#valerie stride

[beastieballin]

suddenly i have this au where everyone involved in the league got turned into a Beastie... (or maybe they always were and it's a different AU?) details tbd i just wanted to design the coaches as beasties lol

[artseniccatnip]

i love a woman with problems <333

[wybienova]

beastieball ANIMATIC !!!

we've got a week left to beastieball and i made a little animatic about valerie !!!!!!!!! go watch it !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[megabeasts]

countdown to beastieball: day 2!!!!!!!!!

[songwings]

a lil bday gift for @artseniccatnip!!! she's just chillin

[paybackraid]

An Ice Cream and Fudge Kind of Chat

Summary: Jack might be a little confused, but he's got the spirit. In more ways than one. Or, Jack so aggressively supports Danny as a trans boy that he gives him the wrong sex talk. Mentioned grayghost

Rating: T

Words: 1994

Trigger warnings: none

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Danny walked into the kitchen to see his dad scooping copious amounts of ice cream into two bowls. A tray of fudge sat between them. Danny knew what was about to happen deep in his bones. His body went stiff and his insides felt cold, even for him.

Uh oh.

“Danny boy!” Jack cheered happily. He tossed the ice cream into the freezer and took a seat in front of one of the bowls. 

“…Awkward father-son chat?” Danny guessed, hoping against hope that wasn’t it.

Jack gave him a warm smile, softer. “Awkward father-son chat. Come sit.” He patted the empty chair beside him.

“…Do I have to?” Danny asked.

Jack didn’t verbally answer, merely patted the seat again. Danny got the picture.

With a heavy, nervous sigh, Danny moved forward. He adjusted his binder carefully, since it was pinching his underarm. He needed a new one, a bigger one. He’d grown. That comfortable, Danny dropped into the empty chair and picked up a piece of fudge. Peanut butter bacon. Delicious.

“So… what’s going on…?” Danny asked. Half of him hoped that Jack had forgotten all about Phantom and was about to confront him about it. That father-son chat—not the first one they’d had and obviously not the last—had gone almost remarkably well. It had ended with his dad scooping him in his arms and squeezing him so tight he thought he was going to break every rib. Danny had come out as half-dead and Phantom late last year, and it had gone so well that Danny was basically ready to do it again.  Better that than… whatever Jack had put together.

What else was left? The gay talk had come first, until Danny realized that it wasn’t the liking of the same gender that had been the problem rather than not being that gender, actually. Mom and Dad had handled both of them so well, even when Danny switched it up not three months later. There had been no you’re faking it, no you need to stop changing things on us. They’d taken each in stride. Next had come the bi talk when Danny realized that yes, boys were hot too, thank you. Dad had organized the next one, when he thought Danny had a girlfriend. When Danny almost did. Two years later and he finally had that girlfriend. And Valerie was a fucking treat. Finally came the whole half-ghost, being-Phantom awkward chat that had come up last year. That had gone well, obviously. Since Danny was still (half)alive, free, and very well.

If all those awkward father-son chats had been had, what was left? 

“It sounds like things are getting serious with you and Valerie,” Jack started, voice still warm. “I hope you’re not secretly spending the night at her house when you say you’re at Sam’s or Tucker’s.”

He had. Exactly once. To be fair, they had a project to work on, and there was a ghost fight and he’d come back so tired afterward. There’d been some kissing, some snuggling, but Danny had retreated to the couch like a right gentleman when the time came.

…Oh, wait.

Oh, no.

Danny was sure he wasn’t prepared for this sort of awkward father-son chat.

“I want you to know,” Jack continued. “Your mom and I really like this Valerie. She keeps you in line. Both of you.” Jack winked.

Danny winced. That was one way to put it. Him being a ghost and his girlfriend being a ghost hunter certainly did put a level of keep-in-line-liness into their relationship from both ends.

“And I’m glad you’ve gotten so comfortable with her, and with both of your halves. I’d be happy to see her over here more often. She’s someone I can blather on about ghosts to!”

He had. So many times. Valerie took it in stride. She really was an incredible girl.

“Okay…” Danny urged, face flushing red. He hoped Jack got to the point so this chat could be over. 

“Eat your ice cream before it melts,” Jack encouraged. He took a bite of his own and then snatched a piece of fudge. “All that being said, I expect responsibility from you.”

“Responsibility?” Danny didn’t think there were many kids his age more responsible than him, actually! Danny fought ghosts daily! He’d had the weight of the world on his shoulders since fourteen. He didn’t think there were many more responsibilities to have!

“Now,” Jack continued. “You are nearly an adult, and your mom and I can’t monitor you all the time. That wouldn’t be fair to you or to us. I would rather that you got up to the more adult things under our roof, where we know you’re safe and can help you handle whatever repercussions arise. So.” Jack reached for the seat beside him and grabbed two things. A banana and a… a… 

A condom?

Danny’s blush left completely. He was so pale his face felt like everice, staring at the horrible combination of items right there in front of him, grim horror and amusement dancing across his face hand in hand. Granted, his dad didn’t know that Valerie wasn’t a trans girl or otherwise, but… 

“I understand they’re teaching this in schools now,” Jack said, setting the banana between them, “and that’s great, but I want to know that you know how to use this anyway. If the two of you start having…” Jack practically gulped aloud, his face coloring, “if you start having sex, I expect you to use condoms every time, and I expect the two of you to have a conversation before and after. Fenton men are gentlemen.”

Danny smiled blearily. His dad was so fucking goofy, and maybe that was something Danny loved about him. “We drink respect women juice every day,” Danny agreed with a nod. It was an old joke, but a good one.

“What?”

He laughed. “Nevermind.”

“Right,” Jack said, plowing forward. “So show me you know how to use this.”

“Dad, me and Val really won’t need to use th—“

“Enough of your teenage invincibility,” Jack said. “You don’t know what could happen. Show me you know how to use this.”

Danny’s face went back to red, but he was struggling to hide his smile. It was embarrassing for sure, but if Danny understood exactly what was going on, it was nice. 

Knowing he wouldn’t get out of this, and kind of really loving his dad in the moment, Danny reached over and opened the condom. He rolled it over the banana like they’d shown in health class then set it over by Jack to inspect. Jack approved but asked suspiciously if they’d already started; Danny seemed pretty smiley for something like this.

Danny flat out denied it. There’d been some… under the clothes stuff, but nothing like that. 

“Good, that��s good,” Jack said, leaning back. His ice cream was mostly gone, but he was starting to stack fudge in his bowl. “But Danny, even condoms only work ninety-nine percent of the time. So when you do start having sex, you need to be prepared for… possibilities.”

“Dad, I really don’t think the possibilities you’re thinking of—“

“Danny,” Jack interrupted. “I expect responsibility from you. That doesn’t mean that Mom and I won’t help you out, of course not. But if you get that girl pregnant, you will be sticking around for it, whatever Valerie decides to do with it.”

And there it was. Pregnant.

Danny was not physically capable of getting anyone pregnant. He didn’t have the equipment, and he wasn’t sure that was a surgery he’d ever want to have, anyway. Dad knew that. Jack had taken Danny to pick up his first pads and tampons—they’d gotten so many sizes, it had not been handled as gracefully as Mom had handled Jazz’s. Hell, Jack had sat with Danny at the doctor’s office when they’d said words like puberty blockers and hormone replacement and address mental health first. Was Jack being goofy? He couldn’t entirely tell. Jack seemed far too serious to be playing some weird long con of a prank. It was too serious a topic for Jack to do that for, he hoped. 

“Danny-boy,” Jack said firmly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Do you understand me? You will support that girl if and until she aborts it, but if she decides to keep it, I expect you to be a present father, too. Am I clear? No skipping town because of it. Mom and I will help you.”

Jack was serious.

He was so, so serious, and Danny realized that he really, really, really loved his dad. 

Danny might try to get the real sex talk out of his mom, later on. The one he needed with his body. But he could sit here and be embarrassed while his dad plainly and actively forgot that Danny used to be his daughter, so long ago. 

“Yeah, Dad,” Danny said with a laugh and a smile. “I hear you. If something somehow happens, then I’ll be responsible with it. You can count on me.”

Jack’s smile was warm again, and so, so proud. Danny’s heart felt light in his ribcage, like it might turn intangible and phase right out of him. “I know that, Danny-boy. We can always count on you.”

The rest of the chat was, if a little awkward yet, smooth. Jack forgot three more times that Danny didn’t have the same stuff to do much with the talk, but Danny was kind of okay with it. By the time Jack seemed satisfied with the conversation, Danny’s grin split his face right down the middle even if he was red as a tomato. 

“And if you’ve got anything else you want-or-need to know about, you come right to your old man,” Jack was saying while Danny cleared their dishes from the table. “I’d rather you safe and embarrassed than sorry down the road.”

Another smile that Danny buried in his shoulder. “Yeah, okay,” he said, turning back to his dad. Jack was standing and stretching his back, muttering something about sitting for too long. “I will.”

“Good,” Jack huffed. He reached out and ruffled Danny’s hair. “See that you do. Got any questions for me right away?”

“No!” As much as Danny loved his dad—and he did, so much—there was only so much embarrassment he could handle before he had to close that particular spigot. “Thanks for the talk though, Dad. Thanks for caring.” Caring in more ways than one. Caring about Danny’s identity so much that he forced out of his brain any impression of Danny not being the man he was. 

“Of course, Danny-boy,” Jack chirped. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. He approached his dad and put his arms around his neck, squeezing him as tight as Jack would—and did. Although he was careful to avoid that poor, abused banana. “Yeah, I really, really love you, too.”

Jack released him after a moment and ruffled his hair again. With a farewell, Jack headed down the stairs to the basement—probably to tell Maddie just how well that talk had gone. Hopefully Maddie would correct him and fix his mistake later, but wouldn’t be upset. 

Danny decided to do the same, although upstairs to his sister and then to his room. Jazz laughed goodnaturedly and gave him a hug, but luckily didn’t make any promises about giving him the sex talk he was supposed to have. Danny flopped back onto his bed and quickly called up a conference call with Sam and Tucker, excitedly telling them about the horrible, wonderful conversation he’d just had. 

Valerie would come later, he thought. Probably after he’d had the talk with his mother. So Valerie wouldn’t have any thoughts that couldn’t go anywhere yet. She would find it funny, probably—she was as supportive as his family and friends—but he didn’t want to disappoint her. Not about that, anyway.

[muiitoloko]

The Art of Parenting

Summary: Art dealer Lionel Shahbandar’s comfortable life is disrupted when his past catches up with him in the form of a daughter, leading to an uncomfortable journey into parenthood.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar & Daughter! Reader

Warnings: Emotional Distress, Parental Abandonment, Alcohol Use, Child Neglect, Angst.

Author's Notes: I've been working on this for a while, and it feels so good to finally share it with everyone. I hope you all enjoy it!

Also read on Ao3

Lionel Shahbandar, lounging in his opulent mansion adorned with priceless art and luxurious furnishings, was in the final stages of preparing for another day of wheeling and dealing in the art world. The persistent ringing of the doorbell shattered the calm, causing Lionel to sigh irritably. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he tossed aside the newspaper he’d been perusing and sauntered towards the door, his demeanor exuding a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

Opening the grand door with a flourish, Lionel found himself face to face with a stunning blonde woman. Her icy blue eyes glinted with a mix of determination and impatience, her lips set in a firm line. The child by her side, a girl of about five, clung to her hand, her wide eyes darting around the lavish surroundings.

Lionel's lips curled into a slow, appreciative smile, his baritone voice dropping into a purr as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Well, hello there, pretty thing,” he drawled, his eyes flicking over her with a practiced ease.

The woman’s response was immediate and dismissive. She rolled her eyes with a derisive snort and pushed past him, the child in tow. “Get out of my way, Lionel,” she snapped, striding into the foyer as if she owned the place.

Taken aback by her audacity, Lionel straightened, his expression shifting to one of indignation. “Excuse me, who the hell are you?” he demanded, his gaze narrowing as he followed her into the mansion.

The woman spun around, fixing him with a glare that could cut glass. “Have you already forgotten me?” she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Typical. I shouldn’t be surprised, given your penchant for one-night stands.”

Lionel’s eyes widened in shock, his mind racing as he scrutinized her more closely. Her face, now framed by high cheekbones and plumped lips, bore the unmistakable signs of plastic surgery. But it was the exaggerated curves, particularly her large, unnatural breasts, that triggered a spark of recognition.

“Oh my God,” Lionel muttered, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “I know who you are.”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow as a smirk played on her lips. “Surprise,” she said dryly, her gaze challenging him to put the pieces together.

Lionel’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a moment, his mind reeling. “Valerie?” he finally managed, his voice a mix of astonishment and incredulity. “What happened to you? And why are you here?”

Valerie’s eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and a hint of satisfaction. “Oh, don’t act so shocked,” she replied, her tone cool and edged with bitterness. “It’s been years, Lionel. You think you can just have your fun and then forget all about the women you leave in your wake?”

Lionel’s brows furrowed as he struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions and memories flooding back. “What do you want, Valerie?” he asked, his voice losing its earlier confidence, replaced by a wary edge.

Valerie’s glare hardened as she reached into her bag, pulling out a smaller, well-worn backpack. She tossed it at Lionel’s feet with a sneer. “Here. Take care of your daughter.”

Lionel’s eyes followed the bag, then snapped up to the child standing beside Valerie. He chuckled derisively, shaking his head as if to clear some fog of misunderstanding. “My daughter? No, no, there must be some mistake. I don’t have children.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, her patience visibly fraying. “Her name is [Your Name],” she said coldly, pointing to the little girl, who looked up at Lionel with wide, innocent eyes. “And she’s our daughter. You didn’t even remember my face, let alone anything about our past.”

Lionel’s confident façade cracked, his features contorting into a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “You’re joking,” he said, a forced laugh escaping him. “This is some kind of sick prank, right? There’s no way—”

Valerie cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Oh, grow up, Lionel! She’s four. You do the math. We had a thing, and then you vanished, as usual.”

Lionel’s brow furrowed deeply, his baritone voice hardening with a defensive edge. “I don’t do children, Valerie. Never wanted them, never will. So whatever game you’re playing, take it somewhere else.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Too bad, Lionel. I’ve been taking care of [Your Name] for four years, and now it’s your turn. I need a break, and my new boyfriend and I are traveling for a month. You’re going to step up for once in your life.”

Lionel’s gaze flicked between Valerie and the little girl, his annoyance morphing into outright defiance. “Absolutely not. You can’t just dump her on me like this. Take her with you.”

Valerie’s expression hardened into one of steely resolve. “Watch me.” She leaned down to you, her voice softening slightly but tinged with impatience. “Stay with Daddy, okay? I’ll be back in a month.”

You nodded hesitantly, clutching the blanket in your hand like a lifeline. Valerie just smiled, a cold, almost triumphant look in her eyes as she turned on her heel to leave. Lionel’s expression shifted from disbelief to panic as he reached out, his voice rising in desperation.

“Valerie, wait! You can’t just leave her here!” he called after her, stepping forward to block her path.

Valerie paused, her expression hardening as she met his gaze with a steely resolve. “I’m coming back in a month, Lionel,” she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll manage.”

Lionel’s face contorted with frustration. “I don’t know the first thing about taking care of children!” he protested, his baritone voice echoing through the grand foyer.

Valerie rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s easy,” she replied dismissively. “Feed her, bathe her. It’s like taking care of a dog. Besides, she’s easy to take care of. She doesn’t talk much.”

Lionel’s eyes flicked down to you, standing there quietly, your eyes wide and uncertain. The reality of the situation began to settle in, and he felt a wave of resentment rise within him. “Valerie, this is ridiculous. I can’t—”

But Valerie was already walking away, her heels clicking decisively against the marble floor. “See you in a month, Lionel,” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around. “Good luck.”

The door closed behind her with a resolute thud, leaving Lionel standing there, staring after her in stunned silence. He looked down at you, his face a mask of irritation and confusion. You hugged your blanket tighter, feeling the weight of his gaze.

Lionel sighed heavily, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair. “Well, this is just perfect,” he muttered to himself, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “A child. Just what I needed.”

He turned away, gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on, then. Let’s figure out what to do with you,” he said, his voice lacking any warmth or enthusiasm. You followed him through the opulent mansion, your small footsteps echoing in the vast, marble hallways.

Lionel led you to a large sitting room, filled with priceless art and luxurious furnishings. He motioned for you to sit on one of the plush sofas, watching you with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. “So, what do you need? Food? Bath? What do kids even do at this hour?”

You remained silent, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. Lionel sighed again, a deep, weary sound. “Right. You don’t talk much. Wonderful.”

He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch, pouring himself a generous glass. “Guess we’ll just have to figure this out together, won’t we?” he said, taking a long sip of his drink. He looked at you over the rim of his glass, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You’re not going to cause trouble, are you?”

You shook your head slowly, still clutching your blanket. Lionel seemed to relax slightly, though his irritation was still evident. “Good. Because the last thing I need is a child running around causing chaos.”

He sank into a chair opposite you, his posture exuding a mix of resignation and defiance. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I’m not cut out for this whole parenting thing. But for the next month, you’ll be staying here. I’ll do my best to take care of you, but don’t expect me to be your father. Understood?”

You nodded again, your wide eyes never leaving his face. Lionel downed the rest of his drink, the liquid burning its way down his throat. “Great,” he muttered, setting the glass down with a thud. “This should be interesting.”

The two of you sat in silence, the weight of the situation settling over both of you like a heavy, oppressive cloud. Despite his outward bravado, Lionel couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Taking care of a child was a responsibility he had never wanted, much less expected to be thrust upon him so abruptly.

Lionel set the glass down with a clink, the sound sharp against the quiet backdrop of his opulent sitting room. He leaned forward, his hooked nose casting a long shadow across his face in the dim light.

“Listen carefully,” he said, his baritone voice carrying a note of cold detachment. “There are going to be some ground rules while you’re here. Rule number one: You don’t call me ‘father.’ I’m not your father, and I don’t want to be. You’re only here for a month, and after that, I don’t want to know you. Got it?”

You nodded slowly, squeezing your blanket tighter against your chest, the softness a small comfort in this unfamiliar, intimidating place. Lionel’s eyes flicked to your hands clutching the blanket, his expression a mix of irritation and something close to disdain.

“Rule number two,” he continued, his tone growing firmer. “Don’t touch my things. This house is filled with valuable items, and I don’t need a child ruining them. Stay out of my way, and don’t go messing with anything you shouldn’t.”

You nodded again, your eyes wide and unblinking. The opulence of the room—the ornate vases, the priceless paintings—felt like a world entirely separate from your own, and the thought of disturbing anything filled you with a deep, abiding dread.

Lionel leaned back in his chair, studying you with a cold, calculating gaze. “And rule number three,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “When you grow up, don’t ever come looking for me. I don’t want children. I don’t want heirs. I’m not your father, and I’ll never be. If you ever try to contact me, I won’t help you. There will be no inheritance, no support. You mean nothing to me. Understood?”

You felt a tight knot forming in your chest, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You nodded once more, the movement slow and deliberate, your small frame trembling slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

Lionel’s expression softened slightly, though not with kindness—more a resigned acceptance of the situation. “Good,” he muttered, standing up and straightening his expensive suit jacket. “Now that we’ve got that clear, we can get through this month without any trouble.”

He turned away, leaving you sitting there on the plush sofa, the grandeur of the mansion around you feeling cold and unwelcoming. As he walked towards the door, Lionel paused, glancing back at you with a mixture of annoyance and mild curiosity.

“Do you even talk?” he asked, his voice tinged with irritation.

You shook your head slowly, your eyes still wide with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Lionel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room.

The heavy door closed behind him with a resounding thud, leaving you alone in the vast, opulent sitting room. The silence was almost suffocating, broken only by the faint ticking of a nearby antique clock. You hugged your blanket tighter, your small body curling into the plush cushions of the sofa as you tried to process the harsh reality of your situation.

Lionel’s words echoed in your mind, their cold finality making it clear that you were nothing more than an unwelcome guest in his world. Despite the grandeur and luxury of your surroundings, the house felt more like a gilded cage, the ornate furnishings and priceless art a stark contrast to the cold indifference of the man who owned them.

As the minutes ticked by, you remained seated on the sofa, your wide eyes taking in the room around you, each luxurious detail a reminder of the vast gulf between you and Lionel. The blanket in your hands, worn and familiar, was the only comfort in this strange, unwelcoming place.

Despite the opulence and grandeur of Lionel Shahbandar’s mansion, the weight of his rules hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow over the lavish surroundings. You had a month to endure, a month of navigating the cold detachment of a man who wanted nothing to do with you. And as the reality of your new life settled in, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were completely, utterly alone in a world that seemed designed to keep you at a distance.

Lionel Shahbandar stood in his opulent office, the room a testament to his vast wealth and refined tastes. Antique furniture, priceless artwork, and a grand mahogany desk filled the space, but Lionel’s mind was too occupied to appreciate any of it. He was pacing, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of irritation and frustration.

“Pick up, Elizabeth,” he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice carrying a note of urgency. As the phone rang for the third time, he finally heard the familiar click of the line connecting.

“Good afternoon, Lionel,” came the voice on the other end, dripping with its usual blend of cheeky confidence. Elizabeth James, his personal assistant, never missed an opportunity to inject a bit of sass into their conversations. “What can I do for you this fine day? Need me to schedule another ‘business meeting’ at the Savoy?”

Lionel rolled his eyes, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Cut the sarcasm, Elizabeth,” he replied, his tone brusque. “I need you to find me a nanny.”

There was a brief pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a barely stifled laugh. “A nanny?” Elizabeth repeated, her voice brimming with incredulity. “Don’t tell me this is another one of your bizarre fetishes, Lionel.”

“No, it’s not a fetish!” Lionel snapped, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “I just found out I have a daughter. Her mother—an old fling—dumped her on my doorstep this morning and left, saying she’d be gone for a month. I need someone to look after the child.”

Elizabeth’s laughter faded, replaced by a tone of unsurprised amusement. “Well, well. I always suspected you’d have a few kids scattered around with the number of affairs you’ve had. I’m just shocked one finally showed up on your doorstep. Only took how many years?”

Lionel’s jaw tightened as he stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “I don’t want to discuss my past, Elizabeth. Just find a nanny. I don’t have time to deal with a child’s… nuisances.”

Elizabeth’s tone turned serious, carrying a hint of reproach. “Lionel, that’s your daughter you’re talking about. Show a little decency. It’s not her fault you were too busy bedding half of Europe to notice you had a kid.”

Lionel let out a sigh, his frustration evident. “I know, I know. But I’m not equipped for this. I need someone to take care of her properly. And make it quick.”

There was a rustling on the other end of the line, likely Elizabeth rifling through her files or pulling up her computer. “Finding a good nanny isn’t like ordering a new suit, Lionel,” she said with a touch of exasperation. “It’s going to take some time, especially one you won’t try to seduce the minute she walks through the door.”

Lionel’s scoff was audible, his expression twisting into a mix of defensiveness and reluctant acknowledgment. “Oh, please, Elizabeth. As if I can’t control myself.”

Elizabeth’s laugh was a sharp, knowing sound. “When it comes to women, Lionel, you’re about as restrained as a lion in a butcher shop. Remember the French maid incident?”

Lionel’s cheeks flushed slightly, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “I never laid a hand on her,” he protested, his tone indignant. “Besides, she was—”

“Only because she slapped you before you could try anything,” Elizabeth interrupted, her voice cutting through his excuses. “And let’s not forget, I’ve been your assistant for longer than any other woman who’s worked for you.”

Lionel sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of resigned frustration. “Yes, and I’ve never tried anything with you.”

“Because I never let you,” Elizabeth countered smoothly. “That’s why I’ve lasted this long. Now, I’ll get started on finding a nanny, but it might take a few days. Meanwhile, try not to scare off your daughter. She’s probably terrified enough as it is.”

Lionel’s expression softened slightly, a rare note of vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Thanks, Elizabeth. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, her tone softening in kind. “Just remember, Lionel, this is your chance to be more than just an art-collecting Casanova. Try to make the most of it.”

As the call ended, Lionel sank into the leather chair behind his desk, the weight of the situation settling over him like a heavy cloak. His eyes drifted to a small photo on his desk—a rare personal touch in his otherwise meticulously curated office. It was a picture of him and his late mother, taken when he was a boy. Her warm, kind eyes looked out from the frame, a stark contrast to the cold indifference he had shown his own daughter just moments ago.

With a heavy sigh, Lionel leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ornate ceiling. He had always prided himself on his ability to navigate the complexities of the art world with ease, but this—this was an entirely different challenge. A challenge that required more than charm and a keen eye for detail. It required a heart he wasn’t sure he had.

For now, all he could do was wait for Elizabeth to find a suitable nanny. And try, in his own awkward, imperfect way, to bridge the chasm that separated him from the small, silent child who had suddenly become a part of his life.

Lionel, already feeling the weight of his newfound responsibility pressing down on him, decided there was no point in delaying the inevitable. After all, the best way to handle an uncomfortable situation was to dive in headfirst. He stood up, brushing invisible lint from his finely tailored suit, and made his way over to where you sat quietly on the plush sofa.

“Alright,” Lionel said, his baritone voice attempting a semblance of authority. He hesitated for a moment before awkwardly bending down to pick you up. You clutched your blanket tighter, your wide eyes staring up at him with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

As he hoisted you into his arms, Lionel couldn’t help but notice how light you were, how small. It was a foreign sensation, having a child in his care, and he navigated the experience with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He carried you out of the sitting room, down the grand hallway adorned with priceless art, and out to the front entrance where his sleek black Mercedes was parked.

With a mixture of impatience and determination, Lionel strapped you into the backseat, fumbling slightly with the seatbelt. “There we go,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back to admire his handiwork with a small, self-satisfied nod. “Safe and sound.”

Lionel climbed into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text to Elizabeth as he started the engine: “Taking the kid to the office. Have a nanny ready.”

The drive to his company was tense, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional honk from the bustling London streets. Lionel glanced at you through the rearview mirror, your small figure looking even more out of place against the backdrop of his luxurious car.

When they arrived at the company, Lionel parked and quickly made his way around to your side, unbuckling you with a brisk efficiency. “Come on,” he said, grabbing your hand abruptly. You stumbled slightly as he pulled you along, your small feet struggling to keep up with his hurried pace.

As they entered the grand foyer of his company, Lionel’s presence immediately drew attention. Employees exchanged curious glances, whispering behind their hands as they saw their normally composed boss striding in with a child in tow. Lionel ignored the stares, his jaw set with a mix of annoyance and resolve as he marched you to the elevator.

Inside the elevator, the silence was thick, punctuated only by the soft ding of the floors passing by. Lionel glanced down at you, your small hand still clutching the blanket as if it were a lifeline. He sighed, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the pristine floor of Lionel’s office. Elizabeth James, his ever-efficient personal assistant, was already waiting for them, her clipboard in hand. She greeted Lionel with her usual cheeky grin, but as soon as she saw you, her expression softened, and she quickly moved to your level, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh my God!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her tone a mix of delight and disbelief. “How could Lionel have produced something so beautiful?”

Lionel’s brows furrowed as he shot her a puzzled glance. “What’s that supposed to mean, Elizabeth?” he demanded, his voice carrying a note of defensive irritation. “Am I not capable of producing something beautiful?”

Elizabeth didn’t miss a beat. She looked Lionel up and down, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “Well, given your track record, Lionel, I’d say it’s a bit surprising,” she quipped. Before Lionel could retort, Elizabeth cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Yes, yes, you’re going to cut my salary. I’ve heard it all before.”

Ignoring Lionel’s growing annoyance, Elizabeth turned her attention back to you, her gaze softening as she knelt down to your level. “Hi there, sweetie,” she said gently, her tone warm and inviting. “Are you hungry?”

You nodded, your small hand clutching your blanket tighter as you stared up at her with wide, innocent eyes. Elizabeth’s smile widened, her heart clearly melting at your shy demeanor. “Let’s get you something to eat, then,” she said, scooping you up into her arms with an ease that contrasted sharply with Lionel’s earlier awkwardness.

As she carried you down the hallway, Elizabeth continued her gentle questioning. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You remained silent, your fingers playing nervously with the edge of your blanket. Lionel, trailing slightly behind, answered for you, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and resignation. “Her name is [Your Name],” he said, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. “She doesn’t talk much. Her mother said she doesn’t speak, and I haven’t heard a word from her all morning.”

Elizabeth nodded, her gaze flicking between you and Lionel with a mixture of understanding and concern. “How old are you?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine curiosity and care.

You lifted your hand, showing her four little fingers, your eyes still wide with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Elizabeth’s expression softened even more, her heart clearly going out to you as she carried you towards the office kitchen. “Four years old,” she murmured, her tone a blend of amazement and empathy. “You’re a brave little girl, aren’t you?”

Lionel watched them go, a strange, unfamiliar tightness gripping his chest. For all his bravado and confidence, he felt woefully out of his depth. The reality of caring for a child, of being thrust into a role he had never wanted, was sinking in, and it was a far cry from the world of art deals and luxurious living he was accustomed to.

As he followed Elizabeth and you to the kitchen, Lionel couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had taken a sudden, unexpected turn. And as much as he resisted the idea, he couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, this was the beginning of something he was entirely unprepared for.

Elizabeth sat you down in the company’s cafeteria, placing you gently in a high-backed chair with an upholstered cushion. Lionel, still visibly irritated but more composed, took the seat beside you. As you settled in, clutching your blanket tightly, Elizabeth glanced at Lionel with a teasing smirk.

“Fancy a sandwich too, Lionel?” she asked, her tone light and knowing.

Lionel gave a reluctant nod, his usual confidence momentarily overshadowed by the situation. “Yes, I suppose I could use something to eat,” he muttered, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair.

Elizabeth quickly prepared two sandwiches, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. She handed one to you, her eyes warm with sympathy, and placed the other in front of Lionel, her expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity as she observed you both.

You and Lionel, seemingly unaware of each other’s actions, simultaneously began to peel the crust off your sandwiches. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. She found it fascinating that you, despite having never been raised by Lionel, shared his peculiar mannerisms.

As you nibbled on the crustless sandwich, Elizabeth couldn’t resist commenting. “You know, Lionel, it’s quite amusing watching the two of you. Like father, like daughter,” she said, her voice tinged with gentle irony.

Lionel glanced at you, then back at Elizabeth, a faint frown creasing his forehead. “I don’t see what’s so amusing,” he retorted, though a flicker of curiosity crossed his features. “She’s just eating a sandwich.”

Elizabeth chuckled softly, shaking her head. “It’s more than that, Lionel. You both have the same little quirks. It’s fascinating, really.”

Lionel’s eyes narrowed as he considered Elizabeth’s words, a mixture of annoyance and grudging acknowledgment in his gaze. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s a coincidence,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “She hasn’t been around me long enough to pick up on my habits.”

Elizabeth leaned against the counter, her expression turning serious as she regarded Lionel. “Speaking of habits,” she said, her tone softening, “have you ever taken care of a child before, Lionel?”

Lionel scoffed, his expression hardening. “Of course not,” he replied with a dismissive wave. “I’ve never had any reason to. I’m not exactly the nurturing type.”

Elizabeth’s gaze sharpened, a hint of reproach in her eyes. “Well, it’s not something you can just order from a menu. It takes patience, understanding, and a bit of humility.”

Lionel’s jaw tightened, his irritation resurfacing. “I don’t need a lecture, Elizabeth,” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “Just make sure she’s taken care of while I get back to work.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge. “Oh, so now I’m a nanny too?” she asked, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. “I’ll need a raise for this, you know.”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his irritation evident. “Fine, whatever it takes,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “Just make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Elizabeth’s smile softened, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before she nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her, Lionel. But remember, she’s not a problem to be managed. She’s a child, and she needs more than just supervision.”

Lionel’s expression flickered, a mixture of frustration and something softer, more uncertain, crossing his features. He stood up, straightening his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “I have work to do,” he said, his tone brusque. “Let me know if anything… comes up.”

As Lionel walked out of the cafeteria, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room, Elizabeth turned her attention back to you, her expression gentle and reassuring. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said softly, her eyes warm with kindness. “We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

You nodded slowly, the unfamiliar surroundings and the daunting presence of Lionel fading slightly in the face of Elizabeth’s comforting smile. For the first time since arriving at the company, you felt a small flicker of hope, a glimmer of understanding that perhaps, amidst the uncertainty and unfamiliarity, there was someone who truly cared about you.

For the rest of the afternoon, Elizabeth kept a watchful eye on you, her mind abuzz with curiosity and concern. You weren’t like other children she’d encountered. You didn’t wander or explore, but instead, stayed precisely where she left you, quietly perched on the sofa in the company’s waiting room. Your eyes, wide and observant, were fixed on the large screen that displayed an overview of Lionel Shahbandar’s company, complete with images of Lionel in various poses of power and confidence.

The waiting room was a blend of modern elegance and understated luxury, designed to impress visitors with its sleek furnishings and high-tech amenities. The soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional murmur of conversations from passing employees provided a subdued background noise, but you seemed entirely absorbed in the screen, your small hands clutching your blanket with a sort of quiet determination.

Elizabeth observed you for a while, noting how you played with your blanket, twisting and smoothing its fabric in a silent, repetitive rhythm. She finally approached you, her footsteps soft against the polished floor, and crouched down to your level. “Sweetie, do you have any toys with you?” she asked gently, her tone warm and inviting.

You looked up at her, your expression one of mild confusion. Slowly, you pointed to your blanket, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Elizabeth couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking her head. “No, not the blanket, darling. Toys. You know, things to play with.”

You blinked at her, your brows furrowing slightly in puzzlement. Elizabeth realized with a pang of sympathy that you might not have any toys at all. “Do you have any toys at home?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, then pointed to your blanket again, your small face earnest and serious. Elizabeth’s heart ached at the realization that your blanket was likely the only comfort you had known. Determined to remedy the situation, she straightened up and turned to the receptionist sitting at the sleek, modern desk nearby.

“Jessica,” Elizabeth called out, her voice carrying a note of firm authority. “I need you to go to the nearest toy store and pick up a few toys. Get four different ones—something soft, something educational, something for creativity, and something just for fun.”

Jessica, a young woman with neatly styled hair and a crisp uniform, looked up from her computer, her eyes wide with surprise. “But, Ms. James, I—”

Elizabeth cut her off with a sharp snap of her fingers, her gaze steely. “No buts, Jessica. Unless you’re looking to hand in your resignation, I suggest you move quickly. This is a priority.”

Jessica jumped to her feet, her face flushed with a mixture of apprehension and determination. “Yes, ma’am. Right away,” she stammered, hurrying out of the office with a speed that left no doubt about her urgency.

As Jessica disappeared through the glass doors, Elizabeth turned back to you, her expression softening once more. She sat down beside you on the sofa, her eyes kind and reassuring. “We’re going to get you some nice toys, okay?” she said gently. “Something to make you feel more at home.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity. The idea of having toys seemed almost foreign to you, but Elizabeth’s kindness made you feel a little more at ease.

As they waited, Elizabeth kept you company, her presence a comforting contrast to the overwhelming grandeur of Lionel’s office. She asked you simple questions about your favorite colors and animals, and although you responded mostly with nods and shakes of your head, she seemed genuinely interested in understanding you.

When Jessica finally returned, she was carrying several large shopping bags, her face flushed from the quick trip. Elizabeth took the bags from her with a nod of approval. “Good job, Jessica,” she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. “You can go back to your desk now.”

Jessica nodded, looking relieved to escape Elizabeth’s intense scrutiny. As she returned to her post, Elizabeth began to unpack the bags, revealing an assortment of toys that ranged from a plush teddy bear to a colorful set of building blocks. She arranged them carefully on the coffee table in front of you, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and anticipation.

“Here we go,” Elizabeth said, her voice warm and encouraging. “Why don’t you take a look and see if there’s something you like?”

You looked at the toys, your expression a mix of wonder and hesitation. Tentatively, you reached out for the little stuffed lion, your small hands grasping its soft fur with a kind of wary curiosity. Elizabeth watched you with a pleased smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “A lion,” she murmured softly, more to herself than to you. “Definitely Lionel’s daughter.”

The lion was plush and comforting, its mane a bright yellow tuft that you found strangely soothing. You clutched it to your chest, your fingers tracing its soft seams, and for the first time since arriving in this strange new world, a tiny, hesitant smile flickered across your lips. Elizabeth’s own smile widened at the sight, a warmth spreading through her as she observed your tentative connection with the toy.

Leaving you to explore your new treasure, Elizabeth moved to the reception desk, where Jessica was already tapping away at her keyboard. “Jessica,” Elizabeth called, her voice carrying a note of authority but tempered with kindness. Jessica looked up, a mixture of apprehension and eagerness on her face.

“How much did you spend on the toys?” Elizabeth asked, pulling her wallet from her bag. Jessica quickly retrieved the receipt, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it over. Elizabeth glanced at the total, her expression thoughtful. She pulled out the exact amount in cash, along with a small bonus, and handed it to Jessica. “Good job,” she said, her tone firm but approving. “You did well. This should cover it.”

Jessica’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude as she took the money. “Thank you, Ms. James,” she stammered, her voice filled with relief. Elizabeth nodded, her attention already drifting back to where you sat, cradling the stuffed lion.

Meanwhile, you continued to stare in wonder at the toy in your arms, your fingers brushing over its soft mane and down its plush back. The lion felt like a small piece of magic in an otherwise bewildering day, a tiny anchor in the overwhelming sea of opulence and unfamiliar faces.

As you clung to your new stuffed friend, the blanket still wrapped around you like a shield, a sense of calm began to settle over you. The toys spread out before you seemed to promise a world of possibilities, a small sanctuary within the grandeur of Lionel’s office. Elizabeth’s kind presence and the simple, comforting lion gave you a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty, a tiny spark of something resembling security in the daunting expanse of your new surroundings.

At the end of the day, Elizabeth carried you out of the building, her arms securely wrapped around you as she walked beside Lionel toward his sleek black Mercedes. Lionel strolled with an air of indifference, his eyes glued to his cell phone, occasionally glancing up to avoid obstacles but otherwise completely absorbed in his digital world.

As they approached the car, Elizabeth’s expression shifted from mild annoyance to stern determination. She cast a sideways glance at Lionel, who was nonchalantly typing away on his phone. “Lionel,” she began, her voice firm, “you need to take good care of her. She’s not just some inconvenience you can ignore. Take her straight home, give her a bath, and make sure she eats something. She’s been through enough for one day.”

Lionel didn’t even look up from his phone, waving his hand dismissively as if to shoo away an annoying fly. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his tone dismissive. “I’ll handle it. No need to worry, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing in frustration. She reached the car and opened the backseat door, her gaze immediately falling on the conspicuous lack of a child seat. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. “Lionel, are you out of your mind?” she demanded, her voice rising with incredulity. “There’s no car seat! Did you drive her here without one?”

Lionel finally looked up from his phone, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “A car seat? She was fine,” he replied, a touch of irritation creeping into his baritone voice. “What’s the big deal?”

Elizabeth’s face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief. “The big deal is that it’s dangerous and irresponsible!” she snapped, her voice laced with barely contained fury. “Do you want her to get hurt? You can’t just put a child in the backseat without proper safety!”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled, pocketing his phone and moving to inspect the backseat himself. “I’ll get one tomorrow. It’s not like I knew she’d show up today.”

Elizabeth shook her head, her frustration evident as she secured you as best she could in the backseat, her hands gentle but firm. She looked up at Lionel, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern. “You’re her father now, Lionel, whether you like it or not. You need to start acting like it. Her safety is your responsibility.”

Lionel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his hooked nose as if to stave off a headache. “Fine, I’ll get the damn car seat,” he muttered, a note of reluctant acknowledgment in his voice. “Now, can we just get going?”

Elizabeth’s expression softened slightly, her eyes lingering on you as she closed the car door carefully. “Take care of her, Lionel,” she said quietly, her tone carrying a note of earnest pleading. “She needs you, even if she doesn’t say it.”

Lionel’s lips curled into a wry, almost self-mocking smile as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll do my best,” he replied, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own words. He started the car, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror. “Ready to go, kid?”

You nodded silently, your eyes wide and somber, clutching your blanket and the plush lion tightly as the car pulled away from the curb. As the opulent office building receded into the distance, Lionel couldn’t help but feel the weight of Elizabeth’s words pressing down on him, mingling with his own reluctance and uncertainty about the daunting responsibility now thrust upon him.

As they drove through the busy London streets, Lionel’s mind churned with thoughts of the day’s events, the realization slowly sinking in that his life had irrevocably changed. The little girl in the backseat, silent and observant, was now a part of his world, whether he was ready for it or not. And for the first time in a long while, Lionel Shahbandar, the confident, womanizing art tycoon, felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a sense of duty, tinged with a reluctant curiosity about the small, quiet presence that had unexpectedly entered his life.

Lionel Shahbandar stood in the doorway of the lavish bathroom, his hand resting on the ornate gold doorknob as he watched you splash timidly in the enormous claw-footed bathtub. The bathroom, like the rest of his mansion, was a testament to opulence—marble floors, intricate tile work, and a chandelier that glimmered overhead. He had filled the tub with warm water and a bit of lavender-scented soap, the bubbles rising like soft clouds around you.

“Can you manage on your own?” Lionel asked, his voice carrying a note of impatience. You nodded, clutching your blanket, which was now set aside on a chair nearby, and turned your attention to the bubbles, your small fingers poking and swirling them.

“Good,” Lionel muttered, half to himself, and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar. He headed to your backpack, left earlier by Valerie, and rummaged through its contents with a scowl. The bag yielded a few well-worn clothes, two pairs of shoes, and a pacifier. Lionel held up the pacifier, his brows knitting together in a mixture of surprise and distaste. “A pacifier?” he grumbled under his breath, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. “Surely she doesn’t still use this.”

He picked out a pair of pajamas—simple and a bit too worn for his taste—and set them on the counter. He glanced back towards the bathroom, where you were splashing gently, your silhouette barely visible through the frosted glass door of the tub. With a resigned sigh, Lionel went downstairs to prepare dinner, deciding to throw together a simple meal—something easy and quick.

As he moved through the grand, marble-tiled kitchen, gathering ingredients, his phone buzzed on the counter. Lionel glanced at the screen, recognizing the number of a colleague he had been trying to win over for months. The notification was an invitation to meet at a nearby bar—a chance to finally close a long-awaited business deal. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of opportunity.

Lionel’s lips curled into a sly smile as he quickly typed a response, agreeing to meet. He tossed his phone aside and abandoned his half-prepared meal, the remnants of his culinary effort left scattered on the sleek granite countertop. Without missing a beat, he strode back upstairs, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous halls.

He found you still in the bathroom, now out of the tub and struggling to put on the pajamas he had picked out. Lionel’s initial annoyance softened slightly as he saw you fumbling with the unfamiliar clothing. He knelt beside you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped you into the pajamas, his movements swift and efficient. “There you go,” he murmured, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic note of patience. “Let’s get these on properly.”

Once you were dressed, Lionel retrieved the shoes from your backpack. They were scuffed and too small, but he slipped them onto your feet nonetheless. “We’re going out,” he said, his tone brisk and authoritative. “You need to behave.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of uncertainty and mild confusion. Your small hand pointed to your belly, a silent indication of hunger. Lionel’s brow furrowed briefly, a flicker of guilt passing over his features. He ignored it, standing up and scooping you into his arms. “We’ll eat later,” he said dismissively, carrying you out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

The cool evening air hit you as Lionel carried you out to the sleek black Mercedes. He strapped you into the backseat with an efficiency that belied his inexperience with children, his expression a mix of determination and impatience. “Remember,” he said, glancing back at you with a stern look, “no trouble. I have an important meeting.”

As the car sped through the bustling streets of London, Lionel’s mind was already racing ahead to the night’s events, the prospect of sealing the deal overshadowing the small, silent presence in the backseat. You stared out of the window, clutching your blanket and the plush lion tightly, the city lights flashing by in a blur. For Lionel, the night was another opportunity to secure his empire, but for you, it was just another bewildering chapter in the strange and unfamiliar world you had been thrust into.

The bar was a sleek, modern establishment, its dim lighting and polished décor exuding a sense of understated sophistication. Lionel parked the car and turned to you, his expression a mixture of irritation and reluctant resolve. “Stay close,” he ordered, unbuckling your seatbelt and lifting you out of the car. “And remember what I said about behaving.”

You nodded, clutching your blanket and the plush lion even tighter as he carried you into the bar. The hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses surrounded you, the unfamiliar sounds and sights making you cling to Lionel’s jacket with a mix of fear and uncertainty.

Lionel’s colleague, a slick, well-dressed man with a practiced smile, greeted him with a hearty laugh. “Lionel! Good to see you. And who’s this little one?” he asked, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

Lionel’s smile was tight, his grip on you firm as he responded. “Just a family matter,” he said smoothly, waving off the question. “Shall we discuss business?”

The colleague’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, leading Lionel to a secluded corner table. As they settled in, Lionel set you down beside him, his eyes narrowing in warning as he leaned in close. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, his tone sharp. “This is important.”

You nodded, your eyes wide and somber as you clung to your blanket and lion, your small frame tucked into the shadow of Lionel’s presence. The night wore on, the voices around you blurring into a low hum, and you sat quietly, the weight of Lionel’s expectations pressing down on you like a heavy, invisible cloak.

As the minutes ticked by in the bar, Lionel began to drink more heavily, one glass of scotch turning into two, then three. The business discussion quickly gave way to casual conversation and flirtation. Lionel’s colleague seemed equally relaxed, laughing and joking as the evening wore on. The waitresses, noticing Lionel’s change in demeanor, began to linger at the table, giggling and responding to his flirtatious remarks.

You sat silently beside Lionel, your small hands clutching the plush lion and your blanket. The noise of the music and the hum of conversation felt overwhelming, the unfamiliar sounds pressing in on you from all sides. Your stomach growled painfully, a sharp reminder that you hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes darting between the plates of food being carried by waitresses and the bar counter where bowls of peanuts sat just out of reach.

Desperation gnawed at you, and you looked up at Lionel, your eyes wide and pleading. You poked his arm gently, pointing at your belly to indicate your hunger. Lionel, engrossed in his conversation with a young, attractive waitress, barely glanced your way. “Not now, kid,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. His attention quickly returned to the waitress, his baritone voice dropping to a flirtatious purr as he complimented her on her smile.

The pangs of hunger grew more intense, and tears welled up in your eyes as you realized Lionel wasn’t going to help you. The room seemed to grow louder, the clinking of glasses and the laughter around you becoming a cacophony that pressed against your ears. You felt a lump form in your throat, a mixture of fear and frustration bubbling up inside you.

Summoning all the courage you could muster, you slid off the chair, your small feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. You clutched your blanket and the plush lion tightly, the soft fur a small comfort amidst the chaos of the bar. Keeping your head down, you weaved through the crowd, your eyes scanning for any sign of food within reach.

People glanced at you as you passed, their curious gazes making you feel even smaller and more out of place. You ignored them, your focus solely on finding something to eat. The bar counter loomed ahead, the bowls of peanuts perched tantalizingly on top. You approached it, craning your neck to see the salty snacks just out of reach.

Determined, you stretched up on your tiptoes, your fingers straining towards the bowl. It was no use; the counter was too high, and your small frame couldn’t bridge the gap. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes as you dropped back onto your heels, staring up at the peanuts with a mixture of longing and despair.

As you stood there, a waitress with a kind face noticed your struggle. She crouched down beside you, her eyes soft with understanding. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” she asked gently, her voice a soothing contrast to the noise around you.

You nodded, unable to speak, the ache in your stomach and the overwhelming noise rendering you mute. The waitress gave you a sympathetic smile and reached up, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the bowl. She placed them in a napkin and handed them to you, her eyes warm with kindness. “Here you go,” she said softly. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

You took the napkin with trembling hands, your eyes wide with gratitude. Clutching the peanuts and your blanket tightly, you nodded, managing a small, tearful smile. The waitress patted your head gently before standing up and returning to her work.

You found a quiet corner near the bar and sat down on the floor, your back against the wall. As you nibbled on the peanuts, the noise of the bar faded into the background, the small comfort of food easing the sharp ache in your stomach. You hugged your plush lion and your blanket close, the familiar textures grounding you amidst the overwhelming chaos.

Meanwhile, Lionel continued his flirtatious banter with the waitresses, his laughter echoing through the bar. He didn’t notice your absence, too absorbed in his own amusement and the thrill of the chase. His colleague occasionally glanced over, raising an eyebrow at Lionel’s antics but saying nothing. The night wore on, and Lionel’s attention remained firmly fixed on the women around him, his responsibilities forgotten in favor of fleeting pleasures.

You sat quietly in your corner, the peanuts a small solace in the overwhelming noise and confusion of the bar. The minutes stretched into hours, the night growing darker outside the bar’s windows. As you huddled there, alone and unnoticed, the weight of your situation settled heavily on your small shoulders, a stark reminder of the uncertain world you now found yourself in.

As the night wore on, you became increasingly sleepy. The chaos and noise of the bar had overwhelmed you, and the peanuts, while a small comfort, weren’t enough to stave off your exhaustion. With the plush lion clutched tightly in your arms, you laid your blanket on the floor and curled up on it, using it as an improvised pillow. You fell asleep quickly, your small body seeking solace amidst the confusion and noise, the softness of your blanket and lion the only anchors in this unfamiliar world.

Meanwhile, Lionel was fully absorbed in his flirtation. A waitress had made her way onto his lap, her laughter mingling with his own as they exchanged playful banter. His focus on her was intense, his usual sharp wit now softened by the haze of alcohol. His colleague, watching the spectacle with a bemused expression, eventually stood up and adjusted his tie, preparing to leave.

"I think I'm heading out, Lionel," the colleague announced, his voice cutting through the din of the bar. Lionel, his eyes still fixed on the waitress, waved him off with a dismissive gesture.

"Go on, then," Lionel replied, his baritone voice slurring slightly, "I’ll manage."

The colleague paused, his gaze shifting around the bar. "Didn't you come here with a child?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.

Lionel froze, the realization hitting him like a splash of cold water. "Damn it," he muttered, his expression shifting from smug amusement to panicked frustration. He pushed the waitress off his lap unceremoniously, his movements clumsy and disoriented. "Where the hell is she?"

He stumbled to his feet, his eyes darting around the bar, the room spinning slightly as the effects of the alcohol clouded his vision. "Hey! Kid!" he called out, his voice loud and urgent, drawing a few curious glances from nearby patrons. "Where are you?"

Lionel staggered through the bar, his vision blurred as he scanned the crowded room. His heart pounded with a mixture of panic and annoyance, the realization that he had lost track of you adding to his frustration. He cursed under his breath, his eyes finally settling on your small figure curled up on the floor in a quiet corner, fast asleep on your makeshift pillow.

"Of all the places," Lionel grumbled, rolling his eyes as he stumbled toward you. "Didn’t I tell you to stay close?" His voice was a mixture of irritation and reluctant relief as he bent down, shaking your shoulder to wake you. "Hey, wake up. We’re leaving."

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to the sight of Lionel’s scowling face. The noise and lights of the bar were disorienting, and you felt a wave of confusion and fear as he grabbed your hand roughly, dragging you to your feet. You clutched your blanket and lion tightly, your wide eyes blinking against the harsh lights.

Lionel pulled you toward the exit, his steps unsteady as he navigated the crowded bar. Just as you reached the door, a sudden barrage of flashing lights greeted you. Paparazzi, alerted to Lionel’s presence, had gathered outside, their cameras snapping furiously. The barrage of questions and flashing lights was overwhelming, the reporters shouting over one another in their eagerness to capture the scene.

"Lionel! Who’s the child?"

"Is she your daughter?"

"Care to explain, Mr. Shahbandar?"

The rapid-fire questions and bright flashes were disorienting, and you began to cry, the intensity of the moment too much for your young mind to process. The lights and noise were overwhelming, and you buried your face in your blanket, the plush lion clutched tightly in your arms as you sobbed.

Lionel swore loudly, his patience fraying under the scrutiny of the paparazzi. "Back off!" he snapped, his baritone voice laced with frustration. He scooped you up into his arms, his grip tight as he tried to shield you from the flashing cameras. "This is none of your damn business!"

The reporters pressed closer, their cameras clicking furiously as they tried to get a better shot. Lionel pushed through the throng, his irritation mounting with each step. He turned his back to the cameras, trying to shield you from the worst of the flashes, but it was clear that the situation was spiraling out of control.

"Get out of my way!" Lionel shouted, his voice rising in a rare display of anger. He elbowed his way through the crowd, his movements clumsy and erratic. You clung to him tightly, your small body trembling with fear as the bright lights and loud voices swirled around you.

Finally, Lionel managed to reach the car, fumbling with the keys as he struggled to unlock the door. He practically shoved you into the backseat, his own frustration boiling over as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The paparazzi continued to snap photos, their cameras pressing against the windows as Lionel started the engine with a snarl of irritation.

"Enough already!" he roared, slamming the car into gear and pulling away from the curb with a screech of tires. The flashes of the cameras faded into the distance as the car sped through the dark streets, the noise and chaos of the bar finally left behind.

Inside the car, you huddled in the backseat, your sobs quieting to soft hiccups as the city lights blurred past the windows. Lionel’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set with a mixture of anger and exasperation. The night’s events had spiraled far beyond his control, and the weight of the responsibility now thrust upon him was a burden he had never anticipated.

As the car sped through the night, Lionel glanced at you in the rearview mirror, your small form curled up in the backseat, clutching your blanket and lion. His expression softened slightly, a flicker of something resembling regret crossing his features. For all his bravado and confidence, the reality of his situation was beginning to sink in, and it was clear that his life, and yours, had been irrevocably changed.

Lionel woke up with a groan the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains of his opulent bedroom. His head pounded with the aftereffects of a night spent drinking, and he rubbed his temples, trying to fend off the pain. Just as he began to drift back into a fitful sleep, a sharp slap on his back jolted him awake.

“What the—” Lionel grumbled, turning to see Elizabeth standing over him, her eyes blazing with fury. She held a rolled-up magazine in her hand, her knuckles white with the intensity of her grip.

“Get up, you idiot!” Elizabeth snapped, landing another swat with the magazine on Lionel’s shoulder. “What the hell were you thinking, taking your daughter to a bar?”

Lionel winced, flinching away from the blows. “Ow, stop it!” he protested, trying to shield himself with the covers. “What’s your problem, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line as she continued to brandish the magazine. “My problem?” she echoed, her voice dripping with incredulity. “My problem is you, Lionel! You’re in every gossip rag in the country, and everyone’s speculating about who that little girl is!”

Lionel blinked, his hangover-clouded mind struggling to keep up. “How do you know about this?” he demanded, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

With a snarl of frustration, Elizabeth unfurled the magazine she had been hitting him with, thrusting it in his face. “Look!” she barked, her voice rising. “It’s everywhere! You, leaving the bar with [Your Name]. You’ve made a spectacle of yourself and her!”

Lionel squinted at the glossy pages, his eyes slowly focusing on the grainy photos of him stumbling out of the bar, carrying you in his arms. The paparazzi had captured the chaos in all its sordid detail: Lionel’s disheveled appearance, his slurred attempts to shield you from the cameras, your tear-streaked face buried in your blanket.

Elizabeth continued her tirade, her voice climbing higher with each accusation. “You’re in the tabloids, the morning news, every damn gossip show! People are speculating who she is, if she’s yours, and how on earth you thought it was a good idea to take a child to a bar!”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his annoyance eclipsing his guilt as he settled back against the pillows. “So what?” he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “What’s one scandal on top of several? I’m already the bad boy of the art world. What’s another headline?”

Elizabeth’s face turned an alarming shade of red, her eyes flashing with barely contained rage. “You don’t get it, do you?” she hissed, grabbing his ear and twisting it sharply. Lionel yelped, trying to pull away from her iron grip.

“Alright, alright! Let go!” Lionel protested, his voice tinged with pain. “What do you want me to do?”

Elizabeth released his ear with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she fixed him with a steely glare. “You’re going to apologize, publicly,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “You’ll hold a press conference, admit you made a mistake, and apologize for taking your daughter to a bar. You need to set things right.”

Lionel’s hand rubbed his throbbing ear as he shot her a petulant look. “You must be joking,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not apologizing to anyone. They’ll just have to deal with it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she leaned in, her face inches from his. “If you don’t fix this, Lionel, you’ll be dealing with a lot more than just gossip. This isn’t about you anymore. It’s about that little girl you’ve dragged into your mess.”

Lionel’s defiant gaze wavered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. He opened his mouth to retort, but Elizabeth cut him off with a sharp gesture, pointing a finger at his chest. “You will apologize,” she repeated, her voice a low, fierce whisper. “Or so help me, I’ll quit, and you can deal with this disaster on your own.”

Lionel’s face twisted into a scowl, his usual bravado faltering under Elizabeth’s unwavering glare. “Fine,” he grumbled, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll do your stupid press conference. Happy now?”

Elizabeth’s expression softened slightly, though her eyes still blazed with determination. “Not until you actually follow through,” she replied, her voice firm but less harsh. “You need to start acting like a father, Lionel. [Your Name] deserves better.”

Lionel grumbled under his breath as he slid out of bed, his movements slow and reluctant. “Cutting your salary for this,” he muttered, a petulant note in his baritone voice as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Elizabeth’s lips curled into a wry smile as she watched him. “You can try,” she shot back, her tone laced with dry humor. “But we both know you need me more than I need you.”

Lionel glared at her, but the sharp retort died on his lips as he realized the truth of her words. With a heavy sigh, he shuffled towards the bathroom, the weight of the day’s responsibilities pressing down on his shoulders.

As he splashed cold water on his face, Lionel stared at his reflection in the mirror, the sharp angles of his features softened by the morning light. The man who gazed back at him was a far cry from the confident, womanizing tycoon he prided himself on being. For the first time in a long while, Lionel felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—an uneasy blend of guilt, responsibility, and a reluctant resolve to set things right.

[shares-a-vest]

Steve looks up from his magazine, one of Keith’s many car subscriptions that he is gifted as leftovers, to find Dustin not not looking straight at him and fiddling with the same copy of Hello! Dolly he had picked up a solid ten minutes ago.

He is fairly certain he knows Dustin’s movie preferences. And they don’t include Barbara Streisand’s matchmaking through song and big hats.

Dustin turns away, revealing a backpack that now sports a gigantic Hellfire patch sewn onto the front pocket, courtesy of Robin and Eddie’s joint sewing endeavours.

“Henderson!” Steve calls, frowning.

Nothing. The kid might as well be twiddling his goddamn thumbs as he chances a glance over he shoulder, very obviously hearing him.

Steve snaps the magazine shut and rounds the counter to the musical section. But Dustin scampers away, setting a steady pace as he comically power walks down the split horror-comedy aisle in order to double back to the front of the store.

“Hey! What the hell, man?” Steve says, taking a few strides to get ahead of the kid so Dustin is blocked right between him and the front candy display, “What the hell is up with you?”

He probably sounds more accusatory than curious, judging by Dustin’s wide and panicked eyes. The boy shrugs and looks away.

Yeah, Dustin not talking and not blabbering away about anything, let alone whatever it is that’s up? Fucking weird.

Steve looks him over, examining his young friend’s movements as he shuffles on the spot and periodically scuffs his sneakers on the sun-faded green carpet.

“Um, uhhh...” Dustin hums after a long pause.

Still strangely incomprehensible for him – but it’s something, at least.

“What is it?” he asks, voice low as he searches for a shred of eye contact.

“Do you, I dunno... maybe...” Dustin trails off, gesturing in the air as a pair of nervous eyebrows disappear up under the Cubs cap Steve gifted him for Christmas 1984.

Not that Dustin cares about the Cubs – then or now.

Dustin slips his hands under his backpack straps and rocks on the spot as he continues prattling on.

“Do you wanna hang out on Sunday? I mean, if you don’t have a date or anything.”

The kid sticks out his bottom lip and rolls his eyes, not at all appearing as casual as he seems to want to be.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, confused.

Jesus Christ, since when is this kid all nervous about hanging out?

“Steve,” Dustin sighs deeply, pinching his nose (good, back to his bratty, if a little exasperated, self), “Sunday is Father's Day.”

“Oh.”

He must have passed by the greeting card display at Melvad’s, over and over during every lunch break as he headed in for a can of soda and whatever non Family Video-sponsored candy Keith was craving.

It’s not like he had any reason to remember. His folks haven’t been home since the ‘earthquake’ and they almost never call. Hell, he has enough of a time conversing at any length when his mother does call, let alone asking her to put his father on the phone.

Not that he wants to talk to his non-college attending, barely-high school graduate son who works minimum wage retail and has no girlfriend, anyway.

Not that all of that matters much when Dustin is looking back at him with a rare sadness in his eyes.

“I mean, your dad isn’t home – obviously,” Dustin starts, though not quite as harsh as his usual barbs, “And Will spends the day with Hop now. Eddie and Wayne go fishing. And I would be going to visit my grandpa but he and Nanna went on a cruise. I think they went – ”

“Sure, buddy,” he blurts out, offering a pat on the shoulder to make up for inadvertently cutting the kid off. He pauses and frowns, “But what about your mom?”

Dustin shrugs, “She wants to have a girl’s day with Valerie.”

Ah, yes. Valerie Richardson, Claudia Henderson’s best friend and Hawkins’ biggest town gossip courtesy of her job as the receptionist at the doctor’s office. Steve can’t help but laugh – Valerie really knows her stuff.

“I’m assuming their girl’s day will involve a charcuterie board and wine?”

“Charcuterie,” Dustin mutters, beyond displeased at the thought of dips, fruit and water crackers – a far cry from his mother’s prized lasagne.

“Alright,” Steve announces, rubbing his hands together, “We’d better pick out some movies. I’m thinking we hit the arcade, then have a movie marathon over the cheesiest of pizzas...”

Dustin grins.

[disillusioneddanny]

Cat’s Cradle Part 1

Read part 2 here

Danny let out a yelp as Jazz dragged him out of his bed and looked at her wide eyed. “What is your problem?” He demanded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Jack and Maddie didn’t take you coming out as Phantom very well,” she said harshly. 

The halfa frowned and stumbled after his sister as her iron grip squeezed his wrist and bounded down the hallway. Just a few hours before Danny–with the help of his sister– had finally told his parents that he was Phantom. He had thought that they had taken the news pretty well. His father had stared at him with his usual dumbstruck expression while his mother’s eyes shone with that usual analytical glare as he told them. Maddie had thanked him for trusting them with the information and had told him that they would need some time to absorb everything that Danny had told them. “I mean all things considered, they took it well,” Danny mumbled, following Jazz down the stairs to the lab. 

“No, it didn’t go well. They pulled me aside and asked how long you’ve been brainwashing me. Danny it’s not safe, they’re planning on catching you when you aren’t paying attention and are going to experiment on you! They think you killed their son,” Jazz snapped harshly. “We’re enacting plan “oh shit”,” she said. Finally Danny woke up enough to truly take in everything going on around him. Jazz looked like she hadn’t slept all night. On her back was a large duffel bag, likely packed with everything Danny would need. In her free hand sat a Fenton Blaster. “I overheard them call the GIW. After they vivisect you they’re going to sell you to them. I already spoke to Sam and Tucker. Everything you need is in this bag.”

“Wait, wait!” Danny stammered, trying to keep up with his sister’s long strides. “I don’t want to leave! It’s my senior year and-”

“And it doesn’t matter Danny,” Jazz snapped, shoving her brother down the stairs quickly. The red head threw the duffel bag at Danny and marched over to the portal and opened it wide. “You have to go. Find CW or someone and tell them Amity is no longer safe and we can figure something out. You have a burner phone that Tucker already encrypted and it’s going to be okay. Just go.”

Danny’s core seemed to feel more frozen in his chest than it ever had before. “Jazz,” he said, holding back a sob. Jazz’s face crumpled as she wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders. 

“Little Brother, I love you so much. You’re going to be okay, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to come back here. But when you’re safe, text me, call me I don’t care. I’ll come to you and we will never see them again. I go back to Harvard tomorrow and once I’m able to separate myself from Jack and Maddie I’ll let you know. I’m not risking your safety,” she said as her baby brother sobbed into her shoulder, fingers digging into her shoulder while he clung to her like she was his only life line. 

“I don’t want to,” he cried. “They’re my parents, they won’t hurt me-”

“Danny, they can and they will. Just go,” Jazz said, pulling away from her brother. “We will be okay here. Sam and Tucker are both ready for anything. We’ve already let Valerie know that Phantom will be gone.” Jazz smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Danny’s ear. “Go, I love you, be safe, I’ll contact you when it’s safe, you’ll do the same.”

Danny nodded and wiped at his face. “I love you too,” he said and hugged her tight once more before he shifted into his ghost form and stepped through the portal feeling lost and aimless in a way that he had never felt before in his life. 

The halfa didn’t know how long he drifted in the realms. It could have been hours, days, months–fuck even years he wasn’t sure. But everything felt aimless and wrong. Danny didn’t have a home anymore–no he didn’t have a lair anymore. He didn’t have a haunt and there was something about it that just made his core feel hollow in a way that he had never felt before. He didn’t know what he was doing. Sure, he had his castle that he could stay at but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t his. He had no real connection there aside from the fact that he ruled these realms. It wasn’t his lair, though, and it wasn’t his haunt. 

Ghosts had come and gone and tried to elicit some kind of response from the halfa, each one had failed and gone away grumbling to themselves. The baby was sad and none of them knew what to do to take care of him. While Danny was their High Prince until his teachers had decided he had learned enough to rule, he was still a baby in terms of being a ghost. Danny was the most powerful baby ghost they had ever seen but he was still a baby. Because of this, every ghost in the realm had the desire to do whatever they could to help him and nothing they were doing seemed to help. 

The poor ghosts were losing their minds trying to fix the poor halfa but they couldn’t do that when they didn’t know what was wrong. All they knew was that the portal to Amity Park had been closed permanently. Skulker had tried and failed to fight with the halfa. Ember had tried to get Danny to play guitar with her only for him to phase through her. Johnny 13 had tried to race him. Nothing worked. The only one who seemed to have any success was Spectra and that was simply because she was feeding off of the ghost’s sorrow until Kitty had run her off. 

It seemed as though their baby halfa was broken and no one had the pieces to put him back together. No one but Clockwork it seemed. Somehow the boy’s wandering had landed him at the entrance of Clockwork’s lair. 

The ancient floated out of the clock and gave the boy a sad look. “Oh, my poor boy. I’ve been waiting on you,” he said. Danny just let out a sniff and fell into the ghost’s arms and let out a sob. 

“I feel empty,” he mumbled into the ancient’s cloaks. “Something’s missing Clockwork.”

“It is your purpose,” Clockwork said softly. “You just had your entire obsession ripped away from you.”

“But it’s protection, I can still protect!” Danny said, scrunching the fabric in his hands tight. “Why do I feel this way?”

Clockwork smoothed the boy’s hair over soothingly as he led the boy into the large clock. “Your obsession was largely associated with protecting the people of Amity Park from danger. That is gone now. You will always have your obsession to protect and you are still doing that. You are protecting your subjects by letting your sister permanently close the portal. But now there is a part of you missing. You also are in dire need of a haunt and that is not somewhere within the realms.”

Danny pulled away from the ghost and wiped his face tiredly. “What do I do, then? How do I fix this?”

The ancient shifted into a baby and smiled. “I have been looking at the timelines and I think that I have an idea for you, Daniel,” he said, moving towards a large portal. Danny frowned but followed his mentor nonetheless. 

“What is it?”

“I have noticed that the ghosts here who once lived and then came to exist here have been getting restless. With the help of the Observants we learned that artifacts are being stolen, especially from the graves of our older ghosts. Would you be interested in collecting them and returning these items back to their graves?”

Danny perked up. “I can do that?”

“Of course, it’s causing distress within quite a few beings. These were things they were buried with, things that they miss dearly now that they have been separated from them. It is as though they have been separated from their own haunts just as you have since those items tether them to the world. With them being moved around, it is taking them away from their haunts,” Clockwork explained, showing a picture of a ghost aimlessly wading through the streets of a town, looking just as lost as Danny felt. “Artifacts are tethers for most ghosts. As a halfa you were slightly different as your tethers were more so the people in your town than physical objects. And since you are still half living, you are able to collect more things that mean something significant to you.”

“But ghosts can’t. And their artifacts being moved from their homes–it’s ripping them away from their haunts?” Danny whispered, core aching at the thought of others feeling the same loss that he was experiencing. Clockwork was right, he would make new connections in his human life. These ghosts would never be able to do that.

“In one timeline it seems that you did this by becoming a cat burglar,” Clockwork said, showing a picture of Danny in an all black costume as he snuck into a museum. “Would you be interested in doing it that way, become a bit of a criminal and let loose?”

“I can do that?” Danny asked, eyes wide as he watched a version of himself steal an artifact from the museum and disappear before anyone even noticed. 

“You spent a very long time being a hero, Daniel. You will always be a hero and protect your people, but in this version you become a bit more of a criminal. It seems you have a lot of fun in this city, as well. It seems to become your new haunt,” Clockwork said with a smile, shifting into his middle-aged self once again. 

“This would be amazing! Is it in the same dimension?” he asked, whole body vibrating in excitement at the prospect of not only helping his people but also getting to cause a little chaos. 

“It is. Now, have fun,” Clockwork said before pointing his staff at the halfa and sending him away without another word.

If you’re enjoying my work, buy me a coffee!

[theroyalthornoliachronicles]

La Flamme de Minuit Victorious at Prix de Thornolile

In a heart-stopping display of skill and speed, La Flamme de Minuit emerged triumphant in a gripping race during the highly anticipated Prix de Thornolie. The race, which unfolded over a five-furlong distance, captivated spectators and showcased a fierce battle between its top contenders, La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge.

Set against the picturesque backdrop of Thornolia's vibrant l'Hippodrome Épitoise de Thornolie, the event drew a crowd of enthusiastic onlookers, including Thornolia's esteemed famille royale. Monseigneur l'Épin, a distinguished figure in the equestrian world alongside his father, graced the occasion and presented the victorious horse with the inaugural Coupe de l'Épine d'Or, a trophy specially crafted for this prestigious race in celebration of its inclusion in Thornolia's first ever Saison.

La Flamme de Minuit, a majestic equine with a fiery spirit, proved its mettle under the expert guidance of trainer Francois Delacroix and the skilled jockey, Pierre Leblanc. The horse's exceptional speed, agility, and determination captivated the audience, who eagerly anticipated a thrilling showdown between the top contenders.

As the race commenced, the thundering hooves of La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge echoed across the racecourse, creating an rousing atmosphere. The two horses showcased their remarkable athleticism and unwavering spirit, engaging in a neck-and-neck battle that left spectators on the edge of their seats.

The five-furlong race unfolded with breathtaking intensity, as La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge pushed each other to their limits. The crowd roared with excitement as the horses charged towards the finish line, their determination and skill evident with every stride, but it was La Flamme de Minuit who surged forward around the last corner, galloping across the finish line and securing victory. Griffon Rouge, displaying remarkable tenacity, finished a close second, leaving spectators in awe of the fierce competition between these equine powerhouses.

Adding an extra layer of prestige to the occasion, Monseigneur l'Épin presented La Flamme de Minuit and Pierre Lablanc with the first-ever Coupe de l'Épine d'Or. The Monseigneur also looked to be in extremely high spirits, leaving many to wonder if more thrilling news is on the horizon. This magnificent trophy will forever serve as a testament to the horse's remarkable achievement, as well as an enduring symbol of Thornolia's rich equestrian heritage.

As the sun set and the crowds dispersed, the echoes of this thrilling five-furlong race lingered in the air. La Flamme de Minuit's remarkable victory in the Coupe de l'Épine d'Or will be remembered as a shining moment in Thornolia's racing history—an exemplification of the unwavering spirit and indomitable strength of these magnificent creatures.

And let us not forget our Monseigneur's endeavours to find a wife during this inaugural saison. With the upcoming bal masqué in honour of his upcoming birthday in mere days, many wonder if he will soon be making an announcement. Though should we? He's been far too indecisive, and it may be a bit hard to believe he's made any sort of decision, though we believe it safe to say that it does appear to be between Mademoiselle Aubert and Mademoiselle Valery. Today's event left many questioning the Monseigneur's motives once more, but we suppose only time will tell.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[daily-kichik]

253. Bouquet

Featuring rank #1 coach Valerie Stride and ranked coach Kaz.

[beastieballin]

characters :]]]

[artseniccatnip]

here's how audrey redheart isekai can still win-

[sexymonstersupercreep]

The Movie Gallery - favorite film posters

.... Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970) .... Striding into the Wind (2020) .... Short Night of Glass Dolls (1971) .... The Bloodstained Shadow (1978) .... La Belle et la Bete (1946) .... Denyat na Vladetelite (186) .... Evolution (2015) .... The Depths (1963) .... The Night of the Strangler (1972) .... Without Name (2016) .... Serpent's Path (1998) .... Bride of Re-Animator (1990) ....

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Spider-man: Across the Spider-Verse Trailer Thoughts

Can I just start this post off by saying that I am totally normal? Over this movie? Perfectly reasonable in my level of hype and mentally well in every way? Mhm, trust me. Anyway, onto the blurbs!

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

-Seems Miles is at his teenage rebellion stage

-Miles' teacher telling him he's not doing too well in Spanish in front of his Puerto Rican mother is an ouch (in that it's hilarious, but not for him. Sorry Miles)

-Seems there's gonna be a rift between Miles and his parents now that he's Spider-Man full time and very much keeping it secret from them; maybe this movie is where they find out?

-Across the Spider Verse seems to also have a core theme of Miles going against the grain and doing things his way, forging his own individual path for how he wants to do Spider-Man. Looking forward to seeing a more grown up Miles that is able to go further into his self-exploration now that he's reaching older teen/young adulthood.

-I think Gwen and Miles might get together this movie which... eh. Alright. No hate to the ship, but the first movie felt very platonic save for Miles liking her cause she's a pretty girl, and rip to cishet society but that ain't enough to sell me on a relationship. Maybe they'll get some development in this movie? Until possibly that I'm just gonna enjoy them as friends personally

-Apparently Oscar Isaac voices Miguel... Doctor Strange was not kidding when he said the multiverse got screwed in NWH

-Here we have Jessica Drew, Marvel's first (continuous) Spider-Woman! She looks awesome, and based on how often she appeared in the trailer, I'm assuming she will play a key role.

-I also suspect she will help push the narrative around ATSV's theme of parenthood, with Miles having issues with his own, and Peter becoming a father.

-Regarding the race change for Jessica, I earlier referred to her as the first "continuous" Spider-Woman, because she was the first woman to notably don the spidey title. However, the first official Spider-Woman was actually a one-off character named Valerie the Librarian. Originally, Valerie had no powers; she instead went around as a non-super helping Peter Parker's Spidey in any way she could. Spider Verse has always been by black people for black people, so it doesn't surprise me that they (allegedly) are honing back to Valerie, a black woman and the first official Spider-Woman, to base Jessica's appearance on. Goes to show the creators did their homework, which I'm pleased to see.

She is so beautiful ma'am please take my hand in marriage; also, she's pregnant! She is literally hero-ing while pregnant, which I've realized is not something we really see like... ever. Granted, because its dangerous, but Spider Verse has always made strides to give more diverse female representation, and a pregnant spidey mirroring pregnant working women seems to be next on their list. Happy to see it!

-We got Miguel O'Hara! Admittedly I'm not the most familiar with him, but one doesn't traverse Marvel comic fandom without having heard of this guy. Based on what I'm seeing in the trailer, he looks like a very fun character and I'm excited to know more

-"Don't even get me started on Doctor Strange and the little nerd back on Earth-199999." I am... so normal about the acknowledgment of the MCU in Spiderverse. The multiverse really is converging, which on a meta sense is something I absolutely love so I am very excited to see where the Marvel universe heads.

-Also people have been saying Feige stated the MCU was Earth-616 and Spider Verse went against that, which they're happy about, so if someone could fill me in on what happens in Earth-616 I'd appreciate it!

Peter's back! And he has a spider baby! From what I've seen this is Mayday Parker, daughter of Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson, and she does indeed get her father's spider abilities in the comics. Perhaps we'll see more of her in the future?...👀

Stab me, it would hurt less.

(Looks like Gwen's backstory is being explored more, which is a hooray moment, but its exploring her trauma, which is less hooray.)

And of course... the meme, made multiversal. (Is that fucking PS5 Spiderman)

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

That's about it, very excited for this movie, also afraid, but mostly excited! See y'all when it drops!

[emberdew]

Be More Ghost Chapter 12: Loser Freak Whatever

Summary:

A Be More Chill AU where Danny gets a Super Quantum Intel Unit Processor (or Squip) to help him become cool and win over Valerie, but things don't really go as planned.

Masterpost | AO3 Link | Word Count: 1,795

If Valerie likes me in the end will I be able to pretend I didn’t fail my two best friends?

Valerie, Valerie, Valerie. 

Danny looked at the Squip, who was standing so close he could see the slight glow of its eyes through its sunglasses. It had continued to explain the plan to get Valerie to date him for so long that Danny had lost track of time. The Squip’s words blended into a drone and Danny only picked up the parts where it said Valerie’s name.

He liked Valerie’s name.

Are you even listening? Squip-Phantom took a step back and shot him a stern look. 

“Sorry, I think I just need a minute to… Process…” Danny rubbed his temples. He saw the Squip’s spectral tail flickering back and forth with impatience. “Alone. Can you get out of my head for like, five minutes?”

Of course. The Squip nodded and then vanished. 

Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Tucker just a few feet away. How hadn’t he noticed him before?

“Tucker?”

Tucker turned his head towards Danny, eyes wide. Then he frowned and started walking away. Danny took a few large strides to catch up.

“Oh Ancients, I’m so glad to see you!” Danny’s smile faltered when he saw his friend’s angry expression.

“Really? So you haven’t been avoiding me all day?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember the last time he had seen Tucker. He certainly hadn’t seen him at school today. “I haven’t seen you since-”

Wait, Danny hadn’t seen Tucker since he’d gotten the Squip! Could the Squip have done something? 

“Reactivate,” Danny only jumped a little this time as the Squip popped into existence right next to him. 

It’s called Optic Nerve Blocking. 

“Why haven’t I seen Tucker all day?” Danny paused after he asked as he processed what the Squip had just said. “Wait, what?”

I have access to your optic nerves. I have been blocking Tucker from your field of vision, the Squip explained this as if it was a completely normal thing to do. 

“Danny? Why are you standing there all creepy and stuff? Or well, creepier than normal for a half-ghost. Is there a ghost I can’t see?” Tucker started looking around as if that would help him spot an invisible ghost.

Tucker is a link to Danny 1.0. Squip-Phantom pointed to Tucker, then turned to Danny with a serious expression. To upgrade, you need to be willing to make sacrifices. 

Danny 1.0? Was that what he was now? Danny considered the Squip’s words, but he was stuck on his designation. Surely he was at least on version 1.5 after the portal accident, right? His ponderings were interrupted when Tucker waved his hand in front of Danny’s face.

“Seriously, what’s up with you? You’ve been acting shady ever since…” Tucker tilted his head as he put the pieces together. “It worked, didn’t it? Danny, that’s amazing! We gotta test it, we gotta celebrate, we gotta- get stoned in my basement!” Tucker pumped his fist in the air.

Danny couldn’t reply. He needed more time to think about this! Was the Squip really saying there was no other choice but to abandon Tucker? His gut said that he couldn’t do that, couldn’t just cut his best friend out of his life. It was unthinkable!

Before Danny could think of anything to say, he gasped and felt a bit relieved when the blue mist of his ghost sense gave him an easy way out.

“Gotta run, Tuck.” Danny dashed away before Tucker could make any kind of response. 

Danny clambered around a corner, ducked into the nearest storage closet, and transformed into Phantom as quickly as he could. He heard a scream and shot down the hall towards the sound. When he saw a giant glowing ghost bug attacking a student, he didn’t slow down as he slammed his body against the ghost.  

After crashing against the wall of lockers, the ghost morphed into a familiar blob and started mocking him as Phantom scrambled into a fighting stance.

“Oh look, the little loser has come out to play.” Bertrand shapeshifted into a panther and swiped his claws at Phantom. 

Phantom dodged his attack but didn’t notice Spectra’s shadow form in his periphery until it was too late. She caught him in a chokehold and flashed an evil grin. 

“I’ve heard you’re trying to fix yourself, little freak. I think that’s hilariously pathetic.” Spectra clenched her hands harder around his throat as Phantom struggled. Despite not needing to breathe in this form, he couldn’t stop his panicked gasping.

“You’ve always been an inconsequential little nobody and you always will be!”

Phantom felt a wave of anguish wash over him as Spectra drained his energy. She was right. Even before the portal, even in middle school he had been a loser with barely any friends and freaky ghost-obsessed parents. 

Spectra laughed as she hurled Phantom against a wall. She and Bertrand were jeering at him as he slid to the ground, groaning in pain. 

If only Squip-Phantom was real and not an AI glued to his human brain, maybe it would be able to handle those two for him. But he was the only Phantom around now.

Actually, maybe Spectra and Bertrand would eat their words if he let Squip-Phantom help him. Maybe he could find out what it’s like to not be a loser, freak, or whatever. 

That thought gave him the strength to get up off the floor and swing a kick at the two distracted ghosts. While they were caught off guard, Phantom grabbed them and flung them intangibly out of the building where they landed with a crash on the football field. 

Phantom glanced at the bleachers where he and Star had sat together earlier. He really had been gaining ground with Squip-Phantom’s help. Before he had gotten the Squip, he never thought that he could talk to a cute girl like that. It had felt really good.  

Phantom’s moment of reflection ended when Bertrand, still in his panther form, pounced on him from behind.

With Phantom pinned to the ground, Spectra swooped in and dragged a claw across his face.

“You’re just going to be a lonely loser forever,” she mocked.

“I’ve had ENOUGH!” Phantom screamed. Spectra and Bertrand flew off him, knocked back by the punch of ghostly wail that seeped into his words. 

Phantom flew higher and started shooting ecto-blasts at the evil ghosts, who frantically dodged away. As he charged a ball of ecto-energy in his hands, he looked up when he heard the familiar sound of the Fenton GAV arriving at the scene. 

He sighed as he saw his dad jump into the fight, giant Fenton Bazooka slung over his shoulder. His dad had always taught him to follow his instincts, trust his inner voice, listen to his heart, and such. 

Phantom swooped to the side, dodging several blasts from his dad’s gun. His whole life he’d followed his instincts-

A green paw caught him in the air and smacked him down to the ground, creating a large crater.

His instincts sucked so much!

From his hole, he heard the sounds of the battle continue. With Phantom temporarily out of the picture, Jack’s focus had turned to Spectra and Bertrand. Phantom felt his arms and legs twinge as he tried to lift himself up and decided instead that he could stay in the hole for a little while.

His mind wandered again to his Squip. He had been taking directions from it and it hadn’t led him astray so far. If his instincts had an objection, maybe it was actually the right choice. 

In the sky above him, he saw the Fenton Bazooka land a hit on Bertrand, sending him back and colliding with Spectra in the air. Their bodies got sucked into the swirling ghost portal that formed moments later, which was Phantom’s signal that it was time to leave. Right as he saw his dad approaching the edge of his crater, he turned intangible and sank through the ground. 

Popping back up behind the bleachers, Phantom detransformed and walked back to the school. He lowered his head and power-walked to the nearest bathroom, then checked the mirror for any visible injuries. He groaned when he saw the bleeding cut on his face. 

As Danny got to work taking out the well-used first aid kid from his backpack and patching up his injuries, he continued his earlier contemplation. Maybe the problem had always been him. That was why Paulina and Valerie had rejected him in the past, right? I was because something was wrong with him. 

Maybe the Squip could show him how to fix himself. 

Danny took a deep breath and checked his face in the mirror again. Bandaged and bruised, he looked awful but at least he wasn’t bleeding. He couldn’t just keep hiding in the bathroom, so he stepped out the door and ran directly into Valerie.

“Sorry, Val!” Danny took a step away from her and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Valerie said, completely unphased by the typical sight of Danny’s constant injuries, and continued walking down the hall. Danny stared after her.

“If Valerie likes me in the end, will I be able to pretend I didn’t fail my friends?” Danny whispered to himself. 

He shook his head violently. 

“That’s the stuff I normally would think, I need to get over it,” Danny stomped towards his locker. “I gotta get my priorities straight.” 

After all the bullying and all the ghost fights and everything else he had dealt with in his miserable life, hadn’t he earned the right to be selfish? As Phantom, he was always helping other people. Didn’t he deserve to do something for himself? 

He’d wasted enough time already with being himself. He was done with being the failure of the Fenton family, the nobody of school… The creepy little boy with creepy little powers.

At his locker, he clenched his teeth as he shoved his books into his bag. Tucker walked up to him just as he zipped his backpack shut.

“Woah, you look terrible,” Tucker said, even though it was obvious. “Are you okay, dude?”

Danny gave him a curt nod. 

“Hey, are you down to hang out now?”

Danny spotted Squip-Phantom materialize next to him but didn’t jump this time.

“Optic Nerve Blocking: on.” Danny furrowed his brows in determination. As soon as he made the command, Tucker disappeared in front of him like he was the one with invisibility powers.

Now, let’s get to work. Squip-Phantom grabbed Danny’s shoulder and led him away.