#right now they are some cold hearted noble who's so full of themselves it leads to their very demise

[hiddencarpet]

Narcissus

[sailorshadzter]

Hiii! Welcome back!!! If you are still taking requests, how about an one shot where Cersei kind of notices the tension between Jon and Sansa and comments on it? Maybe in a "We are not so different" way? Or she straight up encourages them bc she's a horrible person and thinks if there are rumors about the Starks, they'll forget about the Lannisters?

ANON. whew this has been in my ask box for a while! but i opened my inbox to find some inspiration to write and yours was the one that clicked first! so i hope you see this, anon, wherever you are, and know that i FINALLY got to your prompt request!!!

as always, you're always welcome to drop a prompt request in my inbox.

enjoy!

The ball is grand and glittering.

Cersei has ensured that this night would be perfect, putting far more coin into it than Robert ever would have allowed. But there is little else she can do, what with the trouble brewing all around them. She's lost one son already, she will not lose another- and so she has gone to great expense and trouble to make sure that this room was full of loyal nobles and fearsome knights. This wedding would not end the way the last one had, even if the bride was the same.

From where she sits, she watches as the young Sansa Stark dances with her half brother, the bastard born Jon Snow. The young man had been intended for the Night's Watch, but Tyrion had developed a fondness for the boy during their visit North, and so, he'd come along with the Stark's. They are close together, the dance bringing them so, but the smile that lights up the redhead's face is one that Cersei swears she's worn herself, but when she looks upon Jaime. And the usually stoic Snow looks just as delighted to spin his sister out and back in, hands at her waist to lift her high into the air as the music swells. Cersei chuckles, wondering how's she's not noticed it ever before. The wheels in her brain are suddenly spinning, whirling several thoughts throughout that bring yet another smile to her face.

As if her thoughts have conjured him, she feels Jaime's presence at her elbow; he bows over his arm, ever the courtier, but she knows it's more for show than anything else. "What has you so cheery?" He asks, his green eyes scanning the dance floor, where sure enough his gaze falls upon the Stark siblings as they finish their dance among all the others, though it quite seems they've forgotten they aren't alone. "They make a handsome pair, do they not?" Turning back to face his lover, he sees he's right, for she's staring down at them with a look he's seen before. "What are you thinking?"

"That proud Ned Stark's children are falling in love right before our very eyes." They both knew what the world would say about two siblings, albeit half, falling in love. Was it not why they themselves took every precaution? Cersei shudders to think what would happen if the truth was ever discovered... The rumors were bad enough. But this... Two Stark children in love? It would cease the rumors about her and Jaime, that she was certain of. She watches as Sansa dips a quick curtsy to Jon before he offers her his arm, which she readily takes, and they disappear into the crowd.

"See that Lady Stark is brought to me tomorrow morning, won't you?" She says to the nearest lady, who nods, curtsying before she scurries away to do as she's been bid. Cersei turns back to face the dance floor, but it's suddenly become far less interesting.

And so she must wait until morning.

[ x x x ]

It's late, yet she cannot bring herself to leave his arms.

Jon holds fast to her, kissing the top of her head, her silk gown soft beneath his touch as his hands span the length of her spine. "I should go..." She whispers for the tenth time, though his grip does not relent, nor does she make any attempt to pull away. He smells of spice and smoke, comforting and strong; she buries her face deeper into his chest, wishing she could sink into him. "Jon..."

His name is soft on her lips.

Their gazes meet and he's lost, as he always is, in the depth of her blue eyes. "I know," is all he can say, knowing as well as she that it was best for her to go. They both knew where this moment would lead- after all, how many times had they been here before? But more than anything, they both knew what would happen if they were discovered in such an embrace. And yet... There's a part of him that doesn't care. There's a part of him that wishes with all of his might that they could be together in the way that they wanted. No more secret midnight rendezvous that only left them both feeling more strained than being without the other. "I'll walk you to your rooms..." He begins, but she shakes her head.

"Shae is waiting," she says softly, finally freeing herself from his grip. She feels cold without his touch and that is almost enough to send her back into his arms. "I will see you in the morning," she goes on, reaching out her hand to tenderly touch his. Jon nods, catching her hand so he might bring it to his lips to kiss. The brush of his lips to her knuckles steals the breath from her lungs and time is suspended as they stand there, the only sound in the room that of the fire burning in the hearth. "Until the morning..."

"Until the morning," he parrots back as he let's go of her hand. "Good night, Sansa."

The way he says her name sends shivers down her spine. "Good night, Jon." She says instead of every other thing she wants to say.

[ x x x ]

In the morning, a lady arrives at her door to inform her she's been summoned to see the queen.

Though no longer truly queen, Cersei Lannister runs the Seven Kingdoms through her youngest son, the now King Tommen. Just a boy, he's been married to Margaery Tyrell, who only several weeks before had instead been married to Joffrey. Poison had taken care of him, but Margaery and her family, ever the schemers, ensured that she would take her place as queen. Sansa was certain that it would not be long before a new power struggle would emerge. Soon, it would be Margaery and the Tyrell's fighting for control of poor, young Tommen.

Once she's dressed, Sansa, with Shae beside her, makes her way down to Cersei's office.

When she's been announced, she steps into the room, one which she has spent much time in over her years in King's Landing. Once she had been thrilled to be invited into this room, to spend private time with Queen Cersei... But things have changed. Though she dips her the curtsy due to her rank, Sansa does not return the smile offered to her by the golden haired woman behind her oak desk. "Lady Stark, tell me, how did you enjoy the ball last night?" Cersei asks, gesturing for Sansa to take the empty chair across from her. The young woman frowns, but does as she's bid, clearly surprised by the question. Cersei notices she wears a new gown of pale blue damask, made from a bolt of fabric she was given by Jon Snow a few short weeks ago; though it is fashioned in the Southern style, Cersei sees that the trailing sleeves are stitched with falling leaves, weirwood leaves, like those that grow in the North. Even her hair, which once she wore in styles that mirrored her own, is fastened into braids in a way that reminds Cersei of Catelyn Stark. It is Sansa's way of breaking with the Lannister's entirely; she is no longer theirs to control.

"It was wonderful, your grace," Sansa answers honestly, shifting slightly in the chair, brushing a lock of red hair across a shoulder before she accepts the goblet of wine being offered to her. "Very grand." She goes on, though she's no longer thinking of the ball, but of the last dance she and Jon had shared together.

"Your brother is quite the elegant dancer, I must say I'm surprised." Cersei's voice breaks into her thoughts and Sansa blinks in surprise. This certainly was not the topic of conversation she expected to have upon being summoned to this room. "The two of you make quite the couple." At this, Sansa chokes on the sip of wine she's just taken, her stare wild and frantic as it rises up to meet the queen. Inside, Cersei is laughing- she's been right there was Sansa was before, so many years ago. Back when her feelings for Jaime had first begun to grow into what they were now. She could recall their dance lessons, when a compliment on how well they fit together would leave her blushing and stammering, just as Sansa Stark was now. "You needn't hide it from me, Lady Stark," she goes on, taking advantage of the young woman's silence. "I see how you look at him... And how he looks at you."

Sansa's heart was beating fast within her chest, so fast she can barely catch her breath. Was she and Jon truly so obvious? They had painstakingly tried to keep what was brimming between them beneath the surface... But had last night been their very downfall? "I-I do not know what you mean, your grace," she says, adopting a cheery but confused tone, cursing herself for being a terrible liar. From the way Cersei is smiling, Sansa knows she does not believe her, not even for a moment.

"You know, Lady Stark, if there is one thing in my life I regret... It is not ever being with the one I truly loved." Cersei speaks from total honesty, saying aloud the words she's never spoken before to anyone. Not even to Jaime. She knows what it will take to sway proud Ned's child into something such as diving head first into an incestual relationship. But she knows the way to sway the young woman, for it was the same way she swayed herself all those years ago. "Someday you will be married to a man who you likely do not love," they are both reminded of a similar conversation, one they had shared before her marriage to Joffrey was to take place. "You should experience true love, even just once in your life." These words resonate with her and Cersei knows it. Her blue eyes widen and she opens her mouth as if she means to speak, but cannot find the words. "We cannot help who we love," Cersei says, though now she wonders if she's still speaking to Sansa, but rather to herself. "But if any love was so truly wrong, why would the Gods allow us to feel it in the first place?"

Sansa's heart beat has not ceased in it's pace, but a slow realization is dawning upon her as she listens to Cersei's words. There is meaning behind them and she knows, those words are not meant only for her. She recalls the rumors spread just before her father was beheaded, rumors about the truth of Joffrey and his siblings parentage. The truth about Cersei and her brother, Jaime. There is a part of her that worries this is just a trap, a set up to catch her and Jon in the act, something that would earn them the scorn and disgust of all of King's Landing and likely the North.

And yet...

You should experience true love, even just once in your life... Those are the words she's replaying in her brain, over and over again, knowing that Cersei was right. It would not be long before a marriage was made for her, one that would likely be loveless and political, one that would do nothing for her but everything for the Lannister's. Without her father or mother or even Robb to protect her from such a fate, she would be doomed to marry a man of Cersei's choosing.

When she's dismissed a few minutes later, Sansa wastes no time.

Shae, who has waited for her outside Cersei's room for her, rises up from where she sits on the windowsill. "Find Jon for me, won't you?" She asks in an undertone, to which her lady stares back at her for a long moment before she nods. If there was anyone she could trust with what she was about to do, it would be Shae.

Once she's back within her own chamber, she brings herself to stand before the looking glass, staring at her own reflection. She knows that doing what she's about to do will change everything, but she knows she cannot go on in life without knowing what it will feel like to be held by a man that truly loves her. If she can only taste his love this one time, then she will go willingly into any marriage presented to her, for Jon's love she will carry with her for the rest of her life.

A knock on the door comes.

By the time she's turned around, the door has opened and it's Jon standing there. He's staring at her, taking her in as he always does, those Stark colored eyes enough to bring her to her knees. "Sansa," he greets, feeling just as she does, the shift in what lays between them. She crosses the room as he does and so they meet at the center, a minimal distance between them. The blue damask gown suits her in a way he cannot describe and he's, as always, struck by her beauty. Somewhere behind them, Shae quietly ducks into the antechamber, out of sight, out of mind- but there all the same.

There's so many things she wants to say, so many things she needs for him to hear. But the words do not come, no matter how hard she wills them to. And so, instead, she does the only other thing that makes any sense; she kisses him. She kisses him with as much passion as she can muster and he falls into it, his arms winding around her only so he might pull her closer. When he breaks free moments later, it's to stare into her eyes, to ask her one single thing. "Are you certain?" She nods.

That's all he needs.

This time, he's the one to kiss her, leaning in to capture her mouth with his. One hand remains perched at the small of her back, though the other one slides into her hair, uncaring of the pins he knocks loose. She's kissing him back, meeting his tongue with her own, the sensations rushing through her body unlike anything she's ever felt before.

It does not take long before they stand at the side of her bed, the canopy hangings pushed aside so Jon might sit upon the edge. He beckons her closer and she comes to stand between his knees, allowing him to turn her around so her back instead faces him. Then, she feels his hands as they begin to loosen the laces of her blue gown until it begins to slip over her shoulders. That is when she turns back around to face him and she allows the gown to fall to the floor at her feet, all so she might stand there in nothing but her chemise.

And then, Jon draws her down into the bed, and into his arms.

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 9 -- Answers

Word Count: 17199

READ ON AO3

When Danny first visitedーor, more accurately, when he first crashed intoーthe Far Frozen, he shared the same first impression as Tucker; it was ball-freezing cold. 

Frostbite and his people’s homeland was a frozen paradise where blinding white snow went as far as reached the eye. What at first glance appeared to be a rather rudimentary village made out of small houses carved into mounds of ice and frost was infinitely more complex than that. The Realm of the Far Frozen was one of the most technologically advanced territories in all the Infinite Realms; even Technus coveted access to their facilities. A stark contrast to its inhabitants' simple clothing, for instance.

The ice huts were in truth the entrance to a far more elaborate citadel built underground and connected by countless tunnels and caverns, for it provided better shelter. Some shacks did indeed lead to the citizens’ homes, not unlike a rabbit’s den, but the vast majority of them worked as the gates to the tunnels leading to the metropolis beneath the snow. 

In fact, the only cavern that truly was a mere cave, despite its importance among Frostbite’s people, was the cave where Danny’s battle against Pariah Dark was recorded. In reality, everything about Far Frozen was proof that one should never judge a book by its cover. The ice-wielding ghosts had the fearsome looks of canine yetis; their claws alone the size of Danny’s head, their snouts filled to the brim with razor-sharp fangs; even now, standing at 5’9 feet tall, Frostbite’s colossal height and build dwarfed the halfa’s own developed physique, and the number of ghosts who shared the yeti-like species’ proficiency at cryokinesis could be counted with one handーaside from Danny himself, the only other ghost that came to mind was Klemper, and even he relied mostly on brute strength and freezing breath. 

And yet, despite everything that should’ve turned Frostbite and his people into some of his most formidable foes, they in turn were some of the biggest supporters of his rule. If you looked for the definition of ‘gentle giant’ in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of them. Frostbite’s people were noble, kind, and loyal. So long their way of living wasn’t threatened, should a crisis arise, they were always the first ones volunteering themselves to help Danny in any way they could. 

Not to mention Frostbite himself had more than once filled the role of the young Ghost King’s mentor. A role he had no choice but to exploit now. 

Landing gracefully on top of the snow, Danny waited patiently until the leader of the Far Frozeners came flying by on his hoverboard in the midst of his patrolling his land. Soon enough, taking notice of a shadow being cast on him, he looked up to see the ghost’s familiar face grinning down at him, by his side one of his subjects looked on with interest. 

“Great One!” he exclaimed before hopping off the vehicle and coming to stand beside his king, followed by a respectful bow. “To what do we owe the honour of this visit?”

Danny smiled appreciatively at him. “Hello, Frostbite. I know this is probably too sudden, but I could really use your help right now.”

“Nonsense.” The bigger ghost assured him with the raise of a dismissive paw. “My people will be forever indebted to you for freeing the Ghost Zone once and for all from the tyrannical influence of Pariah Dark.” He placed his large paw on his ruler’s shoulder, staring him down with a warmth that shouldn’t belong with a race of tundra dwellers. “Now, do tell, what can we possibly help with?”

Feeling uncomfortable, the halfa looked down on his feet and scratched the back of his head. He really didn’t want to go to Frostbite for help, knowing how cautious he was around the mere mention of them. Unfortunately, he didn’t know who else to go to. “I need your help with…the witches.”

He mumbled that part so low for a moment he worried his old friend might not have heard him, but the sudden look of urgency in his red eyes said otherwise. “Come, we must make haste.” With a nod of his head, Frostbite signalled to the hoverboard’s pilot to lower the vehicle, getting aboard right after Danny. “We will continue where we left off tomorrow at dawn, for now let us head back home.” He instructed the pilot as he ushered Danny to take a seat. 

“As you wish, sir.” The other Far Frozen replied as he changed course. 

“Thank you.” Danny said truthfully. “I’m sorry for bringing them up, but I think you might be the only one able to help me.”

Frostbite shook his head. “Fear not, Great One. My people and I understand you are doing everything in your power to protect us from their harmful ways. Even if we do not wish to come in contact of any kind with them, we will not hesitate to aid you in your quest.”

Even if on the outside Danny was smiling, his words made his insides churn. He felt like he was lying to his mentor. After his last encounter with Lady Arcana a part of him, probably the same part of him who originally told him this was a good idea, resented the way ghosts referred to witches. 

Jazz would probably say that was the result of personal growth. Since the Witch Queen went out of her way to make sure he was safe despite their mutual animosity, his mind had been opened to new horizons, meaning he now understood he’d been unfair to them based on prejudice and naysay, rather than first hand experience. 

At least, that’s what Psychologist Jazz would say. Overprotective, Older Sister Jazz would say something more along the lines of, “Snap out of it, little brother! You’re not fourteen and hormonal anymore; don’t let a pretty face fool you!”

Even so, here he was. Asking Frostbite for help even though it felt like he was just desperately looking for something, anything, that would debunk the reasons behind his people’s grudge against witches, if only to assure himself that his current, improved, opinion of their leader wasn’t unfounded. 

Come on, man, that’s not the only reason you’re doing this and you know it. He tried to reason. How much do you know about witches other than what you’ve been told? Nothing, that’s how much he knew about them. Exactly. You’re the one taking risks by working with Lady Arcana. What if your previous hunch was wrong and they really can’t help? Wouldn’t that mean you’ve been wasting your time? Okay, that’d be bad. Really bad. He only asked for their help because he was sure they were the only ones who could do anything about the portals, but if not even them had the solution to the portals opening, what was he going to do?! Right? And how are you going to figure that out if you don’t know what they’re truly capable of? Really, this is for the best. 

Danny didn’t want to sound conceited, but his inner monologue brought up incredibly good points to the conversation. He was doing this for the sake of Earth and the Ghost Zone alike. His personal opinion on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park was irrelevant. 

A sudden jerk that almost sent him flying brought him out of his reverie. Looking around he noticed they’d finally arrived back at the village, and Frostbite was smirking down at him in amusement. “I have yet to see you use the powers that come with your position to their full potential,” he started between chuckles, “but I believe not even the Great One is exempt from having to use the seatbelt when travelling.”

Registering the way the leader of the Far Frozen moved his ice-encased arm to his lap, Danny realised he was the only person aboard who didn’t have his seatbelt on. When Frostbite unbuttoned his seatbelt with a pointed look, the green-eyed ghost could only flush in embarrassment. “Uh…oops?”

A low chuckle rumbled through the yeti-like ghost’s chest. “Come, Great One.” Resting his large paw on Danny’s back, Frostbite ushered him out of the hoverboard and began guiding him through his home’s numerous underground passages. They walked in silence, the sound of ice and snow being stepped on was the only thing that could be heard. Even though several detours were carved into the walls, his mentor kept directing him to go straight until he instructed they took a turn. 

Danny was sure his jaw was inches away from touching the ground as his eyes surveyed the colossal ice gates in front of him. Judging by their icy blue hue, they were thick enough to withstand practically anything. He doubted even one of his most charged up ecto-rays would be enough to crash into them. Many intricate designs ran alongside them, and they definitely had to protect something of great value to explain the two guards at each side. 

As if reading his mind, Frostbite supplied an answer for his unspoken queries, “The library, oh, Great One.” With a snap of his fingers, the two guards bowed down before they simultaneously turned the doorknobs and opened the doors for them, granting them access. 

“Wait, the library?” Danny frowned in confusion, which only doubled at Frostbite’s hearty laugh.

“Yes, Great One.” He smiled down at him as he led him inside. “If what you’re looking for is answers, I cannot think of a better place to find them than a library.”

Looking now at his mentor’s furry back, for he was surveying the different shelves most likely in search of a book that might have the information he was looking for, the young monarch blurted out, “How do you know I’m here for answers?”

Frostbite grabbed a book from the shelf he was currently facing, only to think better of it and return it in exchange for another one. “Usually, when you come all the way over here it is because you have questions you need answers to.”

Danny winced at the pang of guilt that pierced through his core. Was he always so self-interested he only ever came when he needed something?

“Worry not, Great One.” The yeti-like spirit said, not looking up from the book in his large paws. “My people will always be at your service. It is an honour to be able to help you, for we know you will always aid us in return.” He closed the book with a low thud, flashing him a friendly smile. 

Danny could only gape at the ghost before him, his mouth opening and closing in a fashion akin to a fish’s. Seriously, did the Far Frozeners have telepathy too?!

“No, we do not possess the ability to read minds.” Looking down at the certainly flabbergasted expression on the half-ghost’s face, Frostbite roared with laughter, the sound echoing throughout the walls. “I jest, Great One. I just know you too well. Also, your expressions speak volumes.” He commented offhandedly before returning his focus to another section of the library. 

And to think he’d managed to fool his parents all these years…Sliding a hand through his mess of shock-white locks, the Ghost King came to stand beside his old friend, scanning over the different titles as well. After a  while, he realised something. “Um, Frostbite?” He called out to his mentor. 

“Yes, Great One?”

“Are we perhaps looking for information to answer my questions about the witches?”

Never tearing his eyes away from the sacred manuscripts in full display in his people’s library, Frostbite nodded. “Precisely, your Majesty.”

“Just one question, though?”

“What is it?”

“How are we going to find a book that’ll help me, if I still haven’t told you what I need help with?” Danny pointed out, tilting his head to his side as he awaited an answer. 

The larger ghost’s red eyes widened in realisation. Indeed, that would prove difficult. “My apologies, Great One. In my haste to be of help I got ahead of myself.” Turning to his king, he bowed his head solemnly, unknowingly making Danny uncomfortable. Back in the day the halfa would’ve tried deterring him in his use of honorifics when talking to him, but it was a lost cause and getting him to stop bowing would be as well. In the end he simply chose to go with the flow. Raising his body, Frostbite used his ice-encased arm to gesture to a corner of the room, where a few chairs were arranged around a table. “Please, allow me to rectify my mistake by listening to your queries and answering them to the best of my ability.”

As soon as he got comfortable in his chair, which wasn’t difficult as the hair serving as upholstery was very fluffy and warm, Danny tried to voice his thoughts. “Well...um...you see…” Key word being ‘tried,’ in the end he blurted out, “How does their magic work?”

As Frostbite met his question with stunned silence, his head tilted to the side and a bushy eyebrow raised in confusion, the green-eyed half-ghost couldn’t blame him. How was it he always ended up asking the exact same thing to every person relatively knowledgeable about witches he talked to?

Before his old friend could ask for some much needed clarification, Danny hurried to deliver it himself. “I’m sorry, that was too random.” He pushed his bangs out of his face, trying to organise his thoughts. Better be straightforward with this one. “Why is it that their magic can touch us while we’re intangible?”

The question had been eating him alive for the last few days. Now matter how long he wracked his brain for answers, he came up empty-handed. Admittedly, most of the times he was hit by an opponent’s attack it was usually because, in the heat of the moment, he all but forgot he could turn intangible at will and effortlessly pass through whatever projectile was thrown his way. It was an embarrassing mistake that haunted himーhow ironic, huh?ーsince he first started gaining control over his powers. 

And yet, when he did remember to turn intangible at the sight of upcoming ecto-rays or laser beams, he could come out unscathed of anythingーother ghost’s using their powers against him, the Guys in White and their tax-money equipment, even his parents’ own inventions. 

Well, almost everything…

Valerie’s own arsenal of ecto-weapons was the only thing that could touch (or, more accurately, hurt) him when he was intangible. He could only guess what Vlad and subsequently Technus had used to create her suit and weaponry. Until now. Now he’d accidentally found out witches could nonchalantly wrap their magical, tendril-like thingy around his ankleーlast time in a successful attempt to help him, which was very much appreciatedーand it actually came as a surprise to them they were even able to do it! 

If only he could figure out why that was…

“Great One,” Frostbite sighed from his own chair, snapping him out of his reverie, “I fear I might not be of help to you. I know nothing of what you speak.” 

At that, the halfa jumped to his feet, almost pleadingly. “What do you mean, Frostbite? How come you don’t know, you know practically everything!”

A mirthless chuckle escaped the Far Frozener’s throat. “You flatter me, my King. But I really am as lost as you are on the matter. I could tell you many other things, but not that.”

“Then, what can you tell me?”

Rising to his feet, the yeti-like creature beckoned his hero and leader to follow him to another part of the library. Once they were in front of a particular shelf, Frostbite slid his finger over the different volumes until he found the one he was looking for. With a triumphant sound, he picked it up and started leafing through it as he handed the book to Danny. 

When the halfa took the heavy book in his hands he almost dropped it when he saw the intricate drawing between its pages. Pictured inside the book were very realistic, if slightly worn out by time, drawings of the Amulets of Aragon and portrayals of people Danny could only assume were Dorothea and her brother while they were alive. 

Frostbite’s booming voice forced him to look up to his direction. “Whatever knowledge on the sorceress’ nature beyond their affinity to magic and ability to free us from the chains that bind us to our world without the use of portals is long gone.” He delicately traced an invisible circle around the image of the amulet with one of his sharp claws as he explained, “After our people's separation, only remnants of their activity were left. 

“It is thanks to their prolonged presence in our lives, and the intertwining of energies resulting from our past interactions, that those with magic-based abilities can still survive today. Without the witches’ previous impact on our society, Princess Dorothea and her brother would have long lost the power to wield their amulets. And, as you know, it is thanks to them that magical items even exist in our world.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me…” He muttered under his breath, resentment coming back at full force. 

“On the contrary, my King. I am enlightening you.” Frostbite corrected, earning himself a confused look from Danny that encouraged him to go on. Instead of answering with words, however, Frostbite merely turned his head with a faraway look in his eyes, prompting the halfa to do the same. The moment his eyes laid on a particular object on the other side of the room, Danny could feel himself go jawslacked. 

With wide eyes, he turned his head so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. “The Infi-map is here because of the witches?” He asked with a strangled voice. 

Frostbite simply nodded. “It was a gift from them, to be precise. Legend has it, eons ago the Infinite Realms were desperately looking for ways to anticipate when the next ghost portal would open when an ancient witch queen from the Old World offered the enchanted Infi-map as the solution.

“She was especially close to my people, thus how we came to guard it. It is also why the Far Frozen is so wary of them now; how a race of beings we once shared such a close bond with could doom our very existence like they did was too much for even our benevolent nature to forgive.” He lowered his head in mourning. Maybe they only had stories of how things used to be, but it was clear the women’s betrayal was a deeply pierced wound that would forever be opening and closing at the very core of the Far Frozeners’ hearts. 

Seeing his friend’s dejected expression, Danny regretted even bringing them up almost instantly. “So there’s no way of possibly knowing how they can touch us while intangible?”

“As I said, only remnants of their presence remain.” Right after he said that, however, his downhearted expression turned thoughtful, his paw stroking his snout in thought. “Although, perchance, there is one ghost that might be able to shed some light on the matter...”

...........

Clockwork. 

He had to go and say Clockwork. 

Of fucking course. Why not? Couldn’t he have said Pandora? Despite her fierce and fearsome demeanour, underneath all that anger and aggression laid a very helpful gal! And besides, she was a spirit that had been roaming the Ghost Zone since the times of Ancient Greece! What could be more ancient than Ancient Greece? 

Okay, fine...maybe the very ghost who’d borne witness to the rise and fall of the Greek civilisation alongside countless others before and after. But his point still stands. 

At least this time he wouldn’t be visiting the all-knowing Ghost of Time by himself; Frostbite had offered to go with him seeing as it was per his suggestion he’d be visiting in the first place. Proof of it was the yeti-like ghost flying right beside him towards the Ghost of Time’s tower. And Clockwork always treated Frostbite with respect. 

Danny would admit he was being a bit harsh. In all fairness going to Clockwork was the most logical thing to doーif there was someone who’d have all the answers he needed, it was the very ghost who knew absolutely everything. The problem would be getting the answers out of him. 

Deep down, the halfa knew he should’ve gone to him from the beginning, it was just dealing with him could really take its toll on Danny, no matter how much he respected and appreciated his guidance. Was Clockwork a good mentor to Danny? Absolutely, he was sure he’d never made it as far as he had without his and Frostbite’s help. In the end, was the greater good Clockwork’s priority? Was it ever! The shape-shifting ghost would never hesitate to go against orders from the Observants (all too gleefully, might he add) if he believed it’d led them to the better timeline. Did his cryptic nature and that frustratingly annoying, knowing smirk he always wore when he needed his help with something sometimes encourage Danny to jump off a cliff in his human form? 

Maybe. 

He just hoped Frostbite’s presence would help matters, if only a bit. 

And speaking of Frostbite…“We approach the Master of Time’s lair, Great one.” Soon enough, the immense clock tower standing proud in the middle of the Infinite Realms could be sighted not far away from them. 

Danny sighed dejectedly. “Let’s get this over with…” he grumbled as he changed course in the direction the ghostly lair resided. 

Once they arrived at Clockwork’s tower, Danny reached a hand out to push the door open and let themselves in. It wasn’t like they were going to catch its owner off-guard, after all. As they ventured inside, their eyes scanning for the ever-changing form of the master of time, the constant tick-tock coming from the numerous clocks scattered around the place reached their ears. Like the ticking crocodile Captain Hook dreaded so much, the tower was a constant reminder of the passage of time. Even if the Ghost of Time had long ago explained to him the essence of his power was never as linear as most beings made it out to be, all Danny could think of whenever that incessant sound registered in his mind was one thing:

Time was running out and the end was nigh.

Shaking those thoughts away, for now wasn’t the moment to get lost in them, Danny cupped a hand around his mouth. “Clockwork?” He called. “Anybody home?”

In the blink of an eye, the child-like form of the ghost in question materialised in front of them with an amused grin on his childish face. When he opened his mouth to speak, instead of an appropriately high-pitched voice came a deep, baritone one, “I’ve been expecting you.” The fact it came from a kid’s mouth made it all the more jarring, but Danny was used to it by now. 

Whereas Frostbite respectfully bowed down in greeting, Danny just stared blankly at the ghost before him, his arms folding over his chest. “‘I’ve been expecting you?’ Really? What are you, a fortune teller?”

Changing to his adult form, a more fitting low chuckle escaped his throat. “We both know I’m one of the very few creatures in existence within his right to call himself that.” Then he added, almost like an afterthought. “Also, I felt like it.”

“Figures,” he muttered. Despite himself, the halfa couldn’t stop the lopsided smile from forming on his face. 

Clockwork then turned to the leader of the Far Frozen. “It’s good to see you again, Frostbite. What business brings you here?”

Standing up from his bowed position, Frostbite returned the greeting. “Greetings, Lord Clockwork. It is good to see you as well. Do forgive my impertinence, but I believe you must already know why I am here.”

The master of time nodded, now taking the form of an old man, the grip on his scepter just a little bit tighter for support. “Indeed, you’re here to support our young king. How noble of you.”

“I am merely doing what it is expected of me.” 

“That you do.” Clockwork agreed, nodding wisely. As the larger ghost had accurately pointed out, when one addressed the Ghost of Time, everything they did became expected. “That you do, my friend.”

“Um, could we please speed things up?” Danny suggested, growing frustrated with the pointless introductions. “As Frostbite said, you already know why we’re here, so why don’t you tell us if you can help us or not?”

“I said I know why Frostbite’s here, seeing as that is a staple in almost every timeline. That doesn’t mean I necessarily know the actual reason why you’re here since it’s more subject to change.” The Ghost of Time countered, but that devilishly knowing smirk of his was back on his face, all but screaming he did know exactly why they were here. “So, what are you here for, boy?”

Resisting the very strong urge to yank at his hair in despair, Danny managed to at least reply calmly. Sarcastically, but calmly. “As if you don’t know the answer already.”

Clockwork’s smirk widened. “Then humour me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing through it, the Ghost King thought the best way to formulate his question. Just because the master of time was, well, the master of time that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try to at least make sense. “I need answers.” He finally admitted. “There’s a lot going on with Lady Arcana that I can’t understand. I originally asked for Frostbite’s help but, unfortunately, he didn’t have what I’m looking for. And honestly?” He sent the shapeshifting ghost a meaningful glance, hoping it’d be enough to express how serious he was. “I don’t think she has the answers, either.”

Clockwork arched an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. 

“She can touch me when I go intangible!” Danny threw his arms up. Really, knowing how she could do that was all he needed. If he found out more about her people, wonderful! But as long as he got to know why one of his core powers seemingly meant nothing to her, he was golden. “Well, not her, her magic can.” He amended. “Just the other day, I was intangible and she wrapped one of her wispy tendrils around my ankle, yanking me down. How is that possible?”

For a moment, the Ghost of Time remained silent. With his head resting on his staff, his body kept changing its physical appearance as his deep, red eyes stayed fixated upon the young king. And Danny couldn’t honestly be sure if Clockwork was really thinking his next words carefully or just toying with him. He was an adult again by the time he finally spoke. “Danny, have you ever considered why ghosts can go intangible at all?” 

The unexpected question took him aback. “I...I always assumed it was a natural ghost ability.” He admitted as he scratched the back of his head in thought. 

Changing to his elderly form, the hooded ghost nodded. “And it is, but not without reason.” Next he floated over one of the many portals he used to oversee the passage of time. With a snap of his fingers, the portal began broadcasting many different instances where Danny or some other ghost had turned intangible. “You see, when we ghosts become intangible, what we do is tap into the Ghost Zone while we’re away from it. That is to say our bodies travel through dimensions.” With a movement of his staff, the image changed to show the times he, Tucker, and, surprisingly, Lady Arcana had phased through the walls. “That’s also why humans can phase through things in our world; even if their bodies are here, their essence never left Earth…”

As his mind connected the dots, the halfa’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “...making them lose their physical mass when in touch with things from our world!” He finished, amazed, and from beside the portal Clockwork nodded sagely. “But what about witches?”

The portal abruptly stopped its broadcast. It was almost as if Clockwork didn’t want to show him anything related to Lady Arcana’s people. With that in mind, Danny feared for a second the master of time would choose that moment to close himself off and say nothing more, but luckily, he proved him wrong. “In terms of physical form, witches are still human, but their magic is something completely different.

“As the only human beings capable of tapping into their own essence, their animas are multidimensional, which is why the Witch Queen’s magic affected youーits’ capable of surpassing the laws of physics because it’s not bound to any particular dimension…”

“...just its holder!” Danny gasped out as understanding dawned on him, things were finally starting to make sense. “So you’re saying witches are akin to electricity generators? They depend on no one but themselves to do magic?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow.” He breathed out, a hand outstretched and blindly looking for support until it met the wall. Noticing his king’s dazed estate, Frostbite hurried to his side to steady him as Danny slowly sat down on the floor. “This...this is a lot.”

“And it’s only the beginning.” The Ghost of Time let out cryptically. Danny would have to remember to think about the meaning of that later on, for now he’d already absorbed too much information in too little time. When his brain finally processed enough information for him to properly function, the green-eyed ghost stood to his feet on his own, thanking Frostbite for his help. “Thank you, Clockwork. You were a huge help today. I know how hard it is for you to reveal anything due to the nature of your job.”

“Don’t get used to it, boy.” The hooded ghost warned, the knowing smirk back on his face. “I’m only doing what I consider best for this timeline. Don’t think spelling things out for you will be the answer to all your problems from now on.” 

Despite his words, the smile on Danny’s face didn’t fall. It’d have been foolish to expect anything else from Clockwork, after all. “Well, thanks anyways. See you, Clockwork.” He waved him goodbye as he took off in the opposite direction, this time heading for the Fenton Ghost Portal; today was far from over. 

Having been left alone with the Ghost of Time, Frostbite approached him. “Lord Clockwork, are we certain we are on the right path for salvation?”

“Trust me, old friend,” a child Clockwork said as he ventured further inside his lair, a different portal opening before his deceivingly innocent, round face, the events being displayed in it pleasing him greatly, “everything is as it should be.”

...........

The FentonWorks sign loomed over her like a bad omen. Looking up to the enormous metallic construction welded to the more average-looking, brick building where Danny and his family lived, Sam couldn’t help but subconsciously grip the straps of her spider backpack tighter. Her stomach churning in nervousness, she lifted one hand up to knock on the door…

And, unable to bring herself to do so, let it hang in mid-air for a good ten minutes. 

Dear God, if anyone saw her lurking around the Fentons’ door they’d think she was some weird stalker who was crazier than they claimed the family to be, or a potential client who needed help hunting a ghost. So basically they’d think she was crazier than they claimed the family to be either way. 

One would think the only family of ghost hunters in town would be held in much higher regard after seven years of consistent ghost attacks, but rumour has it their equipment tended to malfunction or make things more difficult for everyone. Sam remembered one particularly funny, but understandably embarrassing, story Danny had told her about his parents’ accidentally humiliating his English teacher on more than one occasion. And since Mr. Lancer couldn’t punish two adults, he took his frustrations out on their innocent son who had repeatedly stated he wanted nothing to do with the family business.

Add to that the presence of an all-around more powerful and more competent town hero with actual ghost powers, and it was safe to say their credibility had taken a few major blows over the years. 

At first she’d worried about their financial situation. Who wouldn’t? They were professional ghost hunters but nobody took them seriously and any possible job they might have had was immediately handled by a far more efficient superhero who, to top it all, worked for free. With that in mind you’d expect them to have been evicted years ago! But Danny had been quick to reassure her and explain things to her. Yes, his parents’ passion was ectology and ghost-hunting, but they were primarily inventors and, even if their ecto-weapons could sometimes use some work, their more mundane inventions were typically sold like pancakes. So they were fine. 

She sighed at the memory. Oh, Danny…

Hard as she tried, she still hadn’t managed to shake the flutter in her chest off whenever she thought of him or something happened between them. No. Scratch that. She didn’t get that feeling when ‘something’ happened between them, because nothing ever happened between them! All those weird, little instances where her heart would malfunction after twenty-one years in peak condition were perfectly normal occurrences that shouldn’t send her heart running. 

They would simultaneously reach for the same thing, causing their hands to brush against each other. Their eyes would meet and she’d spend seconds that could have perfectly stretched into hours over-analysing every little thing she thought was going on behind them because she suddenly wanted to know everything about Danny. When that happened it’d usually be followed by the both of them hurriedly looking away and Sam feeling bashful for some reason, heat rising to her cheeks. 

And none of those reactions made sense because that was not the way one would react to their friend!

Those were all completely normal occurrences between friends. It was normal to want the same thing at the same time. It was only natural to look your friend in the eyes. And it made sense that you’d want to look away if you think you’ve been staring a little too long because anyone would feel uncomfortable by that. 

What didn’t make sense was the gnawing feeling at the back of her head telling her those little, insignificant moments meant so much more than that!

And now that she was beginning to think she’d misjudged Phantom? Now that she looked at him in a different light and noticed some of his...let’s say...more appealing features, both in terms of physique and personality? Now that her heart was beginning to malfunction at the thought of him too?

Now Sam was seriously contemplating putting an end to her misery and burning herself at the stake. 

Either that or go see a doctor in case she had some sort of untreatable heart disease. 

Regardless of the very strange position she now found herself in, Sam’s resolve in finding more about ghosts was genuine. Her and Phantom’s reactions to her magic being able to reach him even when intangible was proof enough that far too much knowledge on their people’s old friendship had been regrettably forgotten. 

The black hole incident demonstrated there probably was more to their partnership and combined abilities than what had been passed down to the younger generations. If Sam could find solid evidence on an unexplained synchrony between magic and ghostly attributes, then maybe her current alliance with the Ghost King wouldn’t be futile after all.

Maybe it even held the key to solving the portal crisis they faced off against…

The witch was abruptly broken out of her trail of thought when the door she’d been standing in front of for fifteen minutes suddenly opened, Danny’s head curiously poking around and eyes darting from one side to the other, clearly looking for something…

...or someone. 

As soon as their eyes met, the two of them let out startled sounds and subconsciously took a step back in surprise. Unfortunately for Sam, seeing as she was standing on the steps leading up to the door, her foot slipped when it found nowhere to stand on. Losing her balance, she was sure she was going to fall when Danny immediately rushed in to help her, his strong arms swiftly coming to grab her by her waist, their faces mere inches apart. 

Against her better judgement, the hazel-eyed girl couldn’t do anything to prevent losing herself in Danny’s baby blue depths. Certainly, nobody would blame her, not when their breaths mingled from the close proximity, or when his eyes reflected a worry she’d rarely seen beforeーhe was worried for her, she realised with a little too much gleeー, or when they were so, so close all she had to do was inch her head forward just a little to close the distance and feel those hypnotising lips of his onー.

“Uh...what’s going on here?”

Slowly, very slowly, even comically so, the two turned their heads to the direction of the voice. Only to find Jazz propped against the doorframe behind her brother and flashing them a very interested look, a smile dancing along her lips. 

The effect was instantaneous. The two scrambled to get away from each other, almost as if they’d suddenly realised the other was made out of hot lava and they were burning their hands, muttering excuses and such other nonsense Jazz chose to ignore completely. 

Oh, denial. Simultaneously one of the most entertaining and frustrating stages of admitting you like someone. 

Clearing his throat, Danny was the first one to find his voice, even though his cheeks still burned. “S-Sam! It’s great to see you! I was starting to believe you couldn’t make it in the end.”

“Oh! No, no.” She shook her head slightly with a hand raised up. “I’m sorry I made you wait, I, uh, I just had a little trouble finding the place. That’s all.” Fine, so saying she had trouble finding the one house in town with a humongous Ops Centre on its roof was a terrible lie, but no way in Hell was she going to say she found the place just fine but she took a few extra minutes with her hand raised about to knock on the door but finding herself unable to. 

That was just pathetic.

The slightly irritating grin never leaving her face, Jazz ushered their guest in. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.” She let herself be guided through the doorstep to the kitchen, which, judging by the outline of some furniture she could vaguely make out, Sam guessed led to the living room. The space was a large and bright-coloured room that combined a somewhat retro 50’s style with far newer appliances and...was that a toxic-waste container?

“That’s our version of tupperware with leftovers.” Danny came to stand beside her and now Sam was wondering if she’d just said that aloud or if he could read minds. When he looked down at her, though, his expression was dead serious. “If you value your life, don’t open it.”

“Duly noted.” 

She was about to ask where she could sit down when the younger sibling moved a chair for her, gesturing at it with a flourish and flashing her a charming smile. “M’lady, this way, please.”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Sam took his hand and allowed him to help her sit, setting her spider backpack on top of the kitchen table. Once he was comfortably sitting on his own chair by her side, she swatted his arm in mock warning. “Just so you know, I’m only letting you treat me like ‘a lady,’” she air-quoted, “because, as your guest, is the right thing to do.” 

“I’m much obliged, Miss Manson.” Danny countered with a fake posh accent. 

Before the girl could so much as flick him on the nose, Jazz came inside carrying a plate full of cookies. “Care for one, Sam?”

Eying the plate carefully, she had to decline the offer. “Thank you, but I’m good.” In truth she couldn’t be sure the cookies were vegan, but saying she wasn’t hungry was much more polite than imposing her dietary choices on them. 

Sensing her discomfort, Danny smacked his forehead as realisation washed over him. “Duh, that’s right!” Startled by his outburst the two girls turned to look at him, exchanging confused glances. “You’re ultra-recyclo-vegetarian! I’m sorry, Sam. I forgot. I don’t think we have anything for you.”

Bringing one hand to her mouth, Jazz gasped. “Darn! That’s right. I’m so sorry, Sam; it totally slipped my mind.”

Her mind still reeling from Danny, once again, remembering something about her, she didn’t have the heart to say anything. “It’s okay, really. As I said, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Danny insisted. “Because I’m sure we have something around here you might be able to eat…” He trailed off, clearly thinking about what they had that Sam could possibly consume without breaking her moral code. Biting down his lip, he tried, “How about water?”

The Goth girl couldn’t help but snort. “ A tempting offer. I might take you up on it.”

“I’ll get you a glass.” As he got up to do just that, his older sister finally took notice of the purple spider resting on the table. 

“Wow.” She breathed out, clearly impressed. “You have quite a collection of badges on your bag!”

“Oh, this?” Sam pointed at the assortment of metallic, glinting badges adorning her faithful spider’s fur. “They’re mostly from charities and previous protests I’ve been in.” She explained. “You could say when something matters a lot to me, I make sure to give it a place of honour.”

“Cool, just make sure my father doesn’t see or he’ll shove a handful of Fenton badges your way.”

“‘Fenton badges’?”

“They’re regular badges with the word ‘Fenton’ on them.” Danny explained quickly, setting down a glass of water before Sam just as he regained his seat. 

After her brother helped himself to some cookies, Jazz left the plate on the counter before picking a seat for herself. She propped her elbows on the kitchen table, her fingers intertwined and her eyes staring at the Goth seriously from behind her hands. The image reminded Sam of the principals from high school based sitcoms whenever the protagonists got in trouble.

The mental image only made her feel like she’d got in trouble. 

“Uh...is everything okay?” She asked carefully.

“Everything’s fine, Sam.” Danny assured her with a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. That only worried the girl further. “We’re just morally obligated to warn you about a few things first.”

“Such as…?” Sam eyed the Fenton siblings suspiciously, her skin prickling at their uncharacteristically odd behaviour. 

“Such as our parents' eccentricities.” Jazz finished, her voice completely serious. “Don’t get us wrong, Sam; our parents are talented inventors and passionate ghost hunters...” She trailed off, having trouble explaining things to an outsider. They never really had to explain their family’s antics to anybody else, they all knew; the difference lay in how they processed the information. So far, the entire town bar Tucker thought of them as kooks.

“But they’re so passionate they tend to overlook things.” Danny added. 

“Especially if they don’t fit their agenda...” Jazz muttered darkly, probably thinking nobody heard. But she was mistaken.

Sam was legitimately taken aback by the unexpected venom laced in Jazz’s statement. Even though this was only the second time she got to meet the eldest Fenton sibling, their last encounter seemed to indicate Jazz was the type of person who always measured her words. Straight-laced, careful, mature...Maybe even calculating under the right circumstances. She seemed to place great importance on not letting her emotions show, for some reason. But, seemingly, their parents’ job was a sore spot for her. 

As her mind went back to their conversation at Verde Que Te Quiero Verde, Sam found herself thinking she couldn’t blame Jazz for her low opinion on their parents’ chosen career. Who wouldn’t grow resentful of a career path that, judging by Danny’s stories, not only had it brought shame and embarrassment onto their children their whole lives, but also led them to being neglected in favour of something most people didn’t even know existed until recently?

As much as she’d personally wished her mother would leave her alone growing up, Sam knew what emotional neglect felt like all too well. 

“I see.” She said finally, taking extra care in not letting her thoughts shine through. She needed to appear nonchalant, willing to listen. “So, what should I know?”

Danny and Jazz exchanged a look, silently discussing how to approach the topic. Understandably, Danny had been taken by surprise when Sam asked if she could come over and talk about ghosts. After all, who in their right mind wanted to talk about ghosts? Most citizens would just watch him fight them, sneer at him once the battle was over, and exclaim ‘good riddance!’ before turning on their heels to go back to their monotonous lives. 

The only exceptions to the norm were Team Phantom  (and even they’d only started showing interest begrudgingly, since they had no other choice), Danny Phantom’s fan club, and Valerie in her early days as a ghost hunterーnow that she thought she knew everything about mischievous spirits she could possibly need, she’d become more of an ‘attack first, questions never’ kinda gal. 

Luckily for Danny, the moment she noticed his blank expression, she was quick to explain it was her Gothic nature talking. Her passion for the paranormal and occult just couldn’t miss the opportunity of getting to know more from the town’s resident experts. 

Now, if only said experts weren’t almost as single-minded as a certain Red Huntress…

He wasn’t sure why, but a part of Danny just couldn’t bear the thought of Sam disliking ghostsーdisliking your ghost half, you meanーthe same way Valerie or his parents did. She was one of the most accepting people he’d met in a long time, he wouldn’t know what to do if Danny Phantom jeopardised that like it jeopardised his relationship with Valerie. 

That was why it was so important she understood! If he and Jazz could get through to her before their parents started feeding her their very anti-ghost ideas, then maybe he wouldn’t lose another person to Amity Park’s almost unanimous anti-ghost sentiment. He wouldn’t have to pretend to be somebody he was not in front of somebody else he cared about. 

With a nod of his head, Danny allowed Jazz to take the floor. “First and foremost, you should know our parents are far better in practice than in theory.”

Sam blinked, not following. “I don’t think I understand…”

“It’s just,” Jazz started, biting her lip, her hands fidgeting as she tried to find the right words to say, “they know the basics, you see? They know everything on how to take down a ghost and apply that knowledge to their inventions...with varying results,” she muttered that last part to herself. “But we don’t think they really understand what makes a ghost tick, you know what I mean?”

The Goth could only stare blankly at her, her brow furrowed in confusion. “But you just said they know how to take down ghosts...Doesn’t that mean they know what makes them tick?”

“What Jazz means is they don’t understand their motivations.” Danny corrected. “To our parents, all ghosts care about is causing mayhem and destruction, but not all ghosts can possibly be like that, can they?”

Although it was phrased like a question, there was something about the way he said it that made Sam see it as anything but. The certainty in his voice, the almost manic glint in his eyes askingーno, beggingーher to understand. It wasn’t mere, hopeful speculation. As much as Danny liked seeing the good in people, he wasn’t just giving ghosts the benefit of the doubt; it was like he knew they were far more than just ectoplasmic remnants of human conscience. 

Still, despite everything, her mouth started talking before her brain had time to catch up. “But do they even have any motivation at all?” She didn’t know why, but she felt like wincing when Danny’s hopeful expression turned dejected. Like a kicked puppy. “I mean, all ghosts do whenever they come to Amity Park is cause some sort of trouble or even go as far as plotting world domination.” 

Why did she say that? Wasn’t she trying to give the spectres the benefit of the doubt as well? She explicitly came here for answers that’d justify her sudden belief, her sudden need to believe, ghosts weren’t as evil as she’d been told. She was looking for that same reason that led her ancestors to trusting and forming a solid alliance with them all those centuries ago. 

Why was her mind trying to sabotage that?

Sensing his brother’s discomfort, Jazz was quick to step in. For reasons he wasn’t ready to admit, it was important Sam was on their side. “Take Danny Phantom, for instance,” she said, seemingly unaware of the way Sam’s breath hitched at the mention of his name. “Nobody knows what he’s up to, but for all intents and purposes, he seems to only care about protecting Amity Park.”

“That 's...true.” The Goth admitted, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she thought of the town’s controversial hero. “Except for a few incidents, he only ever appears if the town’s in danger.”

Sam didn’t say much, she was just stating the obvious. But hearing her admit he was trying to save Amity Park rather than destroy or rule it brought a grin to Danny’s face. “Our parents don’t get that. For them, it’s more like, ‘you’ve seen one ghost, you’ve seen them all’”, as he explained their parents’ mindset, Danny’s voice took on a deeper tone, causing Sam to guess he was making an imitation of his dad’s voice. “They don’t think Phantom, or any ghost for that matter, can be anything other than trouble.”

A dark, heavy cloud seemed to settle over the raven haired boy’s shoulders. His ocean blue eyes lost their shine, the corners of his lips turned upside down, and he suddenly looked much older than he really was. He seemed so...tired. As if he were carrying a huge weight over his shoulders and were exhausted from it. 

“They…” he began to say before he had to swallow the bitter lump in his throat. It was so difficult to get the words out, knowing what they entailed, without getting emotional. But Sam couldn’t possibly know just how much it all affected him. She just couldn’t. “They dehumanise them.”

Sam could only stand looking at Danny for a few more seconds before she had to avert her gaze, focusing on the kitchen counter instead as she bit down her lip guiltily. He looked so...un-Danny. She began picking at her nails as she realised his parents weren’t all that different from her; not even a week prior she’d also been convinced ghosts were nothing more than ectoplasmic scum. Cold, unfeeling, wicked. Even now, even as she came to understand she should give them a chance, she found herself having trouble trying to move on from that mindset her people had spent a good chunk of her life getting into her head. 

Hating ghosts was second nature at this point. 

“I…” Sam started weakly, clearing her throat to give herself a few more seconds to compose herself. This was going to be hard. “I think I understand. It’s like all those movies, isn’t it?” She said, her voice tinged with a lightness she didn’t quite feel. “Like...like those stories with over-complicated plots that can, ultimately, be summarised by ‘don’t judge a book by its cover,’ right?”

Actually getting the words out was proving itself to be a Herculean task. She didn’t even know what she was saying. Referencing one of the oldest tropes to ever exist? Really? No matter how hard she was trying for the sake of her alliance with Phantomーand not because, for whatever reason, she now wanted to believe he couldn’t possibly be as bad as she initially thought. No wayー, literally all ghosts that’d ever visited Amity Park except for the Ghost King had questionable morals, at best, or were downright diabolical, at worst. 

Just trying to get the words out made her stomach tighten! 

But then she looked over to Danny from underneath her eyelashes, feeling too shy and unsure for her comfort, and her breath hitched. 

Danny was positively glowing. For reasons Sam couldn’t understand, having someone try to see things eye to eye with him meant the world to Danny. The way his expression softened when he looked at her was almost too much to bearーher cheeks felt like they were on fire, but Sam still had half the mind to understand suddenly splashing her face with her, mostly untouched, glass of water would make some eyebrows raise in bewilderment. 

Her heart pounding in her ears and her mind screaming at her not to do anything weird or out-of-place (in a disturbingly similar voice to her mother), the hazel-eyed girl reached a hand across the table and rested it on top of Danny’s, who jolted in his seat upon making contact. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to keep an open mind.” She said softly, smiling at him. 

His mind reeling from the feeling of Sam’s warm hand over his cold palm, Danny let out an almost inaudible gasp, his eyebrows shooting up to the ceiling. But as he registered her promise, he couldn’t help himself from giving her hand a gentle squeeze, his face morphing itself into an adoring expression as his heart did somersaults in his chest cavity. 

Where have you been all my life?

Startled by his own thought process, Danny roughly snatched his hand away from Sam’s, under her slightly hurt gazeーwhich she immediately tried to cover upーand Jazz’s questioning eyes. Before he could try and dwell on his thoughts, however, a booming voice came from down the lab and progressively made its way upstairs.

“Sorry we’re late!” Jack’s jovial voice came from the staircase. “We were finishing up some last minute adjustments.”

“Our latest invention promises to be our greatest one yet!” A feminine voice said excitedly. Sam could only guess that was Mrs. Fenton.

“There’s still much to be done, of course. But as soon as we work out a few twerks and we’re done designing the general outline, everything else will go smoothly.” Coming in before her husband, Maddie moved easily around her kitchen, going over to the fridge to grab some fudge for Jack before reaching up for some plates from the cupboard. She kept waltzing around the kitchen table and her children, so engrossed in her retelling she failed to notice the ebony haired girl sitting down beside them. “You kids haven’t touched the container unit with the ecto-weenies, haveー?” She trailed off abruptly, something far more interesting than her home’s ecto-induced food catching her eye the moment she turned around to finally face her kids. 

There, sitting around her kitchen table, right next to her son, was both the most unique and beautiful girl she’d ever seen him with. Any other mother would be taken aback to see her son with a girl with a side of her head shaved off and dyed purple and green (albeit only the little ponytail sticking out), wearing enough dark clothes to be confused with a mortician or someone in mourning, and heavy, dark make-up coating her face. 

But not Maddie Fenton. 

Oh no. 

Aside from being a ghost hunterーa career path that was, regrettably, not held in high regard by her entourageー, meaning she wasn’t one to judge others’ live choices, Maddie was just shocked to see her son with a girl. Period. 

The last time she’d ever even heard him gush about how pretty a girl was was in his Freshman year of high school. First over that Paulina Sanchez who, going by what Jazz told her, was Casper High’s beauty queenーit was only natural her teenage son would have a phase where he was after the head cheerleader; just like Jazz had a phase where she was into that motorcycle-riding bad boy with greasy hair. 

Whatever happened to that boy?

And a few months after that he seemed smitten with Valerie Gray, the daughter of Damon Gray; a former security expert at Axion Labs that’d helped them during the whole ordeal with the Ghost King. A pleasant man, but even he didn’t seem to hold them in high esteem. 

They went out several times all throughout the extent of two weeks, but just as she was about ready to squeal and tackle his little man for getting his first girlfriend and growing up, one day he dejectedly told them Valerie thought it best to remain friends. 

Ever since then, romance all but became a taboo topic around Danny. 

Aside from a few times he’d tell them he had a date (which never seemed to lead anywhere), not a peep could be heard out of him when it came to girls. Ever since he was well into his Freshman year, at the tender age of fourteen bordering fifteen, girl-talk became nonexistent. 

And, Maddie had to admit, there was a time she came to believe her son never brought girls up because he just wasn’t interested in them. Seeing as the only other person he ever spent time with was Tucker, Maddie once thought Danny was gay but too afraid to come out, fearing they might disown him or something. 

Only for that little theory to burn up in flames when she tried letting him know she knew and fully supported himーto which Danny almost choked to death on his breakfast, before fervently denying any sort of romantic relationship with his best friend. 

He swore up and down the reason he never brought up the topic of romance was because there wasn’t anyone he was interested in. Something he religiously followed, never even talking about a girl (or boy, Maddie still kept that possibility open) who he’d simply come to think was pretty in passing.

Until now. 

Now there was a lovely young lady in her kitchen. Sitting right beside her baby, who looked as embarrassed as if he were a teenager again and was being bombarded with a thousand photos of him and his date for Homecoming. Now, Maddie wasn’t quite knowledgeable on street fashion and subcultures as she’d been back in college, but just by looking at this girl (who was staring, wide-eyed, right back at her) she could tell she used her clothes to express herself and her individuality.

She knew who she was or, at least, who she wanted to be. Good. 

Straightening her back slightly, Maddie tried to put the girl at ease using her most motherly tone. “Oh, hello there!” She walked over to her and reached out her hand for her to shake. She noted with pleasure she had a firm yet gentle grip. Oh, dear God, please let this girl be the one for Danny! “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Maddie, Danny and Jazz’s mother.”

“Oh! Uh…” With a start, she smiled back at the kind woman in front of her, albeit feeling a little awkward. “I’m Sam. I’m friends with Dannyーnice to meet you.”

“Believe me, Sam,” Maddie’s grin widened, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, probably from the countless hours of etiquette classes her mother had drilled into her head, Sam jumped to her feet to greet the woman before her properly. 

The Goth was in awe at the sight before her. Mrs Fenton had to be a woman in her late-forties to early-fifties, given she’d given birth to two kids who were now in their early twenties, and yet she didn’t look a year over thirty. She had to be one of the most beautiful women she’d ever met, with her auburn bob cut that had only the tiniest hints of a grey hair or two; her smooth, wrinkle-free face that’d make Pamela sick with envyーshe’d spent a fortune on skincare products and even then she didn’t look nearly as young as Danny’s mother; and she had to have the best figure she’d ever seen, even after given birth twice! As unorthodox a piece of clothing as it was, her blue hazmat suit hugged her body perfectly, accentuating all her curves. Mrs Fenton was probably only second to Delilah in terms of voluptuousness, but seriously, that woman was basically a goddess walking on Earth. And her deep, purple eyes hid a mixture of motherly warmth and care as well as an intelligence and sharpness rivaled only by Grandma Ida. 

It was funny, Sam noted. Had Mrs Fenton been born a witch, and she probably would be ruling the coven now, not her. 

“And I’m Jack Fenton, nice to meet you kiddo!” Danny’s father exclaimed, trapping Sam’s hand in a deadly grip. He was shaking her hand so enthusiastically Sam was genuinely surprised he wasn’t shaking her up and down like a rag doll. 

“Nice to meet you too, Mr Fenton.” She said, taking a good look at the man who’d raised Danny. 

Mr Fenton was...how could she put this gently? The opposite of his wife. He wasn’t ugly by any means! But while Maddie looked like she could be on the cover of a fashion magazine, he was a rather plain-looking fellow. Jack was a man of great girth, although not necessarily overweight; he certainly had enough energy to get an electric plant running with nothing but his personality. Clad in a large, orange hazmat suit that somehow both matched and clashed horribly with his wife’s more classy blue, his age was far more apparent. Perhaps he didn’t look like he had a foot on the other door, but the years hadn’t been as kind to him as they’d been to Mrs Fenton. He still had a full head of hair, but his sideburns and his nape were already stark white, while the hair on his head kept some colourーa dark grey. The little bit of skin Sam could see (mostly his face, really), with his strong, squared jaw, was mostly unblemished, except for crow’s feet around his round eyes. He definitely didn’t look too old, just...older than his wife.

Even then, Sam could still make out enough details that showed this was Danny’s dad. 

At first glance it seemed both Fenton kids took mostly after their mother (a never-ending source of comfort for them, she was sure), but there was enough of Jack’s genes in their appearance to tell the kinship. 

Judging from his mop of grey hair, Sam figured he used to have black hair, not unlike his son’s messy locks. If she looked closely, the girl could make out Mr Fenton’s eyes; a dark shade of greyish blue, similar to Danny’s icy stare and Jazz’s inquisitive, aqua eyes. And last but not least, there was the issue with their height. Mr Fenton was huge! Probably the tallest member of the family, and that was saying something. Even Danny, standing at an impressive 5’9, was towered over by his dad. Jazz took after her mum in that regard, thank Goodness.

So, summing up.

A lovely, genius daughter working on her PhD; a charming, witty, hot-as-Hell (who said that?!) son about to work with NASA; a mother who was both gorgeous and another genius, and a huge father who might not be George Clooney but seemed to be a very decent human being (and, considering he was an expert ectologist and inventor, another genius to boot). 

What was this, the over-achieving family? A family specifically designed to excel in everything her own family already didn’t hold a candle to anyone to?! And did she really have to be so short in comparison!?

As much as the stereotypically girly part of herself she worked so hard to push down squealed over a healthy height difference between a possible boyfriend and her, the number of inches Danny had on her was just ridiculous. And now it turns out his entire family is better than hers one way or another. Unless she performed magic in their very kitchen, Sam had no idea how she could possibly impress her in-laws. Ever. 

And, she realised with a start, her mind was veering into insane territory again… She rationalised she was just thinking it’d be very difficult for her to impress the Fentons if she were to date Danny. Which she wasn’t going to do. Ever. They were just friends and her life was too complicated to even be thinking about romance right now. Besides, she’d never be able to live with herself knowing she’d have to keep her partner (be it Danny or someone else entirely) in the dark about a huge aspect of her life. 

Danny deserved way better than the kind of life her dad was stuck with. 

Almost as if sensing her inner monologue, Jack almost gave her a heart attack when he spoke next. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Sam. We thought it’d be Tucker who Danno would bring over.” He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder and brought her closer to him. “So imagine our surprise when we see you here! We might’ve been a little too overzealous about it.”

“A little?” Sam heard Jazz whisper to her brother, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“That’s right,” Maddie agreed, her smile so wide her cheeks hurt and a sense of impending doom gripped her son’s heart. “It’s just been so long since Danny last brought a girlfriend home, and so beautiful too!”

His cheeks practically on fire, Danny was quick to shout, panicking, “She’s not my girlfriend!”, at the same time as Sam, equally embarrassed, exclaimed, “I’m not his girlfriend!”

The Fenton matriarch’s good mood deflated a little at that. “You’re not?”

“No, Mum. She’s not.” Danny confirmed as he scrubbed his face with one hand. Why was it that every time he brought home someone other than Tucker they immediately assumed he must’ve found the womanーor man, Tucker never let him live that one downーhe was going to marry? It wasn’t like he was such a recluse, was it? ...on second thought, better not answer that. “I already told you a friend was interested in meeting you, you told me you were okay with it and, well,” he said with some sarcasm in his voice as he extended his arms to his sides, making a flourish, “here she is.”

“Well, yeah. But when you said ‘friend’ we thought you meant Tucker, son.” His dad admitted, scratching the back of his head. 

“I have more friends aside from Tuck, you know?”

If his parents immediately assuming Sam was his girlfriend and openly addressing her as such right in front of her hadn’t been mortifying enough, the deafening silence that settled in the kitchen then certainly was. 

Was he really that much of a loser his parents didn’t seriously believe him capable of making friends with people outside of Tucker? Granted, most of his friendsーDora, Wulf, Frostbite, Cujo…ーwere the very same creatures from another dimension they’d sworn to hunt down, strap to a lab table, and dissect ‘molecule by molecule’, so they couldn’t possibly know about them. But come on!

Grimacing at the uncomfortable, and a little humiliating, atmosphere, Jazz cleared her throat to catch their parents’ attention. “I think what Danny means is that, if he’d really wanted to invite Tucker over, he wouldn’t have even asked your permission for it.” The moment her mum and dad crossed their arms over their chests and sent her a disapproving look due to the way she’d just disregarded their authority she was quick to backpedal. “A-after all, he practically spends more time here than in his own house! And he’s ever really been into ghosts to begin with, so…”

Jazz had a point. Maddie sighed through her nose, a little disappointed. “I guess you’re right.” Her expression turned cheery again almost instantaneously, clapping her hands before her face as she redirected her focus on the hazel-eyed girl still standing awkwardly near her kitchen table. “So! Sam, Danny’s told us you wanted to meet us, why’s that?”

“It’s not to place another restraining order on us, is it?” Her husband asked dubiously, his eyes narrowing on the young lady in suspicion. 

Jazz facepalmed herself while Danny was too busy all but slamming his head against the table. 

“Whaー? No, of course not.” Sam assured him, shaking her head and hands in front of her as it to emphasise her point. “I, uh, I asked Danny if I could come meet you because I’m really interested in the paranormal and such. I’m a Goth; you see,” she gestured vaguely at her form, “it sort of comes with the aesthetic. So when he told me you guys were ghost hunters I couldn’t help myself; I just had to meet you.”

Before the Goth knew it, the enormous man she’d been talking to grabbed her around the shoulders with just one arm and, with impressive strength, lifted her up off the floor, a broad smile playing along his lips. “Don’t tell me you want to get in the business?” He asked with the same excitement of a kid on Christmas.

“N-not r-really…” she gasped out, the force behind Mr. Fenton’s grasp knocking the air out of her lungs. “I-I’m just...really c-curious...t-that’s all…”

Panicking at the sight of Sam’s face turning blue, Danny jumped to his feet, followed closely by Jazz. “Dad, put her down!” In the blink of an eye he was by his dad’s side, gently coaching the raven haired girl out of his bone-crushing grip. The moment her feet touched the floor, Sam began taking greedy gulps of air, her hand in Danny’s firm but gentle ones and Jazz patting her back comfortingly. 

“Careful, honey.” Mrs Fenton scolded her husband lightheartedly, “You know you tend to get carried away.”

“Right. Sorry about that, Sam.”

Too breathless to dignify that with a verbal answer, Sam limited herself to giving him a thumbs-up. 

“How about we cut to the chase and you guys show Sam what you’re working on, huh?” Jazz suggested, one hand still rubbing her guest’s back soothingly. If after today Sam insisted on being friends with her brother, he would have a lifetime of making it up to her. 

“Great idea, Jazzypants!” Jack exclaimed excitedly. He and his wife then proceeded to usher their kids and guest out of the kitchen and down to the lab. 

Sam miraculously caught herself before she could snort. ‘Danno’? ‘Jazzypants’? She would’ve laughed at the ridiculous nicknames hadn’t she remembered her mother’s horrendous habit of calling her ‘Sammy-kins.’

Did everything that woman do have to bring nothing but pain and misery to her daughter?

Walking down the stairs to what the witch could only assume was the lab Jazz mentioned earlier, Maddie turned her head around slightly so she could look at Sam as she asked over her shoulder. “I don’t think we’ve asked you about your family, dear; not even about your full name.”

“It’s Manson, Sam Manson. My parents…”she trailed off, making a grimace. “Let’s just say in twenty-one years of existence I’ve never been able to understand what they do for a living.” That wasn’t technically a lie. Even if Sam was perfectly aware of her mother’s double life as a witch (mostly because she was destined to follow in her footsteps), the financial side of things always eluded her. For all she knew her dad could be a smuggler. 

“Wait, ‘Manson’?” It was Jack’s turn to turn his head to face her, an bushy eyebrow raised in surprise. “You mean like that stinking rich family living in the uptown part of town?”

Now it was Maddie’s face that lit up in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! Danny and Jazz did mention something like that when they came back from their night out.”

Sam shot Danny and Jazz a dirty look, to which they responded by smiling awkwardly in return and whistling a happy tune while averting all sorts of eye contact, respectively; “You know, before I knew you my family’s wealth was one of my best-kept secrets. Now it’s got to a point where I’ll be walking down the street and some random kid will point out at me and say, ‘Look, mummy! Look! It’s that rich girl!’”

“Come on, Sam,” a devilish smirk made its way to Danny’s face. “You’re making things up.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually happened.”

Stepping down the last step to the basement, Jack extended his arms high in the air as he announced, “Here we are! The Fenton Lab!”

The moment she descended to the basement and was able to see the family lab for the first time, Sam’s jaw all but touched the floor. Strolling down inside the spacious laboratory, she couldn’t help but spin around, trying to find every single nook and secret laying right before her, marvelling at the sight. 

The Fenton Lab was a greyish room with metal-covered walls and a tiled floor that occupied the entirety of the basement. Various machines whose workings Sam could only guess littered around the room, alongside several lab tables filled to the brim with test tubes, trays, notes, and neon-green liquids pulled up to the walls, as well as different beeping monitors. 

But what had to be, by far, the most impressive device in the entire lab was the large, octogonal gates standing in the far corner of the room. They were currently closed, their yellow and black striped doors in full display, and the big, red lightbulb Sam suspected would blink when used was turned off resting on top of it. 

Taking a step closer, one hand pointing at the machine, she breathed out in awe, “Whoa...What’s that?”

“You have a good eye!” Maddie complimented as she came to stand right beside her guest. One hand directed at their most prized invention and the other on her hip, it was obvious she was about to give a lecture worthy of any college professor. “This is the Fenton Ghost Portal. Our greatest invention yet.”

The Goth’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. “The Fenton Ghost Portal…?” She echoed, astonished. 

The hazmat clad lady hummed in response. “That’s right. This baby is our pride and joy; a little pipe dream we’ve had since college. Isn’t that right, Jack?”

“You got it, baby!” Mr Fenton agreed, crossing his arms with a proud smile on his face. “Except there’s nothing impossible about this beauty. Dreams do come true!”

“Although,” Maddie added, a grim look on her face, “we almost indefinitely put the project on hold after...an unfortunate accident back in our Sophomore year in Wisconsin University.”

Taking advantage of the distance between them, Sam, and their parents, Danny leaned in closer to Jazz to whisper in her ear, “Unfortunate in more ways than one.” If only his parents knew that day they created a monster...Although the time he travelled through time to their college days proved nothing could’ve prevented Vlad from turning into the frootloop he was today. The monster inside him had nothing to do with his ghost half.

Unaware of the exchange taking place between the siblings, the Goth girl asked, “An accident? What happened?”

“The prototype malfunctioned and ended up blasting good ol’ Vladdie in the face.” Jack explained, a distant look in his eyes. 

“Maybe if he hadn’t stuck his face right in front of the working portal, none of that would’ve happened…” Danny muttered darkly for Jazz’s ears only. 

“Or at least worn safety goggles.” His sister whispered back.

Their father went on, not having heard a word that was said between his children. “The exposure to the ecto-chemicals gave him a nasty case of ecto-acne that had him hospitalised for years. It took him over twenty years to forgive me.” He said sadly, only to immediately brighten up the next second. As someone who came from a family that usually only emoted silent judgement, fake cheer, or total apathy, Sam was having a bit of a hard time trying to catch up to all of Mr Fenton’s many emotions. “But we finally patched things up seven years ago and now we’re all buddies again!”

Danny smiled in satisfaction at the way his mum’s posture stiffened up, her arms crossed defensively in front of her, and her forehead creased in aggravation. “‘Buddies’ might be a bit of a stretch…” she mumbled angrily, before taking on a more neutral tone, “I don’t know Jack. I still think the years have turned Vlad into a bit of a freak.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, baby!” Her husband whined. “You’d be a little eccentric too if you spent all of your time alone inside a big, lonely mansion like he does!”

“I can attest to that…” Sam muttered to herself as she hugged herself, her eyes on the floor, years of lonely memories coming back in full force. Then she realised, “Wait, did you just say your friend lives in a big mansion all by himself?”

“I wouldn’t say all by himself,” Danny chimed in. “He has a cat keeping him company.”

Ignoring him, she pressed on, “And you said his name was Vlad?”

“That we did! Our good ol’ friend Vlad Masters!” Jack confirmed with a huge grin on his face. His was the only smiling face amongst his family. Something told Sam Mr. Masters hadn’t exactly won the crowd over…

The raven haired girl turned her head to face the Fenton siblings so fast she almost gave herself whiplash as she sent them a pointed look. “You guys are friends with Vlad freaking Masters and you think me having a little money is a big deal?!”

“Actually, you’re filthy, stinking rich yourself.” Jack corrected matter-of-factly and, for a moment, Sam wished she could just forgo her grandmother’s insistence on treating those older than you with respect and glower at the Fenton patriarch.

The only answer she got to her incredulous outburst were a pair of twin nervous laughs and shrugs.

The hazel-eyed girl took a deep breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration before turning back to their dad. “Um...and what exactly does it do?” She asked dubiously, redirecting everyone’s attention back to the portal with a jerk of her thumb. She just hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was. 

“It’s a portal to the Ghost Zone, where ghosts live and all that.” Danny’s voice confirmed her suspicions. 

With his hands sticking inside his pockets he, too, approached the enormous machine, coming to stand right beside Sam in the process. Turning her head to him, her brow furrowed in worry when she noticed the way his forehead creased as he beheld the portal. 

His face was bare of any telltale signs that would usually expose his true feelings on the matter; no creased forehead, no furrowed brow, no narrowed eyes, his lips were sealed in a thin, neutral line, and his hands in his pockets stopped him from clenching his fists. At first glance Danny was the perfect picture of calmness and indifference but something told Sam a very different storyーcall it sixth sense, call it her witchy instincts, or just plain care for her friend. There was something...dark hidden behind his eyelids. As well as something else. Something oh-so sad it made her heart squeeze in sympathy. Danny’s otherwise baby blue pools had turned the same colour of a troubled sea in a stormy night. Deep, and cold, and suffocating.

Lost in memories of times and misadventures caused by the eerie green hidden behind the portal’s doors, Danny started at the feeling of something warm sliding through his hands. Looking down, he saw Sam grabbing his hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He didn’t realise he’d been smiling until his father spoke up again. 

“Well, Sam. What would you like to know?”

“Um...as much as you can tell me about ghosts?”

“Well,” Maddie took the floor, pulling her hoodie up and her goggles down. “That’s quite a lot, and I don’t think you’d feel comfortable staying at a house whose owners’ you’ve just met. So why don’t we start with the basics for now and you come back here anytime you want to continue this conversation?”

“I’d like that.” 

“Great. Now, come Sam. There’s so much to say and so little time.” With a motion of her hand, the ectologist gestured to the girl to follow her. Rolling his eyes and fearing what was to come, Danny pulled a chair out for his guest around a conference table standing in the middle of the room before taking a seat around it himself, Jazz following suit. Instead of sitting down like the youths present did, Maddie stood in front of them beside a blackboard Jack had dragged from the other side of the lab. 

Picking a chalk up, she began to scribble down on the board. “You see, Sam, the first thing you must know about ghosts is that they’re spiritual beings from another dimension, unlike pop-culture and legends where they’re described as the lost souls of the deceased.”

“That is not to say some of those spooks weren’t alive once.” Jack conceded. Unlike his wife, he’d ultimately sat down and was now tweaking with some strange-looking gun. “The thing is, whatever humanity or sense of morals they might have had once is long gone. Now they’re nothing more than ectoplasmic remains of human conscience.”

“Exactly.” Maddie agreed. “They think they’re intelligent, rational creatures capable of free will, but really those are just delusions caused by memories they no longer possess.”

Danny had to hold back a growl at that, otherwise Sam or, even worse, his parents might pick it up and ask him about it. With a furrowed brow he slumped down on the table and propped his head over his crossed arms. They really knew nothing, didn’t they? As excellent inventors as his parents might be, the way they approached ectology was closer to a pseudoscience than the discipline they claimed to have dedicated most of their lives to. As he and Jazz told Sam before, they were experts at everything one needed to know about a ghost’s innerworkings and how to exploit that to their benefitーand by extension his benefit, since he’d been borrowing their inventions for yearsー, but they were absolutely hopeless when it came to their motivations, their ambitions; what made them tick!

Listening to them going on and on about the same old, misguided story was just painful at this point.

Or course they had free will! It was precisely because of that he was constantly fighting ghosts, because they chose to fight him! Nobody said it was a smart choice but, hey, it was theirs. Just like many other ghosts chose to stay in the Ghost Zone and live their afterlives rather than cause trouble. The Far Frozeners, Clockwork, Wulf, Dora once she was free from her brother's abuse...Those were all examples of very powerful ghosts that chose to live peacefully!

But did their parents care? Noooooo! At this point he was sure they just wanted a lab rat. 

“The one thing that truly motivates a ghost to do the things it does,”ーit; could they be any more dehumanising?ー, “is its obsession.”

Okay. So offensive pronouns aside, that was accurate.

“Their obsession?” Sam echoed. She didn’t remember ever hearing about such a thing. 

“Indeed.” Maddie nodded, still scribbling furiously down on the board. “A ghost’s obsession is what ties them down to our world.” She explained as she made a diagram of a human head with the word ‘memories’ written on it and an arrow pointing at the silhouette of a ghost with the word ‘obsession’ scribbled down. “Remember when we said ghosts think they have free will due to memories they no longer possess?” Sam nodded. “Their obsession is those memories. It usually manifests in the form of something they used to hold dearー.”

“Or something that eventually consumed them.” Jack added, not once looking up from the strange device in his hands. 

“That’s right, hon. Something dear or that eventually consumed them that was so important to them it became all they cared about when they passed on. Fulfilling that obsession is what motivates them in the afterlife.”

“So, for example,” Sam started, a finger tapping her chin in contemplation, “if a person was so overworked when they were alive they ended up hating said job with a passion or even lost their minds over it, then anything related to it is their obsession?”

“Very well, Sam.” Maddie nodded appreciatively. 

As Mrs Fenton droned on, her voice became background noise. Sam was a mess. She didn’t know what to make of things so far. On the one hand, not only were the Fentons answering her questions and expanding on the knowledge she’d been brought up with, it confirmed everything she already knew! Ghosts were dangerous and unpredictable; they couldn’t be trusted because they’d turn on you on a whim. It’d happened before and that directly resulted in her people living in the shadows, terrified of being discovered, for centuries. 

Ghosts were immoral monsters.

And yet...she found she couldn’t fully believe anything they were saying. She didn’t want to believe what they were saying. If ghosts were truly that bad, then why did Phantom try to put her to safety? Why was he always fighting other ghosts for the sake of the town? Could it be that Amity Park was his obsession and he was just trying to defend his turf rather than the innocent? But that didn’t explain why he’d go out of his way to try and save her! Her, the Witch Queen, of all people!

Everything she once believed in and the questions that’d been plaguing her mind collided against each other. She didn’t know what to think anymore. But she did know one thing:

She’d promised Danny she’d try to keep an open mind. 

“Then what about Phantom?” She heard herself asking. When the Fentons’ questioning glances rested on her, she had to fight the urge to shrink under their gaze. Come on, Sam. You’re the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park and you’re doing this for your people, and nothing gets in between you and the sake of your people. She cleared her throat. “I mean, what’s his obsession?”

“Fudge if I know.” Mr Fenton mumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“Jack!” Mrs Fenton gasped. “Don’t cuss in front of the children!”

“I said ‘fudge’!” He defended himself. 

“And we’re not children anymore!” Danny and Jazz protested in unison. 

Rubbing her temple, Maddie let out a loud sigh. “What my husband means, Sam, is that Phantom is a bit of an anomaly.”

“An anomaly?” She raised her eyebrow in confusion. “An anomaly how?”

Once again, the Fenton matriarch turned around to write on her board, only this time she began a list. “For starters, the only sightings there’s ever been of him only date back to seven years ago, and even then he was already surprisingly powerful. Then, there’s the fact he’s constantly changing.”

“What do you mean?”

“For one, just when you think you got all his spectral abilities down, he surprises you with some new trick.” Jack explained, ignoring the way what he said next had his son scowling and his daughter giggling behind her palm. “He’s almost like a pageant dog. And then there’s his appearance; when he first appeared he looked like some prepubescent kidー.”

Must every ghost hunter assume I hadn’t already gone through puberty when I got my powers? Danny thought bitterly to himself. 

“ーand now he looks like he could be your age.” He finished. 

“His actions around here are both mysterious and suspicious, too.” Maddie added. 

“We’ve been trying to catch him since he first appeared, but the spook’s been managing to give us the slip every time.” Jack admitted.

His wife patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Aw, don’t you worry, honey. Sooner or later he’ll be all ours. It’s just a matter of time.”

“But by the time we finally catch him he might already be protected by the law or something!” He sulked. “Have you seen the sign when you enter the town? ‘Welcome to Amity Park; home of Danny Phantom!’” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes in disgust. “Might as well just call it, ‘The hauntedest place on Earth’, it’d be more accurate…”

“Uh, I think that’s already taken by some place called ‘Crystal Cove’, Dad.” Jazz pointed out. 

“Even if I do agree his increasing popularity is a cause for concern in terms of the town’s general sanity, there’s still many people who see him for what he is; a menace to society.” Mrs Fenton reasoned.

Just a week before, Sam would’ve agreed wholeheartedly with everything the Fentons said, but now she found herself squirming at the sound of their vile words. Had a few meetings with Phantom really warped her perspective on things that much? Looking down at her fidgeting hands resting on her lap, she had to deliberately stop herself from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her earーbecause she intended to push hair from the shaved side of her head away. When was she going to get used to that spell?

Unbeknownst to her, Danny was watching her every move. He wasn’t sure why, but the prospect of Sam siding with his parents and their misguided theories terrified him more than half the ghost fights he’d had in the last year. She was just so great...Even if they’d only hung out a few times, he already couldn’t believe there’d been a time where it’d just been him and Tuckerーand occasionally Jazz. 

She fit so well in their group it was like she was always meant to be one of them. Luckily she seemed to have taken their advice to heart and was indeed trying to keep an open mind; she even asked about his ghost-half. The halfa guessed it was probably an attempt to convince his parents (or maybe even herself) that not all ghosts could possibly be bad. And for that, pointless as it might be when it came to the Fentons, he was grateful. He just hoped she wouldn’t decide she was better off without him in her life.

It’d taken him twenty-one years to find her, he couldn’t lose her now.

Again, where did that come from?! 

He had to go back to trying to have a somewhat balanced sleep schedule. Sleep deprivation was doing a number on him. 

Just as he observed Sam, Jazz was keeping her eye on him. He looked so glum and tired...It was one thing having to hide who you are from your parents, but having to listen to them talk about how much they hate that thing you were hiding from them time and time again? It was enough to drive someone over the edge. 

Just by following his line of sight it became obvious this time he was far more worried about what Sam may think of this, may think of him. And if there was one thing her baby brother didn’t need, it was more things to worry about. 

Thinking quickly, the redhead scanned around the room, looking for something to divert everyone’s attention away from the topic at hand. As her eyes surveyed the dreaded Fenton Toaster (was that thing ever going to perish once and for all?), she took notice of an arrangement of pieces, wires, and circuit boards laying scattered on the floor. 

How could she have possibly missed that?

Her voice breaking everyone out of their own daze, she jerked a finger in the direction the pile of metal was, “Um, what is that?”

Following her pointing finger, her parents' expression brightened up. “That, Jazzyrincess, is our latest project; the Fenton Fermoir!”

“Dad knows French?” Danny asked, absolutely flabbergasted at the revelation. 

“I’ve known for weeks now and I’m still as surprised as you.” Jazz leaned back to whisper to him. Then she remembered something. “Wait, I thought you guys were going to make a special keychain for Danny; that is not a keychain.”

Squinting her eyes at the assortment of scrap metal on the floor, propelled by her arms, Sam leaned forward to the boy in front of her to join in on the conversation. “At least not one that fits inside a pocket.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, girls.” Maddie waved them off as she made her way to the yet-to-be-built Fenton Fermoir. “We finished Danny’s keychain weeks ago!”

“Which reminds me…” Jack rummaged inside his suit’s pockets until he fished out a simple set of keys with a badge with the company’s logo on it and handed it to his son. 

Bringing it to his face, Danny tried to appear enthusiastic. “Gee, thanks.” He stuffed his new keys inside his own jean pocket. “So. What does the Fenton Fermoir do?”

“Remember the portable ghost portal devices we created a few years ago?” Jack asked his kids, who nodded in response, then he noticed Sam’s blank stare. “Oh, that’s right. You weren’t there, Sam. The thing is, those gadgets could open up medium-sized ghost portals anywhere, so we thought we should perhaps try to create an opposite invention.”

“Wait, are you saying this thing’s supposed to be able to close ghost portals anywhere?” Danny asked. This was great news! If his parents finished the Fenton Fermoir and it worked, then he’d only need to power it up with his ecto-energy and the portal crisis would be over! He wouldn’t need to meet or rely on Lady Arcana anymore!

Somehow, the thought of not seeing the violet-eyed witch made his insides twist and his heart feel hollow. 

Man, sleep deprivation was getting worse each time!

“If we can get it to work.” Maddie lamented, kicking a cylindrical-looking piece around. “Whenever we try something happens and shuts it off! It’s almost as if our regular energy source isn’t the right one...or at least not enough.”

Well, there went his solution.

“So for now we’re stuck redesigning and rebuilding this baby until we find the right one.” Jack said optimistically. 

“It’s getting late, though, so why don’t we go upstairs and have dinner, hm?” Maddie suggested. “Sam, would you like to stay?”

The Goth was hesitant to reply. “Uh, I’d love to. But what are we having? It’s just...I, uh, I don’t eat meat.”

“Don’t worry. I always buy plenty of vegetables Danny and his dad barely even look at. You can have that.”

“Hey!” Both men cried out, offended. 

Giggling, the three women went back upstairs, followed closely by the still outraged men. 

During dinner, the weirdest thing happened. 

Nothing bad, really. But it was something Sam wasn’t used to at all. Most of the time, she only ever felt comfortable with her family when Grandma Ida was present, since she always acted like the understanding voice of reason she was beloved for back in the clan. And ever since she passed away, the atmosphere in her house was so tense you could cut it with a knife. The otherwise deathly quiet family dinners were only ever interrupted by her parents discussing how the business was doing, Mother’s next big, exclusive eventーsometimes they were true, sometimes they weren’tー, or to bring up her inadequacy as their daughter and, hence, heiress to then Manson name. 

The tension only melted away, even if just a little, when it was just her dad and her. 

But the Fentons…

Everything was so different. Animated chatter never left the table. Food was being passed around; conversations took place and questions about everyone’s day were asked; every once in a while someone would make a joke that would either elicit laughter or pained groans from everyone present...even herself. 

Their families really were very different. 

Despite everything, Sam loved her parents and knew, deep down, they loved her back. Her mother in particular just had a very selfish way of showing it. But the Fentons...They weren’t perfect. The way Danny and Jazz learned to rely on each other as well as their parents’ single-minded focus on their career were proof enough of that. But everyone sitting around that kitchen table, eating steak with a serving of mashed potatoes and peas, clearly loved each other very much.

When it came to family, life was a lottery. 

Sometimes you got heartless monsters, and other times you got loving people who were only humans and occasionally made mistakes. 

Maddie stopped mid-sentence, her fork with a piece of steak hanging in mid-air, because she noticed her husband doing something he shouldn’t. “Jack, are you still tweaking with that, even now?”

Stiffening up, for he’d been caught, he tried to play it cool. “Uh, no?” His wife’s arched eyebrow spoke volumes, making him give in. “Yes. But you can’t honestly expect me to stop now, babycakes! Not when I’m about to have a breakthrough!”

“I know I'm going to regret this” Jazz muttered, rolling her eyes, “but what’re you working on, Dad?”

The orange clad man replied by holding out his creation for all to see. It was a funny-looking, double-cannoned gun that had what seemed to be a compartment filled with goo in its back. “Behold, the new and improved Fenton Foamer!” He announced loudly before adding, almost as an afterthought. “Now in pocket size.”

Not understanding a word that was being said, Sam let the family talk, her focus directed at her stir-fried vegetables. 

“Is there something wrong with the old Fenton Foamer?” Danny asked. 

“No, but it never hurts to revisit your old work and try to improve it, son.” He replied, patting the device with one gloved hand. “Not only is this beauty more appropriate for travelling, but I’ve also been tinkering with a new formula for the foam. Trust me, nothing could possiblyー.”

All of a sudden, when the patting became too much for the prototype to handle, a ‘splurt’ sound could be heard at the same time as a bright, green goop flew across the table. Everyone’s jaws dropped in mortification. 

“ーgo wrong.” Jack finished lamely, earning himself the disapproving looks of everyone present but Sam. 

But that might as well be because her eyes weren’t visible. The goop had landed on her, covering her petite form from head to toe in the mysterious substance Danny prayed to anyone who might be listening wasn’t toxic. 

Panicking, he was by her side in the blink of an eye. He was trying to wipe the foam away with a napkin as he apologised profusely. “Oh, my God! I am so, so sorry, Sam. I promise, I’ll clean you up. Or, even better, I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning. Sorry. I’m sorry. I promise, my dad’s inventions aren’t usually harmful to humans; a little electric shock at most. I’m so sorry, Sam. Please, forgive me.”

Under the Fentons’ concerned gaze, Sam lowered her face slightly, enough so they could make even less of her expression. Then she began to shake, Danny was sure from rage, and make indistinguishable sounds. Just as everyone braced themselves for the worst, the Goth threw her head back and laughed so loudly she caught them all off guard for a second. She kept on cackling almost maniacally to the point she had to hug herself, holding her sides that were, most definitely, going to split open if she kept this up. 

A little unnerved by her behaviour, Danny could only ask, “Uh, Sam? Are you alright?”

“W-why...why w-wouldn’t...I-I be?” She replied with a question of her own as her laughter calmed down to giggles. 

“Um, not to be Captain Obvious here, but you just got covered from head to toe in goop…” Jazz pointed out uncertainly. 

“Oh, I know. Trust me, it’s fine.” The Goth said as she used her hands to wipe said goop from her eyes and face. She furrowed her brow in confusion when she finally noticed the family’s worried looks. “Uh...are you guys okay?”

“Oh! Yes, yes we are. It’s just...” Maddie began, unsure on how to address the subject herself, “ not many people react so positively to one of our inventions going awry.”

“Normally you’d have issued a restraining order against us already.” Jack explained so matter-of-factly it made the Goth girl wonder just how much time this family spent at court. 

“Yeah.” Danny agreed, still trying to help Sam clean up with his napkin. “Not even Tucker would’ve taken it so well.”

“I see. Well, what can I say?” She shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I guess I just can’t get mad when I find this so awesome.”

“You find this awesome?” Jazz parroted, incredulous. 

“Um, yeah. I told you; I love everything paranormal and, you gotta admit, this is the sorta thing that would go viral on YouTube.” 

“I...can’t argue with that logic.” Danny conceded. He still couldn’t believe it; Sam just got bathed in slime and her first reaction was laughing it off? Could this girl get any more incredible?

When she finally got to cleaning her hair free of foam, Sam had to do a double take as she slid her fingers through her hair. “Have you guys ever thought about selling this as a hair conditioner? Because, I kid you not, my hair’s never been this silky! I have a friend who would kill for something like this.”

“You have other friends besides Tucker and me?” The question left his mouth before he could even register it. Sam’s murderous glare made it obvious she didn’t appreciate the jab. 

Then, as if on cue, everyone broke down laughing. They all spend the rest of dinner chatting amicably and sharing storiesーJack and Maddie even began to ponder on the benefits of selling the new Fenton Foam as a conditioner, like Sam suggested! By the time they were done eating, the whole family gathered around their doorstep to bid their guest goodbye. Danny, Maddie, and Jazz hugged her (Sam still wasn’t used to physical contact due to her Goth indifference but this was nice), while Jack patted her in the back with such force it almost sent her falling down the stairs. 

The moment the door to FentonWorks was closed, his parents were already asking Danny when was the next time Sam would come visit, prompting him to groan in exasperation and Jazz to giggle at her brother’s embarrassment. 

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x f!reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know ;)

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The life of a lady

No matter what culture you were born into, the structures of the society of the noble born, were always one and the same in their most fundamental form. A life as a noble was blessed with wealth and influence, but intrigues and scandals enjoyed dominance over those who had enough money and power to be part of the emperor's curt.

Only the most important people were powerful enough to receive the honor to get a tailored role in such a glorious play, while the rest served only as cheap, unappreciated extras. However, it did not matter at all whether the nobility was absorbed in their role's descriptions or if they would have preferred to step off that pretential stage. Every single one of them was obliged to play their part. If they did not, they had to expect that it would not only be their own end, but often for their entire family and subordinates as well. In that case, all that could save them was the favor of the crown itself, which usually was as fickle and impressionable as the rough sea.

In a world like this, you didn't decide for yourself who you were...

No, not really...

It was the tongues of the others that had the power to deform the image of your identity. They decided who you were and what was best for you. They defined what was right and what was wrong and were able to destroy you at the slightest misstep. So, bearing a title was a privilege and a burden all at once.

As a noble it was not only important who you were and how well you fulfilled your own part in society, no, it was important who you knew and what contacts you had cultivated. Your connections were what made you powerful. So it was common that unions were closed around various families to secure better conditions for their offspring's or to form better alliances to gain power over the emperor's curt. In a society like this, everyone looked for their own benefits. Compassion was a rare treasure, which could only be found in the fewest individuals. Sons were raised to rule, while daughters were only used as bargaining chips. They must humbly serve their families by marrying powerful men, to obtain alliances. They had to bind themselves to those who were raised to rule over them, without ever getting a chance to decide for themselves.

So... how can anyone romanticize such a morbid spectacle? Why are there such big differences between the rights of various people? Why are the deeds of the powerful always glossed over, while the weaker were oppressed?

Noble warriors, who fought for glory and honor...

Fine diplomats, whose silver tongues could melt every single heart...

Mighty kings, who hold their hand protectively over their people...

Well-guarded ladies, whose beauty and elegance could made a whole hall shine...

Weren't these colorful descriptions only empty paraphrases, in order to be able to hide the cruel faces of reality?

But...

Who told of the blood of the innocent that dripped from the warrior's blade?

Who mentioned the lies the diplomat had spun to achieve his goals?

Who wrote about the wars the king instigated to expand his empire?

Who acknowledged that a lady's supposed beauty and family status was the only means to even have the prospect of a rosy future? And even this was not an indicator that her destiny would not be her downfall, because the rules were set by those who wielded the power and if she was unlucky, they were the ones who took advantage of it without thinking of her well-being.

Yes, even the carefully planned and detailed balls and parties, looked at first glance like dreamlike picture perfect background's. They blinded onlookers to what was behind the scenes, but those who lived in this world for long enough, knew that even these were literally only bloody battlefields disguised in beautiful shining robes. It's was a spectacle full of lies.

True love?

A spark of equality?

Boundless trust?

What most rare wonders they were in her hypocritical society and yet (Y/N), young and unreserved, hoped to find them in spite of everything. What a blessed life she had led until now. She was lucky to be born into a wonderful family. Despite her status, its members were warm-hearted and free-spirited. But she knew that this was not the norm and was wise enough not to take her privileges for granted.

With a wildly beating heart, she stood next to her mother and waited for her call to finally be presented before the Emperor and his guests as a marriageable debutante. Normally, the Empress would review the new young ladies year after year, but she had passed away in her own childbed some time ago, and so the Emperor, bless his suprisingly kind soul, took over this task, with a nostalgic smile on his fragile face.

In the midst of the whole crowd of young ladies and their mothers, (Y/N) stood and called herself to patience while she tried to fade out her competition as best she could. Some of her fellow competitors she knew personally, but only a few she had a closer, more sympathetic relationship with. Somewhere at the other end of the waiting area she had spotted Miss Uraraka with her mother. But unfortunately they had only been able to give each other a fleeting smile before she was already called. Ochako was one of her few childhood friends, but she too was unfortunately on the hunt for a good match and was now in some ways as much her competitor as all the rest of the unmarried girls. So all (Y/N) could do was to hope that this season wouldn't drive a wedge between them and at least one of them would get hitched safely.

However, no matter how much she would like to think about her friendships at this moment, the young girl had to use what little time she had left to mentally prepare herself for her own appearance. Breathing deeply through her chest, the budding debutante stretched her back while pulling her shoulders taut. The stiff, floral-embroidered obi was cinched very tightly around her waist, making breathing a little more difficult, but not as impossible as it seemed with some of the other ladies. Testing, (Y/N) tried to put on a charming smile as she interlaced her fingers in front of her body in a demure pose before turning her frame with trembling lips to her mother, who was already looking at her with affection. "I hope I can bring honor to our family today!" the young girl spoke softly as she gazed hopefully into the green eyes of her counterpart. Lady Midoriya regarded her daughter with a moved expression, raising her well-groomed hands to fix the blooming magnolia blossoms she had personally placed in the elaborate hairstyle that morning for one last time. Satisfied with her work, she let her fingers glide gently down over (Y/N)'s ears, only to finally cup the young girl's cheeks in a delicate manner. "You already do, my child! And I know you will continue to do so!" the older lady replied confidently, while placing her slightly wrinkled, yet still delicate fingers under (Y/N)'s chin to lift it decisively. "You are beautiful, intelligent and kind-hearted! You have inherited your father's strong will! He would be as proud as I am to see you like this. Just like your brother, you put all your passion into your tasks and diligently learn what is expected of you. You, my child, will be able to go your way and overcome any stumbling block. I am incredibly sure of that!" Lady Midoriya added emotionaly before she cleared her throat softly, hoping to catch herself again. Tears glistened in her eyes like raindrops on an evergreen branch. The words of her mother gave (Y/N) the necessary strength to suppress the slight trembling of her lips. Slowly but surely, the nervous lump that had spread in her throat dissolved and disappeared along with her fear.

Yes, her mother was right! (Y/N) had inherited the will of her father and had prepared herself in the best possible way for exactly this moment. She would face the emperor fearlessly and make her family proud. On this day and on each still coming!

"Lady Midoriya. It is now your and your daughter's turn!" the stiff voice of the herald's assistant rang out, snapping them out of their brief emotional moment. Nodding, (Y/N)'s mother started to move and placed herself with perfectly executed etiquette in front of the closed red and golden double doors that would lead them into the throne room. The remaining debutantes and their mothers, who were waiting for their momentto come, gave them appraising looks, but (Y/N) tried to ignore them as much as possible. Each of them knew how privileged the youngest Midoriya was, her own brother being one of the three former students of the current emperor. But she would shine today because of her own abilities. Today she would not stand in the shadow of her talented, kind-hearted brother. Taking a deep breath, the young girl followed her mother and positioned herself half a step in front of her while she waited with galloping heartbeat for the herald's introduction.

This was it...

This was the moment on which everything depended. All eyes would be on her to determine her own worth. As soon as those doors opened, she would take the first step to be able to grab a good match for herself. It would be one of the most important steps that would determine the rest of her life and she could not help but dare once again to let hope for a good future arise in her. Conscious of her duty, (Y/N) lowered herself onto the pillow and took in a bowing posture. With her head bowed and fingertips touching, which hovered in a rehearsed posture stretched out in front of her just a few millimeters above the ground, she took one last look at her beloved mother. Making the final decision to take Lady Midoriya as her role model, (Y/N) set herself for the very last time the goal not only to achieve an excellent match and honor for her family, but also to fight for the oh-so-rare love that only a few were truly allowed to experience. Even if her future could not be determined by herself, she did not want to leave her entire destiny solely in the hands of the gods, for only those who proved virtuous and courageous would be truly heard by those same deity's. She had prayed and pleaded that she would be able to feel for her future groom as her mother once did for her beloved husband, but to achieve this she would have to fight in her own way.

"Your Majesty, honored guests, we now present Miss Midoriya (Y/N), younger sister of the head of the family and distinguished samurai of Shizuoka Province, Lord Midoriya Izuku, one of the three former disciples of the Symbol of Peace. His Imperial Highness, Toshinori-sama. The young lady is accompanied by her mother, Lady Midoriya Inko," the clear voice of the herald echoed through the hall, while the richly decorated double doors were pushed open as if in slow motion. As she had been taught, the introduced debutante slowly counted to three before elegantly rising from her bowing position, only to just as slowly lift her eyelids to cast an innocent glance around the hall. In a culture like hers, aesthetics and elegance were invaluable. They were taught to one from childhood. Like a graceful mask, she wore the delicate, demure garb of etiquette expected of a young girl of her station.

'Do not speak unless you are addressed personally.'

'It is better to be seen than heard.'

'A young girl's weapon is not her voice, but her manners and countenance.'

'Be a work of art that all the world wants to admire.'

Even though (Y/N) wanted to be independent in her deepest heart. Even if she would have loved to use her own voice not only to be seen but also to be heard, she knew that for that she needed a man who was kind enough to give her that very chance. Her gently, encouraging brother would not always be her guardian. In a society like hers, a woman alone was worth nothing. Her status was measured by that of her husband and only that man would be able to shape her further life. He alone would have the right to decide whether to lock her in a golden cage and let her wither away or to give her the wings she would need to continue to develop freely. So she had no choice but to be exactly what was expected of her if she wanted to attract as much attention as possible. The family name she carried could not be her only trump card. She had to portray the perfect, well-mannered bride. A girl that was worth fighting over. Beautiful and quiet. Attentive and discreet. Talented and elegant. For this reason, she had poured her heart and soul and perfectionism into this very charlatanry. She wanted freedom! She wanted to be able to hope! Hope that the seed her family had planted in her would be able to blossom! Hope to be able to attract the attention of a man who would be her blessing and not her downfall.

Without losing her balance, the young girl stood up, while with purposeful flowing gestures, she placed her hands hovering over each other under her chest. When at last the seat cushion was discreetly moved aside, the debutante stepped into the packed hall with shining, soft eyes, closely followed by her venerable mother. A slight implied smile, meant to exude modesty and delicacy, played around her lips as she resisted the need to look around the room.

Look at me. I am everything you have ever dreamed of.

Her gaze rested on the hem of the emperor's multi-layered robe without once losing her focus as she strode past his wealthy guests, who were spread out on either side of the hall and focused their full attention on (Y/N). The young girl knew that somewhere in that crowd was her big brother, Midoriya Izuku, watching her intently just like all the others. By the gods, she hoped that he felt pure pride for his sister, just like their mother. He was probably even more nervous than she was at that moment. Perhaps he was even quietly whispering push prayers into his non-existent beard to give his sister all the blessings in the world. No matter. This thought alone warmed the debutante's heart as she took one step after another toward the emperor until she finally came to a stop in front of him. Without lifting her eyes, (Y/N) curtsied as deeply as her legs would allow and then waited with bated breath for the crown's reaction.

Silence reigned in the hall, so pervasive that one could have heard a pin drop on the floor. Like a mantra, the words, Look at me, I bring honor to my family, echoed in the mind of the youngest Midoriya. The sudden clap of the emperor, which echoed through the room like lashes of a whip, almost made (Y/N) wince, but she had managed to pull herself together. Calmly, the young girl waited while she made sure to take deep breaths through her chest so as not to fall prey to dizziness. Out of the corner of her eye, she could observe the emperor nodding warmly in the direction of his guests. "As one would expect, my student's little sister is shining brightly!", Toshinori's voice loudly and warmly pierced the silence of the room.

"This my honored guests, I call a truly sparkling diamond."

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Showers and Cuddles and Blood, Oh My! | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Coming at you with another Mikaelson boys sharing fic because the last one seemed to go over well! I'll probably continue on that route if the response stays the same. I mean, heck, if I can have all three I'll take all three so why not! Hope y'all enjoy! Stay tuned for more, I have some juicy stuff in the works ;) Much love <3

Description: Elijah and Klaus leave Y/n with Kol for the weekend while they're out hunting enemies, all is well until they return, scared and hurt. Y/n works her magic Y/n powers and makes it all better. Happy ending yay!

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, leaned in Klaus' favor

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! Angst-y, mentions of blood and battle, Smut (not full, just foreplay things)

Word count: 3909

Tags: FLUFF, angst-ish, smut

(Photos not mine but the mood board is :) )

“Kol, pass the popcorn,” you yell at him from across the living room without dragging your eyes from the television screen, not willing to miss a second of The Bachelor just because he’s hogging the snacks.

He’s had the bowl in his lap for the vast majority of the show, slowly munching away on the goodies you had made. If he was on the couch with you there wouldn't be a problem, you could just scoot over and you wouldn’t have to look away, but he’s on an armchair across the room. To be fair, you had made him sit there. You didn’t want him to distract you. Kol’s attention span is worse than a kindergarteners and when he gets bored he gets touchy. Literally. One caress from Kol would pull all your attention, a risk you were not willing to take.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face but you remain strong, “why don’t you come get it, huh princess? Isn’t it lonely over there?”

He’s bored and trying to make you cave. His words hit hard in the pit of your stomach and your thighs clench. Your cheeks flame but you refuse to pull your eyes from the scuba date this bachelor has taken his date on. You can’t remember her name. She’s blonde and tall, but so are all the others girls on the show. You’re only a couple episodes in so you’re yet to really lock down the details. To be honest, you don’t ever really remember the names until the last couple episodes.

You can hear him start crunching again and you swear you see red for a second, “Kol, damnit, give me the popcorn. Now!”

All he does is laugh, pushing you over the edge. One second you're on the couch and the next you’re across the room, ripping the bowl from his loose grip. You don’t eat it, though, you just resist the urge to throw it across the room before setting it on the coffee table. His face is smug as you stand in front of him, simmering with something hot. It’s not rage though and that pisses you off. He won and he knows it.

He leans forward, pulling you by your hips towards him, a sultry smirk on his face, “come here.”

He scoops you onto his lap, pulling your mouth to his and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You sigh into his mouth, your legs dangling over the edge of the chair. Your hands find his hair and tug gently at the roots. You can feel him smile against your lips.

“It’s impossible to watch anything with you in the same room,” you mumble as his lips trace your neck, stifling a traitorous moan, “this is the third time I've attempted this episode.”

“I’m sorry,” no he’s not, “I just missed you.”

How he could miss you even slightly right now you have no idea. Elijah and Klaus have been gone for a few days, off hunting an enemy they refused to tell you about, leaving you to the youngest Miakelson’s wills for the entire weekend. To say you’ve left his sight for even a few minutes would be lying. Not that you didn’t soak up every second of time with him. It’s not everyday you get to be alone with one of them without feeling bad about ignoring the others. It’s a tricky situation.

His hands grip the edge of your tee, ready to pull it off, “you’ve had me to yourself for three days. An hour without touching me will not kill you, Kol.”

Even as you say it you cant help but attach you lips to his neck, leaving a few small kisses before sucking harshly at the base of his throat. His hand grips your hip and you know that if you were still a human it would have left bruises. The other wraps in your hair, pushing you against him a little bit harder.

“Ah, fuck, yes it will, princess.”

He starts lifting your shirt when the front door opens. Heavy footsteps land in the front hall and the smell of mud and something sharp hits your nose. You pull back from Kol slightly and he doesn’t protest, just as intent on listening.

“I, fuck,” you hear Klaus hiss from the near the door, causing your heartbeat to spike, “I’m not healing as fast as I should be.”

As fast as it had spiked, your heart stops, “it’s the wolfsbane, she knew it would slow the process.”

You look into Kol’s eyes, your blood running cold, a feeling you had forgotten existed. As soon as he nods you’re flying out of the den and into the front hall where you stop dead in your tracks. There you find Elijah. At least, you think it’s Elijah. It’s hard to tell who it is by the sheer amount of mud caked onto their body. Head to toe, mingled with something bright red. You already know what it is. Wherever there isn't mud on his body there’s blood, still wet in some places. You can smell the metallic tinge in the air and your heart breaks.

What’s worse is his face. His eyes look shattered. Like all the life has been drained from them. Your chest squeezes painfully at the sight. Your Elijah, your rock, ready to crumble. His hands shake at his sides. He just stands there, looking at you like you’re about to disappear. Klaus is no where to be seen.

“Y/n,” Elijah falls to his knees, the thud echoing through the silent house, “baby.”

His voice is small and, if it’s even possible, scared. In less than a second you’re in front of him, hugging him impossibly tight to your stomach. His arms wrap around your waist as he clings to you desperately. He’s trembling in your arms. You feel like someone’s hand is wrapped around your heart, crushing it. You move to sit down, pulling him against your chest.

“Eli, what happened honey?” Your hands bury themselves in his hair and you wish for his sake that it was under the same circumstances as it was with Kol.

“There were too many, Y/n, they must have had close to a hundred men,” he pulls you onto his knees, burying his face in your neck, “they weakened us before they attacked. I don’t know how. Magic, maybe. Sealed off the land so we couldn’t get out. They just kept coming, I’ve never seen anything like it. Even after their hearts were out they kept coming.”

For a man who has seen the very worst that war has had to offer, he speaks like he can’t comprehend the battle he was in. Like all the wars before this one, even combined, were nothing compared to what he just witnessed. His words make you cry for him. They make you angry like you’ve never been before. You clutch him tighter to you, placing a kiss to his matted hair. His relieved sigh brings some comfort but not enough to make this all better.

“I was so scared, baby,” he chokes on his words, his voice dripping with cold relief, “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

You sob at his words, burying your face against his head. Somehow, beneath all the mud and blood, there's still a hint of Elijah. This faint pine scent that makes you crumble against him and hold on for dear life.

“They did something to Klaus,” your heart drops further in your stomach, “they injected him with something. I think it was wolfsbane but I don’t think that’s all. He’s not healing as fast as he normally does.”

You gasp at his words, “Elijah?”

He shifts, pulling back slightly. There are tracks on his cheeks, glimpses of skin, where he had been crying. You reach to wipe some of the dirt from his face, letting your own tears flow freely. He turns his head into your hand, closing his eyes for a moment and kissing your palm. For the first time since he got home you see him smile slightly.

“He needs you, baby,” always the noble one, your Elijah.

You look at him, reluctant to leave him like this, “Elijah I-”

His warm lips cut you off. You revel in his taste. It hasn’t changed and for that you’re eternally grateful. He kisses you slowly, his hands cradling your face carefully. You savour every second his lips are on yours, memorizing every line and curve. You could stay in this moment for a life time.

But Klaus needs you, too.

“Go, I'll see you soon,” he places one last kiss to your lips, smirking slightly, “besides, I really need a shower.”

You run your hand over his hair one last time, pulling out of his hold and making your way up the stairs to Klaus’ room. Any of the relief you had felt from Elijah disappears as fast as it had come. There are muddy boot prints leading to his door, his jacket, sopping and caked in grime, dropped on the floor. His flannel, less caked in mud and more so in blood, piled a few feet away from the jacket. It brings tears to your eyes once more. The part that makes your heart stop, though, is the scent. You can smell the blood before you're even halfway down the hall, hot and tangy.

A sharp bang sounds from inside his room, followed by a pained groan. You knock lightly on the door, unsure of whether or not to just walk in.

“Go away, Elijah,” he sounds angry but his voice lacks it’s usual passion.

“It’s not Elijah. It’s me, Klaus, it’s Y/n,” your voice is quiet but you know he can hear you.

He pauses for a moment and your chest constricts, wanting nothing but to hold him and make it all better.

Then you hear it, he’s crying, “Y/n?”

As soon as he says your name, sobs your name, you’re through the door. At the sight of him, as it was with Elijah, the wind is knocked from your lungs. He’s on his knees, a ghostly parallel to his brother, but he’s bleeding. He is coated in blood from head to toe. His arms got the worst of it, soaked to his elbows like a pair of crimson gloves. There are slices all the way down his torso, deep ones. His head rests on his hands, his shoulders shaking furiously from the cries wracking his body. Klaus has never been small but right now, curled on his bedroom floor, he looks undeniably smaller.

“Oh, baby,” your voice is a hoarse whisper and he looks up at you with tortured eyes, his mouth falling open.

You run to him, falling to your knees before him, letting him pull you against his chest. His skin is hot, working in overdrive to heal the cuts. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly. Your arms wrap around his chest, trying to avoid his wounds but it’s impossible. They’re everywhere.

He clutches you tightly, his body shaking uncontrollably, “it was mother, she turned these hybrids into something else. Dark magic or something. They were dead but they kept coming.”

When he pulls away slightly to glimpse at your eyes, your breath catches in your throat. Up close you see them, bites. All over his arms and chest. Huge hunks of skin torn from parts of his body. Thankfully, they appear to be healing but not nearly fast enough for your liking. Your eyes well up again and you let the tears drop with his. He’s terrified. Your soldier is painfully afraid and it breaks your heart for the millionth time today.

“Klaus, what can I do, you need to tell me what to do sweetheart,” your hands cup his face, trying to wipe the droplets but they keep coming.

He sighs into your touch, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “just stay with me for a little while. Please, love? Don’t leave.”

Your heart aches for him thinking he even needs to ask, “of course I won’t. I’m not going anywhere. It’s just you and me, darling.”

He nods, standing on shakey legs. You follow suit, letting him pull you into a proper hug. Now that he’s on two legs, he towers over you, his face pushed into your hair, breathing deeply. After what feels like hours, he stops shaking. You just stand there, your arms tied around his waist, rubbing circles on his back. He still feels strong under your touch. He’s still your Klaus. Just a little bit worse from the wear.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You run your hand over his face before grabbing his hand and pulling him with you to his attached bathroom. He follows without protest, moving his hands to your hips as you lead him towards the glassed in shower. You let him go for just a second while you start the shower which elicits a groan of protest. You turn the dial to a gloriously warm stream before going back to the muddy blonde. Your muddy blonde.

You reach up, drawing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. He dips into your touch, pulling away to lean his head on your shoulder. You reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open with both hands. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder, just as you had earlier. You’re pushing him to keep touching you. It will ground him. You tug the zipper down before stepping away.

You give him a millimeter smile and revel in the way that, despite everything he’s been through, his eyes still dance over your figure when you pull the tee over your head. Your chest swells in pride that you can make him forget some of the pain and let it give way to love. You step out of your leggings next, letting them pool at your feet. His eyes roam every dip and curve of your body, igniting some of the fire that has been missing.

Standing in front of him, you’re left in nothing but your black bra and matching panties. He pushes his own jeans down his legs, leaving them as he walks back to you, twirling you so your back is to his chest. It’s working. His hands on your back make you shiver. His fingers trace your spine lightly, trailing up until they stop at your bra clasp. His lips land on the back of your neck, pushing your hair to the side as he nips lightly at the skin. His fingers skillfully undo your bra, pushing the straps down your arms until it falls, joining the growing pile of clothes at your feet.

His arms circle around you, pulling you flush against his hot chest, “so beautiful, love.”

You release the breath that you didn’t know you were holding at the sound of his voice. He sounds better, a little more Klaus like. A little more in control. His hands are flat on your stomach, dragging down you abdomen. His thumbs hook in your panties as he pulls them down your legs. They, too, join the pile at your feet. He grips your hips with strong hands, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, pulling your skin back into his mouth and biting down harder with blunt teeth.

You spin in his arms, drawing his face down to yours once more, “Come on, darling, water’s getting cold.

You press a quick kiss to his parted lips before scampering into the shower, a cheeky grin plastered on your face. He wastes no time in pushing the boxers down his legs and joining you under the warm water. He hisses quietly when the water hits the bites, closing his eyes. You pull him into your arms for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the pain. You can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.

When he opens his eyes again, you grab a washcloth that’s hanging idily to the side and a half empty bottle of soap. The label says ocean breeze and you can’t help but giggle. You lather the soap, which, for the record, actually smells pretty good, over the cloth before bringing one of his arms to your chest. That’s where you start, rubbing the material gently over his stained fingers, watching the stream of water pool deep red at your feet before swirling down the drain.

When you finish with his first arm, you move to the next. Over his bicep, down his forearm, caressing his wrist and palm like you had the other. He sighs when you place a kiss to his knuckles, gently putting his arm back by his side. Somewhere between his left arm and his right he had let his head fall back against the shower wall. Your heart soars to see him finally start to relax.

You move next to his chest, beginning at his collar bone. You run the cloth over the nastiest bite, one of the only ones still left healing. Klaus grips your waist when you do, clenching his jaw tightly.

“I know hun,” you coo to him, kissing his tensed face, “I need to do it, though. It’s almost over.”

He doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. He just wraps his arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss to the side of your head and letting you continue. You do your best to rub the dirt away quickly before leaving it be. You move down his chest, over his defined muscles, swirling the cloth over his skin lightly, drawing some quiet groans from his lips. They aren’t pained this time, however. They're something else. More familiar. Hotter.

You run the cloth down his toned stomach, savouring every crevice and dip, drowning in the praises that are flowing louder from his mouth. Heat grows rapidly in the pit of your stomach and before you know it you’re holding back your own sounds. Your head falls against his chest, his hand wrapped in your sopping hair, as you pass his belly button.

“Fuck,” he yanks your head up, crushing his mouth against yours deliciously.

The cloth falls from your hands, replaced with his shoulders which your grip furiously when he flips you around, pushing your back against the tiled wall. His mouth moves to your neck, sucking harshly and drawing the first moan from your lips. His fingers draw down your shoulders, tracing the curve of your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples, pulling a gasp from your mouth.

“Klaus,” you’re panting and he’s hardly touched you, “this is supposed to be about you.”

“Trust me, love, it is,” he says before placing his mouth over one of your breasts.

Your hand flies to hair, holding his head against you, the other clutching desperately at the shower wall behind you. His hands find your hips, holding you against the wall beautifully. He bites down lightly on your nipple before running his tongue over it soothingly. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, everywhere he touches you white hot. His blue eyes find yours through the water streaming around you, shining brilliantly for the first time since you found him.

His hand dips down, trailing fire down your stomach, until his fingers swipe over your clit once, then it’s lightening. His eyes are on you, watching every little movement you make. He does it again, drawing closer to your core, his thumb circling your most sensitive part. He stands up fully again, his lips finding your ear, tugging it between his teeth.

“God, Klaus,” you’re a mess at his touch, “please.”

He smirks at you, pausing his actions, his voice a husky whisper against your skin, “what should I do, love? Tell me. Shall I take my time or finish this now?”

He’s back. This is the Klaus that you’re used to. Fully self-aware and dominant. Strong. Above all though, he’s undeniably yours and yours alone.

“I- Klaus,” you tug his hair, pulling to try and regain a semblance of control, “I need you.”

He kisses your earlobe once more, his voice low and sultry, “as you wish, darling.”

* * * * *

What feels like hours later you emerge from the shower, dripping and sensitive but beyond happy, a pleased Klaus trailing close behind you. His hands refuse to leave your body as you lead him into his bedroom. There he opens his dresser, pulling out a black t-shirt that will most definitely swallow you and a pair of boxers and handing them to you before choosing a pair of grey sweatpants for himself. You pull his shirt over your still wet hair, revelling in his scent. You follow it with his boxers, fully embraced in all things Klaus.

“Now that is a sight that will never get old, love,” Klaus’ breath tickles the back of your neck as his arms wrap around you.

You lean into his touch, playing back the memories of his body tangled with yours under the shower once more.

“Back at you, Sweetheart,” and you mean it, he looks positively eddible in those sweatpants.

He growls lowly, sending another incessant wave of heat through your body, “love we need to leave this room before Elijah tears the door of it’s hinges. I’ve been listening to him and Kol pace for the better half of two hours.”

“Kol,” you say loud enough for him hear from anywhere in the house, which isn't very loud honestly, “can wait. He has had three days. He needs to learn to share.”

You swear you can hear him pouting from the kitchen as Klaus chuckles softly. Footsteps echo up the stairs, stopping right outside the door. You smile up at the blue-eyed blonde in your arms, knowing exactly who it is. He kisses your forehead, mouthing that he’ll meet you soon.

You open the door to face a tired but grinning Elijah, “Kol can wait but I'm just about done, baby.”

You can’t help but admire him, standing in the doorway in a simple hoodie and shorts. This is the side of him that only you get.

“Well, sir, how can I argue with that?”

“Uh huh,” he shakes his head at you, pulling you into his arms, making you erupt with giggles when he walks away, leading you back to the den where this all began.

You wave to Klaus, who winks back at you, mirth laced deep in his irises. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes, finally at peace.

The night ends with the four of you cuddled on the largest couch in the den. Your back is against Elijah’s chest, his arms circled tight around you, not letting you go for anything. Klaus’ head is in your lap, his legs sprawled behind him on the remaining length of the couch. One of your hands is laced through his hair. His are clutching your legs. He’s fast asleep. Kol sits on the floor, your other hand resting around his shoulder, pulling him to lean back against your side. There's a fresh bowl of popcorn on his lap. He still isn’t sharing any of it. The television screen shows the image of a man and a woman scuba diving together. You couldn’t be happier to finally relax with all three of your Mikaelson men.

[lizacstuff]

Your thoughts on the epi? I thought it was a good episode overall. Serkan is acting the way I thought he would: he wants to be the perfect Dad, is scared she won't love him, is spoiling her but also teaching her things. I'm not quite sure why Kiraz isn't calling him Baba, maybe she needs time to adjust to calling him that. I have mixed emotions when it comes to the way Eda spied on Serkan. I understand she's worried but trust the man a little. No comments on Aydan and Ayfer! They are too much!

Hello! I liked the episode. It felt very light, very romcom-y and I thought it was very enjoyable to watch. Loved every minute of Serkan trying to be the ideal dad and I'm here for the Edser UST this ep brought. They want each other sooooo much. And, yes, Eda wants him, she wants him bad. I thought the custody thing at the end was silly and convoluted, but, hey, I'm totally here for the "they're not together and fighting their feelings, but forced to live together" trope so I will just ignore how unbelievable it would be for Edser to be drowning in hearteyes for each other all ep, getting along in regards to Kiraz, AND seemingly aware that Aydan/Ayfer were up to something and still allow a misunderstanding over their shenanigans to spiral to that nonsense degree.

Maybe the folks that think that Serkan & Eda were playing all the meddling family and friends are right, and they set it up beforehand, it's just that I've thought things were a fake out on this show so many times, only for them to be real, so at this point I'm operating under the assumption that this is just a romcom plot point to throw our romantic leads together and it's not worth examining it too closely.

I'll give my thoughts on the "Baba" vs "Serkan Bolat" thing and Eda's actions after we talk a bit about the B, C and D players... Thankfully we had plenty of Edser and Kiraz screen time this ep so the supporting stories didn't overwhelm the episode too much.

(much more under the cut)

That being said, who can we pay to get these people to mind their own f-cking business? LMAO. At least Engin and Piril weren't annoying and were actually trying to be helpful. I mean, Piril is still cancelled, but if she's not causing trouble now then she's not at the top of my shit list. However, I did laugh at her when she's sort of pleading with Serkan: "We've been friends for a long time, you'll understand why I did this." Um... what, Piril? You're sitting there approximately 72 hours after Serkan found out he has a child and he's already proven that he's ALL IN on being a father, and you expect Serkan to think you were right for hiding it from him? Cause why? He has already proven that any concerns you had about him rejecting Kiraz were invalid. The only thing wrong with Serkan's anger at Piril is that it will probably only last for that scene.

Anyone else think Kerem the assistant is an ass? Seriously, do they really want us to root for sweet Pina to be with this dickweasel? He's insecure, he thinks he knows it all, he's snarky and lashes out, he's vindictive. No thanks.

As for Aydan and Ayfer. Ooph. As punishment for their unprecedented assery this episode they both need to be stranded on a desert island with only each other. Only then maybe they'll learn not to insert themselves by such underhanded means. They're both giant pains in the ass, but Ayfer still annoys me more than Aydan. Because here's the thing, once Edser is back together and Serkan is happy, Aydan will fully embrace Eda again, but I don't think the same can be said for Ayfer. Did you see some of the bitchy, sour faces Ayfer was making, taunting Eda about her soft spot for Serkan. She's insufferable.

Turning to the nonsense meddling custody plot line, Kemal and Seyfi were just following orders, but what is Melo's excuse? It's unfortunate that the narrative pulled her into this. Ayfer may have her head in the sand, and not really care what Eda wants, but Melo does and she knew that Eda wanted to cooperate with Serkan and bring him into Kiraz's life, she knew that Eda was about 2 seconds from melting every time she was near Serkan, and that they were likely on the cusp of rekindling their relationship. There is no way she should have been complicit in trying to get evidence against Serkan or visiting lawyers behind Eda's back.

However, even after being complicit in Ayfer's nonsense, she still deserves a helluva lot better than Burak. That guy was annoying af this episode. What exactly does he think he's doing? I'm sorry, in that situation you step back and give the people going through such a monumental life change some space. Again, it's not like it needs to be forever, but you don't try and monopolize the kid's time the night of and 2 days after she meets her long-lost father. He needs to fuck all he way off.

Also since Eda had no interest in this guy, why is he coming over to tuck in the kid EVERY night? I get that he's been good to Kiraz and they have a nice relationship, but that's soooo overkill, it's just not normal. Especially since they've said they've only been living there a year. The only reason for a dude to revolve his entire life around a kid like that is because he's actively trying to get in the mom's pants. So when it comes to Burak's intentions, Eda is as dense as Serkan used to be with Balca/Selin/Actress. Burak only took that level of interest and inserted himself into their lives because he wanted Eda, and Eda should realize that and have a frank conversation with him. Eda doesn't even have to be cognizant that she will inevitably get back together with Serkan, she already knows she has no interest in Burak. She should tell him. And if she's already told him (which it seems she might have from her comments to Ayfer and Melo) she should put some boundaries in place because his presence was ridiculous.

It still blows my mind that this sad sack thinks he has a shot with Eda. Seriously, while the dude isn't hideous, he's also not attractive and he has the personality of dead grass coupled with the charisma of warm mayonnaise. He's not worthy of either Eda or Melo. The scene of Melo and Burak walking on the beach made me a bit uncomfortable. They're totally setting that relationship up, but so far all we see is Melo obviously harboring feelings for him as Burak broods over his Eda delusions. We'll have to see how this plays out, but I feel like Burak didn't need to be this upset over Eda for the story to work, and it would be a lot easier to root for him with Melo if by episode 5 if he wasn't still actively trying, as Engin said, to take over Serkan's family.

On to Edser and the newly forming Bolat family unit. It's funny, I'm not someone who thinks a woman needs to take her husband's last name, I think people should do whatever they want, but for whatever reason I really, really want Eda and Kiraz to have his name. Maybe because I think they all crave having people to belong to in a sense. Serkan because he was unloved and sent overseas alone at such a young age, Eda because she was an orphan, Kiraz because she didn't have a dad in early childhood. So for that reason, I really do feel like it will be meaningful to have them tied together that way as a family unit. They belong to each other now (or they will soon).

Along those lines, you say you're not sure why Kiraz isn't calling him Baba, narratively, I think it's because that will be a big milestone in their relationship. When she feels comfortable enough, connected enough, and secure enough with him to do that, it's going to melt all of our hearts right out of our chests. If she'd done it right away it wouldn't feel as special as it's going to feel when it eventually happens because she feels it (not just because it's a fact).

As for her calling him Serkan Bolat, I think it's adorable. That's how she knew him before, it would be weird if she called him anything other than that or Baba, (like Serkan or Abi) because then it would be like she was settling on that, but calling him by his full name, which is such a part of his identity, is cute and charming and pays tribute to the interactions they had before they knew of their relationship, and it's a signal that it's only temporary. Baba is coming, don't worry.

Loved Kiraz showing Serkan her room and all of her things, and really loved Eda standing there, smiling, soaking it in. I've seen a lot of criticism of Eda in this episode and she did have a few moments that were unnecessarily harsh, but I think it's also valid to give her a minute to adjust because this is a lot of change in just a couple of days. While she now knows Serkan had understandable, and even noble, reasons for what he did and said, that still doesn't erase the heartbreak and pain he put her through, or the 5 years of being a single mother and not having anyone to consult or needing to consult anyone on decisions regarding Kiraz.

I do think, though, that we didn't see Eda give him enough credit when he covered for her lies to Kiraz. When Kiraz asked her why she didn't tell her Serkan Bolat was her father and then asked him when mom didn't answer, he could have easily told the truth and thrown Eda under the bus, big time, but instead he comes up with something that passes as an explanation, doesn't make anyone a villain, but also doesn't make him look great. I wish we'd seen Eda recognize that. It was a magnanimous gesture on his part, since he and Kiraz were the ones who were lied to for 5 years.

However, her running a bit hot and cold this episode makes sense. On one hand when she's around him her heart feels that strong orbital pull towards him. She loves him. She always has loved him, she always will love him. Just like with Serkan, that will not change, and obviously didn't after heartbreak and separation. But it also makes sense that at times her head takes over and with it the fear and the memory of the pain and she freezes up a bit. It doesn't ding her or their love, she just needs time to let herself believe that this is really happening. That Serkan is back, that he still loves her, that he loves their daughter and wants to be a father and form a family. From the way she recorded those videos, how many times do we think she dreamed of them being a happy family together? I'm guessing a lot. Now it's within her grasp and I think she just needs to be sure that Serkan is for real before she fully succumbs to this dream.

She also needs to get over her pride, I'm sure there's a part of her (Ayfer's voice) telling her a woman doesn't go back to a man who hurt her that badly. But as we saw, girlfriend was snuggling with his shirt, she still has it so bad for him. But, pro tip, Eda, he wanted to stay the night, wouldn't it be so much more fulfilling to snuggle with the real thing? I promise it would... just let him in. The lawn scene was hilarious. Kerem is really and truly a gifted physical comedian. We know how tight the timelines are on this show and they don't get to do a lot of takes, but his stumbling over the furniture and falling was flawlessly done. Hande was great too... that bat! Of course the sexual tension in the robes and towel scene was magnificent. When she first walked in wearing that towell I thought my man was going to combust. That look on his face, priceless.

Speaking of priceless, what first-day Baba makes his little girl's dreams come true like Serkan Bolat does? Staying up all night to build her flying house? MY HEART!

What a fantastic first gift. It was incredibly thoughtful, it was meaningful to the two of them, and it was also Serkan giving a piece of himself (using his skills in what he does best as an architect) to her.

Absolute perfection.

And how sweet that Serkan wanted to spend the day with her alone!?! I really liked that because we all know he loves Eda, he wants Eda back, and he will use any excuse to spend time with Eda. And he could have done that here, but he doesn't. So the fact that he wanted to spend the day alone with Kiraz, clearly illustrates that his interest in Kiraz, his desire to be her father stands on it's own. Kiraz is not just an excuse to get close to Eda, he is pursuing both relationships, and they are both important to him.

Also you said that you have mixed emotions on the way Eda spied on Serkan, that she doesn't trust him, but honestly I really don't think it's about that. She might have been a little discombobulated by the idea because the man has never really spent any time with children and here he's thrust into fatherhood, but she trusts him and knows Kiraz is safe with him. Honestly, I think her biggest driving factor in following them is FOMO.

She doesn't want to miss this! She has wondered what kind of father he might be for years, and now she wants to witness it. She wants to be there and see what he's like when he's spending time with her. She also wants to be a part of it, and a part of her might be a little jealous. For years she's been the only parent, and now another parental bond is forming and it's natural she is curious what that's going to look like.

Melo even sees through her during their conversations while they're out spying. Eda pretends it's because she's worried that Serkan doesn't know what he's doing, but Melo susses out that it's really because she missed Serkan. I think she really just wanted to be a part of it.

And her ulterior motives are exposed when she reacts with jealousy over the park moms and then with Hulya. She's jealous over Serkan, but also over what it might mean if Serkan had a woman in his life that's not Eda. (Real simple way to ensure that doesn't happen, Eda, just saying). On first watch it was a little frustrating to watch Eda be upset about Huyla and not have it cleared up immediately. However, on the second time through I found it incredibly enjoyable to watch. Hilarious even. Knowing that Serkan is going to let her off the hook just a few minutes later, and it's not going to be a drawn out misunderstanding, it's very fun to watch him just totally bask in her jealousy. The way he sits there and giggles and is just so chuffed at her display was very endearing. Since he's been celibate for 5 years, I suppose he's earned an incrediulous laugh at her thinking he has all these women on the line.

Eda is not wrong to be concerned about the Bolat's ability to spoil Kiraz with material things, Aydan can get out of control, however I can't be mad at the pony. The girl asked him if he had horses the first day they met, she said she wanted a dad like Serkan who had horses, he HAD to get her one she could actually ride! The girl was deprived of her father for 5 years because both of her parents are stubborn, so, let's be real, she kinda deserves a pony. Besides Eda should be more worried about the "spoiling" she gets from her camp, where she, Ayfer, Melo and Burak let her get away with constantly running away/running wild, eating ice cream whenever she wants, being rude to strangers etc. The fact that she's taught it's okay to knock a customer's water over without apologizing is more damaging to a forming personality than a pony. (Yes, that was another dig at Burak.) The point is, spoiling isn't only about material things, and from the glimpses we've seen of Baba Serkan he's already taught her about taking responsibility (confessing to breaking the window and apologizing), being self sufficient (tying shoelaces, putting pjs on herself), and setting behavioral boundaries (don't shoot arrows at people in hotels, you shouldn't hug strangers). He's going to be a very good influence in her life, because despite growing up with material privilege the man believes in hard work, effort and personal accountability.

Anyway, loved that when Serkan told Eda about dinner with Engin/Piril/Can she looked so secretly pleased when she casually agreed to go. I think that goes hand in hand with why she was spying, she won't let herself admit it, but she so badly wants them to do things as a family. That was part of her tug o' war this episode. Wanting that, but then suddenly worrying that maybe she shouldn't want that after everything that's happened, those feelings are helped along by Ayfer's judgemental looks and comments, and Burak trying to assert his place and Eda maybe feeling guilty.

Eda's behavior at dinner perfectly summarized the war going on between her head and heart this episode. First she fights with Serkan, going so far as to tell him she hates him, but the second she gets good news she flings herself into his arms. He's the person she wants to celebrate with, he's the person she wants congratulations from. So even if she was mad at him, she can't help herself. Also thank you Engin for telling Eda how Serkan lost weight and didn't come to work for months after she left. Those are important things for her to know. Also reinforced later by Aydan.

And thank you, Jan, for planting that fear of her dad leaving again with Kiraz, because it gave us sleep over at the Bolat house. It also gave us Kiraz asking Serkan if he will leave her. A good question and I'm glad we have Serkan's promise to never leave her. Just with the way tragedy (and meddling family members and obsessed stalkers) seems to find both Eda and Serkan, it's good he's made that promise. And it's good that he knows she needs that promise.

Now onto the secret room. I suppose if you're going to keep all of that and you have a large house, then you might as well keep it in a special room. This was a huge missing piece for Eda. Something tangible that she can see with her own two eyes that proves that he never forgot her and has been pining for her since the day they parted. I thought Eda was suitably touched by it all, and the fact that he got her gifts for every birthday. Anyone else think that they're going to get married on the beach and she's going to wear those flip-flops, that white dress, and the locket when they do? That's what sprung to my mind. The Neslihan scarf product placement made me roll my eyes, though.

To be honest I really didn't care what the gifts were, all I cared about was that thank you cheek kiss. I DIE. The birthday-present-thank-you cheek kiss he gave her in 7 is one of my all time favorite scenes and this parallel was a long time coming and wonderfully executed. And then they delivered on the USTy stare off where they clearly want to make out, but they're not quite there yet. It was going to have to be Eda that broke them out of it, because up to Serkan they either kiss or he stares at her for the rest of time.

Did anyone else feel a crick in their back, neck, legs at how Eda slept on that couch? Serkan was as comfy as can be, stretched out using her legs as a pillow and her torso as a blanket, lol. I wish the editors would have given us a couple of more seconds lingering on them all contorted like that. It was too precious. It would have been sweet if they'd had Kiraz find them and watch them for a minute before waking them up. Show the parent-trapping gears turning in her mind.

Buba absolutely deserved Serkan showing up to spoil his outing. And of course both ladies instantly gravitated to Serkan. I liked this scene because it gave us over-the-top BDE Serkan, a whiff of "Drain the pool" Serkan, the comedy of Engin and Serkan doing the Cyrano thing, and the obvious little "fish" measuring metaphor. But what I really liked was Eda telling him that he didn't need to try so hard to win Kiraz, that he just had to be himself. That was important and lovely, and illustrated to him that she really did want him to develop a good relationship with Kiraz.

The best moments of the episode for them, though, came during their family stargazing outing. Loved Serkan's extra safety precautions, including the mirror just so he can see her in the backseat. Though, if he's that concerned about it, maybe a larger car, lmao? Kiraz tricking them into kissing was an auspicious start to the evening, hopefully that's a taste of things to come. I'm here for her forcing the two of them into intimate situations.

The way Serkan was looking at the two of them throughout the stargazing was something else. He was looking at them with such longing. Like he couldn't believe they were so close, but he wanted them so badly. DUDE, they are right there, continue to play your cards right (and not let Ayfer and Aydan spoil things, spoiler alert, they do) and you're just days away from having everything you want. Loved that he changed the Apollo story to give it the happy ending he wants. Hopefully, that gave hope to any doomsdayers out there that think this show is going to end in tragedy. (Spoiler alert, it's not).

The only shame is that they have that nice (if not detached from reality conversation since they pretend they're not going to be together raising Kiraz) adult conversation about cooperating and working out how they're going to deal with Aydan and Ayfer, only for things to go totally off the rails during said conversations. As I said off the top of this marathon post, it was totally unbelievable in the context of the rest of the episode, but as I always say you can't take this show too seriously, and I prefer to just enjoy the situations as they come and not get too annoyed when they take these writing shortcuts to drive the plot. I plan on very much enjoying Eda and Serkan forced to live together while they're (or at least she) is still pretending they're not going to end up together. Looks like next week is another fun romcom romp, and I'm here for it!

[dreamiguess]

Day???: Coronation

A late submission for @fundyfiles FWT week. 

Summary:

Some twisted, selfish part of him wants someone to walk in, to witness the first and last time he’ll be able to love Dream publicly, to cause such a scandal he’d be removed from the line of succession entirely.

On AO3: divine rights

“I shouldn’t have found out from your father.”

No. He shouldn’t have.

“Found out what?” Fundy lies, thin as silk and half as smooth.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he answers, the ice in his voice melting. The disappointment is worse than the steel, and he feels as if he were to peel back another layer he would find nothing but raw hurt. Because it hurts, doesn’t it? For Fundy more than anyone else, maybe. Dream would come at a close second. He stares at the floor somewhere between them, not ready to face either.

“I didn’t know how.”

It’s a half answer to a question that wasn’t asked, tired and barely audible. He hadn’t known how to process it for himself either, with one sleepless night to churn the news in his head over and over again before preparations for the ceremony began. The work made it easier at least, kept him too busy to think or feel. But standing in front of the captain, his captain, in an empty hallway, there is nowhere to escape it. As the silence settles between them, he finds the courage to look up.

Dream looks vulnerable, too vulnerable to be out in the open like this. He wears only a half plate and sword belt, still more lethal than most would be in full iron but it looks unnatural for him to be patrolling the castle in anything but. It’s standard off duty garb, but it’s too fitting for him to still protect his heart at a time like this. He had pulled his mask to the side, and it’s more intimate than if he were completely naked, green eyes staring him down. They’re not angry, though, and he thinks that’s what breaks him.

“It was supposed to be Tommy.”

He’s in Dream’s embrace before the first tear can hit the ground, cries muffled in his shoulder before they can echo against the stone walls. It’s terribly improper, to be seen in the arms of a soldier, especially in such a public place. Some twisted, selfish part of him wants someone to walk in, to witness the first and last time he’ll be able to love Dream publicly, to cause such a scandal he’d be removed from the line of succession entirely. Even as the tears subsides he can’t bring himself to step back, just moves so the crown of his head is pushed into Dream’s chest instead of his face.

“It was supposed to be Tommy,” he repeats.

It was always supposed to be Tommy. On the surface level, he was a direct descendent rather than a grandson. But more than that, he was charismatic and loud, had strong opinions and voiced them frequently. He was loyal to a fault and way too sharp for his age. Most importantly, though, he wanted crown prince and, one day, the throne. Fundy wanted a street kid who climbed the ranks too swift and too violent.

With war brewing in the South, his Majesty was forced to choose the next successor far too early, and Tommy is still too young and brash for that weight to be placed upon his shoulders.

It haunts them. Laying in bed at dusk, a luxury they only allow themselves on the darkest halcyon nights, and tracing patterns down Dream’s back. He savors the moment, lets it melt in his ribcage and swallow him whole.

“What does this mean for us?” he asks, as if he wasn’t the one who should know better than anyone. They both know what he’s talking about, the glass shards lying on the floor for them in the morning.

“The end, probably.” Dream lifts his head enough to look Fundy in the eye. One would think he’d have forgotten how to hide his emotions after wearing a mask so long, but his face is as guarded as if he hadn’t taken it off at all. It’s a privilege, a blessing even, to see it at all and one he doesn’t take for granted. He venerates every scar and treasures each freckle, because he’s beautiful even if Dream himself cannot see it.

“You can’t marry below your station anymore.” He rolls to his back and sighs. “And if your uncles do not, you’ll be expected to produce an heir.”

Fundy can’t help but laugh.

“You really think they won’t?” he asks, disbelieving. It earns him a smile.

“Still. I have no noble blood.”

“Fuck the nobles.”

Like sin it follows them to the training grounds, dancing around it lest they reveal too much to the knights nearby.  The entire family is expected to be military leaders in the event of conflict, and now doubly so for Fundy. Who better to practice with than their rising combat specialist?

“I’m on duty for the coronation,” he mentions over the clash of their practice swords. Fundy wants him to use steel, to put his life in the hands of his love and trust him fully and recklessly. The captain always refuses.

“I feel infinitely safer,” Fundy replies, pulling his weapon back and aiming for a slash to his side.

“I am honored to bring you peace of mind, your highness.” He blocks the attack and catches the blade with the hilt of his sword, turning his wrist to fling the broadsword from the prince’s grip. Before Fundy can react there’s a hand in his tunic and a swift heel sweeping his right leg off the ground completely. Dream lowers him to the dirt slowly, only truly letting him fall a foot at most. He falls all the same. The tip of his sword is cold underneath Fundy’s chin, it’s wielder haloed by sunlight above him. The instinct to bare his neck is too strong and Fundy is too weak, and he doesn’t have enough shame to delight in the way Dream swallows at the action.

“I yield.”

He takes the hand that’s offered, staring into the mask’s eyes the whole time. Their hands stay clasped for far longer than necessary because they’re equally terrible, it seems.

“I’m thinking about taking the promotion.” Dream drops his hand and turns to retrieve his discarded weapon, leaving Fundy to reel in his shellshock.

“For General?” He asks mechanically, another question they both know the answer to. He’s had a lot of them lately, and this time Dream doesn’t even respond. Just strides back to their arena and extends the handle out, ungloved hand wrapped around the blade in a mirroring act of faith. They’ve put their stone sword in the hand of Themis to balance her scales on, where the head that wears the crown rests opposite the hand that bears the shield. The power to absolutely ruin, offered freely.

Fundy doesn’t take it at all.

“I hate to leave early, but I feel a bit faint after that fall. Would you escort me back to the castle?”

Dream bows his head, never one to slip from their polished act.

“Of course, your highness. I should have been more careful.” After returning their equipment and strapping his swordbelt – his real swordbelt – back into place, Dream falls into step with him out of the arena.  The October air is kind to them, leaving goosebumps where sweat had stained their skin just moments before. It’s peaceful for a few minutes, as morning doves and starlings steadily replace the ringing of steel and their gentle footsteps drown out the thumps of bodies hitting the ground. Time slowed since Dream broke the news to him, far too casual for something they had discussed for far too long, and Fundy can almost believe that the route he’s taken isn’t far too long to lead back to the castle.

“I thought you,” he starts once they’re well beyond hearing distance. “I thought you wanted to remain a captain.”

It’s difficult to phrase what he wants to say. Fundy is not Dream’s keeper and for his love’s sake if nothing else, he won’t act like one. He wants to, though, wants to hold on to him like a child and repeat every debate they’d considered since the offer was made. I thought it was too dangerous. I thought it was too much responsibility, you liked your squadron too much, hated meetings. I thought, I thought, I thought.

And of course, the drumming song beneath it all: I thought you wouldn’t leave me.

“I’ve always been a strategist,” he replies, voice too even to be genuine. A sigh escapes him, and he entwines their fingers and lets his head rest ever so slightly on Fundy’s shoulder. He’s living in the illusion, Fundy can tell, basking in the feeling of lovers talking a walk on an Autumn day. The prince can see right through him, can taste every thought he’ll never acknowledge, much less share.

“And the position needs to be filled sooner rather than later.”

This is what he means: We need to end, and I can’t stay if I can’t have you. He means to save Fundy from himself, to cut the chord so Fundy can’t try to keep him. To force Fundy to follow the rules.

“Bullshit.” He surprises himself with the outburst. “Leaving for some war won’t make me stop loving you. You don’t need to fucking protect me,” he throws their connected hands in the air and fights for words. “Protect me from-“

Dream tugs free before he can finish, unclasps his mask and throws it to the forest floor without even looking. He cups Fundy’s face in both hands, eyes shining with renegade tears.

“I don’t know how to do anything else.” He sounds broken and Fundy feels it like glass. There are too many things he should say so he says nothing at all, wraps a hand into the collar of his shirt like a man possessed and pushes until Dream’s back hits the tree and he can’t get any closer. He kisses him like he’s dying, kisses him like the world is ending, like they’re already on their future battlefields and Dream is his only lifeline.

The coronation arrives all too fast. He lives in a limbo between the grand hall and his chambers, between the seamstress and the head chef. The ceremony is beautiful, with green and gold filling the room and glass sparkling in the setting sunlight. He’s reached a state of calm he hadn’t believed possible only two weeks ago, looses himself in the dull ache of kneeling and the rhythmic voice of their Sage. No matter how foreign the crown feels, he doesn’t have to lie as he repeats the oath; he loves the kingdom, can swear to benevolence, to serve the people. The promises settle deep in his bones. The responsibilities, the service, was never really his problem.

“I present to you your crown prince,” the vicar finishes, and Fundy stands to face the people. He’d practiced the ceremony, knows he’s supposed to wait for quiet to settle once more and kiss his grandmother’s hand, to bow before his Majesty and show humility. Instead, he walks straight back down the aisle in long strides to where the guards are posted at the doors. The murmurs and gasps don’t matter, have faded from his awareness completely by the time he reaches Dream. And with sure hands, he pushes the stupid mask up enough to free the bottom half of his face and buries a hand in blonde hair, and finally falls into his love. He kisses him gently, and gentler when his love unfreezes enough to return the affection. In front of his father and his father before him and anyone else who cared to show up, Fundy claims his divine right.

Fuck the nobles.

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Under New Skies (Female Lizardfolk x Female Reader)

Three days into your little solo camping venture, you were regretting not paying more attention during that one astronomy class you took to fulfill your science gen ed in school.  The little clearing where you’d set up was about a mile down a dirt path off of a main thoroughfare, and only the fact that it was midweek and getting into autumn kept things relatively quiet.  You hadn’t come across another camper since you set up your tent and fire pit, spending your time pretty happily alone.  Something has felt off all day though. It was so misty when you woke up, damp tendrils coiling along the ground and into the trees, so dense you couldn’t see past the treeline at all.  You felt electric, almost like what you’ve read about before lightning strikes, all of your hair standing on end.  Nothing happened though, and by late morning the sun had taken care of the mist leaving the day unseasonably warm. 

Now, though, it’s nighttime, and something definitely seems wrong.   You should be able to see the big and little dipper at this time of year, but they don’t seem to be anywhere in the sky?  None of the constellations you can name seem to be anywhere actually.  You don’t want to dwell on it, chalking it up to ignorance, but it leaves a niggling in the back of your brain.  You wish you’d paid more attention to a lot of things, now.  Were these forest sounds familiar?  You want to say you’ve heard these bugs before, and birds, and frogs, but really would you notice if they were different?  You think you would, hope you would.  Something feels off though, but you put it off to deal with it in the morning.

That lump of lead hasn’t gone away by morning, and even though you’re meant to spend another night here you decide to cut the trip short and trek back to your car.  It’s a ten mile hike from where you are to where you parked, a straight shot once you make the mile back to the main trail.  You take care to clean, making yourself a thermos of coffee for the road before putting out the fire, and leaving the campsite behind with nothing to signify your presence other than a small ring of rocks surrounding cold, damp ash.

The first few minutes of your hike, you keep telling yourself you’re cutting you trip short due to paranoia.  But you promise yourself a treat to make up for it, maybe some pastries and a gourmet coffee to make up for the freeze dried instant stuff you’re currently drinking, with enough powdered non dairy creamer to choke an actual cow.  You don’t notice how long you’ve been walking, until you’re pretty sure you’ve walked well over a mile on this dinky little pathway through the underbrush, and you really should have come across the main trail now.   Sitting on a downed log you pull out your map and your phone.  You curse the lack of bars, regretting not bringing your little handheld satellite GPS receiver, but you’d thought it would be overkill for a short and straightforward hike like this.  That will show you to never do that again, you suppose.  Still, your compass says you’ve been walking the right direction, and you wonder if maybe you just haven’t gone quite far enough.  Still, you keep your phone out, knowing that you should at least get a bar or two on the main trail, considering you were using it on the hike in.

By the time lunch rolls around, you haven’t made it anywhere it seems like.  Sure you’ve made progress, but you know you’ve walked at least half a dozen miles, and you still have no cell site, you’ve seen no main road, no other travelers.  You sit, resting against a tree, and study your map while you eat a protein bar.  You’re scrutinizing, trying to figure out where you might be if you’ve gotten turned around.  You wonder briefly if you should head back for the clearing you came from and wait it out another night, but what would that do really?  You left at the only trailhead leading out of the clearing, that leads onto the same straightforward little trodden path that should have hit the main trail hours ago.  There are no paths branching off of that one, and you haven’t stepped foot off the path since you began walking.  You finish your protein bar with a grimace and have a few sips of water before angrily folding your map and continuing to follow the path.

The sun is just touching the tops of the trees when the little path you’ve been walking down all day finally intersects with a trail.  You say a trail and not the trail, because this road that you’re now standing on looks completely unfamiliar to you.  It looks like an old through road, unpaved and with two well worn ruts for what look like cart wheels running along it.  You don’t see any sort of civilization either direction, and you’re contemplating climbing a tree to see what you can make out from up that high, but you really don’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere in need of an ambulance and you aren’t exactly a spry young child anymore, capable of climbing trees on a whim.

You wrack your brain, trying to figure something, anything out.  You know that when you left the main trail onto what had been a small path to your campsite you’d turned right, so you should turn left down the trail to get back to your car.  You head that way, despite all contrary evidence you keep hoping that if you just push through it you’ll reach your car and be headed back home.  Maybe you’d go see a doctor, or maybe you’d just sleep off this experience, but it would be over and you could go back to the regular world.  

When it’s well and truly night, and you still haven’t seen hide nor hair of another person, you let yourself settle down for a good cry.   The moon is full, and you can at least see where you’re going, but all that does is illuminate everything that’s wrong.  You should be able to see some sort of light pollution nearby, the sky shouldn’t be this full of stars, why is there no noisy civilization.  You should be close enough to hear cars on the road, so where are they?  You know you should settle down and wait for morning, but you know your brain just won’t let you sleep.  So why rest?  You keep pushing forward, and by the time the sun is rising you just want to collapse into another sobbing heap as the road continues ever on in front of you.

You aren’t hungry, anxiety eating at your stomach as much as it is your head.  You do make sure to choke something down though, knowing that if you’re going to keep walking you need to keep calories in you.   You’re thankful that the road runs near to a running source of water, you can hear that at least sometimes in the background and it’s easy enough to find once you go looking.  Filling up your large canteen, you drop a water purification tablet in and continue out on your trek.   Running on fear and anxiety, you stagger on for what could have been hours, or maybe only minutes, or maybe even days (okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration) until you reach a fork in the road.

Now, do you go the Robert Frost take the road less traveled with its overgrown footpath and dark canopy, or do you listen to the horror trope screaming at you in the face and take the well maintained and nicely lit pathway?  Your desire to not wind up murdered wins out, and you take the brightly lit road with its well worn ruts.  Robert Frost will have to wait until you aren’t in an actual life or death situation to come in with his wisdom.  Although when you trip in one of those well worn ruts and sprain your ankle two miles later you’re rethinking your decision. So, you break down, and I mean who can blame you?

-------

Two days ago, and a handful of hours, Rha’ss felt her chaining for the first time.  Usually sometime around reaching maturity one’s chaining would make itself known.  Some bloomed slightly earlier, some later, but most who made it into their thirtieth year without it knew that they would not find themselves being called by their other half.   It wasn’t unheard of at all for these unfated pairs to still love and live together, but the connection of a chained couple was known to be unrivaled, such that even high born nobles would take their fated regardless of status.  

At thirty-eight Rha’ss had resigned herself to life without a chain, becoming a sellsword content with the knowledge that there would be none to truly mourn her when the time came.  So imagine her surprise when she woke in the middle of the night to feel that gentle pull in the center of her chest, a yearning wrapped ‘round her heart that would not be fixed until the subject of her desires was with her.  Between contracts as she was, it didn’t take long for her to be fixed on her horse and following the gentle pull in her chest.  

She wondered then what had happened to have brought the bond to life so suddenly.  Were you just coming of age?  How would she handle that, and the differential that comes with such a difference in life experiences?  Was there something else that had kept the bond dormant for so long?  Were you merely far from her, and only now in close enough proximity for it to kindle?  She hopes you won’t be disappointed by her, a hardened and jaded mercenary.  She long buried her love and affection beneath a tough veneer of indifference, necessary for the blood she traded in.  How would you handle holding hands that had dealt death?

Rha’ss isn’t sure what to make of you when she first comes across you.  You’re curled in the middle of the road, sobbing, with your hands pressed against your face.  From what she can see you’re too tall to be a gnome, but your ears are round so you can’t be an elf.  Maybe half elf half gnome?  You’re dressed so oddly too.  In bright colors and materials she’s never seen before.  Your shoes are odd to her, your coat, your bag.  Everything is so strange.  But when you look up, and your watery eyes sparkle against the sun as you stare up at her, she can’t find it in her to be upset.  

“What’s the matter sweetling?”

-------

You find yourself staring up at an imposing creature astride a rather large dapple grey horse.  They look like a lizardfolk out of a fantasy game, their reptilian face gleaming like jade in the bright sun.  Their head is crested with pink and teal moving down their spine in impressive pointed frills almost like a mohawk.  Their slitted eyes are a bright yellow, matching some of the scales that look almost like freckles across their shoulders and down their arms.  Their throat leading down into their shirt is a pale cream, and the whole look is rather impressive.  You wonder briefly at the edge of your consciousness if you should be scared, but something in your chest that’s been tight since two mornings ago seems to have relaxed now that you’re thinking of it.

Still, this...person?  Person.  This person is definitely not a human.  And isn’t that something to think about?  You wonder briefly if you’re in shock, did you actually break your ankle?  Is this some weird fantasy your brain has stirred up to keep you from passing out and dying?  Is all of this some weird fever dream where you’ll wake up in your campsite after a bout of food poisoning vowing to never eat rations again?

“What’s the matter sweetling?”  Their voice is rough and feminine, low and rasping but with a lilt and timbre that makes you think of your grandmother in some odd way.  They’re off their horse now, kneeling over you and looking down at you with such tenderness that all you can do is start sobbing anew and throw yourself at them.  They shush you with quiet murmurs of nothing, taloned hands gently sifting through your hair to scratch at your scalp soothingly.  Somehow, you choke out everything.  From the changed pathway, to the different stars, to the different bugs, even to themselves.

“I don’t know what’s going on.  Everything is all wrong, none of this makes sense!  I can’t - I don’t know where I am, I can’t figure out how to get home.  What do I do?”  The being surrounding you gives a low, soothing hum, and their cool skin helps ground you.  

“Well, sweetling, I can tell you that you’re at the border between the riverlands and dragon’s spire.”  They give a thoughtful hum when your face remains as confused as ever.  “In Xanthalan?”  Your brows knit together further, and she huffs a little.  “Why don’t we start with where you’re from, sweetling, and maybe your name at that.  I am Rha’ss, daughter of Sharath, protector of the dragon’s spire.”

When you introduce yourself, with much less pomp, she finds herself confused.  “I’ve never heard of that land before, and I have traveled across the great East sea to the basin of the world, and across the great North sea to the kingdoms of ice.”  She frowns in thought, staring down at you heavily.  “Where is your map?”  When you fumble your map out of your bag and hand it to her she frowns again as she unfolds it.   “This doesn’t make much sense…”  She studies the map with you caged in against her chest, her arms still wrapped around you.  “I think we need to pay a friend of mine a visit.”

Rha’ss moves to stand and pull you up with her, and you go with it completely forgetting your ankle.  Until, of course, it decides to give under you when you try to put your weight on it.  You’re pleasantly surprised by Rha’ss’ strength, as she catches you easily without stumbling.  You mumble a shy apology, but she just gives you a warm look and caresses your cheek with her thumb lovingly.   She helps you onto her horse, mounting behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist to take the reins.  You feel small in front of her, she must be at least seven feet tall the way the top of your head doesn’t even graze her chin.  You don’t have much riding experience, and it shows, but she’s patient with you, and the way she guides your hips into the rhythm of riding is surprisingly sensual.  

It’s only a two hour ride at a moderate pace before you come across a small town built alongside the road.  There’s an inn, and what looks like a general store, but that’s all you can make out before Rha’ss is pulling you bodily from the horse’s back and carrying you into the inn like a bride over a threshold.  After settling you gently in a chair by the fire she greets the innkeeper and barkeep like old friends, complete with embraces that make you suddenly and unexpectedly jealous, all in a hissing sort of language you don’t understand.  They’re both lizardfolk like she is, so you’re guessing it’s their own language.  

You take a few moments to look around.  There are a few others in here, not lizardfolk so this isn’t a planet purely populated by reptilian people.  It looks like some orcs, and something furry with round ears - maybe a gnoll?  And then a pair of short but intimidating looking...you’d have guessed humans but who knows at this point, both with impressive beards.  So dwarves?  You’re brought out of your reverie when Rha’ss walks back over to you carrying two frothy mugs and a roll of what looks like linen.  “Let me bind your ankle sweetling, and then we can talk more.”  The care with which she handles you makes you feel secure down to your bones, but you’re dreading trying to come to terms with whatever it is that’s happened to bring you here.

Under Rha’ss’ watchful stare you take a long sip of the drink she’s brought you, thankful that at least honey mead is honey mead regardless of whatever else is going on around you.  “I don’t even know where to start…”  You sound exhausted even to your own ears, the kind of weary that extends past physical tiredness and into the realm of a soul deep exhaustion.  “I was camping, having a fine few days in the woods, but the other night I noticed the stars didn’t look quite right.  I couldn’t find any of my landmarks.  And then my trail disappeared, and I don’t know where I am.  I don’t know how I got here.  None of this makes sense.  I’m just a normal human, from a normal family, lizard folk and orcs and stuff, none of this should be real.  I can feel you’re real like I am though, and I’m starting to think I’m not hallucinating all of this…”  You take another deep drink of your honey mead before placing your tankard down on the table and resting your face in your hands tiredly.

When you look back at Rha’ss she’s staring with a confused look on her face.  “What’s ‘human?’  Is that your clan?”

You give her an equally confused glance.  “No?  It’s my species?  My race?”  

She doesn’t look appeased by that.  “I’ve never heard of ‘human’ before.”  She hums thoughtfully.  “You’re softer than an elf, but bigger than a halfling or a gnome.  You’ve got the rounded ears too.”  She jerks her chin in your direction and you touch the rounded top of your ear a little self-consciously.  She drinks from her own tankard and stares away in thought, you can almost hear the gears working in her head as she tries to puzzle things out.  “That map you showed me earlier, you said that was from your home?”  You nod at her and she hums again.  “But you were camping just along the dragon’s spire, I know that land better than almost any and your map is fully foreign to me.”   She frowns in contemplation, mumbling to herself before pinning you with a serious look.  “Tell me what you know of heart’s calls and chaining.”  You stare at her as confused as ever, you aren’t sure what you’ve done wrong as her face falls while you look on.  Her sigh is weary and resigned, but she gives a grimace of a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.  “Worry not sweetling, all will be revealed in time.  Qruz has told me that the Wizard Gorux has made himself comfortable in the inn as of yesterday.  It seems we were expected, we’re to meet tomorrow.”  

You just nod your head tiredly at this point, too overwhelmed to even question it any longer.  You can’t lift your head again though, crashing hard after the stressful past days.  You’re already half asleep when Rha’ss picks you up again and settles you on a rather comfortable straw mattress in an upstairs room, and you’re out completely with barely enough time to mumble your thanks.  

-------

When you wake the next morning, the first thing you notice is that you aren’t alone.  While you’re alone in your little bed, you can see the lizard person, Rha’ss, from the day before, along with a somehow even taller and broader orc sitting across from her at a small table.   They’re conversing lowly, and you can’t understand them over the crackling of the fire.  The orc is dressed in ornately embroidered robes, and has a plethora of feathers and glass beads woven through his black hair.  He looks wizened but not old, his hair lacking even a single streak of silver but his eyes carrying the weight of centuries.

You don’t really pay attention as he comes over and asks you a few questions, you can tell from them that Rha’ss has shared your story.  He smudges you with some fragrant herbs, although you can’t place what any of them are and that sends a pang of sadness through your heart.   Whatever he sees though makes his face go grim and he settles the lizard woman in the chair with a heavy look.  “Aye, lass, it’s as ye thought. It isn’t the first time a bond has made it across time and space, but this is something I’ve only read about.  It hasn’t happened in a millenia at the least.  Do not take this gift lightly.”  He turns to fix you with an inscrutable stare, dark eyes searching your face.  His eyes soften though, and with an exhaled puff of air he places one large hand on the crown of your head and mumbles something in a language you’ve never heard before.  “Blessings on you little one, I do not envy your position, but I know Rha’ss, I know she will love you and cherish you until the end of days if you let her.  Do not ignore your chaining, the both of you will suffer for it.”  

He’s gone before you can ask him about it, and Rha’ss is staring at you guardedly.  “I guess it’s time for me to explain that eh?”  She pulls a small leather pouch out of her pack, removing a pipe and what smells like it might be tobacco.  You watch as she packs the leaf into the bowl of the pipe, soothing herself with the practiced repetitive motion.  “Never thought I’d find myself doing this.  See, sweetling, from the time we’re babes we hear about our calling.  Our heart’s calling, or we call it the chaining.  Because it’s said to feel like a chain pulling us together.  I’d never felt it, my whole life.  I dedicated myself to my sword, to battle.  But I woke three nights ago to a feeling in my chest I knew with certainty was it.”  She stands from the table then, leaving her pipe abandoned and unsmoked as she moves to kneel before you.  “I was trying to fathom who might be waiting for me at the other end of my chain, and sweetling, it was you.  Please, tell me you feel it.”  Her hands are on your knees, and her yellow eyes are full of open affection and fear it won’t be reciprocated.  

You reach up to stroke over her reptilian snout, soft little fingers skating up the butt of her jaw.  “I know that I was panicking until I met you.  That as soon as you held me I knew I’d never been safer in my whole life.  I can’t promise this will always be easy for me, and that I won’t make mistakes, but I can promise to try.”  Rha’ss relaxes against you burying her head against your stomach and gripping tightly at the back of your shirt.  You lean down to kiss the top of her head between her eyes, and she curiously nuzzles up against your breasts when they crowd in against her.  Your soft giggle at the action makes her face light up, and she begins rubbing against you with her jaw trying to make you laugh again.  

Once she has you laughing you tug her face up to your own, kissing along the top of her nose.  Her scales are cool and smooth against your lips, and she lets out an affectionate chittering noise when she feels your soft mouth on her.  She strokes her tongue over your cheek and throat, letting out a high, throaty sigh at your taste.  The gentle prick of her talons at your hips barely keeps you grounded as she laves over your skin with her dark, forked tongue in repeated strokes.  You can’t help letting out a sigh of pleasure when that curiously dextrous appendage presses down the front of your shirt and skates over the cup of your bra.  She seems intrigued by the garment, and with questioning eyes she tugs at the hem of your shirt.  

You let Rha’ss strip it from you wordlessly, lifting your arms over your head until you’re left in your bra and hiking pants on the bed.   Her talons gently trace the cup of your bra and up the straps to your shoulders.  “This looks much nicer than a corset sweetling, not that I’d know much about that either way.”  She leans down to lick a hot stripe down between your breasts before sneakily pushing her tongue underneath the front busk between the cups.  You’re thankful to be wearing a front closing bra, and with only a little bit of experimentation she’s used her hands to pop it open, letting it fall aside to bare your chest to her.  Her taloned hands have been smoothing and stroking up your sides, from your hips over the side of your chest and back down, gently massaging at your hips at they sit there momentarily before repeating their journey.

When you cry out Rha’ss’ name in frustration as she merely gazes down at you, she repeats yours back to you in a smitten sigh.  Her knuckles gently graze over the peaks of your nipples, and she watches your face to learn what you like and how to touch you.  She gently pinches them between two fingers, giving an experimental tug before fondling your breasts in earnest, her tongue licking stripes along your shoulders and throat.  She has one firm thigh lodged between yours, and you can feel her cool skin heating beneath the languid thrusts your hips make up searching for friction.

Her head soon replaces her hands, that prehensile tongue coiling around one breast before giving a firm lick up the center to rasp over your nipple.  You barely notice her hands as they skate down your stomach, talons dipping into the waist of your pants before she tugs at them softly, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.  You lift your hips in assent, feeling bereft for a moment as she moves away only long enough to tug your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.  She tugs her own garments off then too, a simple tunic and linen pants that whisper to the floor as she tosses them carelessly aside.  

Rha’ss is on you again then, and over you.  Her face is tucked into your neck, tongue scenting and tasting your skin as she presses your soft breasts against her cool, firm torso.  The give of them against her is enticing, and she relishes in the way that you arch up into her when her thigh finally makes contact with your bare core.  The heat is so intense against her cool skin, and she presses up against you harder in an attempt to feel more of it.  You’re burning hot and so slick.  She grips your hips, just careful enough not to prick you with her talons, although you may be sporting bruises later.  She uses this leverage to move you up and down against her, drawing your slick heat over her flesh and painting her with your essence.  

Your head is thrown back, baring your neck up submissively.  One of your hands is caressing down over her head and neck, skating along the base of her frills.  They had been tucked down against her back, but as she loses herself to pleasure you find them occasionally flaring unconsciously.  Your other hand is at her back, at the base of her tail.  You hadn’t really noticed it until now.  Reaching down for a handful of her buttocks you instead catch the base of her tail, although the way it makes her stutter and cry out against your throat has you abandon your original goal in favor of stroking over where her tail meets her back with your soft hands and blunt nails.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, one moment you’re lost in your partner and the next you’re almost whiting out as the heat licks down your spine and your back arches.  You cry out Rha’ss’ name, toes curling and thighs cramping as you reach your ecstasy.  She spreads you out before her, and as you’re fuzzy from your pleasure you watch as she teases something from a slit at the apex of her thighs.  It’s not quite as large as a penis, although it’s much thicker at the base and tapers to an odd blunt, angled tip.  “When you’re ready, sweetling, I’ll fill you with my brood, but this will do for now.”  She sighs happily when she slips the cool organ between your labia to rut against you.  The oddly cool and slick sensation against your clit has you clenching again, and you cry out loudly when the tip prods at your hole only to just barely slip inside.

Rha’ss lets out a guttural noise when your hot body surrounds her, and you can feel the organ lengthen inside you even as it gets thinner. One of her hands comes down to stroke at your clit, touching you in just the right way that has you clenching harder.  You’re still so tight around her, gripping her in all the right places.  You’re surprised by her orgasm, a cool fluid gushing from the tip inside of you and flowing out to coat your inner thighs.  It smells strangely sweet and heady, and the feeling of her coming inside of you along with her incessant fingers on your clit has you reaching your peak again.

Rha’ss falls beside you, pulling you in to lay on her chest.  She feels blissfully cool against your heated skin.  There will be more to work out and talk about, this is only the beginning of something after all, but you find yourself feeling oddly at peace with things.  You know there will be trials, and that things won’t always be easy for you considering the abrupt and complete change of your lifestyle.  But in this moment, you find you’re more excited than anxious.  You’re pulled from your contemplation by Rha’ss fingers gently sifting through your hair to reach your scalp, lulling you to sleep with gentle touches and soft words.

[swaps55]

Winter Asks Caught in a Snowstorm because Sam and weather.

The snow is festive, at least.

Too often there isn’t much snow in December, especially in Vancouver, and all the holiday decorations just end up looking drab and…damp under the grey winter skies. Not so today. The flakes of snow outside are coming down even thicker than they had been back in the mountains of the BC Interior. Snow this hard isn’t that uncommon out at the orchard, but Vancouver usually doesn’t see it.

Outside the train station, wreaths hanging on the lampposts wear a fresh blanket of white. Too early in the day for various holiday lights to be on, but Kaidan vividly remembers the massive display the city puts on down by the bay every year. Adding snow to the mix will make it nothing short of magic. Been a long time since he’s been on Earth for Christmas, and this year will be Shepard’s first experience with Christmas period.

It’s…not going well.

Outside may look like a pleasant winter wonderland, but inside the train station the collective mood of the thickening crowd waiting for loved ones gets farther and farther from goodwill to all, despite the plethora of Santa hats and garish holiday sweaters.

Shepard in particular has the look in his eyes that usually precedes solving a problem with a shotgun, which contrasts rather spectacularly with the evergreen sweater and gold jingle bell on a bright red cord Kaidan strung around his neck. The farther away they get from wearing combat armor, the more fascinating it is to see the soldier emerge.

If Kaidan had any idea how stressful the prospect of celebrating a holiday was going to become, he wouldn’t have pushed for it. For the past two weeks Shepard has approached Christmas like he’s coordinating a full-scale assault on an enemy stronghold. Like it’s something he has to win. The poor tree they’d decorated in the living room practically salutes every time he walks through the door.

Kaidan hasn’t dared introduce the ugly sweater concept. The levels Sam could take it to don’t bear thinking about, so he’ll leave that one for his mother.

If she ever gets here.  

Shepard paces the train platform, bell jangling with each step, occasionally glaring up at the arrival screen, where the 13:00 train from Kamloops still shows Delayed in red letters.

Kaidan eyes him cautiously. Despite the temptation to say ‘I told you so,’ a peace-on-Earth approach is probably the better choice right now. If Shepard were particularly open to peaceful negotiation.

“Fucking weather,” Shepard mutters under his breath, peering out a window with a scowl. “I hate planets.”

He’s not open to peaceful negotiation.

They’d spent four hours in a skycar to get here, in spite of all of Kaidan’s arguments for why it was a bad idea. Shepard hasn’t learned yet that when Kaidan’s mother makes a plan, you don’t alter the plan. And the plan had been she would take the high-speed rail from Toronto to Vancouver and find her own way to the orchard. It was her plan. Sam’s idea to surprise her at the station was doomed to failure, no matter how noble his intentions.

Of course, the fact he wanted to do it so badly is more than Kaidan’s heart can stand, but that doesn’t change the laws of the universe. Or his mother.  

“You can’t surprise my mother,” Kaidan tried to tell him. “It doesn’t work. Trust me.”

“It’ll work,” Sam insisted, back when he was naïve and optimistic.

Shepard, so accustomed to the galaxy getting out of his way whenever he it wanted to, doesn’t understand the opposing force that is Lora Alenko. Or blizzards.

“I flew a Mako through a mass relay and we really can’t figure out how to keep the trains running in snow?” Shepard demands.

“Apparently,” Kaidan says, suppressing a sigh. The sigh would not help matters.

The red lights on the arrival sign flicker, then change. Sam straightens, hopeful, until the word Cancelled appears.

“Son of a bitch,” he swears, throwing an arm in the air. “Fuck this holiday bullshit.” A few people look in his direction, including a kid wearing a red and green knit cap who can’t be more than ten. He grips his mother’s hand, eyes widening with recognition.

Chagrin creeps over Shepard’s face. He clears his throat and offers the kid a salute, before dragging Kaidan further away from the crowd.

“First,” he says, before Kaidan can open his mouth. “Don’t say it. Second, now what do we do?”

“We go home,” Kaidan says gently. “She’ll get here when she gets here. It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t.” Shepard runs a hand over his scalp and continues pacing. More people start looking their way, so Kaidan takes him by the hand and leads him outside, where the snow continues falling even thicker than before. At this point, just getting themselves home is going to be interesting.

Sam continues muttering under his breath as they walk, jingle bell tinkling merrily. Kaidan puts a hand on his arm, tightening until he stops.

“Hey,” Kaidan says.

Shepard turns his glare skyward, as though he has half a mind to out-temper the storm. Wouldn’t be the first time. He’d ground Noveria’s snow right under his heel. Of course, that time he’d had an armored tank with an eezo core. Surely he can’t do the same with a skycar.

…surely.

“This was supposed to go right,” Sam says in defeat.

Kaidan brushes away the snow collecting on Shepard’s shoulder, hiding a smile at the sight of flakes melting on his head. He’d spent so much time joking about making them both wear Santa hats he hadn’t thought to grab real hats.

“First lesson about holidays,” Kaidan says with a chuckle. “Nothing ever goes according to plan. Kind of like you.”

Sam exhales, warm breath dissipating into steam. He runs a gloved finger down Kaidan’s cheek, channeling some of his intensity into one of those looks that never fails to make him weak at the knees.

“Sam,” Kaidan says, meeting his gaze. “Talk to me. What’s going on? You’ve been a man on a mission for weeks. It’s supposed to be something you – something we – enjoy.”

His expression twists in a way that makes Kaidan’s heart ache. “You’re…my family. Your mom…is now my family. Holidays are important to you.” He hesitates. “And I kind of wanted it to be important to me.”

Kaidan gazes at him, too many thoughts swirling in his head to give voice to any of them. So he leans in and kisses him, softly at first, then more insistently as Sam wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him flush. For the thousandth time, Kaidan wonders how two people fit so perfectly together.

When Kaidan finally pulls away Sam sighs, blinking away flakes of snow.

“Then let’s go home,” Kaidan says. “And I promise, when she gets here? We’ll make it important to all of us.”

Kaidan takes his hand as they walk back towards the skycar. Just for the hell of it, he sticks his tongue out to catch a snowflake, persisting until Sam laughs and tugs him close.

It’s late by the time they make it back to the orchard. The strings of Christmas lights Sam had hung meticulously over the front bushes twinkle merrily, but to their surprise the house itself blazes with light.

Sam’s hand reaches for a sidearm he no longer carries, suspicion in his eyes. “Did you leave the lights on?”

“Nope,” Kaidan says, hiding a smile as he gets out of the skycar.

“Then what the—”

Kaidan chuckles. “You are not the only person who can bully the universe, Sam.”

When they walk in the house Kaidan’s mother sits on the couch with a glass of wine, feet up and adorned with a pair of candy cane slippers, fire roaring merrily in the fireplace. When she gets to her feet, she wears a knit red sweater emblazoned with a green Christmas tree that lights up with omnitool powered lights.

“There you are!” she exclaims as they stamp snow off their boots. “Where the hell have you been?”

Kaidan grins and crosses the room to sweep her up in a hug.

“We…went to get you,” Sam says, giving her a baffled look. “How did you get here? Your train was cancelled.”

“Aunt Li had some last-minute things she needed to take care of, and I saw the weather, so I took an earlier train.”

“I told you,” Kaidan says. “You can’t surprise her.”  

“You tried to surprise me?” she asks, genuinely touched.

Kaidan steps aside and she opens her arms expectantly, waggling her fingers until Sam steps sheepishly into them. She leans in and murmurs in his ear, “Good luck with that.”

Sam narrows his eyes, but holds her tight. “Challenge accepted.”

Oh boy. This is not what Kaidan had in mind when he vowed to make new Christmas traditions.

“I missed my boys,” she says, taking Sam’s cheeks in both hands. “And I wasn’t going to miss our first Christmas.”

Sam nods, speechless for once when she lets him go.

“Sam went all out,” Kaidan says with a smile. “You should see the meal he’s got planned for tomorrow.”  

She raises an eyebrow.

“Catered,” Sam says swiftly.

She grins. “I can’t wait.”

She goes into the kitchen to dig up two more wine glasses. When she returns, she hands one to each of them and grabs the bottle she’d already opened to fill them.

She picks up her own glass and raises it. “To our new family.”

Sam and Kaidan echo the toast, though Sam’s voice wavers.

They drink. Sam shuffles his feet. Kaidan knows the look on his face. The soldier’s been put away again, but the part of him who believes he has to earn his place – even with his own family – still hasn’t been laid to rest yet.

Kaidan’s working on that.    

“So,” Sam says slowly. “I’m, um. Not sure what happens now. I’m not…good at this.”

Kaidan’s mother loops Sam’s arm around her shoulder and walks him over to the couch, where a pile of blankets wait. “Now we cuddle up in front of the fire and get warm, because it’s freezing outside and someone I know hates being cold.”

A smile creeps across Sam’s face. “It’s not so bad. When you’ve got the right company.”

Outside, the snow keeps falling. Inside, the fire flickers and pops.    

“So is this what it’s like?” Sam murmurs, tugging a blanket across the three of them as they settle on the couch and finding Kaidan’s hand underneath it. As soon as he’s situated, Kaidan’s mother drops a Santa hat on his head.

“Yeah,” Kaidan says, kissing his temple. “This is what it’s like.”

[eujazmine]

all gifs from christianscody !

JAZMINE HARPER - TV TROPES

manipulative bastard

The Manipulative Bastard is the master manipulator of people, in essence, a character who manipulates others through their emotions, perspectives, psychologies and any other way they can get them dancing to their tune. This is the guy or gal who gets off on playing head/mind games—clever and dangerous and lacking comedic overtones (usually). She always has a plan ready, but rather than do any work, the Manipulative Bastard prefers to play on other characters' emotions and mental states and then watch the victims destroy themselves as they waste their energy on fighting against fake dangers or their friends.

are we surprised? with a lack of loyalty to others, including her own family, jazmine will gladly step on others and use their weaknesses to her advantage to get what she wants. she’s been a manipulative bastard since she was a child, ever since she first discovered how much her mist control could control the perceptions of others. observant and resourceful, jazmine has no qualms using her talents to gain unauthorized information about others and using it for her personal gain. she views people as her pawns, and her selfish way of thinking gives her little guilt about physically or mentally forcing others into submission. this is a trait she’s picked up from her own father, which we will delve into in the next trope.

daddy’s little villain

mention of emotional abuse tw

She's the daughter of an Evil Overlord, who shares her parent's ambition, cunning, and cruelty. She could be anything from a simple Spoiled Brat to an Overlord in waiting. She's also likely to be a Princess (since even villainy is improved with that), although she will still prefer wearing black or dark colors over pink. 

jazmine’s mortal father can largely be thanked for the way she is now. from as young as she can remember, he was training jazmine to be a powerful force in both the demigod and mortal world. while he raised her to think she could accomplish anything she worked toward, she was mostly a pawn to satisfy his thirst for power. he didn’t care much for her as a daughter; mostly for what she could do for him. she started to recognize this during her formative middle school years, consequently turning her childhood role model into her worst enemy. when she started rebelling against him and acting out, he sent her away full-time to a camp on the other side of the globe. since then, the issues only progressed, eventually leading to a falling out in which she hasn’t seen or spoken to her mortal family in many years. 

this upbringing has fueled her desire to constantly be the best in her fields of expertise, which is partly why she quested for years in hopes of some type of recognition. with the heavily hidden hope that she could one day rub in his face that she had succeeded without him, all her life she has fought to try to ‘prove her worth’ to others despite being the daughter of a minor goddess (or titan). because her father only loved what she could do for him, she places everyone in two categories: the puppets, and the puppeteers. 

and she will never be the puppet again.

broken ace

He's tall, charming, strikingly good-looking, well-spoken in five languages, and classically trained in even more instruments. But inside, he's an ugly, writhing mass of self-hatred and Parental Issues. Expect him to have at least one bizarre trait or ability that should not be overlooked, as well as an unhealthy attitude about love, life, and humanity in general. He most likely doesn't have anyone that loves or respects him for what he really is. This may be justified. This character is usually male, but not always. Also, he may just be a perfectionist crumbling under his own standards. The chief difference between the Broken Ace and the usually female Stepford Smiler is that the Stepford Smiler wants to appear normal at all costs, often to the point of hurting herself emotionally (or because she's sociopathic). This guy has the same setup, but is more talented and wants to be the best, loved by all, and accepted.

although the timeline wasn’t as accelerated as she had hoped when she was a child, jazmine was making waves in the world of deities before her last quest against zeus had occurred. now, as a semi-retired quester, she is captain of the football team and starting to make a name for herself in the mortal fields of business and sports. despite the air of nonchalant superiority that she constantly tries to present, she is in a constant state of despair. right when she starts to undergo some development in her relationships with others, they leave, and she is constantly failing her own impossibly high standards. she’s crumbling, and at any point she is ready to run away again.

ice queen

Much like a Tomboy, the Ice Queen is a major character archetype which is somewhat hard to define. Her signature characteristic is that she is cold; the ambiguity comes from what "cold" means. She has a cold heart, a frosty demeanor and very often a resting bitch face; she attracts but will never be wooed. The Ice Queen is considered dangerous to love because she will not (or cannot) love back. She's not much for friendship either, preferring to be alone. Situations where an Ice Queen "thaws" and learns to enjoy the company of others are so common that they have their own trope.

she’s cold and takes no shit. she holds people at a distance, even those that could potentially be considered friends. she doesn’t believe in unconditional love, and she believes that most affection direct toward her is generally a ruse to get her guard down. she’s unnecessarily rude to others, almost relishing in the negative reactions at times, but to her, she’s just keeping it real.

the trickster

A trickster is a character who plays tricks or otherwise disobeys normal rules and conventional behavior. The Trickster openly questions and mocks authority, encourages impulse and enthusiasm, seeks out new ideas and experiences, destroys convention and complacency, and promotes chaos and unrest. At the same time, the trickster brings new knowledge, wisdom and many An Aesop. Even when punished horribly for his effrontery, his indomitable spirit (or plain sheer foolishness) keeps him coming back for more. Tricksters can be anything from gods of chaos, bedeviling heroes for a few laughs, to master manipulators who use cruel ploys and sadistic choices. They can also be heroes (or more likely Anti-Heroes) who make up for a lack of strength or bravery with manipulation, planning, or just plain cheating. The trickster is often a Master of Disguise and may have magical or super-powers. They're often found Walking the Earth.

although this description was much more relevant when she was younger, jazmine has a penchant for drama and chaos. she genuinely has fun engaging in pranks and tricks, and she gladly lifts a symbolic middle finger to authority in any chance that she gets. in middle school, she was nearly expelled from a mortal school because of all her tricks, and she spent a sizable portion of her adult years before eonia traveling and engaging in casual mayhem. when she isn’t getting revenge or fulfilling a paid request, she generally has fun toying with others.

deadpan snarker

A character prone to gnomic, sarcastic, sometimes bitter, occasionally whimsical asides. The Deadpan Snarker exists to deflate pomposity, point out the unlikelihood of certain plans, and deliver funny lines. Typically the most cynical supporting character. In most cases, it is implied that the snarker would make a good leader, strategist, or consultant given their ability to instantly see the flaws in a constructed plan. More often than not, their innate snarkiness is the only thing preventing the other characters from comprehending this for themselves. In other cases, the Deadpan Snarker resorts to sarcasm because they're the Only Sane Man. Tends to be shot a Death Glare when they go too far (and probably isn't without one of their own, either). Note that due to the definition evolving, the "Deadpan" part of the title has gradually become The Artifact and a deadpan delivery is no longer a necessary part of the trope.

jazmine is no stranger to delivering biting remarks coupled with foul language. she’s quick to point out flaws, opting for the brutally honest approach more times than not. she’s aware that her language can hurt others, but she finds it easier to escape the frivolities and get to the point. depending on the person, she exaggerates this trope by trying to draw out a bad response from them, mostly for her own entertainment. people already view her as heinous, so why not embrace the reputation, right?

survivor guilt

death mention tw

You might be the Last Of Your Kind or someone else made a Heroic Sacrifice for you or you lived through a Restricted Rescue Operation, but whatever the reason, you're going to feel a massive sense of guilt. 

although the quest with adelphie and celeste was technically a success, with the trident successfully being returned back to poseidon, the team had faced major losses. adelphie had lost her life, and celeste had suffered debilitating injuries. physically, jazmine suffered the least, and it’s a guilt that she continues to carry.

aloof big sister

to the majority of the hecate family, especially @rostameu

He's smarter, stronger, faster, more talented, and more refined than the hero, and — just to add insult to injury — he's probably sexier, too. His only problem seems to be moving his face out of that expression of bored, dignified disdain. And he just happens to be the elder brother of one of the main cast, which often gives them a raging inferiority complex. Will most likely double as the Ineffectual Loner and Noble Demon, thereby running the risk of becoming an Ensemble Darkhorse. May or may not be evil, strictly speaking, but is almost guaranteed to fight against the protagonists at one point, and spout off Cryptic Conversation to prove how much better informed he is. May or may not be a Stealth Mentor and/or consider his younger siblings annoying. Often an integral part of a mysterious organisation, and may be the Enigmatic Minion or even a Hero Antagonist in that case.

OKAY, so the running joke with jazmine is that she dislikes her siblings, which is very true tbh. i’m not going to speak for rostam and say most of that stuff actually applies, but jazmine is very cold toward her younger brother and views herself as much better in every way. with loner tendencies, disdain toward her brother, and shady side hustles, she matches this trope very well, and it was only fitting to add a trope about disliking siblings to jazmine’s task. and yes, she’s technically one of the youngest right now but hush.

[olivyh]

Into Wonderland Chapter Three: Octavinelle Part Two

"Floyd." Jade instructs. Floyd finally lets go of Mc, letting them breathe for the first time since they'd woken up. He stifles his laughs and lightly pushes the bottom of the boat with his back, causing it to topple over. Two figures splash into the water and Mc can recognize them as Deuce and Rielle.

"He-" A cold hand is clasped over their mouth before they can say much else, and they look over to see Jade holding a finger up to his lips, pursed into a tense smile. The figures struggle to get back onto the boat, with not much help from Floyd swimming in circles around them and scratching at their ankles and yanking at their clothes. They finally get going back to shore, the twins smiling at one another knowingly.

"What did you do that for?" Mc asks as they start to swim back to the cave they were in before.

"Because if the little guppy wants to be human forever and get his voice back he has to kiss the princey~!"

"And we can't let that happen," Jade further explains.

"Why? If it makes him happy-"

"It's not that." Another voice calls from the cave. Mc freezes, searching around for the source of the unknown voice. They see something creep around the corner of the rock, pulling an unknown figure out of the shadows. The man has silvery hair that floats around him and sharp icy blue eyes that contrasted his grey skin that was speckled with black and dark grey freckles. Mc stares as he goes further into the light of the cave, revealing eight long tentacles that let the man creep over the rocks.

"Cecaelia-" They remember Rielle mentioning. The man holds himself high, but seems to shrink under the humans gaze.

"My apologies, I should introduce myself," The man creeps towards Mc, bowing lightly before extending his hand. "I'm Azul Ashengrotto."

"M-Mc-" They stammer, taken back by the difference between him and the twins. The twins made no effort to try to hide their mischievous natures, but Azul seemed to maintain a calm, welcoming aura.

It sent a chill down their spine thinking that he was the one who had taken their legs while they were half dead, and the man who gave Rielle legs, at the cost of his voice, then proceeded to sabotage his chances at living on the surface.

The man purses his lips and lets his hand fall to his side, offering another smile towards the human. "I see you're used to your new tail."

They nod. "I've been trying."

"They smacked me n' Jade with it n' ran into the ceiling-" Floyd interrupts, breaking into laughter.

"I should have known you two would have done something like that," Azul sighs. "I'm terribly sorry for any trouble they've caused due to their..." He pauses. "Sadistic streak."

"It's fine..." Mc mumbles. "So uhh... what did you mean before?"

"Hm?" The silver haired man hums.

"When you said that... 'it's not that'. What do you mean by that?"

"You..." The man seems taken back. "You were a human, right?" He mutters under his breath.

"Y-yes... I came from..." They pause. Where did they come from? What was their home before Wonderland? And the Afterglow Savanah? Did they even have a home? A family?

"Poor thing..." Jade says, not displaying the pity he's trying to get across at all.

"Are ya dumb?" Floy, blunt as always, asks.

"N-no it's just-"

"Amnesia perhaps?" Jade suggests, circling to their side. They hesitate and nod.

"M-maybe-"

"That's quite upsetting..." The calm eel nods.

"Back to my main point-" Mc tries to shake their head clear of their sadness and go back to confronting the octopus. "What did you mean then?"

"Humans here actively hunt mers. Thats why we need to stop Prince Rielle from getting anywhere near them." Azul knits his eyebrows and shakes his head, slinking across the floor with the other three close behind.

"What do you mean...?" Mc whispers.

"They sell our fins as jewelry, keep some mer as pets to entertain them-"

"And eat us." Floyd interrupts, a scowl written across his face. "Almost happened to me n' Jade when we were kids."

"Why?!" Mc exclaims.

"They believe that mer have exceptional magic, and by eating us they can inherit some of it." Azul sighs, visibly shivering.

"So you think that when Deuce finds out that Rielle is a human he'll-"

"Eat him, yes." The octomer finishes. Clearing his throat, he swims over to a wall full of scrolls. "That's why we have to stop him from getting close to him. We've seen many people from our hometown fall victim to power hungry humans."

"I'm sure you're aware of how close we live to the shoreline, yes?" Jade adds. Mc nods solemnly, guilt eating away at their heart.

Does that mean Ace and Deuce have eaten mer? They think, head starting to spin. They must be swaying a bit because Jade grabs their forearm to keep them steady.

"...My apologies." Azul looks at them sympathetically. "I suppose this must be a lot to hear considering that you don't remember much."

"I-it's fine-" They stutter. "I asked anyways."

"So I hope you see now why we have to sabotage them as much as possible." Jade nods in their direction. They gulp and nod back. "So this is exactly why we need your help in the next plan, considering everything we've done so far has put a stop in our plans."

"What do I-?"

"You need to marry Prince Deuce."

They choke, punching their chest a few times to get their breathing back to normal. "I have to what?!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. "It'll be easy~! Zul stole the

princey's voice that he used to woo the other princey when he saved him, he gives it to you, you woo him, you pretend to get married until the contract with the guppy expires, then you come back here and we give you back your legs!"

Mc stares, jaw slack at the long explanation. Jade chuckles next to them.

"Brilliant explanation, Floyd."

"Thanks!" The rambunctious eel chirps. Mc gulps as Azul lightly hands them a glowing orb that pulses in their palms.

"I don't have to actually get married, right?" They ask. The silver haired man nods. He lightly raised it to their chest and pushes in, watching it disappear into their sternum. They gasp a bit, taken back by the cold that bursts out from the area, before realizing that the water they'd been breathing in fine before was suddenly suffocating.

They choke and try to hold their breath, suddenly grabbed by a pair of strong arms and rushed to the surface. They take in a gulp of air, coughing up water on the eel's shoulder.

"Gross-" Floyd pushes them off him, making them struggle to stay afloat for a bit. They're scooped up by Jade, who helps carry them to the shoreline. They see Azul close behind, a little slower due to his tentacles not making him the fastest swimmer.

They get to the shore and are thrown some raggedy clothes, realizing that when they were a mer they had no need for them, but now they sort of had to wear them again. They slip the clothes on behind a rock and stand on the shore, rehearsing the plans with the mers that floated nearby.

"Just marry him by sundown tomorrow! Azul already handled getting him close enough to you!" Jade calls out. They wish them lick and swim back under the surface, disappearing under the waves.

"Okay-" They huff. "Here goes nothing..." They take a gasp and start humming, nervous at first. They then start singing softly, feeling dumb about the whole plan. They huff and decide to cut it short.

"W-wait!" A familiar voice calls from a balcony that hangs over the rocks. That was there the whole time?! They think, embarrassment making their face flush. How did they not hear Jade yelling earlier? "Please don't stop singing! I know you!" Footsteps slipping down the rocks greet them as their hands are grabbed and held close to the boy's chest. He beams down at them, sending a pang of guilt to their heart.

"You saved me, that day," He whispers breathlessly, bright green eyes gleaming. "It was you."

Mc can only allow themselves to be dragged back to the castle, listening to the boy's lovestruck speech and rants until they find themselves at the end of a long aisle lined with benches full of expecting nobles, and a beaming Deuce standing at the end. Shuffling in their wedding attire, they walk up the aisle, ignoring Jack's whimpers for them to stop.

"I'm sorry," They whisper, to Jack or Deuce, they don't know. "I have to save Rielle-"

The ship suddenly rocks and sways as something hits the side. They slip and tumble as it threatens to tip.

"A rogue wave?!" They hear a few guests yelp in a panic, holding on to their benches for dear life. Deuce slips and narrowly avoids falling off the edge by Ace grabbing his arm. Mc stumbles off the side, with Jack's futile attempt at biting their sleeve to keep them up failing miserably as they plummet to the sea. They let out a screech as they hit the water, back stinging as they hiss and take in water. A glass bottle is pressed to their mouth and they're forced to drink the substance inside, feeling their legs form together into a long tail once more.

"It's okay," Azul takes the bottle away from their mouth and lets them breathe. He holds them underneath their arms, allowing them to get a sense of their surroundings. "You're okay. You're fine." His voice shakes as another angry roar rips itself from deeper within the sea.

"I won't let you humans keep getting away with this!" A bearded man yells, throwing a glowing trident at the side of the ship and creating a large gash.

"What happened?!" They shout. Azul shakes his head.

"I'm not sure. Rielle found out about the marriage and came back to the kingdom an-and I suppose one of his brothers knew about Deuce and told their father-"

"The king..."

"King Ambrose, correct."

"Wait, Father, please!" They see the redheaded boy try to stop his father, pulling at his arm. "Please it's..." His eyes meet Mc's and they gulp, noticing the emotions that swim within them- pain, sadness, betrayal. King Ambrose follows his son's gaze to Azul and his eyebrows narrow.

"You!" The man booms. Azul yelps a bit and shrinks back, pausing before leading Mc to float behind him as the man approaches. He towers over the octomer, tail thrashing dangerously. "You're the man who sent my son up there. You're the one who allowed him to get closer to humans, the one who sent him there only to come home with a broken heart-"

Before they know it, Jade and Floyd are standing in front of Azul. Both expressionless and motionless, they stare down the king as if they'd been waiting their whole lives for this.

"Your majesty-" Jade bows, trying to cut the tension. "Azul was simply trying to-"

"Silence!" The man booms. He swings his trident quickly at the twin who spoke up. Floyd dashes in front of his brother and takes most of the blow to his arms, crossed protectively in front of his face. The boy hisses as he's thrown backwards, his twin chasing close behind him.

"Wait!" Mc cries, worried about their new friends. "Please- we can talk this-"

They're cut off by a chunk of debris falling between them- something Mc recognizes as part of the now sinking ship. They're launched to the seafloor with a sudden current, likely caused by the raging king on the other side. Looking up, they see lifeboats paddling away from the wreckage and they exhale, glad that everyone was able to get away safely.

They notice another chunk of metal shoot its way through the water as the remainder of the ship goes down. It shoots like a bullet- headed right towards the still stunned octomer.

"Azul!" Mc screams, trying to swim up towards him hopelessly. The boy is shoved out of the way by a blue of teal and black and Mc sighs, recognizing the tweels' coloration and features.

Looking back up, they scream as they see the metal headed towards them. They thrash, tail still not completely formed by the potion they took just minutes before. The appendage flops uselessly as they choke back a sob, the beam inches away from their face. They see the trio swimming towards them quickly.

Jade with a worried expression, eyebrows knitted and a scowl printed on his face, pulling Azul who looks to be on the verge of tears behind him, and Floyd, blood from the gashes on his arms staining the water around them, for once the nonchalant expression tossed to the side and filled with fear.

In what Mc thinks of being their last moments, they look to their friends and smile as if trying to tell them that they'll be okay.

Then they feel the cold metal pierce the first layer of skin through their chest and they black out completely, allowing themselves to succumb to sleep.

——————

They wake up moments later back in the sand, coughing it out of their lungs.

"Huh." They say, laying back on the sand and closing their eyes, trying to steady their breathing and racing heart. "I didn't realize I got do-overs-"

Fun fact actually pretty sad fact- almost every twst sorting quiz i get octavinelle (I got scarabia once but never again). so yeah thats fun. especially for someone who lives far away from the ocean. and who cant swim. y e p.

also am i shipping a half canon character with deuce? maybe. for plot purposes.

also after meeting ambrose the 63 at the end of pomefiores episode im not sure what to think about him. hes either just a kind old man or a nightmare dressed i.n cheesy wizard robes and i cant decide which

[spareisms]

@princewished hey remember when u said to continue our modern thread ?? big mistake

By 1:00, Anna was starting to sober up.

Maybe not sober up, but she definitely wasn't as drunk as she'd been before. The songs started to make more sense, stopped blurring into one another between trips to the bar with Ariel and trips to the dance floor with Jasmine.

Between drunken adventures, her steps became stronger, her mind focused on Aladdin and their fight. Curling fingers and twisting words swam in her mind, and she chased it down with vodka and redbull. She remembered the pain he'd caused her through his lie. His lie, there wasn't a way around it. He'd snuck into her socialite club, with it's fancy titles and monuments and trust funds. The art gallery full of the elite, of riches, of checks to be signed and lineages to be upheld. Anna and Elsa were representing their parents' buisness, the stocks and companies imposing and overwhelming. At least, that's how Anna felt about it. Elsa was really the one with the answers. But, Anna knew her role, her part to play. And, while she didn't want to be the head of the company by any means, she also didn't want any harm to come to her parents' legacies.

She wouldn't let anything happen to her family, whatever was left of it.

So, with enough people like Hans Westerguard or Dukes Weasleton to worry about, she had more on her plate than she could handle. Even before Aladdin had entered the gallery, th when it came to Aladdin's betrayal.

His lie.

But....even if it was a lie -- wasn't it only because he'd wanted to impress her? To show her he was serious? About them? He'd gone through all that trouble, all that confusion and deceit -- could it all have been for some kind of noble reason? Could it all have been for her?

Anna wasn't sure of anything anymore.

In fact, by 1:30, she realized just how little she understood anything at all.

She'd lost Ariel and Jasmine. Somewhere between the bathroom, the smoking sections, the various bars in the club -- her friends must have found some other guys to hang out with or something, god knows they were beautiful enough. But her thoughts weren't quite connecting to each other. She felt like she was stumbling around the dance floor instead of shimmying -- before she knew it she was off the floor completely.

Outside....outside please.

Some fresh air, away from the loud music and sweaty bodies she didn't know and drinks she couldn't finish (where did she put her last drink? where did she get this one?)

The cold air outside the club washed over her in breezy waves, ruffling her hair around her shoulders and the dress around her knees. It felt really quite nice to be outside and even started digging around in her purse for her phone to tell the girls she'd be out here for a while. After a few moments trying to find the damn thing, though, she gave up, head pounding again. What was she looking for, again?

She walked along the side of SYNDROME'S, the warehouse's brick exterior extended beyond. Leaving behind the crowded front street and beckoning to the darkened alleyways and the side streets, it seemed another world away.

Her fingers scaled the brick wall, she even hummed a little bit. What was she humming? Not sure. Why was she so mad at Aladdin, anyway? She couldn't deny that she missed him, even as mad as she was at him for what he did. For what a fool he made out of her. But, he also had a lop-sided grin. And that ruffled hair that she so loved to touch. And his eyes -- ok, maybe she was allowing herself to miss some parts of him. But that didn't mean she forgave him. It didn't mean she wanted to ever talk to him again. It certainly didn't mean that. As she walked, she got a text, and from the ringtone she knew exactly who'd sent it.

"Speak of the devil," she mumbled, a smile creeping onto her lips. Then, her hand was in her purse, fingers reaching around her unlocking phone. Her feet had just crossed into shadows. Her stride swallowed in black.

"And we appear."

The voices that answered made her freeze in the darkness.

Anna had to muster up a lot of focus before she could muster up anything resembling focus. She had to make sure she'd even heard them correctly. Men. Two of them at least, talking at once. She felt her feet twist around almost on their own, and her head was dangerously close to swimming. Fuck, was all she could think. "Hello?" Was all she could call out. "Hello," answered the considerably much bigger forms from the blackness. Anna's hand tightened around her phone. She wished she could pull it out, but she didn't want it to even be noticed -- it could get slapped away. She wasn't sure that line of thinking made sense, but for now it was all she had. She hoped it was unlocking. She prayed her random thumbing on the screen would be enough to dial someone. Anyone. Even Aladdin, whose ringtone had just gone off moments ago, had just restarted her thumping heart.

She knew she was in deep trouble. Because it was with a sickening feeling that twisted her stomach and chilled her spine, that Anna realized she recognized the voices. The identical voices.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice quite a bit stronger than she thought it would be. Considering how much she was shaking. Could they tell, in the dark? "Or should I ask, what does Westerguard want?" "Now, see -- I told you she'd ruin all the fun, didn't I?" In two steps that seemed to take no time at all, the Stabbington brother with an eyepatch (a literal eyepatch, who was this guy?) was directly in front of Anna. The limiting darkness was less effective when someone was this close. Anna instinctively backed herself up into the wall, startled and scurrying like a frightened rabbit. She was frightened -- she was very frightened.

She knew exactly what Hans was capable of. And sending others in to do his dirty work for him well -- it was just like Hans. Anna's blood was ice.

"He said you'd talk a lot," Brutus went on, his breath warm on Anna's face. "Luckily, you won't have much to say in a bit. I even say you're already feeling a bit less chatty, right?" His tone made Anna hesitate. How did he know her tongue suddenly felt heavy and square? That her brain was layered in a thick fog? Her fingers felt like lead and tingled at the same time. Her eyes had trouble focusing.... Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh no. Ohhno...

Her absolute stupidity rolled over her in waves, much like the heavy blanket of whatever it was she'd taken. Whatever it was they'd given her. "But don't worry, we'll do all the talking anyway." There were hands on her, keeping her upright and against the wall. Her head was lolling, Marcus snapped it back, her bangs and the top of her head balled up in his giant fists.

"We're going to make this fast --" "Title of your sex tape--" Anna wasn't sure what made her say it aloud- probably because she didn't realize she'd said it at all until she was slapped very hard across the face. She also heard quiet laughter, but the fingers wrapped around her arms and ribs were quite a bit stronger from then on. She knew it would bruise.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch, and listen. We have a message for you." Oh goodie, thought Anna, though she stiffened. "Westerguard knows you're up to something. You and your precious sister have those investments hidden from the public, but we're not fooled. The merger with Southern Isles Trading will continue as scheduled."

There was a pause. Good luck with that, was what she wanted to say, but the words couldn't sort themselves out.

"So -- you think... I --" she couldn't get the words right. Her voice was trembling, her last understandable words (though hilarious) completely useless. She kicked out in frustration, finding one of their knees and landing a blow, hard. Her reward for bravery was her head getting slammed in the wall. Anna saw stars and cried out, a bit more of her resolve escaping.

All this was about money? About the companies? Her disdain for her family businesses, though profitable, though useful and charitable and valuable to her, though she cherished it -- she couldn't help but hate it all the same. Hate the kind of person Hans was. Power-hungry, a monster.

"And, Westerguard wanted us to remind you of something... else," Brutus went on. To Anna's horror, he was able to hold his one arm across her entire torso, his brother holding her hips and head. But with his other hand, Brutus withdrew a long knife from his pocket. Anna felt the cold blade before she really registered what it was, what it could do.

He dragged it up her thighs, across her stomach, held it against her throat. He pressed it down, the blade lay flat against her skin. Anna couldn't breathe. She was trembling now, she whimpered. She couldn't help it. "Don't forget," Marcus murmured in her ear. Her heart was beating so loudly she was amazed she heard him at all. "Your.....arrangement still stands." He cut into her cheek. She screamed, but no sound came out. ----------

It had started to rain. She wasn't really sure when she noticed the rain, or for how long it had been raining. Anna wasn't sure where to go, or what to do, really, but she didn't want to get rain on.

The Stabbingtons had left 20 minutes later. Or, at least, her phone said it was 20 minutes later, since Aladdin had first texted her. Her phone had managed to call him, but she couldn't read what anything said. She could barely keep her eyes open, and her head hadn't stopped spinning like a top. She was glad her dress was red. Even though it was ruined, surely, at least nobody would see all the blood. Just the cuts on her face. And arm. And her knee was pretty banged up, too. But the stuff on her back, from the wall? Maybe that would go mostly unnoticed?

Not that there was anyone around to see her, anyway.

The rain started to pick up, but Anna didn't know where to go. Not back inside the club -- that was too much attention. She didn't know where to walk to -- in her state, she'd probably end up on the highway. And the ground wasn't so bad. She was underneath a lamppost now, after continuing down the alleyway, this time towards FRONT STREET. Nothing felt like it was working right -- how had she even ended up outside? She wanted to cry. This night had been a total disaster from the very start, her own stupidity not included. The terror from the encounter with Hans' bodyguards was rippling through her. She stumbled frequently and had to catch herself on the wall a few times. Your arrangement. Your arrangement. Your arrangement. Your arrangement still stands. Anna leaned back against the side of the alley, lampost's ugly yellow light shining just enough for her to see what a mess she was. She pulled her knees up and rested her burning cheek between her knees, cradling it in her hands. She was shaking heavily now, from the cold, from the blood, from the knife, from the information, from the overwhelming pain. She was trapped. It was useless. She was useless. The lampost flickered twice and went out.

The night swallowed her whole.

[recurring-polynya]

Hi! thank you so much for all of these stories! I was wondering if you could write a one shot about the day Touma Kuchiki was born?

I can!

For those of you who don’t follow my every whimsy, Touma is Hisana and Byakuya’s toddler son in my lightweight, Austen-influenced Hisana-lived AU, a little in love, now and then.

I wasn’t sure what to do with this, whether to throw it in my pile of drabbles or what, but I decided to go ahead and put it right into the story proper and pretentiously call it an interlude, which of course, means that now I have to write more of them. I def plan to do at least one flashback to Rukia’s (surprisingly competent) rescue, but if you have any particular things you’re dying to see, hmu, you know I have no saving throw vs. reader requests.

Anyway, here you go, or if you prefer, you can find it on ao3 or ff.net, for convenient bookmarking and comment-leaving purposes (wags eyebrows). You don’t have to read any of the rest of the story to understand this.

“You should rest,” the 28th Head of the Kuchiki Clan informed Rukia, regarding her with his cold, grey eyes. She had found him sitting in the library, Hisana’s favorite room. It was dim and chilly. The shoji that led to the gardens were shut tight, and the shutters as well, but Rukia could feel the snow swirling roughly in the wind that battered the house. She could feel it in her heart.

“How can I rest now?” she tried to keep her tone measured.

“I did not say you should sleep,” Byakuya responded, nodding to the zabuton on the floor across the table from him. “I should hope that the Fourth Seat of Squad Thirteen would know how to rest her body while keeping her mind alert. It is the essence of tracking Hollows.”

Grudgingly, Rukia sank into seiza. The normally uncomfortable sitting position was a relief after hours of pacing the floorboards, the weight of her exhausted sister heavy against her shoulder.

“Tea?” Byakuya offered. “I am afraid it is a bit bracing.”

“Bracing is good,” Rukia nodded. She tried to look at his face without staring. Purple shadows limned his eyes. How long had Hisana labored, anyway? The hours of walking up and down the hallways had blurred together. Singing rowdy old Rukongai songs, mostly together, with Rukia taking over when Hisana needed to lean into the pain of a contraction. Breaks to rub Hisana’s back or feet. Holding bits of crushed ice to Hisana’s lips. Both Hisana and Rukia’s maids hovered nearby like loyal lieutenants, ready to fetch things or take over, should Rukia falter.

Rukia appreciated their presence, but she would never falter, not in this duty. She had held strong right until that stupid, noble doctor had declared that Hisana was “in transition” and ejected Rukia from the room.

Byakuya carefully poured her a cup and passed it over. Rukia couldn’t remember her brother-in-law ever pouring her a cup of tea before. Hisana was the one who poured the tea. “How does she fare?” he asked. “And you need not lie to me.”

Rukia wiggled her fingers around the cup. It was too hot to hold, really, but she didn’t want to put it down. “She is tired,” she replied. “But fierce. You underestimate her.”

“I do not. I merely trust your frankness over that of the doctor.”

“I do not trust the doctor, either,” Rukia was quick to announce. “He said that she has moved into the last stage. It is the shortest, but the most dangerous. He told her to lie down and said I could not stay.”

Byakuya’s grey eyes bored into her. “Have you assisted at a childbirth before?”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed red. “No,” she admitted, her voice defensive. In this, as in so many things, she had fallen down as a sister. All her life, she had thrown in with the boys instead of the women. She could gut a squirrel, climb a tree, purify a Hollow, heal or break an arm as the situation called for. She didn’t know how to braid hair or perform a dance or talk a sister out taking foolhardy risks with her precarious health.

“You resent me,” Byakuya said suddenly, and Rukia’s shoulders went stiff. Byakuya took a sip of his tea. “Believe me, you cannot harm me with that blade; I have cut myself with it enough already.”

“I didn’t…” Rukia started, and suddenly had nothing further to say.

What would it be like, she wondered, to live in this house, with this man, without Hisana’s warmth? She would like to think that she had nothing in common with him, but in fact, they shared a number of terrible personality traits: stubbornness, pride, cynicism, a tendency to close themselves off. Hisana was just as stubborn than either of them, though, and her brilliant, teasing humor brought color and joy to the household. Rukia knew that she and Byakuya would protect Hisana against a thousand enemies, but what could they do in a situation where swords were of no use? And where would they turn their swords, if there were nothing left to protect?

“She is a difficult person to love,” Byakuya broke Rukia from her reverie. “She does what she will. I could no sooner forbid her from this than I could dissuade her from scouring the Rukon for you.” He was silent for a moment. “I thought she would never regain her full health, but having you back again has given her strength. I cannot imagine how unstoppable she will be after bearing my son.”

Rukia wrinkled her nose, indignant at his presumptuousness. “It could be a girl.”

Byakuya contemplated this briefly. “I am sure she would take great glee in my being further outnumbered, but I feel that her desire to spite my aunts outweighs her love of exasperating me.”

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him. Do you even know how this works? she wanted to ask him, but instead, she sipped at her tea, which was just barely approaching a drinkable temperature. It was very strong, but delicious, floral, with a light, natural sweetness.

“The fool doctor said it’s taking so long because the baby is big and healthy and Sister is so small,” Rukia finally said. “If I had been around, I would have told her not to marry someone so stupidly tall.” Her mouth snapped shut in horror. Rukia did not say such things to her noble brother-in-law. Rukia hardly ever said anything to her noble brother-in-law. Hisana might tease him, but she was his Lady Wife, his best beloved. She knew where best to aim her blunted arrows to provoke a smile or a rejoinder without prodding the sleeping beast of his legendary pride. He’s going to kick me out, Rukia’s heart seized. Out of this room, possibly out of his house entirely.

But instead, the Kuchiki Clan Head snorted softly. “Your absence was very fortunate for me. I am sure she would have taken your advice to heart,” Byakuya replied, and Rukia had absolutely no idea if he was being serious or not.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “That wasn’t nice. You’ve always been very kind to my sister, and to me.”

Byakuya stared back at her, curiously. Finally, he said, “I am also sorry. Your presence here is always appreciated. Thank you for staying with Hisana.”

They sat in silence, sipping their tea, Rukia unsuccessfully willing her muscles to relax. Had he gone strange and punchy out of tiredness and concern for his wife? Had she always overestimated his coldness, too fearful of provoking his wrath to see past his fierce reputation? Or perhaps… perhaps, though she never would have guessed it, he did harbor a tiny bit of familial affection for her. He had lost most of his immediate family long ago, and she gathered that he was not truly close to the other stern, powerful men he called friends. He had been sitting here, alone, for hours.

“It’s cold in here,” Rukia finally observed. “Is the kotatsu out of charcoal?”

“I keep throwing the servants out,” Byakuya admitted. “I am sure they are needed elsewhere. If you are cold, I will have it relit immediately.”

“I don’t get cold,” Rukia replied. “But Sister will have my head if she finds out I let you sit in here being cold and moody.”

Byakuya gave off another little snort.

Suddenly, there was a shuffle of feet outside the door, and Byakuya and Rukia both sat up straight.

“What is it?” Byakuya demanded, on his feet before anyone even had a chance to knock.

The shoji slid open, Seike, the head of household staff entered, joy overwriting the age lines on his face. “Lord Byakuya,” he choked out. “Your Lady is delivered of a son.”

 🌸    🌸    🌸

Hisana was sitting up in bed. Her face was a bit pale, but she otherwise looked as fresh as a daisy. Her eyes flickered upward as what sounded like two water buffalo tried to jostle their way into her room, but her face remained tilted down toward the bundle of white silk blankets in her arms. “Here is the moment of truth,” she hummed in a little sing-song. “As to who is more interested in you and who cares more about me.”

Rukia, jammed into the doorway by Byakuya’s elbow, was momentarily dumbfounded. Obviously, her sister was of the utmost importance, but how could she ignore her sister’s glory, this crowning achievement that Hisana had wished and worked for over so many years?

Byakuya evidently had no such compunctions. “You,” he gasped thickly, pushing past Rukia to fall at his wife’s bedside and press her hand to his face.

Hisana looked shocked, not having expected her sallies to have such an effect. “What did that doctor tell you?” she asked. “You weren’t worried for me, were you? Women have babies all the time, you know.”

“All women are not you,” Byakuya replied, softly.

Rukia hung back in the entrance, unsure of what to do. Should she leave? She should have waited, this moment was for her sister and brother-in-law. Just as her feet started to shuffle backwards, Hisana called out “Rukia! Come take this lump of lead with your big shinigami muscles! This child is too heavy to hold in one hand, and Byakuya won’t give me back my other one!”

Pulling herself together, Rukia dashed to her sister’s side, and took the bundle of blankets into her own arms. “Some people have no appreciation of all your hard work,” she announced boldly. The baby seemed mostly asleep, although he scrunched his wrinkly little face as he was passed over. “I have never seen a more perfect child, truly,” she went on. It was true, of course, in the sense that she had never actually seen a newborn before. “He has both your strength and good looks, Sister!”

“I should hope not, he looks rather red and smushy to me,” Hisana replied.

“A future Gotei captain!” Rukia went on. “Head-Captain, possibly! Probably a poet, as well and an artist, surely! A very credit to the Kuchiki!”

“Byakuya, please go admire your son before Rukia proclaims him the next Soul King,” Hisana ordered dryly.

“He could be,” Rukia protested as Byakuya rose to his full height on the other side of Hisana’s bed, and regarded her icily. Unwilling to give in to her brother-in-law’s theatrics, Rukia gave the baby a last cuddle and a kiss on the forehead. “I am your auntie,” she informed him. “I will teach you everything I know. Everything.”

As Rukia finally passed the baby over to his father, Hisana grabbed her arm and tugged her down onto the bed. Her older sister pulled her close, burying her face in her hair. “Ah, Rukia, thank you so much. I could not have done it without you.”

“I rather think you would have,” Rukia informed her. “But I am glad I could be with you. I will always be here for you. And him.”

“I know,” Hisana whispered back to her.

A bit embarrassed at all this emotion, Rukia chanced a look up at her brother-in-law, who had been strangely silent. Not that he wasn’t usually silent, but this was the sort of occasion he would usually take to pontificate a bit. He was examining the baby, a look of utter bushwackedness on his face. Rukia stifled a laugh. Byakuya reminded her of nothing so much as the time her childhood friend, Renji, had unexpectedly speared an absolutely massive carp-- the way he had stood there in the river, mouth slack, eyes wide, arms wrapped around a flopping two-foot long fish, unable to believe his good fortune.

Rukia was fairly certain Byakuya wouldn’t appreciate being compared to an Inuzuri street rat any more than he would appreciate his son and heir being compared to a carp.

“Well?” Hisana demanded in her rudest voice, the one she used when she was trying to get Byakuya riled up. “Did I do it right? Did I make a Kuchiki? Or is it back to the drawing board?”

“Rukia is correct,” Byakuya managed, his voice rough and low. “I see much of you in him. He is perfect.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hisana sighed dramatically, as if she had really been worried. She shot Rukia a conspiratorial glance and wagged her eyebrows slightly. “Remind me again, the name you picked out? Do you think it’s fitting?”

“You will find out,” Byakuya replied, in a gentle tone more directed at the baby than at his wife, “in seven days, at the naming ceremony, as is tradition.”

Hisana sighed. “It was worth a try. Well, I’ve got to call him something until then. Rukia, what shall it be?”

“Chappy,” Rukia replied automatically.

“Chappy, it is,” Hisana nodded curtly. “Seven days, or until we get a real name.”

“We must put up with them,” Byakuya solemnly informed his heir, “because we have no choice. But at least there are two of us against two of them, now.”

Rukia saw her sister opening her mouth again, so she slipped her arm around Hisana’s back and gave her a quick squeeze. “Let him have this,” she whispered, “we both know it won’t last long.”

Hisana just laughed and leaned back into her sister’s embrace.

[razieltwelve]

Avatar (Fire Emblem 3H/Final Rose)

Jeralt watched the battle unfold with grim fascination. Even now, more than five years after he’d first begun to let his daughter take command in earnest, it was still almost frightening to watch her at work. Oh, he was a skilled commander himself, and he’d served alongside and faced no shortage of talented leaders as well. However, his daughter was beyond all of them.

There was a reason people called her both the Ashen Demon and the Queen of the Battlefield.

She had commanded dozens of battles over the past five years, and she hadn’t lost a single one. Moreover, her victories had been devastating. She didn’t just beat her opponents. She crushed them, leaving utter carnage in her wake. More than one of their rival mercenary companies had challenged them on the field of battle only to be wiped out.

Jeralt wanted to believe that he was at least partially responsible for his daughter’s prowess, but Byleth had always been different. Even as a child, she had looked out at the world with eyes both far too cold and far too keen for any child. When the time had come to teach her the ways of combat, it hadn’t been like teaching a novice. No, it had been more like watching a veteran reacquaint themselves with their old weapons.

And then there was the magic.

Once Byleth had been introduced to magic, she’d approached it with the same ruthless efficiency she approached combat and leadership. As far as anyone could tell, she was a prodigy, someone who had a knack for cutting right to the heart of the matter to devise ever more powerful and ever more efficient spells. 

Over the past two years, she’d even begun to incorporate more and more spell craft into the mercenary company’s weaponry. He was no expert, but Jeralt knew enough to realise that her ‘seals’, as she called them, were growing closer and closer in functionality to crests. But unlike crests, they didn’t belong to people. Instead, they could be put on weapons, armour, and other objects, and they were fuelled by the ambient currents of magic that filled the world.

He’d been a bit wary after she’d worked on inscribing seals on a set of his armour, but after trying it on and witnessing firsthand how effective it was, he’d asked her to teach him as much as she could. Seal-craft wasn’t easy, but even with his rudimentary understanding, the implications were obvious. With less than a dozen lesser seals at his disposal, he could already greatly enhance his offensive and defensive prowess while imbuing his weapons and armour with a variety of abilities.

For obvious reasons, though, he and Byleth had both agreed on playing down the significance of this new form of magic and in keeping its operation as secret as possible. The only ones she’d taught were him and the most trusted members of their company. Even so, rumours had begun to spread.

And marriage offers had begun to come in.

Jeralt scowled, and his lips curled in distaste. His little girl was not only a peerless warrior, unmatched commander, and magical savant, but she was also a growing beauty. There had been no shortage of offers from the nobility eager to win not only her hand but also the loyalty of the mercenary company as well because for as cold as she could be, Byleth had the loyalty of the mercenaries. With her and Jeralt as their leaders, they had earned far more coin than they ever thought possible while taking far fewer casualties than they could ever have dreamed.

He smirked. His ‘little’ company of mercenaries had grown from a few dozen to a force numbering five thousand of the most elite soldiers in the world. In all honesty with him and his daughter leading them, he would pit his five thousand against any ten thousand other soldiers without a moment’s hesitation.

Still, he wasn’t about to let some stupid noble steal his daughter away. No. He’d gut anyone who tried to lay a hand on her and damn the consequences. Of course, it wasn’t like he’d have to do the gutting himself. Byleth had shown plenty of skill at that already, both with a blade and with coldly spoken words.

Just thinking about how she’d handled the lost foppish noble to make a play for her hand brought a smile to his lips. Now that had been hilarious. He chuckled and urged his horse forward as the signal for their cavalry to charge was given. This ought to finish things off, and then they could go to their next job. His thoughts drifted for a moment. It would take him back to a place he’d long left behind.

X     X     X

“Father.”

His musings came to a halt as Byleth raised her fist into the air. He stopped and looked around. Her senses were incredibly keen. “What is it?”

“Trouble,” Byleth murmured. “Bandits… and some other people.”

“This near the village?” Jeralt growled. This wasn’t some war torn area. This place was supposed to be relatively safe. “We’ll take a look. We can always back off if there are too many of them, but I wouldn’t feel right leaving without knowing what they’re up to.”

“Understood.” Byleth nodded. “The usual?”

“Aye,” Jeralt said, grinning. “I’ll take the lead. If I have to, I’ll get their attention, and you can go ambush them.”

“Try not to get stabbed, father,” Byleth drawled, the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. “It would be a hassle having to take over the company right now.”

“Hah!” He gave her shoulder a fond squeeze. “I’m getting older, kid, but not that old. I’ve got at least another couple of decades before I have to worry about getting killed by random bandits.” He gestured. “Let’s get moving.”

X     X     X

Byleth bit back a smile as she watched her father stalk toward the bandits. He wasn’t as stealthy as he thought he was, but her standards were a little higher than most. After all, she’d spent a lifetime around two of the finest huntresses the Yun had ever produced.

“So,” Sothis said. “What are you going to do if there are a lot of bandits?”

Byleth didn’t bother to look at the green-haired girl who only she could see. Sothis had appeared in her dreams for months before finally appearing in earnest a few weeks ago. As far as she could tell, Sothis was harmless. In fact, she could actually be quite useful when it came to scouting. 

However, the real kicker had come when Byleth had asked Saviour to examine Sothis more closely. Her Semblance was still not at its full power - being reborn into another world had all but reset its power, and she’d spent the past twenty years rebuilding it - but it had still been able to tell that Sothis was not merely some random spirit.

No, Sothis was apparently something far, far more than a mere spirit. Indeed, experimentation had revealed that she had the ability to rewind time. Given Saviour’s own time-manipulation abilities, they were able to largely negate the downsides of Sothis’s power, not that Byleth had needed to use it much. So far, she’d yet to encounter anything that could truly challenge her power.

“She’ll probably kill them all,” Saviour said. Her Semblance had started to copy Sothis’s habit of hanging around and offering commentary. “She hates bandits in this life… and she hated them in her past life too.”

Sothis shook her head in disbelief. “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around that, but the evidence is pretty strong.”

Byleth continued to slink through the shadows. It was still sometimes troubling to look at Saviour. Her Semblance’s appearance hadn’t changed in this new world. Saviour still sported the pink hair and green eyes that Byleth had once seen in the mirror every morning. Now, though, Byleth’s appearance was different. At least, she was still a woman in this life. It would have been much more awkward if she’d been born male.

“Quiet,” Byleth murmured. “We’re getting close now.”

“Just don’t get killed,” Sothis said. “Because I’d rather not find out what happens if the person I’m attached to ends up dead.”

Saviour chuckled and patted the girl on the head. “Based on my projections, you’ll disappear if we die.”

“Yay.” Sothis sounded less than enthusiastic. “Well, try not to die then. I like being around.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And let me know if we need to meddle with time. It’s not the easiest thing in the world, but it’s better than being dead.”

Saviour rolled her eyes. “Against bandits? We’ll be fine. The only thing we should be worrying about is whether or not she’s going to get blood everywhere again.”

Sothis pointed. “Maybe we should pick up the pace. It looks like there are some people in trouble up ahead.”

Byleth’s eyes narrowed. She could see her father hidden amidst the shadows on the opposite side of a clearing. Within the clearing were a trio of young people, two young men and a young woman, surrounded by bandits. She met her father’s gaze, and he gave a small nod before running out into the open.

“Looking for trouble?” Jeralt boomed as he raised his sword. “Well, you’ve found it, bandit scum.”

As the bandits turned to face the new threat, Byleth took a split-second to identify the optimum course of action. Satisfied, she breezed forward. It was time to get to work.

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Yep, this is Averia in Fire Emblem: Three Houses. 

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here.

[shadowsnlace]

Let's request something fun! Since you love medieval AU, how about HCs or a scenario for a Lady!Reader finding out that to secure certain borders and trade rights, she has been unconventionally betrothed to Lords Ukitake and Kyoraku to bind all three Houses together. How do you think that would go? (Personally, I'd ask how soon the wedding could be!)

Brilliant idea! I LOVE this and loved writing it! I can’t tell you how happy I was when I saw you in my ask box! ;) Grab a cuppa, get comfy, and get ready for nice jaunt back in time! Love you!

Note: This is set in a fantasy medieval land much like 13th century Britain. I did my best to try to capture the experience of a virgin bride. Almost all of the modern/conventional words we use to describe things are pretty much gone. (I had to break down and use some modern genital words. Hey, I gotta call them something!) I did that to keep the feel of the time period and try to give the experience of a lady of that time.

Glossary: wanton - (used as a noun) - a sexually unrestrained woman.

This got really long, so settle in. I couldn’t help it. I hope you all enjoy it!

“Alliance”  - Shunsui Kyoraku and Jushiro Ukitake

A collective gasp filled the hall followed by the murmur of numerous nobles, courtiers, and servants.

“Scandalous!” 

“Unheard of!”

“That poor woman!”

“How can her father do that to her?!”

All of the whispers washed over you as you stood alone in the center of the hall, facing your father. The announcement had been made that you were to wed not one, but two powerful men of the realm. Your ears were still ringing. Your vision swam with unshed tears. How could he humiliate you like this?

You felt the need to flee the hall, but found yourself rooted to the spot, your face hot with shame and anger. The wild thought of grabbing a knife from one of the tables and stabbing it into your father’s black heart was so tempting. 

Suddenly, you felt warmth at your back. One presence then another joined you in the middle of the swirling storm of voices. Sir Shunsui Kyoraku and Sir Jushiro Ukitake, your betrothed, stepped around you. Both men placed themselves between you and your father – and they both looked angry. 

You couldn’t believe how big they were. Dressed in varying shades of grey, both men were so handsome it nearly seemed impossible. Shoulders so broad, chests so deep, thighs so powerful…both were physically intimidating and yet, you didn’t feel afraid of them at all. In fact, you felt a bit a warm and a strange flutter in your stomach.

“We asked you to allow us to approach the lady in private, my lord.” Shunsui’s posture was defensive.  

Your father waved a hand dismissively, “I do as I please, Lord Kyoraku.”

A muscle tightened in Shunsui’s jaw, “Then Sir Ukitake and I shall do as we please – we are taking the lady to Ugendo. We will wed her there in a fortnight.” He started to turn his back on your father, but stopped and looked back, “We will expect her dowry to be paid before then.”

Jushiro grinned, a flash of straight, white teeth giving him a menacing edge, “Fail to do so and we will be back here with our armies.”

You watched your father’s face turn beet-red. He had been crowing so loudly about his cleverness in getting two powerful alliances for the price of one virgin. Now, it seemed that your future husbands were not very fond of your father at all. He sputtered, “If you take her, you take only her. Everything she owns stays here!” Another gasp ran through the room.

All the things you’d saved for years in your hope chest….your clothes….your books….your needlework…. your mementos gathered over the years, all of them memories of your late mother and the few friends you’d had in your youth. 

You’d had enough. “Fine!” Your voice cracked in the hall like a whip. You grabbed the cloth of your dress and started ripping it off. Shunsui and Jushiro’s eyes went wide. Both men closed in to shield you as you stripped yourself bare. Jushiro pulled off his cloak, wrapped it around you, wrapped you right into his side. He started to lead you out of the hall, but you wiggled away. You kicked off your shoes, picked them up, and threw them one at a time at your father as a frustrated yell bubbled up your throat. 

Before you could start cursing your father, Shunsui swept you up against his thick chest. “Allow me, my lady.” You looked up to find grey eyes echoing the smile on his lips. “I cannot allow such lovely feet to touch the ground.” His warmth seemed to flow into you and you fought back the urge to cuddle deeper into his embrace. You looked over to see Jushiro level one last cold look at your father before he turned and walked out of the hall next to Shunsui.

—- 2 Weeks Later —-

Ugendo: Perhaps the most beautiful castle in all the realm. You had heard of the seaside castle that seemed to sparkle in the sun. You’d thought it was all just the fanciful embellishments of bards. The reality was so much more than words could describe. Much like it’s lord, the Ukitake lands and castle were magnificent. Overlooking the sea, Ugendo shimmered like tiny jewels had been set into the stones. It was breathtaking, also like it’s lord. 

It had taken a week of travel to reach Ugendo. Upon leaving your father’s castle, Shunsui and Jushiro took you to the marketplace. They had bought you clothes, shoes, jewelry (they both insisted), a horse, and most dear to you – two new books that you hadn’t read before.

The trip had been very pleasant. During the day, both men would ride next to you and keep you engaged in conversation. You quickly deduced that they knew much more about you than you knew about them. Their reputations were well known. They were quite the favorites when it came to court gossip. Sir Kyoraku’s amorous exploits were nearly as legendary as his skill on the battlefield. Sir Ukitake was more of a mystery. Beyond his prowess as warrior and his manner as a noble, the whispers at court were mostly mixed speculation as to his love life. 

Both men were more than happy to dispel rumors and give you an honest look into exactly who they were. By the time you reached Ugendo you were well on your way to being in love with them both. 

The next week at Ugendo was a whirlwind of activity. Between wedding plans, guests arriving, and Shunsui and Jushiro spiriting you away to private meals or walks in the garden or along the shore, you were beginning to get a taste of what life with these men would be like. You’d also gotten a taste of what physical delights awaited you. Shunsui had given you a passionate kiss in the moonlight while he walked the gardens with you. Jushiro had also kissed you that night while you’d cuddled with him in a private solar near your room. Both experiences had left you feeling hot, shaky, and aching in places you didn’t know could ache like that. If they effected you like that from just kissing, what was your wedding night going to be like?

——-

The gathering for your wedding was staggering. The sea of faces that watched you walk the aisle toward the priest and your waiting husbands-to-be all faded into a blur. Your eyes were trained on Shunsui and Jushiro, both looked so handsome in their wedding finery you hardly knew which one to stare at. Once you reached the end of the aisle, they flanked you. Jushiro held up his left hand, you placed your left hand on top of it, and Shunsui placed his left hand on top of yours. As the priest spoke, all you could think of was your tiny hand, warm and safe between theirs. You knew in that moment that you loved them, truly and completely. 

Jushiro nudged you. You looked up with a start. The priest looked expectant. You swore you heard Jushiro chuckle.

Shunsui’s whisper was soft and full of mirth, “This is the part where you say, ‘I do.’”

Your voice rang out without any hesitation or quaver, “Yes! I do! I most certainly do!”

Laughter rippled around you but you only heard Shunsui and Jushiro’s chuckles.

The priest placed a length of white silk around your combined wrists and tied it in a loose knot. He said a prayer over your hands then blessed your union. Gold rings, engraved with the crests of your three houses, were placed on the ring-finger of all three left hands. And then, two sets of lips were kissing you, each pressing to a corner of your lips. You wanted to toss your arms around them in turn and kiss them passionately like they’d taught you, but for propriety you kept yourself in check. 

Seated between your husbands – Wow, your husbands! You ate very little at the celebration feast. Your stomach was a jumble of nerves and your feet were shifting under your chair. 

Jushiro leaned in, dropped a light kiss on your right shoulder, “You should eat, my love.” His green eyes were twinkling with something you couldn’t put a name to but knew it wasn’t simply amusement, “You’ll need the energy later.”

You could feel a blush warm your cheeks and neck. Shunsui’s hand was reassuring on your back, “He’s right, petal, once you’ve eaten we can move on to more pleasant pursuits.” You thought he meant dancing – his eyes said different, as did the low rumble in his chest that you could only compare to a purr. Jushiro’s huff of breath and chuckle confirmed that they were clearly speaking of something you couldn’t quite understand – yet.

One dance. All you got was one dance with your husbands. They took turns moving through the steps with you. When the music stopped to allow the dancers to re-position for the next song, Jushiro took your hand and headed for the exit. Shunsui swept a bow to the wedding guests, “We thank you all for joining us for this joyous event. But, now it is time for us to take our leave.” He didn’t wait around to respond to the ribald jests that followed him out of the hall and up the stairs to the master apartment.

When Shunsui caught up to you and Jushiro, you were pushed against the wall a few feet from the door to the master apartment. Jushiro’s mouth was slanting over yours in a heated exchange, his body pressed against yours, his hands in your hair. Shunsui’s laugh was playful, “Getting started without me, eh?”

Jushiro sealed the kiss but didn’t take his eyes from yours, “How can I resist such beauty?” His thumb passed lightly over your bottom lip, “Truly, these lips were made for kissing.” 

The next moments were a flurry of movement. Shunsui swept you up into his arms and carried you into the master apartment. Jushiro was close behind to close the door and lock it. He wanted no interruptions.

Shunsui carried you all the way into the bedroom, setting you by the fireplace so you’d be warm. His hands framed your face as his mouth captured yours in a kiss that made you feel hotter than any fireplace ever could. Your head began to swim a bit. Then, Jushiro was behind you, his fingers working to free you from the lacing that was holding your dress together at the back. You felt the fabric loosen. Shunsui pulled back from you as Jushiro lifted the dress and your shift over your head. 

The second you were clear from your clothes, Shunsui was back. His hands roamed your bare skin, a low growl escaping as he watched where he touched you. “Perfect.” One hand skimmed over your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand. He lifted it to his lips, kissed your palm, ran his tongue over it then he grinned when you gasped. He pulled you close, gray eyes shining in the firelight with something raw and animalistic. Your whole body shuddered. His look instantly became concerned, “Are you afraid, wife?”

You swallowed hard…ye gods, your throat was so dry! “N – No. I’m not afraid.” You reached for his face, let the bristle of his beard tickle your hand, “I will never be afraid of you or Jushiro.”

He smiled down at you, dropped a soft kiss on your lips. He gently turned you around to face Jushiro.

The sight made your knees wobble. Jushiro stood completely naked in the firelight. And, he had let his hair down. All that glorious white, silky hair was cascading around him like a heavenly aura. Your eyes followed the lines and shadows of his muscles…down….down….By all that’s holy!

“That’s not going to fit.” You had spoken your stray thought out loud. Shunsui’s laughter made you realize it.

Jushiro was snickering. He reached for you, pulled you close until his skin met yours, “Trust me, sweetheart, we will fit together perfectly.” 

He was so warm. Every place he touched you left a prickly sensation on your skin. His hand moved up your ribcage to cup a breast as his head dipped to allow him to lick your nipple. “Oh!” Your body swayed in his grasp, your back arched to give him better access. A soft hum of approval, then his mouth covered your nipple and he sucked. Your whole body bucked as a squeal of surprise escaped. It feels so good….His chuckle against your sensitive peak made your legs shake. Your fingers sank into his hair, holding him to you, needing to touch him. He lifted his lips to yours, tongue delving deep to sweep you even further into a state of mounting heat. 

He stepped back and sat down in the big chair by the fireplace. You were guided into his lap, but turned away, back to face Shunsui. 

Shunsui stood in all his bared glory, looking like a god. He was a bit larger than Jushiro, but not by much. The hard planes of muscle covered his body like a suit of armor under his flesh. The dark hair on his chest fascinated you. You wondered how it would feel when he pressed his body against yours. Would it be soft or coarse? Would it feel much different from Jushiro’s skin?

Then your eyes were drawn to the erection that stood proud. Your eyes went round as your mouth fell open. Seeing your expression, Shunsui smiled, “Don’t worry, we’ll fit, you’ll see.” His eyes met Jushiro’s over your shoulder.

Jushiro moved you to lean back against his chest. You were very aware of his hard, hot erection nestled against your lower back. You had barely registered the thought when his hands reached under your thighs and lifted them open. Your sex was completely open and exposed. A protest was mounting on your lips until you saw the hunger in Shunsui’s gaze as it settled there. 

One step. Then he was on his knees, his lips and hands grazing the back of your thighs. You tried to squirm but couldn’t in Jushiro’s grip. You watched with unbridled curiosity as Shunsui dragged his tongue over your swollen lips all the way up to a place that ripped the moan right from your throat.

Jushiro let go of your legs, allowing them to settle on Shunsui’s wide shoulders. His hands moved up to cup your breasts, thumbs lightly stroking over your nipples in careful movements to match what Shunsui’s mouth was doing. You moaned again. Your head fell back onto his shoulder. Jushiro’s lips skimmed over your ear, his breath sending a tickling wave down your back. Combined with Shunsui’s lips moving between your legs, the sensations were making your body feel tight and restless.

You squirmed. Shunsui growled. His hands held your hips, making you be still while keeping you right where he wanted you. His tongue was lapping at that wonderfully sensitive place, his lips closing over it to suck. His eyes lifted to yours and he winked at you. You couldn’t do more than just stare and pant, yet you managed a quick smile. Your hands were on the arms of the chair, fingers clawing at the fabric. 

You were burning from the inside out. Jushiro’s lips on your neck, his hands on your breasts. Shunsui’s mouth devouring you like a starving man, his hands moving on your hips and lower stomach. Something was growing in you, threatening to take over. 

Then, it happened…a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your head flung back against Jushiro’s shoulder as screams of ecstasy erupted from your throat. Colors of every hue danced behind your eyelids. You had no concept of anything except the feeling of being swept away.

Shunsui and Jushiro were drinking in your cries of pleasure, their touches carrying you through peak after peak until you slumped – spent, euphoric, tremors running from your shoulders to you your knees.

The feeling of soft blankets. The weight of a male body, honed from decades of training and combat, was a welcome sensation. You opened your eyes to find Jushiro settling over you. His hair spilled around you, curtaining you in a private world where his kiss stirred the embers in your belly back to life. You felt something nudge the apex of your thighs. It was time. This was the moment you had feared and secretly longed for. The mystery would be solved.

One hand guided his engorged member while the other held him propped over you. “Open for me, sweet wife.” You gave him a loving smile and spread your legs, pulling your knees up like he’d done for Shunsui. His eyes never left yours as he pushed forward slowly. 

Your body was more than ready for Jushiro, but he met with a slight resistance. An easy, gentle roll of his hips and it felt like unused muscles stretching for the first time. Was this supposed to be the pain you’d been warned about? It was such a small ache, but one that only seemed to fill you with longing. Slow, inch by inch, he just kept sinking into you. Finally, he stopped, seated deep. An audible groan escaped his lips and you wondered if perhaps you’d hurt him. His forehead pressed to yours as a shiver ran through him. “Mmm, see,” his voice was thick, “we fit together perfectly.” He kissed you, tongue dipping in, catching the edge of your upper lip. “Are you all right?”

Your hands slid up his back, pulling his body toward yours in an effort to communicate your need without words. “Yes, love, I’m better than all right.” Hips shifting impatiently, your voice came out a bit breathy, “I – I need –” Then he moved and your words were stolen away on the gasp that left your lips. The slide of him inside you felt unlike anything you could imagine. The pleasure, the sweet ache…oh, please, don’t stop.

Jushiro’s smile was playful, “Oh, I know precisely what you need.” Slow and steady, his hips were moving, rolling, his hard length sending tendrils of pleasure racing through you. Each movement was better than the last until you didn’t think you could take anymore. 

On and on he kept going, speeding up then slowing down. Kisses that stole your wits gave you a feeling of being completely connected to him. He shifted to trail kisses down your neck until he reached your breasts. His mouth was hungry on them, licking, sucking, groaning against your flesh. The added sensations drove you higher into a frenzy that burned white hot at the base of your spine.

That restless feeling was building again, coiling inside you, beating at your brain. You knew what was coming and began to rock back against Jushiro’s thrusts in an effort to reach it. His lips were a mere inch from yours, both of you locked together so close, your pants fanning each other’s faces. 

Then you were crying out, the sounds uncontrollable and primal. Jushiro’s thrusts were deep and hard, pushing you beyond your breaking point. You could feel your body fluttering, clenching, and heard his guttural cry against your neck. His body went completely stiff beneath your hands and you felt a shudder run through him.  

You were floating, not quite aware of anything until you felt something cool and wet between your legs. You cracked open your eyes to find Jushiro cleaning you with a damp cloth. He looked happy, but a bit concerned, “Are you sore?”

You shook your head, “No, not at all.” You sat up to catch his lips in a sweet kiss.

You looked over to find Shunsui watching you. He was relaxed against a pile of pillows, a goblet in his hand, and looking like the most sinful temptation in all the realm. He quirked a brow, “Are you sure you’re all right?” When you nodded and smiled, he held his hand out to you. The moment you put your hand in his, he pulled you into his lap, moving you so that you straddled his thighs. His hard length was trapped between your bellies. He gave you a drink from his goblet. The spiced wine was soothing to your dry mouth. Once you’d emptied the goblet, you set it aside on the small bedside table and returned your focus to him.

You wrapped your arms around Shunsui, eager for his kiss, but more eager to press your body against his. His chest hair was soft and just a bit coarse, giving you a wonderful prickle against your skin, especially your nipples. You couldn’t hold back a mewl of need as you rubbed yourself against him, your tongue tangling with his. He nipped at your jaw, teeth grazing on his way to your neck. His lips, tongue, and teeth stirred your desire making you want more.

Shunsui’s chuckle was a rumble at your throat as one hand pressed your chest to his while the other moved down to cup and squeeze your butt. His fingers crept between your legs, rubbing your swollen lips and spreading the dampness that was gathering there. You moaned, your hands curling into the long locks of his hair that had tumbled over his shoulders.. He shifted a bit, “Push up just a bit, petal.”

You pushed up onto your knees, unsure of his request, but trusting him. You looked down and watched as he guided his erection between your legs. He rubbed it back and forth between your nether lips, making you shiver in anticipation. Then, he stopped, one hand pressing on your hip. You took the hint and sank down. Your head fell back on a loud groan as your body welcomed him inside. Shunsui let out a strangled moan, “By the gods, you feel so good!”

A thrill shot through you – you were giving him pleasure! Suddenly, you felt powerful. Two legendary knights of the realm were your husbands. And, the most notorious lover in all the land was currently underneath you, completely at your mercy, and if the look on his face were any indication, he was really enjoying it.

You squirmed, unsure of how to move. Shunsui hissed, grabbed your hips, and rocked you slowly. You quickly fell into the rhythm, unable to hold back the gasps and moans as he stretched you. So deep, so hard, so wonderful…

His hands wandered. He gently kneaded your breasts, the rough pads of his thumbs sending bolts of heat through you every time he dragged them over your sensitive peaks. 

Your hands looked so small compared to the wide planes of his chest. A thought skittered through your mind – if it felt good for him to touch your nipples, would he like that too? You leaned over and swept your tongue over his nipple. The reward was instant. He gasped in shock, hands clenching your thighs. A chuckle followed, “Little minx, you learn fast.”

You looked up at him and gave him a wink. Shunsui laughed, rich and deep, but it choked off when you settled your lips on the little bead of flesh under your tongue and sucked. His hands moved to your butt – squeezing, grinding you onto him as he thrust up. You groaned. The vibration pulled a matching groan from him.

Your thoughts of power were quickly chased away as Shunsui showed you just how powerful he was. You may have been on top, but he was the one driving you the edge of madness. Muscles were bunching under you, lifting you, pulling you back down. Every stroke of him inside you was pure magic.

Then he tilted you just a bit and new nerves sprang to life. You cried out. One hand moved to that little bud, that place you now knew would send you straight into bliss-filled oblivion. His thumb circled. “Oooooh!” You bucked in his grasp. He grinned up at you and kept stroking. Your eyes cinched shut as the world seemed to fall away on a tide of ecstasy.

You were rocking hard, wails of rapture filling the room. Shunsui grunted, sat up, wrapped his arms around you tight as if he was holding on to keep you from flying away. You could feel yourself clenching around him. His face was pressed to your chest, panting hard, thrusting hard. Then, he moaned loud and long, his body riding the last pulses of his release. 

Awareness was fleeting. You felt Shunsui lay you down. The cool wetness returned. You couldn’t open your eyes to find out who was cleaning you, it seemed to be too much effort. The world seemed softer, lighter, somehow much more wonderful than it had been before. 

Warmth surrounded you. Shunsui had curled up to your back, one arm tucked under the pillow you shared, the other draped lazily over your waist. Jushiro’s legs tangled with yours, as he settled himself comfortably against you. He kissed your lips, lingering, enjoying the feel of that simple contact. Shunsui nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck.  

Jushiro looked into your eyes as one finger traced your face, pushing a lock of  hair behind your ear, “Are you happy, my love?”

You smiled, “Deliriously happy.” You let your fingers trail over the contours of his chest to his abs, drifting lower. “I do believe you two have unleashed quite the wanton.” He sucked in a breath when your hand stroked his half-hard manhood as your teeth grazed his neck. You were feeling bold. You wanted them again, wanted them both with a hunger that seemed to know no bounds. Will I ever get enough of them? The answer was an immediate echo: Never.

Shunsui was snickering, “Well, Jushiro, I don’t think we’re going to be getting any sleep tonight.”

[asherlockstudy]

Here’s why every character surviving to the end of GoT is a loser

Yes, even your Starks

I made a post yesterday saying I would like it if Jon was King Beyond the Wall and Sansa Queen in the North.  Despite this, I will now tell you why this was the worst ending possible for every character involved in the last episode, including the aforementioned ones. 

Daenerys. I will say it. Of all the horrible endings, Dany's was the least horrible one! The major problem with her plot line is how rushed it is. Other than that, we always had signs of what she could become. Dany ends up being the female Hitler and honestly I don't mind that. She came big and she left big...just from the other side.

Drogon. GREEDY HUMANS! FUCK YOUR POWER HUNGER! IT’S ALL FOR NOTHIIIIIIIIIIING! DROGON’S OUTTA HERE

Jon. Oh boy. I never cared for Jon yet even I felt sorry for that character. No wonder Kit was crying. Jon becomes the ultimate vessel for the plot and the sole reason of his whole heritage and existence is to cut off Dany's bullshit. What's worse is that he can't do it on his own, he can't think for himself and for the people anymore and Tyrion has to brainwash him. He becomes a coward, shivering in front of his destiny and his true name. Let alone that he has zero chemistry with Emilia and therefore the oh so tragic moment when he overcomes himself and kills her convinces nobody. Yes, he finds the free folk in the end but the problem is that it is not his choice. It is not self-exile. His siblings sent him away all alone to appease... Greyworm. A disgrace to all the years Kit was shooting with that costume in a snowstorm.

Greyworm. Ultimate character assassination. Yes, Greyworm was fiercely loyal to Dany but he never struck me as blind to justice and mercy. Would Jorah obey THIS Dany even after her death? Man, I don't think so. Even Jorah would quit before Jon and Greyworm and this says something about this writing. But the absolute worst is that in the end he sails to Naath. What, were we supposed to feel sorry for him? To empathise?  He's a mass murderer. Why the fuck should I care if he misses Missandei? The last moment "he sails for a good cause now" is fucking ridiculous.

Tyrion. Up until he's imprisoned, he's relatively okay. After that, he forgets very easily his losses and especially the one of his most beloved family member, his brother's demise. His trial is a joke, where he soon takes the upper hand again, and chooses the worst candidate for a king (more on that later). After that, it is clear clever Tyrion learned nothing from his journey, his experiences and his grave mistakes that led to the destruction of the whole city and his own family. He happily becomes the Hand of the King again, enjoys sitting in the chair and tells stories about brothels, thus confirming that whatever they do, the governance of poor Westeros will always be shitty. 

Bran. Man. Where do I begin. Bran the broken. Dude, Bran is probably the least broken in there. To a fault. The implication here is that Bran played them all. He clearly says that he headed south because he knew he would be offered the crown. What happened to the “I don't want anymore, I live in the past, don't envy me, I am not the Lord of Winterfell, I'm something else now” crap? In some scenes Bran has a glimmer in his eyes but the problem is that if they wanted to play with that (and it would be fairly decent), they should have made Bran openly evil or greedy or machiavellian at least before the end. If he is just the 3ER, I doubt he wants power or to involve himself with the matters of the country and the commonwealth. He should be wise, humble, withdrawn and helpful only when a crisis arose that nobody but him was aware of. Instead, we get a very human and flawed Bran who doesn't agree with the rest of his supposedly semi-divine nature. Furthermore, we were already proven right - from those few scenes we got it is already clear that Bran is an insufficient king, distant and absent. He comes and goes in seconds lmao... I'll check where Drogon is. I must go now... Worst choice for a king ever made. This becomes an emotionless Big Brother dystopia. 

Sansa. I could be happy she became the Queen in the North but do you know when this would make sense? If the king of Westeros was someone other than her brother!!!!!!!!! What's the point of an autonomous North when it’s a Stark that rules the Seven Kingdoms anyway? Do you know what the only conclusion that can be drawn is? That Sansa’s one and only objective was to rule. She risked Jon’s head and spread his secret only to have a chance at having a relative in the Iron Throne that she could later persuade to let her rule on her own in Winterfell. Being the Lady / Queen of Winterfell is more important to Sansa than her relatives’ safety or the unity of the family. Remember when Arya insinuated this in S7? She was right... Even in Tyrion’s trial, which is a joke, Sansa revels in taking the lead out of nowhere. Think about this before you cheer for her success. Imagine if Jaime was the King of Westeros. Would Cersei demand that the Westerlands would be autonomous so that she could be queen there? Nah. There you have it, at this point, the Lannisters seem much much more likeable than the Starks. (Which I always kinda thought but now it’s obvious.)

Arya. It’s so obvious that D&D loved Arya but didn’t know what to do with her character. Her choice to travel once again is an excuse to wrap up her story. It is clear that Arya’s story arc ended with the death of the Night King but they couldn’t kill her off and they also feared that if they gave her a conventional ending with Gendry, it would not be feminist enough. What they don’t understand is that feminism is a woman’s liberty to make choices and change goals according to her aspirations and desires without being restricted by ANY social expectation or stereotype whatsoever and not being a tomboy for tomboy’s sake. Last season Arya wanted to return home, home, home but now she’s like nah I ain’t going back there ever again, I’m going where No One has been. Okay, great. I suspect Arya is once again pissed off with Sansa and honestly I can’t blame her. So Arya has the most pointless ending ever and of course when she says she’s leaving and never coming back, Sansa and Bran are sooo emotional. NOT. I saw people saying “at least this scene was so emotional” and... are you kidding me? Neither Sansa nor Bran gave a fuck about Arya’s decision. Maybe Jon a little but it’s all so cold and distant between the wolf pack, my ass. I guess the actors gave up at some point and I wholeheartedly understand it... what would you do with a script like that? The Starks won the thrones and lost themselves in the process. Nice. 

Brienne. Let me tell you why even Jaime had a better ending than Brienne. So, apparently in the end Brienne is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. First of all, why on earth would she prefer this to being in Sansa’s Queensguard? She wouldn’t. Having her there in the council forced to endure Tyrion and Bronn’s ridiculous conversations is a fucking disgrace. That was not what she was meant for. She survived it all to end up in a dystopia. Furthermore, she functions as a vessel to restore Jaime’s reputation. You know what the problem here is? That it does not fucking matter anymore! The point about Jaime’s redemption was to finally receive some acknowledgement for all the good he had done, to SEE people appreciate him with his own eyes. Jaime is in heaven now (fight me). He never got to know if people would eventually respect him and his contributions. If the scene had one meaning, that was that Brienne moved on. Not from her love but from her heartbreak. She understood Jaime. She probably knew that Jaime’s respect and adoration and attraction for her was all genuine but he simply couldn’t stand a peaceful life when his siblings and especially his sister and his child were confronting death. Brienne still loves Jaime and doesn’t hold anything against him because, yeah, his departure was very problematic but this man also rescued her from rape and lost his hand, saved her life, armoured her, gave her his own sword which was one of the most valuable in the world, gave her what now is her best friend, always valued her opinion and acted based on it, followed her to the North to measure up next to her, saved her life many more times, knighted her when no other knight would, shared carefree and intimate moments with her and was the first one to love her and reciprocate. And whatever D&D do, all this simply DOES NOT FUCKING CHANGE. So how could Brienne ever hate him, especially a woman like her, full of love and goodness and understanding? Thus, I know many of you will disagree, but I think Brienne should have got pregnant. Don’t forget that Brienne, behind all her defense mechanisms, was a romantic at heart and had many traditional “womanly” desires and this is perfectly okay. She wanted to be courted, loved, held and married, provided that there was someone she deemed worthy in certain ways. Brienne still carries Oathkeeper. None of what happened between her and Jaime is changed or will be forgotten. So what would be a better gift for her, the most beautiful token of that short time she lived her dream with a man she loved unconditionally and a man who did for her things nobody had done for her before? Or even for most women? How many women, pretty or not, can claim their man saved them from death and rape many times, was willing to sacrifice himself at any time for them and gave them objects of inestimable value that were meant only for noble men to wield or wear? In conclusion, I am willing to bet that Brienne would want a child from Jaime, a reminder of him and her happiest memories. She would return to Tarth where she would bloody be the Lady of Tarth and continue the lineage of her father instead of serving others her entire life. She would be a great mother. Imagine a child with the prospects of both Jaime and Brienne, raised by her. Furthermore, Tyrion was the Hand of the King and he would certainly persuade Bran to legitimize the kid and then, there would be a continuation of the great House Lannister, which D&D were so eager to obliterate. Now, we can only hope for Tyrion’s visits in brothels. Nice. 

Ser Pod. Okay, let’s be serious for a moment. I know it is sweet that Pod survived everything and is now a knight but... he doesn’t deserve that title, all right? Look what Brienne has been through to get her title. Then Pod is like oh yeah I’m a knight too. Fanservice at its best. I mean, obviously Brienne made him a knight lol but this is not serious storytelling. Pod deserves all the good endings in the world but being a knight just to carry Bran around is not one of them. 

Davos. I love Davos with all my heart. I told myself that surely, there is a reason he’s been in (I think) seven out of the eight seasons. After Melisandre died, I thought he had some great part to play before the end. And you know what? He did! His role was to call out the level of stupidity in this writing. “Did the Lord of Light just fuck off after the fight?!” Yes, Davos, he did!!! D&D had a character make fun of their own writing, what can I say after that? Anyway, what I mean is, there was literally no reason for lovely Davos’ survival and whole existence in general.

Bronn. Talking about useless characters. He was not always useless but now he is. Which is why he is the most fitting for this council of incompetence. How did I dare question his position in that council - he has just as much right as everyone else to be there. Another fanservice without substance. 

Sam. Yeah, he found the title for the Song of Ice and Fire, something that 99% of the fans had predicted years ago. That’s it. No Tyrion in it and at this point, I agree it was probably for the best. 

Edmure. Best character ending ever. He started as a fool and survived the show as a fool. I shouldn’t include him here, he’s the only winner. Him and Tormund. 

I don’t know if I forgot someone but I want to add as a side-note that Jaime hardly had the worst ending after all. I mean, he died as an overly emotional, addicted and not very clever tragic hero but, I mean, he still was a tragic hero. Everyone else’s character here was a joke with the exception maybe of Dany and Brienne, whose endings were only rushed and incomplete respectively but at least they were not jokes.