#got this idea from the 'just pirate it' version i saw like last week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tennessoui · 3 years ago

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FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

#asks #feral!obi-wan #cw: torture aftermath #its really quite vague tbh #i wanted to use shmi as a narrator because i never really have before #but that means nothing but shmi's perspective gets shared #i mean obviously #but its defo outside perspective here #but this was fun #im not gonna tag it as obikin because anakin here is nine #but yeah i see them living on naboo and healing together from their traumas #and being the most important person to each other #and eventually when anakin is like 25 maybe even older #they kiss #but that's the story i didnt write lmao

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lumosinlove · 4 years ago

Text

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:

We get our first glimpse of Finn, who is still in Saint Clair orphanage. Finn has worked out that Crucio is being given to the orphans because it allows them to see their families again and makes them want to stay at Saint Clair so they can keep receiving it—even if it means reliving memories every day that are not their own. Finn doesn’t want that at all, and he’s been in solitary for the last week because he refuses to eat, realizing that the drug is mixed in with the food.

Luke is struggling with his mother, who seems to be delighted that Luke’s father is gone. She has completely transformed into a woman Luke doesn’t recognize, offering him alcohol, and wanting to get rid of Luke’s father’s things. Luke escapes her words, retreating to his father’s study where he can take Crucio and re-arrange the events in his own mind, making it so his father never got taken away.

Remus and Sirius, at James’ house for a movie night, have an awkward exchange in the kitchen. Remus wants to ask Sirius if he wants to go sailing with him, quickly realizing the unexplainable but seemingly unavoidable crush he’s developed on Sirius, but they get interrupted by Saint.

Saint asks Remus to help him sneak into The Hogwarts History Museum, where Remus is working for the summer, but when Remus refuses, guesses he has to take matters into his own hands.

Saint finds Luke on the grasses with the others, watching a movie. Luke wants his father’s watch, which Saint stole, back, but Saint refuses. Luke can’t believe Saint has never seen many movies, but rudely puts it up to Saint’s “fucked childhood.” They argue, and it just makes Saint quietly angrier. Saint thinks more deeply about it than he lets on, though, reflecting on people’s need to control things—a need that Crucio plays on. Saint leaves, but not after stealing the keys to Luke’s car, deciding he can control things a different way—with ancient gold from an ancient pirate ship, perhaps.

Sirius follows Saint out of the house. He can tell that he’s more on edge than usual, that he has been ever since Logan arrived. Saint won’t tell him what he wants from the museum, though—a treasure map to the Voldemort. Sirius is hurt. He’s angry at himself for liking Remus. Both Sirius and Saint, it seems, have a hard time distinguishing pity and friendship.

Leo and Logan are waiting for Saint so that they can all go to the museum together. Leo asks about Finn and finds out that Logan and Finn are in love, that they’re everything to each other. It stings Leo’s slowly developing feelings for Logan.

Remus and Sirius go to the history museum to try and thwart Saint and find out he’s working with Logan and Leo, and that they’re all after The Voldemort. Saint confesses he’s trying to help Sirius, to Sirius’ surprise. Leo wants to finish his father’s work. Logan wants Finn—but no one seems willing to help him bust Finn out. When they find the drawer where the map should be kept in the museum’s archive room, however, it’s gone, having been taken out on loan by Luke’s father, Victor Deveaux. Victor and Luke loved the tale of the treasure, too. Perhaps it has something to do with Victor being sent to jail.

They go to Luke’s house where Saint climbs through Luke’s bedroom window. Saint studies a sleeping Luke, a strange, unexpected constant—a brooding, rude, beautiful one, that is. And oh, how Saint hates letting things surprise him. Saint wakes Luke, who has taken Crucio, and plans to use his father’s watch as leverage to get Luke to help them find the map.

*****cw: mentions of drugs, mentions of use of drugs, mentions of past deaths, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood*****

part vii

Luke’s father was standing over Remus’ shoulder, flickering as the Felix wore off, and it was really fucking with Luke’s head.

“Some fellow treasure hunters,” his father said with one of his soft smiles. “Sounds fun.”

“Sober up,” Remus’ voice filtered in. “What makes you sober up?”

“I’m not drunk.”

Luke watched Remus just shake his head at him. His father’s flickering frame was looking closely at Saint, who was picking up everything in sight.

“We both know what you are,” Remus replied. “Now, come on. Coffee? Anything I can do without waking your mom up.”

“She’s not going to wake up,” Luke rubbed his eyes. “She takes these—sleeping things, I don’t know.”

“Well—“ Remus hesitated. Behind him, Luke’s father flickered out.

“I’m fine,” Luke said. “What’s going on?”

“We’re bargaining, remember?” Saint held up Luke’s father’s watch again. “Tell me about your father, Deveaux.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“Well, Lupin’s already told us a little. You, him, and your treasure hunting days.”

Luke looked at Remus, who looked half-guilty and half-curious. “You mean—like when we were kids?”

Luke didn’t want to tell them about the time he had spent with his father in here, just the two of them, fantasizing about gold and pirates.

“We were at the museum just now,” Remus began slowly. “Your dad loaned out a map…it’s of the Cradle. Of a, what was it, a trading post?”

The tall, blond boy standing in a corner nodded.

Remus looked back to Luke. “Have you seen it? Here?”

“A map?” Luke scrubbed his hand over his face again. “What fucking time is it?”

“Oh, he’s swearing,” Saint said as he opened another drawer. “He’s back.”

“Fuck—” Luke clamped his mouth shut. He turned away from Saint and fully towards Remus. Sirius and another dark haired boy were standing near the blond one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Treasure?”

Remus winced. “Like the Voldemort.”

“The—what? He was never serious about that stuff,” Luke replied. “It was just for fun.”

“And yet he takes it upon himself to acquire an ancient document,” Saint piped up from behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke said again over his shoulder.

“Um—“

Luke looked towards the blond boy, who had taken a hesitant step forward.

“I know what it looks like. My dad had a copy.”

“A true father’s affair,” Saint mumbled.

“What?” Luke asked for what felt like the one hundredth time.

“If we could just look around—” the blond began.

“You come here at ass o’clock in the morning to look around may dad’s study? For a treasure map that your dad has?”

“Used to have,” the blond’s eyes went colder. “His version was lost with him and his boat.”

Luke swallowed, eyes drifting away from the other boy’s blue ones. He looked back to Remus. They used to spend hours playing pirate when they were younger. Remus looked like he was remembering those hours, too.

Luke only had to blink for that golden-edged memory to mingle with the hours Remus had held Luke close in Luke’s bed, letting Luke soak his t-shirt through when they’d taken his dad away.

“Why do you think my dad has it?” Luke said now. “What do you mean loaned?”

“We went looking for it at the museum just now,” Remus explained. “Well—not not we. Saint stole your car—”

Luke looked back at Saint. “I’m aware.”

Saint flashed a smile.

“—and went with Logan,” Remus pointed to the somber looking brunette, “and Leo,” the cold-eyed blond, “to more or less, God, break into the museum archives. If they’re going to find the treasure—which, in my opinion, they’re not—they need—”

“A map,” Luke said, then scoffed out a laugh. “You guys are fucking crazy.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Look, none of this was my idea, but your dad’s name was on the loan card. If it’s here, it's here, and then they’ll take the picture they need and we can all leave. I mean, shit, I have work at seven tomorrow morning, guys.”

Luke let out a long breath. He was tired, from being woken up and from the Felix, and he frankly wanted Saint to stop messing with his father’s things.

He nodded at Remus. “You can look around. And I will. The rest of you, don’t fucking—” he snatched one of his father’s fountain pens out of Saint’s hands. “touch anything.”

Saint just tiled his head defiantly. Luke couldn’t help but hold his gaze for a moment, remembering waking up to those syrupy eyes and feeling—he didn’t know what. Like he was standing on the edge of the Howler cliffs, above a storm-warmed, rough ocean. Saint’s hand had been in his hair, and it had been ever so gentle, unlike the rest of him. His words were tough, and, from what Luke could tell by his own jabs at Saint, so was his skin. He guessed a kid didn’t grow up the way Saint had without at least a little armor—Saint was practically drowning in his own.

As if Luke could talk. Luke looked away and gestured towards Remus. “Let’s get this over with.”

Luke opened drawers and cabinets. He looked through stacks of paper and under dressers. He checked the den, even, just in case, but there was nothing. Everything was orderly—and even more, the police had taken so much. Any paper they could get their hands on. His mom wouldn’t tell him what they were looking for, and neither would the lawyers that occasionally came to the house.

But there was no map.

Luke began to double check, if only at Remus’ insistence, but he was at a loss. There were only so many places—

“What’s your birthday, tweedle?” Saint said suddenly.

“What does that have to do—” Luke began as he turned, but his words died in his throat when he saw Saint.

Luke’s father had had the old map of Hogwarts framed and hanging in his study ever since Luke could remember. He knew its markings as well as he knew the island as it was today. Saint had it tilted to the side, revealing a sliver of sleek steel. A safe.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Luke said breathlessly. He hadn’t known about that safe. He’d stared at that map a thousand times and he hadn’t known. Did his mother know? The lawyers?

“I bet you one of Leo here’s best breakfast sandwiches that the map’s in here,” Saint replied, nodding to the frame. “Little bit of an X marks the spot, don’t you think? Now,” Saint reached for the painting and unhooked it smoothly, setting it on the ground to reveal the neat square metal sunken into the wall with a dial in the center. “Tell me your birthday.”

“Why do you think the combination is my birthday?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Because you’re his son. Fathers do that. Don’t they?”

Saint asked the last part like he was trying to be sure, but wasn’t.

“January first,” Luke replied.

Saint hummed as he leaned in. “New year, new you, huh?”

Luke just swallowed dryly as he listened to the dial tick. It felt so loud in the room that was now holding its breath. It felt like it lasted forever, but, finally, the safe opened with a gentle click.

“Damn, Saint,” Sirius said softly.

“I know, I’m so good,” Saint said, and made to push the door open when Luke pushed forward and grabbed his hand. Saint’s fingers were warm in his own. Saint raised an eyebrow.

“Like you said,” Luke still felt breathless. “I’m his son. I’m doing this.”

Saint raised his free hand in surrender until Luke let go, and he backed away. Luke faced the safe. He felt the Felix in him all over again, though it was long gone. He felt his father, smelled his cigars. Luke reached for the door, too aware of the four pairs of eyes on him, and pulled it open.

It was relatively empty. There were papers that looked like they had once bound money, but lay ripped and lifeless now. There was a case of expensive cigars.

And there was an envelope with Luke’s name on it.

“There’s a letter,” Luke said faintly, picking it up. “For me.”

He looked up at Remus, and Remus nodded.

“Like the clues he would leave us?” Remus said quietly.

Luke went for the seal—only to have it snatch out of his hands.

He looked up, eyes wide, and found the unfamiliar brunette—Logan, Remus had said—staring back at him, at all of them, with wild green eyes.

“Logan,” Leo said, voice filled with surprise. “What the hell are you—”

But Logan just backed up towards the door. There was a familiar click, and the flame of a lighter appeared in his other hand.

“Hey—” Luke stepped forward, panicked, but Saint’s palm pushed against his chest.

“Don’t,” Saint said softly, for Luke’s ears only.

“That’s mine,” Luke snarled, shoving Saint away.

“Yeah, well I have something I want, too,” Logan snapped, and then looked at Saint. He held the flame closer to the envelope. “You want to know what this says? Then—”

“So do you, Logan,” Saint said. “You need that money. You know you do. The Carrows know it, too.”

“You owe me something first. I want Finn.”

“I don’t owe you,” Saint replied evenly. “I don’t owe anyone. That’s kind of my general idea in life, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Logan faltered, and the flame slipped close enough to the envelope to make smoke trail, but when Luke stepped forward, Logan took another step back. He looked small, framed by the grand desk and leather chairs. Small and scared.

“You left us in there,” he finally whispered, and Luke thought he heard Saint’s breathing stop and hold, like a punch to the gut.

“He was seven years old,” Sirius growled, and Luke didn’t know what they were talking about, was done waiting.

“Do you know the last time I talked to my dad?” Luke said, voice raising. He glanced upstairs, careful of his mother despite her pills, and dropped it to a deadly whisper again. “He’s not allowed calls. Not until the investigation’s over. This could—” Luke hesitated at putting his wildest, most desperate hope into words. “This could prove he’s—”

“Do you think I give a shit about the last time you talked to your daddy?” Logan snarled just as harshly. “When’s the last time I talked to mine? Oh. Right.”

“Please,” Luke heard the word rip out of his throat before he could help it, but Logan wasn’t even looking at him. Logan’s eyes were on Saint.

“Help me get Finn out. The windows are barred now. There are alarms, I’ve seen them.”

“I didn’t use a window,” Saint replied.

“Then show me how you did it.”

“You won’t be able to get in the way I got out.”

“Then do it for me.”

If Luke was begging, so was Logan.

“Fuck, I’ll help you,” Luke shouted. “Just don’t. Please. My father—”

“You don’t know shit about Saint Clair,” Logan snapped, then looked back at Saint. “We both know where he is. Why I haven’t seen him. Saint—”

“All right,” Saint said, voice calm. His brown eyes reminded Luke of stormy seas, ruddy with stirred up sand. “All right, Logan. Just don’t burn the letter.”

“Promise,” Logan said.

Saint laughed, cold and clear. “What has a promise ever meant to either of us? I said I would. Take it or leave it.”

There was a terrifying moment in which Luke worried that the letter would go up in flames anyway. That he would never know what his father had wanted him to have, wanted him to know. He didn’t know Logan, didn’t trust him.

The lighter clicked off and Logan held out the envelope. Luke took it and gave Logan a shove towards the door for good measure.

“Get out,” he said. “Get out of my house.”

“What does the letter say?” Logan replied firmly. “It could be about the map.”

Luke laughed, and it rang a close twin to Saint’s in his own ears. “You should have thought about that before you held it hostage for your orphan friend.”

Logan took a step forward, mouth opening to protest, but Luke was bigger than him, stronger and taller. He met him chest to chest.

“I said get out.”

“Logan,” Saint sighed. “Listen to him.”

Leo stepped forward then, a gentle hand on Logan’s fiery frame. Logan simmered for another moment, but let Leo lead him from the room, lighter still clutched in his fist. Remus followed them with a whispered, I’m sorry that Luke barely heard.

He faintly heard Saint say something to Sirius, who followed Remus.

Saint, the only one left in the room now, looked at Luke steadily. Luke expected some sort of joke, or a snarky remark about the desperation Luke had shown—something he tried to never let slip through. He didn’t care what it was. He just wanted to be alone, to have this room feel like his father’s again. Instead of a crime scene. Instead of a lead, or a pin-point on a map. Just his father’s familiar room.

Instead Saint tossed him something that shone—his keys.

“Let us know, if you want,” Saint said simply, and held the gold watch out. Luke took it with shaking fingers, watching him go.

Then, he looked down at the letter, at his name in his father’s familiar scrawl. He peeled back the seal with a lump forming in his throat.

Remus’ steps slowed to a stop when he saw who was waiting for him at the end of his dock in the five-AM light.

Sirius had his flip-flops beside him, his feet dangling over the edge into the water, the Wolfsbane rocking gently in the early morning waves to his left.

“Sirius?” Remus called, more so that the first thing Sirius felt wasn’t the shaking of his footsteps than anything else.

Sirius jerked around, startled either way, and scrambled to stand.

“Hi,” he said. “Or, morning.”

“Morning,” Remus laughed a little, glancing at the boat. “I…is this you taking me up on my offer?”

Sirius ran a hand through his thick black hair. “Ah, well, I’m here to say sorry about last night. Dragging you into it and all. That wasn’t fair of Saint, but he’s…I don’t know what he is right now. I usually do but…not this time, I guess.”

Remus nodded, trying to buy himself time to figure out what to say. He stepped onto his boat and took a rope in hand, just for something to do. To hold onto. Sirius had spoken the words plainly enough. There was nothing about Saint and himself being together, but Remus still sensed some sort of intimacy that wasn’t quite friendship, just as he had at the museum.

“It’s okay,” Remus said. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Sirius’ smile was a small, relieved one. “I guess so. Still. He was on some sort of mission. He still hasn’t told me anything, so.”

Remus leaned back from stowing his phone and keys securely in a hatch. “He doesn’t seem like the type of person you can really get things out of.”

“That’s true,” Sirius laughed, and it was easier this time. “Anyway, I’ll let you…I just wanted to say.”

Remus wanted to ask again, if Sirius would come with him, but Sirius was already backing away and so Remus just nodded.

“Thanks.”

He turned after he said it, breathing in the ocean air and trying to still himself, to let the familiarity of his boat and sails wash over him. He would find someone. Maybe they weren’t Sirius Black. Maybe they just weren’t here. Maybe he’d fall in love on the water, or in a classroom, or—

“Can I?” Remus heard Sirius say, and turned to look. Sirius had stopped half way down the dock.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Take you up on your offer?”

Remus smiled, even if his hope at Sirius’ words paired with the thought of Saint made his heart a little tender.

“Of course you can,” Remus said.

Sirius jogged towards him with a grin of his own, but he paused before he stepped onto the Wolfsbane, looking down. Remus wondered for a moment if it was the gap over the water, but Sirius had said he sailed, too, he’d said—

Remus understood. He unmoored the nose. “Get that rope back there if you finally want to do something other than watch.”

Sirius jumped to unknot the rope with ease, and then stepped onto the waves beside Remus, using one of his feet to push them away from the dock. Remus let them drift a moment, feeling for the wind. It was quiet for now, but he could see rougher waves out past the point.

“Is it just yours?” Sirius asked as he watched Remus with the tiller.

“Yep, birthday present,” Remus patted the side. “My baby.”

Sirius smiled. “It’s a beautiful boat.”

The wind began to pick up as they got farther from the land, pushing towards the open water. Remus’ heart seemed to pick up with it and, glancing at Sirius, who looked contemplative and—well, beautiful—Remus didn’t think it was merely the sea’s doing.

Remus had never thought too much about Sirius Black. Sirius had been there one day, gone the next, and in the run-ins at James’ house once Sirius had started working there, he had been a suddenly handsome face. Grown into himself and strong from his outdoor work. In turn, Remus always became suddenly awkward around the boy who obviously didn’t like Gods. He and James poked fun at each other, he and Luke were downright hostile, and Remus didn’t know where he fit in.

He hoped the water and the Wolfsbane would do some talking for him, and maybe some listening, too.

They didn’t speak as they began to fly. The pontoons skimmed the waves and the wind would have snatched their voices away, but Remus swore he heard Sirius laugh.

Sirius knew how to sail, too. He breathed it all in, just as Remus did, and they worked together, balancing and pulling and leaning out to trace their fingers along the water’s surface. It felt as warm as a bath against the cool air.

Remus didn’t let them go too far out, he had to be back, but he would have. He would have sailed right to the horizon with Sirius without looking back.

As the wind died down, as they turned around, Remus felt something different. Like a wind change between the two of them. They grinned at each other, flushed with it, and as the wind cut down more, as they past the point, Sirius’ turned self-conscious but it didn’t disappear like before.

The boat settled into a glide towards the shore. Remus let his feet dangle in the water.

“So, the treasure,” Remus asked, because Sirius looked hesitant to talk, sitting there soundly on the other side of the boat. “Do you think it’s real?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sirius replied, and Remus laughed. “But if Saint thinks it’s worth it…I’ll try to go along with it.”

Remus nodded, taking that in. Saint. The mention of him slowed his heart back to a glide along with the boat. Remus cleared his throat and Sirius looked back at him from the horizon questioningly.

“What was that thing with—Logan? I mean, you don’t have to tell me but…”

Sirius took a long breath. “Logan has someone, Finn, inside Saint Clair. Finn helped him escape. And I don’t know if it’s guilt that’s making him help to get Finn out, or something more, but…Saint's the one who can help.”

“Because he escaped.”

Sirius nodded. “Right.”

“Is it complicated?” Remus asked. “Like, is he worried he won’t be able to do it twice?”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not complicated.”

He was silent for a moment, and Remus didn't want to push him. He waited, seeing if Sirius would continue.

“Saint walked right out the front door,” Sirius finally finished, and looked at Remus. “I think he’s worried because it wasn’t a grand escape, even if he tells it that way. Even if he makes it seem like he climbed walls or something. He’s worried because…because it was a fluke. Sometimes there are doors you can’t walk back through.”

Sirius said the last sentence heavily, as if he had a door of his own. Remus guessed that maybe everyone did.

“So, what’s he going to do for Finn and Logan?”

Sirius just shook his head again. “I have no idea. But I’ll help him in any way that I can.” Half a smile raised Sirius’ mouth. “If he lets me.”

“No.”

“Tell me,” Sirius demanded. Saint just rolled his eyes and popped a sweet potato fry into his mouth.

“Tell us,” Dorcas cut in from her place beside Marlene.

“Right,” Sirius said. “Sorry.”

“Saint,” Marlene sighed. “If you’re not going to tell us, it’ll make us think you have no plan at all.”

“Who invited the God?” Saint said airily.

“My girlfriend,” Dorcas scuffed the back of his head.

“Not for long she’s not,” Saint replied, and at Dorcas and Marlene’s expressions, waved a hand. “Come on. She’s going to college, Dor, you’re not…don’t tell me you haven’t talked about it.”

“We—” Dorcas began, but flushed and closed her mouth. Sirius glanced at Marlene, whose eyes were firmly down towards her burger.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Sirius sighed.

“I’m not, I’m just telling everyone what to expect.”

“Saint,” Sirius leaned forward. “How are you going to get Finn out of Saint Clair? You said last time—”

Saint cut in quickly, “I say a lot of things to you that are just for you, Black.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do with what you said,” Sirius replied. “Come on. Please. Is it because you don’t know? Is that why you won’t say anything?”

Saint stayed quiet, looking down at his food. “I know. We’ll just have to see if it works.”

“Saint,” Dorcas leaned forward and Saint turned his palm up for her hand. He knew they were trying to help. “Babe, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You mean you want to make sure it’s not too insane.”

Sirius nodded. “That, too.”

“Can’t you just rest assured that I’m doing this for myself, too?” Saint said. “I’ll get Finn out, Logan will calm the fuck down, and maybe Luke will let us know about the treasure.”

“Who gives a fuck about this treasure?” Dorcas said harshly.

“It probably doesn’t even exist,” Sirius added.

“You want off this island, like you said? Then you give a fuck.”

Sirius began to shake his head. “It’s not—” he said, but Saint pushed on, voice raising.

“We’ll get Finn out, we’ll get Luke’s help, we’ll get the map, we’ll find my mom—”

Saint stopped talking, frozen by the words that had ripped out of him of their own accord.

Sirius, Dorcas, and Marlene’s eyes were wide. Pity. The word seemed to hang in the air.

“The treasure, I meant,” Saint managed. “We’ll find the treasure and��”

“Saint…” Dorcas said, and when he looked at her…Pity. “Do you know where she is?”

Saint was furious with himself for the slip. He was looking for Sirius. He wanted the treasure for Sirius, he didn’t need it for himself. He didn’t need anything, especially not people who left. Not his mom, not Sirius.

“I don’t need help with Saint Clair,” Saint said and pushed his chair back, leaving them staring at each other across the table.

Saint hadn’t let any of them come. He didn’t want anyone here to see him tremble and shake at doing the one thing he had always promised himself he would never do. The one thing he didn’t think he could do.

But, thinking about it, the trick wasn’t getting out. Anyone could walk out the door. The nuns needed it that way, for business. For the appearance of normalcy. The real trick was getting inside without being let in. The way to keep secrets, after all, wasn’t keeping everyone out. Walls begged to be breached. The secret was to filter the truth. Let people see half, a quarter, or different parts at different times. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Maybe Saint was half of Saint Clair, keeping his cards close to his chest.

The offices. He needed to get the the offices, and then he needed to get to Finn. In and out—just not through the door this time.

“What’s the plan?” said a voice just behind him, and Saint closed his eyes.

Sirius.

“I told you not to come,” Saint said.

“And I told me yes,” Sirius parroted. They rolled their eyes at each other even as Sirius rested a gentle hand over Saint’s where it was clenched over his own knee. They crouched beside each other, staring at Saint Clair in the darkness. It was two in the morning, maybe a little past it now, and Saint wanted everyone to be asleep.

He looked towards the chimney. It was wide and old fashioned. It would be too hot for them to be using it tonight.

“Jesus Christ,” Sirius sighed, following his gaze.

“The windows are barred. The doors are alarmed. I’ve cleaned that thing, I know it’s big.”

“Yeah, everything looks big to a seven year old,” Sirius countered.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“And getting out?” Sirius asked.

“Alarms don’t go off if you open the door from the inside. There’s a kitchen door around the back. We’ll use it. We just have to get in.”

Sirius nodded slowly, and then asked, “Your mom?”

Saint pressed his lips together. He needed to get to the office, and then to Finn, and then out.

He started forward towards the drain pipe, just like on Luke’s house, and didn’t look to see if Sirius was following him.

Marlene didn’t like seeing that contemplating look at Dorcas’ face. Dorcas was chewing on her lip, eyes staring at the movie playing on Marlene’s laptop, but she was somewhere else entirely. Marlene put her pencil down at wiggled her toes, which were in Dorcas’ lap. Dorcas blinked and looked at her.

“Don’t listen to Saint,” Marlene said. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

But even saying that ate at her. Marlene thought of the acceptance email, of California and Berkeley, buried in her inbox right now. Tell her, said everything inside, but Dorcas already had that look on her face. The worrying, I-want-everything-that’s-good-for-you-regardless-of-what-it-means-for-me-or-us look.

Marlene didn’t want to see that look. She’d seen it the first time her father had banned her from seeing a Salazar girl. They had been fifteen and Dorcas had offered to stop, and Marlene had kissed the idea right out of her mouth, right out of existence.

This was different. She couldn’t kiss college away. She didn’t want to. But she also wanted Dorcas, and California felt far, far away.

Dorcas chewed on her lip some more, then rubbed a soothing thumb over Marlene’s ankle. “We haven’t really talked about it, though.”

“I know,” Marlene said softly. She pushed herself up and set her sketchbook aside before reaching over to close the laptop, cutting the actor off in mid-sentence. “I guess I’m sort of…avoiding it.”

“We are, you mean,” Dorcas offered her a small smile. “I…I know we said we wanted to just have our summer, and I do want that. But I think I would feel better knowing what you think. About, you know��about when you do start hearing back.”

Marlene looked down as she whispered, “I got into Berkeley.”

A short sucked-out sound of silence filtered in between them for a moment. Marlene looked up.

“I should have said,” Marlene sighed. “I know I should have. I just…”

“Sweetheart,” Dorcas sighed, and then Marlene was pressed back onto the bed, Dorcas’ hard kisses bringing a hot blush to her cheeks. “That’s amazing.”

Marlene hummed against Dorcas’ mouth, a sad-happy sound, and wound her fingers into her hair as Dorcas kissed along her jaw. “It can be as amazing as it wants, but it’s really far away. And you like it here, and—”

“I like you,” Dorcas said, and pushed herself onto her forearms so she could look down at Marlene. “Marls, the question about us was never a debate about you following your dreams and going to college, just like you want. The question lies with me. I don’t know how to pull off following you yet, but I’m working on it.”

Marlene looked up at her and felt tears join the heat within, felt her voice wobble. “I’ll miss you. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be with me.”

Dorcas’ kiss was softer this time. “Me too.”

Marlene enjoyed it for a moment, relief bubbling in her chest, until Dorcas began laughing into her mouth.

“Maybe the boys will find that treasure and give me a piece of it.”

Marlene laughed, too. “God, if that’s our best option…”

They wound tighter together, snuggling down into Marlene’s quilt. Dorcas pressed her forehead against Marlene’s.

“Whatever I can do, I’ll do it,” Dorcas said. “I want you, wherever we are.”

Marlene just kissed her again.

Sirius was noisier on the climb than Saint would have liked, but they made it to the slanted roof without trouble, standing on its apex to stare down into the soot-dark.

“Is this really going to work?” Sirius whispered.

“It could.”

“Why not climb the fence? Maybe that door is open.”

“Too loud.”

“Why didn’t you let Logan come with us?”

Saint huffed out an annoyed breath. “Because if this goes wrong, what Finn did was for nothing. If this goes really wrong, at least there would still be one of us on the outside who knows what it looks like inside,” Saint stared out at the trees and bit of coast they could see by moonlight from here. “One of us who doesn’t return every night, that is.”

Saint went down the chimney first, one step at a time. The stones and rusted iron rungs provided easy enough footholds, they just had to hope no one was having a midnight cup of tea when they reached the bottom. He looked up once, blinking through the fine grit of ash that seemed to hang in the air, at Sirius’ face, the silver moonlight like a halo around his dark hair.

And Saint kept climbing down. He went slowly, listening hard. If someone was down there, they’d hear him, and then he’d hear them, and he could scramble back up the chimney and out of sight. Once he was down, however, who knew what they would do to keep him that way. He could practically taste the heavy sleep of Crucio, and his stomach rolled against the images it brought back. The many different families—fathers, siblings, and mothers. So many mothers that he didn’t even know which had been his own anymore.

He hated them for it. He hated them for thinking he wanted that.

Saint’s trembling foot slipped on the last hold and he tumbled out, only barely withholding a cry as the log holders scraped heavily across his side.

“Saint,” came Sirius’ harsh whisper from above him, and Saint waved a hand beneath the flue to show he was okay, then pushed himself up from the now ashy floor, gripping his side.

He knew this room too well. He knew it through the over-active eyes of a five year old. He knew it through the only slightly more alert gaze of his seven year old self.

It was smaller than he remembered. Shabbier than it had seemed then, with its hard couches and children’s books, its desk by the window that still held a letter opener that he had eyed a few times, wondering if he could fight his way out like heroes did in the books he read. Now, he willed all to stay quiet as he walked over and picked up the dull knife. He hated the sight of it.

Sirius came after him, more smartly, landing feet first.

“You could have fucking impaled yourself,” Sirius whispered.

“I didn’t, though,” Saint said, and looked at his ribs. The cuts stung, but the bleeding didn’t look too bad, just enough to dot uneven lines across his t-shirt.

Sirius lifted his shirt to see, and passed a careful thumb near the worst of them, his other a familiar weight on the side of Saint’s neck.

“Let’s go,” Saint whispered.

“Wait,” Sirius said, and turned Saint’s gaze gently to meet his own.

“We don’t have all the time in the world,” Saint began, but Sirius just shook his head, silencing him.

“Listen to me,” Sirius whispered. “All right? Just this once. Just listen to me.”

Saint closed his eyes briefly. “We don’t have time to talk.”

That only succeeded in bringing Sirius’ other hand to his cheek. “If something goes wrong, you just run.” Sirius reached down and took the knife, setting it back on the desk. “Don’t think about me. They can’t keep me.”

“They’ll give you to your parents,” Saint warned.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said. “They can’t keep me. They could try to keep you and I won’t let that happen.”

Saint looked up at Sirius. The only person he could ever remember caring. Saint didn’t like that a side effect of being cared about was caring back, didn’t like that risk…but he liked Sirius.

“You’re leaving anyway,” Saint said. “It doesn’t matter where I am.”

“I never said that and you’re wrong.”

“But you will say it.”

Saint turned away, keeping a hand laced with Sirius’ to pull him towards the dorms. He knew the words sounded accusing and regretful, but he only half meant them that way. Sirius deserved to go.

Sirius didn’t respond. It wasn’t the moment, and they needed to listen for other things.

The dorms came up on their left. Boys to one side of the hall, girls to the other. Saint paused, looking in.

You’ll sleep here with the rest of the boys, Sebastian. Be a good boy and make your bed every morning and you’ll get a treat with breakfast. Chocolate milk, how does that sound?

“Was this you?” Sirius whispered, and Saint shrugged.

“I slept all over this place,” Saint breathed to Sirius. “I’d sneak into the other dorms, the attic, the reading room. I was just…” Saint turned away, unable to stand the softly rising and falling chests of the boys within. “I was just trying to find a place where I felt like myself. Maybe it wasn’t the place, though.”

Maybe it was the dreams. Maybe the drug.

“Maybe it’s just me,” Saint said.

Grimmauld was the closest he had ever gotten, the most settled he’d ever felt. He loved the ocean, and his gold draped vanity, and Sirius always beside him. But there was still—something. A misplaced, tweaked something inside of him that was feeling around in the dark for a comfortable position. Saint didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he did know that it was too dark to find it right now. Sirius had been the first gleam of bright, a pin-prick of a star, a friend, a lover, and a safe place. But stars weren’t a moon or a sun. He needed light to see.

“Let’s go,” Saint said. “This way.”

They walked the halls carefully, listening after nearly every step. Saint knew that the nuns slept at the other end of the house, but that they woke to check in on the children. He couldn’t remember when, though. With the Crucio, his young age, and the late hour, the nights had felt the same and endless. He’d shuffled around like a small ghost, trying to escape the unfamiliar dream-faces. They’d only caught him a few times. A slap on the wrist. Solitary.

That’s why he nearly jumped when they heard the first footsteps. He was seven again, haunting this place and being haunted in return. Saint froze, eyes on the bend in the hallway.

“Here,” Sirius whispered, and together they ducked into a room—the offices, Saint realized—and behind the open wooden door. They huddled together, barely daring to breathe as the footsteps got closer.

“Sirius,” Saint breathed, and didn’t realize he was trembling again until Sirius’ arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Shh,” Sirius hushed him.

The footsteps passed right by them, towards the kitchen, Saint realized, and Sirius pressed Saint against him more tightly, no doubt feeling the dry pants that his breathing had turned into. They would be caught. They would be seen. Saint hid his face in Sirius’ neck.

Don’t be a waste of space, boy. Line up, after number six, come on.

He took up too much space here.

Try that again, Sebastian, and you know what happens.

Saint hated that name. He couldn’t remember who had given him that name. His mother? The nuns? What was a name if it was just a number, too? A way to keep track of him. A way to tell him what he was. Orphan boy. Five. Six. Seven. Abandoned. Good. Bad. Asleep. Awake.

Go to sleep now, there’s a good boy.

The hall was silent again and Saint felt Sirius’ embrace ease, felt his hand running soothingly along his spine.

“I’ve got you,” Sirius said the words so quietly they were barely words at all. “Let’s just go. Let’s get out of here.”

“Finn,” Saint rasped.

Saint looked up and saw the protest in Sirius’ eyes. It was wrong of Logan to make you come here.

“I told him to stay away,” Saint said softly. “I needed to come. I needed to come and get out again.”

Saint needed to get rid of some of this damned dark.

Saint pulled away from Sirius carefully and peaked around the door with a dry swallow before walking over to the cabinets. Records. They weren’t in alphabetical order, though. They were numbered.

Saint fingered his cross, looking towards 1-20.

He traced a finger over a key hole dejectedly, and tried the handle anyway. Locked.

“Saint,” Sirius breathed. “Your mom?”

Saint shook his head, clutching his necklace. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t know you wanted…”

“I don’t,” Saint snapped. “Let’s get Finn.”

The door to solitary was one that Saint knew well. It was a normal door, and the room beyond was a normal room. It was the memories that made it unbearable to see. Almost every kid Saint had known knew what it meant to be in that room. Alone, the wallpaper flowers withered, the bed turned cold, and the ever-changing family members flickered through your mind without anything to counter it. No reality. There was a glass window with the shade pulled. Saint hesitated for a long moment before lifting it up.

“Finn,” he breathed.

Finn’s red hair was fiery against the white bed spread. He was asleep, and Saint swore he could see Finn’s eyelids flicker from here.

Saint wrapped his fingers carefully around the door. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Everything in Saint Clair felt locked from within. Everything in Saint did, too. It had taken years of wandering around at night for Saint to discover that he could open more doors than he had thought. He was still trying doors eight years alter.

The hinges didn’t so much as squeak, and Saint felt like a ghost again.

“Don’t let this close on me,” Saint whispered to Sirius. His voice shook and just one of his feet just barely breaching the threshold.

Sirius held the frame fast and shook his head, leaning forward to press a steady kiss to Saint’s forehead.

Saint crossed the small room in two slow steps and knelt beside the bed, the motion making the punctures on his torso ache. He pressed a hand to Finn’s cheek and stroked a gentle thumb across the freckles on his skin until Finn stirred.

“Bash,” Finn murmured, eyes barely open.

“Hi, Finn,” Saint said softly and gathered Finn into a sloppy sitting position. “Let’s get you out of here, huh? See if you’re worth all of this fucking trouble.”

“Crucio,” was Finn’s only half-spoken reply. “They make it.”

And then Finn went limp again in Saint’s arms.

All Logan could taste was sour guilt, despite the heaven Leo had placed on a plate in front of him not too long ago.

For Saint. For Leo. For the letter and even Luke. For the map. The treasure. The Carrows.

Finn.

His heart ached with the thought of seeing him. Of holding him.

“Why weren’t we allowed to go with him?” Logan asked Leo for what he knew was the tenth time, but he couldn’t help it. “I asked him to help me, not go for me.”

“It’s easier to get one person in and out than two?” Leo said. He was puttering around the small kitchen, had been for the last hour, and the entire house smelled like sugar and cinnamon now, replacing the herbs, lemon, and chicken. He didn’t look at Logan when he said it.

He hadn’t looked at Logan much at all since the night at the museum.

Logan watched him taste a bit of what looked like frosting and wet his lips.

“Are you mad at me?” Logan whispered.

Leo’s restless hands paused. Logan watched his chest rise and fall once.

“I’m not mad,” Leo said finally. The heat of the oven had fluffed out his hair. “I mean, I’m not sure if we reached a dead-end or not…and you could have told me you were going to do that. I said I would help you, didn’t I?”

“I needed Ba—Saint,” Logan replied. “But I also…I should have told you. And I shouldn’t have made Saint go. I just want…he’s my family. Finn is my…”

“I understand why you did it,” Leo cut in softly. “I probably would have done worse if I thought that there was something that could save my dad.”

That just made Logan feel even smaller, sitting at the table. Leo glanced at him, gave him a tight smile, then went to the sink and began scrubbing dishes.

“Hey,” Logan said, then rose and strode over to Leo. “Hey, let me clean up.”

“I just need something to do,” Leo said shortly.

“Me, too.”

They stood, their shoulders pressed together. Logan washed. Leo dried. He slipped cinnamon rolls into the oven and then returned. They kept close to each other at the sink and it felt…so normal. Like a home. Leo felt like a home.

“I never really thanked you properly,” Logan said into the now more comfortable silence. “For letting me stay with you. And—I just want to say, and now with Finn…I understand if you want us to leave. I mean, three’s a crowd.”

“You’re welcome here,” Leo said quickly. Logan watched his throat bob. He was looking away again. “You should do what feels best for you, but you’re both welcome here. Just—”

Leo paused, and Logan found himself suddenly desperate to hear what he had to say. He knew he hadn’t been friendly all the time. He knew he’d been selfish. Leo had been nothing but kind. He was funny and warm, teaching Logan how to weld two pieces of metal, talking about the latest book he was reading while he whisked batter and handed Logan different new recipes he was trying out.

Finn would like Leo, Logan thought, and glanced towards the door. Maybe he was about to find out.

“Never mind,” Leo said, and flashed a smile.

Logan went to protest, but then his phone began buzzing madly on the table and he all but lunged for it.

Luke stared down at his father’s handwriting.

Luke, it began. And then there was a name.

Pascal Dumais.

There was no mention of himself. There was nothing. Luke had thought this would make him feel better, make it easier. Only, now, he was frustrated to the point of tears. He couldn’t seem to ease the lump that was lodged in his throat. He clutched the paper in his fingers hard enough to tear, willing something else to appear on it. He thought of Felix.

“Well?” said a voice from his window.

“Oh—” Luke flinched, surprised, then cursed at Saint, who was stretched out on his window sill. “Come on. Are you kidding me?”

Saint’s mouth twitched up in a smile, but it was strained. He was sitting awkwardly, tense rather than his usual languid posture.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asked hesitantly, trying to discreetly wipe at his face.

“What isn’t?”

Luke spotted the blood between Saint’s fingers and rose. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell down a chimney.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No.”

Luke blinked. “That’s how you got into Saint Clair? And you climbed to my window?”

Saint pulled himself all the way through the window with a soft groan and Luke walked forward, hands hovering near Saint’s shoulders, unsure if he should help.

“The orphan?” he asked instead, then at Saint’s sharp look, “Finn?”

“Sirius is bringing him to Grimmauld.”

“What’s Grimmauld?”

Saint sat down heavily in Luke’s desk chair, hand still pressed to his side. He had what looked like soot on his hands and face. “A place.” He picked up a book. Jane Eyre. “Didn’t take you for a romantic.”

“You’re bleeding all over my room.”

“Lucky you.”

Luke tucked the note into the pocket of his shorts. “Fuck—come here. Jesus.”

He walked into his bathroom and jammed the light switch up, looking back when Saint didn’t follow him. “Come here.”

Saint rose, still holding the book. “I am coming!” Saint quoted, head tilted in a way that made his neck look long. “Wait for me! Oh, I will come!”

“Very funny,” Luke sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a reader.”

“Why?” Saint said as he stepped out of the darkness of the bedroom and into the yellow-lighted bathroom. His brown eyes took on the soft yellow, too, and he leaned forward as he pushed himself up onto the counter carefully. “Because I don’t buy my books and,” Saint looked down at the book, flipping through it. “Write all over them like you do?”

“Because you didn’t go to school,” Luke said with a raised eyebrow as he ducked for the first aid kit beneath his sink. It was good to have one near during the lacrosse season—or it used to be.

Saint rolled his eyes. “You Gods and your single paths in life. You’re all stupid.”

“Then why are you here?” Luke asked as he unlatched the kit.

“Because this is the last place anyone would look for me,” Saint replied. “And you’re mean.”

“Mean? Are we in seventh grade?” Luke scoffed as he wet a towel in the sink. “I don’t know if it’s healthy to want to be around people who you think are mean to you."

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Saint said. “And that’s all Sirius will want to do. And I don’t want to. And we don’t have this shit at Grimmauld.”

“Is that where you live?”

Saint just set the book down and reached behind himself to tug his shirt over his head. Luke tried not to stare at Saint’s smooth, light brown skin. He swallowed, busying himself with the bandages and the wet towel again.

“For all the breaking into places you do, maybe you should invest in some band-aids,” Luke said, and glanced down at the finely woven muscle on Saint’s ribs, at the red edges of the slashes. “If you flinch too much, you’re doing this yourself.”

Saint smiled. “Mean.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said, out of reflex, and then pressed his lips together. Saint laughed and then hissed as Luke pressed the towel to the cut.

They were close like this, Luke leaned in to dab the blood away, and then dot it with disinfectant, all while Saint’s muscles jumped beneath the palm he had steadied low on his belly. He could feel Saint watching him, and remembered waking up to those eyes. Saint’s hand in his hair.

“How did you do it?” Luke said into the small space between them. “Get in and out.”

“The chimney.”

So, he was serious.

“What did the letter say?” Saint asked.

Luke glanced up at him warily, but wiped a hand on his shorts before fishing the letter out of his pocket and handing it over. “Do you know who that is?”

Saint read it quietly, and then met Luke’s eyes. Luke was stuck there, pinned like a tack in a map, marking the place to be.

“Yes,” Saint said, and smiled brightly. “I know exactly who this is.”

#relic keel lumosinlove #Harry Potter fic #lumosinlove ocs #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #dorlene #jily #saint #Luke deveaux #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #o'knutzy #wolfstar

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1ddotdhq · 4 years ago

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🏴‍☠️Sat 31 Oct ‘20🎃

Harry is sending out 150 Golden postcards (they appear to be numbered out of a batch of 150) from the Golden website! They all have the Amalfi Coast on the front, “You’re so Golden” written on them, and are signed, “ <3 HARRY”. Look, I thought that LOUIS had trouble with hearts, but Harry’s are, uh, somehow worse. It’s been gleefully pointed out that fans have been selling postcards for Harry’s singles for the last few months, and that Harry once again seems to be looking to us for promo ideas! Hey, if it works, it works, and if Harry wants to send me a postcard I’d LOVE it hahaha. Niall is taking a page out of Liam’s book and is rehearsing his show - which is in ONE WEEK (!) - and his band members continue to post pictures of their rehearsals. Love that! But lest you think it's a slow news day aside from Liam NO-- Zayn posted his annual halloween look!! A zelfie!!! Less elaborate than past years, maybe he's not getting enough sleep for some reason, but amazing (amazayn) nonetheless: he's angled downwards, pulling a funny face, with his freshly buzzed hair, earrings, and a Slytherin tie over a white shirt captioned, “Happy Halloween from Slytherin”. Liam’s chat when the picture dropped: “Zayn have you SLITHERED IN HERE???” Hope he enjoyed Tom and Liam's show...

And on to the main event: Liam has DONE IT AGAIN!! Despite some wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff with the event time (it started one hour and ten minutes later than planned), once Liam got started, nobody could drag him down! Lola Young, Carly Gibert, and Tom Felton were all charming openers, and, because of their very different styles, they all brought something new to the table. Then Liam, broadcasting from the London Dungeons (a spooky tourist attraction), started the show trapped in a cage (so HE’S the cage dancer this time!). The songs he chose from his own discography were ghoulish and grim and surrounding the topic of, uh, life and death. It did seem to be intentional, though, as this all led up to a moment when a masked guard led Liam out of the concert and into a bloody tribunal, where they accused him of “crimes against fashion” and “being a bad bandmate”. They had fans on zoom playing the prosecutor and defense. He was acquitted of the first crime after a fierce defense from a fan, but after a long list of joking accusations of him being mean to the other boys (it felt uncomfortably like a normal day on twitter, but Liam says no fighting about it!), the prosecutor convicted him (was I outraged?? YES! I WAS!), and the sentence was DEATH. Liam then did a bit of a costume change: he went from Jack Sparrow to ZOMBIE PIRATE, ie added some uncomfortable contacts ("guys I can't see anything").Then he came back to finish his set with Billie Eilish and 5SOS covers, and SEVERAL One Direction songs: Live While We're Young, Drag Me Down, One Thing, What A Feeling (can you believe this is only the SECOND TIME a member of 1D has performed it live? AMAZING!), and a cool personalized version of Midnight Memories (“the opening number has now become the closing number”).

And then the Afterparty!! Liam, as promised, involved MUA Abby Roberts in picking his Halloween makeup looks, the winner being a fantastically scary writing of “Liam Payne” on a fan’s face that was made to look like mottled scar tissue - UGH what an INCREDIBLE look! He also pulled up his “accusers” on zoom, told fans that it was all in good fun and to not send any hate, and admitted that he also felt bad for pantsing Harry. But, he insisted, it’s not his fault! Louis dared him to do it! And, as everyone knows, no one in that band was allowed to back down from a dare. Abby Roberts admitted to being a 1D fan - she even visited some popups! - and videographer Conor also spilled that he first met Liam at a 1D meet and greet. Liam thought this was the best thing, and reminisced about being at the very dungeon he was in ten years prior for Halloween with the (then brand new and still on the X Factor) band. A crew member then managed to scare up (heh) a picture, which was sweet and nostalgic, which was true of a lot of the show! Personally, this has been my favorite LP Show, and Liam has really raised the bar for what online shows can and should be.

Of course, like with all good parties, there was an AFTER afterparty, where he spilled some more tea! He streamed live on Tik Tok - is it time for me to concede and get a Tik Tok??? Sigh, the things I do for these boys. In his after afterparty, he answered some more questions about himself and the boys. He said he was glad to have done a show on the anniversary of the last One Direction show (sad), that he wrote several songs with Louis that have not been released, notable HideAway and even sung a bit of it: “Something in the way she moves...we just have to hide away”. He also said that he saw Harry last year at the Jingle Ball and that he had a slight American accent (“he said ‘AHND’ that way”), that his phone bill would be huge if he called Louis right now (hmmmmm), and that even if he DID call to prank him, Louis would just swear anyways, which was not what they were going for. Awwww, friendship!

#liam payne #harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn #guys we ROCKED OUT to this show at my place #my cat was very scared haha #also WHO WAS I for Halloween?? I WAS THE INTERN OF COURSE!#Full Costume #and im in love with liam but thats old news we knew that #what i do have to say is that i would not have wanted to be tapped by the people running the show to participate in the tribunal #that would have NOT been fun for me #also theres a rumor that i believe that Harry wrote Ariana Grandes song Obvious #and when i listen to it there is a sort of SV6 vibe that i really enjoy!#anyways!#song of the day!#Fast Car by Tracy Chapman but make it the passenger cover

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op-sheepy · 4 years ago

Note

ok so I'm particularly interested in

Bellamy Law

Law and Bible stuff

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

shichibukai applications

reverse hanahaki disease (?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

if you feel like elaborating on any of these!

This is gonna get long and I actually contemplated posting them separately but would that have been more work? Yeah, that felt like more work so for anyone interested, check under the cut. :D

---------------------------------o

Bellamy Law

Hm… This would be an attempt to explore the parallels and contrasts between Bellamy and Law. I've always found it fascinating that the former was a foil to the latter.

They both come from well-off towns in the North Blue.

Bellamy left because of boredom. Law had no choice because Flevance.

Both ended up seeking Doflamingo because of his notoriety as a pirate. Both admired him initially

Doffy favored one over the other though. Bellamy always sought his approval but was never really part of the inner circle Doflamingo cared about.

Law got the dubious privilege of being part of the family despite being absent for so long. Even offered one of the highest seats by Doffy's side for seemingly nothing.

Law had no trouble turning his back on Doffy once he realized the man's nature. Bellamy tried to stick to his principles until the end despite admitting that he new he was wrong.

Bellamy can (and did) quit piracy after his ordeal with Doflamingo. Having the option to live peacefully, perhaps a return to his previous life (the one he considered boring). Law can't do that quite as easily what with his Devil fruit and his reputation.

I thought it would be interesting trying to explore what Bellamy was thinking. Did he hear the Donquixote Pirates talk about their missing 'family'? Did he get to see Doffy be amused at Law's rise as a Supernova while he kept being reminded of his own status? Did Law save Bellamy partially because he also saw what he could have been had Corazon not saved him?

On principle, Bellamy should have hated Trafalgar Law. Does. Bastard even saved him without him wanting it. But there was something about the shadows haunting those eyes and Bellamy started to wonder.

He had heard the family talk about Law before. The child personally taught by Doflamingo, chosen to be his right hand. Never was he compared to the man because Law was just obviously better. Smarter. Stronger. Bellamy was ever just an uncouth thug.

He was allowed to 'borrow' Doflamingo's symbol while Law had an empty seat waiting for his return–a seat Bellamy had wanted enough to risk everything for.

Maybe he had resented, Trafalgar Law for carelessly rejecting the things he had that Bellamy had always desired. In the end too, Trafalgar Law did prove to be better. He'd done as a child what Bellamy had trouble doing even as he was now.

But having been given the chance to observe the other man as they all recovered, he wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether despite Law being better than Bellamy, Bellamy had had it better–barring the poor life choices.

---------------------------------o

Law and Bible stuff

This is just me wanting to know how many biblical parallels and themes I can draw from Law, the Donquixote brothers, the characters associated with them, and his backstory. Honestly not sure whether this would become a fic and in what style or I'm gonna give up and just make it a post.

Not gonna elaborate on them much but here are the ideas in more bullet points (yay):

Law gets familiar with all four horsemen of the apocalypse: conquest, war, famine, and death. He even survives them.

Law is like the son in the parable of the prodigal son to the Donquixote pirates. Except the themes are inverted.

Doflamingo and Rocinante -> Cain and Abel

Ope Ope no Mi -> Granting eternal life by sacrificing one's own life

Gods descending or living among humans. Also, Homing and his family being prosecuted for other people's sins.

That scene where they were hanged by their arms outstretched looks like a crucifixion. Also, Rocinante was on the right while Doflamingo was on the left. Similar to how the penitent thief was on the right and the unrepentant one to the left.

Flevance being considered a paradise with walls/fences/gates and somewhere Law cannot return to.

In the panel where the Donquixote pirates are seated at the table, there were thirteen of them with Doffy at the center. Same as The Last Supper

There are a lot more of these (David and Goliath, Solomon, Jonah, Job, etc.) but I kinda lost the notes and some are more visual so I can't really explain it too well. This would is a drabble series to emphasize or highlight the parallels so no proper snippet for this one.

---------------------------------o

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

Originally an idea to get around most of the Heart Pirates being nameless but evolved to include other characters as kids. Chopper is a kindergarten teacher and he convinces Law to take over his class for a week because somehow Law has the qualifications to and free time. Naturally, he wasn't able to say no.

Unfortunately, despite not being terrible at handling children, Chopper's class is filled with menaces. Also, despite not being terrible, Law can still be awkward so...

"Mr. Trofao–fargar—"

"Trafalgar."

The kid—which one was this one again? Shit, he should really get them name plates or something—scrunched up his face and tried harder, "Tar-pal—"

"Law. Just call me Law."

"Mr. Low"—eh, close enough—"can I go to the bathroom?" Wide imploring eyes stared up at him.

"Sure, go ahead." Law gestured towards the exit of the classroom with his head.

The kid just stared expectantly at him and he tried to suppress the need to narrow his eyes.

"Is there… anything else?"

"Mr. Chopper always comes with me to hold my hand."

Really?

"Mr. Chopper isn't here. You should practice doing it on your own now." He said after a deep inhale.

"But the monsters might get me…"

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Before the kid could open his mouth again to argue, he added, "Besides, children taste terrible so you're safe."

The kid looked stricken and took a step back from him. Uh oh. Glistening eyes, wobbling lower lip… "Alright! I'll go with you." The kid did not look reassured. In fact he looked like going alone with Law was the last thing he wanted to do. Guess, he kinda implied that he ate children didn't he? Oops.

Well, the kid needs to go and he's not going to be cleaning up after him if he wets himself.

Law glanced at the rest of the children. It was Arts and Craft time and they seemed preoccupied enough. Still, Law doubted Chopper ever left these kids alone–already he could see some of them glancing up at him, waiting for him to leave no doubt to cause trouble. That Monkey kid in particular looked extremely suspicious.

He stood up from his crouch and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Fall in line. Single file."

There was some grumbling and questioning directed at him. "What's going on?"

Law shrugged. "You're all going to the bathroom."

---------------------------------o

Shichibukai Application Forms

Crackfic where the World Government and relevant parties review various Shichbukai Applications. Most submitted by the pirates applying themselves, some produced by their own staff. They discuss and debate. As well as judge pirate resumes.

She scanned the document. Terrible format, really. If you fail to impress within the first page, you've failed entirely. There just wasn't anyone promising enough in this batch of applications or any of the other ones before. The last one had been that clown. "Apprentice to the Pirate King," was a pretty hefty credential.

"Oh, how about this one? Three years experience pillaging, and they even listed all the towns they looted." One of the newly transferred administrative staff said.

"None of these are worth considering at all. You know, when Mihawk was asked to submit his application, he hadn't bothered with all of this. He just sent us a card with his name on it and the title "World's Strongest Swordsman," underneath."

The staff perked up. "Oh, there was an application like that." There was scramble and some shuffling before a plain white card was produced. "Here."

"'From Trafalgar Law'. What does this even mean?"

"Well, it did come with a big box..."

---------------------------------o

Reverse Hanahaki Disease

(?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

Haha. At first it was going to be that way (because it is hilarious) but the inflicted would probably choke to death too soon. Or if both enemies had it, they'd end up just coughing flowers at each other until they stopped being enemies.

The version I ended up going with was that this variant of Hanahaki, instead of afflicting those with unrequited love, affected those in denial instead. The reverse part comes from the original idea that this would usually happen if you somehow fell in love with your nemesis (someone you originally hated). So it's not the thought that the other person can't love you, it's that you can't accept that you love that other person. You get cured by confessing to the person sincerely.

This is actually another KidLaw (surprise!). And the flower coughed up directly represents the person they're in love with (I went with Oda's flower representation for them because I found it funny for plot)

So the idea is that, you get sick but you don't automatically know (maybe) who it is because that's part of being in denial. Kid and Law have many enemies after all. In this story they both get it though not exactly at the same time and not known to the other.

He survived Amber Lead Syndrome only to be killed off by a stupid flower disease that apparently knows more about his own feelings than he does.

He glared at the petals. Tulips. Red.

An image of a cocky grin and a shock of red hair flashed through his mind and—nope. That's not right.

He coughed harder, tears stinging his eyes with the effort. More flowers. Now he has enough for a bouquet.

Alright, he was a doctor. He could do this. Differential time.

First, which variant does he have. He doesn't particularly feel unloved or hopeless. There wasn't anyone he wanted in particular to love him. Ok, nothing. It was maybe safe to say he had that other variant.

Which was stupid because Law had many enemies and he hated all of them.

And cue the racking coughs. More red. He was very familiar with that particular shade.

New theory. This was a new variant that somehow makes you sick when you think of the person you hated the most.

Yes, that had to be it. He thought as he all but collapsed on the floor from the sudden paroxysm.

I knew this was gonna get long. :) Oh well...

Thank you for playing. :D

#One Piece #One piece fanfiction #wip game #trafalgar law #donquixote brothers #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote roci #donquixote homing #donquixote pirates #one piece bellamy #bellamy the hyena #eustass kid #kidlaw #trafalgar d water law

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Ducktales Lena Retrospective: The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck! or Why Does Lena’s Darkest Hour Have a WACKKKYY Bigfoot Subplot?

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Shadow Into Light, my look back the LIfe and Times of Lena Sabrewing. And we’re almost at the end of season 1. Woo-Ooo!. While i’ll have more season 1 episodes to cover for it’s sister arc, this is the last episode in this arc before the finale.. and i’m happy to repeat that next week will be DUCK WEEK as a result, finsihing up this arc and the Della arcs, as well as dipping into season 2 a bit for Lena’s return to celebrate the finale of this wonderful show. Full disclosure: I didn’t PLAN for it this way, I assumed the show would be ending in April, but sometimes serendipity just works out for you. So pitter pat er, let’s get at er.

When we last left off Webby went on a wild duck chase for her grandma in England and 87!Webby befriended that version of Magica’s niece and told off a grown woman masquerading as a child because her husband likes being called “Daddy”. When we last left the plot proper though, we learned Lena just wanted to be free, and was willing to do whatever it took, and Magica was getting more abusive and more impatient. And if you thought the end to Jaw$! was pretty sad and dark.... strap in and steel yourself as we take a look at one of the darkest episodes in the series.

The opening sets the stage perfectly as we’re in Scrooge’s Room in the middle of the night, when Lena comes in.. with a knife.

Naturally she dosen’t have baked goods, but instead is trying to cut the knife from around his neck while Magica won’t shut up while she works and keeps distracting her and BLAMING her for getting distracted. As for the knife it’s glowing and mystic because naturally, Scrooge doesn’t trust just ANY string but a magically woven one to hold his dime. Unlucky for her her girlfriend walks in at the exact moment she’s standing over her idol holding a mystical knife. I don’t think hallmark makes a card for “Sorry I was lying to you for months for my abusive aunt to earn my freedom and then looked like I was about to slit your uncle’s throat. I love you though. “ Yet.

Scrooge starts to stir so Webby pulls Lena out of there and back to her room... and flashes a lamp on her to interrogate her. Lena is able to bounce back, asking “what were you doing there”. Which NORMALLY wouldn’t last more than two minutes.. but since Webby was there to get Drool samples, maybe she wants to clone him I mean she does know a guy I think the why is something we’d rather not know about, Webby herself was a bit suspcious and Lena uses her starkerish ways to say she’d also gotten into being a Scrooge fangirl. This also allows her to ask about the dime.. but since Scrooge never takes it off, that means they have no access and both Lena and Magica are stuck watching Webby’s long presentation on Scrooge’s life story. I mean personally i’d love to see this in it’s full probably 8 hour glory but I’m not trying to earn my freedom or stuck as a shadow monster.

It was then when watching the episode this morning.. I was reminded it had a subplot. And the instant I saw Dewey folding Louie’s shirts... I started to piece together it was the bigfoot one.

As you can tell i’m not a fan of this subplot. It has a good core idea, riffing on “kid takes home sasquatch films” like Cry Wilderness, Big and Harry and of course the one that started it all, Harry and the Hendersons.

It’s just bogged down by one really obnoxious trait that trips it up and is in the wrong episode entirely. We’ll get to that first scene and the plot as a whole in a moment we just need the setup in the a-story first: Scrooge privately conferring with Beakly, which Magica snoops on. While Lena didn’t get far at all in cutting the rope of his dime, she still left a knick and the fact someone got into his house, let alone his bedroom and got THAT far, means SOMETHING bad is afoot. So while he looks for it he’s putting the dime in the Other Bin for safekeeping. We’ll find out what that is in moment. For now

Let’s Get This Stupid Sasquatch Plot Over With

We open with Louie having conned Dewey into folding his stuff for the “world laundry folding record”. I mean.. it’s greasy but I gotta respect game here. And it’s not actively harming anyone. Though we do find out from an irate Huey he’s done far worse, if in a hilarious way with Louie’s Kids, his obviously fake charity he uses to get money out of Donald. And so far into it, as Huey hid something he had in the closet and offered to Fix Louie’s stretched out hoodie, the reason he was mad at Dewey, I didn’t get why I hated it before. I wondered why I was so annoyed. Same when Huey while carrying Louie’s hoodies hears his uncle looking for something in the mansion.

Turns out he’s got a bigfoot hiding in their closet, that he found injured int he woods and brought back and all that good kid finding a mythical creature stuff. Dewey of course loves him on first sight and both want to keep him. But unlike most of these sorts of things where the creature’s damage to the room and what not is played off or the sibling doesn’t know, Louie does see it and isn’t happy about it and only agrees to hide the furry bastard because his brothers blackmail him with his schemes, and refuse to feel sorry for him as the creatures antics continue, including drinking Louie’s special pep and eating his snacks.

And this is where one of the plots two major issues crops up: The way Dewey and Huey act. Both just ignore any damage wooly foot does, any discomfort to Louie and any obvious downsides of this. Now Dewey being clinginly attached to a majestic creature he found and wanting to keep it? Fits perfectly, and him being mean to louie fits because louie tricked him. Huey however.. is horribly out of character, as while I could see him being charmed at first and not wanting his uncle to hunt his new friend.. he’s not an impractical boy. He’d of tried to get his new friend to the woods first thing because it’s where he’s safest from scrooge and his foot has healed. He’s also a Woodchuck and I can’t imagine the JWG says it’s okay to keep a wild animal person as a pet basically. None of it fits him and makes him into a moron for an episode solely for the plot to work. This still could’ve worked but just have Huey and Louie BOTH get suspicious, Huey later, and find out Tenderfoot is actually Gavin, whose sapient, has a phone and simply is taking advantage of them. it would’ve gone the same way: if they told Dewey , Gavin would kill them, as he threatened to do if louie told his brothers. The Gavin part though is brilliant and a really nice twist I didn’t see coming when I first saw this.

And it would’ve made the already great climax more interesting as Huey would’ve been forced to use the methods of Louie’s he’d derided to beat a far worse scammer. Instead it’s just Louie but he doesn’t take Gavin’s threats lying down.. and comes up with a clever way to use his scam against him. He shaves Gavin, hides the razor then claims to his brother that not being in the woods means he’s dying or some such thing. So our two idiots and our hero drag them out and while they run into scrooge, Louie still saves the idiots life by manipulating him with a schmaltzy speech and they let him go despite his best attempts to stay, with Louie getting a nice “I win in there”. Overall a bit of a mess with some good ideas, but Huey suddenly taking dum dum juice really drags it down.

So in any other episode this would’ve been fine whatever just mildly obnoxious. What makes it really, unintentionally obnoxious.. is it’s in the middle of a tense, dark, horror story that dives into the depths of Lena’s soul and ends on a really horrifying note. Case in point Louie shaves a bigfoot and gets his victory over his nemesis.. after an utterly spellbindingly horrific nightmare by Lena, easily the most terrifying moment in the entire show. Followed up with a shaved bigfoot.

Now I could buy Disney simply forced them to do this to keep things light... except Frank’s been pretty upfront about the production process, how Disney has treated him, what they’ve said no on. So if it had been something they were forced to do, he would’ve said it. No this is just not reading the room and not thinking things through and an otherwise stellar episode suffers for it.They could’ve waited till season 2 for it, they didn’t, and this was the result. It dosen’t ruin the rest of the episode it’s too good for it, but damn if it dosen’t create mood whiplash so severe I need a neckbrace.

The Good Part

So back at the plot anyone actually cares about, we found out what the “other bin” is when Lena asks Webby: While the Money bin is for well, money and precious keepsakes, the other bin is the stuff too dangerous to keep out in the world. And this is the guy who kept a mystical gold eating dragon, a pirate ghost, and a medusa gauntlet in his garage, and we’ll learn after this ep also keeps a giant golden aztec golem in there. NONE of that was deemed dangerous enough to put in the other bin. So Webby is understandably hesitant.. and it gets a bit unsettling when Lena manipulates her into it. While she has in the past.. she usually just nudged Webby into something she’d do anyway at worst, or showed her an r-rated movie or something harmless. While she did use her as an in she clearly cares.. so it shows how horrifically desperate she’s got she’s willing to pressure her into going into Scrooge’s most dangerous and secure location, pointing out this may be her only chance to see the Dime.

So she reluctantly agrees, and the two head into the garage. Turns out Scrooge keeps all his junk here for more reason than just shoving it wherever it’d go, as the entrance to the other bin is hidden here. The statue that gave Manny his head is actually a clue towards the painting hiding the second bin, which itself requires one of those things used to hold up ropes and such like you’d see at a movie theater... god I miss movie theaters.. I mean watching stuff in the comfort of home is very nice, but it was nice getting out, making a day of it. I mean their around, but I really don’t want to go till one till more vaccinations have happened and it’s a lot safer to go. Wait what were we talking about? Oh right gay ducks going into a horrifying nightmare vault. But yeah the theater thingy is the key, it unlocks the entrance and our heroines head inside.

In contrast to the modern, buisnessy welcoming bin, the other bin is basically one giant vault/prison, with everything in it securely locked inside identical doored rooms. It’s genius as it is simple: Only 6 people have likely ever had access to this place: Scrooge, Beakly, Gyro, Duckworth and MAYBE the twins. Even Della and Donald being allowed down here is an unknown. The non-scrooge people are only because someone besides him needs to maintain it, keep any creatures fed, that sort of thing and he’d only trust his butler and his housekeeper, who are also both extraordinarily badass, to do so. Gyro is because someone needed to design the cells. I also wouldn’t be surprised if Quackfaster was a 7th since season 3 casts her as Scrooge’s magic expert and he’d likely need specific runes for specific cells. He’d want as few people down here as possible, and even fewer knowing. I’m sure Bradford knew, and i’m also certain it’s the one thing he never quibbled about the expense as while he hates what Scrooge stands for and tried to curb his “chaos” as much as possible.. this is doing exactly what Bradford likes: locking it away where it can’t hurt anybody. Plus quibbling about it might make Scrooge want to show it off to him and that’s.. that's’ a whole lotta nope in a 2 pound bag.

So for once Webby is very hesitant and very cautious, though naturally Magica points out a door.. and Lena stupidly follows her advice as she knows her “aunt” is impulsive and has no regards for her safety. What did she think was going to happen? They instead find a unicorn.. or rather it’s angry murderous cousin the Sword Horse, which naturally tries goring them. I’d go with Spear Horse, but semantics. Point is Webby is soon tackled by the thing and Magica just wants to let her die. As seen before the tension between Magica and Lena has hit a breaking point: Magica is fed up with Lena’s clear feelings for webby and caring more about her than the mission.. while Lena is fed up with Magica not listening to her, respecting her as sentient being and dismissing her out of hand instead of listening to her often very valid criticism. So Lena naturally ignores her and throws her the knife, which Webby uses to get the Sword Horse back in it’s pen. And then wonders why her girlfriend has glowing painstakingly crafted magic knife. Whoops. Webby also wants to leave but Lena convinces her to keep going. but it’s also very clear that Webby’s getting more and more reluctant and i’ts very hard to watch. You can’t blame Lena for wanting to be free of Magica: she dosen’t see her as a person, and dosen’t value her life. But it’s still hard to watc her have to manipulate the only person that loves her and do so so.. effectively. It’s easy to imagine Lena’s done this dozens of times to other people.. but not to someone she actually CARES about.

Webby DOES figure out how the rooms work though: each one is labeled by the year Scrooge caught it. So she assumes one room she fine is the dime.. and Lena of course runs in and slams the door shut... they’ve found it. So we then get to the most terrifying moment of the series. With victory in her grasp magica roars for Lena to claim the dime, filling the room and Lena with shadow with Lena seemingly disolving.. until Magica is restored or at least partially, still a shadow. Magica has just one thing for her.. and Lena’s reactoin is terrified.. and says oh so much in just one expression it’s VERY clear Lena fears she’s about to die... if she’s lucky. Magica’s been so verbally abusive, tearing her down constantly, manipulating her constantly.. why WOULD Lena expect anything good? Why would she expect anything other than pain or death? So a hug is a surprise.. as is Webby who assumes she’s being attacked... and is clearly heartbroken that’s not the case and runs for Scrooge when Magica admits the truth... only for Magica to seemingly kill her, turning her into a doll resembling the original Webby

Yeah at this point it’s obvious something’s up.. but before we can get to the natural reveal at the end of this horror show, Lena demands Magica change her back... only for a fight to naturally ensue with Magica rubbing the way Lena’s treated Webby in her face: How she manipualted her, lied to her and used her. Even if it was for more noble reasons.. she never told her any of this or tried to and is now directly responsible for her death. She’s a monster.. and then Lena’s amulet activates.. and seemingly finishes the job.

Then Lena wakes up. This was simply one of SCrooge’s artifact, one Webby mentioned earlier off hand and Webby rescues her. It was all a nightmare.. easy to see given Webby was seemingly killed or turned into a doll at points.. but besides making Lena realize how while not as bad as her aunt, she ahsn’t been great.. it also gives us a painful look into her head and how she sees both Magica and Webby. With Magica.. it’s again VERY clear Magica verbally abuses her, depersons her and is in general a horrifiingly relastic depection of a domestic abuser. But it’s also telling Magica hugs her... while Lena didn’t expect it, this is all her subconcious mixed with a magical cursed artifact, it’s clear that deep down one of the things she wants most.. is for Magica to LOVE HER.

That is just... it hurts so much. She just wants a Mom.. and even then her subconcious can’t give her THAT because it knows the truth. Granted the nightmare thing might of had something to do with it, but still, the fact is deep down she knows Magica dosen’t care about her but she WANTS her to. As with Webby, she fears Magica is right, that all her gaslighting has had an effect and Webby would run away the second she found out. When as we’ll learn.. that’s not true at all. She’s deeply hurt... but she still belivies in her. But Lena can’t even see that. She’s been beaten down so much by someone constnatly telling her no one will ever love her she belivies it herself and all her mind and the dreamcatcher can do is pummel her over and over again with what she feels about herself, what she’s KNOWN about how she treats webby even if she had no way out otherwise, how wrong it’s felt. Just holy shit it’s a lot to take in.

But all this trauma has made Lena realize she truly does love Webby and this isn’t worth it.. she’ll find some other way out or figure out something, for now their leaving. She’s not dying for this.. not for her. They happen to run into Scrooge who, due to the WACKY BIGFOOT SUBPLOT THAT HAPPENED RIGHT AFTER THE ABOVE SCENE, no I will not let that go even going back to Frank’s twitter asks he outright said it was their darkest plot paired with one of their most insane, he knew what he was doing. Turns out cleverly he kept the Dime in vault one. As he puts it “They never think to check the first one”. Smart. He also keeps his worry room down here. Just a note I wanted to mention.

He does chide them, and Lena takes the full fall.. but suprisingly he dosen’t ban her from his home or anything, he just asks they be honest and would’ve gladly showed the dime off to them both if they’d just asked. Once Scrooge and Webby walk off far enough Magica berates her again..but Lena is done. She’s realized from her own horrifying nightmares that NO amount of freedom is worth what Magica will get out of this, that her own soul isn’t worth the death of the one person she cares about: Webby will fight her and she might not make it. She loves her more than she fears Magica. And even if it means loosing Webby.. she knows who can stop him. Unfortunately.. this is not a happy ending as Magica simply takes full control. And now has Scrooge’s full trust.

Final Thoughts: This episode is one half a masterpiece. The parts with Lena are to this day, as we approach the very last episode, some of the show’s finest writing and Lena’s nightmare is easily the darkest scene in the series, and only not the most gutwrenching.. because we’re getting to that next week. It finishes the first leg of her character arc, with her selfishness all gone, and the only thing she wants is Webby’s hapiness. Granted that leads to a whole nother character arc over her season 2 episodes, but we’ll get there. Point is she’s realized her manipulations are wrong and not worth the cost, and that she’ll never get anything good out of Magica. Freedom.. will take just a bit longer. It’s eerie to watch, uncomfortable as Lena sinks to her lowest point before climbing out of it, and with a very tense atmosphere the whole time, the bin having a smothering uncomfortableness as we know there’s tons of horrible things here.. but we don’t know what.

So on it’s own it’d be one of the series best episodes, and the plot itself is still one fo the series best.. but it’s weighed down by one of the series worst plots. Still tame compared to a lto of other series worst moments but being paired with something so dark and excellent really shows how fucking stupid this plot was and made it that much more grating. It just clashes badly. Thankfully the crew did learn from this fiasco to the point we got one of the series best episodes “Escape from the Impossibin!”. That one seemingly has two light enough plots, Scrooge, Louie and Della escaping from the bin and Webby stalking the boys, but in a comedic ic still messed up fashion.. but both take a sharp left at just the right time as to not clash: the full implications of what Webby’s doing and her physical fight with Bentina happen around the same time Scrooge breaks down and confesses he’s scared he can’t win this time. The episode gets really dark in the second half but it eases into it and slowly makes it’s way to it, building to it with some laughts to disarm it. But stuff like robo scrooge or the timeloop room, or the timeloop room, or the timeloop room, or the oh thank god i’ts broken. That stuff isn’t SO wacky or out of place that it detracts from the other plot. They compliment each other. Here it’s just two plots that don’t work together at all joined together for some reason. So yeah overall a very mixed bag of an episode and if you do want to watch or rewatch it.. just skip the bigfoot subplot> it’s not worth it.

Next Time on Shadow Into Light: It’s all come down to this. Magica finally ges what she wants. The Shadow War is Night.. but before I can tell you that story we have a bit of ground to cover so..

Next on this Blog: The family minus Beakly ends up in Greece. Dewey is forced to deal with his fears about his mom, Scrooge is forced to deal with his old rival Zeus, and Donald is forced to deal with an unwanted admirerer. Spanikopita!

If you liked this review, follow for more, feel free to contribute to my patreon, and feel free to commission a review of your own. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.

#ducktales #lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #weblena #magica de spell #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakly #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #tenderfeet #the other bin of scrooge mcduck #disney xd #disney channel

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years ago

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American Revolution Theme - Part 1: Beth’s D.C. Spoon

So, this week I’m going to talk more about a TON of symbols we’ve connected to the American Revolution Theme. These are always exciting to uncover because it shows how these themes—many of which have stumped us somewhat for years—are finally coming together. These were conversations we had over weeks, so I’ll definitely be breaking them up into chunks for you.

Take it away, @wdway!

@wdway:

We've all been looking at Beth’s spoon for 6+ years and I know I, like so many people, thought it was an indication that Beth would show up in Washington D.C. Suddenly, looking at it the other day I realized the spoon could be telling us Beth will be part of a Revolution.

I would have never gotten this had it not been for the connection @twdmusicboxmystery made to the Swamp Fox and the story of Greene and the American Revolution. Where the spoon says “Washington DC,” I'm now looking at that realizing that Washington may refer to George Washington, the leader of the American Revolution. The D.C. stands for a coda, a repeat. Beth will be a part of a new American Revolution.

I started remembering how we have seen pictures of George Washington in the show. I know s5e7, Dead Weight in the cabin with the Governor, as he came through the door, there is a portrait of George Washington. I always thought it stood for the city of D.C. That it represented where they would end up.

We've also seen images of the Washington Monument on Fear (also in TWD when they first got to Washington in 5x11). Actually, if you look at the handle of Beth’s spoon, I think that might be the Washington Monument. There have been lots of hints. We’ve just always read them differently.

I remembered a painting that tptb released a rework of a famous painting substituting the characters from TWD that was done several years ago and I have searched @twdmusicboxmystery’s archives, but I cannot find the painting. Here's the original.

(I can’t find the TWD version of this anywhere, either. But like the Thanksgiving painting they’ve been using the past few years, they used this and replaced all the people’s faces with characters from TWD.)

I remember we thought it was a little strange why they would do this painting with characters from the show. Now it makes a lot more sense. I believe that Rick replaced George Washington but I can't remember who the other characters replaced. I'm especially curious who replaced the person in red, because I believe that will be Beth in the new Revolution. Here's what I found in the description of the painting. It speaks of the different people representing the different American population and then it goes on to say that some believe the figure in the red coat and black scarf may represent the women that fought and died for freedom.

So, it might be another female character like Carol but ultimately, I believe it is supposed to be Beth. Remember the red cape in Beth's prison cell. Another painting that Beth has been a substitute in was DaVinci's Last Supper. Jesus and Mary Magdalene both wore red.

Another image would be that Beth is associated with wolves and the famous story of Little Red Riding Hood who obviously wore red.

I believe the lady in red represents Lady Liberty. The reason I say that is because in my search after I read about this figure information on Lady Liberty popped up. One of the earliest versions of Liberty was the Roman goddess Libertas which description sounds an awful lot like the Tarot card of the Empress. Another image that popped up under Liberty was this one and I gasped when I saw it and thought, “Oh my gosh, I think I'm on the right track here.”

Remember this from TWB? (We saw it near Iris in a tent in one of the episodes.) I remember us having a discussion about how we believed that she represented Beth and yet we didn't know anything about the Revolution storyline at that time.

I'm about to take you down a side tunnel and this one is also so very good. In the episode Still, after Beth picks up the spoon, she looks over and sees Daryl stuffing jewelry and money into a black backpack. And now that I think about it, it's Daryl who initially carries the backpack on his back next to his red rag hanging from his back pocket. Red and black, the colors of Liberty.

So many things I want to point out. To start with, the pattern of the rug is diamonds a Beth symbol. Daryl is leaning over a dead walker wearing a watch. There is also another watch in the loot that Daryl is shoving into the bag, along with gold jewelry, pearl necklace a water symbol, also a military one because of the famous Naval Base, Pearl Harbor.

If you enlarge the picture so that you can see the bundles of money, they're all $20 bills, turned so we only see what most people consider the backside of the $20 bill. I'm embarrassed to say I didn't off hand know what the back of a $20 bill was. I definitely knew Andrew Jackson is on the front, so I took out my wallet and pulled out a $20. On the back was the White House.

Here a side note about the $20 bill that I found out when I Googled for more information. In 1861, the 20-demand note (what it was called) had on the front side, the Goddess of Liberty holding a sword and shield and on the back was an abstract design printed in green.

(Now back to the present $20.) My first thought was White House, white=Beth. You might be surprised at this, but I have watched the episode Still a number of times through the years, haha. I know the ending very, very well, as does everyone else. I remembered that Daryl and Beth used one of these bundles to burn the Moonshine Shack down and it was Beth who actually lit the match to the bundle and Daryl who throws it.

I guess I actually did pay attention in school so many years ago because it hit me like a ton of bricks that the White House was burnt down by the British in the War of 1812. Not only the White House was burned but also the capital and the Library of Congress.

Was it a coincidence that they used a bundle of money featuring the White House to burn down their dwelling? I think not.

Did I hear you ask the question is there anything significant about the fact that Andrew Jackson is on the front of the $20 bill? I'm so glad you asked. The answer is yes. This is something I remember from American history and the fact that I live in Tennessee and that Andrew Jackson’s home is within 30 minutes of where I live. You can't grow up in Tennessee without knowing some of the history of Andrew Jackson.

First let's start with a little brief history of the War of 1812, which lasted more than that year. This is my non scholar way of telling you about the War of 1812. After Great Britain had won the war with France and had taken away Napoleon's power, they decided to go back to the colonies and see if the first round was just a mistake because they were the dominant power. They were the British Empire.

One of the last big conflicts before the British finally realized they were dealing with the wrong people was the Battle of New Orleans. The British wanted to dominate the Mississippi river and if they could do that, they would basically be taking over the territory on the other side (the West), but first they needed to take New Orleans.

The British didn't think it would be a problem because they were a great force and the Americans led by Major General Andrew Jackson, were a small ragtag army made up of militia frontiersmen, slaves, Indians and pirates.

That's right: pirates.

Jean Lafitte was a pirate who ran a smuggling empire. The actual battle only lasted a short time, even though the British had a huge force. They fought the Americans the old-fashioned way, by simply marching forward, whereas the small force of Americans who were made up of people had to count every bullet were sure shots. In 30 minutes the British lost 2,000 and Andrew Jackson’s army lost fewer than 100.

You're probably thinking that was kind of interesting but what does that have to do with the storyline in TWD? This is just my guess, but I think there will be 2 wars or 2 revolutions that will include Rick and Beth. The first one will be against the Commonwealth and the second the CRM in the spinoff.

Back to Beth’s spoon. I thought occurred to me about the dinner scene in Alone where Daryl is eating the jelly and it has always been an odd scene. People have talked about it off and on for years how he's very obviously really over playing the eating of the jelly with a spoon.

The question occurred to me though, could that spoon be Beth's Washington D.C. spoon? Granted, there's no way to know for sure but it's an intriguing thought, isn't it? If in fact one of the meanings of the spoon is what I stated above, that the spoon hinted there would be a coda, a repeat of a fight for freedom similar to Washington's American Revolution, then the sharing of the spoon would be indication of the sharing of the storyline that they would be an equal part of the fight to overthrow a corrupt system and give freedom to the good common people that are still out there.

One of those definitions that I read about a coda is that it is a repeat that eventually brings a satisfactory completion to the piece of music. In reading that, I realize that the coda spoon is an indication that Beth and Daryl since they both are connected with the spoon both will be part of the satisfactory completion of the TWD story. It means that we will see Beth before the series ends.

We can tell that there's some type of twists in the spoon on the handle shortly above scooped area we think of as the spoon, it looks to be the same place that we see it on the first 2 shots featuring this spoon.

Again, no true proof but it does tend to give some credence to the idea. This gives another importance meaning to us seeing the spoon in Leah's shack. It points to the fact that we're about to see a coda.

READ PART 2 HERE

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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banditthewriter · 4 years ago

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Eye of the Hurricane - Charles Vane - 4

Here we have part 4. Reminder that the next one, which is shorter than these have been, is the last one.

Warning: Little awkwardness at the end.

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

------

There was no way to track the passage of time except to watch the candles burn down. You drifted in and out of sleep. Every time you woke, the candles had burned down further and further.

Finally at one point you woke and most of the candles were out. The torch had burned out as well. You rolled over until you were sitting up on the bed.

The fortress was eerily silent. Even the silence on a ship was loud, the ocean and wood creaking gently. It was completely different here. Besides the sound of your breathing, you couldn’t hear a thing.

A clicking noise made you raise your eyes to the doorway. It was followed by the door opening, light from a torch making you squint.

Charles stood in the doorway, his free hand tucked into the high waist of his belt.

“Follow me,” he said in a gruff tone, his head tilting towards the hallway.

You wanted to deny him. You had said you would try your best not to get into trouble, but would ignoring a demand fall into that category? How could you know what rules you were breaking if you didn’t know the rules to begin with?

“Where?”

He hesitated as if he hadn’t expected you to do anything other than comply.

“I’ve had some water heated for you to take a proper bath. Unless you’ve enjoyed just washing like a whore,” he added with a shrug of his shoulder before he turned to walk out of sight.

After a brief struggle to get your shoes back on, you followed him out into the hallway. He hadn’t gone far, evident by the shadows on the wall, but you still didn’t want to take too long. He might change his mind. Instead once you were beside him, he started down the hall.

You almost commented on the fact that he looked freshly bathed as well. His hair looked clean and soft to the touch. There were small metal beads added to the braids in a few places. His facial hair was trimmed as well.

You had gotten so used to his scruffiness on the ship that you almost didn’t recognize this bathed and put together version of him.

Not that you preferred him one way or another. It was just an observation. That harmless attraction you found yourself in the middle of on the ship was a footnote compared to the reality that Charles Vane was a pirate captain, nothing more.

The room he brought you to was empty save for a medium sized wooden tub with steam rising from the water. There was a small chair next to it with a towel draped over the back. On the seat was…

“Is that one of my dresses?”

Charles had just placed the torch in a holder, providing a little more light than the small window that stood well above your reach. At your question, he raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“I’ll have the chest brought to the room you’re staying in.” He walked to the door but hesitated before he left the room. “I’ll knock on the door to see if you’re done. You’ll want to answer or I’ll just have to come in anyways.”

With that he left, shutting the door behind him. You didn’t think he’d go far.

The knowledge that he was just on the other side of the door made your skin tingle as you undid the buttons and laces on your dress. He could come in if he wanted, see every part of you.

It was more than fear and adrenaline that shot through you at that, but you pushed down your reaction. It would do you no good to be lusting after the captain. He had already made it perfectly obvious that he didn’t care about you in any way. You were just a meal ticket.

That in mind you quickly climbed into the tub and dropped down so that the water covered your naked body. It wasn’t a comfortable fit, your knees up instead of stretched out, but the water felt good against the aches in your body from your poor rest lately.

Next to the tub there was a bar of soap and a small jar. You sniffed the jar, pleasantly surprised at that smell of jasmine. You weren’t sure why Charles had felt the need to supply you with a fragrance for the bath, but you weren’t going to complain. Instead you poured a little into the water and swished your hand around to spread it.

You might be a prisoner for the time being, but you were going to smell like royalty.

At the end of the bath you dried hurriedly and dressed even quicker. Clean and dressed, your hair fixed as best you could without a mirror, you went to the door. It was unlocked. Carefully you pulled the door open and stepped into the hall.

Charles was there, a ways away from the door. He raised an eyebrow as he looked you over. The dress wasn’t much different than the one you had worn for the last few weeks, but it was clean. Still, with his focus on you the way it was, you tugged at the fabric of the dress as if it would somehow grow and cover you more.

“This way,” he said with a jerk of his head before he turned away from you.

With no other choice, you followed him. It was a different direction than you’d come, so you figured you weren’t being brought back to your room just yet. Instead you went along a winding staircase a few steps behind him. When he came to a door, he held it open for you to walk out of first.

It was some sort of platform outside. You stepped out into the sunlight and closed your eyes as you enjoyed the gentle breeze on your skin. The sound of gulls above you made you open your eyes. The view from the top of the fortress was of the entire bay. You couldn’t make out which one was The Ranger because you hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but you were sure it was out there with the other ships.

Almost a dozen ships sat out there. You could see a portion of the beach and, further back and up a bit of a hill, what looked like a thriving town. Whatever you’d been led to believe about Nassau, you hadn’t expected this.

You turned away from the view to look at Charles. He met your gaze evenly.

“What happens now?”

He turned away from you to look out over the bay.

“You give me a little information about your father, I’ll send my ship and a few men to deliver a ransom letter. We’ll have you back to your family in one piece as long as they pay.”

Your hand reached out to grasp the stone wall nearest you. You knew that you needed to tell him now, before things got out of hand. He needed to know.

“I need to be honest about my family,” you said quietly.

Part of you prayed he hadn’t heard, but he turned back to look at you. He didn’t say anything but you knew that you had his full attention.

“There’s… a possibility that they might not pay the ransom.”

He took a few steps towards you, his stride crossing the small distance between the two of you easily. He stopped a mere arm’s length away from you.

“Explain,” he demanded.

“My older brother, he’s the favorite. By the time I came along, my parents had no more love to give. It’s why they were sending me to my aunt and uncle in England, to be married off to some man I’ve never met and be done with it.” You took a step back under the force of his stare, your back meeting the stone wall. “I wasn’t truthful before because I didn’t want to be killed. You cannot blame me for doing whatever I must to survive.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before he took a step back. There was an obvious conflict on his face for a long moment before he turned away from you.

“What will happen to me if they don’t pay?”

It was as if the entire world had gone silent as you waited for his response.

“We will have to find another way to get use out of you, won’t we?”

Even though he said it without infliction, there was a threat in those words. You could imagine the ways they would get use out of you and each idea made you feel weak and powerless.

All you could was pray your parents would pay. It was your only hope.

------

Over the course of the next few days, you didn’t see Charles much. You saw Jack a few times, but mostly it was Anne. She would come into the room with food and drink, mostly quiet as she left it for you. You noticed that she would hover in the doorway when you didn’t greet her or move to accept the food as you had on the ship.

Instead you stayed on the bed, your eyes on the candles.

“You haven’t eaten,” she said one evening as she brought you another tray. Your morning meal sat untouched where she had placed it.

“Wasn’t hungry,” you replied as you looked away from the candles to where she stood in the doorway.

“You sick?”

You smiled softly before you turned back to look at the candles. As best as you could tell, Anne was not often the caring sort. Perhaps she had needed to become colder in order to survive surrounded by pirates. But there was some part of her that cared, just like now.

In her own way at least.

“I’m not sick,” you promised quietly as you bent your knees so that you could rest your chin on them. “Your captain had me write a letter to my parents last night. The ransom he asked for is… not beyond the realm of possibility, but it is not likely they will want to pay so much for me.”

After the conversation on the outlook of the fortress, you had nothing but fear for what might come next. His men would be setting sail for Norfolk and once there, they would hand over the letter. Perhaps they would know right away that the ransom would not be paid. That gave you maybe two weeks before the worst would happen.

Once it was apparent that the ransom wouldn’t be paid, Charles would find another way for you to be of use. You highly doubted he was looking for a feminine touch for the fortress.

You would be forced to pay your own ransom on your back.

“It won’t come to that,” Anne said fiercely as she came further into the room.

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken out loud. A glance at the fury on Anne’s face told you that you had.

“I would rather have perished on the ship, lost to the sea than to be… put through that,” you said quietly before you tucked your face into the fabric of your dress to muffle the sound of your sobs.

A hesitant hand was placed on your shoulder. The touch made you flinch, but you didn’t pull away. Carefully she soothed her hand over your back.

“It won’t come to that. If your family won’t pay, I’ll find a way to get you out of here. Somewhere safe.”

You looked up, Anne’s face blurry due to your tears.

“You’d go against your captain? For me?”

The harsh planes of her face were softened through the watery view of your tears.

“Just in this,” she admitted as she pulled her hand away from your shoulder. “Eat. No matter what happens, you’ll need your strength.”

You accepted the food from her. With Anne’s promise that you wouldn’t be forced to pay with your body, you felt a little more at ease with your situation.

Either way, she was right. You would need your strength.

------

The room that you were led to this time was larger than the ones you’d seen so far. There was a pallet topped with blankets and furs, pillows lined along the top. There were chests sprinkled around the room, clothes and weapons splayed out without care. There also seemed to be a never ending number of bottles and mugs.

Charles had led you there without a word. You couldn’t even read what mood he was in as you followed him down a few hallways and up a winding staircase.

Once there you realized what this place was. A sudden jolt of apprehension went through under the realization that this was his room.

Why had he brought you here? It was too early for his man to get back from delivering the ransom request. Perhaps he had decided not to wait.

Had you foolishly thought that he wasn’t that kind of man? Had you been so wrong?

“The trunk there,” he said as he gestured to a trunk on the wall by itself.

You carefully made your way over to it. With another look at him over your shoulder, you bent down to the trunk. There was a latch that wasn’t closed so you simply lifted the lid.

Books. There were dozens of books in the trunk. Confused, you looked up from the trunk and over to Charles who was leaning in the window that looked out over the bay.

“You enjoyed reading my books on the ship. Thought you might need some entertainment here in the fort.”

That was an understatement. You’d long since emptied out your own trunk to try to find something to help you pass the time, but it seemed that it had been emptied of everything save your clothes. Charles had taken the jewelry and money that you’d had in there, but that didn’t bother you.

You did wish he hadn’t taken the jeweled comb. It had been your grandmother’s and probably the only thing you owned that you loved.

Carefully you bent down again and grabbed one of the books on the top. It wasn’t familiar to you. You straightened up and tucked the book under your arm.

“I will return it to you,” you said as you hovered hesitantly. Would he allow you to walk back to your room by yourself?

“You should read it here,” he said as he gestured to the padded chair near the window he was in. “There’s better light in this room.”

With that he stalked out of the window and across the room towards the door. He stopped just before he stepped out.

“You can move around the fort freely; the men have been told you are not to be bothered.” He tapped his hand against the door before he said quietly, “You’ll be safe here.”

Then he was gone.

Alone in his room, you made your way to the chair he had gestured to. It was fairly comfortable. You settled in and lifted the book. Slowly you traced your finger over the letters of the title.

How many times had he read this book? Had he sat here in this chair and read it? No, he would probably lounge on his bed and read it.

You looked over at the bed and then back to the book in your hand. You wouldn’t be that bold. Instead you flipped open the book to the first page and tried desperately not to think of how soft his voice had been as he told you that you’d be safe there.

------

There was something soft under your cheek. You rubbed against whatever it was and snuggled down further. It had been a long while since you’d been this comfortable. Before the ship, before The Ranger, before—

The moment you remembered the kidnapping, you sat up in a flash. Had it all been some sort of fever dream? Were you safe in your bedroom, the bustling Norfolk surrounding you?

You were on a pallet on the floor. The softness under your cheek was a pillow that was covered with some sort of fur.

In your sleep addled mind, it took a moment to realize where you were.

Charles’s room. Charles’s bed. You looked down at yourself and saw a blanket draped over your waist, your shoes side by side on the floor next to the bed.

“You fell asleep.”

The voice made you jump, your hand coming to rest on your chest. Charles sat in the chair near the window, the book you had been reading open on his lap as he watched you.

It’d been about three days of you coming up to his room to read. He was never there when you got there, never there when you left. You didn’t even remember falling asleep while you read, but you must have.

There’s no way that you fell asleep on his bed though. You were purposeful in the fact that you never strayed from the trunk with the books and the chair where you read. You never even went to the window to look out.

“How did I come to be in your bed?”

He looked away from you and down at the book on his lap. You watched as he lazily turned the page.

“I carried you. Thought you’d be more comfortable there then in this chair.”

You felt as if you were frozen. The duality of the man before you was a confusion. He could kill without blinking, threaten to let his crew make use of you, and he could save you from a storm, allow you some comforts, carry you to his bed when you fall asleep in his room.

It would be easier to hate him if he was simply cruel.

“Thank you,” you offered softly without looking at him.

Then you threw the blanket off of your legs. With unsteady hands you slid your shoes back on before you rose. Still without looking at him, you turned and left his room.

Your mind was too chaotic to deal with his close proximity.

------

In the days that followed, you saw Charles a lot more often. Sometimes it was just in passing, but other times he would be in his room when you were in there reading.

It felt like the days on The Ranger. As your confidence increased, you would draw him into conversation with you. Most of your conversation starters were innocent questions about life in Nassau since you hadn’t seen much before you were secreted away in the fortress.

You were pleasantly surprised that he not only answered your questions but volunteered information freely on his own.

He told you about the first ship he served on, about how he met Jack and Anne, how long he’d been captain of The Ranger. You had more questions, many more, but you never pressed him for personal information.

One thing you still wondered about was the brand on his chest. You’d catch a glimpse of it now and then when he wore an open neck shirt. Plus you’d seen the same brand on the men around the fortress. It hadn’t been present on the crew on the ship, not that you’d noticed at least.

You started to get that feeling again; the feeling that you had while you were on the ship with him. That attraction was still there and as he began to show you the more human side of him, you began to think that maybe there was more to Charles Vane than you had assumed.

Time and time again he had proven himself to just be a pirate. You tried to remind yourself of this so that you wouldn’t make a mistake of falling for him.

All of this was temporary. Either your parents would agree to the ransom and you’d soon be back in Norfolk or they wouldn’t and you would be…

You weren’t really sure what you’d be at that point. Anne had promised you wouldn’t be misused by the crew, but what did that leave you with? Stuck in Nassau?

It was early in the evening when Charles came back from wherever he went when he left the fortress. You were curled up comfortably in the chair, your shoes on the floor in front of you. He acknowledged your presence with a nod before he moved to his bedding.

There you watched him shed his weapons onto the floor beside the bedding. Then came his boots before he sprawled out on top of the blankets. It was the first time he had done that since you had been coming here to read.

You eased the book closed around your finger.

“Would you like to be alone?”

He had an arm thrown over his eyes and at your question, he lowered it so that he could look at you.

“I’d like your company,” he admitted before he laid his head back down to stare up at the ceiling. “Read to me.”

You froze at that, unsure if you’d heard him right. After a long moment of silence, he turned his head so that he could look at you, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk as he did.

“You want me to read to you?”

His smirk grew a little bit at the confusion in your voice.

“You have a soothing voice. Could soothe the headache I’ve had since I ran into Jack this morning.”

You let yourself smile a bit at that. It wasn’t the first dig he’d made at his quartermaster, just like Jack—and Anne—were both quick to insult their own captain. You honestly weren’t sure what the dynamic was at first, but you were pretty sure you understood it now. They could insult each other but hell would come to anyone else who did it.

With a bit of a shift in how you were seated, you opened the book back up to the page you had stopped on. You almost flipped to the front of the book but you weren’t about to reread a book just because the captain had asked you to read to him. He would have to be happy with you starting from the beginning of your current chapter.

But you only got so far as the first few words before he spoke again.

“Come, sit here,” he said as he gestured to the other half of the bed. “You won’t have to raise your voice so much from here.”

Of course you wouldn’t have to raise your voice too much from there. You’d basically be sitting in his lap.

That wasn’t completely true. The bed, while not as lavish or obscenely large as your parents’, was a comfortable size. It was possible that two people could lie side by side and not touch each other.

Although you doubted if anyone in bed with Charles Vane would not be touching him.

Where had that thought come from? You felt heat fill your cheeks at the mere thought, much less the image that came to mind. Instead you met his challenge head on, walking over to the bed with purpose.

He wasn’t right in the middle of the bed, but he was closer to the middle than he was to the right side. You could see the smirk on his lips even as you settled yourself down beside him, your legs crossed over each other under your skirt.

The way you sat meant your knee brushed his hip. You wanted to move, but once the contact had been made, you knew that he’d consider you fidgeting as a win for him. You weren’t sure what game Charles was playing, but you weren’t about to say uncle.

He raised one hand to rest under his head while the other rested on his stomach. The rings on his fingers glinted in the candlelight, catching your eyes. Once you realized you had been staring since you sat down, you quickly cleared your throat and opened the book up once more.

The act of reading pulled you out of the present, submersed you in the plot of the book you were reading. Thankfully the part of the book you were reading didn’t have any sort of romance; that would’ve been almost impossible to get through with him close enough for you to feel the heat of his body.

Instead you described a sword fight in the middle of a great adventure. Every now and then Charles would make a noise as if he was laughing, but you didn’t think he was laughing at you. In fact you were pretty sure he was just laughing at the words that were written.

Charles Vane: pirate captain and novel critic.

Even as you focused on the words that you read, you couldn’t completely ignore the man beside you. Besides the gentle motion of his breathing and the coin that he danced over his knuckles, he didn’t move. A quick peek between paragraphs told you that his eyes were closed.

It probably wasn’t proper, especially with him being the man who had kidnapped you, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what life with him would be like.

So immersed in the book and the presence of the man beside you, you were caught off guard when the door flew open. You gasped at that. It wasn’t just the sudden entry that caused you to gasp though, not at all.

The moment it happened, Charles had sprung into action. He used his left hand to grab and raise his pistol at the intruder at the same time that his right hand shot out to shove you behind him on the bed, his body blocking anything that might come this way.

It was one of his men from here inside the fort. His eyes were wide at the scene before him, but he didn’t let that deter him.

“Captain, Guthrie is in the courtyard demanding to see you. Not sure how long we can hold ‘er at bay.”

Charles swore as he lowered the pistol. He looked over his shoulder at you and then back to the man in the doorway.

“Take her back to her room and make sure she stays there. I’ll handle Eleanor.”

You were confused but he didn’t seem inclined to share his thoughts with you. In fact you watched as he pulled on his boots and completely ignored you at his side.

The man was at your side before you could even stand up. He grabbed your arm and gave a tug. You thought you heard Charles make a noise behind you, but all you could focus on was not tripping over your feet as you let the man lead you out of the room and back to yours.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you that you realized you still held the book you’d been reading from. You also realized that you had left without your shoes.

In the silence of your room, you thought about what had just happened. Not reading to Charles, although you knew you’d need to think about that more later. Why had the mention of this Guthrie person make him go back to treating you like a prisoner?

Eleanor. He’d said he’d handle Eleanor, hadn’t he?

Part of you wondered if she was his woman. It would look odd, you on his bed reading to him. She might not be inclined to believe that you were a prisoner if that’s the case.

The name was almost familiar to you. Maybe she was a female pirate? No, you were sure you would’ve remembered that. So you’d heard the name somewhere else before. Eleanor Guthrie. Or Guthrie at least.

Half of a candle had burned in the time since you’d been forcibly returned to your room when you heard voices in the hallway. It was a woman and Charles, both of their voices raised. Neither sounded happy.

You carefully cracked your door to look out. There was the man who had brought you back to your room, his back in your direction. And down the hall, barely visible, was Charles. A second later a woman came into view.

She was pretty. Her blonde hair was pulled back, a little messy but it fit her face nicely. You were trying so hard to make out their words that you almost missed the fact that she was doing the buttons up on her vest.

As if it had been taken off of her recently.

You shut the door as quietly as you could. After a moment as you listened to their voices grow faint, you moved back to your bed. The book you had taken from his room sat there on your pillow, innocent and yet mocking you.

You shoved the book under your pillow and then curled up on the bed.

You had no right to be jealous. You knew that you shouldn’t get attached to Charles, that falling for a pirate was a terrible idea. And it wasn’t like you were in love with him or anything.

With the way you had been raised, you weren’t often around men that weren’t your father’s age. This was just a silly crush of a naive girl who had been sheltered. It wasn’t real, nothing substantial.

You’d get over it with a little time.

Thanks for reading!

#charles vane #charles vane imagine #charles vane x reader #charles vane fanfic #black sails imagine #my writing #eye of the hurricane

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thewritingstar · 4 years ago

Text

In The Depths of the Deep Sea

Pairing: Blossucth (Blossom x Butch)

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

Notes: Prob one of the fluffiest things I've written and I’ve had this idea for months now and finally its here. After rewriting more times than I care to admit, I actually like it. Also go check out @lisathefan she made the most stunning art work for this!!

Tag list: @shellielyzabeth @unvalley @over-under-through1

Enjoy!

---

“Never go past the Crystal Reef.” Her father said to when she was just a young mermaid.

Naturally she listened to the rules. As the eldest of her sisters, it was her duty to make sure they did the same. Even if she had to scold Buttercup for getting too close or urge Bubbles not to because of the scary monsters, no one went past the reef.

It wasn’t a hard rule to follow though. Crystal Reef was massive and was filled with a city of sea life and other mermaids that kept everyone happy. They lived in the ocean and were free to travel the lengths of the sea, but the Deep Reef as it was called, was off limits.

She had heard the stories many times. Disgusting creatures lurked in the murky waters and even mermaids had a hard time swimming it's currents. It was ice cold as the legends told and no one made it out alive to tell the tale. There were messages of mermaids becoming food for the massive predators that lived there and even said to be home to blood thirsty sharks and fish who were more bone than flesh. It was creepy and distasteful to even think about and Blossom rarely had any desire to swim out and down below.

But one evening after her father told her about the treasures pirate ships could hold, she found one. It was just short of the edge of the reef, only a few meters down, the water was still clear enough but she knew that any further and she could be risking her tail. But as she grew older, her curiosity got the better of her.

So she swam and found it. The massive ship that had been sunken years before she was born. It was breathtaking even with the mass of water damage eroding its boards. Her mind had drifted further out to sea, her judgment foggy as she wasted the daylight in the boat.

It became a habit of hers. She would leave for hours to go towards that ship and each time, there was something new for her to see. She never had trouble there before, but her luck could only go so far.

The water had turned colder towards the night but she wasn’t worried, wasn’t afraid. Her tail guided her along the outside and she had decided maybe that was enough exploring for the day. Her family would get worried if she wasn’t back soon but then again the giant shark looming over her didn’t care too much about her time.

She gulped as the creature stared at her. Her breath being held in her throat as its eyes locked on to hers, daring her to make a move. Her blade in her bag was out of reach and even if she had it, there was no way she could fight off a shark ten times the size of her.

Perhaps this was it. The day she would be eaten alive and never found. And if she were to die, her sisters better keep their fins off her stuff! She shut her eyes tight as she felt the shark move closer. The torment of feeling the bubbles around her was making her uneasy and thought if she remained still, then it would leave. But her eyes, she decided to open them all too soon.

She only saw white. Rows and rows of exposed sharp teeth were only merely inches away and she couldn’t help herself from losing her cool. She screamed at the top of her lungs causing the shark to open its jaws and bite down at her spot where she just managed to get away.

In her younger years she had been deemed the smartest of her sisters, speed was not the attribute that she had been gifted and she wished in these very moments that Buttercup's ability to swim faster than anyones was here.

She circled the corner of the ship, hoping to lose the shark but one more mistake of looking back cost her time. She didn’t know this area well and made the mistake of swimming past the boat and towards the darker side. Her eyesight became cloudy as the water merged with the fading light and soon she could only see a few feet ahead of her.

The shark's nose grazed her tail and she let out a scream as she found a giant rock rounded to the back pressing herself to it hoping the creature wouldn’t find her. She covered her mouth with a shaky hand. She shouldn’t have ventured this far, shouldn’t have let the mysterious be her guide.

She could see the shark a few feet away, it had lost her scent for a second and she knew that if she dared to swim, it would all be over. She had spoken too soon, those beady eyes turned and locked onto her frame and she swore she could see the sickly smirk of its teeth before it bolted towards her.

Her eyes tightened close and she took one final break, her bag dropping to the ground as her hand was pulling to the right and down. In a matter of seconds she felt the cavern shake from the impact of the shark, yet she was still alive, and wrapped around warm seaweed?

Blossom opened her eyes, now inside of the hidden cave, she looked down to see an arm holding her waist and hand, that was not hers, covering her mouth.

“Don’t move.” A voice came into her ear. It was deep and hoarse as if someone had just woken up.

Another jolt of fear ran through her as the shark bashed its head against the rocks. She let out a muddled squeak and the arm tightened slightly on her body.

“It can’t get to you, don’t worry.” The voice tried to reassure her.

For when the arm loosened on her after moments of waiting and he told her the shark had left, she turned and was met with vivid green eyes and an uncertain expression. Her eyes went to the top of his head. She had heard of mermaids that adapted to their surroundings but she had never met one with a light stand of an angler fish. It bobbed in the water giving off a faint glow.

“Thank you.” She said, trying to hide the fact that she was staring at him. She didn’t mean to be rude but he was so

“It's uh, no big deal. You should probably leave.” He said but when he swam away, that wasn’t the last he saw of her.

His first thought was to leave her there to die, just like all those other pesky mermaids who don’t know what lurks below. He knew that they all thought badly about the creatures here, serving them the right to try and test fate. But by all means if they want to risk their stuipd lives and dive down deep then they are in a rude awakening for a game of predator or prey with the creatures that feast on the oblivious.

But for some reason he couldn’t allow it to happen, not this time. It wasn’t his fault that he had stumbled across her, just a curious mermaid looking through an old sunken ship. Maybe if she knew that he was hidden behind the rock staring at her like a creep, she would have wished the shark ate her up. It was just...he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He had seen countless mermaids and sea creatures, nothing special new about them. However her electric magenta tail brought his memory to the glowing anemones he used to pick as a little fish. The heart swirled on her tail was oddly cute and he found himself drawing closer and closer to her.

Did he spend weeks going back and forth between the ship hoping that she would come back to explore? Did he maybe place items he found in there so that the presence of new things made her come back? Maybe. It wasn’t creepy. He was just...curious. His brothers had no idea that he would spend his afternoons and even evenings wandering over to the shipwreck. They hadn’t had a clue about what was so interesting that he would be gone for hours but when he came back with some fish, they didn’t bother to ask any questions.

Sometimes he wondered if he should keep to himself. He had been told to never mingle with a mermaid of pure blood. Those whose fins and tails were fully fish and mermaid-ie, unlike him who looked mostly pure blood but had the light of an angler fish bobbing out of his forehead. He didn’t care, though he looked cool but it became his own worst enemy at some times.

She however thought it was adorable when she would place a sweet kiss to his cheek and the little light would brighten to an illanecent green and his cheek as pink as his tail.

“It's weird.” he would grumble.

“I think it's cute.” She would respond and give him another kiss to increase the brightness. “You’re like a lighthouse, always guiding me right back to you.”

He laughed. “You’re a sap.”

---

She found herself swimming deeper and closer to the murky water, even her ability to see in the dark wasn’t holding up but there was no fear within her even as the water altered to a colder climate. Hesitation was something she knew of often, always second guessing herself to make the right choices and be the best version of herself but with this, there was none of that.

It was certain that within these twilight waters was something for her. Something that could offer her more than the crystal reef and the same school of fish. Something unique and intriguing. Something of her own.

She knew better than to venture to the darkest part of the ocean. She knew about the horror stories where creatures go but don’t return, but there she was, following the path that others dared not too.

Her excuse was the ship and her desire to excavate it, but her family didn’t need to know that she was only going there to see him. It started with just a few questions and friendly chatter.

“What are you doing?”

“Finding treasure.”

“Think you could search me next?”

“You’re a riot.”

But even with the not so subtle stares and the blushing of her cheeks, she found herself gravitating to him as if he were a magnetic field and she let herself drift to him. Those sly comments turned to pamper kisses as their conversations formed into topics of their hopes, dreams and fears. And how she knew he had placed those items for her to find.

Sharp teeth left shivers all over her body as they caraseed her neck and lips so delicately like that as a whisper. His eyes, how enchanting. The deep green was viid against his greyish skin that faded into a beautiful black at his fingertips. She never thought eyes could shower her with adoration even when she was just rambling. He held her close, chin resting on her shoulder as she would go on and on about the items she would find. She found his voice appealing and safe and he had comfort whenever she spoke.

Kissing him was like being plunged into cold water., A rush that left her head dizzy as she begged for more and wanted to never leave his side. At first he treated her as if she would break. Soft touches and feather light kisses but she loved when his hands would tangle into her locks and kiss her senseless as if she needed to forget her own name. His fingers would trace along the patterns that form on her skin and she would kiss the scar on his chest.

When their time to meet was coming up, she would swim towards the darkness, never looking back, hoping that he would always be waiting, perched on the rock just her. And sometimes she would get there and he would play his game of cat and mouse

“Caught you.” He whispered into her ear, a tingle running up her spine.

She giggled as she turned in his arms and threw her own around his neck. She gazed into his eyes for a second. The brightest green she had ever seen, like that of emerald from the world above. Her lips came onto his and even with her eyes closed, she could sense the light coming from his head. Its precious green glow just for her eyes, like her own little star in the dark sea.

She ran her finger along his sharp jaw and when he tilted his head to deepen their kiss, she felt those teeth that were just as dangerous. She was addicted to every part of him, no matter how hard the warnings were, she would find herself back in the dark surrounded by his warmth and that bright light.

---

She never understood the others. How could they say that everything below the reef was cruel and dangerous, well she knew why. All stereotypes hold a sliver of truth but when she was here with him, bodies slumped against the coral as they relaxed and watched the fish passing by, she had never felt safer, more comfortable, more free than when she did up above.

She brought him to the surface and showed him the reef, though he did better in the colder waters, he couldn’t comprehend just how gorgeous she was as the sun breached the water and her scales were like drops of sunlight. The pink of her iris sparkled and he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with her just as she did with him.

They would collect sea glass together and he showed her the garden of anemones and sea flowers that bloomed with vivid colors. Sometimes they would swim to a hidden shore and look at the humans above before returning to water to snuggle in the kelp. They would treasure hunt and find other sunken ships.

“What's your favorite treasure or item you found?” He would say and without skipping a beat, her lips would linger over his, pink looking into green before whispering “You.”

She was told to never leave the reef and he was scolded to stay away, but within the darkness and the cold currents, there was a flash of green that guided her heart to her other home, to her other half.

I hope you enjoyed and thank you to miss Lisa for making art!!

#blossutch #blossom x butch #blossom ppg #butch ppg #ppg x rrb #ppg fic #blossutch fic #thewritingstar

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thelastspeecher · 4 years ago

Note

Halloween prompt, thinking waay back to the Bakery AU. Angie, Stan, and Lute make a bet, winner gets to pick Halloween costumes for the others

Thank you for the Bakery AU prompt! I love that AU, it’s so Wholesome. So here’s some more Wholesome content. Enjoy!

——————————————————————————————

“That’s not enough punkin.”

“Not-” Stan sighed and looked over at Lute, who was watching him make pumpkin cheesecake cookies. “You told me to always follow the recipe after I fucked up that cake.”

“Yes.”

“I’m following the recipe.”

“Hmm.” Lute squinted at the recipe taped to the wall in front of Stan. “Oh, I see. We need to update the recipe. Last time we made it, it wasn’t punkiny enough.”

“Why do you pronounce ‘pumpkin’ like that?” Stan muttered. Lute shrugged. “Anyways, there’s no pumpkin left. I just dumped the last of it into the bowl.”

“That ain’t a problem.” Lute reached under the counter and pulled out a pumpkin, then plopped it onto the counter. Stan stared at it. “Chop it in half, scoop out the guts, roast it in the oven, then ya can use the flesh. Oh, and don’t forget to save the seeds. We roast ‘em fer use in other things.”

“You’re joking,” Stan said flatly.

“You were there when we bought a bunch of sugar punkins. What did ya think we got ‘em for?” Lute teased. Stan groaned loudly.

“Angie, your twin is torturing me!” he called to Angie, who was a few feet away. Angie didn’t respond. Stan turned. “Angie?”

“Mm-hmm,” Angie mumbled, clearly intensely focused on decorating cupcakes.

“Lute is torturing me,” he repeated.

“That’s nice,” Angie said. Lute snickered.

“Whine to her after she’s done,” Lute suggested. Stan scowled at Lute. “Finish up those cookies, feller.”

-----

Stan had begun the next batch of cookies, salted caramel, when Angie finally finished decorating. She stretched, working out the kinks from standing in the same position for so long.

“All right, what were ya tryin’ to talk at me about?” she asked, turning to face Stan.

“Oh, I was just saying that Lute was torturing me,” Stan said with a shrug. He cracked an egg into the mixing bowl. “We ran out of pumpkin, and he made me make more.”

“That ain’t torture. That’s teachin’ ya some more cookin’,” Angie said dismissively. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Shoulda figured you’d side with him.” He looked over at the cupcakes Angie had been decorating. “You spent a lot of time on those.”

“You really want to win the contest, huh?” Lute asked, walking over to look at the cupcakes. Stan followed. He looked over the cupcakes, smiling faintly. They had been decorated with cutesy, cartoonish versions of mummies, ghosts, vampires, zombies, and other classic Halloween monsters.

And she tries to say she sucks at decorating. She’s way too hard on herself. What Lute had said registered.

“Wait, what contest?” he asked. Lute raised an eyebrow.

“Ya don’t recall? You agreed to participate in it, Stanley. Y’know, the person who wins gets to choose what we wear fer Halloween.”

“Oh, right, that,” Stan said. “We’re selling things at that fair tomorrow.” Lute and Angie nodded. “The person who sells the most wins. But why does Angie’s decorating have anything to do with that?”

“We changed the rules a bit,” Angie said, beginning to carefully put her cupcakes into containers for transportation. “Now, ya get a point fer each item you sell, and an additional point fer each item sold that you made, even if you didn’t sell that item yourself.”

“That’s why you’re going hard with the decorating.”

“Yep!” Angie grinned. “Don’t worry, we took into account the fact that yer still new to bakin’ and decoratin’. The cookies are bestsellers.”

“But they have to be made to be sold,” Lute said, elbowing Stan. “So ya best get back to work! You’ve still got chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle, and sugar cookies to make.”

“…And decorate,” Stan groaned.

“If ya want, I can make some royal icing fer ya,” Angie offered. Stan shook his head.

“No, I want a fair fight,” he said. Lute and Angie beamed. Lute clapped a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit!”

-----

“I fucked up,” Stan said, staring at the pastries laid out before him. They’d set up their stand at the fair, and now that Stan saw his decorations next to the McGuckets’, he had some regrets. Lute had taken a route similar to Angie. His treats – the square-shaped ones like brownies, blondies, marshmallow rice bars, and pumpkin bars – had been decorated with adorable symbols of Halloween, like bats and pumpkins.

Stan, however, had gone the other direction. His cookies were decorated with bloodshot eyeballs, severed fingers, and brains. Even compared to the things sold by other stands, his realistic, gory decorations stuck out.

“I don’t know,” Angie said, picking up a cookie to look at it thoughtfully. Her nose wrinkled. “There’s prob’ly a market fer decorated goodies like this.”

“You did a really good job,” Lute said. “I have no clue how ya got ‘em to be so realistic. You have quite a talent fer artwork.”

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna help me win the competition,” Stan groaned. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure I sell as much as possible. Speaking of, when’s my shift?”

“Yer last,” Lute said.

“What? But there won’t be anyone here to sell to!”

“Yer the best at selling,” Angie explained. “We had to take the edge off that skill by givin’ ya the worst shift. Lute’s the worst at sellin’, so he’s got the best shift.” Stan squinted at her.

“Why’d you make this so complicated?”

“We’re rather competitive,” Angie said, leaning against the stand. “It can get…nasty. The more rules we have in place, the more methods we have fer reducin’ potential bias, the less likely we’ll be sore losers at the end.”

“…Fair,” Stan said, thinking back to the first time he’d played a board game with the siblings. By the end of it, the normally amicable brother and sister had been at each other’s throats. Lute put an arm around Stan’s shoulders.

“Let’s go goof off a bit while Angie takes up the first shift.”

“Yes, please leave,” Angie said. She made a shooing motion. “You two ‘re scarin’ off customers!”

-----

Stan adjusted his eyepatch and grinned at his reflection. Being pirates for Halloween was the right choice.

Stan and Lute waited for Angie to finish adding up all the points. She let out a loud groan.

“Dangit!”

“Who won?” Lute asked. Angie scowled.

“Stan.”

“Wait, what?” Stan asked, startled. “But there weren’t any people around to sell to during my shift.”

“No, but yer cookies were a huge success. People loved the spooky decorations,” Angie sighed. She tucked the pencil she’d been using to add up the points behind one ear. “Ya took a risk that ended up payin’ off.”

“Great,” Lute muttered, slumping against the pickup truck. “I had a splendid idea fer costumes.” He eyed Stan. “Don’t pick anything sexy, okay? I don’t want Angie to be dressed in some short skirt ‘n skintight shirt.”

“I also would not like to see my sibling in a sexy costume,” Angie said. “And ya best not wear a sexy costume neither. We have pastries to sell on Halloween.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“There goes my plan.”

“Halloween ain’t until next week, so’s ya have a little while to come up with somethin’,” Lute said. “Just make it appropriate.”

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Come in,” Stan said, messing with his shirt. Lute opened the door. He frowned.

“Really? An eyepatch?” he asked. Stan looked over.

“You have a parrot,” he pointed out. Lute flushed slightly and adjusted the stuffed animal parrot affixed to his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Lute mumbled. Angie appeared behind Lute. Stan nodded approvingly at her pirate costume, particularly her tall, dark brown boots.

“Looking nice, Angie,” he commented. Angie grinned and adjusted her tricorn hat. “But, uh, the gun?” Angie looked down at the shotgun she was holding.

“Delilah can be part of my costume,” she argued. “Pirates had guns.”

“I don’t think they had shotguns,” Lute said. “And also, ya prob’ly shouldn’t bring a weapon into the bakery.” Angie sighed.

“Fine,” she groaned. She stalked away, then returned a few moments later, without her gun. “Come on, fellers, we best open up fer the day.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Stan promised. Angie and Lute left. Stan looked at his reflection again. This time last year, he’d been homeless, living out of his car, on the run from loan sharks. Now, he had a steady job and a place to stay, even if he and Lute did share a bedroom. He tightened his ponytail and winked at his reflection.

Not to mention, I make a damn fine pirate.

#in terms of timeline this takes place after Stan has moved in with the Gucks #but before he's started dating Angie #Bakery AU #Stanley Pines #Lute McGucket #Angie McGucket #my writing #ficlet #ask #beatrice-babe

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animeraider · 4 years ago

Text

My Kevin Gilbert Story, and my latest single.

As some of you know I’ve had a few brushes with the “big break” that many in my line of work crave. I was signed to a major label in the early 1990s, and the record I turned in was shelved. The label wanted me to be the “next Michael Penn” and by that point not even Mr. Penn was interested in that, let alone me. I had three songs picked up for a movie, which was never released. I got out of my record contract and signed with another label, releasing an album that included 5 songs from the one that was shelved. The label put no money behind it. I had a big hit in 2009 and signed a European distribution deal, which fell apart when the married couple who ran the business fell into a messy divorce. I sold thousands and thousands of records in Eastern Europe – which were being sold by pirates. It took several years to get that fixed.

I had an audition that everyone felt I was a lock for to play keyboards for a Japanese band that had a huge following. My flight to the audition was supposed to be September 12, 2001. I actually watched the plane I was supposed to board land as it was the last flight grounded. I’ve done some engineering and performing I don’t get to tell anyone about – the NDA’s are pretty strong. One of my songs became the theme to a German Television show.

But let me tell you the story of a relationship I almost had with a multi-Grammy-winning star who soared high and made it further than I have, whose song I have made a cover of and released as a single today.

So where to begin. First of all, yes, I knew Kevin Gilbert. No, we weren’t friends, but we were colleagues and classmates. We performed together a few times – all of if school related. That’s it. Oh, and he invited me to a jam session he was going to have once and I turned him down. I’ll get to that.

Believe it or not, I have to tell this story starting in the middle. There was once a band called Toy Matinee. I loved that band. Clever songs, well written melodies, a sense of darkness and a sense of fun. It was a band that me and my roommate Max could agree on and we cranked that album loud and often. We went and saw them live at the Troubadour in Los Angeles, and were about 10 feet from the stage. This is NOT the live album released in 1999, but I can tell you they rocked the place that night. Played almost every song from the album, and did an encore of Elton John’s “Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” that smoked.

A great night.

Now I jump into the past, to tell the tale of the UCLA Synthesizer Ensemble. It was the brainchild of Professor Roger Bourland, who at the time was only in his 2nd year as a professor at the school and would later become dean of the department. He searched out the most rock and roll musicians in what was mostly a stuffy classical music department. Me. Dave Koz. Joel Harnel. And this kid named Kevin. The five of us took another student’s source material and arranged up a musical. Straight musical theater and full of schlock, and all performed on synthesizers. We eventually put on four shows, with the five of us in the orchestra pit. I wrote the show-stopper ballad and a Latin inspired piece. I hate to say it, but I no longer remember what everyone else did, although I remember Dave mostly for his EWI playing and Joel for multiple reasons – including the fact that he wrote and arranged all of the drum parts.

I knew Joel fairly well – we had played together a few times and he was even more rock and roll than me, with more experience. Dave Koz was, even then, Dave Koz. The only saxophonist I had met up to that point in my life who was better than me. We had played in jazz bands together but he was already a rising star. When he beat me for the gig with Richard Marx’s touring band his career just took off – but all this was before then. I was one of Roger Bourland’s students – in fact, I had been in the “test” classroom when he had auditioned for his job.

I barely knew this Kevin kid. I was constantly getting his name wrong – for whatever reason my brain had him wired as Kevin Anderson.

My only real interaction with him outside of this 12-week experiment was down in the practice rooms. Many of these rooms had pianos in them and on any given day you could hear Mozart, Brahms, Chopin and all of the other usual suspects. I would go and write my own material and be pounding out rock and roll. Kevin did that too. Once while in the middle of the writing process for the musical he came into my practice room while I was working on a song in the style of Elton John. He invited me to a jam session the next Tuesday he was going to, and I declined. Tuesday was when MY band practiced, and as their lead guitarist I needed the practice.

That was the end of it. After the musical was over we all drifted our separate ways and for the most part didn’t run into each other again. I ran into Dave once at a music festival in San Francisco and he introduced me to Clarence Clemmons, which was pretty damned cool.

By now you’ve figured out that Kevin was Kevin Gilbert. Congratulations. I hadn’t. For many years to follow I would remember him as Kevin Anderson.

Now I’ve told you all of this so that you understand that this is long BEFORE Max and I went to see Toy Matinee in concert. I became a fan of the band without knowing that Kevin was its leader. I was ten feet away from him, performing for an hour. I had performed with him myself.

I didn’t recognize him. Nothing clicked in my brain that this was the same guy. I didn’t put two and two together. I rolled for my intelligence check and got a one.

Kevin Gilbert would go on to a solo career, win seven Grammys for his work with Madonna, be part of the driving musical force behind Sheryl Crow’s first album, become one of the founders of the Tuesday Night Music Club, and become one of my songwriting heroes. The man could paint a picture with very few words and his musical ability was enviable.

And then he died; a victim of his own vices. I’m not going to go into that here – I know nothing at all and can shed no light on the subject.

Several years later I relocated to San Francisco with my family. I discovered the band Giraffe once I was on their home turf, and of course discovered the fact that Kevin Gilbert had been their leader when he was a teenager. BEFORE I knew him. Giraffe was a pretty damned good band that had come so startlingly close to making it big – their albums are worth hunting down and they did a fantastic live rendition of Genesis’ “Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” (the full album mind you) that is lots of fun.

I was looking for a recording studio for my second album when I ran across a man named Steve Smith who owned a recording studio down the peninsula from where I was living. In his bio, he briefly mentioned that he was the drummer for Giraffe. Awesome. On his web site of the time if you dug in a little bit there was a bio of Kevin Gilbert, and he talked about the brief time he spent at UCLA.

Parts of the story looked and felt awfully familiar to me. Smith talked about the musical without mentioning the name, and again, it felt familiar. Me being slightly brave, I wrote an e-mail to him to ask what was the title of that musical and that I might have been involved in it. He confirmed it for me.

Holy crap.

All of the pieces started falling into place then. The rehearsals, our discussions about piano playing, that I went to one of his shows and failed to recognize him? The fact that I think he invited me to come join the FUCKING TUESDAY NIGHT MUSIC CLUB and I didn’t even fucking notice!?!!?!!?!!?

I’m an idiot.

Actually, in looking back at the timeline I don’t think he invited me to join TNMC. That came a couple of years later – I think. I’m never going to know for certain. If he had told any of the other members I don’t know about it. I’ve exchanged about a dozen words with one of the other members over social media but we certainly don’t know one another.

I wonder if he saw me in the audience that night and laughed. I will never know. I can tell you there is an album version of that night you can listen to and/or buy. A then-unknown Sheryl Crow played keyboards in the band, dressed up like a dominatrix biker chick. When I found out about that later I was amazed – I didn’t recognize her either.

I’m an idiot.

Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard played drums. I don’t remember the name of the bass player but what I remember is this man with the thickest eyebrows I have ever seen in my life. Marc Bonilla played lead guitar. Oh, the people I could have met.

I never did work in Steve Smith’s studio. I no longer remember why.

When I was working on my third album in my newly built home studio I recorded a number of covers and one of those was Kevin Gilbert’s “Tea For One”. It’s a fantastic song of unrequited love and missed chances told from start to finish in only a few dozen words. I have no idea if he would have liked what I did to his song – he had a wicked sense of humor that I can recall now but I never got to know him on a personal level as a songwriter, which was my mistake. I could have but I was so focused on myself in those days that even if the overtures were made I probably didn’t even notice.

I recorded the song in what I called "Garage Pop" during those days. A bit uneven, imperfect vocals - what you might get from a band practicing in their garage instead of a polished studio version. If you want that, I recommend hunting down his version.

But I recorded “Tea for One” just the same – it’s a great song and I’d like to think I gave it some justice – even if it doesn’t come close his version. It was on the original version of my third album "The Long Goodbye", which I released myself, but was cut when the album was moved to digital streaming services (In all fairness, I cut 21 songs from the original release – which was a 2 CD set).

My music career has been dark for several years, but it got jump started in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic and I’ve been revisiting a lot of my unreleased work since, and of all the covers I did this is still my favorite. I am releasing it now, in tribute to a musician I admire and could have called friend if I had just paid a bit of attention.

The guy holding the roses was me, as it turns out. I had no idea.

+++++++++++++++++

For those of you with very long memories you should listen to the full single on Spotify, because I’ve thrown in a little bonus for people who remember the 1980’s band ASK. Just a little piece of a little ditty written by me, Kevin Donville and Ed Lee.

#Spotify

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fanartfunart · 4 years ago

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Heya! I really really like your style and saw the commission thing and was wondering how to, y'know, commission a tningy ^^' I haven't done it before

Glad you like my art and like it enough to consider commissioning! ^u^

My commission information page is here. I suggest looking through it. I explain how I work in that as well, at the very bottom. But, I’ll give ya a breakdown for the Never Commissioned Before. (since that version lowkey assumes at least slight familiarity)

It’s not too difficult or anything so don't stress it! If you want a general price-point before diving in or anything: for me, an average work tends to be around $35-50ish USD (usually mostly depending on color or number of characters) but some of the more complex stuff, which often includes multiple characters and background goes more up towards $200ish. If you’re tighter on cash, as I know a lot of people are, I suggest setting yourself a budget and telling me what it is! That way if you want something, but you can’t afford it, I can help make it something affordable! (ie I may suggest not using full color, or having a bust rather than a full character- etc)

For the actual process, I’ve put it under the cut. I go pretty in-depth and it got long.

Step One: Message me with what you want to commission me to do. Give a short description.

You can message me on tumblr or through my email [email protected]. I like it if you come in with a semi-solid idea of what you want. Hopefully you read through my commission page, but, I’m also happy to provide suggestions and ideas as well. I do fanart and original works! You should have a description of what you have in mind ready.

Here’s two examples on each extreme of what I can work with:

“A picture of my character, standing with their hands on their hips. They have long brown hair and eyes and wear a pirate-like costume”

“A picture of my character, standing with their hands on their hips, a little sassy in pose an expression. They have long brown hair that goes to their hips, and is parted to the left. They have brown eyes, and a small scar on their cheek. They’re a little stocky and they wear a v-cut loose black tunic, a purple vest and leather belt.”

I’d ask more questions for both of these! I’ve never had a commission where I don’t feel the need to ask for more information. If it’s an original character (or even au-versions of fanart or characters I’m not familiar with), I love hearing about who they are as a character, since that gives me a sense of what energy I’m trying to portray with the character. If you have references (doesn’t matter if it’s an amalgamation of references plucked off of google or something you drew yourself) that’s awesome! I don't require it, but, they’re always appreciated. I am totally open to helping you make decisions too! if you have the base idea, but you don’t know if you want them to have a coat or not, I can give you sketches with both options.

Step 2: Pricing.

If you don’t already mention it, I’ll ask you specifics of the things in my commission post- ie: if it’s full body or a half body, or if it’s full color or anything.

If anything on my commission post confuses you, you can always ask me for more examples or an explanation of the difference!

After determining exactly what you want me to do, I’ll usually give you an estimate for how much it would cost to complete. Sometimes, if you’re still deciding between things that determine the price, like how complex the pose is, I might do some sketches first and see which ones you like before giving you a price. I have a little leeway on pricing here, and if you think it’s too much, you’re welcome to ask me to explain why I priced it that way and if I can lower the price. That said, a lower price means lower complexity and detail.

If we’re confident in the price, I like if you pay me at this point, rather than later, as it’s easy to forget, and frankly, I’d rather not do all this work just for someone to take the image and not pay me at the end. I have some leeway, but I usually prefer if you pay me before I get to the last step before completion. If it’s a lineart work, that means after the sketch. If it’s a colored work, it means after the lineart.

Step 3: Sketches.

When I get started with sketches it usually takes me a day or 2 to get them done. I’ll give you several to choose from. I usually do about 4-6 individual sketches and label them by number (because I’m dyslexic and for the life of me never remember left vs right).

Once I send you a batch of sketches I’ll ask you for your opinion. I basically want to know: which sketch(es) fit your idea the best and if there’s anything I’m missing or need to get rid of. It’s going to be loose and messy, so if you want me to explain anything about how it looks, please feel free to ask. I can combine sketches if you like parts of one or two of them but as a whole they’re not perfect. If I’m totally off the mark, you can totally tell me so! That kinda means I didn’t do my job right in step 1, and I’ll ask more questions to understand which aspect I’m missing.

Once we have one sketch that works, I’ll ask you a few more questions about what you’d like to see on the lineart.

Step 4: Lineart

Depending on how complex it is and how busy my life is, this might take me a day or a whole week.

Using the sketch as my base I’ll use this time to make clean lines, get some details in (this is usually where expressions and clothes are defined beyond the general structure.)

I’ll send you the sketch after I’m finished and once again, ask you what you think and what might need adjustment. Your job is to nitpick here! Please, feel free to nitpick. Is the hair too short? Is the arm in a funky angle? Tell me! You’re buying it, you get to critique it. I’ll work with you to come to an agreeable look.

If you’re commissioning me for a colored work, I’ll also ask you for any clarification/changes from the original concept for the color.

Step 5: Color

This tends to take about 1-3 days.

If it’s flat color, it’ll be pretty simple, and shading or lighting will be done with kinda flat bold lines unless otherwise stated that you just want it Flat-Flat. It’s not my usual style, so most people tend to go for full color. Full color is my usual coloring style, and I use some pretty soft shading. It tends to reflect a midday-look, but if there’s a specific background I’m doing, I will match the color to it. Dynamic shading is a secondary layer of color. I usually do color and shading on one layer. Dynamic shading is where I work with really bold, dramatic lighting.

I usually work with a background at the same time as everything else, but, sometimes I don’t because I focused on one aspect or another, so that might be an additional step.

Once again, I’ll send the work to you and ask for your opinion.

Step 6: Finishing up

Once you’re happy with it, all that’s left is A) confirming you paid me (I’ll usually remember or write it down, so if you had, I won't ask.) B) signing the artwork and C) sending it to you via email. I usually send it as a .png but you’re welcome to request other filetypes. I’ll ask you for all these things too.

You’re also welcome to request that I record the process I can take screen-capture videos or I can screen-shot each step that I’m not screen-shotting already to send to get your opinion. (you’d have to ask me to do this at the beginning though.)

After all that, I’ll usually post it on my tumblr here, and you’ll have your commission!

#commissioning #answered asks #fanart's commissions

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ladylynse · 5 years ago

Text

Hey, folks, not sure if writing a bonus chapter of my Star-centric reveal fic Helpless counts for DP Side Hoes Week since it’s not a new fic, but I’m going to pretend it does. (This can be read on its own if you go off the starting point of Star already knowing Danny’s secret.)

Gathering for a training session was supposed to be a good thing. A simple thing. Straightforward. Except nothing’s really straightforward anymore, and Star’s not sure why she ever thought it would be. [FF | AO3]

-|-

“Why are they here?” Danny hissed to her, unable to hide his nervousness as he peered around the corner of the school at Paulina, Dash, Kwan, and Valerie. Valerie was the only one prepared—she was already doing stretches, while Paulina was just using a compact to touch up her makeup and Dash and Kwan were arm-wrestling on the bleachers—but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that Star had invited them all to the football field, to meet on one of the rare Thursday nights when Valerie didn’t have to work, and they had all come. That already spoke volumes, whatever Fenton thought.

Star crossed her arms. “Because I asked them to come. Because they all need a training session, too. And because you brought enough weapons with you, anyway, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but only because you said you wanted to try different stuff, and….” Danny trailed off and set the box he was carrying on the ground. The others would know Danny was here if they looked over and saw her standing where she was, but he was mostly hidden by the corner of the school. If he decided to bolt, she wouldn’t be able to stop him. He wasn’t afraid to use his powers in front of her now, providing he thought no one else would notice. “Seriously, Valerie does not need to be here. She has better aim than most people.”

“Which you know how, from watching her toss stuff into the garbage can from halfway across the room?”

Danny didn’t answer, but that was fine. Star didn’t really want an answer. She hadn’t pushed Valerie on that front, and she hadn’t really pushed Danny, either, aside from a bit of pointed needling. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth yet.

The fact that Danny was Phantom, that Paulina had a crush on the kid she routinely called a loser, that Dash idolized the guy he shoved into a locker almost every day, that Valerie had dated Danny despite ranting about Phantom at every opportunity, was more than enough to take in.

If Danny didn’t want to tell them his secret, fine. Whatever. She wouldn’t tell them either. But letting himself be bullied to this extent for the sake of invisibility was just stupid. Maybe it was being a halfa, maybe it was being a teenager, but he did not have the sense of self-preservation he claimed to have. Star had seen social suicide more than once, and this was definitely it.

You could still not draw attention to yourself without being the school punching bag.

Frankly, she’d argue that Danny would draw less attention to himself if he wasn’t always being picked on and showing no physical signs of it. Really, if he could be slammed into the street so hard that it formed a crater and he didn’t even bruise, being shoved into a locker wasn’t going to leave any marks. And it didn’t. Nothing she’d seen did, at least not for any length of time. Eventually, someone else would notice, and that would be the attention he claimed to not want.

Of course, when she tried telling that to him, he didn’t listen.

“Look,” Danny said quietly, “I’m fine with showing you some stuff, but they’ll…. They’ll have questions. And Dash will shoot me with something. You know he will. I’ll just pretend to get sick and—”

“Stuff it, Fenton, you’re doing this.” He blinked at her, and Star rolled her eyes. “Seriously. It’s not going to blow your secret. Trust me, no one is going to put that together without more clues than the fact that you know how to use the stuff your parents invent. Which is totally normal, seeing as they’re your parents. Besides, if you were this freaked out by the very idea of anyone seeing you as a semi-competent ghost hunter, you’d have never led us all when we fought to get our parents back. You even said yourself that you know how to work all their gear. It’s not like that’s going to be a new revelation.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it.

She smirked. “Let me carry that box for you, and you can go back to pretending to be a weakling. Want me to tell them Jazz dropped you off?”

“They’re not going to ask,” Danny muttered, but he helped her pick up the box of weaponry—which was good, because it was heavier than it looked. She grunted and shifted its weight, trying to get a better grip. The last thing she wanted to do was drop this and set something off.

Even knowing what she did, it was hard to remember that Fenton was really strong—especially compared to what she’d seen him do in gym class, which was practically pathetic by anyone’s standards. Sure, she didn’t expect everyone to be able to climb a rope, but he couldn’t run for thirty seconds before gasping for air. For someone who fought a lot, he was really unfit.

Of course, that might be because he spent most of his time flying and phasing and not running and dodging like the rest of them. Or at least not dodging as much as the rest of them, since she’d seen him dodge, and his quick reflexes spoke for themselves. Granted, they all had the chance to hide, and he didn’t.

But all too often, hiding meant being cornered, and being cornered meant being helpless, and she wasn’t doing that again.

Which was why they were doing this.

Besides, Danny owed her for keeping this a secret. Well, technically, either they were even or she owed him for saving her life more than once, but he thought he owed her, and she wasn’t going to correct that assumption.

“Fenton’s here, you guys,” Star called as they got closer. Danny was doing a remarkable job of trying to hide behind her, keeping well out of Dash’s reach without making it overly obvious that that’s exactly what he was doing. Really, she’d never realized how good he was at that kind of thing.

Star dumped the box unceremoniously on the bleachers, unable to hold it any longer, and winced at the clink and clatter of the weapons inside. Luckily, nothing exploded. She glanced over her shoulder at Danny. “What’d you bring?”

“Just a variety of stuff,” he mumbled, edging around her towards the box.

Dash beat him to it. “Outta my way, Fenturd,” he said. He tossed a couple of ecto-guns towards Kwan and kept rummaging. “I don’t see that bazooka thing in here.”

“It’s not a beginner’s weapon.”

Dash rounded on Danny. “You think I can’t handle it?”

Danny’s eye twitched. “It’s best for everyone to start off small.”

“I told him to bring more compact stuff,” Star put in before Dash could get out the retort that had to be on the tip of his tongue. She peeked into the box, spotting a small cylinder which had rolled into the back corner. “Seriously, Fenton? I told you the lipstick laser thing was a bad idea.”

“Ooh, I want that one,” Paulina said, finally putting her compact away and coming over. “Make up is the best weapon a girl can have!”

Star bit her tongue and handed the weapon to Paulina. She couldn’t contradict her in front of everyone and expect to remain friends. Besides, she was pretty sure the whole point of the Fenton Lipstick thing was to make a weapon that was easy to carry around and to hide. In Paulina’s case—and even in her own, if she trusted herself a bit more—it would work perfectly.

Danny claimed these weapons didn’t actually harm humans, but she was pretty sure he was a halfa because of some lab accident—can’t just have been contaminated food if he was the only one out of the whole family affected—so she didn’t put too much stock in any of the so-called safety features of these things.

Still.

There were enough ghosts around that she was willing to take the risk.

Of course, Dash and Kwan were already shooting at each other with ecto-guns and trying to dodge the blasts, so she should find out soon enough how detrimental it was for a human to be hit.

“Is that a whip?” Valerie asked, raising an eyebrow at Danny as she looked up from the box.

“Jack-o’-nine-tails. You’ve probably seen my dad using it. It’s, um, a little more advanced than some of the other stuff. Not really point and shoot, I mean, but if you can get a ghost—”

“I’ll play around with it,” she said, scooping it out of the box and heading to the far corner of the football field, well away from Paulina and Dash and Kwan.

“You thought I’d be good with a whip?” Star asked, not bothering to hide her smirk.

“You’re a cheerleader,” Danny muttered. “You have to have a good arm. Here,” he said, abruptly changing the subject by pulling a baton-like weapon out of the box and handing it to her. “This is Mom’s latest version of the Fenton Utility Weapon. It’s similar to the version you used on the pirate ship, but it can do a lot more stuff. If you don’t like that, try the wrist ray. That’s Sam’s favourite.”

Star pressed a button on the side, and a green light shot out of the top like a light saber. Danny jerked back, narrowly avoiding the beam. “Sorry,” Star said. “I didn’t know it was going to do that.”

“Press that button again,” he said. She did, and the light vanished. “Now grab it at the top and twist. Just, like, half a turn. Point it away from me and press the button.”

This time, something like a cattle prod shot out of the end and crackled with electricity.

“You can experiment with it; there are a bunch of different settings, but the button is always the main on/off activation. Press and hold it to activate the safety when you’re done. I’ll, uh, I guess I’ll set up some targets and see if I can convince the others to actually use them.”

“I didn’t invite everyone just to mess with you. You know that, right?” Danny avoided looking at her, so Star added, “I figured you’d say no if I asked.”

“So you did it anyway? I told you, I don’t want to stand out in a crowd.”

“That’s not what this is about. It’s…. Danny, you’ll always be able to fight back against ghosts. You’re a weapon; the only extra stuff you need to carry with you is a thermos. Do you even remember what it’s like to feel helpless?”

He snorted. “Of course I do. Being the kid no one pays attention to is great, since it’s easier for me to sneak away, but sometimes I can’t use my powers. Case and point, the last time you used something like that.”

Star frowned. “You practically equipped the entire class. How exactly were you helpless?”

“Fine, so maybe that’s not the best example. But even when we were stuck in detention together, I couldn’t really fight back until you were out of the room.” He hesitated. “And, I mean, yeah, in hindsight, pushing you through the floor might not have been the smartest idea, especially when I didn’t know what you were going to fall onto, but I’m still not great at clones. The point is, my hands are tied if someone who doesn’t know my secret is right there, watching me, and all the ghosts know it. Including some of the ones I haven’t run into before, apparently.”

There was a yelp from the middle of the field, followed by Paulina’s indignant, “Watch where you’re pointing those! You almost messed up my hair.”

Star wasn’t entirely surprised that Dash’s response was more laughter than apology.

“Yeah, okay, but believe it or not, these guys? And me, obviously? Always helpless in a ghost attack. No defense. It’s basically run, hide, hunker down, and hope someone—you, the Red Huntress, even your parents—comes along and saves us. And it sucks. A lesson in how to use your parents’ stuff might not stop Dash from whaling on you, but if he decides to buy something—”

“He’s just going to keep that ecto-gun. You know that, right?”

“—then he’ll have a way to fight back and defend himself. That assurance is invaluable.”

“He took the net-gun, too. Neither of those is invaluable.”

Star growled. “Fine. You’re not happy. I get it. I’m sorry for thinking I could help my friends.” Sarcasm wasn’t a good point to end this conversation on, not when he was helping her, so she added, “Thanks for not backing out when you saw them.” She couldn’t keep her annoyance and exasperation out of her tone, but it was marginally better than saying nothing.

“I promised you a weapon. And they would’ve found out you had one sooner rather than later.” He shrugged. “It might be better this way.”

Great, now she felt horrible for overreacting. Star took a deep breath, let it out, and then said, “Yeah. But I’m sorry. Really. I should’ve run it by you.”

“Trust me, this is not the worst surprise I’ve gotten in my life.” He grinned at her. “See if you can find all the weapons in that. My last count is twelve, but I don’t know if I’ve found them all, either.”

Danny ran off to try to convince Dash and Kwan not to shoot at each other—or maybe to tell Paulina not to try to use the laser to scorch a picture into the grass—and Star couldn’t help but laugh. It was just….

Even with all he put up with as Fenton, even with all he did as Phantom, he was still nice enough to take the time out of his night to make good on a promise to her. She knew Dash’s opinion wasn’t going to change overnight and that he’d have Danny in a locker tomorrow, given the opportunity. She knew Paulina would sneer at him and call him a loser even if she never relinquished the lipstick weapon. She knew Kwan wasn’t going to see this as anything but a bit of fun—bonus points if a lot of it came at Danny’s expense, most likely.

But she also knew it could be a start, and he couldn’t even see that.

Star jogged closer to Valerie—not near enough to be within range of the whip, which Val seemed to be getting the hang of very quickly, but near enough that she was sufficiently far enough away from the other three. Danny was right; Valerie was good, even with a weapon she hadn’t used before, and the others…. Well, not so much. But that might just be because they lacked focus.

That and Valerie’s black belt training, since that probably helped somehow, albeit not necessarily when it came to using a new weapon.

Star tried multiple combinations of movement on the puzzle box that was the Fenton Utility Weapon. She’d found five more weapons—pole extension, machete-like blade, mini grappling hook, electrified whip, and what was presumably a phase-proof weighted net—when she heard Dash and Kwan cheering, followed by Paulina’s trilling laugh.

Somehow, it didn’t come as a surprise to see Danny entangled in the net-gun’s phase-proof net.

It certainly couldn’t be the first time he’d been caught in one, but he could hardly get out of it using his ghost powers, and the fact that Dash was beginning to jog around and drag him meant he couldn’t get out the way anyone else might, either.

Star ran over. “Cut it out, you guys. Fenton’s helping us.”

“It’s fine,” Kwan said. “We’re training.”

Dash grinned as he ran past her. “Yeah, Fentoenail’s the ghost, and we need to wear him down.”

Right now, all they were doing was covering Danny’s clothes with grass stains as he tried and failed to wrestle free. If he wasn’t so resilient, he’d end up with a bad friction burn, but as it was….

“Don’t worry about it,” Paulina said as Dash passed Danny to Kwan. “They’re just having some fun.”

Danny was right. She shouldn’t have invited them. She didn’t even know how to make them stop. They weren’t going to listen to her, especially if Paulina was on their side.

She still had to try, though. “C’mon,” Star yelled at them, “Fenton’s doing us a favour! Don’t you wanna be able to do something the next time a ghost attacks instead of just running away?”

She could see that Danny had set up targets at the far end of the field. She could also see that they hadn’t been used. At least, she was guessing that the scorch marks in the grass were from when the weapons had been aimed at him, not at the targets, since they were similar to the ones left earlier and, well, since they led away from the actual targets. Dash and Kwan should have decent aim, and even Paulina….

“This was a stupid idea, wasn’t it?” Star said to Paulina when no one answered. “The only one who’s getting anything out of this is me. And Valerie, I guess.” Star glanced over her shoulder to see what Valerie was doing—surely she’d try to step up to help Fenton? They were still friends—only to realize that Valerie was no longer there.

“What are you talking about?” Paulina said. “I’ve got this cool new lipstick weapon. I can’t wait to show the ghost boy. I’m going to ask him to teach me to use it, and we’ll spend so much time together, and—”

A high-pitched scream cut Paulina off. Dash. He and Kwan had stopped dragging Danny and were instead running back towards her and Paulina, and behind them—

“Yes, you should run, whelps,” Skulker said, levelling a pair of missile launchers at them. “I am the Ghost Zone’s Greatest Hunter. My reputation should precede me.”

He’s baiting Danny. Star didn’t know why it surprised her. He was ignoring Danny for now, focusing on them to force Danny into action. Taking him while he was strapped in the net would be cheating, not just easy prey. But as long as they were there, Danny couldn’t—

“C’mon, Star, move,” Paulina grabbed her hand and pulled, and Star obediently started running.

She was always running.

She hated running.

“I…I can’t….” How could she say this and not completely lose her social standing in Paulina’s eyes? “It’s my fault Fenton’s here. I’ve gotta help him. You guys hide.”

“It’s just Fenton,” Paulina hissed, tugging her harder as Star tried to slow. “He’ll be fine. He always is. Besides, he brought all those weapons. He has to know how to use them.”

“He needs to get out of the net first.” She jerked her hand free. “Just hide. I’ll find you as soon as I cut him free.”

“The ghost boy can help him.”

The ghost boy was him. Danny might be able to get free easily enough once the others were gone, but if something slowed him down—

“It’s my fault he’s here,” Star said again, and then she turned and started running the other way. Paulina shouted after her, but when Star finally looked back, Paulina was rounding the corner of the school.

Dash and Kwan would be able to keep her safe. They still had an ecto-gun, maybe two, between them. And Paulina still had the lipstick weapon. Valerie…. Star didn’t even know where Valerie was. Somewhere safe, probably, having spotted the ghost and run in a different direction? Except, if she’d seen the ghost, wouldn’t she have said something? Or, more accurately, screamed something?

Star tried to remember what combination would yield the knife on the Fenton Utility Weapon. When she wound up on something that looked like garden shears, she deemed it good enough and kept running, holding the weapon out to one side in case she tripped.

She was not exactly inconspicuous, and it wasn’t long before she was back to wondering if she was even sane. Skulker was pointing the weapons at her now, and she was still running towards them, and Danny—

Why wasn’t Danny freezing or blasting his way out of the net?

Why hadn’t he transformed?

Why was he just sitting there?

What the heck was he waiting f—?

A blast of pink energy hit Skulker’s form. Star ducked on instinct, despite still being over ten feet away, and only looked up again when she heard the Red Huntress speak. “Hey, ghost scum, scram or see what it’s like to face a real hunter!”

Star scrambled forward, closing the distance between her and Danny while the Red Huntress distracted the ghost. “Why the heck didn’t you transform or try to get away?” she hissed as she made a clumsy attempt to cut him free. “We’re lucky the Red Huntress showed up when she did!”

“Lucky,” Danny said flatly. “Yeah. That’s one way of putting it.” He took the Fenton Utility Weapon from her shaking hands and cut himself free. That was just as well; she could see at a glance that there was no way either of them could untangle the knot by hand, not when it was pulled that tight, and she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to use his ice powers in front of the Red Huntress.

He collapsed the weapon, handed it back to her, and crawled free. “Keep low,” he said, as if she planned to do anything else while Skulker and the Red Huntress traded blows practically on top of them.

She followed him to the bleachers. As cover went, it was barely better than nothing. “Why aren’t you going to help?” she whispered. “Even if you don’t want to transform here, you can run off and—”

“She can handle this one,” Danny said, nodding in the direction of the Red Huntress. “She’s a good shot, and I don’t want to push my luck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t want her to realize that there are two ghosts here. It’s not exactly a secret that she hates Phantom.”

Star frowned. “Why didn’t…?” Maybe she shouldn’t ask. Maybe she shouldn’t press him. But, given what she knew, his inaction seemed at odds with the way he usually went about trying to save them all. “I don’t get it. This is a ghost. I know the Red Huntress is here now, but you couldn’t have known she was coming. Why not just free yourself once we were all running away? You know no one’s going to look back until after they hope they’re out of sight.”

Danny shrugged. “Cameras?” He didn’t even try to sound particularly convinced.

“Fenton, c’mon. Remember how I said I wasn’t stupid?”

He sighed, looking utterly unconcerned by the firefight going on in the air barely twenty feet away. “Look, the Red Huntress has a way to detect ghosts. It’s, like, a smaller, way more inconspicuous version of Mom and Dad’s Fenton Finder. And it’s accurate. And when it goes off, if she can get away to help, she does. So I wasn’t surprised to see her turn up.”

Star stared at him. “You can’t know that she wasn’t busy. That she was close. You just…. You can’t. Which makes you not trying to save our butts kinda dangerous, don’t you think? Just because you handed us all weapons ten minutes ago, doesn’t mean we have a clue how to use them effectively. I couldn’t even….” She waved the Fenton Utility Weapon around vaguely. “This kind of thing takes practice. More practice than five seconds.”

He had the nerve to smile at her. “Glad you recognize that. Do you think you want to stick with that weapon or try a different one? Like I said, Sam—”

“Danny. I’m serious. I don’t…. Even if you weren’t really hurt by Skulker’s weapons, we could’ve been. The Red Huntress….” Star trailed off, watching as the hunter in question pulled out a thermos of her own—not a Fenton Thermos, despite the obvious similarities—and captured Skulker. “She’s not always going to be there. And neither are you. Which is why I want to learn something. But I can’t…. If you planned this, if you talked to Skulker and the Red Huntress and—”

“Wait, hold on, you seriously think I planned this?” Danny looked incredulous. “Star, I don’t plan ghost attacks. I don’t stage anything to look like the good guy, whatever my parents think. And even if, for some obscure reason, I decided to try, you really think the Red Huntress would agree to help? No. Just, no. Even if I asked her as Fenton, she doesn’t trust ghosts. She’d never agree to a crazy plan like that.”

“Well, then how else can you explain being so…so nonchalant about all of this? You didn’t even look particularly worried when I came to help you out of the net!”

Danny let out a slow breath, glanced over in time to watch the Red Huntress speed away on her jet sled, and turned back to Star. “Okay. Look. I didn’t know Skulker was going to show up until a few seconds before he actually did. That’s usually all the warning I get. But I knew the Red Huntress was close. I saw her. And I know how sensitive her watch is. I knew she was going to hear it beep and then find a way to run off and come back to fight Skulker. I…I know who she is. And how dedicated she is. Even if she’d rather have a crack at Phantom, she’s not going to just let a ghost go when they’re threatening her friends—or anyone else in town.”

Star frowned. He wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying, was he? That was ridiculous. Just because he wasn’t the only classmate she had who ran off when a ghost attacked—

“Is everyone okay?”

That was Valerie’s voice.

A few seconds later, she was running around the corner of the school.

Her eyes barely scanned the football field before they zeroed in on Danny and Star, despite the fact that they were still crouched in shadow beneath the bleachers.

“Star? Danny? Are you all right?” Valerie ran closer, circling around the bleachers to meet them from the back. “Did Paulina and Dash and Kwan get away okay?”

Valerie never had liked Phantom.

“We’re fine,” Danny said. “Glad you got away safely, too.”

“You two were cutting it close,” Val said. “Star’s right; we really needed this training session. I…. Thanks for showing us your parents’ stuff, Danny.”

Danny hadn’t really shown her anything. He’d confirmed that the weapon Valerie had chosen was a whip, and she’d figured the rest out for herself. Without nearly decapitating anyone or, as far as Star had seen, even shocking herself with its electricity feature.

Like she was familiar with the weaponry, if not the weapon.

“We’re going to have to do it again,” Star murmured. She had to be wrong. This…. No. This was Valerie. Her best friend, aside from Paulina. “Might not bother to invite the others if they won’t take it seriously, though.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “I know what you mean. They never listen to me. I was thrilled you listened to me and asked Danny to do this. I should’ve thought of that ages ago. But if we can at least get you to be able to defend yourself, we can work on the others.”

Was she pretending her extensive martial arts training was enough to give her an edge to using ghost hunting weapons, to the point that it didn’t matter that she should be completely unfamiliar with the technology?

“I, uh, vote that they don’t come if I do this again,” Danny said.

He was pretending this was normal.

He was always pretending.

So was Valerie. And, now, so was she. Even with them. Even with each other. Even….

Oh, man, should she tell Valerie her suspicions? Even if she never mentioned anything about Danny? Would that be enough to get Val to open up to her if she was right, or would it just make her brush it all off? Danny had tried to throw her off the scent, but his secret was different, and she and Valerie had always told each other everything. Which boys they kinda sorta liked, what they actually dreamed of doing when they were adults, as opposed to what they thought they’d end up doing, what they really thought about—

“I’m off Monday night,” Valerie offered. “I wouldn’t mind trying a few more of your parents’ weapons, Danny, if you’re up for this again. Just the three of us. We don’t have to tell the others, and Lancer usually doesn’t give us an awful amount of homework right away.” She glanced at Star but said to Danny, “Sam and Tucker can come instead. I mean, you’ve probably shown them this stuff already, but Star and I can use the extra help.”

Maybe this wasn’t really happening. Maybe she was just dreaming this, and she’d wake up and she’d have to live through another Thursday and then they’d get to the real training session that night, where none of this had happened.

Except Star’s heart was still thundering in her chest, and she already had a cramp in her leg from crouching in this position, and she didn’t even need to raise a hand to know that she was shaking.

“That works for me, unless I get detention or something.”

Valerie snorted. “Try not to sleep in class or miss it entirely.”

“I mean, I always try.”

“Guys.” Star didn’t realize she’d actually spoken aloud until they were both looking at her. “Another training session sounds great, really. I could definitely use it. Just…. I don’t want to plan it right this minute. I’ve got…stuff to think about.”

“Like what you’re going to say to Paulina if she broke a nail and blames you?” Valerie asked. Star shot her a look, and she relented. “Okay, okay, I might still be a little bit bitter over the way she cut me out. But, really, I’m glad you’re finally taking the initiative and doing this. You need to be able to protect yourself.”

“We all do,” Star said, but they already could. She was the only one of the three who couldn’t. They were willing to help her, and that was great, but….

Seriously.

How had she not noticed this before?

Especially after she’d figured out what was up with Fenton?

Not that she’d known exactly until she’d tricked him into confessing, but still. She’d known something was up. And with Valerie, she…hadn’t.

But something was very clearly up, and now Star was almost certain she knew what it was, and she just….

“Why don’t we head to the Nasty Burger? The others are probably there anyway, and you can catch up with them. It’ll calm you down. You still look pretty freaked out, Star.”

Was that Danny telling her that he knew that she’d figured it out? The thing he’d hinted at but never explicitly told her?

“You wanna bring your parents’ stuff to the Nasty Burger?” Valerie asked. “And you want me to walk in there with you? You think I want to lose my job?”

“Well, you guys can go ahead. I’ll just stash the stuff in my locker or something and meet up with you after.”

“The school’s locked.”

“Then I can take it home. Or phone Jazz. Or just skip it entirely. I mean, Sam and Tucker—”

“We’ll help you pack up,” Star interrupted, “and you can phone Jazz to pick you up again while I text Paulina. Valerie’s right; she’ll be with the boys. We’ll, um, meet up with you another time, unless Jazz is okay with running the stuff home on her own and you can catch up with us later.”

Star knew she wasn’t mistaking the look of relief that crossed Danny’s face. “Sounds good.”

It was what he’d asked her to do: cover for him when the others couldn’t.

She just…hadn’t imagined it would be like this.

Of course, she’d never imagined any of this. How could Danny and Valerie—

“C’mon, Star.” Valerie pulled her up to her feet, and Star couldn’t find the energy to resist. Danny was ignoring them, talking on the phone to Jazz—or Sam or Tucker pretending to be Jazz, for all she knew. “You’ll feel better with a small, low-fat chocolate shake in you. My treat.”

“Thanks,” Star murmured.

“Trust me,” Valerie said as she let Star collapse onto the front bench of the bleachers and began to pack what was left of the FentonWorks weaponry back into the box, “some training days are rougher than others. You can’t let one bad experience turn you off. The key is to stick to it.”

“Right.” Star wasn’t going to disagree. This had been her idea. She’d asked Danny to do this, and she’d asked everyone to come here. Including Valerie, who obviously didn’t need it nearly as much as the rest of them but had been happy to come anyway.

But maybe that was okay. Maybe she didn’t have to confront Valerie on this. She was still coping with finding out about Danny; she could broach the subject with Valerie later. Much later. Or maybe she could wait for Valerie to feel comfortable with telling her on her own. That was possible, right? She was already keeping Danny’s secret. She could keep Valerie’s, too.

She didn’t have to mention that it was odd that Valerie knew exactly how to disengage a tangled, torn net from a net-gun that she had supposedly never used before.

She didn’t have to ask how Valerie knew to collapse and then activate the safety on the Fenton Utility Weapon.

She could just…turn a blind eye to it for now. Like Danny was, and probably Sam and Tucker, too.

She could let a couple of the best ghost hunters in town teach her how to defend herself against ghosts, even though neither of them would admit to being nearly as good as they were in front of the other.

Yeah.

She could do that.

And if the opportunity ever came up to try to subtly convince Valerie that Phantom wasn’t the evil piece of ghost scum she thought he was, well, Star could take it. She owed Danny that much, since this clearly hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped. Valerie already knew Star supported Phantom, so it wouldn’t be strange. And if Star had to hint that she knew Valerie’s secret to get her to listen, well, she could cross that bridge when she came to it.

Some things really needed to be taken one day at a time, and Star was good at that.

-|-

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