#green with a bit of a teal tint- whatever that's called

[all-time-champ-of-today]

We did it! We're just adding the finishing touches and it's done!

Thanks, @cassandra-j0n3s you're amazing! I had so much fun ☺

[ghostsray]

danny grows baby fangs

truce gift for @phantomofprocrastination!! happy new decade :)

word count: 3,080

____

Being friends with a rival ghost has its pros and cons. The pros are that Danny can call on them whenever he needs help fighting a bigger, badder ghost. The cons are that this does nothing to stop his ally from attacking him whenever they like.

He was awoken in the dead of night (pun intended) by his ghost sense escaping his throat. He quickly transformed and flew outside, preparing to fight a ghost wreaking havoc. Instead, he was met by Johnny, who asked for a spar.

Danny sighed and ran a hand across his face. "Really? You couldn't have picked a better time for this?"

"Of course not!" Johnny delightfully replied. "All the humans are asleep, so you don't have to worry about hurting any of them."

That was...surprisingly thoughtful. Still didn't make it any less annoying. Danny fixed him with a glare and said, "Johnny. I'm half human. I also need to sleep."

The ghost's eyes widened, and his mouth formed a circle. "Oh."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Can you go back to the GZ so I can get back to bed?"

Unfortunately, he already knew the answer he would receive when Johnny's face twisted into a wicked smirk. "But you're already here, aren't you? And I do have some energy I need to let out..."

"Dude, I swear..."

Danny didn't have time to finish his threat because the biker ghost was already sending his shadow to attack him. Inwardly, Danny groaned. Here he thought that he was making good progress this year in befriending his previous enemies, but it turns out they're too trained in Hating Danny On Sight to fully stop torturing him.

Danny blocked another swing from the shadow. He formed a ball of ectoplasm in his hands and used its light to fend the phantom off. As he watched it retreat, he bared his teeth at Johnny with a growl, trying to convey clearly that he wasn't happy.

For some reason, Johnny had the opposite reaction. He held up a hand to hold his shadow back and stared at Danny. "Wait, do that again," he said.

Danny frowned, confused. "Do what?"

"Bare your teeth."

Danny was Hella Confused, but he did as he was asked. Johnny clapped his hands and laughed.

"You're growing baby fangs!"

"...What."

The older ghost got closer until he was floating right in front of Danny's face. He pointed at the halfa's mouth, and his face adopted the kind of expression Jazz would make if she saw a baby animal. "Right there," the ghost said with a smile, "the cutest, widdwest baby fa--"

All of a sudden, a light enveloped Johnny, and he looked down to see the halfa sucking him into a Fenton thermos. "Hey! Not fair!" he whined, his voice shrinking as he went in.

"Sorry, but you deserved it," Danny spoke into the cylinder before he closed it.

He sunk from his spot in the air until his boots touched the ground. As soon as he did, he thought about what Johnny said. Now that he noticed, his gums were hurting. When he touched them with his tongue, he felt something sharp growing among his teeth. What did Johnny say? Fangs?

Danny looked at the building sitting across from his home. The lights indoors were all turned off, and the windows perfectly reflected the street and Danny on it. Danny let himself hover an inch off the ground and floated toward the glass. Once he got close enough, he studied his reflection.

Over the years, his ghost form had changed into something a bit more...ghostly. Before, the only parts of his appearance that changed were his eye and hair colors. Now, his hair became wispy, his skin grew tinted green, and even the freckles that had long ago faded from his human skin now literally glowed in ghost form.

Danny ignored these details. (He especially ignored how uncomfortable he felt seeing himself look less and less human.) Instead, he opened his mouth and focused on the trait Johnny pointed out to him.

Sure enough, two small, white points were growing from where his canine teeth should be. Danny stared. Were those really going to grow into fangs? Honestly, he's not sure why he was surprised. Pretty much every ghost he knew had fangs. Even Vlad did, and he's a halfa too.

He grinned at his reflection, and the reflection grinned back, showing off his brand new pair of fangs. Danny tried to imagine what the would look like on him once they grow, replacing the small points with something longer and sharper.

This was a mistake.

Suddenly the image before him seemed eerily familiar. Wispy hair, almost like fire. Greenish skin bordering on teal. Growing muscles underneath his jumpsuit. And fangs.

The grin was gone from Danny's face, but the reflection still smiled. Since when had its eyes turned red?

Danny took a shaky step back.

It was him.

The thermos slipped from his hands with a clunk. He gulped.

He was turning into him.

Fire entered Danny's nose. Fire, and the smell of burning flesh. He whipped around, eyes out of focus. The Nasty Burger. It was gone. The flames licked the sky and danced on where the building once stood.

His family. His friends. He couldn't save them.

"No," he softly said, as if that could erase the scene before him.

He dropped onto his knees on the pavement. The smoke stung his eyes and filled his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

"No," he repeated, gasping and gripping onto his hairs. "No, no, no."

His eyes fell on the thermos next to him. The metal surface reflected Danny's face, but it wasn't the face he saw in the mirror yesterday. It was his face from tomorrow. Red eyes, wispy hair, and grinning at him with long, sharp fangs.

An ecto-blast shot past his ear, jolting Danny back to reality. He looked up, his eyes finally focusing on someone standing over him...someone wearing a teal jumpsuit and red goggles...his mom?

But he saw her die, didn't he? There was the explosion, and...and she was blasted apart like everyone else...and then...oh, right.

It felt like he was finally waking up. The air around him was clear. He wasn't in front of the Nasty Burger, he was in front of his own house. And even if he was there, the restaurant would still be standing. The explosion never happened. Clockwork erased that timeline.

His family was still alive. Maddie was still alive.

A fact that helpfully made itself apparent by the gun she was pointing at him.

"Why are you doing that?" his mother asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Doing what?" he replied.

"Pretending to cry."

Danny touched his cheeks. Was he really crying? Sure enough, his gloves came back wet.

"Answer me, phantom," Maddie's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and bitter.

Danny let his hands fall onto his lap and gulped. "I'm not pretending."

"Of course you are," Maddie stated matter-of-factly. "Ghosts can't shed genuine tears. After all, it's not like they can feel--"

"Yes, they can," Danny suddenly snapped. "They feel! All they do is feel! That's why they're aggressive. Not because they lack emotion, but because they're created from it! Not that it matters to you, since you never listen to what I say."

Maddie's jaw dropped. As soon as the words left Danny's mouth, he knew it was out of character for him. Phantom was a smooth ghost who only spoke to tell bad puns and mock his enemies. He never snapped at anyone like that. A part of him felt ashamed for yelling at his mother, but he wasn't in the mood to feel guilty about it.

He averted his eyes and wiped at his tears. Man, he must have looked pathetic. Why was Maddie even out here? Of course, he had forgotten that his parents had almost as little sleep as he did. She was probably pulling an all-nighter working on some new invention to kill him when she noticed the ghost having a breakdown outside their house.

Danny tried to ignore the embarrassment he felt and pushed himself to his feet. If Maddie noticed the way he shook as he pulled himself up, she didn't comment on it. He took a deep breath. The smell of fire still lingered in his nose.

"Never mind," he said, not looking at her as he spoke. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight." He turned away and prepared to take flight, but a hand suddenly gripped at his wrist, and he turned back to see Maddie holding on to him.

"Wait," she said. After a moment of hesitation, she let go and...lowered her gun? "Let's assume I believe what you said, about ghosts feeling emotion. Why are you crying?"

Danny had to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming. Talking and not shooting? That was new. He must have stared at her for a long time in surprise, because she frowned and urged, "Well?"

He blinked and looked down. "It's nothing."

"So you are faking?"

"What? No!"

"Then what is it?"

He bit his lip. How could he even begin to explain it? Hey, no biggie, but I sort of saw an alternate timeline where I went evil and killed you, which happened a long time ago but apparently I'm not as over it as I thought. Yeah, no. Instead, he asked, "Why do you care?"

He looked up and saw something soften in her face. Her brows knitted, but in an I'm-willing-to-hear-you kind of way, just like the days in his childhood when she sat next to him in bed, ready to soothe him as he woke up crying from another nightmare. It made him meet her eyes, forgetting for just a moment that they were supposed to be enemies. She was not Maddie the ghosthunter, but Mom.

Then the illusion broke when she said, "With how much power you have, it is my duty as a ghosthunter to make sure you dont step out of line. Anything that would cause you to act differently from usual should concern me."

His chest crumpled. Of course she didn't care, and why would she? He was a ghost. This was nothing more than another duty for her as a ghosthunter.

He tried not to show his disappointment, but it must have shown anyway because Maddie asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he lied. "Of course not."

She sighed. "Of course not." She crossed her arms and turned away, then muttered under her breath, "I don't know why I thought I could help a ghost. I can't even help my own children."

Danny guessed he wasn't meant to hear that last part, but he did. He stared at her incredulously and asked, "What?"

She stiffened, then quickly said, "Nothing. I don't need to tell you about my family life."

He took one step toward her, then immediately took a step back when she aimed her gun on him. Right, he forgot she didn't holster that.

"I mean it," she warned. "This isn't about me."

He stumbled and fell onto the pavement. Maddie stood over him, still aiming her weapon at him. Were they not just having a moment? Obviously not. Maddie Fenton was never one to have moments with a ghost.

"Really, quit breathing. I know you don't need to do that."

Danny only then noticed how hard his chest was rising and falling. He gulped. "I can't keep doing this," he suddenly spoke.

The hand holding the gun faltered. "Doing what?"

His eyes stung, but he held back his tears because he knew she would tell him he was faking again, and he didn't want that to happen. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the red goggles that covered hers and said, "Fighting you, being your enemy, until the day you die."

Maddie remained calm as she said, "You're a ghost. I'm a ghosthunter."

"That doesn't mean we have to fight." He gestured between them and added, "I mean, we were just having a conversation. At least until you pulled out your gun again."

"Is that why you brought me out here?"

"I didn't. You came on your own."

"You were acting strange," she replied. "You still didn't answer why."

His core thrummed against his chest as he continued to stare into her gun. Why are you crying? Because he's still scared of becoming his evil self. Because he doesn't want to hurt his family. Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw their scorched remains, and he doesn't want to be the person to cause that to happen.

"I don't want to be a bad ghost," he answered.

Maddie tilted her head. "That can't be it," she spoke in her snobby scientist voice. "Ghosts dont have a sense of right and wrong--"

"Would you stop making assumptions about ghost morals? I'm the ghost here, not you."

That was the second time he snapped at her. He tore his eyes away from her, instead choosing to glare at the street. Maddie was quiet. "...You're serious," she finally said.

"Yeah, no shit."

She lowered her gun...just slightly. "That still doesn't explain things," she said. "Why the sudden reaction? The tears?"

His eyes landed on the thermos that lay a few feet away, reflecting his green skin and wispy hair and glowing eyes on its surface. His gums hurt.

Danny shut his eyes and gulped back bile. "I...I did something bad, okay?" he said, his voice small. "I thought I could forget about it, but I can't. I--I don't want it to happen again."

A moment of silence hung between them, broken only by the soft whistle of the breeze. He hoped she wouldn't ask, but he knew the question was coming anyway. "What did you do?"

His hands shook. He gripped them into fists, but that did nothing to ebb his emotions.

"Phantom," Maddie urged. "What did--"

"I killed people!" The tears escaped his eyes, which opened to reveal toxic green irises that shone brighter than the streetlights. He faced Maddie, his expression contorted in guilt and pain and Ancients why do his gums still hurt as he cried, "I killed people. They died, and it was because of me. I killed them."

He waited for her to get angry at him, to shoot him. Instead, she gave him a reaction he didn't expect.

"Now I know you're faking," she said, lowering her gun completely.

He blinked away his tears. "What?"

"Feeling guilt over someone's death? Ghosts can't care about that." She held up a hand and continued, "Before you argue again about whether ghosts have morals or not, I'm talking about the concept of life and death. You're dead, so you shouldn't be able to bother over whether others are, too."

Danny sat back and let those words sink in. Was that why his alternate self had seemed so heartless? He had removed his humanity, and along with it, any sympathy he had left toward life. If Danny had fully died in that portal, would he...?

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. "But I don't want others to suffer the same fate I did," he argued.

"That's not what other ghosts seem to think," Maddie pointed out. "Even if your obsession was saving others, it should be easy for you to get over a few deaths after some time has passed. It simply doesn't make sense for you to care." She crouched until she was at eye level with him and inquired, "So tell me, Phantom. What makes you so different?"

"...I don't know." What else could he say without revealing his secret? He truthfully told her, "I never asked to be this way."

She scrutinized him, as if looking at him could somehow reveal the truth. After a while, she sighed and stood up...and holstered her gun.

"I can never understand you," she said. "You're just...so human. Your emotions, your thinking, your morals, even your appearance."

He perked up. "You think I look human?"

She looked at him as if he just said the dumbest thing on the planet. "Of course you do," she answered. "Even if you've changed since your first appearance, the change isn't nearly as much as it should be for such an increase in power as yours. Other ghosts your power level would look much more monstrous. But not you. You may grow claws and fangs, but you can still pass as a person."

Danny was dumbfounded. Here he was worried that he might be losing his humanity, and now he was proven wrong by none other than one of the world's leading ghost researchers, his own mother. He thought that was as much relief as he could feel, and then she said,

"You're not a bad ghost, Phantom."

He bit the insides of his mouth to keep himself from crying again because dammit he's already cried enough times this night already. Instead, he blurted out the thing that was on his mind in that moment, which was, "You're not a bad mom."

Mom faltered. For a second, Danny worried that he screwed up. He should not have said that, now she's going to try shooting him again and then everything that just happened would be a waste... But she didn't do that. He couldn't read her face well from underneath her mask, but something crossed her face. She observed him silently, and he squirmed, wondering what she saw. She opened her mouth to say something, but then changed her mind and turned away without a word, leaving the halfa behind as she went back indoors.

Danny sat in the middle of the empty street, watching his mom leave. What just happened? He wasn't sure, but Mom just left without leaving him an injury, which he didn't think could be possible. The world lit up around him as the sun rose from the east.

Shit, he had to return home before someone could walk into his room and find it empty. He fumbled around until he caught the thermos, then paused to look at his reflection. He saw...himself. No evil alternate self. No monster from the future. Just Danny Phantom, existing in the present.

He grinned, showing off his brand new pair of fangs.

Now that he thought about it, having fangs sounds pretty cool.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Daughter of the honorable theif - Harry Hook x reader - part 14 - the banquet

*note: I somehow forgot to put Harriet in the last chapter??? So let's just say that she's off doing whatever at the main fair….shes watching Ember compete, no yeah shes watching Ember compete during the competitions XD*

=

You hummed to yourself as you patted down the front of your forest green ballgown, your handmaidens cinching the back for you, not to tight that you couldn’t breathe but not so loose that the strapless dress would fall. They slipped on simple silver-white strapped heels and clipped a jewel encrusted necklace around your neck, you put on your bracelet, pulling your hair into (your preferred hair style*ignore the pictures hairstyles if u want, those are just suggestions*) that you always did for events like the banquet

In the other room, Harry was being flanked by multiple servants, finding the right suit for him to wear. after all, his date was the daughter of Robin of Loxley, lord of Sherwood, he had to look good.

They settled on a nice blue suit with a white shirt, and a light blue tie, giving him a polished set of boots to wear, which luckily were comfortable enough for him to wear for long periods.

Harry let out a curse under his breath as the servant tying his tie cinched it a little too tightly, he apologized and loosened it “my apologies young sir, the main hall is yet to be finished so we are trying to rush” Harry waved him off, along with the rest.

“it's fine, I can do the rest on meh own, thank yeh” the servants nodded and bowed, rushing out of the room to the main hall to prepare the rest of the banquet. Harry sighed and straightened his tie, tilting his head in the mirror, looking at himself.

He…didn’t look like him, his usually messy eyeliner clean and thin, his hair messy yet styled in such a way that it worked with his outfit.

He patted at his blue vest and grabbed the jacket that was hanging off the nearby closet, swinging it over his shoulders and sliding his arms though.

He….looked good, he’ll admit that….but he wondered if (y/n) would like it?

He smacked his head, why was he thinking that?? (y/n) was just a friend, why was he hoping she thought he looked good!?

He ignored the little voice in the back of his head yelling at him to just accept his feelings, which he didn’t have, he yelled back at himself….great he was talking to himself now, he really was fucking crazy.

He stepped out of his room, feeling his breath leave him as you stepped out of your room, your forest green ballgown trailing after you, your lips stained (best color that goes with green that looks good on you?!?) her feet strapped into silver-white heels.

You looked up, your shadowed (e/c) eyes scanning him, a smile growing on your face “looking good hook!” Harry felt his face flush as he grinned and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.

“yeh think so? It doesn’t really….feel like meh?” you rolled your eyes fondly and walked over to him, cupping his cheeks and making him look you in the eye.

“Harry, you look like Harry, if only a little polished. now come on, my parents are waiting for us” Harry smiled and nodded, holding out his arm for you to take.

“oh by the way lass” you hummed and rose your brow “yeh look amazing too” you laughed and swatted his arm.

“thank you, Harry” just as they passed by Harriet's room, she stepped out, a gorgeous red and black dress swirling around her, black boots on her feet. “holy shit Harriet you look amazing!”

She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder and posing “you think so?” you nodded, giving Harriet a once over.

“Really!” you laughed, Harry giving his sister a quick high five as you passed her. Gil was already at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for them.

He had a nice navy suit on, with his usual rings and bull necklace, his hair pulled back into a neat bun. “hey guys” he grinned, “Uma and Erza just arrived too”

The two girls waved, your eyes going to the corsage on Umas wrist, the teal and scarlet blending with the rest of her outfit.

Smirking you nodded at the corsage, to Erza, who grinned and tilted her head, revealing the teal octopus earrings. ‘nice’ you mouthed, Erza had Uma had grown closer since their first date at Romanos pizzeria, and Erza had asked her to be her date to the banquet today.

“wait is…Uma wearing a corsage?” Harry asked you, squinting his eyes at Umas wrist.

“yeah” you muttered, back, fixing your necklace “her dad gave that to her mom every time they went out someplace fancy, shes just carrying on the tradition” Harry hummed, looking up suddenly as your parents joined you in the main stairway area.

“well,” Robin clapped his hands together, your mom smiling at the seven of you “our guests have arrived, and the banquet is ready! Now the rest of you can go ahead and head in, (y/n) and Harry, as you know we will be entering separately, you'll know when your name is called, (y/n) go ahead and take Harry to the balcony doors” you nodded and pulled Harry off to the balcony doors of the main hall, where the two of you would be announced to enter after your parents.

“uh, lass?” Harry worriedly muttered, glancing back at your friends entering the main hall “wha-“

“The hosts of a party enter differently, we, as the lords and ladies of the land, are basically royalty, we get announced in, it's not bad. Gerald, our head servant, will call us in, we walk in, wave, and greet the people, then enjoy the night” you hurriedly explained, pulling Harry behind the doors, waiting for your parents to show up and go through the doors first.

“Alright then…wait how is he-“ you shushed him, backing the two of you up as your parents arrived and stood in front of the doors.

“you'll be announced as my date” you whispered, standing straight as Gerald called your parent's titles and name.

“announcing the arrival of Lord Loxley, and his Lady Marian” the doors opened and your parents stepped through, waving to the cheering and clapping crowd, the doors closed after them.

Harry took a deep breath, pulling at his jacket, you squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek “don’t worry, you’ll be fine, they usually don’t bother me, hell one time I spilled an entire thing of punch one time and they were more concerned that if I was unharmed than the fact I had embarrassed myself” Harry gave you a soft smile, the people of Sherwood did seem nice at the fair earlier, hopefully, the ones here were just as nice.

“announcing, the young lady (y/n), and her date, Harry, of Auradon!” the doors opened, and you and Harry stepped through to stand next to your parents, overlooking the main hall full of nobles, and peasants of Sherwood, applauding for you and Harry, beaming up at the balcony.

“friends, I think we’ve waited long enough” your dad stretched his arms wide “let us enjoy tonight, eat! Drink! And be merry!” the crowd cheered as the band began to play, your parents bowed their heads you and Harry, you bowed back and directed Harry to the stairs on your right, your parents descending to the main hall on the stairs to their left.

As you hit the bottom of the stairs, Erza and Uma pushed through the crowd, Eza hopping into your side and grinning at you “how ya doing, oh lady of Loxley~” you snorted and pushed her face away, tugging on Harry's arm and leading him to the refreshment table.

“shes no fun” Erza chuckled, holding out her arm for Uma to take and followed you.

“lady Loxley, Sir Harry.” Trevor greeted, holding out two glasses of a bubbling yellow-orange tinted drink “your sparkling apple cider” you nodded to him and grabbed one, nodding for harry to grab the other

“thank you, Trevor, how's David?” you asked, sipping on the drink, he grinned and swooned a little.

“wonderful, he built an entertainment system for James yesterday” you giggled with him and nodded, pulling Harry off to the main table, where you, your parents, and friends would sit.

“lass I have no idea what I’m doin’ ” Harry muttered, glancing around at the nobles surrounding him. You looked up at him, tilting your head and smiling.

“Harry you'll be fine, at most, all you'll have to do is smile and wave, I’ll be by your side the entire night, unless my dad pulls me off for some dancing or whatever” you hummed, guiding him to his seat and plopping down next to it.

“alright” Harry muttered, eyes going wide at the huge selection of food before him “i-wha-“ he licked his lips, looking to you for guidance. “eat” you supplied, taking a few legs of turkey.

Harry shrugged and started to shove things on his plate, glancing to his right has Harriet sat next to him. “hey, quite a show on that entrance” she teased, Harry rolled his eyes, biting down on a square of cornbread.

“oh fuck off, wasn’t meh choice” he muttered, ignoring Harriet's chuckle and grabbed the bowl of mutton slices and threw some on his plate.

“oh Embers here!” you cheered, Harry looked up, glancing at his sister, who was turning red as she stared at the approaching family. He snorted and looked to where Harriet was staring.

A large blonde man (who easily could have passed as Gil's dad oddly enough), with a beautiful brunette woman on his arm, the lady knight just next to them, her well-built form mostly hidden in a silver dress, her arms out on full display.

Harry snorted as his sister drooled for a moment before she caught herself and shook her head, looking down at her lap “what the hell is wrong with meh” she muttered, placing her palm on her forehead.

Little John opened his arms, Robin greeting him back and accepting the hug, gasping as the larger man wrapped his arms around your dad and squeezed him “Robin, how nice it is to see you again! We haven’t hung out in a bit!”

“John-“ Robin wheezed, tapping Little John's arm rapidly “can't breathe!” John gasped and released him, holding onto robin's shoulders to steady him “thank you” Robin took a deep breath.

John chuckled and pat him on the back, sending Robin to the ground. Harry winced as you burst out into laughter.

Ember perked up, patting her mom on the back and walking over to the table. “lady Loxley~!” Ember cheered, a thick forest English accent coating her tongue, Harriet's jaw dropped.

“fuuuuck that accent” she muttered, squeaking as Ember smirked and glanced at her, she ducked behind Harry who pushed her away from him. “asshole”

“bitch” Harry taunted back, mentally cackling as ember nodded to you and passed harry to lean on the table to talk to Harriet.

“saw you at the competition earlier~ I would love to know the name of the beauty in front of me” Harriet couldn’t speak, only able to stare at Ember's arms.

“ ‘er names Harriet” Harry offered, slapping his chest as he contained his laughter as Ember took one of Harriet's hands and kissed it, winking at the blushing pirate.

“Harriet~  a wonderful name” Harriet let out a series of babbles, nodding as Ember offered a dance with her later.

Harriet turned to the giggling Harry as Ember walked away to her seat, smacking him in the shoulder and slumping in her chair “fuck off”

Uma, Erza, and Gil joined at the main table a moment later, making their plates and joining in on the simple conversation.

Soon the tables were cleared for dancing, and your mother encouraged the whole hall to join in. you sighed, standing from your seat and holding out your hand to Harry.

“whaaat are yeh doin’?” Harry muttered, looking at your hand confused.

“my mother will make me dance at some point, it'll make her happy if I do of it my own will before she makes me, and you're my date….so” Harry sighed and took your hand, standing and leading you to the dance floor, joining your parents and a couple of other dancers

As you and Harry danced to the fast-paced folk music, you noticed, Ember and Harriet swinging around, giggling with each other, and spinning the other when they could.

You pointed them out to Harry, who let out a loud laugh, sticking out his tongue at Harriet when she flipped him off.

Harry picked you up and lifted you into the air, turning on his heel as he did, you laughed and held onto his shoulders, squealing as Erza took your hand and danced off with you, switching Uma with Harry, who just shrugged and spun Uma for a moment and pulled her away to dance, the sea witch laughed and forced Harry to dip her, he brought her up and passed her to Gil, and caught the girl he was dancing with.

As the music came to its end, Harry spun himself around one last time, catching someone and ending up face to face with them, only inches away.

He lost his breath, you bright eyes staring back into his, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, you let out a loose laugh and leaned forward to kiss his cheek “thank you Harry” you giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him off the dance floor, watching as another song started and the dancers come alive once more.

You whispered that you would be getting a drink for the two of you and would be right back, Harry nodded and leaned back on the wall, watching as his sister and Ember danced with each other, matching grins as they stared into each other's eyes.

He jumped as a cup of sparkling apple cider appeared in front of his face, sighing as he looked down the arm and saw (y/n), smiling and looking towards the dancers.

He took the cup and sipped the cinder, snorting as Gil, Uma, and Erza performed this odd three-way mock tango to a song that did not fit the tango

“Thank yeh (y/n)” harry muttered, smiling at you as you rose ur brow in confusion “fer all of this, they’ve been…down since Knotts, and this is jus’ what we needed, so thank yeh”

You grinned and leaned into his arm, “no problem Harry, thank you for coming with me”

Harry finished off his drink and set it on the table next to him, turning to you and holding out his hand “shall we dance?”

You laughed and set your drink down, taking his hand and giving him a curtsy “we shall”

=

“like its dynamite, and I told you once, now I told you twice now we light it up, like its dynamite!” Erza sang in a loud out of tune voice, laughing as Uma tried to cover her mouth.

“shuuuut up!” Uma growled, squealing as Erza pulled her up and tossed her on the bed.

You chucked a pillow at Erza who pouted and chucked it back. You coughed at the impact and glared at her playfully “come on ‘ood” she taunted, getting into a fighting position.

You sighed and tossed your book on the floor and cracked your neck, pouncing onto the now screaming Erza “wait no I’m sorry ah!”

“too late, face your doom!” you cackled, getting her into an arm lock and holding her tightly to your chest. She tapped your arm almost immediately and you released her, she slapped your leg and rolled away from you, puffing her cheeks in anger.

“jerk”

“bitch” you barked back, a sharp grin on your face. A knock sounded at your door, your mother's face peeking through, Harriet sliding in behind her and jumping on the bed behind Uma, making the smaller girl bounce a bit.

“goodnight girls, try to keep it down” you gave her a salute and nodded, Erza and Uma nodding.

“got it, thanks (y/n)s mom” Erza grinned, Marian rolling her eyes fondly at her old “nickname” Erza used when she was young and awkward. She slinked back from the door and shut it, walking back to her and robins room.

“soooo Harriet” you started, grinning at Erza and Uma “how was Ember?~” Harriet turned red and proceeded to chuck a pillow at you, muttering something about pretty girls and strong arms.

You snorted and grabbed your movie for the night, letting Erza rip open the bag of popcorn and go at it.

“Alright, let's watch Spaceballs!” you cheered, popping in the movie into the DVD player and settling between Erza and the edge of the bed.

“yee” Erza cheered softly, opening another bag of m&ms. Uma slumped into Erza’s side and rose her brow as the opening credits started to play.

“So what's this movie?”

“a comedy” you explained “by Mel Brooks, you'll love it I promise”

“Alright then” she muttered, reaching over Erza’s arm to snatch a handful of m&ms.

About an hour and a half later, your mom re-entered the room, cooing as she looked on the sleeping forms of your little group.

Uma and Erza were curled up on the floor, a fuzzy grey blanket tossed over the two of them, Harriet took the couch, stretched out and an arm tossed over her eyes.

You were dead asleep on your bed, face buried in your pillows. Marian stepped into the room and shut off the TV, cleaning up the half spilled popcorn on the floor and setting the bowl on the entertainment stand.

“goodnight girls” she whispered, kissing your forehead and tiptoeing out of the room.

-end of part 14-

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[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Breakdown Ch1

genre: supernatural gay ghost story

rated: M

words: 4.3K

summary: What do you get when you combine an urban legend turned real, a psychic hick, and bunch of ghost hunting Yankees? A bad time.

All Kevin Lampton wants to do with his summer is stop The Lady in White from killing anymore road trippers in the middle of nowhere Kentucky. Unfortunately, a group of ghost hunters looking for answers makes his job a lot more complicated.

Chapters: One, Two

Website⭐Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress⭐Twitter 

Prologue

Technically, no one agreed on its name. It had no name and no place on the maps- faceless as a cliff smoothed over by time and as anonymous as a stranger in a New York City subway at rush hour.

The dirt road peeled off highway US 68 halfway between Lexington and Springfield in the dusty empty guts of Kentucky. There was no hint of its existence except a dinky gas station on the corner that didn’t even sell hot dogs and required a pair of clunky keys to enter the fly-infested bathroom. The turnoff itself was only indicated by a little green arrow on a rusting metal pole.

Kevin had tried several times to kick down that green arrow and put up construction cones across the mouth of the road. That had worked a couple times before “Destruction of Public Property” letters started showing up in the mail. He tore up the letters first and then the next green arrow.

The unnamed road eventually breached the tiny town of Reginald. Its long bumpy neck skirted around the boxy houses with battered tires out front, ownerless dogs barking at the burnt sky, and dried grass the color of eye-crust. After Reginald it breached into “nothing land,” land that could be anywhere at all in its tired and timeless way.

It raced for thirty straight miles after that- no bends, no twists, no turns. It was as a straight as khaki pants at an old navy sale and guys in bars who would rather sleep on concrete floors than even brush the skin of another man.

It surged perfectly lonely toward Hillsboro. Hillsboro, population barely 100, was like Reginald except with the aftertaste of even more broken satellites on each roof and burnt trash since the garbage trucks wouldn’t come out that far.

Some people called the road between the two towns “Hillsboro Road” or “Reginald Lane,” each town denied such names and spat on the ground at the mention of it. An old man with a handsome nose half the size of his face and a bite for every other word called it “Catpiss Trail.”

It was yellow in the sunlight, and tinted brown in the night, ground that took on whatever color suited its mood. The dirt was loose and dried, easily sludgy in the rain, and a scourge to tires everywhere as the rubber flung stones into the air like rapid-fire projectiles. It was the type of road that was just another nameless dirt road in a nameless corner of the world.

Nevertheless, someone swore on their mother’s grave that there used to be a sign next to it, just a wooden post with white lettering. The post had read “Sumpter Road.” Kevin agreed on it being Sumpter Road. It was a thirty-mile lick of dirt that connected the very empty bits of a middling world. Sometimes a field or two bordered its edge- owned by men in ties that had never stepped foot in Kentucky. They grew grain or corn or somebody’s next sandwich. But mostly, it was grass, dry grass the color of yellows-lesser-cousin, a decayed yellow that had given up on its goals a long time ago.

You could drive for miles and miles alongside that wilting yellow, across flat plains with only tiny white shacks off in the distance and rusting red pickup trucks abandoned off to the side. It was junk and nothing all at once. Empty, lonely, ugly Sumpter road. 

Locals of Reginald and Hillsboro used different options other than Sumpter. They knew not to travel on that road, not at night, not during the full moon, not during the crevice moon or no moon, and especially not during the summer. There was a conscious little heartbeat that traveled from mother to cousin to old great aunt back down to second cousins twice removed: don’t go on the dirt road off highway US 68, you know the one.

They knew not to go there, Kevin knew not to go there, and despite their collective best efforts, somebody wasn’t listening. People in Subaru's and Honda’s and family minivans, always in the lean months of summer with the faint smell of sweet heather and somatic cow filling the air.

They appeared as the sun roasted the dry earth and sucked the color from the sky until it was such a fragile, wilting thing you wished to drag your finger across the silken bottom and taste it.

Kevin knew those summer’s well, and he was sick of them.

----------------

Chapter 1: The Blue Toyota

Seven miles from the highway, fourteen minutes from the closest house, twenty miles from the nearest public restroom, Kevin Lampton snapped open a folding lawn chair. The chair had been his roommates, but his roommate claimed it had been left in their backyard from the previous owner.

Strips of worn cloth draped across it from one metal limb to the next, the stripes had probably once been bright teal and red and clean white. Now it was just a faded peach and wheezing blue, it was rusted around the screws and held his weight with a reluctant groan.

But it had been free which was perfectly within his budget.

The headlights of his shitty 1990 Hatchback blew up his lumpy shadow across the ground and was the only light for miles except the teetering mix-drink stars up above. The headlights streaked valiantly across the dark ether and cut out a little life there. I’m wasting so much fucking battery, he reminded himself bleakly, but it was better than waiting in the dark.

He used headlights since flashlights always made him feel like an amateur that was just asking for someone to knock it out of his hands and kick him in the nuts for free. He wasn’t an amateur.

He slouched in the chair and the hungry heat crawled across his flushed skin, it was technically May, but it had the teeth of July- beating down on his brow and dripping long damp fingertips down his spine. He had on a white tank-top, one that made him look like he stored a shotgun in his trunk and didn’t know how to give his consonants any backbones.

Which was all true. But usually he didn’t want to show it. However, summer didn’t play by any judgement structured by how much PBR you drank or how much army camo print you owned. It was too hot for t-shirts and he settled.

He remained in his ragged slouchy jeans though, not even the murderous undead deserved the sight of his knobby gawky knees in shorts. 

Kevin blinked up at the night sky, a vast unreadable thing, and listened. Crickets chirped in all directions and a few coyotes cried woefully to each other in distant places, but nothing more. Sometimes he thought he spotted blinking lightning bugs just above the tides of grass, but he usually chalked up to his imagination.

He slipped the cracked screen of his Samsung phone out of his pocket and just barely registered the time: 10:32. He sighed again. Kevin Lampton was big subscriber to sighing, he renewed it every year and regularly added: wrinkling his mouth into a tiny scrunched frown and running a hand pensively through his shaggy brown hair.

He needed a haircut. He needed to clip his nails. He needed to get back to his tiny motel room and throw out the milk in the mini fridge- it was at least five days old. He needed music. 

He sighed again and instead craned his neck back and went over notes in his head: perfectly inelastic: the price stays the same regardless of the quantity demanded. Demand curve is a vertical line.

Elastic: if price elasticity of demand is greater than 1, quantity reacts to price…

He traced the vocab words on the arm of the plastic chair and occasionally mumbled to himself. He lost track of time, there was no other choice at that point in the night but to lose track of it.

11:00, 11:30, 12:00, coffee break, piss break, cursing at his cellphone as its battery drained, 12:20.

Kevin got all the way up to his anthropology notes and classifying primate bones. Orangutans: lesser apes, globular head, longer forelimbs.

It was 12:22 and the night split open like a ripe melon bashed with a baseball bat. A horrifying guttural scream pierced the air. He didn’t exactly hear it with his ears, which always seemed stupid if he thought about it too hard, but it pierced through his mind in a flurry of sickening bites. Yellow jabs, cloying blows, gut churning, and body seizing sensations.

Kevin let it hit him once, twice, before bursting to his feet and digging his hands into his stuffed pockets and patting the contents. He extended his senses outward: sending soft feelers toward the bleak oceans of anyone nearby. “Shit.” They were two miles up the road, further up than he expected, but ghosts were dreadful about being reliable.

Another shriek bristled from behind him and Kevin tossed his chair aside and dove back toward his car, “Shit!”

He hopped into his shitty hatchback, stalled the ignition in a reckless moment, and then backed all the way up. His tires threw up dirt as he accelerated with the devil on his heels and he took a U-turn that as more of a V-turn.

His car groaned for a moment, but had enough soul left to take off with a high-pitched growl and dramatic skid. He gunned the gas and fishtailed across the night, “Come on baby.” He sped, there was no speed limit out there, but he had no way of knowing what ‘fast enough’ was going to be.

He got close enough to recognize the robust shape of a car pulled off crookedly to the side of the road, headlights splashing across the ground and two pale figures sitting rigidly in their seats. The sound of someone twisting the key in the ignition with careless jamming motion crackled through the air.

Waves of spiky sticky fear pierced Kevin’s stomach and knew he was in the right place, obviously. That’s also when all the life went out of his car.

It didn’t stall or sputter or curse at him in any known electric language, it simply rolled to a perfect limp-boned stop. As it always did when he got this close.

Kevin scrambled out of the car and locked it just in case, you know, just in case.

“Stay calm!” He shouted across the way as they kept revving the engine and going absolutely nowhere. He started running. It was a shiny dark blue Toyota with a handsome finish, the plates were from out of state.

A woman with chin-length stiff red hair sat in the passenger seat, wild-eyed and chest heaving, all the blood drained from her face and hands braced on the dashboard. She was wearing a college t-shirt and looking at nothing.

A man with black glasses and a dark stubble beard sat next to her, eyes on the steering wheel and muttering curses in jagged uneven breaths. They looked like a young couple that were either lost, wayfarers, or their GPS had general murderous intent. It didn’t really matter at this point.

Kevin swung around to the passenger side door. This was the tricky part.

“What was that?” The woman’s voice was shrill, frantic and formless. “What the fuck was that Robert? Tell me you saw that Robert.” Robert did not respond.

Kevin hesitated; he had tried this part before with varying results. Quickly he decided on a new combination of methods, first tapping on the glass lightly and then simply opening the passenger door and hopping inside.

She always left the doors unlocked by that point.

The woman let out a shriek like bloody murder and jumped to the side, and the man looked up with empty-eyed terror.

“Don’t worry folks!” Kevin put his hands up and realized maybe ‘wife beater’ wasn’t the ideal outfit in this situation right then. He cut to the chase. “When’s the last time you saw Her? One minute ago, five?” “Ahhhh!” None of his methods seemed to work very well.

The man snapped out of his stupor and balled his fist up, “Get behind me Julie!” He put his arm out in front of the woman’s chest and offered impractically. He was plastered to the back of the driver's seat and Julie wasn’t getting behind anything. Kevin raised his hands up even further, “I’m here to help.” He winced as Robert raised his fist, “Wait, wait, you don’t want to punch me! I promise. I’m your lifeline.” They both stared at him, dumbstruck, the girl hyperventilated, “WHAT the fuck is going on?”

“Is this some sort of sick prank?” The man’s face bubbled red hot, “Tell me if you think this is some sort of practi-” “Not a prank,” Kevin’s eyes roved around the back of the car and an inconspicuous cold gently seeped through the air like mist rising off early morning grass, “I swear.”

“Don’t tell me...” The woman wrapped her arms around her body and shivered- she felt it too. “Don’t worry,” Kevin explained quickly, “You’re lucky I got here in time, now… when’s the last time you saw the lady in white?”

“What, what are,” the woman stammered. He was too late. There had been too much talking. Kevin was too late.

He was still working on this part.

He saw the movement before he saw the shape itself. Skin as white as crushed daisy petals, hand small and childlike one moment and then tendril thin and clawed the next. Kevin’s breath stalled in his chest, the white hand slithered out from the backseat, just by the driver’s side window and hovered for a moment.

It stalled in place, like the second before a giant metal airplane with no feathers or hollowed bones or thousands of years of aerial evolution pressed off the hard earth and into the sky anyway: a certainty of the impossible.

The hand lunged, fingers spreading impossibly wide, impossibly quick, and it clenched around the man’s neck with no ceremony or preamble and squeezed. His head hit the headrest with a swift jerk and his glasses slunk down to the end of his nose.

“Sir!” Kevin barked, but the hand was already latched on. The blood drained from the man’s face like there was straw attached to his neck and sucking. His skin squished in like silly putty being molded and the smallest of choking noises escaped his parted lips, barely a noise at all.

The woman didn’t move, Kevin internally complimented her for not pissing herself… yet. 

Kevin reached into his large pockets. He was getting better at this part. When he first started, he used to quote bible lines like “the power of Christ compels you” and “in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, be gone.” However, it didn’t seem to make any difference.

“Fuck off!” He shouted in its place and didn’t turn around; he knew better than that and continued yelling. “Get back!” He dug out salt rocks from his pocket and tossed them wildly into the back, flinging them over his right shoulder with abandon. A guttural growl answered, like a barely rumbling thunder cloud or the echoes of a tumbling rock fall in a canyon. A warning.

He caught her eyes in the rear view mirror.

He wouldn’t dare turn around, but he could do this much. She was positioned in the middle seat perfectly so and staring unblinkingly ahead.

Her skin was as pale as bleached bone and tendrils of lank black hair fell around her face. Her eye holes were surrounded with ragged black eyelashes, burnt ground around white, a white with no irises, a white with no pupils, a gaping emptiness with bruises underneath. Deep shadows and sagging skin, unslept and unwept.

The eyes themselves were nothing, empty fissures, otherworldly, but the bags under her eyes spoke of something human, something real, skin gathered and drooping mundanely. A suggestion of a person in the worst way, and it made his stomach heave.

“Fuck off!” He yelled again and threw another handful of salt, a hissing came right by his ear like the hiss of pipes just about to burst, animalistic and inhuman.

He reached into his other pocket and silently apologized to the upholstery. The man was choking, gasping, eyes bulging out of his head and spit dripping down his chin in glistening strings. The woman Kevin was squished next to remembered to scream.

“It’s got him, it’s got him!” She babbled and twisted around in her seat to look. The second she turned a new scream etched out of her insides, primal and broken. He took note for future reference: shoulda told her not to look.

He held up a pouch over his right shoulder.

Kevin squeezed the cold plastic bag furiously and aimed without looking, like he was trying to splatter abstract art somewhere and hated the canvas itself. The blood squirted out of the little tube in a perfect arching stream and the sound of liquid hitting fabric followed. He waved it back and forth until it sagged empty and deflated in his hands.

Kevin’s arms goose-fleshed and the overwhelming scent of bog rot and frost flooded through the car’s vents, a hissing like rattlesnakes and tortured cats joined it. Julie stopped screaming to cover her nose and mouth and she gagged on the waves of rank air.

Robert on the other hand started hacking and drawing desperate breaths of air, the type of sound you hear in the wards of newborns or from ailing vacuum cleaners.

Kevin braced himself, grabbing the handle above and shoving one shoe against the car door and the other against the dashboard. “Hold on.” He advised, but it was lost to the violent gagging of the woman and the man besides her attempting life.

The car shuddered like it was going through turbulence, rocking forward and backward as a bucking bronco trying to dislodge them, tipping wildly in some unseen ocean.

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut as their impromptu roller coaster trip shook the life from them like rag dolls in the hands of a vindictive toddler. Julie crashed into his side while the man gasped for air with a certain reverence and loving devotion.

Kevin exhaled from somewhere deep within himself when the tipping settled and the temperature in the car quickly climbed like a morning birdsong at dawn.

The woman clawed at the dashboard in a move Kevin could only wonder at and she twisted in her seat to look behind them again, teeth clenched and whole body trembling. A vein popped out of her forehead like a rather elegant blue engraving in her skin.

Kevin released the tension rippling through his nerves and exhaled. It was over.

He shifted in place, he was now positioned directly on top of the plastic middle island between the seats and tilting his head up toward the ceiling. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened. It was quiet except for crickets chirping. The scent of blood seeped through the air, but that was his fault.

“Where is she?!” The woman said louder than strictly necessary. “Where the fuck is she?!” She reached for the door, ready to do the logical thing and bolt.

The man felt at the red-marked puckered skin on his neck and wheezed in response.

“Don’t worry,” Kevin remembered he had to do this part too. “She’s gone. Don’t get out, she’s gone for the night.” The couple in the car both turned to him at once, as if seeing him for the first time and clearly not being pleased.

“You,” the man spoke first, still laboring for the breath and his voice faint as a crushed soda can. “You,” he seethed, “What is this?” He spat, “Who are you?” The guy who just saved your life.

“You can try the car now,” Kevin said instead, “it should start.” They both eyed him warily, mutely trying to process the existence of the evil undead and also this sunburnt white kid in a wife beater sitting in the center of their car. “I’m Kevin,” he looked between them, “I stop stuff like this.” He didn’t elaborate or add only on this road and with this particular ghost. “I came to help.”

He could still feel the anxiety and adrenaline rolling off the couple. It was a vivid electricity that clogged his chest and made his teeth ache. However, they hadn’t tried to hit him again- which was a fabulous perk for that night.

“Are you,” the girl poked at his cheek the way you might poke a strange stray dog collapsed on your porch, “are you real?” Kevin knit his brow together. “Yeah, I am,” he struggled to explain, “I, uh, she’s the only other thing on this road.” That didn’t seem right either. “In Kentucky.” He frowned, “Okay, maybe just on this road.”

The man mutely grabbed for the keys and tried the ignition, the car easily murmured to life with no complaint, you’ll want to check the shocks later. Kevin didn’t add that yet.

The woman held her chest and stared off into nothing, “What was it?” She finally whispered.

“Was that real?” The man had turned the car on but was still feeling at his abused neck. At least he dropped the idea it was a prank, you know, the murder kind of prank.

Kevin realized he was stuck between the both of them in the car, a dinner party he was not invited to nor wanted to attend. “You shouldn’t drive on this road ever again.” He said darkly, “Not ever. She might remember you.”

“What is this road?” The man asked, tasting the weight of each word and staring at Kevin with an even keel.

Kevin nodded, because that was the right question, “Sumpter. Just try to remember it.” Kevin said plainly as exhaustion finally peeled off him like soggy tree bark from a dead oak. They looked back to him, “What did you do?” The woman asked, flatly and not particularly kindly.

“I just stop stuff like this,” he repeated, “with a little lamb’s blood and salt.” You’ll need to get the back reupholstered- he didn’t say that yet either. “You’re okay now, really, like I said she won’t come for you again tonight.” He met the woman’s eyes and managed to extend a small scrape of reassurance toward her. “It’s over.” Kevin glanced over to the door handles to indicate his job here was done.

They both were still looking at him, “And what the fuck is it?” Robert growled.

“Ghost.” Kevin stated flatly. He waited for their disbelief, their rejection, their grappling with wild powerlessness and the simply thought of something more to all this. Kevin pushed out another wave of reassurance and another long moment passed. He cleared his throat, “The Lady of the Road. The Strangling Demon. The Lady in White depending on who you ask.”

Julie’s entire body shuddered at that and she curled inward like a roly-poly poked with a stick and buried her face in hands. It was a long fertile moment, hanging in the infinite, and then she started crying softly, without any pretenses or filter.

“Uh,” Kevin scratched the back of his neck, “I should go.” He didn’t look over to her; he already felt enough of her trembling shock waves of mortal despair. “I’m just… yeah.” They ignored Julie as she had her private moment and Robert turned to him with strangely piercing dark eyes, “How did you find us?” Kevin licked his cracked lips, “I’m from around here. I know she sometimes attacks people on this road, I come out a few times to stop it.” It wasn’t entirely the truth, but he needed to get out of here. “I should get going.” The man was frowning so hard it might as well have been an indent in his lower face, he reached for his door handle and silently stepped out. This was the point where some people gave Kevin cash or a hug, but it wasn’t one those nights.

“Wait,” the woman’s hand strangled the back of his shirt and stopped him, “How do you know she won’t come back?” Kevin didn’t turn to look back at her, “I just know. It’s the rules, it’s only on this road and only once, promise.” A long silence stretched thin, the man’s eyes shifted outside the car and the woman’s weepy voice clung to him. They focused on him, “Where does the road end?” Kevin just pointed, “When you reach the highway, then you’re out.”

The man and woman exchanged a glance. “And you get rid of her? That’s your job?” The man asked steadily, feeling his neck again.

“I mean, yeah, kinda. It gets rid of her for a little while.” This was Kevin’s least favorite part.

The man got back in the car and closed the door, “I’m Robert, that’s Julie,” he grunted, “Show us the way from here?” Kevin sighed deeply, and sometimes they asked him to stay with them. “Sure.” He would have to walk back to his car later. It was going to be a terrible night.

The couple didn’t say anything more with the scent of lamb’s blood drying and the air-conditioning left off. He rode silently to the highway with them in the blue Toyota, his thoughts dripping out his ears and falling to the ground like unfolded laundry. He didn’t bother pick them up again.

They’re alive tonight. Another car is going to be okay. He reminded himself gently, now just 90 more days of this.

Ninety more days, another summer, and however else long it took to make sure no one else died because of The Lady in White. 

Kevin would make sure of it no matter how many times it took.

                                                                                         Next Chapter =====>

--------------

Hey! Being a writer is a tough business and I put the “ah” into st-ah-rving artist so if you enjoyed the story please consider donating to my ko-fi or subscribing to my website or patreon

[spinwrites]

an evening in autumn

Danny Phantom fanfic. Summary: Now in their late teens, Dani and Valerie go on a date.

-

On a chilly autumn night, Dani dragged her companion by the wrist through the streets of downtown. They left the club and its heart-thumping music behind, and when they ducked into a dark narrow alley, Dani transformed. It lit up the graffiti splayed across the brick walls and the litter scattered around the trash cans, but she grinned, pulling her partner into a bridal carry and taking off into the sky.

“You haven’t gotten rid of the habit?” Valerie asked, tossing her hair to face the wind.

“Of flying like this? Nope!”

The dark-haired woman snorted. “I meant hiding when you transform.”

Glowing green eyes flickered towards her. “I know halfas aren’t a secret now, but I can’t do anything about it,” Dani said, turning her gaze back towards her destination, “so I still wanna keep my choice on when and where I reveal mine.”

Valerie hummed in understanding and craned her neck, trying to follow her line of sight. Whatever Dani had her eyes on, it was at a distance her human sight could not catch. The ghost girl’s grip under her knees and shoulders were secure, so she kept her arm around Dani’s neck loose. The city lights sped past them below, the air kissing her bare skin.

“Where are we going? You know I’ve got class tomorrow morning. I can’t stay up late.”

The halfa shot her a lopsided smile. “I got it, Miss Studious. Trust me.”

Of all the places Dani would have brought her to, Valerie wasn’t expecting them to return to the college campus, much less fly towards her own dorm. Dani refused to tell her what she was up to, instead buzzing with a sort of excited energy that reminded Valerie of a boy she had once dated, once he had come out of his shell. She pushed the memories away.

When they drew nearer to the dorm’s rooftop, Valerie immediately spotted the set up in the center. A coffee table with unlit candles, and a small blue couch piled with cushions. A bouquet of flowers lay on the center of the table, next to chips, two empty glasses and a bottle. She gaped.

“Are those from the student lounge?”

Green tinted Dani’s cheeks as she set her down next to the table and couch. “Nobody’s gonna miss some furniture for a couple hours.” Still floating in the air, she dashed towards the candles and lit them up, one by one, with a little green flame at the tip of her index finger.

“Wow,” Valerie said, joining the halfa as she sunk into the couch with a bounce. “This is… when did you even have the time to do this?”

“When you were busy in the bathroom,” Dani said, transforming back. Without her spectral glow, the candle flame glowed brighter, spilling a warm hue onto the furniture. She picked up the bouquet and pressed it into Valerie’s hands. The flowers were pretty, but she didn’t recognize them, and they were haphazardly wrapped together in mesh paper and tape. Dani saw her looking, and she rubbed her neck with a hand. “I picked them from the outskirts because I thought they looked nice. I don’t really know anything about flower arrangement—”

“No, no,” Valerie said, her smile growing, “this is amazing.”

Dani beamed.

They popped open the bottle, which turned out to be apple cider (I’m broke as hell, Dani told her, though she froze over the exterior of it to cool it down). Pouring it into the glasses, they talked into the night. About college, which Dani couldn’t stop asking questions on. About the stars they could see in the sky, whose stories behind their constellations Valerie listened to, as the halfa elaborated with a lot of gesturing and a faint glow to the freckles on her cheek.

When there was a lull in conversation, Dani pulled out a packet of what looked like green powder and dumped it into her own cider.

“What,” Valerie said as the halfa downed it in a gulp.

Dani burst out laughing. “You know catnip? But like, for ghosts.” She rubbed the side of the glass to her face and closed her eyes. “Oh man, so good.”

Valerie blinked in surprise when she opened bright green eyes instead of blue. “Do I want to know where you got it from?”

“No, but hey, what do you think of Danielle Ferron?”

“What?”

“Too lame. Danielle Fabianski? Ugh, that’s sketchy. Danielle… Ferrufino!”

“Where is this coming from?” Valerie laughed. Dani poured more of the catnip – ghost nip? – into her glass, swirling the cider in it furiously.

“Okay, that’s probably enough.” Valerie made a grab for the packet.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Dani whined, holding it out of reach. “Tell me what you think of Dani Ferrari.”

“God-awful.”

They went back and forth, but as the night drew on, Valerie could tell Dani was no longer very coherent. She was also glowing and floating an inch above the couch, despite being in human form.

Valerie reached out and snagged at the girl’s wrist. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“No.” Dani straightened and wobbled in the air. “Maybe. I’ll— I’ll float you back.”

They set their things down, though Valerie held on to the bouquet just as Dani turned them intangible. The halfa was aware enough to drift them into the right room, and they popped back to tangibility.

“Dani?”

Valerie spun around. Her roommate was sitting at her desk with an open book, teal eyes wide in surprise. Valerie had completely forgotten about her. She looked back at Dani, who was staring at Jazz Fenton with brows furrowed in confusion and something else.

Oh boy.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in a different state? Wait, never mind. I’m outta here.” Dani took a step towards the window, but she stumbled.

Jazz stood up. “Are you okay?”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Valerie said quickly, pulling the halfa to her bed.

Dani sat, blinking slowly. Jazz glanced between them, at the flowers in Valerie’s hold and her other hand on Dani’s wrist. Her eyebrows rose. Then she turned to the halfa. “Are you high on ghost nip?”

“No.”

“Right. Look, you can lay down and take some time for the effects to wear off. Danny wasn’t very stable as well when he was exposed to it-”

“I don’t want you or your brother’s help.”

“Dani, just lie down,” Valerie murmured.

The halfa groaned, then she flopped onto her back. She wouldn’t face Jazz’s direction.

Jazz’s shoulders slumped. “I have to go wash up. I’ll see you around.” Then she turned and left the room, the door drifting closed behind her with a quiet thud.

Valerie sat down next to her date. Dani stared at the ceiling, bright green eyes far away. The glow to her freckles had faded, along with her enthusiasm she had held throughout the night.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on between you and the Fentons?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s because of Danny, isn’t it? About him revealing his identity in front of the world?”

Dani’s gaze slid to her, watching her. “How’d you guess?”

“He revealed my identity too. As Red Huntress. In front of my dad. But what’s this got to do with the rest of his family?”

“It’s just— Danny never realized how much of a thing I had going for me, y’know? After I left Amity, I had a job. Helped out a nice old man with his café, and I made friends with all the customers. Then stupid Danny went to international TV and told everyone who he was.

“People kept thinking I’m related to him, especially if Dani Phantom shows up nearby. They think I’m like him, brave or… or heroic, or something.”

Valerie stayed quiet.

“All my life, he’s had what I want. A family, Vlad’s approval, and— I dunno, I just—” Dani took a shuddering breath. “I don’t feel like my own person, or like I’m in control of anything. I dunno. I tried staying in Amity for a bit but I guess seeing the Fentons just brought back some memories.”

“And you’ve been holding this in since the Disasteroid?”

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s not.” Valerie frowned. “Tell me these things, girl. I’ll listen. And I get it.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think I left Amity Park? It’s not just ‘cause of college. After Danny saved the world, people hated the Red Huntress. I’m not saying he shouldn’t have done any of what he did, because the guy tries his best, but.” Valerie shrugged. “Sometimes we just… get left behind. Are you crying?”

“No.” Dani sniffled. Valerie patted her arm.

“Sorry I ruined our date. It was supposed to be fun but then I just had to eat that powder.”

“Don’t be. It was fun.” Valerie held up the flowers. “And sweet. And Jazz Fenton can stop eavesdropping outside the door.”

A guilty-looking Jazz poked her head in. She plodded over, her hands behind her back. “Sorry.”

Dani sat up and rubbed her eyes. “It’s okay.”

“Would you… would you ever want to come back? For a visit? Maybe we could talk to Danny, or our parents. I know my brother’s been asking after you, but none of us ever heard any news.”

A part of Dani wanted to return, Valerie could tell. So did she.

The halfa shook her head. “Maybe someday.”

Sitting down on the other side of the bed, Jazz smiled in the gentle way she saved for her little brother. “Okay, but you’re still welcome in this dorm anytime. Don’t let me stop you from picking up Valerie for midnight escapades.”

“Hey!” Valerie laughed. Dani cracked a smile.

One day, they would return to Amity Park. But today, they would simply enjoy the present.

-

Written: 25 Sept 2019 | Edited: 4 May 2020 | Phandom Bingo 2019: Vengeful Babes, post-reveal, dual obsession space AU, ghost nip, Jazz’s college

[rogue-of-broken-time]

Part Twelve: Time Is Broken 

— 

Henrik looks upward and slowly runs his fingers through his restored, healthy hair– that deep teal-blue, a color I never would've guessed was hiding beneath all that patchy-tinted grey.

That's when I notice something new– the age lines around his eyes. They're… gone.

"Henrik… how old are you?" I can't help asking, wondering if that phial did a little more than just heal his insides.

"Ah, my appearance does tend to deceive," he answers, his eyes glimmering with a youthful sparkle. "In truth, I am only a few years older than you, Jack. We are much closer in age than first meets the eye."

My eyebrows raise in total shock. "Really? You looked a lot older before."

He nods, dropping his gaze a little.

"It was ze work of my madness zat was eating away at me," he explains, softer. "My madness, my experiments, my solitude. All of those together… a most toxic combination. And it certainly does not help zat time itself seems to be… passing strangely, these days."

Marvin's ears suddenly perk up, and his eyes narrow a little.

"Wait, what?" the boy asks, tilting his head to one side a small bit, confused.

"I do not blame you for not noticing, my feline friend," Henrik goes on, falling onto his knees and flipping through some of the journal he took from me. "It is easy to fall into a lull if you do not keep yourself aware of it."

Analyzing the pages with fresh eyes and a fresh mind, he finds what he was looking for and beckons us with one finger. "Both of you. Come."

—

After exchanging a quick glance with Marv, we make our way to either side of him and see…

It's… it looks like a page full of scribbles at first, but slowly, in the spaces between the corrupted writings, more of the sickly green hue fills in the blanks in the shape of the words "TIME" and "IS". Then, beneath them both is perhaps the most grotesque drawing of all– in the shape of the word "BROKEN" are innumerable overlapping sketches of what look like clocks, shattered into pieces across the pages. Looking closer, all of the hands read 2:07, which seems to be a very specific and intentional choice…

"I… I wrote zis while under ze effects of one of my concoctions zis morning, before you arrived," he explains, a hesitant shakiness returning to his voice. "I hardly remember doing it. It was like… I was in a trance."

"Do you have any idea what this means?" I ask Henrik slowly, feeling like the intricate details must have some significance.

"No," he answers, shaking his head a little, then turning back to me, setting the journal in my hands. "Perhaps… perhaps it had something to do with your arrival today?"

I take the book gently from him, barely able to breathe.

People have called me crazy all of these years for thinking something was wrong, and now… here before me is the truth, written in an apothecary's corrupted hand.

Time is broken…

As the thought resonates within me, I run my fingers over the pages, following the streaks of color between the black markings.

For all these years I've been convinced that I was the only one who knew…

"J-Jack," I hear Marvin stutter, and it shakes me from my focus.

I almost answer him when I see what he's talking about.

"What is it, Mar– wha…?"

The mark on the page beneath my fingertips… it's… glowing?

In alarm I pull my hand away, but nothing seems to change. It only seems to be getting stronger…

Quickly I set the book down on the table and risk a glance back to my friends. Schneeplestein has gone silent, his eyes fixed on the pages while holding a hesitant, protective arm out in front of Marvin to keep the boy from going any closer– which, from the looks of his flattened ears, he won't be any time soon.

As the green grows brighter, the rest of the room seems to dim darker…

"It… whatever zis is seems to know you, Jack," I hear Henrik say quietly to me in his fascination. "Have you any idea how?"

I give a tiny shake of my head. "No."

After a pause, I slip onto my knees and look closer at one of the drawings, noticing something else…

On all the hands of the broken clocks, the green light seems to be the strongest, yet… with every passing second, it fades and fades and fades until–

I flinch at the sound of cracking glass.

Out of nowhere, my ears pop, and something strange settles into the air around me– a stillness that makes my skin crawl.

"Wha…?" I let out silently, finding it hard to breathe.

I turn back to Henrik and Marvin, meaning to ask them if they feel this too, but before I can–

They can't hear you, Seán.

My eyes close without warning, and I begin to tremble.

"Who– who said that?" I risk calling out, finding it in me to stand and turn again. "Who are you!?"

Only echoing laughter greets my ears, and it tears through my mind like static.

As I nearly fall to the floor, I see that Henrik and Marvin are frozen in their places, both their eyes glowing with the same green light from the pages. The smoke falls from their faces to the ground, swirling around my feet…

I'm here.

Suddenly a shape stands before me, made of the septic green smoke from my nightmares. Its outline flickers like stormclouds bursting with lightning, and in the places its eyes are supposed to be, two red spots flare like fire.

I stand again on shaky legs, my better words failing me.

"Wh… what are you?" falls from my lips. "How are you inside my head!?"

More laughter.

I'm always here, Seán. Always watching.

What looks like an evil, crooked smile starts forming on its face…

It won't be long now… see you soon.

Without warning, the sound of shattering glass explodes into my ears again, sending me back to my knees with my hands pressed to the sides of my head. I'm suddenly breathing hard, as if I just had the wind knocked out of me…

"Wh- Jack?" I hear Marvin's voice behind me.

"Jack," Henrik's voice joins in. "Are you okay? Vhat is it?"

I swallow and sit back up, both of my hands running through my hair as my body adjusts back to normality. A dull pain starts setting in behind my eyes, as if there's a bruise on my skull…

I feel someone come up behind me and offer me their hand. I look up and see Schneeplestein, with a worried look on his face.

"Jack, my friend," he tries again, helping me stand and steady myself. "Vhat is happening? Are you feeling okay?"

After a few more seconds of silence and catching my breath, I make myself nod.

"I…" I finally let out, not sure what to say or if they'll believe me. "Something happened, I…"

Henrik's hand falls on my shoulder, and the weight helps calm me enough to speak.

"It… it was like time stopped," I explain fearfully, my gaze falling. "Everything stopped. And… the voice, I heard it again."

"What… what did it say?" Marvin hesitantly asks, standing up and joining us slowly, his ears still pointed down in apprehension.

"It…" I finish quietly, finally looking up to both of them. "It said that it won't be long now."

—

Tags: @just-another-starfish @athenafg26 @mihaela-tbg @illyriashade56 @nofacednerd @egopocalypse @jasmineon @rainidaydreamer @stranded-in-orbit @bunchofdoodlesinspace

[chuckling-chemist]

Happy Freedom Festival, Main Edition (2/2)

((<==back))

((Well this got......a bit long for myself. So yeah. Anyway, here’s the second half, that took longer to finish than I expected because Life Ensues. Also now it’s obvious I just really fucking wanted to make up an Independence Day festival because fuck you that’s why))

It took them longer than he’d ever like to admit to get ready. First off was the matter of Dontoc having to dig through his clothing to find something he deemed appropriate, and finding that pretty much none of his clothing would look appropriately “lowblood-esque”. In theory, he could certainly go with just a dress shirt, vest and slacks, but he felt naked outside without it, sweltering heat be damned. And with all his suits being tailor-made by Aisral, each one was temperature controlled so the only issue he would have to worry about is aesthetic.

The minute Pallia was ready, she even tried to expedite matters. Dontoc allowed her in his room immediately - already switched into appropriate pants, and any theoretical assistance to his dilemma outweighed any other possible consequences. She sat on his sleeping pad, giving constant reassurances that it would be fine and anyone who might generally say something will probably keep it minimal due to his caste. Highbloods were one thing. Seadwellers were another entirely.

Eventually, he ended up forgoing the vest and switching out the bowtie for a regular tie. He didn’t look much dressed down, but to him, he at least dropped down a few castes if it weren’t for the distinct southern-coastal, impossible to hide in any fashion, fins. Or the violet eyes. Certainly the violet accents on his jacket didn’t help matters either. But the attempt was made (however poorly it was in his increasingly aware mind), and the attempt took at least a solid five minutes of nothing but digging through a closet of neatly pressed suits, so he wasn’t going to get any more content than he currently was.

The coffee they ended up leaving in the kitchen. “Mayola drank it,” Pallia said.

“Are you sure? She did seem rather disinterested once you said it was only for us,” he said. He paused, then shook his head. “Then again...I suppose the inability to predict Mayola does make this a challenge to counter-argue.”

Pallia smirked. “Oh no, Mayola’s incredibly easy to predict. You’re just not used to her. And I can tell you she drank that coffee.” She hopped off his sleeping pad, her sandals making loud clacks on the tile floor. “Ready?”

He looked down at himself, fully dressed with a black suit and tie, then over at herself, in a thin-strapped white summer dress, hair still down around her shoulders. “Well, I still feel overdressed,” he admitted, “however I do not think we can rectify the situation more than we have.”

Pallia beamed. “Let’sssss go then!!”

In another timeline, she probably would have grabbed his hand and dragged him out of their hive. Instead, she rushed out his room and down the stairs, leaving him to hurriedly follow shortly behind. She didn’t slow down until she was outside, at which point she waited just outside the double glass doors of her hive, bouncing on her feet.

“Excited?” he asked dryly as she locked the doors behind him.

“Oh no, I’m just like this all the time,” she said. The two started on down the empty paved road out towards Sandyhorn, the only one from her position that actually led out of to the city. Were there passerby, they might have made a bit of an odd pairing - a tall, yet twig-like seadweller dressed to the nine and a tealblood a solid foot smaller than him in weather-appropriate clothing - but there were few hives down this road, and fewer trolls who ventured down the road.

(Really, if he had to think about it, the only ones he knew regularly traveled down here were the residents of the hive, Mayola, Volcor, Zanchi and Vodnik. Glacin and Valeba didn’t live close by, and Careen seemed to dislike the few times she came down to pick him up, going out of her way to complain each time. Dontoc had just gotten to the point he agreed to meet her somewhere else.)

Dontoc laughed. “You know, if I did not know you any better, that would have been a believable statement.”

“And the fact you know it’s not a believable statement means you’ve spent way too much time around me,” she said.

“Is that not what happens when you live with someone?”

“Point taken.”

He smiled. “I would not worry too much about such a thing.” He paused right as a warm breeze hit him square in the face. It was hot. Even with the automatic cooling system Aisral built inside his suit, the heat hung in the air like a weighted blanket - not moving, just omnipresent. “Instead we should be worrying about this heat. Are you sure you will be okay in it? I know the highblood immediate on-call transit system is still in Sandyhorn. You may not be a highblood, but I can call them.”

Pallia’s eyes went wide for a brief second before retreating, replaced instead with her vigorously shaking her head. “Are you hot?” she asked worriedly.

“Ah...no...but…”

“Then we’ll be fine. Sssorry, but I don’t even think thosse run tonight. You don’t have to worry about me. Done this walk hundreds of times in worse heat.” She gave him a soft, playful nudge. “Unless you’re worried about getting another sunburn?”

Dontoc let out an undignified snort. “Hardly. I just��” he sighed. “You are hardly wrong. I worry about you. Not because you are a tealblood, or a landdweller, or anything else. I just do.”

“Anxiety?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

“Well.” She stopped briefly, putting her hand on his arm. “I’ve got like three other trolls doing that. You’ve got enough on your plate. So if that helps…”

“It does,” he said. It was true, somewhat. His general anxiety certainly did play a constant part in his worry of everyone around him- not just her specifically - and her explicitly giving a valid reason as to why he can stay calm quieted said anxiety. Anything outside of that was completely outside of her realm of help, but there was no need to bring that up.

“Good,” she said. With an awkward chuckle, she added, “I didn’t actually think it would.”

They walked for a while longer, all the way downtown, nearby the park. A long walk, certainly, but not a bad one by any means. In part helped by the company, that much he was certain, but nevertheless anything to make the walk better was welcome.

They didn’t even need to get downtown to begin seeing the festivities. The minute the paved road turned to the broken-down cobblestone of Sandyhorn’s exterior streets, he was greeted by streamers in reds, yellows and greens coupled with the faintest hint of unfamiliar loud music playing in the distance. Strings of lights wound around the pre-existing street lamps, lighting up the roads in all the lower colors of the hemospectrum. The official artwork and murals of Careen or the current Empress, Her Imperious Beguiler, remained relatively untouched. However, next to them were scrawled pictures of other trolls. A few of them he recognized from pictures in books, but most of them looked completely unfamiliar to him.

“How decorated,” he marveled. “It was not this fancy at the other festival.”

“We’re not even in the main portion,” she said. “Wait until you see that.”

She led him through the twisting alleyways of the city, deftly maneuvering paths he didn’t even know existed. Delicious aromas of breakfast hung in the air from all the trolls cooking, and those with small bird lusii chirped at the strangers coming through. The decorations were minimal here, but any troll that had a window pointing out to these areas had a flag, or strips of fabric, or anything hanging out of open windows in their blood color.

The alleys managed to pop themselves straight into downtown with little trouble at all. The smell of greasy breakfast foods sizzling on grills in brightly colored food trucks greeted them instantly. Pop-up tents and overhangs made rainbows on the streets for vendors to sell whatever they wanted. The music was louder now, and he could even make out words overtop the sound of fiddles and harmonicas that played on a makeshift stage. It brought out couples of all castes (though all landdwelling) to listen, some even going out of their way to dance however they knew how. In the distance, he could just make out a few easy-to-set-up games and rides, but their unfortunate association with carnivals might have dissuaded them from setting them up.

“Oh,” he breathed, careful to keep his voice loud enough so she could hear. “It’s…wow.”

“Glad you like it,” she said. “Because we need to get actual food before it gets any busier.” She started her way toward a food truck donned in dark red with vibrant green windows, Dontoc keeping pace up next to her.

“It...it is going to get busier?”

“Well yeah.” She looked at him and frowned. “Is that going to be a problem? I’ll be here the whole time, but I know Valeba won’t and --”

“Pallia, if it becomes a problem, you will be the first to know,” he said gently. He looked around. It made sense that it was going to only get busier. While there was a crowd, the crowd around them was still sporadic enough that aside from clumps of people around the vendors and music, large gaps between others indicated the crowd wasn’t too bad yet. “Why do you ask?”

“Well I...I kinda wanna stay for the fireworks and those aren’t going to be until later tonight,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

“It is more than okay. It sounds absolutely fantastic. Honestly dear, I am flattered you even thought to ask to go with me,” he said.

He could’ve sworn there was a light tint of teal on her cheeks, but she turned away before he could confirm or deny it in any fashion, putting all of her focus instead on ordering food. They settled on two cups of coffee and two giant plates of waffles covered in a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream dyed to look red and yellow. Breakfast in the absolute loosest sense of the word, but he didn’t care. He was hungry, and with the near sweltering temperature, ice cream looked more delicious than usual.

The two sat down at a picnic table further away from the majority of the crowd to eat, not that it took either of them especially long. The ice cream tasted perfect for the weather, even managing to make drinking hot coffee at this time of day seem like a smarter decision. That was ignoring just how well cooked the waffle itself was: crispy at the edges, but warm and impossibly soft in the middle. At some point he’d have to figure out what exactly made their food so much better than anything he’s ever had in Sindaria, but right now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to just savor the food.

The band playing music ended their song, followed by claps from all around. The singer, a bronzeblood with short horns that curled outwards and a buzzcut, stepped forward up towards a standing microphone.

“Good morning Sandyhorn!” he called out. “Are y’all having a good time?”

Most of the crowd in close proximity let out loud cheers. Some even threw in a few loud whistles or more animalistic-noises that vaguely matched some of the lusii in the area. The bronzeblood beamed, and Dontoc could clearly see the numerous gaps in his teeth.

“Yeah! Great! Then let’s get this event really going with some great local music!” He backed away from the microphone, over towards an electric guitar on a stand. The drummer in the back clicked off a beat and the band swung into a frenzy, immediately playing a high tempo song. The fiddle soared above the rest of the song, quickly becoming the focus of the whole song.

Then, finally, the other instruments quieted down so you could hear the singer, singing angrily about his matesprit being culled by drones and the havoc it’s caused him. He actually felt bad that the song was so uptempo and catchy he would want to dance to if he actually knew how to dance properly, which is to say, could do much at all aside from basic ballroom dancing he taught himself to look proper at Careen’s parties. The food on his plate kept him relatively grounded to the table too, of course.

Not that it mattered. Listeners and dancers crowded around the stage. Those who didn’t have partners bobbed up and down, fists in the air. Some trolls previously over at a vendor even went over to join in. He glanced over at Pallia, little more than scraps on the paper plate, who swayed slightly in her seat as she mouthed out the words.

“Know the song?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously. “They perform it every sweep since they came. It’s an old favorite.”

About midway through the song, the instruments dropped off, leaving nothing but the fiddle playing a vaguely familiar tune that Dontoc swore was some folk song he’s heard played on the streets before. Listeners clapped in time as the melody sped up and swelled. Dancers twirled around each other in a flurry of burgundy skirts. It drew him in, making him want to just abandon their spot and learn how to move like they did…to spin and twirl and dance like water on the shore...

With a final cymbal hit, everything abruptly ended. The song, the dancers, everything. Pallia looked between their now-empty plates and cups and gathered them up. Dontoc was about to insist on throwing everything away, but by the time he shook himself out of his stupor completely, she had already returned.

“So? Wanna check out the shops?”

“You do not even have to ask me, dear,” he said. “Although I cannot imagine it would not take very long to get through all of them. Sandyhorn is large but ah, well, it is not Sindaria.”

With a sharp laugh, Pallia rolled her eyes. “We’ll ssssee about that.”

He quickly learned how wrong he was. The popups went on for far longer than was initially visible, and they sold anything and everything sellable. Tealbloods in business suits handed out business cards rubber banded to water balls as they quietly tried to encourage him to find something requiring financial compensation. Rust and bronzebloods had showcases of homemade jewelry and clothing homespun from the natural fibers around them. Winemakers and beer brewers offered free samples of their product, some others even offering it for sale. Pallia tried a few, only going for the ones labeled from sweet fruits. Occasionally she’d offer a sample to him, asking if he wanted any for the hive. A few he was mildly interested in, but only a couple stood out. One, an expensive strawberry wine that when he watched it light up her eyes, he purchased it the minute she wasn’t paying attention. A present for the holiday, he told himself. Nothing more.

At the end of the wine popups, a strong arm abruptly pulled him aside, spinning him so he faced her. She was a yellowblood, shorter than him with horns that seemed to match the yellow diamond carefully embroidered into her floor length dress. Her filled in eyes indicated her age, and the lack of bifurcation indicated her usefulness to society. Long, poker straight hair pooled around her waist. It did nothing to hide the plastic, fake extra points on her ears to make her look like she stepped out of a Eastern Alternian Fantasy Animation.

“Hello,” she said smoothly. “I am she called the Great Silkfoot. And you look like you could do for some of my wines.”

Dontoc stared at her blankly. “I...I ah….”

She gave him a sly smile, eyes flitting between him and the crowd beyond them. “Oh please, there is no reason to act embarrassed around me, milord. I’m merely a pleasant peasant woman selling tonics to the mm….tension between you and your friend.” His fins twitched violently at the way she said tension. And friend. There was no friend the way she said it. His face was probably hot, but it was hard to feel when such a warm body was this close to himself.

“I...look, I...I assure you Ms., uh, Silkfoot…” Dontoc trailed off, swallowing harshly and steadying his breath before continuing. His hands shook quietly, but he did his best to fight off the rising panic attack at the sudden touching, “there is no tension between us. And we are friends. Not...well, friends or however you said it.”

“Hm. Then perhaps Silkfoot could offer a more personal fix for your tension?” She ran a hand up his arm and he shuddered involuntarily. “You really are just so tense, and I could most certainly fix just so very easily.”

“My...my tension would not be assisted by you,” he muttered darkly.

“Nonsense!” She said brightly. “I know what a good violetblood lord needs and what they need is --”

“Gadung!” Pallia’s voice rang through the air. In an instant, Gadung released Dontoc, scowling quite noticeably at Pallia. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Why, selling my product. What does it look like?” she asked. The honeyed tone from earlier was dead and replaced with a far sharper, more venomous one.

“It lookss like ssomething I will gladly report to your FLARP queen,” Pallia hissed. “I know through Mayola you don’t get to play the trapdoor spider outside the game.”

“Oh please. Silkfoot isn't playing her character,’ she scoffed, pushing her hair over her shoulder dramatically. Gadung’s hand went down to the bottle holding the covered bottle of wine, tracing the knuckles. Dontoc tensed up, but she didn't seem to notice. “I'm merely selling my high quality wine as a permanent fix to real Alternian issues.”

“You're fondling the matesprit of the Heiress,” she said flatly.

“I am--!” She stopped, side-eyeing him. “Wait...but you look far too straight-laced to impress my queen.”

“The heiresssss,” Pallia said. “The big one.”

The hand on his jerked away as if it were on fire. However, her smile returned. “Well. This adds quite the dynamic,” she said smoothly.

Pallia sighed. “The only thing it adds is a valid reason for you to let us go,” she said. “And if you keep this up, I will stop purchasing from your queen.”

Gadung scowled again, showing off the barest hint of jagged teeth. “Fine. Good evening, tealblood.” She winked at Dontoc. “And milord.”

Pallia rolled her eyes again as she briskly walked off. Dontoc hurried behind her.

“She seemed...interesting,” Dontoc said. “If a bit touchy for me.”

“She’s a trapdoor spider.”

Dontoc raised his eyebrows. “How informative. Soon you may be speaking in nothing but grunts.”

“They're trolls in Darkwood that get others plastered and pail them. Gadung...is notorious. I only put up with her because she's a good brewer.” Pallia groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “And for her to jump on you of all trolls! The obvious anxious one. It's just sleazy, really. I should've lied and told her I was your matesprit, but Careen’s holds weight.”

He swallowed harshly, throat dry, and shook his head.“Such would not have been necessary. You diffused the situation perfectly fine without,” he said, fins fluttering softly. “But I do thank you. I doubt I would have gotten out of there alone.”

“You're a friend and she's a self-important troll sleeping her way to the top,” she said. “Don't worry about it.”

They left it at that. Pallia was careful to stay close to him for the rest of their time together, even as trolls kept their distance. They avoided the games and rides section altogether, on Dontoc's request. Not that it took Pallia much convincing: she hardly seemed like she wanted to go that way anyway, and was more than happy to lead the two of them away. She promised it was almost time anyway for the best part anyway.

With a mischievous grin, she led him away from the largest part of the slowly-thinning crowd, all the way towards the far-end of the park, where the path stopped and the shrubbery turned wild. A few trolls - all lowbloods, he noticed, they were the only two past yellow - hung around, taking seats in the grass. Pallia did the same, finding a spot for them just past a few trees.

“Have you ever seen fireworks?” she asked curiously as she sat down on her knees.

Dontoc followed suit, shoulders just touching for the briefest second before he shuffled away. “I lived underwater or in isolation for so long, things exploding in the sky for amusement would not be a common commodity,” he said.

“Huh. I figured Careen liked the extravagance,” she said. “Guess not.”

“But I will get to see them now,” he said warmly. “Whenever they start.”

In the distance, he heard a loud boom, pulling the conversation away. Dontoc looked up to the sky just in time to see it light up in bright white sparkles, crackling as they fell to the ground. Smoke hung in its wake, a light gray against the star-filled sky.

“Was that…”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Pretty cool right?”

He nodded wordlessly, enraptured. Another one shot towards upwards, whistling as it skyrocketed upwards and bloomed like a flower, making a big circle of bright yellow outlining dark red. As soon as the first one faded, two more booms sent off vibrant circles of green and blue adjacent to the space where the first two fell.

Then another, this one making smoke swirls in the sky, exploded in a shower of hazy jade and fell in lines of jade. He glanced over at Pallia, face illuminated by the firework, and she smiled.

“Happy Freedom Festival,” she said. Then, so softly he could barely hear it, she muttered, “Thanks for coming.”

He smiled back, turning away at the sound of the next firework exploding to hopefully hide the creeping blush. It probably failed, but for once in his life, Dontoc didn't care. Not when the night went like this. “Happy Freedom Festival, dear.”  He didn’t speak again until the next firework exploded, letting his thank you for everything die in the noise. 

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