#this is the longest I've ever written

[elusivedew]

💌 | Cubitum eamus ?

✧ synopsis ⤐ it takes you 2 years from the minute you meet spencer to confess how much you like him, and it all happens on a random wednesday night.

✧ contains ⤐ friends to lovers but they both know what's up, s3 spencer who's been through a handful of shit, brief mention of alcohol consumption on two occasions!!suggestive themes but no straight up smut, spencer reid experiences happiness for once, reader is his only hope in life, reader wants him real bad and he knows. My spencer reid debut yay! Title translates to "will you go to bed with me?" w.c ~ 9.2k

Working at the BAU is not an easy job. In fact, Spencer thinks, working at any unit in the FBI is the closest thing you'll ever get to hell on earth. This feeling of agitation and exhaustion seems to aggravate every time he's working on a particularly draining case. Not only does the content of the cases get into his head often, and sometimes into his dreams, but he's also been directly harmed by the criminals they’re chasing. How can you remain completely objective about something when you become a victim too?

Over the few years he's worked in the BAU, he's received more harm than he ever expected. Drug addiction was not something he had in his five-year plan when he first joined the FBI. It's not something anyone who works in law enforcement expects, really. 

Needless to say, he's tired. The kind of fatigue that makes you bedridden for days. 

He also happens to be alone on a Tuesday night in the middle of June. 

The latest case he worked on took a little over two weeks to wrap up, an unsub that likes to take his time and has such a disorganized MO that it was almost impossible to see the patterns. All the physical and mental work completely knocked everyone off their feet, except for him. His colleagues all went home and passed out of exhaustion, and he’s still up. 

Spencer can't sleep. He's too busy thinking. 

It's something he does a lot, for his job, for himself, for the duration of his whole life. The gears have been turning in his head since his very first word, the minute ‘mama’ was out of his baby mouth, he’d been tasked with the weight of the whole fucking universe. The price of knowing so much from a young age has cost him a lot. And tonight, it specifically costs him his peace, his right to pass out after a long day of work. 

And he'd love, more than anything, to have an off button somewhere inside. But because that hasn't been invented yet, and his nervous system feels like it's on fire, he's still up by the time it's 10 pm. It’s not late, objectively, but he’s been home for more than three hours now. He tried a lot of sleep remedies— herbal tea, audiobooks, aroma therapy, hell, even exercising to tire himself out, but all of them failed. And now he's just left with sore muscles and an even more tired brain. 

By the time it's 11 pm, he's lying on his couch, feeling like death. His head is pounding with the feeling of an oncoming migraine, and he knows that he’s in for a particularly long night.

That's when his phone rings, and because he’s so alert and so sensitive to stimuli at the moment, he almost kicks it off the coffee table. But he doesn’t do that, because he’s still a little sane despite everything.

Instead, he reaches over and checks the contact name, and his whole face lights up. He feels absolutely ridiculous for not making this call first, because his nervous system is now very much alive— and not in a way that makes him feel like an overheating microwave, no, this is a good thing. And good things don’t happen to him often. He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous habit, and picks up the call. 

Suddenly being awake doesn't feel so bad. 

“Agent Reid.”

Your voice comes through the phone like a cool breeze of air during the grueling heat of June. He finds himself relaxing a little, releasing tension he didn't know he had in his muscles when he was so distracted just a few minutes before.

“I'm begging you to stop calling me that.” 

“Aww, why not? I like feeling like your boss,” you're smiling on the other end, he can hear it, “what's his name again? Aaron?” 

He rubs his temple with a smile he can't fight off, “That's agent Hotchner to you.” 

You laugh and he feels proud of himself for eliciting such a pleasant sound out of you. He's immediately thinking of other ways to get that sound out again. If Morgan could see him now, he'd never let him hear the end of it. 

The good thing about you and Spencer is that no one knows. Not his colleagues, not your friends, not your families. That's the good thing, you get to keep this precious thing between the two of you. The bad thing is that you're not really together. You're not even romantically involved, you've never uttered the four-letter L-word around each other (like or love, both), and you don't even really flirt with each other. 

To put it into simple words, you and Spencer are just friends. 

But friends who relieve each other's stress nonetheless, and god knows Spencer needs that right now. 

“You're back from your recent trip, right?” You ask, audibly crunching on something. It sounds like you're also lying on your couch, he wonders if you were going through something similar when you decided to pick up the phone and call.

“Yeah, thank god.” 

“I take it that it wasn't a very good one then? I mean, none of them are good but, I'm guessing some are worse than others.” 

Spencer sighs, “You guess correctly.” 

“How are you feeling?” Your voice is softer when you ask, concerned, and even though he doesn't like to make you worry, your well-intended question is a very welcome sentiment. He’s almost relieved knowing that there's someone who'll always ask, someone who'll always notice. 

“Not very good. Tired.” It's a short answer, but he knows you understand. You've understood him for a very long time now, nearly two years of knowing each other. 

“It sounds like you had a very long day.” A very long month. “Why didn't you try to catch some Zs?” 

The way you phrase it makes him snort, and he knows you're proud of yourself for that one. “I can't, me and the Zs never had a very good relationship. Trust me, if I could turn my brain off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” 

You hum, “Do you wanna talk about it? I could give you some very valuable, life-changing insight, maybe you'll be able to go to sleep after.” 

He smiles, “I've actually had enough of this case, I'd like to talk about something else.” 

“Oh, I can definitely do that. Tell me, what did you have for breakfast?” 

Breakfast is a terrible topic, meals in general, because you know that he misses a lot of his meals when he's on the job. You always lecture him for it, berating him for being so skinny at his big age, but it's always underlined by concern. He knows you worry about him, he wouldn't blame you. 

“Not much…” He trails off, knowing you'll catch on. 

“Oh honey, I know your eating and sleeping habits are fucked, but can't you at least lie to me?” 

The way you call him honey should not be making his stomach turn like that. 

“I could never lie to you.” 

“You literally just did.” 

You both laugh and he's so, so glad you called. If he didn't think you were asleep he'd have called you first. 

“Okay well, I didn't ask that question to find out something I already know. I asked because remember that café we were constantly visiting before you went on this trip? They finally brought the chocolate chip cookies back.” 

The chocolate chip cookies case (the quadruple c) is a very vital issue in your relationship with Spencer. Because for weeks, the both of you have been visiting that place close to your apartment, hoping to get some chocolate chip cookies, only to be met by raisins. It was a very devastating experience for both of you, having to settle for something else on the menu every time. But now it’s okay! The chocolate chip cookies are back. 

Spencer is so glad he's done with his silly criminal case so he can focus on the real problems at hand.

“And I was thinking, if you're not too tired tomorrow, should we have breakfast together?” 

It's sweet, it's earnest, it's you.

It's such a characteristic gesture, asking him to have breakfast with you after particularly draining cases, checking on him as soon as you can tell he's home, and sounding so sweet and concerned over the phone when you know he's feeling down. It’s the small, thoughtful actions coming from you that have helped him keep it together so far. 

And the feelings that thought brings out in him lead him to realize, in those few seconds, that he liked you much more than he planned on. Not that he ever planned to like you in the first place, but he thought it was a small crush that would eventually go away, it’s happened before with the pretty women he befriends, and he didn’t think this time would be different. 

But it was, and now he’s totally screwed because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say no to you. 

“Absolutely, I can't wait to have those chocolate cookies again.” 

You're ecstatic over his response, your tone picking up about 3 octaves when you jump to discussing the other plans you have this week. Your favorite artist is releasing an album soon, your favorite game is finally available at the video game store, the finale of that show you've been talking to him about is airing in two days, and it seems like your life is full of positive sequences.

The juxtaposition between what he sees at work and the enthusiasm you bring into his life almost gives him a headache, but it could very well be sleep deprivation. He wonders if all the misfortunes that have happened to him are the evil equivalents of the things you brought into his life. 

But if all the bad things that have happened to him and around him got compensated by you, he doesn't find it such a bad tradeoff. Because meeting you on a random Monday night and somehow catching your attention enough for you to leave him your number— even when he was so frazzled by the need for coffee so he could grind out some paperwork before his deadline— it feels like he used up all his luck on that fateful encounter.

And having someone he could always meet up with, outside of work, has been very grounding. 

You talk his ears off for the rest of the night, rambling about one thing or the other until his eyelids get heavy again, and he feels tired enough to sleep. You tell him that's been your plan all along and wish him a good night. 

Later, when he’s under the covers of his bed, drifting off to sleep, for a few minutes his brain isn't aggravating him with the thoughts that have been haunting him all day. For a few minutes, all he can think about is you.

He is so fucked.

Emily Prentiss is a very smart agent. 

She’s been told that ever since she was a little girl, and though it was often complimentary, people sucking up to her mom and whatnot, it was never a complete lie. She grew up thirsty for knowledge, mastering everything she could get her hands on, and even as an adult with a grown up job, she continues to excel at what she does

But then, if she's so smart, why the hell can she not figure out why Spencer Reid is so giddy while doing his paperwork? 

It may have to do with the fact that it's Spencer, and that kid has always been a little perplexing to her. He's bright and brilliant, but she could never truly understand how his mind works. But, at the same time, there's such a thing as habits, and Spencer is not typically so smiley while doing paperwork. No one is smiley while doing paperwork in this line of work, because it makes you relive the nightmares. For goodness’s sake, this is the behavioral analysis unit, and Spencer is behaving weirdly. 

It seems like she isn’t the only agent at the office who noticed the peculiarity. Agent Morgan stands behind her, his third cup of coffee in his hand, squinting at the young doctor. They observe him like a wild animal in his natural habitat; had they not been so tired from all the work, they would’ve been picking on him by now.

When Emily feels her presence behind him, she turns around, and they exchange a mutual look of understanding. They've never seen Reid act like that in the time that they’ve worked together, and they know one thing that they've never seen him experience during that time either. 

They realize it at the same time, and Morgan nearly drops his coffee. 

Spencer Reid is in love.

There have been many misfortunes in the 25 years that you've been on this earth, and you're convinced that a lot of them have been aimed at you. You're the only person who has ever suffered that much during your whole life, it's a known fact. It's a fact that you like to remind Spencer of, to make him feel better about his work, and when he laughs at it, you remind him that people called Jesus a liar too.

You've been through a lot of suffering, but the task of getting dressed before Spencer knocks on your door in approximately ten minutes may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

He thinks that just because he has a day off, he could pressure you into a sudden— very much unplanned— date? He thinks that shooting you a text to get dressed so you can go to the record store and then have dinner only twenty minutes before you're supposed to do the aforementioned activities is allowed? He's absolutely right, and you hate him for it. 

Not that it's really a date, you know you and Spencer have never crossed that line, but it feels like it. Especially if he's making you feel like a teenage girl high on hormones having her very first crush. Her very first date. The particular action you're thinking about has to be kept to yourself, just so you don't jinx it. 

You really shouldn't be thinking about that when you still haven't figured out which outfit to wear. More thinking about clothes, less thinking about boys. Specifically one boy. 

It takes all your willpower and energy to finish getting ready in those ten minutes. You settle for your most comfortable pair of jeans and a white button-down with a vest over it, and for good measure, you throw your coat on— the long beige-brown trench coat that makes you feel like you're Sherlock Holmes about to solve a crime. You realize that it's very fitting for an outing with a profiler, he's kind of like Sherlock Holmes if you think about it. 

It's fall now, and it's much more chilly. You hope your precious profiler brought his own coat because, as much as you care for him, you won't be lending him yours.

When he rings your doorbell, you're finishing up and tossing the rest of the necessities into your bag. You make him wait for a minute, to avoid seeming eager, and then make your way to the door.

The minute you lay your eyes on him, you feel sick to your stomach.

Spencer Reid is beautiful, this is a fact that you've known ever since you met. He pulls off the dorky yet hot look so well, with that stupid smile of his when he talks like a smartass. And you're reminded of this every time you see him, the fact that he's so adorable that it physically hurts to keep your hands off him all the time. Tonight is no different, he's dressed in a dark button-down with a brown vest over it, covered by a beige coat that contrasts the dark colors beautifully. It takes you a couple seconds to realize you're wearing similar outfits, almost like a matching couple.

“Copycat.” You accuse, fighting off a smile with warm cheeks. He grins in retaliation, “Hello to you too.”

God, he’s beautiful. In the dim light of your apartment's entrance, you catch the gleam of his eyes. They're warm, earthy, and familiar, you don't think you'd ever stop staring at his eyes if you had the chance to do it without looking crazy. His eyelashes are unfairly long, and his light brown hair forms waves around his face like a frame around an artwork. He always tucks a few stray strands behind his ear, and you always mess it up for him– which is something you do for two reasons, you like annoying him, and you desperately want to touch his hair. It’s just simply unfair for him to be born that beautiful. 

He seems to notice you staring because his cheeks are a little pink, and he has a little bashful smile on his face. “Ready to go?” He scans your form like the little detective he is, “Looks like you could get ready in 20 minutes after all.” 

Now you remember why you were so annoyed at him, good looks be damned. 

“Oh shut up, never do that again.” 

“Or what? You'll cuss me over text messages again? How will I ever live with that.” 

His shy smile is replaced with a smug grin, and you hate to admit it, but it's one of your favorite looks on him. Because Spencer isn't always able to genuinely smile like that, he's usually stressed about one thing or the other; and knowing him, he's always reliving some terrible event that happened in the past two years, and sometimes even further back in time. So while his amusement comes at your expense, you'd rather see him smiling like this all the time. 

“God, you're so mean to me.” 

Even though you mean to sound stern, you can't hide your smile. 

You pick up your keys from the hanger by the door and toss them into your handbag, he follows your movements with his eyes, “that's not true. I'm always so nice to you, sometimes a little too nice.” 

You lock your door behind you and give him a fake offended look, “You could never be too nice to me. Let's go, agent Reid. We've got a long night ahead of us.” 

Then you're strutting ahead of him, motioning for him to follow you like a helpless little intern. Even though he rolls his eyes and laughs in disbelief, he ends up following you anyway.

‘Albert’s records’ has been your favorite record store since you moved into your apartment in Quantico— and not only because you’ve met Albert, the sweetest little old man to ever exist, but also because Spencer always looks mystified inside the store. It’s like something about vintage things just makes him tick. 

You're checking out vinyls that are selling for discounted prices, old pieces of famous artists and commonly known albums, while he's looking at the posters on the walls, admiring the artistic work of the rustic-looking store. He’s always trailing behind you, and you don't mind because it makes you feel safe and cared for. You didn't know being trailed by an FBI agent could feel so comforting. 

Your eyes catch on a certain record, and you turn around, “Hey, Spencer.” 

He stops eyeing the posters on the wall and turns to you, hair falling over his shoulders adorably. 

“What do you think of this?” 

You're holding a classic black Billy Joel vinyl in your hand, careful not to hold it too tightly. It's his 1977 release of The Stranger, an album you're not too familiar with. You've only listened to Vienna and a few other songs. Spencer eyes the cover carefully like it triggers a memory deep inside his brain. You're expecting him to go on a tangent about Billy Joel and 70s music, but you're instead met by a very sentimental response. 

“My mom loved that one.” 

He's quiet, using that careful but lost tone of voice, and you worry that you accidentally triggered something unpleasant. You knew Spencer had a complicated relationship with his parents, namely his mother. On the rare occasion where he had a few too many drinks, he spilled a lot more than he intended to. Drunk Spencer was always so painfully honest and you admired how easily his filter would come off a few drinks in, but you never wanted him to feel embarrassed by it. On those particularly emotional nights— after he calls you to pick him up because he's too drunk to drive— you would listen to him ramble the whole drive to your apartment, force him to stay over so you can take care of his pounding headache in the morning, and hold him until he passes out on your couch like a partying college student. 

Something he’s never been before.

Those incidents have led you to know more about Spencer than he ever thought he could share, and one of those sensitive topics just happens to be his mom. It's not an uncomfortable topic, you've talked about it before when he's not too drunk to realize what's going on. Even though it was hard for him at first, talking about it became easier the more he shared, you understood more and more things without him telling you. 

And because you’ve talked about it, you're not scared of his response when you ask with a lighthearted smile, “is that a bad thing?” 

That seems to bring him back to earth, and he gives you a reassuring smile, “No, not at all, just brought me back to some memories I'd honestly forgotten about.” 

You hold the record to your chest, almost certain that you're going to buy it now, “Well would you like to make some new memories in relation to this record?” 

Would you like to come to my apartment and listen to it with me?

“Yeah, I'd love to.” He smiles in a way that makes you feel a little lightheaded, knowing he's comfortable sharing this much of himself with you. It's so intimate, knowing that in this public store, you're still sharing private moments that no one else knows about.

You’re about to go back to checking out vinyls, trying to conceal the giddy feeling bubbling in your chest, when a high-pitched voice intrudes on the moment you were having with Spencer. 

“Oh my god.” 

You both turn to look at the source of the voice and when you look to Spencer to see what this is about, he looks like he recognizes the source. He looks terrified. Your gaze falls on two blonde girls, one gaping at the sight of you, and the other being the source of the dramatic reaction that broke through the silence a few minutes ago.

Her blonde hair is styled in waves and she's wearing such a colorful, creative ensemble that you're mesmerized by the intricate details of her outfit. The hair clips, the makeup, the platforms that she's wearing, you wanted to talk to this girl so bad. 

And it seems like you're in luck today, because she's immediately rushing to your side with wide mesmerized eyes.

“Wonderboy, you've been hiding her from us for how long exactly?” 

You're guessing “wonderboy” is Spencer since she seems to be his friend and your chest feels warm knowing his friends nickname him such cute things. Spencer deserves to be known for all his good traits after all, and he sure as hell is your boy of wonder. 

“Garcia, please, I'm begging you to act normal about this right now.” He mutters, trying his best to keep this conversation quiet.

She shakes her head, “This is the most normal I can act about you hiding a girl from us.” Then she turns to you again, extending her arm for you to shake. You eagerly extend yours back. “Penelope Garcia, tech analyst at the FBI, and genius boy's co-worker. Oh and, your source for any dirt you want on genius Reid over here.” 

That explains how someone like her is in Spencer's social circle, but it doesn't explain how someone so bubbly could work at such a gloomy unit. Working for the government when she should be at the club? It's a crime to you. 

“They're keeping a gem like you in a dark, creepy room to dig up information for them?” 

You honestly didn't know you could commit such flattery and Spencer is looking at you in disbelief, but she giggles at your poorly concealed flirting and you feel proud of yourself. 

“Oh, wonder boy, how did you ever snag a wonderful girl like her.” 

Spencer is blushing so hard at this point you could probably fry an egg on his face. You're introducing yourself to Penelope, filling her in on your occupation, when the other blonde introduces herself as Jennifer Jareau, JJ for short, and she's even more excited to meet you. 

She's also heavily pregnant, and you hope that she's currently on maternity leave. 

“We were looking for more records that this little guy here could listen to, it's incredibly engaging to include him in our vinyl pick-out process.” JJ rubs her stomach as she explains and you're so fascinated by the idea of childbearing and birth for a few seconds that you almost forget that it's terrifying. 

“What about you guys?” Penelope jumps in, eager to put Spencer on the spot again. 

“Oh we, uh,” Spencer's eyes shift between you and the two girls, like he's surrounded and begging you for help, “we're just checking out the vinyls on sale.” 

“Yeah, I was honestly waiting for these discounts because I'm not selling a kidney for some records, you know?” You step in, hoping to take some heat off Spencer, because the poor boy looks like he’s about to combust.

You're also well aware that the two girls in front of you think you and Spencer are dating, but they haven't said it out loud and Spencer hasn't attempted to correct their assumptions, so why would you be the one to ruin their fun? You'll let them think you're on a date. 

“Oh that's so true,” Penelope nods in understanding, “it's like I just want to listen to music, you know?” 

You nod in understanding, you do know. 

And you also know that you're absolutely going to adore Penelope Garcia and JJ and everyone that you meet who’s involved in Spencer's life. Even though this meetup is so completely unplanned and coincidental, it makes you excited knowing you can prod Spencer about more details now, talking about work in a way that doesn't concern the cases. You’d kill for some office gossip that doesn’t involve yourself.

“Oh, Morgan is going to lose it when he hears about this,” JJ says, almost talking to herself. 

Penelope jumps to add more wood to the forest fire, “Oh my God, remember what he said to Emily? He was right.” That catches Spencer's attention, “what did he say to Emily?” 

“He said that you're all giggly at work because you're in love.” Penelope answers without missing a beat, and she says it so casually, as if she didn't basically strip Spencer naked right in front of you. 

You’re subtly stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye, suppressing a smile at the way he blushes deeply and looks at the ground as if he wants it to swallow him whole right now. Something tells you you're absolutely going to love Penelope and he's going to pay the price for that relationship. 

“Spencer is giggling at work?” You ask, like she just told you he joined a cult.

Penelope nods eagerly, “Oh yeah, I've never seen someone look so cheerful while doing paperwork, every time I'm out of my office for a coffee refill he's just there giggling to himself like he's hearing voices. Except the voices turned out to just be a pretty girl, which I have to say,” she puts her hand over her heart dramatically, “I’m so glad it did.” 

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, the shame overwhelming him, “I'm begging you to stop talking.” 

Penelope and JJ are giggling, enjoying torturing him like this for your pleasure, and you’re close to joining them, but you choose to stay loyal to Spencer— if only to make sure he doesn’t get a migraine from all this embarrassment. But you're also just giddy, knowing Spencer cannot conceal his infatuation with you to save his life. Despite all the hints here and there that he definitely likes you, and all the discreet touching and staring at your lips when you talk —something you know he can't tell you noticed— the way he doesn't deny any of what's being said tells you that you're, at the very least, a person of interest. 

A person of Spencer's interest. Your smile is getting harder and harder to hide.

“Okay, okay, lovebirds, we'll leave you alone now. But trust me, you haven't heard the end of this, once Derek finds out, oh Spencer Reid, you might never want to step foot in that building ever again.” You nod eagerly, excited to hear more about how they’ll taunt him later on. They give you their rushed goodbyes as Penelope guides JJ outside the store, you can hear her quietly complain about leaving empty-handed when she came all the way, but your mind is someplace else, neurons buzzing with ideas of how to torment Spencer now that you’re alone again.

You turn to look at him, no longer holding back your smile, “so…” 

He immediately puts a finger to your lips, “Don't start.” 

You reach for his hand to move it away, giggling like a schoolgirl, “you're fawning over me at work? Oh my God, Spence, I didn't know you were that far gone, baby.” You hold onto his hand, as a way to restrain him, but also because you just want to hold his hand. 

“I was not fawning, they made it all sound so much worse than it actually was.” You raise your eyebrows at him and he continues, looking more flustered. “I was smiling, can I not smile to myself anymore?” 

You absentmindedly lace your fingers with his, bringing your joint hands to your chest like something precious, “You're smiling like a lovesick fool about me at work, Spencer, you're so fucked.” 

Your amusement is so palpable, and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but there’s also something else there.

Something you haven’t fully experienced before, not its rawness and neediness. Something that you can tell will grow in your chest until it fully conquers your whole body and claims your mind. You don't know what you'll call it yet, but it's something a lot like love. 

“Alright alright, I get it. It's National Embarrassing Spencer day, let's buy this record and get out of here. We have a dinner to get to.” 

The weight of his hand in yours almost made you forget you were still holding the record, handling it so carelessly just to bring him closer. You realize you're drunk on affection, and eager to have more of his attention for the rest of the night. When he doesn't make a move to remove his hand from your hold, only dragging you behind him to check out, you feel like there will be a lot of new developments tonight.

The rest of the night goes as well as you would imagine.

Despite your incessant teasing, you have plenty of conversations that aren't centered around embarrassing Spencer and enjoying it. You sip wine together while he tells you about the letters he's been sending his mom; apparently, he's started telling her about you. While you're surprised he's only just doing it now, he confesses that he wanted to wait until he was sure you'd stay before he made such a decision. Unfortunately, with his line of work, he's right to be worried about things like that, but you stayed anyway, and now his mom knows about you. 

And you have her favorite record in a plastic bag that you carry on the way home. 

When his car pulls up to your building, you're hesitant to get out. You don't feel like the night is over yet. It was lovely and unforgettable, meeting his friends, learning about his mom, and having a very nice dinner together, but you feel like there's still one more topic that needs to be discussed. 

When you don't make a move to get out of the car yet, he calls out your name in concern. You turn to look at him and your gaze is so intense he's almost intimidated.

“Is everything okay?” 

You nod absentmindedly, too lost in trying to figure out what's missing from such a wonderful night. 

“Well, we're here. This is your apartment, you know?” You can tell that's not the sentence he aimed for, but you're aware that Spencer stumbles over his words when he's nervous. You don't fault him for it. 

You give him a genuine smile, “Yeah, I know.” 

Then you're moving to unlock the car door, the newly bought record in your hand, and you get one leg out of the car before you realize exactly what this night is missing. 

“Spencer?” You turn to him, he's already looking at you. 

“Yes?” 

Slowly, carefully, you ask, “would you like to come upstairs?” 

Your apartment is somewhere that he's only seen while extremely drunk, hammered out of his mind. You realize that this is the first time you invite him up when he's actually well enough to walk on his own, and you also realize that it means something to you. You hope it also means something to him. 

“Uh, yeah, sure? If you want me to walk you to your door, I'll definitely do that.” He's picking at the leather covering the wheel, cheeks slightly flushed like they’d been earlier. Multiple times during the night, you note how he’s always glowing red around you like a pulsating organ. Is it the slight chill of the weather or the heat behind your eyes? You hope it’s the latter. 

“I think you know what you want.” 

You weren't sure if he knew, but knowing Spencer, a line like that will trigger him into thinking about it so hard that he'll actually figure it out. You watch the gears turn in his head but he still looks confused, you hope that by the time you get to your door, he'll realize what you're talking about. 

“I'm not sure, but I'll figure it out.” You give him one last smile before you exit the car. 

True to his word, Spencer walks you up to your door after parking his car somewhere close. When you reach the apartment, as you dig for your keys in your purse, he stands next to you, looking a little lost because he clearly didn’t expect this. He fiddles with the ends of his vest while observing you. 

You unlock your door and get inside, leaving it open so he can follow you. You drop your purse on your dining table and lay the record down next to it, watching from the corner of your eye as he steps into your apartment cautiously, like he's stepping over booby traps. 

The door locks and you can't escape the conversation any longer. You also can't bear seeing him so lost, because god blessed him with eyes that make him look like a sad baby deer all the time. And every time he uses them on you, you immediately cave, because letting him suffer feels like letting a baby animal die.

“Spence.” You call, sultry and slow.

If you catch the way he slightly jumps at your voice, you don’t react.

“Yes?” He’s quiet, worried.

You lean back against your table, a relaxed smile on your face, “you know why I brought you here, right?”  

He swallows, tucking his hair behind his ear. “A woman inviting her date up to her apartment could lead to a variety of things, but most commonly it leads to either sexual intercourse or murder.” His cheeks heat up at the words ‘sexual intercourse’ and you want to eat him alive. “And I'm kind of hoping you didn't invite me up here to kill me.” 

You raise an eyebrow, the desire to tease him so strong and unforgiving, “So you hope I'll have sex with you then?” 

That really gets him. His whole face goes red— blood rushing down his neck and up to his ears. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can't. Instead, he just opens and closes it a couple of times, unable to articulate anything. If you were in a different situation, you'd have called him a fish, but you also realize something very critical: he doesn’t deny your previous statement.

“Spencer,” you call his whole name this time, voice low and heavy with something that alarms him further. “Can you come here, please?” 

He hesitantly leaves his spot, taking slow, careful steps to your side. He stands at a considerable distance, making sure he gives you your personal space. If he’d done this at any other time, you’d have been fawning over how considerate he is, but right now you want him as close as possible, personal space be damned. 

Feeling particularly brash, you reach out and pull him closer by a fistful of his shirt. He’s startled, but he lets you move him closer as if he were a rag doll, now you're barely a few inches away from him. Your hand moves to his neck, feeling the warmth that spread there a few minutes ago, the warmth that you caused. If it feels like it's getting warmer under your touch, you don't comment on it. 

It's the first time you've touched him this much, this intimately, and it feels like you've been missing out for the past two years. 

He watches you carefully, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to figure out what you're aiming for. This is probably how he acts at work, you think, staring at something until he’s able to break it open and decipher its message, will he decipher your message too?

You look up at him through long lashes, peering into his eyes, hoping to communicate something with your eyes before you can put it into words. You feel a certain need in your stomach, tying knots and constricting your airways— it's what you guess people would call butterflies. Right now, you'd call it absolutely torture. 

“Spencer.”

It's the third time you've called his name so far, and this time your noses are touching and you practically breathe his name onto his lips. This encourages him to put an arm around your waist and raise the other to cup your face affectionately. You lean into his touch, welcoming the reciprocation.

“I'm here,” his voice is low, more certain now, almost like he figured you out, “you can tell me.” 

You nearly melt in his hands now that he's using that self-assured voice. You love it when he's shy, but god do you adore it when he talks like he knows exactly what to do with you. The things you'd let him do to you would probably get you placed on a watch list, but you don't mind as long as he's the one watching. 

“You know what I want to say, don't you?” 

He blinks, the gold flakes in his eyes so striking when you're this close, “maybe I do, but I'd like to hear you say it.” 

He's in no place to be making such demands. He should be melting in your hands, not the other way around. You shouldn't be getting this weak at the knees just because he's using that stupid husky tone, sounding like he knows all your secrets. But, fuck, he absolutely knows all your secrets. He could probably read you like an open book— which you actually wouldn't mind at all because you've seen the way his hands stroke the pages when he's reading, and you'd love for those fingers to be all over you like they're all over those stupid books.

Your eyes glaze over with desire and you're getting impatient, while he watches you like he's studying your next move. Goddamn profilers and their dirty work. He should be getting dirty with you.

You mutter a quiet fuck and step back to separate your bodies; even though there's no place to go because the table is right there, you're at least not directly face to face anymore. His warm breath on your lips was driving you insane, and you brought him up here to talk, you needed to have this conversation. For your sanity. 

He gives you space, because he's always been so caring and so perceptive about what you need, and the gesture makes you want to bounce on him. You have to remind yourself that if you keep thinking with your lower regions, this will be a counterproductive night.

You realize you can't do this while standing up, so you hoist yourself up on the table, and wiggle around till you get comfortable. Your trench coat isn't bending to your will and it takes you some more shuffling to beat it down. You really should've taken it off when you stepped in through the door. 

The sound of Spencer's chuckle makes you realize that he's still here and he's very much observing your embarrassing fight with a trench coat. Your cheeks feel warm, but this is not the most shameful thing you've done tonight, and you're probably aiming to beat that record anyway. 

“Don't laugh at me,” you mutter, embarrassed but smiling. 

“Okay,” he laughs, “I won't.” 

“God, you're such a liar. Is everybody at the FBI full of lies?” 

He shrugs, “Depends on who you ask.” 

You laugh and you're so in awe at how all the stress leaves your body so easily when he's talking to you, it makes you wonder why the hell you can't just say it. One sentence, something he already knows, something anyone would probably know by observing you for five minutes, it should be easy. But as obvious as it is, you're also well aware that once you say it, it becomes real. And you can't escape It. You can't pretend like it's something casual between you if you get your heart broken, or if he feels like you're moving too fast. The minute those words are out of your mouth, you'll have to confront the reality of your situation. 

And you're scared. 

You're scared that once you say those words and it becomes a real living thing, you could actually lose Spencer. You could get into an argument later and it ruins everything between you, or he could fall out of love, or you could fall out of love. There are so many bad endings to a relationship and the possibilities make you hesitate. 

Spencer must've noticed that you're taking a while to speak, that you're too busy stressing out about it, because he comes close again (leaving enough space for the holy spirit this time) to gently hold your hand. It works like he intends it to. The skin-to-skin contact is grounding and you relax a little, wishing you could just melt into him and never have to go through any uncomfortable conversations.

But when you look up at him, and you're met with the familiar trustworthy eyes of the guy who has been your god-given solace for months now, you wonder how the hell you could ever rethink taking a chance on him. 

Even if the risk is terrifying and you're scared of ruining things, you know Spencer would be worth the try. Plus, fantasizing about a reality where it works out and you get married in a few years is actually much more fun than thinking about impending doom. 

You don't want the world to end before you tell Spencer the raw truth of your feelings, and not through subtle gestures or sneaky glances, you want him to hear the whole thing. 

You squeeze his hand for one final reassurance. He smiles and squeezes your hand back. 

“Spencer, I've got something very important to tell you.” 

Slow and stead. 

“I'm listening.” 

You lick your lips. 

“Okay well, remember how I told you a few months ago that there were currently no guys who were interested in me?” 

He nods.

“Well, I lied.” 

He raises his eyebrows, amused at the route you're taking, “oh yeah?” 

You nod, swallowing heavily, “Yeah, yes. There was this… guy at my job, he doesn't work there anymore because he got transferred because of ‘new chances’ or whatever, but he was working with me this time last year, you know? Anyways, he'd get really close to me whenever we were handling the same task, not in a sexual harassment way but in an ‘I have a crush on you’ way. And I realized that he was interested in me because he kept dropping hints and I'm, surprisingly, not that oblivious. I can tell when a guy likes me. He actually asked me out once to this new donut place near the office, but I declined because he has really bad table manners to be honest and, god I'm glad he's not working with us anymore because he'd hog all the coffee and we could barely find anything to drink by the end of the day— but that's not the only reason I rejected him, I actually rejected him because… because I couldn't imagine going out with anyone else who wasn't you, and I guess what I'm trying to say is- that's when I realized that I like you, Spencer. And I've liked you for almost a year now.” 

You're out of breath by the time it's all out, but incredibly relieved. You look up at Spencer and he has this amused twinkle in his eyes and a very dumb smug smirk on his face. Once you're fully and completely done with your little speech, the first thing he does is laugh.

You're so offended you immediately take your hand away from his and slap his chest, “Don't fucking laugh, I just confessed my feelings for you.” You hit him some more, but he won't stop laughing, “Spencer, this is so fucking rude, oh my god, just reject me like a lady if you're going to mock me like this.” 

He catches your hand before you land another weak punch on his arm, and you have very little time to react before he reaches forward, cupping your face with his other hand and joining your lips for a long-awaited kiss. 

You've fantasized about the way he kisses for a very long time. After you’d heard about his little make-out session with that actress in the pool, it took everything in your body to resist asking him to take you next. You've thought about kissing him nearly every night when you were falling asleep, he was even haunting some of your dreams like a fiend, kissing you like his life depended on it, only for you to wake up to the cruel, harsh reality of never having kissed Spencer Reid.

But that reality is different now. 

He uses both his hands to cup your face and angles your head just right to get as much contact as possible. He tastes like the wine you've been drinking all night and smells like cedar wood and sage. God, even when kissing you he has to smell like a perfect little herbal garden? You'd get mad at him if his lips moving against yours weren't melting away every ounce of sophistication you have in your body. 

You use the chance to be greedy and reach your hand into his hair, making sure to mess it up so that there’s proof that you were here, in his arms, kissing him. 

He's sweet with his kiss, despite knowing you both waited for it for so long, he doesn't push you to go further even though you'd love for him to. You'd let him take you on this table right now.

But the absolute worst thing about Spencer is that he's so respectful that he pulls away after a few seconds to watch for your reaction. He's flushed with desire and his eyes have gone dark in a way that you've only seen when he was really angry. You can tell that he's restraining himself to not make you uncomfortable. His eyes scan your face eagerly, his hands resting on either side of your face.

“God, you're so… ridiculous.” 

The comment is so unexpected that you laugh, and the sexual tension seems to ease into just… sexual existence. “Hey, what's that for? You're going to kiss a girl and then immediately insult her?” 

His smile mirrors yours, “my apologies, your highness. I have just never heard such a ridiculous confession in my life before.” 

You frown, lips curling into a pout, “not true, that actress in the pool had a ridiculous confession too.” She didn't, but you never fully got over her kissing Spencer before you could. 

“Oh yes, I'm sorry, I forget about any other woman when I'm with you.” Then he plants a quick kiss on your lips with a poorly concealed smile, and you can just tell that he's going to be doing that a lot to get away with whatever bullshit he's spewing. 

“You’re unbelievable, Spencer Reid.” 

Then you’re kissing him again, craving more of what he gave you during the first kiss. The desperation for contact has you pulling him closer by his collar, leaning into the kiss like you were starving before him. When he finally slips his tongue into your mouth, you moan so pathetically it makes his grip around you tighten, body drawing impossibly closer to yours.

You're kissing for such an extended period of time that you're dizzy from the lack of air when he pulls away, and you're greeted by that lovely shade of crimson on his face. You desperately want to find out just how red he can get and in what other places.

You're admiring his face, lost in the haze of the kiss, and chewing absentmindedly on your lips when you suddenly remember something very important. You draw back a little to shoot him a very serious look. 

“Hey, you never said you liked me back.” 

He laughs in disbelief, “do I have to?” 

You nod like a petulant child, seriously alarmed.

He playfully rolls his eyes, “alright, I like you too,” he kisses you, “I like you a lot actually.” 

You're satisfied with that answer, melting into his touch again, like a helpless pet. You admire the post-makeout look that adorns his face and makes him more beautiful than you could ever imagine, and he gazes at you with stars in his eyes. For a while, it feels like the universe belongs to the two of you and no one else. 

Until you remember how late it is and the fact that Spencer actually works tomorrow, then you're not that happy anymore. 

“What's wrong?” He asks, nose rubbing against yours as if you could ever focus on anything when he's that close. 

“You have work tomorrow, and it's very late…” 

He draws back from you, as if broken out of the trance by your words, “Oh no, you're right.” He's starting to move away when something inside you kicks in and suddenly your legs are flying to lock around his waist to secure him in place. He raises his eyebrows at you, amused and surprised.

“You can't do this.” 

You nod your head menacingly, “oh yes I can.” You know he could easily break out of your hold if he really wanted to, but the fact that he's entertaining your antics tells you that he's not very eager to leave either. 

“Angel, I have to go to work in the morning. Like an adult with responsibilities, you know?” 

If you were in your right mind, you'd be offended at that comment, but he's just kissed you senselessly and then called you ‘angel’ for the very first time. No one could blame you for not being very wise. 

“You can still go to work in the morning, you just... don't have to leave right now.” 

“You want me to stay? Here?” You nod. “My love, you don't even have a change of clothing that can fit me.” 

“Then sleep naked. I won't complain.” 

He laughs, “What about a toothbrush? You don't have an extra one for me.” 

“I change my toothbrush once every three months and I always buy extra, so I do actually have a completely sealed, never used before brush that you can use. It will be yours from now on.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief but you can tell he's starting to budge, your technique is working. 

Plus there's the unsaid promise that, if he stays, there will be a lot more kissing going on. 

“And you want me to go to work tomorrow in this same outfit?” 

“Mhm, we'll hang it and it will be just fine.” 

“I don't have my badge with me, I can't go to work without my badge.” 

You scoff. “Then wake up early and drive by your place, stop creating irrelevant problems, Spencer.” 

He’s in disbelief at your brazenness but seems to cave in anyway. “Fine, yeah, I'll stay.” 

You smile, very proud of yourself, “yes you will.” 

At this point, you're aware that your leg is still around his waist, and you're holding him in place like you took him hostage, but you honestly don't feel like letting him go just yet. Months of pining for him like a lovesick fool, you think you deserve to relish in the power you exert over him. He seems to notice the hunger for power in your eyes because he's coming closer again, placing his hands on either side of your thighs. 

“You have other plans for me tonight, don't you?” He's using that husky tone again and looking at you with glazed-over hazel eyes. Like a predator hunting its prey. 

You place your arms around his neck, back where they belong, “and if I do? Will you punish me, officer?” 

His warm breath fans over your lips and you're shaking to your core with anticipation, “I don't know, maybe I will.” 

Then he puts an end to all your antagonizing conversations that are distracting you from more important matters by bringing you in for another eager kiss. You take all of him in, the stubborn grip he has on your face, the teeth clashing when he shifts your positions, the low moan he releases when you pull on his hair — you take everything he gives you with eagerness and hunger. You could swallow him up whole right now if you could. 

When he pulls away to take a breath and you're confronted by his disheveled face once more, you realize that there are a lot of things you're going to do to him tonight. You realize that it’s going to be a good while before either of you goes to sleep.

[softzosan]

Who the fuck drove a stupid bike at half past 7 in the morning during winter, uphill, anyway? A guy with hideous green hair, apparently.

first chapter of my modern day zosan au

latest chapter

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

Draco had got barely halfway across the Entrance Hall when it happened. He felt the Trip Jinx round his ankles before he saw his assailants, and he went sprawling hard onto the cold stone floor, the wind knocked out of him, his wand spinning away to clatter out of sight and well out of reach. He lay on his front, coughing and gasping with ugly laughter ringing in his ears.

"Nasty tumble, there Malfoy," jeered someone behind him. "You want to mind where you're going, or you could hurt yourself."

Draco pushed up onto his hands and knees, still trying to get his breath. There was no way he could reach his wand before they jinxed him again; he hadn't even seen where it landed. He never was any good at muggle duelling. He got one leg under him, bracing himself to be knocked flat again, and heard a shout from above him.

"Protego!"

The jinx bounced off the Shield, and Draco got to his feet under its protection. Harry Potter was striding down the marble staircase toward them looking like a thunderstorm. Halfway along he stooped and picked up Draco's wand. He hardly glanced at Draco as he passed him and marched up to the little knot of seventh years picking themselves up from where they'd been hit by the rebounding jinx.

"Think it's funny to knock people down, do you, McLaggen?" snarled Potter, glaring up at the biggest of the lot.

"Oh don't get your wand in a knot, Potter. It's only Malfoy," said McLaggen in the sort of tone you might use to say 'It's only a slug.' "No love lost there, eh?"

"It doesn't matter who it is! We're not doing things like that anymore," Potter said furiously. "We just got done with a fucking war, and you want to keep fighting? You lot want to keep it going just for fun? Well, I don't, and I better not see you do that again! Now clear off! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"You can't--"

"Too fucking right I can! Now get back to your common room!" And, perhaps because Potter was Head Boy, perhaps because he looked like he could spit nails, or perhaps simply because he was Harry Potter, they did clear off. Potter watched them go, then turned to Draco. He still looked quite angry, but he was clearly trying to gather himself, "You okay?"

Draco had grazed his palms rather badly from throwing his hands out when he landed; his left wrist and forefinger were throbbing mightily, and his chest still ached, but he shrugged, "Fine."

Potter grabbed his sleeve and pulled Draco toward him to inspect his injuries, "Liar. You should go to the hospital wing and get that sorted out."

"I'll live," said Draco, but he didn't withdraw.

Potter frowned at him, chewed his lip. "I heal it for you if you'd rather," he offered after a moment.

"If nothing else will please you."

Potter pointed his wand at Draco's bleeding hands, "Episkey." The scrapes vanished, and Draco felt the spell heal his sprained wrist and finger as well. Potter pressed something into Draco's hands. Draco's wand. Draco had already forgotten he'd picked it up.

______

Excerpt from my new fic Queen of the Weeds! Drarry, Rated E, 60K. This is a coming of age story about figuring out who you're going to be and what you're going to do after your life very publicly falls apart. Draco and Harry become friends and more after they both return to Hogwarts for their 8th year after the war.

This fic is not a WIP, it is complete. I will be posting new chapters on Sundays and Thursdays until the whole thing is up.

Also gratitude to Allie @oflights from whom I got the poem that I took the title from.

Edit: This fic is now completely posted! You can read all 10 chapters now now now! I hope you enjoy reading it, because it was such a genuine pleasure to write, and I'm really going to miss working on it! Get the whole story here on AO3!

[sidethatyoudontknow]

In the middle of all this 457 chaos there's me that lowkey ships junho and the salesman/ the recruiter/ddakji guy or whatever you're calling him

I mean have you look at them, imagine the banter we could've got

Like there's junho, a detective who's been trying to find his brother only to be led up to a brutal kids game competition in some sketchy island and also finds out the person who controls the said game is his very own brother that he's been searching for a long time that is also a previous winner in the game

And then there's the salesman (some people call him ddakji or dak ho) who's been trained to kill, to see people that played the games is lower than him like a trash since he was a teenager probably, who doesn't even know the purpose of life anymore, a literal mess, a maniac. That's also probably the one that recruit junho's brother into playing the games(a theory not sure if that would makes sense)

Just imagine that, I could write a few headcanons if anyone interested

And yes yes I know they didn't even interacted once for SHIT(and the only time they ever see one another was when one of them already died and the one died never also see him or does he?)

[jamiethebee]

Harvest

My piece for ecto-implosion 2024!

I was partnered up with @tsubaki94 who did three whole lovely artworks, so go check them out here! (x)

(The AO3 Link (X) : broken up into smaller chapters rather than this one big guy)

25,252 words

Danny rubbed his foot around in the dirt, watching the small dust cloud billow up and hang there.

“Well come on, I’ll show you where you’re staying for the next few months.”  Alicia turned around and started walking off.

“Wait!” Danny bent to pick up his bags and rushed to catch up to his aunt, “I thought that you lived in the cabin?”  He looked over at the cabin he spotted through the trees.

Alicia glanced back at Danny.  She sighed, “I do.  You don’t.”

Danny frowned.  “I won’t?  Then where will I be staying?”

Side stepping a bush, Alicia grumbled, “you’ll see.”

They moved through the brush, dodging branches and stepping around roots and detritus on the ground.  It was hot and humid and Danny was starting to feel sticky, carrying his bags with him through it all.  The birds around them quieted as they approached and then started up again once they left.  A gentle slope turned into a steeper incline and Danny quietly wondered how much longer they were going to take.  He really hoped Alicia wasn’t just taking him in a circle in some sadistic test to see how long he’d last before complaining.  Or murder him.  It wasn’t likely, but Danny didn’t know his grumpy aunt well enough to rule it out either.  Probably not though.  Maybe. 

As they made their way up, Danny smelled a change in the air.  He arched his neck around Alicia to try to see what the cause was, but quickly moved his head back and away from a sudden branch flying in his face.  Just as Danny was weighing the benefits of asking for a break, the ground leveled out, and Danny got his first glimpse of the farm.

Golden strands of wheat waved in the slight breeze, stretching farther than Danny thought he’d see.  In the distance, taller stalks formed a different swath.  Alicia stepped out of the trees and onto a path that edged the fields.  Following Alicia, Danny realized the smell had gotten stronger.  “Huh,” Danny thought.  He leaned over, closer to the stalks.  Yep, the fields were definitely the source of the smell.  Turning back to Alicia, he looked down the path and stepped next to his aunt to walk side by side.  They seemed to be close to the edge and Danny could see a couple of structures in the distance.

“These are the wheat fields,” Alicia said.  “My farm grows two kinds, spring and winter wheat.  This here is the spring wheat; it’ll be part of what you’ll be helping to take care of on the farm.”

“Oh.  What else will I be doing?”

Alicia looked down at him, “We’ll see.”

Danny winced and looked ahead again.  “Am I staying in one of those cabins ahead of us?”

Alicia huffed, “Sure will.  I’ve got a farmhand that helps out - sometimes stays in one of the cabins, sometimes travels back and forth from here to town.  You’ll be meeting him later.”

“I didn’t realize there would be anyone else here.”

“Well sure, ya think I can take care of a farm like this all by myself?  It’s a lot of work.  Course, if one of my hands didn’t leave me in the middle of the season, I wouldn’t have let Maddie send you here at all.”  Alicia looked down at him, “My farm’s no place to goof around.  We all have jobs around here and we all have to do them.”  She leveled a sharp look at Danny, “Understand?  Just because you’re my sister’s kid doesn’t mean you aren’t responsible for pulling your own weight.”

Danny looked away, “Yeah.  I get it.  Don’t worry, Mom already told me.”  More like lectured me to behave, Danny thought.

Alicia huffed.  “Well, just keep that in mind.”  They walked the rest of the way down the path in silence.

As they neared the first cabin they could hear a bark, “That’s Skip.  He usually follows me around or hangs around the animals.  Good for keeping most unwelcome visitors away.”

Danny looked out and around excitedly, “you have a dog?”

Climbing up the cabin steps to pull open the door, Alicia said “yeah, but he’s a working dog, so don’t go bothering him.”

Once Danny stepped in, Alicia followed, closing the door behind him.  Sunlight streamed in through high set windows, illuminating the space.  At one end there was a bed on a simple frame, a dresser next to it, and enough space for a chair and small table.

“This is where you’ll be staying.  Got the place to yourself, though there isn’t much to begin with.  The toilet is the outhouse in between these two cabins, unless you really want to head down to bother me for mine.”

Danny gulped, feeling a little intimated.  “Got it – outhouse.”

“Yeah well, I’ll leave you to get settled in here and then I’ll come grab you for dinner.  Most meals will be down in my cabin, since it has the kitchen.  That said, you can bring food up here, but I don’t recommend it.  Racoons and the like will try to break in if they smell it up here.”

Danny nodded, looking around.  “Anything else?”

“You’d be best to wear boots if you’ve got them starting tomorrow, but for now?  Make sure the cabin door latches correctly when you leave or it’ll swing open.  That’s a great way to invite little rodents to make their home in here or to take a shit on the floor at the least.”  Alicia looked over the cabin once, “Fer now, settle in and I’ll come get you when it’s time.”  Alicia opened the cabin door and left Danny alone with his thoughts. 

Stepping over to the bed, he set his suitcases down and sat between them.  The bed let out a soft wheeze, but otherwise stayed firm.  It was more of a cot than a proper mattress, but that didn’t faze Danny.  He was looking to get shipped back to Amity Park as soon as he could anyway.  Dust motes danced around him.  The cabin was quite small.  But at least Danny didn’t see any spiderwebs or droppings.  ‘Small mercies’ Danny thought.  Pulling out the older PDA gifted to him by Tucker, Danny tried to see if he could pick up a signal to send back to his friends.  Waving his arm in the air didn’t do much.  No signal.  Sighing, Danny put the PDA down behind the suitcases and leaned back on his hands. 

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he could smell the dust in the air, hear the rustling of leaves on the trees, and the faint sounds of animals.  He didn’t know why his parents thought he needed to get away from Amity Park for the second half of the summer, but Danny was annoyed.  He spent the first half of the summer trapped in summer school, and no sooner did he have the freedom to spend time with Tucker and Sam, than his parents and Jazz decided to send him off.  Between more ghosts showing up and causing problems, and his parents paying more attention to him now that Jazz was off at college, Danny had felt like he hadn’t had a moment to himself during the school year.  Any extra time he used to have was taken up by his parents dragging him into the GAV to hunt down ghosts and talk about what he planned to do after high school.  Danny had been looking forward to vegging out on the couch and running around the mall with Sam and Tucker instead of what?  Shoveling dirt?  Or watering plants?  Or whatever.  Danny wasn’t sure what would be expected from him this summer, but his mom made it clear that he was supposed to help his aunt with minimal complaint.  Danny let his arms give out so he could fall back onto the bed. 

He didn’t know what to expect here, but he knew that back in Amity the ghosts would be having a great time wreaking havoc with one less capable ghost hunter there to kick them back into the Ghost Zone.  At least Valerie had enough of a truce with Phantom now to be convinced to empty the ghosts back into the portal instead of handing them over to be subjected to the latest experiment his parents cooked up.  Danny closed his eyes.  Even thinking about what he would be returning to at the end of summer back in Amity Park was enough to exhaust him and before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep.

A short rap on the door woke Danny up, and he got up, threw a glance at his still unopened suitcases, and walked to the cabin door, pulling it open.  “Oh,” Danny said.  It wasn’t Alicia at the door like he was expecting.

“Hey, you must Alicia’s nephew?”  the mystery man asked.

“Uuuh yeah,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck trying to work out the crick that he put there by falling asleep cockeyed on the bed.  “And you are- ?”

The man laughed, “Aaah, figures that Alicia wouldn’t have told ya.  I’m here to take you to dinner, I’ll tell ya about myself on the way.”

Danny eyed the man, dressed in a button down shirt, blue jeans, boots, and a hat - he certainly looked like he worked on a farm.  Stepping out of the cabin, and making sure that the latch took, Danny walked after the guy as he led Danny to a dirt path off to the side of the cabins.  “I’m Will, no it ain’t short for nuthin.  Down this path,” he gestured, “takes you straight to tha boss’ place – and coincidentally dinner.”  Will let out a barking laugh and continued.  “I’ve been working here for a few years now.  Actually, for most of my life.  Worked here during the summers in between school for Tish and Dick back when they ran the place.  Later, when I realized city life didn’t agree with me, I came back and started working here full-time.  Alicia took over when they passed and she’s a bit gruff, but just as smart as her ma in running the place.”

“Oh, last time I was here, Alicia mentioned the women in the family being smart,” Danny said offhandedly as he looked around the woods.

Will hummed, “darn right they are, never met a smarter bunch.  The town was real glad when Alicia moved back, and I think they’re still a bit sad her sister – yer ma – never came back.”  Danny could feel Will’s gaze on him, “when were ya here last, by the way?”

“Uh,” Danny said, looking over at Will, “uuh must’ve been a year and half ago?  Roughly?  It was only a short trip.  My mom came down for Aunt Alicia’s divorce party and my sister and I dropped in to make sure my dad had my mom’s anniversary present.  That’s a bit of a long story, but we were only here for a day.”

“Aaah,” said Will, “makes sense.  I usually take a trip to the next town over to see my brother’s kids around that time.  Wouldn’t have seen ya and Alicia ain’t a big blabber if it’s not about the farm.”

Danny didn’t have much to say to that, so he looked ahead to the path, which had started curving away.  Coming around the bend, Danny could see Alicia’s cabin through the trees and realized that Alicia could have chosen to take this path up when Danny was carrying his suitcases.  His mood soured as they kept walking.  Getting to the end of the path, and out of the trees, Danny noticed a small building behind the cabin.  Maybe he could ask Alicia what it was for? 

Will walked up to the cabin door and knocked, before opening and sticking his head in, “Heya Boss, got the kid.  Anythin’ ya need help with?”

“You two better wash your hands ‘fore ya even think about touching food.”  Without turning around, she kept stirring the pot on the stove.

“Yes ma’am,” Will said, before turning around to Danny behind him, “Follow me.”  And he walked into the cabin, heading around a wall to another door inside.

Danny glanced around the cabin as he stepped in.  Nothing much had changed since the last time he was here.  He heard water running and looked back around to Will, who was washing his hands in the small bathroom sink.  Waiting for his turn, he looked around.  There was a picture or two on a table along with a radio, a small couch and chair, and a little fireplace.  But no TV.  Danny frowned, resigning himself to a very boring summer.

“Alrighty,” Will said, hanging up the towel, “your turn kid,” and he walked off around the corner to the kitchen.

Danny stepped in, noting the indoor toilet and shower that wasn’t in his cabin, and washed his hands.  By the time he got back out, Alicia and Will were outside setting down the final dishes on the wooden picnic table.

“Ah there you are Danny, we’ve got everything out here, come join us,” Alicia called him over.

Jumping down the stairs, Danny walked over to the table and took a seat next to Will.  Alicia may be his aunt, but he felt more comfortable with Will from the short walk over than he did with her.  A stack of bowls, a pot, and some bread on a plate got his attention.

Watching Alicia and Will grab bowls and dish out stew, Danny grabbed the last bowl and did so himself once the ladle was free.  Grabbing a piece of bread, he started dunking it in.  Watching Alicia and Will eat, he took a bite.  Danny made a surprised noise.

Alicia looked over to him, “Surprised?”

Danny nodded and swallowed his bite, “a lot better than I was expecting.”

Alicia laughed, “I’ll take it that my sister still ain’t much of a cook if you think that.”

Danny sheepishly laughed, “Mom’s cooking is alright.”  How could Danny explain that most of the stuff in their fridge sat next to ectoplasm and that no matter how well the containers were sealed, most of the time, the food tasted slightly off from spending time in there?  He elected to stay silent.

Alicia hummed in response as she ate another bite of stew.  The rest of dinner passed quietly, and soon the sounds of bowls being scrapped clean echoed in the little clearing. 

Alicia leaned back, waiting for Danny to finish.  Will took out a little pipe, tapping down the tobacco and lighting it.  Danny wrinkled his nose at the smell as he finished his bowl and straightened.  “That was really good Aunt Alicia,” Danny said.

Alicia grinned, sharp and wide, “glad you thought so.  Will, you can head back up, Danny here is going to help me with the dishes tonight.”

“Are ya sure?”  Will asked.

“Yea, we’ve got some things to talk about anyway,” Alicia narrowed her eyes at her nephew. 

Danny felt a chill run down his spine, unrelated to the waning light.

“Alright,” Will said, standing, “I guess I’ll be going then.  Night Alicia, night Danny.”

“Night Will,” Alicia said.

“Goodnight Will,” Danny called out as Will walked back to the path they came down.

“Well,” Alicia started, “Grab the dishes and follow me in.”  She stood up and grabbed the pot, heading back to her cabin.

Danny stood up, piled the bowls and spoons together in a neat pile, and walked in after Alicia.

“There ain’t no dishwasher in this old cabin, so we’ll be doing everything by hand.”  Alicia plugged half the sink and started the tap.  “I’ll let you rinse and dry the dishes.”  Danny set the bowls off to the side of the sink and walked around her. 

After filling up the sink sides, Alicia took the pan and started soaping it up.  “So, Danny,” Alicia started.  “Um, well, Maddie,” she cleared her throat.  “Yer ma seemed worried about you.  Anything I should know about?  Since you’ll be working on my farm and all.”

Danny shoulders inched towards his ears.  “No, nothing.  I didn’t need to get out of Amity.”  He scowled at the pot Alicia was cleaning. 

“Hmmm,” Alicia replied, methodically working around the inside.  “I never knew my sister to be a worrier, but I won’t pry.  So long as you don’t bring any strangers or trouble around it’s not really my business.”

Danny’s shoulders relaxed some as he took the pot from Alicia and rinsed it off before setting it in the dish rack to start drip drying.  The rest of the dishes passed quickly in the silence and as Danny was drying the last bowl, Alicia walked off around the corner.

Danny closed the last cupboard as Alicia came back around with a large fabric bag.  “I don’t want to keep you up for much longer, but we’ve got some housekeeping to deal with first.”  She held out the bag towards Danny.  He took it.  “First off, my cabin has the only shower.  The only rules are to not use it when I’m sleeping and to clean up after yourself.  I mean pick up your towels and hang them to dry over your cabin porch railing.  I’ve got a standing unit in the back.”  At Danny’s scrunched eyebrows, she sighed.  “A washing machine,” she strode to the cabin door.  Heading down the steps, she called back, “You saw the structure behind the cabin?”

“Uuuh, yeah,” Danny said, walking behind her.

“Well, the machine’s in there.  We don’t got a dryer, instead,” Alicia pointed up at a line stretching from her cabin to a tree.  “There’s a bag inside with clothespins.  You’ll hang up your clothes after the washer gets done.  I recommend getting up in the mornings and starting them so that they have the whole day to dry on the line.  But that’s just me.”  Turning back around she said, “well, I think that’s most everything.  I’ve got a bell I’ll ring to let y’all know when food’s ready.  I expect you to finish whatever you’re up to and to get down here when you hear that bell.  Either you’re on time or you don’t eat.  There’s too much to do around here to wait around.”  She looked down at him as the sun finished setting, the orange glow around them the last remnant of the day.  Her face softened some, “before I send you back to get some sleep, any questions?”

Danny shook his head, “Naw, laundry out back, shower inside, don’t bother you with either.  I think I’ve got it all.”

“Good.”  Alicia and Danny stood there for a moment.  “Well,” Alicia cleared her throat, “I’ll uh, see you tomorrow mornin then.  Night kid,” and turned to walk back to her cabin. 

Danny stood there for a moment before sighing and making his way back to the path.

_______

Danny woke up to knocking on the door and sunlight on his face.

Knock knock knock echoed through the cabin and Danny squished his eyelids together even tighter.  “Come on, get up boy, you don’t have time to lay around.”

Danny turned his head into his pillow and groaned.  He spent long enough last night putting away his clothes and getting used to the small cabin that he fell asleep at a time that, had he been back in Amity, would have been early and yet here was late, based on how groggy he felt.  Unrested.

Knock knock bang, “don’t think I won’t come in there kid,” Alicia warned.

Danny let out another groan before turning his head and calling out, “Alright, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Something that sounded like “too long” came from the door before footsteps started walking down the cabin steps.  Quickly getting ready – jeans, shirt, and unfortunately, FentonWorks patented hazmat boots, Danny pushed open the door, hopping a little to finish getting the second boot on.  He jumped down the stairs, making his way to Aunt Alicia, who was leaning against a tree.

“Well, 56 seconds ain’t bad kid, but come on.  You’re following me around for the day.”  She pushed off and started walking, “I assume you don’t have any experience working a farm?”

Danny shook his head, “no ma’am.”

Alicia snorted, “none of that ma’am business, call me Alice.”

“I thought your name was Alicia though?”

Opening a little gate, Alicia whistled and then beckoned Danny through before latching it, “Sure is, but yer ma and me had our Grandma Alicia, so family started calling me by Alice.”  Walking off to a small building further back, she continued, “But enough of that, we’ve got a long day.  You can ask if you have questions, but do your best to pay attention.”  With that, she opened the door to a cacophony of clucking that quickly died down.  Danny stepped in after her, and as his eyes adjusted he saw the inside of a coop.  Two rows of chicken nests on either wall, with hens either standing around Alicia or sitting.  Once they spied Danny hiding behind her though, they started squawking again and rushed forward, wings flapping and feathers fluffed.  Danny started backing away before a hand pushed on his back and a bucket was shoved into his chest.  Quickly grabbing it, Danny looked down at a bunch of seed and –

“OW!” Danny yelped as he started hopping from one foot to another, hens trying to peck away at the new intruder.

“Walk out, they’re just not used to you is all,” and Alicia shooed him out of the coop.

‘Fuck’ Danny frowned, not quite running away from the coop and wishing he could’ve used his intangibility to get away from the chickens.  Alicia laughed at him as the hens kept pace around Danny’s ankles, lunging forward to peck at him.  “How do I get them to stop?” Danny yelled.

“Jump the fence!”

Danny ran back to the gate and hopped over it with a little help from his ghost side to land a few steps away from the chickens.

Bwaack Squak Sqwauk!!

Danny looked up at Alicia who offered an unapologetic, “Sorry.  I forgot.”

Squinting at the slightly amused look on his aunt’s face, Danny scowled, “Did you do that on purpose?”

“No idea what ya mean kid.  Anyway, for now you can toss some feed in, but otherwise wait out there.  I’ll explain what I did when I get back out to you.”  Alicia grabbed a basket hanging outside the coop door and walked back inside.

Danny glared down at the chickens who were still protesting his presence.  “What.”

“Squuuuawk!” was the response back.

Danny sighed and looked down at the bucket in his hands.  It had some seeds and other things mixed in.  Looking back up at the chickens staring at him, Danny slowly raised a hand, “I’m going to throw some seeds in.  Please don’t scream at me for it,” and he reached a hand in.  No sooner did Danny close his hand around some feed, then one of the hens decided to start flapping its wings again to cause a fuss.  Danny jumped and glared at the chicken.  Out of spite, Danny reached back in and with a handful of feed, overhand chucked it into the coop yard.  Sticking his tongue out at the chickens that refused to let him out of their sight, Danny took another step back.  He couldn’t wait till his parents’ summer banishment was over and he could go back to Amity Park.

Alicia stepped out of the coop with the basket and walked over to a trough sitting in the yard.  After looking down, she gave a quick nod, and then started heading to the gate.  Where the chickens were still standing.  Glaring at Danny.

“Uuuh,” Danny said, “Do you have a plan on getting close enough to take this bucket back?”

“Sure do,” Alicia said, coming up to the gate, “step closer and hand it over.”

Eyes never leaving the chickens, Danny inched his way closer to Alicia and when he was close enough, thrust out the bucket towards her.  “Do they hate everyone?”  He asked.

Alicia took the bucket, “Nope.  Not me,” and laughing, walked back to the coop.

“Great, real reassuring,” Danny grumbled to her back.

Once Alicia finished up inside the coop, and with a basket of eggs in hand, she walked back out of the enclosure to Danny.  “Noticed how I whistled before?”  Danny nodded.  “I was warning the chickens that I was coming in.  It’s how I let them know it’s me and not a stranger.”  She grinned.  “Not that it helped you any.”

Danny looking away, glaring.

Alicia paused for a moment, “Well, no matter.”  She started walking to another log structure.  “I want you to figure out what signal you’re gonna give the chickens and start visiting them in the mornings.  Just so they get used to you.  We don’t want to upset them too much, so they need to start recognizing you.”  Walking up to the much larger barn, she opened the doors.  Danny was hit with the smell of animals and he scrunched up his nose, coughing. 

Alice looked back at him and laughed, “Well, you’ll get used to the smell soon enough.  Anyway, this is where we’ve got the rest of the animals.  Some pigs, cows, sheep - used to have a horse, but once we switched to using the tractor and truck full time, and old age killed her off, it didn’t make sense to get another.  But that was a number of years ago at this point.  I think ya mom and me were still kids then.”

Danny’s eyes finished adjusting to the inside and he saw the animals in their stalls.  The cows looked over at him, but it was one brave pig that snuffled up to Danny.  “Oh,” Danny said, crouching down.  “Cute.”  Reaching out a hand, Danny tried to pet the pig, which quickly moved away and waddled back to its stall area.

Danny caught Alicia’s smile as he stood back up.  “Pat’s rather friendly, but I wouldn’t recommend getting too attached.”  She gestured over to the far wall, “I usually open up the barn during the day, let the animals wander around.  Before that though,” she bent down to grab a stool.  “There’s some tasks to get done.” 

Alicia made her way to one of the cows and picked up a stool and a steel bucket hanging up on the post.  She turned back around to Danny, “Yer gonna learn how to milk the cows here.  We usually fill up the pail and then transfer them to bottles.  We get too much milk to use ourselves, so neighbors will come and pick up some bottles from time to time.”  She set the stool down with the pail on top, then moved to the larger cow.  Going around to the back of the stall, she unlooped a short rope and tied it around the cow’s neck.  “This old gal here is Gully.”  Alice jerked her chin to other stall, “and our younger one is Lass.”  Alicia walked back out of the stall to move the stool and bucket closer.

“What’s the rope for Aunt Alice?”  Danny asked.

“Oh,” Alice said, setting down the stool and pail at Gully’s side.  Sitting down, she said, “just to keep her in place.  Gully doesn’t move as much as Lass will, but she’s used to the rope.  Either way, it lets her know it’s her turn.  Here,” Alice beckoned Danny over.  "Now here’s how you milk a cow.”

After the early morning of getting food to the animals, collecting the eggs, and milking the cows, Alice led Danny back down to her cabin.  Going inside for a minute, Alice came out with a cup of water for Danny.  “I’m gonna check on the oatmeal and cook up a few eggs for us.  I want you to walk around the woods down here while I finish up breakfast.”

“Alright,” Danny said.  “And uuuh, I’ll hear the bell when it’s time to come back?”

Alice chuckled, “Ha - yeah, you’ll hear it.  Remember – don’t dawdle when you hear it, come straight back.”

Danny downed the cup of water in one go and nodded, setting down the now empty glass on the table. “Will do.”  Danny started walking off and he heard the creak of the cabin door.  Just as he was about to exit the clearing, Alicia yelled back, “And don’t step on my rhubarb!”

Danny walked around a bush, ducking underneath a tree limb, “Ok!” and almost ran into a large leafed plant.  He tilted his head.  Squinted. 

‘I don’t actually know what rhubarb looks like,’ he thought.  Danny shrugged and moved around it anyway.  Walking further into the woods he felt the temperature drop some as shade took over.  Standing still, Danny realized how quiet it was.  No cars, no honking, no rushing of traffic in the distance.  Instead, there was the rustle of leaves and the occasional bird call.  He breathed in and out.  Quiet, and it smelled like the earth.  He looked around.  A chipmunk scampered up a far off tree.  Danny started picking his way through the bushes, tree roots, and other obstacles as he walked further in.

Danny looked back, and not seeing anyone, did his best to walk in a circle with Alicia’s cabin in the center.  He almost tripped a few times, before remembering that he could use his intangibility to easily get through the plants without crushing any.  ‘Problem solved.  I can’t step on anything if I do this.’  Without having to pick his way in between and around foliage, Danny’s pace picked up as he walked the area.  Coming up to what he assumed was near the back side of the cabin, Danny heard a sharp piercing bell echo around.  Danny jumped.  It was much louder than he thought it would be, especially through the trees.  He started walking back, and spied Will coming in and out of view.  Danny had gone farther than he thought and hurried up.  Just before he popped out of the trees, he dropped his intangibility and walked out behind Will onto the dirt path.  “Hey Will!”  Danny greeted.

Will whipped his head around, “Oh!  Geee-zuuus kid.  Where’d you come from?”

Danny came up alongside Will, “the woods.  Alice showed me around the animals this morning, then had me walk around for a bit.”

Will nodded.  “Makes sense.  You see her rhubarb patch?”

Danny grimaced, “Uuuh maybe?”

“You don’t know what they look like, do ya?”

Danny shook his head, “Not really.”  After a moment of hesitation, Danny asked, “what do they look like?”

“Oh well, you’ll know it when you see it.  Got these big leafs on them.  Actually, she’s started a new patch of them in her actual garden.  Not hard to spot, there’s about 6 of them?  Started a year or two back to grow them in a different spot.  Real finicky things, they don’t like it down here, but I suppose Alicia likes ‘em well enough that she takes the time to baby the things.  Me personally, I don’t like ‘em all that much, wouldn’t bother putting in tha’ much effort.”  Popping out of the trees, Will waved over to Alicia, getting her attention to let them know they had arrived.

Alicia looked over, “Good – kid came back with ya.  I’ll finish hanging this line and then I’ll get food out.”  She turned back to the laundry.

Will nodded, “understood ma’am.”  He looked over and down at Danny, “We best wash our hands and start setting out dishes then.”

Getting the table set up with a small plate, bowl, and spoon for each of them, Danny grabbed the pot of oatmeal, while Will grabbed the scrambled eggs.  They got them set down in time for Alicia to round the corner from the back.  “Aah, thank you kindly boys.  Wasn’t expecting ya both to set up, but I’m grateful.”  Sitting down, she started dishing out a ladle of oatmeal for everyone and Will pushed off some eggs on each plate.  Danny waited a moment for Will and Alicia to settle down and then started eating.

After breakfast, Alice once again shooed Will off to work and had Danny help her wash and put away the dishes.  Putting the towel back on the oven handle, Alice turned to her nephew.  “Well.  We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”  She glanced around.  “Ya bring a water bottle with ya or anything?”

Danny furrowed his eyebrows, “Uh no.”  He flushed, “I forgot to grab one when packing.”

Alicia huffed, bending down to open a lower cabinet, and rummaged around before pulling out a spare canteen.  Standing up, she unscrewed the lid and looked down into it with one eye closed.  “Don’t think there’s dust or nothing in there.  Should work fine for ya.”  She passed it off to Danny and started walking out the door.  “Get it filled and I’ll see ya outside.  If you need to pee, now’s the time to do it.”  She walked out and left Danny in the cabin.  Looking around, he didn’t see anywhere other than the sink to fill up the water.  Shrugging, he got it filled up from the sink, then quickly went to the bathroom.  Looping the water bottle strap around himself, he left the cabin.  Making sure to latch it closed, he walked towards Alicia who had put on a wide brimmed hat and they started up the slope together.

“Soooo,” Danny said.  “What’re we doing today?”

Alicia chuckled, “you’ll see.  I always found it easier myself to see what someone was talking about than to just listen to someone blabber on.”

They headed back up to the animals.  Walking towards the barn, Danny squinted his eyes at the change in light as they reentered.  He put a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle a cough.  Alice looked over at him, eyes crinkling.  “First order of business, mucking out the stalls.  I’ll do the first one, then you’ll take over, so make sure you’re watching closely.”  Danny wrinkled his nose as he took his hand away and watched Alicia roll up a wheel barrow from the side.  She picked up a pitchfork, and as she speared the poop, started talking.

“You’re probably familiar with the poop part of this.  You want to get out all the large patties, and then go back and clean up the pissed sections.”  Alicia grunted as she lifted a large chunk into the wheelbarrow.  “It ain’t tricky, but sometimes the animals like to cover the patches, so you gotta make sure that you get all the spots.  We want them to have clean stalls when we bring them back in this evening.  Specially the cows, don’t want them to get infections or nothing.”  Alicia looked over at Danny who was looking up into the loft.

“Hey!” she called, and Danny dropped his head down to look at her.  “You got that?”

“Yes, Aunt Alice,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. 

Alicia narrowed her eyes at him, then continued mucking out the stall.  When she finished, she handed the necessary tools over.  “Your turn kid.”

Danny flushed as he grabbed at the pitchfork, “Uh yes.”  He looked around before facing his aunt.  “What am I doing?”

Alicia stared him down.  “The next stall, boy.  Get to it.”

Danny gulped and walked to the stall next to the one Alice finished.  “So I just-“ and he mimed stabbing a poop patty.

Alicia raised an eyebrow and stared Danny down.

Turning back around, he prodded the pile.  Standing there a moment, he shifted his stance and jerked the tines into the pile.  He wiggled it in a little further.  Glancing over at the wheelbarrow, he started to crouch a little, bracing against his leg, and tried to leverage the pile up.  The pitchfork shook a little and Danny shifted a foot back to steady himself.  He shuffled around and clumsily wiggleded the poop off and into the wheelbarrow.  He looked up at Alicia.  Alicia looked back into the stall then back at Danny.  Figuring that was as good of a “go ahead” as he was going to get, he turned back into the stall and continued.  Alicia came to stand by the stall entrance and give the occasional tip as Danny rooted around looking around for spots to clean up.  Danny groaned as he finished the last spot.  Rubbing his arm, he turned toward Alicia.

As he opened his mouth, Alicia cut him off, “On to the next.”

Danny shut his mouth, glowering a little, and stepped over to the next stall in line.  By the time he finished with that one, Alicia had come back with additional stall bedding, spreading it out and filling in the bare spots.  Danny leaned against the stall divider and opened up his bottle, taking a gulp of water.  It dribbled down his chin and he wiped it off.  He hung his arms over the divider as he watched Alicia.  Her movements were smooth and practiced, and she was methodical, poking around and moving material, building it up in spots and thinning it out in others.  Alicia stepped back, shovel planted by her side.  She glanced over at Danny, not surprised to see him watching. 

“Any questions?”

Danny shook his head.

“No?  Well, I’ll leave you to the rest then,” and grinned at him, before leaning the shovel to the side and walking out of the barn.

Danny sighed and dropped his head for a moment.  It wasn’t hard to get the gist of what he had to do, but all of them?  It felt like he spent an hour just cleaning out the two he did already.  Not looking forward to the rest of the day, Danny pushed off the wall to continue.

At some point, Danny noticed something watching him from the barn door.  His shoulders tensed as he turned around.  The shape was grounded, solid in a way that most ghosts couldn’t replicate, and Danny felt his shoulders relax some.  Squinting against the bright light pouring in, he made out a fuzziness to whatever it was.  As his eyes adjusted enough to see more, Danny smiled.  It was a large dog, light in color except for the face and ears where the fur darkened.  Just as he was about to take a step to walk over, a low bark echoed throughout the barn.  Danny stopped.  The dog stood up but otherwise didn’t move, keeping eyes on him. 

“Hey,” Danny said.  “Aunt Alice said your name was Skip?”

The dog lowered its head down, staring down Danny.

Hearing footsteps coming from outside, Danny looked up.  Alice came to the entrance by Skip’s side.  “Sit,” she said.  Turning to Danny, “can you turn away from Skip a little?” 

Crouching down, she talked to Skip for a moment, before standing up and walking towards Danny.  “Alright, this is Danny.”  Coming to a stop near Danny, she clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “He’s going to be staying with us a while Skip.”

Skip stood up, turned away, and walked off.  Alice faced Danny.  “Well, that was Skip.  He isn’t the most friendly to strangers, but he’ll get used to you being around eventually.  Not that he hangs around us all that often.  Skip spends a lot of time with the chickens, sometimes the cows or pigs depending.  And you,” Alicia shook a finger at him, “will be out with the crops.  Shouldn’t run into any problems with Skip, just don’t startle him.”

Danny’s face fell, “Got it.” 

Alice looked around.  “So, you about finished in here?”

Danny ducked his head, “eeh about that.”

Alicia sighed, “Ok.  Well, once you get done with this, come find me.  I’ll be around, but if you can’t find me, just give a shout.”  She walked back out of the barn.

Danny sighed, hopes of having a dog crushed once again, and got back to work.

_____

Putting the tools back where Alicia grabbed them from, Danny walked out of the barn.  Stepping out of the shade, his hand flew up to shade his eyes from the sudden sun.  Glancing around, he didn’t see Alicia.  The woods on one side, chicken area in front, barn behind, and fields on his left.  Danny’s arms were aching, and he turned toward the woods. 

Walking through them for a while, Danny found a downed tree and sat down on it.  Head turned up to the dappled sunlight, arms stretched back, legs thrown out in front of him, he breathed deeply.  He slowly built up energy in his chest, before directing the collected ectoplasm out from his fingers, through the log, and into the surrounding area.  Nothing ectoplasmic echoed back through the connection and Danny slowed pulled it back, collecting and dispersing it back into himself.  Once confirming there were no ghosts out there, he fully settled his weight down onto his hands. 

He ignored the guilt building a home in his stomach and stayed for a few minutes, letting the sun soak into his being.  Danny was starting to get warm, bordering on hot - a foreign feeling ever since his ice core fully formed.  His eyelids fluttered closed and a soft breeze blew through, taking the edge of the heat off.  Danny could feel his heart slowing, mind growing fuzzy, and then he toppled back off the log.  His back hit the ground and the air escaped his lungs.  Wheezing softly, he stayed there for a moment.  Gathering breath back in his lungs, he tried to roll himself over.  Picking himself up, Danny did his best to brush the dirt and leaves off his backside.  Turning his attention back where he came from, he stomped his way to the farm.

Coming back up to the path around the farm, Danny spied Alicia coming up to the barn.  He started jogging faster before deciding to turn invisible and fly into the barn.  Setting down in a shaded corner, Danny turned visible and walked to the open doors.  Looking around behind him, he double checked that everything looked alright and walked out. 

Alicia was almost to the barn doors, looking back at the chickens, when Danny popped out.  “Hey!”  Danny called.  Alicia turned around to look at Danny before sending one last glance back.  Waiting for Alicia to get to the barn, Danny rocked back and forth on his heels.  His arms didn’t ache as much as when he first finished, but he could still feel the shaky weakness in them.  Danny flashed a smile at her as she got to him.

“So, how are you feeling?  Up to walking through the fields with me?”

Danny grimaced before he could stop himself. 

Alicia looked at him, “I’ll take that as a yes.”  She started walking away.

“Uh.” Danny started.  Alicia stopped.  “I – uh – what do I do with the, uuh, poop.  In the wheelbarrow?”

Alicia sighed before changing directions, walking back up and into the barn.  “I’ll show ya.  You’re gonna dump it in a pile out back.  We let it sit and age a while before using it.  Not the most glamorous, but it does the job.” 

Danny followed her in and took up the handles on the wheelbarrow.  Alicia led him out back, through the gated fence, and to a pile of poop.  Danny wrinkled his nose.  It didn’t smell as bad as he thought, but it wasn’t pleasant either.  He watched Alicia pick up a shovel that was leaning against a tree nearby, and she scooped the poop out of the small wheelbarrow and onto the pile.  In a minute she was done and set the shovel back down.

“As I said, not hard.  Get that wheelbarrow back where I grabbed it from this morning and catch up to me.  We’ve got a lot to do today.”

Danny hurried to comply and jogged to get back to Alicia who was halfway to the fields.

“Sooo,” Danny stretched out the syllable, “what’re we doing anyways?  Like the plants are all planted and stuff, right?”

Alicia scoffed at him and continued walking out to the fields.  Coming up to a large field of corn, she sharply turned left and kept walking alongside it.

Danny hopped a little on one leg to change direction and catch up.  After a few minutes of following Alicia and looking around the area – primarily at the woods in the distance, watching a bird fly up and overhead, and trying to find some shapes in the clouds – Danny sighed.  He looked over at Alicia.  Tried to find another bird to watch.  Looked back down.  Then further down at his feet.  Kicked a stray rock, causing a small dust cloud to rise up.  Alicia huffed.  Danny paused for a moment.  Started swinging his arms back and forth.  Stopped.  Started humming.  Stopped.  Shifted his weight on every step so he bobbed and swayed along more than walked.  Stopped that.  Looked back up at the clouds.  He could feel the sun warming the back of his neck as they went.

Alicia glanced over at him, causing Danny’s extraneous movements to still.  His shoulders lifted and he ducked his head down.  After another moment Alicia put her hands in her pockets.  Sighed.  “If Will wasn’t using the tractor to go around the farm today I would’ve taken you around in it.”  She leaned over to examine some of the corn stalks they passed by.  Straightening back up Alicia said to Danny, “There’s still a lot to do on the farm.  We may not be primarily livestock, but crops also require a fair bit of work.  We have to make sure they’re getting enough water, fertilize from time to time, spray for bugs and other diseases, weeding of course, making sure we don’t see signs of problems on the plants themselves, taking care of tractor maintenance – among other daily tasks.  You’ll be out in the fields mostly.  I’ll show you what needs done these first few days and then you’ll be sent off to do those tasks.  Don’t worry, I’ll let you know what to focus on, but,” Alicia shrugged, “a lot of it comes down to watching and learning the first few days.”

“Oh.”  Danny said.  “Uh, so what kinds of plants do you grow here?”  He scratched his warm neck.

Alice lifted up her hat before setting it back down, “Well, we’re a bit unusual – mostly growing feed for the livestock farms around here.  Remember when you and Jazz jumped into town last year from Air Grits?”

Danny nodded, “Yeah, that was weird; drove in this time though.”

Alice lifted her eyebrows for a moment, “Yep.  Bit of a hassle to drive into town though?”

Danny looked away, “Uuuh yea, the roads were kind of bumpy?”

Letting out a loud barking laugh, Alice said, “That’s one way to put it.  The road up here has a lot of sections through the woods too.  People here don’t drive from town to town all that often.  Makes us pretty secluded, and since there's not a lot of traffic it doesn’t make much sense to put money aside to pave a more direct route in.  Easier to just jump in from a plane for the most part.  Unless you live close that is.”

“I guess.  But what does that have to do with your farm?”  Danny wrinkled his noise as a breeze briefly brought the smell of manure his way.

“Mmm,” Alicia started.  “Well, animals need a lot of food, and the harder it is to get it brought in, the more expensive it is.  Growing up, your ma and me saw how the farmers struggled with the prices.  When I grew up, I decided to shift the family farm to silage to help with the demand.    You won’t see a lot of farms like mine, most of the food is grown outside of our region here or in other states entirely.”  She paused.  “It’s also a hell of a lot more trouble to get it to all work out if I’m honest.  There’s a reason crops aren’t grown in these parts.”

Danny nodded, looking back at the trees they passed by.

“To answer your original question, we got a field we plant cover crops in.  Depending on what we’ve got, I’ll send the cows and pigs out there during the days.  You won’t spend a lot of time there.  Then we’ve got this corn that we’re passing.  Unlike the corn we eat, this gets left to dry out after it gets done growing.”

Danny looked over the field, eyebrows pinched together.  “Corn?”

“Yessir, this is a corn field we’re walking by.  I guess for a city boy like you, it’ll be easier to tell in a few weeks.  These here are still growing their ears.  We’ve got some fields we planted earlier – they got their ears and silk already.  You’ll see them tomorrow probably.”

“Why?”  Danny interjected, “Why did you plant them like that?”

“Well,” Alice starts, “Oh, we’re coming up to the wheat here,” and pointed forward to the next field.  “We stagger our fields like that, so we stagger what time they’re ready to harvest.  It doesn’t make sense to flood the ranchers around here with a bunch of feed all at once, or to hafta store a bunch of it.  Arkansas up here in the north is a little interesting.  I started doing that a couple years back, and it’s been alright.  More work on my and Will’s end, but,” Alice shrugged.

Danny looked up at her, then tried standing on his tip toes as he walked.  He couldn’t see past the tops of the corn stalks and stumbled over an uneven patch on the ground.  Righting himself, he glanced back up at his aunt.  “So you’ve got corn and wheat, anything else?”

Alice looked down at him briefly, “Sometimes we’ll do soybeans, sometimes sorghum.  Depends.  Nothing you’ll have to worry about either way.  I think we’ll keep ya working on the wheat and corn this summer.”  Alicia looked at him from the corner of her eye.  “Speaking of, you drive yet?”

Danny choked on some spit, “Sorry?”  He cleared his throat, “I’m still a few months shy of being able to get my permit.  Eeeer,” Danny looked up her, “Why?”

“Aaah,” Alice said.  More to herself than Danny, she muttered, “No matter, I’ll have to teach ya regardless.”  She looked off in the distance before turning back to Danny.  “Today, we’re going to go around the farm.  I’ll show ya where are the different sections are and how they’re organized.”

Danny squirmed, “You don’t have to do that Aunt Alicia, I could walk around by myself.  I don’t want to take you away from your work.”

Alicia narrowed her eyes at him.  “You won’t be.  I’ve got stuff to do out in the fields anyway.”

Deflating a little under her gaze he nodded, “Okay.”

Walking out to edge of the farm, Alicia took Danny through a section of wheat, pointing out things to watch out for, checking moisture levels, and more.  Danny did his best to pay attention, but kept getting distracted by the wind brushing through the wheat.  The plants would bend and rub against one another, creating a raspy sound, like someone walking around.  After a sudden gust that caused Danny to jump, Alicia looked up at him.  She waited for Danny to settle again, then went back to what she was doing.  He could feel his shoulders tense and looked around the tops of the wheat to make sure that there really wasn’t anyone around.  Danny moved to crouch down next to his aunt. He started to lean off to one side, unbalanced on the ground, and it was only when he put out a hand to brace himself did Danny notice that his hands were balled into fists.  He slowly unclenched his left hand, the tension dissipating as he flexed it.  Turning back to Alicia, he noticed she had turned to look at him.  Danny looked back at her.  She raised an eyebrow.

At Danny’s clueless face, she rolled her eyes.  “Look over at the roots by you – do you see anything out of the ordinary?” 

Danny ears flushed pink as he turned his head to look around him. 

The rest of the afternoon passed by quickly, with Alice pulling snack bars from her overall pockets as a short break while they walked through more sections.  As they exited a corn field, Danny heard a rumbling in the distance.  After a minute or two of walking down the wider path, Alicia angled her head back, listening to something.  “Seems Will is driving the tractor back.  If he crosses near us, and has the cart hitched up, we can get a ride back.”

Danny desperately hoped that he would see Will.  He might have the occasional ghost fight and Sam as a friend, but he wasn’t fit.  After a day walking around, crouching and standing, his legs were tired, feet aching, and even his arms felt heavy.  Danny couldn’t wait to get back to his cabin and fall face first onto his bed asleep.  His stomach grumbled out.  Actually, dinner first, then sleep.  Hearing a change in the tractor rumble, Danny looked behind him and saw the tractor turn down their row.  Danny waved at Will, and Alicia turned around.  Ushering Danny to the side of the path, they let Will come to a stop, before closing the distance.

Grinning over at them, Will opened the door and told Danny, “You look dead on ya feet, kid.  Ready to get back?”

“Yes please,” Danny begged.

“Alright, then climb in.”  Will closed the door.

Danny gave a little wave and followed Alicia to the back, climbing up into the cart hitched up.

As Will got closer to the upper cabins, he let Alicia and Danny off before he went off to park the tractor and finish up some tasks.

“Well,” Alicia said, stretching out her back, “I’ve got some stuff to get in order before dinner.  If you want to call home, I’ve got a landline down in my house.  There’s not enough time to take a nap or anything, not that I’d recommend it anyway.  Or you could always take another look in the barn, see if there’s anything to muck out before the animals bed down for the night.

“Ok,” Danny said.  Alicia quickly turned and made her way down to the lower area.  Danny stood there for a minute, looking off into the woods, before making his way behind his cabin to the freestanding outhouse.

After, he ambled to his cabin.  Throwing open the door, he walked over to his bed.  He flopped down on top of it, a leg and arm hanging over the edge.  Danny wasn’t sure how much time he actually had before dinner, but he just wanted to be horizontal for a while.  His body settled down, weighing into the mattress as he tried to stop thinking.  After a while, his face got tired of being smashed into the sheets and Danny turned his head to the side, examining the little cabin.  The sunlight coming in through the windows was yellow orange and muted.  He watched the dust motes dance down the shaft of light before they disappeared into the shadows by his face.  Feeling his body relax further, his turned his attention to his wide open door.  The sounds of the woods filtered in, quiet, through it.  He heard a deep bark come from Skip from somewhere.  The sounds of a fly buzzing around his doorframe before flying off.  Birds called back and forth.  Danny sighed and felt his eyelids slide shut.  He couldn’t wait to start counting down the days until he returned to Amity Park.

When Danny could feel his heart slowing down, he quickly opened his eyes and pushed himself up.  The sudden shift started his heart beating rapidly.  Despite wanting to sleep so badly after this day, Danny did not want to miss dinner and he had a sinking feeling that his aunt would not be happy if he didn’t show up.  Not knowing how much time passed, he got up and left his cabin, making sure the latch clicked shut before he walked down to Alicia’s cabin.  Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, he made his way down the slope.  He didn’t call last night, despite promising his family he would.  Danny was relatively assured that his mom would’ve called Alice anyway.  More than that, Danny wanted to check in with Sam and Tucker.  As enthusiastic as his parents could be about chasing down ghosts, they were hardly reliable when it came to dealing with the ghosts in town.

He heard a steady clacking as he approached Alice’s door, and opening it, he found her in the kitchen cutting up ingredients. 

Danny looked around, then cleared his throat.  After a moment, Alice turned around to face Danny.  “What’s up?”

“Uuh, I’d like to use the phone.  If there’s still time before dinner?”

Alice gave one short nod then gestured, curving her hand around to point.  “Phone is on the other side of this wall, it’s a mounted one.  You can pull up a chair if you want.  I reckon you have enough time for a call.”

“Or two, if you’ve got a special someone,” she tacked on, laughing when Danny spluttered half formed words at her.  “Aah just kidding kid,” Alice said as she turned back around.

Danny let out a wheezy, “thanks,” before walking to the other side of the wall.  He found the aged yellow phone on the other side easily enough.  Pausing in front of it, he took a deep breath, before lifting up his hand to the receiver.  His hand rested there for a moment before he tightened his fingers and pulled the phone off, dialing the FentonWorks business number with his other hand.  Bringing the phone up to his ear, he shifted his weight, an arm coming around to wrap around himself. 

Briing brriiiing.

….

Briing Brriiing.

….

Bri – “Hello?”  A female voice answered.  “You’ve reached the FentonWorks business.  If it’s about ghosts or specters, we’re here to help.  What can we do for you today?”

Danny let out a breath at his mom’s practiced spiel.  “Hey, Mom.”

A gasp crackled through the landline, “Oh Danny!” she said in surprise.  “Oh, honey, why didn’t you call the house number?”

Danny looked up at a corner of the cabin.  “They all end up at the same place though?”

“Honey, but it’s different phones that ring – you know that.  And I’m not sure your father deleted off old voicemails from this number, so if we weren’t here to catch your phone call you wouldn’t have been able to leave a message!”

“That’s what I was hoping for,” Danny mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?  Danny, you have to –“

“IS THAT OUR DANNY BOY?!  HOW IS HE?  ENJOYING LIFE WITH YOUR OLD BAT OF AN SISTER?”  Jack’s booming voice cut through, clear enough to understand even as it crackled the closer he got to the phone.

Danny heard a rustling and a light smack on the other side.  “Jack darling, my sister is not an old bat,” she admonished.  “But yes, it’s Danny.”  A pause.  “Danny can you hold on a moment?  I’m going to put you on speaker.”

Danny’s hand crept up to the coiled cord connecting the phone to the base.

A couple of clicks, then – “Oh Danny, can you hear us?”

And a competing “Still there Danny?” coming through at the same time.

Danny winced as the phone screeched.  “Yeah,” his fingers twisted around the cord, “I’m still here.”

“Oh wonderful,” his mom said, “how are you settling in?”

“Meet any farm animals yet?” his dad asked.  A breath, then an excited “Meet any country ghosts?”

Danny sighed, his fingers twisting up more in the cord.  “I’m doing fine.  Aunt Alice explained where everything is, and I pretty much fell asleep after moving my clothes out of the suitcase.  Sorry I didn’t end up calling you last night.”

“That’s fine sweetie, your aunt gave us a short call last night to let us know you made it there alright.”

Danny hummed, hunch confirmed.  Hearing his dad take a breath in, Danny quickly tacked on, “and I haven’t seen any ghosts, Dad.  Met some cows, pigs, chickens, and the farm dog though.”

“And how is Skip doing?” Maddie asked.

Danny’s face scrunched up, “Fine?  I guess?  He didn’t like that I showed up today, just kind of stared at me for a bit before walking off.”

Maddie laughed.  “That sounds like him.  He’s nice enough when he warms up to you.  But no, he isn’t too fond of strangers.  Just give it time Danny.”

Danny huffed.

“Yes, yes, but I think he’ll be back before then Maddie,” Jack replied.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right dear.  How are –“  Danny heard distant footsteps.

“Is that Danny?” his sister’s voice called out in the distance, a whisper coming through the phone.

“YES, COME HERE JAZZ, SAY HI!” his dad yelled.

Danny untwisted his fingers from the cord before starting to wrap them up again.  “Hi Jazz,” he said.

“Oooh!  Hi Danny!  How are you doing!?”

“Alright,” he said.  “Aunt Alice was finishing dinner.  I just wanted to check in with you guys before then.”

“Ok Danny.  Well, thank you for that.  We don’t want to keep you too long then.”  Jazz’s voice turned sharp, “Do we?”

“No! No, we don’t Jazzy pants!  Don’t forget to call later!  We miss you Danny boy!  Don’t work yourself too hard, but make sure you listen to your ba-“ Jack cleared his throat, “your aunt.”

“I suppose we should let you go then Danny.  Thank you for calling us.  As nice as it was to know you were there safe, it’s even better hearing your voice.  We miss you sweetie, love you!” Maddie said.

A twin chorus of “Love you”s sounded off after her.

“Love you guys,” Danny said.  He clicked the phone back on.  Sighing, he pulled it back off after a minute.  Dialing a different number, he waited for the signal to connect.  Danny started counting, but before he could reach five, he heard it connect.

“Sam?” Danny said.

A gasp, “Danny?  Oh, I didn’t know you’d be able to call so soon!”

Danny smiled.  He heard a small voice come through, “Is that Danny?”  After a moment, a much louder, “Hey dude!  How are you?  Is it smelly there?  Did you get a signal with my Charlotte?”

“Hey Tucker, Sam.  Uuh, no Tucker, your PDA didn’t connect to anything.  Other than that, it’s fine.  I was outside, like, all day today.  My legs feely like jelly,” he grouched.

Sam clicked her tongue, “This is why you, and Tucker, should join me when I exercise!”

“You can NOT convince me to join your exercise regime,” Tucker said.

“One day,” Sam vowed, “one day you’ll join me, Tucker Foley.”

Danny laughed.  “Alright, I’m glad I reached both of you.  I’ve got some questions about our,” Danny paused for a moment, “city guests?”

“Guests?” Tucker said.  “What do you – oof.”

“Ghosts, Tucker, keep up,” Sam hissed.

“Got it, there was no need to elbow me though.”

Danny could imagine Tucker melodramatically massaging his side as Sam rolled her eyes at him.  “So?” he prompted.  “Anything to worry about?”

Tucker sighed, “dude it’s been dead around here, Poindexter was walking around campus yesterday, the Box Ghost was seen flying around the warehouses, and then today Vaaaal – the Red Huntress was chasing Skulker.”

“Skulker?” Danny snapped.

“Yeah, no need to get your pants twisted Danny,” Sam said, “it was Skulker out of his suit of all things.  No clue why he was wandering around like that.”

“It was weird seeing his naked, blobby ass Danny!”

“Eeeew, Tucker!”

“What?”

“Gross!  Anyway, Danny, despite having so many sightings the past few days, there haven’t been many problems.  Even your parents have kept the GAV destruction to a minimum.  Your dad only dented a stop sign pole and your mom only scorched some leaves while blasting at the Box Ghost.”

“Huh,” Danny said, “that’s good.  I guess?”

“Relax, dude, if any problems pop up, Sam and me have got this.  Along with Valerie.  We won’t let anything too bad happen.  And hey!  If all else fails, then your parents are always around.”

Danny snorted, “thanks, I feel so much better now.”

Sam sighed, “seriously though Danny, take it easy.  You are nowhere near Amity right now, so it’s no use worrying about it.  We have it covered and before you know it, you’ll be back.”

“Yeah, alright,” Danny said, fingers twisting in the cord again.  “Okay.  That’s – thanks for letting me know.”

“Are you okay?” Tucker asked.

Danny sighed into the receiver.  “Yeah.”  Silence stretched out between the two sides of the call.  Danny heard Alicia shuffle out of the cabin and down the steps.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Danny said.  “I’m just.  UUuugh.  I don’t understand why my parents thought I needed to get away from Amity Park.  And my sister didn’t help, butting in with all these psychology studies about stressed teenagers, and environments, and whatnot.  Can you believe that fink convinced my parents to send me away for basically my entire break!?!  I already missed half of summer being in school, and now I’m out in the middle of nowhere?  It’s stupid.  I don’t even know why they thought the ghosts attacks were putting me on edge in the first place!  I don’t even stick around for the ghost fights as Fenton because I’m so busy running off to fight them myself,” Danny hissed.  He heard a stair creak.  He sighed, letting the tension bleed out of him.  “Anyway, how are you guys?  Enjoying your summer?”

Sam and Tucker started talking about how excited they were for a new movie that was coming out next week and Danny smiled softly, listening to their back and forth.  Hearing someone clear their throat behind him, he turned around, and lowered the phone away from his ear.

“Dinner’s gonna be done soon kiddo,” Alice said.

“Thanks,” Danny mouthed.

Finding a short break in the conversation, Danny interrupted whatever retort was coming next, “Hey, guys.  I’m glad I could catch both of you, but I got to go.  I’ll talk to you both later?”  He untangled his fingers from the cord.

“Oh,” Sam said, “Yes, of course.  Bye Danny!”

“Bye!  Talk to you later!” Tucker said.

“Bye.”  Danny clicked the phone back in place.

Collecting himself, Danny breathed out, plastered a neutral expression onto his face, and turned around to walk outside for dinner.

_______

Danny was in his bed.  He was exhausted.  His arms ached, his feet were sore, and his eyes were tired. 

He rolled over.  It was dark, likely the middle of the night, and he was groggy, limbs still heavy and heart slow from sleep.  So why was he awake?  He heard a far off call coming from the direction of the woods.  ‘Probably a wolf’, he thought.  Closing his eyes, Danny settled back down.  Or tried to.  His skin itched and Danny twisted around to rest on his other side.  Scrunched together his eyelids.  Moved his feet around.  Sighed, then pushed himself up.  Slipping on his boots, he opened up the cabin door and stepped outside. 

Looking around, Danny didn’t see anything concerning.  He stepped down and walked around the cabin, looking at the sky and the darkness in between the trees.    Danny walked back in the cabin, pulling the door till he heard the latch click, then walked to his bed.  Sitting down he took a deep breath, held it, and his eyes glowed green in the dark as he released the breath.  Ecto pooled beneath his feet and he pushed it through the ground.  He stretched out his consciousness with the ecto, making sure that there was nothing unexpected in the area.  The only thing he sensed was a small pool of ectoplasm in the ground, far enough down that it was probably undisturbed by anyone for hundreds of years.  Breathing in, he called his ecto back.  Breathed in, then out.  Followed the path of his breath through his body as it traveled.  In through the nose, down to his lungs, inflating, then back up and out.  Once he felt sufficiently centered in his body again, Danny kicked off his boots and laid back down.  Sleep claimed him quickly once more.

Sun hitting Danny’s face woke him up.  Throwing an arm over his eyes, Danny groaned.  He still felt sore from the day before, tired from the ghosts fights prior to coming to his aunt’s, and annoyed from being sent in the first place.  In short, Danny was grumpy.  The sharp rap on his door a couple minutes later did not help.

“Up and at ‘em Danny.”

“I’m up!” he called back.

Hearing footsteps recede, Danny groaned.  Loudly.  Maybe he could convince his parents to pick him up?  Call this summer trip short?  Danny started plotting ways to get back home, with his parents’ permission, as he followed Alicia back to the chickens, then off to the barn.

Neither spoke to one another, Danny doing his best to help Alice.  Before long, she had him mucking out the stalls again as she walked off to attend to other chores.  As Alice said, it wasn’t tricky and the repetition had Danny zoning out, daydreaming about being back in Amity. 

A short step back, and Danny tripped over a trough.  Hitting the ground hard, he felt something squish against his backside.  Danny sighed.  He closed his eyes, gathered some motivation, then swung his legs over the trough and fully onto the ground.  Standing up, he twisted around to see the cow pie he landed in.  Wrinkling his nose, Danny pushed intangibility through his body to get the crap to drop off his butt and walked out of the way before releasing it.  He stood there, feeling the warmth of the sun heating up the open doorway, and looked at the two stalls left to do.  Danny was just about to turn around and walk off for a little break, when his mom’s chiding voice echoed through his head.  Turning back around, he went to finish the job before the food bell rang out.

Later that day, the walkie that Alice had given Danny earlier that day crackled to life. “DANNY!  Get the first aid kit from the barn and get out to the field Will was working in.  Now.”

Click.

Danny, who had been lounging by the storage barn, darted inside to grab the kit that hung up there, and ran back out.  He activated his flight so he lifted just above the ground, and flew most of the distance to the field.  When he was close, he dropped back down and ran the rest of the way.

“Mmmm fine,” Will slurred out.

“Will Archibald Jacobson don’t you dare,” Danny heard Alice hiss out.

He darted around a row to see Will by the woodchipper, Alice holding his arm above his head.  “What happened?” Danny yelled, dashing the last few yards to them.

Will’s arm was wrapped in his overshirt, blood soaking into the fabric.  He had blood on his tank shirt and his pants.  Blood dripped down to his neck.  His face had an out of focus expression.

Danny set down the first aid kit.

Flipping it open, Alice responded, “darn idiot got distracted and forgot about the woodchipper next to him.”

“Hey!” Will protested.  “Kid, don’t listen to her, I was… safe, prom’se!  Jus’ go’ startled by this green thing – glowing like the sun – ‘n tripped ‘n fell is all.”

“Danny, press here,” Alice instructed, ignoring Will’s slurred explanation.

Danny helped Alice wrap up Will’s arm tight.  Hauling him to his feet, Alice turned around.  “Danny, I’m going to take him into town.  I’m not sure how deep that cut went, but,” she trailed off, looking at the dopey look on Will’s face.

“Got it, what do you want me to do?”

Hoisting a shoulder over her own, Alice grunted, “help me get him there.”

Danny darted under Will’s other side to support him, and they started to walk him back.  Will protested the whole way, claiming that he was fit as a fiddle and definitely didn’t need to walk into town and that they should check out ‘the weird creature in the woods, big, green, and glowing, can’t miss it’.  Danny extended some of his flight powers to Will, lightening the load on him and Alice.   They walked Will past Alice’s cabin, through a short stretch of woods, and into town.  Will finally quieted down, grumbling instead of loudly complaining, and they made it into the small clinic.

“Patty!”  Alice called out. 

A middle aged woman came out from the back door, “what’s – oh, get him into the back room.”  She propped the door open, and let them pass her, pointing them to one of the two examination rooms.  Shooing Alice and Danny back out once they set him down, Patty got to work.

Walking back out to waiting room, Danny felt sick to his stomach.  He was supposed to have gone to help Will out that afternoon, but decided to take his time and took a break near the chickens instead.  “Is he going to be ok, Aunt Alice?”

“Probably,” Alice said, but the furrows between her eyebrows told a different story.  “Well, nothing much to do in the meantime.  You been through town yet?”

Danny blinked at the sudden shift, “uh, no, not yet.”

“Then I’ll show you around real quick while we’re here, make the most of this.”

Alice took Danny around, which consisted of walking him up and down Mainline and Riverway, the two major streets of the small town.  There were only a handful of shops, the clinic, and a gas station.

“That’s it?”  Danny asked as they walked back to the clinic.

“Yep,” Alice popped the p.

“It’s…. tiny.”

Sighing, Alice said, “well yea, most folks around here stay on the farms.  You have a few homes down here near town, but most people prefer to move down to the bigger town about 50 miles from here.”

Stepping into the clinic, Danny now noticed the chime that signaled their entrance.  They settled down in two of the three seats in the front area.

A few minutes later, Patty walked back out.  “Well, Will should be fine.  It’ll take a while for his arm to heal up, but he’s still got movement and feeling, so I don’t think he’s got any nerve damage.”  She smiled at them.  “Lucky, though, that he didn’t lose too much blood.  I got him a snack and had him lay down in the meantime.  What’d he even do?  He had fat hanging out of the wound and everything.”

“Fool got distracted and the wood chipper was nearby,” Alice grumbled.

“He tripped into it,” Danny added.

“Hmm, well alright.  You guys gonna take him back up to the farm?” Patty asked.

Alice uncrossed her arms, placing her hands on her knees.  “Suppose so.  His family’s too far away to call to get him today.  I’ll see if they’ll come pick him up tomorrow.”  She sighed, running a hand through her mullet.  “Tomorrow’s Saturday, so they probably will.”

“Definitely lucked out then,” Patty said.  She walked back to check on Will.

Waiting for the “all clear” to take Will back up, Danny stewed in his thoughts.  He hadn’t exactly done anything outright wrong, but Danny knew that if he had taken his job more seriously, he would’ve been with Will and maybe he wouldn’t have gotten hurt or as badly or –

“Stop thinkin’ so loud.”

Danny jumped.  The swirl of his thoughts coming to a halt.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered.

“What for?”

“I –“ Danny paused.  “I –“

“Danny,” Alice cut in.  “It ain’t your fault.”

“But –“

“Nope.  Whatever ya think ya did or didn’t do, it’s not your fault.”  Alice side eyed his hunched, guilty looking form.  “Stuff like this happens – whether or not anyone else is around.  So don’t worry too much.”

Danny dropped his head down.

The silence stretched between them.  Alice looked out the window, and Danny made a promise to himself to take this summer more seriously.

__________

The next morning, Danny waved Will and his family off as they left down the back road.  He’d be gone for the next couple of weeks to keep him away from the temptation of working.  Knowing they’d have to pick up the slack, Danny and Alice hurried back to work.

_________

A week later, Danny was settling into a routine, getting comfortable around the farm.  He was getting quicker at mucking out the stalls, and as such, he had some time to do some laundry.  Taking the path down to Alice’s cabin, he passed under one of the open cabin windows.

“-addie.”

Danny stopped.  Was Alicia talking to his mom?

“Danny?”  Alicia asked.

Oh, they were talking about him.  He stood there, holding his bag of laundry, curious about what his aunt would say.

“No, he’s doing good work around the farm.”

Danny shuffled a foot around, making circles in the dirt as he listened in.

“Yeah Madds, I can see why you’re so fond of him.”  Alicia laughed in response to something Maddie said.  “That he is, you raised a good boy.”

Danny’s eyes widened.  Bugs buzzed around in the grass around him.

“Mmmm.  If he didn’t have school to get back to, I wouldn’t mind keeping him around,” Danny overheard.  Eyes widening, he decided to quickly walk off to the laundry. 

He hadn’t realized that his aunt liked him that much.  Even more surprising that she’d want to keep him on.  Danny remembered the start of summer school when his teacher all but groaned at him walking in.  Danny had just failed the second half of their class not 2 weeks before.  Due to the sudden ghost appearances, Danny hadn’t been the most reliable in the last few years.  But for someone to recognize his work?  And be satisfied with it?  Danny felt a warm feeling start in his chest.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay for the rest of the summer.

______

A couple weeks passed from that phone conversation, with Will coming back and slowly starting to pick up more work again.

Danny had, for the first time since he arrived on the farm, a short work day.  By the time lunch came around, Danny had finished his list of chores.  After getting the confirmation from Alice, he had the whole afternoon to himself.  

He walked around the farm, ending up at one of the wheat fields.  Will and Alice were focused on the corn fields for the day and wouldn’t be out this way until later.  Standing there amidst the softly swaying strands, Danny watched the sky.  The breeze in the air that moved the wheat also pushed the clouds around high above.  He decided to take a seat between the golden rows, laying on his back, arm flung behind his head.  Staring up at the clouds, he watched them flow across the sky, shifting forms as they traveled.  The sun-warmed dirt below him felt like a warm blanket on his back.  This close to the ground, it smelled sweet, a little moist and earthy.  Danny pulled his cap lower over his face as the warmth settled into his bones.  Soon enough, he was lulled off to sleep.

By the time he woke up, the sun had dipped lower in the sky.  Sitting up, Danny didn’t hear anyone around and got up.  As he walked out of the field, Danny raised his eyes, jumping a little at Skip sitting down and watching him from a distance.  Danny paused midstep.  When Skip didn’t make a move, Danny finished walking out of the wheat and onto the dirt path.  They stared at one another for a moment.  Out of view, one of the pigs grunted.  Skip blinked, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, before he got up to walk to the pig.  Danny watched his tail wag as he left.  He chuckled softly as he headed off to Alice’s cabin. 

After dinner, he stuck around, playing a card game with Alice, Will, and Jasper.  Every so often one of the townspeople stopped by to get Alice’s opinion about something or another and stayed for a meal.  When Jasper lost the third game in a row, he called it quits and headed out for the night.  Will, Alicia, and Danny played a few more rounds themselves, Will and Danny winning a round each, with the rest of the wins going to Alice.  By the time they said their goodnights, the moon was rising.  The sky had darkened considerably and the stars were twinkling to life above them. 

“Oh.” Danny breathed, stopping on the cabin porch.

Will looked back, “Danny?”

“The sky.  I –“ he paused.  “I’ve been falling asleep so quickly I haven’t had time to really see it.”

“Oh, that all?  It’s pretty neat I guess…  Well, I’ll head up then, see ya later Danny.”

Eyes never leaving the sky, “Night Will.  See ya tomorrow.”  He walked down to sit at the table.

The door creaked open, “Oh.  Danny?  Is that you still down here?”

Danny, from the picnic table, confirmed, “Yeah.”

“Huh, I thought you and Will left a while ago.”

“Hmmhmm.  Will did, headed up already.”

“Ooook.  Well, you need anything?”

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Alice stepped down, walking up to the table.  “Well, it’s getting late.  Now, I’m not your mom, but maybe consider heading up yourself soon.”

“Ok.  Yeah, you’re right.”

“…  Ya really like those stars huh?”

Danny finally looked down, “Yeah.”  He grinned, “you can’t see the stars like this in Amity.  I mean, you can, it’s not the worst, but it’s just so clear out here!”

Alice chucked, “Sure is.  Sometimes I forget how nice it is.”

“If I lived out here, I would never take it for granted.  I bet it’s so easy to track the constellations and star movements,” Danny’s eyes lit up with the possibilities.

“Don’t know much about the stars myself but,” she shrugged, “I guess it wouldn’t be hard to, no.”

Taking one last look up at the stars, Danny got up, said goodnight to his aunt, and headed up to get ready for bed.

_______

“And Danny?  Come into my cabin for a moment, your job today is going to be a little different.”

Will frowned, “Aaah man, Danny gets to do that?”

“Do what?” Danny asked.

Alicia grinned.  “Blackberry picking.”

“Yeah, and it’s the best job of the summer,” Will grumbled.  “You better enjoy it kid.”  He stood up.  “Well, I’ll see you two later,” and he walked up the slope to get back to work.

“Bye,” Danny called.  Turning to Alicia, “So what does berry picking mean I’m doing, exactly?”  He looked around, “I haven’t noticed any berries around here.”

Alice laughed, “no you won’t.  Come inside, I have to show you where you’re going.”

Danny furrowed his eyebrows but followed her into the cabin where some maps of the farm and surrounding area and a large basket sat on the table.

Alice picked up the first map, took a look, then rifled through the pile to find one that had a large circle on it.  “Ah, here it is,” she placed it on top of the pile and pointed to the circled area.  “This is where you’re headed today.”

Danny leaned in to look over the map.  “That looks like it’s in the woods?”

“Yep,” Alicia said, “you’re going to be taking a little walk today.  I’ve got your lunch packed up, all you have to do is fill your canteen, and then head out for the day.”

Danny frowned.  “And how am I supposed to find them?”

Alice rolled her eyes, “They aren’t hard to spot.  Here,” she pointed to a different area of the map, “we are.  You’re going to head this direction,” she moved her finger up, around a small lake, and to the circle.  “It’s pretty easy walking.  The pond will keep you on track, though it’s more like a glorified puddle, but whatever.  You’ll hear the stream feeding into it, so if you do get lost, just hush up and listen.  You’ll pick the berries, put them in this basket, and when it’s full, you’ll head back.  I scoped out the area last year and this was a fairly big thicket, so even if the animals have gotten to it there should still be plenty left for you.”  She looked up at Danny.  “Got it?”

Danny worried his lip.  “I guess?”  He hadn’t really explored the surrounding area, but figured if he needed to, he could just fly up and look for the way back easily enough.

“Good.  Well, get your basket and water and get going.  I’ve got work to get to.  See you for dinner kid,” and Alicia walked out the door.

Danny took another look at the map, doing his best to memorize the path.  He sighed, picking up the basket, stopping by his cabin quickly to grab his water bottle, and started off to the trees. 

Walking into the woods, Danny noticed a strap on the basket and quickly put it over his shoulder.  The basket bobbed against his butt as he walked, but it was better than having to carry it the whole way.  As Danny got further in, the undergrowth increased.  Danny activated his intangibility and walked right through.  The sun was bouncing through the leaves, casting spots of shadow and light.  He heard the birds sitting overhead in the treetops and a beetle buzzed past Danny’s ear.  He made his way to the small lake.

As he got closer, he heard a soft bubbling sound that soon turned into a whoosh.  Then the smell of the dirt changed – rich and a little heavy on the tongue.  Danny walked through a bush and saw the puddle.  If he wasn’t intangible, he would’ve gotten his boots wet. 

Huh, Danny thought.  It really is small.

The pond was only a couple of yards across and looked shallow.

Danny looked to his left and saw the stream that fed into it.  Looking around the edge, he couldn’t find where the pond emptied.  Danny stayed there for moment, comparing what he was seeing to his memory of the map.  Once he felt confident in his orientation, he floated up and drifted across the pond.  Setting himself down on the other side, he double checked his intangibility was still activated and started walking again.  True to Alice’s word, the walk itself was easy, and Danny took the opportunity to look around at the woods.  He spotted a deer in the distance at one point, and what looked like owl nests in some of the branches. 

As he walked through a particularly dense area of bushes, he noticed some mist by a tree some distance away.  Danny squinted at it.  It was too warm in the day for there to be mist and, he looked around, it didn’t look like there was any water for it to come from either.  As he started to walk to it, Danny realized that he hadn’t heard any birds in a while.  Getting closer, he saw some wispy tendrils float out from the densest part of the mist.  He tilted his head.  Let some ectoplasm leak into his eyes.  The mist suddenly contracted and came together to form a vague squirrel shape.  Danny stopped.  Followed the smallest tendril down to the earth.  A squirrel, blood leaking out from a wound on its leg, was connected to it.  Danny looked back up.  The ghost followed the motion and looked at Danny.  Danny looked back.  Blinked.  And stepped forward, holding out a hand.  The squirrel ghost drifted forward and right before it made contact with Danny, turned to look back at its mortal body. 

Danny held his breath as he watched one of the ears tufts twitch.  The squirrel turned back around and jumped forward to touch Danny’s palm.  As it nestled into his hand, its soft, transparent body started to disperse again.  Danny reached for his core and pushed the ectoplasm circulating in his body to his hand.  His palm started glowing green before some ectoplasm coated his palm.  The squirrel started condensing again, pulsing as it made contact.  The ectoplasm flowed off Danny to mix in with the translucent body.  The ectoplasm swirled around like bubbles in soda before losing shape and being absorbed.  The squirrel’s ghost glowed bright and Danny looked away, closing his eyes. 

When he no longer saw the light through his eyelids, Danny cracked open one eye, and confirming the bright light was gone, fully opened both eyes.  What was once a misty looking squirrel ghost was now a small green blob.  As it rotated around, eyes came into view, and opening up, looked at Danny, letting out a small chirrup in greeting.  Danny smiled a little.  It was cute, if a bit sad knowing where this little blob came from.  Danny looked back at the corpse.  Then up to the blob.  The wispy tendril no longer connecting the two.  Danny let his hand drop and the blob stayed floating.  Floated closer to Danny’s face.  He could feel his eyes flash green.  The blob ghost let out another little chirp and flew around Danny head before settling down on his shoulder, nuzzling up into his chin.  Danny laughed at the ticklish sensation and then turned around to continue to the blackberry bushes.

As Danny got to the blackberries, he reached up a hand to the blob ghost.  Gently scooping it into his hand, Danny lifted it up and onto the top of one of the bushes.  Looking around and not seeing any animals, Danny focused on the bushes.  There were a lot of them, and it seemed like the bushes had plenty of berries.  Danny could make out at least 5 bushes growing into each other, and possibly more around some trees.  He knelt down and picked a blackberry, tossing it into his mouth.  As the berry burst open, juices sprayed Danny’s mouth, and he stifled a cough.  He ate it quickly and indulged in a quick cough.  Even though it was smaller than the ones they bought from the store, it was noticeably sweeter.  Danny smiled and swung his basket off his shoulder.  He started carefully plucking berries off, and every time he accidentally squished one, he popped it in his mouth instead of the basket.

At some point the little blob ghost woke up and started darting between the leaves of the berry bushes, occasionally trying to eat one.  Danny laughed at its antics, making a little ball of ectoplasm form, and tossed it for the blob to chase. 

By the time the sun started its afternoon descent, Danny had his basket filled and a happy blob ghost nestled on top of the berries.  Over the course of the afternoon, its green color had started disappearing and now it was more wisp than blob again.  Danny frowned briefly and started off to the farm.

As Danny got near to the edge of the woods, the little ghost had lost all its color and was now back to a translucent wisp.  Before he could give it more ecto, he heard a shout and ran out of the trees.  Aunt Alice had dropped a screwdriver on the ground and when she stood back up from grabbing it, she spotted Danny.  She waved, walking over to him.

“Hey Danny, how was –“ the little ghost darted out from behind Danny’s back, coming to face to face with Alicia.  She frowned.  “how was the trip?”

He pulled the basket forward, “good, there were plenty of blackberries.”

“Aaah good.  Any trouble finding them?”  She eyed the ghost out of the corner of her eye.

“Nope,” Danny paused, and taking a chance, said, “I found this little guy on the way though.”

“Oh?” Alice raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”  Danny rubbed the back of his neck.  “You can see it, right?”

Alice’s frown lightened.  “Yes.”  Sounding choked up, she cleared her throat.  “Yes, I can.  I didn’t realize -  well, nevermind.”  She looked at the ghost, nuzzling into Danny’s hair, mussing it up.  “I don’t know why it’s acting so friendly, but you best not encourage it.  The less attention you give it, the sooner it’ll pass on.”

Danny’s ears flushed red, “pass on?” he asked.

“Chiiiirup?” said the wispy ghost.

Alice leveled a glare at it.  ���Absolutely not.”

Danny’s mouth fell open.  “Wait.  What?  Can you understand it?”

“Sure can.  Ever since I was little,” Alice answered.

“Does Mom know you can see them?  And understand them?”

Alice squinted at him, “Sure does, was the first person I told as a kid.  Real supportive of it all.”

Danny stood there for a moment.  “Mom knows?  And she didn’t have you help her with the – the ghost stuff?”

“Nope.  I was the reason she got into ghosts in the first place, but,” Alice shrugged.  “I didn’t want anything to do with them.  After I got back from the big city, I just wanted to live a quiet life and Maddie respected that.”

“Oh.”  Danny looked between the ghost now on his arm and Alice.  “Really?”

“Yep.”

The ghost floated between the two, circling Alice once before resting back on Danny.

“Well, looks like we should go deal with those blackberries.”

As Danny and Alice finished sorting the blackberries into different containers, Will walked up to them.  “Hey!  Oh, Danny’s back already?”

Alicia snorted at him, “Don’t act surprised.”

Will held up his hands, “Aaah you got me.  I saw you two meet up earlier.”  He quickly reached down to pop one in his mouth.

Alicia smacked his shoulder.  The ghost flew up and chittered angrily in his face.

Will smiled, showing off his berry splattered teeth, completely unrepentant.  Chuckling, he walked off.

Danny looked at the ghost, now flying over the piles of blackberries, and then up at Alice.  “Will didn’t react at all.”

Alice grunted, “Hmm.”

“Are we the only ones who can see this little guy?”

“Far as I can tell, kid.”

“Oh.”  Danny looked off into the tree line.  “Aunt Alice, what did you mean when you said it’d pass on?” 

“Well, exactly what I said.  Little bugger died, and whatever was left will pass on to whatever’s next.  Why?  What’d you think I meant?”

Danny shrugged.  “I guess I’m just not used to ghosts passing on?  Most of the ones I meet stick around and cause trouble.”

“Ah.  Madds has mentioned something like that.  Have they caused you any trouble?” Alice probed.

Danny grimaced.  “I guess you could say that.  A lot of ghosts cause trouble around the high school.”

Alice nodded, “I can see how that’d be distracting.”  Alice watched a bee buzz around the table.  The wispy ghost chased after it.

“Yeah, most of them like to cause problems on purpose, but sometimes there’s the little blobs that hang around and they’re kind of cute, like a stray cat.  They do make it hard to concentrate if it’s dark though.”

“What do ya mean?”

Danny looked back at his aunt.  “Cause, they, you know, glow green?”

“Green?  Huh.  None of the ghosts round here glow green.  I guess Will did mention something similar.  And I remember Maddie showing me a vial of glowing green stuff once.  Made me feel kind of sick.”

“Oh, that vial was probably ectoplasm,” Danny said.

“Ec-toe-plasm?” Alice sounded out.

“Yeah,” Danny said.  “It’s the glowing green stuff that ghosts are made up of.”

“Really?” Alice sounded unimpressed.

“Hmmhmm,” Danny hummed.  “You can kind of see their insides if they get hit with an ectoblast.  It’s all gooey looking, like a really thick liquid.  Their bodies kind of flow back in to fill the hole.”

Alice shook her head.  “I don’t know about all that.  All the ghosts I’ve seen are just misty lookin’ and real hard to see if the sun shines through them.  Well, that’s only if I catch them.  As I said, they don’t usually stick around too long.”

“Interesting.”

Alice shrugged, “I suppose.  Madds had a theory that ghosts only form when the living aren’t prepared to die or something.”  She laughed.  “Not that I think most things around here have unfinished business.  Everyone has a time and place, you know?  A rabbit lives its life knowing it’ll be eaten and all that.”

“I guess.”  Danny thought for a moment.  “I think a lot of the ghosts I know didn’t even think death was a possibility.”

The little ghost zipped under the table and around their feet.

“Perhaps.”

In the time it took for Alice and Danny to finish with the blackberries and prepare dinner, the ghost kept fading bit by bit.  Once Danny rang the dinner bell, the little ghost was completely gone.  Danny tried not to miss it, knowing it was better that the little guy passed on, rather than hang around the ecto deprived area.

____

After dishes, Alice sat Danny down.  “How you doing kid?”

“Fine?” Danny said, voice lilting up like a question.

“You sure?  You looked rather, uh, sad about that little ghost disappearing on us.”

Danny shrugged, “hmm, I guess I’m not used to it.”

“It?”

“Yeah, I’m not used to things just…. Ending.  I guess.”

“Oh, is that it?”

Danny looked off to the setting sun.

“You know, I can sympathize.  Used to be a time when I thought that I could fix anything.”

Danny looked back at her.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know I’m divorced right?”

“Sure, Mom visited you on the anniversary for that party last year.”

“Right, well I know it was a big celebration, but when it first happened, I was lost.  I mean, I knew that it was coming.  He didn’t like the farm, fell in love with someone who wanted the city life with him.  A real yuppie.  And yet, when I sat in the lawyer’s office, papers in front of me, there was this emptiness that seemed to take me over.  We both wanted our relationship to end, happy for it even, but, that didn’t make it easier to deal with.  Waking up and knowing that there wasn’t going to be someone by my side?  That there was no fixing it, no going back?  It’s hard to accept that some things just can’t be changed.  Don’t like talking about that even now.”

Danny’s mind flashed briefly to Dan.  His shoulders raised.  “I guess.  How did you deal with it?”

Alice hummed.  “The divorce?  Time, I suppose.  I had the support of the community here.  With death?”  She shrugged.  “I grew up.  At some point you just realize that some things have to happen and you can’t change it, so you have to accept it.”

Danny huffed out air.  “Yeah, alright.”  The variation of the age old excuse of “when you’re older” rang hollow in him.

A hand landed on his shoulder.  He turned back to his aunt.  “Danny.  I mean it.  Some things just need the perspective that time brings.  I’m still not sure my sister has quite grasped that.”  She smiled.  “No fault to her; understanding comes in its’ own time.  Worrying about it won’t help.”

Danny watched the last of the light chase the sun down with his aunt beside him, before standing and heading to his cabin to think.

An hour later, he stood up from his bed and walked down to his aunt’s cabin.  By now, the air was cool against his skin.  The cicadas were out, filling the air with a loud buzz.  Danny stopped halfway down the path, trying to collect himself.  As he stared up at the trees, his eyes burned.  Rubbing them harshly, he breathed in, the smell of dirt and the green leaves settling into his lungs.  He stayed there for a moment, collecting the resolve that started to slip away.  He let out some ectoplasm around his feet to light up his path and continued.  Exiting the trees, Alice’s cabin was lit up, warm light enveloping it like an aura.   Cozy.  Welcoming.  Danny dispelled the ectoplasm around his feet as he walked towards the cabin, each step feeling heavier than the last.  His shoulders curled forward until he stopped at the stairs up to the porch.  He heard Alice set something down inside and a creak of a door, then a click as the front doorknob rotated open.  Danny stayed at the bottom of the stairs, feeling frozen, as the door hinges creaked.  Alice’s red hair came into view first, quickly followed by the rest of her.  Catching sight of something, she raised her head to look at Danny.

“Danny, that you down there?  Everything alright?” voice soft as she stared down at him.

Danny’s body moved, skipping steps as he rushed up to Alice.  Her body swayed backward as he barreled into her, and she wrapped her arms around him to steady them both.

“I died,” Danny said, voice muffled in her shirt.

Alice didn’t say anything for a moment, squeezing Danny close.  His body shook as he cried into her shirt.  After Danny’s shaking petered out, Alice stepped backwards, hand on Danny’s back to nudge him inside.

“Take a seat on the couch, Danny.  You want tea? Hot chocolate?”

Sniffling, he wiped a hand against his nose.  “Hot chocolate please.”  He went to sit on the couch, grief and emptiness gnawing at his insides in equal measure.

The sound of boiling water soon filled the space.  A clink of a mug.  Powder being measured.  The fridge door opening and closing.  Alice walked over to the sofa, two mugs in hand.  Danny unstacked two cup coasters from the pile in the middle of the coffee table, placing them down for Alice.

Danny picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip, holding the warm mug in his hands.  Alice said, “Now, what was that about?”

The silence stretched between them as Danny stared at the wall, quiet.  By the time Alice had finished most of her cup of tea, Danny finally opened his mouth.

“When I was fourteen, I died.”  Silence followed Danny’s statement, Alice’s torso turned towards Danny, but nothing else to indicate she was listening.

Danny let out a shaky breath.  “I didn’t, come back.  All the way.”

Alice took another sip of tea.

Danny set his mug down.  Folded his hands together and set them on his legs.  “I know what it sounds like, but I’m not crazy.  I’m alive, but I’m also, somehow, a ghost?  Not like the one we saw today, but the kind I talked about, the glowing ones.  I think I turned the portal on when I went inside to look.  Not that I remember a lot of that, except for the pain,” Danny laughed, the sound hollow.  “I mean, it wasn’t working before, and after that, it was that glowing green.  It’s kind of pretty, actually?  Or maybe that’s just what I think.  It swirls around, the ectoplasm, like a really slow whirlpool, but it’s vertical like a door, not horizontal like a pool.  It makes it really easy for Mom and Dad to get more ectoplasm samples.  Actually, I gave the ghost today ectoplasm and it kind of turned into what I call a blob ghost?  By the time we made it back to the farm it was back to that wispy appearance, so, I mean, that was different.  But it was interesting, made me think of the blob ghosts back home.  You know, the ones that don’t pass on?  That’s the kind that I’m like.  A ghost.  I mean, I’m alive too, but I’m also a ghost.  I don’t know if that means I’m still dead or not?  I don’t think anyone really knows, but it’s kind of cool because I’m like the town superhe-“

“Danny,” Alice cut in.  Danny stopped.

Alice took a breath.  “Danny, do your parents know?”

Danny’s eyes widened.  He shook his head.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Danny tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth, throat tightening as he thought about the answer.  He settled for a small shrug.

“Alright.  Well, I can’t say this isn’t a surprise, but I won’t make you tell your mom or nothing.  Thank you for telling me.”

Danny stared at his mug, still half full.  He picked it back up.  As quiet settled around them, he felt his heart speed up.  Alice set her mug down, now empty.

“But, I don’t think,” Alice started, slow, “that it matters too much.  From what I’ve gathered, dead, alive, or something else, you’re still you.  The caring and hardworking young man that Maddie described is the same one that arrived on my farm.  Sure, you’re not perfect, and the implications of it all is damn worrying, not knowing, but that’s life.”  Alice swung her knee up onto the couch to fully turn her body to face Danny, arm braced along the backrest.  “For what it’s worth, people love you because of who you are, not what you are.  That includes your mom and dad.  Heaven knows when Maddie decides to love someone, she does it with her whole heart, no matter the circumstances.”  She tacked on a lighthearted, “and that includes your fool of a father”.

Danny laughed, rubbing his eyes of residual tears.  “Thanks, Aunt Alice.  I’ll keep that in mind.”

Danny finished off his hot chocolate, bidding his aunt a goodbye, and walking back up to his cabin, feeling lighter than he had in a while.

______

During that week, Danny started helping out even more on the farm, volunteering to lend an extra hand when needed or after his own tasks were finished.  He was getting comfortable with the flow of the days – spending mornings and evenings with the animals, afternoons in the fields, and helping out with various chores.  It was easy to fall into the rhythm and to trade playful quips with Will and Alice when they worked together.

Alice called Danny over one day.

“What’s up, Aunt Alice?”

“You know anything about machines?”

“Uuuh,” Danny’s eyebrows shot up, “I guess?  I’m familiar with my parents’ inventions.”

“Hmmm.  Why don’t you come over here then and tell me what you think.”

Danny peered his head into the propped open tractor hood, looking at the mechanics.  “It looks like the belt, here,” Danny pointed, “is wearing out.”

Alice appraised him.

Danny shifted his weight.  “Uh, was that it?” he asked nervously, feeling like he was taking a surprise pop quiz.

“Yea.  Yea, it was kid.  You familiar with engines?”

Danny made a face, “Sure?  I’ll help my dad out sometimes when there’s a problem with the GAV.”

“The GAV?”

“Oh, it’s our family car.  Or van, RV, thing?  My parents souped it up, so a lot of service shops won’t even look at it.  My dad keeps up with most of the maintenance on it and makes me help out.”

Alice nodded, “Ok, makes sense I suppose.  Well, if you’ve got a familiarity with it all, why don’t you help me replace it.  I’ve got a spare belt down in my cabin.  I’ll go grab it and you can get the tools we need.  Just look in the toolboxes around here, find the one we need for the tractor.”

Danny nodded in agreement and Alice walked off to get the part.

Later that night at dinner, Alice remarked to Will that it might be time to let Danny drive the tractor.

“Sure thing boss!  Who’s gonna teach him?”

“I will.  I’ll start him off with parking it in the barn, so tomorrow just leave it out when you’re done and I’ll walk him through it.”

Will nodded and continued eating.

“I’m what?” Danny asked.

Alice raised an eyebrow.

Danny swallowed his bite of food.  “Can I even do that?  I don’t have a learner’s permit or anything.”

From beside him, Will answered, “Don’t need one.  Most kids ‘round here start driving tractors much younger than you are.  It’s not like you’re going to be driving down the road or anything in it.”

“Oh.  You don’t need a license for it?”

“No sirree, and it ain’t that hard to do either.”

Alice piped up, “You good with that?”

“Oh.  Yeah. I guess, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

The rest of the night and next day passed calmly.  Then came Danny’s first lesson.

“When you go to park it, don’t forget to let it out of gear and apply the parking brake.  That’s about it.  So, you good to go?”

“I think so, Aunt Alice.”

“Alright, well don’t forget your ear protection, and I’ll let you get to it.”

Alice swung the door closed and stepped back from the tractor.

Danny put on the headset, and did one last review of everything, before he turned the tractor on.  Looking behind him, clocking Alice still off to the side, he carefully backed up the tractor.  Slowed down and came to a stop.  Danny turned forward again and started moving the tractor forward.  Taking a circle around, he pulled up to the storage barn and eased the tractor in.  Applying the brake and turning it off, he took off his ear protection and stepped out.

“Not bad kid, not bad.  Now help me look everything over before we head back for dinner.”

Alice walked Danny through the daily checks and maintenance on the tractor, then showed him where they kept their log.

“What it comes down to, is if you notice a problem, either stop and fix it right away, or come get me or Will if you can’t figure it out.  I’d rather you waste an hour doing that, then pushing through it and messing up the tractor on us.”

The bell rang out, clear and bright.  Alice glanced out of the barn doors.  “Well, guess it’s quitting time for ya.  Let’s get this put back and get our asses down there.”  Alice handed the binder back to Danny, who placed it back on the small table and hurried to close the doors and catch up with Alice.

Another week passed, with Danny learning how to operate the tractor, hitching up different attachments, and getting used to the daily checks. 

“I think it’s time to start harvesting the far wheat fields tomorrow.”

“Already?” Will asked.

“Yeah, it’s ready to go.”

“Huh.  Alright, if you say so boss.”

“Will I be helping with that?” Danny asked.

Alicia nodded, “you’ll be here through this first harvest, then you’ll head back to Amity after that.”

“Oh.”  Danny forgot he’d be heading back soon.  “Right.”

“So soon?” Will asked.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.  Madds reminded me that their school year starts earlier in the season.”  Alice shook her head, “seems ridiculous, but there’s nothing to be done for it.  The cities run on their own timeline.”

“Wait, then when do schools around here start?  And where’s the school?  I don’t remember seeing one when you showed me around town,” Danny asked.

“Oh, about a month later than yours I reckon.  The school isn’t on the main roads.  It’s back on one of the side roads, so the farm kids can get to it easier.”

“Used to be in the town,” Will added.  “When most of the town families moved out, the farm kids got together and convinced the adults to move it closer to them, oh, I reckon ‘bout 20 years ago?”

“Closer to 25 I think,” Alice corrected.  “I remember the big commotion when I visited from college.  Maddie, I think, organized it all.”

“Sounds like Maddie,” Will agreed.

“Mom did that?” Danny asked.

“Sure enough.  Everyone knows she’s a force of nature when she puts her mind to something.  She argued with near everyone about it.”

“Don’t know why she fought so hard for it,” Will added.  “Had to have been her senior year, didn’t even make a difference for her, considering the changes took place after she headed off to college.”

“Huh.”

“She never mentioned it to you?”

“No, not really.  But it explains where Jazz got her single-mindedness from.  She turned our annual Spirit Rally into a whole week at Casper High during her freshman year.”  Danny grimaced, “My freshman year, I got put in a diaper and thrown on stage for it.”

Will laughed and Danny scowled at him.  “Sorry, but just a diaper?”

“Are you kidding?” Alice was flabbergasted.

“Wish I was, it wasn’t funny.”

“Sorry, but you have to admit, that’s just a little funny,” Will chuckled.

“It really wasn’t.  Also, our counselor tried murdering Jazz.”

Will stopped laughing.  “What.”

“Yeah, she ended up getting, uh, jail, for it.”

Alice narrowed her eyes, “Really?”

“Yep,” Danny said, “last year wasn’t so bad though.  Hardly anyone called me a baby the whole week.”

“Damn.”

“What the hell is happening in those cities.”

The sudden somber shift made the conversation die down and dinner was finished quickly after.

The next morning, the bell rang out clear and sharp.  Danny blinked his eyes open, noticing it was still dark out.  Stumbling out of his cabin, he turned to Will, who was passing by.  “Why’re we up so early?” Danny yawned, pulling on a long sleeved shirt.

Will returned his yawn, jaw cracking in the early morning air.  “Oh, we do most of our harvesting in the morning or evening.  Means real early mornings the next few days.  S’not so bad, once you get used to it.”

“Mmm.” Danny responded, following Will downhill.

“Hey Alice.  You got the coffee brewing?”

“Hey, boys.  Sure do.  Another couple minutes or so, then we can get started.”

After getting their coffee in thermoses, the group headed up to the fields.  Danny was put on tractor duty.  Alice took over the truck with a wagon attached and Will was in charge of the forage harvester.  With the exception of taking care of the animals, Danny and Alice traded back and forth on filling up their collection wagons and running them to the silo.

Soon enough, the harvest passed and it was time for Danny to return to Amity Park.

“Yep, got it sis.”  A pause.  “Uh huh.” 

“No, no need, I’ll take him myself.”

“Of course I do.”

“No, it’ll be fine.  A short trip up.”

“Will can do what needs to be done.”

“Yes I’m sure.”

“Uh huh.  See ya then.”

“Take care Maddie.”  Alicia put down the phone and turned to Danny, seemingly unsurprised to see him leaning against the wall.  “Well, I’ll be driving you back up to Amity in a few days.”

Danny nodded, not looking particularly taken back, despite the fact that his aunt hadn’t gone up to Amity in the past 10 years or so.

The corners of Alice’s mouth turned up, “alright then, make sure you’re ready.  It’ll take a couple days, since you can’t help with driving, but it should be a nice enough trip.”

“Anything to do before then?”

“Nope, the only thing left to do is to check on the truck.  As much of a help as you’ve been with the tractor, I’ll be doing that.  You just make sure you help out Will with any odd jobs before then.”  Alice scratched the back of her neck.  “Uuh, ya excited to be heading back?”

Danny shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess.”  He looked out the kitchen window, “I’ll miss being here though.  I know I caused some trouble when I first got here, but it grew on me.”  Danny smiled softly.

“It has a way of doing that,” Alice agreed.  “Well, let’s get back to work then.  It doesn’t stop for rain nor shine.”

Danny finished loading up his bags in the short backseat and closed the back door.  Hauling himself into the front passenger seat, he closed the front door.

“Got everything squared away?”

“Yep.  Double checked and everything.”  Turning to grin at her, “but if I forgot anything, that just means I’ll have to come back.”

Alice laughed and shifted the gear to start the truck rumbling down the path.  Soon enough, bouncing along the road, a dust cloud behind them, the farm was swallowed up by trees. 

The journey itself was uneventful.  The mountains turning to valleys turning to farms turning to small cities and large ones, a one night stop at a motel, then back on the road, and finally Danny recognized the outskirts of Elmerton in the distance.  He could feel the rumbling of something in his stomach, and it solidified into a nervous ball when they crossed the town limits. 

Elmerton had enough tall buildings that Danny couldn’t see over into Amity Park, but he could feel the flow of ambient ectoplasm moving about like chem trails, signifying the presence of a visiting ghost.  Next to him, Alice clutched the steering wheel hard enough to turn her knuckles white.  Coming to a red light, she glanced over at Danny and noticed his pinched eyebrows, eyes on her hands.  She sighed softly, relaxing her hands and hitting the accelerator when the light turned.  The sun filtered through the buildings, casting long lines of shadow that waved over the truck passing through.  Danny turned to look out the window, head in hand, braced against the door.  It was quiet, no ghostly interference on this side of town.  Nevertheless, he could feel the ectoplasm that floated in Amity’s air reach out tendrils in Danny’s direction.  Welcoming him home, beckoning him closer, wanting to wrap him up in its embrace.  He shuddered.  After getting used to a non-ecto infused environment, the not quite alive reaction of the ectoplasm felt like a slimy slick hand on his shoulder, slipping off before trying to embrace him again.  He didn’t notice Alice next to him, her breathing becoming shallow and quick.

As the truck crossed over the interstate separating the two cities, Danny shuddered, feeling the sharp contrast of a decidedly unhaunted city to one that almost had more ghostly visitors than alive ones.  He could feel the boundary like he was pulled through a film, the ectoplasmic residue clinging to his skin on the other side, settling back into his nose and lungs, coating the back of his throat and cooling his hands.  It wasn’t enough that someone like Valerie – fully human - would notice, but being so attuned to the presence of ectoplasm as a being shaped by it, Danny could feel it like a physical weight, bearing down heavier on him the closer they sped to FentonWorks.  Alice’s hands lightly shook as she clasped the stick to shift down.

Pulling up to the side of FentonWorks, Alice stopped the car.  They both sat there for a moment, breathing in the quiet of the street, before a far-off blaster shot echoed in the distance.  Danny turned to Alice, a wobbly smile on his face, “home sweet home,” he said, punctuating it with a little laugh. 

Alice looked past him to the door, then back to Danny.  “I suppose so,” mouth set in a thin line.

Danny turned away, not wanting to parse what Alicia was feeling, and unclicked his seat belt.  He opened the door to slide out of the truck.  Alice followed him out and walked around to knock on the front door.  As her first rap against the door ended, weapons sprung out of the sides of the walls, focused down on her.  Alice jumped back a little as a light popped out of the door, scanning Alice from head to toe.  “Freaky,” she muttered darkly as something dinged and the door clicked open, the differential air pressure opening it further.  Alice turned back around to Danny, “What was that?”

Danny shrugged, “It seems Mom and Dad added some things while I was away.”

Alice gaped at Danny.  “Added some things?  What was it like before?”

Popping open the back door to grab his bags Danny said over his shoulder, “Oh, the weapons have been there since the first house defense upgrade, but the unlocking is new.”

Alice looked back to the door.  “That’s the new part?”  She hesitantly reached a hand out and tapped the door hard enough to swing it open the rest of the way.  She leaned forward a little.  “Uuuh,” she started, peering in.  Clearing her throat, she spoke up, “Anyone home?  I’ve got your boy back Maddie!”

Danny walked up beside her.  “I wouldn’t wait for an answer Aunt Alice.  It’s best to just walk in and take a seat.”  Danny did so himself, setting his bags next to the stairs and walking back to the truck.  Alice walked in, tentatively lowering herself down to the couch, and looked around wide eyed.

“Just what in the world has my sister been up to?” she said mostly to herself.

The slamming of a door and a loud beep sounded out as the truck was closed and locked.  Danny walked in with Alice’s bag and closed the door behind him.  “Seen anyone yet?”  he asked.

Alice swung her head around to stare at Danny, “No, not yet.”  She gestured around at the living room, a myriad of objects on the table, hung on the wall, or thrown onto a shelf.  “Danny, what is all this?”

Danny barely glanced down before making his way to the kitchen, “probably broken ghost inventions.  I wouldn’t touch any of them though, they can be a bit, well, temperamental.”

The sound of a cabinet door squeaking open, running water, and Danny came back with a water glass for himself and Alice.  “Here ya go,” he said, holding one of them out.

Alice absently took the glass and sipped from it.  Choking and spluttering, she set the glass down on the coffee table, slapping a hand against her leg.  She collected herself, wheezing, and looked up as green light tinted her peripheral vision.

“Oh Alice!  And Danny!!  I didn’t hear you two come in,” Maddie said after exiting the downstairs lab.  She quickly went over and swept Danny up into a big hug.  “Oh, I missed my sweet little baby boy.”  Giving Danny one last squeeze, she stepped over to Alice to do the same.

A clang could be heard, echoing up the lab stairs and then some thumps as Jack made his way up.  Danny set his glass down in anticipation.  No sooner did Jack realize Danny was home than he rushed over, knocking over a chair in the process, scooping Danny up into a bone crushing hug.  “DANNY BOY!” was shouted right into his ear.

Danny did his best to move his wrists enough to pat his dad back.  “Hey Dad.  Just got back.”  He paused and with no indication that Jack was going to let go anytime soon, “Can you let me go now?  It’s hard to breathe.”

Jack, embarrassed, let him go, giving him a firm pat on the back, “Sorry about that, I was just so excited to see you back home!  JAAAAAZZIE-PANTS!”  He called out.

Alice clasped a hand to her ear, scowling as Maddie looked on fondly.  “Oh honey, no need to yell like that.”  She turned to face her sister.  “It’s so good to see you here Alice.  I don’t remember the last time you visited and things have changed so much since then.  Jazz was just toddling around and we still had the play pen set up for Danny.”  Taking a seat, she pulled on Alice’s sleeve, inviting her to sit next to her.  “I missed you,” Maddie said.

Alice coughed and looked around the room, “I missed you too Maddie.  If you ever want to visit the farm more often, you could.”

Maddie laughed and waved her hand around, “Oh our work keeps us so busy nowadays.  Speaking of, I hope you didn’t run into any ghosts on your drive in?” Eyes twinkling, Maddie waited for the answer.

Alice frowned at her, “No, we didn’t,” and watched as her eyes dimmed a little.

“Aah well, that’s alright, I’m glad you two made the trip up here safely.  Speaking of, I was thinking we could all head out for dinner tonight?  I know it’s not often you’re in the city, so it might be nice.”

Jack leaned down to Danny and whispered conspiratorially, “We had an ecto sample explode in the fridge.  All the food is completely inedible, but wouldn’t you know it?  The old chicken and hot dogs started a little kingdom in there.  Fascinating stuff Danny.  Really.”  He looked over at him, “Would you like to meet them?”

Danny grimaced more than smiled, “Uuuh no thanks Dad.  I think I want to get started unpacking instead.”

Slapping a hand to his forehead, “That’s right!  I won’t keep you Danny.  Go take your bags up to your room, we’ll visit with your aunt down here.”

A boom echoed through the neighborhood and Maddie jumped, starting to reach a hand for her blaster before relaxing, continuing the conversation she was having with Alice.  Danny stopped briefly to grab his bags and headed up the stairs towards his room.  As he reached the top, Jazz’s door clicked open and she stepped out. 

“Danny!  You’re back!” she said.  Stepping forward, she wrapped Danny up in a hug, chin poking into his head as she said, “I missed you little brother.”

Danny awkwardly stood there holding his bags, “Missed you too Jazz.”  He swayed a bag a little to knock into her leg.

“Oh!” she said, releasing him, “Sorry, I’ll let you get to your room.”  Smiling at Danny for a moment, Jazz started down the stairs. 

As Danny kicked his door open, he heard Jazz greet their aunt.  Dropping his bags down in front of his dresser, he jumped up onto his bed.  “Uuuuuuuugh,” the groan rumbling throughout his chest.  He breathed out, then rolled over onto his back, arms flung out and over the sides of his bed.  Danny stared up at the glow in the dark stars, stuck on his ceiling years ago.  He had barely been gone for a couple months, but already his room felt slightly foreign - like returning somewhere he didn’t fit into anymore.  It was like an old sweater you found again after a few years.  Slipping it on and knowing every seam, texture, and fold as it settles around you, but no longer the same comforting weight – a little too thin, worn at the elbows and a hem starting to unstitch itself.  Not as soft as you wanted to remember.  Exactly the same, but time having polished away the fondness that once endeared it to you.

Danny rolled over onto his side, staring into his closet.  The sliding door left cracked open from when Danny slammed it shut, the recoil pushing it back open before he left.  He heard the cadence of a conversation float up the stairs and he closed his eyes.

Waking up to someone shaking his shoulder, he blinked awake.  His room had darkened with the setting of the sun and Danny felt groggy.  “MmMMMmm?” he hummed.

“Danny, we’re going to head out to the Nasty Burger for dinner.  You gonna get up and come with?”

Danny bolted up, smacking his head into Jazz’s hand still hovering above him.  “Up!  I’m up!” he said.

Jazz chuckled, “See you downstairs,” and left his room.

Danny braced himself on his arms, letting the thrum of his heart settle back down from the adrenaline rush.  After a moment he swung his legs down.  A quick detour to the second floor bathroom later and Danny joined everyone else downstairs. 

“Alright, now that we’ve got everyone here – to the GAV!” Jack announced.

Danny sleepily followed Jazz out to the garage and clambered into his seat.  Alice, who was following Danny, stopped at the open door.  Looking around the retrofitted RV, she hummed and side-eyed Jack who had turned the key in the GAV, prompting the consol to light up in a variety of buttons and gauges.  She stepped into the back and climbed into one of the open seats.  Maddie closed the door behind Alice and got herself into the passenger seat.  After clicking her seatbelt in and checking that the kids had as well, she pushed a button, the garage doors clanking open behind them.  Jack flipped on the headlights and backed out of the garage.

“Hold on,” Danny hissed up to Alice, who in turn, grabbed onto the hold bar at the top of the door. 

Once Jack cleared the sidewalk and safely backed onto the street, he stepped on the gas and catapulted the GAV down the street, careening around corners, and speeding through yellow lights till they swayed to a halt in the Nasty Burger parking spot.  Jazz sighed, Danny let out his breath, and Alice looked a little green.  “ Does your husband always drive like that Maddie?”

Maddie turned around, unclicking her seatbelt, “Like what, Alice?”

Alice eyed Jack nervously before looking back at her sister, “Uuuuh.  Nevermind Maddie.  Let’s go,” and she opened up the sliding door to shakily step out.

The Fentons and Alice went into the Nasty Burger, quickly ordering food and sitting down at a booth.  The chatter of the restaurant was pleasant, if a little overwhelming to Danny.  He decided to listen to his family’s conversation and looked out the window.  As Alice asked after Jazz’s college adventures, Danny saw a bright blast light up the sky.  He blinked and took a moment to process as a streak slithered through the air.  A ghost!  He turned around, nudged Jazz out of the booth, and slid out with a halfhearted excuse about the bathroom before making his exit.  Hiding behind the dumpster, Danny transformed and flew off after the ghost that he could still see winding around the tops of buildings.  The trusty Fenton thermos clattered against his leg as the wind whipped Danny’s hair into his face.  Coming up to a stop, he watched the ghost slow down over the park, then dive down.  Danny pushed himself into action, darting into the tree tops to see where it went.  He heard the whine of a blaster charge up below him and Danny looked down.  Tucker stood there, a small blaster leveled at the backside of the ghost.  Danny flew up towards the sky and starting arcing down the other side.  Before he could do much, Sam ran out from the other side of the trees shooting at the ghost.  A low hum joined the chorus of weapons and Danny turned invisible as the Red Huntress caught up to the ghost. 

Danny drifted up higher, watching the teamwork between the three of them.  They quickly captured the ghost.  He lazily drifted down to the trio.

“Huh, didn’t know you guys would team up,” Danny said, turning visible.

Tucker flinched and the girls rolled their eyes.

“Hey Danny,” Sam greeted.

Valerie retracted her helmet and stared at Phantom for a moment before, “Hi, Danny.”

Danny’s eyebrows flew up, pinched together.

Tucker laughed at his expression as it quickly morphed into a look of betrayal aimed at Sam and Tucker.

“Sorry Danny,” Sam looked away.  “Val kind of… figured it out?”

“Sam!” Danny hissed, voice crackling like steam.  “What does that mean?”  His eyes darted back to Valerie, who just stood there, looking conflicted.

“Exactly what I said Danny!”

Danny shifted so he could stand on the ground.  “But how?”  He was starting to get angry at the lack of answers.  It hadn’t even been two months and without being around Valerie somehow pieced together his biggest secret?

Tucker’s laughter died down.

“It’s – Danny please don’t be mad,” Valerie spoke up.  Her eyes darted around the clearing before landing back on Danny.  “When Phantom disappeared after Fenton left it wasn’t hard to figure out you two were connected somehow.  And then Dani stopped by in town and-“

“Dani came back?” Danny interrupted.  He glowered at Sam and Tucker, eyes glowing brighter for a moment.

“It wasn’t a big deal!” Tucker tried to defend.

“Yeah!” Sam chimed in.  “She was here for like, a day?  Maybe?  Hardly worth mentioning.  She spent most of it playing pranks on Vlad.”

“And Valerie met up with her?  But not me?”  Danny voice raised in pitch, “I missed seeing my cousin and you didn’t say a word?!?  I thought I wouldn’t have had to tell you two that Dani coming back would be something important to mention.”

Tucker’s shoulders crept up to his ears.

Sam rolled her eyes.  “Really, Danny, it is so not a big deal.  We didn’t even know for most of that day.  She only came to see us towards the end of her stop.”

Danny’s core felt a sting go through it.

“Did she know I was coming back?”

“Yeah dude, we mentioned you were sent to your aunt’s farm.  She asked about you!  Promise!  Once she realized that, she told us she’d try to stop by to see you.  Seemed really excited to check out a farm.”

“Although,” Sam chimed in, “I don’t think she realized you’d be back so soon?  If you never saw her, she probably got distracted by something on her way.”  Seeing Danny’s sad expression, Sam said, “I’m sure she’ll be back to visit you, Danny.  She did say she’d stop by at least a few times a year to check in, right?”

Danny sighed.  “Yeah.  I’m just bummed that I missed her.  And with no way to get into contact with her,” he trailed off.

“Actually,” Valerie started, “Uhm, I gave her a little, well, kind of like a cell phone?  It can make calls, but it’s also got a little button to send a distress signal to my suit if need be?  And seeing as it’s never gone off, Dani’s okay.  Ok, Danny?”

Danny looked down at the ground.  “Alright.  I guess that’s better.”  He looked preoccupied - lost in thought and still a little sullen.

Sam, Tucker, and Valerie exchanged glances with one another over Danny’s bowed head.

Valerie gave a little cough.  Seeing Danny head twitch at that, she said, “I saw Dani transform after one of her pranks.  I was stopping by Vlad’s office to see if I could find anything new.”  Valerie paused.  “She looks a lot like you Danny.  And once I saw that, and my suit recognized her like any other human, I approached her.  She explained a lot to me and after getting lunch, I brought her around to Sam and Tucker.”

Danny looked up at his best friends.  “Really?  Valerie had to bring Dani to you guys?”

Sam nodded and watched Danny’s expression lift at the confirmation.

“Anyway, Sam didn’t tell me anything, but Tucker told me about the whole,” she waved her hands around, “Cujo?  The ghost dog thing.”  She sighed.  “It wasn’t easy to sort through it all, but I realized that I was being really unfair to you Danny.  I’m sorry for not hearing you out about it earlier.”

Danny shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  “Oh, well.  That’s?  Ok?  I mean it’s not okay okay, but I understand.  Why you acted like you did.  Life dealt you a really bad hand with everything and you were dealing with a lot with your dad and his job and the A Listers and everything so – “ a hand settled on his shoulder.

“Danny,” Valerie cut in.  “You don’t to forgive me right away.  I’ve had a few weeks to deal with this.  I just wanted you to know that I know about your … situation and that we – Red Huntress and Phantom – are cool now.”  A bell tolled somewhere in the town.  Valerie looked up at the street lamps turning on.  “Anyway, I’ve got to get back, but it was nice to see you Danny.”  She gave him a little smile, activated her hoverboard and helmet, and flew off.

Watching Valerie fly off, all three of them stood still for a moment.

“Well,” Danny started, “I’ve got to get back.”

As he started moving to walk off, Sam grabbed his arm, “Are you mad at us?”

Danny turned around.  “No, Sam.  I’m not.  I just – I’ve had a long day and I want to go eat dinner.  Can we get talk about this tomorrow?”

“Promise?  I’ve got a new game I can bring over to play,” Tucker offered.

Danny smiled at them, “That sounds good.  I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Danny started walking backwards and turned invisible from one step to the next.  He flipped up into the air and flew off, back to the Nasty Burger.  He transformed in a stall, washed his hands, and walked out to the booth.  As everyone turned to look at him, Danny’s neck flushed red.  “Hi.”

“You doing alright Danny?” Jack asked.

“Uuuh yeah, just,” Danny paused, “had to take a dump?”  He slid into the booth, Jazz pushing over his tray of food.

“If you say so m’boy.” Jack shoved more fries into his mouth.

Jazz scolded her father for his manners and Maddie smiled fondly at her eldest.

Danny inhaled a third of his burger and as he took a sip of pop, looked over at his aunt.  Alice had a smile on her face, but it was stretched a little thin, eyes crinkling right underneath them, a fist on the table and body turned, supported by the window and booth back.  Danny went back to eating his burger.  Aunt Alice had looked like she was in pain that she was trying to hide ever since they entered Amity Park’s borders earlier.  He hoped she would be fine considering Maddie had wrangled her into staying for a couple days.  Danny ended up ordering another burger and Jazz decided to split a small shake with Maddie.  Once they had finished eating, they climbed back into the GAV and headed home.  Danny started feeling sleepy again, leaning his head on the cool window, watching the streetlights pass by.  Jazz looked over at her brother, noticing how relaxed he looked.  She missed him.

“You know Danny,” she started, “you look so much more relaxed than before.”

Danny glanced over at her.  “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of saying you were right.”

Jazz smiled softly as Danny’s head rolled back against the window.  “I wouldn’t expect anything else little brother,” she whispered.

___

Danny heard the clicks and whine of the Fenton door weapons activate and after a few seconds, the doorbell rang out.  He left his room, heading down the stairs to hear his mom invite Sam and Tucker in.

“Hey guys,” he called down the half flight of stairs.  He waited for them to start walking up before he turned around and led them to his room.

Pushing open his door, he dropped onto his chair.  Tucker grabbed a spot on his bed and Sam, after closing the door, took a spot at the foot of the bed.

“So,” Sam started.

“So,” Tucker added.

“Soooo,” Danny finished, “any thing else I should really know that you didn’t bother to update me on?”

Tucker winced at Danny’s tone.

“Nope,” Sam popped the p.  “Vlad’s still mayor,” she ticked up a finger.  “No new halfas that we know of, no new ghosts.”

“Oh!” Tucker interjected.  “Dash had a wipe out on a skateboard.”  He looked smug, “I caught it on video, wanna see?”

“Yes!” Danny cheered, leaning forward to watch.

Sam scoffed at them, but she also leaned in.

After catching up on all the little things Danny missed over the summer – a new girl moved in next to Tucker, Sam’s petitions and protests, teaming up with Valerie – Danny stood up and stretched.  His spine let out a loud crack and Tucker gaped at him.

“Geez, are you okay?  What were you even doing on that farm?”

“Yeah Danny, you sounded like my Bubeleh and she’s, like, 80.”

Danny laughed, sitting back down.  “Actually, I think that was because I’ve been sitting so much the past few days.  I was pretty active before that.”  He thought for a moment.  “I might be able to beat Dash in a race now.”

Tucker snorted, “I don’t know dude, he decided to start working on his legs this summer.  He’s no longer, like, a Dorito with sticks for legs.”

Sam definitely didn’t giggle as she said, “But sure, we’ll take your word for it, Danny.”

Danny rolled his eyes as he sat back in the chair.  “Alright, enough teasing me.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about Sam ditching our elective class to take environmental sciences.  Can you believe she disrupted our carefully crafted schedule that ensured we shared as many classes as possible just for?  What was it?  The earth?  Can you believe Same is ditching us like this?”

“Huh,” Danny said, he turned to Sam, “what’s that class even about.”

Sam glared over at Tucker before looking at Danny, “I’m glad someone here is taking an interest in the important things in life.”  Sam launched into an hour long explanation.  After the first five minutes, Tucker had pulled out his PDA to play a game, mouthing along to parts of Sam’s explanation from time to time.  Danny got the basic idea shortly after that.  He started to tune out, thinking about school.  How in 2 short weeks, he’d be back in the classroom, probably juggling ghost attacks, Dash, the other A Listers, homework, and sitting in a cramped chair for hours on end.  The sun coming through his window warmed Danny’s side.  He glanced outside at the street.  A bird flew across, but otherwise it was buildings, sidewalk, and asphalt as far as he could see.  No green at all.  He wondered if Undergrowth would make another appearance, and if Danny could convince him to –

“Danny, are you even listening to me?” Sam’s sharp voice called out.

Danny whipped his head away from the window, “Uh, yeah, Sam, I’m listening.  You were saying something about,” he searched his short term memory, “the climate?”

Sam huffed and crossed her arms, “So, as I was saying – “

“As she was saying,” Tucker interrupted.  “She’s shamelessly ditching us, Danny.  Can you believe it?” Tucker slid dramatically off the bed and grabbed Danny’s jeans, “and Sam doesn’t even care!” he cried.

“Tucker, you know that’s not it,” Sam reprimanded.  “Besides, didn’t you sign up for Advanced Algebra or Calculus or something?  You’re also ditching us.”

Turning around to face her, Tucker gasped.  “How. Dare. You.  It’s Finite/Brief Calculus and that’s only because they refused to put me in the computer class again this year.”

Danny laughed, “That’s because you hacked the school’s computers and played that banana song over the intercom for all of lunch.

“Because peanut butter jelly time is a classic,” Tucker grumbled.  He got up, sitting back on the bed.  “Anyway, you should have your schedule by now too.  Have you looked at it?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, “eh?  I think my parents handed it to me this morning, but I didn’t take a look.”

“Oh, well then what are you waiting for?  Let’s see it!  I want to see how many classes we share this year!”  Sam demanded.

Danny sat up in his chair and rolled over to his desk.  Grabbing the school letter, he opened it, gave the schedule a once over, and then surrendered it to his friends.  Sam grabbed the paper and her and Tucker leaned over it.

“It looks like we share PE again Danny,” Tucker held up his hand for a high five as he continued looking at the schedule.

“We all share chemistry this year, right before lunch,” Sam added.

“Oh nice.  And look – we end the day together in art too,” Tucker pointed with his other hand.  Sam and Tucker looked over at Danny.  “Dude?”

Danny stared past them, eyes not focusing on anything.  When Tucker waved his hand in front of his face, he jolted back to focus and gave a half hearted smile as he high fived Tuck.  “Yeah, that’s great.”

Sam narrowed her eyes at Danny, “that doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.  Are you not excited for this year Danny?”

A shrug was her answer.  “I don’t know.”

Tucker glanced over at Sam, “What do you mean?  When you finished summer school, you seemed pretty thrilled to finalize your schedule request and send it in.”

Danny looked out the window, “Yeah, I know.  And I was.”

“Was?” Sam echoed.

“Well, this summer on the farm was a lot different.  I liked it, being outside and stuff.  Working on things, knowing that I was making a difference for people.”

“Danny,” Tucker started. “Do you not want to be in Amity anymore?”

Danny whipped his head to stare at Tucker, “Oh course I want to be here!  I missed you guys so much!  And I missed a lot of other stuff too!”

“Danny.”  Sam waited until he looked at her.  “You can have missed us, and not want be in Amity Park.”

Danny dropped his gaze to the carpet between their feet.  “Yeah, I know that.  I do want to be here.  I do!” 

He fell silent, struggling for a moment.

“I just – it’s so much, you know?  The ghosts, and Dash, and school, and my parents, and all of it.  It’s so much, all the time, without a break.  And I don’t feel like I have a choice in any of it either.  Obviously I can’t skip school and I can’t avoid Dash.  We live in the same town after all, and there’s only like, three places for teenagers to hang out.  And then the ghosts on top of that!  And the ghosts are here because of my parent’s portal, but I’m the one that turned it on – I can’t just ignore that the ghosts are causing problems even if I want to.  I don’t feel like I have a choice but to take responsibility and step in.  And I know you guys have been helping Val and stuff, but -”  Danny shrugged his shoulders. 

“I like being on the farm.  It’s quiet.  And even when there are ghosts,” he noticed their faces, “– and there are ghosts,” Danny confirmed, “they’re different!  They don’t cause trouble.  It’s like,” Danny waved his hand around, “everything’s so close to the cycle of living and dying and everything has it’s time from the plants to the animals and like – uuuuugh,” Danny threw his hands up.  “I don’t know how to explain it.  Death is always a part of living and everyone out there is used to it being a part of life, so when it happens it’s less of a tragedy?”  Danny looked away.  “I guess,” he scratched his arm and fell quiet. 

Sam and Tucker looked at Danny, waiting for him to clear up what he was trying to say.  The wind pushed against his window, a slight whistle from uneven weathering strips cutting through the quiet of the room.  Danny sighed and looked at the ground in front of his feet.  “I feel like less of a freak for dying and coming back when I’m out there.”

“Oh Danny!” Sam moved forward.

Tucker let out a quiet “Danny”.

Danny pushed away from them in his chair, rolling back some.  Rubbing his arms he said “I mean, I know I’m not a freak or anything, but it’s hard to forget that I died when I’m in Amity, you know?  I can’t escape reminders of it and that it makes me different from everyone else.  When I’m out there on the farm it’s just?  I feel at rest.”  He laughed, “that’s stupid isn’t it?”  He ran a hand through his hair. Looking up at them, “A ghost who feels at rest.  But DAMN!  I do, getting to be part of life and death like that makes me feel normal – I feel like I belong out there.”

“Danny,” Tucker glanced over at Sam before turning back, “Danny, do you want to stay there?”

“Tucker!” Sam admonished, “I don’t think –“

Danny laughed, “Yeah, I think I might want to….  Would you hate me if I left you guys again?”

Sam rushed forward to pull Danny into a hug.  “Oh Danny, I don’t think we could ever hate you.”

Tucker joined in, “Yeah, we’ll just have to visit you.”

Danny’s smile was smushed against both their shoulders.

“Do you think I could get internet out there?”

And all three of them laughed.

_________

“So, that’s what I want to do.  If I can,” Danny said.  He stared at the coffee table in front of him.  His parents sat on the couch across from him.

“Well, Danny, I don’t know if we’ll be able to do that.”

“But if that’s what you want, we’ll support you son!”

Danny looked up and gave him parents a smile, “Thanks.”

_______

It turned out Alice was familiar with the work programs that the local school utilized for their students.  It consisted of students taking the core classes, like math and science, in the mornings, and then working on the farm in the afternoons.

The trick was getting Casper High to agree.  But between Alice and Maddie, there was no trouble convincing Principal Ishiyama and Mr. Lancer that Danny would be better off in the modified program.  As long as he came back to take the state proficiency tests, he could even still earn credit for Casper High’s records without having to transfer them back and forth.

Within a few days, Alice, and now Danny, climbed back into the truck, ready to head back down to Arkansas.

“Bye!” Danny called, waving out of the window.

A chorus of bye’s and love you’s sent Danny off as they drove away.

Extra:

“Come on,” Danny laughed as he looked at his friends struggling up the side of the silo.

Tucker’s hand slid off a rung and he yelped.

Looking up at Danny, Sam asked, “are you sure this is safe Danny?”

Laughing again, Danny started climbing again, “Sure is.  Besides, I can always catch you guys before you hit the ground.”

“Wow, that’s sooo reassuring,” Sam grumbled.

Reaching the top of the dome, Danny disappeared from both their sights.  They heard some clangs before his head popped back over the edge, “come on!  Hurry!”  He grinned at Tucker��s frown as Sam reached him first.  Danny disappeared again as he gave Sam room to clamor up.  Soon enough, both their heads popped back over the side.  Twin grins met Tucker as he finished climbing up.  Hands thrust towards Tucker, he grabbed them and let himself be pulled up the rest of the way.

“Okay, we’re here.  What are we supposed to be doing?”  Tucker asked as they crawled their way to the middle of the silo.

Danny sat down, and pointing up said, “Look.”

“Oooh,” Sam breathed.

“Wow,” Tucker added.

The sky stretched up above them, shades of blue creating a fabric where streams of stars traveled across the expanse.  Blushes of red and green broke up the inky darkness and stars twinkled back and forth.  A light breeze caressed the trio and they laid back, enjoying the view.

[crackedhrglass]

as thanks to my ao3 readers for giving me 8k total kudos, i wrote this portal ford x teen stan fic, so check it out!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64570375

[trypoed]

I'm just thinking.

Hoffman’s path as Jigsaw's apprentice began with revenge, with the desire to inflict suffering on the one who had caused him pain. And his path ended with revenge as well. His final act of vengeance was not only against Jill personally, but also against John. It was as if he was trying to make John suffer by taking the life of someone John cared about.

It doesn’t matter that John was already dead. It doesn’t matter that killing Seth Baxter wouldn’t have brought Angie back.

Revenge is blind.

"Fix me, motherfucker," Amanda cried to John. Nothing changed for her.

"Fix me, motherfucker" - this is precisely what Hoffman could have snarled in fury and despair, feeling betrayed, if John were still alive. Hoffman was hurt all over again, and the only way he knew how to cope with his pain was by inflicting it on others in revenge. For him, too, nothing had changed.

Both Amanda and Hoffman were ultimately defeated because John didn’t fix people. He broke them further. And they were both undone not by John’s hand, but by the consequences of his designs.

And I am curious about how John would have reacted to what happened to Jill. Would he have been as lenient with Hoffman as he was with Seth Baxter? “Everyone deserves a chance,” he shouted directly into Hoffman’s face, speaking about the man who had so unfairly and cruelly taken the only person he held dear from him. “You didn’t see the blood! You didn’t see what he fucking did to her!” and John showed no trace of understanding or sympathy in response. But what would he have said if he had seen Jill’s blood? If he had witnessed what Hoffman had done to her? Would he have given Hoffman the proverbial chance? I’m not sure.

[thesaintofpatience]

NOW COMPLETE!

Because I am of unsound mind, I've skimmed through HtN through the satirical and wildly unreliable eyes of our friend Augustine. Please find within:

Fifth House snobbery re the Third House and its efforts

Intense, codependent and psychologically unhealthy relationships with not one! not two! but (at least) three denizens of the Mithraeum

Just astonishing amounts of ennui

A simply unnecessary number of footnotes that add to neither plot nor characterisation but do vastly add to my enjoyment

In summation: pls <3

[jtl07]

I’m a sucker for their time in Switzerland ⛰️ I just love the vibe, and Ava working as a bartender 🍹And your fic with everything from their apartment is so, so good! Absolutely one of my favorites ❤️ Soooo, I would love a fic from that time. They kissed the day before, but it was when they danced and Beatrice was drunk for the first time. They are both really unsure of where they stand, but both wants it to mean more. Who makes the move and how? Up to you 😉 Thank you 🙏🏼

omg anon I'm really sorry about the delay on this one - this turned out wildly different from what I'd drafted before, hopefully it's still as good?? <3 thanks so much for your patience - and giving such love to looks for you in everything (finds you there)! - and for playing!!

"Do you remember -" Beatrice is already smiling before Ava has finished her question, her voice light and dreamy "- our first kiss?" 

Beatrice closes her book, gives Ava all of her attention; receives a grin and Ava falling into her lap as a response. It's a question Ava's asked many times before, less now that she's had time to settle from being on the other side, back when Ava would stop in mid-stride, mid-bite, or the middle of the night, panicked and anxious; unsure. More often than not, the cause would be a memory from the other side with its endless fire and pain, but sometimes it would be one from the life she'd lived on this side of reality; the one shared with Beatrice. 

Those always left Ava trembling, eyes wide and lined with tears, the hardest to reconcile. Beatrice quickly learned that in those moments, Ava's utterance of "do you remember?" was less a fond trip into nostalgia but a question of sanity, a desperate check on what was real, what was right, what was hers. Because when one has lived a life of hardship and torture and sacrifice, the most impossible gift one could receive is a life filled with joy. 

And it has been: joyful, beautiful. With the war behind them, peace has helped to fill in the cracks left in its wake. It's not perfect - and Beatrice is finally learning to accept that nothing ever is - but seeing Ava like this, eyes bright and the shadows far in the distance, makes everything okay.

Beatrice wraps her arms around Ava, brushes their noses together in that way that always makes Ava laugh - smiles when she hears that beautiful sound. "I do remember," Beatrice says, and they recall together: how Ava had gotten her drunk (you were so, so pretty, Bea - still are, the prettiest; you're an incorrigible flirt; why thank you, Mrs. Silva), how Hans had sent them home, how they'd spent the entirety of their walk giggling at how they tripped over their own feet because they were so tightly wrapped around each other; because they refused to let each other go. 

"I remember how the moonlight seemed to make you glow -" and here Beatrice's voice drops low; it always does when she remembers this moment. And as always, Ava flushes, bites her lip: remembering, too "- and all the reasons, all the excuses I'd been telling myself about why I shouldn't kiss you just - disappeared. So I did." She gently palms the red spreading across Ava's cheek. "And it was wonderful." 

Ava sighs - once in agreement; then again with a lowered gaze. "But then I stopped you, because you were drunk. Because I got you drunk." 

"It was alright, Ava. You did nothing wrong," Beatrice murmurs, replaces her hand with her lips. This, too, happens often - the guilt, the reassurance. "Because our second kiss the next morning was even better." 

Ava laughs softly at that, as she always does, and the way she looks up shyly reminds her so much of that morning - Ava, skittish at the kitchen counter, ready to run but trying so hard to stay, to be brave; to hope - that Beatrice's hands can't help but take the same places they did that day: one hand slides up to Ava's waist, holds her close, hold her steady; the other hand curls into the curve of Ava's neck, brings her closer still. 

Remember this, Beatrice thinks as she presses her lips to Ava's, breathes the promise she always makes when they kiss, that I love you: then, and now; in this life, and the next.

[onomatopoetic101999]

Strangers Like Me

Adam Warlock x reader

WC: 3,225

Warnings: lotttssss of kissing. Tons.

Inspired by "Strangers Like Me" by Phil Collins

________________

__________

Adam Warlock loved to learn.

 It was something he counted as a great blessing, finding out so many things he would never have known if he had stayed with the Sovereign. He had felt, even when only a few days old, that there was something better out there, and the Guardians had helped him find it. In the six months since his premature birth, Adam had learned so much, both about himself and the galaxies he now called home. 

He found out a new dislike or preference he had everyday, but one thing that he had learned early on was that he liked having you around. You were incredibly kind. You went out of your way to ensure he understood what happened around him, you never answered his questions with anything other than patience, and more than once you had fiercely defended him against those who attempted to take advantage of his ignorance. 

The things he experienced were just… better when you were the one helping him with them. Every time he learned something new, his first thought would be what your opinion on it was. He wanted you to show him everything you knew, wanted to do everything you did and learn why you did it. He rejoiced in every chance he got to find out something new about you and felt a need to always be somewhere in your vicinity.

You had stood out to him from the first moment he saw you. You had felt different than every other friend he had made so far, and he hadn't met anyone like you since. You had this serenity about you that drew him in, and your effortless beauty reminded him of the stars. He had quickly decided after meeting you that your name, while pretty, didn't encompass how amazing you were. 

He had called you "Starlight" once in passing, and had stuck with it ever since.

This desire, this longing, was so new to him. He didn't understand; why did he have this need to be around you constantly? You made him feel things he had never felt before. His need to be close to you reached new heights every day, and the day the Guardians visited Terra for the first time was no different.

 While it was nice to see Peter Quill again, learning about where you came from was the only thing Adam could focus on. To see what you first called home was magnificent. Adam wanted to know anything and everything you were willing to tell him about where you grew up, and as you gave him a tour of your childhood home, he was struck by two things. 

The first was how beautiful everything on Terra seemed to be. It only made sense, he supposed, that someone as beautiful as you would come from somewhere as beautiful as this. The second, and slightly more puzzling thing was how at home he felt, despite being on a planet he had never visited before. This he solved by simply remembering who he was with. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling he would feel at home anywhere as long as you were there.

After you showed him everything you could think of, Adam decided it was his turn to show you his "world" - what he considered his first home.

It wasn't hard to convince you to allow him to take you somewhere you had never been, and Adam's heart swelled at your trust in him. When you had fully prepared yourself to go somewhere without oxygen, you turned to look at him expectantly. He had originally planned to drive one of their smaller ships to where he wanted to take you, but that urge to be close to you rose up again. 

He scooped you up into his arms instead, and shot up towards the atmosphere, holding you close with one arm under your legs and the other around your back. At first he was worried you would be mad at him, but you responded exactly the way he wanted you to: by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and hiding your face against his shoulder.

Adam hadn't even known it was possible for him to shiver, but when he felt your body shake against his as you let out a surprised and exhilarated laugh, he relished in the tremors it causes.

He didn't know what you were expecting as he flew you both towards the first place he had felt peace. It wasn't Sovereign, but he had a feeling that wouldn't surprise you. He waited with baited breath to see your reaction after whispering to you that you had reached your destination.

If you were surprised, you didn't show it. All Adam saw as he watched you take in the mesmerizing stars, planets, and moons he had brought you to see was pure, unadulterated awe. It seemed as if it was all you could do just to whisper, "it's beautiful." Adam murmured his agreement, though his eyes never once left your face.

He wondered if you felt the things he was feeling, what he always felt when he was around you. He wasn't sure how to ask; he didn't even know if he should. For a reason he couldn't explain, the thought of confessing his feelings to you made him nervous.

Still, being honest with you had never hurt him before. He had to at least try. When he landed back onto Knowhere soil, he turned to you, having built his courage on the journey back. 

While he had sucked in a breath to start, to attempt to find some way to express himself to you, the air left his lungs the second you turned to look at him. He had chosen to carry you before because it brought you closer to him, but the sheer lack of distance between your faces hadn't hit him until your still awe-filled eyes had come to rest on his golden ones.

 Suddenly, talking was a complete impossibility. Adam was positive you had never looked so radiant, hair tousled from your recently removed helmet and breathing still heavy from the adrenaline of flight. Adam was also positive that if he opened his mouth to speak, something horribly embarrassing would come out.

Luckily, knowingly or not, you saved him from the mortification of speech. You leaned forward to rest your forehead against his, and when Adam noticed the small smirk your mouth made when he gasped at the contact, he found himself unable to look away. 

As quickly as you had stolen his ability to breathe, the sight of your lips completely consumed Adam's thoughts. He tilted his head ever so slightly, and when you leaned back to look up at him, he started to lean forward. He couldn't explain why, but as his gaze roamed your face, briefly meeting your eyes before returning to your mouth, all he could suddenly think about was wanting to…. Wanting to….

You caught on immediately, and raised a gentle hand to rest against his lips, stopping him. At his frustrated huff and furrowed eyebrows, your enticing mouth lifted again at the corners as you ducked down to meet his eyes.

"Adam, are you sure? Do you even know what you're trying to-"

"Starlight, please," his words are muffled against your fingertips, and he watched as the feel of his mouth moving against them visibly flustered you. "I can't explain why but I want… I need to know." He didn't know how to articulate what exactly he needed, but he didn't have to.

When you hesitantly lowered your hand and nodded, Adam wasted no more time, surging forward to press his lips against yours. It was a clumsy kiss at first, but as you slid your hands into his hair to guide him, a single thought, word, feeling seeped deep into his bones. Right. This felt right. More right than anything he had felt in his life.

The longing he had experienced since he met you seemed to finally release him with a sigh of relief, giving way to complete contentment. He smiled against your lips and pulled you closer, delighted by the gasp you gave him in response.

He didn't know how long you let him hold you, pressing kiss after kiss against your lips, trying to figure out exactly what he had to do to hear that little gasp again. It didn't matter. It hadn't been long enough to satisfy him. 

He had wanted to pout when you finally pulled away, but the sight of your dazed eyes and parted, panting lips made up for the loss of what had immediately become the best thing he had ever experienced in his life. He mirrored your earlier action, resting his head against yours and closing his eyes.

"Thank you," his breaths were coming out in short puffs, but he found he didn't mind being out of breath if it was because of this. Because of you. He felt your forehead move against his as you shook your head, letting out a breathless chuckle in response to his gratitude.

"You are… unfairly good at that. You've never done that before?"

Adam shook his head no and smiled cheekily at how airy your voice was.

"Does that mean you'll let me do it some more?" He beamed when you nodded again and pulled you in for more kisses just as fast as the first time. 

When you broke away for a second time, Adam decided he still needed more, wondering what other sounds you would give him if he kept going. He tilted his head to kiss down your jaw and along your throat, and he rejoiced when he was rewarded with more gasps and sighs. You tugged involuntarily at his golden hair when he mouthed at one of your collar bones, and he hummed against your skin in response.

He had memorized the way to his apartment in Knowhere long ago and thanked his previous self for bringing you back so close to it. He carried you through his front door, shutting it behind him with a light kick before settling on his couch. When he realized he couldn't kiss everywhere he wanted to, he decided you needed to be closer and, lifting you up easily, shifted you to straddle his thighs. 

Your breathing had been getting steadily shallower, and at the feeling of his hands grasping at your hips to pull you closer, you couldn't handle any more. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him up to look at you, fighting hard to catch your breath. 

"You can't…. You gotta give a girl a break sometimes. I'm gonna pass out at the rate you're going." Adam just shook his head and leaned in again, unable to resist pressing another kiss to your lips before speaking. His hands slid up from their place on your hips to wrap around to the small of your back as he muttered an apology against your mouth.

"I'm sorry, Starlight, I can't help it," he nudged your chin up with his nose so he could kiss along the soft skin underneath your jaw. "Why haven't we done this before? Why aren't people kissing all the time?"

You breathed out a quiet laugh before explaining.

"Well, it's kind of intimate, you know?" You paused to gasp as he ran his nose down your pulse to mouth at the place where your neck met your shoulder. He smiled when you shivered in response to his encouraging hum to continue.

"It's usually only for between folks with romantic feelings or-" 

Adam stopped abruptly to raise his head and look at you, and he could tell it was taking a lot of your effort to not pull him back to you. If he hadn't been so curious, he would have been left dumbstruck again by your swollen lips and lidded, kiss drunk eyes, but he pressed forward, too interested in the words you had used. 

"'romantic'... I don't recognize that word…"

You shook your head to get out of your daze, trying to get your brain to function enough to explain the concept to Adam.

He didn't know why, but he felt strangely proud that he was the one that had so thoroughly distracted you. Your beautiful mind was muddled because of him. His kisses on your neck as you sat on his lap and his hands touched you- what was happening to him?

He ignored his increasingly possessive thoughts, trying to pay attention as you attempted to find the right words to use.

"It means you want to spend all your time with someone, I guess, but more than just in the way a friend would. You think about them all the time, you find them nice to look at, you want to protect them from things," you paused to check with him, "is this making sense?" 

Adam was nodding before you had finished the question. That was the feeling that had been plaguing him! He tilted his head to the side and watched you for a moment. He knew you were probably expecting more kisses, and while he already felt as iff he was going through withdrawal, he had a question he needed answering first. 

"How do you tell someone about those feelings?" At that you shrugged, fighting to keep your focus while Adam gently ran his hands up and down your back. 

"It depends. If the feelings are small then you should say something like,'I like you'," Adam immediately knew that didn't fit, "if it's all encompassing and groundbreaking, then you would say, 'I love you.'" Ah. That sounded right.

Adam mulled over his next move as he leaned in to plant light kisses on your cheeks and nose in thanks. His heart swelled at your giggle, and he made a decision. Love. Yes.

He leaned back again and did exactly as instructed.

"I love you."

His confession causes you to blink before giving him a sad smile, one Adam immediately wants to replace with something real. 

"No, Adam, just because you like kissing me doesn't mean you-"

"I love you!" He interrupted you to say it again, this time more insistent. At your unconvinced face, his continues, listing every way his feelings for you fit your criteria.

"I have felt a… a pull towards you since I first saw you, and it gets stronger every day," you opened your mouth to argue, but Adam wouldn't have it.

"I want to be close to you all of the time, I can never stop thinking about you, you're the most beautiful thing I have ever had the gift of looking at and I would rather die than see you hurt," he cupped your face in his hands and met your eyes steadily. His tone made no room for argument.

"I love you."

"Adam…" While you still looked skeptical, he could tell his words getting through to you. He tried to go for another tactic. 

"Do you know why I didn't fly us to Sovereign when I told you I was going to show you my world?" When you shake your head no, he continues, "it's because being in space, surrounded by the beauty and tranquility, was the only place I felt at home… until I met you. Now, when I think of home," his golden eyes glow with admiration, begging you to believe what he's telling you, "when I think of home, Starlight, all I see is you. I love you." 

He could tell you were almost convinced, and you tilted your head to the side, eyes roaming his face. Adam figured you were probably trying to gauge if he fully understood the gravity of what he was confessing; you were always careful to only let him commit to something important if he was able to articulate its significance.

His little Starlight wouldn't let him rush into something he didn't understand. The last thing you wanted was to take advantage of him. He loved that about you. He watched you watch him for a while, trying to figure out what to do to prove his understanding, more than willing to indulge your protectiveness.

When he finally landed on a solution, he stood quickly with you still in his arms. Now that he had gotten a taste of you this close to him, he didn't know if he'd ever let you walk again. 

Your surprised squeak was adorable, but it was the heady feeling of your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands gripping your thighs that he made a mental note to revisit later. What kind of sounds would you make if he pressed you up again his door? What about the wall...?

Adam shook his head to refocus himself. You would let him do all of that, he was sure of it, if he was only able to convince you that he loved you.

He walked with purpose through his apartment, past his small kitchen, straight into his bedroom. When he sat on the edge of the bed, he made sure you were comfortably seated on him before reaching past you to grab something he had been keeping on his bedside table for months.

He handed it over to you and watched you as you analyzed it, turning it around in your hands. It was a picture frame, and in it was a photo of you, smiling at whoever was behind the camera. You looked as if you were mid laugh, and the kaleidoscope of stars behind you gave you an almost ethereal glow.

Adam tapped a single golden finger against the frame, keeping his eyes on your face. "I have been keeping this by my bed ever since Drax told us about Ovette," you eyes snapped up to his at that, and he continued, "he had said he wished he had kept some kind of photo of her so he could see her face before he fell asleep and after he woke up. He said he wished he had looked at her, really looked at her, for longer, so that her face wouldn't be forgotten as easily." 

He took the photo back gently and returned it to its rightful place on his nightstand before he turned to look back at you.

"When he was talking about how much he missed her, all I could think about was how devastated I would be if I never saw you again. If I forgot what you looked like. I didn't know what to call it, but even back then, I knew if there was someone who I would spend the rest of my life with, it was you." 

Adam reached out and grabbed your hands, placing a kiss against each palm before resting with them in your lap. At first he was alarmed when he saw tears in your eyes, but then he noticed you were smiling, and continued, feeling his own eyes starting to well up too.

"I didn't say it just because I like kissing you, although I can already tell I could do that forever and love every second," you laughed and a tear escaped. Adam brushed it away with a brush of his thumb. "I'm saying it because from the moment I met you, I have longed to know you, where you came from, everything I could, just so I could talk to you better.

I'm saying it because you have become the one place I feel I truly belong." He ran his hands up your arms and shoulders to sink into your hair, bringing you close enough to nuzzle his nose against yours.

"I'm saying it because I have felt it, for months, and now I finally, finally have the words I need to express it. Starlight, with my entire body and soul, I. Love. You."

Adam loved to learn, and today he learned that his favorite sound in the whole universe was hearing his darling Starlight say, "I love you too."

[ravenvsfox]

Rockband AU Chapter 14 (Finale)

That's right folks, the concert is coming to an end. As an homage to my long history of andreil tumblr fic, I'm posting this chapter here, as well as on AO3. I sincerely hope I've served the wonderful readers who have stuck with me all this time 🖤

__________

His face doesn’t even register at first. 

Andrew has become desensitized, defused, having spent months expecting Riko in every crowd, and having trained his own stomach not to revolt at the sight of a threat. He has bracing for the worst down to an art form.

But numbness is the antidote to pain, not fear. The fear still comes. A black hole in the mind, extinguishing cells and sucking down energy until everything and everyone feels stretched thin, fluttering, spaghettified. Andrew’s eyes dart to the slope of Neil’s back, and as he watches, the outline of his guarded shoulders turns to water.

Riko’s smile is hateful; his teeth should be red. Where there are ravens, inevitably, there is carrion. Bad omens yield blood. Andrew has never been allowed the luxury of believing otherwise.

Somehow he manages to keep a steady beat, even with his whole body haloed in outrage. A drumstick cracks in half over a crescendo, and he swipes at the spare strapped to his stool like he’s drawing a pistol.

From the corner of his eye, Renee jerks, and he knows her scan of the room has turned Riko over. She’s pumping on the bass pedal like it’s the brake that will halt this car crash. Kevin hasn’t spotted him yet, or he would surely be regressing by now. The music whines like a kicked dog, because Neil has—briefly—stopped singing. He plays it off like he’s giving the mic some room, taking the edge off a high note, letting the audience plug the gap with their cheering.

His panic is well-suppressed, but Andrew knows its shape well. Every time he’s ever held Neil he’s also held his fear.

(Read on AO3)

Another moment passes, impossibly. Their song, their hard-won anthem, Neil’s song, blows around them like a hot air balloon, lifts them precariously into the atmosphere. He can practically feel the furnace at his back, that wobbling little explosion.

It doesn’t stop the nightmare from unfolding. The movie monster progresses beyond the jump scare and into its next phase: pursuit. Riko is approaching the stage.

The crowd parts for him, bowing and gasping, their seams all ripped. It’s so ugly, their bystander fans, unlocking the door so the bad guy can slither inside. He’s known betrayal like this: thoughtless, grey, stunned and tearful to know it’s done wrong.

Riko makes his progress purposefully measured, darkly composed, hands ghosting across the face of the crowd without ever making contact, mouth curled with poorly concealed malice. Against all logic, he is beloved.

If he turns his attention on Neil or Kevin, Andrew will kill him. It’s not a threat but a reality.

Neil is pooled in light, dripping with sweat, inked and scarred and swallowed by the music he has nearly killed himself to produce. As always, he is such a tidy little bullseye. In a tangential sort of way, he can see the appeal—Neil has been such a problem. It’s just that Andrew and Riko disagree on the best way to solve him.

Before the backseat deal, before cops in his hospital room, Neil had all but begged Andrew to let him run away. He had feared exactly this scenario, his new life bunched around him, foxes and monsters assembled in a barrel to be shot.

I’m afraid that someone else will suffer for my pride, he’d said.

Andrew had replied, it’s not pride, it’s trust.

Stupid. Blind. His eyes have been on Neil’s staggering recovery, distracted by the fibres of their lives grafting together, the burgeoning outline of a future that seemed not only possible but probable. But of course Riko wouldn’t be swayed by his family politics. Of course deals, logic, and fairness are meaningless to him. This is a man who shatters metacarpals for sport. 

The song is nearly over now. Noisy and flush, ecstatic, insisting, even with one foot out the door, even with a parasite lurking in the water ahead. 

As Riko tries to breach the stage, the surface tension he encounters is resilient, difficult to pierce. The whole onstage entourage has noticed him now. Several members have stopped playing, and there is some discord as hands slip from strings, Kevin’s, then Matt’s. Andrew has stopped too, waiting for the drawn breath, drawn weapon. Watching for somebody on his side to crumple, like he’s up on the battlements at the beginning of a war. 

It’s Riko’s move.

Andrew sees him nodding subtly at a member of security, senses the sorry shifting of alliances in the wings. Impossible, with the background checks Wymack pulled. Impossible for anyone but a Moriyama. 

Riko reaches coolly into his jacket pocket for something. What does he think he’s going to do, from the centre of a crowd that is on his victim’s side? A long-distance weapon would be childishly obvious even for Riko, and there’s no easy way up onto the stage. 

Not just because of the crowd control barrier, or the scattered members of security who still seem keen on doing their jobs, but because there’s a whole pack of Foxes baring their teeth. As Andrew watches, Matt casually edges a heavy amp further in front of the only open stairway, enclosing their ranks in a circle of equipment. It’s not much, but every defence Riko has to pass through is another second they can use to rally against him.

There’s a flicker of an altercation offstage, the gesturing streak of a tribal tattoo, and Andrew knows Wymack is fighting for them too.

And as Aaron stares worriedly down at Riko, he takes an unthinking half-step in front of Neil. Something in Andrew’s chest hyperextends in a way it never has before. His vision doubles; his mind is torn in half. He stands, trembling, at his drum kit, feeling eyes ping off of him, hearing nothing but blood.

There are enough of them still going that the song is mostly holding its shape, but it barely matters. The crowd is halfway to another riot over the spectacle of Riko Moriyama with his head tilted back, his hands wringing the bars of the barrier. Evermore, vengeful.

We don’t know how to die quietly, Neil is singing.

strength in numbers, now, don’t you agree?

every day you’re not here is a symphony

out for blood, but there’s no more inside of me

spirit so willing, but the flesh ain’t so weak

I dare you, try taking this key from me

always wondered what it took to end dynasties

if you’re the king, I say long live the queen.

He’s snarling his way through the final verse, and Andrew is helpless not to tear his gaze from Riko so he can watch Neil burn like a terrible, incredible effigy. The likeness of a hero, wreathed in destruction. His voice is a trail of gasoline, and he is shaking, steady, and clear-eyed, match in hand.

The song ends in a stand-off. Half the musicians are holding their instruments like makeshift weapons, half are stunned still. Riko looks poised to strike—but despite his rage carrying him this far, he is not as fast as Neil.

“Wow.” Neil’s speaking voice rises over the final chord, treading on the last hollow hum of sound. Dan’s fingers pinch the piano keys at the root, so that the reverb is cut off. Matt is twitchy, his hands curled into fists. Muscle memory. “It looks like there’s a legend in our midst.”

Nobody moves. As usual, Neil sets the tone, the tenor. The song they just played is still settling into the rafters, the gutters, whispering, try us. If we die, it will be noisy. Neil’s expression doubles down on that promise. His defiance is coiled, hissing.

He wades forward, out of the spotlight, and peers directly into Riko’s eyes as he crouches at the edge of the stage. Andrew spasms violently, and Renee gets up from her own drum kit, predictably, moving to hold him back. He looks at her sharply. He won’t be stopped today. Her lips purse, but she shows him the surrendering flat of her hands. 

“I didn’t know you were such a fan,” Neil goads into the microphone. “Front row and everything."

There’s a gush of laughter. The cracks in Riko’s expression worsen. He looks deeply aggravated to have the power shifted even slightly into Neil’s hands. Like this, it couldn’t be clearer that they are all above him, and he is down in the pit. Whatever weapon he has, whatever threats, he wasn’t expecting to be invited to use them.

“What a big night,” Neil continues. “Three acts under one roof. Or, well. Two and a half.”

Riko’s mouth twitches, and the audience ‘ooohs’ dramatically, laughing, booing, some of them filming the interaction on their cameraphones. They’re watching a drama they’ve only seen play out from afar, now in hair-raising proximity. And it's almost cinematic, isn't it? Riko, a dark focal point in the crowd, untouchable. Up above, the whole retinue of Palmetto Records spread out behind Neil like wings.

“Just joking.” Neil smiles, without an ounce of joy. “We’re always messing around, saying things we don’t mean, aren’t we Riko?” He holds the microphone out, wagging it in his direction. It could be playful, if you didn’t know Neil.

Riko leans in, taking the bait. There’s a brief, cruel whistle of feedback. “I am just here to support an old friend.”

Neil retracts the mic before his sentence is even finished. “Really? So support him, then. Come up here.” The crowd erupts in cheers. 

“What are you doing?” Kevin hisses. Some of the audience titters nervously, sensing his stiffening body language even if they can’t hear what he’s saying. Everybody on stage shifts, uneasy, like they’re waiting for a tornado warning to come to fruition. Riko is the most volatile he’s ever been, a spiralling tendril loosed from the eye of his family’s storm, whipping up fallen underlings and scattering deals.

Neil turns to them all with a staying hand. “Trust me,” he says, low, away from the mic. Andrew catches his gaze and presses hard. Be sure. Neil nods. He looks more self-assured than he has in weeks. “He can’t touch us.”

This seems to be the password that unlocks Kevin’s terrified posture. He nods too.

Riko’s face is sour, but he’s clearly trying to titrate some sweetness into it for the sake of the cameras. He calmly starts moving again, cutting obliquely through a crowd that is tripping all over themselves to defer to his gravity. Black hole physics, again. The curious victims, the hungry phenomenon.

The security he has clearly paid off duck out of his way, flimsy as drawn curtains. Riko climbs the stairs unimpeded, with all the eyes in the room glued to his profile. It should be a powerful display. He should be commandeering the stage as he encroaches upon their circle, but it’s increasingly evident that this tide might not turn for him. Not this time.

As Riko finally punctures the seal, walking out to centre stage, Neil’s weight rocks back onto his hip, hyper-casual. 

“This is one hell of an encore,” he says. A smattering of whoops, in joyful agreement. The drama is intoxicating. Neil’s irreverent MC-ing is the cherry on top.

Riko plucks the microphone from Neil’s grip, as if that will give him the upper hand.

“It feels good to be on stage with you again,” he says to Kevin, sneaking a generous, vaguely bemused smile to the audience. Like he had been humbly hoping for anonymity. Like he’s been caught off guard. “Although it is a little crowded up here.”

“Strength in numbers,” Kevin shrugs, tapping subtly at his own cheek. His voice barely shakes.

“It is good to have a support system behind you,” Riko says, eyes flickering to the bought security and docile, unsuspecting fans. “And it does seem to be working out for you. I just hope you can keep up your lucky streak.” He smiles snidely. Or else, he doesn’t say. Or else Tetsuji. Or else dogs, no leashes.

The crowd reacts again, spiking and levelling as they decide where their allegiances fall from minute to minute: Neil or Riko, Ausreißer or Evermore, the phoenix or the raven. It’s the stand-off of a lifetime, even veiled in niceties.

“It’s not exactly luck though, is it,” Neil interjects, stealing a new microphone from its stand a little roughly. “Kevin’s a powerhouse.” Cheers, again. “That’s why we keep gaining momentum, even when someone’s trying to take us down, taking cheap shots. You know, an eye,” he points to himself. “A hand.” he gestures to Kevin. A wide ripple of muttered conversation sweeps over the room. Neil cocks his head. “Monsters do have a habit of coming back stronger, you know.”

Riko’s eyes narrow. His smile fades.

“Sorry, I should be letting you speak, you’re our guest,” Neil says. “What did you think of the show?”

The audience hollers their opinions, trying to sway him this way or that. Riko wrings the mic. “It is hard to judge,” he says, wetting his lips. “When I have seen Kevin at his best, with Evermore.”

“Really,” Neil deadpans. “Because a little former birdie told me that sales are down at Edgar Allen Music. I mean, we even beat you to the top of the charts this week.” He pulls back from the mic, and even Andrew can barely hear it over the scandalized shouts when he follows up, “so how does second best taste, you miserable fucking has-been?”

Riko’s face goes ashen with rage. Andrew starts moving before he’s even conscious of forming a plan. The noise is an avalanche all around them, and amongst it, Riko drops his mic to the floor.

“Do not doubt that I will kill you because my uncle is too cowardly,” he hears Riko spit, fast, barely human. “I have always known the butcher’s son was only fit for slaughter.”

For a moment, there is pristine silence.

And then Riko looks behind him, eerily slow. He can see the moment that it hits him—the echo of his words ringing, amplified, around the room. Andrew’s mic-stand levered forward into Riko’s space, just in time to deliver his threat to the world.

Somebody, somewhere, says, “oh my god.”

Another voice— “was that a joke?”

Up on stage, Neil is wide-eyed with triumph. He pretends to frown. “That seems a little harsh. Feels like you might be projecting your daddy issues onto me just a bit. Sorry for your loss, by the way.”

Riko lunges. 

Something flashes, silver, out of his sleeve. 

Gasps ricochet across the surface of the room. 

Before anything can make contact with the vulnerable side of Neil’s face, Andrew has vaulted over a snare drum, scooped his broken drumstick from the ground, and plunged its jagged end through Riko’s hand.

He watches, stone-faced and satisfied, as Riko gurgles in shocked agony, blood pouring out over his gnarled fist. The concealed knife spins uselessly out onto the stage floor. 

There’s an eruption of frenzied terror from all sides as everyone in the room catches up with the bloody five second skirmish. There are flashing cameras, some of them trained on Riko rocking pitifully on his knees, unmasked, some of them swinging to search Andrew for remorse, some of them lingering sympathetically on Neil’s shell-shocked face. 

And then there is movement from the wings as the venue employees descend, and foundation-rattling footfalls as David Wymack flies into the fray.

“Hey, woah, everyone chill out—” Dan starts saying into a spare microphone, but then it’s clear that someone has cut the sound system. 

The evacuation that follows is both frantic and gruelling, a labour of pushing and pulling overly invested fans against underinvested employees. Security staff waffles or escapes, allegiances compromised. The noise is incredible, a pinprick of a fight followed by this balloon pop fallout. As Nicky would say, no one can claim that being an Ausreißer fan is boring. 

Ultimately though, Andrew is uninterested in anything but Neil, who is still frozen, horribly, at the precipice of sudden fear. He calls his name two, three times, but it takes a hand knotted in his hair to urge him down the slope toward relief. His knees unlock, and he slumps into the safety of Andrew’s side. There’s a thin line of blood trickling down his good cheek, a nearly invisible nick from Riko’s blade, and Andrew’s gut twists painfully. Again, he had almost lost him. 

In the crook of his shoulder, Neil starts to laugh, hysterical. 

“Not here,” Andrew grits, tugging again on the ends of his hair, and then getting a proper hold on his nape so he can move him toward the wings. He reaches up with his free hand to swipe Neil’s blood away with his thumb.

A shoulder check yields the rest of the family falling in line behind them, abandoning folders of music, lurching over equipment. He catches Aaron kicking the knife definitively out of Riko’s reach, and his ears ring with gratitude.

“I think we just won,” Neil says, bubbling over in disbelief.

“At least try and look shaken,” Nicky says, close at their heels, hurriedly unplugging his guitar. He reaches back with an open hand, and Kevin, clearly in shock, takes it. He lets himself be pulled along, bass hanging limply around his neck like an albatross.

When Renee and Allison come up from behind, their hands are also clutched fiercely together, but Allison’s expression is wicked. “I love it when my enemies dig their own graves for me,” she says. Renee tuts, eyes sparkling. 

Dan gets an arm around both their shoulders, and says into the space between them, “did we just win?”

The helpless giggles have stopped, and Neil’s responding smile is sharp, vulpine. Against all odds, the nine of them are escaping on this life raft together. 

“Get to the dressing room,” Wymack commands, wild-eyed. “All of you, right now, no fucking around. I gotta clean up this mess.”

Behind him, Riko looks up from his destroyed hand with bloodshot eyes, a sneer twisting his face beyond recognition.

It’s the last time they see him alive.

______

The dressing room is a chaos of uncertainty, premature celebrating and feverish, immediate re-hashing. There are too many of them to fit seamlessly inside a single room, but they refuse to be split into factions right now.

It reminds Neil of his first night back to Columbia after Baltimore: the whole patchwork team of them sleeping in a tangle, quilted together into one piece.

Their equipment is strewn across the room, couches crowded with jackets and hastily latched guitar cases, Allison’s makeup bag sidled up next to Nicky’s backpack with its tinkling German flag keychain, someone’s heavy duty water bottle with a custom Ausreißer logo overlapping an ‘I <3 Exy’ sticker.

Renee is perched on the arm of the couch, deceptively calm as she braids and unbraids a loose piece of Allison’s hair. Next to them, Kevin, Matt, and Nicky are sharing a bottle of Jack, strung between two foldout chairs and a footstool. At some point, Aaron returns with Katelyn clinging to his arm, both of them looking shaken. Wordlessly, they are absorbed into the semi-circle. 

It’s only when Andrew sees his brother that he loosens his grip on the back of Neil’s shirt and crosses to Aaron’s side. He gets close enough to say something brief in his ear, unsubtly scanning him for trauma as he does so. Neil is surprised to see Aaron nod gratefully, and even more surprised to see Katelyn take the last slug of whiskey, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, and pass Kevin the empty bottle.

Meanwhile, Dan is speaking seriously to their staff and the concert hall’s over in the corner, doing some fast-talking damage control:

No, it wasn’t a stunt.

Yes, it was a shock to all of them.

But no, it’s not the first time Riko has made threats. Hence the security detail, Dan adds snarkily.

Yes, it was self defence. Clearly.

In Neil’s opinion, none of it really matters. The video footage will be damning. By morning, everyone will have seen the deadly arc of Riko’s rage from a dozen angles. More importantly, everyone will have heard the poisonous things he said, and the way he had implicated the family in his violence to boot.

It couldn’t have been a more picture perfect deposition. Set up, knocked down.

Riko’s mistake was believing himself to be the most important person in the room. He thought his pockets were endless, his influence untouchable. He thought his presence was enough of a threat that he would paralyze his prey, and they’d simply lie down and take the killing blow.

The death of his father had stripped away any remaining varnish of foresight or planning, and he had struck wrongly. Maybe he thought, foolishly, that Neil would be equally affected by his own father’s death. Maybe he thought he was hitting somebody already on their knees. (One of Riko’s favourite pastimes, incidentally.) 

One last fatal fucking blunder. Neil has never been more motivated to stay alive.

It remains to be seen though, if Palmetto has gotten off Scott-free. Neil was provoking Riko, after all. He invited him on stage. But bloodless teasing and invitations don’t exactly hold up in court. And not even yakuza money can un-tarnish a legacy.

When the cops show up, the questions replenish. Wymack is there by now, reporting Riko’s retrieval by ambulance, the fans’ immediate campaign for justice on Neil’s behalf. He directs traffic, tiredly, trying to buy his artists some space, some peace, however he can.

Neil is distracted by the sensation that this is all just for show. Kids playing at due diligence, running amok at the crime scene, pretending their badges have weight. The real decider will be Ichirou. The real verdict will come at night.

And just below all that frustration, he’s thrumming with victory, recognizing Riko’s Hail Mary for what it truly was, and satisfied to the teeth that a titan like Riko had watched the full strength of Ausreißer’s performance, of their bonds, their skill, their authenticity, and he had fallen.

Eventually, unavoidably, Neil is summoned. Andrew shadows him to the hallway where they’re taking people for individual questioning, and shows a stunning lack of reaction when the sheriff requests privacy, almost like he hadn’t heard him at all.

“I want him here,” Neil says simply. Maybe his victim complex has bought him some sympathy. Maybe it’s the sunny orange bandaid on his cheek, fetched from the depths of Abby’s first aid kit. Either way, Andrew stays.

He walks through the same song and dance that Dan had, making sure to step tidily in her footprints, repeating her statement nearly word for word. He resists the urge to reveal even more of Riko’s misdeeds; there’s no point in beating a dead raven.

They turn on Andrew for his testimony, and Neil takes private pleasure in how utterly futile those efforts will be. They would be better off trying to wring blood from a stone. At least that might build some much-needed character.

He takes a detour to the private bathroom on his way back from twenty questions, to take off his sweat-streaked makeup and gather his ping-ponging thoughts. As he cleans himself up in the mirror, his eyes travel the fractured topography of his face. The rosy Lichtenberg figure framing one cheek, and opposite it, an unassuming orange bandaid. Survivor’s marks, both of them.

For a moment, he is overwhelmed with gratitude. He screws his eyes shut, waiting for the intensity of the feeling to ease up from his thickening throat. He’s not taking any of this for granted. He wouldn’t have been able to stand up on stage and invite the enemy in, if he hadn’t known for certain that all his bases were covered.

He washes his hands and splashes his face with tepid water, until the weight of the feeling is possible to carry. When he pushes out into the hall, there’s a security guard waiting for him.

“They just have a couple more questions,” he informs him, jutting a thumb first vaguely backwards at the assembled police, and then in the opposite direction, towards the stage door.

Neil rolls his eyes, but follows him further down the hall, already anticipating the moment that all of this mess has been mopped up, and he can climb into bed. Maybe Andrew’s, if he’s lucky.

There’s a larger secondary dressing room, originally intended for the monsters’ use, abandoned as overflow storage in favour of the other room’s good air conditioning and generous stores of liquor. It’s another few paces before he realizes that that’s where he’s being led.

His pace stutters. He watches the slightly stiff set of the guard’s shoulders, and glances backwards to see that Andrew is no longer being questioned by the cops. Probably, he’s looking for him elsewhere. Neil is alone.

The guard raps twice on the door, his hand eclipsing the Ausreißer logo still printed on its temporary placard. He ducks out of the way before the door can swing inwards, taking up his post on the wrong side of the threshold. Neil teeters forward on numb legs, and the door closes immediately behind him. The lock fastens with a click.

The room is soundless. No vacant hum of equipment, no chatter, no movement, no distant signs of life. There are more guards posted in each shadowy corner of the room.

Riko is slumped miserably next to Tetsuji on the couch, who looks nearly as unwell as his nephew, sick with barely contained ire. His other nephew is sitting delicately in a high-backed chair, his reflection watching Neil’s approach in the mirror.

It’s immediately evident that the man is Ichirou, because of the way everybody else’s posture defers to his. Nobody breathes until he does. He is shockingly young, and it matters shockingly little. He is dressed for business: his suit is tidy and black, as are his leather gloves, and the charcoal of his gaze.

Had there been an ambulance at all? Neil wonders, scattershot. Riko’s hand has been bandaged, his fingers bloodless and splayed loosely at his side. He’s actually shaking, awaiting retribution from the brother he’s never really known.

The silence continues to fill the room like a run-on tap. Neil’s thoughts continue to unravel: How did they get to New York so quickly? Were their eyes already on this concert? Were they aware of Riko’s plan? Are they here to enact it?

Neil maintains even eye contact with Ichirou’s mirrored double, waiting for his instructions. In many ways, this man is his boss. This could be a kind of audition.

Still, there’s something deathly wrong about seeing the Moriyama retinue here, where mere hours before a benign assistant had offered Neil sparkling water, and they’d plunked their duffel bags down and squabbled over nothing. Nicky had been microdosing. Kevin had been doing some truly heinous vocal warmups.

And here’s the lord of the Moriyama empire, sitting at a vanity table, cast in the dramatic light from the LEDs.

Whole minutes come and go before Ichirou stands. Neil’s pulse throbs unevenly.

He was so painfully close to living a real life that he’s almost in disbelief, seeing the end approach like this. He’d been ready to die his whole life, and now, in the eleventh hour, it’s coming as a shock.

But Ichirou doesn’t move toward him. He breaks eye contact entirely, and walks over to his brother instead, peering down into his pale face, looking almost curious. Waiting for something.

It’s then that Neil realizes that Riko isn’t slumped in defeat, but in sickness. 

His shaking is actually convulsions, tight rippling spasms, like he’s fighting his own body’s reflexes, defying chemistry.

“Ichirou,” he chokes, garbled. A froth of saliva runs from the corner of his mouth down towards his collar. His weak, injured hand tries to grab for Ichirou as his brother reaches for his face.

Or—not his face. His neck. Two gloved fingers to Riko’s pulse. He glances in Neil’s direction as Riko’s shaking body goes limp.

Neil stares. For a moment, he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at.

Ichirou says something to Tetsuji in light, even-toned Japanese, and he stands, edging away from the cooling body.

Because that’s what Riko has become—a body. Dead in an instant. Something fast-acting had clearly been razing his system since before Neil had even walked into the room.

“Is this what you had hoped for?” Ichirou asks. His English is crystal clear, a cool glass of poisoned water. “The ultimate dissolution of Evermore?” Dissolution implies a whole host of behind the scenes moves much like this one: the liquidating of its assets, the hacking of losses. Even Tetsuji can’t manage what no longer exists.

Neil shakes his head once. Lying in this moment doesn’t even occur to him. “I didn’t dare to hope for it. But I’m not sorry it’s happening. We will both be better off without Riko’s grudges.”

Ichirou tilts his head, neither pleased nor displeased by Neil’s callousness. “There is no band without its frontman.”

“It’s good then, that you have other investments,” he replies carefully.

The twitch of a lip, and then Ichirou is turning back towards his brother, examining his bulging, glassy eyes, his swollen tongue. Monstrous in death, as he was in life. 

“Leave us.” 

The door is cracked open at Neil’s back, and he takes the exit route gratefully, turning and escaping into the velvet darkness of the backstage corridor.

______

The rooftops in New York City are more ambitious than they are back home. 

The skyline is a little toothier, a little more death-defying, more heart-racing. There are hundreds more feet to fall, but the vantage point is undeniable; you can see everything from up in the rafters. There is a fledgling piece of Andrew that wants to see everything. 

The night Riko Moriyama dies, Andrew climbs the eighteen flights of stairs to the top of their hotel, breaks the lock on the service door, and lets the warm night wind of the city buffet him back from the edge. He might have taken the elevator, but he needed the burn of exertion to ricochet his dissociating brain back into his body.

Neil was nearly killed tonight. Twice.

His memory keeps jamming and replaying the image of that knife—glinting so close to Neil’s face that he could see its reflection in his shocked wet eyes. Before Andrew could recover from that first close call, he’d turned from the bumbling sheriff’s half-baked interrogation to find that Neil was no longer behind him. Fresh panic clambered overtop of its twin, and the combined weight nearly took him out at the knees.

Back out on the edge of loss again and again. The dangling precipice, the ten story drop.

The vertigo had only started to subside when Wymack informed them all that the police were delivering Neil back to the hotel. Something about taking precautionary measures—apparently dodging a public execution makes a person irresistible to the paps. Andrew knew there was more to it than that. Neil would have come to them first, unless something else had happened.

He’d been gone before Wymack could finish speaking, Neil’s bag hoisted over his shoulder. And when he hadn’t found him in their room, or the lobby, he had come here.

The thing is, he’d never asked for Neil. 

He hadn’t felt that he’d been missing something, because he’d been missing everything, every important thing, since he was old enough to want. Life had given him instincts and taught him not to trust them. People had swarmed and receded like fickle insects, drawn to sweetness or light, then uninterested in his darkness, his acid. 

He wasn’t made to be stayed with. He wasn’t meant to be understood. But then, Neil.

That old trap, love. Mutually assured destruction.

Neil makes him feel like he is the only thing that Andrew’s life had been missing, like the whole muddled picture makes sense now that it’s completed. Neil clarifies all of the hardship, the close calls, the steel-lined self-preservation. He is the future Andrew couldn’t imagine, before.

Andrew takes a drag of his cigarette and looks up at the moon. The view below is a treasure chest of light, bulbs scattered like shimmering coins into the wilderness of the city. It really is a long way down, but he feels calm, steady. Air whistles through the sleek metal fixtures on armoured skyscrapers. Traffic barks and tussles. Andrew sits, and writes, and waits.

“Careful,” Neil’s soft voice calls on the wind. “I’ve had enough close calls for one day.”

Andrew looks backwards at him, a gust lifting his bangs flutteringly from his forehead. Neil stares at him like he’s only just noticed him, even though he’s the one who had spoken first.

“Whose fault is that?” Andrew replies.

“I don’t know,” Neil says, surprisingly raw. “The universe’s?”

“Come here,” Andrew says, and Neil falls forward at once, like he’d just been waiting for the invitation. 

He picks over the coarse cement to meet him at the end of the roof, settling opposite him on the wide, jutting ledge. Andrew tucks his notebook under his thigh, shakes a second cigarette from the pack, and holds it out.

Neil leans in. Their knees brush, and the leather of their boots squeaks together.

Andrew tucks the cigarette between Neil’s parted lips, and bows his head, the smouldering end of his own nudging up against Neil’s.

Somewhere far below, someone is laughing, catcalling, honking at a friend crossing the street, but for Andrew, all extraneous noise has disappeared. He cups his hand around the meeting place where the fire is reaching, trying to catch. Neil’s undone hair tousles in the wind, ruffling against Andrew’s outstretched fingers. 

He studies the tender flicker of orange light over Neil’s closed eyelids: one bisected, one unbroken. He has freckles now that summer has come again, and a bandaid holding them apart like a dam. Smoke trickles loose from the purse of his lips, and only then does Andrew pull back, with some difficulty.

“You disappeared again,” he accuses.

Neil nods.

“Tetsuji?” Andrew guesses, studying his stricken face. 

Neil takes a long pull from his cigarette, and blows smoke up at the sky. “Ichirou.”

The name whips by on the breeze, whirling out of reach. “You’re alive,” Andrew notes. “The rumours must be exaggerated.”

Neil looks doubtful, tapping ash over the side of the ledge. “Not that exaggerated, seeing as he just killed his own brother in front of me.” Another piece of news that is too big to possibly try and catch. It flies from Neil’s lips and out of sight, barely impacting Andrew at all on its way past.

His thoughts churn. He refills his lungs with smoke—hot, medicinal, clarifying—and stays silent.

“Thanks to you, by the way,” Neil says. “What you did to Riko tonight—what you said to Tetsuji before—“ He shivers. “It changed everything. You honoured our deal, even though it was already forfeit.”

Andrew shakes his head once, precise. “What were my options?” 

Neil’s eyes go terribly soft, memory foam soft—gentle, clinging, claustrophobic. “There are always options. You could let the food chain keep eating. Take care of your own interests.”

“That is what I did,” Andrew says simply. He flicks the sputtering end of his cigarette away, and watches it flutter down, down. Then he hooks two tobacco-grubby fingers in the silk of Neil’s nearest armband.

“Am I an interest?” Neil murmurs, just like Andrew hoped he wouldn’t. He says nothing, and Neil smiles as he looks away, staring out at the horizon to get a handle on his own joy. “Do you remember what we talked about on the roof at Eden’s Twilight? All those months ago?”

He remembers every conversation they’ve ever had. He remembers pinning Neil to that roof, in some twisted bid to earn the right to watch his back. To prove to himself that he could do it and walk away. He’d been so obvious, the same way he’s being obvious right now. He can feel it happening and he doesn’t even care to stop it anymore. Neil doesn't respond to subtlety, anyway.

“You said you were interested then, too,” Neil continues.

“In trading secrets,” Andrew clarifies. “In ending your lying streak.”

Neil’s smile grows. “Sure.” He doesn’t bother arguing. Andrew’s fingers are still stroking his pulse. Almost all their secrets are out by now, chopped and jumbled between them. 

Neil takes one last inhale, and tosses his half-cigarette without looking to see where it lands. He scoots closer, letting his legs fall open to bracket the slab of concrete they’re sitting on. Andrew lets him come.

And when he leans in to kiss him, smoke trailing from his wet lips, Andrew snares Neil with both hands around his jaw, and tilts him up into the moonlight. His eyes are so bright even in the shadows. His pupils crowd his irises. Andrew can’t contemplate them without closing the trembling gap between their mouths. 

He tries to kiss a long-lost feeling into him: desire, without fear. A thornless rose. 

He licks the bitterness of nicotine from his teeth, one hand moving to clench in his wayward curls. Neil starts to make a small, unthinking sound of pleasure, but Andrew gets to it first, when it’s vibration alone, and takes it for himself. His free thumb worries the bandaid, the close call, like he could smooth Neil’s skin back to wholeness.

When they part, Neil says, “I’m relieved,” in a small voice, against his lips. “After all that waiting, and fighting, and running away, I actually get to come home.”

“Tour's not over yet,” he replies, distracted. He kisses the sweep of his cheekbone, feeling the warm, scar-pebbled skin yielding to his mouth. He hoists Neil against him, their heads ducking naturally into the gaps between ear and shoulder, face-to-neck in both directions.

For a second, they just feel the heat of each other, there at the edge.

Then Neil presses deeper, dragging lips then teeth over Andrew’s neck, snaking a soft hand up to catch his head when it lolls. “I wasn’t talking about Columbia,” he says—and his face slides down, stopping against Andrew’s chest, and he lays a kiss there too.

It’s almost terrible, the start-stop start-stop of his feelings, the car whining in and out of gear. He wants—he has—so he should lose, next. That’s how the cycle goes. 

But Neil is miraculously un-losable, despite his herculean feats of fate-tempting. He is so far from invisible that he enters a new hyper-spectrum of light. Beyond infrared, warm and glaring.

And if he won’t disappear, then Andrew won’t either. Mutually assured survival. His notebook burns beneath their criss-crossing legs. He peels Neil away from his heart, if only so he can be kissed again.

Just like the first time they were in New York together, at the first show Neil ever played for fun, Andrew knows he will leave the city burdened with more feelings than when he entered it. 

Unlike the first time, he has somewhere to set them down. There is a home here, between them. Two solitary tenants in an abandoned place. A bloody lease, an unpacked duffel bag, a key, a song. A roof overlooking the world.

He will stay here for as long as he can.

______

The rockstar lifestyle, the tabloids report, has claimed another victim.

Riko’s body is found on the bathroom floor of a New York concert hall with a needle in his arm. Overdose. The tragic last resort of a man whose career had self-destructed an hour prior. Scrambling escapism. The spotlight makes the grieving process into a pressure cooker; fame buzzes wrongly in the brainstem.

These are the headlines that Matt recites dramatically over the dinner table at Abby’s. They’re all clustered around the refuse of dessert and spiked coffees, and an old Foxes record is spinning on the living room deck.

“Legendary Raven Sings Nevermore,” Matt quotes, with obvious distaste. 

“Personally, I would have gone with ‘ding dong, the dick is dead,’” Allison says, sipping her coffee. “But there’s no accounting for taste.”

“Do they know that Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven was about the demonic hallucinations of a madman? I looked it up. Like, this wasn’t a chill bird. No one liked it,” Matt says. Dan pats his hand placatingly.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Kevin says. He has that familiar thousand-yard stare going, but at least he looks more haunted than hunted these days. He picks at his peach pie and ice cream despondently until Aaron reaches over and crams a forkful into his mouth.

“I know,” Nicky agrees. “He was our own personal bogeyman for so long.”

“Do you really think it was an overdose?” Dan asks. Kevin scoffs darkly. “Yeah,” she sighs, “didn’t think so.”

Andrew is the only one who knows what Neil saw that night. It had seemed uncalled for, opening that particular closet door to his bandmates. He would tell them if they asked. For now, it feels kinder to give them the distance they’ve earned. 

He would have kept Andrew safe from it too if he could. But he’d taken one look at Neil’s wild, fizzy expression and he’d known. He can't seem to lie convincingly when it comes to Andrew. Secrets chafe these days, and anyway, the truth feels much lighter when it’s carried between the two of them.

“Can we talk about something happier?” Abby ventures. “You all did something amazing. Your song is a hit. You made it here together. Let’s not give Riko the satisfaction of letting him have any part of it.”

“Agreed,” Dan says, throwing a squeezing arm around Abby’s shoulder. Neil notes Wymack watching them with a small, grateful smile.

“I have something,” Renee interjects, “that might lighten the mood.” 

Allison tugs on an electric blue lock of her hair. “Of course you do,” she says fondly.

“Jean sent me a file this morning.” She moves to boot up Wymack’s old laptop, abandoned at the top of a pile of music books by the back door. “A prerelease of his first song with Trojan Horse. It’s kind of magical, I think.”

Neil’s still not totally convinced that Jean is lead singer material, and as Renee’s MP3 file starts to trickle out into the room, his suspicion is confirmed. Because he’s not leading—no one is. It’s just his and Jeremy’s vocals on the track, back and forth, quiet and building. 

It’s also immediately evident that there’s something different about these two when they’re together. They seem to meet seamlessly in a middle ground that Neil couldn’t have imagined until their voices took him there. He thought Jeremy might strengthen Jean’s tone, but they seem to soften each other instead.

It’s surprisingly coherent. It kind of makes Neil want to write something.

“I’m glad they found each other,” Abby says quietly, as the music continues to caramelize—low, slow, decadent.

“They’ve got a good thing going,” Wymack agrees. “I guess we should all be grateful that Knox didn’t sign with me, in the end.”

“That was an option?” Dan asks, disbelieving. “I thought he was a nepo hire?”

Wymack shrugs as if to say none of my business. “I still made him an offer, just in case.”

“Damn. Can you imagine Palmetto with Trojan Horse on the roster?” Matt asks, almost wistfully. “Kevin and Jeremy under the same roof?” “There are enough of us as it is,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes.

“I think we all ended up where we were supposed to,” Renee says serenely.

They all sit with that thought for a minute, as the song trickles to a close. Neil casts a sidelong glance at Andrew, who is quiet as usual, slit-eyed with tiredness. His hair is getting long in the back, curving along the line of his nape. 

Neil is grateful that he gets to see all these little changes happening. It wasn’t that long ago that he was studying his friends’ faces for a beat too long, trying to memorize them as they were.

“Send that to me?” Kevin asks softly. Renee nods, pleased.

“It’s crazy to think that Evermore was just sitting on a talent like that,” Nicky muses.

“Evermore loves to squander talent. It’s their raison d’être,” Neil says.

“I thought we were moving on from Riko talk?” Wymack interjects.

“Oh, come on boss,” Allison says. “Let us curse the man’s name.”

“Hey, do what you want,” Wymack grunts, rising from the table. “I’m getting another drink.”

Neil watches him wander off towards the kitchen, putting his hands briefly to the crowns of Dan's and Matt’s heads as he passes between their chairs. The whole house feels so warm around them, each of its guests well-fed and tipsy. Ending up in a place like this feels like a radical stroke of luck.

Except it wasn’t chance that brought them all here, well past the end of the road, to the winner’s table. It was Wymack. 

Again, Neil feels a stab of gratitude watching the family he earned, the unexpected harmony between them. He can almost hear who fits the bass line, the mid-tones, the shimmering tenors and sopranos. Balance. He downs the rest of his drink, lukewarm coffee and over-saturated whiskey, and follows their conductor into the kitchen.

Wymack looks up from the open fridge door when he enters.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” he says, before Neil can call him out on leaving the room for no good reason.

“A new conversational topic?” he ventures. 

Wymack rolls his eyes. “I know you’ll exhaust yourselves of mafia-talk eventually.”

“I don’t know, it’s a pretty rich vein,” Neil says, hopping up lightly on the countertop.

“Sure,” Wymack says, closing the fridge and shrugging up against the opposite counter, arms crossed. “Harder on some of you than others though, I’d expect.” He nods towards the doorway to the dining room. Neil follows his gaze through the conversational crossfire to Kevin, looking down into his empty mug with an unreadable expression.

Neil shrugs. “Easier to talk about it once you’ve survived it.”

“I think I want better for you all than survival.”

Neil frowns, unsure of how such a thing could really be possible. He looks back from Kevin to see Wymack’s brow furrowed, his eyes far away.

“He told you,” Neil guesses, in a stroke of clarity. 

Wymack’s gaze elastic-snaps back to meet his.

His shoulders slump, and he sighs, running a hand over his face. “The night Riko went off on stage.” Of course. Of course Kevin had gone to his father first. “Shoulda known. Only a kid of mine would always be so determined to do something that scares the shit out of them.”

Neil doesn’t know what to say to that, so he agrees, haltingly, “he’s his father’s son.”

Wymack squints. “I can’t tell which of us you’re insulting."

Neil shrugs again. “Either or.”

Wymack scoffs, uncrossing his arms restlessly. “You’re an equal opportunity smartass, are you?” Neil smirks and looks at the floor, studying the speckles in the linoleum, the line of grime where the mop won’t reach. “How are you holding up, by the way?”

He looks up, and something in his chest seems to peer upwards also. “Honestly? I’ve never felt better in my life.”

Wymack’s mouth twitches. He eases himself up onto his own stretch of counter, so they’re eye to eye. “Even after selling your soul to that pack of crows?”

Neil smiles thinly. “You’re assuming I had a soul to begin with.”

“You have a soul, kid,” Wymack says. “Trust me on that.” The conviction in his eyes is almost too much for Neil to withstand. 

“Well,” he starts, looking back out on the dining room. Dan is roping Allison and Nicky into sloppy three part harmony on some old power ballad. Aaron has skyped Katelyn in on the abandoned laptop. From the sounds of it, she’s winning a bet against Matt on something or other. Kevin has stopped staring at his empty cup, and is pouring himself a fresh coffee. “I’m happy to give it up for them.”

“Hm. Just eighty percent of it, last I remembered. Try and hold onto the other twenty, okay?” Now he nods towards the other side of the table, where Andrew is making no effort to pretend that he’s not staring back at them. “Whatever you haven’t already promised to him, anyway.”

Neil doesn’t believe in souls, but he is starting to believe in promises. If souls were real, he thinks they would be like an exchange, not an essence.

Something of his thought process must be showing in his expression, because Wymack sighs. “We’ll make a selfish man of you yet.”

“It doesn’t get much more selfish than becoming the frontman for a band when you have a homicidal maniac on your tail.”

“I said selfish, not stupid,” Wymack says flatly.

“Alright, fine,” Neil says, fighting another smile. He hops down from the counter, eager to rejoin his friends. “I can be selfish. I’ll be selfish for the rest of my life.”

“Within reason,” Wymack calls at his back. “Within reason, Neil Josten.” 

Neil laughs as he retakes his seat at the table, his composure in joyful tatters. Andrew stares. In lieu of an explanation, Neil reaches out and brushes his fingers, selfishly, against the soft hair at his nape. Andrew bows his head, just an inch, and indulges him.

______

With the past finally buried in its unremarkable plot, Palmetto Records begins to climb to new, impossible heights. The future is still uncertain, but it is wide.

Subunits crop up occasionally between Foxes and Ausreißer: unexpected pairings, features, and swapped producing credits. If you strain your ears you might find Dan’s harmonies warming Kevin’s to a simmer, or a lick of violin under a thrashing drumbeat. 

If they’re not working together they’re hanging out together, constantly photographed in each other’s pockets, flipping off the camera at Eden’s Twilight, or sharing smokes in the studio parking lot. The fans joke that the nine of them should join forces for good—someone has to give Jeremy’s all-star crew a run for their money.

More staff is hired, including a much-needed publicist, audio engineers, roadies, and a loyal security team. Even with a heavy tax on their earnings, Palmetto is flying. Aaron buys his own apartment as soon as he can. Andrew buys a Maserati. 

Trojan Horse puts out a record called Le Corbeau Doré, which becomes a critical success, and sweeps that season’s awards, much to Neil’s chagrin. Meanwhile, Thea Muldani debuts as a soloist under Edgar Allen’s label, and her stage presence is so large that it fills both halves of the gap Evermore left in its wake.

There’s a cork-board in Palmetto's foyer, streaked with polaroid photos of Wymack’s investments: 

Renee and Allison kissing with Dan cheesing next to them, partway through dragging Matt into frame. Kevin smiling uncertainly at Renee, violin tucked under his chin for the first time. Matt and Nicky submerged to their waists in the lake, with Neil and Aaron hoisted up on their respective shoulders, partway through a vicious chicken fight. 

Kevin sitting next to his newly revealed father, both of them coincidentally pulling the same stressed out, nose-pinching pose. Ausreißer’s original line-up, looking back at the interloping photographer from their circle around the backyard fire pit.

And the new and final line-up: Nicky giving Kevin bunny ears at the same time that he gives Neil a teasing pinch on the cheek, Aaron and Andrew slouched shoulder to shoulder, Andrew’s hand curled casually around the side of Neil’s neck. It was summertime, after a sticky outdoor gig, and their tattoos were out, the whole parade of fierce and gimlet-eyed unmentionables. 

Andrew often stops to look at Neil in this photo, half of his sweaty hair pulled back from his face, auburn with dark tips. His scar was starting to heal up, closer to the clean white reaching prongs he sports today. His piercings glint. His eyeliner runs. He’s grinning with all his teeth. He is so cleanly and entirely a monster. One of theirs. 

In the photo, Neil had just gotten his chest piece, and it’s peeking out from his open collar: the god Hermes in his winged sandals. Thief, trickster, emissary, connector of two disparate worlds. In a tangential sort of way, it suits Ausreißer’s themes: exceptions to rules, fugitive personalities. Some gods are monsters, and vice versa.

And around his wrist, beneath his armband, where it’s almost never seen, there’s a snake in the same style as Andrew’s hydra, and it is eating its own tail. A small, hungry infinity, just for Neil and Andrew to see.

______

Three years after he first stumbled upon the monsters, five years after he drowned the memory of his mother, Neil’s life has become fantastically selfish.

Ausreißer haloes each stage like a sundog, stamping the sky with its circle of brightness, its fiery heart. They banter before they play, stealing the mic, stepping on each other’s jokes, each of them pulling at a corner of the crowd’s favour until the mood parachute-billows above them all.

Andrew still keeps his heartbeat in his drum kit. Aaron starts to care less about appearances, Nicky starts to care more, and they meet in the middle as family. Kevin’s fortitude has its own musicality. He warms each song in the palm of his healed left hand, and faces his second chance with clear eyes. They pass the vocal line to Neil, and watch him herd their wayward melodies home.

Before long, they start playing arenas. Nicky has stopped calling them misfits, and started calling them rockstars.

Tonight they’re playing a sold-out show, and Neil is running down the open runway toward the crowd, freedom racing over his skin in an unbroken current. His in-ears are dangling, and he’s laughing. No shadows can touch him in a spotlight this big.

The camera pans over the audience, a sea of armbands, waving lighters, real and fake tattoos, black and orange merch, and tear-streaked faces.

The panorama shifts, and Foxes comes into frame, hollering from the VIP section. Matt was clearly midway through an air guitar solo, and he doubles over in caught laughter. Allison models her Ausreißer tank top, plucking it away from her chest so people can see the logo in full. Renee is pretending to try and intimidate the camera, armbands crossed. Dan is mid cattle whistle, fingers to her mouth. Katelyn and Erik are cheering next to them, sharing a gaudy banner that says the guitarist is mine.

There’s a gaggle of staff beside them too, including Wymack, who pulls the brim of his cap down to cover his face—but below its curve you can still clearly see his grin. 

Neil points to them all, fizzing with good, clean adrenaline, and says, “the whole family’s here tonight!”

The crowd stomps and roars in approval. The camera switches back to the band, broadcasting Neil’s face in HD, and for a minute he doesn’t even recognize himself. Gleaming black piercings, makeup smudged out into the roots of his scar, hair wild, smile huge. He looks fierce, but he looks nothing at all like his father. Nathan never looked this happy in all his days.

And just like the first full Ausreißer performance Neil ever watched, he is struck with a profound feeling of belonging. He’ll take them to the Grammys. He’ll take them to Elysium.

The perspective on the big screen changes again, flitting to Andrew at his drum kit, golden, sweat-soaked, infinitely larger than life. There’s a flicker of his true expression, tilting upwards, relaxed, before he can register the camera. And Neil doesn’t have to turn around to know where that peaceful gaze is fixed. 

But he looks back anyway.

And across the din of the crowd, across the endless stage that carpets the distance between them, through the rush of music which connects all broken people and lost things—their eyes meet.

[angeliccss]

🎬 PRESENTING A TALE OF LOVE, LOSS, AND LUNACY 🎬

✧ CLOSE-UP ✧ A Psychological Thriller in Three Acts — Runtime: 8.9k Words —

STARRING: ✩ Norma Desmond as Herself ✩ You, as the Captive Dreamer

✨ NOW SHOWING ON ✨ AO3

🎞️ SUMMARY:

You came to Hollywood chasing dreams. Now you wake in silk sheets that smell like perfume and dust. Norma Desmond says you belong to her—and maybe, deep down, you don’t want to leave.

A dark, smut-laced descent into obsession, where love feels like devotion… and entrapment.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS ⚠️ This fic contains explicit dark themes including: ✦ Obsession framed as love ✦ Psychological manipulation ✦ Power imbalance / Yandere dynamics ✦ Dubious consent / coercion ✦ Smut woven into emotional control ✦ Marking / scarification (Norma’s name carved into reader) ✦ Isolation & identity loss ✦ “Dead Dove: Don’t Eat” – this is not a redemption story

Rated E for Explicit. Proceed with care. You’ve been warned, darling.

You wake up in silk.

The sheets are too soft, too cold. They smell like perfume and dust—expensive, cloying, old. Your head throbs. Your mouth is dry. Your body feels like it’s been poured into something delicate and gold.

You don’t know where you are, not exactly. But it’s familiar. Too familiar. You’ve been here too long.

Light seeps in through heavy velvet drapes, pale and thin like it’s scared to touch anything. The room around you is huge. Ornate. Crumbling and perfect. The kind of place you’d read about in books—ones with ghosts and broken chandeliers. A mirror leers at you from the opposite wall, cracked in one corner. You’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Your shoes are gone.

Then you hear her humming. Soft. Low. Somewhere behind the dressing screen. You remember a party. Champagne bubbling over. A voice like honey dipped in arsenic. Fingertips trailing down your arm. You don’t remember how you got here. But you remember her.

Norma.

You sit up slowly, and the silk sheets fall away like water.

Your legs ache. The pain in your thigh is sharp and unfamiliar, it makes you wince as you instinctively run your fingers over the tender skin. The sensation sends an electric jolt through you, like something is still raw, still lingering. You pause, noticing something strange: dried blood and deep, gentle cuts, faint but undeniable. You trace it carefully with your fingertips, the letters delicate and precise, as if it were carved into your skin by a soft, deliberate hand. Her handwriting. Norma.

But how? You don't remember how it got there—how it happened. Your mouth tastes like lipstick and regret. You press a hand to your temple and try to remember—anything more than shadows and music. But it’s all fragments. Laughter behind your ear. Her voice telling you you’re special. A flash of diamonds. Then nothing.

The room creaks as you move. Everything does. The walls feel like they’re listening.

You push the covers back and slide off the bed. Carpet swallows your footsteps. The window’s shut tight, but the drapes move like they breathe. On the vanity, a single cigarette still burns in a cut-crystal ashtray. Lipstick on the filter. Not yours.

You run your fingers along the edge of a gold-framed photograph. Her, of course. It’s always her. Smiling at you from decades ago. Light caught in her hair. Fame in her eyes. Her name handwritten on the border, like she was afraid the world might forget.

The humming stops. Then—her voice. Right behind you. “You’re awake.” You turn, and there she is.

Draped in a robe that glimmers like old starlight, one hand resting delicately on the frame of the dressing screen. Her makeup is flawless, but it clings to her face like it’s been worn for hours. Maybe days. She looks at you like she’s been waiting forever.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she says, her voice low and velvet. “You looked so peaceful.” You try to speak. Ask what happened. Why you’re here. But she crosses the room before you can find the words and presses a finger to your lips.

“Shh,” she says, smiling. “Don’t spoil it.”

There’s something in her eyes—too bright. Too much. Like she’s looking through you, not at you. And yet… it’s hard to breathe with her this close. Not out of fear. Not yet. Something heavier. Like she’s pulling you into her gravity.

She brushes a strand of hair from your face, then cups your cheek with a hand, soft and cold. “You belong here, darling. You know that, don’t you?” You should say no. You should run. But your voice is gone. And she’s still smiling.

You pull back just enough for her hand to slip from your cheek. “I don’t… I don’t remember coming here.” Your voice is hoarse. Small. But it’s yours again. “What happened last night?”

For a second, something flickers across her face. Not quite anger. Not yet. Just surprise. As if she didn’t expect you to ask. Then the smile returns, tighter than before.

“You were upset. Tired. The city’s so cruel to people like us.” She turns away before you can answer, moving to the vanity. “But you found your way to me. Isn’t that what matters?”

You don’t respond. Your heart’s still pounding. You glance at the door. It feels a mile away. “You said I could leave whenever I wanted,” you say, and you don’t even know if it’s true. It just feels like something she would have said. Something she would want you to believe.

She stops. The silence is sharp.

Then she laughs—soft and amused, but wrong somehow. “Of course, darling. Of course you can leave.” She picks up the cigarette from the ashtray, still smoldering. “But why would you want to?”

You stare at her. At the painted face in the mirror. The way she doesn’t look at herself when she talks. “Because I don’t belong here.” This time, she doesn’t smile.

Her hand trembles as she sets the cigarette down. “Don’t say that.” Barely a whisper, but it hits like a slap. You flinch, and she sees it. Her reflection stares at you in the mirror, eyes wide and wet, and for the first time she doesn’t look like a starlet or a goddess or a myth.

She looks afraid. “You do belong here,” she says, turning back to you. Her voice shakes now, too carefully controlled. “You just don’t see it yet. But you will.”

You take a step back. She takes one forward.

“Norma—”

“I’ve given you everything,” she interrupts, her voice rising, trembling. “Shelter. Beauty. A place to write, to be seen. And you—you think you can just walk away?” Her hands tremble, and for a second, you see the cracks in the façade. The smile that’s always been there falters. She’s losing her grip, and it’s terrifying.

“You can’t leave me,” she says, voice quieter now, but sharper, more final. “Not after everything I’ve done for you. Not after I’ve shown you what it means to be seen.” You back away instinctively, but it’s too late. Before you can even blink, her fingers grip your arm, hard—too hard. She yanks you closer, and the air seems to freeze between you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she says, her voice low and thick with something you can’t quite name. Fear? Anger? It’s a mix of both, and it’s suffocating. Her grip tightens, and for a moment, you feel like you can’t breathe. You try to pull away, but she doesn’t let go.

“You think you can just walk away like it’s nothing? Like this is nothing?” Her words are fierce, shaking, desperate. “You don’t get to leave. Not after this.” Her fingers dig into your skin, and it’s not gentle, not soft. There’s nothing loving in this touch. Just a cold, iron will. She’s holding you here. With her.

And in that moment, you realize—there’s no running.

You struggle against her grip, heart racing, breath shallow. Her fingers are like iron on your arm, but the reality of her touch sinks in deeper than the physical pain. You’re trapped. Stuck between her will and your fear.

For a second, her gaze softens—just barely. The anger dissipates like smoke, but the need remains. It’s there, in her eyes.

Her fingers loosen, but she doesn’t let go completely. She keeps you close. You don’t know whether to push her away or stay still, to say something, anything, to break the silence, but your mouth is dry.

“Norma…” you say, your voice trembling. It feels weak, fragile, like you’re barely holding it together. She doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickers to your face as if she’s searching for something, for a crack, a way to make you understand.

“I’m not going to let you go,” she says softly, and you can hear the strain in her voice now. It’s not anger. It’s not rage. It’s desperation—raw and unfiltered. Her breath comes fast, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. The softness of her touch, though still possessive, contrasts with the sharpness of her words.

“I can’t…” Her voice wavers, and for a moment, you almost think she’s going to break. “I can’t lose you.”

You don’t know what to say. How to respond. You want to pull away, but you’re frozen. Her grip isn’t harsh anymore, but the weight of her presence presses down on you, filling the space between you both.

The room is too quiet. Too still. You’re still trying to process everything—the way her hands felt on you, the control, the anger. It’s like you can’t shake the memory of how easily she grabbed you, how she didn’t let go.

Finally, you speak, your voice tight and hesitant. “What did you do to me last night?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and thick. Norma’s eyes flicker, and for the first time, you see her falter. There’s a brief moment where her walls crack, but it’s gone before you can fully recognize it. She takes a slow, steady breath, like she’s trying to collect herself.

“I… I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice is cool again, but there’s something underneath it. Something you can’t quite place. Fear? Guilt? You step back, breaking the silence. “You know what I mean. What happened last night?” Your words are firmer now, more insistent. “You can’t just—”

She cuts you off, her gaze darkening. “You’re safe here. You’re fine.” But there’s an edge to her tone. Something defensive. “Nothing happened.” Your chest tightens. You want to argue more, to press her for answers, but something about her eyes holds you in place. You’re afraid of what she might do if you push too hard. If you push too far.

You swallow hard, feeling like you’re losing control of the situation. Like you’ve already lost something you can’t get back. But the silence between you both stretches longer than you can stand. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She says it with finality, her voice colder now.

The tension lingers, but you don’t have the strength to fight it anymore. Not now. Not after everything. The words hang heavy in the room. No closure. No explanation.

Last Night

The evening feels like any other. You’re sitting in Norma’s luxurious bedroom, the soft scent of perfume hanging in the air, as you carefully adjust the hem of your dress. The sound of Norma’s heels clicking on the marble floor signals her approach, and you glance up to see her standing in the doorway of your bedroom, a smile on her face, as radiant as ever.

“You look perfect, darling,” she says, her voice as smooth as velvet.

You nod, your stomach fluttering at the compliment, though you’re not sure why. It’s not the first time she’s said something like that. She’s always had a way of making you feel special—even when it feels like she’s pushing the boundaries of that "specialness" more and more each day.

“Thank you,” you say, smoothing out the fabric. You’re doing your best to focus on getting ready, even though you feel like your mind is everywhere. But being in her presence somehow makes everything else fade into the background. She’s so intoxicating. So beautiful. It’s impossible not to get lost in it.

She steps closer, her hands moving with practiced ease as she adjusts the collar of your dress, her fingers brushing against your skin. The touch is almost too light to notice, but you feel it—a faint shiver running down your spine. You don’t think much of it. You never do.

“You’re going to turn heads tonight,” Norma murmurs, her voice low as she looks at you with an almost possessive intensity, her fingers lingering at your neck. You meet her gaze in the mirror, unsure if she’s talking about the party or something else entirely.

“I think you always do.” Her smile widens, but there’s something darker in it. A warning you don’t yet understand.

The party is in full swing—glittering lights, laughter, and the hum of conversation all blending together into a symphony of wealth and excess. You’ve stuck by Norma’s side all evening, feeling more and more like a shadow of her as the night wears on. She moves through the crowd effortlessly, commanding attention with every step, while you stay at her side, quietly observing.

It’s easy to get lost in the sparkle of the night, to forget the tension from earlier. After all, you’re with her. You’re safe.

Norma’s laughter rings out, a perfect blend of elegance and confidence as she engages with a few well-dressed guests. Her hand brushes against yours as she moves, and you glance up at her, catching a brief, knowing smile.

“You’re doing great,” she whispers as she leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “Just stay close to me tonight. You belong here with me.”

You nod, the warmth of her words settling over you like a soft blanket. You don’t notice when she takes a glass from a passing server, the subtle way she slips something into the drink. It’s barely noticeable—just a momentary flick of her wrist, hidden in the bustle of the party.

You take the drink from her without hesitation, and she watches with that same knowing smile, her eyes dark and focused as you bring it to your lips.

It’s only a few minutes later that you start to feel it. The way the world begins to tilt, the edges of your vision blurring slightly, the warmth of the drink slowly seeping through your body, making everything feel too soft, too dreamlike.

Norma moves away briefly to speak with a guest, leaving you standing by the bar, the effects of the drink slowly taking hold. Your limbs feel heavier, the air too thick to breathe properly. It’s like you’re floating, your body detached from your mind.

You catch a glimpse of Norma across the room, her eyes briefly flicking back to you, an unreadable look in them before she turns her attention elsewhere. There’s a sense of satisfaction in her gaze, but you don’t understand it.

The party hums around you, but it all feels so distant. The glass in your hand is almost empty, but it’s not the alcohol that’s making the world spin—it’s something else. Your head is light, your thoughts hazy, and the warmth spreading through your body feels like it’s melting you from the inside out. The drink you took from Norma has worked its magic, and you don’t realize it until it’s too late.

You feel dizzy, and your legs feel heavier with each step. You can barely keep your balance as you sway slightly, trying to stay upright. “Norma?” Your voice is soft, a little too slurred, but you don’t care. She’s just across the room, talking to a group of people, looking more glamorous than ever. Her laugh rings through the crowd, drawing the attention of everyone around her. But all you want is her attention.

You try to walk toward her, but your feet don’t want to cooperate. You feel a little like a toddler trying to run, stumbling with every step.

“Norma, I need you.” You whisper to yourself, your words heavy, clingy. You just need her. You don’t know why, but you want her—her eyes, her touch. She makes you feel safe, makes you feel like everything else fades away.

You reach her just as she’s laughing with someone, and you grab her arm, looking up at her like a lost puppy. “Norma…” Your voice trembles, needy and soft. “I need you… Please.”

She looks down at you, her smile flickering for a second. She tilts her head slightly, taking in your unsteady stance and the way your eyes are a little too wide, a little too dependent.

“What’s wrong, darling?” she asks, her tone honey-sweet but with a sharp undertone of something else. You’re not sure why you’re acting this way, but you can’t stop. You feel like your entire existence is tied to her, and you need her to see you, need her to give you attention.

“Norma…” You repeat, your words thick in your mouth, almost desperate. “Don’t leave me. I want to be with you.” You almost sound like a child, clinging to the only person who can make you feel something in this fog of overwhelming intoxication.

Norma glances around the room, her gaze flicking briefly to the people she’s talking to. She’s aware of how you’re acting—aware that everyone else can see you, too. Her lips curl into a smile, but it’s not a comforting one. It’s possessive, satisfied.

“Stay close to me,” she says, her hand sliding down your arm to take your wrist. Her touch is gentle, almost affectionate, but there’s a warning there, a silent reminder that she controls this moment, that you belong to her in ways you don’t even understand yet.

You nod, your head heavy as you lean into her, letting her guide you away from the crowd. She doesn’t say anything more, just leads you to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes.

“You need to rest,” she murmurs, her voice low and soft, though there's a sharp edge to it. She guides you onto a plush seat, sitting beside you, her presence a weight that both comforts and controls. You lean into her side, feeling more dependent, more lost with every passing moment. She hums softly, her fingers brushing through your hair, soothing you, but the sharpness in her gaze never fades.

You’re hers now, in more ways than you realize.

The party feels like it’s fading into the background as you stay close to Norma. You can’t seem to shake the feeling of needing her—needing to be close to her. You’re swaying slightly, your body feeling heavy with desire, but you can’t put it into words. All you know is that every time Norma’s hand brushes against you, your skin burns.

She notices it. Of course, she does. The way you flinch whenever she touches you, the way your breath catches when her fingers trail along your arm or your side. It’s like she can feel the pull between you, and she’s not one to resist.

She leans in close, her breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re so eager for me tonight,” she murmurs, her voice low, almost a purr. She moves behind you, her hands finding their way to your waist. Her fingers dance over your skin, making you shiver under her touch.

You can barely focus, your mind foggy from the drink and her presence. You feel her hands slide around to the front, one settling on your stomach, the other gently pulling your hair back, exposing your neck to her.

“So desperate,” she says, the words like a command. She presses against you, her body molding against yours, and for a brief second, you forget everything else. All that matters is her—her warmth, her scent, the feel of her hands on your skin.

You moan softly, turning your head just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes are dark, filled with a hunger you’ve never seen before. “Please…” Your voice is small and needy, and you don’t even know what you're asking for. You just need her, need her to touch you more.

Norma smiles, her lips curling as she leans in to kiss your neck, her teeth grazing your skin lightly. She knows exactly what she’s doing—how much she can make you crave her, how much control she has over you in this moment.

You can feel the heat building inside you, and your body betrays you with every soft gasp and breathless moan. She pulls away just enough to look you over, her gaze hungry, satisfied with the effect she’s having on you. You’re swaying, half-lost in the sensations, and she knows it.

The party feels like a distant memory as Norma pulls you away from the thrumming crowd, her hand firm around your wrist. Your legs feel unsteady, but she holds you up effortlessly, guiding you through the maze of people and into a quieter hallway.

You can barely keep your thoughts together, your body still swimming in the haze of the alcohol and her presence, but you don’t care. You just need her—need her touch, her warmth, to feel anchored.

You stumble a little as she leads you down the hall, but she’s steady, her grip never wavering. The world feels muffled now, the sounds of the party fading until it’s just the two of you, your pulse pounding in your ears.

When she stops in front of her bedroom door, you look up at her, your heart racing. She smiles down at you, a smile that’s too knowing, too dangerous, and then she opens the door, pulling you inside.

The room is dark, the only light coming from a few dim lamps scattered around the space. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of perfume and the soft hum of the night outside. Norma doesn’t waste any time, guiding you to the center of the room, her hands never leaving your skin.

“You’re mine now,” she murmurs as she pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your cheek. “You’ve always been mine.”

You barely register her words, but the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. Her hands are everywhere, sliding under your clothes, tracing the lines of your body like she’s memorizing every inch of you.

Her touch is possessive, like she’s claiming you, and you can’t bring yourself to resist. You feel almost weightless, caught in a storm of sensations, everything feeling both too much and not enough at the same time.

She kisses you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth, dominating the kiss as her hands roam over you, stripping you of the last layers of clothing that remain. You can barely keep up with her, your breath coming in gasps as she takes control.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” she says, her voice a low murmur against your lips. “Now you’re mine, and you’re not going anywhere.” The words hang in the air, heavy with intent, and you realize that there’s no turning back now.

Norma pushes you back onto the bed with a gentleness that only makes the power in her actions feel sharper. She hovers over you, her eyes dark with something you don’t fully understand but can’t resist.

The bed creaks beneath you as Norma looms over you, her eyes dark with hunger, every inch of her exuding control. Your breath is shallow, your body trembling, but you can’t escape the pull of her. You feel exposed—raw—as if she’s already taken pieces of you and claimed them as her own.

“Do you feel that?” Norma asks, her voice a low, dangerous whisper as she slides her fingers down your side. You flinch at the touch, but she just smirks, her eyes glinting with something darker. “Every inch of you belongs to me now.”

You can’t answer, can’t even think clearly. All you can do is feel—feel her hands on you, feel the weight of her gaze, feel the overwhelming need to give in, even though a small part of you knows this is wrong.

She leans down to kiss you again, her lips hungry, as if she’s devouring you whole. Her hands are everywhere, touching, claiming, marking. You feel the sharpness of her nails scraping against your skin, and it leaves a sting that makes your body twitch.

Norma pulls away just enough to look at you, her breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to carve my name into you,” she says, her voice steady, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “So everyone knows who you belong to.” Your heart skips a beat. The words feel like a threat, but also like a promise, one you can’t escape.

Before you can even process what she means, Norma’s hands are on your thighs, pushing them apart. Her gaze flickers between your face and your exposed skin, and you can see the hunger in her eyes.

“Hold still,” she commands, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fear, but you obey without question. You feel her fingers dig into your flesh as she positions you exactly how she wants, the feeling sharp, possessive.

And then, you feel it—a sharp, burning pain as something cold and metallic presses against your skin. You gasp, the pain making your body stiffen. “What are you—”

“Shh,” Norma interrupts, her voice soothing, though nothing is comforting about what she’s doing. She’s pressing the edge of a small knife, just barely against your skin but still deep enough to scar, the blade cold as it carves into your thigh.

You try to pull away, but she’s quick to pin you down, her grip unyielding. “You belong to me,” she whispers again, her voice steady, cold. “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure no one forgets it.”

The knife presses harder against your skin, the pain intensifying, but it’s not enough to stop her. Your body tenses, and the pressure against your thigh increases as she starts carving, the slow drag of the blade leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

You can feel the blood beginning to trickle down your leg as she finishes, her name now etched into your skin. It’s a mark of ownership, and the sting of it lingers long after she pulls the knife away.

Norma leans back, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she watches the blood trickle down your thigh. Her gaze lingers there for a moment, as if savoring the sight of her mark on you—her name etched into your skin, a permanent reminder of who you belong to.

You can’t look away. The pain is still fresh, but there’s something else now—a strange, dizzying mix of shame and arousal. You want to push her away, to tell her to stop, but the words die on your tongue. Every part of you aches for her, even as your mind screams for escape.

Norma leans in again, her fingers gently brushing against your bloody thigh, the touch soft compared to the knife that had just been there. She traces the blood, her eyes never leaving yours, watching your every reaction with a hunger that chills you to the bone.

Without breaking eye contact, she slowly dips her head down, her lips parting as she moves closer to your skin. You flinch slightly as her warm breath hits the open wound, but she’s relentless. She presses her lips to your thigh, her tongue darting out to taste the blood.

It’s an act of domination, of ownership, and you can feel it. The warmth of her tongue against your skin is both tender and cruel, as if she’s savoring the very essence of you. Each stroke of her tongue feels like a branding, each one deepening her claim over you.

“You’re mine,” she murmurs between licks, her voice low and satisfied. “Every part of you is mine.” You want to look away, to turn your head, but you can’t. You’re frozen, the sensation of her tongue on your skin, the blood, the way she’s making you feel... it’s overwhelming.

Her hand moves to your other thigh, pushing your legs further apart as she continues to lick the blood from your skin, her gaze never wavering. It’s intimate and grotesque, a twisted display of power, and all you can do is lay there, helpless, as she claims you in ways that you don’t fully understand but can’t resist.

Norma sits back slightly, her gaze dark and hungry as she looks down at you—still trembling, still exposed. The blood and her saliva on your thigh has dried, leaving her mark on you, and her eyes never leave the wound she’s left behind. There’s something dangerously satisfying in her expression, but it’s not enough. Not yet.

“I love you,” Norma murmurs, her voice low and taunting, before she presses her face into your bloody thigh without warning, her lips and nose brushing against your skin. She doesn’t move away, even as you flinch slightly at the touch. She stays there, breathing you in, her lips barely grazing the surface of the mark she’s carved into you.

Her fingers trail along your skin, but it’s clear she’s not done with this—this moment. She’s devouring you with her attention, her mouth pressing against the warmth of your skin as though she can’t get enough of you.

“You're mine to love,” she repeats, her voice muffled but fierce. “Every part of you. This—this is who you are now. Only mine.”

You can feel her lips move against your skin; the feeling is both unsettling and intoxicating, and it’s impossible to focus on anything but the warmth of her presence, the way she won’t let you go.

Norma lifts her head slowly, her eyes locked on yours, and there’s a brief moment of silence before she leans in again, this time with more purpose, her lips brushing against your ear. “I’m going to take you,” she says, her voice a whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. “And you won’t be able to fight it. Not anymore.”

Her hands move, sliding over your body as she pulls you closer. You feel her strength as she presses you into the bed, her mouth trailing down your neck, your chest, her touch firm and possessive. She knows exactly what she wants, and she knows exactly how to make you crave it.

Norma doesn’t waste a second. Without looking away from you, her fingers trail down the side of your dress, the fabric tight and restricting against your skin. Her eyes gleam with purpose as she studies you, and you realize she’s not just admiring you—she’s sizing you up. You’re no longer an individual to her; you’re simply a possession to be claimed, used, and owned.

“This isn’t for you anymore,” she murmurs, a dark promise in her voice, before her hand moves sharply to the side, grabbing the fabric of your dress. Without hesitation, she tugs it hard enough that the seams of the delicate fabric start to tear.

You gasp, but before you can say anything, she’s already pulling it further, exposing your body to her without a second thought. There’s no care for your modesty, no regard for your comfort. She simply wants to strip you of every layer that hides you from her gaze.

Her fingers move deftly, cutting through the material with quick, efficient motions. The sound of fabric tearing fills the room as your dress is sliced away in sharp, brutal cuts. It’s humiliating, exposing, and yet, you can’t look away—can’t do anything but lie there as she undresses you piece by piece, her gaze never leaving your bare skin.

“Nothing about you is yours anymore. Not your body. Not your thoughts. Not even your fucking dress.” Norma says, her voice thick with satisfaction as she works, each movement purposeful and deliberate.

By the time she’s done, your body is completely exposed, every inch of you bared for her. Her eyes devour you as she leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “Now you can’t hide from me,” she whispers, as if the very act of tearing your dress away has stripped away your ability to escape. “You’re all mine, my pretty little doll.”

Norma’s gaze softens, but there’s still a hunger in her eyes—an insatiable desire to have you. She moves over you slowly, her hands gliding over your exposed skin like she’s savoring every inch of you, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You can’t move, can’t speak. Your body responds to her touch involuntarily, each brush of her fingers sending jolts of warmth coursing through your veins. There’s no way to escape this—no way to deny what’s happening. Your body wants this, even if your mind is screaming to stop.

Norma leans down, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “You’re so beautiful like this… my little plaything.” Her breath is hot against your skin, her hands now cupping your breasts, squeezing just enough to make you gasp, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort that makes your head spin.

Her lips move to your neck, trailing hot kisses down your throat as her hands continue their relentless journey down your body until they’re cupping your hips, pushing you further into the bed. She’s so close, you can feel her heat, but she doesn’t touch you where you need her the most—not yet. She’s teasing you, torturing you with the anticipation.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. “I won’t let you forget who you belong to.” You want to respond, want to tell her to stop, but the words don’t come. Instead, you just squirm beneath her, needing more, aching for more, even as a part of you still wants to escape.

Norma shifts, her body pressing against yours, her mouth finally finding yours in a heated kiss. Her lips are rough, demanding, as if she’s trying to devour you whole. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth, and you can’t help but respond, your body betraying you, giving in to her. She tastes like power, like control, like everything you shouldn’t want but can’t resist.

“You’re mine,” she repeats, as if reminding you, her hands finally moving between your legs, her fingers pressing against your sensitive skin. You gasp at the sudden contact, your body reacting against your will. It’s almost painful, but there’s something else too—something that makes you want to beg her for more.

Norma’s fingers slip inside you with ease, her touch deliberate, firm. You can’t stop yourself from responding, your hips rising instinctively to meet her touch, your breath coming in short gasps. She watches you with a twisted satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with a possessive hunger as she pushes deeper.

“I own every part of you,” she whispers, her voice low and husky. “Your body, your mind… everything. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

The words resonate deep inside you, and for a moment, you feel like you’re losing yourself in her—completely consumed by her presence. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and you can’t stop the way your body moves, the way you start to crave her touch even more.

She quickens her pace, her fingers moving inside you with a sure, practiced rhythm. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, making your head spin, your body trembling beneath her touch. You can feel her own arousal now, her body pressed so tightly against yours as she continues to drive you toward the edge.

And then she stops, pulling her fingers away, leaving you aching, desperate for more. You whimper, your body instinctively reaching for her, but she just smiles darkly, shaking her head.

“You need to learn your place,” she says softly, almost mockingly, before she takes your hands and pins them above your head, holding you in place. She leans down, her mouth finding yours again, her kiss deep and possessive as she positions herself above you, her eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re going to take every inch of me,” she says, her voice almost a purr. “And when I’m done with you, you’ll know exactly who you belong to.”

She lets go of your wrists, rising from the bed, the dim light painting her in gold and shadow. For a moment, she simply stood there, watching you—bare, marked, breathless. Then, with a languid, almost theatrical grace, she began to undress.

Her fingers found the clasp at her shoulder first, and the gown slipped down with a whisper. It clung to her body, then surrendered, pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it like it meant nothing. Her hands moved to her underthings next, slow and deliberate, and she never once looked away from you.

“Watch me.” The words were soft. Dangerous. You couldn’t look away if you tried.

She peeled everything off like it was part of a performance, revealing skin like it was currency. Her body was no longer a mystery, but a weapon—curves, scars, age, and presence all draped in something ancient and consuming. When the final slip of fabric hit the floor, she stood completely exposed, drinking in the way your eyes traced her.

“I want you to remember this,” she said, stepping closer. “This is the moment you gave in.”

And then, in one swift, practiced motion, she pulled you up, twisting the two of you until your back hit the mattress and her weight followed, pinning you there. The pillows cradled your head like some soft, ironic comfort, and you barely had time to gasp before she was on you. Pressing you down, hair wild and unbound, cascading over your chest like silk. Every strand that swept across your skin made you shiver.

You didn’t get a chance to breathe before her mouth found yours—deep, consuming, unapologetically her. You could still taste the blood on her lips, and you groaned low in your throat, the sound vibrating against your teeth as she kissed you harder. Hungrier. Like you were slipping through her fingers and she was trying to drink you in before it was too late.

Then she moved again. She shifted above you, restless and intent. One of your legs was lifted and draped over her shoulder, the stretch of it sending a sharp, aching pull through your hip. The other she straddled, her warmth settling over your thigh as she rolled her body forward, higher, closer, until the slick heat of her center met yours.

Your breath hitched. Your head tipped back. The sheer closeness of her made your vision blur. And then—God—she moved.

A cry tore out of you, sharp and helpless. Your hands clawed at the sheets, the pillows, her arms, anything to tether yourself to reality as the first wave of pleasure hit. Above you, she exhaled a broken, reverent sound. Then she started to move in earnest, grinding down with purpose, chasing something desperate between you both. The rhythm was slow but deliberate, a steady, devouring climb toward something you weren’t sure you’d survive.

Her rhythm faltered—but only for a moment. She looked down at you, chest heaving, hair clinging to her damp skin. And then something shifted in her eyes. That glassy shine, that dreamy haze… it cracked.

She leaned in, slow and trembling, her palm brushing your cheek. Her fingers curled beneath your jaw, then slid down, around, until they wrapped, deliberately, around your throat.

Not tight. Not yet. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You can’t leave me.” Her grip tightened, just enough to make your breath catch. Your hands reached up, reflexive—half to pull her away, half to hold on.

“You’re mine,” she breathed, almost reverent. Her thumb stroked along your jaw, gentle even as her fingers pressed harder. “And I’m yours. I always have been.” You stared up at her, vision narrowing, the world softening around the edges. Her eyes never left yours, not wild now, but filled with something deeper. Obsession. Worship.

“If you left…” She shook her head, pressing a kiss to your parted lips. “I wouldn’t survive it. You don’t get it, do you?” She leaned in closer, her forehead pressing to yours, and her grip shifted—never enough to hurt, just enough to control. To own.

“I love you,” she said, barely more than a breath. “I’d rather see you like this forever than let you go.” Her hand eased, just a little, as if afraid she’d scared you. But she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

Instead, she kissed you again—slow and lingering, as if it were a goodbye and a promise all at once. Her thumb brushed your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat beneath her skin like proof. “You feel that?” she murmured. “That’s mine.”

Her fingers lingered at your throat like she didn’t want to let go—like if she did, you'd vanish. But her touch eased, shifting to cradle your jaw instead, thumb dragging tenderly across your lower lip.

“Let them talk,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Let them sneer. Let them clutch their pearls and whisper behind their martinis.” She smiled, but it wasn’t kind. It was manic. Triumphant. “This is Hollywood. They've always pretended to be scandalized while begging for more.”

Her gaze dipped over your body—exposed, marked, claimed. When she looked back up at you, her eyes were glassy with devotion.

“They can’t stop me. They can’t stop us.” She laughed, soft and breathless, like the idea of someone trying to tear you away was almost funny. “What are they going to do, huh? Pretend they didn’t know? Pretend I’m not in love with you?”

She leaned closer, breath hot against your ear now. “They’ll know.” A kiss against your temple. “I want them to know.” One against your cheek. “Let them see.”

She shifted again, slowly grinding against you, smearing heat and desperation and power all at once. Her mouth hovered just over yours. “Let them know that I’ve had you.” Her lips brushed yours, barely. “That I’ll keep having you.” Then her tone softened, nearly breaking.

“I’ve spent a lifetime being what they wanted. Being what he wanted.” Her voice cracked, but she forced a smile. “But I don’t care anymore. I want you. I love you. And if that makes me a monster, so be it.”

She kissed you then—deep, wet, possessive—like it was the only truth she had left. “You’re mine now,” she whispered, voice ragged, throat thick. “Forever.”

The world narrowed to her touch. The grind of her body against yours, the rhythm no longer graceful but frenzied. Her nails dug into your thighs, dragging crescent moons down your skin as she moved with a desperate purpose.

“You feel that?” she panted, her breath hot and uneven. “That’s us. That’s real.”

Your fingers gripped her arms, nails biting into her flesh, grounding yourself in the chaos of her. She was everywhere—her scent, her breath, her voice breaking in your ear with a rawness that made your spine arch and your body quake beneath her.

“I want it with you,” she gasped. “Right here. Right now. Give it to me, darling—don’t hold back—” She was trembling, body taut above yours, and her pace faltered, stuttered, then surged.

Your release hit like a crash, sudden and overwhelming. A strangled cry tore from your throat as your back bowed off the bed, every nerve alight. She watched you come undone beneath her, eyes wide and reverent and just a little mad.

And then—her.

She followed you over the edge seconds later with a shattered, breathless moan, hips jerking as she ground down hard, chasing every last bit of you. Her head dropped to your shoulder, hair wild, mouth parted as she panted against your skin.

For a moment, there was only your breathing. Her weight pressing into you. The echo of everything you’d just given. Then— She laughed. Quiet. Unsteady. She nuzzled into your neck, lips brushing your ear. “See?” she whispered. “We’re perfect.”

A hand, still trembling, brushed along your thigh, lingering over the carved-in mark of her name. She traced it slowly, lovingly, as though you were a signed painting. She leans in, her breath warm against your ear. “You don’t need the world. You have me.”

Then she smiles, a soft, broken thing—like this is the happiest moment of her life. Like she truly believes this is love. “And I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Even if I have to hide you away forever.”

The Present

You push again, your voice trembling but insistent. “Tell me what happened last night. I need to know.”

Norma’s expression hardens, but there's something else flickering behind her eyes—reluctance, maybe guilt, or even fear. For a moment, you think she might walk away, might close off again, but she doesn't. Instead, she steps closer, her presence overwhelming, suffocating. Her fingers twitch at her side, like she’s trying to keep herself from reaching for you.

"I told you, it doesn't matter." Her voice is strained now, defensive. But you can see the cracks beginning to form, the carefully constructed walls she’s built around herself faltering.

"It does matter," you insist, your voice growing louder, more desperate. "I need to know what you did to me."

For the first time, she hesitates. Her gaze flits to the side, as though searching for an escape, but then she meets your eyes, and it’s like she can’t look away. You see something in her eyes, something sharp, dangerous. She knows she can’t lie her way out of this.

"Alright," she says, her voice low, almost a growl. "You want to know what happened?"

You nod, and she inhales sharply, her chest rising with the tension in the air.

Her hand reaches up, brushing your hair back with a gentleness that feels all wrong considering the weight of the situation. Her fingers linger too long on your skin, almost possessively. “Last night, you weren’t yourself,” she murmurs, her voice tight. “You were… vulnerable. I could see it in your eyes. You wanted me to take control. You needed me to.”

She steps back, her eyes scanning you like she’s assessing a piece of art. “So I did,” she continues, her words deliberate, slow. “I took what you offered me. And I made sure you’d never forget it.”

Her gaze flickers down to your thigh, where the mark she carved into your skin still pulses with a faint sting. You wince slightly, and she smiles cruelly. “I marked you. Just a little reminder of who you belong to now. It’s delicate, just like you.”

You try to swallow, but your throat is dry. Her confession settles over you like a weight, suffocating, and the taste of it lingers on your tongue. "You think you can just walk away from that?" Norma’s voice drops to a whisper, but it’s sharp, slicing through the quiet of the room. “You’re mine, darling. And everyone will know it.”

Norma watches you closely, her eyes glittering with an intensity that almost feels like a warning. The smile that plays on her lips is slow, deliberate—like she’s savoring a secret that only she understands.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she repeats softly, but there’s something final in her tone now. “I’ve given you everything, and I won’t let you throw it all away.” Her voice drops a little, as if sharing something intimate. “You’ll see. In time, you’ll understand. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve given you, is to keep you safe. To keep you with me.”

She takes a slow step forward, and you instinctively take a step back, but she’s quicker. Her presence, that undeniable pull, catches you before you can get away. Her hand, cold and delicate, slips over your cheek, guiding you to look into her eyes. “I’ll keep you safe. No one will ever take you from me. I won’t let them. I’d kill them first,” she says, the words dripping with an unsettling sincerity.

Your pulse quickens at the sound of her voice, but you can’t look away. You’re trapped in her gaze, suffocating on the weight of her obsession. It’s almost suffocating—like you can’t breathe without her permission, and you’re unsure whether to run or stay.

“There’s no world outside of this, darling,” she continues, her voice dropping to a near whisper, as if confiding in you. “No one will ever understand us. You’re too precious. Too special. You have me, and that’s all you need. The world doesn’t matter. All the fame, all the attention… it’s nothing compared to what I can give you.” Her fingers trace along your jawline, slow, almost reverent. “You’ll never have to worry about anything again.”

You’re frozen. You want to speak, to tell her how wrong she is, but the words get caught in your throat. You want to scream, to make her stop, but the fear of what she might do paralyzes you. You’re not sure anymore whether you’re afraid of her or of what might happen if you leave.

“I’ll lock you away,” she says softly, almost dreamily. “Keep you here, where you’re safe. Where no one can hurt you, where you’ll never have to fear anything again. It’ll be just the two of us. I’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is stay with me. Forever.”

Her words are as cold as steel, but she speaks them like they’re the sweetest promise. She smiles then, a gentle, almost tender thing, but there’s nothing kind about it. “You don’t need the world. You have me,” she says, her voice thick with affection, like it’s a declaration of love. “Isn’t that enough?”

The silence that follows feels suffocating. The air is thick with tension, and you’re unsure if she’s waiting for you to answer or if she’s simply letting the weight of her words settle in.

“I’m all you’ll ever need,” she murmurs, her fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you just a little closer. Her touch isn’t harsh, but it feels possessive, the weight of her desire for you pressing against you like a constant reminder that you don’t belong to yourself anymore. “And you’ll never leave me. Not now. Not ever.”

Her face, so close to yours, makes your skin crawl, and you feel the cold realization creeping in like a tide—you’re never going to escape. She’s made sure of it.

And, in her mind, this is love. This is what she wants. To keep you forever. To lock you away, to protect you, to never let anyone else have you. It’s terrifying. But in that moment, you understand just how far she’s willing to go to make sure you’re hers. Forever.

Norma’s grip on your wrist tightens just slightly, not painfully, but enough to ground you in the moment. Her eyes—those wild, captivating eyes—hold yours with an almost hypnotic intensity. The words she’s spoken linger in the air like a heavy perfume, suffocating, intoxicating. I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need the world. You have me. Forever.

And for a moment, something strange blooms in your chest.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is where you belong. You’ve been lost for so long, floating from place to place, never truly finding somewhere to call home. You don’t have a family. You don’t have anyone waiting for you out there in the world. But here, with Norma—this world, her world—everything is clear. Everything is sharp.

You look up at her, standing there with her calm, collected smile, the woman who’s done all of this for you, who’s wrapped you up in her life, in her obsession. She’s given you everything. And maybe you’ve needed it. Maybe you’ve craved this. The control. The certainty. The way she looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

A part of you, the part that’s always fought to stay free, wants to scream at her, to pull away, to run from the suffocating weight of her love. But another part—one you don’t want to acknowledge, one that’s been quiet until now—whispers maybe.

Maybe you don’t want to leave. Maybe you want to stay here with her, forever. The thought is a dangerous one, seductive in its simplicity. No more fear. No more doubt. Just her. Just Norma. She’ll take care of you. She’ll protect you. You won’t have to worry about anything.

The outside world no longer seems so bright, so full of promise. The city, the noise, the people—it all seems so far away, so irrelevant now.

You stand there, the reality of it settling in like a warm blanket, soft and heavy, cocooning you. Her fingers are still wrapped around your wrist, and you feel it like a tether, keeping you in place, keeping you here, with her.

Her voice is so soft, so soothing, when she speaks again, pulling you from your thoughts. “You don’t need to worry about anything anymore. Just stay with me. We’ll make it work. It’ll be beautiful, darling. You’ll see.”

You swallow hard, your mind spinning, your heart pounding. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “Maybe I don’t want to leave.” The admission hangs between you both, like a confession, like a secret you’ve been keeping from yourself.

Norma’s eyes soften, just slightly, and for a moment, you almost think you see something like relief in her gaze. Her lips curl into that familiar, possessive smile, but this time, there’s a tenderness in it, like she’s won. She’s got you. And in this moment, maybe you’ve let her.

She pulls you a little closer, her breath warm against your skin. “You don’t have to leave. You never have to leave. I’ll take care of you. You’re safe here.”

And somehow, you believe her. A part of you wonders if you’ve already made the decision, if you’ve already given up whatever escape you thought you had. The thought lingers, and it’s terrifying, but it’s also comforting in a way you don’t quite understand.

Maybe this is what you’ve been looking for all along. Not freedom, not independence, but something deeper. Something you didn’t realize you needed until now.

 Only Her.

[hyakunana]

A Steadfast Ally

Chapters: 1/1 (1408 words) Fandom: 仮面ライダーギーツ | Kamen Rider Geats Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Series: Part 1 of Geats Sponsor Swap AU

[solar-siren]

The first chapter of Worlds Apart is finally up! The fic will update every Friday.

When Ram and Yori piece together a connection between their missing friends, they seek the help of their Users to bring everyone home. But they may not be prepared for what they find.

Read it here! -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/65212861

[cozmic-ash]

Hello everyone from the Potion Permit twitter!!!! Here's some more silly doodles of my beloved pathetic loser man 🥰

Also read my super self-indulgent Matheo/Chemist enemies-to-lovers fic??? 🥺

(descriptions in alt text)

[meichenxi]

I procrastinated yesterday and wrote a story about the never ending intermediate plateau of language learning in chinese instead

here you go. it's got a god in it!

please don't correct anything lol. this was a learning experience and I am absolutely certain there are many things wrong with it. in fact there better be.

feat. excessive misremembering of guzhuangju vocabulary

中级草原

你睁开眼睛，猛然醒过来。这是哪儿呢？

四野都是慢慢的草原。寒风吹动草叶，冷得叫你快要冻僵了。你转身往后看，但又是一望无际的草原，远方环绕着碧绿的群山，山顶笼罩在薄雾之中。你恐慌地喊道，’有人吗?‘

你的声音在广阔的草原中回荡，唯一的回声。四周是一片死般的寂静。你皱了眉，想了想。

你到底在哪儿？发生了什么？又怎么能回家？

你好像一个人在草原中，没有半点人生的痕迹。你拖着脚往前走，四肢发抖。这到底是什么养的噩梦？

不久后，你的脚突然碰到了地上的什么东西，把你差点���摔了一脚。你蹲下把东西捡起来，看它一眼。是 - 是 -

是一本书？！

你下意识地闭上了双眼。你的心跳渐渐下降。你心里想：这地方真是太吓人了吧! 只不过是一本书而已，凭什么把我吓成这样？

但不管怎么说服自己，你还是不能完全放松警惕。这整个地方处处都有异常，那本书肯定也是。万一有人对它下了咒？你的心跳在耳朵里回荡。你想了片刻，又想不起来别的办法试探它，终于鼓起了勇气，打开眼睛又看它一眼。

这次才发现，书上果然有字！

你双手发汗，伸手把书上的草叶擦一擦。

书上写着：’此处乃是中级草原，文神之地！中级学者以‘高级学者’之名装做语言高手，天下大罪！罪人一律处罚，毫无例外！’

啊？文神？你没看错吧？反正你的中文没那么好，有可能是你的阅读水平不够好。但书上明明写着 ’文神‘ 二字。

唉。你原本只是想睡一场午觉，怎么闹到这种地步？！文神。原来仙侠剧讲的都是实话，还真有此事！但中级草原又是什么？

你把书翻到第一页。乍看起来什么都没有，又看了一眼，黑黝黝的字突然出现了！

你结结巴巴地把第一行读出来 -

’文神不容辩解！自称高级学者，态度傲慢，行为无礼，惩罚如下：万年深刻反省，不许归回人间！文神待人宽大，从轻处罚，请罪人鞠躬谢恩！‘

又是中级草原！自称高级学生？谁是自称高级学生？你骄傲的想：可我明明已经是高级学生了，怎么会有如此丢脸的下场。。。！而且这哪里算是待人宽大，从轻处罚呢？还有最后一句 - 把她困在这里，人家还要你鞠躬致谢！

你心里想：这个文神说我态度傲慢？我看他才是!

你回头看一眼，依旧是茫茫的草原。你叹了口气。不知道为什么，但你突然不害怕。到了这个地步，害怕又有什么用？

也不是你第一天遇到难处。学中文的路程中哪天没有困难？

你的脸上露出一丝深沉的微笑。你心里想：每个难关是可以渡过的，而且你已经会写繁体字了。这世界上还有更可怕的事请吗？

你抬头看了天空，低声道，‘好吧。是！我承认：我是说自己是高级学生了，我是觉得自己很厉害了！我都承认！但你知道什么吗？学到今天都不容易！我为了中文把所有给我人生意义的爱好都放弃了，跟我的吉他分手了，甚至抛弃了我亲爱的电视！你还要我自卑吗？我不会！我为自己做出的一切感觉非常的骄傲！你说我是中级学生，高级学生，我都无所谓！你说的这些等级只不过是人造的分别！你看！大自然有山，有人，有树，有水！那天下还有高级的水吗？中级的树？你告诉我，这样说有道理吗？’

你的眼睛闪着愤怒的光芒，继续道：‘我不会放弃的。我的中文会好的，我对自己有信心。无论你怎么测试我，我都会接受！每一个挑战，我都会站起来迎接！这是我的诺言。你说文神待人宽大吗？要不这样：你给我一年的学习时间。一年后你下来测试我，我不会阻拦你的。如果我让你失望，那就依你处理吧！我发誓，我会接受处罚的，绝不会逃走。‘

你嗓音清亮道：’但是我若是表现得好 - 你得放过我才是。如果这次的诺言你不想遵守，我会向所有的仙人喊冤！天上的各个神仙，地下的各个妖魔鬼怪，都会知道你做事不正当，行为不轨呀！听到了吗？你这么强大的神仙欺负我，一个没信徒没法力的凡人，你怎么给他们一个交代？天庭哪儿会容得下这种品行呢？你总得给我一个机会改错吧？这样才算是宽大待人。文神大人，您看如何？‘

乌云遮天，电闪雷鸣。你闭上了双眼，不由地 ’啊！‘了一声，睁开眼睛后就看见 - 就看见 -

有一个男人站在你面前。此人穿着白衣，长发漆黑，面容慈和，姿态优美。他左手拿着一把扇子，右手不停地把玩碧绿的玉佩，具有学者风度。

你震惊地跪下去，深深地鞠了一个躬。‘文神大人！‘

你心里想: 完了完了，还真有此人，我死定了！

有一个温和的声音道：’好了好了，别喊了。免礼平身！‘

你谨慎地站了起来，惊奇地看着他。你心里想：啊，我刚才为什么要惹他生气。。。！

他微微一笑，双眼闪着深不可测的光芒。

你终于咳嗽一声。‘大人，这是。。？ ‘

白衣文神轻轻地笑了一声。’还能是什么？你的请求，我准了。’ 他的声音斯文，双眼却炯炯发光，让你浑身冰凉。‘其实你根本没必要这样威胁我。像你这样口才好的凡人真是难得！你的中文也不错，但关键是确实还没达到高级水平啦。你可知罪？’

你低声道：‘小人知罪。‘

他又笑了一声。‘嗯，不错，敬语也学会了！那我们随你办事吧。我想给你这次机会。一年之后，我会回来找你，看看你有没有你说的本事。如果你真让我失望，我可饶不了你哦。‘

他嘴角上挂着会心的微笑。

过了半响，你嗓音颤抖地道：‘那 - 那我现在怎么办？’

他眨一下眼，道：’好好读书！‘

文神把清白的扇子扇了两���，潇洒地挥手，一道闪电划过了天空。你震惊地用手保护眼睛，睁开双眼 -

你一抬头，他就消失了。

你松了口气。草原依旧是一望无际的绿海，天空又回到了蓝色。只有一点不同：地上又有一本书。你蹲下把它捡了起来，发现这这本比另一本大。书名叫：‘现代汉语大词典。‘

你无奈地笑了一声。除了微风吹动草叶以外，草原是静止的。你把书打开，从第一词条开始学习，心里想：的教训我接受了，我再也不会说自己是高级学生了。但我回凡间之后，一定能把HSK6级考得好！

----

(also for legal reasons the bit about traditional chinese was a joke. I'm just still completely illiterate by hand in chinese so. it remains my greatest demon)