friends to the rest of the group.

           “Hey!” I said when I caught up to him. “Sorry about my friends. Also sorry I didn’t correct you earlier, it slipped my mind.” He shrugged his shoulders, saying it wasn’t a big deal. “Jimin has been my best friend since diapers, basically my brother. That’s why Jin and Taehyung found it so funny.” Namjoon nodded.

           “I don’t need your life story.” My heart sank when he said that. I thought we were finally getting somewhere with our relationship, but I guess he was just the kind of guy who couldn’t not right a wrong.

           “Noted.” I ordered mine and my friend’s drinks, as well as shots for the table, told the bartender which table, and turned to walk away before Namjoon made his order. I plopped down beside Jin who immediately wrapped his arm around me. “Sorry, I ran off before I could get your names.” I smiled at the two strangers sitting across from me.

           “I’m Jungkook, and mister grumpy pants there is Yoongi.”

           “Well I hope no one minds, but I ordered shots for the table.” Just as I said that Namjoon came back with the bartender and the two handed out the drinks and shots that had been ordered. I held up my shot glass and everyone else followed suit. “Let’s get litty titty!”

           “You’re not allowed to make the toast ever again.” Jin said as we all downed our first round of shots. Namjoon was sat directly across from me, staring at me as if I kicked his dog. Conversations started around the table, but Namjoon just sat there, staring at me. I downed my drink in record time while making eye contact with him. I leaned across the table and motioned for Namjoon to do the same.

           “You keep staring at me like that, I’ll think you’re secretly in love with me.” I said just loud enough for him to hear and sat back. “Jin, come get another drink with me!” I slid my hand into his and he happily obliged, asking around the table if anyone else wanted something.

           At some point during the night, I convinced some of the guys to hit the dance floor with me. Namjoon obviously stayed behind, rolling his eyes at my invitation. “Don’t take it to heart.” Hoseok told me as a group of us made our way to the dance floor. “He doesn’t know how to act around girls he thinks are pretty.” I smiled at the insinuation that Namjoon thought I was pretty.

           Jin took my hand as soon as we hit the dance floor and the two of us began dancing together. I could feel the alcohol starting to hit me and began to let loose. “Your friends are betting on whether or not you and Jin are going to hookup tonight.” Hoseok told me as we made our way to the bar to get more drinks before heading back to the table for a rest.

           “They do that every time.” His eyes widened. “Jin and I hooked up once a couple years ago and now the two of them, Taehyung especially, won’t let us live it down.” He nodded in understanding.

            I sat beside Namjoon, considerably more drunk than when I left the table. He looked at me with the same annoyed look he’s been giving me all night, but I didn’t let it bother me this time. “A little birdy told me you think I’m pretty.” I slurred out and laughed as his eyes widened and he suddenly got nervous.

           “I don’t know who told you that, but they’re lying.” His words hurt more than I’d like to admit. I don’t know why I want him to think I’m pretty, but I do. I stood up to move to the other side of the booth and sit beside Taehyung, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down beside him. “I-I think you’re beautiful.” He stuttered out, obviously not nearly as drunk as me. With my elbows on the table, I put my head in my hands and turned my body to look up at him.

           “You look really handsome tonight, Namjoon.” I could see a bit of pink dust his cheeks as he smiled. “Oh! You have a dimple.” I said as I poked it and brought my face closer to his to get a better look. He swatted my hand away and looked away from me. “You’re so mean to me.” I pouted. I reached out and placed my hands on his cheeks and made him look at me. His eyes were wide as I studied his face with a pout on my face.

           “What are you doing?” He asked, reaching up and taking my hands in his, removing them from his face.

           “Memorizing your handsome face, since you always hide from me.”

           “Sorry.” I smiled at him.

           “Come dance with me!” I stood up again and held my hand out to him, catching the attention of the other two sitting at the table, specifically Yoongi. Namjoon lowered my arm, denying my request. “Please! Just one song.” Yoongi smirked at Namjoon who seemed embarrassed.

           “I’m not much of a dancer.”

           “I’m not either!” I exclaimed and grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the booth. He didn’t resist much as I pulled him to the dance floor, earning a surprised look from Hoseok who was having a mini dance battle with Jimin. “Don’t be weird about it.” I laughed as I started dancing. Namjoon was very stiff and awkwardly smiled at me. “Let loose.” I grabbed his hands and started dancing with him, trying to get him to enjoy himself. I got lost in the song and Namjoon eventually let go of my hands and just watched me.

           “I’m going to get a drink; do you want anything.” Namjoon whispered in my ear after a couple songs passed.

           “Surprise me.” I continued to dance while I watched him walk away. I didn’t expect him to actually get me a drink, but he returned a few minutes later and handed me the same drink I’d been drinking all night.

           After a few more songs and a couple more drinks, I had definitely surpassed my limit, and Namjoon could tell. I was slumped over on the table, barely able to keep my head up. “Let’s head home.” He said softly, bending down in front of me, telling me to hop on his back. I loosely wrapped my arms around his neck, and he stood, reaching back to support my legs. Jin, Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok were heading back to the table as we were leaving. “I’m going to take her home. The uber is outside.” He explained to the group before leaving for the door.

           “Please don’t hate me.” I whispered as he walked outside and towards the waiting car.

           “I couldn’t ever.” He replied, setting me in the backseat, and ran to the other side. For some reason, his words caused my heart to flutter. I didn’t expect to start crushing on my quiet roommate, but somehow it happened.

           The next morning I woke up with one of the worst headaches I’ve ever experienced. As I sat up in my bed, I saw some Advil and a glass of water on my side table and smiled. What happened last night wasn’t a dream.

           “I’m making breakfast, if you want.” Namjoon said as I descended down the stairs. I smiled to myself as I looked at him standing in the kitchen with an apron on. I made my way over to the barstools that sat beside the island and took a seat, just watching him. “Uh, what are you doing?” He asked, a blush rising to his cheeks like many times last night.

           “I don’t know how long you’re going to be nice to me like this, so I’m going to bask in it.” I giggled and he just rolled his eyes at me, feigning annoyance.

           “You’re annoying.” He scoffed, turning back to whatever he was cooking.

           “Yeah, but you still think I’m pretty.” I teased. He didn’t even bother turning around when he said his next words.

           “I already told you that was a lie.” I stood up from the barstool and walked behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso, taking in his scent and feeling the butterflies in my stomach take flight yet again. I could feel him tense under my touch, but as quickly as he tensed, he relaxed into my embrace. “I think you’re beautiful.” He repeated his statement from last night, and I wouldn’t believe him if he said he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding.

           “Go on a date with me today.” I said as I let go of him, looking up to see his reaction. He was pretending it didn’t affect him as he continued cooking, but I could see the blush on his cheeks and I smiled, knowing I made him just as nervous as he made me.

           “A date?” He questioned, not even bothering to look at me.

           “Yes. A date. With me. Like bowling or something. Something fun though!” He took the pan off the stove and started plating the food, still not giving me an answer, which caused my nerves to start to get the best of me. Still, I refused to take it back. I wanted to go on a date with him and I wasn’t one to sit around and wait. Still silent, he walked to the dining table, placing both plates on it and finally taking time to look at me.

           “You couldn’t have waited for me to ask you?” He chuckled, causing all my worries to subside as I walked to the dining table and taking a seat.

           “I go after what I want.” I shrugged. “And I want you.”

           “Well, at least let me plan it.” I agreed to his condition and the two of us ate in silence, glancing up at each other every once in a while with shy smiles.

[headheartbellarke]

LIGHT A FIRE IN MY EYES | Owen Patrick Joyner

PAIRING(S): Charlie Gillespie’s sister!Reader x Owen Patrick Joyner

WARNING(S): fluff, angst

WORDS: 3.4k

SUMMARY: where Y/N is charlie gillespie’s sister, and while living with him and owen, unexpected feelings rise up. (im so bad at these)

READER’S POV

    A rhythmic knock on my bedroom door breaks me out of my trance. I push my glasses further up my nose and close my physics textbook, dropping my pencil between the pages to bookmark it. Pushing myself off the chair, I stretch my arms above my head – I’ve been sitting at my desk for about five hours now, trying to revise everything for my exam tomorrow. I walk over to my door, and unlock it, and I’m greeted by my brother, Charlie. He takes in my appearance and frowns.

     “I thought you were still sleeping. When did you get up?”

     “Uhh…” I trail off, looking behind me at the clock mounted on the wall opposite to me. 10:30 AM.  “About 5, yeah.”

    I turn back and notice my brother widening his eyes. “Are you okay, little one?”

    I’m not a morning person, under no circumstances ever. Growing up, I’ve always been the last person to wake up – Charlie being the first. So, I guess it’s awfully unusual for him to hear this.

     “This is college, honey. You wouldn’t know.” I shrug at him and he grins. I’ve always hated the fact that he got a free pass from college, since he’s an actor.

    That is also the reason why he’s here. We grew up in Canada – Charlie, me, my two other older brothers and my twin sister Meghan. Growing up, Charlie, Meghan and I were inseparable – since we’re closer in age – Charlie’s only two years older than Meghan and me. But I had to leave home for college – I got into Caltech, and that was not an opportunity I was about to give up, even though Charlie protested so many times that I’m apparently the baby of the house and I shouldn’t go to another country alone.

    Now, he’s living with me – he is shooting for his show, Julie and The Phantoms (proud sister, here), and they have a couple of scenes and some recording to do in LA, so he’s staying in my apartment for a week, along with his friend, co-star and roommate back in Vancouver, Owen. Previously, they lived with me for more than a month when they had to go through musical bootcamp or something for the sake of the show. (So proud.)

    That was also when I’d developed a massive crush on Owen.

    Charlie was living with me for a good two weeks when, one day, he took me out to meet the rest of the cast. (Who were all lovely, by the way.) On the drive there, he told me that Owen had been living in a hotel since he’s originally from Oklahoma, and that Charlie’s thinking of asking him to come live with us, if I was okay with that. Of course, I had said yes. I had ample space in my duplex apartment and living alone is boring. So, Charlie introduced me to Owen and we immediately hit it off. Of course, I thought that he was incredibly attractive when we met. But I meet a lot of attractive people at university.

    Then, we started living together, and I realized how amazing Owen actually is. He’s an absolute dork – but he’s also funny, very kind, thoughtful, compassionate, altruistic and so, so nice. Both of us have a lot in common, and there’s always been this unsaid, unacknowledged chemistry between us that a lot of the other cast members had picked up on. (Not my brother, though. He would have killed Owen.) We had so much fun when we were together – he turned everything into an adventure. The best part was that I got to be myself, completely, whenever I was around him. I got to talk about whatever I wanted with him – he never, ever judged me.

    Before they went to Vancouver when production for the show began, we had a last night out with the rest of the cast and a bunch of family members – except the kids. We went to this bar near my college. I was so, so drunk and then I suddenly started feeling queasy and Owen offered to take me home since Charlie was in the same position. There was so much traffic and Owen and I kept singing whatever song was on the radio to pass the time – LA traffic – when we were both leaning across our seats and we started kissing. I remember feeling like I would burst from the happiness and the softness, the affection, the admiration that he had in his eyes when he looked at me.

    Of course, I fell asleep pretty soon after the traffic dissipated and woke up next morning to find him packing for his trip. That was when I’d realized that no matter how much I liked him, we could never be together. First of all, long distance relationships almost never work out, and secondly, he’s my brother’s best friend. That was why I chose to just give him a quick hug goodbye and head to college – without even bothering to drop them off at the airport, or even talking to him.

    He texted and called a couple of times after that, too. But I never responded, never even opened any of his texts – because I knew that once I do that, I would definitely call him. That went on for a week, and the only time we spoke was when he’d texted me from Savannah’s phone: why are you ignoring me? I texted back all the reasons why we couldn’t ever be together, and I didn’t hear from him for another week, until Charlie called me the day before yesterday, telling me that they have a couple of scenes to do in LA, along with some recording stuff, and they’ll stay with me for a few days. I had to approve, or else Charlie might figure out everything.

    They arrived yesterday, and I think that I’ve done a pretty good job of ignoring him so far.

    Charlie’s voice breaks me out of my train of thoughts. “You have exams or what?”

    I nod. “Applied physics, tomorrow. Are you going out?” I ask, pointing at his dark blue jeans.

     “Madi and I are writing this song together. You’ll love it.”

    I smile at him. “If I’m not the first one to hear it –”

    He hums, a chuckle escaping him. I lean against the doorframe, as he continues, “Owen just woke up. He doesn’t start his scenes until tomorrow, so I told him to take care of you today, while I’m away.”

    I ignore the way my heart skips a beat at the mere mention of his name and flatten my lips. “I’m 19, Charlie, I can –”

     “Take care of yourself, blah blah blah. I don’t care.”

    I roll my eyes, and playfully shove him forward. He stumbles a few steps backwards and furrows his brows at me. “Ouch!”

     “Are you taking my car?”

    He nods. “Where –”

     “In the magnetic key holder on the fridge.”

     “Okay, sis.” He smiles at me, leaning forward to ruffle my hair – which makes it even messier than it already was. “Go away!” I grumble, trying to pat his hand away. “Never!” He calls out, turning toward the kitchen to grab the keys.

    I shake my head and laugh. “Love you!”

    He shouts back, without looking behind at me. “Love you most!”

****

    The delicious smell of pancakes reminds me of the fact that I haven’t eaten since last night. I drag my feet to the kitchen, mentally preparing myself for the person I’m about to encounter in there.

     “Uh, hi…” I hesitantly call out, entering the kitchen – and notice a very shirtless Owen, with his very shirtless back turned towards me. He turns around at the sound of my voice, and a few strands of golden blonde hair fall across his eyes. I long to reach my hand across and push those away.

    Instead, he himself does that as his eyes flit over me, and a look of pain flashes through his eyes. I hate that I’m the cause of that.

     “I was wondering how you would ignore me when we’re living in the same apartment.”

     “I deserve that.” I walk over to the stove to stand beside him.

    He ignores me and goes back to flipping golden brown pancakes which smell amazing, but all I can focus on is the curve of his back, the hollow space between his collarbones, and the way his hands grip on the pan a little too hard. I feel a warmth course through my body and find myself missing the way he used to wrap his arms around me from behind in the mornings when Charlie was still asleep.

     “Owen,” I whisper, and he inhales sharply at that. “Please. I don’t want things to be like this – I don’t want us to be like this.”

    He uses his spatula to lift the pancake and puts it atop other pancakes on a plate beside the stove and turns it off. He turns around to face me, biting his lip and I think I just had an aneurysm because of the intensity of his gaze.

    He sighs, leaning against the counter. “Y/N. You made it pretty clear that there would never be an ‘us.’”

     “I know. But we can still be friends, right? Like we were before… everything.”

     “See, that’s the thing. I can’t. Y/N, do you have any idea what you’ve put me through for the past two weeks?” He snaps.

     “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” I reply, hotly. “Owen, it broke me inside to ask you to stay away. Do you have any idea how much I care about you?”

     “No! I don’t, because you don’t talk to me, Y/N.”

     “I told you, there is no point in doing long distance –”

     “That’s bullshit, Y/N, and you know it, too. I think you’re just too scared to be with me because you think that I’d break your heart, leave you alone or hurt you. But that’s the thing, Y/N – I won’t do any of that to you, because that’s exactly what you’re doing to me.” He crosses his arms across his chest.

    I breathe out shakily, running a hand through my curls. “That’s not true –”

    Owen scoffs. “Please, Y/N. I know you.”

    I lower my eyes from his because I can’t handle the way he’s looking at me.

     “Y/N, do you know how fucking hard the past week’s been for me? I can’t even talk to anyone about it, because the only person I wanna talk to is your brother and we all know what will happen if I do that. He’s my best friend, and I’ve been lying to him for weeks, pretending that I like this hairdresser, when in reality, I’m head over heels for his sister. I can’t tell him that I can’t stop thinking about her, and that she’s the only person that can calm me down when I get anxious on set. I can’t tell him that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s killing me inside to not talk to her!”

    He finishes, breathing out heavily. I look at his eyes and notice that they’re gleaming.

     “Wait, what hairdresser?”

    He scoffs, annoyed. “Seriously, Y/N?”

    I shrug and breathe deeply, trying to stop myself from taking his hands in my own. “You know, there are so many guys at school that ask me out, but I can’t go out with any of them, because guess what, they’re not you. I like you so much, Owen, so, so much, but I can’t do anything about it – because you’re right. I’m scared. I’m terrified that you’ll leave me, because I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time. I’m so scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I’m not who you want anymore. I’m scared that maybe you’ll hurt me or meet someone else in Vancouver. I’m scared about so many things because that’s exactly how much I care about you, Owen!”

    I take a step further and we are standing mere inches apart. I can feel him breathe out raggedly and see the curve of his nose and his darkened eyes flickering to my lips.

     “I would never, ever do that to you, Y/N. You mean a lot to me. Please, please believe me.” He whispers out, and I tell myself to stop, to turn back, to go into my room but instead I just stand there and watch him exhale out, and I know he’s feeling anxious. I lift a hand to his face and cup his cheek in the palm of my hand and he leans his face onto my hand, resting his right hand over mine. The gesture calms the both of us down, and I know, in that moment, that I believe him. That he, us – is a risk worth taking.

     “Your hands are so cold.” He whispers. I nod. “Yours are warm.”

    Both of us stand there, in the kitchen, trying to make sense of what just happened – trying to hold on to this moment. A silence engulfs the both of us, as I sort through my thoughts.

     “Owen,” I whisper. He flicks his eyes to mine. “Promise me you won’t do any of that.”

    He raises his left hand, jutting out his little finger. I raise my other hand too, and he wraps his little finger around mine and whispers back, “Pinkie promise.”

     “Okay.” I whisper, neither of us daring to uncurl our fingers or look anywhere else.

     “Promise me that you wouldn’t leave me for some future tech billionaire.”

    I scrunch my face up at that. “What? No!”

     “Promise me you’d call –”

     “Every single day, Owen. You too.”

    Both of us nod together, and he lifts his other hand to tuck a curl that had previously escaped from my actually-messy-and-not-cute bun. “You’re so beautiful.”

    I smile, and a tear escapes my eyes – Owen rubbing it away with his thumb. I lean forward, standing on my tiptoes and rest my hands against his bare chest for support as I press my lips to his. He smiles against the kiss, and I feel as if a zoo has gone wild in my stomach. I feel warmth and happiness course through my veins as Owen deepens the kiss, the intense longing in the both of us for each other clawing its way out to the surface. It’s almost as if I’m drinking water for the first time in a week. He tastes like banana pancakes, chocolate syrup and everything good in the world. I press myself against him, wrapping my arms around neck while he does the same around my torso. It frightens me a little how well our bodies fit against each other – but it makes me feel strong knowing that I have an amazing person who genuinely cares about me.

****

CHARLIE’S POV

    Charlie unlocked the door to his sister’s apartment, mentally noting to remind her of the fact that her car desperately needs a wash. He enters the foyer, and drops the keys in a bowl, kicking off his shoes.

    Suddenly, he pauses, noticing how incredibly quiet the apartment is – which is unlike Y/N. She always has music blasting or the TV running – she hates the quiet. He quickly walks into the living room and almost screams in surprise.

    His little sister and his best friend are curled up on the sofa, their backs towards him. Y/N is lying on Owen’s chest and she has an arm wrapped around his torso while Owen’s arms are interlocked at the front, holding her against his body. Their tangled legs peek from underneath the quilt that Charlie and Y/N’s mother knit for her youngest daughter last Christmas. She laughs at something that Owen whispers into her ear, and he presses a kiss to her forehead, and they look at each other with so much adoration that Charlie has to look away.

    He sighs, mentally cursing himself for being so, so stupid. How could he have ignored the signs? Charlie remembers Y/N and Owen meeting, both in a daze, both smiling a little too much and Y/N walking with a skip in her steps. He remembers them talking for hours on end, binging Brooklyn 99 on weekends, and always hanging out with each other whenever they went to the same parties. He remembers that morning three weeks ago when he’d woken up late, and gone to the kitchen only to find the duo springing apart from each other, both erupting in a flurry of coughs and laughs, as if he’d just walked on them robbing a bank – Owen had explained that he had apparently broken a glass. He remembers the way Owen would look at her, as if she had just done something miraculous. He remembers the way Y/N would look at his best friend, as if he was made of everything good in the world.

    Most of all, he remembers how Owen sulked whenever he was alone back in Vancouver. He remembers how Owen constantly declined to go out with that cute hairdresser. He remembers how Owen sometimes seemed out of it. He remembers how Owen would sprint whenever Charlie called his sister. He remembers how Owen would keep checking his phone every few minutes in between takes.

    Charlie also remembers his sister asking about how Owen is when they talked on the phone, and how her voice seemed like she was asking something that was forbidden, something that was evil. He remembers how she would always hang up the phone whenever she heard Owen’s voice. He remembers her always declining his invites to go to Vancouver.

    How could he have been so dumb? The signs were right there. He lived with Owen, for god’s sake! Charlie feels an array of emotions. He’s always hated Y/N’s choice in men, despised anyone putting their hands on his baby sister’s body.

    But, to see them like this – to see Y/N look so safe, so comfortable in Owen’s arms, he can’t help but feel relief flood into his system. Because he knows his best friend, and he knows what kind of person he is. And now, he thinks just how much sense they make together. Sure, Owen is kind of stupid, reckless, impulsive, and clumsy – but so is Y/N – well, she’s not stupid, he thinks. She’s the smartest person in their family. But she has a fire within her – and his best friend matches that fire. Charlie thinks of the fact that they complement each other so nicely, both are caring, passionate, and kind-hearted. Of course, they would fall for each other. It just makes so much sense – they make so much sense.

    Still, Charlie feels hurt that neither of them bothered to tell him about it. (even though he won’t admit it, it’s understandable, really – considering the way he’s bugged his sister about her previous relationships.)

    He clears his throat and the duo on the couch jump apart, both flushed and with their eyes widened. Owen stands up, moving away from couch, while Y/N looks at her brother as if he’s a ghost.

    A silence falls over the apartment. Y/N finally says, “How’d you – how’d you get in?”

    He shrugs. “I had a spare key.”

    Owen looks between his girlfriend and his best friend, with widened eyes. “Charlie, I’m so sorry –”

    Suddenly, Charlie laughs, swatting at the air. “Pfft. You think I’m gonna be the weird brother who kills his best friend for dating his sister? Come on, this isn’t a TV show. I’m actually really happy for you guys – I ignored all the signs these past weeks, but I see them now. Of course, it’s really weird for me, but I love the both of you so much. Owen, relax, I’m not gonna kill you. Dude. Just don’t kiss or anything in front of me, cause that’s gross. Ew. You know what, don’t do that at all. And I’ll kill you, Owen, if you ever hurt her, I swear. I’ll put poison in your waffles. I just don’t understand why –”

    Charlie is cut off by his sister tackling him in a hug. He wraps his arms around her body, as she whispers, “I love you, big brother.”

    He murmurs, “Love you most, little one.” He catches Owen’s eye who looks at him with gratefulness and a little smile.

 **** 

READ ON AO3 WITH OC!

drop an ask or a message to be in my jatp taglist!! requests also open <3

[purplesurveys]

1770

What’s something you used to believe in that you don’t anymore?  Everything about religion.

What’s your favorite dinosaur?  I don't have a favorite dinosaur.

Do you believe in reincarnation? If so, what would you like to be reincarnated as?  I never did, but if it were real I'd like to be a dog...because they're my favorite animal and also so that I don't have to work a day in my life in my next life lol.

What are three scents that you like?  Fresh seafood, curry, and coffee shops.

Do you ever use the grounding technique 54321?  I've heard of it but don't think I've ever used it.

Where would you relocate if you were forced to leave your place of residence?  I might move back at my childhood duplex where my extended family continues to live. It's very near where I live and would make the last-minute move convenient.

What smells better... fresh baked bread or fresh brewed coffee?  Tight competition but I might actually go for the bread on this one.

Have you ever met a president?  I haven't, but I've been at a friend's wake the same time as a president was. I'm pretty sure I've also been at an event which the current first lady attended too, but there were so many people that it was impossible to see her.

Has anyone ever given you a gag gift?  As far as I can remember, no.

Do you find smoking unattractive?  If it's done excessively and if it's starting to take effect on the appearance - like blackened gums - then yes I'm grossed out by it. I don't think I'd mind some social smoking here and there.

Do you think flirting is cheating?  I personally wouldn't be a fan but I guess it also depends on the situation.

Have you ever liked someone who had a girl/boyfriend?  Nope.

Would you ever take someone back if they cheated on you?  I hope I wouldn't.

What's a word that starts with the third letter of your first name?  Brain.

How many wives or husbands do you want?  If I ever get married I hope it only happens once.

What's your favorite color gummy bear?  Any's fine - I like gummy bears!

What's the last movie you saw in the theater?  I saw the theatrical release of BTS' Busan concert twice; once with friends and the next time I went solo.

What color is your iPod?  I haven't used an iPod since high school, but I owned a blue one.

What’s a quality that your sister has that you absolutely can’t stand?  Her memory is terrible so when we get into conversations where we talk about stuff from the past she'd be so stubbornly wrong - "I never said that" "It was you who did this and that" and it always comes off as major gaslighting and is so annoying lol.

Have you ever dated a smoker? If not, would you?  Not a habitual one. I still wouldn't.

Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings?  We share the same legal middle/maiden name if that's what you mean. But our second names are all different.

Name one of your psycho exes?  I wouldn't call them a psycho.

Have you ever been drunk at work?  Nope.

Have you ever taken a pregnancy test?  I have not.

How many bananas have you ever eaten in a row? I can only do one at a time and it's always a bad experience because I hate bananas and all fruits.

Do you have a protective father?  He can be, but in the grand scheme of things it was always my mom who has been more protective. When I was starting to explore my independence and doing more grown-up things, my dad would talk my mom down and tell her I was no longer a kid and that she'd have to allow me to do more things at some point.

Have you ever had to choose between two people?  Hasn't happened to me.

The last thing you remember dreaming about:  I always fail to remember my dreams, lol.

The last place you went:  I went to a nearby mall because I was meeting my sister there to drive her home from her date. I waited at a Starbucks and spent my time there doing some work and watching a few episodes of Friends.

The last time you held a baby:  16 years ago when my now 16-year-old cousin was still a newborn.

What’s the scariest video game you’ve ever played?  I've never played a scary video game on my own. I used to enjoy watching YouTubers do walkthroughs there.

If you had the chance to slip through a portal, despite being unaware of any of the effects and/or consequences, would you do it?  Probably not.

When someone copies you, are you more flattered or annoyed?  Depends on what about me they're copying, I guess? Like it would be extremely grating if I have to deal with someone taking credit for stuff I do at work.

Which is worse: Stale chips or flat soda?  Flat soda, because I already don't like soda.

What health problems do you have?  Scoliosis.

Have you ever had an anaphylactic reaction to anything?  No.

Do you have sensitive skin?  Yes, VERY. I'm dealing with a rash under my left arm for a few days now; no idea where it came from. I also avoid walking through grass because that 100% gives me the rashes.

What would you name a baby boy?  I can't ever seem to decide on a first name for a boy, but I've long eyed having Owen at least as a second name. I'd love to name my son after Owen Hart.

What would you name a baby girl?  Mia's still my favorite.

Do people's rude comments bother you for a long time?  Depends on who said the rude thing. I'd be more personally affected if I was hurt by someone in my personal circle, like family or close friends. Rude people at work absolutely don't affect me nearly as much as it used to.

Name three things you find boring.  Anything about finance and the stock market; attending mass; and racing.

What excites you?  Having days off work; concerts; and literally anything related to BTS.

Would you send your kids to Sunday school?  That would be the worst decision I'd make as a parent ever. No.

What is the most interesting biography you have read?  I really enjoyed Chris Jericho's first memoir.

Do you think your life story would make a good book someday?  Nah.

Do you buy art for your walls?  I don't but that's something I'd love to be able to do (and afford) someday.

Would you ever decorate a room with a travel theme?  I'd rather my room not have a theme.

What insects do you think are pretty?  None of them.

Do you love God?  I don't believe in that.

Is there an ice cream flavor that you strongly dislike? Which one?  Buko pandan and anything fruit.

Do you own any books with an image of a cat on the front cover?  It's very likely, but I can't remember which one/s exactly.

Does anything you own have an image of a bird on it?  ^ Same thing.

Does anyone you know own a spaniel? How about an Irish setter?  Not that I know of.

[notebooknebula]

Finding Deals and BRRRR Strategy | Corey Reyment & Jay Conner, The Private Money Authority

https://www.jayconner.com/finding-deals-and-brrrr-strategy-corey-reyment-jay-conner-the-private-money-authority/

Corey Reyment guest of Jay Conner shares his strategies on finding real estate deals while using the BRRRR method.

Corey Reyment is a full-time real estate investor originally from Green Bay.

Corey and his wife Carrie bought their first duplex at the end of 2016 and parlayed that into 115 doors within three years of that first purchase using the BRRRR Strategy almost exclusively creating a portfolio now worth over $8 Million dollars.

They also run Fox Cities Home Buyers and Wisconsin Discount Properties, the largest real estate wholesaling company in Wisconsin, where they did about $2 million in revenue in 2020.

They teach students across the country who are looking to get their first BRRRR Deal and run a Mastermind Group called Launch, which helps businesses go from working in their real estate business to working on their business.

For more valuable information click on this link and watch the complete episode: https://youtu.be/ZSq-AX2-1PM – “Discover the BRRRR Method with Corey Reyment and Jay Conner, The Private Money Authority”

Private Money Academy Conference:

https://jaysliveevent.com/live/?oprid=&ref=42135

Have you read Jay’s new book: Where to Get The Money Now? It is available FREE (all you pay is the shipping and handling) at https://www.JayConner.com/Book

Free Webinar: http://bit.ly/jaymoneypodcast

Jay Conner is a proven real estate investment leader. Without using his own money or credit, Jay maximizes creative methods to buy and sell properties with profits averaging $64,000 per deal.

What is Real Estate Investing? Live Private Money Academy Conference

https://youtu.be/QyeBbDOF4wo

YouTube Channel

https://www.youtube.com/c/RealEstateInvestingWithJayConner

iTunes:

https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/private-money-academy-real-estate-investing-jay-conner/id1377723034

Listen to our Podcast:

https://realestateinvestingdeals.mypodcastworld.com/11298/finding-deals-and-brrrr-strategy-corey-reyment-jay-conner-the-private-money-authority

Real Estate Investing With Jay Conner

Jay Conner:

Regardless of our exit strategy, this BRRRR strategy incorporates, it’s really not an exit strategy. It’s a hold strategy. Regardless of whether you’re flipping, holding, selling on rent-to-own, whatever, doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter if you’re a wholesaler. You got to find the deal. You got to find a discounted property. So I want to hang out on this a little bit, particularly in the market that we’re in now. So Carol Joy, my wife, and I, we’ve been at this game now full-time since 2003. And since 2003, you got to find the deals, right? So as you mentioned, when we started out what worked really well a couple of years ago, doesn’t work so well right today. I mean, in this market, I’ve never totally relied on the multiple listing service, but, we just wouldn’t be doing any deals at all.

If I was relying on the multiple listings, I don’t- To tell you the truth, Corey, I don’t know when I bought a house out of the multiple listing service, I just can’t remember when. And I did do two to three a month with average profits at $67,000, but they’re not coming out of the listing service. So I want to talk to you. You’re doing a lot of deals in this challenging market where, and when I say market, I don’t mean where I live. I mean the whole nation.

There’s no inventory in the multiple listing service. My guess is you are finding your deals off-market. In other words, they’re not listed in the multiple listing service. What are your favorite and best methods today that’s working right now? That’s giving you consistent lead flow, to find these deals?

Corey Reyment:

Well, I will say this, Jay, and this is probably, not going to be a cheat.I don’t want to give a tip that’s not achievable for the majority of the audience because they’re probably not at this point yet, but we actually just started TV a couple months ago, doing TV ads in our local market. And that is just dominating right now. I mean, there’s, it’s just crazy. It totally outweighs all of our lead sources right now, probably by three times the amount of leads that we were getting from other sources. The other source though that’s been like the old bread and butter and it’s boring, and it’s like some people dog it, and they call it “old school,” but it’s just direct mail and it’s consistent direct mail. And I see that happen a lot of times, people, dog direct mail, but it’s not consistent.

They’re not consistently sending out direct mail. They’re doing it and then they do it for a couple months. And if they don’t get some deals, they give up on it. And direct mail takes time for it to work is what we’ve seen over the years. And so those two sources have been really good. Texting is another really, really good source. However, by the time this podcast drops, who knows where the regulations are going to be on that, it’s getting really muddy waters, as far as what kind of language you have to put in your texts. And it’s getting a little more diluted, a lot more people doing it, but it’s going to become, I think, a legal issue on texting. So our timeframe to be able to hit these texts is probably very limited on when that window for marketing is going to be open. But I would say right now, our two best is the old-fashioned, not sexy bread and butter direct mail. And then TV is crushing.

Jay Conner:

Yeah. Well, and for your TV to work, my guess is you’re probably going to need to be in a decent size market versus my size market, which is only 40,000 people.

Corey Reyment:

Yeah, and surprisingly Green Bay is only a hundred thousand people. I mean, it’s not a lot of people, but we have a couple other tertiary markets around Green Bay as well, that are about a hundred thousand and stuff like that. So we hit all of those little smaller cities, I guess, along that same area. And so it’s been really good, really interesting. We’re getting some in like outlier kind of like, cities of like 3,000 people where I don’t dunno if we almost have to give us the house to make it a deal. But that’s where some of the best deals come from, right? When we don’t actually want them.

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 8 -- Aftershocks

Word Count: 13482

READ ON AO3

Margaret’s quarters had to be one of the most glamourous in the entire manor. Designed to be a duplex, it consisted of two different spacesーthree, if you count the bathroomーthe lower floor held the living room, and the higher one was where the Council member’s actual bedroom was. 

The living room resembled that of a wealthy family’s. A deep red velvet hue gave a touch of colour to the walls, which were decorated by several portraits revealing pieces of contemporary art. Now, Sam loved going to museums and culture in general, but she couldn’t identify what the artists had tried to portray to save her life. When asking about the meaning of one of the paintings, Margaret once told her it was an allegory to the passage of time. How could a smear of red, a blue smudge, and a black, straight line mean any of that she had no idea.

Questionable taste in decor aside, Margaret’s quarters also consisted of a parquet flooring that always seemed to have been recently varnished, so shiny and clean one could eat from it. Just from a small glimpse at her room, one could guess the older witch had a weakness for rococo furniture; a set of golden couches and chairs with cream upholstery was scattered around the place. A backless seat was in front of the piano at the far corner of the room, a loveseat could be seen located under a particularly large painting, Sam and Margaret were both seated, one in front of the other, on two chairs…

Ironically for someone as elegant and graceful as Margaret, all her plants were made of plastic. Grandma Ida had once told her in confidence the clan’s best spellcaster was also the worst gardener she’d ever seen. According to her grandma, when Margaret was still just a witch in training her teachers ended up forbidding her from getting near to their supplies of mandrake; she always killed them all and the plant was very difficult to find. 

At the far corner of the room, to the side of the piano, a white staircase with a golden banister led to the Council member’s room. What secrets her bedroom held, however, Sam didn’t know. Margaret was very particular about who she let in on her personal life, and bedrooms were extremely personal. 

Which was enough of a hint to understand she hadn’t been called just to chat and have some tea with her. “Your Majesty,” Margaret broke her out of her musings and from inspecting her personal chambers, “I understand you already know why I have summoned you here, correct?”

Even when she was about to scold her, the older witch always looked like the epitome of grace and dignity. They were currently seated on two of her rococo chairs, which Sam had to admit, were pretty but not necessarily comfortable; a coffee table with a porcelain tea set alongside different types of biscuits, scones (a favourite of Margaret since she spent some time abroad in London in her youth), and sandwiches were in full display in between the two. 

Knowing how seriously Margaret took table manners, Sam put her teacup on its respective plate before delicately placing both down on the coffee table. “I have an inkling as to why that might be.”

The African-American woman’s perfect posture never faltered. “In that case, I will get straight to the point: sending Miss Baker and Miss Zhou back home while you were left alone with the Ghost King was unbelievably unwise.”

Sam couldn’t help but wince when Margaret’s forest green eyes laid on her, an icy quality to them. “I understand your concern, Margaret, believe me, I do, but…”

“‘But?’” Margaret cut her off, raising an eyebrow as her cup of tea was halfway to her mouth. “Your Majesty, in case you forgot, you are our queen. Amity Park clan’s leader. Dozens of women depend on you for guidance. Your sole presence keeps us from going to war over the throne!”

Unable to hear the same things over and over, the young queen turned her head to the side, as if pained by her words. “I know, I know.” She raised a hand to silence her. “Margaret, you needn’t remind me the very reason why I even stepped up to become queen. Keeping the clan from succumbing to chaos and honouring my grandmother are my main motivations for everything I do.”

“You and me both know that, my Queen.” Margaret conceded, stirring her second cup of tea. “But that does not change the fact that what you did was foolish. However, I also know that you never do anything without reason, so I am willing to hear it.”

With a gesture of her hand, she motioned for Sam to explain herself. Sighing, the violet-eyed girl did just that. “I know my life is precious, but the circumstances were dire and even now I can’t shake the feeling that it’s a miracle I’m even alive.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty. But I fail to see how that is helping your case.” The green-eyed woman pointed out. Deep down she knew Sam probably had a good reason for doing what she did, but as second-in-command, it was her duty to ensure their queen never made a mistake like that ever again. 

“I’m getting there, I promise.” Sam hastily said. 

With a nod, Margaret gestured for her to continue. “I don’t feel comfortable putting my safety before others’ just because of my position.” She finished, and even Margaret’s stoic mask cracked a little at the revelation. “Stephanie and Susan were with me, Margaret. They were in as much danger as I was, I couldn’t risk their lives like that.”

“Miss Zhou and Miss Baker both volunteered to escort you to your visits to the Ghost Zone, your Majesty.” Her fellow Council member reminded her in between sips. “Had anything happened to them, they were just doing their job.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing their loyalty would force them to pay such a high price.” 

Margaret was about to take another sip of her tea when Sam’s solemn words made her eyes widen. Looking over at her, she noticed her tense posture, her stiff shoulders, her slim fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of her black and purple plaid skirt...And the resolution in her eyes. The older witch could’ve sworn she saw the same fire that was so characteristic of her grandmother in Sam’s violet gaze. 

Unaware of the reaction she’d caused to the woman in front of her, Sam went on. “I’m the queen, Margaret. It’s my duty to make sure our people are safe. How do you expect me to just leave them behind, not knowing if they’ll even make it alive!? Even if the black hole had been taken care of without my assistance and they would’ve been safe from it, how do we know the ghosts wouldn’t have taken advantage of the chaos to attack them?! 

“Even if I have a feeling King Phantom would’ve tried to protect them, it was still too risky. I would never have been able to live with myself if anything had happened to them because, somehow, my life’s more important than theirs!”

Setting her now cold teacup down, the African-American witch clasped her hands together on her lap. She regarded the young queen with a face that betrayed no emotion. “Your Majesty, you do realise every single one of your points can also be applied to your own situation, right? Just like Miss Baker and Miss Zhou could have been in danger at the hands of the ghosts, so could have you. Except an attempt against your life would be grounds for going to war.”

Knowing she was right, Sam averted her gaze to the side. Suddenly that one painting with the impossible-to-understand analogy on the passage of time seemed much more interesting than ten minutes ago. 

Margaret sighed as she stood up. Her high heels clicking against the parquet, she hovered over Sam, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Samantha, I know choosing what is best for our people is hard, especially if it comes into conflict with our personal beliefs and desires, but duty must come first.”

The young sorceress started at the sound of her full name. She really hated being called ‘Samantha’, but knew that was the most personal Margaret would ever get with her, so it'd only be rude of her to complain. “I know,” she sighed dejectedly. “I know, it’s just...I can’t just do that to them! Susan is still just a teenager; no matter how good of a potion-maker and warrior she is, she’s still too young. She has so much to live, I can’t afford to make her miss out on all that for my sake…”

“But what about Miss Baker? I believe you two are the same age; you both still have so much to live, as well.”

“You mean Stephanie still has so much to live for. I gave up on that a long time ago…” Sam couldn’t resist the urge to scoff. 

Even if all witches had to make compromises to balance their lives inside and outside of the coven, Sam’s entire life had revolved around giving up on one passion after the other. Growing up she couldn’t make friends because other girls weren’t allowed to go near the queen’s granddaughter. Her world was reduced to the manor and her house, to her family and her teachers, to her lessons and the very scarce moments where she could pretend she was a kid like any other. After her grandma died, under the threat of her coven falling into anarchy until they found a new leader, she sacrificed her one chance at a relatively normal life in exchange of being elected the future queen. For four years her extensive studying and isolation were self-imposed; the only times she allowed herself to take a break where her birthday ーso her dad wouldn’t get suspicious as to what was so important she couldn’t celebrate her own birthdayーand the anniversary of her grandma’s death; because there was no way she’d ever have the energy to work on the most painful day of the year. And now that she was queen, every waking moment was dedicated to looking after her people.

Stephanie was just a shy girl who loved books. Between the two of them, she was the only one who really had a chance at experiencing life outside of the manor’s walls. And Sam refused to be the reason why she lost that chance. 

Understanding dawning on her, Margaret’s face softened. “Your motives were noble, my Queen, and I am sure the Baker and Zhou families are extremely grateful for having their children returned to them. Just try to keep in mind that with great power comes great responsibility, and more often than not, that means making sacrifices for the greater good.”

As the spellcaster went back to her chair, Sam could only stare after her like she’d just nonchalantly revealed the meaning of life to her. “...did you just quote Spider-Man?”

Picking her teacup back up, she just chuckled in amusement. “I am a woman of culture, your Majesty. Now, pour yourself another cup of tea or help yourself to some snacks, before it gets cold.”

Reaching over for the kettle to pour some more tea on her cup at the same time as she started munching on a vegetarian sandwich, a comfortable silence settled between them. The only sounds disturbing the quiet atmosphere were the occasional sound of sipping and of plates clattering. In the midst of the silence, Sam’s mind couldn’t help but race back to the moment right after Phantom stopped the blackhole. 

She wasn’t lying when she told Margaret she believed he wouldn’t have let anything happen to Susan and Stephanie, for her own protection seemed to be one of his top priorities. That and their last interaction before she returned to Earth had been replaying inside her head over the last several hours. 

As she and Phantom stared at each other, unbeknownst to them, both thinking that they could indeed make things work as long as they worked together, Sam’s mind unexpectedly wandered to uncharted territory. Now that she was looking at him up close, a part of her had to agree with all the fangirls who’d squeal every time Phantom appeared on TV; he was quite handsome. 

It was undeniable that the Ghost King’s defined physique was anything but hard on the eyes. She didn’t know what it was, but something about himーmaybe the inches he had on her, or maybe the way he’d pressed her close to his chest earlier when he was trying to put her to safety, or maybe the intensity of his neon green eyesーmade her feel safe. 

Now that they weren’t separated by a large table and a few feets of distance, Sam could appreciate his chiseled jaw and how his Adam’s apple moved up and down when he gulped, sending a heatwave straight to her very core. His intoxicating eyes no longer looked at her with suspicion and disdain, but with gratefulness and with a candour whose origins she couldn’t quite identify, and at that very moment she was sure nothing would’ve been able to get her to tear her own violet gaze away from them. His shock-white hair alongside his characteristically ghostly glowーthat glow she used to interpret as a warning sign; a reminder of his true natureーall of a sudden made him look ethereal, otherworldly. Like a guardian from beyond sent to protect everyone from evil. Like...Like…

Like an angel.

And his lips...Oh, God. They were so inviting. The mere thought of kissing those lips was incredibly exhilarating. From where she stood, Sam could already imagine his lips on hers, coming together in a slow, passionate dance; their touch so rough and yet so gentle; both breathing her to life and leaving her breathless; and the way he was moving them at that very moment only helped in further cementing her beliefsーwait a minute. They were moving?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, shaking her hands before her and already feeling the scorching heat on her cheeks. She barely resisted the urge to facepalm herself. What was she thinking?! Drooling over Phantom? Fantasising with kissing him?! Did she lose her mind?! Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she originally believedーshe was still debating on itーbut he was still a ghost. And ghosts and witches didn’t mix, especially like that. Hell, not even when they were still allies did a ghost and a witch ever end up together!

Noticing the Ghost King staring at her quizzically, the witch cleared her throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly. 

Phantom’s eyes shot open at that. “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Sam told him, missing the way his eyes softened at her words. She put a little distance between the two, ready to cast the spell that would send her home, when Phantom’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of herself, the young witch couldn’t help but give him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

The relieved expression he sent her way sent her heart aflutter. Feeling the blush coming back, she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!” Again, she was getting ready to leave when Phantom’s voice stopped her.

“Wait, Lady Arcana!”

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

Against her better judgement, Sam’s expression softened. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

She could almost feel how every individual cell in her body separated before being rearranged again. The tingling sensation was similar to when she’d phased through Phantom’s lair, except it was warm rather than chilly. Spellcasting felt like being cocooned in a thousand blankets inside your home during a particularly cold winter night, while the sensation brought by ghost powers was akin to sticking your head into the freezer when it was 104 º outside. 

Both experiences were incredibly pleasant, albeit drastically different from one another.

When Sam opened her eyes, everything was mayhem. 

She’d arrived in the middle of the Grand Hall inside 917 Maplestreet, and every single witch present was looking straight at her. Judging from their positionsーsome had risen from their seats, their hands slamming the tables; others had their arms raised as if making suggestions or waiting for their turns to speak up; a few were arguing amongst themselves…ー, she’d just interrupted a council meeting. Most likely to discuss her current situation. 

Oh, great. 

“Your Majesty!” A voice cried out, and Sam almost fell back upon impact, for someone had slammed into her chest with great force, almost knocking the wind out of her. 

Looking down, she realised the iron grip she suddenly found herself in belonged to none other than Susan. The poor thing was sobbing and hiccuping uncontrollably against her chest. Automatically, Sam put her own arms around her in an attempt to sooth her. With how fierce and disciplined she usually was, it was easy to forget she was, technically, still a kid. She had much to learn before she became completely desensitised to the world’s horrors. 

“It’s fine, Susan.” The queen soothed, caressing her hair. “I’m fine.”

Right at that moment, the room erupted in a row of applause and cheering, alongside many questions directed her way. Before Sam could so much as tell them to speak one at a time, she felt something being discreetly slipped under her dress. Turning her head to the side in surprise, she found herself face to face with Stephanie. “Welcome home, your Majesty. I am so glad you have returned.”

When the strawberry blonde winked at her, Sam understood everything. Steph had taken advantage of the current chaos, and of her tied up skirt, to return Arcana’s Grimoire to her. Sam couldn’t help but smile; she was worth much more than people often gave her credit for. 

Paulina and Star almost tripped over themselves trying to reach her. Rushing to her side, both simultaneously looking panicked and relieved beyond belief, the moment they reached her side they started fussing about her personal care, promising to prepare a warm bubble bath immediately.

“Your Majesty!” Paulina exclaimed in between pants, “You have no idea how glad we are that you’re back!”

“Totally,” Star agreed beside her friend, nodding but equally winded. “One minute Pauli was trash-talking Ms. Gorilla, and the next news reached us that you hadn’t returned from the Ghost Zone!”

“I’m sorry,” a sultry voice from behind startled them, while Sam shook her head in pity, anticipating what was to come, “you were doing what?” Delilah asked the two ladies-in-waiting sharply, her unforgiving eyes narrowed on them.

The Witch Queen could only roll her eyes knowingly at the way Paulina and Star flinched upon noticing the shapeshifter heard them. ‘Ms. Gorilla’, as Star helpfully supplied when they were assigned to her upon becoming the clan leader, was a moniker Paulina had come up with at the height of her jealousy towards the stunning Council member. Sam, despite her love for animals and nature, hadn’t noticed until they pointed it out, but Delilah shared her name with the famous Purple Back Gorilla that was discovered to be female by a high school student working on extra credit back when she was fourteen. 

The thing is, as good-natured and laid-back as Delilah could be, she did not appreciate being compared to such a majestic creature. “I’m waiting, Miss Anderson. What did you say you were doing before you heard the news?”

From where she stood, still being held by Susan’s iron grip, Sam could see how Star was beginning to sweat. The blonde usually didn’t have trouble saying what she thought of others, even if it was mean-spirited or uncalled for, but even she knew it was foolish to anger another witch, especially when her position was much higher than hers. 

Squirming under the shapeshifter’s harsh glare, the handmaiden couldn’t do anything but stutter. “Uh...um...w-well...we...we were…and the...the gorilla...b-but then...” She trailed off, luckily for her, Paulina chose that very moment to jump in on the conversation. 

“We were just talking about the new gorilla-inspired fashion collection!” The Latina lied and, if you listened closely, you could hear the way her already pronounced accent thickened. Paulina was a good liar, but even she sometimes had trouble working under pressure. “It’s absolutely fabulous! Almost as much as your blouse,” she complimented as she reached out to touch the fabric, “Is it new?”

Unamused, Delilah decided against pushing the issue...for now. Gently swatting the Latina’s hand away from her clothes, she directed a much kinder expression towards Sam. “It’s good to have you back, my Queen. We were worried sick for your safety.”

The violet-eyed queen smiled in return. “It’s good to be back.”

Suddenly, an imposing voice made itself heard from the other side of the room. Heads snapping to the origin of the sound, everyone’s eyes landed on Margaret standing with her hands behind her back by the entrance. She looked as poised and collected as usual.

Somehow, Sam knew she was in for a world of trouble. 

“Your Majesty,” Margaret began, and her voice commanded such respect a pin drop could be heard in the middle of the previously loud room, “you have no idea how grateful we are for your safe return. If what Miss Zhou and Miss Baker told us is true,” both witches at her side sent their queen an apologetic look, “then you must be exhausted. Please, after you’re well-rested, come tomorrow to my personal chambers.” She ordered, because she didn’t even ask for an answer, before turning away. Just as she was about to leave the room, she called out over her shoulder, “We have much to discuss.”

Oh, yeah. She was indubitably, thoroughly screwed. 

Her instincts were proven correct the moment she was given the third degree by the woman in front of her. As she pondered Margaret’s previous words, however, a question materialised itself inside Sam’s mind. 

Furrowing her brow, she called out to her fellow Council member. “Margaret?”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“You said we more often than not have to make sacrifices in the name of the greater good, even if it goes against our personal beliefs and desires…” she started carefully, looking down at her cup. “Have you ever had to sacrifice something you cared deeply about or wanted desperately for the sake of the coven?”

For a moment, the silence had returned, only it now hung heavily over them, when just a few minutes it’d been comfortable. After a few minutes had passed and she still received no answer, Sam was about to ask again when Margaret finally answered. “Yes, I have.”

Her head shooting at her uncharacteristically lifeless voice, Sam almost gasped. Before her, Margaret wore the saddest expression she’d ever seen of her face. Her deep, green eyes, usually so vibrant and full of colour, were now bleak and devastated, reminiscent of a forest after a wildfire. The otherwise calm and collected Council member now looked heartbroken and desolate, like a piece of her was missing. Margaret certainly wasn’t crying, but she seemed so miserable Sam could feel tears of her own stinging her eyes. 

“I...I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh...right! O-of course. Don’t worry.” The lavender-eyed witch hastily said, too shell shocked to be more eloquent. Margaret never used contractions when talking to her. 

Margaret acknowledged her with a respectful nod of her head. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Then she went back to drinking her tea. 

Deciding it’d be best to imitate her and pretend nothing had happened, Sam couldn't help but wonder what might’ve happened to Margaret to make her so miserable. But above all else, she could only hope she’d never have to sacrifice the same thing. Somehow, she had a feeling death would be less painful.

...........

The forest in the outskirts of Amity Park could be described as anything but a walk in the park. The tree trunks knotted and twisted, forming shapes made out of the stuff of nightmares. The wind rustling the leaves sounded like a ghostly wail, not unlike Danny’s, albeit much quieter. That only made it more sinister. And the sound of twigs, dead leaves, and fallen tree branches crunching beneath had him frantically looking around for the slightest sign of danger. Since it was mid-October, nearing Halloween, the weather was beginning to change as well. For instance, temperatures were starting to drop from the cool yet warm ones that reigned during late September, and the first fall rainstorm hit the town just the night before.

And since it’d just rained the night before, that meant Tucker was now stepping on mud. He was stepping on mud with his new boots on. He was stepping on mud and getting his new boots that cost him a fortune, mind you, dirty. Already irritated and spooked beyond belief, he called out to the person walking in front of him, “Care to remind me why the fuck I didn’t turn you down on your invitation to, and I quote, ‘a fun fieldtrip?’”

Stopping momentarily to look over her shoulder, Jazz scolded him, “Language.” With that out of the way, she turned her head back around and kept on walking through the forest. “And to answer your question, you agreed to come with me because you want to help Danny as much as I do.” 

Tucker rolled his eyes, taking advantage of her back, turned to him, and followed her close behind. “Yeah, that I know. What I mean to say is, how is hiking aimlessly around the woods going to do anything to help Danny?!”

They’d been trekking around that damned forest for three hours, with absolutely nothing to guide them but an old, probably outdated, map some ranger had given to Jazz back at the information booth. Three hours wandering around a forest that was creepier than Mr. Lancer’s ‘sculptured summer physique’ back in summer camp, and the most resting they’d done was when Jazz would suddenly halt to check the map or crouch down to get some samples. 

Just like she was doing at that very moment. “Look at this, Tucker. Ocimum basilicum!” She reached her hand out to show it to him before putting it inside a little glass jar. She brought the jar close to her face. “Did you know in Christianity this plant is said to have sprouted when Jesus’ blood fell to the ground?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” The technopath said, unimpressed. “What I do know is that Ocimum basilicum and basil are the exact same thing! Care to tell me why you’re so transfixed on a mere spice? As much as I love myself a good pizza, even I have to admit this is just ridiculous.”

Sliding her backpack across her shoulder, the redhead put away the basil. With that taken care of, she sent her friend a bored look, standing up from the floor and coming to stand beside him. “It’s important because it’sー.”

“‘It’s going to help Danny.’” Tucker finished for her, doing a poor impression of her voice. “You said that over a million times already! Can you at least tell me how it’s going to help Danny?”

Jazz looked away, sulking. “Because...because it just is, okay?! Trust me, Tucker, I know what I’m doing.”

But the African American young man wasn’t buying it. That answer was far too childish, especially coming from someone like Jazz, who’d been acting like someone twice her age for almost as long as he could remember. Something was definitely off. 

“But what could it be?” He asked himself as they resumed their march. She said she knew what she was doing, and that was all great and dandy, except he had no idea what they were doing! He was the technician of the team, his specialty were computers, viruses, and thwarting technology-dependent ghosts’ plans! He was not made to hike, looking for God knows what, in the middle of a forest! 

And Jazz?! He barely held back a scoff. No matter how much more physically adept than him she was, the eldest Fenton was no field agent, either. For years, her way of assisting Danny in ghost-hunting had been through research, bringing back-up,helping work out the tricky details in their plans, now she was obsessed with finding out more about the witches…

Wait a minute. 

Tucker stopped dead in his tracks, fists curled at his sides and a very angry glare directed at the back of the head of his best friend’s older sister appeared on his face. “You dragged me here to help you research witches and avoid Danny’s wrath.”

It wasn’t a question and she knew it. Wincing at the, accurate, accusation, the redhead turned around slowly. “I...I have no idea what you’re talking about…” She tried playing dumb. 

In an instant, Tucker got in her face, wagging a chastising finger at her. “Oh, don’t you dare play innocent, little missy! You might have been able to fool your parents all these years, but that’s only because they’re surprisingly gullible. You can’t fool me; we’re here to research witches aren’t we?”

Looking down on the floor, Jazz ultimately gave in, sighing. “Yes, we are.”

“And I’m guessing Danny knows nothing about this which is why; first, you went out of your way to organise this on my free day, which, for the record, also happens to be the day Danny’s schedule is packed; second, you wouldn’t tell me why we’re here; and third, you’re just picking random things up, because not even you know what you’re looking for.” 

She bit her lip, knowing she’d been caught. She always forgot how observant Tucker could be. “Maybe?”

“Jazz!” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?!” She snapped. “I know I shouldn’t have lied to you or Danny, but I just can’t sit idly by and watch as he enters the lion’s den, completely unprepared!” She stepped closer to Tucker, looking him dead in the eye. “You know Danny, Tucker. He shoulders everything and refuses to let us help. Please, you have to understand; I have to help my little brother.”

Looking down at her pleading eyes, the techno geek’s own teal orbs softened. He did understand. He really wished Danny would let them help more often. It was just painful watching him come back looking like death, knowing he’d been sticking his neck out for a town that didn’t always appreciate him, and not being able to do much because even then he was protecting them. 

It was maddening, really. 

Sighing, he grabbed Jazz by her shoulders, trying to show her just how much he understood her plight. “Listen, I know how you feel. You know I know how you feel. But we gotta make sure us going behind Danny’s back will really be for his own good. We can’t just wander aimlessly with no real plan in mind! Never mind how good our intentions are.” Seeing as she only stared at him, unblinkingly, he sighed and let her go. “Face it, Jazz. We’re about as lost as Danny when it comes to witches.”

He was sure what he said would be discouraging, hence why he didn’t understand the way her eyes lit up. “That’s where you’re wrong!” She exclaimed just as she started rummaging through her backpack. After a few seconds, she pulled a book out. “This is a book on plants, arthropods, and other ingredients traditionally used by witches in folklore. If we find a place where many of said ingredients grow or inhabit, we might know where to find them!”

“Right…” he drawled, he should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to keep Jazz from her goal. “Because there’s no way a group of women from the 21st century have learned to grow or breed those things from the comfort of their homes.” He deadpanned in response. “Is that why we’re here? To look for a bunch of plants and insects?”

Her right hand still clutching the book close to her chest, the other hand fisted on her hip, Jazz sent him an irritated look. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking the witches’ lair could actually be around here.”

Tucker’s brows shot up at that. “What makes you think that?”

“Because it’s tradition!” She exclaimed, before pulling her phone out of her pocket and shoving it in his face. “Did you know Baba Yaga was said to inhabit the Russian forests?”

Glaring at her, he carefully got her phone out of his face. “Yeah...She was also said to be an old hag, with a blue nose, and a bone leg. Pretty sure the Witch Queen Danny meets up with is supposed to be quite the looker. So, try something else.”

Jazz pouted, before trying to come up with a theory that would please him. “Well, what if there are Russian witches in Amity Park? Maybe they stayed true to tradition, taking advantage of the locals’ ignorance to remain inconspicuous.”

“Nice theory,” he clapped sarcastically, “only one tiny, itsy, bitsy detail, though. I doubt the Cold War made it easy for Russian witches to move to the USA. Instead of putting them up to trial for being witches, they’d have been accused of being spies.”

She was beginning to get frustrated with Tucker’s lack of cooperation. Groaning, she snapped. “What do you suggest we do, then?!”

“How about get back to civilisation and forget all about this silly quest, huh?!” He snapped back, dramatically flailing his arms in the air in exasperation. Seriously, were all Fentons supposed to be stubborn to the point of idiocy? Didn’t they understand some things weren’t worth falling-outs and even their lives? He loved that family to death, but if he was going to die for them, he at least would like it to be because of something useful. 

Jazz just kept staring back at him, frowning in annoyance, before turning away from him in a huff. Tucker was about to call her out on her behaviour when she beat him to it. “I know I’m being difficult. I know I’m looking for things that aren’t there, but I just need to help Danny!” She whirled back around to look him in the eye, desperation clearly laced in her voice. “Please, Tucker. You have to understand.”

“Uh, no. Not that! Anything but that!” He cried, frantically covering his eyes with his hands. She was pleading, giving him the trademark Fenton, sad, puppy-dog look. The damned thing was so effective he was genuinely surprised it didn’t count as a persuasion technique. Peeking through his fingers, he chanced to look, only to close his eyes shut not long after. Nope, she was still doing that look. 

With a dismayed moan, he gave in after a while. “Fiiiiiine!” He groaned, only to subsequently send a glare at Jazz’s direction when he saw her fist-bumping from the corner of his eye. He quickly squared his posture, jabbing his finger against her chest. “But if Danny busts us, you’re explaining things to him!”

He so hated the way she was beaming at him, completely ignoring his threat. “No problem!” She then slapped his hand away, causing him to let out a sound of complaint. The grin had been replaced by an irritated frown. “If you ever touch my chest again, though, I’m going to blast you with the Fenton Ghost Peeler until your skin falls off and only your non-existent muscles remain.”

“Hey!” He began to protest against her comment, only to back-pedal when she sent him a withering glare in warning. “No touching your chest ever again. Got it.” He smiled sheepishly at her. When that seemed to please her, she turned her focus on her book, prompting Tucker to ask. “So, what now?”

“Now we look for evidence that proves the witches of Amity Park visit this place.” She replied, not looking up from her book. 

“No, I got that. I mean how are we going to do that?”

“Well, if witches really do need certain ingredients for their spells and potions, then I’d suggest we look for things that could possibly grow around here.” Jazz kept reading the paragraphs detailed in her book, turning pages at the speed of lightning. Stopping at a certain page, she tapped her chin with one finger as she pondered their options before showing the book to Tucker. “Do you think we could find some newts around here? They’re said to have been highly demanded as an ingredient for their eyes.”

Taking a look at the slimy creature pictured in the book, the techno geek recoiled in disgust. He couldn’t hold back a shudder before regaining his composure. “First of all,” he lifted his index finger in the air, “the closest lake in the area is Lake Eerie, a good three hours away from here. So I highly doubt we’ll be finding any newts any time soon.” He fiddled with his PDA before showing it to her, a map appearing on the screen. “And second, even if there were any lakes around here, there’s no way I’m gonna touch an amphibian. I’m a techno geek, not a biology geek. If you want help collecting those little guys, you’re going to have to ask Sam for help.”

That perked the redhead’s interest. “You mean the Manson heiress?” She asked, not missing a beat. Even if the topic of conversation had changed greatly, her focus was still on her book. If newts weren’t an option, something else had to be. She just had to find it. “Is it me, or is there something going on between her and Danny?”

Not one to resist some good gossip, especially when it was related to Danny’s love life, Tucker leaned in closer to Jazz, as if he were about to share a conspiratorial theory with her. “Oh, something is definitely going on. I haven’t seen Danny act so comfortably yet bashful around a girl since Valerie. As for Sam, let’s just say I don’t usually see her with other guys. Period. As a matter of fact…” Eyes snapping open, he trailed off. What Jazz had said about Sam finally catching up to him. 

The psychology understudy looked over at him in concern. Unlike her friend, she wasn’t one to gossip, but her little brother’s mental health and social life was something she cared deeply about. Moreso because the two aspects tended to go hand in hand. “Uh, Tucker? Is everything okay?”

“What did you just say?” He practically mumbled in a voice so low Jazz had to strain her ears to hear him. 

“Um,” she stammered, “I said, ‘is everything okay?’”

“No, no.” The African American man shook his head and hands, indicating that wasn’t what he meant. “Before that.”

“I literally said ‘uh, Tucker.’” She repeated, looking at him like he’d grown a second head or something. Did a branch fall on his head while they were hiking and she hadn’t noticed?

Oh, for the love of God...This was getting ridiculous! Did he have to spell it out for her? Scrubbing his face with one hand, growing frustrated, he tried one last time. “No, Jazz.” He gritted out as gently as possible. “I’m asking what you called Sam earlier.”

“You mean when I said ‘the Manson heiress?’” She raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Yes, that!” He exclaimed, before returning Jazz’s confused expression with one of his own. “What do you mean by that?”

“You really don’t know?” She asked in disbelief. Considering that, no, he really had no idea what she was even talking about, the technophile could only shake his head and wait for answers. “Oh! Wow...So turns out Danny isn’t the only person in Amity Park who doesn’t know!” She meant to mutter that part to herself, but her disbelief was so great she forgot to lower her voice, causing Tucker to hear her just fine. 

He didn’t know why, but the moment the Fenton girl’s aqua eyes landed on him, Tucker couldn’t help but feel he was being regarded with pity. The fact that she nervously rubbed her arm holding the book up and down while avoiding his gaze didn’t help matters any. “Um, you see...You know Sam’s name, right?”

That made him furrow his brow, not quite following. “Obviously,” he scoffed. “Her name’s Sam Manson. But how come her ID makes her an heiress?!”

“Because she’s not just a Manson,” Jazz corrected him gently, “she’s the only child of the Mansons.”

“Are you saying she’s related to that psycho serial killer?” He squeaked, rightfully freaked out. Deep down, however, he knew that couldn’t be right. Sure, Sam had a spooky taste in...everything, really. But she would never hurtーno, wait a minute. She could definitely inflict pain on others through elaborate and well-thought schemes. But she just couldn’t be related to a serial killer!

...or could she?

“What?!” The redhead gasped. “No, of course not! I’m saying she’s related to the Manson family,” when he was about to comment further, she stopped him with a raised hand, “as in, the descendants of Izzy Manson,” she stressed, annoyed; “the creator of the cellophane-wrapping machine used for chopsticks.”

Growing frustrated at Tucker’s blank face, she made an indecipherable sound at the back of her throat before snapping. “Darn it, Tucker! Rich, I’m saying she’s filthy, stinking rich!” She rolled her eyes when the techno geek’s jaw almost touched the floor. “Gosh! I swear, you’re even more hopeless than Danny!”

“Wait a minute, Sam is rich?!” He all but screeched. “How come she never told me?!”

Feeling sorry for him, she could only shrug in response, her previous aggravation gone. Honestly, she’d only met the girl once, and not even a prodigy like her would’ve been able to determine her thought process with just one session. “I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I’m a bit more surprised you never figured it out.”

That gave him pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” she crossed her arms. How could she put this gently? “I mean, you’ve known her for a while, haven’t you?” Slowly, he nodded. “And you’re way more into the wealthy and powerful than Danny, and, come on, Sam’s an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian Goth.” She sent him a pointed look. “Goth clothing and vegetarian food aren’t cheap, you know.”

Tucker could only grimace, knowing she had a point. “I know who the Mansons are, but I’ve never seen Sam in any of the pictures taken of her family’s sophisticated parties. And, really, would you seriously take a look at her parents and go, ‘Yep, no doubt. These preppy, cheerful folks are definitely related to cynical, brooding Sam Manson.’” He defended himself, and judging by Jazz’s expression, he knew she concurred. Then, he added, almost as an afterthought, “And honestly, I legit thought she basically ate grass and mud, so…”

Sympathising with him, Jazz put a soothing hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly at him. At first he returned the gesture, before furrowing his brow in concentration. Something wasn’t right... “Wait, how do you know any of this? How do you even know Sam?”

“Ah, Danny and I ran into her and her dad last Saturday at that new Vegetarian Mexican restaurant.”

The bespectacled young man couldn’t do much but blink in astonishment. Then, suddenly, he let himself fall to his knees, crouching down before crossing his arms over his chest, pouting. “How can I possibly be that out of the loop?!”

Jazz flashed him a meek smile in response as she lowered herself to his level; literally. The tug in his lips turned into a full blown smirk as a devious thought came to him. “Was there UST between the two?”

The older girl let out a loud cackle at his question. “Oh, you have no idea!”

With a ‘hm’, he settled for a content smile that Jazz knew was only half-hearted. “That’s enough for me...for now.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jazz, trying to joke, but the way she was looking at him made it clear she didn’t buy his attempts to lighten up the mood. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, huh?” She offered softly. “You speak so fondly of her, and she seemed to know you well enough when we talked about you the other day. I’m sure she’ll come clean to you if you let her know you feel hurt over not knowing who she is.”

Normally he hated when Jazz psychoanalysed the situation, more so if it involved him. But now he couldn’t help but feel grateful for having the eldest Fenton’s advice and support. “Yeah, I...I think I’ll do that.” He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled back, “You’re welcome.” The quiet atmosphere soon dissipated when she got back up on her feet as she dusted herself off. “Well, we’d better find something that’ll hint us on the witches’ hideout!”

Getting up from the ground as well, Tucker watched as Jazz pulled out the map from her backpack at the same time as she leafed through her book using just her thumb, that girl’s ability to multitask was both impressive and unnerving. She was clearly searching for a clue to get them started on their quest. Rolling his eyes fondly at her, he started fidgeting with his PDA, looking for clues of his own through the best way he knew; technology. 

Printed books and maps were fine and all, but it didn’t take long for them to become outdated. With the Internet and his trusty PDA, Tucker always had the latest information in the palm of his hand. Literally. As his eyes scanned over dozens of articles from the day before to several decades prior, his eyes landed on one story in particular. 

Gasping, he called out to Jazz. The girl looked up from her own research to see Tucker motioning for her to come closer with his hand. Curious, she did just that. The moment she was within touching distance, he handed the PDA to her. “Look!”

She squinted her eyes on the screen. What appeared  was an old newspaper article, around thirty years old. When she read it over, however, her eyes widened. “Is this what I think it is?” She whispered in disbelief, as she turned to Tucker, who was smirking. 

“You’d better believe it!” Snatching the device from her hands, he began scrolling down and zooming in on certain fragments of the article. “It’s a news segment dedicated to two rangers’ retelling!” He exclaimed, his eyes not once looking away from the screen. “According to them, a few days before the interview with the newspaper, they were patrolling around the woods when they came upon what appeared to be a garden entirely made up of mandrake! Which took them aback because, first, that was a restricted area to the public; and second, mandrake usually grows in Mediterranean weather!

“Since it was getting late, they decided to investigate the following day first thing in the morning. But when they tried getting to the garden, they found they couldn’t. Somehow, whenever they thought they were getting closer, they kept getting lost and further away, something that was odd because they’d both been working as rangers, walking through the woods, for more than twenty years!” He finished, looking far more excited at the prospect of their research than he’d been before. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Her hands clasped in front of her beaming face, Jazz could only nod eagerly. “Mandrake is one of the plants that are most popularly associated with witches and magic, and the rangers kept getting lost because they’d found a patch of mandrake and the witches wanted to keep them away in order to protect their secret!”

“And you said Internet searches were only going to lead us to Satanist sites.” He flashed her a shit-eating grin, feeling proud of himself. 

“Ugh, knock it off!” She playfully shoved him away, before growing serious again. Her joy being replaced by uncertainty. “Just a question, though?”

“What?”

“How are we going to find this mandrake patch? It’s been over thirty years! And if the witches were able to make two seasoned rangers wander aimlessly through the forest, what chances do we have of finding it ourselves?”

Tucker opened his mouth, only to close it again, realising he didn’t have an answer to her question. Yep, that could definitely be a problem. “Well, the rangers didn’t know they were facing off against a group of spellcasting women; we do.” He tried steering the conversation in the right direction. “What do we know about witches?” She was about to speak when he cut her off, “ Aside from the obvious.”

Bringing a fist to her chin, Jazz began to revise everything she’d learned on them ever since Danny shared his latest plan with them. “Hm, Danny said witches used to be able to summon ghosts from the Ghost Zone and make them cross over to Earth. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Hm, it might.” Tucker replied, the gears already turning in his head. “You know how every ghost has its own ecto-signature?”

“Yeah?”

“What if the witches have something like that?” He suggested, his mind already focused on the possibilities. 

Jazz gasped, her eyes widening at the possibility. “Then maybe we could create our own version of the ghost radar, except that instead of ghosts, it’d latched onto a witch’s own signature!” She added, practically bouncing up and down.

“That way, we could lead the radar to someplace with a particularly strong magical signature, and therefore guide us to the mandrake patch without getting lost!” Tucker continued, equally excited. 

“Which would then allow us to track any witch that comes to the garden.” Jazz said.

“And eventually lead us to their hideout!” Tucker finished. The two of them high-fived the other, reeling from the revelation. They were so hyped they almost forgot to address the most important part of the plan.

“So,” Tucker started, slipping his PDA back in his pocket. “What about Danny? Do we tell him about this?”

Against her better judgement, Jazz shook her head. “No. I believe it’d be best if we don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Arguably, this affects him much more than it does us.”

“I know, but we need to give him an edge over the witches. An ace up his sleeve! Something to use as leverage if the queen ultimately turns against him.” She explained. “Telling him of our plan before we even have a clue would only make things more difficult for him.” Noticing Tucker’s unsure expression, she rushed to reassure him. “I promise, the moment we know where they gather, we’ll tell him. Okay?”

Tucker didn’t look convinced. Excluding Danny in something this important just felt wrong! But, on second thought, Jazz was his older sister; she’d been taking care of and protecting him long before she learned about the accident. Jazz was always looking out for her baby brother’s best interests. Sighing, he gave in. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Tucker.” She grinned in appreciation before she looked down at her phone and noticed the time. “Now, come on! We still have to get back before Danny finishes his classes and notices we’re nowhere to be found. We don’t want him to get suspicious, do we?”

As he followed her back through the way they’d come from, Tucker could only hope their decision wouldn't bite them in the ass. 

..........

“Remind me again why we’re here?”

“Because we needed to meet up and the You Mocha Me Crazy was closed today.” Tucker smirked smugly at her from the seat across from her; a mixture of grease and sauce dripping from his fingertips. “My, what a tragedy!” He lamented in mock sadness. 

Her body leaned forward and her elbow propped up on the wobbly table, Sam sent him a nasty look. “Knock it off! You like the café and you know it.” 

The techno geek shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll admit, they make good sandwiches. But nothing can beat my love for the Nasty Burger. It was about time I dragged you here for a change.”

Danny was sure the Goth girl was about to deliver  a very colourful string of words their friend’s way hadn’t he intervened. “Remember, Sam,” he warned,  putting a hand on her shoulder, making her look at him instead, “this is a kid-friendly space.” He took her huffing and crossing her arms over her chest as she slumped on her seat as a victory. “Look on the bright side,” he pointed at the trail of food in front of her, “at least they serve vegetarian menus.”

“It was a pleasant surprise.” She admitted, looking down at the tofu-soy melt she’d been served. “I honestly thought their only options would be a bunch of so-called salads with more meat than lettuce.” Picking the sandwich up, her face wrinkled in disgust when she brought it to her face. Averting her eyes, she promptly set it back down, before sliding the trail away from her. “That being said, that thing’s soggier than a quarterback’s socks after a football game.”

“Then it should be just like you like it!” The techno geek quipped, causing Sam to fling some of his own fries at him in retaliation. Tucker could’ve tried shielding his face from the assault, but that would've meant dropping his burger, leaving him no choice but to become an easy target. “You’re gonna pay for those fries.” He deadpanned, his scowl only deepened when the Goth girl blew him a raspberry in response. 

“I believe it’d be more accurate to say football players’ socks are stiff after a game, giving the poor hygiene of the guys at our high school,” Danny pointed out matter-of-factly, trying to keep the peace between the two, before noticing the possible innuendo thanks to the help of Tucker and Sam’s meaningful looks. “But I get what you mean.” He finished lamely. 

Changing her position so she was looking directly at him, her face leaning on the hand resting on the table, Sam raised an amused eyebrow in his direction. “No offence, Danny, but teenage boys aren’t exactly known for their impeccable hygiene.” With a noncommittal shrug she leaned back against her seat. “There isn’t much of a difference between you guys and pigs; you’re both more voracious than a pack of hyenas and your body odor is arguably stronger than a pig-pen’s stench.” She pinched her nose with her fingers for emphasis, the smirk never leaving her face. 

Both guys seated with her shot her matching glares. “I resent that.” They said in unison, making her laugh. 

“FYI, Sam,” Tucker said between bites of his Mega Meaty Nasty Burger, “Danny and I had to learn the wonders of personal hygiene much sooner than any other guy at our school.” Setting the remainder of his burger down on its trail, his arm resting close to it, he leaned closer to Sam, as if he were about to share a secret. “For all the cruel things the girls said about us behind our backsー”

“Or to our faces.” Danny reminded him with a pained mumble. 

“Or to our faces.” Tucker agreed. “Despite everything, they never, not even once, complained about the way we smelled.” He leaned back against his seat with a triumphant grin, the burger already in his hands. “That’s way more than the jocks ever got.”

“Now that you mention it, Tuck,” the blue-eyed boy started, “I think the closest we ever got to a compliment from the A-list girls was when Paulina, grossed out by Dash trying to flirt with her all sweaty after P.E., screeched, ‘Get away from me! Not even those losers of Foley and Fenton smell nearly as bad as you!’” He mimicked in a very whiny, high-pitched voice. 

While Danny’s imitation got him and Tucker in stitches, it got Sam thinking. Did he say Paulina? She didn’t want to just assume the Paulina she knew was the only one in town, but she couldn’t help but think of her. “Uh, guys?” She waited until they gave her their full attention. “Um, sorry if this is weird, but I just realised I never got around to asking you; which high school did you go to?”

“Casper High.” They replied at the same time. “Why?”

Okay...so they were talking about the Paulina she knew. The Latina wasn’t kidding when she said she used to be the queen bee at Casper High when she and Star studied there, if Danny and Tucker’s retelling, as the lowest end of the food chain, was anything to go by. “Um...no reason, really. I was just curious, that’s all.” Not feeling up to compromising her, for once, plausible answer, she quickly tried changing the subject. “If what you’re telling me is true, though, how come you were such prodigies in the art of not smelling like garbage that’s spent way too much time under the sun?”

“Ghosts.” Tucker replied simply. Panicking, Danny discreetly kicked him in the shins, the only reason his best friend didn’t yelp in pain was the warning glare the raven-haired boy was sending him. He was about to ask him what he wanted when Sam supplied the answer. 

“Ghosts?” She echoed, tilting her head to the side.

Flinching at the realisation of what he’d just said, he immediately tried to cover his slip-up. “Y-yeah! Ghosts!” He vaguely registered Danny rubbing his temple with two fingers from the corner of his eye. “You...you remember Danny’s a Fenton, right?”

“Yeah?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, while Danny’s head shot up at that, wondering what his best friend was up to. 

“You see,” Tucker said with the same tone of voice a teacher would use when enlightening his students on his subject, “since Danny’s folks are ghost hunters, ever since the spooks started haunting Amity Park, Mr. and Mrs. F. have been a little...say, trigger-happy. So every time they thought a ghost was near, we’d accidentally end up covered in whatever goop they were developing. Hence, why we were always taking showers.”

Catching onto what he’s best friend was up to, Danny was quick to add. “In fact, my sister used to have long, flowing hair, but ended up cutting it to a pixie cut after one too many accidents.”

“That’s...weird as fuck.” Sam said, and for a moment the two men feared she’d seen through them. Until she bobbed one shoulder up and down as she readied herself for round two against her tofu-soy melt. “But I guess it makes sense.”

“It does?” Danny asked, before Tucker’s foot painfully stomping on top of his brought him back to his senses. “I-I mean! Of course it makes sense...well, it shouldn’t, but that’s my family for you!” He made a helpless gesture as he shot her a sheepish grin her way. 

Their antics made her frown in suspicion, “Are you guys okay? You’re acting weird, and that’s saying something.” 

“We’re perfectly fine!” Tucker rushed in to say, at the same time as Danny tried with, “Just tired!” They shared furtive glances at each other when the dissonance registered in their brains. Then they tried again, only for Tucker to squeak, “Just tired!” at the same time as Danny assured, “We’re perfectly fine!”

A little creeped out by what was taking place right in front of her, the girl munched on her sandwich painfully slowly. “Uh huh…” She drawled, not buying it. She swallowed her food before addressing them again, her hazel-eyes strained on the two nervous-looking boys. “So, which one is it? Are you perfectly fine, or are you tired?”

Gulping loudly, Danny chose to speak for the two of them, seeing as their usual ‘bronnection’ was failing them. “Come on, Sam. We obviously mean we’re a little tired, with all our assignments and whatnot, but overall, we’re perfectly fine!” The halfa tried alleviating the tension with a motion of his hand. “That’s just your usual college student life. What’re you gonna do? Right, Tuck?” He elbowed his bespectacled friend, urging for support. 

The African American young man started, “Oh! Um...sure” He stammered at first. “Totally. Nothing going on but your typical college life problems.” He let out an awkward laugh. 

Sam just kept staring at them just as intently as before, her intertwined hands resting on the table. With her eyes narrowed on them like a gangster deciding whether to kill or torture a snitch that’d ratted them out to the cops. The pair of best friends could barely contain the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. Finally she shook her head and, for a moment, they were sure she’d made her choice; they were dead. “We definitely can’t come back here. The food’s so bad it’s rotting your brains!” She shook her head in mock concern. “And it’s not like you had many to begin with…”

“Wait a minute!” Tucker protested while Danny let out a relieved sigh, “You leave the Nasty Burger out of this!”

“I just say it as I see it.” Sam countered in a sing-song voice. It was so easy to get a rise out of him, she just couldn’t resist. 

As his two friends started bickering, Danny limited himself to watching them, amused and content to have them in his life. A part of him still couldn’t believe how easily Sam had filled the space he didn’t even know was empty. His whole life he thought Tucker’s companionship was all he neededーexcept for his early high school days when he dreamed of being part of the A-listers, but he’d since wisened up. With ghost-hunting overcomplicating his life, he’d long given up on expanding his social circle outside of his sister and best friend, and serious girlfriends were an all-time no-no, but in just a few meetings, the Goth changed that. 

Her individualism and strong moral compass were the perfect addition to his dry sense of humour and awkwardness, and Tucker’s optimism and desire to do something big. It was like they balanced each other out. Sam’s own sense of justice aligned itself nicely with Danny’s own need to do the right thing and protect others, while she shared the need to stand outーalbeit in different waysーwith Tucker, as opposed to his efforts of blending in. Even their differences were a great addition to their friendship, for they forced them to open their eyes to new possibilities they might have overlooked. 

Danny wished Clockwork would just stop time right at that very moment. There, in the middle of the crowded and not always sanitary Nasty Burger, surrounded by teens complaining about the struggles of high school and underpaid workers, everything was perfect. Being there with Tucker and Sam, watching them bicker and mediating when things threatened to get out of hand, felt like things were as they should have always been. 

They weren’t even there to talk about witches! Somewhere along the way hanging out with Sam just became normal; the right thing to do. And to think not that long ago he didn’t even know she existed…

Watching her bring a hand to the shaved half her face, as if she were about to push away some hair blocking her view only to stop in mid-air and sheepishly put her hand back down on the table when she remembered there was nothing to push awayーmaybe she still wasn’t used to missing half of her raven locksーwarmed his heart. For a moment, she redirected her focus on him, probably sensing his eyes on her, and she flushed prettily, causing heat to creep up on Danny’s own cheeks as a result. 

They immediately averted their eyes and focused on something else; Sam looked back at Tuckerーwho was trying very hard to keep his impish grin off his faceーand Danny found himself looking at the ceiling. He’d never noticed there were pieces of gum up there...

For someone who’d sworn off romance after sophomore year of high school, he was doing a very poor job at steering clear of it. Just like the route his treacherous mind had taken the other day as he locked eyes with Lady Arcana…

The halfa could feel his heart squeezing in his chest just by looking into those heliotrope orbs of hers. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew not even his glowing gaze could compare to them in uniqueness. Regrettably, the usual frostiness he found in them hindered their beauty. But now that she was staring at him with great esteem and, dare he hope, a hint of admiration, it was as if spring had finally arrived and had defrosted her gaze; revealing the field of lilacs hidden underneath. 

The content smile tugging at her lips illuminated her entire visage, accentuating that tantalising beauty he chose to overlook due to the rocky nature of their relationship. In all his years coming back and forth between the Ghost Zone and Amity Park, he was sure he’d never met anyone who represented the beauty of both worlds quite like she did; and he was a halfa! 

Her amethyst eyes and her paranormal nature made her stand out even in a dimension populated by powerful entities, each possessor of a unique gift. The way the eery light coming from the ectoplasmic swirls around them reflected on her slick, black hair gave her an appropriately otherworldly glowーso beautiful it eclipsed anything he’d ever seen before. It was almost like she belonged in the Ghost Zone. 

But her personality wasn’t like any he’d ever encountered before, let alone in a spirit. He hadn’t realised it until now, or rather, he hadn't allowed himself to see it, but there was no denying the glimpses of something incredibly humane within her. As unusual a sight it might be, her love for her carnivorous plant wasn’t any different from that of a little girl playing with her puppy. The care she felt for it was evident in the curve of her smile whenever she glanced down at her little, potted friend. Her love and loyalty for her people were admirable as well. He’d been lying if he said he hadn’t been taken aback by her insistence of staying behind in order to protect her two subjects. As vain as it sounded, he’d only seen that kind of dedication and sacrifice in himselfーright when he took off to take on Pariah Dark. She’d even saved him, a ghost! Her alleged worst enemy! And all because she saw him in need and couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing. 

He could see it now. Lady Arcana represented the best of both worlds. It was like she belonged with him…

Eyes widening in shock, he quickly tried to shake off the strange feelings taking residence in his core. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge Lady Arcana, but she was still a witch! It’d be incredibly foolish of him to ignore centuries of beef between their people just for a pretty face. Besides, even if ghosts and witches weren’t enemies, he still could never date her. It’d be too dangerous. 

He had to snap out of those delusions, pronto.  “Lady Arcana.” He called out to her. A few seconds passed and she said nothing, causing him to worry. Now that he looked closely at her, she seemed a little flushed; what if something was wrong with her?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though, unbeknownst to him, he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” She exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, which only made him worry more for her sake. She was frantically shaking her hands before her and her cheeks only took on a deeper shade of red.

Looking at him like she’d been caught doing something bad, the witch cleared her throat, although it looked a little forced. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly. 

The halfa’s eyes shot open at that. Duh! What was he thinking!? Of course not seeing their queen return from the Ghost Zone would cause an uproar among her clan! “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Lady Arcana  said softly, and Danny could feel his heart swelling at her words. Unbidden, his expression fell a little when she put a little distance between the two. She was about to cast the spell that would send her home when his voice acted before his brain had time to catch up to it. “Wait!”

Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of himself, he couldn’t keep the seed of hope from being planted when she gave him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

Danny was pretty sure he’d just smiled appreciatively at her, which was why he didn’t understand when she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!” 

“Wait, Lady Arcana!” He called out to her once more, hating how desperate he sounded. 

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

The way her expression softened was enough to bring forth emotions he long believed dead and buried. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

And with that, she was gone. 

The snow-white haired ghost kept staring off into the distance even after she was long gone, his mind still trying to process the day’s events. But there was something that, hard as he might, he just couldn’t make sense of. She’d been able to grab him while he was intangible, but how? At first he thought it was a specific spell or something, but that theory was soon proven mistaken when not even Lady Arcana seemed to know how she’d been able to touch him. 

Only one thing was for sure; he needed answers. And he had a pretty good idea where he’d be able to get them. 

Danny’s musings were abruptly interrupted by the sight of his best friend pointing a fry accusingly at Sam, “When were you going to tell me you’re rich?”

A heavy silence suddenly filled their booth. It was like someone had forced a horrible screech out of a vinyl disc by scratching on its surface. Looking over at Sam, the halfa was sure she was about to drop her food, too stunned to even move. The way her eyes had popped open would’ve been comical, hadn’t it been for the tense atmosphere. 

Shaking her head lightly, the Goth girl finally regained her senses, her shocked face morphing itself into a scowl. “Say it a little louder, Tucker.” She grumbled. “I don’t think they’ve heard you all the way to Siberia.”

Now it was Tucker’s turn to scowl. “Uh, no. You don’t get to be mad at me for saying it aloud.” He slumped back on his seat, turning his head away from her. “Not when you never even told me yourself; I had to find out through Jazz.”

“Jazz?” Danny repeated, confused. “When did you talk about this with Jazz?”

“Uh...we were texting each other and it came up.” He shrugged his concerns off. “But that’s not important right now. What matters,” he said hotly as he shot the brunette a pointed look, “is that we’ve been friends for over a year and you never told me! How come Danny and Jazz get to know you’re part of the Mansons but I don’t?!”

The youngest Fenton was about to try and explain things to the techno geek when Sam beat him to it, “Tucker, it’s not like I planned this! I was just having dinner with my dad when Danny and his sister appeared at the restaurant.” She explained, exasperated. “And honestly? The only reason Danny knows is because Jazz already did. It’s not like I saw them come in and waved at them like, ‘Hey, guys! I’m here with my Hella wealthy father! You wanna come with to our yacht in the Mediterranean?’” She droned in an overly cheery, sugary-sweet voice, her lashes fluttering excessively.

“You have a yacht in the Mediterranean?” Both boys asked, incredulous. 

Her scowl deepened. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Yeah, well..,” His shoulders slouched, Tucker could only sulk, hurt. “Could’ve still told me. I thought we were friends, Sam.”

His words were like a knife piercing through her heart. They were friends, weren’t they? Despite their differences and some of his most obnoxious flaws, Tucker was still the first person to ever approach her without ulterior motives in mind. Even after they’d made it clear they could never work as a couple, he stayed with her. Annoying he may be, he was still the first friend she’d ever made on her own, and she loved him for it. He was right; he didn’t deserve to be hurt due to her secretive nature. 

With a sigh, she scrubbed her face with one hand, feeling remorseful. “Tuck, I’m...I’m really sorry.” She confessed, earning the techno geek’s full attention. “You’re right, even if the secret was mine to tell, I should’ve let you know sooner.” She sighed once more, unable to meet his eyes. Sam hated allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of others; growing up, she’d learned to depend on no one but herself, therefore, showing her helpless, weaker, side to others was incredibly hard to do. “Listen, you’re the first friend I’ve made in a very long time. I was afraid of losing you.”

Although his posture was still guarded, Tucker couldn’t deny her words piqued his interest. “What do you mean, Sam? How is me knowing who you are going to lead to you losing me?”

“I sort of agree with Tucker.” Danny commented. “If anything, it’d bring you two closer.”

“Right?”

Chuckling mirthlessly, the Goth shook her head. Both boys flinched when they saw the pain reflected in her hazel eyes. “Look, being me isn’t easy, okay? I’m not saying life in general ain’t shitty, because that’d be lying, but my life is especially complicated. 

“I grew up trying to live up to insanely high expectations, a childhood no kid should ever be forced to go through. I was constantly reminded of the near impossibility that was me making real friends, and I guess, once I reached puberty, it just made me cynical.” Sam admitted quietly, not looking up from her trail of food. “By the time I could try making friends of my own, I was already convinced the moment they learned of my family’s wealth, they’d start seeing me as their personal credit card, instead of my own person who deserves to be loved and accepted just for being who I am.”

Although she desperately tried to hide it, Danny and Tucker immediately exchanged concerned glances the instant she sniffled. Their hearts broke in two for the girl sitting with them. Sure, they’d been Casper High’s laughing stock from the beginning to end of their high school experience, but they always had each other. Sam...Sam spent the majority of her life alone. It was impossible not to feel for her. 

“In...in the end,” God, how she hated the way her voice shook! “I decided hiding that part of me was easier. I wanted friends who liked me for me, and having a Black MasterCard was surely going to make things difficult.”

“You have a Black MasterCard?” Tucker accidentally let out. When Danny’s neon green glare started burning a hole in his skull, he backtracked. “I’m sorry, Sam. I mean...I guess I mean I’m sorry.”

“You are? But I’m the one who’s kept you in the dark this long!”

 “Yeah, and it hurts.” He admitted. “But it’s obvious you had your reasons and after hearing them, man, I can’t blame you. I would also hide all that cash if I were you. Even though the temptation of flaunting my own private jet in front of all the asholes who used to shove me into lockers would be too great.”

Despite herself, his joke made her laugh. “Thanks Tuck. Friends?” She rubbed her eyes to wipe the imaginary tears away. She was relieved to know she didn’t cry; crying was something Sam Manson just didn’t do. It would’ve been mortifying.

He leaned over to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re still friends. But you’re paying for our next meal.” That earned him a playful punch on the arm from the Goth, but the smile on her face betrayed her true emotions. 

Shaking her head good-naturedly, she scoffed. “Deal.”

After that, the three kept talking amongst themselves. About everything and nothing. Nearing the end of their meal, Danny and Tucker were too engrossed reminiscing about their high school days per her request. Admittedly, just hearing the traumatising experiences they’d been through made her feel suddenly grateful for never attending the dreaded place herself. Still, after the tenth story retelling how some jackass had forced Danny to eat his jockstrap after losing a betーew!ー her mind wandered elsewhere. 

Her last encounter with Phantom sent her reeling. The way they both complemented each other when they worked as a team was astounding. It reminded her of Grandma Ida’s tales of how things used to be before the ghosts forced them into hiding, when the two species were practically symbiotic of each other. 

For the first time since she received his letter, she found herself trusting him. Most importantly, a part of herself came to wish she could indeed trust him. Perhaps all the centuries apart and resentment had clouded their people’s minds. Maybe they were really better off together than separated. She had to admit her knowledge on ghosts was very limited aside from what she’d been taught her entire life, and if there was something Sam was, that was inquisitive. She never took anything by face value, so why did she do just that with ghosts?

She needed to learn more about them. She needed to act like an individual, rather than a bee awaiting orders from the queen, and do a little research of her own. 

She needed answers and, crazy as it might be, she knew where to find them. 

“Hey, Danny?” Her voice stopped short Tucker’s retelling of his hellish experience dating the second most popular girl in school. When Danny’s baby blue eyes met hers, she almost lost her nerve. Almost. “Um, would you mind taking me to FentonWorks?”