#and having so many common enemies and being pariahs

[schmweed]

[calabria-mediterranea]

Occitan is still spoken in Southern Italy's Calabria

Blessed with one of the most beautiful languages, Italy is also home to a plethora of linguistic minorities, twelve to be precise, across fourteen regions, with almost three million speakers. The Occitan linguistic minority of the Alpine valleys of Northern Italy's Piedmont and Liguria is probably one of the most well known, also because of the importance the language had in the history of European culture and literature: the Langue d’Oc and its poetry inspired the troubadours of Provence, in Southern France. In those days, Occitan was spoken in the South of France, from the Atlantic to the Alps, but today only small pockets of Occitan-speaking people exists, mostly across the Alpine valleys of France, Liguria, Piedmont and in thr town Guardia Piemontese, in Southern Italy's Calabria. 

How did Occitan speaking people end up from the mountains of Northern Italy to the southernmost region of the Italian peninsula?

It’s a long story, one that brings us back to the 13th century, to a religious minority called Waldensians and to the fact Calabria is known for being a welcoming land for all those seeking refuge, from Greeks to Albanians and Jews.

The Waldensian movement had developed in the Cottian Alps between France and Northern Italy towards the end of the 12th century, most likely thanks to the contributions of Peter Waldo (from whom the movement took its name). Waldensians lived a life of asceticism and poverty, but some of their more extreme views — lack of faith in transubstantiation and having associated the Catholic church with the “harlot of the Apocalypse” — turned them into religious pariah and victims of persecution across Europe.

A considerable group of Waldensians moved to Calabria in the 13th century to escape persecution in Northern Italy and the land of Calabria proved to be a blessing, because its fertile soil allowed the development of a prosperous community.

Guardia Piemontese is a town on the Western coast of Northern Calabria.

The date of Guardia's foundation is unknown, and the name of the place has changed several times in history. "Guardia" means watch or lookout, and this name is probably related to a lookout tower built in the 11th century. Such lookout towers were built to warn against Arab pirates, then called Saracens, ravaging the coast.

For the first century, the community of Guardia cohabited peacefully with their Catholic neighbors, but things tragically changed when the Waldensians decided to join the Protestant Reform: then, they became the enemy and victims of a religious persecution that was to obliterate them in the early summer of 1561. Those tragic events are still remembered today in Guardia Piemontese, thanks to a monument called La Porta del Sangue, (the Gate of blood), a memento to the violence that killed so many and forced many others to conversion.

Despite the suppression of their religion, the people of Guardia, or La Gàrdia, as they call it, have continued to use their distinct Occitan dialect, Gardiòl. Not surprisingly, it has been influenced by the speech of their neighbours in Calabria. For example, Gardiòl has adopted the use of retroflex consonants, common in Sicily and southern Italy.

The traditions that the Waldensians brought from Piedmont to Calabria, such as the Occitan language and certain customs, have survived over the centuries right through to the present day.

In 1863 the name Guardia was changed to Guardia Piemontese, to honor the geographical origins of the Waldensians.

On 5 June 2011, 450 years after the massacre in Guardia, the Waldensian Church opened a museum and cultural centre in the town. The museums tells the story of how the Waldensians arrived all the way in Calabria and preserves agricultural tools, the traditional clothing of Guardia Piemontese, made with a particular yarn of broom and the famous hurdy gurdy, an French instrument of medieval origins. In the Occitan valleys in Italy, the hurdy-gurdy was the traveling companion of buskers.

The Waldensian Church and the municipal authorities now collaborate closely in cultural affairs. Numerous ecumenical events have been planned together with the local Catholic community to mark the 500th anniversary of the Reformation.

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

[zonerobotnik]

Which Danny Phantom ships do you like and what do you see in them?

Uhm…oh man, there's way too many for me to go over them all and I can't remember all the names right now. Let me get the list.

So, surprisingly, Pompous Pep(VladxDanny) is actually not one of my main ones, I actually mainly ship SuperFun/PitchPearl (DannyxPhantom), Amethyst Ocean (SamxDanny), Dark Gray (DanxValerie), Gray Ghost (DannyxValerie), Teddy Ghost (DashxDanny), uhm…Jailbait (WalkerxDanny), Tyrannous Hope (PariahxDanny), Haunted Past (DanxDanny), and my personal brand of PitchPearl, Broken Heart (DanxFutureDanny). By Future Danny, I mean Grim Danny OR any version of him that isn't killed by Dan and instead survives to fight him or is held as his prisoner for years. I don't know if I'm the only one that ships them or not, but I do.

Also, I haven't given it a special Danny Phantom-brand ship name, but I also like DanNear. I think I'll just use "Quarantine Buddies".

Now, what do I see in them. uh, in order…

Pompous Pep:

Generally, when I ship them, it's because of Vlad taking advantage of Danny, actually, either because he's so broken by something (like in my fic "Are you Awake" on FF, where Phantom just completely wanted to destroy himself after losing Danny or the whole mess in "Desperate Sin") or is trying to break him and lures him into a false sense of security before hurting him. I don't think I've ever done anything with him that doesn't have him taking advantage of him in some way, though in "Are you Awake", he's at least reluctant about it and it's Plasmius that is the aggressive one. (Spoilers, that fic has them finding out that Phantom and Plasmius are absorbed twins that got turned into ghosts by the portal blasting them with enough ectoenergy and electricity to kill a t-rex.)

But, I'm sure, once they get over themselves and Danny is all grown up, maybe comes back from college all hot and buff, Vlad might hit that post-AGIT.

SuperFun:

Much like my own ship Broken Heart, these two have the appeal of wanting to be back together, but maybe they don't want to be merged, y'know? They balance each other out, Phantom would die again to protect Danny and Danny would kill to protect Phantom. While they disagree on some things, they also can't live without each other.

Though, they have many questions on how the ectoenergy-remover split their minds, they try not to think about it. After all, they're one person, always have been…right?

PitchPearl:

Basically, this ship is either selfcest or "what if they were two different people". The possibilities are pretty much endless here, and a lot of people, myself included, have fun with the ship.

The most common interpretations for them being separate is they meet by chance and Phantom falls for him before they even meet and that he saves Danny's life after he went into the portal by giving him his own ectoenergy to heal him or he's the Ghost Prince/Pariah's son or Walker's son and he grew interested in the son of the ghost hunters that tore open a hole into their dimension--seriously, endless.

Amethyst Ocean:

While I think Sam is, frankly, a jealous Cass-level bitch at times, she does have her sweet moments and she and Danny are actually really nice together, when she's not being jealous of him flirting with other girls. She's loyal and knows him better than anyone and while I don't really like that it was canon endgame because of how it was handled, I think that they could be good together.

Dark Gray:

Who doesn't love a good rough-and-tumble enemies-to-lovers? These two are the HeroxVillain ship, and I REALLY love those, and the thought of him only sparing the city, even after destroying the barrier, because of lingering feelings from his Gray Ghost days is just…MMM! I love it. And they try to deny they've grown to anticipate those fights, and those times when people have them working together against a bigger threat…FUUCK yes!

On that note, go read Karma. It's a part of a big compilation on FF but it's being posted as its own thing on AO3 and I LOVE this story!

Anyways, seriously, what is NOT to love about this ship?

So, let's go back into the past and discuss…

Gray Ghost:

This one is such a lovable mess. Because of a misunderstanding, she got into ghost-fighting for the sole purpose of kicking Phantom's ass for ruining her life. XD While her primary target is Phantom, she also fights other ghosts, and sometimes works WITH Phantom, who she doesn't know is Danny, to fight the other ghosts. Most notably is when she and Phantom were captured by Skulker and they had to fight to stay alive, and all while not letting their flour-sack baby get destroyed. XD

And then there's the moments where they are actually really nice to each other, and they put aside their differences, and those are just so, so good. But, oh, the pain about her dumping Danny to protect him because she thinks Phantom might go after Danny to get to her and also she keeps ditching their dates to go fight ghosts, it's just SO SAD but SO GOOD and they would be AWESOME as a couple.

Anyways, I really like them.

Teddy Ghost:

Dash is hot for Phantom. This is not fanon, this is canon, he wants to be with Phantom. He and Paulina both fawn over him like CRAZY and they're the ones that notice the most that if Danny is around, Phantom isn't far away. I think that if he were to figure out that Danny IS Phantom, he would not only apologize for all the "wailing on" he did, but also ask him out.

And Danny, well, he isn't going to deny it, Dash is a LOOKER. And if they were actually getting along, I think they could grow to be a good couple.

But, it's mostly Dash obsessing over Phantom unrequitedly.

Jailbait:

Warden. Prisoner. Prison. It's pretty cut and dry. Walker wants Danny, like, REALLY wants him, more than any other prisoner. Is it pride? Is he obsessed with the fact that he's a piece of the human world he can take into the Ghost Zone long-term without it being ruined? Is it just pure lust and sexual frustration from him escaping him so much? Either way, Walker uses other criminals and breaks a LOT of laws trying to track down Danny and it's pretty clear that, if he actually gets him, he's going to make him his prison-bitch.

Tyrannous Hope:

Is Danny actually the Ghost King? Was Pariah Dark actually defeated? Does he have true claim to the throne, or could Pariah Dark, when he breaks free again, come to take it back from Danny? A conflict of interest, a battle between Kings, they must either surrender, be defeated, or come to a peaceful compromise if neither can win. The compromise: Marriage.

This ship can be either weirdly-fluffy or so full of abuse and assault of all kinds and the range is fascinating.

Haunted Past:

If Dan can't have his OWN Danny, he may as well take the one that defeated him before. His heart beats the same, right? Whether out of obsession, attachment or pride, Dan claims Danny for his own or, (like in my fic "Powerless"), Dan breaks free and tries to fight someone stronger than him and Danny takes him in and what happens from there depends on how good or twisted Danny is.

Post-AGIT, I see him crawling into bed with Danny despite having his own body now and resting his head on his chest to hear his real, non-clone heart beat. As for the shipping part, I don't know enough about AGIT as a whole to say.

Broken Heart:

Phantom has been ripped out of Danny, he can no longer feel or hear his heartbeat, and the worst part is that it was done painfully and it was Danny's idea and he's still feeling the grief and rage that enveloped Danny before. So, he attacks his human half, and what happens from there is where things diverge.

The Grim Danny route: Phantom kills Danny by ripping out his still-beating heart and Danny, realizing that he didn't want to be a ghost, becomes a Grim Reaper and Phantom is both relieved to see him again and furious because he hates him but loves him but he feels so broken without him, I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryforkillingyou.

The Capture Route: After hurting Danny severely, Phantom takes him away near-death and uses ectoplasm to bring him back from the brink and threatens him into never leaving where he's kept, coming back after terrorizing people to hurt him in some way to punish him for trying to leave him. Post-TUE, Danny escapes and is found by Valerie, and feels a sense of loss about Phantom being gone.

The Enemies Route: Danny is severely hurt by Phantom, but he doesn't take his body because Vlad finds a weapon and shoots him and then calls for someone to get them, that Danny is seriously hurt. and they both need medical treatment. Danny then joins Valerie with fighting to protect the city from Phantom, so it's basically Dark Gray but with Danny as a bonus love-interest.

Bonus Round:

Quarantine Buddies:

Based on my in-progress fic "Tutor", where Near from the show Death Note is sent to Amity Park to investigate Danny when he's 14 during his post-Wammy training and he moves in with the Fentons as a transfer student from England and they become friends through the course of the story.

The DanNear stuff actually starts with the start of Covid19, when Near, who is horribly co-dependent and aware of Danny's true nature, calls for his immune friend to come and take care of him because his usual assist are all being quarantined. Danny agrees and as the world opens up, Danny gets Near to also open up and try new things, starting with wearing more colors, going outside more, coming with him on shopping trips instead of just staying home while Danny shops. Though he doesn't need a ghostly-buddy to care for him anymore, Danny is still here, and they gradually fell in love.

Also, Danny hates Christmas with a passion, but he will put with it for Near if Near will wear a Christmas sweater for him. Fair's fair.

And that's all of them! That I can think of right now, at least.

Also, I should note, I don't actually normally ship Phantom Punk (DannyxEmber), so I didn't include it on the list. I think I made the one fic I have with them as a request before, but I don't remember who requested it.

[leonbloder]

Finding Sympathy and Empathy

In case you haven't noticed, election years bring out the worst in many of us. 

And because most of our politicians seem to be doing nothing but campaigning instead of governing, election years seem to blur together like a bad dream. 

It would be nice if our nationally elected officials had term limits, but since they are the ones who vote on whether to have term limits, we shouldn't hold our breath while waiting for it to happen. 

What gets lost because of this endless cycle of campaigning and posturing is any sense of common ground, sympathy, and empathy for those who disagree with one another. 

It trickles down, as you might imagine.  All you have to do is gather your family for a holiday celebration, and you'll discover that the divisions we see in our government have extended to our own doorsteps. 

Far too many of us receive our news from carefully curated and highly partisan sources---most of whom we tend to agree with.  We don't make any effort to listen to "the other side," whatever that side might be. 

Civility?  That's out the window, too.  Mostly because people can bravely launch any kind of personal attack on another from the relative safety of their keyboard or smartphone.  

Most of our understanding of people not like us comes from gross stereotypes or the misinformation that flows over the internet like a muddy flood. 

I'm not immune from this, either. My goodwill is often strained to break when it comes to feeling sympathy or empathy for some folks.   Most pastors I know have the same issue, so there you go. 

So what do we do?  How do we learn to feel sympathy and empathy toward people with whom we adamantly disagree?  Is it even possible?  

It is, but it takes some Divine intervention to my thinking.  We need to learn what it means to view the world and others as God does, which is pretty difficult considering none of us are God. 

But Jesus did give us a glimpse into what this could look like. He reached across divisions, even the religious ones imposed by his own religious tradition, and welcomed those who were considered outcasts and enemies.  

He reached down to restore those no one in his culture would touch.  Jesus also offered restoration for those who were considered to be pariahs---tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritans, for example. 

Jesus saw beyond the stereotypes, both real and imagined.  He showed sympathy and empathy to all and was unafraid to speak the truth in love with a spirit of grace and a heart for healing. 

Fr. Richard Rohr once wrote about this very thing, and his words are both relevant and necessary here: 

Human sympathy is the best and easiest way to open heart space and to make us live inside our own bodies. God never intended most human beings to become philosophers or theologians, but God does want all humans to represent God’s own sympathy and empathy. And it’s okay if it takes a while to get there. 

I am both inspired and challenged by everything Fr. Richard says here.  But I am also comforted by the last line.  "And it's okay if it takes a while to get there." 

Honestly, the way God works on us is seldom a sprint and, more often, a marathon. We experience transformation when we are ready, so it doesn't all come in a rush. 

Over the past twenty years, I have experienced a significant transformation of my beliefs, deeply held convictions, understanding of Scripture, and what it means to follow Jesus. 

Those transformations did not occur overnight.  It took time, experience, and some maturity, but the change did come.  Some of it I longed for, and some of it I dreaded.  But in the end, the revelation necessary for transformation came when I was ready and open to receive it. 

And so, as I struggle with sympathy and empathy for people who rankle me and make my blood boil occasionally, I hope that my desire to discover more sympathy and empathy will be enough to chip away at the walls in my heart. 

This is what we all should pray for in our lives and the lives of others.  We should pray that God will do God's patient and grace-filled work on us to allow us to become the people God longs for us to be. 

May it be so.  And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us now and always. Amen. 

[datawyrms]

Inheiritance

The final battle with Pariah Dark does not go as planned, leaving the King of Ghosts to take any prize he would like. @five-rivers' Prompt, For Phic Phight 2022! (This was done yesterday, but it was Danno day so...) On Ao3

5%

It was dropping too fast. He was so, so close! Just another push, a little more power and the tyrant would be locked away. Then his home would be back on Earth where it belonged, and the monster so terrifying that all his enemies  agreed to work together would stop being a problem.

3%

The flashing red light wasn’t helping, and Danny grit his teeth to ignore how his hands were starting to feel numb as he continued to force the Ecto-Skeleton to push forward. Pariah’s heavy boots pushed up rocky fragments from the ground as the Ghost King resisted his relentless shove.

1%

His parents said this thing could kill you. He’d seen how it drained his dad, how weak he had been without the full suit. Being half ghost seemed to make it a bit safer, but he didn’t want to know if it would help him survive at zero. Sweating in his ghost form wasn’t common, but he was practically melting as it slid down his face. Just a little more.

He didn’t have a little more to give. His back burned where the connectors had lodged into his spine, pulling and looking for something he didn’t have.

0.5%

Couldn’t feel the machine anymore. Barely felt anything. Pariah was a swimming monster, impossibly large, Danny’s eyes unwilling to focus on his foe. He was going to die if he kept trying, if he didn’t eject now. No one else could use this thing safely. There wasn’t a second chance at this.

He was really glad Sam had caught him before he left. So he’d been able to say goodbye to someone, at least.

Danny ignored how every part of him screamed to give up and try to escape, putting every last bit of himself in a final heave.

Pariah hit the back of the sarcophagus.

The Ghost King shoved the crackling, frozen machine back before the lid could be locked, before he could truly be sealed.

0%

Danny couldn’t do anything as he was shoved aside but mumble apologies as an awful numbness filled him. He tried. He’d done all he could. It wasn’t enough. At least he couldn’t see what was happening anymore, and he couldn’t really feel, either. Would he leave a body if he died as a ghost? He didn’t really have time to ponder the answer before that was snuffed out too.

Perhaps his unjust exile by slumber had not been entirely negative. In this time, breaching out of the Infinite Realms to reach the living world was easier, the hardest portion already completed with the ‘ghost portal’ that did not flicker out or fade. Even as cowardly subjects fled their rightful king, he continued to claim new ground. The access point belonged to him now, and so did the attached plot of land. Human subjects would be a new development, but fear would likely work on them just as well as it did ghosts.

There was also the matter of the upstart child that had rallied the cowards and had the guts to attempt to take him on. A mere  infant of a ghost, one that had to rely on a machine to truly stand toe to toe with him. He was audacious. An absolute fool that nearly bested him.

Danny Phantom had thrown everything he had and came up short. Pariah could let the strange creature meet his end, limp in the armour that had devoured every spark left in his body. He would break down with no energy to maintain his form or mind, and those humans did not survive a mind with no electrical charge either.

He could intervene. Reinvigorate his core and rebuild the collapsing body with his own ectoplasm, denying him the fate he earned. The sheer cheek, the amount of bravery shown amused him. Pariah had no heir, never finding any worthy to uphold his rule if he chose to step down. The boy wasn’t perfect, but there was dedication and a fire there. A little shaping, a few adjustments and many years to grow could make a worthy successor from the fading scrap. He did not become the king of all ghosts by acting with half measures- something this child already understood. Something this child was willing to end for. If that fire was turned to more worthy goals, surely the boy could achieve as he had done in uniting the fickle Realms under his rule.

Without Phantom’s energy running through the suit he was able to shatter the glass easily, fishing the white haired boy clear of the suit. Parts of it clung to strands of ectoplasm as he tore him clear, the spine a mess of splatted green. All of it was dead ectoplasm anyway, the suit could keep it if it damn well wanted it.

The child was so small he could fit in the palm of his hand. That would make this easier. Pariah closed his eyes and hand, nearly crushing the remains as he gathered up a charge, much as he would if he meant to fire a blast. Instead he focused it on the fading ghost, a jolt of power, an offering for him to feed. It wouldn’t always work, not every ghost was enough of a fighter to claw back and rebuild.

Of course, Phantom was that kind of fighter. If he wasn’t, he would not have bothered. Pariah could feel the boy latch on to the offered energy, the salvation from his end, greedily trying to take anything that was offered. Not that he would allow the boy everything. Not for free.

You will owe your very existence to me, if I allow you to feed. The energy itself should speak to the dying creature in a way the scrambled lost soul should be able to understand. The pull lessened slightly, but did not stop. Understandable, they had been foes as he perished. Caution wasn’t overly surprising.  Accept or fade into oblivion. Simple terms. The boy would feel the truth of them.

There was only one more second of hesitation before Phantom grabbed for the offered energy again, flickers of desperation, hope and fear coming from the connection. He was not ready to end yet. He wouldn’t fall here.

The boy had already fallen here, but Pariah felt no need to correct the child. That sort of thing could be discussed when he was no longer little more than a leech in his hand.

Bringing the remaining rebellion to heel was a simple matter with their leader gone, their strongest fighter lost. Most fled his wrath, but the Fright Knight would have to be dealt with. He’d caught the warrior conversing with the elder half ghost, plotting and scheming while a mere  child  did the heavy lifting. Perhaps he had forgotten why he was a loyal knight in his long absence. Some time trapped back in his sword with no power to have a physical form should promptly remind him why he was a mere servant instead of king. He did not even need the ring’s help to summon the sheer rage required to rebuild his skeleton legions that had fallen in battle. All he had to do was think of how weak and pitiful ghosts had become after they locked him away.

Clockwork would have much to answer for, after he had rested. The master of time may be bound to obey the king of ghosts, but he was an ancient soul who would use every trick to misinterpret orders or avoid taking actions he did not agree with. In short, he was a headache, and he did not require his services at this moment. Best to focus on the work that could be done without needing to plan every action fifty steps in advance. The humans were continuing to cower behind their barrier, but he would allow it for now. He was a little rusty after so long in stasis, after he had been separated from his objects of power long enough that parts of his body did not recall how to properly use them. He hadn’t felt the Crown of Wrath’s agonizing flames in centuries, his careful attunement to it lost. Another difficulty he would bear and overcome like all others before.

He had plenty of time to start restoring his castle, skeletal servants already at work clearing the damage from the battle as he secured the boundaries. No ghost who intruded could pretend they did not know they were not welcome. While his new heir was reforming, Pariah would prefer to not be interrupted. New staff and servants could be found when the boy wasn’t still encased in swirling ectoplasm. He half expected Phantom to snap back in mere days, but the boy was unpractised and needed guidance to rebuild his depleted resources. There were hints that he was properly reawakening, sudden probing thoughts of clarity and confusion to where he was that eventually settled back into the unfocused haze. Perhaps another week.

That suited him well enough. The more his very being was used to obeying his new father, the easier the transition should come for his mind. He expected rebellion and arguments- the drive and passion in that little body would demand it- but he would settle down in time. He had no real choice in the matter. He knew what he agreed to, deep inside. It would be written into his very being. To fight it was a losing battle. Not that he wanted to make a mindless heir. The fight, the loss and new understanding would be critical, make it easier to decide he agreed in his conscious mind as well. Once he could see how the Realms faltered and failed without his guiding hand, once he saw how deprived their land was by being so cut off from the land of the living the boy would understand why they were needed. Why the Ancients were so wrong to try and imprison him.

There was a questioning prod, asking why the swirling energy was angry and the king paused to steady himself.  Rest. There was no need to draw on those powers now. Those emotions, that strength would be needed outside the walls, not within just yet. Not since he shattered that wretched box into mere fragments.

He would bide his time as the rest of the Infinite Realms remembered their king. If some parts needed to be conquered again, he would do just that. A little warm up before setting his sights on the world beyond.

He woke up.

Danny hadn’t really expected to wake up again. Not with how that numbness dragged him down, making what little he could still sense feel like a distorted dream. Had he been dreaming? If he had, the memories abandoned him as he blinked a few more times, mostly to see if he was imagining the ability to move.

Everything was still a little hazy. He’d been fighting. Losing.

Now he was in a bed that wasn’t his, alone. In his ghost form. Had someone moved him, got him somewhere safe after. After.

After he died. He’d died, hadn’t he. The white gloves on his hands made it seem to be the case. Otherwise he’d be human right now, wouldn’t he? He rubbed at his temples, trying to focus and remember what had been going on. There’d been a battle, he’d stolen the Ecto-Skeleton to do. Something. Where was here? The high ceilings and reddish walls weren’t really familiar.

It had been important. Incredibly important. So why were his thoughts like shadows that slipped away when he tried to focus on them?

 Pariah Dark.

His chest seemed to burn as his memory finally clicked into place, trying to kick free of the blankets and get back to his feet. He’d lost. What happened to his friends, his family? Amity Park? Where were they? He had to get back. The wave of nausea that rolled over him as his boots hit the floor nearly sent him down again, fingers clutching the edge of the mattress as he steadied himself. Being this weakened felt wrong, made his failure burn even more. Someone had to have dragged him out of the wreckage. Who? This wasn’t Vlad’s place.

The door looked so far away when he looked at it on trembling legs. Come on. He could fly, this was nothing. Well. He couldn’t actually fly right now. Even thinking about it made his vision blur and arms start to go slack. Okay. No powers after whatever it was that happened. He didn’t really want to think about it. Just focus on how every step took way too much effort.

Getting to the door just showed him what was a too long hallway in either direction. It was too tall and too wide, a hallway for giants. If the door hadn’t been propped open, he doubted he’d succeed in moving it. Was anyone here? Danny didn’t want to talk, not when he was in some strange place after a brutal fight. Yet the idea of trying to walk down these gargantuan halls, leaning against the walls didn’t appeal either.

What other choice did he have though? To hobble back to the bed and keep knowing nothing? No thanks. Even if part of him really, really wanted to.

He decided to go left, trying to figure out why it looked somewhat familiar. Maybe he’d seen something like it once. Danny paused to rest at the corner, tempted to just lean his head against the wall and close his eyes. If he felt this wretched and was still maintaining his ghost form…no. He didn’t need to confirm anything about that. Maybe he wasn’t dead-dead. It just made sense not to push it. Totally wasn’t just too scared to know for sure. He grit his teeth and urged himself to keep walking. Soon he would find someone who knew what was going on.

The next corner did cause him to drop to the carpeted floor, freezing up like it would do anything to keep the massive king of ghosts from spotting him.  Why was he in Pariah’s Keep?!  His gut churned as he stared, at a loss. Was he a prisoner? Was that why he felt so awful, this guy was doing something to him? No. That didn’t feel like the answer.

“I did not expect to see you walking around so soon. Though you are a tenacious one,” Pariah said, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Oh, he didn’t like that. He tried to shove this guy into another endless sleep, he shouldn’t be smiling at him. Trying to stand just wasn’t in him right now. “W-What do you want, Pariah?” Bluffing he could do. Barely. He sounded a little more wheezy than confident, honestly.

“Nothing. I have what I want already.” Pariah rose from his throne, crossing the room easily with long strides. “You’ll destabilize again if you refuse to rest.”

He’d never felt smaller than he did right now, a flea staring up at a mountain. What he was saying was almost as alarming. Destabilize again? As in he already had once? Why did Pariah care? A proper response refused to pop into his head, replaced with a spike of terror as the king stooped down as if to grab him.

Pariah succeeded in that, obviously. His pathetic attempt to crabwalk backwards didn’t even get him far enough to make the massive ghost take another step forward. All he could do was brace himself and hope he wasn’t crushed.

Nothing happened. His eyes opened up a crack, not knowing what to believe. Still picked up, but just being held rather gently, curled fingers more walls to keep him from falling than to squash him flat.

“Relax. There is no need to harm you, my child.”

“I’m not-” Danny choked on the sentence, unable to finish. Like he’d forgotten how his mouth worked, jaw somewhat slack instead of saying ‘your kid’. He wasn’t! That was obvious! Why couldn’t he say it? Worse, his body refused to tense up. As if being told to relax was mandatory. Like he’d been wrapped in an invisible weighted blanket and was just sinking into the comforting weight.

“Your confusion will pass. We can discuss it when you are more recovered.”

Danny could feel the movement, a gentle rocking as his eyes started to feel heavier. All of this was wrong. The all feared King of Ghosts was just carrying him around. Calling him his child.

Making some part of him content and happy to be carried by someone he considered a deadly foe.

A deadly foe that just deposited him back in the bed, chuckling as if he was some amusing kitten as he fought to sit up, to try and make his heavy eyelids more of a glare instead of his failing will. “How? How are you doing this?” He could ask that, thankfully.

Pariah’s grin only made his heart sink more. “You will learn. Perhaps you should take a better look at yourself.” The giant didn’t wait for his reaction, sweeping out of the room.

A better look? It wasn’t like there was a mirror in here. His hands and feet looked normal enough, black and white jumpsuit as always. Grabbing a bit of his hair confirmed it was the normal white too. Looking down…had been a bad idea. His logo-Sam’s logo was gone, his chest looking half torn open from his right shoulder as if by some savage claw.

That should probably hurt more than he felt. A gentle prod at the sickly green didn’t cause ectoplasm to leak out. It was more like an ugly green scab or scar. As if his skin and suit had been replaced there with this wound. To mock him? Okay, it hurt if he tried pressing too hard, but the guilt he felt at the small fragments of something that was his, something that showed who he was being apparently damaged beyond repair hurt more. It was just part of who he was as a ghost, and he lost it. He didn’t even remember how.

If he rested, maybe he’d be able to heal up, have his suit repair itself properly instead of this mess. He didn’t want to rest- but resisting wasn’t doing anything for him either. Falling back into the pillows made his spine tingle with shame, but a comforting purr in his chest banished the worst of it as he drifted off.

[tanadrin]

Do you have any problems with the following reasoning: "There is nothing ethically wrong with torturing Nazis to death, Inglorious Bastards-style, because it's what Nazis actually want. Ask any true believer Nazi, and he would say that for him, it would be the dream of his life and the highest honor to became a matryr for the cause of Nazism and in the name of the white race"?

This thought experiment disingenuously smuggles several questionable assumptions into the scenario it presents, which are worth unpacking alongside the broader question of "whom is it ethical to torture and murder."

First, let us look at the choice of acceptable target. Nazis, like pedophiles and rapists, are a useful acceptable target in thought experiments involving capital punishment and vigilante justice because nobody wishes to be thought an apologist for monstrous ideologies or actions. There are plenty of groups that in the present cause more suffering than open, avowed Nazis. There are, in absolute terms, many fewer open, avowed Nazis now than there are, say, apologists for American overseas military interventions that have killed many tens of thousands of people and caused devastation throughout the Middle East. If we assume murdering our ideological enemies is an effective means of harm reduction (extremely doubtful), killing American political and military officials with mainstream foreign policy views would do more to reduce harm than killing Nazis. Nazi ideology would cause more harm if it had a hegemonic position in global politics, sure--but it doesn't.

This is neither a defense of Nazism, which I am not at all hesitate to declare a pathetic and vile ideology, nor an argument for political assassination, which I think is ineffective and immoral. I do, however, want to look closely at why the target in these thought experiments is ultimately always of a group that is already a major social pariah, and already automatically excluded from social or political influence. It makes othering the target quite easy; after all, you are not a Nazi, I am not a Nazi, neither of us have much sympathy for Nazis, nor do we, presumably, know any Nazis personally. There is no recognition of common humanity to overcome here: Nazis are alien to us. The threat they represent to anyone is pretty small; but they are reviled, and so the actual danger of open, avowed Nazism as a political force is not important.

Secondly, there are many reasons a Nazi might state that "it would be the dream of [their] life and the highest honor" of a Nazi to be tortured to death as a martyr for their ideology. One, they are a masochist with a persecution complex, and this is literally true. Two, they feel pressured to say it is true, to demonstrate commitment within their peer group. Three, they are a propagandist who knows this is not true for them or for most Nazis, but they have an interest in representing it as true, for political and social purposes, inside and outside their social group. It is also possible that this is not true, not at all; that it is in fact a distortion presented by a disingenuous interlocutor who simply wants to torture and murder Nazis. The only case in which torturing and murdering a living human being might even begin to approach not being a monstrous act is the first one, and even then only if you are absolutely certain, and correct in your certainty, of your ability to distinguish these four cases. Even then, torture and murder cause profound psychological harm to the torturer, and are likely to cause knock-on harm to the rule of law in a society which condones these acts; no amount of personal gratification on the part of the victim could make up for these harms if they resulted in a similar fate befalling someone who didn't suffer it with enthusiasm.

Thirdly: it is emotionally understandable why those who did suffer atrocities at the hands of the Nazis, or who look on with sympathy at the victims of Nazi atrocities, might harbor fantasies of vengeance a la Inglorious Basterds. It is emotionally understandable in the same way the Reign of Terror was understandable, or the murder of clergy during revolutions in Spain and Latin America was understandable: the powerless victims of great atrocities hunger for justice, or at least revenge; and when that justice is denied to them, for years or for generations, fury can spill over to great violence.

It's understandable, but that doesn't mean it's right. In the final calculation, I can truthfully admit no other answer than this: I think vengeance is never justified. I think one cruelty never permits or excuses another. I don't think there's any act any human being can commit that robs them of moral worth, the right to be treated with dignity, or makes them deserving of torture or death.

Outside the austere world of thought experiments, the justification presented in scenarios like this one is used by the bloodthirsty to kill with impunity, by the authoritarian to terrorize the weak and to silence dissent, and by the self-righteous to attempt to purify the world of those categories of human being which, they say, are the only thing standing between us and Paradise. In other words, by Nazis. And even if that were somehow not true--even if you could appoint or construct a perfect judge, who could sift the hearts of mankind for purity and worth, and truly condemn only the vicious, and never the innocent, it would still be wrong. Wrong in the imagined perfect case; wrong in the real world; indefensible on any sort of utilitarian or deontological grounds.

We have spend the last fifty thousand years as a species trying to claw our way up out of the hideous game-theoretic equilibria imposed on us by nature, toward something which we hopefully name "justice" and "peace" and "prosperity" and "rule of law," and no amount of rationalization in the world can obscure the true intent of those who really only hunger for the life of our cannibalistic and murderous australopithecene forebears.

[merrysithmas]

The good thing abt Steve and smth ppl are missing in the current discourse is he really did say Fuck America literally every chance he got and criticized the US govt every second he wore the suit and the govt absolutely hated him for it.

Even in the 40s he didnt want to kill anyone "for America", but as a disabled man couldn't fathom not standing up to the eugenicist Nazis. He wasn't politically motivated by nationalism but instead by human compassion. In fact, it is extremely likely he was highly critical of the US govt as a young man preserum given his impoverished life circumstances and constantly failing health. Living in NYC, seeing the shanty towns in Central Park, unable to afford life-saving medicine, watching Bucky and his mother kill themselves to make a nickle, surrounded by the radical leftist art scene in NY as an art student - Steve saw and lived injustice every day. And empathized with people who suffered different social misfortunes than he did (the woman crying in the movie theatre, "I don't like bullies", Peggy suffering sexism) although his personal list was extensive itself.

To him, the shield was always more of a philosophy and never attached to a specific country, which is what made it so easy for him to blow off 117 countries for Bucky, or tear the star from his chest yet defend the world in the vestiges of his armor against Thanos - he was fighting for what was right and not what was dictated by any country or political ideology (which is the main issue in Civil War with him being against the Accords, and one he was extremely well-positioned to understand having been used as a symbol and propaganda against his will many times, and having witnessed the dangers of state-sanctioned violence in WWII and CATWS. Even if Steve's argument was also faulty to an extent, you can absolutely see why he would argue for that perspective).

Steve was as FDR leftist artist in the Great Depression post Crash 1930s, disabled and chronically ill, diminutive and likely targeted by US eugenicits in NYC who vocally campaigned against disabled people being alive in the 30s (saying they should be sterilized or killed), son of an Irish immigrant single mother, lived in historically queer neighborhood of Brooklyn, an artist, and in the MCU coded as bi. He fights for whoever needs him, not for whoever tells him to. He was always highly critical and tongue-in-cheek/tired of the costume, drawing himself as the dancing monkey in CATFA ("Ready to follow 'Captain America' into the jaws of death?" he confides his mockery in Bucky, who heartwarmingly assures him that no, he is following Steve.) Steve continued to question, dog, and make trouble for the US continually after that until he wholeheartedly said Fuck You in CATWS and just dropped the shield (and never picked it up again until he handed it off to Sam, who he was confident could do something meaningful with it that he was not positioned to as a white man).

Steve visibly appears as a bygone era's "perfect man" and outright REJECTS both this supremacist definition and the shield's gatekeeping/the shield itself. Sam visibly appears as an "outsider" to exclusivist and systemically racist systems and yet EMBRACES the shield's potential. They are both radically standing up for the same cause in different ways and this comparison depicts why they are so closely aligned and best friends.

The irony of Steve Rogers as Captain America is hugely important to his character. In many ways, Steve is depicted as a reluctant hero who struggles with the strength of his own moral ideals versus the highly imperfect symbol he dons. This is different from other superheroes who usually self-create their alter egos as symbols of their more perfect, empowered selves.

In contrast, it is Steve's natural hardiness, independence, and righteous outrage in the face of wrongdoing which represents America's best ideals, but distinctly is opposed to its government which directs that he act as its image. As Steve holds the shield we see the image of a person who is critical of the govt for falling short of its principles and simultaneously embodies the ideal qualities that a equitable and free US is supposed to hold. Importantly, and definitively for his character, Steve as Cap shows how wanting the US really is for the goodness it robotically claims to have. And that is why he is important and impactful as Cap, essentially because he is uncomfortable with and critical of the costume.

The status of the suit often does not coincide with his personal beliefs. Yet he wears it to attempt to level up the system he is, for a while, mired in. Steve is not a patriot, not in the common sense of the world, he is instead a patriot of the humanist cause. This puts him on-site for many enemies, including those domestic to him and thus defines him as a hero.

Though his physical appearance suggests that he might wear the suit with a blind nationalist fervor a la John Walker (depicted as a perfect automaton soldier), Steve could not be further from that mindset (a good individualist man). As a now "perfect specimen" poised to be accepted and revered, Steve has the ability to choose an easy life where he is free of the hardships and ostracization he endured preserum. Yet instead, post CACW, Steve chose to continue to stand on the side of progress, the "little guy", to abandon the shield and now finally proudly embrace his pariah status and fight for those pushed aside or deemed unsalvagable or scapegoated (symbolized by Bucky) as he recognizes that while America's rule may benefit some, it still causes other to suffer and struggle (as he once did).

Not to mention, as a meta point, he was crafted as the "perfect man" from a sick, disenfranchised disabled boy who absolutely loathed Nazis by Jewish comic artists to mock the Nazi Aryan ideal - inverting their eugenicist visual image of perfection by empowering someone Nazis would view as worthless to burn their entire evil regime to ash.

He still, today, stands staunchly at odds with far right extremists and fascists in the US today and worldwide. He's the furthest thing from them and he'd have no problem in showing it. Choosing Sam as his successor, proudly, confidently, lovingly, and as a brother in arms who steps back so others can speak for themselves and tell their own stories, Steve shows his cultural and political understanding and his good heart once again - this time as an ally, friend, and a champion of the heroics of others.

[another-rpg-sideblog]

d100 Features of an anti-magic country in a high-magic setting

An idea that I’ve been kicking around in my head for a while. Basically, how would an extremely anti-magic society function in a setting where magic is everywhere? How does the state run? What's life like? What do their magic-using neighbors think of them? What would be some interesting quests that could arise?

Laws/Government

Magic is completely illegal.

Magic is mostly illegal, although a few weaker cantrips are allowed under extreme circumstances.

Magic is heavily discouraged through constant propaganda, but not illegal.

Magic users are summarily executed without a trial (oftentimes including their families too).

Magic users are imprisoned/enslaved/conscripted into the army.

Magic users are exiled to a far-off colony (like England sending convicts to Australia).

Magic users are ‘re-educated’ at covert camps. When they graduate, they are allowed to rejoin society.

Magic users are fully cut off from society and form an underclass (akin to Apartheid).

The magic ban is extremely popular and effective, with magic being practically eliminated in the state.

The magic ban is extremely popular but ineffective, with the mages always being one step ahead.

The magic ban is extremely unpopular but effective, with the people living in fear of the government.

The magic ban is extremely unpopular and ineffective, with arbitrary and lackadaisical enforcement.

The magic ban is an old law that dates back to the founding of the state.

The magic ban is a new law pushed through by demagogues/concerned citizens.

Spells are used as a necessary evil by the army/secret police.

Everyone is taught Detect Magic in order to make the job of the secret police easier.

The state is a paranoid totalitarian dictatorship, with imagined enemies lurking behind every corner.

The state is a liberal republic with equal rights for everyone...except magic users.

The magic ban is focused exclusively on the lower classes, and it’s an open secret that all the nobility practice magic.

The magic ban is focused exclusively on the upper classes, as the elites don’t really cares what the unwashed masses do.

Domestic Situation

The economy is awful. This is due to the lack of the benefits of magic and/or sanctions and embargoes from the surrounding magic-using nations.

The economy is booming. The magic ban has forced people to find material solutions to their problems, thus leading to rampant innovation and an industrial revolution.

Magical terrorist attacks, orchestrated by pro-magic rebels and funded by outside nations, are a common occurrence.

Magical terrorist attacks, secretly orchestrated by the government to frame magic users, are a common occurrence.

An Underground Railroad sneaks magic users out of the country

An ‘Underground Railroad’ is actually run by the secret police, and they use it to capture magic users trying to escape

A thriving magic black market has sprung up.

All mention of magic is censored, and people only talk about it in whispers.

The magic-using community is tight-knit and unified in opposition to the magic ban.

The magic-using community is divided, with many opportunistic mages helping the secret police as collaborators and informers.

Magic is allowed to be studied in the universities but never practiced.

Foreign Relations

The state is an international pariah, hated by the world and seen as a bastion of bigotry.

The state is an important ally for one side in a Cold War between two massive Empires, so the anti-magic stuff is looked over.

The state is on good relations with its neighbors, despite the immense controversy of the magic ban.

Foreign magic users are allowed to visit, but the punishment for using magic is the same for foreigners and citizens.

Magic-using foreigners have to be accompanied by a government minder at all times.

Foreigners are allowed to use magic, but there are hefty fines for doing it in public.

All magic-using foreigners are banned from entering the borders. Those from magical races are shot on sight.

Quest Hooks

The ‘Chosen One’ for some ancient and important prophecy has been born in the state. Help him escape before the secret police find out who he really is. (When they get there, the party finds out that he’s already been brainwashed by the secret police, and they have to break the conditioning).

A vengeful mage has placed a horrible curse on the leader of the state. At least, that’s what he said before he died; since magic is banned, no one knows what the curse is. Find out what it does and lift it.

A powerful sorcerer has appeared and is doing charity. While the charity is appreciated, this is a flagrant violation of the laws. Find him, then either kill him or help him (The sorcerer is actually a Young Silver Dragon, but the party only finds this out after they make their choice).

The local magistrate’s son is accused by a rival of being a magic user. The magistrate says his son is being framed, while the rival says the magistrate used his influence to cover it up.

Soldiers killed group of Druids on the border with another nation, causing a diplomatic incident. Meet with both sides and try to prevent an all-out war.

An Angel was lynched by superstitious peasants, and the god that sent it is not happy. Find a way to appease the wrathful deity before the whole village is wiped from the map.

The king announces that the state found a fully charged Luck Blade with three casts of Wish. Not only that, but he is going to destroy it during the National Day festival, three days from now. Either protect the powerful (and dangerous) artifact until it can be destroyed or organize a heist and steal it for yourself (in reality, the Blade is fake, and the whole thing is a sting operation by the secret police).

by DengistBurgundy on reddit

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 6 -- A Ghostophobe, a Giant Iguana, and Vegan Nacho Cheese

Word Count: 14402

READ ON AO3

As an aspiring astronaut, Danny’s dream had always been going to space. 

Being able to look at the vastness of the universe, to literally look down on Earth and see every single country at once, to stargaze up close… All from the comfort of the space station as he leisurely floated around in zero gravity. 

Really, that was all he asked for. 

He was convinced he lost his chance when he got his powers. 

Although not directly connected to his dream, the birth of Danny Phantom almost put his GPA in jeopardy several times. Before the accident, he used to be a good student, granted, not as good as Jazz, but he brought home good marks. But once the first sleepless night trying to catch rogue ghosts came, countless more were soon to follow. 

Between the lack of sleep, being tardy to class or skipping it altogether, and many more instances of ‘teenage rebellion’ (all caused by his attempts to save everyone from malevolent spirits, not like anyone cared), Danny was sure his dreams of going to space had all but vanished before him.

There were no words capable of describing his joy when he miraculously pulled just the mark he needed to be accepted at Amity Park University’s Astrophysics degree. So what if he couldn’t go to a fancy college like Yale, or Stanford? That was Jazz’s dream, not his. Besides, studying at APU was perfect for protecting the town and getting access to the Ghost Zone. 

He seriously doubted any of those preppy colleges would have granted him permission to build a ghost portal in their labs, anyway. 

And so, he was closer to his dream than he’d thought he’d ever be during all of high school. During that time, he found solace in flying. Being one of the only two people in the whole world who could fly without help was even more special than being selected by NASA; a feat in itself. And it was so...liberating.

Even when he struggled most with his powers, just being able to fly made it all worth it. The immense relief that would envelop him whenever he just let the breeze guide him, lazily swaying in the sky and under the moonlight. The feeling he’d get whenever the adrenaline coursed through his veins as he picked up speed, sometimes even breaking the sound barrier when he felt like really challenging himself. Or just the chance to quiet the hectic voices ruling his life, even for just one moment: fight ghosts, save everyone, try to fit in, don’t let Mum and Dad find out what you are. Fight ghosts, save everyone, try to fit in, don’t let Mum and Dad find out what you are. Fight ghosts, save everyone, try toー

The mere chance to leave his worries behind, even for just a second, made the prospect of losing his one chance at his dream seem worth it.

Although...he did get the chance to be an astronaut during freshman year. But that was a story for another day. 

Now, at twenty-one and with even more things to worry about, flying was still the one place he could find solace in. Tucker often told him that’d change the day he found himself a girlfriend, but let’s be real; who’d want to date someone like him?

Unlike high school, however, his problem wasn’t his look or his personality. The not-so-subtle glancesーwhich were almost predatory, might he addーand shameless gossiping and squealing he got from the girls around campus confirmed he’d grown from ‘Scrawny, Awkward Fenturd’, to ‘Tall, Dark, and Handsome Fenstud.’ 

The moniker stroked his ego, he wasn’t going to deny it. But the problem wasn’t his popularity with the opposite sex. The problem was how the opposite sex would react if they knew his secret. 

Okay, maybe that was the wrong way to phrase that sentence. If the excited shrieking and squealing his alter ego received from the members of his fan club were anything to go by, any of those girls would faint in elation if they ever got the chance to date Danny Phantom. The polls from gossip magazines dedicated to discussing how hot the Ghost Boy was ーwhen were they gonna change that nickname to ‘Ghost Man’, anyway? When he was 40?!ー didn’t lie. 

The real problem would come when his girlfriend got involved in his double life. And even if he wouldn’t want her to be involved, let alone fight ghosts alongside him like Tucker and Jazz did, deep down he knew it was inevitable. The moment his enemies found out he had a new girlfriend, they would use her to get to him. After all, what better way to defeat someone than to exploit his weakness? If Technus, of all people, could come up with that plan, anybody else could.

As he surveyed Amity Park from above, lost in his thoughts, Danny suddenly registered a source of heat coming from his right. Quickly swirling in the opposite direction to avoid the incoming projectile, a pink beam of ecto-energy, he quickly scanned his surroundings to identify his opponent. And judging by the way his Ghost Sense hadn't gone off, that could only be one person.

“Valerie.”

“It’s Red Huntress for you, spook!” A snarl, accompanied by another pink blast, came from above him. After blocking the attack with an ecto-shield, he looked up. Lo and behold, Valerie was hovering over him on her forked, black and red hoverboard, an ecto-gun protruding from her forearm and aimed directly at him.

Valerie Gray, also known as The Red Huntress. Amity Park’s most competent ghost hunter, after him. Who also happened to be his sorta-kinda-maybe-it’s-complicated ex-girlfriend. Or his S.K.M.I.C.E.G.F. for short.

Somehow, that acronym never had a good reception.

His story with Valerie was...an interesting one, to say the least. Their relationship was full of ups and downs, with the downs eventually becoming an integral and exclusive part of their interactions as Danny Phantom and The Red Huntress. 

They started out as complete strangers. Well, not exactly. They both knew of each other back in the beginning to freshman year of high school, but they didn’t know each other. Valerie started out as another A-lister; haughty, self-centred, she made no effort to hide her disdain for those ‘bellow her.’ Of course, Danny, being Danny Fenton, one of the biggest losers in Casper High, was particularly low in her long list of those ‘bellow her.’

But that all changed thanks to a little ghost puppy he called Cujo. 

Cujo was the ghost of a guard dog trained by Axion Labs, where Damon Gray, Valerie’s father, worked. They got rid of the dogs after upgrading the security system, with the misfortune of preparing the labs for any possible kind of assault, except for a ghost puppy with the ability to turn into a bigger, more menacing dog looking for his lost chew toy. 

Needless to say, things could’ve gone better. If only because his accidental meddling had been indirectly responsible for Mr. Gray losing his job, the Grays losing their fortune and their house, Valerie falling from grace and losing her popularity, and her developing a huge grudge against all ghosts, especially him, that lasted well into present time.

If there were job applications for fucking people over that weren’t exclusively related to sex work, he’d be a pro. 

As expected when someone dedicated their lives to hunting you, regardless of your attempts to befriend them or explain the situation, the two didn’t quite get along at first. Between Valerie’s newfound purpose to waste him and the fact that she never really acknowledged she’d been as terrible to him and Tucker as the A-listers were now with her, the two often butted heads even at school. 

Their opinions of each other didn’t change until Skulker forced them to work together to survive his island and his attempts at hunting them both, when they actually had a heart-to-heart. Their civilian selves being simultaneously paired up for a Health class project also helped. 

But what really changed things was the very same events that turned Danny Phantom into the Ghost King. 

During Pariah Dark’s return, Danny Fenton and Valerie Gray really connected, and Danny learned to appreciate her in a whole new light. She was amazing while she fought Dark and the Fright Knight; the months she’d had to hone her abilities really shone through. Her attacks were intuitive, yet calculated. Her moves, nimble but they packed quite the punch. She was confident, and yet cautious enough to not get cocky. 

As odd as it sounded, seeing her fight was incredibly hot. 

...alright, so maybe he did have a thing for girls who could kick his ass. He blamed his dad for that one. 

That day, something sparked between them...but only between Danny Fenton and Valerie; she still hated the Ghost Boy with every fiber of her being. She was positively furious when she found out he’d been chosen as the next ruler of the Ghost Zone. 

Danny had to admit, anybody else with half a brain cell would have understood that crushing on a girl hellbent on destroying a part of him maybe wasn’t the best idea ever. Tucker and Jazz certainly thought so. But he was fourteen, hormones were high, and Valerie was the coolest girl he’d ever met so far, so…

Common sense be damned. 

And so, they tried going out for some time. During those few dates the two went together he was over the moon, walking on air, he couldn’t believe his luck! He’d finally found a girl who liked him for him. Someone real and approachable, unlike his previous crushes on popular girlsーironically enough since Valerie herself used to be an unapproachable popular girl.

The universe itself seemed to want them to be together!

Not only did they dates suddenly get better thanks to some weird coincidenceーa blackout turning a dinner in a greasy diner into a romantic candle-lit evening, winning carnival tickets at the baseball game, the ferris wheel stopping at the most romantic point possibleーbut they seemed to be enough to get the idea inside Valerie’s head that maybe their relationship was worth giving up ghosthunting for. 

Until Tucker, Jazz, and, surprisingly enough, Technus burst his little bubble. Turned out, Technus, who still didn’t respect him as his new ruler, seeing Valerie as a potential weakness, manipulated their relationship to keep him busy while he worked on his latest scheme. 

The self-called ‘Master of Technology’ was also responsible for Valerie’s hatred of ghosts being renewed, for the destruction of her original suit followed by an upgrade to her current armor, and for Danny’s one-time experience in space (a happy coincidence). 

Oh, and had he mentioned Technus’ meddling also led to Valerie breaking up with him before he could even ask her to go steady (hence the S.K.M.I.C.E.G.F. situation), giving him the most cliché excuse in the superheroing book, because she hated his ghost half more than she liked his human half?

Because it totally did.

Looking back, with Valerie’s icy glare set on him and a very menacing looking ecto-gun aimed straight at his forehead, maybe dating a ghost hunter set on killing him wasn’t his best idea. Fucking hormones…

“Look, Valerie, can we wrap this up? I’m really not in the mood.”

“Oh, we’ll wrap it up alright, Phantom,” she sneered, “with your ass in a body bag!” She shot at him again with the weapon protruding from her forearm. Seeing as the ghost only ducked the ecto-rays with relative difficulty, she changed tactics. Quickly typing down a command on her control panel, from between her fingers materialised three razor-sharp pink discs. 

The moment her attention was focused elsewhere, Danny took the chance and flew off at top speed. Noticing his attempt to escape from the corner of her eye, refusing to let him get away, the Red Huntress stepped on the hidden button of her board’s body. With a whirring sound, the engines roared to life, allowing her to fly after him. 

Once the Ghost Boy was within reaching distance and too busy trying to get away from her, with a swift motion of her arm, Valerie hurled the pink discs at him. At the sound of air being sliced, Danny turned his head just enough to notice the pink projectiles coming towards him from the corner of his eye. Maneuvering through the sky, he managed to dodge the first two, but as he ducked away from the second disc, the third came close enough to slice his upper arm. 

Wincing in pain, not once stopping his flight, he cradled his arm to inspect the wound. Despite the oozing ectoplasm coming out of it, it was just a superficial cut. He’d live. As he registered the sudden heat approaching his back, Danny understood the only way to get rid of Valerie was fighting her. 

As much as he hated fighting a friend, it was pointless to resist when said friend was trying to shoot holes into his body. And if he made the mistake of letting her get too close, he’d get caught in between her board’s forked ends, giving his chaser the perfect chance to activate the stinger and electrocute him. 

“Hate to break it to you, Valerie. But I’m already dead, so body bags are pretty pointless!” Charging up his ecto-ray, hands glowing green, Danny shot in her direction, holding back just enough so Val would be forced to swirl around the sky to avoid getting hit. It was his signature move when facing off against Valerie: distract her with the need for an evasive maneuver in order to gain enough time to escape himself. 

Just as he predicted, when the green rays of energy got closer to her, the Red Huntress willed her board to keep moving to the opposite direction of the blasts. What he hadn’t predicted, though, was that she’d change tactics and face the blasts head-on. The impact caused a plume of smoke to rise up in the air, hiding the girl from view.

Before he could fuss over her safety, however, Valerie rose up above him. Hunched down on her board before elegantly moving to stand tall, a smug grin on her face, she was surrounded by a bluish ghost shield coming from her preferred method of transport. He always forgot she could do that. “That’s too bad.” She said in a fake, sugary voice. “Guess I’ll just have to resign myself to seeing you fade.” 

In an instant, she willed three metallic cubes to manifest around her head and shoulders. As the devices charged up, the Red Huntress gave chase to him once more. 

Reacting almost a split-second too late, Danny resumed his own attempts of leaving her behind. Whenever an energy beam got too close for comfort, he either put all his years of flying to good use and miraculously managed to avoid getting hit, or he’d focus his energy on forming ecto-shields of different sizesーdepending on her ecto-rays' own intensity. The untrained observer would point out he could just turn intangible and the beams would harmlessly pass through him, but that was too simple. And fighting Val was never simple. 

Even when she’d first got her gearーand by that he meant her old, non-Technus-upgraded gearーthe Red Huntress’ various weapons were all capable of hitting him even when he went intangible. Therefore, lowering his guard like that around her was like a clear invitation to get his ass whooped. 

Getting frustrated, with Val still hot in his ghost-tail, he bellowed, “Would you just quit it?! I still got a mark from the last time we fought!”

Smirking darkly, Valerie forewent her cubic guns for her trusty ecto-grenade. “Then I know where to hit next.” She declared before throwing the dangerous device at him, hitting him square on his left shoulder.

As a burning pain suddenly spread through his left shoulder to the tip of his fingertips, not all was lost, for the resulting explosion had sent him flying across the sky to the asphalt, effectively putting some much needed distance from him and his pursuer. 

Hands propped on the street and barely supporting his weight, Danny laboriously lifted his head up. All around him, people were either running away in fright of the impending battle or crowding the street as they pointed at him, whispering amongst themselves. 

Lifting himself up to a sitting position, the halfa gently nursed his aching shoulder, wincing in pain whenever his fingertips touched the sensitive skin. Although whatever damage Valerie had managed to inflict upon him would soon be gone thanks to his enhanced healing factor, he knew he didn’t have the luxury to wait that long. Knowing the ghost hunter, she’d be around, looking for him. And the moment she found him, she’d waste no time resuming their confrontation.

The Red Huntress would never stop until the source of all her misery was finally banished to the Ghost Zone, or disposed off permanently. 

Grunting in pain, Danny willed the cold of his core to spread throughout his body until it reached his hands. The moment his hand blazed a familiar, chilly blue he began caressing his suffering shoulder, the cold emanating from his fingertips a welcomed painkiller. 

“Is there anything more unfair than being pummeled to a pulp when you’re actually holding back from hurting the other person?” He grunted, but his musings were cut short by another ecto-beam barely missing his head, a whiff of smoke coming from the asphalt that’d cushioned the hit. 

His heart suddenly in his throat, the halfa gingerly looked up, only to find Valerie a few feet away from him, a smoking, double-cannoned ecto-bazooka resting on her shoulder, which only elicited the whispers around them to grow louder, more frantic. “Gotcha.” She said, her glare colder than his ice powers. 

Adrenaline kicking his brain in overdrive, Danny frantically looked around, trying to find a way to escape that didn’t involve hurting Valerie or any of the onlookers. Argh, if only he could just turn intangible! As he futilely tried crawling away, his gloved hands moving against the asphalt floor below him, the sensation sparked an idea. Maybe turning intangible was useless against the Red Huntress’ weapons, but phasing wasn’t.

The only thing he needed was a distraction, and the whirring sound coming from the charging ecto-bazooka gave him an idea. It was reckless, but that seemed to be his thing lately, wasn’t it?

“Say goodbye, Phantom!” Valerie spat just as the weapon perched on her shoulder was done charging up, shooting a powerful blast his way. 

Using the hand that was previously healing his wounds, Danny shot his own ecto-ray at the incoming projectile, causing his adversary to gasp in surprise. “Goodbye, Red!”

As the two forces came into contact with each other, under the stunned gazes of everyone present, they exploded into a blinding light that forced everyone, Valerie included, to shield their eyes. Wasting no time, Danny turned intangible, phasing through the floor and into the Amity Park sewer system. Once underground, he let his transformation drop, knowing Val’s Ghost Radar would find him otherwise, before making his way around the sewers in search of the nearest exit, his body leaning against the wall for support. 

After what felt like an eternity, Valerie finally got her forearm out of her face. What was the point in having a dark-tinted visor if she could still be blinded? Once she’d regained the totality of her sight, that is to say, she no longer saw dark spots dancing around her vision, she quickly redirected her gaze to where Phantom stood. 

Nothing.

Gasping, Valerie looked up to the sky. As her eyes scanned around for a black and white, flying figure, or even anything amiss in case the Ghost Boy had turned invisible, she soon realised the green-eyed spook was truly nowhere to be seen. Despite her growing frustration at losing her target, the Red Huntress quickly typed a command on her suit, hoping her Ghost Radar could still detect him. No such luck. 

Growling in frustration with murder in her eyes, she jumped mid-air, summoning her hoverboard to appear right bellow her. Roaring the engines to life, she took off in direction to Elmerton, her home for the last seven years. 

As she soared the skies, Valerie kept looking back and forth between her radar and her surroundings, looking for Phantom. “I was so close, damn it! Every time I think I finally have that ectoplasmic punk right where I want him, he up and disappears!” With a furious yell to the sky, she leaned on her board, using her feet to increase its speed.

Her gear had to be the only good thing that came out of her first encounter with that ghostly bastard. Even if she’d lost everything and her dad was constantly working long hours to keep her in collegeーher wonderful, incredible, genius dad, who deserved much more than just being a crammy security night guardー, at least what happened at Axion Labs all those years ago had given her two things: the gear necessary to become Amity Park’s most powerful ghost hunter, and the purpose to eliminate all bodiless apparitions from the face of the Earth. 

Starting by Danny Phantom. 

Valerie could only scoff at some people’s stupidity. Although most citizens had half the brains necessary to figure out Danny Phantom was a threat, there were still some who revered him as some kind of hero.

Oh, it was true. He saved the town from falling into that Ghost King’s claws, but didn’t anybody remember what happened afterwards? Because she did. Not even a week after ‘saving’ everyone from a fate worse than deathーand causing her some injuries and for her dad to both find out about her ghost-hunting escapades and forbid her from ever touching her equipment again, to add insult to injuryー, he ascended as the next Ghost King. 

And people still celebrated him? Were they blind?!

It was clear that Phantom only ever fought the Ghost King, not to protect Amity Park, or whatever nonsense he kept trying to feed the public, but to dethrone him himself! He wanted that psycho’s position for himself, so he could keep terrorising the town with even less opposition than before! 

“Hero my ass…” Valerie scoffed in disbelieving disgust. 

But, apparently, only Valerie and the Fentons had any common sense on the matter. “Wow. Never thought I’d have anything in common with the Fentons…” she mused aloud. As much as she’d liked Danny when they were fourteen, his family was a whole different thing.

When she finally made out her apartment complex in the distance, the armored girl couldn’t help but carefully glide near their living room window, where she could see her father sleeping soundly on the couch after a long nightーtoo tired to even go to bed. 

Carefully resting her gloved hand against the window glass, worriedly looking at the man who’d been her only source of comfort for as long as she could remember, her heart broke. “Don’t worry, Dad. I promise, one day Phantom’ll be mine. And then we’ll finally cash in that reward and leave this shit hole once and for all.” 

With renewed determination, she went around her floor until she was right beside her own room. Due to her always leaving her bedroom window open, all she had to do was squeeze herself inside. Now standing in her room, she deactivated her suit, which disappeared in a swirl of electricity. Walking over her mirror, Valerie picked up a quasi-new set of clothes that were lying on her chair. “But first, let’s pay that college tuition. It won’t look good if I’m late on my first day.”

............

Phasing through the walls, Danny stumbled into his sister’s room. He would’ve fallen face-first on the floor hadn’t it been for his hands instinctively stopping the fall. 

Her head snapping to the distinctive sound of a ‘thud’, Jazz immediately swirled around on her computer chair. “A little help?” Danny grunted tiredly. 

Gasping at the state her little brother was in, the redhead all but threw herself at him in order to inspect any possible wounds, only to recoil in disgust when she caught a sniff of him, pinching her nose. “Ew! What happened to you to smell that horridly?! What did you do, die for real?”

“I phased through the floor and into the sewers.” The black-haired boy dryly corrected, not appreciating his sister’s skewed priorities. “Now, if you would be so kind as to help me out...”

Jazz at least had the decency to blush. Offering a hand to her brother, she helped him stand up before guiding him to her bed. Then she lowered him on top of it and resumed her previous inspection of him. She jumped back in surprise at Danny’s sudden, sharp inhale of breath when she accidentally grazed his left shoulder. 

In an instant, she was basically in his face, fussing over him. “Danny? Are you okay? Is there anything wrong with your shoulder?”

“Everything’s fiー”, he stopped short when he registered her worried look. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I saw Valerie today.”

“Oh, no.” The eldest Fenton kid lamented, knowing where the conversation was headed.

“Yeah...I tried losing her, but in the meantime she landed a few mean punches on me...figuratively speaking, of course.”

“So I’m guessing your shoulder cushioned a nasty one?”

He nodded, barely turning his head to look at her. “Ecto-grenade.” He said simply, and Jazz cringed in sympathy. “Yeah. I numbed the pain a little by applying some cold with my powers, but a few real painkillers might do me some good until it’s properly healed.”

“Sure.” With a nod, Jazz got up from the bed and crossed over to the other side of the room, where her closet was located. Opening the door and standing on her tiptoes to reach the higher shelf, she grabbed her hidden first aid kit before setting it down on her desk. “Any other injuries I should know about?” She asked as she rummaged through her supplies, taking a small plastic jar with Ibuprofen from it. 

“Just a superficial cut on my arm. It’s almost completely healed now, but putting a band-aid on it just in case wouldn’t hurt.” 

Flopping herself down next to her baby brother again, medical supplies in hand, Jazz helped Danny out of his t-shirt. When she saw the burns on his shoulder, though, she couldn’t help but wince. “Are you sure you don’t want me to put some bandages on it, Danny? It looks pretty bad…”

The halfa sighed. He knew his sister would fuss over his health; she always did. “It’ll heal, Jazz. It always does.” Then he caught her expression from the corner of his eye. “...but if it’ll make you feel better, I suppose a few bandages just in case don’t so bad.”

Nodding readily, the aqua-eyed woman went to quickly retrieve some of the aforementioned bandages from her kit. Then she proceeded to wrap them around her brother’s left shoulder and pectorals. When Danny sent her a questioning look, she just shrugged and said, “Just in case.”

With his shoulder taken care of, Danny, almost begrudgingly, stretched his arm out to her, letting her inspect his cut. Even though he was right and it was just a flesh wound, it was still important to clean it. Pouring some disinfectant on a bunch of cotton balls, with the help of tweezers she gently dubbed the cotton against his skin, prompting Danny to wince in displeasure. 

She rolled her eyes at his childishness, annoyed. “Oh, come on! You literally just faced a ghost huntress, walked around the sewers for who knows how long, and this is something to complain about? Don’t be such a baby!”

“Hey, you have no right to complain about me complaining! You’re not the one who’s routinely going through some kind of medical procedure.” And he’d never want her to go through one; not even a simple check up. 

“Whatever,” she said as she put the band-aid on. She dusted her hands off before smiling proudly at him. “All done. Now, go get some rest before it’s time to go and you have to shower.”

Danny pouted. “Do we still have to go? Jazz, I’m injured…” He tried to bargain with his best sad, puppy-dog look. 

Jazz wasn’t buying, though. “Should’ve thought about that before you assured me your wounds would heal soon. Come on, Danny, you know I’ve been dying to try this place out and you promised to take me.”

“Can’t you take Tucker with you while I rest, instead?”

“No, because,” she lifted three fingers up, ready to count her options off, “one, he’s not my brother, and I’d like to go with my brother. Two, if you turn your head to my nightstand ever so slightly, you’ll see it’s only 12:30 PM on a Saturday; we’re leaving at sevenーyou’ll have plenty of time to rest. And three...can you really imagine Tucker stepping foot in that sort of place even if I bribed him with $1000?”

Danny visibly deflated at that. “No…”

“Then it’s settled.” Jazz declared. “Go to your room and rest. I’ll tell Mum and Dad you came while they were working on the lab and that you’re tired from an all-nighter of working on an assignment.”

“You’d think they’d be surprised I’m not getting straight A’s with all the times we’ve used the studying excuse on them…” Danny muttered as he left his sister's room. 

Standing against the door, Jazz shrugged. “Mum thinks spending so many nights awake studying is actually counter-productive, so…”

Danny chuckled before standing in front of his room’s door. Before going in, however, he called out to her. “Uh, Jazz?”

“Hm?” 

“You’re the best.” He smiled at her. 

She smiled back. “Anytime, Baby Brother.”

..............

A deafening roar echoed throughout the manor. Her heart pounding, Sam ran as fast as she could along the corridors, barely registering where she was going. She took so many turns around the halls she lost count, all portraits and decorations merging together so it’d look like she was running through the same, never ending hallway. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to the origin of the noise. 

When she finally arrived before the gates guarding the bloodcurdling sounds, she skidded to a halt so abruptly she almost gave herself whiplash. Now that she was closer to the source, Sam could also make out the sound of screaming coming from inside the room. And when she noticed just where the roaring and screaming was coming from, her heart all but stopped.

The training room. 

The place where the younger members of the clan practiced and perfected their magic. Whatever happened there now had a group of kids trapped! 

She had to do something!

But, being the queen and therefore not being able to afford anything happening to her in fear of unleashing a civil war, she’d promised she’d wait for Wilhelmina to arrive, or at the very least, for Paulina and Star to support her. 

Anxiously, her eyes kept darting back and forth in all directions, hoping against hope that someone, anyone, would soon come to help. They couldn’t risk their kids’ lives like that. Suddenly, the roars and screams only got louder, accompanied by the sounds of thrashing and the crunching of wood being broken. 

Whatever it was that was going on, it was mayhem!

The minutes felt like hours and there was still no sight of her Minister of War or her handmaidens. Fear gripping at her heart, terrified for the sake of the students trapped behind those doors, Sam threw all caution to the wind. Willing her mind to clear so she could establish a proper connection with her anima, the Witch Queen cupped her hands together in front of her chest, taking advantage of the extra dose of adrenaline to fuel her essence. As soon as she felt the familiar pull of power, she opened her now blazing, violet eyes and shouted, “Aries!”

From her open palms a host of purple light began to take form. In the blink of an eye, the spell solidified, shooting forwards to the gates and effectively crushing them by sheer force. As the dust resulting from the impact cleared, allowing Sam to finally see what was going on, all she could do was gasp. 

Standing tall and imposing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a group of terrified students who were hiding from it in the furthest corner of the classroom behind a row of desks, a gigantic iguana, the size of that dragon ghost that sometimes haunted the town, roared as it shoved tables out of its wayーtheir now spilled contents cluttered the floor. 

When the giant reptile’s eye landed on her, obviously taking notice of the explosion of light, Sam felt her blood run cold. And yet, in spite of the danger, she preferred having the beast targeting her than causing harm to the girls. As the creature threateningly stomped in the direction she was in, the young queen formulated a plan. 

If she could just keep the iguana distracted long enough until Wilhelmina came, she could win enough time to allow the kids to escape. But she’d have to tell them her plan as well. 

“And I know how.” She mused aloud with a smirk on her face. She was just glad she was currently wearing pants instead of an extravagant dress. 

As she waited for the reptile to get closer to her, biding her time, Sam intertwined her fingers save for her indexes and thumbs, which were in contact with each other. Then, just as the iguana’s claw was about to strike, she mimicked the action of a gun shooting with her arms. “Ignis!” She cried out. 

From her fingertips she kept shooting energy beams at the monster as she ran in the direction the girls were in. When one of her beams hit the iguana in the eye, causing it to cry out in pain and, most importantly, to be distracted, Sam quickly slid down to behind the remaining desksーwhere the girls were. 

“Girls, are you okay?!” She whispered-shouted as soon as she caught sight of them. They were a small group, six girls around the ages of 10-12. 

One of them, a brunette with green eyesーViolet, if Sam wasn’t wrongー, spoke up on behalf of her friends. “Your Majesty! Oh, thank Goodness...Yeah, we’re fine. As soon as that thing appeared we ran and hid here.”

The violet-eyed witch sighed in relief. “Thank God. Alright, Violet, right?” The girl nodded, the smile on her face was so wide due to the Queen remembering her name, one would almost forget they were all in danger.  “Right. I need you to tell me how this happened. And why are you guys all alone, shouldn’t an adult be with you at all times?”

Lola, a shy girl with black hair and glasses, and a distant relative of Paulina, answered instead. “Uh, well, we-we weren’t alone, your Highness.”

She’d have to tell them some other time that title was for princes and princesses, not queens. But first, saving their lives. “What do you mean, Lola? Who was with you?”

“Wilhelmina.”

“Wilhelmina?!” she repeated, a little too loudly. Wincing at the realisation, she hushed the girls in case the iguana had heard them. Whimpering in fright, the kids got closer to her, and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around them. After a few minutes and no response from the monster, Sam let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Okay. Girls, can you explain to me why Wilhelmina isn’t here? It’s not like her to leave students unsupervised.”

“Class was ending, anyway.” Violet explained. “She said she had something to do and that she trusted us to clean everything up before we left.”

Sam did not like where this was going. “And the giant iguana?”

“We don’t know.” Lola said, then she pointed at one of her friends, a blonde named Tamara. “We were talking about the familiars we’d like to have when we completed our Rite of Passage while we were finishing brewing today’s potion when Tammy said she’d wish to have an iguana. And, boom!”

“Is that true, Tammy?” Sam questioned the girl. 

Tammy nodded, tearing up. “Y-yes…I-I said...I-I’d like...a-an iguana and...and then...the p-potion...started b-boiling...and o-out of n-nowhere...that...that monster appeared!” She admitted between cries. 

Panicking, both because of the little girl crying and the potential danger of being discovered, Sam scooted closer to her, wiping her tears away with her hands. “Shh, shh! It’s okay, Tammy. It’s not your faultーthese things happen!”

“R-really?”

The queen nodded, smiling reassuringly at her. “Really. This sort of thing happens all the time. You’ll learn what it is soon enough.”

“So I’m not in trouble?”

“No, you’re not.” 

Before Sam could so much as blink, the girl threw her arms at her, hugging her. The raven-haired witch stiffened at the contact, not used to dealing with physical affection...or kids. After a minute, though, she relaxed and returned the embrace. Tammy needed comfort at the moment. 

“What do we do now, your Majesty?” Violet asked, bringing her queen back to Earth. 

“Is that thing going to eat us?” Lola insisted, looking positively spooked. 

“No, no. None of that!” Sam assured them, letting go of Tammy. “Because I have a plan.” She motioned with her hands for the girls to get closer to her before continuing. “First of all, don’t worry. Iguanas are herbivores; they don’t eat meat, let alone humans! So listen closely, any minute now Wilhelmina, my ladies-in-waiting, and whoever else they’d called for help will appear through that door. I’ll share my plan with them and while we keep the iguana busy, you’ll run away from here. Understood?”

The group nodded readily. “Good.”

“Your Majesty, where are you?!” A familiar voice called out to her. 

Crawling quietly, Sam dedicated one last look at the younger witches. “Remember, don’t move until I tell you to go, got it?”

“Got it.” The six of them said in unison. 

With a nod of her own, Sam crawled out of her hiding place before standing up and breaking into a full run to the direction the voice came fromーapparently, it was Susan who’d called out to her, accompanying her mentor. The latter, as well as Star and Paulina, were blocking the reptile’s exit. 

“Ignis!” repeating her actions from earlier, she shot another energy beam at the beast, before standing beside her subjects. 

“What is that thing!?” Paulina asked, looking completely revolted. 

“It’s the result of a spell gone awry.” The Witch Queen answered. “A girl got distracted while brewing a potion and this is the result.”

“What kind of distraction?” Star raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you think?” Sam replied as if that was all the answer she needed. 

Apparently, it was, because nobody else said a word until Wilhelmina’s hoarse voice broke the silence. “Your Majesty! What are you doing here!? You’re supposed to wait for help to come!”

The Goth couldn’t be bothered to pretend she cared about the protocol right now, especially not after discovering her fellow Council member had left a group of witches in-training completely unsupervised. “Not now, Wilhelmina! The kids are still here; we’ve gotta help them escape!”

“And how are we going to do that?” Star let out, trying to hold down the barrier of fiery, orange energy she’d created to prevent the beast from leaving the training room. 

“I have a plan.” Sam turned her attention to the potion-maker in-training. “Susan! Do you have one of your Minisize Me potions on you?”

The Asian teenager reached for her bandolier and grabbed a spherical jar in her hand. “Always, your Majesty!”

“Good! While Star holds the barrier down, Wilhelmina, Paulina, and I will try to restrain our little friend long enough for the girls to escape. As soon as the last girl has left the room, you have to throw the potion at the monster. It’s the only way to take care of it!” She then turned to her lady-in-waiting. “Star, the moment this thing’s all tied up, you let your barrier go so the girls can leave, got it?”

“Yes, my Queen!” Both girls exclaimed in unison, readying themselves. 

“Very well. Wilhelmina, Paulina,” she called out to them, “you take care of binding the reptile with me. Wilhelmina, since you’ve got the potions, you take care of its hind legs and tail; Paulina, you tie its left paw down. Ready?” Getting twin nods from her fellow witches, they all charged against the monster. 

As Sam and Paulina projected their respective animas in the form of a lasso with a scream of “Conjunctionis ligaveris!”, Wilhelmina used her own essence to propel herself above the beast, landing nimbly behind it. While the young queen and the Latina struggled to keep the reptile in place, their purple and soft pink animas tied tightly around its front paws, the potion-maker rummaged through her trusty bag, looking for her BubbleBomb potion. At the same time as she tried to dodge the animal’s large tail. 

Maybe Susan was right and she did need to organise her collection in a pair of twin bandoliers, just like her apprentice. 

Just as she was beginning to get frustrated, her finger brushed against a sticky substance. A familiar, sticky substance. Crying out in triumph, she got the jar with the sticky, pink slime from inside of her bag, just in time to be lifted up in the air by the force behind the collision of the iguana’s tail hitting the ground. Using her momentum, Wilhelmina smashed the bottle against the floor, which then exploded in a bubble of pink slime, effectively restraining the giant reptile’s movements.

“Girls, now!” Sam cried out, struggling to keep her focus long enough to keep the iguana down for much longer. 

The kids didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as their queen gave the order, they got out from their hiding spot and ran towards the door, where Star was waiting for them. Upon seeing them, she lowered her barrier, exhaling in between pants due to the physical exertion, thus allowing the group of kids to leave the room safe and sound. 

Smiling at their retrieving forms, Star cupped a hand around her mouth to call out to the, now, youngest witch in the room. “Susan, it’s all up to you now!”

Determined to not let her queen and mentor down, Susan ran towards the closest wall before leaping in the air feet-first towards it. The moment her feet came into contact with its surface, the teenager propelled herself to rise high above the ginormous beast. As soon as she was within optimal range, she hurled the spherical jar at it, which broke against the iguana’s hard-as-steel scales. In an instant, a cloud of turquoise, twinkling smoke enveloped the beast. 

Coughing and clearing the air around her with a wave of her hand, Sam dared look up to the direction the large creature once stood at. To her immense relief, she saw nothing. So willing her magic to deactivate, she walked over to where the, now, normal-sized iguana was. 

Smiling, she picked the lizard up. “You gave us quite the scare, right, little guy?”

“What do you intend to do with it, your Majesty?” Susan asked as soon as she nimbly landed on her feet the same way a professional gymnast would. 

“Why don’t you keep it? I believe you’ve mentioned Duke Scalynton needed a friend a few times now.” She suggested as she handed the iguana to the potion-maker in-training.

Looking down at the iguana in her hands, she turned to her mentor. “Would that be alright, Ms. Redring?”

“Perfectly so, Susan. Don’t worry.” Wilhelmina assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You did well today.”

Susan smiled brightly at that. Sam, on the contrary, could only frown at her. “Wilhelmina, the kids told me you were supposed to be looking after them, but you left them to clean everything by themselves before classes were officially over.”

The Minister of War remained impassive. “My apologies, your Majesty. I had other matters to attend to that required my immediate attention, and since today’s potion was rather simple, I supposed they’d be fine on their own for a few minutes.”

“So because you had better things to do you completely ignored one of our most important rules and risked the lives of six little girls in the process?” Sam seethed, arms crossed, her eyes blazing a dangerous, dark violet for a second. 

Wilhelmina narrowed her own eyes on her. “Careful, your Majesty. I don’t believe you’re in any position to say anything. Seeing as how often you completely disregard protocol; or have you already forgotten that you should have waited for back up before facing off against the threat yourself, hm?”

Sam balled her hands into fists at her sides, knowing, and hating, that she had her there. Turning around to leave the room, she spat. “Just, don’t let it happen again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, my Queen.” The brunette let out, almost sinisterly. 

Susan was petting her new pet when she noticed a shadow casted over her. Looking up, she almost gasped. “You did well today, girl. Just, do me a favour and keep that thing away from me.” Paulina told her with a smile, keeping a respectable distance between herself and the iguana in the teenager’s arms. 

Susan’s mind, other times sharp and focused, was suddenly completely blank. Mouth hanging open and eyes blinking at random intervals, she was sure she was gaping at the beautiful woman before her. “Uh...I...I mean…,” she stammered, “y-you look good, too! I-I mean! You did good, too. Obviously. Ah! Not like you don’t look good, too! You always look good! Just...you know, yeah…” She finished lamely. 

Oh, why couldn’t the iguana have eaten her before she spouted all that nonsense?!

“Okay…” The Latina drawled. “Well, I gotta go. See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya…” The teenage girl sighed dreamily, before realising what she was doing and facepalming herself. 

Now that they were outside of the training room and accompanying Sam to her quarters, for they had to help her get ready, Paulina eyed her best friend’s knowing grin in distaste. “What?” She snapped. 

“Somebody’s got a crush on you!” The blonde teased in a sing-song voice, the shit-eating grin never leaving her face. 

But the Latina just huffed. “Please! And who doesn’t? I’ve had my fair share of admirers since we were in ninth grade, Star. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

“That may be true,” Star conceded, “but I think this is the first time a younger girl’s crushing on you and you’re actually nice to her. The Pauli from back in Senior year would’ve crushed her dreams in a heartbeat.” She commented offhandedly, ignoring the look of pure horror flashing through their Queen’s face. 

The blue-eyed beauty just rolled her eyes. Since she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end, she often forgot how ruthless her best friend could be when she was met with some quality gossip. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Star! And Susan’s a good kid, of course I’m not going to be a bitch to her.”

“So you like her back?” The blonde asked, now feeling apprehensive. 

“Are you crazy?!” Paulina snapped at her, turning her face in her direction so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “First of all, she’s seventeen! I might like to party, but I’d never date a minor.” She sniffed in displeasure. Seriously, what was this girl thinking?! 

Her fellow handmaiden sighed in relief. “Thank Goodness, I was actually worried for a second. Just...try letting her down gently, okay?” 

“Who do you take me for? Besides, even if she were our age, which, again, she’s not, I just don’t swing that way.”

Star let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t try selling me the ‘I don’t swing that way excuse’, I’ve seen you throw your principles out of the window for the sake of screwing people over. And about letting her down gently, admit it Pauli, you can be a bit of a bitch.”

Sam, not daring to say a word, could only furrow her brow at what her subjects were saying. “What the Hell?”

Ignoring their queen’s silent judgement, Paulina gasped in surprise. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Rather than backing off given her friend’s reaction, Star only snorted. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t remember that one time in ninth grade that you agreed to go to homecoming with a complete loser just so Dash could play a joke on him.” Then, she turned pensive. “Hm, now that I think about it, we never did pull the prank on him...I wonder why.” She muttered to herself. 

Paulina’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape at the reminder. “Oooooh, that’s right! Yes, I did totally do that. Such a shame the guy was a total loser; he at least had decent taste in jewelry.”

The two kept chattering away until they noticed their queen’s appalled expression, her jaw hanging low. Giggling sheepishly, Paulina tried to save some face, Star nodding with a forced smile beside her. “That was a long time ago. We’ve grown up, we promise.” 

Blinking slowly at them, Sam forced her mouth shut. Doing a dusting-her-hands-off motion, she symbolically separated herself from anything having to do with their high school lives. “Something tells me we wouldn’t have got along growing up.”

“Then isn’t it great we only met outside of high school?” Star offered. 

“I think I’d much rather you just talk to me either about things going on inside the manor, or whatever crazy shit you’re up to at college.” The violet-eyed witch insisted as she turned her doorknob to let them in. For that day’s appointment she wanted to spice things up a little, but she still wanted a simple look that matched with her usual self, hence why she needed the girls’ help. 

“Oh. My. God!” Paulina exclaimed, raising her palms up as she entered the room. “You will not believe the drama that’s stirring at APU right now!”

Star, who was already seated on one of Sam’s chairs, made a sound of appreciation. “Ooooh! Do tell.”

As Sam went over to her closet and began to randomly pick up different clothes to ask the girl’s opinion onーt-shirts, jeans, skirts, dresses even…ーPaulina went on with her retelling, she and Star sporadically putting a stop on their conversation to give their queen some feedback. “Remember Tiffany? That two-faced, bitchy classmate of mine who’s been totally jealous of me since, like, forever?”

“Tiffany is a rather stereotypically bitchy name.” Sam commented, her focus on two different t-shirts. “As in, high school queen bee, cheerleader captain kind of bitchy.”

“I was a high school queen bee, cheerleader captain, Sam.” Paulina deadpanned. 

“Oh!” Sam faulted, biting her lip in embarrassment as she wondered how she’d fix that one. “Well, your name is not stereotypically bitchy...Tiffany is. I mean, how many high school chick flick villains are dumb blondes called Brittany, or Tiffany, or Cassidy…?”

“She does have a point.” Star conceded, propping her elbow against the chair’s back. 

With her index and thumb cupping her chin, the Latina ‘hmmed’ in acknowledgement. “Fair enough. Anyway, Sandra told me that Luka told her that Eliza told him that Tiffany’s out to get me ‘cause she’s so jealous it’s ripping her apart.”

As her ladies-in-waiting turned down her latest outfit, Sam arched an eyebrow, not following the conversation. “But didn’t you just say she’s always been jealous of you? What’s new about that?”

“What’s new is that now she’s jealous of me because Brad Carmichael, her ex-boyfriend with whom she broke up because he was dating a girl from Elmerton University behind her backーnot like she’s been a model girlfriend herself, if you know what I meanー, is apparently into me. And she can’t stand it.”

“But are you into Brad?” Star questioned, while Sam was busier wondering how she even managed to keep track of what Paulina was talking about in the first place. She’d already forgotten the guy’s name was Brad, for fuck’s sake! Her best guess was that keeping up with the latest gossip was some sort of ‘popular girl’ superpower.

Paulina let herself flop down on Sam’s bed with a noncommittal sound coming from her throat. “I mean, Brad’s cute, but I’m sort of seeing Matthew at the moment you know?”

“Sort of seeing?” Sam echoed. 

“Yeah, he wants us to go steady but, like, I don’t know if I want to tie myself down to anyone right now, you know? I just don’t think I’m ready to be ‘Matthew’s girlfriend.’ But I know that if I tell him that, he’ll think I want to stop going out altogether, when I just don’t want to rush to label what we have. That’s all.”

“Why do you even have to become ‘Matthew’s girlfriend’? Why can’t he be ‘Paulina’s boyfriend’?” For a moment there, Sam worried the feminist inside her had ruined the conversation, if their silence was any indication, until Paulina, almost automatically, moved to a sitting position, looking like she’d just had a spiritual awakening.

“OMG, you’re so right! “ She exclaimed. “If Matthew can’t accept being labeled my boyfriend, then he’s not worthy of my time. Period. Thanks for the advice, Sam.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Sam said, feeling unsure. “Now, could you guys please help me get ready? ‘Cause I still don’t know what to wear…”

Both ladies-in-waiting exchanged a glance, before shrugging. Star was the one who voiced their opinion. “The clothes you have in your hands right now are fine. Just combine them with your usual look and you’ve got your casual, yet original, outfit.”

Looking down at the items in hand, Sam had to admit, they really seemed perfect. “Thanks, girls. You two are the best.”

“We know.” They said in unison.

............

The Verde Que te Quiero Verde was the latest rage in vegetarian restaurants. The establishment was owned by a couple of elderly Mexican immigrants who, per their grandson’s suggestion, had given the typical Tex-Mex food a vegan spin. 

All websites reviewing the place gave nothing but praise to the meals and service, and about half of the comments recommended asking for their nachos with guacamole and vegan cheese. Its prices were also known for being very reasonable. 

‘Lowly’ Mexican food turned vegan and exorbitant-prices free, the kind of place Pamela Manson would rather die than step foot in. 

Which was why Sam was so thankful that Saturday night it was just her dad and her, for her mother was busy background checking anyone who wanted to rent the manor for the upcoming Halloween. 

Her dad and her were already seated and looking over the menus, but she couldn’t help being distracted by her surroundings. Despite the more modern take, the Verde Que te Quiero Verde resembled the typical Mexican hacienda, with its white-chalk walls, the red tile roofs, its arches… The restaurant was even a two-story building whose second floor, which held even more tables, had balconies offering a nice view of the fountain in the middle of the room and tables surrounding it below. 

It was positively lovely. 

And yet...Sam couldn’t quite enjoy it as much as she’d like. 

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was definitely off with Wilhelmina. Leaving a group of inexperienced, little girls at their mercy while they performed magic? What was she thinking?! She had no idea how lucky she was, had anything happened to any of the girls and she would’ve been put to trial, leading to losing her position as Council member, at best, or to being expelled from the coven altogether, at worst. 

Subconsciously, Sam gripped her menu a little tighter. Wilhelmina was already around when she was a kid and Grandma Ida was still queen. Back then, she remembered, she gave off this strict and stern vibe, even more so than Margaret with her by-the-book nature. But ever since she ascended to the throne, her strictiness had turned into outright arrogance. 

Back when she was fourteen and had just volunteered herself as the next queen, Wilhelmina seemed the less willing to give in. She was the quickest to point out her age and inexperience, and Margaret and the, then, newly appointed Delilah miraculously managed to get their fellow member to give her a chance. If just barely. 

Even know, after seven years of devout sacrifice in the name of the Amity Park Clan, that frustrating pain in the butt still hadn’t let go of her reservations towards her; often making snide comments that casted doubts on her leadershipーlike the one from earlier…ー, or looking over her shoulder with an air of superiority. 

All that, Sam could, begrudgingly, put up with. But putting innocent kids in harm’s way and then having the gall to act all smug on her?! What if Phantom had been right? What if there really were witches up to no good right under her nose? What if…?

“Sammy?” Her dad’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife cut through butter. 

“Huh?” She responded, oh, so eloquently. 

“Are you okay? I’ve been calling you for a while now and you haven’t answered until now. Also, it looks like you’ve tried to strangle your menu over some sort of terrible crime…” He pointed at the crumbled piece of paper in her hands to demonstrate his point. 

Looking down and noticing the mess she’d made of the poor aforementioned piece of paper, she set it down gently with a sheepish smile on her face, “I’m fine, Dad. Just...thinking.”

“About what?”

“Stuff.” At her dad’s questioning, raised eyebrow she elaborated. “Frustrating stuff.”

“Kiddo, please, enter a literary contest; you’re so eloquent and articulate.” Jeremy deadpanned, setting his own menu down and propping his chin on his intertwined hands.

Sam rolled her eyes, letting out a hollow laugh. “Hilarious, Dad. Aren’t you supposed to be the preppy and optimistic one of the two?”

“I am.” He agreed. “But I’m also a Manson and your Grandma’s son. So you could say snarking runs in the family.”

Parents looking as smug and self-satisfied as her dad did at that moment should be illegal. Crossing her arms with a scowl, Sam slouched on her seat. “Whatever.”

Jeremy just shook his head fondly at his daughter. “You’re lucky your mother isn’t here right now, young lady. Otherwise, she would scold you on your posture.”

The mere mention of her mother made her straighten up, reflexively. 

“But now seriously, kiddo. What’s the matter? You know you can talk to your old man about anything.” He offered her an encouraging smile. 

Unfortunately, his readiness to be there for her only made her heart sank. No, I can’t, she wanted to say, but instead opted for, “I’m...having trouble with a...with a classmate.” She lied, hating herself for it. “I was elected as team leader, but she’s never quite been able to accept it. Maybe she wanted the position herself, maybe she just doesn’t think I’m good for the job...I don’t know. All I know is that she makes no effort in hiding her displeasure.

“Which, okay. I can take it, I guess. I mean, one more person who doesn’t like me! Boy is that old news...But she’s made a mistake recently and she didn’t even apologise; she just rubbed my own mistakes in my face. And I...I don’t know what to do, Dad.”

Jeremy stayed quiet for a minute, just observing his daughter with a keen eye. Maybe saying he and Sam were close was a little far-fetched; Pamela and, surprisingly enough, his mother had always insisted on signing her up for a million extracurricular activities growing upーironic, when one took the fact that she’d also been homeschooled for most of her life into consideration. But he’d learned long ago to not question it, after all, their Sammy had turned out okay and very capable in the end. 

He had to admit, he didn’t always understand her, either. Like her interest in the occult, her love for loud, unsavory bands with questionable taste in names, or her insistence on being identified as a Goth since she was twelve. As a man used to making his wife happy with diamonds the size of strawberries, giving his daughter spiked collars for her birthday left him feeling a little queasy. But, hey, if it made her happy… As long as she didn’t join a cult he was golden.

But there were still moments when even Sam, his strong-willed, independent, confident baby girl, felt vulnerable against the cruel world she lived in. And it was in those moments when he had to take the lead and be the responsible authority figure in the relationship. Moments like now. 

Reaching across the table, he rested his hand atop of hers, directing her attention to him. “Sometimes people will try to make our lives difficult, but we mustn’t let that stop us from doing what we think it’s right. So your friend doesn’t think you’re doing a good job leading the team? Then let her think that! If it’s only one person who feels that way, then she’s probably just trying to mess with you.

“But if the other people in your group feel the same way, then maybe you should take a moment to reevaluate things. Don’t be afraid to ask this girl about her opinion. Who knows? Maybe she does have something valuable to contribute.”

Alright, this was all great advice for actual teamwork, but it didn’t apply to her problem. She was trying to rule a coven, not decorate the gym for the upcoming prom. “What are you trying to say, Dad?”

“I just think you shouldn’t take everything on by yourself, Sammy.” He said as he patted her hand, then he leaned back on his chair at the same time as he picked his forgotten menu up. “Now, do you know what you want to eat, or should we wait a few more minutes?”

Sam couldn’t help sending her dad a small smile, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was about to answer when she caught sight of something over his shoulder that made her breath hitch. “Holy shit!”

Jeremy’s head shot up at that. “Samantha, language!”

Uh, oh. He used her full name. “Uh, sorry about that, Dad.” She apologised sheepishly, before standing up and pointing behind him, much to Jeremy’s horror. What was up with this girl’s manners today!? “It’s just that I know the person who’s just entered the restaurant.”

Turning around much more discreetly than Sam, Jeremy raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You mean the people talking to the maître d’?” 

Completely unaware of the fact that they were the focus of the conversation of two of the restaurant’s patrons, Jazz and Danny stood at the entrance, talking to the maître d’. Well, Jazz was talking to the maître d’, looking almost unhinged, Danny was just praying they wouldn’t be kicked out just because his sister had chosen now, of all times, to act as unreasonable as their dad.

“What do you mean there’s no table available?!” She screeched, causing a few customers to turn around to look at her and her brother to look away in embarrassment. “I made the reservation almost two weeks ago! Fenton, Jazz Fenton. Come on, I highly doubt there’s many more Fentons in Amity Park.”

The man tending to them had to be the most patient person on the planet, Danny figured. Or the most emotionless. “My apologies, Miss. But there really is no reservation under a Jazz Fenton.”

“Maybe you put it under another member of the family?” Danny offered before addressing the headwaiter himself. “How about under Danny Fenton?”

The employee looked through his agenda before shaking his head. 

“And Maddie Fenton?” Jazz tried.

Again, the man shook his head no. 

“Jack Fenton?” She was starting to grow desperate now. 

And, again, no such luck. 

Watching as Jazz’s eye started twitching, Danny genuinely feared he’d have to restrain his sister from doing something crazy when the sound of someone clearing their throat caught everyone’s attention. Looking at the direction the sound came from, the Fenton siblings could only gape at the sight of a middle-aged man with perfectly coiffed, blond hair, dark blue eyes, and sharply dressed with a crochet vest, light, khaki pants, and black dress shoes standing before them. 

The mysterious man turned to the maître d’. “It’s quite alright, my good sir. They’re with us.”

The emotionless man suddenly developed a personality, for he smiled brightly at the other man. “Oh, I see! Would you like some extra chairs, sir?”

“If you don’t mind.” 

“Of course, we’ll bring some extra chairs, utensils, and menus to your table momentarily.” And with that the waiter left them alone. 

The blond turned to them, a welcoming smile on his face. “Don’t be shy, you two. Come sit with us.” And, by some sort of spell, they followed after him. 

In the meantime, brother and sister shared a questioning glance. They were both obviously curious as to who these ‘us’ were. Clearing his throat, Danny ventured. “Um, excuse me sir, but do we know you?”

The mystery, well-dressed man just laughed cordially. “Oh, no. You certainly don’t. As a matter of fact, I don’t know you, either. But my daughter seems to know you, young man.”

Before Danny could so much as ask what he was even talking about, the man stopped beside a table, motioning with his hand to his companion. The halfa almost fell flat on his butt in astonishment. 

Getting up from her chair was Sam. Although she had a different outfit than usual, her style was still mostly casual, as opposed to her companion’s preppy clothes.

She was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a drawing of a purple rose on it (why was it so familiar?); a neon green skirt with a spiderweb pattern; a spiked collar with a purple pendant was around her neck; and she wore fingerless, black fishnet gloves. Other than that she looked the same as always. She still had her trademark combat boots and thigh-length, purple stockings on, and her hair was still long and black on one side, while the other was shaved with purple undertones; a green ponytail in a purple scrunchie sticking up. 

“Sam, is that you?” He breathed out.

The girl in question could barely believe her eyes. Right in front of her was Danny. She was almost stunned she could recognise him practically anywhere. But then she rationalised; of course she’d recognise him! He looked practically the same as always! With his messy, jet-black hair falling down his face; a pair of blue jeans, his favourite red sneakers...The only thing different about him was the hoodie he was wearing, really. It was mostly white, except for its red cuffs, zipper, draw strings, and the circle it had plastered on its front. 

...well, the only thing that was different was his hoodie and the girl beside him, now that she took a better look. 

She was around her height, but she seemed slightly older. She was a redhead sporting a cute pixie cut, with a lovely face and striking, aqua eyes. The girl was wearing a square, teal plaid dress over a white, long-sleeved shirt, and black tights with white boots. Her outfit was perfectly coordinated, except for a brown, leather shoulder bag that seemed oddly out of place. 

Sam was sure she had never seen her before, but she was just so familiar…

Noticing she was up and Danny was still waiting for her answer, she hurriedly went over to him to shake his and his companion’s hands. “Yes! Yes, it’s me, Danny. And...I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but you are…?”

“Oh, I’m Jazz!” The mysterious girl perked up. “I’m Danny’s sister.”

“Oh, she’s just his sister,” Sam thought to herself, relieved. Wait, relieved? What did she have to be worried about? She thought best to shake those feelings off and stow them for later. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sam, a friend of Danny’s.”

Jazz’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, so you’re Sam! Danny’s told me about you.”

“He has?” Both Mansons asked, but for completely different reasons. And only one of them knew exactly why they asked. 

Just as they were introducing themselves, the restaurant’s staff came and set the two extra chairs and items down. His senses tinglingーonly it wasn’t his Ghost Sense, but a sense of danger he couldn’t quite put his finger onー, Danny focused his attention on the other man at the table, who seemed to be glaring daggers at him, for some reason. He swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

The blond plastered a smile on his face as they finally sat down. To anyone else, it would’ve seemed friendly, but to Danny it looked oddly sinister. “Oh, my bad. I’m Jeremy, Jeremy Manson. I’m Sam’s father.”

While a primal fear clutched Danny’s heart in an iron grip, Jazz audibly gasped. “Wait, Jeremy Manson? As in, the Mansons?”

His sister’s astonished expression, as well as Sam’s mortified one, enabled him to ignore his sudden worries for a minute in favour of his curiosity. “You know them?” He asked his sister. 

In turn, Jazz just scoffed, looking away from him in exasperation. Of course not only would Danny have no idea who he hung out with, he also had to embarrass them right in front of the two people in question. “Danny, I think you’re literally the only person in all of Amity Park who doesn’t know them. Ironically…” Seeing as he still didn’t get the hint, she gave up. “The Mansons are the descendants of Izzy Manson, the inventor of the machine that wraps cellophane around chopsticks, and therefore, they oversee the patent.”

“So, you’re saying…” 

Ugh, somebody put her out of her misery, goddamnit! “She’s saying we’re rich, Danny. Very. Stinking. Rich.” Sam deadpanned. Well, there went that little piece of information she didn’t like her friends finding out about. Although, a part of her was about to burst out laughing at the way the boy’s eyes all but popped out of their sockets. 

Danny, on his part, didn’t know what was more shocking. The fact that Sam came from a wealthy family, or the fact that she, a cynical, brooding, activism-oriented girl, was related to classy, perky, sunny Jeremy Manson. They literally had nothing in common! Not even facial features! Unless Sam was just a carbon copy of her mother, those were some weird genetics. 

Danny’s prolonged silence made her grow anxious, so Sam quickly changed topics. “So...what are you doing here? You know this place serves vegetables, right?” She just hoped their usual teasing dynamics would save them from the awkwardness. 

Luckily for her, it did. The halfa countered her teasing tone with an easy grin. “Yeah, I know. But Jazz was really looking forward to coming to this place and, since convincing our fudge-loving father to take her would have been impossible, she played the older sister card on me.”

Jazz just huffed in response. “Oh, shut up. Just be thankful this is a vegan, Mexican restaurant; you’re bound to find something you like.”

“Yeah, I can always just stuff my face on nachos with guacamole.” He quipped back. 

The hazel-eyed student turned her focus to the older girl, her face lighting up. “Oh! You’re vegan?”

“Oh, no. I’m not. I’m just much more willing to eat healthy food than my brother, who I still don’t understand how he could’ve grown so much given his atrocious diet!” She finished pointedly. 

“Hey!” Danny protested. “My diet’s not ‘atrocious’! So what if I’m not actively looking for vegan restaurants? I still eat everything I need.”

“I once saw you eat nothing but oreos and soda for two weeks when you were sixteen.” His sister pointed out, without missing a beat. 

That made him wince, not appreciating the reminder. “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t my best moment. But, the soda gave me the liquids and sugar I needed and the oreos gave me carbohydrates and proteinーmaybe, if they’re baked with milk…”

“Oreos are actually vegan.” Sam pointed out. 

Although her comment was meant to annul his point, it seemed to validate it, instead, for he sent a smug look at Jazz. “Ha! You heard that? Turns out I’m healthier than you, Daisy Green.”

“Oh, just shut up.” His sister grunted, exasperated. 

The father-daughter duo just exchanged glances, not used to this sort of family interactions. After a beat, Jeremy spoke up. “How about we order, huh?”

Picking up his own menu, Danny’s face morphed itself in confusion. “Uh...I have literally no idea what to ask for. Sam, you’re the expert, what do you recommend?”

By his side, Jazz perked up. “That’s right! You’re vegan aren’t you?”

“Ultra-recyclo-vegetarian.” She corrected, although she wasn’t sure why; nobody ever really got the difference.

And, lo and behold, neither did Jazz. “Pardon?”

Sam was about to tell her to let it go, when Danny beat her to it. “Sam doesn’t just avoid eating anything with a face, she also eats everything on her plate.”

When he sent her a wink and a friendly smile, Sam almost puddled. She soon regained her senses, though. Alright, so it was touching that he retained that piece of information when most people tended to forget all about it, but that still wasn’t grounds to make a fool out of herself. Finally, she opted for pushing those feelings aside. “This is my first time here, too. But as the only experienced veggie-eater at the table, I’d suggest that if you’re not feeling up to experimenting with new things, then just stick to what you’d usually order from a regular Taco Bell.”

She lowered her menu for them to see as she pointed at certain meals. “For example, Danny, you could try ordering the Burrito Vegano. Judging by its ingredients, it's exactly the same as your usual burrito except for the lack of meat. So you shouldn’t miss much.

“If any of you feels more adventurous, then you could try the vegan Quesadillas, just keep in mind that rather than being exactly the same as the regular ones but with vegetables, instead of cheese they have humus.”

“What about snacks?” Jeremy asked, as enthralled in her explanation as their impromptu guests. 

“Oh, I’m definitely ordering their famous nachos with guacamole and vegan nacho cheese. Everyone recommends it.”

“What’s vegan nacho cheese even made of?” Danny scrunched his face up in disgust. “Is it even edible?”

Sam scoffed. Typical carnivore response. “Not any less than the barely passable-for-human-consumption, acrylic orange paint that is the usual nacho cheese. And to answer your question, it’s made of carrots and peppers.”

“Wow.” Danny breathed, impressed once again by Sam’s ability to monologue without the need for breath. “You really have a strong opinion on nacho cheese.”

“Oh, you don’t even know half of the things she has a strong opinion on.” Jeremy muttered. 

Before Sam could so much as protest at her dad’s familiar exasperation at her altruistic ways, a waiter, notepad and pen in hand, appeared behind her. “Have the ladies and gentlemen made their decision yet?”

Looking over the table and receiving nods in confirmation, the Manson patriarch took the lead. “I believe we have.”

“Excellent.” The waiter said. “What do you want to drink?”

“Well, I’d normally ask for a bottle of your best wine, but I’m driving tonight, so I’ll have a Mr. Pepper.”

“Of course, sir. And everyone else?”

“I’m driving too, so I’ll have a Lemon Nestea, please.” Jazz said. 

It was Danny’s turn. “I’m not driving. I’ll have a beer.” 

“We serve Coronita, is that alright with you, sir?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Finally, he turned to Sam. “And you, Miss?”

“Another beer’s fine.”

The waiter wrote everything down. “Alright, so that’s a Mr. Pepper, a Lemon Nestea, and two beers; is that right?” At the sounds of agreement, he went on. “Alright. Have you decided on your food yet, or do you need more time?”

It was Sam’s turn to perk up. “We’ll have some nachos with guacamole and vegan cheese to share. I’ll have the Tofu Tacos; You make them yourself once they’re served, right?” The waiter nodded. “Then, yes. The tacos.” Then she pointed at her dad. “And my Dad’ll have the fajitas.” 

As their waiter wrote everything down, she directed her attention at the siblings. “And you guys…?”

“Hm, I think I’ll have the vegan quesadillas.” Jazz said. “I gotta admit, when you said they have humus I’d already made up my mind! And you, Danny?”

Danny kept frantically scanning his menu. He didn’t know what half of those things were! All he knew was that it was Mexican food with extra vegetables. “Uh...I...I’ll have the Burrito Vegano?” He just hoped Sam was right and it’d be similar to the regular thing. 

“An excellent choice.” The waiter commented before taking their menus away. “Your drinks and nachos will be out shortly.”

After the waiter left, they kept on chattering idly about everything and nothing. How Sam and Danny knew each other, why Jeremy had, completely out of the blue, decided to let them have dinner with them, what their parents’ did for a living… That’s when things got a little awkward. Although Mr. Manson was trying his hardest to remain neutralーSam’s constant glares served as a good incentiveーit was plain to see he didn’t think highly of their parents and their job. 

Danny and Jazz would be lying if they said they weren’t already used to it, or even understood his concerns. 

Just as their drinks were being served, Mr. Manson’s cell phone started ringing. He took a quick glance at the caller and immediately winced, which didn’t go unnoticed by his daughter. “Dad…? Is everything okay?”

“What? Oh! Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, kiddo. I just have to take this real quick.” He explained as he got up from his chair, about to make his way to a less crowded area of the restaurant. “I’ll be right back.”

“Is he okay?” Jazz asked, slightly concerned. 

Sam could only shrug in response. “He says so.” Noticing the sudden rise in tension, she chose to change topics instead. “Um, I don’t really have any siblings to know better but, you two are close, right? I know my fair share of families who wouldn’t spend any non-essential time together otherwise.” Like mine, was what she didn’t say.

“You could say that.” Jazz replied, almost enigmatically. 

Normally, Danny wouldn’t go into detail as to why he and Jazz were so closeーthree guesses why and the first two didn’t countーbut there was something about Sam that told him she would understand. Granted, he couldn’t tell her everything, let alone in the middle of a relatively crowded restaurant, but he could shed some light over her queries. He guessed he felt the need to be open and share things with her because the other day she opened up to him and Tucker.

“Well,” he started, “if I’m being honest, I’ve always been closer to my older sister than my parents…”

"How so?" Sam couldn't believe she had the nerve to ask him that when her own relationship with her parents was, most of the time, rocky, at best. 

Did she really have to put him on the spot like that? “No, Danny,” he scolded himself, “you wanted to be honest with her yourself. Don’t blame it on her.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to explain as best as he could while revealing as little as possible. “Uh... it's just...my parents are ghosthunters, as you know, so ghosts have always been present in my house, making things incredibly difficult for Jazz and me growing up.” Like eating savage, ecto-wieners for dinner, having every single personal problem compared to some ghost-hunting analogy, or being mortified and ostracised by his peers as a result. “And things...things only got even more complicated when I was a teenager.”

That was the part he couldn’t go in detail about. Mainly because what truly made things more complicated was the fact that all deep conversations, honesty, and family bonds were tattered the moment he became the very half-ghost whose dissection his parents often fantasized about. “As a result, I guess you could say Jazz and I ganged up together. The Fenton siblings against the world when our parents were too busy with their job.” When he felt Jazz’s warm hand on his cold one, he couldn't help but meet her concerned face with a small smile in thanks for everything she’d ever done for him.

A wave of sympathy washed over Sam at Danny and Jazz's predicament. It was easy to forget Amity Park didn't even know ghosts existed until seven years ago, when Phantom and his putrid kind appeared out of the blue, because witches never forgot their existence in the first place. She could understand being overlooked in favour of creatures of dubious existence must've caused them great pain growing up.

Noticing her heartbroken look, Danny immediately tried to lighten up the mood. “Don’t worry, though. We might not be as close to our parents as we were when we were little, but we still all love each other.”

“Yeah,” Jazz assured her, “no need to feel bad for us, Sam. It’s still nice to see a daughter being close to her dad like you two are.” Her words were meant to bring the hazel-eyed Goth comfort, but her brows knitted together in concern at the look on her face.

Albeit Sam was smiling, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Lowering her head, almost hiding her face from view, she shook it, sadly.

After a minute or two of silence Danny was about to ask her if she was alright when she spoke. “Don’t let appearances fool you; my Dad and I aren’t exactly close, either.”

“But...but you two seem to get along so well…” Jazz started, but was cut off by Sam.

“We get along,” she confirmed, “but we’ve never been close. My parents are the complete opposite of me, and it showsーthey’ve never been able to understand me, my Grandma did.”

Danny almost regretted having to ask. “Is your Grandma…?”

The Goth just nodded. “She passed away when I was fourteen. She was the only person to ever understand me and accept me for who I am. You could say I’ve been on my own ever since, although in a psychological/spiritual sense.”

“Is that the reason why you’re Goth?” Jazz couldn’t hold herself back from asking, her psychologist instincts taking the reins of the situation. Shocked at her behaviour, Danny kicked her gently on her shin from under the table. 

He ignored her glare in favour of distracting Sam from her question. “What about your mother, aren’t you two close?”

The harsh laugh she let out startled them both. “I might not be close to my Dad, but compared to my relationship with my mother, I’m practically a daddy’s girl.”

A shadow casted over her hazel eyes, other times so full of fire and mischief, and Danny didn’t like it one bit. Reaching over to grab her hand in his, making her gasp in surprise, he sent her a gentle smile. “Thank you for sharing that about yourself with us.”

She returned the smile. “Thank you for sharing that about your parents with me.”

They kept staring into each other’s eyes, not caring about anything around them, until the clatter of the nacho plate being set down on their table broke them out of their thoughts. While Danny chose to ignore her sister’s annoying smirk, Sam thanked the waiter. Then, she turned to the siblings. “Well? What are you waiting for? Dig in!”

They did as they were told, and their faces split in matching grins. Hmming in appreciation, the black-haired half-ghost dipped another tortilla chip into the vegan cheese. “This ain’t half bad!”

Sam just chuckled. “Told you.”

After a, surprisingly, rather pleasant dinner between the two different families, it was time to say goodbye. Since they were the ones driving them home, Jazz and Mr. Manson left first to look for their respective cars, leaving Danny and Sam some extra time to talk. 

“Well, that was a pleasant surprise.” Danny commented, putting his hands inside his hoodie’s pocket. 

“Yeah, it really was.” Sam smiled when, suddenly, a cold breeze whooshed by, making her shiver. 

Noticing her hugging herself from the corner of his eyes, he immediately took action. “Here, let me help. It’s starting to get cold.” He said, even when his cryokinesis made him immune to cold years ago.

“Danny, I’m fineー” she began, but was interrupted by Danny slipping his hoodie on over her shoulders. As he lent her his jacket, their eyes locked. For a moment, time stopped. The Earth stopped moving. Nothing else mattered but each other’s eyes; Danny’s precious baby blue, and Sam’s vibrant hazel. Then, the sound of a not-so-distant honk broke the spell, causing them to quickly avert their eyes, a hint of pink dusting their cheeks.

Sam wasn’t cold anymore. 

As Jazz opened the door for Danny, he waved her goodbye, which Sam returned. Now that she was alone with her thoughtsーand Danny’s hoodieーwaiting for her Dad to appear with his own car, she couldn’t stop herself from sniffing the garment. It smelled like wood and freshly rained soil, but there was something else. Something...familiar she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

Whatever it was, she liked it. 

It smelled like Danny.

[thecomicsnexus]

Beyond the Silent Night

CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS #7 OCTOBER 1985 BY MARV WOLFMAN, GEORGE PEREZ, DICK GIORDANO, JERRY ORDWAY, TOM ZIUKO, ROBERT GREENBERGER AND TOM MCCRAW (RECOLORED VERSION)

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

Overlooking the universes of the five Earths on a floating asteroid, Alex and Lyla are joined by Pariah, who asks what part the Monitor could have intended him to play in the Crisis. Lyla responds that she has been told the Monitor's plan and knows what part he'll play in the conclusion, representatives of six Earths most these plans: Earth-Two Superman; Earth-One Superman; Uncle Sam from Earth-X; Captain Marvel from Earth-S; and Blue Beetle from Earth-Four. Pariah obliges Lyla by taking them to the merged Earths.

On Earth-S, where everyone has been freed of Psycho-Pirate's spell, Sivana and Ibac are about to be captured by Captain Marvel when, suddenly, they fade from the Earth-S plane. Captain Marvel Jr., Tawky Tawny, Changeling, Wonder Woman, and Supergirl arrive seconds later.

In space, Brainiac has drawn Sivana and Ibac to his satellite and greets them as the latest members of a select group who will soon rule the universe. Captain Marvel and the other-Earth heroes and heroines note that the wall of anitmatter has vanished. Lyla appears nearby, explains the machinations of the Psycho-Pirate, and enlists Captain Marvel as representative of Earth-S to hear the story behind the Crisis.

On Earth-2, Yolanda Montez, the new Wildcat, stands unseen above Green Arrow, the Atom, and Liberty Belle when she overhears Atom declare that there will never be another Wildcat. Yolanda realizes that she must prove herself worthy of the name before revealing her new identity.

On Earth-4, Pariah contacts its heroes and their former opponents from Earths 1 and 2. Blue Beetle will represent his Earth to hear Pariah and Lyla's stories.

On Earth-X, the Freedom Fighters pledge to Starfire to help all they can.

All five Earths are still slowly merging. however, and time still runs riot on all of them. Finally, Lyla, Alex, and Pariah stand on the asteroid, with Lady Quark, Superman of Earth-I, Uncle Sam, Captain Marvel, Superman of Earth-2, and the Blue Beetle. The heroes want to battle, but Alex and Lyla tell them that they must know exactly what they are fighting. Now, Lyla begins her story at the beginning—ten billion years ago when Earth was little more than cooling gases, the inhabitants of Oa, at the center of the universe, were immortal and had the powers of the legendary gods, and always strove for continued advancement, but their science became perverted, for one of them, Krona, swore to discover the secret of the universe's creation. Others warned him away, vowing that legends told of destruction to come to any who plumbed the mysteries of Creation. Krona called them fools, and continued his studies. He built a time-viewer in which he observed a cosmic Hand holding the galaxies in its palm. An instant later, a bolt of energy blasted the viewscreen and his laboratory to bits. Had Krona been mortal, he too would have perished, but that would have been far better than what actually occurred. At that point, according to Lyla, the Anti-Matter Universe was formed, and the single Universe split many times into a Multiverse. All planets of the cosmos were duplicated in every universe, save for one—Oa. Oa's sole twin was in the anti-matter universe. Its name was Qward. For his cosmic crime. Krona was converted to insensible, disembodied energy, and sentenced to circle the universe forevermore. Twice he managed to assume human form again; twice again he was defeated. The Oans, feeling responsible for Krona's actions, were consumed by guilt. They had created Evil, so they must form a force to constrain it. Their first attempt to do so was the construction of Manhunter robots, which later proved defective. Their second, and better, solution was the creation of the Green Lantern Corps. Still, there were dissenters among the Oans who maintained that evil must be destroyed, not contained. These dissidents broke away from the Guardians, and evolved into the Controller race, which would one day encounter the Legion of Super-Heroes. Oa and Qward had one moon each. On the moon of Qward, the Anti-Monitor broke the surface and came to life, repository of the power of a cosmos, and on the moon of Oa. the Monitor burst from a crater, symbol of the power of the positive universe. The Anti-Monitor quickly conquered the world of Qward and created the lightning warriors known as the Thunderers. The Thunderer elite he converted into his shadow-demon warriors, and with them he spread a reign of terror throughout the anti-universe. He hungered for more worlds to conquer, but did not know anything existed but the universe of Qward. At this point, the Anti-Monitor sensed the presence of the Monitor, who had spent his existence in meditation and study. The Monitor found his evil twin as well, and the two locked in combat for a million years. They were equal in power, so neither could win, but finally, both struck simultaneously and rendered each other unconscious for nine billion years.

Pariah now takes up the tale, explaining that he himself came from an Earth alien to them all, on which he was the greatest scientist, responsible for weather control and the destruction of disease. He soon discovered the existence of the Multiverse, and used that knowledge to learn the origin of the universe, despite the legends common to all planes that such knowledge would lead to destruction. He observed the creation while protected in an anti-matter chamber, but in so doing, he fulfilled the legend. A chain reaction of anti-matter destroyed his Earth, and then his universe. That cataclysm awoke the Anti-Monitor. The anti-matter universe expanded to fill the void left by the death of Pariah's universe, and he fed on its power. He realized that by destroying every positive-matter universe, he would gain all power in the cosmos. However, Lyla interrupts, the cataclysm also woke the Monitor, who vowed to fight back and protect the Multiverse. He viewed Pariah in an energy-globe learned what had happened, and deduced how the last survivor could be used to protect those who would stand at the end.

For mobility, the Monitor created his satellite-ship. He realized Pariah could sense where disaster impended, and they gave him the power to be drawn into other universes endangered by the anti-matter. But the death of each succeeding cosmos weakened him and strengthened his enemy. Then, the Monitor scoured all Earths to find heroes to act as soldiers in the Crisis, and so found her, a child adrift at sea, clinging to the remains of a sunken ship. He rescued her, raised her... and, she says, he was repaid with death. Superman of Earth-2 comforts her, saying they understand that she was being controlled, then asks Alex to tell his story. Before Alex can reply, Lady Quark must be restrained from killing Pariah. He is responsible for the force which destroyed her universe and family, she says. Uncle Sam demands she stop, saying that Pariah has suffered enough, and that they must now band together to save the worlds which remain.

The five Earths continue to merge, and all the heroes on them fear for their friends and allies who have joined the Monitor's aides in the war on the Anti-Monitor. Indeed, the Spectre maintains, not even his power would be effective in the anti-matter universe, but other heroes have been chosen: Mon-El, the Supermen of Earth-1 and Earth-2, Lady Quark, Captain Atom, Jade, Green Lantern of Earth-2, Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel, the Ray, John J'onzz, Wildfire, Firestorm, Dr. Light, and Supergirl.

Alex reveals his secret power: being composed of both positive and negative matter, he can open a portal between their multiverse and the anti-matter universe. Pariah can then guide them to their enemy. Alex then tears open a space-warp and admits the heroes and heroines into the universe of Qward. Finally, the heroes arrive at the bizarre fortress of the Anti-Monitor. They have been watched by their foe, who orders the Psycho-Pirate to make them emotionally controlled slaves. The Pirate, fearfully, tells his master that controlling the three Earths has exhausted his power, and he must recharge. The Anti-Monitor angrily knocks him down, and prepares to take charge personally.

In the fortress, the heroes search for their enemy. Abruptly, Pariah is gripped by a stony hand—the fortress wall, itself — but he is invulnerable to harm. However, Superman of Earth-2, is knocked reeling by another such hand. Monsters materialize from the walls and begin fighting the Monitor's warriors. The heroes can barely hold a stalemate, for these monsters, once smashed, can reform in seconds. Superman is in the forefront, searching for the Anti-Monitor while the others hold off the monsters. Pariah leads the way, with Dr. Light by his side. Suddenly, a thrusting trunk of stone seemingly obliterates Pariah. Dr. Light vows that the Anti-Monitor will pay for that death and blazes off. Superman catches up with her near a huge machine, which she identifies as a solar collector the villain is using to reduce the vibrational frequencies of the Earths, and thus merge and annihilate them. Superman vows to destroy it.

Then Anti-Monitor strikes Superman, and his cry of pain is heard by Supergirl, who heads to her cousin's side. Dr. Light attacks the enemy, but is rebuffed. He continues pounding the near-helpless Man of Steel. Racing to the scene, Supergirl passes Pariah, digging himself out of the rubble. The Anti-Monitor is about to kill Superman with an energy blast when Supergirl crashes into the villain with all her might. She delivers blow after blow, screaming, while Dr. Light looks on, inspired by her courage and selflessness. But the villain is too powerful. He knocks Supergirl back with a mighty smash, repulses her with a power-blast, and announces that he will kill Superman, and then her. Bleeding, she shouts that he will never kill Superman, and rips the floor from underneath him, causing his blast to miss her cousin. Then she pounds the enemy again and again, as the villain screams that she is destroying his life-shell. Dr. Light, watching, realizes the selfishness of her own life compared to Supergirl's, and announces that the Girl of Steel has shown him the true path. Superman, groggily, calls for his cousin.

The battered Anti-Monitor smashes Supergirl away again. His body has been almost totally destroyed by her pulverizing blows, and his energy is now waning. Super-girl goes to her cousin's side, and takes him to Dr. Light, telling her to take him to the others after she makes her move. Turning, she rockets into the Anti-Monitor, and sends them both into the massive vibration-reducing machine, turning it into scrap. She smashes at her foe's prostrate body, screaming that his scheme is over at last. Dr. Light is horrified by the combat, and calls for Supergirl to offer help. When Kara turns to reply, the Anti-Monitor grabs her with both hands and sends a titanic energy burst through her body. As Superman screams her name, Supergirl falls.

The Anti-Monitor, his body in ruins, shambles off to a portion of his fortress which is used as a spacecraft, and escapes. He needs time to heal, but he swears to stand triumphant "at the dawn of time." With his departure, the fortress begins to fall apart. Green Lantern of Earth-2 contacts the other heroes. Wild-fire reports that they have destroyed the merging-machine, but they've also had a casualty. Superman, holding his still-conscious cousin, begs her to live. Bleeding from many wounds, Kara tries to console him. He tells her that she ruined the villain's machine, and she gives thanks that she has given the Earths a chance to live. She asks him not to cry, tells him she loves him, and dies in his arms. Superman screams in anguish. He cries out for vengeance, but Superman of Earth-2 restrains him, telling him that Kara's sacrifice has given them a chance to save the five Earths, and his lust for revenge might endanger that chance. With the fortress coming apart, the heroes must leave. Superman takes Supergirl's body and follows his friends. Now empty, the fortress disintegrates. For the most part, the five Earths are for now out of danger. The time distortion has ceased, and the Earths remain linked, if not fully merged. Soon afterward, the worlds receive the news of Super-girl's death and a memorial service is held in Chicago. Thousands of people, including many super-heroes, and a grieving Brainiac 5, attend. Batgirl makes the opening address, praising her friend, while Lois Lane oversees the broadcast.

Later, Superman leaves his Fortress of Solitude with the body of Supergirl, wrapped in her indestructible cape, and sets her free in space, promising to remember and miss her forever.

NOTORIOUS DEATHS IN THIS ISSUE

Supergirl

REVIEW

This issue is historical. Not only this cover is easily recognized (even though, versions of this can be found before 1985), Supergirl’s death was one of the greatest moments in DC history. We all know heroes sacrifice themselves. Here the stakes are so high, she is giving all of herself for others. Not only she almost kills the Anti-Monitor and his machine, she also inspires Doctor Light to be a better, selfless hero.

Superman also suffers the death of another survivor of Krypton (that makes deaths of kryptonians so sad). The whole point of killing Supergirl off was to make Superman more unique. However, a full reboot took this story out of continuity. But we all remember it.

Apart from the notorious death, this issue is also very important because it pretty much tells us the history of the multiverse. We finally get all the secret origins we were waiting for.

To be continued

[babybluepeaches]

Forged in Fire pt.2 :: {a killmonger fic}

part 1

prompt: Awoken by a goddess, Erik N'Jadaka Stevens is given another chance at life, and he won't let this one go to waste. As a result of his reanimation he and his cousin are fated to fight to the death once more.

T'challa took in the sight of his cousin. Of course, he would be angry, of course. I took away everything from him. Everything.

T'challa's mind raced, grasping for a solution that didn't have to end in more violence. Though the unsaid pressure of his people, to vanquish this "evil", was not helping him think. He would have to stall.

...

Across the room, a distressed Shuri bit her nails as she watched her brother face the "newly risen" Erik. She knew from years of experience when he was going to win a fight, and when he was "faking it until he made it." Thoughts of T'challa's beaten body being plunged over the waterfall only days before rattled her mind and made her sweat.

Unable to bare the idea of seeing the part two of his death at warrior falls, she impulsively activates T'challa's necklace using her kimoyo beads, sending the black panther suit streaming over his body, contrary to his reluctant desire to fight.

Damn.

T'challa wished he could take it back, but this was the only invitation Erik needed to tap his own necklace, causing his new suit to wrap around his body. This earned a gasp from the watching audience and a hiss from Okoye.

Erik couldn't help but laugh, he was high off of his own energy and eagerness to show himself to the people who pariahed him. He and T'challa begin circling each other, and to Erik's delight, with the flex of his hand, long golden claws unsheathe from the suit. The claws felt natural to Erik and he couldn't wait to see what they could do.

T'challa's eyes widened as they darted over Erik's claws and his suit. The claws on his own suit were at least a half an inch shorter. Erik used this time window to lunge for a distracted T'challa, and ripped open the vibranium fibers with his claws.

This caused a huge stir from the crowd and potent fear from T'challa's family. The suit was made to be indestructible, and it ripping with ease was theorized to be impossible. T'challa bled through the large claw marks on his suit, and instead of deterring him, the sight of the blood caused Erik's fiery aura to blaze back to life and his excitement to frenzy.

Thoughts of self control far from his mind, he began to relentlessly attack T'challa, and their forms meshed and darted about the room in a jungle cat struggle for dominance. This fight seemed much more based on primal instinct than their first. Vicious moves were used on both parts, scratching and pinning each other down in a vie for survival and defeat.

Erik began to gain the upper hand as he sliced through the whole chest and torso of the black panther suit. There was something about seeing all the blood and feeling his new power that took the brakes off of his common sense.

With one hand Erik grabbed T'challa's ankle and threw him into the throne. As he smiled and walked toward the king, one of the elders slammed her walking staff into the ground 3 times. With this cue the Dora Milaje swooped in and fanned around Erik. This was not an official challenge for leadership, they could intervene.

He fixed his mouth to dare them to attack when they threw a large seemingly infinite vibranium tarp over him. The edges of the tarp magnetized, causing it to turn into a body bag of sorts.

...

Having hit his head on the foot of the throne, T'challa's tunnel vision barely caught the sight of his soldiers taking Erik away. As Ramonda and Shuri ran to him, he only had a few seconds to utter, "Please... don't hurt him," before his vision went black.

…

The women closest to him, Okoye, Nakia, Ramonda, and Shuri, helped the Dora transport T’challa to the largest healing temple in the palace, not the lab, under the Elders advisory. T’challa, fading in and out of consciousness, could tell the Wakandan women were arguing about what to do. About the fight, his wounds, and his cousin.

As Shuri insisted she take her brother to the lab to mend his scars, the eldest healer took T‘challa’s body, laying it in a sacred pool of black sand. She insisted everyone go, and they begrudgingly agreed.

Once alone, she patted T’challa’s chest and forehead with oils, saying a long prayer.

“Bast be with you,” she whispered to him, and left the room, waiting for her miracle.

A moment later, T’challa’s body is sucked down, almost impossibly, into the black sand’s infinity.

…

T’challa awoke with a harsh gasp, his eyes flew open and he gawked around his environment. The land of his ancestors, so it seemed. But there was no tree, no panther spirits. He patted his body, searching for his injuries, only to find nothing, save for his palpitating heart.

“B…Baba..!” T’challa called out to the wind.

“No,” an omnipresent voice rang out in response, shaking the earth under him.

The expanding grassland turned to black sand before T'challa’s eyes, and before he knew it he felt the ground under him lift into the air.

He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself as he and the sand he was stationed in shot up miles into the purple sky. When the world stopped moving he hesitantly opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was a rather large female form in front of him, her skin was dark as the sand, and it emanated from her in rippling waves. Her eyes were golden orbs and she wore a tall crown, along with gold jewel adornments. The second thing he noticed was that he felt the ground elevate because she was holding him up in the palm of her hand.

She brought her face close and whispered his name, "T'challa,"

The wind that swept past him carried with her breath and the sand with it, along with the scent of lavender.

T'challa trembled and fell to his knees, more out of awe than reverence.

"Bast," he breathed.

"Yes," she confirmed, smiling in response.

His head filled with questions, but the biggest one on his mind escaped his lips, "Why is this happening?"

Though she met his question with silence, he continued, "I know this is not only his second chance, it is also mine."

"Not yours," her giant glowing iris's stared down at him, "Your elders. Your people."

The goddess noticed her son befuddled, and she leaned her face, as large as his body, in close to say, "I see their hearts."

"Even in the aftermath of your nation's practical siege, they still have outmoded ideas. If you are not stronger you will fall prey to them," her eyes grew brighter and her voice split into two tones, highlighting the importance of her words.

"Your father and many more before him have led your people on a false path of sheltered blindness. They see the young lion as enemy, when without him you would all continue to wallow in aged thought patterns and self importance."

Seeing T'challa shiver at the power she was exerting, she pulled her face back to stand tall, and let her voice return to normal.

"The gods have formed... Council. And decided on the young lions regeneration. Only with his help will you be able to shake your kingdoms mentality to righteousness. The strongest empire's must pair destruction and creation. Let him destroy what no longer serves you," she told him, "Restore ma'at."

T'challa knew ma'at to be the ethical and principle of kemet, their concept of balance and order. This solidified Erik's importance in his mind, they must balance the scale, together.

"Lift the curse of your ancestors. Let him continue to rise from the ashes. So shall your kingdom," she said. As T'challa fixed his mouth to thank her for this prophesy, he watched her form turn into black sand and fall from the sky.

Realizing she was his only support, he screamed as he met his own quick decent to the ground. Just before his body landed, he awoke with a gasp in the ritual pool of sand. Okoye was above him, tears in her eyes.

"T-T'ch-" she began, but T'challa shot out of his immersion before she could finish, and propelled himself to the door and out of the room.

"You're not healed! Come back!" she shouted at his back, but he was compelled by something stronger than himself to see Erik. Immediately.

...

When Erik managed to rip off the body bag containing him, he jumped up, where ever he was, and tensed his body for a fight.

To add gasoline to his lit temper, he discovered he was safely and quietly detained. They didn't even need anyone to watch him.

The cell room he was in, was brightly lit and had 3 solid walls. The fourth wall was an invisible barrier keeping him inside. The greater foyer outside of the cell room housed no other prisoners, just a control panel in the center.

The cell room had a bench for him to sit, that of which he kicked in his rage, causing it to be swiftly destroyed. With no stimuli to respond to him he roared out a scream that set his aura on fire again.

I had him, I had him, I had him

When he kicked the already-broken-apart bench again, he was met with a familiar voice saying his name, "N'Jadaka".

He paused, as he was flooded with calm warmth. His goddess was present.

He turned around to find her image projected in the fire he had just created.

"Sit," she told him, and he did, crossing his legs in lotus position.

"Did you show them change?" she asked.

"Man..." he sucked his teeth, "I tried to, but they couldn't let their king lose one little challenge to the throne."

"The fight went exactly as it should have," she said, smiling.

Erik looked at her with a deadpan expression, "You mean I'm supposed to be trapped in this little room? I thought I was special, not prisoner. This is that shit I was tryna avoid in the first place." 

The laugh that erupted from her surprised Erik, and she told him, "There is more yet, to show your people."

He exaggerated his confusion so that she would continue, and she smiled.

"Destruction, pain, they are all apart of a cycle immutable as life. And they can bring life, all the same," she said, reaching out a fiery hand to touch Erik's forearm.

"Wait for your opportunity, N'Jadaka," she whispered, and disappeared as quickly as she came.

Erik sighed and nodded, letting the flames he created diminish.

"Got it mama."

...

Erik sat in this lotus position and meditated in silence, until he heard the door across the foyer burst open. He heard footsteps and ragged panting, and when T'challa came into view he knew why.

T'challa looked... terrible. His body was covered in bruises and scratches, and his strength seemed utterly drained. Erik was surprised to see him there alone, especially after he, himself, had been captured.

With a few beeps of the control panel the invisible wall containing Erik fell, and T'challa collapsed on the floor of the room at his cousins feet.

Before Erik could let out his 'Bruh, what are you doing here?' T'challa breathed out, "We need... To help... Each other."

Erik's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He did this, how was he supposed to-

"Destruction, pain, they are all apart of a cycle, immutable as life. And they can bring life, all the same."

Sekhmet's words rang in his ear and he knew this had to be his "opportunity".

Seconds later he heard the baton of footsteps storming into the foyer, he assumed it was everyone looking for T'challa.

Confirming Erik's thoughts, Okoye and Nakia entered, the Dora and the Elders close behind them. As they stormed over to Erik's cell quarters, he knew he only had moments to prove himself.

Shit.

He sent a fiery barricade along the room, permitting them from coming inside.

Okoye said through clenched teeth, "Let. Us. In."

"Aight, aight, just... Give me a second," Erik said, and the spot on his forearm that Sekhmet had touched began to glow with orange light.

"Wait for your opportunity," echoed in his ears. He understood.

Erik unsheathed his fangs, earning a gasp from the crowd, and bit the glowing spot on his forearm. When it bled, he raised his arm and dropped the blood over T'challa's wounds. The blood absorbed into the kings skin, and it knitted back together, healing him.

The Wakandans were speechless, much to Erik's relief. He helped T'challa's upper body into his lap, and had T'challa drink his blood. This clearly revitalized him, and Erik looked up at his "people", continuing to show them his new power.

Fulfilling this act, Erik was able to offer T'challa healing, returning T'challa's offer he had once rejected..

[johnjankovic]

MJÖLNIR

When the thousand years are over, Satan will be released from his prison and will go out to deceive the nations in the four corners of the earth—Gog and Magog—and to gather them for battle. In number they are like the sand on the seashore. They marched across the breadth of the earth and surrounded the camp of God’s people, the city he loves. But fire came down from heaven and devoured them.

Revelation 20:7-9

Christendom inspired by the Son from Galilee who tramped about on roads and fields to lift the masses endures as the seedbed for modern civilization. The paradox of this faith from classical antiquity which is the progenitor of the West is how the lot of Jesus made Pontius Pilate who condemned Him a slave rather than a viceroy and vice versa — sacrifice being greater than the power to kill. Such an anomaly in the lore of the time belied what was then the prototype of polytheism like the many paeans to Zeus who chained Prometheus for gifting fire to mankind or effigies of Jupiter who led men to a premature end for their hubris. If in some hypothetical these same gods were racked by agony in the throes of martyrdom would their folklore be the definition of blasphemy thus pagans from Roman stock took umbrage at Christians whose exegesis of life begged the question: How are the bedfellows of pain and suffering any index of power? The answer to this enigma would be nestled nowhere else but in the cradle of a new religion still in its infancy: For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world but to save the world through Him (3:17).

Crucifixion so scandalized Romans and Jews that its minutia survives in a single eye-witness account as discrete from the New Testament’s Synoptics. Harrowing details anathema to civilized company would have otherwise stayed a black-box left to oblivion had they not been recorded for posterity. Because of the sadism endemic in these processions were they hence confined to wastelands beyond city walls away from polite society. Even Christians alive in the Middle Ages when freighted with the gravity of such a death practiced discretion as they were loth to recreate its gore on pictograms until the advent of the Renaissance when a more sober account was elected. The Son hanging limp on a hill so became the cynosure of our faith whose gesture of a cross was ritualized by practitioners in prayer. Even pariahs orphaned by society were keen on finding solace in Jesus who died so others may live. At the crown of Golgotha would ultimately be where the most binding of covenants between Father and Man was wrought to reveal the very kernel of existence for creation: God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him ([1] 4:16).

This pearl of wisdom in search for meaning answered the many secrets sought by philosophers over aeons. Sitting cross-legged in meditation with the ambiance of singing bowls and the incantation of hums is no substitute. Pain purveys perspective and the rarest relic of love is a tonic to buck up the souls prostrate with hurt: The love of Father who coos in your ear to carry on is nirvana; The fraternal love from a phalanx of young sappers at the Somme in a hellfire of lead is nirvana; The love of the Son whose lungs were collapsed by Man’s schadenfreude as a billboard for gawkers is nirvana. Love of this kind is a balm for those bloodied by the ranks of evil amidst a war of attrition between heaven and hell since Original Sin. Each event sources its inspiration from a common well of how ‘there is power in the blood’. The debt borne by Jesus in a semiotic way thereby comes to epitomize something like ironclad armour in the lives of ordinary Christians. Over a series of seasons and cycles between birth and decay have the faithful mounted great feats and forays into the unknown for the betterment of their brethren with the same pugnacity seen atop Golgotha.

It is this pledge of service to others which subverts the narcissism of so many creeds that was itself a fillip to the flourishing of the West. Self-denial by abstaining from life’s wish-list would be roundly mocked by outsiders as meek but it was a gateway to humanity’s most productive years in the spectrum of existence. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (15:13). A stoic lives under this cardinal rule not for reward but rather to honour the love inherited from Jesus which passes down from one generation to the next like an heirloom until a scion comes of age to assume its burden. Why burden? To love thine enemy who is beneath contempt as he rams a spike into your wrist summons a crie de coeur for a species of strength alien to this world. And yet at this very juncture do all the stars align to jolt the sinner from his stupor in breaking free from Satan’s seduction akin to Paul the Apostle who killed scores of Christians before his own conversion. The said burden therefore is knowing evil can only be defeated by the blood of a peacemaker however masochistic it may sound to the layman.

What eventuates is a schizophrenic split allowing for one’s conscience to take stock of its wayward ways long enough to defect from a history of wrongs. The primer to this epiphany is the ugly deed itself which in the universe of celluloid compares to sunlight upon the cursed who wilt in its path. Much like popular culture’s caricature du jour of dualism does the reality of being born again manifest likewise in the renewal of a soul. The introspection breaks the spell just enough to restore agency in knowing right from wrong. So the war between good and evil is carried about in the open as much as it is waged inside of you. Each person in her own right decides who she wants to be whether good or bad though the pity is most opt for vice rather than be an instrument for what is holy. Why? The road is a solitary one. Being good is heresy when the greater part of the world indulges in those acts and lies indigenous to Babylon. Being a persona non grata becomes a birthmark as the rest shun you for your ethics. So the path we plod is not one for the faint of heart neither is it for the weak of mind.

Christendom is inherently contrarian and has been since its formative years. Christians themselves are birds of a different feather who spurn the world’s rehashed idolatry which sycophants are so eager to adopt in earnest. Those cut from our cloth knowing the real world stakes do not shirk from the truth that like Jesus who fell at the behest of sin does this dynamic survive to this day in the highest reaches of power to the lowest alleys of pimps. By analogy we can do more than merely read the hours and minutes of a timepiece — we are the watchmakers. The esoteric wisdom therefrom beseeches us to see the world for what it truly is: a pockmarked battlefield laid to waste by two camps. Scarce few bother to stray from the smoke and mirrors of everyday monotony but behind them are forces aligned to different stripes in service to separate causes. A firefighter who barrels into an inferno to save a pregnant wife versus a rapist who sets his victim afire are a microcosm for the humanity and lack thereof on this earth. Love and hate are the root of Man’s checkered history and Christians are shrewd enough to be skeptical of any authority he purports to dispense.

[enthusiasticclouds-sally]

Archetype — The Creator Birthday — September 22nd, 1993 Zodiac Sign — Virgo  MBTI — INFJ Enneagram — 2; The Helper Temperament — Phlegmatic Hogwarts House — Slytherpuff Moral Alignment — Lawful Neutral Primary Vice — Anger Primary Virtue — Humility Element — Earth

Overview:

Mother — Elizabeth Finkelstein nee Addair (dead) Father — Arran Finkelstein Mother’s Occupation — Teacher Father’s Occupation — Neurosurgeon currently retired because he got into a car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist below  Family Finances — They got monneeeyyyyy forgot the formal word for that, but yeah they very well off Birth Order — Only child because Elizabeth died during child birth Brothers — None Sisters — None Other Close Family — Nope. Arran was very possessive with his daughter so they didn’t go around visiting family, so Sally does have aunts and uncles but she knows none of them. Best Friend — Daniel!!! lmao I laugh bc sadly he is deaad :(( but he was the ONE friend she had in her childhood and they grew so close that no one has yet to take that spot for her :(( Other Friends — Ummm Sally was really like the pariah of her hometown. No one wanted to be her friend because of her magic, so she really didn’t have much of any growing up like except Daniel. On top of that, Arran was very possessive of Sally and kept her locked up as much as possible, so that made socializing rather hard.  Enemies — Her hometown, no one liked her again except Daniel. Her father, it is a very BAD relationship between the both of them and it is something that Sally has yet to be able to forgivee. Pets — Salene!!!! She’s a Dalmation Sally adopted at the plantation in Swynlake. Her full name is Salene Morticia Finkelstein!!! :DD Home Life During Childhood — Oh gawwd, yeah Sally did not have a good childhood at all!!!! Her father kept her locked up for most of it. At first it wasn’t too bad, Arran had been an exceptional single father, but as Sally grew older and started to look more and more like a mirror image of her mother.... that was when the unhealthy obsession inside of Arran began to manifest and there started the lock up because he wanted his daughter all to himself basically.Then later on in life like when she became thirteen, Arran got into a car accident that left him paralyzed leaving Sally now as his sole caretaker. Her only moments of freedom were when she had to go to school. Those became ruined, however, when her visions started appearing, and she became the pariah of the town so yeah.... It was a very isolating and rough childhood for Sally :(( Town or City Name(s) — Larkhall, Scotland. Glasgow Scotland What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Very decorative!!!! Sally went all out since ya know she was pretty locked up so, this was an escape for her, especially for all her restless energy. Very Halloweenish and Autumnish because those are her things. Dark colors, a lot of black. Any Sports or Clubs — Not really. Sally was never much of a very sports person, doesn’t even watch much of any. Plus, she a klutz so yeah, it never mixes well. Favorite Toy or Game — Ouija board lmao tbh she only played it to piss her father off because HE DOES NOT like that stuff xD He’s convinced her visions came about because of it.  Schooling — Sally has gone through Primary and Seconday in Larkhall and then commuted to Glascow for Uni majoring in Design (due to her LOVE of sewing). Was very heavy with online classes because of her father’s behest. However, she was never able to finish Uni because Daniel died in the middle of it, then she found out about her father’s incestuous obsession with her and so... she ran away to Swynlake. Favorite Subject — Art Popular or Loner — Loner for sure. Popularity was never in the cards for Sally  Important Experiences or Events — Daniel’s death was an important event because she had foreseen it happen and wasn’t able to stop it. At the same time, it took a huge part away from her. He was the ONLY friend she had, her best most dearest friend, so it was a lot. A painful experience (aside from seeing Daniel’s tragic death) was the exorcism. Her father took her to church once and they actually performed an exorcism on the poor girl due to her visions. :( Nationality — Scottish Culture — Scottish Religion and beliefs — Raised Catholic and her father were very devoted to the Catholic religion. Sally attended mass every Sunday when she was younger because of her dad, but had stopped all together when she got older. The church was very judgmental of her, believed she was possessed by demons because of her magic (especially since she often saw death).

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim —  Karen Gillian Complexion — Fair skin with freckles on her nose and cheeks!! Hair Colour — Ginger!!! But a little more on the reddish side.   Eye Colour — A hazelish to very light brown mix. It’s very pretty!!! Height — 5’10″ she has to be my tallest girl <3 Build — Tall pretty average to slim build.  Tattoos — Nope, but she’ll definitely get one if someone suggested it haha Piercings — Yes, just the standard two ear piercings. Common Hairstyle — Sally mostly wears her hair down. For so many things my baby can do, hair isn’t exactly her strongest.  Clothing Style — More on the punk-ish side when it came to Sally’s style. Lover of dark colors. Nothing crazy, your typical jeans and t-shirt type of gal. Boots and sneakers are what she prefers. Use to wear like skirts and dresses but not so often anymore, not since the scarring on her legs, so when she does wears them she normally wears tights that covers. She does loves sweat-shirts and hoodies.   Mannerisms — Sally often wrings her fingers togethers, hides her hands within pockets and tugs at the fabric, doesn’t maintain the best eye-contact, rakes her hands through her hair when nervous, stutters when speaking with pauses as well, 

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Nope. Sally is very good at keeping up with her health. Physical Ailments — Sally does have scars on both of her legs. They look like patch work but are burned scars from one of the crazy events that has happened in Swynlake. She has electrical burns.  Neurological Conditions — Headaches and migraines that are often cause from emotional overload she receives being an empath. Sometimes her vision leave her with a terrible migraine as well.  Allergies — None Grooming Habits — Good. She has clean hygiene habits. Makes sure she looks well kept.  Sleeping Habits — Sally doesn’t have the best sleeping habit at all. Ghosts don’t really stop talking just because it’s night time. The voices often keep her up and steal away her ability to remain asleep. Sometimes as well, she’ll get a vision in her sleep and welp there goes sleeping for the night. Eating Habits — Healthy. Sally is organic with her food choice and often grows as much as she can from her garden, but she’s not strict with this. She’ll break it whenever she wants. If she wants sweets, she’ll get her sweets.  Exercise Habits — Sally does yoga has been doing it for years now and is very, very, very good at it!!! But, aside from that she doesn’t really exercise, except for like when she takes Salene for a walk.  Emotional Stability — Umm.... when it comes to her own personal emotions I guess she’s somewhat stable? But she often carries the emotions of others over her shoulder, being an empath and all, and that at times can make things unstable.   Body Temperature — Sally tends to lean more on the colder side. She has a cold touch to her, and her skin feels more on the frigid lines of things. It comes with the fact that she has been in death’s clutches far too many times, and now also with the fact that she can talk/see the dead.  Sociability — Sally is super, super, SUPER shy!!!!! It’s a struggle for her to talk to new people and she often stutters because of it. She does, however, open up completely with people she has grown to know because she feels more comfortable with them.  Addictions — None. Drug Use — Nope.  Alcohol Use — Not really.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — Klutzy, restless, impatient, sassy, can hold a grudge, shy, soft-spoken, blunt (but never means for it in a bad way or to cause harm), uncontrollably curious, awkward, socially unaware  Good Habits — Kind, creative, gentle, clever, honest, resourceful, loyal, sweet, loving, down-to-earth, humble, optimistic, understanding  Best Characteristic — Loving and kind Worst Characteristic — The fact that she has the ability to hold a grudge Worst Memory — The exorcism she was forced into, and Daniel’s death. There is also the vision that brought to light her father’s obsession. Yeah.... Sally has a lot of bad memories.  Best Memory — There was a Christmas where Sally’s dad had to stay in the hospital for his job. Daniel came over for that Christmas and they spent the night decorating a Christmas tree, Halloween style!!!!!! It’s the prime reason for why Sally decorates her Christmas trees in that fashion now in the present.   Proud of — How she has been able to semi-control her visions, or at least control them in the best way they can be controlled. Also, that she has been able to control her empathic abilities as well. These were both very over-powering abilities and she has been able to live through them both and control them over time!!!! Embarrassed by — All her klutzy, clumsy moments. The fact that she stutters and pauses in her speech because of her shyness. Her scars over her legs.   Driving Style — Sally has learned how to drive and drives pretty decently, but she really doesn’t drive much presently. Strong Points — Her kindness and positive outlook when things look rough  Temperament — Phlegmatic Attitude — Determined, restless Weakness — Shyness   Fears — The lost of her loved ones and not being able to do anything about it. Already has happened with Daniel.  Phobias — Isolation. She has lived a life of isolation through both her father and because of her magic, she doesn’t want to live through isolation again.  Secrets — Her father’s obsession with her, and the fact that she stole a good chunk of her father’s fortune when she ran away lmao  Regrets — Not being able to prevent Daniel’s death, especially when she saw it happened ahead of time. Not being able to prevent a lot of foreseen deaths. Not allowing Daniel to love her.   Feels Vulnerable When — She comes back from a vision. Right after a vision happens, it takes a moment for Sally to get her gatherings together so she is at her most vulnerable physically then. When she’s isolated she also feels very vulnerable.   Pet Peeves — Doesn’t really have many.  Conflicts — Her magic has caused a lot of conflicts for Sally. There is also the conflict of death when it comes to her visions whether she should try to do her best to prevent them, or simply allow them to be.  Motivation — Belongingness. It’s really sad but like Sally has been isolated for a grand portion of her life she just wants to feel like she can belong somewhere :(( Short Term Goals and Hopes — Do something professionally with her exceptional and awesome sewing skills!!!!! (I’m going to start working on this for herrr) Sleep better. She definitely needs more sleep in her life. Long Term Goals and Hopes — To be able to have full control of all of her magical abilities.  Sexuality — Bi-sexual, Demiromantic Exercise Routine  — Yoga in the morning, sometimes at night too Day or Night Person — Night owl Introvert or Extrovert — Introvert Optimist or Pessimist — Optimist

Likes and Styles:

Music — Rock, punk rock, indie, soft rock that whole general area of music is Sally’s favorite. She’s a huge fan of Evanescence.  Books — Edgar Allen Poe is her favorite author. She does enjoy some of Emily Dickinson’s work as well.  Her favorite story is Ligiea by Edgar Allen Poe.  Magazines — Nope. Foods — Sally isn’t really picky, she’ll eat just about anything. She prefers organically made and loves to cook off of her grown garden.   Drinks — Hot chocolate and any drink with added pumpkin spice!!!!!  Animals — Dogs, solely because of her precious Salene.  Sports — Not really that into sports tbh if you’d ask her about any game she wouldn’t know what to tell you unless like she had a vision and knew the winning team ahead of time but other than that nope Social Issues — Magic v. Anti-Magic since she’s a magick herself.  Favorite Saying — “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back” Color — Blackkk she does love orange as well!!!! Jewelry — None. She’s not a huge jewelry person, does puts on studs for her ears from time to time  Games — Meh...   Websites — Not a website person. Sally doesn’t have any form of social media not even an instagram. She doesn’t want her father knowing where she ran off to.  TV Shows — Sally does love the Adam’s Family!!! Both the original tv show and the movies!!! They’re her favorite :DD Movies — Scary/Horror movies. The Chucky series are her favorite.  Greatest Want — To be in full control of her magic.  Greatest Need — I’m not sure to be honest... I’ll have to come back to this one hahaha

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Sally lives in a two bedroom house in the Southern Isles. She could definitely afford something a lot nicer, but she’s happy where she’s at. She’s not the show off-y type of gal.  Household furnishings — Her house is fully furnished with all the furniture one would expect in a house. Dark furniture of course blacks and dark cherry wood stuff like that. Decorative because Sally loves to decorateeee.  Neighborhood — Southern Isle Neighborhood on the South end of Swynlake Town or City Name — Larkhall, Scotland in her childhood. Presently, Swynlake, England Details of Town or City — For Larkhall whatever wikipedia saysss and Swynlake you all know how Swynlake issss Married Before — Nope. Significant Other Before — Also, nope. Would have loved a chance with Daniel though :(( Children — Nope. Relationship with Family — Estranged Car — Nope. Could afford one though, but just doesn’t want one Career — No career at the moment (I gotta stop being lazy) Dream Career — Dressmaker, Sewist, Seamstress (She could lean towards being a Designer but she what she loves the most is the sewing aspect of it all)  Dream Life — One where Daniel is alive and all the horrors of her past hadn’t happened. A life where her mother didn’t die giving birth to her and she was a part of a happy family. She would love a family even if it isn’t one with kids but like her and a loved one.... but she just... doesn’t believe that’s out there for her. Love Life — None, but wanted one with Daniel  Talents or Skills — Sewing (she’s very very VERY FREAKING GOOD AT IT), baking, cooking, decorating, designing, gardening Intelligence Level — Very intelligent, but she’s so quiet and soft-spoken that it’s often times not noticed Finances — She got monnnneeeyyyy stolen money, but moneeyyyy nonetheless xDD

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — Hasn’t gone around to having a career yetttt Past Lovers — None :(((  Biggest Mistakes — Not being able to prevent Daniel’s deaathhhh  Biggest Achievements — Gaining the control that she does have presently over her magic.

[rascalrobinhood]

My vision for the Fablemaker series

What if magic influenced human evolution? In the country of Aniyuu, the discovery of “magic” has kick-started a new era for humanity, completely transforming the biology of the land into new creatures altogether. Depending on each individual’s reaction to magical effects, their genetic DNA is altered through generational natural selection. Naturally, through these changes comes its own set of societal prejudices, and these mutated humans have become categorized into “clans” to best congregate these new races into groups with similar qualities. These similar qualities begin to form the three general categories: Sapiens, Anthro, and Animalia. Below is an excerpt from Fablemaker: Renegade analyzing a more in-depth explanation about the worldbuilding of Aniyuu:

“‘We all have a place in this world, though it may not always be clear.’ The baffled face of the siren compelled the witch to keep explaining. ‘All clans are derived from humans, much like how dogs are evolved versions of wolves. Each clan is ranked based upon how well they can control magic on their own; this forms the categories Sapiens, Anthro, and Animalia.’

Andrea began putting the pieces together. ‘I’ve heard about these! Sapiens are humans and nymphs; people who cannot control any magic without some sort of a support item. Animalia includes sirens and angels, as well as other animal-based beings that can harness magic naturally. Finally, Anthros are a bridge between the two other categories, such as elves and faeries.’

‘Exactly!’

‘If everyone has a place, what about demons?’

‘They are the only clan who doesn’t fit into any of these categories. Demons are a new clan that we can only describe as reincarnations; those whose souls transcend lifetimes, though no one knows how or why. What’s even more strange is that they can have children with other clans, but cannot do so with other demons!’

‘Demons are the only clan that can rival angels in terms of magical abilities. Plus, they age at a much slower rate than all the other clans.’ The pirate mistress joked, ‘You know, when I asked what kind of food you like, I didn’t expect to learn about my place in the hierarchy.’”

Aniyuu is on the brink of a civil war. Renegade Caelum, an outcast of the elven clan, has recently been informed that their secluded village of Splent is no longer being supported by the emperor’s forces, leaving their home open to one of the many invasions occurring across Aniyuu. Behind these invasions is the traitorous pariah Lucaros, who believes that the only way that the different clans will unite is through the fear of a common enemy. Though a sound plan on the surface, it is revealed that this common enemy is made up of the minorities of Aniyuu! Renegade’s family are descendants of multiple clans, pinning Renegade and their loved ones in the middle of the crossfire. However, the elf’s livelihood is not the only one caught up in the chaos; the Rivera-García triplets, a family of sirens, have been struggling to integrate themselves into modern society, as legends and prejudices have accused their kind as using “pure-blood” humans as their main source of food and using their hypnotic singing voices to lure unsuspecting citizens to drown at sea. Renegade bands together with the triplets, as well as a demon with no past, a bounty hunter seeking justice, and a nymph with an appetite for curiosity. Together, this self-proclaimed “Fablemaker Clan” will claw their way to reach Emperor Fletcher before Lucaros dethrones him, hoping to prove to the emperor, as well as all of Aniyuu, that not all outcasts are contrived of the stereotypes placed upon them.

This project currently takes the form of a new adult novel by Robin Phillips, though my aim is to be aired as an animated series premiering on streaming services such as Netflix, extending the series into three seasons to include the two sequel books in the trilogy. The goal of the Fablemaker trilogy is to help spread awareness and discussion about difficult topics such as discrimination against minorities, addressing different types of racism, the normalization of LGBTQ+ people in society, coping with the loss of loved ones, dealing with religious trauma, single-parenting, and the impact of how human involvement in nature can alter environmental and evolutionary progress. The audience will be able to connect to the characters through their personalities, how their circumstances have formed them into the people they are today, and may have some shared experiences with the characters as well. For example, the majority of the characters identify as LGBTQ+ and are designed to incorporate people of color to provide representation for minorities in modern-day society; Renegade, the protagonist, is non-binary and a single parent. The issue with other modern media is that its representation of minorities either includes complex characters with little to no diversity at all or diverse characters where their diversity is their only personality trait. Fablemaker combines these two extremes to write fleshed-out characters whose gender identities and sexualities are not addressed directly in dialogue, and is instead shown throughout their use of personal pronouns and how they interact with one another in an attempt of “show, don’t tell”.

This project uses the genres of science-fiction and fantasy to detach societal issues plaguing communities around the world and places them in a fantastical setting to show how these social issues would still arise despite changes in setting. Even in a world where dragons exist, people would still deal with hardships such as abusive relationships and mental disorders; magic cannot fix the problems that humanity constantly faces. In fact, the creation of magic could result in the possibility of creating new social issues. Fablemaker also explores the hypothetical biology of fantasy races and creatures, commenting about how the magic-oriented evolution of humans impacts their abilities and how this would influence their cultures over time. An example of this is how sirens have developed bioluminescence on their scales, allowing them to communicate in situations where talking may not be an option and attract potential partners. On the other hand, elves have evolved so that their long ears have the ability to resist the hypnotic singing of sirens to survive, adapting to the ever-changing environment.

As an animated series, the messages this show provides will reach a larger audience in the modern-day era of technology, as opposed to a physical book that the novel is currently limited to. Animation is a medium either reserved exclusively for children or strictly for adults, and this project will serve as a bridge between those audiences to spark discussion, as well as serve as inspiration to how animation can be used to tell intriguing, complex stories that can address serious topics in an artistic language that people from different communities can understand. The themes used to define the Fablemaker trilogy include equality and understanding, and how people can change despite their background.

To read Fablemaker: Renegade, click on the link!

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/289454941-fablemaker-book-i-renegade 

[saintanism-archive]

daaaamn aj, back at it again with the long as fuc headcanons !! anyway hi everyone it’s me this is saint he’s a pretentious fuck & my ( really long, sorry, feel free 2 skip them, there’s a tl;dr summary in my bulletpoints so u can just scroll past it ) headcanons and intro stuff is under the cut !

first headcanon. while most houghton parents are doctors, lawyers, and business executives, saint’s always been something of a horse of a different color. his family certainly isn’t unwealthy—he does, after all, live in one of those multi-million-dollar brownstones in beacon hill auctioned by freaking sotheby’s—but they’re certainly neo riche, which can be sort of hit or miss, depending on who you’re asking. saint is not unlike his parents in that they surround themselves with a kind of off-kilter opulence ( sure, that kind of cash value would have bought them a newly constructed sleek mansion in the suburbs, but why go for something new and modern when you could live in a brownstone with over three hundred years of history that, supposedly, one of the founding fathers lived in? besides, you just can’t beat that location—never mind that the brownstone’s been totally gutted and replaced with sleek, modern interior anyway, and definitely not anything that ben franklin or whoever would have touched ) while pretending to eschew materialism and vanity. why else would they live in boston instead of new york or la, right? anyway. saint is the only son of the one and only cordelia st. mercy ( pronounced, unlike saint’s name, the french way—san merci, which sounds hilariously close to ‘sans merci,’ meaning ‘without mercy,’ a joke that is not lost on saint ), a renowned fashion photographer and portrait artist ( think in the vein of annie liebovitz  and arthur elgort ) with a marked celebrity and high art clientele, and also the one and only son of the less elegantly named garrett wallace ( a pen name; his real name is garrett wallerstedt, but his editor and agent agreed that last names that are difficult to pronounce are harder to sell ), whose grisly but artful novels earned him a national book award in 1997, a film deal in 2001 ( the film was a critical and box office success but, in garrett’s opinion, too reductive of his book; ‘pure snuff’ ), and a professorship in the creative writing program at MIT. yes, that MIT, which yes, does have a creative writing program, and yes, it’s a very good one. SO—that’s the pedigree saint mercy-wallace was born into, and it probably explains a whole lot about him. his parents are not and were never married, so he can’t quite say he’s a child of divorce. instead, he spends the school year with his father while his mother travels all over the world, doing her work, though she comes home for holidays and saint’s birthday, and the summers he spends with his mother, dipping his feet into the world of the new york art scene. it was an unusual arrangement, but not a bad one; it was a long time before saint even understood that his family situation was out of the ordinary, but, like, at least he knew both his parents loved him or whatever. they are both pretty emotionally distant and prone to getting caught up in their own work—his father is always focused on teaching or poring over his latest book or invited to give a talk somewhere, for example—but it’s not a bad situation. they’re just more like friends than parents. as a result, saint grew up with a lot of freedom ( more than most of his houghton peers, whose helicopter parents put the weight of the world on their shoulders ) and little discipline, often left to his own devices and trusted with the ability to take care of himself.

second headcanon: ah, yes. the houghton food chain. it’s easy to say saint sits at the dead bottom. like, he’s not even the bugs that get eaten by the birds or whatever. he’s the plant that gets eaten by the bugs. or the soil nutrients that get consumed by the plants—something like that. but the easy answer isn’t necessarily the correct one, and you see, once upon a time, saint sat somewhere near the top. he was never number one, of course, but he was up there, in that little crew of self-proclaimed high school princes and princesses ( quite literally, what with calling themselves windsors and all ). and he fit quite well, all things considered. what, with his pseudo-celebrity family background and his instagram roll full of selfies with models and musicians and actors and that specifically youthful brand of devil-may-care attitude that bordered at times on cruelty—he was a perfect fit for the windsors, his five-story, oft-empty brownstone the perfect venue for their parties and his unconscious need to belong to some kind of family the perfect host for going along with anything that dante and his ilk said. that’s not to make it sound like he was manipulated into it or anything of the sort—he wasn’t. he and dante were good friends—they were all good friends—and like anyone would, saint relished in the perks that came with sitting at the king’s left hand instead of dancing for his entertainment. he was ( and still is ) always the kind of person who gave off an air of not really caring about anything at all, but that’s especially easy when you want for nothing. his life was impossibly easy. too easy, perhaps—exactly what went down that infamous day when saint fell from his high school pedestal remains a mystery. all anyone really knows is this: it was your typical rager at chateau mercy-wallace. the party was going as saint’s parties typically did, so, pretty well, until saint cut the music and ( red-rimmed and wild-eyed, or stinking of about a hundred cigarettes, or with a bloody nose from too many lines of coke, depending on who’s telling the story—it’s morphed a bit over time ) threw everyone out of his house with no explanation. just a party’s over, fuckwads, get outta my house, and some monologue about the bullshit superficiality of high school, of all of them, about how they were all talking in circles and repeating the same lines over and over, but not even their own lines, lines they’d inherited from generations and generations past. it’s equally up for debate whether saint left the windsors or was kicked out, but there’s something of a general consensus that it was in the muddy lines of both. that went down somewhere towards the middle of the end of his junior year. since then? total social pariah. he left behind the lacrosse and soccer teams, opting instead for chain-smoking under the bleachers and cutting class. he’s a mystery, that saint mercy-wallace.

third headcanon: they were friends until they weren’t. they met in middle school and hit it off pretty easily, these two sons of daedalus who feared not the dangers of flying too close to the sun. they were handsome and charming and confident and gifted and the world opened for them—it made it easy to get along. eleven-year-olds didn’t need much by way of substance to start friendships. if you were to ask saint, looking back on it, after that they remained friends out of habit—because they were in the same place at the same time, because they had similar privilege, because they both felt they could do anything and get away with it, because they had similar luxurious sensibilities. it was ( if you ask saint ) what really bonded all of the windsors together more than any other kind of commonality. but, you know. when you wake up—as saint describes it, a waking up—and you look around and you see all this shit you’ve been brainwashed into thinking matters about anything, and you call out the only flimsy common ground you’ve got. well. you’re not going to be friends anymore, are you? after that, saint didn’t harbor any particular resentment towards dante, but he made no attempts to be friendly, often making snide remarks about the absurdity that was the whole premise of the “windsors” and how maybe they all needed to get outside and look at something other than their phones once in a while. he was still fairly shocked and upset by his death—nobody wants anyone to die, old friend slash new enemy or otherwise—but not enough to make a big thing out of it. saint’s had a pretty hard time feeling much of anything these days.

OK THE TL;DR VERSION:

son of a big hotshot fashion/art/celeb photographer ( cordelia aka cordy st. mercy ) and an acclaimed writer, essayist, novelist, thinker, etc ( garrett wallace, who teaches creative writing at MIT )

lives in a big ol brownstone in boston proper, often left to his own devices

his parents are not married to each other so he usually spends the school year w dad and the summer w mom - pls advise if u want some kind of step sibling or “our parents are dating this is terrible!” connection

used to be a windsor ! he was once (in)famously a member of the elite Inner Circle(TM) until he even more infamously had a giant burnout , threw everyone out of his house during a Classic Saint Rager ( he used to be known for throwing parties ), stopped hanging out w the windsors and has been kinda.....weird ever since

i mean don’t get me wrong he was always a pretentious fuck but he used to be better at keeping it inside and like having fun and talking about silly things now he hates talking about basic high school bullshit

his instagram is full of selfies w models and artists and musicians and actors and he only listens to bands you’ve probably never heard of who are “on the up and up”

and also house music and gregorian chants and weird af shit he’s into, like, industrial noise. anyway..........

prides himself on being very fashion forward and forward thinking in general

BIG MESS

literally never says things that aren’t . ridiculous

examples:

“can’t today my existential dread is acting up”

“i only eat squid ink pasta it’s the most melancholy of pasta”

“i can barely navigate the hellish vortex between breakfast and dinner, let alone the labyrinth of the soccer field” ( said when he quit the soccer & lacrosse teams, which he used to play )

does not give a single fuck about anything ever

chainsmokes like u wouldn’t believe catch him on the bleachers during football practice wearing all black and smoking three cigarettes at once it’s disgusting ( lowkey he thinks it looks cool lol what a loser )

reads pretentious af shit like jd salinger and allen ginsburg and the other beats and thinks he’s so edgy. kill him

skips class.....all the time . . . . but has really good grades ? wild

hates everyone and everything that isn’t Elegant

acts like he’s so above all this high school hierarchy nonsense & too cool for it & blah blah but uh

he’s probably just depressed

maybe still gets invited to parties if people forget for a second that he’s a giant fucking weirdo now? but maybe not

i would Love a ferris bueller to his cameron frye but we’ll see

anyway he’s super hard to plot with but you should plot with me anyway

this has been an intro by aj thanks for coming to my ted talk

[kuriquinn]

The Last To Know [2/5]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Beta Reader: None right now. Check back later.

Warning: Some language

AN: Also, added a big chunk to the end of last chapter, so do go back and read :)

First Chapter

Sakura takes her time headed to the Hokage’s office, going over what she intends to say once she’s standing before her former teacher and teammate. She plans to ask about in a mature manner, to learn the whole story from them as well—Kakashi, being Hokage, likely has access to any records concerning the incident. He can clarify certain points she’s having trouble with, and if Naruto is around he can…

Naruto can…

Sakura swallows, a stabbing pain in her throat, her heart beating a rapid rhythm against her neck, a rushing in her ears as a horrible truth looms over her. It pales in comparison to what Sasuke told her about his brother and his family’s deaths, and yet it’s making her lungs constrict and her stomach rebel once again.

She is angry and helpless and doesn’t know how to help Sasuke or who to be mad at. She needs to do something, and it’s all in the past and can’t be fixed both there’s something…something that she can deal with right now, something that she thought was dealt with long ago.

But Sasuke’s confession has revealed to her that it wasn’t.

No, she tells herself firmly. Breathe. Keep emotions in check. I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m a shinobi.

As she walks into the building, she remains calm and composed, perhaps not as prone to smiling at the many clerks there as she usually is, but not the slowly unravelling ball of emotions she is right now. Her presence is common enough here that no one expects her to make an appointment, and she walks into Kakashi’s office without even having to knock at the door.

Everything is so far going according to plan.

Until she looks around the room and sees Kakashi going over mission briefs with Naruto, who is complaining loudly, the way he always did. And for them, today is no different from any other day; they are coping and living with the knowledge Sasuke has imparted to her without another thought.

And that’s when her plans go out the window.

Literally.

It happens too fast for her to be entirely aware of it.

One minute she is closing the door behind her, and the next her fist is colliding with Kakashi’s chest.

She curbed her strength – mostly – so he shouldn’t have any damage that a competent healer couldn’t fix, but it’s to fast for him to get a substitution to take the full brunt of her blow. He and his chair go flying through the windows and wall behind him, throwing up a huge plume of dust.

“What the hell, Sakura?!” Naruto cries, grabbing hold of her from behind. The air around him crackles, like he isn’t sure whether he should be entering his Tailed Beast Chakra Mode.

She shrugs him off with ease.

“Three years,” she replies in a cold, furious voice.

“…Huh?”

“Three years, you’ve been lying to me.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“Uchiha,” she bites out through clenched teeth. “Itachi Uchiha.”

Naruto doesn’t understand right away, but as the seconds of silence tick by, he begins to pale with realisation. “Sakura—we couldn’t—”

“Don’t.”

“The fewer people who knew—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she growls.

“Sakura.” Kakashi has popped back into existence beside them, looking a little bruised, and eyes more sombre than she’s seen in a while. He waves a dismissive hand at several ANBU that are peeking inside until the three of them are standing alone. Distantly it occurs to her that technically she may have committed treason for assaulting the Hokage, but somehow, she can’t seem to care. “This was to protect the peace of the village.”

“To protect murderers,” she spits.

“If you think about it, we didn’t lie to you,” Naruto begins, “we just didn’t—”

“If you say you just didn’t tell me and so that’s technically not a lie, I will pull out your ribcage and wear it as a hat,” she informs him flatly.

He makes a sound like a squeak, while Kakashi sighs. “The omission was necessary, especially so soon after the war.”

“Maybe if this was a few months after the war that I was finding out, I’d believe that,” Sakura says, still deadly quiet and trembling. “But it’s been years, Kakashi.”

“This wasn’t a piece of gossip, Sakura, it involved the security and stability of Konoha.”

“Did you expect that I was going to tell someone?” she snarls. “Me? I’m the last person who would reveal anything that could harm Sasuke or Konoha in any way!”

“Sakura—“

“I am the only student you ever trained that had the necessary skills and discretion to achieve jōnin rank,” she goes on, drowning him out. “Apprentice to the Fifth Hokage which, I’m sure you of all people know, requires a certain amount of discretion. Head of Konoha’s hospital. Personnel and patient files are all rather confidential, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sak—”

“Hell, long before any of that, I was kidnapped and beaten for information and I didn’t give it up because I would rather die first!” she bites out. “And you’re argument is that you thought I was too much of a security risk to tell me that the village—”

“We never said that!” Naruto protests loudly.

“YOU LET ME BELIEVE A LIE FOR THREE YEARS!” Sakura’s voice cracks painfully here, and she swallows, having difficulty breathing for a moment. Tears threaten to fall, but she fights them back, because today of all days will not be the day that she cries. Because she is Sakura Fucking Haruno, and the twelve-year-old weepy child she used to be has been nothing but a memory for years now. “You let me think Sasuke was…”

“Sakura…”

“He thought I knew already,” she whispers, and watches them both freeze. “He thought you two would have told me. You know why he might have thought that?” Naruto’s expression is aggrieved, Kakashi’s resigned. They know what she’s about to say. “Because you’re my friends. Before we are teammates or compatriots or students and teacher…we’re friends.” She inhales shakily. “And he thought you would have told me the truth. Never even occurred to him that you wouldn’t. That I wouldn’t have all the same information that you both did. Because we were friends.”

“We are!” Naruto protests.

“Are we?”

“We were trying to protection.”

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” Sakura shouts, managing to keep her volume down this time, but only just. “I am not that silly twelve year old girl anymore! I have watched men bleed to death in front of my eyes and held beating hearts in my fingers trying to fix them! I am a hero to villages that don’t even have names, I am the reason half of the people in this village aren’t dead or orphaned! I have birthed babies and killed assassins and walked into battle to fight by your side, so don’t you dare try to tell me you still think I need to be protected!”

“Of course we don’t—”

“I tried to kill the man I am in love with because I thought he had to be stopped for his own safety as well as others…without even questioning why…and there was an actual reason for what he did, and it wasn’t just because of some thousand-year-old curse!” she cries. “He tried to kill me because he thought I knew and was in on it! And we both have to live with that memory now! Forever!”

“Your relationship with Sasuke doesn’t give you clearance to know all the village’s secrets, Sakura. Even Naruto isn’t privy to all of them—even I’m not, sometimes,” Kakashi says quietly, clearly trying to maintain some sense of his position. And while she understands that, she still resents it.

“But he could know about this?” she challenges. “A genin who failed every test related to secrecy and subterfuge that we ever took?”

“Hey!” Naruto says in an injured tone.

“You know the point I’m trying to make.”

“You’re trying to subtly remind me about keeping this impersonal,” she counters. “Fine. Then let me point out, according to the rules, your successor is a shinobi of a lower rank than I am—saviour of the world or not. As his superior, you’re not according m the respect and merit of my station. The information I received today is something I should have known since I became a jōnin, because my job is to protect the village from threats. Not knowing has kept me from pursuing that purpose.”

Kakashi’s eyes narrow. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Why have the Elders not been removed from their positions?” she interrupts.

“Sakura,” he begins, a warning note in his voice.

“No,” she cuts him off. “If Danzō planned all of it, they knew. And they didn’t stop him. People died, Kakashi! Our people, and one of our own was forced to do it! And you think a pretty plaque in a graveyard makes up for that? That is not justice.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Because they continue to be involved!” she snaps. “How many times has their behaviour led to more problems that almost destroyed Konoha from within? For fuck’s sake, we never needed to worry about outside enemies with them around! And yet they retain their positions, their income and the respect of the village, while Itachi is just a name carved on a block of stone and Sasuke is going to spend the rest of his life a pariah because he was trying to get justice for what they allowed to happen?”

“Sakura—”

“No, I’m not done,” she interrupts. “Everyone thinks Itachi’s being honoured because of what he did when he was resurrected by the Edo Tensei—and don’t even get me started on how Kabuto and Orochimaru have all-but been pardoned for their actions after everything—when in truth it’s more than that! If Sasuke’s brother hadn’t acted, Konoha would have been reduced to ashes thirteen years ago! It’s his name that should be taught in our schools or put up on statues, not Danzō or the Elders or the people who almost caused the destruction in the first place!”

“I don’t disagree with you on any of those points,” Kakashi sighs. “But they can’t, Sakura. For the sake of peace. If people thought that those in positions of power in the village—the same individuals they put their trust in to protect them—could be capable of what they did, it would destabilise the government. We may be in a recovery period, but it’s still fragile enough that I’m not sure we could survive if that happened. I’m sure you understand this.”

She clenches her fists, frowning at him, because her logical mind knows that he’s right about that point, at least.

“Something still has to be done,” she insists.

“And it will,” Kakashi promises. “But it will take time. I can work within the shadows and make the political moves necessary, but the push for change has to come from the people. Between you and Naruto, I’m sure you can figure something out. But it won’t happen over night. It’s what’s known as a long game.”

She crosses his arms.

“We’ll figure something out,” Naruto repeats, in a soft and placating voice. And though she knows he means it, and that he probably won’t rest until this problem is fixed, the discord in her heart doesn’t abate.

“None of that excuses the fact that neither of you told me the truth,” she replies. “And Kakashi…I can understand not saying anything. But you, Naruto?”

“It wasn’t…we weren’t sure if…” Naruto hedges, while Kakashi just looks uncomfortable.

That ever-growing suspicion sets in with a bitter twist in her gut.

“You didn’t think Sasuke wanted me to know,” she realises. Her voice feels very far away from her when she asks, “Why? Because of village secrecy? His pride? Or because he doesn’t care about me the way I care about him?”

“No!” Naruto cries. “That’s not it at all!”

“I know our connection isn’t as a strong as the one between you two,” she admits, the words scraping against her throat as she says them. She’s always suspected Sasuke had more regard for Naruto than her, but to have it confirmed that others think the same is still a difficult pill to swallow. “I might not be the reincarnation of his family, but I am his friend. And if I never have anything else, I’ll always have that. And on that fact alone, if you two knew…I should have known.”

“We thought you were better off not knowing,” Kakashi says. “You’re a healer, Sakura, you want to make people feel better. And this is something you can’t heal. We’ve both seen how you take it to heart when you can’t help. We believed we were sparing you that.”

“Again with the protecting me bit?” she questions, shaking her head. All of a sudden, all of the fight goes out of her. “I see. To you all, I will never be anything but that little girl who trailed after you like puppies.” She clenches her eyes tight, still fighting back angry tears. “How can you say you’re my friends, if you can’t trust me with knowing information like this? Sasuke did. If the person who has distanced himself from me for my entire life can show me that respect…why can’t you two?”

She turns to leave.

“Sakura, don’t go!” Naruto cries. “Let’s talk about this!”

“No.  You should have talked before,” she retorts. “Now you’re going to wait for me to decide to talk to you. I…need some time to think about this. And about what it means for my future.”

“Your future?” Kakashi echoes.

“I need to decide if I want to continue to serve a village that doesn’t trust me with something so vital,” she whispers, “and if I should keep friends who don’t either.”

Before either of them can stop her, she uses a Shushin to escape the stifling office.

つづく

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