#i have some truly determined wild birds

[kedreeva]

He couldn't figure out how to get out of the bird pen, and ended up in the pond, whereupon he gave up because the pond is nearly frozen temps. I fished him out and carried him away from the pens to release him (a journey during which he was a very good baby and did not struggle or try to bite, unlike some birds). Good luck, sir.

[lavandulawrites]

Still Waters

Yandere Nøkken/Nicker (water elf) x reader

Authors note: listening to Grieg while writing this was definitely an experience<3This is my first time writing an x reader with one of my ocs and I had a lot of fun:) If you have any requests or questions about Nøkken or Eilif as my original character’s name is, please let me know!<3

Nøkken/nicker is a Norwegian urban legend. He is a water creature that drags his victims under water. He is known to take many forms, a horse and a beautiful man some of them. (More info at the bottom)

Synopsis: you find yourself by a lake in search of water for your village after your well has run dry. By the door of the lake you met a mysterious man with long black hair playing the fiddle.

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of drowning, manipulation, mention of previous murders, original character, Norwegian folklore,

Word count: 2478

The water in the stream was unruly as you came out onto the lush clearing. The sun was getting low and you regretted going out so late. The well by your small village had run dry, so you were forced to go out and gather water yourself.

A crow cawed in one of the treetops before it took off. As you watched the majestic bird soar over the orange sky, the hair in the back of your neck rose. You knew all too well that venturing outside at dusk was dangerous. Your grandmother had told you tales about beings that resided deep in the forest that lusted for human blood. You had long refused to believe in such stories, but tonight you couldn’t stop your fantasy from running wild.

The sound of a twig snapping pulled you out from your thoughts. Your eyes scanned the stream. It was empty. You sighed in relief as you began your trek up the stream and towards the little lake.

In contrast to the stream the lake was completely still. The beautiful colours from the sky reflected onto the surface. A warm summer breeze gently ruffled your hair as you put your two buckets down on the soft grass.

The gentle melody of a fiddle filled the air. Your heart hammered in your chest as you slowly rose your head.

There on a moss grown stone sat a man. His eyes closed as he played. He had long, slightly wavy hair that reached a little below his elbows. He was truly beautiful.

His eyes slowly opened as his melody came to an end. He tilted his head slightly as he smiled.

“Hello” his voice deep. He shifted his position on the stone and leaned slightly back in a relaxed manner.

“Hello. Beautiful playing” you answered with a shaky voice. The air around him seemed otherworldly. Your intuition told you to run. To run as far away as humanly possible, but something made you determined to stay.

“Thank you” he smiled. “Enjoying the view?” he asked. His green-yellow eyes studied you intensely.

“Umm… I suppose so” you shifted on your feet.

He nodded towards your buckets. “Are you from the village nearby? I have seen you multiple times here. Your well has dried up, if I remember correctly?” he leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah…” your voice low. “It’s my turn to get water” you forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.

He hummed. “I see…” He rose from the stone and slowly walked towards you.

In a blink of an eye he was a few centimetres away from you. His tall stature towering over you. His thin hand gently raised and twisted a strand of your hair around thin fingers. “You are beautiful” he whispered.

You swallowed at his closeness. “Thank you” you smiled slightly back at him. His eyes shone through the dusk light.

“It’s rather rude how your village let you go out here all by yourself. It’s dangerous, plus those buckets are going to be extremely heavy and difficult to carry” his voice was laced with concern.

A shiver ran down your back at his words. He was of course right. It was dangerous, but you didn’t have any choice. You shook your head “Thank you for your concern, but I will be alright. Now if you would excuse me. I need to fill my buckets.”

He blinked slightly before he regained his composure. “Of course” he nodded. He turned and walked towards the stone to pick up his fiddle. His black hair gently rustled in the wind.

You turned your attention to your buckets. You cursed yourself for not bringing the iron buckets as those where much easier to carry than the wooden ones. The water rippled as you brought your first bucket down. A lily pad almost got caught in it. Its white flower petals broke off and got caught underwater. You watched in silence as the flower disappeared.

You sat your full bucket behind you before you started to fill the next one. Water slowly filled the bucket as you stared out into the horizon. The landscape around the lake was beautiful and reminded you of the beautiful paintings you had seen hung in the village church. The trees were lush with green leafs that reached high up towards the sky.

You were about to set your bucket down behind you when you saw a small ripple in the still lake. Your senses were on alert as you scanned the waters. All you could see was beautiful waterlilies. You were about to stand up when something pulled you underwater.

You screamed as something grabbed your right hand. You tried to resist with wriggling and kicking against its hold, but to no avail. It was way too strong. It dragged you further down the dark and chilly lake. You were grateful you automatically took a deep breath when it started pulling you down.

A few light rays shone through the surface and aided your eyes.

With the light you were able to fully open your eyes and see what had dragged you down. The first thing you noticed was a pale hand that tightly held your wrist. The next thing you noticed was long wavy black hair that danced as the creature dove. You suddenly regained the control over your body and you clawed at the hand.

The creature only tightened its hold as it swam faster.

It didn’t take long before you started to choke at the lack of air. You screamed through a closed mouth in fear. Drowning had always seemed extremely terrifying and now as it was happening you had never been more afraid.

The last thing you saw before darkness enveloped you was a cave that lead up to the surface.

Your eyes snapped open and you coughed up water. Whit each couch your lungs protested. Your lungs were on fire and it hurt.

Your eyes darted up towards the sky and you blinked hard as a way to clear your foggy vision. The sight that met your eyes was the sky that was almost completely dark and a face more beautiful than every prince you had ever seen the portraits of. Back started a pair of green-yellow eyes accompanied by long black lashes.

“You’re awake” his voice gentle and filled with relief. “I was getting worried” your eyes shifted to his mouth were you could see four sharp fangs.

You swallowed as your chest heaved up and down. Your nostrils flared as you tried to control your rapid breathing.

The man above you cup you face gently. He stroked his thumbs over your cheekbones and you could feel the ghost of claw-like nails. “Shushhhh….. It’s okay. You’re okay” he shushed you gently.

“Who are you? What happened? Where am I?” your voice was loud and panicked as you looked around. You were by a lake you had never seen surrounded by beautiful wild flowers and the greenest grass.

“Do you really not know? I am sure you must have an inkling feeling of who I am? Right?” he rose his brow as he leaned back. He was straddling you, but he didn’t put his full weight in you. His lips widened slightly up into a little smile.

“I don’t…” you shook your head.

“I see…” he nodded. “It doesn’t matter. Not when you are here. Oh, you have no idea how long I have waited” he grinned. He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. He sat up, causing his black blouse to slid slightly off his shoulder revealing pale skin and some of his lean body.

He stood up and offered you his hand. His hand was cold as you took it. His hand was dry despite him just recently being underwater. He dragged you up with ease and he supported your wobbly knees by holding onto your shoulders as to stabilise you.

“Let me show you my home. The one on the surface that is” he gestured towards a house at the foot of the lake. It was in medium size decorated with fishing nets and bones of various species. Some flowerpots were hanging underneath some of the windows creating a stark contrast between the different aesthetics.

“It not like the royal castle, but it isn’t so bad” he chuckled softly. “I’ll prepare some supper for you.”

You froze in your tracks as you let your eyes fully scan your surroundings. Now that you were standing, you were able to see that you really weren’t near the lake he had dragged you under.

“Aren’t you coming?” he tilted his head.

You nodded slightly. You decided it was better to do as he said rather than getting drowned in the deep lake.

His house was surprisingly cozy. It was decorated in various dark greens and dark blues. Rosemaling in green and blue littered the walls and cabinets.

“Take a seat” he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs.

You did as he said. The chair groaned slightly underneath your weight. And you almost felt guilty dripping water all over his chair. Your gaze trained on his back as he lit the stove and began preparing the fish. He was seemingly skilled in the kitchen as his movements were as fluid as waves.

In a blink of an eye were a plate of fish and steaming potatoes sat in front of you. It smelled heavenly and you sighed.

He chuckled at your reaction. “It will taste even better”. “Do you want some water?” he sat a glass of water in front of you.

You hesitated as you stared the glass of water down. Your heart rate quickened as cold sweat ran down your back. You could see your reflection on the surface.

He took a seat before you. The chair legs scraped against the floor. “Are you alright?”

When you failed to answer him, his eyes widened slightly. “Oh” he stifled a laughter. “You finally realised who I am then” he nodded.

You didn’t take your eyes away from the glass. “If I drink this I’m dead” your voice quiet.

“Why would you be dead? It’s just water.”

“Because I didn’t drown when you dragged me under. If I drink this, I will drown when I swallow” your eyes rose and met his. His expression was unreadable as he stared back at you.

“And why is that? Why would you drown?” his voice devoid of emotion.

“Because… because you are… Nøkken” your voice a mere whisper that was more fragile than a crisp autumn leaf.

He leaned back in his chair. “Nøkken… not many dare say that name” his lips curled up in a small smile.

You gulped. You adverted your gaze from his intense eyes. You were filled with hopelessness and you couldn’t help the crystal tears that fell from your eyes.

“I didn’t try to drown you. I just wanted to bring you here” his voice broke the silence.

You looked back up at him. Confusion clearly written on your face.

“Why would I kill you? You really have no idea about all the effort I went through. Drying that well was no easy task, I tell you that. Not when it was as deep as it was. But I did indeed enjoy luring those crudes you call neighbours, to my lake. Those pitiful screams surly made my day” he sighed in delight. “No, I would never in my wildest dreams kill you, [Name]” he reached for your hand. His long fingers gently wrapped around your hand. “Besides, you didn’t feel thirsty when you woke up did you?” he smiled.

You blinked as you shook your head. No, you had not been thirsty at all. The tales your grandmother had told you said that the victim that was saved from drowning would be thirsty afterwards. When they drank, they would drown on their drink. For such is the power of Nøkken.

“But why?” you asked.

“Because I love you” his smiled widely and his eyes were filled with emotion deeper than the lake he had dragged you under.

You suddenly stood up, causing the chair to fall. “I want to go home” you tried your best to not show fear. It suddenly hit you that he knew your name even though you had never told him. Were you really safe at home? Most likely not.

“No” his voice quiet. He slowly rose to his feet. He stalked towards you like the predator he was.

You backed away from him. Your back hit the wall as you cowered in on yourself. His steps was slow as his eyes looked into yours with determination. “You belong to me. You have belonged to me since the moment I saw you. When you listened to my playing and bared your soul for me by complimenting me, your fate was sealed” his voice was eerie quiet.

He slammed his hands on either side of your head and leaned down. “There is no fighting it. You humans are nothing compared to non-humans. But don’t be afraid. I will never hurt you. Never” he cupped your face. “Since I know your name, it is only fair that I give you mine. That should show you how deep my love for you runs” he looked you deep into your eyes. His eyes more vibrant than ever before. “My name is Eilif.”

“Eilif…” you tasted it on your tongue out loud. A beautiful name which meant alone or immortal. Your face lit up. You knew his name. You knew Nøkken’s name. “Eilif” you said with such determination like ever before.

The man in front of you froze before he lifted an eyebrow. “You thought by calling my name out, I would be forced to let you go. Which is true has it not been for two things”. He raised one finger “Firstly you already let me take a hold of your soul when you gave me your sincere compliments”. He lifted a second finger “Secondly, I didn’t try to drown you. Had I tried just that, then maybe saying my name would have worked.”

You looked at him like a gapping fish. He cooed as he closed your mouth with a thin finger. “Don’t be so surprised darling. Don’t you for one second doubt my devotion to you” he smiled wildly, showing his sharp fangs. He pulled you into a tight embrace. He rested his head on top of your head as he sighed in glee. “You and I will be by each other’s side for eternity. I cannot describe the joy I feel. All my work finally paid off. A man can’t ask for anything better” he kissed the top of your head with his soft lips.

As the Eilif hugged you, you knew that all hope was lost. For how could a mere human compared with the urban legend himself?

Dictionary

Nøkken (nicker in English) explanation: Nøkken is a Norwegian urban legend about a creature that lures people down the depths of waters and wells. He is described to take many forms, a beautiful man one of them. If you hear him playing the fiddle you can learn from him and become exceptionally good, but you would then have sold your soul to the devil. I have made my own version of Nøkken in this fic.

Rosemaling/rose painting: A traditional Norwegian painting technique which consists of rose like motives which is often painted on walled, shelves, cabinets, doors, bowls, spoons and etc.

[wren-of-the-woods]

Curse Fic Recs

I absolutely love Witcher fics where a character gets cursed so I thought I'd share some of my favorites! All of them are Geraskier except for a few Lambden ones at the end.

If anyone has other fics to reccommend, please feel free to give them a shoutout – I’d love to read them!

~

Cursed Jaskier

A Friend in the Wild by @samstree (Rated T, 1k)

In which Geralt acquires a tiny mouse friend who wouldn't stop following him.

If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22k)

A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.

My Name is Hidden On Your Tongue by @anarchycox (Rated T, 10k)

Jaskier is cursed. Well his whole family line is. Every male born child cannot be named. They can be given a name, but it will never be a true one and people will always have an allergic reaction to saying this false name. Only a soulmate speaking your true name aloud will break the curse. The family though has never cared, they've only cared about the family fortune and marrying well. But Jaskier cares. He is determined to travel the world, find his soulmate and learn what his name is. And the best way to travel the world seems to be with a rather taciturn witcher named Geralt of Rivia. If he started to hope that Geralt would be the one to say his true name, well that was one thing that Jaskier would not say aloud.

The Cursed Jewels of Lettenhove by GoldenDaydreams (Rated T, 8k)

Geralt has no intention of getting involved with breaking a curse and naturally ends up very involved.

Silver and Copper by @heronfem (Rated M, 56k)

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

Priceless by @handwrittenhello (Rated M, 38k)

Jaskier was cursed as a child; when spilled, his blood turns to rubies and his tears turn to diamonds. When his secret is discovered, Geralt must save him from those who would take advantage of it. Together they work to break the curse, but the cost might end up being too steep.

Set My Wings on Fire by bilboakenshield27 (Not Rated, 4k)

Jaskier gets turned into a bird and has to warn Geralt about an ambush.

Sleep of the Dead by @dancedelion (Rated T, 20k)

Jaskier thinks he hit rock bottom when Geralt flushed twenty years of friendship down the drain, but then he finds himself suddenly translucent and rudely walked through by a traveller. Apparently he's dead - that's certainly a new low. He needs to find out what happened, and who better to help him than the man who's made more than clear he wants nothing to do with him.

The Sandpiper by @welcomemysentence (Rated T, 2k)

When Jaskier gets cursed into an actual sandpiper, the little coast bird, the only way to save him is with true love's kiss.

What's Engraved Upon My Heart (In Letters Deeply Worn) by @made-of-constellations-blog (Rated T, 6k)

Jaskier gets cursed to be a lark with a strange failsafe to turn him back. Geralt misses this, and realizes too late that he's not ready to lose his bard.

to be held by @wanderlust-t (Rated T, 1k)

The knife dropped on the ground. And Geralt’s thoughts reached to a halt for a moment. He had no rope. Not anything to keep Jaskier still. To hold him back. Oh. That was going to be a really long night.

Catskier by @al-in-my-head (Rated T, 17k)

Due to an unfortunate encounter with a mage while him and Geralt are apart, Jaskier is transformed into a cat. It just so happens that Geralt likes talking to animals.

~

Cursed Geralt

A Marvelous Night for a Moondance by @flowercrown-bard (Rated T, 1k)

There was a warning every child living near Oakwood Valley knew. "Don't go out at night, or you'll disturb the Moonlit Dancer." No one truly knew who the Moonlit Dancer was, but everyone agreed on two things: The Dancer must be dangerous. And he must be oh so lonely.

animal instinct by leodesic (Rated M, 13k)

Despite Jaskier's hard work, there are still plenty of people who hate witchers. They think they're monstrous, inhuman, only held back from violence by a thin veneer of control. One mage has a plan to spread his views by capturing a witcher and bewitching them to remove their control. When the Butcher of Blaviken walks into his hideout, he's convinced he's found the perfect candidate - and a convenient way to get rid of the pesky bard that's been singing his praises. Jaskier is forced to agree witchers are not human, but that doesn't mean they're dangerous. In fact, he's astounded by how many of Geralt's uncontrolled impulses involve touching.

Connecting dots by @dapandapod (Rated G, 3k)

Geralt is hit with a lying curse, and it takes Jaskier an embarrassing amount of time to figure it out. Now, it Jaskier only would stick to the safe questions....

Don't Go Stealing My Heart by @thesilverqueenlady (Rated T, 17k)

When Jaskier is stiffed by a lord on payment, he decides to help himself to proper compensation. Alongside the correct amount of gold and silver, he also steals a beautiful silver wolf's head medallion. It's safe to say that he is not expecting the medallion to be haunted by the spirit of a very grumpy, very handsome, very cursed Witcher.

Cuddles, Curses, and Confusion by me :D (Rated T, 3k)

Geralt becomes oddly affectionate after being cursed by a mage. Jaskier would just like his life to be less complicated, please.

Spectre's Soul also by me :D (Rated T, 31k)

When Jaskier tried to go on a date with a man named Rience, he did not expect to nearly be killed. He certainly did not expect to discover a beautiful valley while running away from him. He very definitely did not expect to find out that the valley was haunted — by an absurdly beautiful man. Or: In which Geralt is cursed to be a ghost and Jaskier is the first person in decades to talk to him.

~

Cursed Aiden

Headache at First Sight by YorkAndDelta (Rated T, 12k)

A story of how Lambert ends up looking after a cursed cat, helping a Witcher from a rival school retrieve his gear from angry mages, and maybe finds love along the way.

~

Cursed Lambert

the mortifying ordeal of being known as a cat by @skaldingrayne Rated M, 10k

Lambert is cursed to be a cat. Fortunately, he finds Jaskier.

~

You can find my other reclists here!

[cyn-write]

The Little Cecelia - Chapter 3: A Change in Tides

Summary - Every 100 years, the spirits of the Great Seven and their Rivals return. Sometimes, they attempt to right the wrongs of the past, get revenge, or relive the same story, but it all is the same - only one spirit gets their Happily Ever After. Azul has always been fascinated with the human world, which only intensified once he met a human girl, Grace Trien. He desires to become a Great Mage of both Land and Sea and to explore the human world and all its wonders with the Tweels and Grace by his side, but Prince Rielle is willing to do whatever it takes to stop the little Cecelia from getting his Happy Ending.

Chapter 3- After Seven years, a lot of things have changed. Azul has become the "Merchant of the Deep" and Grace has become a Lady of High Society, and their feelings have grown as well. Upon Grace's return, Azul is determined to confess his feelings but his plans change when Grace shares troubling news with the trio.

Prev - Master List

Pairing - Azul Ashengrotto x F!Oc (Grace Trein)

Tags/Warning - Pinning, Scheming, and Childhood Friends to Lovers!

Notes - After a long (unplanned) break, I've finally returned! Thank you everyone for your patience! This chapter took a long time to write but I hope you enjoy it as things start to heat up. Just an FYI: Grace Trein is based on my Oc Grace Wilde so if you want to learn more about her click the link, but you can replace her name when reading if you want to read it as Yuu or another name. This is only the third chapter of 11, so if you enjoy this and want to be tagged or have questions, please let me know! This is also on Ao3 if you want to follow it over there. Comments, likes, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Seven summers come and go like the shifting tides.

Azul spent his days and nights perfecting himself and his magic. He swore to become a powerful Mage and that he did. Every waking moment was spent studying every book in the grotto. From potions to spells, he had mastered his craft. In the midst of the magic books were books on business and trade which he poured over every night. In a few short summers, Azul had become a master merchant, selling potions and restored treasures.

The twins became Azul’s partners in crime and aided in growing his business. They helped him gather information and ingredients to use to his advantage. They found mermaids, mermen, and some truly desperate humans who had no one else to turn to and led them to his doors. In seven years, Azul had gone from being a whimpering no one to the mysterious and powerful “Merchant of the Deep.”

Despite his growing business, he still set aside time each night to talk to Grace. It was the part of his day he treasured most as he would put down his work and simply talk to the person he treasured most. Her voice would take him out of his business guise and remind him why he was doing all of this. She also became a business asset as she had a good understanding of finance and trade due to her schooling and training under her father. Azul often found himself running his plans by Grace and she would provide honest feedback or return the next day with information that would aid him.

Beyond business, the two would talk about anything under the sea. From books they read to random musings, these simple moments brought both out of their heads and let them just be. For a few moments they were not “The Merchant of the Deep” or “Lady Trein of High Society,” they could simply be Azul and Grace, two teens dreaming of a better future.  

One conversation that would often lull them to sleep was the conversation of “what if…”

“I wish you could be here Azul,” Grace mused, “You would have loved it…”

“The more we talk the more I wish I was born human.” He would hum.

“Being human isn’t all its cracked up to be,” She would say, “If you’re born into the right station and gender, your fine. Honestly, I feel more like a bird than a person at times. All I’m supposed to do is sit pretty, speak when I’m spoken too… smile and nod as people talk about my worth... To be honest I wish I could have been born a mermaid, then I could swim away with you and the tweels.” She sounded like she was dreaming again, but they did that often.

“If you are born the right mer maybe… the sea is a dangerous place, and if you’re not the right kind of mer or swim into the wrong places… you could end up shark bait.” Azul had a dark tone to his voice, as much as he enjoyed picturing Grace as a Mer, he didn’t want her to face the monsters larking in the sea. “Besides, I think we can do better… We could run things. Create something that last centuries after we’re gone.”

“And what would that be? A potions business? Trade business?” Grace pondered, “I would love to create something, but sadly women of my status are not usually able to… We usually have to marry for wealth or diplomatic reasons and run our husband’s estate, birth heirs, and raise them to do the same… But I’m hoping to be different. Mama and Papa promised me when I was little that I would have a say in my hand and my future. They even promised that I would get the villa and part of the estate once he retires.”

“I hope so to…” Azul looked at the bracelet on his wrist and dream that the hand she would choose was his. “Do you ever wish you could just... run away from everything? Start somewhere new where no one knew who you were and could just…be?”

Grace was quiet for a moment. Azul thought he scared her away, but when she spoke again, it sent all three heart a flutter, “I would, if you would go with me.”

Ever since that conversation, Azul made it his mission to become human and be with her as more than a friend, but a partner.

Grace kept her promise and returned to the grotto each summer. The three short months she spent with them each year were filled with joy and fun. She showed them everything she learned at school and brought them a variety of land treasures (much to Floyd’s delight). She also taught them everything she could about life on land from human etiquette to fashion to food. By the time she left for her final year of schooling, the trio had a good grasp on the ins and outs of high land culture.

When the day came for Grace to finally return to the grotto, the three were anxious for her return for different reasons and Jade found it entertaining.

Floyd was impatiently waiting for Grace as he anticipated the gifts she promised to bring. How did he cope with the impatience and boredom? He messed with Azul who was a nervous wreck.

Azul was always a nervous wreck when Grace returned from boarding school, but this year it was amplified for a singular reason. Azul (after relentless Bullying from the Tweels) made a bet with the twins that was finally going to confess his feelings to Grace and present her with the human transformation potion he made. This “bet” amplified his nerves and the tweels found it entertaining to tease him about it.

By the time mid-day came around, Azul was pacing in the water and Floyd was trying to catch his tentacles as he passed. “Why isn’t she here yet?” Azul muttered, “She said she would be here by high noon. What if shes- AK! FLOYD!”

“hehehe~ I got Zuuul!” Floyd waved Azul’s captured tentacle around until Azul used that tentacle to slap him in the back of the head. “Owwie!”

“Azul you’re overthinking this, her Father is probably just keeping her.” Jade sat in the back corner of the cave re-reading one of the books Grace had given him years ago.

“I know. I know.” Azul muttered and returned to pacing, “But what if-“

“What if, What if, that’s all you’ve been saying for WEEKS.” Floyd dramatically flopped over Jade’s rock, “She’s a strong Shrimpy and any fish with eyes can see she’s liked you for YEARS!”

Jade nodded as he pushed his brother off his rock, “Besides, if you don’t tell her. We will. That’s the deal~”

Azul shook his head at the brothers’ antics. He knew they were right, but his hearts were still beating rapidly. Before Floyd could launch himself at Jade, the three heard the fast shifting of sand, shifting of fabric, and the signal whistle of their dear human.

Floyd shifted his launch towards the caves shore and bolted towards the entrance. Azul tried to calm his beating hearts as Grace entered the cave.

She certainly has grown over the years, but she has changed a lot over the last nine months. Her features had refined, her hair darkened to a golden hue, and her figure was no longer “boyish” (a term her brothers used to torment her) but full. She was even dressed differently from last summer. Instead of the flowing dresses and bows in her hair, she entered the cave in a structured summer dress, gloves, and woven sun hat.

“SHRIMPY!” Floyd launched himself onto the beach and into Grace’s outstretched arms.

“Floyd!” Grace kneeled so Floyd could give her his signature hug properly. “Oh, I’ve missed your squeezes!”

As she welcomed Floyd, Jade took his time crawling up the beach and was more gentlemanly in his greeting… until he pulled Floyd’s tail.

“Floyd, it’s rude to hog attention.” He reprimanded his brother with a teasing smile.

“Hey!” Floyd lost his balance and fell back, loosening his grip on Grace just in time for Jade to steal her.

“Ahh! Jade!” Grace laughed as she fell into his embrace. “I’ve missed you too!”

“Welcome Home, Grace,” Jade said, helping Grace steady herself as she stood up.

Azul never felt more self-conscious then when he made his way onto the shore to greet Grace. His arms felt weighted, his stomach felt bloated, he could feel all his imperfections highlighted on his body. The guppies in his stomach swam rapidly as she finally stood and looked his way. She set down her basket and walked over to Azul with arms open and bright smile.

Azul felt his lips turn up as he wrapped his arms around her and she returned his embrace, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” She gave him a quick squeeze before stepping back, hands in his. Her bright eyes scanned his figure and she looked at him in awe, “You’ve certainly changed though! Look at you!” She smiled so brightly. “You look wonderful, Azul, truly you hard work has paid off!”

Azul felt the guppies settle and his cheeks warm, “You’ve changed a lot yourself. This is certainly a new look.”

“Thank you,” Grace smiled. He lifted a hand for her to spin and she did with a laugh, “Ever since my birthday, Father has insisted I dress ‘properly.’ Honestly, I never thought I would say this but father has been exhausting.” She shook her head. “Actually, that’s why I’m late.”

Azul’s worry resurfaced and he squeezed her hand still in his. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” Grace’s smile returned, and she said, “We should get settled first before I get into that mess. Why don’t I give you your gifts first before Floyd tares my basket?”

“Too late,” Azul nodded over to Floyd and Jade already shuffling through her discarded basket. Her blanket, snacks, and some books were already spread around them with Jade placing the objects to the side before Floyd threw them in his search for the gifts.

Grace just shook her head at the two and chuckled, “What am I going to do with you two?”

Floyd’s head shot up from his search and said, “Hand over the shinnies!”

Azul let himself genuinely laugh for the first time in what felt like years. He followed Grace as she spread out her picnic blanket and settled on it. Floyd had all of her attention as she reached into her skirt pockets and brought out three wrapped items. “I guess, I guess.” Floyd reached for them but Grace quickly moved them out of reach. “Na-ah-ah! Patience Floyd! You’d think you would’ve learned after last year!”

“How many times do I have say sorry!” Floyd whined as Jade held his brother back.

“Once more as always.” Jade gave Floyd the stink eye. Last year Grace got Jade a terrarium with small figurines of woodland creatures and Floyd ended up breaking it in his search for his gift. She got Jade another and Floyd felt terrible, but Jade still holds it over his head whenever he can.

Grace handed the objects to them one at a time starting with Jade. She gave him a small jar shaped object which he delicately unwrapped to Floyd’s dismay, “There was a small shop in town that finds these, I described your fascinations to him and the shopkeep assured me you would like this!” Inside the package was a clear glass jar terrarium with rotting wood inside dotted with small white umbrellas, “He said since they are already growing, as long as you keep them in dark, moist places they should keep growing.”

Jade’s eyes sparkled as he looked at the jar. He looked like a child given a seabunny during Winterfest. He gingerly placed the jar down before giving Grace a hug. “Thank you.” He said softly, letting a few happy trills slip through. “It’s perfect.”

“Ya, ya, you got plants gimmie mine!!” Floyd pouted and his tail twitched in annoyance. Grace giggled at his childlike annoyance.

“Alright, hold your horses,” Grace said as she picked up a small rectangular object. The moment it grazed Floyd’s skin, he snatched it and shredded the wrapping paper. “I saw this in a traveling shop and had to get it for you!” The rectangular object was a case and inside the case was a small instrument, “It’s called a harmonica! You blow into this side and it makes music!”

Floyd picked up the instrument and smiled wide, “A LAND SNARFLUCS!” He put it to his lips and blew a few notes, rolling his tail in glee. After sliding it across his lip a few times, Floyd put the harmonica down and wrapped Grace in a big squeeze. “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! Mom never let me keep these!”

“Ya. Thanks a lot.” Azul sighed knowing he will never know peace again.

“Don’t worry, I got you and Jade earplugs too.” Grace said, patting Floyds back as she returned the squeeze.

Once Floyd let Grace go so he could admire his new shiny, she finally turned to Azul. Azul way always the last to receive his gift, and he was fine with it. He liked to think it was because she was saving the best for last. Grace took out a slim case and handed it to him.

“I know you don’t need these, but when I saw them I couldn’t help but think of you.” Grace said as Azul took the wrapped case. He unwrapped it and felt the smooth leather of the case on his fingers, tracing the Bell logo imprinted lid. When he opened the case and saw a pair of round spectacles. The golden frames were decorated simply with a white chain connecting the two ends so the seer my put them down for a moment without losing them. They were a simple, sleek, ordinary pair of frames, but the fact that she thought of him when she saw them made his hearts beat faster.

“Go ahead, put them on! I want to see how you look!” Grace said as she reached into her pocket for her hand mirror.

Azul did as she asked and put on the spectacles. There were clear lenses so he could see his image in the mirror clearly. He looked… older, more sophisticated, like the merchants in stories. It felt odd to look at the reflection, his reflection. The person staring back looked like him, but with confidence and charm.

He looked up to ask her thoughts and Grace was blushing. Her mouth was slightly ajar and she was flush. When their eyes met, she held his gaze. That is one thing Azul always admired, she always looked him in the eyes.

“S-see. I knew they would look good on you,” She said softly as she put the mirror away.

Azul smirked at her remark, “You’ve always had impeccable taste.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Grace chuckled and shook her head, “that’s a rare opinion according to my brothers and their wives. They’ve criticized my every move since I’ve returned.”

“Speaking of, why don’t we return to the subject of your tardiness?” Azul said, settling beside Grace, spectacles still on. “What happened?”

She sighed and picked at her gloves, removing them as she spoke, “The short explanation is… a lot happened while I was gone leading to father pushing my debut.” Azul felt his hearts stop. Her Debut? Doesn’t that mean… no. Grace continued as she picked at her dress. “The Long of it is… complicated.”

Azul’s tentacle moved its way to her mid-back and his hand covered hers, “I can take complicated.”

Grace sighed and the tweels turned their attentions away from their gifts as she spoke. “While I was at school, apparently my brothers and their wives decided to squander their portion of the family fortune and their dowries. Against my advisement, Father has housebound them and limited their spending ability, but by that point they had already made a sizable dent in the coffers. He doesn’t want to strain our people more than he has to so Father has turned to other methods of regaining funds.” She squeezed Azul’s hand for reassurance as she continued, “He is holding my debut ball the Friday. The invitations were sent out already, and this morning while I was getting my gown tailored, Father gave me the rundown of the ‘most suitable candidates’ attending.  Apparently, I must choose a husband at this ball or else.”  She laced her fingers through his, holding it close as tears threatened her eyes, “When I reminded him of the promise, he said I did have a choice, but it must be made by the end of the ball or else its moot…” She started shaking.

There was a thick silence between the four. Azul’s tentacle wrapped around her midsection in a comforting hug. “So, you’ll be engaged by Saturday?”

She placed her free hand on top of the tentacle and rubbed her thumb along his skin, “According to father I should be… but it is still my choice. A-and who knows, I could meet the one. A plethora of fairytale romances happen that way…” She looked him in the eyes as she said this. She was looking for reassurance, to convince herself that everything will be okay. “Maybe… my Prince Charming will come sweep me off my feet.”

That’s when it hit him. A plan. A glorious, beautiful plan. His tentacles slithered as it formed and Grace caught on to him.

“What?” She asked, “I know that twinkle in your eye, you’re scheming.”

“I certainly am,” Azul ran the rudimentary plan in his mind and there were some kinks, but it should work. “It’s risky, but it just might work.”

“Ooooo! This is gonna be fun,” Floyd said chuckling.

“Mind sharing?” Jade asked slithering to the water.

Azul’s tentacle’s started drawing out a plan in the sand, “Your Father said you just had to chose a suitor correct? He never said it had to be from his list, correct?”

“Technically, yes. Where are you going with this?” Grace asked, curiosity twinkling in her eyes.

“Well, if you already had a suitor with wealth. You could hold off your father for a while until you decide to marry.” Azul offered up.

“That would be wonderful, except father would want to meet the mysterious suitor and know why it is being delayed.” Grace said.

Azul had to take a deep breath before he said the next part, “Didn’t you say you wanted us to meet him one day?”

“You mean-”

“Around 11 o’clock on the night of the party. You will introduce your father to me as your…Chosen Fiancé. I have enough gold and treasure to appease him for a long time. The excuse will be we are waiting till I finish a human transformation potion so I can be with you on land. If your father is the man you say he is, then that should hold him for at least a season. Enough time for you to truly chose someone to marry.” He took both her hands in his and squeezed them, “As I said, its risky, but it just might work. But I won’t do anything without your approval.”

Grace returned the squeeze and looked at him with those lovely green eyes, “Are you sure? This could put you and the tweels in so much danger. And I-”

“I-we care about you and your happiness. There is no need to worry about us. We can handle the danger.” Azul’s tentacle came up and caressed her cheek, “You mean the world to us, and we will do anything for your happiness.” Azul felt his face heat up and he turned away to look at the tweels smirking at him, “isn’t that right?”

Thankfully, the tweels played along. “Ya! We’d do anything for our shrimpy!”

“We are happy to help a dear friend~”

Grace looked at the tweels then turned back to Azul, “Promise me you’ll keep me in the loop, and stay safe?”

Azul nodded, “I promise.”

She sighed and a sly smile grew on her face, “Well then, I guess we should flesh out this plan then, shouldn’t we?”

The rest of the evening, Grace, Azul, Jade, and Floyd developed the plan down to the minute. Every move was plotted out and obstacles considered. By the time the sun touched the sea, they had a foolproof plan prepared for the ball.

After Grace left, Jade approached Azul whispered, “What are you truly planning Azul? I’ve never seen you make a one-sided deal like this before.”

“Oh, that’s where your wrong, Jade.” Azul smirked as one tentacle brought up a golden glowing potion to his eyes, “Once this deal is done, not only will I have won our bet, but I will have everything I’ve ever wanted in my grasp.” He turned to Floyd trying out his harmonica, “Floyd, I think its time we pay Sam a visit. I’m going to need a suit for Friday’s ball.”

“Hehehe, I knew this was gonna be fun~” Floyd’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“It certainly will,” Azul peaked around the cave and gazed at the manor lights. There his dearest pearl was having dinner with her family, unbeknownst to her that her Prince Charming would sweep her off her feet at the ball, and right into his tentacles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @twistedcece @thisisafish123 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing more or want to get tagged, please let me know! Comments, likes, and Reblogs are appreciated! (Do not Steal)

[shishakli-modun]

A Shishakli/Feyd-Rautha snippet...

The woman had large eyes awash in dark blue and a defiant set to her jaw.  Dried blood streaked down her face and over her lips. 

Slowly, Feyd-Rautha approached.  “You killed nine of my men with one single blade.”

It wasn’t a question, but he did hope for some kind of reaction.  Some evidence of a fierce warrior hiding beneath the surface.

With each measured step, the weight of his side blade shifted in his armor.  Machines are not warriors.  His hand flexed over her weapon and his eyes roamed over her form, calculating.  Weighing her as an opponent.    

She leaned increasingly away as he advanced, almost against her will.  Maybe a deep-rooted survival instinct, creating space between herself and a predator.  A familiar warmth hummed up his spine. 

He waited, looking down on this fighter, her knees biting into the hard floor of the cave.  She was grossly outnumbered and there was nothing in her posture to suggest she would launch an attack.  And yet, she did not cower under the weight of his gaze.

Fire burned in her eyes as she met his stare, arching her neck up from where she had been thrown on the ground.  Blackened, charred birds encircled her. 

Had this desert rat really killed nine?  A rising ache to fight pulsed through him, up and down his arms and legs.  His thoughts raced with possibilities.  What if he kept her?  He could have her thrown in the brig of the ship.  Take her back to Geidi Prime, maybe get a training session or two out of her.  Maybe he could even put her in the arena.  The crowds would go wild over a female opponent, especially one who could fight back properly. 

She held his gaze and boldly raised her chin.  Feyd-Rautha stared down into those hard eyes and knew.  Saw the lethal hatred harbored there.  Truly, it excited him.  But this was not a filthy desert rat or sacred winged bird.  She was a viper.  And she’d kill them all if she got the chance. 

No, he couldn’t keep her.  There was no time and he could not lose focus.  Battle momentum was a crucial military tactic.  He had to burn her. 

“She won’t talk.”  A deputy to her right said, shifting forward. 

Feyd-Rautha glanced at the deputy, taking in the blood staining his underarm.  Likely her work.  The ache to combat her intensified.  But he internally sighed, resigned. 

“Tell her that’s fine.”  Feyd-Rautha handed her blade over to another deputy.  It was a shame he wouldn’t get to test her fighting skill for himself before she was dispatched, but at least she would suffer at his hand for the death of his men.  “I know everything I need to know.” 

He held out his hand for the torch handle and for the first time her proud chin faltered.  The corner of his mouth twitched, “Pleasure is all that remains.” 

Her dark eyes watered and the hatred in them intensified. 

His finger rested over the handle trigger as he directed the spout end towards her, “Does the desert rat have a name?” 

Oddly, this is what made her finally speak up. 

“What difference does it make to you!”  A furious snarl erupted between her teeth and she started climbing to her feet. 

Three deputies lunged forward to force her back down, but he held a hand aloft to stop them. 

He smiled, black teeth gleaming at her.  “None.” 

Standing now, she tipped her chin and glowered.  The woman was taller than he expected, lithe.  Balanced forward on her feet.  Surely she moved with rapid efficiency in hand-to-hand. 

Feyd-Rautha tilted his head, waiting.  “Nothing else?” 

He shrugged, raising the torch once more. 

“I am Shishakli.”  The dried blood cracked over lips as she spoke. 

Feyd-Rautha paused, fixated on the specks of red.  Shishakli.  Shishakli. 

With renewed determination, the woman stood to her full height.

“Shishakli Modun of Sietch Tabr.  A child of the Zensunni Tribe.  And we will not be defeated by you,” she growled. 

Then she reared back her head and spit right at him.  He watched it land on his boots. 

“Shishakli Modun,” he narrowed his eyes at her now, “… of Sietch Tabr.  Prepare for death.” 

Suddenly, a blast sounded from outside and the mountain shook.  Dust and sand vibrated in the air around them, creating a cloud. 

Feyd-Rautha glowered as his commanders scrambled to run outside.  The woman though, he held her eyes and she smiled. 

_________________________________________________________

Shishakli escapes and Feyd-Rautha gives chase.

[celestelunisea16]

Adding onto that, the funeral... and then the whole thing about the parents blaming the underworld and everyone is pointing fingers until it's revealed that Clover neutral run did it.

Oh, it takes the fun out of funeral.

More angst my deputy darlings under the cut!

TW: Angst, and Lucifer starting to hold grudges against humanity. Starlo death mention.

I can see this would probably happen, like Solomon and Crestina are distraught by their son's death, and Orion is pissed about it, denying that his brother is dead.

I feel like, out of spite for no reason, Flowey would make it look bad by finding Starlo's hat and badge and returning it to his family and setting it next to Lucifer before he leaves the situation, so when Lucifer shows them the hat and badge, they're absolutely hurt over it. Crestina is just taking her son's hat and crying into it, while Solomon and Orion are pointing the blame onto Lucifer. Everyone in the Dunes blames him as well except for Ceroba.

Ceroba has to take a while to think, because his LV in her and Starlo's world is LV. 1. He has gained 0 LV in their world, so how could Lucifer have killed Starlo...? The only way he could do that without gaining LV is by Starlo asking for him to kill him as a final wish but Starlo would never ask for Lucifer to kill him and Lucifer seemed to absolutely have no idea how he died, even though he knew that Starlo was dead...

And the human that passed by the Wild East seemed... Off putting.

After several days and after hearing that the Blue Bird monster, known as Martlet, disappeared after traveling with the human, it was determined by Ceroba that Starlo's death was not caused by Lucifer, but by Clover.

Lucifer is let off of everyone's blame, but some still blame him for not being there to protect Starlo.

A funeral for Starlo is held as his dust (or the pieces Lucifer could gather after Starlo's corrupted copy dissipated) was spread over his hat. Several people cried as they had gotten close to the hat with the dust of his remains. Lucifer only shed a few...

He looks down at the badge of his lost love that he was allowed to hold onto. His heart already sunken to the lowest depths of his chest...

The only thing he could think of while he was there, staring at the badge was what would've happened if he was there?

Would Starlo still be alive because of him?

Would he have just taken minimal damage?

Would he have still died...?

... He couldn't think of anything else.

After the funeral, Starlo's hat was placed on a scarecrow near the cornfield, Lucifer only watching as Orion glared at him for a moment and walked away.

Crestina stood next to Lucifer, apologizing for Orion and her husband's anger towards him, and apologizing for holding her own grudge against him as well...

He tells her he accepts it, but he can never truly forgive himself for leaving Starlo alone to end up with his fate.

Then he looks back through his own life in his own world as he stares at the humans he wished to redeem before... Only grinding his teeth as he scowls at the thought of any human or their redemption, as a human was the one to kill Starlo...

Over the next few weeks, he'd become cold and distant to everyone, including everyone at the Hotel. When he did visit the hotel, he'd only stare at the Sinners, a look of pure hatred in his eyes as he stared at them, reminded of what they were before death. The same thing that killed the love of his life.

"A filthy forsaken human."

He no longer believed in redemption for them. He no longer believed in the past dream of helping sinners become winners. He hated Sinners and Winners for what they truly were.

Just evil creatures who believed that they were above all else. Creatures who were worse than any demon or Deadly Sin or Hellhound or whatever demon you could think of.

"Humans."

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #25: LotR, but make it Half-Elven!Legolas

I honestly, truly, thought I was done with Legolas headcanons - and then this one snuck up on me: what if we know nothing about Legolas' background because he knows nothing about it either?

Or: What if Legolas is one of the missing sons of Dior and Nimloth?

Bear with me:

Dior was the son of Beren and Lúthien - and thus the first peredhel, or Half-Elven. His wife was Nimloth. Together they had three children: twin sons, Eluréd and Elurín, and a daughter, Elwing, who'd go on to be the mother of Elrond and Elros before turning into a bird.

During the Second Kinslaying, Eluréd and Elurín were captured, left for dead in the woods, and never seen or heard from again. It is assumed they died, but some said wild birds helped them to escape.

Both boys were at most six years old at the time, which is frightfully young for elves, and I'm betting even half-elves with their near-perfect memories can repress the most horrific ones if they're young and determined enough.

Just imagine it:

At some point 10-15 years after the Fall of Doriath, Thranduil and the other survivors come across a feral child in the woods they're passing through. This is not entirely unusual, as there are a lot of orphans and abandoned children at this time in elven history, but it is rare for one so young to have survived for so long on their own.

They are far enough away from the ruins of Doriath that no one believes that the child they find could have come from there, and it's been long enough that nobody connects this child with the missing princes. (I imagine starvation, malnutrition, and half-elven genetics make the child they find look very much not the right age to be Eluréd or Elurín. And who knows? Maybe grief and shock turned his originally black hair pale blond?)

The feral child - let's go with Eluréd - very much has not been having a good time. He's barely been finding enough food to keep from starving, even with the wild birds' help, and has suppressed most of his early memories - including the incredibly traumatic death of his twin Elurín, who drowned when they were trying to cross a swollen river in the first year after the Fall.

Regardless of the exact circumstances, Thranduil adopts Eluréd, who he names Legolas, as the child has no memory of his name - or, indeed, anything besides his feral existence.

Thranduil is, perhaps, not the parent anyone would have chosen for a feral child - he's barely of age himself, has no spouse or extended family beyond his father Oropher to help him out, and has duties to his people that keep him from giving his newly adopted child all the love and care he deserves - but he is a good one. Not perfect by any means, but a sold A-minus father.

Things proceed apace. Perhaps this version of Legolas of kept out of the War of Wrath, as he would have still been rather young when that war broke out and his adoptive father didn't want to risk re-traumatizing him, but otherwise Legolas an active participant in the settling of the Greenwood, the War of the Last Alliance, and in countering the darkness that falls over his kingdom starting c. 1050 TA.

Throughout it all, Legolas never regains any clear memories of his first 20-25 years and after a while stops trying to. Thranduil is not a perfect father, but a loving one, and Legolas is more than happy with the family he has. His past doesn't matter to him.

The Hobbit follows canon, as does The Lord of the Rings - except The Council of Elrond is the first time Elrond and the handful of elves who survived the First Age have seen Legolas as 1) an adult, 2) outside layers of armor, and 3) up close. This is not enough to make anyone who remembers Dior go "A-ha! A missing prince!" but it is enough for more than one person to comment on his passing similarity to Elrond and his sons Elladan and Elrohir.

But otherwise LotR happens exactly as in the books - with, yes, Legolas/Gimli happening in the background, because I simply cannot imagine LotR without it - up to and including building a ship and sailing west with Gimli.

It's not until they reach Valinor that the truth comes out. Not right away, of course, but Elurín has been re-embodied for long enough for what happened to him and Eluréd to have made the rounds. He, Dior, and Nimloth have been waiting ages for Eluréd to come to Aman.

Naturally, this does not go over particularly well at first - Legolas has long stopped wondering what happened to his birth family, and to be confronted with them now is one of the very last things he wants. He's very fine with remaining Thranduil's son, thank you very much. Not to mention Dior is less than pleased one of his sons has taken up with a dwarf after one killed his grandfather Thingol and sacked his city.

It is, in short, a bit of a nightmare.

But eventually come to some sort of arrangement - Legolas is willing to get to know his birth family, but doesn't want to be surrounded by them every single moment of every single day, like they might want; his birth family is willing to respect his desire to remain Legolas Thranduilion first and Eluréd Diorion only when it can't be helped, and give him the space he desires.

But throughout all of this should be the importance of found families and how blood matters less than bonds of love and choice. This goes for adoptive families - Elrond and his kidnap dads; Legolas and Thranduil - and bonds of friendship - such as among the Fellowship.

Bonuses include: 1) Elrond referring to Legolas, with varying degrees of seriousness, as uncle. 2) Elladan and Elrohir, when they show up, doing the same - and lamenting the fact that Arwen never knew, because she would have loved having more family. 3) Gimli being the one who convinces Legolas not to write his birth family off entirely, but to give them a chance (with Galadriel, Elrond, and Celebraín taking turns at first to sit in and play mediator).

And that's it. That's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny. Just link back if you ever do anything with it.

Other Legolas Headcanons: First Age | Second Age | Third Age | Half-Maia | Half-Elven

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[walpu]

Angel lady ramble time!

Born from a runaway halovian in chaotic planet named Deyanira-VIII, it was a world with little civilization located in a far corner of a galaxy, with its locals wiped out many Amber Eras ago and now inhabited by outworlders, where whoever wishes to stay in that planet must learn the art of its world and be an adept survivalist.

The planet is beautiful—truly—natural resources are there, it possesses a unique ecosystem, where the remnants of the old yet advanced civilization lie, it is a livable world yet holds its own cruelty. Many have challenged the nature of Deyanira-VIII, pursuing countless hidden treasures and relics of immense value. Some are treasure hunters looking for artifacts to be taken home and exchanged for credits, while others are explorers determined to unveil what the planet hides. With its many corners that have never been seen, carrying many dangers and possibly taking many lives of many due to its savage nature, it is no surprise that so many are curious despite the danger.

Same goes to Zielle, born in a small peaceful civilization with no authority to control them, they go with “not prohibited does not equate to permitted” in their lives, of course it is not the best community to live in so the young girl would steel herself up while following her group wherever they would go. Though she was one of the children that were held close by the adults and wasn’t allowed to explore on her own, looking at her left and looking at her right, same goes to front and back she’d see the bodies of the adults blocking the view. To protect her and the other children from danger, yet the enchanting charm the world has to offer fascinates her to no end she has a rebellious streak for running away into the wilderness, yes she has the physical prowess but what can a little halovian do if said wilderness wants to devour her? She could only remember the adults told her to hide her wings and stick her halo onto her head like a headdress, just sing for the people that loves her voice, do what she loves and spread her melody.

A wild child if you may, would go missing during nighttime or when there’s a heavy rain. Was it dangerous? Yes. Was it worth it? She got nothing from it, but at least she knows what’s out there, and she could scavenge for more remains. A little bird who flew from her nest too early, her parents went into the wilderness and never came back, living amongst other children in the orphanage.

It was after some time that a lonely Nameless came to this planet and left their mark that Zielle started to go running outside once again, the pitter patters of the rain was all too familiar, an old friend in case she ascended to high to ground her back to the earth. The repeated habit of running away and attempts to launch herself into the sky blurred her memory, years of enduring the savages of Deyanira-VIII bred a tough cookie, going out of her way to join expeditions to find something worth to gain materials and exchange it for an affordable space transport, or better yet rebuild an abandoned spacecraft and make it hers.

If that Nameless taught her something during their limited encounters when they stayed in this planet as they saw her twinkling eyes at their vehicle, was that thousands of years ago in the vast empty space there was once a fleet of trains running on the star rail under the Aeon named Akivili. To connect distant worlds together from different star systems and even the most distant of galaxies, the Nameless told their stories of their adventures and battles and parties. To start a chapter of her life, turn the page, keep looking up at the sky, for they believed she can also walk on the path of the Trailblaze.

And under the light drizzle, the Nameless finally bid their goodbye to Deyanira-VIII and walk amongst the stars. From that day, the young woman walks deeper into the dangers of the planet, and her next destination is the stars.

- 🪽

I love the nameless so much dear lord

She is so free spirite,

I bet in-game she would be a Robin's narrative parallel at least in some way: caged bird and a free spirit 🥹

[storymakerdraconians]

The Gathering of Winds and Hooves

As the golden morning light filtered through the trees, casting warm rays across the cobblestone path, a mysterious visitor made her way toward the edge of the town. Her silhouette was tall and elegant, with a striking presence that commanded both respect and awe. Clad in deep blue, her scales shimmered under the morning sun, and her strides were purposeful, exuding both confidence and familiarity. She had come to visit her old friends, two majestic stallions who had long since retired from their days of galloping across fields and fighting in epic battles.

The first to greet her was Eiron, a magnificent black stallion with a glossy coat that gleamed like polished obsidian. His mane was long and wild, flowing down his neck like a river of night, contrasting sharply with his white blaze that ran from his forehead down to his nose. He stood tall and proud, his eyes shining with intelligence and warmth. The second, Alistair, was a regal white stallion, his coat nearly iridescent under the sunlight, with a muscular frame that spoke of a lifetime of strength and resilience. His demeanor was calm and thoughtful, a stark contrast to Eiron’s fiery spirit.

As she approached, Eiron tossed his head and let out a welcoming whinny, prancing in place with an eagerness that belied his age. Alistair, on the other hand, regarded her with a calm, gentle gaze, his deep brown eyes reflecting a quiet joy at her arrival. She greeted them both warmly, her voice soft yet firm, carrying a tone that hinted at shared memories, triumphs, and perhaps a few scars.

For a moment, the three of them simply stood together, letting the sounds of nature surround them. Birds chirped in the trees, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, creating a symphony that seemed to echo the rhythm of their beating hearts. They had been through so much together—though their paths had diverged over time, the bond they shared was unbreakable.

Eiron nudged her playfully, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Have you missed us, old friend?" he asked, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. She laughed, a low, musical sound that seemed to dance in the air. "More than words can say, Eiron. It feels like lifetimes have passed since we last shared a drink or raced through the fields together."

Alistair nodded thoughtfully. "Time may pass, and paths may change, but some things remain eternal." His voice was deep and resonant, each word chosen with care. He stepped closer, brushing his nose gently against her shoulder, a gesture of friendship and kinship. "Come, let us walk and share stories of days gone by and dreams yet to come."

Together, the trio moved through the village, drawing the attention of passersby who marveled at the sight of these legendary figures together once more. Tales of their past adventures were whispered among the villagers—of battles fought side by side, of daring rescues, and of lands explored far and wide. Their journey took them through fields of wildflowers, the scent of blooming lavender and daisies filling the air, as they reminisced and laughed, each story sparking another memory, another tale.

As the sun began to set, casting hues of orange and purple across the sky, they found themselves by a quiet lake, its surface smooth and reflective like a mirror. They settled by the water's edge, watching as the world was bathed in twilight's glow. Eiron stretched out on the grass, his eyes half-closed in contentment, while Alistair gazed thoughtfully at the horizon.

The visitor looked at them both, her heart swelling with a bittersweet mix of happiness and nostalgia. "I never truly left," she murmured, her voice soft yet resolute. "A part of me has always remained with you both, through every journey, every battle. You are my family."

The stallions turned to her, their expressions mirroring her own feelings. Eiron, ever the fiery spirit, raised his head and spoke, his voice filled with determination. "Then let us never part again. We will face whatever the future holds together, as we always have." Alistair nodded, his calm gaze reassuring, his presence as steady as the earth beneath their feet.

Under the star-studded sky, the three friends made a silent vow, one that needed no words. Bound by loyalty, love, and a history that transcended lifetimes, they knew they would walk forward together, come what may. And as the night embraced them, they stood side by side, watching as the first stars appeared in the heavens above—a timeless testament to a friendship that would endure forever.

========================================================================

The white-furred farmer, a quiet and watchful figure, stood by the edge of the field, leaning against the wooden fence as the sun began its descent behind the rolling hills. His fur, soft and pristine, caught the last warm rays of the day, giving him an ethereal glow. His eyes, a deep shade of emerald, sparkled with a gentle curiosity as he observed the gathering by the lake.

Eiron, his prized stallion, was there, his black coat gleaming like polished onyx against the evening light. The farmer had always known Eiron possessed a wild spirit, an energy that couldn’t be tamed by any bridle or rein. But today, Eiron wasn’t alone. He was joined by his old friends, the visitor — a striking figure in blue scales — and the noble Alistair, whose white coat seemed to mirror the farmer’s own fur.

The farmer had tended to these stallions for years, watching over them through every season, knowing their quirks, their habits, and the silent language they shared with each other. But today, there was something different in the air, a sense of nostalgia and reverence that made the scene feel almost sacred. He stayed back, not wanting to interrupt, yet unable to look away.

As the trio laughed and reminisced, the farmer felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name — a bittersweet ache that came with witnessing such a profound bond. He knew that, though he provided food, shelter, and care for these magnificent creatures, there was a part of them that belonged to a world beyond his farm. A world of ancient legends, of battles fought and friendships forged in fire.

Eiron, sensing his gaze, glanced back and met the farmer’s eyes. There was a moment of understanding between them, a silent acknowledgment of the roles they each played in this story. The farmer tipped his head in a subtle nod, a gesture that conveyed his blessing and his respect for the reunion unfolding before him.

As the stars began to prick the darkening sky, the farmer turned and walked back toward his humble cottage, leaving the three friends to their shared memories. He knew he was but a guardian, a caretaker, and he was honored to witness this gathering, a testament to bonds that transcended time, words, and worlds.

And so, under the vast, starlit sky, the farmer retreated, leaving the friends to their timeless reunion by the lake.

======================================================================

Description: A serene meeting unfolds as three legendary friends — a majestic stallion, a wise elder, and a mysterious visitor — gather by the lake under the evening sky, reliving memories of past adventures. ==============================================================

Title: Reunion of Mythic Friends by the Lake, The Gathering of Winds and Hooves

Alt Text: A black stallion, a white stallion, and a blue-scaled visitor share a quiet moment by a lake in a peaceful, rustic setting.

Tags: mythic gathering, fantasy friends, stallions, lake scene, nostalgic meeting, rural landscape, legendary animalsKeywords: fantasy reunion, mythic friends, stallions by lake, peaceful gathering, magical creatures, rural setting, scenic lake

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

just a girl in the life

after I explore the many phases of my moon

in the starry nights of dreaming

I awaken in the morning as the sun

we do love the moon and her illumination

but without the warm and dynamic radiance of the sun

everything yearning in the light would stall its growing

I used to have more compassion for perspectives outside of mine

as soon as I began to realize it the construct changed quickly

while it's nice to have others consider you

no one will be there for you quite like yourself

sometimes I'm able to be politely clarify when a line

is crossed somewhere by someone

sometimes I just bare my teeth and snarl at them

with my children I'm able to be mostly patient

but I'll curl my lip at them too if unheeded too long

my energy has changed and I see it reflected in them

kids do nothing but test to see where you are

and what they can get away with

give and take is nature and we all do it

attention is love and consideration is care

and they want all of it all the time

I give as much as I can and find somewhere to recharge

when I eventually get depleted and irritable

but no matter what they do or how angry or tired I get

it's never worth truly hurting them

disappointment is one thing and pain is another

but when I break something I make every effort to heal it with them

I know what it's like to be broken and ignored

likely why it's so difficult to break me now

but hasn't it been fun trying?

my heart feels wide open today so I gaze directly into the sky

let the gold of morning light pour into it and into me

I wonder what we'll do with the day

I broke another barrier within myself yesterday

faced a fear and like a breaking fever ended up drenched in sweat

but I have the new start of a document and a deep

determination for a future I can't yet envision

and not because I'm willingly blinded this time

so that's something not borrowed but something new

my tarot meditations are getting more wild by the day

it's a bit uncomfortable how they resonate but I try

to keep everything open to interpretation

stumble across deeper meanings as something clicks

or grows from a seed planted by a random connection

my sense of logic has always been more colorful than most

I try not to consider myself a prophet but so many things

are lining up and I'm finding myself uncomfortable

in clothing that doesn't have some kind of hood attached

that's actually how it starts, right?

if I start looking at large fallen tree limbs like something

I want to take home and carve into a staff

I'll know that the metamorphosis reached a new stage

I already have a wand made of crystals and collected feathers

really it's just a matter of time before the gypsy takes over

the fool has always been here and the sword and shield

have been part of me before it should have been

sometimes I wonder how you spend your day

I still don't believe any of your lazy voiced tales

even if sometimes there was truth ringing in them

instead I'll wonder if you soften your coffee from black

if you trip and stumble over cracks in the sidewalk

or if you're someone who actually watches where you're going

you've been so careful to make sure I can't observe anything

it's only incredibly infuriating not to be able to absorb information

especially when my curiosity is so actively engaged

make a list of tasks to complete because there's plenty to do

hum and sing a song or two that reminds me of you

learn a dance and draw a picture and make my youngest laugh

today I don't yet feel like going to the river but it could change

maybe I could go somewhere new and stimulate some neurons

more boxes packed and more items purged

ugh, I have to buy more groceries

why are they so damn consumable?

my hair is all faded and boring so I'll change that too

open the blinds and let the sunlight into my stained glass cave

all the birds fly away from my window like they were peeking inside

the cardinal is quiet this morning so I wonder where he got to

I look in the mirror and I am content and I feel it too

there's a nice evenness to it and a sense of neutrality

a glimmer of delight that just waits to be inspired

today I woke up happy and peaceful and that's not always the case

so I'll enjoy it immensely and make the most of it

I like the way the mourning doves coo

[ceekbee]

The Scarlet Ibis (Eudocimus ruber) is native to South America, mostly along the Caribbean coast, but south along the Atlantic coast, with, the last I heard, an isolated critically endangered population in south-eastern Brazil’s Baixada Santista district, nesting in coastal mangroves. It is also found on various islands of the southern West Indies, and strays still further north. While it may sometimes been seen as far north as the continental U.S., and was, indeed, painted by Audubon, who found them in Louisiana in 1821. He said they were rare, leading many birders and ornithologists to conclude that he encountered “vagrant” or “accidental” birds. My own view, for what it’s worth, is a little different. I think that birds such as the Scarlet Ibis were more heavily persecuted, in their case for their brilliant feathers in an era when there was a huge demand for colourful feathers for the millinery and fashion industries, and that they may very well have nested, the Gulf States and other regions where they are now absent.

The odd one is still seen, for sure, but they are, because of their beautiful plumage, so often kept in zoos and other collections that it’s really impossible to determine if birds observed where they don’t normally occur are truly wild birds from other climes, or escapees.

In few places, now, is it especially numerous, with most occurring in mangroves and mudflats and the flooded plains and thinly inhabited llanos of Venezuela and Colombia. Tourists visit the famous colonies of the Caroni Swamp, in Trinidad, where the birds flock each evening. It is a spectacular sight as the lowering sun, filtered through tropical air makes their brilliant red feathers seem to glow. The Scarlet Ibis, and an entirely different bird, the Rufous-vented Chachalaca (Otalis ruficauda), share the honour of being the national bird(s) of Trinidad and Tobago.

The Scarlet Ibis is extremely similar to the White Ibis (Eudocimus albus), in size, shape, habits and pattern, but not colour. Where the adult Scarlet Ibis is brilliant red, the adult White Ibis is snowy white. Both have black wing tips, and in immature plumage they are similar in appearance. They are known to hybridize, rarely in the wild but more commonly in captivity, and some scientists would prefer to consider them distinct subspecies of the same species, which would create the absurdly confusing result that the Scarlet Ibis lose its appropriate name and being called the “White Ibis”, unless, of course, the people in charge of such things came up with an appropriate alternative name applicable to both forms.

This painting is approximately life-size, and was done in acrylics on compressed hardboard. If I were to give the painting a name it might be “Scarlet on Red” since I have shown a trio of birds characteristically perched on the branches of a Red Mangrove (Rhizophora mangle). This was a very difficult painting for a technical reason: It is hard to use red paint. The pigment tends to not be too stable during application and the paint is translucent, so requires a lot of underpainting, and then about three applications to approach that richly brilliant scarlet colour that seems so unusual for such a large bird, although several large wading bird species do have areas of red, pink and bright pink. The painting is 30 X 25 inches in size

By Barry Kent Mackay

[zeirasworld]

Winter Trucks

It was a cold hard day. All the eye could see was thick white slaps covering everything from roads to roofs. Harsh winds blow from every side taking whatever came in their way with them. It was a wonder how people survived here. It was like hell if hell was covered with snow.

It was a cold hard day. All the eye could see was thick white slaps covering everything from roads to roofs. Harsh winds blow from every side taking whatever came in their way with them. It was a wonder how people survived here. It was like hell if hell was covered with snow.

We had naively accepted a delivery in this cold hell hole and it was not going great. The truck engines were frozen and the package was putting way too much load on the machine. We were somehow keeping wheels from becoming one with the ground. Most of our men were having trouble breathing through the thick icy air of Late winter's Danzia. But we're already paid in advance. We couldn't back off.

We were stranded here there was no way we could get reinforcements, where not even birds wanna come. We definitely couldn't pay the ludicrous cost of mechanics in this side of Danzia and even if we could, finding one was like finding a pin in a hay sack.

Most of our crew had already given up but not Danny. He was the wild man of the crew, someone who would throw the most ridiculous and absurd ideas which no one could even imagine thinking of, let alone trying it. Yet funnily making them all work somehow. I can't count how many times he has saved our asses with his stupid ideas. We had accepted him as the guy who could pull off anything no matter how dumb it may sound. Now he had the crazy idea of delivering 50 packages with his own semi truck in this white weather where even our most dangerous monsters couldn't. He would never leave his little devil anywhere. It was a second hand semi truck gifted to him by his long gone father when he turned 16, ever since he has been convinced that his truck could do anything. Even going toe to toe with one of our big trucks on some occasions.

He was hard to convince otherwise so we let him do his thing. We were sure he would finally fail this time but somehow Danny being the insane guy hemanaged to deliver all the 50 packages on time in his second hand semi truck which went out of production ten years ago. He and his white devil seemed to be truly unstoppable even in this Godless weather.

But we had way more than 50 packages to deliver. The client had asked for about 50,000 to be delivered by the end of dawn and another 10,000 by the morning of the following day.

We were already short of time. Just then Danny came to me with an even stupider idea.

"Wha' if we tie the trucks wi' ma' truc'?"

It was not an idea anyone would expect from a sober man but we had no better idea. We were running out of time and with little to no hope, I allowed him to do whatever.

One of my men tied a very durable high quality rope equivalent to steel to the hook in back of Danny's white devil. Then another tied it to the front of one of our big monsters. She wasn't in a good mood today, I doubted she would even start. One of our best drivers sat in her as Danny started his engines.

The wheels on Danny's truck stuck in its place rotating in its place as our truck stood still, unscathed. Danny kept pressing his foot harder and harder on the accelerator but all his might seemed vain in comparison.

Then when it all seemed null, one of our men started pushing the truck with his bare fucking hands, barely able to stand on his two feet, his feet wiggling. Two more men joined him, coughing in the thick frozen air. Determined like their life was on line. Soon the entire crew joined, pushing the truck with all the might they could gather in this temperature. The wheels of the truck slowly started to actually move. I shouted to all of them, "Keep on!" as I too joined to help my fellow soldiers, knowing this was our last chance.

The engine started to make some noise, the good kind of noise, like a child finally able to play after a terrible fever. She started to move slowly slowly until finally she ran.

A gush of cheer followed as the engine made the sound we were all too familiar with. It was a moment of celebration and joy. After days of desperation finally we were out of this hell. The celebration didn't last very long though, as we had a package to deliver.

We still needed to be careful, not to turn off our little beast. It was not sure if it would turn back on in this Devilish weather again.

In no time we were able to complete the delivery. The client seemed very happy, he too had lost hope that we could deliver his package on time. As a reward he even paid us an extra bonus tip.

Our team proved that day with human spirit and a crazy guy anything is possible.

We were stranded here there was no way we could get reinforcements where not even birds wanna come. We definitely couldn't pay the ludicrous cost of mechanics in this side of Danzia and even if we could, finding one was like finding a pin in a hay sack.

Most of our crew had already given up but not Danny. He was the wild man of the crew, someone who would throw the most ridiculous and absurd ideas which no one could even imagine thinking of, let alone trying it. Yet funnily making them all work somehow. I can't count how many times he has saved our ass with his stupid ideas. We had accepted him as the guy who could pull off anything no matter how dumb it may sound. Now he had the crazy idea of delivering 50 packages with his own semi truck in this white weather where even our most dangerous monsters couldn't. He would never leave his little devil anywhere. It was a second hand semi truck gifted to him by his long gone father when he turned 16, ever since he has been convinced that his truck could do anything. Even going toe to toe with one of our big trucks on some occasions.

He was hard to convince otherwise so we let him do his thing. We were sure he would finally fail this time but somehow Danny being the insane guy he is managed to deliver all the 50 packages on time in his second hand semi truck which went out of production ten years ago. He and his white devil seemed to be truly unstoppable even in this Godless weather.

But we had way more than 50 packages to deliver. The client had asked for about 50,000 to be delivered by end of dawn and another 10,000 by the morning of the following day.

We were already short of time. Just then Danny came to me with a even stupider idea.

"Wha' if we tie the trucks wi' ma' truc'?"

It was not an idea anyone would expect from a sober man but we had no better idea. We were running out of time and with little to no hope, I allowed him do whatever.

One of my men tied a very durable high quality rope equivalent to steel to the hook in back of Danny's white devil. Then another tied it to the front of one of our big monster. She wasn't in a good mood today, I doubted she would even start. One of our best drivers sat in her as Danny started his engines.

The wheels on Danny's truck stuck in its place rotating in its place as our truck stood still, unscaved. Danny kept pressing his foot harder and harder on the accelerator but all his might seemed vain in comparison.

Then when it all seemed null, one of our men started pushing the truck with his bare fucking hands, barely able to stand on his two feet, his feet wiggling. Two more men joined him, coughing in the thick frozen air. Determined like their life was on line. Soon the entire crew joined, pushing the truck with all the might they could gather in this temperature. The wheels of the truck slowly started to actually move. I shouted to all of them, "Keep on!" as I too joined to help my fellow soldiers, knowing this was our last chance.

The engine started to make some noise, the good kind of noise, like a child finally able to play after a terrible fever. She started to move slowly slowly until finally she ran.

A gush of cheer followed as the engine made the sound we were all too familiar with. It was a moment of celebration and joy. After days of desperation finally we were out of this hell. The celebration didn't last very long though, as we had a package to deliver.

We still needed to be careful, not to turn off our little beast. It was not sure if it would turn back on in this Devilish weather again.

In no time we were able to complete the delivery. The client seemed very happy, he too had lost hope that we could deliver his package on time. As a reward he even paid us an extra bonus tip.

Our team proved that day with human spirt and a crazy guy anything is possible.

[the-trash-eating-llama]

Greetings once again, I come to you from a calmer place, calmer ðan usual anyhow.

I do hope you enjoy ðis entry, it seems to be a little longer ðan oðers, and I take ðat as a good sign.

But enough of ðe prolog, it is time for chapter 6. Enjoy!

After leaving the small interior, Nemandi finally saw something they would never truly understand, an enormous orange and yellow place, completely enclosed, bigger than a valley and taller than mountains, with birds so far away that they could barely be seen. They could only just barely see the walls to the gargantuan space, which stretched all the way up and joined the sky, where it became difficult to determine if they were truly observing the sky or simply a replica of it, both ideas equally impressive.

An enormous waxy pillar centered the entire structure, holding the sky and successfully stealing Nemandi’s breath. How could something so gargantuan exist, and without showing any signs of collapse in the slightest?

This place, it made Nemandi feel very small, almost nonexistent, and threatened to swallow them whole if they were not careful.

Everywhere they looked was life. Small birds flying in swarms, buzzing around bigger birds and teasing them, scattering when squakes rang out. Large birds sailing across the expanse with large boxes in their grips filled with things they needed for their daily activities. Fresh hatchlings playing in suspended canopies where they could be wild while being supervised by much older hawks.

“Woah” it was beginning to become their catch phrase.

Before long, our party came upon a large silo, various markings and dials covered the base of the cylinder watched carefully by strange looking birds, giant flabs of skin hanging from beaks that looked no sharper than an elbow, and white feathers coating what was certainly orange skin.

“Hello Pelíkan, how are you today?” Cawed Gripur, stealing the strange bird’s attention. “Oh, greetings Gripur, it has been well, for our food here is projected to last another two weeks at the least! And who is this fledgling?” Pelíkan squawked, queuing to Nemandi with their large wing. “But where are my manners, I am Pelíkan of the west, it/it’s, and it is a pleasure.”

Pelíkan outstretched a wing, and when Nemandi reached out, Pelíkan slapped its wing against the child’s hand and withdrew their wing. “Good to see even humans understand our basic nonverbal greetings.” Hummed the bird, not only gifting Nemandi a new set of pronouns to understand, but also showing them a new way to greet, truly they were already a part of the flock.

After about five minutes of small talk, the pair left with a small pouch of crowberries, two small fish and a pitcher of something called juice.

After getting the food, the two moved over to some benches facing each other, where they began to eat.

“So, what do you think of our food?” Questioned the bird, in between beakfuls of fish stuffed with crowberry.

“It’s incredible, I’ve never been able to pick my own food, and this is just delicious.” Exclaimed the child, so enraptured by the meal it almost felt sad when they finished.

“So, I suspect you have a couple questions? I know it can be overwhelming to think on your feet, so here we can truly find refuge for our thoughts.”

“Yes, first, what is this place? I remember going through the stump, and through a set of shiny doors, but then my memory fades into this morning.” Pondered Nemandi, scratching their head, hoping to shake loose the moments before they woke up, unsuccessfully.

“Yes, this place, it must be overwhelming, considering where you came from. This is my home, welcome to Heim, where all who wish for peace can congregate, and find peace together.” Spoke Gripur, wistfully, caught in memory.

“But where are we specifically? Are we underground?” Questioned Nemandi, somewhat calmed, but still nervous from what they remember. “I also remember the little red bird said something about work?”

“One thing at a time,” Replied the eagle, “first, after we talked to Rauðer, we followed him into the elevation, and we entered the middle of a tree not far from where your sister likes to hunt. On that tree is what you call a ‘beehive’. That is where we are.”

Nemandi glanced around, taking in their surroundings with a fresh tint, and nearly lost their mind. How could they be in a beehive? They were small, sure, but not miniature, and the tree, their sister hunts in an ash tree forest, how could either of them fit in an ash tree, let alone at the same time? And how did their stump reach all the way to their sister’s ground?

“I… uh, how?” Was the most the child could muster, their mind thoroughly scrabbled.

“Runic gateways, my father designed them himself,” Gripur explained, shifting into a more dramatic pose on the bench. “They allow for travel across long distances in seconds, and travel across shorter distances in years. In short, because of his life’s work, we can exist in a home so inconspicuous that no human has ever found us. We always find them, and I’ve had my eyes on you for some time, Nemandi.”

Hearing their name was not a new experience, but listening to it not be yelled or on a letter was new, and they rather liked it.

“Okay, um, and about the work?” Gulped Nemandi, still relatively anxious, but also more calm and collected.

“Ha, I doubt you’ll last 5 minutes out there, worm.” A voice cackled softly from behind Nemandi.

Phew, anoðer chapter uploaded. I very much enjoyed writing ðis one, but it took extra time due to me getting heavily into planning out what's next. I þink you'll very much enjoy it.

As for ðis chapter, I am finished, so I wish all a good day, especially @transasfuck30 @decoysender @godofautism @traaansfem and @and-this-gun-i-found for inspiration ðis chapter!

Good luck to all, and I hope you enjoyed,

Llama

Hey, I've finished ðe 1st and second chapters of my new book. I'm posting ðem boþ here, as I can't find where I posted ðe first one when I first made it.

I will be tagging ðis post as "llama writes" from now on, for ease of access.

On wiþ ðe reading!

As all things go, it was quiet. The season was autumn, the usual browns and greens of dirt and moss that often blanketed the forest gave way to spectacular oranges yellows and reds. Yes. Reds.

The red of a new flower, the red of a fallen leaf, and the red of painted wood. Nestled in between the exposed roots of trees long since fallen, lay a door, red as a dying sunset, circular in nature, with a shiny brass doorknob, protruding from the bottom of this now horizontal birch tree. How quaint.

And as it were, this was not just any fallen tree, nor just any door. No, this was the house of a woman, and no ordinary woman mind you, as she was possibly the toughest woman to ever dare live, for she harbored a curse. This, is her story.

Once, a very long time ago, the woman was but a boy, who carried water in a bucket for his mother, who needed that water for her bread. The bread was not easy to bake, it could take swaths of time to make one handful, but it was always necessary to have some, for it was never eaten immediately. The bread was used to make pies that could last for weeks.

The boy never understood why his mother would spend so much effort on making bread she never ate, as it was for the boy’s sister, who would bring the meat home. After a long day of hunting, she would carry the meat back home and have her mother put them in the pies, and eat some leftover soup with bread on the side.

The boy on a bright day walked down the dirt road, into the local hunting forest, through the brush, over a small creek of stones, and plopped down on a stump of a recently fallen ash tree, and pondered. He liked pondering, he found, the time he spent on that stump was often his most favorite time awake. Certainly better than carrying heavy buckets of water, he would think to himself.

But eventually, we all tire of the questions we have going unanswered, so after spending some time out there, a kindly tree near his spot would drop a leaf on his head, to tell him to go back home, and so he would. And he would ask his tired mother about his questions on the way of it all, and he would get told he spent too much time questioning the way of things and not enough time submitting to their forces. And then he would ask his wise sister about the general way of it all, and she would simply describe how things worked and what would happen if, but the boy never did find interest in the what will, only the why.

And so, he would find himself walking along those trees the next time he awoke, slumped on his stump, stumped by the general way of things. But this is not where the story ends, merely begins.

For, you see, one day, the winds began to change.

The boy, after a long day of carrying his bucket, he asked his mother why the leaves were a new colour, and his mother, who had not seen the trees that week, looked through the small window in her work house, and right jumped out of her skin. The leaves had changed, but much sooner than she would have hoped.

The mother took a moment to calm herself, for now was the hardest day of her year, autumn. Now, to most, autumn is but sweaters and scarves, but to her home, it was death.

The mother told her boy to get some rest, and take an extra blanket with him, for it would be a long night. The boy had little concept of night, but knew it was the part you slept through. So off he went to bed, wrapped in not only his sleep clothes and soft white fur blanket, but also in a new musk ox blanket handwoven by his sister to keep even the bitterest of frost out.

The boy slept well, but when he awoke, did not find a usual sight. Unlike the often bright window sill he was used to, spilling light all over the interior of his small room, it was dark, as if someone had draped blankets over his window, like his sister would do if the wind started to pick up and throw rocks at their house. The boy never did like those nights.

So the boy thought to himself that perhaps the time he was asleep was long enough to see, or rather miss, the beginning and end of a nasty storm. Reasonable as this conclusion was, when the boy reached out to remove the blanket, he only felt glass, as there was no blanket, and there was no storm.

For the boy had long since understood day, it was time for him to understand night.

With a sudden creak from nearby, the boy was awake, but had yet to see, for the room was blanketed in darkness.

“Hello?” He asked to no one in particular, and much to his chagrin, they answered.

“Greetings fine fellow, how may the night find you?” They boy gasped and tried to sit upright in his covers, but unfortunately could barely even squirm.

“Who are you, and what’s going on!?” Wherever the boy thought the voice could have come from, he certainly did not expect a quite large eagle.

“I am your friend, and you are being attacked.” Spoke the eagle, which was very impressive for such a bird.

“Why can’t I move!?” Cried the boy, trying his best to kick, punch, sit up, or much of anything.

“Now you’re supposed to introduce yourself to me, but I suppose that will have to wait for other circumstances.” Announced the eagle, which then jumped on the bed and turned away from the boy, stopping the boy from seeing what little he could of his room.

“Please, help me!” The boy wailed, but the bird hushed him with what can only be described as a ksssssst before a second entity emerged into the room, this time from the closet instead of the shadows.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fowl.” Grumbled a voice most grumpily.

“Fyrirboði, how did I guess.” The eagle retorted, it was clear to the boy these two had a history, and he was in the middle of it.

“I wouldn’t doubt your tracking skills for a second, although I can tell you lack a partner still.” The grumpy grumbler grumbled, grumbly.

“My private life is no longer of your concern, and your presence here proves your assertion false.” The eagle defended, which puzzled the boy even more, who were these two, and why were they having such an argument in his bedroom?

“Of course, I simply wished to hear it from you, as you never do own up to your own words.” Fyrirboði stated, a statement that implied a long history indeed.

“Now leave Fyrirboði, I have no need to see you ever again.” Croaked the eagle, clearly on the edge of their limit.

“And that is where you are wrong, but I will heed your request, I always do.” And with a sudden decline of tension in the room, Fyrirboði was gone.

“Can I speak now?” The boy asked the bird, who now faced the boy with tears in their eyes.

“Yes you may, but please stay seated.” And as if the boy’s body thawed from ice instantly, he could move once again.

“What was all that, and what is going on!?” The child once again asked of the eagle.

“My name is Gripur, and I can be trusted, now as you can see, you are no longer safe here, and we must move.” Cawed the bird, answering absolutely zero of what the boy just asked.

“Oh, and before I forget,” continued Gripur. “What is it I shall call you?”

“Nemandi, and I need to tell mother about this.” Replied the boy, dazed and confused from the current situation.

“Well, Nemandi, you are the only one currently in this house, so I suggest we leave it before you disappear too.” Gripur described, leaving Nemandi with not only a degree of emotional whiplash, but also a full bucket of worry. At this rate, Nemandi might need a second bucket, or at least two trips.

“Outside, I can do that.” Nemandi agreed, finally.

“Good.” Replied Gripur. “Because we face more than old rivals tonight.”

So, how did you like it? I just finished it, so any criticism I can get would be helpful.

@decoysender @tangerineflavouredduck @mag150cul-de-sac @cannibalcanid @bigmeatpete69420 @illululusion @lovelythenabeana

Ðank you guys for inspiration!

And I will see you soon wiþ my next chapter.

[delirious-donna]

Snap [Kakashi Hatake]

a/n: this was a request from a user on ao3, and damn did I enjoy putting this together! Kakashi can break me any day of the week, I'd roll over and take it! XD

pairing: Kakashi Hatake x female reader

warnings: Dom Kakashi (not super hard though), praise kink, sub/Dom dynamic, established relationship, rough oral male receiving, nipple play, spanking, overstimulation, begging, unprotected sex, aftercare

Masterlist

Anxiety bloomed in full force.

Your stomach churned as you eyed the two girls that sat opposite you, their friendly smiles seemed genuine but worry gnawed your insides regardless. You hoped that the gentle chatter within the dainty looking tea shop was enough to mask the wild thump of your heartbeat. Surreptitiously you wiped your sweat-slicked palms on the pale pink skirt you had chosen this morning.

This was the first time you had been invited out by some of your boyfriend’s friends and despite the swelling social anxiety you experienced in situations like this, you were determined to make a good impression. Kurenai and Anko swapped a subtle look before turning back to face you.

“We were so happy you accepted our invitation, y/n,” Kurenai offered. Her voice was soft and lilting, head tipped to the side to make her dark hair shimmer in the soft light. She smiled kindly before raising her teacup to her lips.

You nodded, working furiously to keep the blush that was creeping up your neck from becoming any brighter. Your own teacup rattled in its saucer as you lifted it to mimic Kurenai’s action.

As you took a sip of the piping hot liquid gold, Anko piped up.

“How are things going with Kakashi? He treating you right?”

You almost choked on the mouthful as it scalded your tongue and throat. It took you a moment for the spluttering to end, trying to gently thump on your chest whilst it felt like every eye in the suddenly tight space was on you.

Anko chuckled, slouching in her chair. She scowled as Kurenai smacked her on the back of the head and gave her a truly filthy look.

“I’m sorry about Anko, she really doesn’t know how to be subtle. You don’t have to tell us anything about your relationship with Kakashi if you don’t want to. We just want to get to know the girl that has him acting so strangely,” she apologised with an incline of her head.

Kakashi is acting strangely… what does that mean?

“No, it’s fine – really. Everything is going really well, I think. I can assure you that he treats me like a pampered princess at times…” you trailed off, frowning as wayward thoughts swept through your mind like birds of prey seeking out their next meal.

It was true that everything was going great in your relationship. You had been officially dating Kakashi Hatake for the past six months, and whilst you had continued to grow closer the longer you spent together, you knew he was holding back from you. The problem was that you weren’t entirely sure what it was that he refused to show you. All you did know was that there was often a glint in his dark grey eye, you would catch sight of it from the corner of your eye and as soon as you blinked it was gone again.

You had spent more time than you cared to admit analysing that look, and until this point, you could draw no conclusive answer.

Kurenai appeared to be studying your words, a small furrow to her brow as Anko sat forward with excitement bubbling over like an erupting volcano. This girl was a force of nature, and despite her brash mannerisms, you couldn’t help but like her immediately.

“What does he look like behind the mask, y/n? I just gotta know,” she whined dramatically, “I can’t count the number of times I’ve tried to get a peek without any success. All his former playthings remain ridiculously tight-lipped as well, so suspicious if you ask me.”

“Playthings?” you whispered. Your fingers twisted into the material of your skirt as you watched the panicked look appear on Anko’s face.

“Well, y’know… Kakashi isn’t really the dating type. I – uh, I reckon you might be his first proper girlfriend if you catch my drift.”

So it was true that your boyfriend was a bit of a player before he met you. What was so different about you that made him want to try a relationship?

He was Kakashi Hatake, the legendary jonin of the Hidden Leaf Village. The man was practically a God among men; sweeping silver hair that dared to defy gravity, that one steely grey eye that could smoulder with the simplest of looks, strong in mind as well as body and with that mysteriously aloof air that sat around his shoulders like a tightly drawn cloak. You were simply you, a lowly medical-nin that specialised in chakra restoration. Nothing exceptional about you in the slightest.

You were starting to crumple upon yourself, shoulders sagging inward as wild thoughts chased in endless circles around your head. A gentle hand pulled one of your own back onto the table, away from the loose thread you were picking incessantly.

“Let’s move this somewhere more private, huh? C’mon y/n, we’ll take care of you,” her carmine eyes twinkled with compassion. You were pulled to your feet, and before you could even think to object you found yourself in the dimly lit bar on the outskirts of the village.

~

The hours passed with remarkable speed, and they were most illuminating, to say the least. The bitter taste of beer to coat so perfectly the inside of your mouth had served wonderfully in loosening your tongue and settling your nerves.

You weren’t entirely sure how many drinks you had consumed, but the buzz had settled over your brain like a warm snuggly blanket. You giggled quietly to yourself, a little hiccup escaping from between your glossed lips.

The two kunoichis had treated you to a wealth of knowledge on your handsome silver haired boyfriend, some things you had known about through his reputation alone, others were things that Kakashi had brought up willingly before he would take your relationship into the bedroom but a large portion was completely new information.

Your soft Kashi was not normally this docile it seemed.

Kakashi of the Sharingan had a reputation of being a little mean to his partners, willingly of course, but it had still come as a bit of a shock to you. It was hard to associate this side of him with the one you had come to know so intimately.

The man who would worship your body with sweet and loving kisses. Feather soft strokes that were like velvet on your flesh. The endless hours he would spend on loving you until you could take no more, and begged him to stop. His lopsided smirk as he would lift his head from between your trembling thighs, lips and chin coated in your arousal. He gave you everything you asked for, never forced you to beg, always respectful and loving in his every action.

Now to hear that he had a harder side, well, that glint in his eye made more sense with this new revelation. You just wished you knew why he hadn’t let you see that side of him, was he scared he would hurt you? That you wouldn’t love him anymore if he pushed you to your limits or maybe even past them? How wrong he was, such a foolish man.

“So how do I get him to like…” your hand gestured wildly as your searched for the right word, “snap?” Your eyes widened, jubilant in finally finding the correct term. Anko lifted her bottle of beer in celebration and you crashed yours into it with a little more force than was needed. Frothy bubbles poured from the long necks and covered the table in a sticky mess.

This only made you giggle even more, and both Kurenai and Anko joined in with your laughter. At long last, you were able to wipe the tears from your lash line and control your breathing. You swallowed thickly, doe-like eyes lifting to look at your new friends, seeking their thoughts and guidance.

What you didn’t know was that you were fast on the way to making him ‘snap’ with your current course of actions, and his friends were well aware of this. Anko smirked as she grabbed your hand, gesturing with her head to the small dance floor.

You wanted to talk more, not dance but you weren’t about to put your foot down.

Quickly the low beat of the music swam in your veins, your eyes closed as you lost yourself in the rhythm of the words. You danced with Anko for what felt like hours, energetic songs that turned into slow-paced sets that made you twist and turn with the brazen brunette. Her hands ghosted over your hips, never inappropriate but rocking you in time with her own limbs.

Water.

You needed a drink in the worst possible way. Your tongue lay heavy and dry as sand within your mouth. Nudging Anko, you spoke in her ear about heading to the bar for a glass of water, missing the flash that sparked in her eyes and the wicked grin that split her lips.

Turning on your heel, your balance wobbled as you moved too quickly for the alcohol that spiked through your blood. As your eyes lifted once you had steadied yourself, your blood ran ice cold as you came face to face with a very pissed off looking Kakashi.

~

To say that he was livid was an understatement.

The worst of it was he was unsure who to direct his anger upon; his two idiotic friends that had likely dragged y/n into this situation, or you in your fucking pretty little pink skirt and tight white blouse. Far too much skin on show for his liking, especially without his presence.

His blood was close to boiling point, his fingers tightened into knuckle-cracking fists. The sound of groaning fabric from his fingerless gloves was like a blade against his nerves. One text from Kurenai to say that she and Anko were with y/n and that you had had a little too much to drink and he was speeding from his house like a man possessed.

He dared not think of the potential danger you had put yourself in, even though he knew you were well trained and could defend yourself against most threats. Plus you were accompanied by two highly trained kunoichis, he had trusted each of them to have his back in the past and this should be no different, but it was.

How long had he stood rooted to the spot as he found your form on the dance floor? The longer he stared, the worse the simmering irritation became. You looked ravishing, and he was pissed that he hadn’t seen you dressed before he left for work this morning. True you had looked so beautifully peaceful still wrapped in his shirt from the previous day, deep in slumber as he kissed your forehead and left you to sleep but now you looked as sinful as a freshly fallen angel.

The pale pink skirt paired with the silky white blouse would have looked prim and proper, the perfect attire for an afternoon in a tea shop. However, you had tugged open the top few buttons revealing an indecent amount of your cleavage, and the hem was untucked from the skirt. The hair that you had piled atop your head was tumbling down, messy locks framing your sweet face and your perfect plush lips were driving him to distraction.

He watched you tap Anko on the shoulder before leaning in to speak in her ear, and his cock twitched against his rapidly tightening pants. His desperation to be the one that you tapped on the shoulder, to feel your warm breath on his skin before he pulled you flush against his body to roam his rough hands over your curves. Whispering all the lewd thoughts in his head into your ear, and listening for the answering mewls of embarrassment and desire.

It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t thought about showing you his ‘other’ side, but fear kept him in tight check. He worried that you would think differently of him, that you would run screaming from him if you knew how badly he wanted to hold you down as he broke you slowly.

When your eyes had finally met across the bar, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop him from groaning as your gaze lowered in an act of pure subservience. Those thick lashes fanning against cheeks that bloomed pretty and pink before him, pearly white teeth that sunk into your lower lip and that annoying sway as you tried to control your wayward equilibrium.

You closed the gap between you, the sway of your hips hypnotising and the coy little smile that painted your lips had his fingers twitching to grip that sweet little mouth until those lips parted into a surprised ‘o’. His body was quickly losing the fight against the arousal that was swarming up to fill his belly.

He knew he was a ravenous wolf disguised in sheep’s clothing. Saliva pooled within his mouth, lust threatened to swallow him whole and he fought the burning sensation that urged him to pick you up and carry you back to his home, back to his bed specifically.

He wanted to – desperately.

The alcohol was a problem, there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to lay an intimate hand on you whilst you were in this state.

With that startling realisation ringing clear in his ears he swallowed thickly and reached one hand out to cup your flushed cheek. Kakashi accepted your body that pressed against his own, adored the feel of your hands that slipped around his waist and travelled up his back.

“Hi,” you murmured shyly, resting your chin on his chest as you searched his visible eye for the source of his anger.

The sound of your sugary greeting was enough to douse the worst of his fury, he leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips through his mask. He felt your resistance to letting him pull back, the breathy sigh to puff through your lips and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Time to get you home, princess.”

It wasn’t a question, it was very clearly a statement of fact yet you pouted and stomped your foot like a petulant child. Kakashi tightened his grip on your waist, biting the tip of his tongue to keep himself in check.

“Dance with me Kashi, please?” you purred, and goddammit did he want to give in. The cackling sound of laughter brought him back to his senses, finding Kurenai and Anko sniggering like schoolgirls behind their hands.

“Yeah Kashi, dance with her!” Anko crowed, and he threw her a warning glance that would normally silence anyone, but clearly, her drunken state put her past the point of caring.

He was leaving with you this instant, he wouldn’t lay a damn finger on you tonight, but come the morning things were going to change. Kakashi would open your eyes to his hidden preferences, and he hoped against hope that you would be willing to give them a try.

The thought of you below him, pliant and absolutely begging for his mercy flooded his blood with dopamine, the idea of fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he pushed you past your limits was enough to make him twitch all over.

A rough finger tucked under your chin as he tipped your head up to meet his determined gaze all while his other hand pried your needy fingers from where they were digging into his back. With fingers interlaced he cocked his head to the side, “I’m not going to say it again, it’s home time y/n.”

~

You squirmed in anticipation.

Heat spread like wildfire across your skin, lust in its purest form pounded in your veins as you walked the now empty streets of Konoha with Kakashi. You had been sad to leave Anko and Kurenai behind, disappointed that your boyfriend had refused to dance with you for even a minute, but behind it all, you were jittery with nerves.

Kakashi was different; darkness gathered in his expression, you could see the clench of his strong jaw through the thin material of his mask and knew that his lips were likely set in a firm line. His fingers were loose between your own, only ever-tightening if your balance faltered. He was probably mere seconds away from picking you up to avoid any accidents, but he held back.

Heat pooled between your legs as you imagined how things would go once you got back to his house. Images of being forced against the nearest wall whilst you ripped that annoying mask from his face and pressing your lips desperately against his spiralled through your mind’s eye. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed together as you waited on his doorstep whilst he fished his keys from his pocket.

The key faltered mid-air, and you squeaked meekly.

He noticed.

He definitely fucking noticed.

Shit shit shit!

“After you,” he cooed, bending to speak in your ear. The hairs on the nape of your neck stood to attention as you took that first wobbly step across the threshold, holding on to the wall as you kicked off your sandals.

Your eyes swept around the familiar space before you turned to round on the silver haired jonin. He watched you curiously, his eye widening as you approached and made your intent more than clear. An eager finger hooked under the material of his mask and pulled it free to expose the most handsome face you had ever laid eyes upon. You traced his stubbled jaw, paying extra attention to his cute little mole near his lip until you couldn’t bear it any longer.

Stepping into his embrace, you went to your tiptoes and pressed a forceful kiss to his mouth. He hesitated for the briefest second until you felt the tension sag from his broad shoulders and he kissed you back. His lips were always cool against your own but this time they felt feverish with need and you moaned into his mouth.

The kiss was pure decadence and you never wanted it to end, but when your hand moved to palm him through his pants, all playing around ended abruptly. Kakashi curled his fingers around your slender shoulders and ripped your mouths apart on a heaving pant.

For a second the bright flare of his Sharingan flashed to life in the unlit room before he pushed his forehead protector back into place. The tremble that left you feeling like jelly in his strong hands was undeniable, along with the wobble of your chin. You could feel the tears crowd in your eyes at being rejected, and the answering rumble from his chest made you gasp.

“Y/n,” he said calmly, “I’m not going to touch you tonight, you’ve had too much to drink and you need to sleep it off.”

So this was why he stopped the kiss, he felt guilty about blurring the lines of consent. Surely it wasn’t possible, but your heart melted for him all the more. What other man would be willing to give up on an opportunity like this? You were most definitely certain that you wanted this – wanted him but he seemed determined to keep his hands to himself.

You could feel the pout morph upon your lips, irritated to be denied his tender loving care and that delectable body hidden behind his normal jonin uniform. Kakashi tsked softly, reprimanding you with a wagging finger that ended up brushing your swollen lower lip.

You had never been in the least bit bratty but right now you were defiant in your desires, and before you could think on it, you sucked that lazy finger into your mouth. A warm wet tongue swirled the digit right down to the first knuckle. Kakashi growled, his cheeks heating from your naughty actions and he pulled the finger from your mouth with a wet sounding ‘pop’.

“In the morning, if you are willing, I’m going to give you the price of your actions today. Good girls get sweet and soft Kashi,” he explained without taking his eyes from you, judging your reaction and liking the fires that burned within your gaze, “and naughty girls get sensei, do you understand?”

“Have I been a naughty girl?” you whined, pressing your chest flush against him in your desperation for bodily contact. The idea of calling Kakashi, sensei was making you a wanton mess. You knew your panties were ruined by this point, and you flagrantly dragged your thighs back and forth in seek of that delicious friction you craved.

Kakashi took a small step back, “oh yes, y/n. You best believe that I’d spank the ever-loving shit out of you for the nonsense you just pulled, but it’ll have to wait. Now, answer my question. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Kashi.”

His hands on your shoulders squeezed, a tic working in his jaw as he spoke so dangerously low it was almost inaudible, “try again.”

Holy motherfucking hell, this is too hot!

“Yes, sensei.”

He smiled and your breath caught in the back of your throat. You watched as he walked to the kitchen, pulling a glass from a cupboard and filling it with ice-cold water. His silver hair fell into his eyes as he turned to you standing like a gawking idiot within the doorway.

“Go get ready for bed princess, I’ll be through soon.”

The next hour was a blur.

Kakashi had ensured that you were thoroughly scrubbed clean and teeth brushed with the spare toothbrush he kept for you before wrapping you in one of his spare t-shirts that swamped you to your knees. He even spent a good fifteen minutes meticulously combing through your hair, careful of pulling on any tugs and with every soft touch of his fingers, you burned for him – a struck match that would burn right down until there was nothing left.

This was most definitely a wicked punishment, but you knew no matter what you did, Kakashi was going to leave you untouched tonight. With that knowledge you succumbed to his instructions, draining the glass of water he offered in the hopes it would quell the fires inside and finally found yourself snug within his bed, his arm draped protectively over your waist and his soft breathing lulling you to sleep with haste.

~

A combination of the early morning light and the dawn chorus roused you from your deep slumber. Opening your eyes with caution, you were surprised that no headache pounded at your temples. It seems that thanks to Kakashi’s patient ministrations the previous night, you had escaped the alcohol-fuelled evening without sustaining a hangover.

Your happiness at this only lasted a minute as you were reminded with startling clarity of the promise your boyfriend had made to you, “In the morning, if you are willing, I’m going to give you the price of your actions today.”

Gingerly you rolled over and found Kakashi missing from the bed, the sheets were cool to the touch so he had been gone for some time. Where was he? Your heartbeat became frantic as you concocted all manner of assumptions as to what was in store for you, but before you could spiral too far into a full-blown panic laced with desire, a voice called out.

“Good morning princess, how’re you feeling?” he asked you, setting a mug of steaming tea by your side and sitting on the edge of the bed. You eyed him suspiciously; he was dressed in his workout clothes consisting of light grey sweatpants that clung low on his hips and a simple black t-shirt that left little to the imagination.

You croaked your reply, averting your gaze as heat bloomed to life upon your cheeks, “I feel fine, thanks to you Kashi.”

He hummed his appreciation and patted his lap in invitation. You didn’t need telling twice as you crawled from under the sheet to swing one thigh over his legs until you were straddling him. He planted his strong hands upon the flare of your hips at the same moment you anchored your arms around his neck.

Kakashi signed, assessing your expression before he spoke.

“You remember what I mentioned last night, y/n?”

You nodded shyly, fingers inching into the soft hair that you adored so much. Nails raking against his scalp and drawing the most arousing sounding groans from his throat. Quick as a flash one hard grabbed your jaw, thumb and fingers pressing into either side of your mouth until it pressed open on a gasp.

His eyes blazed and you knew that your soft Kashi had disappeared. This was your sensei, the satisfied smirk that graced his lips was cruel-looking as you felt the pressure increase on your supple skin.

“Willing to give it a try?” he asked without a hint of uncertainty.

“Yes,” you whimpered, blinking much too rapidly and unable to stop the grind of your bare pussy against the growing crotch of his sweatpants. There was sure to be a damp patch, but you refused to be embarrassed about it.

He swatted your uncovered ass with a short sharp smack, “try again,” he growled and you wilted under the power he was already exerting over you. It was difficult not to pant like a lustful slut as you grew slicker by the second.

“Yes, sensei.”

“That’s better. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you’ve no idea how hard it has been for me to keep this side hidden. I was scared you’d run but I think this,” he stopped as his hand dug forcefully between your bodies to cup your wet folds, “proves that you might quite like this side of me, hm?”

The drag of his knuckles against your sopping slit was maddening, you chased the friction he provided and whined loudly as he removed his hand with a chuckle. You watched as he sucked his middle finger clean before pressing his slick index finger into your mouth to taste your own pleasure.

“One final thing before this starts for real. We use a safeword, I’m not gonna listen to whiny little moans of no so pick a word. If you say it, I will stop immediately and ensure everything is alright. So, what’s your word gonna be princess?”

You heard the words but it was so damn difficult to focus as your insides were swamped with such tight coils of pleasure. You were a dam about to burst, but after a moment of consideration, you found a word that seemed suitable.

“Ice-cream.”

It made him smile and your blush intensified. On your first date Kakashi had taken you out for ice-cream and you had likened his adorable gravity defying hair to a cone of swirling soft-serve ice-cream. He had looked momentarily dumbfounded before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. You had known right then and there that you loved this man.

Kakashi gently pushed you from his lap until you stood in between his parted legs with hands braced upon his strong thighs.

“Take this off,” he commanded, finger and thumb rubbing the hem of the top you had slept in.

You heard him suck in a breath as you stretched, pulling the top over your head and tossing it towards the washing pile in the corner. Instinctively your arm raised to cover your breasts, and he smacked it away with a sharp glint in his eyes.

“I want you to look at me whilst I touch you. If you look away I will punish you, understood?”

Who was this man that spoke to you so wickedly, who demanded your respect in the otherwise silent room? It certainly wasn’t the Kakashi you knew intimately, but you liked him nonetheless and wanted to please him beyond what seemed decent and rational.

Your eyes locked as he began his lazy adventure across your skin. The calloused pads grazing your neck, collarbone and arms, every stroke mirrored between your legs and your knees began a gentle tremble. You were holding your breath as he neared your chest, he palmed the mounds with care and as his thumbs ghosted your nipples your eyes closed.

A sharp sting had them ripping back open, the strike had been fast as lightning. Fingertips that sparked downwards against your nipples in punishment for looking away, and your eyes found his face again as you panted. His brow quirked in admonishment, and you bit your lip in supplication.

Kakashi licked at his fingers before pinching and rolling the tight buds, increasing the pressure to gauge your reactions. It was almost too much, never had you been so close to orgasm from mere manipulation of your tits, but fuck you were right on the precipice. He knew it too and hastened to move his hands downwards.

The plead flew from your mouth before you could think twice, “please Kashi.”

His hands stilled and tension sparked above your head like an approaching thunderstorm.

“Kneel,” he thundered, making you gulp but you obeyed as quickly as you could. Sitting back on your heels you looked up at the imposing figure. He fisted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, yanking until your throat bared.

“Seeing as you can’t keep that pretty little mouth quiet, I’ll keep it busy in another way.”

He lifted his hips enough to pull his pants down, kicking out of them entirely as his free hand wrapped around the base of his impressive shaft. Precum leaked from the rosy tip, and you licked your lips in anticipation. Kakashi pressed closer to the edge of the mattress until he could smack the tip against your slightly parted lips.

“Open up princess,” he hissed through his teeth.

You wet your lips and opened up wide to accept him inside your wet cavern. An eager tongue licked along his length, delighting in the salty tang of his skin and groaning around him. He started out slow enough, letting you set your own rhythm but before long he used your hair like a rein. Every downward stroke forced more and more of him towards your throat, you desperately tried to relax, to accept him but he was just too big.

Tears spilled from your eyes as your throat constricted, and he groaned down at you.

“Such a good girl taking me like this, feel so fucking amazing. Look at these pretty tears, trying so hard to please your sensei, huh?”

The praise kindled a burning spark within your soul, it spoke directly to a part of you that you weren’t even aware existed. Fuck, you really did want to please him – wanted to be his best girl. You nodded around his thick cock as saliva pooled from the sides of your mouth.

You hollowed your cheeks to increase the suction of your mouth, so desperate in your desire to be everything he would ever need. A moment of daring had you unsheathing your teeth to drag along the sensitive veins that stood stark along his monstrous length.

He pulled back on a hiss and you dragged oxygen into your burning lungs. Sitting back on your haunches as you blinked through your tear-soaked lashes. His cock twitched within his palm, and he crooked a finger at you.

Kakashi kissed the corner of your mouth, his lips moving to speak in your ear, “I’m gonna lay you across my lap, I want you to put your palms down on the mattress and do not move.”

He was already dragging you into position, he spread your legs and threw one of his own over the top of one of yours to keep them parted. Your hands spread against the soft duvet, neck craning to look over your shoulder.

A shaft of the perfect morning light illuminated the frame of your beloved boyfriend and as his eyes swung to find yours, you squirmed although you tried to fight it. He looked like the most sinful demon, cast in an ethereal angelic light. His two halves were defined in that one moment, and the image is branded upon your memory.

“I want you to know princess, that I will not stand for any more of the behaviour you displayed yesterday. I will not dictate your life, but I want you to tell me when you are going to put yourself in the path of potential danger. One little text and this all could have been different,” he lectured sternly.

“But I want this, sensei,” you quipped back instantly, emphasising his title with as much sinful inflection you could muster. The hand that had been caressing your soft cheeks stilled, and the crimson light of his Sharingan bathed your pliant and eager body.

“Very well, let’s get to it cause I can barely contain myself from fucking you senseless, and I know this sweet little pussy is eager for my cock,” he cooed, seeking out your entrance with a probing finger.

“You can count to six, can’t you baby?” he teased, watching your eyes turn glazed as he played with your clit. Swipe swipe swipe – his finger caught against the tight nub with practised precision. The way he kept pushing you to the very edge of your orgasm only to dial it back was mind shattering. Frustration bubbled in your chest, tightening your throat as you swallowed down the tears that wanted to spill.

You nodded fervently and waited for the first strike. Kakashi stroked your folds for an age, just long enough to make you relax into his touch and that was when he acted. As his hand struck downward with a smack that echoed harshly throughout the room, he plunged a finger within your pulsing walls.

Your vision went white, nothing but ringing coursed through your ears at the exquisite melding of pain and pleasure. You came with alarming force, felt the wet gush to cover his hand as well as the stinging pain to lace your butt check.

He cursed under his breath, a soft whisper to your still ringing ears. You hadn’t meant to, knew that he wanted you to wait until you were given permission but you couldn’t help it.

“It’s alright princess. It’s your first time so I won’t punish you for cumming without asking, but you still need to count,” he reassured you, yet he never removed his finger that was still embedded within your hole.

“O-one.”

Every subsequent smack was enough to tighten your belly all over again. Kakashi stroked you well past the point of comfortable overstimulation, he timed each hit to correlate with him either adding a digit or pushing on the squishy spot that had your head flying up from the bed.

By the time you had squealed out ‘six’, you were desperate. He had been right about the whiny little noes between smacks, deep down you knew you could stop him with one word, you held that power but you didn’t truly want it to stop.

Kakashi tipped you fully onto the bed, rolling you to your back and crawling with speed up your sweat-slicked body. His hand flew to your throat, fingers gripping but never enough to restrict your breathing, only holding you in place as he pushed your thighs further apart with his knee.

His stare was feral – nothing but animalistic instinct in the driving seat. He lined up his angry looking cock against your entrance, pushing forward without any further preamble. The stretch was exactly what you craved, he buried himself up to the hilt and you could feel his smattering of short hairs nestle against your pelvis.

“Fuck! So fucking tight princess, taking all my cock as only my best girl can.”

He reared back to grab at your thighs, pressing them until you were practically bent in half with the trembling undersides of your soft thighs resting upon his shoulders. One hand lifted to bunch his t-shirt, and he held the material in between his teeth so he could watch himself plunging in and out your pussy.

You were drunk, entirely intoxicated by every minuscule touch. The urgent swing of his hips, the controlled roll of his stomach that had you mewling under him like never before. Sex with Kakashi was always mind-blowing but this was on a whole new level.

“Look at this cute little bulge,” he cooed, letting his t-shirt go as one hand pressed against your stomach and where he protruded with each brutal thrust. You were completely fucked out; the tears pressed against your eyes and slid freely to the sheets below.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking, “need to cum. Please let me cum sensei. I’ll – I’ll be your good girl, promise. Need it sooo bad,” you sobbed, thrashing under his steely hold.

Your legs burned from the extreme position he forced you to maintain. You babbled almost incoherently as your fingers sought out his hair, lifting your neck from the mattress to reach his lips. His kisses were soft and sweet, a complete contrast to how he was treating the rest of your body.

He grunted, jaw clenching as he continued to fuck into you without a single ounce of mercy. Sweat trickled down his brow, and you knew he was close to his limits as his pace faltered ever so slightly.

“Cum on my cock princess, want to feel you milking me with your tight walls.”

His words were like the trigger being pulled on a gun, you spasmed as the orgasm ripped through your body. It spread outwards from your belly until it reached your toes, fingertips and every other nerve ending. You were drowning in an endless ocean of your own release, and you could sense it tripping Kakashi’s.

Distantly you could hear the wild curses that flew from his mouth, the sucking drag of his breath as he swamped your small body with his much larger frame whilst he lost his control. Darkness dragged you under, wrapping you in a velvet blanket as you passed out from the sheer joy of it all.

~

Kakashi swore himself hoarse as he released deep into your vice-like walls. His seed shot through his cock like a force of nature, intent on painting your insides entirely white. This was the most intense orgasm of his life, he had never before felt like he could collapse from how sensitive he instantly became.

One look at your fucked out face was enough for a whine of his own to crawl from his throat, and the next second he saw your eyes flutter shut and panic set it in. Adrenaline spiked through his blood as he carefully pulled from your shuddering body.

The silver haired jonin pulled your supple body into his arms, hugging you close as he whispered in your ear. Soft praises and reassurance, encouraged you to come back to him and after only a minute had passed your eyes opened once again.

“Hi,” you whispered, that idiotic soft smile sitting on your lips when he wanted to strangle you for making him worry. His relief was palpable, gentle fingers stroked the hair from your sweaty face. Although his legs were burning from the exertion he stood from the bed with you tightly in his embrace.

“Where we going?” you murmured, pressing your face against his neck and planting butterfly kisses on the skin.

He chuckled at your affection and felt himself fall even more in love with you. His perfect girl, and now that he knew you could handle both sides of him, he was beyond ecstatic.

“Gonna run us a warm bath, then I’m gonna pamper you like the princess you are,” he told you as he carried you with ease to the adjoining bathing room.

~

Kakashi was true to his word.

For the rest of the day, the man worshipped you, wouldn’t allow you to lift even a single finger. It made you contemplate that if this was the level of aftercare you should expect after sensei came out to play, then you were definitely going to provoke him more.

You loved both sides of your boyfriend, and you told him so as you rested snugly in the crook of his neck. An idle finger drew lazy patterns across the definition of his chest, taking your time to admire the littering of past battle scars that flecked the surface of his otherwise smooth upper body. He really was an absolute treat for the eye, and that thought brought another idea to your mind…

“Fancy ice-cream?”

Kakashi’s cunning smile was answer enough as he rolled you into the sheets.

[thebirdandhersong]

Thank you for praying for me and for Briar and for my family :') it has been a real wild ride these past few weeks and I truly truly appreciate it, all of you (and thank you especially to @kayliebooks for organizing the prayer post in early March..... it meant so much, Kaylie!)

There is So Much that has been making up the craziness of Songbird's life right now but I shall endeavour to be brief for anyone who is interested:

the trip to Thailand and my grandfather's passing

By some incredible means of grace, my mother and I were able to fly to Thailand (despite work and school) and spend two weeks with my grandfather, who we knew by then had stage four lung cancer. It was such a blessing to be back in the country of my childhood and to be with extended family we hadn't seen for years. I could spend days describing my grandfather's house and Bangkok: my grandma's kafir lime trees, the tiny kitchen and the wobbly table for two, the sound of the birdsong (which is so different from our North American birds here in B.C.!), the flowers that had already bloomed in mid-March (plumerias EVERYWHERE), my grandfather's white rose (he bred it himself and was very proud of it.... he kept it close to the glass sliding door so that he could look at it every day), the blueness of the sky and the weight of the humidity and the way the heat just sits on your skin.....

It was two weeks of staying with Grandpa and Grandma, cooking with my mother, eating with my relatives, and just living daily life with my extended family. It wasn't always easy, and there was a lot of anxiety about his chemotherapy sessions and his difficulty swallowing and moving around. But Mom and I determined to be Hopeful and to let Grandpa know that we were sticking firmly to our hope, and that was what we did for two weeks. We were able to pray with Grandpa three times--something he's rarely consented to before in the past.

Lord only knows what good I did for my grandfather being there--I felt rather useless most of the time and very conscious of the language barrier. There wasn't much else I did other than smile a lot, cook a little, massage people's shoulders, sit in silence next to him. But we left Thailand happy that we'd gone and looking forward to visiting again in the summer with the rest of my family. (That was what we promised Grandpa we would do.)

Grandpa passed away half a week or so after we returned to Canada. They had to take him to the ICU for irregular heart rate and in a short while it became apparent that he was fading. My uncles came to be with him during that time. And Mom was able to talk to him that night over the phone, right before he passed. During that conversation, he accepted Christ. Which is something that gives Mom and I a lot of hope, but I do still miss him terribly!! He's the first person I've ever lost. There are moments that remind me of him.... sometimes I see a beautiful flower on my walk to church or work that I know he would've loved (I drew him lots of pictures of Canadian flowers) (he would especially love the roses here...... he loved his roses very much) or hear a song he might like, and then I remember that he's not around for me to tell him about these things anymore, and become very sad. But I remember him every Sunday when we have prayers of the people in Mass and I will always be grateful for the time Mom and I spent in Thailand with him :) Thank you for praying for him. He passed away without the kind of pain we were scared of, and Mom and I were able to laugh with him and hold his hand while we were there.

(I was rather sad about not being able to bring Mr. Knight to Thailand and introduce him to my grandfather (which I'd been hoping to do in future years) at first, but realized that I had been given the chance--Mr. Knight did get to talk to my grandfather over video call during the visit. And my grandfather (bless his heart) gave him a good-natured shovel talk in that conversation, which left Mr. Knight a little flustered :))

[lexosaurus]

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!